Crema catalana al naranja

We're simple creatures, we people. All throughout the world. Some cream, a bot of sugar. Maybe some eggs. And hey presto, you have a dessert. On the blog you've already been introduced to the French crème brûlée and Italian panna cotta, which I've made with lime and white chocolate and with cinnamon and chilli-spiked milk chocolate. 

The first one is set by cooking it n the oven, the latter lets gelatin works its magic.

Latest and so-totally-not-the-least version comes from Spain in the form of crema catalana. This one differs from the previous in that it is first cooked in a pot over low heat until the mixture starts to thicken after which is left to set in the fridge.

Let your imagination run free. I for one have made versions with toasted and crushed fennel seeds and even with saffron. But the one I just can't seem to get enough is orange-infused version that I fell in love with at the brunch at Boqueria on our last trip to Stockholm.

By the way, in case you're one of those people who can't get enough of orange, try this flan from Seville, famous for their oranges!

Depending on the size of the serving dish this yields 4-6 portions 

Crema catalana al naranja:

5 dl heavy cream

the juice of 1/2 orange (1/2 dl)
a couple of strips of orange zest

(optional: 1/2 tsp cardamom OR toasted, crushed fennel seeds OR a pinch of saffron)
6 yolks

60 g sugar

for serving: a couple of tbsp demerara sugar

Measure cream, orange zest and juice into a pot. Over medium heat bring just below boiling point. Cover and let infuse for 15 minutes.

Which yolks and sugar until all sugar's incorporated. Don't whisk until all pale and fluffy as this makes it more difficult for the final mixture to thicken. 

Drain the cream mixture and pour into the yolk mixture continually whisking. Pour into a clean pot and, stirring every now and then, cook over low to medium heat until the mixture starts to thicken.

Pour into ramekins and leave to set in the fridge until the next day.

Before serving sprinkle with sugar and burn the top with a blow torch.

Serve. Be in heaven.

Just like with crème brûlée, the best part is that first spoonful; breaking the sugary crust and diving into that velvety pudding...!

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Pumpkin gnocchis in sage butter

While the English-speaking world is attempting Sober October (well, some are, anyway - I'm fairly certain the Irish, the Scots, the Brits and the Australians aren't!) in Finland there's Lihaton Lokakuu, Meatless October. No, we're definitely not taking part... yet, what do you know - there's another vegetarian recipe on the blog!

As you already know, Hermés orange has always been a weak spot of mine and so there's no way I could resist the pumpkins that have just hit the shelves in their phenomenal Technicolor glory. First stop: gnocchi. And not just because I love how they sound. 

No, don't panic just yet. They're really not dificcult to make. But yes, they do take some time, though you get the hang of it really soon. I promise! But first time I made these I did find myself thinking about the women folk in Italy and how they've traditionally not joined the work force outside their home. Who has time for that when there's all that pasta to be made!

This recipe calls for 5 dl pureed pumpkin/ squash, which is conveniently just about the amount you get from one Hokkaido pumpkin (or red kuri squash as it's also known). Which ever type of member of the pumpkin/ squash family you use, you want the puree to be on the dry side, so in case yours is very wet, pour it into a sieve lined with muslin and let sit in the fridge for at least a couple of hours, overnight even. Traditionally gnocchi are made with potatos, but sweet potato would work too. As would carrots.

It's kind of difficult to estimate how many people this would feed as most of the gnocchi kept mysteriously disappearing as soon as they came out of the pot (according to CCTV footage we're looking for a 6ft 2 in IT systems architect with love of poetry). So, I dare say they were good. But my estimate is that as a starter this is enough for 6-8 people, as a main for 4.

In case you don't have use for all of them immediately, you can also freeze them after rolling. Just pop them out of the freezer when ready to use, dump into rapidly boiling water and hey presto: 6-8 minutes later you've got yourself a steaming bowl of fresh pasta!

PS. Don't discard the seeds. Rinse them, rub off the stringy pumpkiny bits (easiest between a dry tea towel folded in half) and keep them. Recipes for what to with them coming up too!

Pumpkin gnocchi:

1 pumpkin, weight a bit over 1 kg

1 egg yolk

4-5 dl all purpose flour (and more for kneading)

1 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

1/3 tsp nutmeg

Cut the pumpkin in half, scoop out the seeds and place the pumpkin skin side up on a tray lined with parchment. Roast at 200º for about an hour or so, until pumpkin is soft. The skin comes easily off by pulling. Another, quicker way is to peel the pumpkin, cut into chunks, spread onto parchment and roast until done - 20-30 minutes. Puree and let cool. If possible, do this the day before to allow the pure to cool and set. 

Add yolk into the puree and then flour, a little at a time until you have a soft, not too sticky dough. The more you add four, the easier the dough is to work, but too much flour will result in rubbery consistency. Knead on a gently floured surface, cut the dough into 4 and each segment into 2. This way the ropes aren't too long and difficult to manoeuvre.

Roll into ropes as thick as your finger (I found this is easiest on a tea towel!) and cut into 2 cm- pieces. Transfer to a gently floured parchment/ kitchen towel to wait for the next step. 

Before they're boiled, gnocchi are rolled on a particular gnocchi board that cuts those typical indentations into the gnocchi. In case you too find yourself going through a shock of discovering you're not a) 103-year-old Nonna or b) working in a kitchen equipped with the said tool, you can also use the tines of a fork. Another way to get almost authentic results (read: not even close) is to roll gnocchi on the metal wires of one of those egg slicers you can pick up at any IKEA.  This step also helps to shake off the excess flour before into the water they go. No pressure though - I'm sure they're supposed to look charmingly rustic and anyway, I'm sure every Nonna has their own fingerprint, right? So, any shape and length is good.

Bring a big pot of salted water to boil and boil the gnocchi in batches until they surface ( a couple of minutes). Serve as you would serve any past: sprinkling of salt and pepper, glug of good olive oil, cloud of freshly grated Parmesan, with tomato sauce... or browned butter with crispy sage (I'm telling you - go for the last choice!)

Sage butter:

150 g butter

4 handfuls of fresh sage

8 large garlic cloves (or less, depending on which part of Transilvania you come from)

The quantities listed above are for the whole portion, but it's best to fry the gnocchi in 4 batches as this allows both the gnocchi and the sage to crunch up. 

Peel the garlic cloves and bruise a bit with the back of the knife. Throw into the pan with butter. Heat and add the sage. Let the butter brown (it stops bubbling and starts emitting that gorgeous, nutty, toffee-like scent) and add the gnocchi. Fry for a couple of minutes until they've got that lovely golden, crisp crust. Serve. And help yourself for some more. 

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Crispy exterior, dreamily rich interior... I can't think of anything more comforting right now!

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Minty raspberry crème brûlée tart

Santa clearly reads my blog. And isn't even terribly bothered by the fact that I don't celebrate Christmas. Or, how else do you explain the fact that last Christmas the parcels under the tree yielded pasta machine and a blow torch. Pasta machine is still looking for its introduction to the society as with my patience (non-existent), hand-eye coordination (see before) and the capacity of my current 1,5 square metre kitchen that would probably result in bodies rather than, say, pappardelle. That, and a long-awaited kitchen renovation...

The blowtorch finally got taken out of the box as I was designated to the dessert duty at a recent girls' night with The Wine Merchant and The Chocolate Manufacturer. Inspired by my favourite bakery in Tallinn I made this créme brûlée tart for which mint brings a little certain  jenesaisquoi.

Initially I made small tartalettes which got their finishing touches at the dinner table with Wine Merchant's kids. They were thrilled to get to burn stuff. Naturally I refuse to take any responsibility should they grow up to be arsonists...

The crust was ye olde and faithful recipe I now know by heart. This time, instead of regular sugar I used demerera sugar which gives the crust a darker colour and a mildly toffee-like flavour. You'll find the recipe here.

The recipe for the crème brûlée you'll find here. My tin was 28 cm in diametre which called for 1,5-times portion of the original recipe. After blind baking the shell I let it cool, scattered 100 g of fresh raspberries on it along with 20 finely chopped mint leaves and poured the cream mixture on top. Then I baked it 150 for about 30 minutes until the filling set (it will firm up even more as it cools).

Let the tart cool. Then sprinkle demerera sugar on top (be generous) and blow yourself away!

Other combination that would work are blueberries and cardamom. Oooh, I wonder how strawberries would behave with, say, basil...?

And in case you're having people over to celebrate the anniversary of that Jesus' resurrection this tart its creamy richness this would make a great ending to your Easter lunch!

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Flan de naranja

Oranges are at their best in Spain right now.

Do NOT do this at home.

Or well, when wouldn't they? Fresh from a tree (either your won or someone else's!) their fragrant juiciness is one of the best things I know.

And since here in the Nordics the sun doesn't exactly spoil us right now. So, one has to be crafty and do all the sunny spoiling oneself!

So, lately orange has become one of my absolute favourite ingredients. I find myself lugging them back home by the truckload. This recipe comes from Spain (where else!) and is from Rick Stein's Spain charting his culinary journey across that great country.

This is Valencia's take on flan, one of the most popular puddings in Spain, only this time made of orange juice. The result? Sweet, creamy and intensely orangey. In the name of portion control (so integral to the month of January) I halved the recipe listed below. Though I did eat them all myself so... so much for the control.

This is easy, but does take time - you have to let it set until the next day. The only tricky bit is making the caramel. A big chunk of it always seems to get stuck at the bottom of the pan. I therefore highly recommend you make a bigger batch of it. For instance, even if you make only half the recipe, I suggest you make the caramel according to the full recipe. In order to really play up the orangeyness I used orange juice instead of water and also threw in a pinch of powdered ginger. If possible, do use specially make flan or crème brûlée- moulds as they have thinner walls. which ensure the puddings cook thoroughly. Also remember that the higher the mold, the more likely they are to crack as you slide them out of them.

Depending on the size of the molds this serves 6-8

The puddings:

4 large oranges
300 g sugar
14 yolks
4 large eggs

Caramel sauce:

100 g sugar
1/2 dl water (or orange juice)
(pinch of ground ginger)

Pre-heat oven to 160º. Place 6-8 ramekins/ pudding moulds into a small roasting tin and bring a kettle full of water to boil.

Measure the ingredients for the caramel into a small, heavy-based pan and leave overt a very low heat until the sugar has completely dissolved. Then increase the heat to high and leave to boil rapidly (don't stir, as the movement would prevent the sugar from toasting!)  until the syrup is dark amber in colour. Keep a very vigilant eye on it though as if you leave it too late, it will be a bitter mess.

Remove from the heat and pour into the bottom of the moulds, twisting to coat some of the sides too (you need to be quick as the caramel sets really quickly!). 

Grate the zest of 2 oranges and squeeze the juices out of all of them - you should have 4 dl of juice. Measure the zest, juice and sugar into a pan and bring to boil, occasionally stirring, until sugar has dissolved. When it comes to boil let simmer rapidly for 2 minutes.

Meanwhile whisk the yolks and eggs in a bowl. Pour the juice mixture into the eggs, stirring and then run through a sieve for a silky consistency. Pour into the moulds, por boiling water into the roasting tin so it comes to halfway up the moulds and bake (depending on the size of the moulds) for 15-20 minutes. 

Remove from the oven, lift out of the water and cool. Chill in the fridge, covered, for at least 4 hours (preferably until the next day) before serving.

To serve, invert the moulds into small serving platters and let the caramel from the bottom of the moulds fall on top. If too much caramel has stuck to the bottom of the moulds, dip them into some boiling water - this will soften it.

I also served some caramelized orange peel. Bring 2 dl water and 1 dl sugar to boil in a pan. Wash the oranges thoroughly and peel thing strips out of it. In case you're not using one of those fancy citrus scrapers that produce fine strands, use a regular peeler and then finely slice them into thin strands. Cook in the syrup over medium heat (stirring occasionally) until the liquid has almost evaporated.

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Comfort food at its best

This British classic is comfort food at its best. The way mash always is. It wraps its arms around you, placing a soothing kiss on your forehead and promises that tomorrow everything will be better again. Shepherd's pie, ladies and gentlemen. A meaty version of the fish pie. 

As simple as the ingredients really are, the combination is still too complicated for my legendarily fussy Niece and Nephew. "Did you see that? She put carrots into it. Carrots! Who does she think she is?!" Yeah... but that's what traditionally goes into this. Depending on the gastronomic limitations of the diners you could hide other veggies into this too. In order to smuggle a bit more nutrients into the mix you could also substitute some of the potatos with other root veggies or pureed white beans.

Traditionally the dish is made with minced lamb, but of course you can make it using any mince you can get hold of. In that case it just isn't shepherd's pie as The Gentleman never tires of pointing out...

I pimped my lamb mince with some cranberry gelée seeing how well it worked with lamb tongue and reindeer burgers too!

Serves 4-6

The mince:

500 g (lamb) mince

2 onions

2 carrots

2 large garlic cloves

a couple of dl strong stock (game if you have some)

1 heaped tsp ground cloves

6 allspice peppers

salt, black pepper
1 generous tbsp cranberry gelée (lingonberry jelly would probably work too)

The mash:

1 kg potatos

200 g butter

2 egg yolks

salt, white pepper

a big pinch of cumin seeds

(hot) milk

Peel the carrots and cut into small cubes. Peel and chop the onions finely and sauté them in a bit of oil. Add mice and brown it. Then add carrots, stock, cranberry gelée and cloves. Cook over moderate heat, covered, until the carrots have softened. Stir every now and then to make sure it doesn't burn and add more stock as needed. Season and spread on the bottom of an oven-proof dish. 

Peel and steam/ boil potatos until done. Mash them with butter and add milk if needed. Once its cooled a bit add yolks. Add milk if needed for the right consistency and season. Spoon over the mince- For a smooth finish use the back of a spoon dipped in hot milk. If you want, decorate with either a piping bag or fork. 

Bake at 200° until nicely browned.

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Kale carbonara

I stumbled upon half a bag of kale hiding at the back of my fridge. Resilient rascal, I must say - I don't even remember buying it! Not wanting to waste anything I had to think of something to do with it. And since I haven't made pasta in a while either this dish took care of both of those problems. It's not quite carbonara, so technically I shouldn't call it that. That was the inspiration though, with notes of that kale quiche. So, I also used some of the thyme that's still defiantly sitting on my window sill, having outlived its life expectancy by miles. Usually my herbs tend to lose their will to live quicker than their gardener. 

Would you believe if I told you that I made my own pasta again? Ok, neither would I. But I will tell you this: it did not come from Barilla. After the recent management level brain farts I'll happily leave those for the superstraight and übermacho Italian mama's boys.

If you have some, you could add Parmesan ( 1 dl) into the yolk- cream- mixture too in which case you can probably omit the cream entirely

A generous portion for 2 or a slightly more reasonable one for 3

2 portions of pappardelle or tagliatelle

4 leaves of kale

140 g bacon

2 large garlic cloves

2 yolks

2 dl cream

1 tsp mustard

A handful of thyme leaves

(salt) pepper

Cook pasta according to the instructions on the packet and in the meanwhile prepare the sauce.

Chop bacon into strips or chunks of your desired size. Fry on a pan until crisp. Lift out of the pan with a slotted spoon. Leave some of the bacon fat (a couple of tbsp) into the pan, lower the heat and fry thinly sliced garlic in it. 

Trim the kale: remove the hard stalk in the middle and if needed. any other harder core bits. Slice finely and add to the pan. Cook for 5 minutes (or longer if you want yours really soft).  Add some of the cooking liquid from pasta if needed. Then add thyme leaves. 

Whisk the yolks and add mustard, cream (and cheese if using). Season carefully as bacon in itself is very salty.

Drain pasta reserving some of the cooking liquid. Dump them into the pan, toss around for a bit until done and then pour in the yolk-cream- mixture. Remove from the heat - this stops the yolks from scrambling. The residual heat will cook the yolks. Serve. Like carbonara, I served mine with cracked black pepper I'd toasted on a hot pan. 

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Ice cream with lemon curd, salty liquorice and meringue crumbs

Lemon curd is a firm blog favourite. Its tangy, sweet creaminess does require a grown-up palate, but it does reward with its versatility. It can be used on toast, as filling for cakes and tarts (either as is or mixed with cream, cream cheese or crème patisserie). I like it as a swirl in Turkish yoghurt and topped with toasted nuts for breakfast treat. Stored in beautiful jars with hand.written labels it would also make a pretty gift. Just remember that home-made doesn't have any preservatives, so the shelf life isn't that of a shop-bought one. 

For meringues, however, this doesn't work. As the Facebook- followers have already witnessed. So, I combined it with meringues and (inspired by that crème brûlée) Turkinpippuri crumbs into an ice cream. The ice cream is based on the basic recipe that also acted as the foundation for Thaice cream. 

I do fear that as I've gotten into this ice cream manufacturing, it might be on the verge of becoming a bit like stir fry into which I recycle all sorts of leftovers. I genuinely dread the day I'll find myself trying to convince myself hot dog-gherkin-chocolate - ice cream might really, actually work...

If you want, you can replace some of the lemons with lime. And of course you could make this with oranges too (in which case go easier on sugar!) or a mix of citruses.

Meringues  I made with the egg whites left over from the ice cream - you'll find the recipe here. Naturally you can use shop bought ones, in which case you don't need to pay attention to the drying process in order to make the home made ones dry and crunchy enough. But if that's what you're after, dry the meringues after cooking in the oven at 50° with the oven door open (wooden spoon makes a good aid for this)  for a couple of hours.

Lemon curd

3 (organic) lemons, juice and zest

(this time I also used the zest and juice of 1 lime)

2 dl sugar

75 g (unsalted) butter

3 eggs

Grate the zest and juice the lemons. Mix with sugar and butter and heat in Bain Marie until butter has melted. Whisk the eggs into a foam and combine with lemon-sugar-butter-mixture. Let cook over moderate heat over simmering water for 10-15 minutes until it has thickened. Let cool. Once cool, store in jars and keep refrigerated.

Vanilla ice cream

4 yolks

1 dl sugar

4 dl cream

1 vanilla pod

1 dl glucose syrup

extras:

3 tbsp lemon curd
1 dl Turkinpippuri sweets, crushed

1 dl  meringue crumbs

Whisk the yolks and sugar. Split the vanilla pod and scrape out the seeds. Add seeds and the pod into a pan with cream and glucose syrup and bring to boil. Mix in the lightly beaten yolks. Mix until smooth and drain. Let cool.

Pour the mixture into an ice cream maker OR into a freezer-proof dish and place in the freezer to set. Mix a couple of times during the freezing process. When it starts to set but is still manoeuvrable, fold in lemon curd so it forms ribbons in the ice cream. Also toss in the Turkinpippuri crumbs. Meringue crumbs can be added at this point too, though I used mine before serving in order to maintain the crunchiness of my (home made) meringues.

Freeze for at least five hours, but preferably overnight. Let soften a bit before serving and scatter in the meringue crumbs.

Spaghetti Carbonara

Spaghetti Carbonara is, in all its simplicity, probably one of my all time favourites. In addition to my Dad's Spag Bol, that is. At its best it's rich and voluptious, without being smothered by a heavy cream sauce.

The most puristic recipes actually don't even use any cream, but the creaminess comes from the egg yolk- parmesan- mixture. If it does, however, look like it's not quite creamy enough, I wouldn't shoot anyone for adding a tiny splash of cream. Especially if the cook in question is still in the middle of her cheese aversion therapy. I can't vouch for the Italians though.

Sure I have been eating quite a bit a lot pasta of late, but on the menu in Hanko Carbonara was one of the dishes I simply couldn't stomach (literally). And I had to put that bucatini I bought from there to use one way or another, right?

Traditionally this is, of course, made with spaghetti, but I just love that plump chewiness of bucatini. Another key ingredient is black pepper, which needs to be freshly ground from the mill. I believe in that ready-made-powdered stuff even less than I believe in baby Jesus and will not abide by it at a restaurant table either. Freshly ground variety has more kick to it and inspired by Finnish Cacio e Pepe - blog I gently toasted mine on a pan, which really took the fragrance to a whole new level.

I admit: in authenticity stakes this has nothing on its Roman cousins - they would probably kick this one's arse for the use of garlic alone but I love it. Usually I make this out of bacon, but often I use Serrano ham - seeing how that's something I have lurking about most of the time. This time I used taquitos (those chunks of serrano ham used in cooking that the beans were cooked with in habas con jamón we had in Benalmadena).

In Tel Aviv I've even had Carbonara with duck (how decadent is that?) and seeing how last time in Spain I found some duck ham (so unbelievably rich and yummy - especially with cranberry jelly!) I just might have to give that a go too...!

The quantity of yolks needed depends of the type os pasta too - bucatini is quite a bit thicker than spaghetti, so you will probably need more of them to provide the kind of creamy coating this dish calls for.

For 2

2 portions of spahgetti/ bucatini (à 75-100g)

100 g bacon/ Pancetta/ lardons/ Parma ham/ Serrano ham/ taquitos
2 cloves of garlic

1 dl grated parmesan

3 -4 egg yolks

(depends on the size - if yours are really big, even 2 might do. Mine were small.)
butter

black pepper

Separate tolks from the whites. Whites can be used for meringues or macaroons. Beat the yolks lightly and mix in the cheese. Roast bacon/ ham in a pan until crunchy. Keep the heat fairly moderate, this way they don't burn, but crispen up nicely rendering the fat.

Lift the bacon/ham off the pan and if they are very fatty, drain on kitchen towel. Leave some aside for finishing the portions.

Depending on the amount of fat your meat has left behind (a couple of tablespoons would be ideal) add some butter in the pan (yikes! I know! I just find that butter adds the kind of richness that works better than oil with the salty edginess of bacon and parmesan) and sauté finely sliced garlic over gentle heat. Last thing you want it to fo is to get colour and burn - then it's just bitter. A.k.a. bad.

Once garlic and the residual fat have cooled a bit, add them into the yolk-cheese-mixture. Wipe the pan dry and toast some black pepper in it.

Cook the pasta according to the instructions on the packet. Once it's a little but shy of al dente, lift it into the pan with the black pepper. No need to drain it first - a little bit of the starchy cooking liquid won't hurt. Toss in the bacon bits and cook for a while until cooked (add some more pasta water if needed). Remove from the heat and quickly fold in the yolks and cheese. If you do this while the heat is still on, the eggs start scrambling which we don't want. The heat of the pasta (and any residual cooking water) will make sure the final product will be cooked to creamy perfection.

Divide onto plates (preferably heated with some boiling water - feel free to use the pasta water) and sprinkle the remaining bacon bits on top. Grate some parmesan on top. And why not some more of that black pepper, too. Because of the cheese and bacon there shouldn't be need to add any salt at any point.

Thaice cream

Ice cream and summer just go together. Though in our household ice cream seems to be a bit of a staple all year round - it's the one thing The Gentleman never forgets to bring back from the shop. Ice cream is something I've never even tried to make myself before as ice cream maker, in addition to the blow torch and pasta machine, is one of the contraptions our kitchens are missing. But now that even regular shops stock glucose syrup which allegedly enables producing ice cream even without the machine I had no excuse not to give it a go.

The inspiration was that best coconut ice cream in the world that The Gentleman so graciously drives me all the way to Puerto Banus for. And can you think of anything better to go with coconut than lime? And chilli? (geddit? Thai+Ice+Cream= Thaice cream! I scream with laughter at my wittiness now!)

I decided to give other classic Thai flavours (garlic and coriander) a miss but I was not really to compromise on ginger. I tried to find those hard, crystallized ginger chunks but didn't. I would have crushed them and added into the mix during the freezing process but I had to settle for candied ginger instead. That you can either make yourself or buy from the shop. I chopped them into smaller pieces and sprinkled on top of the ice cream.

The result was one of the best ice creams EVER.

4 yolks

1 dl sugar

2 dl coconut cream

1 dl glucose syrup

2 dl double cream

1 chilli

zest and juice of 1 lime

1 dl coconut flakes

Whisk yolks and sugar into pale yellow foam. Split the chilli and put in a pan with coconut cream, double cream and glucose syrup. Bring to boil. Combine with the yolks and whisk until smooth. Add lime juice and zest along with the coconut flakes. Leave the chilli in and cool in room temperature. Once it's cooled enough, remove the chilli (which now will have infused the mixture with a gentle heat) and either put it into ice cream machine or freezer (for at least 5 hours but preferably overnight). Stir a couple of times during the freezing process.

Oh, and the taste? Better than the ice cream in Puerto Banus. Though I don't think I have the heart to tell that to The Gentleman...

Lemon crème brûlée

Though our kitchen in Spain is armed with all sorts of goodies, in addition to that pasta machine it also lacks something else: a blowtorch. Which is a big deficit when one is taken over by longing for Bonaparte's bakery and a craving for crème brûlée. 

Though I like to think I'm fairly open-minded and willing to try new things, when it comes to menus, I'm somewhat predictable. My friend, the Tzatziki champion laughs how I always seem to go for duck. When it comes to desserts, I'm even more pathetic: if it's on the menu, it will be on my plate. Crème brûlée, that is. 

Today we made some ourselves from the anxiety-ridden lemons from our garden (well, the use of plural is somewhat unnecessary - this year's harvest: one lemon). And to go with the lemony notes, I added raspberries. And Finnish salty liquorice- flavoured hard candy called Turkinpippuri. And yes, another version featured rosemary, also from our own garden...

And the leftover egg whites can be used for meringues!

6 portions

1 dl milk

3,5 dl cream

1/2 vanilla pod

4 yolks

2 tsp lemon zest

1/2 dl sugar

optional: raspberries, rosemary, Turkinpippuri- sweets

Split the vanilla pod in half and scrape out the seeds. Bring cream and milk with vanilla seeds and pod added to them to boil in a pan. In a bowl whisk yolks and sugar together into a pale yellow, thick foam. Let the cream mixture cool a little and pour it into the eggs through a sieve in a thin stream. Add the finely grated lemon zest. Pour into shallow ramekins, place in a deep oven dish and pour boiling water into the dish so it reaches halfway up the ramekins. Bake in 190° for 20- 25 minutes until the mixture has set. Let cool  and set in the fridge for several hours - preferably until the next day. Right before serving sprinkle a thin layer of dark sugar on top and burn it until there's a crisp surface - either with a blowtorch or under the grill for a few minutes.

Some recipes advice the puddings to be cooked in 100° for 50- 60 minutes. Opinions/ comments/ experiences as to which way is the best way are welcome!

For variety add some raspberries (gooood), a teaspoon of chopped rosemary (even better!) or a couple of crushed Turkinpippuri sweets (insanely goooood!) into the dishes before they go into the oven.

And while on the topic of pasta machines - the voting in the Finnish foodbloggers' monthly food challenge has begun and lasts until May 30th. This month's theme was spinach and our entry  is spinach and ricotta raviolis (pinaatti-ricotta raviolit in Finnish) - you can vote them here!

Sabayon

Sabayon, Zabaglione... Many names and many ways. And in case you have left over egg yolks in your fridge, wondering their next destination, this makes a great one. One that's also a good way to use up any leftover wine (I've heard that does happen in some households...). Traditionally the wine used for this is a (sweet) white wine, but I've also heard of versions with sparkling wine. I made mine with rosé as I love the subtle berriness it brings. Adjust the amount of sugar based on the sweetness of the wine you use.

Any berries are fine for this, but I particularly like the red ones. Today I used strawberries. But for instance grilled peaches (maybe with some raspberries) would be good too. Ooooh, perhaps with some rosemary!

This is a great way to get rid of the frozen berries as you get ready for the season of the fresh ones. If, however, using fresh berries, you might want to sprinkle them with some sugar (and perhaps your favourite tipple such as Cointreau) and let them macerate for an hour.

Serves 4

3 egg yolks
3 tbsp sugar
3/4 dl rosé-wine
1/4 tsp grated orange zest
1 tsp orange juice

Heat some water in a pan and place a bowl on top of it so the bottom of the pan won't touch the water and only gets the heat from the steam it creates (today's lesson in the Learn it the hard way-cooking school: make sure the bowl really can take the heat. Mine didn't...)



Put the ingredients in the bowl and start whisking. Once the mixture is billowy and has at least doubled in size, it's ready. Spoon over fruits or berries. 

You could also place the sabayon under the grill for a minute or 2 (or use one of those fancy blow-torches?) - just keep a close eye on it.

Meringues

Just like Finland, overwhelming majority of the Spanish are Christian. But here the  (Catholic) religiousness is visible in a completely different way. There are altars devoted to different saints embedded in the walls of ordinary homes. Every village seems to have their own patron saint that they celebrate and commemorate in the form of festivals. In close-by Mijas there's even a chapel marking the place where Virgin Mary herself is said to have lived for 500 years, inside a rock no less. At least that's what she had told to the couple of local children she had appeared to.

And if this doesn't feel freaky, then that's what the local Easter celebrations feel like - in the eyes of yours truly anyway. During the Holy Week, Santa Semana there are processions where the men walk around dressed in pointy hooded- robes. The robes cover their faces so that only eyes are visible through the holes cut in the fabric. 

Unfortunately I can't spoil you with photographic evidence of this Ku Klux Klan- like tradition, as this year we're spending Easter in Finland. With no religions shenanigans whatsoever. 

I don't celebrate Easter anyway but it's always nice to have some time off and enjoy getting together with friends around long meals (ok, so that's maybe not so different from our everyday life after all...) And it's a great time to celebrate the humble egg that so prominently symbolizes the resurrection and the circle of life in the Greek Easter tradition. 

And meringues are probably one of my favourite eggy treats. And since I realized I'd never made them myself, it was time to fix that. With that famous "how hard can it be" spirit. And true enough, hard it wasn't. As long as you remember a couple of things. Do not even attempt to whisk the egg whites by hand. Save your biceps and tears and use an electric mixer instead. The bowl and the mixer must be clean and dry. The egg whites should be slightly older and room temperature. The sugar (little by little) shouldn't be added into the egg whites until it forms stiff peaks. Oh, and if it rains you shouldn't be making meringues at all. Well folks, that's it really.

In case you, instead of free-form spooned ones, decide to pipe them, make sure you use a good quality piping bag. Not the sort of self-exploding one I used. Another equally bad idea is  panicking and trying to destroy the evidence by eating it all. Result: a very nauseous cook.

Both egg whites and yolks can be frozen, so in case you have left over egg whites (say, from penne with chorizo) this  is a great way to use them up. And the yolks left over from this operation can be utilized for crème patisserie, which you can use to fill the meringue nests. That too is nothing to fear, in spite of its high maintenance-sounding name. And it's a good recipe to have in your arsenal - this is said to be for pastry chefs what cement is for builders.

Meringues:

3 egg whites
1.5 dl sugar

Whisk the egg whites until the foam is firm. Then add sugar, little at a time whisking the whole time until the mixture is thick and glossy. If you want to colour the meringues with food colouring or flavour them with something, this is the moment to do that. Spoon (or pipe) the mixture onto a baking sheet and bake in 90° for 45 minutes until the meringues are dry. They might get a bit of colour, so for the last 10 minutes keep checking on them. Turn off the oven and let them dry in the residual heat.

Crème patisserie:

3 egg yolks
4 tbsp sugar
the seeds scraped off 1 vanilla pod (or 1 tsp vanilla extract)
2 .5 dl milk
1 3/4 tbsp flour
1 3/4 tbsp corn starch

Mix yolks and sugar. Heat milk in a pan with vanilla. When it's come to boil, pour into the yolks mixing vigorously. Pour back into the pan and bring to boil, stirring continuously. Cook for at least 5 minutes (stirring) so the flour cooks and the mixture thickens. Let cool and. Fill the meringue nests with the cream and fresh berries.