Spice (60 page)
Authors: Ana Sortun
Each summer from late July through September, when my husband Chris harvests eggplant, I celebrate by making this delicious soufflé. Eggplant is a Mediterranean staple, and it grows there in some regions year-round. But for most of the year in New England, eggplant has to travel a long way to get to us, and the miles and travel time make the flesh flabby and bitter. We compensate for that by salting the eggplant after cutting it, letting it weep away some of the bitterness, and then wiping it dry just before cooking. With farm-fresh eggplant, there is no need for salting and wiping. The flesh of freshly harvested eggplant is bone-white, sweet, and creamy, and its blackish-purple skin is tight and super shiny.
I love this light and creamy preparation, which never fails to turn skeptics into eggplant lovers. In making a good soufflé, you’ll need a buttered and floured soufflé dish (or eight 6-ounce ramekins) and a thick eggplant base into which you’ll fold the whites. You can make the eggplant base up to 3 days before making the soufflé.
At Oleana, we serve this soufflé with Baby Sole with Crab and Raki, an anisette-flavored liqueur (page 270).
M
AKES
1
LARGE OR EİGHT
6-
OUNCE SOUFFLÉS TO SERVE
8
2 large black bell eggplants
¼ cup salt plus more to taste
Pepper to taste
1 cup milk
Peeled outer layer of 1 onion, stuck with 2 cloves
1 bay leaf
4 tablespoons butter plus 3 tablespoons softened butter
¼ cup plus 5 tablespoons flour
Freshly grated nutmeg to taste
½ cup grated kasseri cheese or Asiago cheese (page 206)
½ cup chopped fresh dill
4 eggs, separated
1.
Trim the top and bottom off of each eggplant so that they can stand on a cutting surface. Peel each eggplant with a vegetable peeler and slice the flesh into 2-inch chunks.
2.
Bring a large saucepan of water to a boil and add the ¼ cup of salt. Reduce the heat to medium-high and cook the eggplant for about 15 minutes, until soft and tender when squeezed with a pair of tongs. Drain the eggplant immediately in a colander.
3.
Using a food processor fitted with a metal blade, puree the eggplant until smooth. Season the eggplant puree with salt and pepper; it may not need much salt because of the salty cooking water. You should have about 2½ cups of puree. Set it aside.
4.
In a small saucepan, over medium-high heat, bring the milk to a boil with the onion and bay leaf. Turn off the heat and let it stand at least 10 minutes, to infuse the milk with flavor. Remove the onion and bay leaf.
5.
In another small saucepan, over medium-high heat, melt 4 tablespoons of the butter until it starts to foam. Whisk in ¼ cup plus 1 tablespoon of the flour. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, whisking, until the mixture is a golden brown color, but not dark.
6.
Add the hot milk and whisk vigorously. At this point, the mixture should be thick, like dough (this will bind the eggplant). Season the thick white sauce with nutmeg and salt and pepper.
7.
Stir in the kasseri cheese, dill, and egg yolks.
8.
Combine the white sauce with the eggplant purée.
9.
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
10.
Using a large whisk and large mixing bowl or an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form.
11.
Fold the egg whites into the eggplant mixture (see page 135). Set the this aside while preparing the soufflé dishes.
12.
Butter eight 6-ounce soufflé dishes or one 1-quart soufflé dish evenly with the 3 tablespoons softened butter. Dust each dish or the large dish with the remaining 4 tablespoons flour and shake out any excess.
13.
Fill each small dish or the large dish ¾ of the way up to the top with the eggplant soufflé mixture and bake for about 20 minutes, until golden brown and tall. The soufflé should be a little soft in the middle but not soupy.
14.
Serve the soufflé immediately, before it falls (it will fall after about 6 minutes).
My good friend Ferda Erdinc, who owns Istanbul’s Zencefil restaurant, taught me how to make this traditional Turkish specialty. One spring during artichoke season, Ferda and I were walking down the streets of the Jewish neighborhood in Istanbul, where vendors had their artichoke carts out on corners. Their giant wheelbarrows overflowed with these gorgeous thistles, and we couldn’t help but buy a few. We watched the vendor clean them for us right there, rubbing them with a little lemon to keep them from browning on the way home.
Ferda prepared this recipe in her home kitchen that evening, and we ate them with a crispy tomato-rice dish. The artichokes can be served as part of a meal with fish or red meat or as one of many mezze before a meal.
M
AKES
6 A
RTİCHOKES
6 whole artichokes
Salt and pepper to taste
2 tablespoons flour
¼ cup honey
¼ cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (about ½ lemon)
1 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup dry white wine
12 cloves garlic, peeled and cut in half
4 scallions, root ends trimmed and finely chopped
¼ cup chopped fresh dill
1.
Preheat the oven to 375°F.
2.
Trim the stem end halfway off of each artichoke with a serrated knife, and then cut the top third of each artichoke off. Pull off the dark green outer leaves with your fingers, stopping when you can see the tender yellow leaves.
3.
With a paring knife, clean and shape the base of the artichoke by trimming it down and removing most of the dark green color. You’ll want to keep the shape of the artichoke but pare it down uniformly.
4.
Split each artichoke in half lengthwise and remove the fuzzy insides by scraping them out with a small teaspoon.
5.
Season both sides of each artichoke with salt and pepper and then place the artichokes cut-side down in a heavy roasting pan or Pyrex dish.
6.
In a small mixing bowl, whisk the flour with the honey, lemon juice, and olive oil and pour this mixture over the artichokes.
7.
Add the wine and garlic to the pan and cover it tightly twice with foil.
8.
Bake the artichokes for 30 to 40 minutes, until they are cooked through. Some of the liquid will evaporate and slightly glaze each artichoke.
9.
Sprinkle the artichokes with scallions and dill and serve them warm or at room temperature with any extra braising liquid for dipping and extra salt and pepper.
REAL TOMATOES
I’m excited that after years of tasteless, pale, and uniform tomatoes, farmers are growing real tomatoes again. Tomatoes stopped being real tomatoes at some point in the 1950s, when agribusiness and food transportation became priorities in the United States. Farmers started growing new hybrid tomato varieties throughout the country, because they were consistent in size and shape and could be shipped cross-country without suffering. But in this process, the best features of tomatoes—tender skin, juicy flesh, and burst-in-your-mouth flavor—were lost. Thank goodness that some farmers are now starting to reverse that trend, planting beautiful, mouthwatering tomatoes of all colors, sizes, and shapes.
The term
heirloom
refers to many fruits, vegetables, and grains, including beans, apples, squash, wheat, and tomatoes. Heirlooms are open-pollinated plants (non-hybrids) that were bred over generations for qualities such as flavor and viability in local growing conditions. Heirloom varieties usually have a history or folklore of their own.
Farmers charge more for heirloom tomatoes—up to $8 apiece in some markets—because of their low yield and because they are highly perishable. But those who have tasted an heirloom tomato know they are worth every cent.
There are many heirloom varieties, so ask to taste them all and choose the ones you like best. For flavor, I like brandywine tomatoes; for color and juiciness, I like German Johnson; and for acidity, I like Valencia. All three of these contain a lot of water, and so they’re best for eating raw or making gazpacho. They’re also delicious in flavoring rice and bulgur, and I make a tomato purée for those dishes, using renowned Mediterranean food expert and author Paula Wolfert’s technique. I split the tomato in half and remove as many seeds as possible with a small spoon. Then I hold the tomato half in one hand and, with the cut side facing out toward the large holes of a box grater, I grate the tomato until there’s nothing left but skin. Finally, I strain out the water and add the purée to risotto, pilaf, and pasta dishes.
Don’t refrigerate your tomatoes unless they are overripe. Refrigeration can change a tomato’s texture, making it slightly mealy, and can alter its flavor and reduce its fragrance.