Finally this week I ran out of the last of the high summer preserved fruits. Through the chilly, rainy San Francisco winter, it was nice to have a physical remnant that somewhere, at some time, there was a bright, cloudless sky.
The first strawberries appeared this week, but probably I'll wait for high berry time when spring swings through the door. Instead I focused again on citrus, taking cues from the offerings at the DeSantis stand.
Tarocco Sicilian blood oranges were $2/lb; I picked up four. For the first time ever I saw bergamot in its natural state: an Italian citrus about the size of an orange with yellow skin and that distinctive smell you'll recognize from Earl Grey tea.
The price looked intimidating: $15/lb? I bought one, thinking it would be $3 or $4; it was $8. Yes, I bought an $8 orange. And then I walked around the market saying "Look at my $8 bergamot!"
Marco told me to check out the Lisbon lemons at Twin Girls Farm. I bought six of the small, dense, exceptionally tart lemons for $1.
Second verse, same as the first: I used the same basic recipe as last week, but the result is a bombastic pink concoction supporting thin strips of bergamot. Oh, you know I used every little bit of that $8 bergamot, despite the recipe's rule to toss out 2/3 of the skin.
The pith on the bergamot was thicker than I expected. With my knife I scraped down the peel, pulling away the white film to reveal the oily plane below.
The taste? The flavor on the bit left over on the spoon was complex: a slow start that breaks into ecstatic, layered sourness. I can't wait to try the cooled marmalade.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sicilian Blood Orange-Bergamot-Lisbon Lemon Marmalade
Thursday, February 21, 2008
One Day, One Jar
Small batch is term artisanal producers can use to describe the food they produce. Sometimes slow, careful treatment of the best possible ingredients nets you only so much bourbon or coffee.
With my jam it's the same way. In part because I am particular about the fruit I select, in part because there is some appeal to me in bottling an experience: being able to look at a single pint or half-pint jar as representative of a particular time.
Take apricot jam, for example. That was the week I met Dan's daughter Mia, a sparky kid who was haggling with an elderly Vietnamese farmer. I remember the slight cotton candy smell of the apricots as they slipped their skins and puddled into the silver pot. Eventually I used the jar for rugelach I made for my friend Kate's open studio. Though it was probably six months ago, her boyfriend Elliot fondly recalled those rugelach last weekend.
That picture up there? That's the complete output of last weekend's work. One jar, which is probably going to the exceptionally talented Shuna Fish, who seems like she could use a love note of an edible kind.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Seville Orange-Sweet Lime Marmalade
Marmalade is the princess of preserved fruits. While most jams more closely resemble hardy farmhands inured to careless treatment, marmalade lays swathed in cashmere blankets on the terrace of a Swiss sanatorium, coughing palely and demanding a proper fish fork for her boiled dinner.
Instead of tossing some fruit in a pot with sugar and checking in every half hour or so, I started this recipe by peeling away the rind from my fruit and selecting only the most plump and flawless pieces, discarding about 2/3. Carefully I sliced the chosen pieces into thin strips, which I then boiled until soft (about half an hour). A recipe I consulted recommended replacing the water every ten minutes, but I was cooking three other dishes concurrently and hadn't the time.
Then I took the reserved fruit pulp and boiled it for about half an hour before using a sieve to extract the juice. To seal the deal, toss the strips in the juice and add a bit of sugar--I started with three Seville oranges and three sweet limes, which made one cup of (dry) strips and two cups of juice, to which I added about a half cup of sugar.
Boil down until it passes the freezer plate test and process, quickly and cleanly, so as not to kill your friends with botulism.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Guava-Calamondin Jam
To market, to market. Yesterday I went to Alemany with my friend Maria, and ran into our friend, Marco, who showed us how to make pizza later in the weekend. We bought excellent produce, chatted with our favorite vendors, and got to catch the action at the truck where they sell live chickens and rabbits. Sometimes kids walk through like its a petting zoo.
Winter is fairly short in northern California, but the cool weather is apparent in the offerings at the market: I picked up lovely kale, carrots and sweet potatoes. Other than citrus for marmalades, there are not many winter fruits that lend themselves to jammish endeavors.
I bought guava from an Asian fruit stand, where they were hung up on string to lure shoppers. At the DeSantis stand, I bought lovely calamondin, an Asian citrus with a thin, sweet skin and exceptionally tart interior. Pop the whole thing into your mouth and enjoy.
Confession: I've never had a guava. Like, ever. So when I sliced this guy open and saw the white interior, I was a bit nonplussed. I thought the flesh was red-orange, like on the guava juice labels at my local Mexican super-ette. A little internet research confirmed that there are various types and colors. Who knew?
I used this basic recipe linked above, but substituted about 15 calamondin for the lemon juice. This is the first jam recipe I've seen with brown sugar, so I'm curious about the outcome.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
What's Good About the Morning?
That's what a vendor at Alemany said, jokingly, to a customer who wished him a good morning. And understandably so: San Francisco mornings are now brisk and gray; the rains are only a few weeks away. Though we may benefit from it, no one looks forward to monsoon season.
It was a good morning, though. Guisell, the wonderful owner of Sabores del Sur, gave me an alfajor, because I looked like I needed it.
The De Santis family stand had lovely, weird citrus fruits, like calamondins, variegated pink lemons (like the one above), and bright orange limes. The sign said "rang pure lime," but I haven't found any references to that name anywhere.
Pickles and Preserves features recipes for a number of weird and old-fashioned fruits: the marmalade chapter alone has recipes that include greengage plums, crab apples, quince, and even calamondins.
I adapted a lime marmalade recipe submitted to Pickles and Preserves by Mrs Everette Rogers of The National Hotel in Leesburg, Florida. Instead of straight lemons and limes, I used orange limes and variegated lemons.
Lime Marmalade
6 large limes
1 lemon
1 cup sugar
Wash fruit, then slice finely with a mandoline, discarding seeds and pieces of pith. Cover with water and boil for 20 minutes.
Measure the mixture and add enough sugar for a 2/1 fruit to sugar ratio; I had about 2 cups of hot fruit, so I added 1 cup of sugar.
Boil over low heat until you reach desired thickness, around 45 minutes. Process in sterilized jars.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Fig jam!
I bought two baskets of organic figs at $5 each and have been following Sean Timberlake's recipe, with a few mods.
Pour boiling water over the figs. Let sit for 15 minutes, then remove the stems and pat dry.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Big Time Weep Fest
Today I'm not interested in writing about what I picked up at the market this morning. It's fall, my favorite season. I am a bit sentimental always, but especially when the weather cools.
Two aspects of my jam project please me especially. One is the time spent with my friends from the Alemany market, especially Marco, Dan and Dan's daughter, whom I met for the first time when she was haggling with a vendor to reduce the price of some sub-par tomatoes.
"Too low! Too low!" the farmer said, shaking a finger. Dan's daughter shrugged and made as if to browse elsewhere until the farmer relented. She is eight, I think, and has a sparkle of wickedness in her eyes.
It delights me to run into them at the market, brag about the deals or exotic produce we've found, and speculate about what we'll turn up next week. I've been able to chat with some wonderful farmers as well, like the lady who sells beautiful little carrots and peonies and the guys who sell the excellent stonefruit.
