Britishish Brunchishness

So, this month's book (okay, we don't read a book every month, but humor me) was Atonement by Ian McEwan. I thought a British book called for a British menu, so decided on:

Ginger-Hazelnut Scones with Crème Fraîche, Rhubarb-Ginger Jam and Fresh Strawberries
Salmon-Wrapped Poached Eggs with Avocado, Asparagus and Lemon-Chive Sour Cream Sauce
Rhubarb Custard Pie à la Mode

Preparations began on Friday with all the rhubarb stuff. I used a recipe for Rhubarb-Ginger Jam that I got from Adriana last year, but this time I decided not to add water (as called for in the original recipe) and see how it turned out. So, chop about 2 lbs of rhubarb and mix in a non-reactive pan with 2 C sugar. Then (here's where I deviated), let the mixture sit for 2-3 hours, stirring occasionally. This draws the juices out of the rhubarb, so it can cook without adding additional water. Here is what mine looked like after about three hours:



Then add about 3 oz. fresh ginger root, peeled and cut into pieces that will be easy to find and fish out later (ie., not too small). 3 oz. ginger is more than it sounds like--not just a thumb or a couple of fingers, but pretty much a whole hand. Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb has softened. Then scoop or strain out the rhubarb, and simmer just the liquid and the ginger until it's thick and syrupy. Toss the ginger, stir the rhubarb back in, and then put in jars. I used two pint jars, made sure the rims were clean, screwed the lids on tightly, then turned upside down. When they were cool, I put them in the fridge, and they seem to have sealed. The acidity of the rhubarb plus the sugar should mean it'll be good as long as it's around.



Then I baked the pie, the crust for which I had mixed up earlier in the day. I used a recipe that appeared in this week's Oregonian FoodDay. My only note on this recipe is that 3 lbs is more than enough rhubarb, even for a 9-inch deep pie dish. Next time I won't use more than 2.5 lbs. Before going to bed, I set the table with linen and lace I got from my grandmother, and our nicest china and goblets.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, after an odd dream (aren't they all?) in which MWR was a grower of organic red onions, and we met Portland chef Leather Storrs (great name, eh?--he was interested in the onions), and he looked like Jeff Spicoli. I cut some black tulips from the garden for a centerpiece, then headed out for the last of the provisions: asparagus, strawberries, smoked salmon, brioches, fresh eggs. Then I came home and whipped up the scones. I've tried lots of scone recipes, but not since I tried the one for Dorset Scones in Sheila Lukins's Around the World Cookbook. Here's how I made them yesterday:

2 C flour
1 T baking powder
3 T sugar
1/2 t salt
1/2 C chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" cubes
1 large egg
a little less than 1/2 C milk
1/3 C chopped crystallized ginger (I use ginger chips from the Ginger People)
1/3 C diced roasted hazelnuts

1. Put dry ingredients (flour, baking powder, sugar, salt) in food processor and pulse briefly to combine. Add the butter and pulse until mixture resembles coarse meal.

2. Break egg into a Pyrex measuring cup and whisk lightly. Add milk to just over the 1/2 C mark, and whisk lightly to blend. Pour all but 1-2 T over the flour/butter mixture and process until the dough is just starting to come together. DO NOT process until dough comes all the way together and makes a ball going around the food processor bowl.

3. Dump dough into a medium-sized bowl, add ginger and hazelnuts and blend quickly with your hand. Make into one large 1/2-3/4" thick disk for big scones, two disks for mini ones. Use a bench scraper to cut each disk into 8 wedges, and place on a parchment-lined insulated (this is important if you don't want scorched bottoms) baking sheet. If you have time, chill shaped scones on baking sheet, 15 minutes-overnight (I was in a hurry yesterday and skipped this, and they turned out fine, but I did start with very cold butter and I didn't overwork the dough).

4. Preheat oven to 450. Brush tops of scones with reserved egg-milk mixture, sprinkle with sugar, and bake 10-15 minutes, until tops are lightly colored. Cool a few minutes on wire rack before serving.

Here you can see the table setting during the first course, including the black tulips just visible at the top of the frame. My friends pointed out that the lace placemats echoed nicely the filigree of the Lane Twitchell prints (Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters) hanging in my dining room.





For the main course, we had Salmon-Wrapped Poached Eggs from The Gourmet Cookbook. I am not normally a fan of either poached eggs or smoked salmon, but this recipe won me over. The only thing you really need the recipe for is the sauce, a lemon-chive-sour cream sauce instead of the more traditional hollandaise. It was easy to make, didn't risk breaking, and was delicious.

1/2 C sour cream
2 t fresh lemon juice
1/4 C olive oil
1 T finely chopped fresh chives [another good one to grow, dear readers!]
1 1/2 t chopped fresh tarragon [I skipped this because I don't particularly like tarragon, but in hindsight I wish I'd added some of the fresh dill I had in the fridge]
1/2 t kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper

Whisk together sour cream and lemon juice, then add oil in a slow stream, whisking until blended. Stir in herbs, salt and pepper.

For the rest, slice individual brioches into 1/2-3/4" slices, and toast lightly then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Top with a little sorrel or arugula [I skipped this, but I think watercress or baby spinach would work great, too], then thinly sliced red onion [I skipped this, too, because I forgot to pick one up at the market, but all tasters agreed it would have been great], and sliced avocado [do NOT skip this--it really made the dish]. [I put a few spears of blanched asparagus next to the toasts, but I would probably skip this next time--the flavors just didn't go as well as everything else.] Then poach the eggs, season with salt and pepper, wrap with thinly-sliced smoked salmon [I used lox and it tasted great], and put them on the toasts. Drizzle sauce over all and serve, sprinkling with a few more finely chopped fresh chives [or dill!] if desired.

I seem always to forget to take pictures before things are half-eaten, but this kind of gives you the idea.



And the bottom picture is the pie after we were done with it. I served it with Tillamook Vanilla Bean ice cream, which was perfect. I think the juices wouldn't have run so much if I hadn't reheated the pie in the morning. If I decide to make this pie for a brunch again, I may try assembling it the night before and leaving it in the fridge, and baking the next morning. Then I can serve it warm without reheating.

Um, really?

Was listening to public radio the other day on the way to pick up Number One from school, and the BBC newsreader at the beginning of The World pronounced Beethoven beeth-oven, just as it's written (instead of bait-oh-ven). I kid you not. Is this some kind of weird alternate British pronunciation?

Then, today the sub host of Fresh Air, introducing a movie review of the new Alain Resnais film, pronounced the director's first name Elaine (well, not eee-laine, but uh-laine, anyway). Wow. If Alain Delon accomplished nothing else in his movie career, I thought at least he might have helped spread an at-least-approximate pronunciation of this name. I don't expect total fidelity to the français, but at least say uh-LAN. Am I crazy?

Mmmmm, pastries

So I popped into St. Honoré Boulangerie today, to see if they would have brioches available tomorrow when I need them for my book group brunch (stay tuned for recipes!), and I did happen to notice that they had small sort-of-individual (ie., one person could eat one, but probably wouldn't feel good about themselves afterward) St. Honoré cakes. So, Swizzies, please, please, pleeeeeeeeeeeze come visit me, and I will make sure we get one every day.

They probably won't have the brioches by when I need them tomorrow (darn!), but that didn't keep me from buying a pain au chocolat and a mille feuilles for my afternoon snack (I did share the pain au chocolat with Number Two). My question is, Is it ever possible to eat a mille feuilles without the custard gooshing out the sides? Seriously, because that reminded me why I very rarely buy them (usually opting for éclairs, with their more-easily-contained pastry cream).

Portland, Glorious Portland

It's been quite the week here in my hometown. The Food Network named it "Delicious Destination of the Year," and it was featured in the New York Times travel section (thanks to MWR for this link). That article missed some of my favorite spots, but did give a shoutout to one of my fave neighborhood joints (a mere 10 blocks from my house), the Saint Honoré Boulangerie. Way to go, town!

Et tu, New Yorker?

I hate seeing a booboo in this magazine, because it's usually so well copy-edited. But today I was reading a Talk of the Town piece about Zimbabwe, and they mentioned how an opposition leader had been injured, and had received a severe laceration to his skull. Is this some everyday usage I'm not aware of? Did my early inclinations toward medicine as a career forever make me unable to deal with this kind of inexactitude? Wouldn't it have been better and more colloquial to say he'd received a laceration to his head? And better and more exact to say he's received a laceration to his scalp? Is it just me?

Sesame Street Makes My Day

Grover, imagining himself as a crow being scared by a scarecrow, saying he "will return nevermore, nevermore, nevermore."

Sesame Street always and ever gets a free pass in our household--can you see why?

Oink Oink

Mavis had a birthday this week, and requested something piggish for dinner. I told him to check in the basement freezer, and from the available options, he chose a pork loin roast (other alternatives were a Boston butt, chorizo and andouille sausages). I then gave him the option of herb-crusted or maple-glazed, and he opted for the herbs, with a side of polenta and peas.

No pictures, sorry--the camera batteries were dead and I was disinclined at that moment to fetch more. Besides, it tasted better than it looked.

I used a recipe from the March-April 2007 Cook's, deviating slightly, which in retrospect I wouldn't recommend. Well, I also deviated in not brining the meat, which I don't regret in the slightest. I get my pork from a guy who raises heirloom pigs, and this roast was heavily marbled and not in the least lacking in moisture or flavor. Where I shouldn't have deviated was in trying to take a shortcut in making the crumb mixture for the top of the roast, which shortcut resulted in a kind of bread paste instead of a crumb coating. Tant pis.

Anyway, you make a crumb coating with about 1/2 C bread crumbs, a minced shallot, a couple tablespoons of grated parmesan, salt and pepper and about a tablespoon of olive oil. You also make an herb paste with a couple cloves of garlic, about half a bunch of fresh flat-leaf parsley, one sprig's-worth minced rosemary, about ten sprig's-worth minced thyme, 6 T grated parmesan, 3 T olive oil and salt and pepper. You butterfly the roast (I used a boneless blade-end loin roast, as specified in the recipe, though the proportions on mine were different than the one pictured in the article), and spread about 3/4 of the herb paste inside. Tie it with a few pieces of string, then brown all over in hot oil. Then the recipe says to remove the strings (which I don't think I would do again--it kind of flopped apart in the oven as it cooked), spread the rest of the herbs on top and cover with the bread crumb mixture, then roast at 325 until the thickest part measures 145.

It was delicious, and a side bonus was that I figured out and got to use the meat probe that came with my stove. Very nice not to have to keep opening the oven to take the meat's temperature with an instant-read, when instead you can just check it on the oven's display.

For the polenta, I use this stuff from Bob's Red Mill, a local miller whose products are widely available. The package has instructions for both a slow, traditional cooking method, and a quick, easy one. Guess which one I always use? Then just stir in a bunch of grated parmesan, some unsalted butter, and frozen petite peas after taking off the heat, and voilà.

On a completely unrelated note, I had a great sandwich for lunch today, a salmon egg salad made from a couple ounces of leftover roast spring chinook, an Easter egg, chopped capers and dill, mayo and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Mmmmmm.