Perfect Bliss: Malted Milk Ice Cream

I'm afraid I ought to warn you. This is probably NOT the place to be if you're serious about that new year's resolution to lose that last ten pounds.  I could wax apologetic for you, but it wouldn't be genuine.  Cuz I believe with every last ounce of my soul that this ice cream is worth the couple more hours minutes on the elliptical that you'll have to spend sweating it off.

And, in the spirit of full disclosure, I must confess to you that I, Lo, am an absolute FIEND for malted milk powder. I grew up sprinkling the stuff right on my vanilla ice cream. Drinking it mixed into my milk. Heck, I've even eaten it straight from the jar (yeah, it's powdery, but so is cocaine are pixie stix) It's true. I'll settle for a chocolate shake. But, make it a malt (double thick) and I'll be yours forever.

But, even so -- when I sent Peef out to find malted milk balls so that we could make this recipe (yes, I'm working diligently on another blog post entitled "Why My Husband Rocks" -- but that will have to wait, I'm talking about ice cream here), I had ABSOLUTELY no idea that a single ice cream recipe would have such a profound impact on me.

Because I'm not normally a "sweets" person.  I'm a "salty" sortofa gal. My junk food fantasies consist of things like salt & vinegar potato chips, Flamin' Hot Fritos, and loaves of buttery garlic bread. 

I'm also a big veg-head.  But, trust me, right now the vegetable kingdom is virtually dead to me. I could care less about kale. Broccoli. Beets. Brussels sprouts.

Honestly, I may eat nothing else for the remainder of the week.

And you don't have to take our word for it. It also gets Michael Ruhlman's stamp of approval. And Amateur Gourmet, Adam Roberts, even wrote a SONG about it.

Malted Milk Ice Cream
Adapted slightly from: The Perfect Scoop (David Lebovitz)

1 cup (250 ml) whole milk
2/3 cup (150 g) sugar
2 cups (500 ml) heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup (90 g) malt powder
6 large egg yolks
2 cups (350 g) malted milk balls, coarsely chopped

Warm the whole milk with the sugar in a medium saucepan. In a large bowl, whisk together the heavy cream, vanilla, and malt powder. Set a mesh strainer on top.

In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warm mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a wooden or heatproof plastic spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Pour the custard through the strainer and whisk it into the malted milk mixture. Stir until cool over an ice bath (or out in the snow, which is what we did here in Wisconsin in January)

Chill mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. As you remove the ice cream from the machine, fold in the chopped malted milk balls.


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Superbowl Food: Buffalo Chicken Spicy Mac

I frequently drool over the food featured by Tina & Mike over at Choosy Beggars.  But, their last pub night, featuring Buffalo Wing Macaroni & Cheese, took both Peef and me over the edge, giving us a serious mac & cheese craving.  So, we decided to try the recipe out for ourselves.

Of course, we can't follow instructions like normal people.  So, the recipe we ended up with, while it remotely resembles the original, has been... well, let's just say interpreted.  For one thing, this mac & cheese dish is now gluten free is made with an alternative grain (we were misguided in our initial claim that this recipe is gluten free -- it's not, though spelt can be a safe bet for some individuals with a more mild gluten intolerance).  Neither of us suffer from a gluten allergy, but we like to change it up a bit when it comes to the grains/flours we eat. On this particular occasion, we happened to have some Vita-Spelt macaroni on hand. Vita-Spelt is a favorite of ours -- not only because the spelt elbows are virtually indistinguishable from wheaty macaroni -- but also because it's made in Michigan, so it's a regional product (which we always like). 

We chose to poach our chicken breasts (2 of them), cube them up, and toss them with hot sauce while they were still steaming hot. I've successfully used this technique before with baked chicken wings. The theory is that the "pores" of the hot chicken are open and receptive to the hot sauce. The pieces soak up all the flavors while you're busy doing other things. 

Meanwhile, we chopped up our vegetables -- onions, carrots, garlic, and celery.  We chopped the onions and carrots into a small dice, and minced the garlic.  However, we left the celery sliced in larger pieces so they'd stand out in the dish. 

Then, we gathered together our spices.  This was another area where we took some liberties. In addition to the prerequisite cayenne pepper, we decided cumin might add some nice flavor. And we also threw in a teaspoon of smoked sweet paprika, figuring that a little bit of smoke wouldn't hurt.  We mixed the spices with the (gluten free) flour that we planned to use to make our roux.

We put a pot of water on to boil for the pasta, and we prepared to sauté our veggies. We chose to tackle the  sautéing in stages -- first the onions, then the carrots, and finally the garlic and celery. The goal here was to completely cook the onion, get the carrots to a crisp-tender state, and cook the celery just slightly (so that it would still retain some crunch).  Cuz I'll be honest, chicken wings just wouldn't be chicken wings without the crunch of that celery.

When the pasta was finished cooking, we rinsed it with cool water to halt the cooking process, and tossed it into a bowl with the veggies.

Then, we moved along, melted some butter, and made a roux with the flour & spices.  I'm a big fan of cooking spices in oil to bring out their flavors -- so this was just one more opportunity to allow everything to come together in a big way.  When the butter, flour, and spices had bubbled away eagerly for a few minutes, we added the milk to make our bechemel.

Once the bechemel finished cooking, we stirred in the cheeses. We chose a Wisconsin made buffalo monterey jack cheese (for good, cheesy flavor and a bit of kick), some Neufchatel (for creaminess), and some Sartori Reserve Dolcina® Gorgonzola (for that bleu cheese flavor we love with our buffalo wings).  At this point, we tasted for seasonings, added a smidge of salt, and mixed everything together.

Then we poured the whole mess into a large greased baking dish.

After sprinkling some bread crumbs (from a piece of forgotten ciabbata) over the top, we realized that our gluten-free macaroni & cheese was no longer gluten-free... oops! You can tell we don't do this every day.  Fortunately for us, this dish would be just fine with a bit of parmesan sprinkled over the top instead of the bread crumbs. In fact, it might even be better.

After about 30 minutes, the bread crumbs weren't QUITE toasty, but the cheese around the edges was all bubbly and wonderful looking.  So, we declared it done!

Is it mac & cheese? or a fantastic superbowl dip? This pasta dish brings the best of many worlds crashing together in a wonderful way.

 

The kick from the cayenne and buffalo sauce was definitely evident, but not overwhelming. The celery was pleasantly crisp, and the sauce was ultra creamy, thanks to the addition of that Neufchatel.  Alright, alright. So, it's definitely not health food. But, it's some seriously good football food.  And I'd venture a guess it would more than satisfy anyone's cravings for a nice big bowl of buffalo wings.

"It's like a pasta version of that buffalo chicken dip that we used to make," Peef declared after scarfing down his bowl of leftovers.

I sipped my IPA and smiled. Cuz there's really nothing better than being warm and satisfied on a cold, rainy January evening.  And it's even better when the husband agrees.

Buffalo Chicken Spicy Mac



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More Winter Grilling: Lamb Pitas with Cucumber, Feta, and Mint Yogurt Sauce

You know that little hole-in-the-wall Greek place on the corner that serves the fantastic gyros?  The one with the great fried eggplant, the killer cucumber sauce, and the really long line at the counter? Yeah -- those gyros. The ones that are just a little too salty, a bit too greasy, but somehow positively perfect on one of those nights when you don't feel like cooking?

Yeah, well, these aren't those gyros.
However, I'm going to urge you to keep on reading. These lamb pitas take a little bit of fore-thought. And definitely require more effort than take-out.  But, they're well worth it.  In fact, if you're the sort who loves a good gyro (but who would prefer to avoid all the salt and nastiness that are included with the ones from the gyro stand), I'd encourage you to make these sandwiches. At least once. It's so easy you don't even need a recipe.

You do need a few basics -- a pound or two of  fresh local lamb (we usually go for the meat from the leg) sliced into strips, a few sprigs of fresh mint, some fresh oregano, a bit of lemon juice, salt, and a nice flavorful olive oil.  Mix the lemon juice, salt, and olive oil together. Then chop the herbs.

Spread the herbs over the strips of lamb, turning them to distribute the herbs evenly.  Then, pour the lemon juice mixture over the top.  Allow the meat to marinate for at least 2 hours.  The trick with marinating the strips is to go long enough that the meat is seriously imbued with flavor -- but not so long that you're going to severely alter the meat's texture (lemon juice can be harsh that way).  So, you probably don't need an all-night marinade here... but definitely give the lamb a bit of time to linger in the seasonings.
While the meat is marinating, you'll want to thinly slice a small red onion and sprinkle it with a bit of red wine vinegar.  The vinegar takes a bit of the pungency out of the onions while imparting them with a nice vibrant kick.  When you're done, these onions make a great addition to salads, sammiches, and the like (if you're me, you might even decide to eat them straight out of the bowl).

After you marinate your onions, you might also want to throw together a bit of yogurt sauce for your lamb pitas.  Take a cup of greek-style yogurt (or regular whole milk yogurt that's been drained for a couple of hours through a coffee filter), add about 2 T red wine vinegar, 3 T chopped mint, and about 1/2 tsp of salt. Stir to combine. Then, go ahead and slice some cucumber. 

You can also crumble some feta cheese.  And, if it weren't the middle of January here in Wisconsin, you can be sure I'd suggest you slice up a few garden fresh tomatoes as well.  But, honestly people, winter tomatoes scare me. So, we're not even going there.

Before you know it, it will be time to deal with the lamb again.  Take the lamb strips and weave them onto skewers. Set them aside on a baking sheet until you've got your grill nice and preheated.


Then, place them on a hot grill -- preferably on an outdoor charcoal grill. Although you can place your kebabs under the broiler, or brown them up on a grill pan inside, I really love firing up a nice hot outdoor grill on a cold winter afternoon.  The air temperature might be frigid, but the smell of that grill reminds me of warmer days -- and it tends to give my mood a bit of a boost.

Regardless of the method, direct heat is best here, since the thinly sliced lamb will cook quickly. You want the outside to sear nicely, while the inside remains tender.  Aim for medium rare on the kebabs, since they'll cook a bit more even after you take them off the grill.

If there are two of you, one of you can grill while the other throws together a delicious salad -- romaine lettuce, some of those chopped cucumbers and marinated red onions, a few kalamata olives, and a bit of red wine vinaigrette with plenty of garlic and oregano. Top everything off with a few crumbles of feta cheese, just for good measure.

When the lamb is cooked and the salad is assembled, you can start putting together your gyros.  Peef likes his loaded up with lamb, cucumbers, onions, tzatziki, and feta cheese... but you can make yours however you like.  Any way you look at it, your sandwich will rival anything you can get at that greasy little gyro joint...

.. and no matter how you load up your sammich, you're bound to be saving some serious fast-food calories at the same time.

And who can really argue with that?


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Weekend Indulgences: Linguini Fini alla Carbonara

It's that perfectly fudgey slice of flourless chocolate cake. The sip of hand-harvested whole leaf Lapsang souchong. An impeccably roasted beet. The very first warm, sun-ripened tomato picked off the vine in your backyard.

Sometimes one ingredient is all it takes. Your tongue tingles. Your toes curl. The foodie within swoons (and forever swears off winter tomatoes).  And so it was with the locally produced Guanciale that we found at the market a few weekends ago.

If you would have told me a few years ago that we'd be able to get locally produced dry cured Italian meats right here in Milwaukee, I probably wouldn't have believed you. Sure, there are a couple of respectable Italian delis in the city, but certainly nothing even remotely resembling Salumi -- that delectable Seattle icon that served to set the bar pretty darned high for Italian charcuterie.

Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Milwaukee has its very own dry cured charcuterie producer. Bolzano Meats, located at 3950 N. Holton St., began their first batch of cured meats in September of 2009 -- and the first of their meat was ready for public consumption beginning in late October.  Bolzano carries Speck Proscuitto, Berkshire Pancetta, and Berkshire Guanciale.  And, while they don't have a storefront, they do sell their wares online as well as at the Milwaukee Winter Market -- which is where we tasted our first bits of Guanciale.  And, of course, we had to buy some to take home with us.

Guanciale is a very special Italian bacon made from the cheeks/jowls, rather than the belly, of the pig. Its flavor is rich and meaty (porky, if you will). Its texture is quite delicate. And, although it seems to maintain a family resemblance, it's absolutely NOTHING like pancetta.

Since we had the "real thing" in our possession, we took Mario Batali's lead on this one and went with a traditional carbonara. And I'm glad that we did. The ingredients are simple and few:  a bit of Guanciale, a couple of fresh eggs, some grated Parmigiano Reggiano, and a generous amount of black pepper.  But, the results are spectacular -- creamy, rich, and filled with an incredible amount of flavor.

Of course, by now you're probably getting hungry. And I'm just sitting here yammering on. So, let's get to the point, shall we?

We were basking in the glow of a long weekend -- so, although carbonara is a relatively fast dish to get on the table, we took the long way around.  The first thing we did was to whip up some homemade pasta.  You might remember that we have a handy KitchenAid pasta roller/cutter, so the actual work of making pasta is really negligible.  It just takes a bit of time.  So, we whipped up a batch of dough, rolled it paper thin, and sliced it into gorgeously petite linguini fini.  Not exactly spaghetti -- which would be traditional -- but very fun to say. Since we also seem prone to rule-breaking (as you'll soon see), we let this one small technicality slide.  We put a pot of water on to boil.

Our pasta troubles out of the way, we cubed the Guanciale and then rendered it over low heat until it was browned and crispy. Some might say that we took the browning bit a little too far (the idea is simply to render the fat and cook the Guanciale until golden). But, trust me on this one. It didn't hurt the dish one bit. And, in fact, those crusty bits were just perfect even when sampled directly from the pan. While the meat was browning, Peef grated up plenty of Parmigiano Reggiano, and I whipped up a couple of farm fresh eggs in a small bowl.

Once the Guanciale was ready, we added a couple of cloves of minced garlic to the mix (not necessarily traditional, but definitely Italian -- and certainly delicious), sauteeing just until tender. Then, we deglazed the pan with a whorl of dry white wine (also a bit of a departure from every recipe I've ever seen -- but it served to effectively deglaze the pan and cut the richness of the Guanciale a bit).

At this point, we were ready for the action to begin. We placed the pasta into the pot of boiling water, seasoned our eggs with plenty of black pepper, and stirred in a liberal handful of parmesan cheese.  When the pasta was ready, we drained it (reserving some of the pasta water), and added it to the hot pan of Guanciale, which was now swimming in a delicious pond of wine soaked browned bits.  We tossed the pasta, removed it from the heat, and added the eggs and a scoop of the hot pasta water, stirring gently yet thoroughly until everything was deliciously creamy.

We slurked our pasta feast into warm bowls.  Peef rested his head just above his bowl and wafted the amazing aroma into his nostrils.  I closed my eyes and took a bite.  The creamy porky goodness infiltrated my mouth.

Sparks flew.
The planets realigned.

I opened my eyes.  Peef was standing next to me, mid-bite, with his eyes closed. I could hear a vaguely rough groan emanating from his lips. When his eyes opened again, a grin spread across his face -- the sort of grin that only something truly fabulous could evoke.

We both took another bite. And then another. We grinned, and chewed, and swallowed. And, all at once, our bowls were empty.  Mission accomplished.

Fresh semolina pasta dough
Pasta alla Carbonara: The Real Deal



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In Memoriam: Artichoke a la Mode Pizza

When I awoke (literally) this morning to the news that one of our favorite pizza joints (and a Milwaukee icon) was ablaze, I was in shock.

Pizza Man has always been our "go to" restaurant.  It was one of the places we chose to mark any number of celebratory occasions (birthdays, anniversaries, job offers).  It was the place where we'd go when life had taken us for a ride, and left us yearning for familiarity and the comfort of an old friend. (how many tear-filled sessions I've had, drowning my sorrows in deep dish pizza, I may never know).  It was also one of our favorite spots to dine with friends and family.

Seems there was NO occasion that didn't suit the Pizza Man.  And we weren't the only ones to think so.  There was always a wait. I can't count the number of times we found ourselves standing around waiting for a table (though, in most cases, we simply left the friendly hostess our cell number and grabbed a beer or two over at the Eastsider, a neighborhood bar just across Oakland Avenue).  And that fact alone should be seen as a testament to the quality of both the food and the atmosphere -- which included an old wooden door (which opened and closed thanks to the power of pulleys and weights), darkly stained wooden booths, and walls hung with shelves of jars featuring Italian specialties like olives, roasted red peppers, and canned beans.

If a comparison is even fair, Pizza Man was the historic equivalent of Lombardi's (New York), Santarpio's (Boston), and Giordano's (Chicago).  The interior of Pizza Man itself was a historic marker, since it became a Milwaukee tradition to write or carve one's name or other messages on the wooden booths.  The restaurant was also known for its huge wine list, which included over 500 wines from California, Washington, and Oregon.

When we weren't ordering Pizza Man's delicious deep dish pizza (sometimes just their plain old cheese, sausage, mushroom & onion -- which was simply incomparable), we'd often order a pie affectionately referred to as artichoke a la mode -- a thin crust variety topped with mozzarella cheese, artichokes, generous dollops of cream cheese, and slices of fresh tomatoes and garlic.

This wonder of a pizza became one of our absolute favorites -- so much so that we decided to recreate a riff on the original at home.  A sourdough crust replaced the thin crust, and roasted cherry tomatoes stood in for the fresh tomato slices... but this pizza was a pretty great stand-in for the real thing.

In memory of Pizza Man, all the good times shared -- and, hopefully, all the good times to come:
Artichoke a la Mode Pizza

Other great memories and photos also available on ThirdCoast Digest.


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Daring Cooks January: Elk and Tofu Satay

... and suddenly it was time for the January Daring Cooks Challenge.

We pushed this one so close to the deadline that we quite nearly thought we wouldn't get it done.  Fortunately for us, satay doesn't require tons of active cooking time, so we were able to pull this one right out of our magic hat.

We love satay, but we wanted to give ourselves a bit of a challenge. The first thing we did was identify the protein sources we'd be using.  Originally, I thought we might go completely vegetarian (and local).  After all, we can get locally produced tofu from our friends at The Simple Soyman, and root veggies are still coming to us pretty strong from the Milwaukee Winter Market.  But, then we remembered that we can get local elk from Golden Bear Monarchs Elk Farm. Since neither of us had ever actually eaten elk (that we could recall),  we decided to please the vegetarians and meat eaters alike -- and make it a local tofu and elk affair (AKA "turf and earf").

We went all-out and picked up a pound of elk tenderloin. Although it wasn't the cheapest cut of meat, it was so gorgeous and tender that we knew it wouldn't need an all-day marinade -- which would come in handy, since we were in a bit of a time crunch.  We sliced the elk into 1 inch-wide strips.

We also picked up a pound of extra firm nigari tofu -- which we drained well by wrapping it in a towel and putting it beneath the weight of about 3 ceramic plates. After about 1/2 hour, we removed the tofu and sliced it into 1 inch-wide lengths.

Although the marinade departed from the usual Thai ingredients we were used to seeing for satay, we were intrigued. We doubled the recipe, since we were doing two pounds of protein. And, since we're chile-heads, we added four Thai bird chiles (dehydrated from last summer's backyard garden harvest) to the mix, as well as a dash of fish sauce.

And we whipped the recipe together in no time by throwing everything in the blender.

Then we threw the marinade in two gallon-sized plastic bags and tossed it with our elk and tofu.  Everything sat around in the fridge for about 5 hours.

While we were waiting for the marinade to work its magic, we threw together two sauces -- peanut sauce, because we like it, and tamarind sauce, because it just seemed like the right thing to do.  And you've gotta have at least two dipping sauces, right?  Both came together fairly easily (and were downright tasty).

Of course, then there was another matter -- the weather. We got quite a bit of snow over the holidays, so our yard was a virtual snow drift. The temps were hovering in the low teens (with a nasty wind chill).  And yet, we really wanted to grill our satay.  So, we brushed off our trusty Weber and dragged out the charcoal.

While the grill was heating up, we laced the goods on well soaked bamboo skewers and put on our mittens.

After grabbing a couple of beers out of our fancy-dancy "Canadian fridge," we were ready to start grilling!

Darkness was falling quickly, and we were getting worried about the photographic aspect of our project.  Fortunately, one of the great things about satay is that it doesn't take long to cook.  We wanted to keep our elk nice and tender, so we grilled it up medium rare (about 3 minutes/side). And we grilled the tofu just long enough to give it a nice sear.  The shot we got out there in the dark isn't great -- but you get the idea.

Just as we thought our fingers would freeze off, the tofu was ready.  So, we piled everything into a pan and headed indoors to eat.

The perfectly grilled elk was pink in the center, and perfectly tender.  The tofu was well seasoned with a nice crisp crust on the edges.  The flavors of coriander and cumin seemed strange at first, but the seasonings really played well with the dipping sauces, and we loved the zip that the Thai bird chiles brought to the table. The tangy tamarind was particularly good with the tofu (as well as the sweet potato fries we had on the side), and the peanut sauce made everything finger licking good.
The verdict? Simple. Fast. And delicious. 
Why not dig your grill out of that snow drift and try it out yourself?

Cuppy's Recipe: Satay Marinade and Two Sauces

Be sure to check out all the other Daring Cooks posts... lots of variation in the recipes this time around!

The January 2010 DC challenge was hosted by Cuppy of Cuppylicious and she chose a delicious Thai-inspired recipe for Pork Satay from the book 1000 Recipes by Martha Day.


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Leftover Bliss: Bánh mì Sammiches

I know I've said it once already, but I really had no idea how much I'd love Chinese barbequed pork. Interestingly enough, one of the reasons is because it has such incredible versatility as leftovers.  Particularly in the form of a sammich.

Let's start off with a confession. Since neither of us had ever eaten bánh mì before, we couldn't exactly use our taste memories as a starting place for putting them together.  Instead, we did a little bit of reading.  And we discovered lots of great guidance... and quite a bit of fuzzy advice.   Some of the best we found was at Viet World Kitchen, where they give a nice description of the history of bánh mì , as well as a master recipe you can use to create your own fanciful version of this incredible sammich.


Seems everyone has their favorite way to make bánh mì (I've even read of some people putting peanut butter on their sandwiches!) -- though there are a few constants: a nice, crisp (but not too crusty) roll; some sort of thinly sliced, grilled meat (or tofu),  pickled veggies (usually daikon and carrots), sometimes cucumbers, some sort of spicy componant, mayonnaise, and cilantro.

We had the meat covered. We'd definitely be using our leftover Chinese barbequed pork.  But, what about the rest of the ingredients?

We started with the bread. Bolillo rolls seemed as if they would be a good bet for our sammiches (crisp, but not too crunchy, and beautifully soft in the middle), and I knew a local source for them. Unfortunately, we got to the grocery store pretty late after work that night, and we were sad to discover that the supply of Mexican bolillo rolls was already depleted.  We ended up settling for a soft French roll -- which wasn't quite crisp on the outside.  Passable, but not great. Next time we'll have to think ahead and get to the store earlier in the day.

Cilantro, cucumbers, and mayo were easy.  But, what about the pickles? And the spice?  We opted for spicy kimchi --which seemed to cover both elements.  And we headed home to make our sammiches.

We grilled the rolls on a buttered skillet, just to give them a bit of crispness. And we whipped up a bit of garlic mayonnaise to spread onto the rolls.  A few slices of cucumber, a nice pile of thinly sliced pork, a few scoops of kimchi, and a liberal dose of cilantro, and we were all set.

The sandwiches needed a bit of smooshing in order to get them into our mouths.  The mayo eeked out of the corners, and the juice from the kimchi dripped down onto our hands.  But, we gobbled eagerly, sopping up the drippings with spare bits of bread.  The sandwiches were superb -- salty, sweet, spicy, and fragrant, they captured all the best elements of each ingredient and pulled them together in a tasty serenade.  We couldn't get enough. We ate them for dinner on Wednesday night... and then again for lunch on Saturday.

Now I'm actually lamenting the fact that I don't have more pork left.  I was really looking forward to a batch of pork fried rice... or maybe just another bánh mì.


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