Nutty Chocolate Balls

For those who may have noticed that I hadn't posted in nearly a week, I've just returned from New Orleans, where I presented recipes from my cookbooks at the NOLA Veggie Fest--a small but well-attended two-day event celebrating the various aspects of plant-based living. I had a blast--New Orleans is one gorgeous, fun place, with some of the friendliest people you'll ever meet.

The second day's schedule was a little chaotic, and my time slot was bumped twice--which worked out very well for me, because by the time I went on, we had a full house. I demonstrated two recipes from Speed Vegan: "Green Curry Salad" (see recipe on this page) and "Nutty Chocolate Balls." Although the latter is a very easy treat to make, there is one step in the recipe that calls for "1 cup chopped roasted hazelnuts," which I admit, can be a bit confusing for anyone who hasn't roasted hazelnuts before. To keep things flowing in the demo, I had done this beforehand. So for those who were there (and anyone who might be interested), here's how it's done:

Preheat the oven to 400F.

Spread the hazelnuts out on a baking sheet in a single layer. 

Place the pan in the oven and roast for 7 to 10 minutes, until the skins blister and the nuts are lightly browned.  You can also go for a darker roast, but be careful--they can go over the line and burn in less time than you might think. Also, note that the centers will be somewhat darker than the outer surface.

Immediately transfer the nuts to a towel.

Fold the towel over the nuts and wrap tightly.

Let the bundle sit for a few minutes, until just warm, and then rub and knead vigorously with both hands for a couple of minutes. This will dislodge most of the skins.

Open the towel and individually rub off any skins that may remain. Some may be stubborn and refuse to come off--so it goes, no big deal. Don't worry about it, just proceed. 

Lift and shake the nuts to leave the skins behind and place them in a bowl. I used to have a special strainer for this that I made out of chicken wire with a mesh just fine enough to keep the nuts and let the skins fall through. It was perfect, but I left it in Australia when I was working there as a pastry chef. I keep meaning to make a new one, but it's one of those things you don't think of until you need it (and when you do, you're too busy to stop and make one).

Chop the nuts coarsely and sift out the fine powder.

To make the nutty balls (for everyone who wasn't at the demo), combine equal parts roasted hazelnut butter, fine quality Dutch process cocoa powder, and maple syrup. Note that the recipe in the book calls for agave nectar, but as you may have read in another post, I no longer recommend agave as a sweetener.

Once the mixture is thoroughly blended, put it in the refrigerator for an hour or two to firm it up. To speed things up, you can also put it in the freezer for about 15 to 20 minutes. Once it's firm enough to handle, scoop out roughly 1-1/2 teaspoon gobs and roll them into balls. Roll them in the chopped nuts to coat.

That's it. See? I told you it was easy!

Fresh Fig Tart

Fresh Fig Tart in a Pistachio Crust

You may have read an earlier post in which I not only raved about fresh figs in general, but at one point, also hinted at a fig tart I was dreaming up at the time. Sadly, there were no figs left when I went back to the store, so I've had time to think about how I would put this new dessert together. It seemed like months went by with nary a fig in sight--although it was more like weeks--and then just days ago I found a flat of large, nearly ripe beauties. Yesterday the ripening was complete, and I made what I'm calling "Fresh Fig Tart in a Pistachio Crust."

My wife was a little surprised that this was 100% vegan, especially given the creaminess of the filling. It's pretty amazing what you can do with plants--what can I say?

This is not a difficult dessert to make at all. The hardest part is the crust, and that's a piece of cake (sorry if this sounded confusing). I had made a pistachio version of "Nutty Chocolate Balls" for a demo I presented in Boston, and I'd been keeping a little bag of very fine pistachio flakes and bits in my freezer. It just so happened, I had precisely enough to make the crust (am I lucky, or what?).

As an aside, in that post I did indicate that the fine powder and smaller bits should be strained out before rolling the chocolate balls in the chopped nuts, but not why (I just went back and checked). The reason is that if you don't, then the fine powder will be the first to adhere to the chocolate, and this will keep the larger bits from sticking. This alone would not be a problem, but it's the larger chunks that provide the nutty flavor and pleasant crunch, whereas the powder's influence would be barely perceptible. But in a cake batter, cookie dough or--in this case--tart shell, the powder becomes very effective. So there you go.

Since the pistachio meal was already prepared, all I had to do was combine it with a little palm sugar and coconut oil. Then it was only a matter of packing the mixture into a tart pan and chilling it until firm before baking.

The filling was basically a cashew cream--made by soaking raw cashews in water until soft, draining them, and then whipping them to a smooth cream in a Vitamix blender. I added a little water to facilitate this, along with just a few tablespoons of agave nectar and kirsch. I spread this evenly in the tart shell, once it had cooled.

The smaller you cut the fruit, the better coverage you'll get, meaning fewer gaps where the filing is visible. However, in this case, I simply quartered them lengthwise, both for aesthetics and to maintain the integrity of the fruit. Looks are important, but so is the feeling in your mouth of biting through a piece of luscious fig! Having these elegant shapes to work with allowed for an attractive, almost mandala-like design.

For a glaze, I used a jar of St. Dalfour apricot jam--because it's excellent quality jam, but also because they don't add any sugar to their recipes. I just scoop the jam into a small pot, warm it over a low flame until it melts, and strain out the solids. Then I brush it onto the fruit while it's still warm. As it cools, it congeals to form a lustrous, highly flavorful protective coating on the fruit. Back when I was the head pastry chef at a billionaires' country club in California, they wanted me to use some cheap, tasteless "confectioner's glaze" from a gallon tub. To save money! I just couldn't. Wouldn't, in fact.

Well, that's it. Easy, huh? Look for the recipe in my next book--I don't have a title yet, so keep in touch with my blog and I'll announce it in plenty of time, don't worry!


.

Watercress and Roasted Golden Beet Salad

Click to enlarge image!

Biodiversity in edible plants is crucial to the future of food and to our survival, and the more varieties we can cultivate the better protected we are from blights and famine. But what I really like about biodiversity is the sheer beauty of it--the panoply of tastes, textures, aromas, colors, and shape variations that abound in nature. It's absolutely thrilling to me as a cook that even after 30-plus years wandering markets and working with food, I'm still coming across new forms of edible plants.

Recently I found a gorgeous variety of watercress I had never seen before--a dark, almost black-looking red leaf with bright green stems and veins. Typically, watercress bunches are fairly worn-looking, since unlike most produce, it lives and grows in water, and it doesn't last long after being severed from its lifeline. I've taken to buying hydroponic watercress for this very reason, even though I much prefer the more potent and peppery leaves of stream-grown cress. This bunch I found was remarkably fresh, so I naturally I snapped it up and used it the same day.

I decided to keep the salad very simple, to showcase the beauty of these unique zinfandel-red leaves as well as their flavor. I paired their slightly bitter taste with roasted golden beets--roasting brings out the sweetness of beets, and concentrates their beetiness.

The dressing needed to be unobtrusive as possible, while still providing a bright foil to set off the two dramatically different ingredients. It was quick and easy. I just whisked together a little sherry vinegar, Dijon mustard, walnut oil, salt and pepper. Once I had carefully tossed and tasted the salad, I decided to add a few walnuts--to provide an extra crunch factor, to add a nutty-bitter-unctuous counterpoint to the peppery-bitter-astringent leaves, and to tie in the walnut oil, which might otherwise have gone unnoticed.

I have to say, a large part of the pleasure of finding and using unusual produce lies in the uncertainty of ever seeing it again, let alone savoring its one-of-a-kind sensual messaging. Gold and precious stones owe their value to the same fundamental element--rarity--but edible plants are among the most ephemeral of pleasures, appearing so brightly on the plate and on the palate, and lasting so, so briefly, very possibly never to return again.

Whether you believe in a wise and kind creator, or in a happenstance existence with no inherent purpose, one thing is undeniable: the chance to be alive as a human being is a most exquisite gift--unsurpassed or even equaled, as far as anyone can see, or even imagine!

.

A New Rice On My Block

Something I never cease to marvel at is the way that, after over 30 years of cooking, traveling, walking through ethnic markets and reading about food, I'm still discovering new foods--new fruits, vegetables, beans, grains, spices--things I had literally never even heard of, and new ways to prepare them. Just last week I saw a new product from Alter Eco, a company that puts out very high quality, fair trade quinoa, chocolate, olive oil, and--as I discovered--rice. I had been using Bhutanese red rice for years, and the product that caught my eye, "Ruby Red Jasmine" rice from Thailand looked somewhat similar at first glance. On closer inspection, the red grains are longer, like basmati, with a pleasant luster. Of course I had to try them.

On my first sortie into the realm of ruby red rice, I kept it very simple, because I wanted to understand the bare essentials: the right grain-to-water ratio (1:2 1/2), the timing (I live at 7800 feet, so it takes longer than at sea level), and the unembellished flavor of the grain itself. I usually do this with every new item, unless, like a fruit, I can taste it without any preparation, so I can get to know its properties. Then my imagination can begin to fly around in search of likely ways to use the new addition to my ever-expanding artist's palette.

Of course, I already had in mind that I would make something with a Thai flavor to accompany the rice, just because I figured they would get along well enough. I made a very quick green curry with onions, peppers and tofu. I sauteed the onion over high heat in a little coconut oil, then added the peppers and stirred them briefly before adding a generous gob of Thai green curry paste. Once the curry paste was well distributed, I added a can of rich coconut milk, some cubed firm tofu, and finely sliced cilantro stems. On the side, I steamed some broccoli florets, split lengthwise to expose a cross-section view of their delicate green "tree" look. I plated it with a molded serving of the rice in the center of each bowl, a moat of the soupy curry, with the steamed broccoli on top, distributed around the rice, and a garnish of cilantro leaves.

The rice has a texture similar to a very tender long grain brown rice, and a nice nutty taste. It has a wonderful combination of rich, full-bodied flavor and yet a mild character, which blended with the curry seamlessly into an earthy, delectable melange--chewy, creamy, crunchy, pungent, fragrant.

I needed just a little more heat, so I spattered my plate with sriracha sauce (once I had tasted the rice by itself, that is).

The next day (today), I had some leftover rice, so I made an even simpler dish, combining it with peas to form a complete protein, and flavored it with roasted chile-garlic paste and scallions. Great success.

I'm just getting started, but I'd say it's safe to go ahead and announce the verdict now: Alter Eco's Ruby Red Jasmine rice is a delicious, versatile grain with a wide horizon of possibilities.

.