Blue Cayenne

I was invited to join friends for dinner last night and volunteered to bring dessert. I decided to bring chocolate mousse (see previously published recipe on this site–) but wanted to make the presentation a little more elegant than simply serving a cup of chocolate topped with whipped cream. (Although, heaven knows, I would be the last person to suggest that there is anything wrong with mainlining straight chocolate mousse right out of the refrigerator. Been there. Done that.)

In the end, I decided that a shard of light-catching almond praline would look very pretty in each serving glass of mousse. And, in my search for a good praline recipe, I learned a bit about the history of pralines.

Or, not.

In reading story after story about pralines (including, alas, a Gulf-Coast middle school teacher’s PowerPoint presentation about the history of pralines), it became pretty clear to me that the whole praline story, like so much that you read on the Internet, takes some breath-taking liberties with the truth.

With that clearly understood, here are a few quasi-historical accounts of the origins of pralines.

French pralines made of almonds and caramelized sugar are believed to have been invented by Clement Lassagne, the personal chef of a French soldier/diplomat, Marshal du Plessis-Praslin, in the 17th Century.

By one account, the inspiration for the praline came when Lassagne discovered the Marshal’s precocious children (picture Jaden and Willow Smith in this role), fresh from cadging almonds and sugar from his kitchen, caramelizing them over a candle.  In another version, the proverbial clumsy culinary apprentice trips over a container of almonds, fortuitously spilling them into a vat of cooking caramel. Voila! Pralines! (I’d cast a bumbling–but always lovable– Steve Martin as the apprentice.) Yet another version has a lascivious Marshal Praslin presenting extravagantly gift-wrapped boxes of Lassagne’s irresistible confections to unsuspecting (but beautiful) young damsels who had caught the Marshal’s roving eye. (Too creepy to cast.)  

Over the years, a number of variations on the original almond praline have been popularized. In Belgium, for example, a praline dipped in chocolate with a soft center became popular. Some sources credit this Belgian version of the praline to a pharmacist named Jean Neuhaus who hid foul-tasting medicines inside chocolate candy, later to make a fortune in candy making (presumably without the drugs–or, maybe not).

Later, French Ursuline nuns (I’m not making this up.) brought pralines to French America. There, cooks substituted pecans in their recipes because pecans were more available in America. They added dairy, too, to get the soft, creamy pralines of New Orleans-fame. Here, according to some accounts of New Orleans’ history, a new word was born–praliniere. The pralinieres were Eliza Doolittle-esque young women who scraped together a respectable living by selling pralines on the streets of the French Quarter.

The praline in this recipe is very easy to make but takes a bit of patience (and time) to bring the sugar syrup up to just the right temperature and the perfect dark amber color. It is the kind of recipe that requires your constant attention for a few minutes.

Here is the recipe I used.

Recipe: Almond Praline
1 1/2 C. sliced almonds
1 T. unsalted butter at room temperature
2 C. sugar
1/2 C. water
Juice of half a lemon (1T.)

Directions:

Place almonds on a baking sheet and toast in a preheated 350 degree F. oven until the almonds are a light brown. Remove from oven and set the almonds aside to cool.

Butter a large baking sheet and spread a thin layer of almonds on the baking sheet. Set aside.

Combine water and sugar in a medium saucepan and stir to dissolve the sugar. Heat sugar and water mixture to a boil. As you do this, use a pastry brush and water the brush the insides of the pan to prevent sugar crystals from forming. Once your water and sugar mixture is boiling, continue to boil (but discontinue stirring the mixture) until the liquid turns a deep amber color. Watch your pan carefully and take the liquid off the heat as soon as the proper color is achieved. Stir in the lemon juice. Immediately pour the mixture over the almonds. You can tilt the baking pan to distribute the cooked sugar syrup if that is necessary.

Cool completely. Once cooled and hardened, break the praline in pieces to use on your desert. Alternatively, you can crush the shards of praline and sprinkle them over a dessert.

Here is a link to the original recipe:

“For what avail the plough or sail, or land or life, if freedom fail?”

—-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Happy 4th of July.

In deference to the America that embraces both diversity and unity, here is a great recipe for your holiday table where enchiladas are as American as apple pie and hummus.

My search for an exceptional enchilada sauce has spanned decades. For a long while, I was a purist who insisted that a great sauce should not include tomatoes as an ingredient. (I will post my favorite non-tomato chile sauce soon.)  

This tomato-chile sauce is a really good one. It surprised me.  I think it is important to use a really good chile powder in this recipe. I used a Rancho Gordo chile powder in my sauce. 

This is my adaptation of a recipe posted on the Food Network site. The link to the original recipe appears at the end of this post.

Ingredients: Enchilada Sauce
1/4 C. olive oil
1/2 C. finely chopped red bell peppers
1/2 C. finely chopped onions
2 T. finely chopped garlic
4 t. chile powder
2 t. ground cumin
1/2 t. cayenne pepper
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 T. all-purpose flour
1 C. vegetable stock
2 15-ounce cans tomato sauce
3 C. water

Directions:

Heat olive oil over medium heat. Add peppers, onions, and garlic to the pan and saute until vegetables are soft and just beginning to brown. Add chile powder, cumin, cayenne pepper, salt and pepper and cook for two minutes more. Stir flour into the pan and cook for a minute. Add vegetable stock to pan and stir to combine. Add tomato sauce and three cups of water to the pan and bring mixture to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes (until sauce is reduced by one third). Cool.

Puree until smooth.

Cook’s Notes: I used Rancho Gordo chili powder in this recipe. I think Rancho Gordo’s products are exceptional. You can substitute any quality chili powder in this recipe. Rather than pureeing this sauce in my blender, I used my immersion blender.

Here is the link to the original Food Network recipe by Ree Drummond:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ree-drummond/cheese-enchiladas.html

According to what I read online, cauliflower was the “it” vegetable for 2014.

Where was I?

Don’t get me wrong. I love cauliflower. I just didn’t get the memo.

No problem that I missed the big party, though. Cauliflower continues to be “hot” in the culinary world. In fact, cruciferous vegetables of all sorts– from broccoli to brussels sprouts to kale to cauliflower–are enjoying a surge in popularity.

That is very good news! This is a group of healthful vegetables that was pushed to the side of the plate (or passed under the table to the eager pup) for far too long.

It’s been quite a remarkable turnaround, too. Remember when President George H. W. Bush went on that infamous petulant rant about broccoli? “I do not like broccoli and I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I’m President of the United States and I’m not going to eat any more broccoli.” He subsequently banned broccoli on Air Force One.

And, cauliflower (the subject of this post) hasn’t always gotten a lot of respect either. Mark Twain famously quipped: “Cauliflower is nothing but cabbage with a college education.” That’s pretty harsh.

Here’s your history lesson. Cauliflower is related to wild cabbage and is believed to have been cultivated as early as the 6th century B.C.  It was introduced into Spain in the 12th century via Syria where it had been cultivated for a thousand years and eventually became popular in Northern Europe. In the 17th century, France’s Louis XIV reportedly was so taken with the vegetable that he pressured his celebrity chef La Varenne to prepare “chou fleur” regularly and often for his table at Versailles. His successor, Louis XV, continued the Bourbon love affair with cauliflower—literally. His chefs were instructed to showcase cauliflower à la du Barry at royal functions–cauliflower napped in a mornay sauce and sprinkled with grated cheese and breadcrumbs and browned. It was a nod to his mistress, the voluptuous Madame Du Barry. (Call me sentimental, but what could be more romantic than to have your special guy name a cauliflower casserole after you?)

Cauliflower has gotten more beautiful over the years, too. Modern growers now produce a kaleidoscope of cauliflowers in addition to the basic white. The colorful ones–orange, green and purple cauliflowers–are more nutrient-rich than white cauliflowers. Orange cauliflower, for instance, has twenty-five times more vitamin A than white cauliflower. Purple cauliflower is rich in the same antioxidants that are found in red cabbage, red wine and blueberries. Interestingly, for the home cook, the colorful cauliflowers hold their color when cooked. (By the way, the “flower” sections of the cauliflower are called “curds.” )

Whatever color you choose, cauliflower is low in fat, high in fiber and a half-cup serving provides 100% of your daily vitamin C requirement. Cauliflower also provides vitamin K which is believed to have anti-inflammatory benefits and B vitamins as well. The Centers for Disease Control ranks cauliflower among the thirty top powerhouse vegetables (nutrients vs. calories).

Cauliflower is versatile, too.  In an article in the Los Angeles Times in 2014, food writer Russ Parsons extolled cauliflower’s virtues: “…cauliflower has two distinct personalities. Cook it quickly and you’ll see its aggressive, brassy side; it’s a vegetable that you can pair with all sorts of big flavors–garlic, capers, chiles, anchovies. Cook it slowly and you won’t believe how sweet and mellow it becomes, with a hint of something that smells very much like white truffles.”

It’s that good.

And, whatever you do, don’t let anyone try to pull that “I’m President of the United States and I’m not going to eat any more cauliflower” stuff on you.

This cauliflower soup has gotten excellent reviews from my friends.

This is my adaptation of a Food Network recipe by Ree Drummond. The link to the original recipe appears at the end of this post.

Ingredients: Cauliflower Soup

1 stick butter
1/2 large onion (finely diced)
1 carrot (finely diced)
1 celery stalk (finely diced)
1 large head of cauliflower (cored and roughly chopped)
2 T. finely minced fresh parsley
8 C. vegetable broth
6 T. all-purpose flour
2 C. whole milk
1 C. half-an-half
Salt to taste
Ground black pepper
1 C. sour cream (at room temperature)
Chopped parsley for garnish

Directions: Over medium heat, melt 1/2 stick of butter in a heavy pot. Sautee onions in butter until translucent (about 3 minutes). Add diced carrots and celery and briefly saute. Add cauliflower and stir into butter-vegetable mixture. Cover and cook over low heat for 15 minutes.

Add parsley and vegetable broth. Simmer soup for 10 minutes.

While soup is simmering, melt 1/2 stick of butter over medium heat in a medium saucepan. When the butter is melted, whisk in flour and cook flour-butter mixture for a few minutes. (Don’t let it burn.) Whisk in milk. Remove this white sauce from the heat and add half-and-half. Pour the milk-half-and-half mixture into the soup. Your soup will thicken slightly but will stay relatively thin. Add salt and pepper to taste and simmer the soup for 20-30 minutes.

Stir in (room temperature) sour cream.

Garnish with chopped parsley.

Here is the link to the original Ree Drummond recipe:

http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ree-drummond/cauliflower-soup-recipe.html