Tag Archives: cream

Jumbo Shrimp in Cilantro Sauce (Camarones en Salsa Verde)

I Really Meant to Name This “Shrimp in Crack Sauce”

I live for the moments in life where a mere bite of a particular dish makes me giddy.  Stupid giddy.  Giggling to myself like a goddamn lunatic in between bites and watching my plate like a sentry making sure that no one tries to sneak a bite.  The first time that I tasted this deceptively simple dish of shrimp swimming in garlic, cream and herbs, I was actually depressed.  Not because it didn’t elicit the effect that I described above.  It was because my sister fucking ordered it, not me, and she felt as strongly about the shrimp as I did.  With a butter knife poised to stab me in the hand if I tried to steal a bite.  Ugh.  Dining FAIL. Continue reading Jumbo Shrimp in Cilantro Sauce (Camarones en Salsa Verde)

Creamed Spinach

When did the art of creaming vegetables become en vogue?  And when did it fall out of favor in the first place, with poor creamed corn holding up the fort, all the while labeled as low-brow and trailer park?  It’s rather silly given that if ever there was a way to get people to give vegetables a chance, it’s to slather them in cream.

The first time I ever tried creamed spinach, I wasn’t really a true spinach convert.  Boston Market (then Boston Chicken) had opened down the street from us and the family decided to give it a try.  The guy working the counter (aka the “Side Dish Pimp”) tried to sell us on the glories of their creamed spinach, touting it as a game changer.  We took the bait and I took my first bite of the stuff, more dairy than veg and not at all what I had imagined it to be.  Years later, I realize that what I had had wasn’t revolutionary, but it did deserve credit for resoundingly convincing me that spinach is on my team 100%.  *in my best Will Ferrell as Robert Goulet voice* “You win, spinach.  You always do!” Continue reading Creamed Spinach

Instant Potato Gnocchi with Prosciutto, Peas and Chanterelle Mushrooms

Recipe for The Daring Kitchen
When I first learned about The Daring Kitchen, I was excited to join a group that would provide me with monthly culinary inspiration. This month’s assignment (and my very first with TDK) was created by Steph from Stephfood, our Daring Cooks’ July hostess. Steph challenged us to make homemade noodles without the help of a motorized pasta machine. She provided us with recipes for Spätzle and Fresh Egg Pasta as well as a few delicious sauces to pair our noodles with! Steph also encouraged us to make noodles that celebrated our culinary heritage. See Full Gnocchi Feast Menu
Shortcuts in the kitchen vary rarely lead to splendid results.  Garbage in, garbage out, and no glory in between.  It was with this sentiment and a whole lot of skepticism  that I approached the idea of a pillowy, toothsome gnocchi made of instant potatoes.  How could that be?

Given that this recipe was to become a part of a cluster of gnocchi recipe all undertaken together for The Daring Kitchen, I decided to approach the recipe as just that – a dare.  How could I turn fake-me-out mashed potatoes into gourmet glory.  The base recipe was fairly simple, reconstituting the dried flakes and then adding the traditional gnocchi add-ins of flour and egg.  I then swaped out the boiling water for the soaking liquid from some dried chanterelle mushroom, adding a gloriously nutty flavor to plain old potato dumplings.  I then dressed the little treasures in one of my favorite sauces of prosciutto, peas and cream.  Perfection! Continue reading Instant Potato Gnocchi with Prosciutto, Peas and Chanterelle Mushrooms

Beef Tenderloin with Artichokes in Bechamel

Foodbuzz 24 x 24 | An Ode to Orvieto

This recipe was a part of a special menu for Foodbuzz’s June 2011 food blogger party, 24×24. Showcasing posts from 24 Foodbuzz Featured Publisher bloggers, the monthly Foodbuzz 24 highlights unique meals occurring around the globe during a 24-hour period. Read more about my meal along with all of the other recipes at An Ode to Orvieto.

One of my favorite things about Italy, particularly in the sleepier towns, meals are a whole lot more egalitarian.  Wine is cheap and plentiful, and fresh ingredients used in wholesome cooking are never at a premium.  Tasty is tasty, and everything else fails to make it to the table.

On a dinner out with a group of other students in Orvieto, one of the guys told me that whenever he saw “filetto” on a menu, he ordered it without hesitation.  For the mounds of fresh pasta and pizza and risotto that we ordered as main courses over first courses, we never managed to get to the meat courses.  Learning about this filet obsession shook me from my carb-focused complacency, and I decided to go with a Filetto ai Carciofi, a filet mignon simply grilled with artichokes.  It was in that moment that I had felt as if I’d wasted how many dinners not indulging on a perfectly cooked steak.  Better yet, the dear price tag was nowhere to be found – it was as if I had ordered a chicken breast back in the states, the cost so reasonable.  I miss those days.

This dish has been adapted as a party pleaser, replacing the filet with a whole beef tenderloin.  You have the joy of the same tender meat, but can slice thinly to feed a group.  I’ve also found that buying the whole tenderloin results in a much cheaper price tag by the pound.  As such, you can roast a tenderloin one night and cut individual filets with the rest for dinners later on.  The artichokes are the perfect accompaniment, simmered in chicken stock and dressed in a lush, creamy bechamel.  This is a seriously rich dish of food and a little bit goes a long way.  You will be impressed with how far rich, fresh ingredients go in feeding a bunch, all the while keeping the price tag reasonable.

Recipe for

Beef Tenderloin with Artichokes in Bechamel

Ingredients
1 3-4 lb. beef tenderloin
kosher salt
cracked pepper
olive oil
sprig of thyme

4 artichokes
6 c. of chicken stock
2 lemons
1 sprig of thyme
2 bay leaves
4 tbs. of butter
3 tbs. of flour
1 c. of heavy cream
2 1/2 c. of whole milk
4 tbs. of parsley
salt to taste
white pepper

Season your beef tenderloin liberally with salt and pepper.  Rub with olive oil and let sit out while you prep your artichokes.

Halve the two lemons and squeeze into a large bowl. Fill the bowl with water 2/3 of the way full. Remove the outer leaves of the artichoke until you get to the tender golden leaves in the center [photo]. Chop off the golden leaves to expose the hairy choke in the center [photo].  Use a pairing knife to smooth the outside of the artichoke and remove any tough bits of leaves [photo]. Cut off all but 1/2 of an inch of the stem and peel with a pairing knife or vegetable peeler.  Cut the artichoke into quarters and scoop out all of the fuzzy choke.  Rub all of the cut sides of the artichoke pieces with the halved lemon and then add to the water.  Continue until you have prepped all of the artichokes.

Bring the six cups of chicken stock, thyme and bay leaves to a boil.  Add the artichokes and simmer on medium high for 30 minutes.  Remove artichokes with a slotted spoon and set aside.

In a skillet, add a bit of olive oil and heat on high.  Add the tenderloin and sear on all sides until deeply browned on the outside and rare in the middle.  Place tenderloin on a cookie sheet and bake in a preheated oven until cooked off to your desired doneness, about 5 more minutes for rare to medium rare.  Remove from the oven and let rest.

While the beef is cooking, make your bechamel.  Melt the 4 tbs. of butter in a sauce pan.  Whisk in the flour to make a smooth paste.  Continue to whisk and add the milk and cream.  Working over medium heat, whisk until sauce thickens slightly.  Add the artichokes, about 1/2 tsp. of salt and a 1/4 tsp. of white pepper to taste and stir.  Continue to cook until the bechamel thickens around the artichokes.  Top with parsley.

Slice the steak into 1/4 inch slices and surround with the artichokes and bechamel.  Serve.

Potato Leek Soup

The lovely leek is a tricky little bugger.  While its cousin, the onion, smells fragrant and marvelous immediately upon entering the pan filled with butter or olive oil, the leek can be downright funky.  But the patient are always rewarded for their efforts, and the leeks become luscious and silken if you let them hang out and do their thing.  Crown this glory with white truffle oil and breadcrumbs toasted with a little butter and you are in for a real treat. Continue reading Potato Leek Soup

Lemon Pound Cake with Fresh Berries

Is This a Recipe?

Lemon Pound Cake with Fresh Berries © Photo by Angela GunderYou’re gonna laugh when you read this recipe.  Because it’s not.  Aside from the slightest, and I mean the SLIGHTEST, bit of doctoring of this amalgamation, it is scarcely a recipe.  When the name of the dish is “pound cake” and the first ingredient is *cough* pound cake, you know that there ain’t much goin’ on.  So why post this at all?  Because it’s good.  Damn good.

Recent trips to my grandmother’s house have all included a care package of countless cookbooks and photocopies of tried and true recipes.  It’s been glorious and at the same time humbling – so much to cook, so few mouths to feed, and above all else, so little time.  It’s as sad as the number of clichés that I used in the previous sentence.  She recently gave me the recipe for “The Best Damn Lemon Cake” which upon tasting, my husband and I agreed was the only name this cake could ever have.  But much like life, this good thing involved a hell of a lot of steps to mold it into majesty.  So what do I do, non-baker that I am?  Create a yummy lemon glaze for a Sara Lee pound cake, top with seasonal berries and garnish with whipped cream and lemon zest.  Let me tell you, it was sexy through and through, all the while saving me precious time to deal with the other courses of the meal I was preparing.  So maybe I should call this the gift cake.  I mean, it did manage to give me precious minutes of my life back.  L.O.V.E.

Lemon Pound Cake with Fresh Berries

Lemon Pound Cake with Fresh Berries © Photo by Angela Gunder1 pound cake
2 pints of mixed berries (I like blueberries, hulled and halved strawberries, raspberries and blackberries)
zest of 1 lemon
1/2 c. lemon juice, freshly squeezed
3/4 c. of sugar
1/4 c. of water
fresh whipped cream

In a small saucepan, heat the lemon juice, sugar and water until boiling.  While it heats up, take a chopstick and poke a crapload of holes into the top of the poundcake.  Pour the boiling syrup over the cake.  Let cool.

Once the cake has cooled completely, pour the excess syrup over the berries and toss.  Stack a piece of poundcake with whipped cream and berries.  Top with another piece of poundcake, whipped cream and lemon zest.  Spoon additional berries around the side and serve.

Basil Ice Cream (Basil Gelato)

I feel like we all need more awe-inspiring, eyes of wonder moments in our lives.  Moments when, on a total leap of faith, our handiwork comes together in majestic ways.  I have to say that, for me, making ice cream for the first time was a blissful moment of awe.  I trusted that my uber-creamy, eggy base would taste good.  I trusted that I had left my ice cream maker attachment in the freezer long enough.  I even trusted that I made the right decision to simply get a KitchenAid mixer attachment rather than a CuisineArt ICE50BS Supreme Ice Cream Maker for a whopping $200+ dollars, as per David Lebovitz.  A little pricey, mister.  And my KitchenAid attachment has yet to fail me.  Case in point, my recipe for Strawberry Frozen Yogurt was a KILLER – so good that I can’t post it yet because my darling husband ate every last bit of it before I could snap a picture.  In the words of Ron Burgundy, “How’d you do that? I’m not even mad…that’s amazing.”

Basil Gelato © Spice or Die

I decided to make a batch of basil ice cream because I am a fan of not only the glory of the celebration of the sweetness of basil, but mainly because of the polarizing nature of this dessert.  It’s a love it or hate it kind of thing.  Maybe for the folks that try it and hate it (my best friend Kate’s mom, Dennis eating Strawberry Fro-Yo and leaving all of this behind in the freezer), they’d need to give it a few chances.  It’s different, yes.  But it is so so very good. Eyes of wonder good.

I first tasted basil ice cream at a special birthday dinner with my mom – I decided to take her to Tosca in DC for her celebration, just the two of us.  She had fallen in love with the place after we took my sister there for her graduation celebration.  The place is gorgeous – uber-minimalist and luxe, bringing your focus directly to the food.  My mom is an August baby, so when we went, they were serving a special tomato menu, celebrating the glorious heirlooms available during that small window of time in the summer that you feast like a king, nay, a tomato demi-god.  So what do they close the meal with?  A sweet tomato tart with basil gelato.  Go through the mental checklist with me: tomatoes and basil go together? Check.  Tomatoes can be sweet? Check. Basil can be sweet? Check.  It was a go on all counts.  And kids, the final result was one etched in my brain on the short list of tastes I’ll never, ever forget.  I swoon just remembering that very first bite.

It was inevitable that I’d make it for myself someday, and once again inevitable that I’d share it with you.  Definitely tuck into this with the tomato tart as well, if you want the full experience, but know that this is a treat all by itself.

Basil Ice Cream (Basil Gelato)

3 c. of basil leaves
2 c. of heavy cream
2 c. of whole milk
1 c. of sugar
2 vanilla beans
1 pinch of kosher salt
12 egg yolks

Bring a small pot of water to a boil.  While the water comes to a boil, take a large bowl and fill with cold water and 6-8 ice cubes.  Plunk the basil leaves into the boiling water and stir for about a minute and then drain and place into the ice bath to shock the leaves.  Let them hang out in the ice water for a bit while you prep the creamy good stuff.

In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, add the milk, heavy cream, sugar, and kosher salt.  Using a paring knife, carefully split the vanilla beans in half and scrape the black pasty goodness in the middle of the bean into the cream.  Add the whole beans to the milk as well once they’ve been scraped.  Bring the mixture to a slow simmer, making sure not to let it boil.  Once simmering, continue to cook for 2-3 minutes.

Drain the basil leaves and add to a blender along with a cup of the hot cream mixture, making sure not to include any of the vanilla bean pods.  Place the lid on the blender and a towel over the lid to prevent a hot, sticky splatter from the blended cream.  Blend on high until smooth and then strain mixture back into the rest of the cream using a fine strainer or chinois.

Set up a double boiler – you want a metal bowl for the top that fits over a pot on the bottom.  You want to add enough water to the bottom so that it will easily boil without touching the bottom of the top pot.  Wikipedia has a diagram of it that hilariously looks like it was drawn in MS Paint, but gets the point across.

While the bottom pot of the double boiler is coming to a boil, work off the heat and take your top pot and separate 12 egg yolks into the bowl.  Beat until pale golden and smooth and then slowly add a cup of the hot cream, whisking the entire time to keep the mixture smooth and prevent the egg from scrambling.  Set the pot over the now boiling water and continuously whisk in the rest of the cream.  Discard the vanilla pods, or clean them off and reuse them to flavor sugar or coffee – Marx Foods actually has a huge list of suggestions of what to do with the pods.  Keep on whisking until the mixture thickens and the ice cream base can coat the back of a spoon.  Turn off the heat.  Strain the mixture into a large bowl and let the base cool in the fridge.

Once cooled, pour the ice cream base into your ice cream maker and follow your manufacturer’s instructions.  When finished, remove to a tupperware and freeze for a little bit to allow the ice cream to solidify a bit more.  Serve to people with curious palettes looking to try a little something special.