blueberry pie

Summer's half over. Where did it go?

I've mostly been working on the house lately - putting curtains up, digging out closets from under piles of junk tossed there from when A and I moved in March. It's slowly coming together to look like more than just an apartment but an actual home. I find myself wandering through the rooms, cup of coffee in hand, just appreciating everything. Grey and clean-lined with molding everywhere. It's perfect. 

To go with this picturesque setting, I of course need a pie. And what better pie to make than with blueberries from the height of the summer, sweetened by sunlight and heat. This pie is classic, full of tangy blueberry flavor and a rich, buttery crust that flakes on your tongue - just the way I like it.

2.5 cups all-purpose flour
2 sticks butter, chopped
1 cup cold water (all won't be needed)
1 tsp salt
1 tbsp sugar

3 pints blueberries
1 oz lemon juice
1.5 cups sugar
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 cup cold water

Combine flour, butter, salt, and sugar in a food processor. Pulse, slowly adding water, until chunky but incorporated. Wrap in plastic and place in freezer for thirty minutes.

In a small saucepan, combine blueberries, lemon juice, and sugar and cook over medium-high heat until blueberries begin to break down and become liquid. Whisk cornstarch with water until no lumps remain and stir into blueberry mixture. Bring to boil and reduce to medium high, stirring constantly, until it begins to thicken and a spoon can almost stand up in the mixture. Remove from heat.

Remove crust from freezer and roll out to 1/4 inch thickness on a flour-dusted surface. Fold in fourths and place on a greased pie pan. Unfold and tuck dough into pie pan, trimming off hanging pieces. Crimp edges. Place beans or pie baking weighs in the bottom. Preheat oven to 350 and bake for 10-15 minutes or until just beginning to brown and lightly dry to the touch. Remove from oven.

Remove beans from crust. Pour filling into pie crust and bake for 25-30 minutes or until golden brown. 

 

how to be a better cook: techniques from a professional kitchen

There are a lot of things I've learned since stepping foot into my culinary classroom a year and a half ago - and then at the places I've worked since then. Here are a few that translate from a professional kitchen into making the home cook's life a little easier.

1. Mise en place.

mise en place

mise en place

Oh, mise en place. That old French saying to have "everything in its' place". Having everything measured and in place before starting means that you won't get partially through a recipe and then realize your butter should be softened or you're out of chicken stock. When I say mise en place, I don't just mean your ingredients. Have all your equipment - pots, pans, foil, parchment paper at your ready.

2. Clean as you go.

It's simple but so elusive. Keep a clean workspace. After you chop an ingredient, wipe down your cutting board. Organize your ingredients. Wash down pots right after using. 

3. Read the recipe fully - twice.

keep a sharp knife

keep a sharp knife

Don't have any nasty surprises, like needing to allow the dough to rest for an hour, midway through the process. Read the recipe and then read it again to fully set up a working plan of attack.

4. The tape method.

Something we use at Milk Bar - always keep a piece of masking tape at the ready next to the recipe's list of ingredients. Mark out things twice - once as you've measured it. And then mark it again as you've added it to the pot. Then you'll never forget if you've already added the salt.

5. Don't overcrowd your pan.

Pretty simple but I'm as guilty of it as you are. You want to get everything done quickly and think you can squeeze in that extra chicken breast - and as a result, nothing is cooked evenly and bits of skin are sticking to the unoiled sides. Be patient, cook in batches or use a larger pan.

6. Get your oil hot.

Turn the stove on. Put your pan on. Walk away for a bit. Let it get crazy hot. Put your oil in. Let your oil get smoking hot. Then add the protein and it will never stick to the pan ever again! Why do we do this? We want the heat to expand the molecules in the pan and the oil to then cover all the microscopic nooks and crannies. The food and the metal of the pan naturally like each other and want to bond, so you need that hot oil to fully even out and slick out that surface before adding anything.

7. Test your oven.

 Do this. Get a sheet pan and place six pieces of evenly spaced bread on it. Bake for 10 minutes at 35o. Pull out the bread and look for where is darker than the others so you're aware of hot spots and unevenness to your oven. Also, get an oven thermometer and ensure that what your oven says is 350 is actually 350.

8. Let your meat rest.

Take your meat out at five degrees (Fahrenheit) under your desired temperature and rest on a rack for five minutes, flipping halfway through. This will allow all the juices running out of the constricting muscle fibers to reabsorb as it relaxes. Flip to ensure they stay near the middle.

9. Sharpen your knives.

Seriously. Buy a whetstone and take your knives to it at least once a month. You're far more likely to hurt yourself with a dull knife and any task is easier with a sharp one. Soak the whetstone and slide the knife's edge at a an angle along the rougher grit side about 10-15 times. Repeat on the fine grit side. Rinse. Check with your knife's manufacturer as to what angle to sharpen at.

10. Season, season, season. 

This is the biggest disparity between home cooks and professionals - season as you go. Add a little salt here and a  little there, tasting everytime, until you hit that perfect brightness of flavor. It should never taste of salt but salt will wake it up and make the flavors come through brighter - and it can't be accomplished with a little salt at the end. 

confetti cookies

Stop what you're doing. Seriously, put it down and grab the butter and the sugar. You need these incredible sour cream confetti cookies in your life. They're everything you'd want in a birthday-cake-turned-cookie, light and pillowy. There's nothing dense nor crunchy about these cookies, they're soft as sugar clouds on your tongue.

If you haven't noticed - the Spoontang Kitchen's actual space looks a little different these days. We moved from Brooklyn to the Upper East Side of Manhattan a little over three weeks ago. I'm slow to unpack, still living half out of boxes and my terrible memory of where I've placed the whisks. So it's a birthday of sorts, even if mine is still half a year away on the other side of summer, it's a time for something new. Something bright. These cookies are exactly what you need for spring, for that time of reset and renewal. Bright and celebratory and impossibly soft. 

recipe adapted from milk bar life. 

6 tbsp butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 cup sour cream
1 tbsp vanilla extract
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 cup rainbow sprinkles

Preheat oven to 350.

Cream butter and sugar together in mixer until light and fluffy (about 2-3 minutes). Add egg, sour cream, and vanilla. Beat until combined. Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt and add to mixture, beating until well combined. Add sprinkles and beat until throughly distributed. 

On a silpat-lined baking tray, scoop dough into 1 tbsp size balls. You can even them out or leave them relatively unformed, as I did. Bake at 350 for 7-9 minutes for small cookies and 10-11 minutes for larger cookies. Remove when tops begin to take on a golden brown color. Cookie should still be soft to the touch. Allow to cool completely before attempting to remove from silpat.

pommes persillade (potatoes with parsley + garlic)

I won't lie to you - I miss culinary school sometimes. The dashing from the 6 train, cappuccino in hand and the other holding onto my bag of tricks. Waiting for the impossibly slow elevator to the 14th floor, where you turned right into the women's locker room and slipped from one world into another by donning your checkered pants and chef's whites. The Institute of Culinary Education was such an experience for me, I still, and will always, draw on techniques learned there. 

This is one of them. November 2014 was the start of Module 2 of our Career Culinary class. This is where the core techniques are introduced. Pommes Persillade was one of our first experiences in Mod 2, learning to saute during Dry Heat Cooking Techniques. Sauteing is the foundation pommes persillade is built on, getting your pan and oil hot. Tossing the food in the pan so all sides are cooked. Not letting the garlic burn. It's deceptively simple and achingly delicious when you've achieved that golden brown crispy exterior, the soft fluffy potatoes therein contrasting with the bright herbal of parsley and the sharp tang of garlic. It's a perfect side dish, coming together in about twenty minutes from start to finish.

3 russet potatoes
1 heaping tbsp of parsley, chiffonaded
1 clove garlic, minced
salt
1 oz canola oil

Peel the potatoes and slice as evenly as you can into 1/2 inch rectangles. Slice the rectangles by 1/2 inch so you have a perfect 1/2 inch wide and 1/2 inch high baton. Slice into 1/2 inch cubes. 

Add potatoes to pot of water. Salt. Bring to a boil. Test potatoes for doneness. Once a knife can penetrate them easily, remove potatoes from water and spread on a paper towel. Allow to rest until cold.

Once cold, heat a 10" saute pan over med-high heat. Add oil. Once hot, add potatoes. Flip often, until all sides are brown and crunchy. Add parsley and garlic and toss. Cook 1-2 minutes longer, tossing regularly, until garlic is fragrant. Serve.

limoncello olive oil cake with preserved lemon buttercream

Lemon has always been my favorite. Sure, there are dalliances with mango and almond, pistachio and miso - but in the end it's lemon's bright clean flavor that I always seek out. Lemon sorbets, lemon curd, lemon shaker pie. Here, we're celebrating limoncello (which I keep on hand next to ice and cream for a crema di limoncello, basically a lemon-flavored orangsicle on (citrus) acid.

This is a play on a French yogurt cake. I read somewhere, once upon a time, that this is the first cake French children learn to make and I understand why. It's incredibly moist and forgiving, airy and none-too-sweet. Here, I've added lemon zest and limoncello to bring out that bold flavor and paired it with my favorite buttercream - Italian meringue. 

Buttercreams are not made equally. I can't stand the sickly sweet mixture of American buttercream, frequently seen on store-bought cupcakes. No, this buttercream is glossy and airy as a cloud, with the gentle backdrop of rich butter and high notes of gently sweet simple syrup. If angels sing, they sing about Italian buttercream.  

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limoncello olive oil cake

1 cup + 2 tbsp flour
1/2 cup cake flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 cup plain yogurt
1 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1 oz limoncello
2 tsp lemon zest
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 tsp salt

Heat oven to 350. Grease and flour an 11" cake pan. Combine eggs, olive oil, sugar, limoncello, and lemon zest in a mixer and beat until combined. Sift dry ingredients together and slowly add to mixer on medium-low speed, working in batches.  Once fully incorporated, pour the mixture into the prepared cake pan. Tap slightly to even mixture and release any trapped air.


Bake 40 minutes or until cake tester comes out clean. Allow to cool for approximately ten minutes before flipping onto cooling rack. Place in freezer for one hour before icing.

preserved lemon italian buttercream

4 egg whites
1.25 cups sugar
1/4 cup water
1 cup cubed and room temperature butter
1 tbsp preserved lemon syrup (or 1 tsp lemon extract + 1/4 tsp salt)

In a stand mixer, beat egg whites until they hold soft peaks. Combine water and sugar in a small saucepan and bring to a boil, dissolving completely. Bring syrup to 235 degrees and remove from heat. Slowly pour into the mixer, keeping the mixer on  low speed (to prevent scrambling eggs). Continue to mix until glossy and bowl has cooled. Add butter one cube at a time, beating to incorporate. Add lemon syrup and food coloring if desired. 

black sesame encrusted seared ahi tuna with ponzu reduction

I don't remember my first raw fish. I remember some but not the first. Gentle breezes laced with salt air, the sun on my back, wind blowing through palm trees sounding like an echo of  the ocean. There are thick slices of tuna and salmon haunting vinegared rice and covered with toasted nori. I eat them in gulps my classmates nudge me. Ew, that's raw fish, they say, and I suddenly swallow, uneasy. But the taste remains, that fresh, clean taste. Pure and unadorned. 

Ahi tuna is one of those few fish, like swordfish, that's really more of a hearty meat than others like cod. The bright pink flesh is sliced into half-inch or inch thick steaks and carefully wrapped in paper, ready for you to slip in your canvas bag and take home. How do you honor a fish both mild in flavor and robust enough for any cooking technique? The sheer heartiness of it provides an answer as tuna stands up well to a simple sear, so close to being left raw. I like to coat mine in sesame seeds to provide a crunchy contrast.

Every good meal deserves a good sauce. Here, I'm drawn toward the flavors of my childhood in Hawaii. Soy sauce mixed with a fruit acid (lime here) and the taste of Chinese black vinegar thick with five spice and a dusting of star anise. Reduce this over a low heat until au sec and nappe (nearly dry and when you coat the back of a spoon, you can draw your finger through it and the line stays.) .

1 5-6 oz ahi tuna steak
1/2 cup black sesame seeds
1/2 cup soy sauce
2 tbsp lime juice
2 tbsp Chinese black vinegar
1 oz canola oil

On a plate, spread out the sesame seeds. Flip tuna steak around until evenly coated. In a 10" saute pan heat oil until nearly smoking. Add the fish and sear for approximately two minutes on either side. Remove. 

In a small saucepan, combine soy sauce, lime juice, and vinegar. Reduce until sauce has thickened, about halfway. Drizzle tuna with sauce. Serve.