Showing posts with label economical. Show all posts
Showing posts with label economical. Show all posts

Sunday, April 10, 2016

Briam- Roasted Ratatouille a la Greque


Briam is the Greek Ratatouille. Ratatouille is worth standing around and adding things to the pot in their turn. But the first good eggplants and tender zucchini and affordable tomatoes coincide with the first warm spring days- there's urban gardening to see to, balcony furniture to repaint, and long afternoons in the shade on the veranda with stacks of old New Yorker magazines. This is a lunch you set the table for, open a bottle of wine for, as it fills the house with the scent of herbs and tomatoes. 

If it only took you four minutes to get it into the oven, that is nobody's business. 

We will need:

2or 3 eggplants
2 or 3 zucchini
2 or3 potatoes
a dozen or so cherry tomatoes, or 2 or 3 large tomatoes
2 onions
4 or 5 long peppers, any color
2 or 3 cloves of garlic
salt
pepper
fresh herbs- thyme, majoram, or oregano
olive oil- about a wineglass full
A lemon

This makes an enormous pan of food, but it is very good the next day, cold, at room temperature, or warmed. If you still think you need less, make less.


Wash all the vegetables. Cut the eggplant into quarter or half round slices. Salt them heavily and set them in a colander to drain. Cut the zucchini into lengths of about 2 cm (1 "), and cut these into halves only if the zucchini is very wide. Cut the onions into 6 wedges each- we will eat them as a vegetable, not an aromatic. Cut the peppers as you wish, not too small. Cut the potatoes in pieces the size of the eggplants. Leave the cherry tomatoes whole. If you are using large tomatoes, cut them into quarters- like the onions, we will eat them as a vegetable on their own. Leave the garlic cloves with their peel. 

Rinse the eggplant slices and shake them dry. Toss everything in a sheet pan with the oil, herbs, salt and pepper, and roast at 170 C/ 350 F for nearly an hour- All the vegetables should be tender, the tomatoes concentrated, the onions charred on the edges, the garlic mushy in its skin. 


Taste it. If it needs brightening- and it sometimes does in the early season when the vegetables have not hit their peak yet- scrub a lemon, zest it and juice it, and toss this with the vegetables. Even an orange if you like. This is not an element in classic briam, but it makes the dish.

Serve this with feta on the side. If you like it cooled down, try it with yogurt- not the thick kind but simple plain yogurt, as it is, or mixed with chopped fresh mint.


Smear the roasted garlic on bread and add some of the smashed tomato as you linger at the table. The flavors of the dish are so clean and simple you won't be at all tired of it when you have it again in the evening. You may find yourself making it often.


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Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Fabulous Meringue Mushrooms Outshine the Bûche.


Even if you have enough time, stamina, ingredients, and patience to complete a festive holiday table with a grand Bûche de Noël, the one thing you surely do not have enough of is refrigerator space. A Bûche is not complete without this surprisingly simplest ornament. But the ornament without the Bûche? A semi-avante-garde tromp l'oeil delight! A tower of these and a tower of holiday mandarins, some espresso and cordials, and everyone will feel festive, indulged, and light as a feather. And you can make them whenever suits you- they take about 10 minutes of actual work, another hour or so drying in the oven, and 10 minutes of child-friendly kitchen play to assemble.

We will need:
4 egg whites
200 g/ 1 C sugar
pinch salt
tiny dash vinegar
vanilla
a chocolate bar (50 g/2 oz. should be plenty)
non-stick parchment
a zip-lock bag

About egg whites- so many dishes (creme patisserie, eggnog) will call for yolks. Just slip the whites into a jar- 3 or 4 is what you need for most recipes- label how many, and pop them in the freezer. When you need them, put the closed jar in a dish of water- they will be ready to use in about half an hour. You are never far from a beautiful airy dessert (like this pavlova, or these coffee meringues) when you have a jar of whites in the freezer,asI happily did this morning.

Beat the egg whites with the salt and vinegar and when it starts to foam up, start gradually adding the sugar, and keep beating until it is glossy and dense. Turn the top of a lip-lock bag over like you would the neck on a turtleneck sweater and fill with meringue-


This keeps the seal clean. Turn the edge back up, seal the bag, pressing as much air out as possible, and sip off one of the corners to make a small opening. Pipe "stems" by touching the tip to the paper, and squeezing lightly as you pull up. Make caps by squeezing as you hold the bag in place close to the paper. They will all have peaks:


Put some water in a dish, wet your finger, and smooth out the tops:


Dust them randomly with cocoa powder, sifted through a strainer:


Place in a very low oven- 90 C/200F- with a fan if you like. Leave them until they are dry enough to  remove from the paper. 

Melt the chocolate over simmering water or on low power in the microwave. Paint the bottoms of the mushroom caps, and place the stems on. You can make a small indentation with your finger to place the stem upside down, so the flat side is showing. We did half of each.


Smear any drips of chocolate on the carps to look like dirt. Let the chocolate set, and keep in a box wherever you have room until you are ready to put them out.



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Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Nothing Plain About Vanilla When You Make Your Own


Homemade vanilla extract is better than anything you can buy. It looks beautiful in its jar. You have liquor for essence, and seeds from the pods when you want a little black sparkle, and then the pods themselves to perfume your sugar. You will reach for it more often and your desserts will all be the finer for it- as a single note it is exotic and rich- nothing plain about it. With fruits, it brings out the floral perfume of their birth (it is itself a flower- the seed pod of an orchid).



This cherry tart is brightened with rich 
specks of vanilla.
More romance still- it marries the other flavors, buffing their rougher edges, and giving them a strong (discrete) velvety background to play on, especially chocolate:


How to make it? Just find a source of good fresh vanilla beans- a wholesale spice purveyor, not the ones sold in pairs in a glass tube- too expensive, and you can't smell them. At the store, when they open the container, it should knock you out. Heads should turn. Buy as many as you can afford, at least ten, more if you can- they won't spoil.

Now get a bottle of hard liquor- something respectable you would drink on its own, but not necessarily top shelf. I used whiskey here, but rum is also tasty. You could do vodka but I like to start out with something already golden. Put  the vanilla beans upright into a tall narrow jar, and fill it to the top with liquor. It will need a couple of  weeks to develop. use the liquid as you would any commercial vanilla extract. When you can see it- with fruits, with anything white (ice cream, panna cotta, cake frostings, pavlovas)- snip off the tip of a fat liquor soaked pod and drizzle in some syrupy paste filled with exotic-looking black specks.



Keep the pod in the liquor. Every now and then top up the liquor or add some fresh vanilla beans, or both.

It is an investment at the outset, but ultimately much more economical. 

Don't think of it as an ingredient so much as a lasting upgrade in the way you cook. The subtle perfume will delight everything it touches.



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Monday, October 12, 2015

Rich Chocolate Zucchini Cake- Health Springs Eternal (But Secretly....)


Our cake- black, rich, and so moist it is nearly juicy- promises nothing but pleasure. Delicate, nearly weightless, it is nonetheless filled with every good thing. Tea-time revives; seven pieces with a glass of milk (it happens often with hungry teenagers) make for a substitute meal (so many eggs!). The cake is all indulgence, all health: olive oil, eggs, wheat germ, oat bran, whole wheat flour, and of course a lot of zucchini. This is our other "summer cake,"-  perfect with summer's zucchini, just as nice with the golden squash of fall-


Of course there is some sugar, but as the cake took shape- having cocoa added, taking out some flour, adding the wheat germ and wheat bran, making all the flour whole wheat- we cut it down too. Whole wheat flour and wheat germ are naturally quite sweet; the cake needs less sugar than it does when you make it with white flour. Winter squash are even sweeter than the zucchini. 

The only not so indulgent thing about the cake is its modest height- the thinner the layer, the lighter it rises. The fat finger-width of batter in your largest pan rises to a perfectly nice height; it's just not very dramatic.

We will need:

400 g/ 2 C sugar
85 g/ 1 C cocoa powder
240 g/ 2  C flour- whole wheat pastry flour works very nicely
2 teaspoons each of salt, baking soda, and baking powder, put through a fine mesh strainer into the flour
80 g/ 1/2 C wheat germ
50 g/ 1/2 C oat bran
6 eggs
360 ml/ 1 1/2 C olive oil
400 g/ 4 C zucchini, grated on the large holes of the box grater and loosely packed
lemon zest

Orange and chocolate is a delicious and classic combination. Using lemon zest instead is unexpected- more floral than citrus, giving some balance to the richness of the cocoa. Finely grate the zest of half a lemon (or an orange) and blend it with the sugar in a large bowl to release the fragrance. Add the eggs and the oil, then the cocoa and blend. Add the rest of the dry ingredients and blend again:



Then add the grated zucchini, which adds quite a lot of moisture. If using winder squash, divide into workable pieces and slice the thick outer peel off in segments:


Grate as you grate the zucchini. This is a much harder job.

Line a large pan with non-stick baking paper- we used the sheet pan that fits directly into a standard European oven. Bake at 180 C/ 375 F for 30-40 minutes, until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. 



Let cool before slicing- for such hearty ingredients, it has a fragile texture. This makes an enormous cake, but as it is perfect anytime, and as everyone likes it so much, you surely will not find it too large.





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Thursday, October 1, 2015

Double Greek Coffee Meringues- for International Coffee Day.


Actually, every day is coffee day in Greece. Ours is happily a nation of delicious and inventive coffee drinks. As in so many other nations, the word is nearly synonymous with socializing.

But two iconic coffee drinks differentiate Greek coffee drinking from that of European neighbors. The first is, of course, Greek coffee- finely ground to a powder that is blended together with the water and what in every household is understood by the word "coffee." This is what is known more commonly throughout the world as (sorry) Turkish coffee. 

Greek coffee has a lot going for it:

skill- preparing it well and giving it the characteristic dense and subtly grainy head of kaimaki ("cream") takes a practiced hand. There is precision to the heat and the timing.
rustic, minimal equipment- a simple portable mini camping gas burner is part of every household;
craftsmanship- you can buy a selection varying sizes of beautiful specially designed brewing pots with a long handles, hand made by metal smiths.


ritual and lore:  In all other types of coffee extraction methods, the grains just go to waste. In Greek coffee, they foretell the future: looking for signs and symbols in the patterns left by residual thick grains in the overturned coffee cup is a traditional skill so back in vogue that many coffee shops advertise the service. (Also, a little coffee accidentally splashed on the saucer? - Good luck- money is coming to you.)

There is an elegance in this elemental drink- coffee, water, heat- to which is added only craftsmanship. There are no filters, no percolators, no steam extractors. 

On the opposite end of the spectrum of tradition and craftsmanship is the other main coffee of Greece: instant coffee- Frappe if cold, "Nes" (short for the most popular instant coffee brand) if hot. This is served everywhere- elegant cafes have "Nes" on the coffee menu, right next to the cappuccino and the cafe au lait, and they bring it, whipped into a froth, in fine china cups with a tray of biscuits on the side. Every kiosk sells the makings of frappe- a bag containing a plastic cup with a shaker top, an individual serving envelope of nescafe, and 2 sugars. You can get a high-end Frappe too- it is even on the menu of the legendary and splendid Hotel Grande Bretagne (really- I just checked). Instant coffee granules whipped into a froth with cold water and some sugar and canned (never fresh!) milk added is surprisingly tasty.

These super-easy Baroquely gorgeous meringues pay tribute to Greece's two most popular coffees. There is no getting around the high sugar content of a meringue- it is what stabilizes them and gives them their lasting structure. The rich aromatic bitterness of coffee in these goes a long way to cutting the sweetness. You will never have had a meringue with a more balanced flavor or elegant appearance, free of the sugary bam and the blinding whiteness (nothing against weddings and baptisms....).

These will take you about 15 minutes, cost you about 75 cents, and for that will cause all kinds of fuss piled high on a pretty tray. 

We will need:

4 egg whites
200 g/ 1 C white sugar
a dash of salt
2 tsp. of instant coffee dissolved in 1 tsp. of vanilla extract (homemade here) or whiskey or rum (or water if it must be)
2 tsp. of Greek coffee
1. Beat the whites with a dash of salt until frothy and begin adding the sugar, spoonful by spoonful so that it has a chance to dissolve, beating all the while. A dense, glossy meringue will form in about 5 - 8 minutes.

When they whip up to a stiff peak they will hold their shape beautifully.
 Keep checking so as to not over beat- they could toughen.
2. Add the diluted instant coffee and blend:


3. If you have a pastry bag and a tip, pipe them into decorative swirls onto a baking sheet lined with non-stick baking paper. Otherwise shape them as you like with a spoon- they will hold their form beautifully(!). Keep in mind that they will swell a little in the oven. Dust them with the powdered Greek coffee:


4. Bake them in a very slow oven, 100 C/ 215 F - 120 C/ 250 F- check them- if they oven is too warm they will take on color, which we don't want. They dry as much as bake, and will take at least an hour to do so. We need them dry only on the outside, such that they can be easily and cleanly lifted from the paper. A little melting softness on the inside is nice. 

Success is assured on a dry day, but making them in the heavy rain could try your patience. They would be excellent sandwiched together with whipped cream (not very sweet).

(Ironically, we serve them with tea):












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Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Butterflied, Crisp-Fried Fresh Anchovies- A Suprisingly Glamorous Tuesday Lunch.




The anchovy is such an elegant fish- svelte, firm, clean-scented. They are very nearly scaleless, tight silver skin glinting beguilingly. In this case, like in so many others, elegance has no relation to cost; these are always the least expensive fish in our part of the Mediterranean. 

A fishless week is happily a rare thing in our house- specifically, an anchovyless week. It's easy to think of anchovies- salt-cured to rich dark suppleness- as a vital and transformative condiment rather than a food- a decisive element of Caesar Salads, Pizza. Fresh ones, lighter on the umami mystique, lighter on the palate, make an ideal fish fry. I never set out to get them, but nearly always do- they are usually 2 euroes a kilo, crisp like apples in the fall- always the freshest of the fish on offer. The light taste of sea never gets tiresome. Cleaning them is surprisingly not at all disgusting; it's satisfying in a primal, visceral sort of way. Short work, too- the guts generally come right out cleanly attached to the head when you cut it off. The blood smells cool and fresh. Owing to their price, freshness and availability, they are a common dish in many homes. So common that, although beloved and delicious, they are not usually thought particularly special. Taking the extra step of butterflying them changes this.


For a generous plate of fried fish, we will need:

A kilo of fresh anchovies
salt
a few handfuls of flour
good oil for frying- one finger-width deep
lemon
maybe some vinegar

Have a newspaper beside the sink, toss in the fish (they will bounce if they are nice and fresh!), and, holding the fish in one hand and a small paring knife in the other, remove the head, pulling the guts out along with it, leaving them on the newspaper. Put the fish in a bowl. A kilo yields about 75 fish. Of these, 5 or 10 may have some scales. They are easily taken off with a knife, drawing the blade from tail to head.


When all the fish are clean and in the bowl, run them under the tap, filling the bowl with water, massaging the fish gently, and changing the water- which will be cloudy and silver at first- until it is very nearly clear. Shake out handfuls of fish to remove most of the water and put them in a smaller bowl.

There are two things that can be done with them:

I. If they are to be fried up whole- which is really just fine and certainly the easiest thing to do- season them with salt and squeeze a lemon over them, leaving the lemon nestled among the fish. Refrigerate until you are ready to fry them, giving them at least a half an hour. The flavors of salt and lemon continue to build- if you plan to leave them long before frying, season them more gently. The bones can be eaten, or very easily removed at the table.

2. If you are of a mind to spoil everyone, you can butterfly them, loosening the spine from the flesh with your fingertips and removing it. 


This is not difficult, and slightly easier if you leave the fish in vinegar for a short time- as if you were making boquerones but more briefly. The flesh will become whiter and more opaque, like a cevice, and the bone will be easier to remove. The fish will take on some liveliness of the vinegar- much more than a half an hour, and they may take on more flavor than you would like for a simple fish fry. When they have been deboned, put them all in a strainer and salt them, tossing the fish abut so the salt gets everywhere. These are now ready for frying (and ready for making a magnificent en Saor- to be enjoyed for days from the refrigerator as a mezze or substantial cocktail snack).


Either way, when ready to fry, put on a large pan of oil (the depth of a finger) on high heat, toss the fish in a fine mesh strainer, dredge them in flour, and give them a vigorous shake to remove the excess before laying them individually in the hot oil so they do not clump together. Whole or filleted, they will need to be turned. The fillets are ready in a flash- they will be done before you need to turn down the oil. For the whole fish, you may need to adjust the temperature if they begin quickly to blacken. You may also find you need to change the oil after two or three batches- much as you may shake the excess flour off, some will fall into the oil, continuing to brown with each new batch. When golden, take them out with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. This makes a beautiful heaping tangle of fish, worth the very little trouble and even less money.


I have found that serving fish for Tuesday lunch sets a fine tone for the week, so fine that it covers for the eventuality of less elaborate meals later on. 




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Thursday, September 17, 2015

Urban Canning: Nectarines, Chet Baker, and a Very Simple Recipe for Fabulously Perfect Jam.


You know how Chet Baker said "You have to be a pretty good drummer to be better than no drummer at all."? Jam is like that. A tartine of just sweet butter and flaky salt is splendor. To earn its place, jam has to be better than good bread and fresh butter, combined. It's unlikely that such a thing can be bought. 


But it can be made, more easily than you might think. Given the intimidatingly large sacks of nectarines I have been bringing home from the weekly market, it must be made (the 4 cakes we baked last week did not make use of them all.) Bounty is not just privilege but obligation- in Greece our season of generosity is full, nothing to take lightly. How to extend the pleasure?- Urban Canning. Classically the province of the homestead or farm, preserving scales down beautifully to a sleeker, more compact urban activity. Small batch (henceforth "Boutique Batch") canning gives excellent results. The lower volume's shorter cooking time makes for a fresher, brighter taste- its chief recommendation. Also, it is an approachable project. The quantities involved in serious traditional preserving are overwhelming for our urban scale- architecturally and above all psychologically. Boutique batch canning, on the other hand, is truly a delight, not as ambitious as it sounds, easily integrated into the urban kitchen. 

The low commitment batch size encourages risk-taking. Were I making 20 jars of jam, I might not be so casual in adding some orange flower water. Making just two or three jars, you can afford to play. I added some when I took it off the boil. I tasted it, and then I added some more. The ethereal perfume of spring in the fullness of harvest captured every nuance of the life of the fruit. It was transcendent- a very big word for jam.

We liked it so much I added orange flower water to the next two batches also. To apricot jam I add the noix- the almond-like fruit in the center of the pit that is a principal ingredient in amaretto. To some peaches I will add ginger and cloves, to watermelon rind, some cardamon and zest of lime.

No special ingredients are needed for assured success- no pectin, no special sugar.













We'll need:
a jar lifter
a wide-mouthed funnel 
a mesh strainer (for dipping the lids into the sterilizing boiling water)
jars short enough to be covered by water in your tallest kettle
freshly purchased lids
a cup to measure with
2 or 3 small white plates
2 tall pots- one in which to cook the jam, the other in which to boil the jars.

And for the jam:
fruit- nectarines
sugar
a lemon
some orange flower water

Begin with barely ripe (almost not ready to eat yet), vividly tangy fruits. You might think that in starting out with ripe fruits rich in natural sweetness, you could reduce the sugar. Alas no- reducing the sugar increases the time it needs to cook down into jam. The extra time on the stove boils the verve out of the fruit, in flavor and color both. Tangy fruits make lively jam.

The proportions could not be simpler, so simple in fact that we do not need a scale, just some kind of cup.
For firm fruits that are cut into small pieces:
1 C sugar : 2 C fruit.

For fruits that are chopped and mashed, such as apricots or berries (no air in the measuring cup):
3 C sugar : 4 C fruit

This is not at all difficult or complicated if we use the following steps:

1. Start by placing 2 or 3 small white plates in the freezer- an easy way to test when the jam is ready. 

2. Fill a large pot 3/4 full of water and put it on to boil- this is for sterilizing our jars before hand and processing them afterward. 

3. Cut up as much fruit as you plan to use. I ended up with 8 C/ 2 liters. 



4. Measure out the appropriate amount of sugar and set it aside- in this case, 4 C.

5. Put the fruit, without the sugar, on to cook until it begins to release some juices, rich with pectin in barely ripe fruits (for a quicker jell).


6. When the fruit starts to cook down, add the sugar. The pot will suddenly seem to be full of liquid, with some fruit floating on op. Do not be concerned.

7. Stir the jam with a wooden spatula- something to make as much contact with the surface as possible.

8. The water should be boiling now. Put the clean jars into it for a few minutes and then set them out on a towel next to the jam. Keep stirring the jam all the while.

9. After perhaps 15 minutes at a full boil, the jam will begin to thicken a bit. Hot jam is always a liquid. To see how close we are to the right thickness, take a plate from the freezer and put a spoonful of jam on it. Let it cool a moment and drag a finger through it.

If there is a clean path, like this, that does not close up, the jam is ready. Taste the jam from the plate. If it is too sweet, which is very likely, add a squeeze of lemon and taste again. Keep adding a few drops until you have a good balance- sweet yes, but lively. Add some orange flower water and taste. I started with one teaspoon, tasted, and added another teaspoon.


10. Ladle the jam into the sterilized jars, leaving a little space at the top.

11. Dip the clean new lids into the boiling water to sterilize for a half minute ad screw them onto the jars, not too tightly, making sure the rims of the jars are completely clean and dry and free of jam (if necessary clean with a folded paper towel dipped in the boiling water).

12. Put the filled and closed jars into the boiling water, making sure they are completely covered by a centimeter or so and adding more water if necessary. Let them boil for 10 minutes.

Remove them from the water with the jar lifter and place them on a kitchen towel. Every now and then you will hear a satisfying "ping!"- this is the sound of the lid sealing- it will go from being almost imperceptibly convex to clearly concave- the center of the lid has no give when you press on it, the sign of a good seal.

I will not say this is fast- you could easily listen to a whole album of Chet Baker for instance- but it is very simple and gives enormous satisfaction. Besides making bread from scratch, there are few things you can do in the kitchen that give you such a clear sense of self-reliance, a connection to the season, and a connection to the agrarian heritage most all of us share. When you see those jars glittering on your shelves, you may find it hard to stop. No matter- sharing is the sweetest of the kitchen's pleasures.



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Monday, August 24, 2015

The Austro-Greque Pavlova


Are the fruits even more succulent this season than in years past? They have stilled ingenuity, silenced conversation. Perfection can be so stifling. We could be baking pies but instead we just gaze, awe struck. At our most ambitious, we make grand arrangements on silver platters and pick from them while reclining languidly on couches, late Roman empire-style. Or we just eat them over the sink.

Finally, a kilo of apricots that were a little tart appeared, waking a little ambition. Such a sensuous season does inspire grandeur, but a grandeur that accommodates dreamy lotus-eating idleness. The Pavlova is nothing if not grand, and a little lazy, and quite economical- perfect for our efforts to let economy interfere in no way with our everyday luxuries.

To all these pluses, add that the oven will be on, but only just barely. Honestly it's so hot during apricot season anyway that you may not even notice.

The Pavlova as made by the Australians (it is their marvelous invention) is a meringue topped with fruit and whipped cream- theirs has the meringue stabilized with vinegar and corn starch. Since I  did not grow up making them this way and I have always liked how these turn out, and because I love recipes with very few ingredients, I have left them out. As to the Austrians? No one has more beautifully captured the apricot's affinity for chocolate. The Austrians are also good with ground nuts. As I had a handful of almonds and a chocolate bar, and some juicy but very tart Greek apricots, it seemed an ideal collaboration. 

We will need:

4 egg whites
300 g/ 1 1/2 C sugar
100 g/ 3  1/2 oz. dark chocolate, chilled
100 g/ 3 1/2 oz. almonds
dash salt
500 g/ 1 generous pound apricots
400 ml/ almost 2 C heavy cream

Break the the chocolate into pieces and pulse it in a food processor until finely ground. Do the same with the almonds plus 1/4 C of the sugar, and set aside.

Set aside another 3/4 C sugar, and beat the egg white in a clean bowl until they become foamy, then start adding the sugar by spoonfuls, beating all the while. Most meringue recipes call for beating until it holds stiff peaks. We want it to be billowy and glossy and thick, but not extra-stiff. It should be easy to fold in the chocolate and almonds without breaking the mixture down in the least.


Turn the oven to 120 c/ 250 f. Place a piece of non-stick baking paper on a pan, draw a circle almost (but not quite) as large as will fit your cake dish or tray, and mound the meringue into the center. (The meringue will swell a little in the oven, certainly gaining a couple of centimeters in diameter). Give it higher sides, an indentation in the middle. It's a proverbial piece of cake to shape it with a spoon.


Bake it for about an hour, until the bottom is dry and it can be lifted from the paper carefully. It is delicious still soft in the center. Keep it on the paper until you are ready to assemble it.

Meanwhile, use some of the remaining sugar to take the sour tang from the apricots.The meringue is quite sweet; it is good to balance that sweetness but also to be aware that the sweet meringue will be a contrast to the tart fruit- too sparing with the sugar, and the fruit could seem sour by comparison. As in all things, let taste guide you.

Demararra sugar is delicious.
White is fine too.
The fruit will bathe itself in its syrupy juices as the sugar melts and draws them out. About an hour before serving, whip the cream, adding just enough sugar to brighten the taste, and stopping short of stiff peaks- we will need it soft. The usual assembly is to pile the fruit and its juices onto the meringue, and to crown it with the cream. The very dry surface of the meringue absorbs moisture beautifully. But cream and meringue is a gentler combination- let the meringue be softened by the softly whipped cream, rather than the tangy juices of the fruit. Spread on half, pile the fruit gently into the center, and frame this with the rest of the cream, mounding it in a ring around the fruit. The apricots glow like a jewel with this treatment, and the cream makes a soft layer of flavor, a welcome creamy barrier between the juice and tang and the sweet dry crispness. 

Play a few hands of cards before you serve it- don't be in haste. It is a mess to dish out after a two or three hours, but the meringue (not unlike a corset) will make for an elegant presentation until you make the first slice. Once it is cut into, collapsing on itself so airy and creamy and juicy and crisp, it is so delicious that no one will mind at all. 


Fit for a Queen.
Even on a peasant budget.





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