6 posts tagged “lemon”

scallops with cauliflower puree

Sometimes the old chestnut comes true: necessity is the mother of invention.  We had some friends over for dinner last Saturday, and I was all set to make this scallop dish from Living, when I realized halfway through the process that it wasn't going to work out.  I couldn't use my oven to bake the scallops, as directed, since I was already making a souffle in there and was ordered by Julia Child not to open the door for 20 minutes.  Also I didn't have any capers for the relish, or any jerusalem artichokes to roast for a crispy topping.  (It's true, I can be very disorganized in the kitchen!)

So I made it up my own way.  I decided to substitute crispy fried shallots for the jerusalem artichokes, and chopped green olives for the capers.  I pan seared the scallops instead of roasting.  And it turned out absolutely great!  (Unlike my souffle, which looked gorgeous when I took it out of the oven, but in the five minutes it took for us to finish our scallops, it sank like a well.  Can't win em all I guess!)

Pan-Seared Scallops with Cauliflower Puree
Ingredients:
For the puree:
1 head cauliflower
2 cups chicken broth

For the scallops:
8 large sea scallops (about 1 lb.)
1 tablespoon butter
salt
pepper

For the topping:
2 shallots, sliced thin
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup parsley, finely chopped
1/4 cup green olives, finely chopped
juice from 1/2 lemon

Instructions:
For relish, combine chopped parsley, olives, and lemon juice and stir until well mixed.  Set aside.

Cut cauliflower into 1 inch pieces.  Boil in broth until tender, about 20 minutes.  Puree in blender, or in the pot using an immersion blender.  Salt and pepper to taste.  Return to pot.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a small pan until very hot.  Add in sliced shallots and turn heat down to medium high.  Stir occasionally until the shallots are browned and crispy.

Sprinkle scallops with salt and pepper.  In another pan, heat 1/2 tablespoon butter until it is fully melted and beginning to brown.  Add 4 of the scallops, flat side down.  Adjust heat to keep the butter from burning.  Do not touch the scallops for 2 minutes.  When they are well browned, turn scallops using tongs.  Cook until medium rare - the bottom 1/3 and top 1/3 of the scallop should be opaque while the middle 1/3 remains translucent.  Remove from heat and transfer to a platter.  Cover with foil to keep them warm.  Repeat the process with the other 1/2 tablespoon of butter and other 4 scallops.

While the second batch is finishing, reheat the cauliflower puree.

To serve, ladle each of 4 plates with about 1/2 cup of puree.  Place 2 scallops on top and sprinkle with relish and crispy shallots.

Serves 4

lemon pancakes

Remember how I told you I have gleaned some of my best cooking technique secrets from reading the chapter headings in The Joy of Cooking?  Well the best thing I ever learned from those was how to make perfect pancakes.

Before I read the intro to the pancake chapter in The Joy, I always struggled with pancakes.  I used Bisquick pre-made pancake mix, and followed the instructions on the box to create the batter, but the first batch of pancakes would always be all yellow and greasy and wouldn’t brown properly.  The problems didn’t stop there either – after the first batch had soaked up all the butter I would add more to the pan, but by then the pan was so hot that the butter would brown before I even poured the next batch of batter into the pan.  If I lowered the heat then the pancakes would take forever to cook.  If I turned it up they’d scorch on the bottoms or have black flecks of burnt butter.  And the finished products were always kind of soggy and limp.  Thankfully, a pat of butter and good maple syrup will disguise a multitude of sins.

But one day I went to make pancakes and discovered I was out of Bisquick.  I decided to look up in my trusty Joy of Cooking how to make pancakes from scratch.  And lo and behold, the answers to all my problems were detailed on page 211.  Here are the important lessons I learned:

• If you use a proportion of at least 2 tablespoons butter to every cup of liquid in your batter, and cook in a nonstick pan, you don’t need to grease the pan surface AT ALL.

• Make sure your pan is the correct temperature. When water droplets dripped onto the pan skip and bounce, the pan is ready.  (If they evaporate instantly into steam on contact the pan is too hot.  If they sit there a moment before boiling away, it’s not hot enough.)

• Pancakes are ready to turn when bubbles appear on the surface and edges are dry.  This generally takes about 2-3 minutes.  When you think they are ready, slide a spatula under the pancake and check for a golden brown color.  If they are ready, gently flip the pancake and continue cooking until the second side is done.  This will take only about half as long as the first side.

• Finished pancakes should be served immediately or kept warm IN A SINGLE LAYER in a warm oven.  If you stack them they will get soggy.

Such was the case this morning, when he wouldn’t stop pestering me to make some of my famous pancakes.  Nursing a hangover from a delicious and very boozy night of Thai food at our friends Heather and Johnny’s last night, I was resistant at first.  But finally I gave in.  After all, this is the man who not only put up with all my Valentine’s dinner craziness, but also made me 2 hot breakfasts in the past week.

I had made that Meyerless lemon cake again (this time using actual Meyer lemons) to bring to Heather’s the night before and had some of the glaze leftover.  There was one lemon still sitting on the cutting board that I hadn’t used making the cake.  I thought longingly of the small chunk of cake that remained on Heather and Johnny’s table at the end of our meal the night before.  What a yummy breakfast that would make.  I decided to invent a cross between my favorite fluffy pancakes and that delicious lemony dessert.  

The pancakes turned out divine but Jon and I had a minor scuffle over the maple syrup at the breakfast table.  Jon went to college in Vermont and he absolutely adores maple syrup.  But I knew that the maple flavor would compete with and overpower the delicate lemon taste of these pancakes.  As I was cooking, he had been singing all morning about how much he loves syrup, so I knew it was going to be a bit of a battle to get him to try these pancakes on their own.  

As I served them, I said, “Babe, try these first without any syrup.”  As I had suspected he was resistant.  After a couple sullen bites, he proceeded to unscrew the lid of the maple syrup bottle.  I tried giving him my best Claire Huxtable evil eye, but to no avail.  He poured on a hearty slathering of syrup.  I rolled my eyes and dug into the pancakes on my own plate, savoring the sweet, lemony flavor and fluffy, moist texture.  

When Jon had cleaned his plate, he looked up balefully and said, “Babe, if it makes you feel any better, you were right.  They were better without the syrup.”  Mmmm hmmm.  “Are there any more?”  he asked.  There were.  He ate another whole plate full with no maple syrup at all.

Ah, sweet lemony victory.

Fluffy Meyer Lemon* Pancakes with Lemon Syrup
Ingredients:
4 Meyer lemons
1 cup powdered sugar
1 cup buttermilk
3 Tablespoons butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 cups flour, sifted before measuring (I do this by placing the sifter over a clear, 2-cup measuring cup, and sifting flour into it until it reaches the 1 1/2 cup marking.)
1 teaspoon salt
6  Tablespoons granulated sugar
1 3/4 teaspoons baking powder

Instructions:
To create the lemon syrup for the pancakes, juice two of the lemons to yield about 1/4 cup of lemon juice.  Pour into a small saucepan and add 1 cup powdered sugar. Stir together over medium heat until sugar is dissolved, about 2 minutes.  Turn off heat and leave the pan on the stovetop for brushing the pancakes with later.  Set out a pastry brush for this purpose.

Pour buttermilk into a microwave-safe container.  Cut butter into small, 1/2 inch chunks and stir chunks into buttermilk.  Microwave buttermilk and butter on high for 30 seconds or until butter is just melted but milk is lukewarm.  Set aside on countertop.

Separate the eggs, placing the yolks into a large mixing bowl.  Set aside egg whites.  Lightly beat the yolks together.  Zest 1 lemon and add zest to the yolks, stirring to combine.  Squeeze juice from the zested lemon to yield about 1 Tablespoon, and stir lemon juice into the egg yolks.  Add buttermilk mixture to the eggs and stir until blended.

Sift together the flour, salt, sugar and baking powder into a medium size bowl.  Using a rubber spatula, fold powder ingredients into the egg yolk bowl.

Using an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks.  Very gently so that you don’t deflate them, fold the beaten egg whites into the rest of the batter.  Stir as few times as possible to blend the batter together – less than 10 stirs.

Line a cookie sheet with paper towels and place in oven.  Turn the heat to 200F.

Heat a large non-stick skillet over medium high heat until it passes the water droplet test (see above) for correct temperature.

Pour batter by scant 1/4 cupfuls onto the pan.  When bubbles form on top and the edges are dry, flip the pancakes over using a silicon spatula.  Brush the top of the pancake with lemon syrup while the bottom finishes cooking, being careful not to drip syrup onto the pan.  When pancakes are done, remove from pan, placing finished pancakes in a single layer on the warm cookie sheet in the oven to keep warm while you cook the rest.

When you have finished making all the batter into pancakes, brush them again generously with lemon syrup and use the flour sifter to sprinkle powdered sugar over the top.  Cut the remaining lemon into quarters lengthwise and serve pancakes with a lemon wedge on each plate.

Serves 4

* To make this recipe with regular lemons, just add 1/4 cup more powedered sugar to the syrup.  To make it without any lemons at all, use only 3 Tablespoons of granulated sugar for the batter (rather than 6 as the recipe directs), and omit the lemon syrup altogether and serve with your favorite bottled syrup.

lemon bar

So you know how in The Joy of Cooking, there are all these recipes with the word "cockaigne" at the end?  Brownies Cockaigne, Coffee Cake Poppyseed Filling Cockaigne, Creamed Eggs and Asparagus Cockaigne.  [NOTE: If you have no idea what I'm talking about you probably don't own The Joy of Cooking.  This is a crime against culinary nature.  I command you to stop reading this blog immediately and go out and buy a copy.  This essential cookbook, written by Irma Rombauer and illustrated by her daughter, Marion Rombauer Becker, was originally published in 1931 as Irma, a St. Louis housewife, was struggling to stay afloat financially after her husband's death.  It is required reading for owning a kitchen, people.  Or even for us poor slobs who just rent a kitchen.  What other cookbook gives recipes for everything from cornmeal mush to sole meuniere?  Every section begins with a basic lesson on the essentials of cooking that particular category of food, and some of my best culinary secrets have been gleaned from reading these chapter heading lessons.  They even have a chapter on setting the table for every occasion from casual picnic to formal banquet, and on page 454 there are directions for preparing and cooking A BEAR.  I'm not kidding.] 

Anyway, I was always like, what the heck is with this Cockaigne they keep naming all the recipes after?  Why are they obsessed with Cockaigne?  Maybe they're snorting Cockaigne.  [Seriously, stop reading and go buy The Joy of Cooking, right now.  You need it.  Really.]  Once, in a fit of curiousity, I looked up Cockaigne in the American Heritage Dictionary.  It is defined as " An imaginary land of easy and luxurious living."  Umm.... OK, so they're saying this fruitcake recipe evokes a nation of laziness and gluttony, hmmm.  On the Wikipedia page for Cockaigne, they quote a 13th century French poem called The Land of Cockaigne where "the houses were made of barley sugar and cakes, the streets were paved with pastry, and the shops supplied goods for nothing."  All right, now I understand a little better, they're saying the fruitcake could be used to pave the streets in a socialist Candyland?

Finally I found the true answer by just looking up Cockaigne in the index to the cookbook, which directed me to the foreword.  Apparently Cockaigne is the name of Marion's husband's family's country home in Ohio (apparently Ohio is the Hamptons of St. Louis??), and she used this name to denote her favorite recipes of the volume.  Well, that was kind of anticlimactic.

Still, it didn't stop me from trying these utopian lemon bars.  After all, supreme foodie Amanda Hesser served these at her engagement party.  The Meyer lemon-obsessed Hesser publishes this recipe in Cooking for Mr. Latte, where she offers an adaptation for using her favorite gourmet lemons: simply use 1/2 cup less sugar for the lemon curd topping.  It takes about 5 regular or 8 Meyer lemons to generate the whopping 1 cup and 2 tablespoons juice needed for the recipe.  Why not just buy extra just in case and use the leftovers to make some lemon-pistachio pesto!

Instructions:
Position a rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 325F. Have ready a 13x9 baking pan.

Sift together into a large bowl 1 1/2 cups of flour and 1/4 cup of sugar. Toss in the cubes of butter. Using a pastry blender, two knives, or your fingertips, cut in the butter until the mixture is the size of small peas. (I used my fingers.  Amanda Hesser recommends a "small pinching motion.") 

Using your fingers, press the mixture into the bottom of the pan and 3/4 inch up the sides to avoid leaking during baking. (Don't worry if it seems like you don't have enough crust at first - just keep on pressing it until it thins out enough to cover the entire bottom of the pan.)  Bake until golden brown, 20-30 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly.

Reduce the oven temperature to 300F. Whisk together eggs and 3 cups of sugar until well combined. Stir in lemon zest and lemon juice. Sift 1/2 cup of flour over the top and stir in until well blended and smooth.

Pour batter over the baked crust. Bake until set, about 35 minutes. Remove the pan to a rack to cool completely before cutting into bars.

Makes about 18 3x2 inch bars.

meyer lemon pasta

I finally got my hands on some Meyer lemons.  I've been hearing about these things for years.  Brought to the United States from China at the turn of the century, these sweet little lemons were used mostly as ornamental plants until they were popularized by California chefs in the 70s and 80s pursuing a cuisine of locally grown organic foods.  Nowadays cookbook chefs are constantly dropping them into recipes all casually, as if we all live in California and can just go pick some off the bush in our back yard.

Even though Meyer lemons are certainly not locally grown here in Illinois you can still find them once in a while, usually during the lemon season which is from December to April.  Thought to be a cross between regular lemons and tangerines, they are rounder and more orangey yellow than conventional lemons.  Their flavor is sweeter than regular lemons and their skin is soft and has a wonderful orange-lemony fragrance.

So when I finally found some during my weekly grocery shop, I grabbed half a dozen.  Now I could finally make all those lemon-snobby cookbook recipes I'd been bypassing!  I decided to start with a main course, meyer lemon pasta.  I actually had two different recipes for a meyer lemon pasta (one from the Living spa cuisine article and one from Cooking for Mr. Latte).  I decided to keep the common elements - spaghetti, meyer lemons, arugula - and just add in which ever of the other ingredients suited me.  The result was a light, delicious pasta, which was pretty easy to make (once I got the lemons) and as a bonus, it's pretty healthy to boot!

Spaghetti with Meyer Lemon-Pistachio Pesto
Ingredients:
1 pound whole grain spaghetti (I use Barilla - the yellow box)
2 meyer lemons (the recipe will still be good with regular lemons, just use one lemon instead of two)
1 cup grated parmesan cheese
3/4 cup roasted pistachio nuts (buy the kind that are already shelled)
1 large shallot, minced
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1/2 cup creme fraiche or sour cream
3 handfuls arugula, roughly chopped
salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:
Put on a pot of salted water to boil.

Zest the lemons into a large bowl and add the grated parmesan.

Cut the lemons into six wedges each and remove seeds.  Discard peels.

Pulse pistachio nuts in food processor until well chopped.  Add peeled, seeded lemon wedges and pulse to combine.

When water boils, put in pasta and cook until al dente (about 10 minutes or as package directions indicate). 

While the pasta is cooking, heat one tablespoon of olive oil in a small pan and saute shallots over medium heat until fully softened.  Add cooked shallots to pistachio-lemon mixture.

When pasta is done, drain, reserving 1 cup of cooking water.  Toss cooked pasta in bowl with lemon zest and parmesan.   Add pesto, mix thoroughly until all strands are coated.  If the dressed pasta is too sticky, add some of the cooking water until it has a nice slippery texture.  Fold in creme fraiche.  Finally, add the chopped arugula, and mix until it is wilted and evenly distributed throughout the pasta.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with a fresh grating of parmesan on top.

Serves 4