Matters of Taste

A Tart by any Other Name....Would Taste as Sweet

Jan Norris, a 26-year veteran of the Palm Beach Post  and one of the most knowledgeable and entertaining food editors I worked with during my years as Union-Tribune food editor, recently asked me about my favorite summer food memories. I wrote this 'ode to a plum tart' for her. It's included, along with the recollections of many other food writers, in a series about summery foods on her blog. 

 Pflaumenkuchen. I was flummoxed by the very sound of the word. Yet the syllables tripped off the tongue of the woman patting out the pie crust as easily as shiny little pebbles slipping downstream.

I had been dating a charming “Virginia Gentleman,” called “T” by his friends, for less than a month when he invited me to visit his parents’ home one late-August weekend. Little did I know that I’d marry him 11 months later. Little did I know that I’d get a fabulous Pflaumenkuchen recipe in the deal.

Pflaumen (pronounced flow (as in flower)- men) is the German word for prune plums. (Kuchen is cake, though this creation is more of a tart.) Also known as Italian Prune Plums, these precious nuggets are available for a very brief period --  two or three weeks max each summer, in late August and early September. They’re the size of a baby’s fist, slightly egg-shaped, with blue-purple skin, freestone pits (which separate easily) and yellowish flesh. Though they’re tasty eaten out of hand, prune plums are best cooked or baked, when they become soft, jammy and fragrant, with nicely caramelized edges.

But,  back to Carola Shiftan, who was born in a tiny village in East Germany and arrived in the United States towards the end of WWII, a few years before her son Thomas was born.  She was an elegant woman with a warm, welcoming personality and an exotic (to me) accent.  She liked to cook and bake, and had an impressive cookbook collection.

As a 20-year-old born-and-bred Bostonian, I knew little about European cuisines and even less about the guttural German language. But I watched and listened, fascinated, as she mixed a few ingredients in a bowl, lined a pie plate with the dough, and laid little purple plum slices neatly and tightly, side by side,  like a Rockettes chorus line.

When she died, just four months after our July 1969 wedding, I was given her well-worn  “Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Volumes I and II.”  They were my introduction to the wonderful world of Julia.

But more importantly, on a faded piece of yellow legal paper folded up inside one of those books, I got the recipe for Pflaumenkuchen.

During the 40 years since then, my husband and I have awaited the end of August like little kids await Santa. I try to make the simple little tart several times during the “season,” and I just about cry the day I visit the market and find that they’re gone.

The Mürbeteig (loosely translated as “sweet dough”) is what the French would call pate brisee, but with a lot more sugar and butter. In fact, there’s so much butter involved that I have to use the little silver pie weights when I blind bake the shell.

After that, all that’s left to do is slice the plums, arrange them in concentric circles, sprinkle them with a bit of sugar and breadcrumbs (Progresso Plain is fine) and dot with a few more bits of butter.

Pflaumenkuchen is the epitome of summer food, the very essence of  “eating seasonally.” And in our house, it brings a dearly-missed loved one back to the table every time we make it.

Here’s my mother-in-law’s recipe.  I’m pretty casual about amounts of ingredients. Experiment and use what works best for you.

PFLAUMENKUCHEN

1 cup flour
1/3 cup sugar plus 2 teaspoons
Pinch salt
1 stick butter, cold, cut into small pieces
1 egg yolk
2-3 tablespoons ice water, as needed
About 16 Italian prune plums
2 teaspoons plain breadcrumbs

Place flour, sugar, salt and butter pieces into a food processor, reserving 4 or 5 little pieces of butter for later. Process in short bursts until mixture starts to have the texture of oatmeal. Add egg yolk and continue to process in short bursts until dough starts to come together in a ball. Add ice water, as necessary, to facilitate this.

Remove from food processor. Form gently into a ball, Dust with flour. Wrap in waxed paper or plastic wrap and refrigerate for an hour or so.

Roll out dough when it’s firm, patting it into a 10-inch fluted tart pan with removable bottom. Blind bake the pastry shell, filling with pie weights.

In the meantime, wash, pit and cut each Italian prune plum into 6 or 8 pieces. Arrange them in pie tart in concentric circles. (If you run out, you can make a row of sliced peach, nectarine or another type of plum.) Sprinkle with breadcrumbs and extra sugar. Dot with leftover butter bits. Bake in 350-degree oven for about 15 minutes, until plums are soft and jammy.

Bavarois, Bahn Mi, Bloody Marys -- Life's Memorable Meals

Yesterday I joined KPBS-Radio host Maureen Cavanaugh on her morning program “These Days.”  Together with San Diego freelancer Caron Golden, we talked about the best meals we had ever eaten. (You can listen to or read the transcript on line at KPBS.org.)

The hour was a vast smorgesbord including opulent duck confit and Chocolate Bavarois, cheap Vietnamese sandwiches called Bahn Mi, summer corn risotto, “Oh-My-God” lamb chops,” bubbling cheese creations in a log cabin above Lake Annecy, and crispy, wispy Wienerschnitzel in the Tyrolian Alps.

When a caller brought up the subject of memorable  “exotic” dining experiences, I shared my story of lunch on Bangkok’s unique Damnoen Saduak floating market.  The market consists of scores of flimsy little boats bobbing in the river, packed with produce merchants, mini restaurants and hungry shoppers. (This photo is by Britannica.com.)

My husband and I hired a boat and guide to row us out into the narrow, vine-clogged canals. I ordered “soup” from a smiling vendor in another boat. I loved the dish’s vivid flavors and tantalizing textures -- rice noodles, fish balls, crushed peanuts, bean sprouts, and a spritz of mystery sauce.

When I finished, I handed the chipped ceramic bowl and chopsticks back to the woman, who promptly swished them “clean” in the murky river.

Clearly, I could have been a food-borne illness statistic. Instead, I got a happy “memorable meal” story to tell.

Later in the show, when Cavanaugh asked about memorable "home-cooked" meals, I reminisced about my “big birthday” dinner last summer, an extravaganza of baby grilled cheese sandwiches made with brioche, aged cheddar and braised bacon; heirloom tomato gazpacho with avocado mousse; baby beet salad with goat cheese; and Cabernet-braised short ribs with roasted Vidalia onion-potato puree.

It was all cooked and served in my home. Thus, I argued, that it was my most memorable home-cooked meal.

But it wasn’t cooked by me. Rather, chef Carl Schroeder of Market Restaurant, Del Mar did the honors and totally wowed my group of family and friends. (This photo of Carl is from Examiner.com.)

Riffs on the Ravishing Raviolo

Growing up in a Boston-Irish-Catholic family in the ‘50s and ‘60s, I ate many times my weight in cheese ravioli. Frozen cheese ravioli. With zigzaggy “pinked” edges.  

They were a staple on Friday nights, when meat was banned from the dinner table. And when I went off to college I swore I’d never look at a plate of ravioli again. 

For decades I didn’t.

Then I discovered the glamorous egg raviolo at San Domenico in New York City.  The sheer pasta package held a mixture of ricotta cheese, parmesan, fresh white truffles and a barely cooked egg yolk. The sauce was simple browned butter with a blizzard of shaved truffle. When I nudged it with my fork, the bright yellow egg rushed out and mixed with the nutty butter and earthy truffles. But since that moment, I’ve been a fan of filled pasta – ravioli, agnolotti, pansotti, cappelletti, fagottini and many more. (Sadly, San Domenico has closed its doors. The photo here is from The Food Network.)

Last month, while vacationing in Austria and the Süd Tirol region of northernmost Italy, I really got to indulge my passion for the pasta pockets.

In fact, I ate some riff on ravioli just about every day.

In Vienna, my husband and I dined twice at our favorite neighborhood eatery Skopik & Lohn.

Both nights, the daily menu featured a cloud-like ricotta-arugula ravioli. One evening it was sauced with a very discreet pesto, sun-dried yellow and red tomatoes and tender micro greens (pictured here). The other night the dish was showered with sauteed local mushrooms and toasted pine nuts. Both dishes were remarkable for their fresh flavors and delicate interplay of textures. Located in Leopoldstadt (Vienna’s 2nd District), Skopik & Lohn is a charming spot with a cozy, wood-paneled interior and a sprawling sidewalk terrace with tables separated by pretty potted plants. The place’s “attitude” is as remarkable as its food. Hosts, servers and bartenders are cheerful and welcoming. And there’s always a nice buzz…the sound of people enjoying themselves.

Chef Harald Riedl of Restaurant Vincent also has a winning way with ravioli. On the night we visited this Leopoldstadt restaurant, the large pasta rounds were a true celebration of springtime: filled with pureed sweet baby peas and topped with bright green asparagus tips. The dish also included caramelized sweetbreads, a bit of diced tomato, softly whipped cream and shiny basil leaves. Vincent is one of the city’s most elegant restaurants, with one of the most sophisticated menus. Riedl, who won a Michelin star at his former restaurant, prepares Austrian specialties with a French flair. His dishes are highly imaginative and very refined.  The restaurant has three rooms, each with a different personality.  I gravitate to the warm, cozy “stube,”  but it’s the stylish, dressier “winter garden room” in back that’s designated non-smoking.

Eierschwammerltascherl. The word is bigger than the filled pasta pocket itself.  Eierschwammerl are basically the same mushrooms that the French call chanterelle. A “tascherl” is a pocket or what the Italians call ravioli.

In June, the kitchen at Glacis Beisl took full advantage of both chanterelle and asparagus season by creating tender, nearly sheer rounds filled with a duxelle of mushrooms and herbs. The sauce was a puree of white asparagus, cream and microgreens.

Glacis Beisl, located in the MuseumsQuartier, is a hip nightspot with terrific food, great value, a respected wine program and one of the most enchanting gardens I’ve ever seen. Lighted by old-fashioned Christmas lights, it features a profusion of plants and flowers, rickety picnic tables and benches, gravel underfoot and the stars above.  This photo comes from a blog called Merisi. The site is a beautiful, entertaining and practical way to learn about Vienna.

Wild garlic, known as Barlauch in German-speaking lands, is another treat that’s available in June. At Procacci, my favorite Italian restaurant in Vienna, chef Lorenzo DiMartino stuffs ethereal pasta pockets with a puree of wild garlic, mascarpone and finely diced tomatoes. They’re dreamy.

Creamed Corn Goes Upscale

I’ve always been a purist about summer corn. Get it from the field to the pot of boiling water as fast as you can, schmear it with soft butter, sprinkle on a little coarse salt and gnaw away.

Why fiddle around with one of summer’s most precious gifts, I always figured.

Last night I discovered a recipe that makes a strong case for fiddling.

Fettuccine with Summer Corn, Bacon, and Shiitake Mushrooms is a easy, elegant, supremely satisfying creation that screams “summer” while offering the high-level comfort-quotient of winter foods.

New York City chef Andrew Carmellini is the genius behind this dish that involves just a handful of ingredients and takes less than 30 minutes to make. Carmellini boasts that he’s a “Midwestern boy at heart” and loves to play with corn, in pastas, fillings, sauces, custards and even gelati.

For this dish, he uses corn kernels pureed with a bit of milk and cream to create a luxurious yet light “cream” sauce. The bacon is regular bacon, diced.  Readily available white mushrooms are just as good as shiitake. I adapted the recipe by slowly sautéing one sweet onion and adding that to the mix.

The recipe comes from Carmellini’s book, “Urban Italian.” It’s available at Amazon.com.

FETTUCCINE WITH SUMMER CORN, BACON, AND SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS
Serves 4

1 ½ cups diced bacon
6 cups fresh summer corn kernels (cut from 9 to 10 ears)
2 pounds shiitake mushrooms (or oyster or wild), each one cut in half
1/2 cup whole milk
½ cup heavy cream
¼ teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper, plus more to taste
Pinch cayenne pepper
1 pound fettuccine, fresh or dried
½ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
½ cup chopped fresh parsley
Pinch of salt

Put a large pot of salted water on to boil.
Sweat the bacon in a medium pot at medium-high heat, without any oil, until the fat is rendered and the bacon begins to crisp, about 3 minutes.
Add 3 cups of corn and the mushrooms to the bacon pot and cook together until the flavors blend and the mushrooms caramelize slightly, about 4 minutes.
In a blender or food processor, blend the remaining 3 cups of corn, the milk and the cream together on high speed until the mixture is all liquid, about 1 minute.
Strain the corn-cream mixture through a chinois or fine strainer into the bacon-mushroom pot, pushing the mixture down with a heavy spoon so all the liquid ends up in the pot. Simmer all the ingredients together until the corn mixture heats through and starts to thicken about 2 minutes. (I skipped the straining step and liked the texture of the sauce.)
Add the black pepper and cayenne pepper, If the pasta isn’t finished yet, remove the sauce from the heat and reserve.
Meanwhile, cook the pasta according to package directions. (Carmellini uses homemade fettuccine and cooks it for about 2 minutes.)
Remove the pasta with a pair of tongs and add it to the bacon-mushroom-corn mixture in the pot. Mix well to thoroughly coat the pasta. Turn off the heat and mix in the parsley and Parmigiano-Reggiano. Season with salt and more pepper.
Plate the pasta, covering each serving with the sauce that remains in the pot. Make sure that you get all the good bits of bacon, corn and mushrooms at the bottom.

(Adapted from “Urban Italian” by Andrew Carmellini.)