COOKBOOK/A TABLE - Watercressida Soup!

I was in high school the first time I visited Manhattan, circa ’85, having only previously dreamt of the city through the lens of Cole Porter, the Tony Awards, and my subscriptions to Interview magazine and The New Yorker. My friend and her father took me out to dinner at the legendary Café Luxembourg, a soaring bistro on the Upper West Side, full of caned chairs and a cocktail-swilling crowd at the terribly chic bar. I was beside myself, of course, because the restaurant always took out full-page ads in Interview.

The menu offered mussels, which I hardly cared for at the time—I loved oysters, escargots and clams, but I had never eaten mussels; I only knew that they hid in the mud, waiting to cut into my feet along the shores of Maine’s Muscongus Bay, where my parents used to have a cottage. Watercress & Snow Pea Soup was also on the menu—what on earth was watercress? Snow peas? Sounded rather grand and somewhat impenetrable to me. 

I’m not sure now what I actually did order, but I remember dining there was an absolutely thrilling night out in New York. It was also a satisfying measure of time when I was able to take a client to Café Luxembourg as my guest years later and then was asked to review it in a professional capacity as a restaurant critic. New York is funny that way.

Naturally, when my cousin sent me a copy of Cooking with Shakespeare by Annette Francis & Paula Hober (“A bard’s-eye view of goodly cookery created for contemporary epicures”), I was drawn to the Watercressida Soup inspired by Troilus and Cressida, similar to a summery vichyssoise emboldened with, yes, the deeper flavor of watercress. See what they did there? Peppers Cleopatra also called to me, as did Cassius Cassoulet and A Midsummer Night’s Crème, but that’s perhaps for another post.

I’ve neither read nor seen a production of Shakespeare’s Troilus and Cressida, but I can suggest that Watercressida Soup is ideal for this transitional time, as we slowly slide into fall while summer draws to a “close”, at least officially, next week. Snow peas optional.

If soup be the food of love, play on—and do enjoy!

Watercressida Soup
4 servings
Ingredients
2 1/2 potatoes
One bunch fresh watercress
2 tablespoons green onion, thinly sliced
One small carrot, finely chopped
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
One teaspoon salt
1 1/2 quarts boiling water
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 egg yolks, well beaten
Dash of freshly ground pepper
Croutons

Method
Peel and slice the potatoes. Remove any damaged leaves from the watercress and rinse several times. Reserve a few nice leaves to garnish the soup. Drain the remaining watercress in a salad basket. Coarsely chop the washed watercress and combine with potatoes, green onion, carrot, parsley, and salt in boiling water. Cook over high heat until the potatoes are tender. Rub through a sieve. Add to puree the butter, cream, egg yolks, a dash of pepper, and salt to taste. Heat through, stirring, but do not boil. Serve hot. Decorate with the reserved watercress leaves and serve with croutons.

“...to be wise and love exceeds man's might; that dwells with gods above.”

—Troilus and Cressida Act III, Scene ii, 149-150

BOOK/A TABLE - Forever ‘21’

I was ten years old when I first saw The Spy Who Loved Me in theaters. I was obsessed with the title song by Carly Simon, bought the album and toy version of the amazing white Lotus Esprit S1 car that also functioned as a submarine (with retractable fins) and launched missiles. It was awesome.

                              
I’ve seen all of the Bond movies since. Sean Connery is classic, of course, but Daniel Craig actually seems like a killer—although neither of them are how I picture Bond from the books. I recently read Diamonds are Forever (1956), and was taken in so easily by the descriptions of New York, Vegas, and the races at Saratoga in that era. I always love the chilled cocktails (check out here and here) and the groovy girls, but got a particular kick from the evocative chapter titles in this installation such as Hot Ice, Night Falls in the Passion Pit, Spectreville, and my favorite—Love and Bearnaise Sauce.

In Diamonds are Forever, Bond’s old pal Leiter takes him to Sardi’s for a grilled steak (there’s a lot of food mentioned in the book):

“And I’ve taken a chance and ordered you smoked salmon and Brizzola,” said Leiter. “This is one of the best places in town for beef, and Brizzola is the best cut of that, straight cut across the bone. Roasted and then broiled. Suit you?”

“Anything you say,” said Bond.

Then they go off to ‘21’ which is funny because I actually have the recipe for Brizzola that also used to be served there, found in my beloved copy of The ‘21’ Cookbook. Former ‘21’ executive chef Michael Lomonaco tells us that Steak Brizzola served at the restaurant (sadly shuttered in 2020) was cooked on a high-temperature grill. Outdoor grilling at home is the preferred method at home, but a broiler will work with the door ajar. Or simply pan-fry!

Here is the wagyu ribeye we picked up on huge sale at Eataly over the Labor Day weekend, before we dropped it in the pan for our own Brizzola. And then I was too eager to eat it to take any other pictures. 

Dum ditty dum dum dum dum dum dum ditty dum dum... (my approximation of the Bond theme) ...do enjoy!

‘21’ Traditional Rib Steak “Brizzola”
Serves 4 to 8

Ingredients
4 (16- to 18-ounce rib steaks)
2 tablespoons pure olive oil
2 tablespoons chopped fresh garlic
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Method
Brush the steaks with olive oil. Spread a little of the chopped garlic on both sides of all the steaks. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Over a hot barbecue grill, or in a broiler that has been preheated at least 20 minutes, cook the steaks on both sides to the desired doneness. Generally, a steak of this size, cooked over a barbecue grill, will be medium rare within 12 minutes (6 minutes on each side).

I thought to include an additional suggestion, if you would like a butter baste: Halfway through the cooking process, drop the unsalted butter, crushed garlic, and rosemary sprig into the pan. Sprinkle with a pinch dried oregano and black pepper. Continuously spoon the foaming, hot melted butter over the top of the steak until it reaches your preferred internal temperature (about 57°C / 135°F for medium-rare).

Let 'Em Eat Crab Cakes (with Saffron Vinaigrette)!

If you can decipher my besmeared and bespattered print-out, you can see I first came upon Martha Stewart’s recipe for crab cakes in 2000. I have made them pretty much every summer since—another one of the cool favorites I like to make when it is hot outside. 

Having posted about Lobster Thermidor over Memorial Day weekend this year, I thought I would include crab cakes for Labor Day weekend to bookend the summer (although the season is not yet over, in my book). Also, I figured I should create a digital copy of the recipe (no longer available online) before the print-out becomes completely unreadable. 

I don’t use any peppers as the recipe suggests, nor do I always use sourdough bread crumbs. Rarely do I splurge on lump meat; the less expensive claw meat works just fine. And I prefer Louisiana’s Crystal sauce over Tabasco. But the surprising thing here is just how much the saffron vinaigrette tastes like more traditional accompaniment to crab cakes, tartar sauce! Clever and delicious.

Should you be in the mood for more crab, look to Molly O’Neill’s wonderful Couscous and Crab Salad with Cucumber and Mint.

Do enjoy!

Crab Cakes with Saffron Vinaigrette
Ingredients
1 LB jumbo lump blue crab meat
One large egg, beaten
One large egg yolk, beaten
1 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped onion
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped red bell pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons chopped green bell pepper
3/4 teaspoon coarse salt
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
2 pinches finely chopped fresh Rosemary leaves
1/2 cup dried sourdough bread crumbs
Tabasco, to taste
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

Saffron Vinaigrette (recipe follows)
Chives, cut into 2-inch lengths, for garnish
1/4 cup peeled, seeded, and diced tomato, for garnish

Method
Heat oven to 373 five degrees. Line a baking sheet with a Silpat (French non-stick baking mat). In a medium bowl, combine crab, egg, egg yolk, garlic, onion, red and green pepper, salt, thyme, rosemary, bread crumbs, Tabasco and three tablespoons olive oil. Cover and chill for at least 10 minutes. Shape into five 2-inch thick cakes. Set aside.

In a heavy-bottomed sauté pan, heat remaining 3 tablespoons olive oil over medium high heat. Add crab cakes. And sauté until lightly browned, about two minutes per side. Remove from sauté pan and place unprepared baking sheet. Transfer to oven and bake until heated through, about 7 minutes.

Drizzle plates with saffron vinaigrette. Garnish plates with chives and diced tomato. Top with crab cakes.

Saffron Vinaigrette
Makes 1/2 cup
3 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon sugar
Pinch saffron, preferably Spanish
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
5 tablespoons vegetable oil
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste

In a small food processor, combine lemon juice, mustard, sugar, and saffron. Blend until uniform in color. Slowly add oils and pepper, pulsing to combine.

BOOK/A TABLE - Cowboy Caviar

I picked up Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove after having read Virginia Evans’ fantastic epistolary novel The Correspondent, where a fictional correspondence with the McMurtry occurs within the pages. I didn’t know much about the book at all, nor did I realize it was now enjoying its 41st anniversary. 

About a quarter through the considerable tome, I was thrilled to join in on a Lonesome Dove conversation I happened to overhear in a bookstore, and was stunned to see a recent article in The New Yorker about what to read after Lonesome Dove! Rarely have I felt so attuned to any sort of zeitgeist.

When I told a friend I what I was reading, he cocked an eye, raised an eyebrow and said, “A western?” I replied, “Well, sorta...” and said that although the action takes place in the Old West, the book is many things...it’s also a love story. Yes, there are those themes you’d expect, like nature’s savagery and the savage nature of man, but the characters could really be anywhere, their souls filled with hope and regrets, the same as anyone else, even as they weigh their mortality and wonder at the stars in the nighttime sky.

I also reminded my friend that Lonesome Dove won the Pulitzer. 

By book’s end, I realized I had fallen in love myself. I think the characters of Call and Augustus will saddle up to a special forever place in your bookish heart as well—and when you have your next glass of water, give a moment to appreciate how good it really is.

Now, the cowboys do travel with a cook as they make the harrowing trek from Arkansas to Montana herding cattle, and they can’t be too picky, of course, but what they actually eat sounds super gross. I will therefore spare you any sort of recipe involving worms or grasshoppers and instead, offer up a delicious recipe for Cowboy Caviar, similar to what they serve at Cowgirl back here in my home, on the range of Manhattan.

Do enjoy!

Cowboy Caviar
Adapted from loveandlemons.com

Ingredients

1½ cups cooked black beans, drained and rinsed

1½ cups fresh or thawed frozen corn kernels
2 Roma tomatoes, diced (about 1 heaping cup)
1 red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded, and diced
½ cup diced red onion
1 jalapeño pepper, finely chopped
½ cup chopped fresh cilantro, reserve some for garnish
2 large avocados, pitted and diced
Tortilla chips, for serving

Dressing
¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Juice of 1 lime, plus more wedges for serving
1¼ teaspoons sea salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 garlic cloves, grated
1 teaspoon ground cumin
Freshly ground black pepper

Instructions
In a large bowl, stir together the black beans, black-eyed peas, corn, tomatoes, bell pepper, onion, jalapeño, and most of the cilantro.

Make the dressing: In a medium bowl, whisk together the olive oil, vinegar, lime juice, salt, sugar, garlic, cumin, and several grinds of pepper. Pour the dressing over the bean mixture and stir to combine.

Chill in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour to allow the flavors to develop. Just before serving, fold in the avocado and season to taste. I like to add a few more squeezes of lime at this point. Garnish with the reserved cilantro and serve with tortilla chips.

BOOK/A TABLE - Marmalade Bread & Butter Pudding

It could well be that marmalade was created by one of the nurses attending Mary, Queen of Scots when her lady fell ill. The nurse is purported to have prepared a soothing concoction of sugar and oranges for Mary saying, in French, “Marie est malade...” Marmalade!

However, the idea of making this Marmalade Bread & Butter Pudding came from Blaming by one of my British authoress idols, Elizabeth Taylor. When Amy is left widowed on holiday in Istanbul, another woman comforts her and returns home to England with her, but Amy finds it difficult to maintain their unusual relationship afterward and naturally, complications ensue.  

I adore this book, like all the others in Taylor’s canon, but it was the mention of this pudding that I found particularly inspiring. Can you blame me? 

The character of James is trying to cut down on sweet things, but his resolve weakens at the discovery of this pudding that Amy made. 

“What kind?” he asked cautiously.
“That marmalade bread and butter one that your father liked so much. You did, too.”
“Bread and butter...yes, oh yes, I remember...I think I do remember.” He had forgotten until now all the delicious English puddings.

Serve your pudding warm after cooling completely and reheating—you want it to set completely. It’s also fantastic ice cold from the fridge the next day. It is “super easy” to make, as Jamie Oliver states, but you still have to crack and separate nine eggs.

Do enjoy! 

Marmalade Bread & Butter Pudding
Adapted from Jamie Oliver

Ingredients
For the flavoured butter
100g (7 TB) unsalted butter, softened
a large pinch of ground nutmeg
a large pinch of ground cinnamon
zest of 1 large orange

8 x 1cm (about ½”) slices of good-quality bread
9 large free-range or organic eggs

140g (2/3 cup) caster sugar
500ml (2 cups) semi-skimmed milk
565ml (2 1/3 cups) single cream
1 vanilla pod, scored lengthways and seeds removed
4 tablespoons good-quality fine-cut marmalade

Method
Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF/gas 4.

First make your flavoured butter by mixing the butter with the nutmeg, cinnamon and orange zest. Use a little of it to butter a medium-sized shallow, ovenproof dish.

Butter the bread using the flavoured butter, then cut each slice in half diagonally. Put the slices in your buttered dish.

Now separate the eggs, reserving all 9 yolks but just 1 egg white. Whisk together the egg yolks and egg white with the sugar, then gently heat the milk and cream in a saucepan with the vanilla seeds and pod. Pour into the eggs, stirring all the time. Remove the vanilla pod then pour the mixture over the bread and leave to soak for at least 20 minutes.

Put the dish in a roasting tray and pour in enough boiling water to come halfway up the side of the dish. Then put it in the preheated oven for about 45 minutes, or until the custard has just set.

Meanwhile, gently warm the marmalade in a saucepan, then remove the dish from the oven and brush the marmalade over the top of the bread. Pop the dish back into the oven for another 5 to 10 minutes. Allow it to cool and firm up slightly before serving.

 

 

 

A Few of My Favorite Summer Things

                                                        Art by Pete

While I’m on vacation, enjoy these dishes that have become my must-makes over many summers now. For your consideration—a soup, salad, and an entree!

Take your pick of the best tomatoes and put them in this Gazpacho Andaluz.  

A sumptuous Summer Salad is beautifully made with the bounty of the season. 

Trenette col Pesto Genovese (that’s pasta with pesto, bliss potatoes, and green beans to you and me, bub) is a wonderful classic Italian dish, highly suitable for this time of year. 

I hope you are enjoying your summer!

Duck with Peaches and Blueberry Jam

 

Today I present another adventure in Freezer Diving! And it’s a good one. I found duck breasts in our freezer along with a bag of frozen peaches. I then turned to the fruit-forward cookbook Fruitful for ideas. I ended up with a riff on a duck recipe that called for honeyed gooseberries. As I didn’t have gooseberries at the ready, I subbed in peaches and blueberry jam, and it all turned out to be, well...rather fruitful! 

If you already have some juicy stone fruits waiting on the counter, by all means use those. Freezer Diving is a game of invention played with ingredients you already have on hand, and this time, frozen peaches worked for me (as well as the jar of Stonewall Kitchen blueberry jam lurking in the fridge). I sometimes like to think of recipes as blueprints for meal-building; scaffolding to be altered according to what flavors you like together—or simply what needs to be smartly used up before it goes to waste.  

This duck is not difficult to make, but your delighted guests need never know. So, throw open your cupboards, root through your freezer, and let the games begin!

Duck with Peaches and Blueberry Jam
Adapted from Fruitful by Brian Nicholson and Sarah Huck
Makes 2 servings

Ingredients  
Duck
One 1 lb Moulard Magret duck breast, split for two portions, excess fat trimmed from edges
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 teaspoons fennel seeds, crushed
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme leaves (or one teaspoon dried)
1 teaspoon extra virgin olive oil

Peach-Blueberry Sauce
One pint frozen peaches
3 tablespoons blueberry jam
Fine sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Instructions
Score the duck breast skin in a crosshatch pattern, making the slices as deep as possible without cutting into the meat. Season with salt and pepper on each side.

In a small bowl combine the fennel, thyme, and olive oil. Rub the mixture over the duck breast. Let the seasoned duck stand at room temperature, loosely covered with plastic wrap, for one hour.

Heat a large skillet over high heat until very hot. Place the duck, skin side down, in the skillet. Reduce heat to medium high and cook for about 8 minutes (keep a careful eye when skin achieves a deep golden brown), continuously draining or spooning off the rendered fat. Turn the duck and cook it to your desired doneness, 4 to 5 minutes longer for medium rare. Transfer the breasts to a platter and cover them with foil to keep warm. Reserve one tablespoon of fat from the pan; use the rest for something else.

For the peaches, return the skillet to medium high heat. Add the peaches and 2 tablespoons of blueberry jam. Simmer until peaches soften, 5 to 7 minutes. Stir in the remaining tablespoon of jam, and season to taste with salt and pepper.

Slice the duck breast thinly against the grain arrange the slices on the serving plates, spoon the peach-blueberry sauce over the top and serve immediately.

Panzanella

Oh! I feel such disappointment when a waxy tomato, pale as the moon, shows up while dining out! What a missed opportunity. These flavorless things that some restaurants try to pass off as tomatoes are just outrageous. I wonder why they even bother to serve them at all. 

But there’s no excuse for such nonsense right now. Summer’s here and the time is ripe for tomatoes! Grab them while they are in high season to make the best bread salad tossed with roasted peppers, olives, anchovies, and basil. Tuscany is just a breath away!

Panzanella 
Adapted from Saveur magazine

Ingredients
3 loaves ciabatta (Italian slipper bread, stale)
2 1⁄4 lb. fresh plum tomatoes
4 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed with salt
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Tuscan extra-virgin olive oil
4 tbsp. red wine vinegar
3 red bell peppers (time-saving roasted peppers from a jar would certainly work)*
3 yellow bell peppers 
4 oz. salted capers
6 anchovy filets
5 oz. black olives, pitted
Leaves from 1 bunch basil

Instructions
Cut bread into rough, thick slices, and place in a large bowl.

Peel and halve tomatoes, then seed them into a sieve over a bowl to retain juice. Set tomato halves aside. Discard seeds. Season juice with garlic, black pepper, 1 cup olive oil, and 2–3 tbsp. vinegar. Pour juice over bread and toss until it absorbs all the liquid. If more liquid is required to soak bread completely, add more olive oil.

Blacken peppers over a grill or gas burner *(or use the jar variety), then peel, seed, and cut lengthwise into eighths.

Rinse salt from capers and soak in remaining vinegar.

Gently mix together tomato halves, peppers, drained capers, anchovies, olives, and basil.

Fill a large bowl with alternating layers of soaked bread and pepper mixture, beginning with bread and ending with pepper mixture. Allow to sit for 1 hour at room temperature. Serve moistened with additional extra-virgin olive oil.

 

This Just In — Dumpling Lasagna!

The hubs and I were so enamored by a post for Dumpling Lasagna we found on Facebook that we pulled out the wonton skins we’d stashed in the freezer at some point to get started—and I pushed back the recipe I originally had intended to post this week to share the fab recipe for Dumpling Lasagna with you! 

I think this tasty lasagna is a perfect thing to make with the young ones. Not only is it simply made and pleasing to most palates, it’s also on the table in a snap. My comments below in italics.

Thanks to Chris Lee for the inspo! 

Dumpling Lasagna

Adapted from Chris Lee/Facebook

Ingredients
1 lb extra lean ground chicken
Chopped green onion
2 teaspoons grated ginger (one scant teaspoon fresh ginger is good, or to taste!)
One tablespoon garlic
2 tablespoons soy sauce
One tablespoon sesame oil
One tablespoon oyster sauce
One teaspoon brown splenda (we had light brown sugar on hand)
One teaspoon salt (I don't think it's needed)
2 teaspoons white pepper (very strong, we used one teaspoon)

1/4 cup chicken broth
10 to 11 sheets wonton wrapper (a strange number; we used twelve sheets, overlapped)

Sesame oil soy sauce:
2 tablespoons soy sauce, half teaspoon of sesame oil, pinch of chili flakes

Instructions
1. Into a bowl combine the following ingredients. Chicken, green onion, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil, oyster sauce, brown splenda, salt, white pepper, mix!
2. In a baking dish layer the ingredients like lasagna. Start with a layer of meat mixture wonton skins and so on.
3. Pour 1/4 cup of chicken broth on top of the finished layers.
4. Steam the baking dish for 20 to 25 minutes until the entire dish is cooked.
5. Top with soy sauce mixture green onions sesame seeds and enjoy.

BOOK/A TABLE - A Toast to French Toast

In honor of Bastille Day, I’d like to propose a toast—to the French Toast Loaf! And let’s raise a glass to Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables as well, the epic tome that captured France in the early years of the nineteenth century so vividly. It also happens to be a great read.

Hugo’s hero Jean Valjean was imprisoned for stealing a loaf of bread, of course, but I can’t help but feel the gendarmes of the day would have turned a blind eye if he’d stolen this fantastic French Toast Loaf instead! I mean, who could blame him?

This is a perfectly portable dish after all (you can also try stuffing your mixture into muffin tins), to be delivered to a friend’s brunch table or simply enjoyed for breakfast at home with a liberal slathering of butter, alongside a cup of steaming coffee and fresh juice. Grab on the way to work or consider as a dessert, topped with vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce.

A spritz of Cointreau or brandy might be a nice finishing touch to the syrup added to the top of your loaf and certainly feel free to add in some chopped pecans or walnuts. Crispy bacon crumbles...? 

As Hugo wrote: “Happiness unadorned is like unbuttered bread: one may eat it but one does not dine.” 

So cheers then, to a whole lot of adorned happiness!

Behold the innards of our marbelized loaf...at a quick glance, one might mistake it for a sumptuously good terrine or a gooey mille-feuille pastry!

French Toast Loaf
(Serves four comfortably for a lovely breakfast accompaniment)
Ingredients
4 x 6 1/2-inch foil loaf pan 
4 challah rolls, torn apart by hand
1 cup milk
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract (or maple syrup)
1/2 TB ground cinnamon
1 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 tsp lemon zest from fresh lemon
A few fresh grinds of black pepper
Pinch or two salt

Method
Pre-heat 400-degree oven. Lightly coat pan with butter or a few sprays of Pam. Whisk together wet ingredients in a serviceable bowl and add in spices. This is where the few drops of liqueur could be added in as well before mixing in some chopped nuts. Add challah pieces and coat thoroughly (it is very important to soak all the pieces) mashing it all together with your fingers and tightly molding it together before slipping the mixture into your pan. Spray with Pam. Put into oven for five minutes before reducing heat to 350-degrees for another 25 minutes. Remove from oven and pour maple syrup on top and let rest for five minutes before serving.  

Did you ever see the musical version of Les Misérables? Several times? Let me know in the comments!

Parmesan Bowls

Quick and easy are watchwords when it comes to summer cooking and of course, fun is as essential in summertime as sunscreen. My little cousin (now a married lady and a mom) nearly lost her mind when I introduced her to the Parmesan bowl concept years ago, filling the cheesy vessel with salad and chives out of her parents’ summer garden.

Part serving dish, part Parmesan crisp, these delightful bowls always deliver a fair share of oohs and ahs. So grab some parm and get started!

Parmesan Cheese Bowls
Grab two microwave safe nesting bowls.

Line a large flat plate with parchment paper; make a circle template by putting the smaller of the bowls upside-down on the parchment and tracing a circle around the opening.

Remove the bowl, add the cheese. Spread a thin layer of grated Parmesan cheese onto the parchment, a bit larger than the traced outline.

Microwave the cheese (on the parchment) on high for about 1 minute or until melted and golden.

While still hot, quickly drape the parchment, cheese-side up, over the smaller upside-down bowl; immediately top with the other larger bowl. Let sit and cool for 3 minutes.

Let set and separate: Remove top bowl and gently invert the Parmesan bowl. Carefully remove the parchment. Allow to fully harden, about 15 minutes. 

Fill with greens (or whatever else you like) and do enjoy!

Grilled Chicken with Red Onion Jam

 

Just in time for the upcoming fireworks, here’s a bursting flavor bomb that’s super easy to prepare and can be made ahead for a sit-down dinner or to bring along to a celebratory BBQ! What more do you need?

The chicken marinates in the morning or afternoon in a delicious blend of herbs and garlic. The red onion jam can sit out all day to cool! Top the grilled chicken with the jam for a summery meal at home or wedge between slices of a hearty white bread and it’s picnic-ready.

I believe recipes are stories; some to be adapted as we go along. I thought red wine, sherry vinegar, and black raspberry liqueur was too heavy for summer, so I lightened it up with white wine, champagne vinegar and orangey Grand Marnier, as suggested below in italics. I also don’t have a backyard grill (or a backyard for that matter), but a hot skillet worked just fine, as would a grill pan.

Happy 4th of July, everybody!

Chicken with Red Onion Jam
Ingredients
For the Chicken
1⁄2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1⁄2 cup minced parsley (2 tbsp dried parsley)
1⁄4 cup minced basil (1 tbsp dried basil)
2 tbsp minced rosemary (1 tsp dried rosemary)
2 tbsp minced thyme (1 tsp dried thyme)
1 tsp crushed red chile flakes (couple of jolts of hot sauce)
4 cloves garlic, minced
Juice and zest of 1 lemon (1/4 cup lime juice, plus 1 tsp dried lemon zest)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts, pounded to ¼” thickness, halved

For the Red Onion Jam
4 tbsp unsalted butter
2 large red onions, sliced thin
3⁄4 cup dry red wine (white wine)
1⁄2 cup sherry vinegar (champagne vinegar)
1⁄2 cup sugar
1⁄4 cup black raspberry liqueur, such as Chambord (Grand Marnier)
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Method
Make the chicken: Mix oil, parsley, basil, rosemary, thyme, chile flakes, garlic, and lemon juice and zest in a gallon-size resealable plastic bag; add chicken. Seal bag, and marinate in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour (or overnight).

Meanwhile, make the jam: Heat butter in a 12” skillet over medium heat. Add onions; cook, stirring, until soft but not browned, about 15 minutes. Add wine, vinegar, sugar, liqueur, salt, and pepper; cook, stirring, until thick, about 40 minutes; let jam cool.

Build a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill or heat a gas grill to medium-high. (Alternatively, heat broiler to high.) Working in batches, grill chicken, turning once, until browned and cooked through, about 5 minutes. Serve with jam.

Luscious Lemon Possets

I first heard of lemon possets at Dean’s, the new-ish pubtwist restaurant cleverly installed in SoHo. There we enjoyed a wonderfully modern twist on classic British pub fare, supping on Scotch eggs, perfectly crusted pasties, knockout grilled liver, and lettuces lushly dressed with coronation chicken salad cream. 

When it came time for dessert, I asked about the possets on the menu and was thrilled to learn of the traditional British dessert, similar to a pudding, but also like a tingly lemony curd.

Since our lingering afternoon at Dean’s, I’ve noticed possets trending on a few other New York tables as well—then a recipe for them popped up in the New York Times and I had to share here.

Do enjoy!

Lemon Possets
By Toni Chapman

Yield:10 servings
Ingredients
6 large lemons
2 cups/480 milliliters heavy cream (see Tip)
⅔ cup sugar
Pinch of fine salt
Fresh mint, for garnish

Preparation
Step 1
Halve 5 of the lemons lengthwise. Working over a fine-mesh sieve set in a bowl, scoop out the pulp from each half with a spoon (you can use a knife to help cut around the edges first) and press it through the sieve to extract the juice. Measure out ⅓ cup juice for the possets; save any extra for another use. Set the hollow lemon shells cut-side up on a tray, or nestle them in a muffin tin so they do not tip in the fridge. Zest the remaining lemon.

Step 2
In a medium saucepan, combine the heavy cream, sugar, 1 tablespoon lemon zest and salt. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat, stirring just until the sugar dissolves. Let it simmer undisturbed for 3 minutes to thicken slightly and concentrate the flavor. (The cream needs to simmer for the full 3 minutes; under-reducing is one of the most common reasons a posset fails to set.)

Step 3
Remove from the heat and pour the cream mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a heatproof measuring cup or pitcher, leaving the zest behind. Whisk in the lemon juice until fully combined. The mixture will thicken slightly as the acid is incorporated.

Step 4
Pour the posset mixture into the lemon shells while it is still warm — not bubbling hot, but not cooled either. You want it loose enough to pour smoothly; if you wait too long it will start to set. (If that happens, warm it very gently over low heat just to loosen it back up.) Slide the whole tray into the refrigerator and chill uncovered for at least 4 hours, or until fully set.

Tips
Full-fat heavy cream is the only thing that will set this. Half-and-half, light cream, or anything plant-based will give you a runny pool, not a posset.

A muffin tin is the easiest way to keep the lemon shells perfectly upright in the fridge — each cup holds one half steady.

Make-ahead: The possets can be made up to 2 days in advance. Once fully set, cover loosely with plastic wrap.

 

Thanks to lifestyleofafoodie.com for the photo!

BOOK/A TABLE - Summer Vegetable Soup

The first day of summer is only a few days away and in Manhattan, it feels as if we’ve already settled well into it. I had never read Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar until last year, and what I remember, of all things, is the striking description on the first page that evokes a New York summer so brilliantly.

“By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-gray at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down my throat.”

The point is made: New York City gets awfully hot this time of year. Far better to pour a nice summer soup down your throat instead, don’t you think? My tattered issue of Saveur from 1995 has got the goods. Grab the freshest vegetables you can find and do enjoy!

Summer Vegetable Soup
Adapted from Saveur
Ingredients
6 cups simple vegetable stock
1 large carrot, peeled, trimmed, and diced
1⁄4 lb. green beans, trimmed and cut into 1" pieces
1 small bulb fennel, trimmed and thinly sliced, tops reserved for garnish
6 small red or white new potatoes, sliced
2 small yellow or green summer squash, diced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 small sprigs fresh parsley
4 small sprigs fresh chervil

Method
Step 1
Bring stock to a simmer in a large pot over medium heat. Add carrots, beans, fennel, potatoes, and squash, cover pot, and gently simmer until vegetables are soft, about 20 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Step 2
To serve, ladle into individual bowls and garnish with reserved fennel tops, parsley, and chervil.

I Went to a Marvelous Party!

                                                Drawing by Pete

Not long after I moved to Manhattan in the early 90s, I discovered the city magic of having a backyard garden. A friend invited me to a dinner party and we were all led outside to eat, under a twinkling of summer lights.

It was a rich affair, both gastronomically and spiritually. Our host introduced us, or at least me, to fish quenelles (splendid little dumplings of a sort), before moving on to a cheese souffle, and finishing with a molten chocolate something or other.

My memory might be a bit vague on those points, but I do distinctly remember having French Breakfast radishes to nibble on over cocktails. These elegant pink-ish radishes were fanned out on a platter with their frilly green leaves still attached, and served with butter and salt to be spread and sprinkled. The fresh creamy salty crunch of it all still lingers as a delicious bite for summer and I often serve French Breakfast radishes this way to guests, or to myself, elbows bent over the kitchen counter.

You can do the simple thing here, using whatever butter or salt you have on hand, but for a proper spread on your radishes, I recommend using room temperature or slightly chilled European butter (from Normandy if you can find it) or the best available. Then just crush a pinch or two of Maldon salt crystals between your fingers and sprinkle on top. Discard the greens and repeat as necessary.

I hope you are enjoying your summer!

BOOK/A TABLE - Grapefruit Margaritas

Summertime is margaritatime!

The famous Midnight Margaritas scene in the movie Practical Magic is not from the book, but Alice Hoffman does at least reference salt in the pages...I love this quote and its advice, particularly the last part! 

“There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.”
― Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic

The lower-alcohol version of the grapefruit margarita here, courtesy of Martha Stewart, replaces orange liqueur with honey, resulting in the same sort of summer cooler that you’ll want to sip outside. And of course, the salted rim is optional. For a non-alcoholic version, check out Alamave, a blue agave “spirit” that is also a surprisingly good tequila alternative.

Click here for my margarita round-up featuring recipes served at various resorts in Puerto Rico! 

If there is a drink you prefer in summer over the margarita, I’d love to know about it! I hope you enjoy this recipe, and remember, “It’s midnight somewhere...”

Grapefruit Margaritas

Adapted from marthastewart.com
Ingredients
1 tablespoon clover or orange-blossom honey
1 tablespoon very hot water (from the tap)
2 ounces blanco tequila
1 strip peeled pink grapefruit rind plus 2 ounces fresh juice
¾ ounce fresh lime juice

Coarse salt, for rim

Directions
In the bottom of a cocktail shaker, stir honey with 1 tablespoon very hot water (from the tap) until dissolved. Fill shaker halfway with ice and top with tequila, grapefruit juice, and lime juice. Shake vigorously until outside of shaker is cold and frosty, about 10 seconds.

Roll rim of a glass, perhaps a tall and narrow Collins, with salt. Fill glass with crushed ice and strain. Stir with a swizzle stick or straw until glass turns frosty, about 10 seconds. Garnish with grapefruit rind; serve immediately.

You Say Scallops, I Say Scallops...

Let’s call the whole thing awesome!

Depending on where you came from, scallops are pronounced either scaw-llops (like scald) or ska-llops (scaffolding). I tend to go for the latter, but I think much of my Down East brethren opt for the former.

It hardly matters, we’re heading to Italy anyway. I think you’ll love this Venetian scallop dish courtesy of the wonderful Polpo cookbook. In Venice the pilgrim scallops are smaller, as author Russell Norman tells us, so if you’re working with larger diver-caught scallops, just slice them in half horizontally. 

Fresh peas are recommended, but I found frozen works just fine. Once the ingredients are prepared, this dish all goes rather quickly, and arrives so beautifully at the table.  

How do you say...buon mangiare!

Braised Scallops, Pancetta & Peas
Adapted from Polpo by Russell Norman
Ingredients
8 rashers of thinly sliced pancetta
2 tablespoons
Extra-virgin olive oil
16 spring onions
500 g (use 1 pound) peas – fresh if you can, frozen if not
2 heads of baby gem lettuce, cut into bite sized pieces
50 g (half a stick) unsalted butter
12 small scallops (or six sliced in half horizontally if very large)
Crusty bread, to serve

Method
Cut the pancetta into 2 cm (roughly one inch) strips. Fry in a large pan with the olive oil until brown. Cut the spring onions into 5 cm (about 2 inches) pieces and add to the pan. When they have wilted slightly add all the peas and enough water to cover. Simmer for three minutes for frozen peas and 5–6 minutes for fresh peas.

Add the chopped baby gem lettuce and the butter and continue to simmer gently. After 1 minute at the scallops and simmer for 1more minute. Take off the heat and serve almost as a broth in shallow bowls.

Have some good crusty bread in the middle of the table to mop up the juices.

Lobster Thermidor

Blind dates used to be a sticky situation. The time I’m talking about was over 35 years ago, before the age of cyberstalking, when a blind date was just that—you met somebody without knowing what they really looked like, apart from a brief description that they or maybe the friend that set you up in the first place told you. And we all know people are big fat liars. Maybe the friend had shown you a photograph? But there was no checking on facebook or other social media to get a preview of the person you were meeting blindly.

I don’t know if blind dates can even exist anymore.

Anyway, let’s go back a hundred years ago to nineteen-aught-ninety (or 1990, if you’d rather). My good friend set me up on a blind date. She said he was cute, a hairdresser (no stereotype comments from the peanut gallery, please), and had a lot of money. That’s all I knew. Maybe I spoke to him first? Not sure, but it was arranged we would meet for sushi somewhere in Portsmouth, NH. I was fresh out of college and still living with my parents at the time. Naturally, since sushi is not very filling, I ate first. My mom had made spaghetti and I was pretty stuffed by the time I met they guy—Paul? Let’s call him Paul. I got ready to go—I still remember the Madras plaid shorts and white sweater I wore.

Paul and I were walking around Prescott Park (he was cute, in a Woodstock sort of way—you know, Snoopy’s yellow bird friend, as I remember) and he asked if I wanted to get stoned. Duh. So, we lit one up and it was the paranoid kind of weed. He told me we weren’t going to sushi after all. Instead, he’d made reservations at this really fancy, intimate place on Ceres Street that I’d heard about but had never met anyone who’d dared to enter. This was about the time when the paranoia started in.

The restaurant was beautiful, everything on the menu was terribly expensive, and I felt very underdressed and stupid in my shorts and probably my flip flops (again, this was in a galaxy far, far away, when dressing for dinner used to matter). I was also really stoned but I wasn’t hungry at all, thanks to the platter of spaghetti I’d had at home. I didn’t even have the munchies. I couldn’t decide on anything to order and think I said I just wanted a salad or something, but Paul kept pushing me to eat—we were out at dinner, after all. 

Then a different level of paranoia kicked in—did he think I was shy about ordering anything because I couldn’t afford it? I couldn’t, of course, having just been released from college, but apart from that, I really didn’t have room for another bite. The waiter came back a few times while I decided and finally, I relented. “I’ll just have the Lobster Thermidor,” I said, choosing the most expensive and arguably one of the bigger dishes on the menu.

I managed to finish it; all but licked the plate, in fact. It was delicious.

We may have had dessert, but honestly, I don’t know if we even had a little kiss before saying goodnight. (Maybe…?) He was a really nice guy though and we had a good time, but I at least just didn’t feel any real click. I did see him in passing once again, we had a great chat a few months later at a party thrown by the mutual friend who’d set us up.

He did pay for dinner, by the way, of course—he was a gentleman and as the restaurant was his choice, he took care of the check.

I don’t know why I never came clean and just told him how stoned I was and how I’d eaten a full dinner beforehand. I still have the shorts and sweater, although I never wore them again and have no idea why I’ve kept them after all these years.

But—I do know I still love lobster. And here’s how to make your own Lobster Thermidor. I recommend sorting and preparing your ingredients beforehand, according to the steps.

HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!

Lobster Thermidor
Ingredients
STEP 1
3 cups dry white wine
1 large onion, thinly sliced
1 medium carrot, thinly sliced
1 stalk celery, thinly sliced
6 sprigs fresh parsley
1 bay leaf
1/4 teaspoon thyme
6 peppercorns
1 tablespoon dried tarragon
3 (2 lb) live lobsters

STEP 2
1/2 lb sliced fresh mushrooms
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon lemon juice
1/4 teaspoon salt

STEP 3 - the sauce
5 tablespoons butter
6 tablespoons flour
1 tablespoon cream

STEP 4
4-6 tablespoons additional whipping cream

STEP 5
4 tablespoons butter
1/3 cup cognac

STEP 6
1/2 cup grated parmesean
2 tablespoons butter, cut into pieces

Instructions
STEP 1) 

In a large enameled or stainless steel pot, simmer the white wine, onion, carrot, celery, parsley, bay leaf, thyme, peppercorn, and tarragon for 15 minutes. (wait to add the lobsters!)
Bring to a rolling boil and then add the live lobsters. Once the lobsters are cooked (you can tell when they are done once they turn bright red and the long head-feelers can be pulled out pretty easily), remove them from the pot.

STEP 2) 

While the lobsters are steaming, stew the mushrooms over low to medium low heat in a covered saucepan with butter, lemon juice, and salt for 10 minutes.
Pour the mushroom juices into the lobster-juices pot (not the mushrooms! set aside for end of recipe) and boil down rapidly until it is reduced to about 2 1/4 cups liquid.
Strain the lobster-mushroom liquid into a large saucepan and bring to a simmer.

STEP 3) 

In another saucepan, cook the butter and flour together slowly. Be sure not to brown it!
Remove from heat, and beat in the lobster-mushroom liquid.
Boil combined liquid, stirring constantly for 1 minute. Drizzle the 1 tablespoon cream on top of the sauce. Remove from heat.
Split the lobsters in half, lengthwise, making sure to keep the shell halves intact. Discard 'sand sacks' in the heads and intestines.

STEP 4) 

Thin out the sauce with additional whipping cream (by now the sauce should be thick enough to coat a spoon pretty heavily).
Set aside, top filmed with a spoonful of cream.
Remove the meat from the lobster tails and claws, cut into 3/8 inch cubes.

STEP 5) 

Set another skillet with 4 tablespoons butter over medium heat.
When butter foam begins to dissipate, stir in the lobster meat and saute, stirring slowly, for 5 minutes, until the meat has turned a rosy color.
Pour the cognac in and boil for a minute or two, shaking the skillet, until the liquid has been reduced by half.

STEP 6)

Preheat oven to 425°F.
Fold cooked mushrooms and 2/3 of the sauce into the skillet with the lobster meat.
Arrange the split lobster shells on a shallow roasting pan. Heap the lobster mixture into the shells, and cover with the remaining sauce.
Sprinkle with cheese and dot with butter (you can refrigerate it at this point to finish up later on).
Place in upper 1/3 of the oven for 10-15 minutes, until lobster is bubbling and sauce is a nice brown. 

Serve immediately!

The recipe posted on Food was adapted from Julia Child. 

Spring Chicken!

I like the seasons to dictate my menus, using fruits and vegetables when at their peak. And rhubarb (from the latter category) is rarin’ to go right now. This recipe tempers the bitterness of rhubarb with a few tablespoons of honey. The resulting vibrant dish is super flavorful, and as easy as it is quick, leaving you more time to leave the kitchen and enjoy the spring!

If you like it sweet, think about adding some hulled, sliced strawberries to the mix in Step 4, when you toss the rhubarb and onions once about halfway through. And although either cilantro or mint is suggested as a garnish, I am team mint all the way. Lots of it.

Rhubarb Chicken with Rhubarb & Red Onion
Adapted from Melissa Clark, NYT Cooking

Serves 3-4

Ingredients
1¾ pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and drumsticks (see Tip)
1teaspoon ground coriander
1teaspoon kosher salt (such as Diamond Crystal), plus more as needed
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more as needed
1large red onion, cut into ½-inch-thick wedges
5 thyme sprigs
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more as needed
8 ounces rhubarb stalks, sliced into ½-inch pieces (about 2 cups)
3 tablespoons honey, plus more to taste
½ cup cilantro or mint leaves and tender stems, torn 

Preparation
Step 1
Heat oven to 425 degrees and line sheet pan with parchment paper. Pat chicken dry with paper towels and season all over with coriander, 1 teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper.

Step 2
Place onion wedges on the prepared sheet pan and lightly season with more salt and pepper. Add chicken and thyme sprigs to the pan and drizzle 3 tablespoons oil over everything. Toss until well coated, then spread chicken and onions in a single layer. Roast for 10 minutes.

Step 3
While the chicken is in the oven, combine rhubarb and 3 tablespoons honey in a medium bowl. Lightly drizzle with oil, add a pinch of salt and pepper, and toss until rhubarb is well coated.

Step 4
Remove chicken from oven and carefully spoon rhubarb onto the hot pan around the onions and chicken. Continue roasting until the chicken is cooked through, and the rhubarb and onion are tender and caramelized, 25 to 35 minutes longer, tossing the rhubarb and onions (not the chicken) once about halfway through.

Step 5
Stir the rhubarb and onions very well, making sure to incorporate all the browned bits and chicken juices from the bottom of the pan (this is the tastiest part). Then sample a piece of rhubarb. If it’s very tart, drizzle with a little more honey, tossing well. Serve chicken with rhubarb-onion mixture garnished with herbs.

Tip
You can substitute bone-in, skin on-breasts for the thighs and drumsticks. Just start checking 10 minutes earlier since white meat takes less time to cook than dark meat.

“I loved rhubarb... Not everyone was a fan, especially of the bitter, mushy, overcooked version. Yet sometimes a little bitterness could bring out the best in other flavors. Bitter rhubarb made sunny-day strawberry face the realities of life―and taste all the better for it.” ― Judith Fertig, The Memory of Lemon

Photo Credit: David Malosh for The New York Times

BOOK/A TABLE - A Very Literary Cocktail

I list the American Bar at The Savoy and Rules (both in London) among my favorite places in the world that I know. Napoleon House in New Orleans is another. So I was thrilled to come across a mention of The Savoy in Anthony Horowitz’s Marble Hall Murders, brought to life by his depiction of it: 

“The revolving doors spun me into another world that began with the entrance hall and its black-and-white tiled floor, the black-and-white columns and the brilliant flower displays on black marble tables. I asked for Leyla Crace at the concierge desk and was directed to the American Bar...”

Marble Hall Murders is the third installment in the Atticus Pünd series—the PBS adaptations of the first two books are also marvelous. In the scene at The Savoy, Horowitz’s heroine, editor Susan Ryeland orders a drink: “The waiter arrived with my cocktail. By now, I needed it...The Jabberwock Sour was ice-cold, very dry, golden-coloured, with a twist of lemon.”

I was immediately intrigued because I had never heard of The Jabberwock Sour, had missed seeing it even in my own copy of The Savoy Cocktail Book, where it is more humbly tagged as a Jabberwock Cocktail. Suffice to say, my test kitchen (aka my husband) found it utterly delightful, as did I, concocting the non-alcoholic version, which still feels like a real drink. 

Here is an image from Lewis Carroll’s vision of the original Jabberwock from Through the Looking Glass, which also resembles a wicked hangover:

And here’s an extraordinarily fun image from the cocktail book itself; I love the sloe-eyed flapper slinking around a overflowing casket of jewels that may or may not belong to her!

Jabberwock Cocktail*
2 Dashes Orange Bitters.
1/3 Dry Gin.
1/3 Dry Sherry.
1/3 Caperitif.

Stir well and strain into cocktail glass. Squeeze lemon peel on top.

*This will make you gyre and gimble in the wabe until brillig all right, all right.

For the non-alcoholic version, look to Tanqueray 0.0 to replace the gin, Lyre Aperitif Rosso for the sherry, and dashes of Roots Divino and Pentire Coastal Spritz to step in for the suggested Caperitif. 

BOOK/A TABLE - Pea Soup and Mint Jelly

The very thought of fresh mint bouquets fills my head with bright notions of spring, the approaching Kentucky Derby (always the first Saturday of May), and Mint Juleps.* In New York, we’ve had a wonderful spring that has actually felt like a real transitional season, instead of an amorphous gray sheet of rain lasting until somewhere around Memorial Day. Summer has already felt like it is just a breath away.

I love this quote from Elizabeth von Arnim’s The Enchanted April: “Mrs. Fisher...had a curious sensation, which worried her, of rising sap. She knew the feeling, because she had sometimes had it in childhood in specially swift springs, when the lilacs and the syringas seemed to rush out into blossom in a single night, but it was strange to have it again after over fifty years. Yet oftener and oftener, and every day more and more, did Mrs. Fisher have a ridiculous feeling as if she were presently going to burgeon.”

The following recipe for Pea Soup and Mint Jelly is perfect for the blossoming season, and any personal burgeoning is certainly encouraged as well.

Marc Veyrat, a French chef who appeared on Martha Stewart Living nearly thirty years ago, showed us how it’s done. I’ve never forgotten the episode and have recreated the soup many times since myself. Using fragrant mint leaves and bright green peas, it’s a stunning, completely refreshing soup to be sipped out of a glass!

Although the recipe calls for pouring hot pea soup over the firm minted jelly, suspended above in a separate layer, I like to chill the soup first before topping with the jelly. I also like it served with long, elegant spoons. 

Fresh Pea Soup and Mint Jelly
Adapted from marthastewart.com
Serves 8
Ingredients
6 1/2 cups vegetable broth
60 mint leaves
2 tablespoons creme de menthe
2 gelatin packets
1/2 medium leek, well washed and thinly sliced
2 teaspoons unsalted butter
4 pounds fresh peas, shelled
Coarse salt

Method
In a medium saucepan, bring 4 cups vegetable broth to a boil. Cook until reduced to 1 1/3 cups. Add mint and creme de menthe. Using a handheld immersion blender, puree to break up the mint leaves. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve.

Add gelatin packets to broth mixture, and stir to dissolve. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into eight 5- to 6-ounce heat-proof glasses. Each glass should be one-third full. Transfer glasses to freezer, and chill until just set, about 10 minutes (I find it takes more like 20 minutes or so).

Combine leek, butter, and peas in a medium saucepan. Add remaining 2 1/2 cups vegetable broth. Bring to a boil, and simmer until peas are tender, about 10 minutes.

Using a handheld immersion blender, puree soup until smooth. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve. Season with salt. Remove glasses from freezer. Pour hot soup over minted jelly. Wait 4 minutes, and serve immediately. Giddyap!



*For a non-alcoholic julep, try mixing your concoction with Ritual Zero Proof whisky alternative!