Cured egg yolk: final chapter, first round

IMG_2313The experiment is at an end, and judged on looks alone it is a triumph – those grated golden curls couldn’t be more lovely.

But on flavour, we have a hung jury. The effect of these flecks of proteinous gorgeousness on pasta or in a salad is very good indeed, I just wish it was more umami, a lot less sweet. In my research I found that people who tweaked the traditional 50/50 advice tended to up the amount of sugar. Not me. Next time I’ll try it with no sugar at all and see how much better that is. And maybe a control specimen somewhere in between, say at 75/25.

So, perhaps the experiment isn’t at an end after all. There’s always a spare yolk around somewhere – and it has to be said there is something truly fabulous about being able to grate an ingredient I have always thought of as a liquid over my food, even if it is a tiny bit sweeter than I’d like. It’s definitely my new store cupboard staple.

For a full summary of the process, look at my recipe page for Cured Egg Yolk.

Cured egg yolk - finished - split

Crispy lichens and cured egg yolks – the forbidden experiment?

IMG_3162A few weeks ago I was thwarted in my plan to make Magnus Nilsson’s crispy lichen dish by my lack of a cured egg yolk. This weekend, it’s all come together: the egg yolks have had about a month to mature, and a walk on the North Downs produced a small bagful of beautiful grey-green fallen lichens. With the help of a fabulous leaflet from the British Lichen Society I identified my collection – mostly oakmoss (Evernia prunastri), and Flavoparnelia caperata, with a tiny bit of Ramalina farinacea – and then frightened myself out of eating most of it by researching each one in detail. But in the end, I took my courage in both hands and decided to go for it with the oakmoss. If I dare to eat Amanita muscaria after boiling in copious amounts of fresh water, as advised by David Arora and William Rubel (see this article), surely I could deal with a tiny portion of this lichen?

I’m glad I did. Not only did I live to tell the tale, but as it cooked the lichen was fragrant, and when it was served it was delicious. Of course, you could say that almost anything that has been expertly deep fried, sprinkled with extreme umami flavour and dipped in lightly garlicky sour cream simply has to be good. I would be forced to agree with you. This treatment would work brilliantly with herb leaves or cabbage (à la Chinese restaurant seaweed substitute) – or even seaweed. I’m not sure I’ll feel the need to whip up a round of lichen crisps on a regular basis. But I have to admit that it was just a little bit of a thrill to try something completely new.

Recipe

Crispy lichens seasoned with dried egg yolks and very lightly cold smoked fish, lightly soured garlic cream
adapted from Fäviken, by Magnus Nilsson, p. 202.

IMPORTANT notes on ingredients – and a warning
I do not have access to either of the lichens recommended in the recipe, and so substituted a lichen commonly found in my region: oakmoss, Evernia prunastri. PLEASE exercise extreme caution when consuming wild foods that you have collected – and remember that you do so entirely at your own risk. Most lichens contain varying amounts of indigestible polysaccharides and lichenic acids which may be toxic in large quantities, so conduct very, very careful research to identify and decide on the safety of any you collect (really, this goes for all foraged foods). An excellent site from the University of Victoria contains really good descriptive detail on human uses of lichens: click here to visit it. I found it extremely helpful. But if in any doubt, it is always best to err on the side of caution and say no.

Ingredients (for 6)
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Oil for deep frying
6 pieces of reindeer lichen, Cladonia rangiferina, rinsed and cleaned
6 pieces Icelandic moss, (Iceland cetraria lichen) Cetraria islandia, rinsed and cleaned
50g lightly soured cream
pinch grated garlic
dried trout, to serve (bottarga* is a good substitute)
cured egg yolks, to serve

Method
IMG_3226Heat two large pans of water to a boil. Heat the oil ready for deep frying in another pan.

While the oil is heating, boil the lichens for 5 minutes in the first pan, drain quickly , and immediately continue boiling for 5 more minutes in the second pan of fresh, boiling water. (Nilsson recommends steaming the lichens for 10 minutes; my lichen were a different kind to those he specified so I was exercising extreme caution)

When the boiling time is up, drain quickly and use tongs to immediately drop them into the hot oil – be careful, they will spit. As soon as they stop bubbling, remove from the oil and drain on paper towels, changing the paper frequently to soak up as much oil as possible.

Whip the cream to soft peaks and season very lightly with the garlic. Put on in a small dish at room temperature ready to serve.

Place the lichens on a hot stone, 2 per person, seasoning one with grated dried fish, and the other with grated cured egg yolk.

Serve with the cream, dipping each lichen ‘crisp’ or ‘chip’ in the cream before eating.

*Bottarga is the pressed and salt-cured roe of grey mullet or tuna.

How many grains make a good porridge?

IMG_2139I’m a major fan of porridge as my winter breakfast – but I now realise how limited my porridge horizon has been. Like any well brought up girl from Edinburgh, I’d only really considered oats as the proper content of my breakfast bowl. Needless to say, Magnus Nilsson (whose Fäviken cookbook I am currently obsessed with) has different ideas. No such thing as a single-grain porridge for him! Oats play a part in his mix, but he also gives a starring role to barley, and includes several different seeds. This makes for a really interesting mouthfeel. There’s all the silkiness of your usual oatmeal made even gooier with crushed rye, and then some texture is re-introduced with the subtle crunch of sunflower and pumpkin seeds.

I find it really hard to change my morning habits. It’s hard enough to get up, make the coffee and get anything at all into a bowl or onto a plate. But this mix is definitely worth the effort, and the great thing is that all the hard work is done well in advance, at a time of day more conducive to such things. The end result is quite delicious – and with all those seeds it just has to be really, really good for you too.

Johnny’s porridge
from Magnus Nilsson’s recipe in Fäviken, p183

Ingredients
IMG_21011 part unprocessed oats (I used oat groats)
1 part unprocessed barley (I doubled up the pot barley)
1 part whole barley (pot barley)
1 part crushed rye (I ground it coarsely in a handmill)
1 part rolled oats (oat flakes or oatmeal)
1 part whole linseeds
1 part sunflower seeds
1 part pumpkin seeds
salt

Method
IMG_2120Decide how much you want to make and choose the size of your part-measure accordingly. You don’t need to make enough to last a lifetime all in one go. I used a half-cup measure and made enough for  about 8 servings. Mix all of the ingredients together and store in an airtight container.

IMG_2132When you want porridge, soak 1 part of the mixture with 2 parts water for at least 2 hours, or preferably overnight. The soaking is important as it considerably reduces the cooking time as well as improving the texture. I generally use half or a third of a cup of dry porridge per serving, depending on how hungry I think I’ll be.

IMG_2151When you are ready to eat, bring to a boil and bubble gently with a pinch of salt for about 5 minutes until cooked. Eat immediately. It’s really good on its own or, if you like it sweet, served with a spoonful of honey or stewed fruit.

Whoever heard of a semi-dried pickle?

IMG_2129I’ve probably been living a sheltered life, but I’d never come across a semi-dried pickle – until I continued my investigation of Magnus Nilsson’s Fäviken cookbook. Never, it seems, a man to rush things, Nilsson recommends slightly drying out pickled vegetables until “they resemble vegetable raisins” to serve with a hot pork chop. I usually have a good dollop of acidic bramley apple sauce with my pork chops, but am a great lover of a vinegary chutney or pickled anything with cold cuts, so this happy medium between sweet, sour and sharp seemed like an idea worth pursuing.

Of course, it wasn’t completely straightforward. I had to pickle the vegetables before I could dry them. Luckily Swedish-style pickles, which seemed the right choice for a Nilsson recipe, only need 24 hours of steeping prior to use (according to the recipe I looked up on the Saveur site). Phew. With a handful each of radishes and carrots I was away. A few days later they were pickled, dried and ready to go with my luscious chop.

But before you rush to the kitchen the question that must be answered is, what did it taste like? I’d say – hmmm, not bad. The slightly chewy sweetness of the vegetables makes for a nice texture contrast with the pork; the addition of some of the pickling juice to the finished dish brings a little welcome sharpness to help cut through the fat. It was interesting and pretty tasty. But to be honest, although I had some more semi-dried vegetables sliced and at the ready, I ate the second half of the chop with some good old apple sauce. Old habits die hard. And maybe, when this much extra preparation is needed, the end result is more exciting when left to the experts.

Pork chop and semi-dried pickled root vegetables
adapted for 2 people from Magnus Nilsson’s recipe in Fäviken, p86

Ingredients
1 large pork chop on the bone
125g pickled vegetables
light garlic butter
salt

Method
IMG_21602-3 days before you want to eat your chop, lay out the pickled vegetables on a tray lined with grease-proof or parchment paper and put them in a dry place. Turn them occasionally over the next day or two, if you remember. They don’t seem to do much for the first day, but after you’ve turned them a few times they really do start to wrinkle at the edges and become slightly bendy. They will be dry to the touch and a bit chewy when you eat one.

On the day you’re going to eat, make sure the pork is at room temperature, and salt it at least 10 minutes before cooking so that the salt has a chance to dissolve into the meat.

IMG_2166Before starting to cook your pork, cut the vegetables into fine matchstick strips. Sharpen your knife first, as they are quite sticky, almost gummy, and you will have trouble controlling them if your knife is blunt. Arrange them a a beautiful little pile on the plates you’ll be serving the finished dish on.

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Melt the light garlic butter in a pan and fry the pork, using the method described in the Fäviken steak recipe until it is cooked to your liking.* Cut into slices across the chop and serve with the vegetables and a few spoonfuls of the pickle juice over.

* Although this method works well, if I do it again I will probably spread some garlic on the chop and grill it, as I usually do, rather than fry in butter. It was a bit too rich.

Cooking steak at Fäviken speed

IMG_2095Chef Magnus Nilsson was a guest on UK TV’s Saturday Kitchen last weekend. His hilarious performance in the ‘omelette challenge’, where chef guests compete to make an omelette at record-breaking speed, nicely summed up for me everything that is wonderful about his approach to food and cooking. While Nick Nairn had already finished throwing together a scrambled-looking object at breakneck speed (around 17 seconds), Nilsson had barely got his eggs cracked, and only had a half-melted lump of butter in his pan. He swore mildly at his too-hot pan, and allowed the show’s host to press him into making the ‘omelette’ anyway – but it was clear that for him, this wasn’t an omelette. Without the requisite care, it wasn’t even really food. For him, the whole thing quite clearly did not compute.

I’ve been noticing this business of time on every occasion I try a recipe from Nilsson’s Fäviken cookbook. In addition to his unobtainable local ingredients (he brought a beautiful piece of Swedish moss to the UK to make his own dish on TV), he uses all sorts of elements that simply take a long time to prepare in themselves. One obvious example is the cured egg yolks I’ve been working on for nearly three weeks now – an incidental but vital item in a lichen recipe. For today’s beef and onion recipe, I needed 12 hours to collect enough whey for the sour onions (easy), and I needed to forget about the idea of ageing my beef for 20 months (not so easy). I also needed to adapt to a very slow but magnificent new way of frying a steak. I’m learning that in the world of Fäviken there is no such thing as rustling up a quick snack from a few things in the store cupboard – unless of course you’ve been working hard on that cupboard’s contents for a year or two.

With all this in mind I decided to try the “Ribeye of beef dry aged for twenty weeks, sour onions, turnip thinnings and green juice” (p. 76), an ostensibly straightforward dish made more complex by technique and a few special ingredients. I must confess to several compromises. My beef was not aged for 20 months, and I had a thin steak not a thick one. I had no turnip leaves or lovage so I forgot about the first and substituted the latter with a mixture of celery leaves and fennel fronds. My whey, from sheep’s milk yoghurt, was not ‘crystal-clear’ as requested, but yellowish.  I had no birch leaf oil, and all I had fresh enough to substitute for it was walnut oil, not at all the same thing. I think you get the idea that my version is approximate. If you can get any closer to the original, I salute you. But don’t worry if you can’t. Even the compromised version I managed was utterly delicious. The technique for cooking the steak built up a delicious crust around a rare centre, and juiced leaves and sour onions could just become my new side-dishes of the season.

Ribeye steak with sour onions and green juice (for two people), adapted from Magnus Nilsson’s recipe

Ingredients
2-3 large handfuls of celery leaves and a few fennel fronds
500g beef ribeye steak
100g mild garlic butter
100-200g butter
150ml whey drained from cow or sheep’s milk yoghurt
1 medium onion, sliced paper thin
1 dessert spoon double cream
1 tsp walnut oil
coarse salt

Method
IMG_2083In the morning, pour your yoghurt into a sieve lined with muslin over a bowl, and place in the fridge. It is difficult to be precise about how much yoghurt to start with, as it all depends on how thick it is already. Mine was very thick and I drained 500g for 12 hours to obtain 150ml of whey, but would expect to yield about twice as much from runny yoghurt.

Wash the leaves and set aside at room temperature. Save 6 for serving and have the rest ready in a juicer.

IMG_2084Make sure the meat is out of the fridge to dry and warm up to room temperature at least 2 hours before you are cooking it. Salt it (fairly generously) just before you are ready to cook it. If you let the salt dissolve a bit this will help the meat brown more evenly.

Brown a large spoonful of butter in a frying pan and fry the meat on each side in turn, keeping it moving in the pan, until it is caramelised on both sides.   Let the meat rest somewhere warm but not hot, brush it with a little of the garlic butter, and leave it to stand until it is no longer hot to the touch. Strain the fatty buttery juices off the resting meat (not from the pan) and set aside. Clean the pan and repeat the process, doing this as many times as you need to until the meat is cooked to your liking (I only did it three times for my thin piece of meat).

IMG_2087While the meat is cooking, reduce the whey in another pan until you have 1/10 of the original quantity left.

IMG_2089Add the onions and a little plain butter to the pan and cook them for 5-10 minutes, turning them very gently with a heatproof rubber spatula so as not to break them up. Do not allow them to brown.

IMG_2091When they are cooked, finish with the cream. Do not add any salt, and do not make them ahead of time as they won’t taste the same if not served immediately.

Finish the meat. Return the you fat strained from the resting meat earlier to the clean pan, and fry the meat in this until it is hot. You can add a little more butter and let it brown before removing the meat from the pan, if you like. Cut into strips and divide amongst two plates.

IMG_2094In the last few seconds push the leaves through a juicer into a vessel that already has the oil in it – this preserves the bright green colour. Add to the plates along with the leaves you saved earlier, and serve.

Parmesan making in Emilia Romagna

IMG_1819 Last weekend I joined a group of gastronomy masters students on a day trip from Bologna to visit a parmesan dairy: the Latteria Sociale Tullia Pavesi Ciro-Rolo. Here, in vast copper-lined cauldrons, gallons of milk is transformed into parmesan 365 days a year, at the rate of about 80 cheeses per day. The dairy combines the use of modern machinery with a astonishing degree of manual intervention at every stage, and we were lucky enough to have Jessica Gatti and the dairy’s main cheesemaker to explain the process from start to finish. Seeing the whole thing in action made me appreciate this delicious product all the more. When you see the work that goes into just a few cheeses it’s easy to see why a parmesan produced like this commands a high price.

IMG_1809IMG_1805The day’s cheese is made from last night’s milk, which has been left to stand in huge steel trays and had the cream skimmed off, mixed with this morning’s milk, which is left whole. At the Latteria Tullia, the milk comes in from a number of local farmers within the Emilia Romagna region, where the cows are grass-fed.*

IMG_1701IMG_1702The two batches of milk are mixed together and transferred into huge copper-lined vats. Some whey kept from the day before is added and the milk is stirred whilst being warmed by steam heat to around 32ºC (90ºF). Rennet is poured in.

Once it has started to coagulate, the curds are broken up by hand using huge long-handled wire cages, a bit like giant balloon whisks.

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The curds are ‘cooked’, which makes them start to knit together. The temperature is taken up to about 55ºC (130ºF), and the cheesemaker checks the temperature and feels the curds between his fingers to check the texture.

The heat is turned off and the vat is left for about an hour to cool. As the curds cool down and sink to the bottom of the vat, they form a mass. IMG_1738IMG_1745Cheesecloths are draped over the sides of the vats in readiness for forming the cheese, and some of the whey is drained out of the vat to make the next stage a little easier. A large metal hoop is dragged through the curds to ensure they are not stuck to the bottom of the vat.

Two men use wooden paddles to lift the mass of curds out of the vat and into one of the huge cheesecloths. With a couple of deft movements, they cut the heavy mass perfectly in two, tying each ‘twin’ into its own cloth and hanging them from wooden poles to start to drain.

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The still-wet cheese is lifted from the vat and into a form, still wrapped in its muslin cloth. The base of the cheese is in direct contact with the wooden table, allowing it to benefit from years of previous parmesans’ Lactobacillus, and the top is partially covered with a weight. This is not designed to press the cheese, but to gently keep its shape as it continues to drain.IMG_1782

Once fully loaded with cheeses, the table is wheeled into a cool, tiled room to continue draining.

During this time a cheesemaker lifts, turns, and re-wraps each heavy cheese several times.

IMG_1783      IMG_1784      IMG_1790      IMG_1787      IMG_1788      IMG_1789

IMG_1775Once it is sufficiently drained, he inserts a plastic form to the inside of a pierced steel cheese-mould. This is what adds all of the familiar markings to the outside of the cheese, such as the words ‘parmigiano reggiano’ and the dairy’s details and authentication numbers.

IMG_1792IMG_1725The cheeses are brined by being fully immersed in a cold sea-salt water bath. They stay there for about a month before being lifted out to rest and dry off, held in shape by their steel forms, in a cool, dimly lit area.

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IMG_1817IMG_1826Finally, they are transported across the yard to the cheese-aging room, where they will stay for up to three years before being broken open and eaten.

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We were lucky enough to taste a cheese made in November 2009 – a perfectly mature specimen of 38 months old. Seeing the care, attention, and sheer hard physical work that goes into making these cheeses certainly made us appreciate this fabulous cheese all the more. Delicious has rarely seemed so inadequate a word.

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* We were told that the milk is one of the (many) differences between parmesan and grana padano: although it’s only a few hundred metres away, apparently their cows eat silage, which changes the composition of the milk. I have to say that in the course of a whole day in the area we didn’t see a single cow!

Cured egg yolk – day 17

Cured yolk - day 17The yolks have entered their final stage - out of the cure and into the muslin. I don’t have one of those cheffy meat cupboards (shocking omission, to be remedied in my next kitchen) so they are hanging at the back of the fridge. This is probably a little colder than the ideal, but I’m sure they will dry out nicely. They look so good hanging there it’s going to be very hard to keep my hands off them for the minimum of two weeks they seem to need…