Egg Hunt

It's Strawberry Time!

There's a stretch of Highway 70 where farmstands abound, perfect for scouting summer peaches, September walnuts, and mandarins in winter and spring. Currently, there's fabulous asparagus, fava beans, and kiwi fruit- 10 for $1. It was on the 70 outside Oroville that I tasted my first great strawberry of the season.

When strawberries are good- as in luscious- I become greedy and buy them by the flat or half-flat, gobbling up a pint on the trip home, where they're put to use: ice cream, sherbet, sorbet, shortcake. Crowning a tart. In panna cotta or preserves or layered with spongecake. In a pink bowl with sugar and creme fraiche. Piled atop whipped cream and rose meringues.

.

Strawberries with Rose Meringues

This might be my favorite way to eat strawberries. Be prepared for conversation to stop when you serve them!

4 egg whites

1/4 tsp cream of tartar

pinch of salt

3/4 c sugar

1/2 - 1 tsp rose water, or to taste

Strawberries, washed, hulled, and quartered, tossed with sugar to taste

Heavy cream, whipped to soft peaks with vanilla and sugar to taste

Strawberry sauce (pureed strawberries mixed with sugar and a squeeze of lemon juice, to taste. strain if desired)

Sugared rose petals (optional, but lovely!)

To make meringue: Preheat oven to 200 degrees.

Make sure that your hands, mixing bowl, and mixer's whip attachment are very clean and your egg whites contain not a speck of yolk  (any trace of fat will prevent your meringue from happening).

Pour the whites into a mixing bowl, place over a pot of hot water, and swirl with your hand until they're a degree or two above room temperature. Remove from heat.

With an electric mixer, briefly whip the whites on medium speed until they're frothy, then add the salt and cream of tartar. Whip until the whites begin to hold soft peaks, turn speed to med-hi, and immediately begin to gradually add the sugar. Add the rosewater, turn machine to high and whip until meringue is shiny and holds stiff peaks.

Drop meringue into six or so equal spoonfuls onto parchment-lined baking sheet. With the back of a spoon, create an indentation, forming a nest that will  later hold the berries.

Place meringues in oven for 1 1/2 hours, turn off oven, and let sit in oven for another hour or so, until crisp throughout (if you prefer a softer meringue, bake at 250 degrees for 1 1/4 hour, or until the outsides are crisp and the interior marshmallow-y). Do not allow meringues to brown. Cool to room temperature and store in an air-tight container until ready to serve.

To serve: Drizzle plates with a generous amount of strawberry sauce. Place meringues on plates, fill with whipped cream, pile on the juicy strawberries, add another dollop of whipped cream. Top with a sugared rose petal and serve to your very lucky guests!

Trial and Error

My first attempt at infusing a custard with fresh bay leaves was a disaster. Not fully aware of their potency, I doubled the amount a wiser cook would use, resulting in a bitter, medicinal-tasting mess, promptly thrown away.

Failure is an excellent teacher.

The complexity of bay causes the uninitiated to arch an eyebrow and demand "what am I tasting?" At once warmly spicy and bright, it must be used with discretion lest its perfume become too forceful; the allure is in its suggestion, its whisper.

Because this custard's so richly flavored, it really skyrockets when paired with something sweet and tangy: candied kumquats, (blood) orange segments, chopped (roasted) pineapple, or strawberries macerated in sugar.

.

Bay Laurel Custard

2 c half-and-half

2 fresh bay laurel leaves, cracked to release their flavor and coarsely chopped

1/2 c sugar

1/8 tsp salt

1 lg egg

3 lg yolks

1/4 tsp vanilla

.

In a heavy saucepan, scald half-and-half with bay and salt. Cover pot and let steep for 30 minutes. Return to a simmer.

Combine egg, yolks, and sugar and whisk for about a minute to combine. Temper in the hot half-and-half, pour through a fine-meshed strainer (discarding the bay leaves), and add vanilla.

Pour mixture into four 4-0z.ramekins (if you own a blow torch, briefly pass its flame an inch from the tops of the ramekins to shoo away any bubbles. Otherwise, use a blow-dryer set on low, or prick with a toothpick).

Place ramekins in a water bath, cover with foil pricked in a couple spots with a knife, and bake at 320 degrees for 25-40 minutes (time varies depending upon the heat of the custard starting out). After 25 minutes, carefully remove the foil (danger: steam!) and lightly tap a ramekin. When there's a dime-sized jiggle in the middle of the custard, remove from the oven, lift off the foil, remove from bath, and cool to room temperature.

Refrigerate at least two hours before serving.

 

A Sprig of Rosemary

When I was in culinary school, I chummed around with a real coupla'  knuckleheads: Brian- an Amway salesman just off the train from Connecticut, and Gus, a cheerful barfly who had spent too many years languishing in Tenderloin SROs. They were my "eatin' buddies".

If our instructor left the room for a second, Gus would sidle up to me- lifted Armagnac on his breath- and purr: "Hey Maura, they're serving salisbury steak in the cafeteria...let's go!"

"I can't, Gus, I'm in the weeds. Bring some back for me?"

"Nah. Come on, Brian's going, too."

"Alright, let's hurry".

During our stolen lunches, Brian inevitably discussed one of two topics:

1.  Italy, where he was stationed a few years prior.

"You know, there's no beautiful scenery in this country."

"WHAT??!!"

"Well, not like in ITALY."

OR

2. Whichever chef-instructor he had a boner for:

"I told Chef Molly I'm taking her to El Bulli this summer. Do you think she'll go?"

"Please."

"Well, she might. She respects me, you know."

One day, Gus and I decided to have a little fun; over reubens and sheet cake we plotted.

Gus's phone rings.

"Oh, hi, Brian....We're in the cafeteria....reubens, they're good....He's looking for us? Okay, we'll be back in a minute.

Hey- we ran into Chef Molly, interesting conversation....Oh, about books, cookbooks, books about cooks. I picked her brain about what she's reading and Maura asked her her favorite, you know, for a recommendation. She's a real wealth of knowledge, you should sit down with her sometime....Er, Maura, what was the name of that one book? Ah, yes- A Sprig of Rosemary: My Tuscan Memoir....I know, great title... Clarke Newburg....Newburg, yes. And that's 'Clarke' with an 'e'. All the instructors are reading it, she said it's a masterpiece....Yeah, they might carry it, but maybe not. It's just on the market, so you may have to hunt around."

For the rest of the year, Brian- with his horrible memory- informed me about A Sprig of Rosemary: My Tuscan Memoir. How I should read it because it's a masterpiece. That if I find it could I get him a copy because he's been everywhere and none of the clerks have heard of it, can you believe that, it must be very exclusive, a limited edition, but he knows a place in New York that will have it, fer shure!