I'm about to make a really unpopular opinion, at least in Utah County. You don't have to like it, you don't have to agree with it, you don't even have to read it. But I'm standing by it.
Let's say there's a sandwich shop nearby, that you've heard makes a really killer sandwich. You've seen the commercials, you've heard friends talk about it, and it sounds like a really, really good sandwich. The problem is, you know, either from the commercials, your friends, even restaurant reviews that there's something in the sandwich that you know will make you ill. Let's say it's a spread, like some kind of spoiled mayonnaise or something. Still, it sounds like a really good sandwich.
And then, relief comes. There's some guy out front that is willing to buy the sandwich, scrape off the spread, and sell it to you for a pretty good price. Now you can enjoy that sandwich that everybody's talking about! You head on down, buy a sandwich from the new guy, and dig in. The problem is, bread is pretty pourous. As much as the new guy scrapes, there's still just a little bit of the spread in every bite. But there's so little, you ignore it. It's not like the huge smear that was on there before. You still get sick, but just a little, so you don't even think about it. It was a pretty good sandwich. Before long, you're buying all your sandwiches from this guy. Some have more spread than others, but when he's done with them, you're pretty confident he's gotten enough off so that you can enjoy it. Sometimes the sandwich is pretty good, sometimes it's just okay, and sometimes you wish you hadn't bought it in the first place.
Maybe this is a little bit of a stretch. Let me simplify it for you. If I make you a sandwich that you want, and then I spit in it, and then I cut out the part that I spit in and give it to you, would you still want it? If I made a beautiful vegetable soup and then dropped a skunk in it, then somebody else took the skunk out for you, would you still want to eat it?
This is why I'm not sad about the ruling against CleanFlicks. In fact, this is why I've always hated the concept of CleanFlicks. If the content was there in the first place, it doesn't matter how much language you try to clean up or how many scenes you cut, the content will still be there. You're not making a statement by buying the cleaned up version. If CleanFlicks is in fact buying a copy of the movie for each one they sell to you, then Hollywood isn't losing any money on the deal. In fact, now that you're paying to watch the edited version of the film you wouldn't have seen before, you're actually giving Hollywood more money than they would have gotten before. And since the biggest thing they care about is the money, the increased cashflow does little more than encourage them to make more movies like that.
I'm not mad that Hollywood struck back at CleanFlicks. I wouldn't be mad if the sandwich shop chased off the guy out from out front that was operating without permission, without credentials and very likely without a food handler's permit. When somebody cuts out part of Picasso's Guernica and tries to pretend that it's not nearly as sad as it is, that makes me mad. When somebody puts a fig leaf in front of Michaelangelo's David and tries to pretend that there's no nudity, that makes me mad. I'm not saying that bad movies should be considered works of art. I'm saying that you're kidding yourself. Even worse, you're supporting the very thing that you're claiming to protest. If I tried to pull the same thing, I would live with a daily guilt that I was being hypocritical.
There's more to life than sandwiches. If you don't want a sandwich, buy some soup. If you don't want what's in the soup, buy some pork chops. It's up to you what you choose to put into your body and mind. If you know you don't want to put something into your body or mind, don't kid yourself by putting only a little of it in.
Sunday, August 6, 2006
Saturday, August 5, 2006
Utah Krishna Temple
Apparently, there is a Krishna temple in Spanish Fork, UT. I had no idea! Spanish Fork is only about 20 to 30 minutes south of where my wife and I live, so it's not that big of a deal to get there. Normally, I would have wanted to go anyway. But then I found out they have a vegetarian buffet! A buffet! I had to go.
As you can see, it's a beautiful temple. Make sure to take off your shoes at the door. Going inside, we were talking about taking a tour, when a woman met us and told us that a tour had just started upstairs. Unfortunately, it seems that the people on the tour were in a bit of a hurry, so we didn't catch much. We were allowed to take a walk around the place (and advised to go clock-wise, for good luck) and take plenty of photos. When we were done, we hit the buffet.
The prices were, well, there weren't really any. They asked only for a donation of what the guest felt was appropriate. The food was a mix of Indian and western dishes, all vegetarian. There was plenty of fruit of vegetables at the salad bar, fries and spaghetti for the kids, a really nice mango and papaya puree, a potato goulash that I went back for seconds for, rice, and some curried vegetables. This is not Emeril-chow, oh no. This is home cooking. This is going over to your friend's house for dinner, when their mom is cooking something that you're not used to, but looks good. The man in charge asked me a good couple of times if I'd tried his wife's soup yet, which turned out to be pretty thin, but very tasty, and very spicy. They even had peach juice to drink. It was fabulous.
We asked about recipes, if they were planning on putting out a cookbook or something, but apparently they pretty much just cook out of the cookbooks available in their gift shop. I did buy a copy of Cooking with Kurma, which is one of their vegetarian cookbooks in the shop, but it would be nice to see these guys put out their own.
It's an interesting experience. Next time I go back, I hope to talk to the man in charge a little bit more, and of course, get some more of the food. If you're in the area, I suggest you head down and check it out.
As you can see, it's a beautiful temple. Make sure to take off your shoes at the door. Going inside, we were talking about taking a tour, when a woman met us and told us that a tour had just started upstairs. Unfortunately, it seems that the people on the tour were in a bit of a hurry, so we didn't catch much. We were allowed to take a walk around the place (and advised to go clock-wise, for good luck) and take plenty of photos. When we were done, we hit the buffet.
The prices were, well, there weren't really any. They asked only for a donation of what the guest felt was appropriate. The food was a mix of Indian and western dishes, all vegetarian. There was plenty of fruit of vegetables at the salad bar, fries and spaghetti for the kids, a really nice mango and papaya puree, a potato goulash that I went back for seconds for, rice, and some curried vegetables. This is not Emeril-chow, oh no. This is home cooking. This is going over to your friend's house for dinner, when their mom is cooking something that you're not used to, but looks good. The man in charge asked me a good couple of times if I'd tried his wife's soup yet, which turned out to be pretty thin, but very tasty, and very spicy. They even had peach juice to drink. It was fabulous.
We asked about recipes, if they were planning on putting out a cookbook or something, but apparently they pretty much just cook out of the cookbooks available in their gift shop. I did buy a copy of Cooking with Kurma, which is one of their vegetarian cookbooks in the shop, but it would be nice to see these guys put out their own.
It's an interesting experience. Next time I go back, I hope to talk to the man in charge a little bit more, and of course, get some more of the food. If you're in the area, I suggest you head down and check it out.
Friday, August 4, 2006
Haute Grilled Cheese
One of my favorite pleasures in life is a grilled cheese sandwich. Melty sharp cheddar cheese, the more aged the better, between two slices of tangy sourdough bread, seared in butter to a toasty perfection. I daresay I might have become a bit of a connoisseur. I've tried to keep my habit down to no more than one a week. Or two. Two a week. Maybe more. Yeah.
As I looked into my fridge this evening, I saw something that I am greatly ashamed of. A block of cheese, from the Beehive Cheese Co in Uintah, UT, called Promontory Cheddar. This block of cheddar was given to me by my dear friend Ruth, who is apparently neighbors with the guy that runs the joint. I have been waiting for the perfect time to taste it, and I'm sure that several of those moments have passed.
So, it's time to repent. I opened it up and gave it a taste. WOW! This stuff is amazing! No wonder it's all the buzz at the local farmers markets this year! I'm still kicking myself for not trying it earlier. But what to do with such a magnificent cheddar? As I surved my pre-shopping day ingredients, I found plenty of my beloved sourdough bread, and a package of prosciutto. I knew what I had to do.
I took out a slice of prosciutto and lightly pan-fried it in just a bit of butter. While that was going, I finely grated a bit of cheddar and piled it onto a slice of sourdough. I topped it with the prosciutto, closed it, and added a bit of butter to the pan and put in the sandwich. I like to add butter to the pan instead of buttering the bread. Aside from the fact that cold butter tends to tear bread, I just think it tastes better. I pulled the sandwich from the pan, added a little more butter, and put the sandwich back in on the other side. Now, I know that a lot of professional cooks will tell you that excessive flipping is evil. In the case of grilled cheese, it's essential. I find that it gives time to let the cheese melt, without letting the bread get hot enough from constant direct exposure to the pan to burn.
I don't normally put anything inside my grilled cheese sandwiches except for cheese. But I have heard that the original grilled cheese sandwich, supposedly in France, included ham. I'm sure it wasn't Italian ham, but I'll live. This sandwich was awesome. It had a slightly deeper flavor, both from a cheese whose flavor had advanced far beyond the wimpy supermarket varieties, and from the prosciutto, only lightly cooked, so as not to detract from its original cure and flavor. It was far too magnificent to have on a regular basis. But it may make it into my dietal rotation on a somewhat semi-regular basis.
As I looked into my fridge this evening, I saw something that I am greatly ashamed of. A block of cheese, from the Beehive Cheese Co in Uintah, UT, called Promontory Cheddar. This block of cheddar was given to me by my dear friend Ruth, who is apparently neighbors with the guy that runs the joint. I have been waiting for the perfect time to taste it, and I'm sure that several of those moments have passed.
So, it's time to repent. I opened it up and gave it a taste. WOW! This stuff is amazing! No wonder it's all the buzz at the local farmers markets this year! I'm still kicking myself for not trying it earlier. But what to do with such a magnificent cheddar? As I surved my pre-shopping day ingredients, I found plenty of my beloved sourdough bread, and a package of prosciutto. I knew what I had to do.
I took out a slice of prosciutto and lightly pan-fried it in just a bit of butter. While that was going, I finely grated a bit of cheddar and piled it onto a slice of sourdough. I topped it with the prosciutto, closed it, and added a bit of butter to the pan and put in the sandwich. I like to add butter to the pan instead of buttering the bread. Aside from the fact that cold butter tends to tear bread, I just think it tastes better. I pulled the sandwich from the pan, added a little more butter, and put the sandwich back in on the other side. Now, I know that a lot of professional cooks will tell you that excessive flipping is evil. In the case of grilled cheese, it's essential. I find that it gives time to let the cheese melt, without letting the bread get hot enough from constant direct exposure to the pan to burn.
I don't normally put anything inside my grilled cheese sandwiches except for cheese. But I have heard that the original grilled cheese sandwich, supposedly in France, included ham. I'm sure it wasn't Italian ham, but I'll live. This sandwich was awesome. It had a slightly deeper flavor, both from a cheese whose flavor had advanced far beyond the wimpy supermarket varieties, and from the prosciutto, only lightly cooked, so as not to detract from its original cure and flavor. It was far too magnificent to have on a regular basis. But it may make it into my dietal rotation on a somewhat semi-regular basis.
Betty Crocker's Egg
I meant to post this a few days ago when it was first shown to me. Better late than never, eh? There was an article on Slashdot about the evolution of the Netflix envelope. It wasn't that part that I found interesting. It was the comment that was originally pointed out to me.
The comment cites an article talking about Betty Crocker cake mixes back in the 50's, that required the home cook to add only one ingredient: water. Sales were poor until they were advised to modify the recipe to also require an egg. Sales soared. The theory is that the housewives who were baking the cakes felt guilty that they were deceiving their husband, guests, etc with a cake that looked like it took all day, when in fact all they had to do was add water. The addition of the egg supposedly made them feel like they were doing actual work. It makes me think about modern cake mixes which require the addition of 3 eggs, plus oil and water. Maybe housewives had a lot of guilt to take care of?
The article suggests that adding the egg is a form of mind control. Freudian, even. *Queue the Paranoia Music* My first inclination is that it's just a brilliant form of advertising. One, I might note, that doesn't seem to be as effective today. Some years ago, a certain company intruced an easy mac & cheese product that required only water and a very short time in the microwave. This differs of course from the current model popular with kids, which requires the addition of butter and milk. Being the ever-so-adverturous foodie, with a ready supply of said product for sale in the break room at work, I decided to try one out. It was truly magnificent to think that somebody could screw up such a simple dish so badly. There's a reason for the dish's recent "yellow death" moniker.
Still, it makes me wonder. We all know that this sort of thinking is prevelant in today's advertising society. For those people, like me, who watch shows like Food Network's Unwrapped, we know that food companies are pretty open about what sorts of mentalities they're targeting, and how. For a good couple of years or so after the September 11 incident, there was a big push towards comfort food. A lot of people wanted to drown their worries and sorrows in a big old bowl of mashed potatoes. Food Network made a big deal out of comfort food for months, and even had a "Couch Potato Weekend", all about potatoes, with interstitials by Alton Brown. Since this was the time I was in culinary school, I heard a lot about comfort food. The classes didn't focus on it at all, but when we talked about current food trends, there was a buzz about it.
Of course, this crosses over to other areas too. When I was a little programmer, writing four-line programs in BASIC on my TRS-80, I thought I was the bomb. Then I discovered Pascal, which managed somehow to get by without line numbers. Then I picked up Visual Basic, and fortunately found Perl soon after. Soon I was sneering with my Perl buddies at VB programmers. Then a new language came on the scene, something called PHP, which was also to be sneered at. But the PHP programmers liked that they could toss together quick and simple websites with little training. Soon, the PHP programmers began to put together larger websites, some good, most horrible. It became a buzzword. Perl was regarded as an old and featureless language, even though most of my Perl buddies could code circles around the few programmers that I knew that would admit to programming in PHP. One programmer I worked with had several ideas over which languages were better and faster to write in than Perl. He was fired after four weeks, for lack of productivity.
Now when I tell people I write in Perl, they sneer at me, or at least lightly mock me, while they sit and try to upgrade their old Lisp systems to Java. Programmers now like to put things in their project names that represent the language it was written in, or the platform it was written for. One of the first that I can think of is the famous MP3 player, WinAMP. Open source programmers love putting "G" at the beginning of their project names, to represent GNU or Gnome. I've had more than one Perl hacker tell me that they thought of putting Perl in their project name, but reconsidered when they realized that there are people out there that would refuse to use it, based only on the fact that it was written in Perl. They would rather get their project out there, gain popularity, and then say when asked, "oh, it was written in Perl." By that point, their project would already be in common use, and people wouldn't have so much of a stigma to go off of.
So programmers play the same type of game with each other than Betty Crocker was playing with the egg. They look at their audience, and try to figure out which features to push, even if they know those truly aren't the greatest features. The big feature of Betty's cake mix was convenience. But nobody wanted it unless they could add an egg too. I once read an article on how to write a food blog. It suggested that nobody would want to read a food blog without photos. The big feature of the blog, the one that people read it for, is written content. But if you don't have photos, nobody wants to read the content. And here I am, running a food blog, spending half of this article talking tech, which will surely alienate the non-geek half of my readers (sorry about that, guys), and I'm not even going to post a photo. It's a funny world we live in.
The comment cites an article talking about Betty Crocker cake mixes back in the 50's, that required the home cook to add only one ingredient: water. Sales were poor until they were advised to modify the recipe to also require an egg. Sales soared. The theory is that the housewives who were baking the cakes felt guilty that they were deceiving their husband, guests, etc with a cake that looked like it took all day, when in fact all they had to do was add water. The addition of the egg supposedly made them feel like they were doing actual work. It makes me think about modern cake mixes which require the addition of 3 eggs, plus oil and water. Maybe housewives had a lot of guilt to take care of?
The article suggests that adding the egg is a form of mind control. Freudian, even. *Queue the Paranoia Music* My first inclination is that it's just a brilliant form of advertising. One, I might note, that doesn't seem to be as effective today. Some years ago, a certain company intruced an easy mac & cheese product that required only water and a very short time in the microwave. This differs of course from the current model popular with kids, which requires the addition of butter and milk. Being the ever-so-adverturous foodie, with a ready supply of said product for sale in the break room at work, I decided to try one out. It was truly magnificent to think that somebody could screw up such a simple dish so badly. There's a reason for the dish's recent "yellow death" moniker.
Still, it makes me wonder. We all know that this sort of thinking is prevelant in today's advertising society. For those people, like me, who watch shows like Food Network's Unwrapped, we know that food companies are pretty open about what sorts of mentalities they're targeting, and how. For a good couple of years or so after the September 11 incident, there was a big push towards comfort food. A lot of people wanted to drown their worries and sorrows in a big old bowl of mashed potatoes. Food Network made a big deal out of comfort food for months, and even had a "Couch Potato Weekend", all about potatoes, with interstitials by Alton Brown. Since this was the time I was in culinary school, I heard a lot about comfort food. The classes didn't focus on it at all, but when we talked about current food trends, there was a buzz about it.
Of course, this crosses over to other areas too. When I was a little programmer, writing four-line programs in BASIC on my TRS-80, I thought I was the bomb. Then I discovered Pascal, which managed somehow to get by without line numbers. Then I picked up Visual Basic, and fortunately found Perl soon after. Soon I was sneering with my Perl buddies at VB programmers. Then a new language came on the scene, something called PHP, which was also to be sneered at. But the PHP programmers liked that they could toss together quick and simple websites with little training. Soon, the PHP programmers began to put together larger websites, some good, most horrible. It became a buzzword. Perl was regarded as an old and featureless language, even though most of my Perl buddies could code circles around the few programmers that I knew that would admit to programming in PHP. One programmer I worked with had several ideas over which languages were better and faster to write in than Perl. He was fired after four weeks, for lack of productivity.
Now when I tell people I write in Perl, they sneer at me, or at least lightly mock me, while they sit and try to upgrade their old Lisp systems to Java. Programmers now like to put things in their project names that represent the language it was written in, or the platform it was written for. One of the first that I can think of is the famous MP3 player, WinAMP. Open source programmers love putting "G" at the beginning of their project names, to represent GNU or Gnome. I've had more than one Perl hacker tell me that they thought of putting Perl in their project name, but reconsidered when they realized that there are people out there that would refuse to use it, based only on the fact that it was written in Perl. They would rather get their project out there, gain popularity, and then say when asked, "oh, it was written in Perl." By that point, their project would already be in common use, and people wouldn't have so much of a stigma to go off of.
So programmers play the same type of game with each other than Betty Crocker was playing with the egg. They look at their audience, and try to figure out which features to push, even if they know those truly aren't the greatest features. The big feature of Betty's cake mix was convenience. But nobody wanted it unless they could add an egg too. I once read an article on how to write a food blog. It suggested that nobody would want to read a food blog without photos. The big feature of the blog, the one that people read it for, is written content. But if you don't have photos, nobody wants to read the content. And here I am, running a food blog, spending half of this article talking tech, which will surely alienate the non-geek half of my readers (sorry about that, guys), and I'm not even going to post a photo. It's a funny world we live in.
Thursday, August 3, 2006
The Creme Brulee Experiment
Have you ever wanted to make cheesecake, flan, creme brulee or some other kind of baked custard, and wondered why the directions call for a water bath? As it turns out, water cannot exist at a liquid state above 212F (at least not without external intervention). Even better, water has a very high specific heat, meaning that it takes a lot of energy to raise its temperature. This is important, because egg proteins actually coagulate at about 165F, unless they are tempered, in which case they actually coagulate at about 185F. While water may boil at 212F (and that's a full-on rolling boil), it simmers closer to 186F. This is pretty important in the case of baked custard. If you put a custard in a 350F oven with no protection, you run the risk of cooking your proteins too quickly, which can give you a grainy texture. If you put them in a water bath, the water absorbs a lot of that energy, which allows the custard to move to that tempurature more smoothly. You still have to take them out before they actually reach that tempurature though, so that they can coast to a smooth finish.
I decided to test this myself, using a standard creme brulee mixture:
4 egg yolks
2 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Yes, that's right. Any more than a single serving could kill somebody. This dessert is not for the weak of heart, literally. The procedure is simple: First, preheat the oven to 325F. Heat the cream to a simmer. While that is happening, whisk together the egg yolks and the sugar. Slowly pour the cream into the egg yolks, whisking quickly to keep the egg from scrambling. Go ahead and add the vanilla at this point, and then strain through a fine-mesh seive. Pour into four ceramic ramekins, and then put those on a sheet pan with high sides. Put this pan on the oven rack first, and then pour in enough hot water (just under a simmer) into the pan to come about 1/2 to 3/4 of the way up the sides of the ramekin. If you want an extra layer of protection, put a tea towel in the pan first, underneath the ramekins. Don't worry, the water will keep it protected, and it will help protect the bottoms of the custards from the heat below. Bake until the centers are just a little wobbly (usually 15 to 20 minutes) and then remove the ramekins to the counter. Leave the water bath in the oven and let it cool down in there, lest you splash yourself with scalding water. When the ramekins have cooled enough to touch with your bare hands, move to the refrigerator and chill for at least an hour. Then sprinkle with a little sugar, and burn the sugar with a torch, or under the broiler. If you're French, you will actually burn the sugar. Brulee means burned, not golden brown. If you're American, you will likely wimp out and just go for golden brown. Me, I like it burned.
In my experiment, I tested four different baking vessels, each with and without a water bath. In addition to the standard ceramic ramekin, I used a Pyrex baking cup, a mini cheesecake pan (aka an empty tuna can, and yes, it was cleaned) and a silicone cupcake pan (heart-shaped, left over from Valentines day). The tuna can may not seem very standard, but I used it to represent a standard aluminum cake pan or springform pan. And yes, I do bake mini cheesecakes in tuna cans all the time. The layout of the pan was as follows:
I did not use a tea towel, but I did use hot water, on one half. The pyrex went towards the back of the oven, and the oven was at 350F. After 14 minutes, I pulled the non-water bath custards out, except for the silicone one (because it was attached to the water bath one). At 16 minutes I pulled the water bath ones. I let cool, then refrigerated them all and brought them to work with me the next day. There, I recruited 3 other coworkers for a taste-test. I did not do the burned sugar on top, because I didn't want it to get in the way of the tasting, plus it would have ruined the silicone. In each of the following photos, the custard cooked in the water bath is on the right.
As it turns out, all of the water bath custards were soupy. I just didn't leave them in there long enough. In contrast, all of the non-water bath custards were set up, but grainy. What's worse, they all seemed to have been boiling, which left bubble marks on the top. Still, there were some obvious differences between each cooking vessel.
First, the Pyrex. It may be good for casseroles, but it did not perform well with custards. Still, it was certainly not the worst. The non-water bath custard was relatively grainy, but one taster prefered the flavor of the water bath version, even though it was way too soupy. In fact, it was probably the second soupiest, but one of the best tasting.
Ceramic. There is a reason this is the traditional baking vessel for creme brulee. Ceramic is a thermal battery, so once it got up to temp, it held on, even when pulled from the oven. This was greatly beneficial in the carry-over cooking that happens. Unfortunately, even though it looked set up when it cooled, it was still soupy inside. The lesson here is that it can take a trained eye to pull a creme brulee at the proper wobbliness. 3 out of 4 tasters prefered the flavor of this one. Despite the soupiness, the water bath version did set up the best.
Alunimum. By far the worst performer. It doesn't hold onto heat, and so when it was pulled from the oven, the custard was left to fend for itself. This was definitely the soupiest. The non-water bath version was grainy, but both still tasted pretty good.
Silicone. While this may have performed better for setting up the custard, it was definitely not the right vessel for baked custard. The non-water bath custard was the grainest (as it had been in the longest, I'm sure) and one taster mentioned that it was almost like cheese. Even the water bath custard didn't taste that great, though it set up second best. While it wasn't the worse performer for physics, it was definitely the worse in taste.
So that was the creme brulee experiment. By the end of it, we were all pretty sick of creme brulee, and had a coating of fat on our tongues that we were anxious to get rid of. But I think we all learned a lesson or two from this experiment.
I decided to test this myself, using a standard creme brulee mixture:
4 egg yolks
2 cups heavy cream
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Yes, that's right. Any more than a single serving could kill somebody. This dessert is not for the weak of heart, literally. The procedure is simple: First, preheat the oven to 325F. Heat the cream to a simmer. While that is happening, whisk together the egg yolks and the sugar. Slowly pour the cream into the egg yolks, whisking quickly to keep the egg from scrambling. Go ahead and add the vanilla at this point, and then strain through a fine-mesh seive. Pour into four ceramic ramekins, and then put those on a sheet pan with high sides. Put this pan on the oven rack first, and then pour in enough hot water (just under a simmer) into the pan to come about 1/2 to 3/4 of the way up the sides of the ramekin. If you want an extra layer of protection, put a tea towel in the pan first, underneath the ramekins. Don't worry, the water will keep it protected, and it will help protect the bottoms of the custards from the heat below. Bake until the centers are just a little wobbly (usually 15 to 20 minutes) and then remove the ramekins to the counter. Leave the water bath in the oven and let it cool down in there, lest you splash yourself with scalding water. When the ramekins have cooled enough to touch with your bare hands, move to the refrigerator and chill for at least an hour. Then sprinkle with a little sugar, and burn the sugar with a torch, or under the broiler. If you're French, you will actually burn the sugar. Brulee means burned, not golden brown. If you're American, you will likely wimp out and just go for golden brown. Me, I like it burned.
In my experiment, I tested four different baking vessels, each with and without a water bath. In addition to the standard ceramic ramekin, I used a Pyrex baking cup, a mini cheesecake pan (aka an empty tuna can, and yes, it was cleaned) and a silicone cupcake pan (heart-shaped, left over from Valentines day). The tuna can may not seem very standard, but I used it to represent a standard aluminum cake pan or springform pan. And yes, I do bake mini cheesecakes in tuna cans all the time. The layout of the pan was as follows:
I did not use a tea towel, but I did use hot water, on one half. The pyrex went towards the back of the oven, and the oven was at 350F. After 14 minutes, I pulled the non-water bath custards out, except for the silicone one (because it was attached to the water bath one). At 16 minutes I pulled the water bath ones. I let cool, then refrigerated them all and brought them to work with me the next day. There, I recruited 3 other coworkers for a taste-test. I did not do the burned sugar on top, because I didn't want it to get in the way of the tasting, plus it would have ruined the silicone. In each of the following photos, the custard cooked in the water bath is on the right.
As it turns out, all of the water bath custards were soupy. I just didn't leave them in there long enough. In contrast, all of the non-water bath custards were set up, but grainy. What's worse, they all seemed to have been boiling, which left bubble marks on the top. Still, there were some obvious differences between each cooking vessel.
First, the Pyrex. It may be good for casseroles, but it did not perform well with custards. Still, it was certainly not the worst. The non-water bath custard was relatively grainy, but one taster prefered the flavor of the water bath version, even though it was way too soupy. In fact, it was probably the second soupiest, but one of the best tasting.
Ceramic. There is a reason this is the traditional baking vessel for creme brulee. Ceramic is a thermal battery, so once it got up to temp, it held on, even when pulled from the oven. This was greatly beneficial in the carry-over cooking that happens. Unfortunately, even though it looked set up when it cooled, it was still soupy inside. The lesson here is that it can take a trained eye to pull a creme brulee at the proper wobbliness. 3 out of 4 tasters prefered the flavor of this one. Despite the soupiness, the water bath version did set up the best.
Alunimum. By far the worst performer. It doesn't hold onto heat, and so when it was pulled from the oven, the custard was left to fend for itself. This was definitely the soupiest. The non-water bath version was grainy, but both still tasted pretty good.
Silicone. While this may have performed better for setting up the custard, it was definitely not the right vessel for baked custard. The non-water bath custard was the grainest (as it had been in the longest, I'm sure) and one taster mentioned that it was almost like cheese. Even the water bath custard didn't taste that great, though it set up second best. While it wasn't the worse performer for physics, it was definitely the worse in taste.
So that was the creme brulee experiment. By the end of it, we were all pretty sick of creme brulee, and had a coating of fat on our tongues that we were anxious to get rid of. But I think we all learned a lesson or two from this experiment.
Wednesday, August 2, 2006
Cake Decorating Class: Part 4
This was the final class of the Wilton Cake Decorating Class, Level 1. We spent a good bit of time on the Wilton Rose this time, because our teacher wanted to make sure we had it down. I can understand why. This rose is not something new, nor something that is indiginous to Wilton. If you ever work with pulled sugar, or see somebody work on it, you may have seen a pulled sugar flower. The concept is the same: you make one little petal in the middle, rolled up by itself, then you make a row of three petals around it, then a row of five and a row of seven. The difference is, the pulled sugar is a lot hotter, but when it cools, it's a lot sturdier; that is, unless it's humid. Since sugar is hygroscopic, it attracts water molecules (right from the air!), and when it gets too much water, it screams out, "help me Dorothy, I'm melting!" That's about when you have to throw it out, and all the monkeys that were guarding it fly away. And need I remind you, that monkeys are comedy gold, every time.
We also did a sweat pea blossom, some vines, and even some leaves for the Wilton Rose. Then we had about an hour to just decorate our cakes. I had my styrofoam cake again, with the top scraped off from last time and refrosted. I pretty much just did more paisleys. I like paisleys. The girl next to me did yet another fabulous cake, this time in chocolate. Justine, if you're reading this, heed my words: when you graduate, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of pastry chefs in this world that would love to hire you. You seem to have a natural talent and skill, and it would be a shame to waste them.
The girls across the room have progressed quite nicely as well. In fact, our teacher seemed impressed with everyone's progress. I get the impression not every class goes that well. Ginny has developed a technique of painting just the edges of the roses, which I think looks really classy. Her roses also look way better than mine. I suck at roses. Julie opted for a design with large dots all over the cake that looked really nice as well. Her roses also put mine to shame. And yes, their mom even does better roses then me. I'm just tragic when it comes to roses. Today I'm going to post photos of Ginny's and Julie's cakes. I wish I could post photos of them all.
The next class, Level 2, starts in about a month. I understand we will cover the basketweave technique as well, but the primary focus will be royal icing. For those of you not in the know, royal icing is quite the multitasker. I think that most people use it as glue for gingerbread houses. I've also seen a French pastry chef use it as decoration on a nougatine sculpture. Level 3 will cover rolled fondant which, as it turns out, is only one kind of fondant. There's also another kind used in candymaking, particularly for cherry cordials. I don't think most cake decorators know that.
I also found out last night that our teacher runs a blog of her own. Go check it out. It's mostly photos of her cakes, but she does a good job on them. I understand a bakery around her just offered her a job as a cake decorator. Were I running a bakery, I would have already done the same long ago. If any of you are interested in picking up cake decorating, I suggest you head on down to the Roberts store in Orem, UT and sign up for one of her classes.
Myself, I don't plan on spending a whole lot of time decorating cakes. I'm looking to expand skills in the pastry arts in other areas, and I discovered long ago that a lot of the techniques from all over the bakery cross over to other areas. Heck, not even just from the bakery. Are you interested in working with chocolate? Take an oil painting class. Once you realize that painting with oil paints is exactly the same as painting with colored cocoa butter, the number of things you can do with chocolate will more than double. Want to become an Iron Chef? Learn Perl. You will eventually discover that while the key words and syntax may differ, the concepts are almost exactly the same. Just like with Perl, there are thousands of ways to cook just about anything, and at least as many right ways as wrong. And just like writing in Perl, cooking is pure poetry.
We also did a sweat pea blossom, some vines, and even some leaves for the Wilton Rose. Then we had about an hour to just decorate our cakes. I had my styrofoam cake again, with the top scraped off from last time and refrosted. I pretty much just did more paisleys. I like paisleys. The girl next to me did yet another fabulous cake, this time in chocolate. Justine, if you're reading this, heed my words: when you graduate, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of pastry chefs in this world that would love to hire you. You seem to have a natural talent and skill, and it would be a shame to waste them.
The girls across the room have progressed quite nicely as well. In fact, our teacher seemed impressed with everyone's progress. I get the impression not every class goes that well. Ginny has developed a technique of painting just the edges of the roses, which I think looks really classy. Her roses also look way better than mine. I suck at roses. Julie opted for a design with large dots all over the cake that looked really nice as well. Her roses also put mine to shame. And yes, their mom even does better roses then me. I'm just tragic when it comes to roses. Today I'm going to post photos of Ginny's and Julie's cakes. I wish I could post photos of them all.
The next class, Level 2, starts in about a month. I understand we will cover the basketweave technique as well, but the primary focus will be royal icing. For those of you not in the know, royal icing is quite the multitasker. I think that most people use it as glue for gingerbread houses. I've also seen a French pastry chef use it as decoration on a nougatine sculpture. Level 3 will cover rolled fondant which, as it turns out, is only one kind of fondant. There's also another kind used in candymaking, particularly for cherry cordials. I don't think most cake decorators know that.
I also found out last night that our teacher runs a blog of her own. Go check it out. It's mostly photos of her cakes, but she does a good job on them. I understand a bakery around her just offered her a job as a cake decorator. Were I running a bakery, I would have already done the same long ago. If any of you are interested in picking up cake decorating, I suggest you head on down to the Roberts store in Orem, UT and sign up for one of her classes.
Myself, I don't plan on spending a whole lot of time decorating cakes. I'm looking to expand skills in the pastry arts in other areas, and I discovered long ago that a lot of the techniques from all over the bakery cross over to other areas. Heck, not even just from the bakery. Are you interested in working with chocolate? Take an oil painting class. Once you realize that painting with oil paints is exactly the same as painting with colored cocoa butter, the number of things you can do with chocolate will more than double. Want to become an Iron Chef? Learn Perl. You will eventually discover that while the key words and syntax may differ, the concepts are almost exactly the same. Just like with Perl, there are thousands of ways to cook just about anything, and at least as many right ways as wrong. And just like writing in Perl, cooking is pure poetry.
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
A Sense of Humor
We found out on Jun 6th (yes, 6-6-06) that a little chefling was on its way. The news came prior to us watching The Omen that night. Those of you in Orem, UT right now might notice that it's stormin' pretty hard out there. I submit that this may be because our first pre-natal checkup is in an hour.
Harley suggested to me that God has a sense of humor. I agreed, but replied that it's too early to tell yet whether he's laughing with me or at me.
Harley suggested to me that God has a sense of humor. I agreed, but replied that it's too early to tell yet whether he's laughing with me or at me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)