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Have you ever been walking down the street and suddenly been bowled over by an irresistible smell, one that absolutely, positively requires you to find the source? Common examples are butter, bacon, barbeque, coffee, bread, curry - you know, smells that just grab you by the nose and pull (rather than those opposite kinds that push you away and make you feel ill...)
Well, the small and oft-overlooked country of Belgium is famous for a few foods but the one that carries the name and flag far and wide is the waffle. Now "Belgian Waffles" in an american diner are not terribly Belgian, and certainly not the kind that you can buy on the streets of Brussels and munch as you walk along. These are called Gaufres de Liège, are ragged-edged, dense and chewy, and have a slightly crispy, caramelized sugar crust that comes from the particular kind of sugar crystals which must be used in the batter (or else it's not the real thing, of course.)
In Brussels, the widely-regarded best gaufres can be found in little yellow vans parked at random places around the city. Despite the fact that, a) I did not know this to be the source of the quintessential gaufre, nor b) did I (or anyone) know where such a fount of waffly gastronomic pleasure might be found on a particular day, find one I did - entirely by nose. I had just finished touring the European Parliament building (which is large) and was hungry. All of a sudden I was practically knocked flat by a wave of caramel, yeast, butter, and chocolate. Dazed and stumbling I looked around, but didn't see anything that might be emitting such an intoxicating cloud. I kept walking - one block, two blocks - towards a square, and then I saw it. Like the sun peeking over the horizon in the morning, bright yellow and with the huge word "Gaufres! " emblazoned on the side. I almost couldn't make it to the window, such was the glorious aroma. But make it I did, accepted my freshly made gaufre with chocolate sauce, and then proceeded to eat with messy abandon, all the while making slightly obscene noises and grinning like an idiot. I didn't notice until days later that I had chocolate sauce on my pants.
So I had this idea: I like to cook, I like to feed people, I like making up recipes just to see what happens, and I like talking about these wacky recipes with the people I am feeding while we are all in the middle of eating said funky foodstuffs. In other words, I decided to invite a few people over to be guinea pigs to my mad culinary experiments. And I am truly flattered that they agreed to come and did so with with high expectations. But enough about the idea, on to the food. How's this for a meal? (Delicious photos by Smita.)
I started with a risotto - but one based entirely on basic Japanese ingredients. Instead of using olive oil to saute and brown the rice, I used sesame oil. Instead of vegetable or meat stock I used a broth from smoked bonito, sardine, and kelp with some white miso paste for texture and flavour depth and a little bit of ginger. Instead of wine I used mirin. The vegetables were kabocha squash and shiitake mushrooms. And to garnish, black sesame seeds, super-finely sliced shiso, and soy sauce. I still used arborio rice for texture, and I also used a very little cheese to hold it together - a very light-flavoured hard Mahon.
The entire recipe was my attempt at a sort of macro-scale fusion recipe. I wanted to see if the texture of risotto could be successfully combined with entirely Japanese flavour. I'm excited that the result is a resounding "yes!" The mouth-feel of this experiment was exactly the same as my more traditional risotto recipes, but the taste was of a sweet miso-mushroom soup with the umami of soy, toasty overtones of sesame, and sweet earthy bites of squash. The greatest, yet most subtle, change was definitely the liquids. It was hard to really identify how the fish stock and miso differed from chicken or vegetable stock, but the effect on the final dish is great. I think the european-style stocks have much more onion, carrot, garlic, and savory herbs than their Japanese counterparts. Mirin is also worlds apart from white wine - much sweeter and with slightly beery flavour. I think that's why the dish came out sweet - next time I'll use less.
Making this dish gave me a great excuse to go to Uwajimaya, the glorious Japanese supermarket. Since I don't read Japanese, figuring out which is the right dried soup base to use and how to use it, or which miso paste is which, is always fun - involving deciphering packaging diagrams and finding numbers in the directions from which to interpret measurements, timing, and whether something might kill you if eaten wrong.
The second course was a pork tenderloin, rubbed with a paste made from cocoa nibs from Theo Chocolate, wild peppercorns, sugar, olive oil, sage, paprika, and cumin. I ground the spices and chocolate with a mortar and pestle, adding a little olive oil at a time until the paste became the consistency of a dense chocolate mousse. Plain, the mixture tasted tart and nutty, with a little heat from the paprika and pepper and some dusty warmth from the sage. Rubbing it on the pork smelled like paprika and chocolate. Baking it smelled like cumin plus some sweet smoke. And eating it was a very mild nutty aftertaste to the pork, which I slightly overcooked. It looked really good, but wasn't as richly flavoured as I'd hoped. Perhaps marinating in the rub overnight would have allowed the flavours to penetrate and develop. So the verdict: tasty, but a little mundane.
The accompaniment to the pork was shaved par-boiled golden beets with sea salt, pepper, and truffle oil. Boiling the beets made them not quite so crunchy, but I kept some firmness by not boiling too long and then immediately chilling the beets in cold water. Shaved vegetables are fun to arrange because they are so malleable and delicate. These came out looking like fluffy yellow roses on the plate. And they tasted sweet and grassy at the same time - the salt magnifying the sweetness, the pepper adding a little tart twinge, and the truffle oil smoothing out the texture and rounding out the taste. I also used some leftover shiso to garnish this plate, and the shiso went surprisingly well with the beets - a cool and herbal complement to the sweetness of the beet.
The next course was dumplings (ravioli, really) of goat cheese, carrot, and onion. I grated the carrot and onion with the brilliant multi-purpose "Kitchen Mama" tool I got at Daiso. This grater produces basically a rough paste of anything put to it (including knuckles, I'm sorry to say.) When you pulverize vegetables to such an extent, lots of the liquid comes out. As I didn't want the filling to be watery anyway, I used a looseleaf tea bag to squeze off all excess moisture. Cheesecloth would work, too, but more stuff sticks to it and the tea bag was already a convenient pouch-shape. Note, as well, that when you grate onion it's that much more potent - whew! I mixed the drained carrot and onion with plain fresh goat cheese and a little salt and pepper.
As wonderful as it is to hand-make dumpling skins, this is where I decided to cut a corner. I found, after much searching, locally-made, freshly-packed shu-mei skins that did not contain all of the preservatives and stabilizers common to nationally-distributed ones. They're basically just a delicate circular noodle. You put a bit of filling in the middle, run a wet finger around the edge, fold in half, and press opposite edges together to make a little fat half-moon. Honestly, you could put anything in them (and I intend to try!) I fried the finished dumplings in canola oil though you can steam them, too. Shu-mei skins are very delicate so these were finished quickly - puffy, crisp and golden once I finally got the oil temperature right. Next time I'll use a thermometer so I can tell you what "right" really was, though I'm sure you can find lots of frying info online. There wasn't actually much taste of carrot, despite the amount I used. The cheese was dominant, with a little onion and a little sweetness reminiscent of fresh carrot juice.
Sponge candy was completely unknown to me until I started looking for a way to reproduce the core of the Whopper. No, not the hamburger - that I can do. I mean that mysteriously crisp and malty candy covered in chocolate. There are al sorts of approximations out there, but the one that seems to hold the most promise is sponge candy. As I mentioned, I'd never heard of it, but when I told my mother she exclaimed, "Oh yeah, like honeycomb. I love honeycomb! Oh, can we please make some when you come home for Thanksgiving?!" So it appears I missed something. That, or it was popular in the 1950s. Likely the latter, since candymaking is something of a vanishing art.
It is very simple: sugar, vinegar, and baking soda. Remind anyone of science-project volcanoes? When you mix the baking soda into the vinegar-primed melted sugar, and stir like crazy, you get lots of little expanding bubbles trapped in the sugar. When you pour out the sugar into an oiled baking dish and let it cool, it hardens into a delicate, crunchy sugar matrix (that you break apart by hitting it with a hammer!) To get it malty, I added malt powder mixed with the baking soda. Malt powder is basically another type of dried, crystallized sugar (maltose, among a few others.) But it has that very distinctive flavour (of Whoppers!) Suffice to say, I, too, ow love sponge candy, especially malted. I'm going to try another batch with more malt and also using the recommended half-sugar-half-corn syrup mixture (which should enable me to get the molten sugar to hard-crack temperature with less browning and also enable a lighter, fluffier candy when hardened.) But still: yum!, especially when dipped in leftover cream cheese frosting from birthday-cake adventures.
Last of the evening was a nightcap. A fabulous bar called Knee High Stocking Company makes a drink called the "St. James Cooler" that is a mixture of Jameson whiskey, St. Germain elderflower liqueur, lemonade, mint, and soda. I've had it. It is delicious and refreshing. And it inspired me to try a similar concoction, though a calmer version. I mixed 1 measure Powers' Whiskey, 1/2 measure Extra Dry White Vermouth, 2 Tablespoons elderflower concentrate ("Fladersaft" from Ikea, of all places), and a dash (1/8 tsp) lavender vodka that I made last year. More on the vodka some other time. Shake up that mixture with ice and serve neat. Refreshing and relaxing at the same time. I think it could be good both before and after dinner.
So that was the feast. I loved making it and my friends loved eating it and ultimately that's what it's all about.
RECIPES:
JAPANESE RISOTTO
1 C Arborio rice
3 T Sesame oil
3 C Fish stock
1 C Mirin
Double-handful Shiitake mushrooms, sliced
Double-handful Kabocha squash, cubed
1/3 C White Miso
1/3 C Mahon cheese, grated
Garnish:
Shiso Leaf, finely sliced
Black Sesame Seeds
Soy Sauce
1. Over medium-high heat, toast rice in sesame oil until rice is slightly transparent and starting to brown.
2. Add 2 C fish stock and squash, reduce heat to low, and simmer, stirring frequently.
3. When most liquid gone, add remaining stock, mirin and mushrooms. Continue simmering and stirring.
4. When all liquid gone, add cheese and stir to melt.
Garnish servings with shiso, soy sauce and sesame seeds.
CHOCOLATED-PEPPERCORNED PORK TENDERLOIN
1 Pork Tenderloin (they're mostly about the same size).
2 T Cocoa Nibs
1 T Sugar
1 T Wild Peppercorns
2 T Olive Oil
1/4 t Cumin, ground
1/2 t Paprika, ground
1 t Sage, ground
1. Grind the cocoa nibs and sugar to a paste in a mortar and pestle.
2. Add peppercorns and some oil and grind to paste.
3. Add herbs and a little more oil. Grind into paste.
4. Add a little more oil and grind fast until the paste becomes aerated and almost a mousse.
5. Trim pork and rub with paste.
6. Bake at 350 until just center is still pink.
7. Remove from oven, cover with foil, and rest for 10 mins.
GOLDEN BEET FLOWERS
Golden Beets
Sel Gris
Truffle Oil
1. Bring a pot of water to a boil.
2. Peel the beets and boil them whole until a knife slides in easily, but not all the way through.
3. Pour water from pot and then set under cold running tap to cool beets.
4. Remove beets from cold water when cool, dry, and shave with mandoline.
Mound on plate and garnish with salt and oil.
CARROT-ONION DUMPLINGS
Shu-Mei Skins
2 Carrots
1 Onion, small
1/3 C Goat Cheese, fresh and plain
Salt and Pepper
1. Grate carrots and onion.
2. Mix with cheese and season to taste (not too much salt.)
3. Place a teaspoon of filling into the middle of a wrapper, moisten the edge of the wrapper with a finger dipped in water, fold over and press wrapper edges together. Try not to leave much empty space inside the dumpling - they can pop when cooked.
4. Fry in your oil of choice. Cook a few at a time to keep oil at the same temperature.
MALTED SPONGE CANDY
(This is the recipe as it should be, not exactly as I tried it the first time.)
1 C Sugar
1 C Corn Syrup
1 T White Vinegar
1 T Baking Soda
1/3 C or more Malt Powder (You can get different kinds from any homebrew supply store - I used amber.)
1. Grease a glass baking dish. (Some recipes say use metal and butter but I had good luck with Corningware greased with canola oil.)
2. Heat sugar, vinegar and corn syrup slowly, stirring constantly. Use a pot of at least 2 quarts to allow for expansion.
3. Pre-mix baking soda and malt powder (I've yet to try adding the malt powder earlier or changing the amount of baking soda or vinegar.)
4. When the molten sugar reaches 300-310 degrees Farenheit (hard-crack candy stage) pour in the powder and mix like mad while the mixture inflates.
5. When well mixed and puffed, pour into the greased pan.
6. When cool, break with mallet. Eat plain or dipped in delicious things.
(Note, some recipes say that while the candy is cooling it can be scored so that it will break into even pieces. I'll have to try that.)
There's no accounting for taste, and sometimes differences in individual sense of taste can get you condemned to the culinary doghouse for longer than you might expect. May the two following examples serve as warning to the gastronaut seeking to share an adventure in food with unprepared or skeptical companions.
I love cheese, in a Wallace and Gromit kind of way. Almost every kind of cheese is delicious (I hesitantly except Morbier from my general love of cheese but that's a story for another time.) But many people are unprepared for the variety of cheeses available, or for their occasionally pungent nature. I was to see some friends one evening many months ago and I thought to bring some bread and cheese along with me. I chose a baguette and a few favorites - Boucheron (an aged log of goat's cheese,) and I think a wedge of Rogue Creamery's Smokey Blue Cheese, and, most particularly, a small crock of St. Marcellin, a cow's-milk cheese that becomes soft and runny as it ages so it is sold in small pottery dishes. It can be particularly pungent, but the taste is actually quite mild and milky despite what the nose may say (and I think it smells rather good, but apparently I can't be trusted!) 
In ignorance, I laid out the cheeses with a brief description of each and the assembled company fell to, trying the more familiar first and then moving on to the St. Marcellin. One of my friends took up a small piece of bread with a small dab of the cheese, tasted it, immediately pulled a pained and disgusted face and whether she spit out the morsel or not I cannot recall. Exclamations of horror and dismay followed, along with solemn vows never to trust my taste in cheese ever again. My credibility was shattered. I've spent the time since slowly rebuilding my cheese reputation and paying much more careful attention to the tastes of everyone else when I plan to introduce a potentially dangerous cheese.
But even with ample forwarning will an experiment not to everyone's taste cause long-standing condemnation of or skepticism toward of one's cooking skills or sense of taste (not to mention state of sanity.) I refer, for illustration, to the Garlic Chocolate-Chip Cookie episode (of which there actually have now been two, since I was foolhardy enough to attempt to win over some skeptics by a second try.)
I love garlic, to an extent which may be considered a fault by some. It does not necessarily belong in everything, but I am always interested to find where else it might be delicious. My mother was given a recipe for garlic chocolate chip cookies from the Garlic Lovers' Cookbook and shared it with me. I decided to make them. The first time I made them, I followed the recipe. The second time I experimented. Changing the recipe didn't have much of an effect on the taste, rather on the texture. But I'll describe the variations later.
The first time, I also made the absurd leap of faith that unproven garlic chocolate-chip cookies would be improved by lavender icing. The combination proved absolute sensory overload to many of my friends, whether they would have liked either part independently. It didn't help that I made the first batch of lavender icing way too strong - three or four times too strong. As such, while some liked all of the above, even in combination (once I'd weakened the icing), for others the reaction was dramatic - one friend memorably describing the experience as like to "being hit in the mouth with a bar of soap wrapped in a dirty sock." Lovely.
But despite the negative press, I cajoled many to try both the first and the eventual second versions. Some really like the concept and the result, others can't understand why one would ever try such an abomination and certainly can't abide the fruit of it. And still others come with an open mind and then can't figure out whether they like the cookies or not. Generally, though, for all but the people who like them, my standing as a cook of taste and sanity is called into question, accompanied by constant asking about future public offerings, "is there garlic in that?"
With that colossal grain of salt, garlic chocolate-chip cookies are very much like regular chocolate-chip cookies, just with a bit more depth and complexity. The chocolate-chip cookie is a good foundation for experimentation because it is already delicious. The garlic just adds a savory warmth to the flavour, with more or less sweetness or garlic aftertaste depending on how exactly you cook the garlic before mixing it into the cookies. Version one followed the simmer-garlic-in-maple-syrup original recipe, while version two was the slightly more aggressive boil-sugar-and-caramelize-garlic-in-that experiment that was a little scary and ultimately much more garlicky. The texture of the first version was much more like regular cookies, crispy and a little chewy, getting a bit stiffer over the few days I had them. Version two was much harder and a bit stickier at first and then softened up over the next few days in the cookie jar - weird. The method was scary because I poured boiling sugar and garlic into the cookie dough, which promptly became almost liquid - baking really is edible chemistry and I think I messed with the standard experimental procedure a wee bit, hence the odd final texture. And the caramelized sugar defintely added a slightly smoky caramel taste, too. Best start with the original recipe, transcribed from Accidental Hedonist where the description of the flavour is much the same as my own experience, so I'm not entirely crazy...
GARLIC CHOCOLATE-CHIP COOKIES
Makes 5 dozen or so.
10 cloves Garlic
½ C Maple Syrup
1 C Unsalted Butter, softened
¾ C Brown Sugar
¾ C White Sugar
2 Eggs
1 t Vanilla
½ t Salt
2½ C Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips
½ C Walnuts, chopped (optional)
2½ C All Purpose Flour, sifted
1 t Baking Soda
3 bowls
Boiling Water
1. Drop whole, unpeeled garlic cloves into boiling water and cook until tender (about 7 minutes). Remove garlic from the water, peel and chop. In Bowl #1: soak garlic in the maple syrup for 20 minutes to one hour - the longer you soak the garlic, the stronger the garlic taste.
2. Preheat oven to 375°F.
3. In Bowl #2: cream together butter, sugars, eggs and vanilla until light and fluffy. In Bowl #3: sift together flour, salt and baking soda. Mix flour mixture into butter mixture. Add chocolate chips and walnuts, mixing until evenly distributed.
4. Add maple syrup (+/- garlic) to dough. (If you want more garlic flavour, leave the garlic pieces in, otherwise strain them out and just use the syrup.
5. Drop by tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets, about 2 inches apart from each other. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes (or however you prefer your cookies.) Remove from oven and cool on racks.
LAVENDER ICING
Be very sparing with the lavender essence - it is stronger than it seems. This is also very much a try-as-you-go recipe that you have to make to your taste and texture preferences.
Sweetened Condensed Milk
Powedered Sugar
Lavender Essence (you should be able to find culinary lavender essence somewhere - it happens to be readily available in Washington.)
Start with a few tablespoons of the condensed milk. Mix in the powdered sugar by the teaspoon until the icing is thick enough. Mix in 2 drops at a time of the lavender essence. Taste after each addition and err on the side of too little - just a hint is sufficient. Use at will.
