Tuesday, 15 January 2013

Good Lasagne? It's the Sauce!

Lasagne, being a dish I adore, is something I have eaten in many restaurants and friend's homes in various cities and countries without ever having a truly bad version.  Therefore it pains me to admit that my own had always let me down; no matter what I did, whether if I made my own sauce, or if I upped the ante and made my own sauce with my own garden Romas, or if I used herbs fresh from my garden, or if I boosted the  Béchamel with Parmesan--nothing worked, at least not to my taste buds.  


We would dutifully eat it and not say much; oh, but did we discuss all the other lasagnes!  The lasagne at that restaurant, at that friend's party, what did they have that mine didn't, how did they get their oomph?  I didn't want to take the easy way out--some refuse to ask directions, while others refuse to ask what's in a recipe.  Though in general, I am not this obstinate about seeking culinary assistance.

After some time and various fine-tunings, it was when I substituted Toulouse sausage for the ground beef and put a lot of fresh basil and then put in some more basil, and then even more--it was alarming to see all those green bits floating hither thither in the pot--that suddenly it became a good lasagne.  Though there are many versions as delicious, I prefer mine because I know first hand the determined, unrelenting stubbornness that went into its creation.


Tomato/Sausage Sauce
makes about 3 quarts--sauce freezes well

  • Tomatoes, fresh Romas/plum or canned plum tomatoes (best brand you can get)--60 fresh/frozen Romas or about three 16 oz cans
  • Garlic, at least 3-5 fat cloves
  • Bay Leaf, one or two
  • Basil, around 1/4 cup* packed fresh leaves, or a heaping T dried
  • Parmesan rind, several small ones
  • Sausages, Sweet Italian or Toulouse, 10-12
  • Any tomato juice leftover from using fresh tomatoes
  • Tomato paste, several tablespoons up to a half of a tube
  • Olive oil, extra virgin, a T or two
  • Carrot, peeled, small, grated very fine
  • Salt to taste, I use about 1 T.
  • Freshly ground black pepper, about 1/8-1/4 tsp  

Since the tomato sauce is an ocean of flavour in which all the other ingredients are submerged, it's the key to a good lasagne.  The sauce of course can be made in advance and frozen--just remember to thaw it before the day you make the lasagne!  Choose the best Sweet Italian (or even better, Toulouse) sausages you can find.


Spilt the casings and in a heavy bottom saucepan (enamelled iron Dutch oven for example) saute in a bit of olive oil till lightly browned.


Remove the browned sausage bits and drain most of the fat out of the pan, leaving a scant tablespoon.  Smash lightly several fat cloves of garlic, peel them, and then put them in a garlic press.


Wash the Romas.

Yes, that is a lonely beefsteak tomato on the upper right! 

Remove any stems and cut the Romas in half.  If using canned Romas, then coarsely chop them either in a food processor or by hand.  Make sure you add all their juice/sauce into the pot.

That's the fat drained from the sausages in the glass!

Put the crushed garlic in the heavy-bottomed pot and saute in the remaining fat for a minute or two.  Then add the tomatoes, tomato paste (start with a few tablespoons and increase to get the thickness you want), basil, bay leaf, any leftover tomato juice, grated carrot (it will eventually completely dissolve, giving the sauce a bit of sweetness and body) and the Parmesan rinds.

Note the frozen tomato juice and basil.

Cover and simmer for about four hours.  Pick out the skins as they roll off the simmering tomatoes (not necessary of course if using canned tomatoes)


When finished, the sauce will be thick and redolent with a spicy flavour.  Remove the bay leaf and Parmesan rinds which can be eaten--they are quite delicious! Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.


Lasagne

  • Lasagne noodles, egg-based ones with rough texture are the best, 12
  • Tomato sauce, see above, 4 cups*
  • Mozzarella, sliced about an 1/8th inch, 18 slices
  • Parmesan, grated, 1 cup*
  • Parmesan Bechamel (see below)

Parmesan Bechamel

  • Parmesan, grated, 1/4 cup*
  • milk, 1.5 cups*
  • Butter, 4 T
  • flour, 5 T
  • nutmeg, 1/8 tsp
  • salt to taste 
* American measure, that is, 8 oz

Using a large-enough, shallow pan or dish that can be covered, soak the lasagne noodles in boiling water for about five minutes.  Carefully remove them by sliding a thin spatula under each and place in a large bowl of cold water.  I work in batches of two, layering them in an oven dish as I assemble the lasagne.


Grate the Parmesan (make 4 equal piles), slice the mozzarella (3 piles of 6 slices each for a total of 18).  Spread a few tablespoons of sauce on the bottom of a suitable oven dish.  Place a layer of three overlapping noodles.  Spread about 6 tablespoons of sauce, then layer with 6 mozzarella slices and sprinkle with one pile of Parmesan.


Repeat for a total of three layers of cheese and sauce.  Finish with a fourth layer of noodles.


Top with the remaining of the sauce (if more than 6 T are left, then save the rest as the lasagne should not be too soupy) and spread evenly.


Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees F.  Gather ingredients for the Parmesan Béchamel.


Melt the butter over low heat and add the flour, stirring for a minute or so.



Slowly add the milk, stirring all the while still sauce is smooth.  Any lumps can be beaten out with a wire whisk.  Add the Parmesan and nutmeg.


Stir until all the cheese is melted and sauce is very smooth.  Salt to taste.


Pour ribbons of the sauce--you may need to whisk it just before pouring to increase liquidity--on the layered noodles and sprinkle the remaining pile of Parmesan on top to encourage browning.


Bake for about a half an hour at 350 degrees F if a creamy, custard-like texture is the goal. Bake longer if a crispier topping is desired.

Baked for about an hour

Wait for about five-ten minutes for the lasagne to solidify before serving.   This lasagne is shot through with a vividly flavoured, meaty tomato sauce and topped with a luscious, cheesy Béchamel resembling a savoury custard in texture.  It's quite good!

Bon appétit!

Related Posts

How to freeze fresh basil
Freezing Roma tomatoes

Wednesday, 9 January 2013

Pot Roast of Lamb: Easy Company Fare

Though the French adore lamb roasted until it is just à point, they also appreciate the resulting succulence when it is mitonnée, that is, braised in a savoury liquid for several hours until it reaches melt-in-your-mouth status.  This recipe is good for dinner guests because though it easily feeds a bunch of folks, it still has a fancy air about it.  Additionally, being simmered on the stove's top frees up the oven for other goodies which will round out a meal, not to mention this approach results in a ton of delicious gravy.


An oven free of a large roasting pan will happily accommodate potatoes au gratin--peeled taters are sliced 1/4 inch thick and then are barely covered and simmered in cream first infused with a sprig of flat leaf parsley, a half of a bay leaf, a bit of thyme, and a couple of peeled garlic cloves (just simmer the herbs in the cream for a few minutes before adding the sliced potatoes).

When the slices are almost tender (test with a small knife's tip) which takes about five to ten minutes, add salt and freshly ground black pepper, pour the contents of the saucepan into an oven dish, and bake at 350 degrees F/176 degrees C for about an hour or until the potatoes are gorgeously browned and engorged with cream, retaining their earthiness while being decadently luscious.

I used Desiree potatoes from my potager--any all-purpose variety will work.

Harvested fresh from the winter potager, baby Brussels sprouts roasted with a bit of lemon juice, lots of olive oil, a bit of garlic, and crusted over with Parmesan can find room in the oven also.  Elise's recipe is here.  Remember the smaller sprouts, the faster they will be ready--don't roast them until they are too crunchy.  Larger sprouts can be halved.  If a first course is desired, Velouté de Carottes would be a nice choice.


Though this dish is suitable for special occasions, it also is another one of my culinary workhorses, because I can make several different meals from it--left-over sliced lamb smothered in that plentiful gravy, Shepherd's pie made from minced lamb with the remaining gravy, and last but not least, Scotch broth made from the bone with still some meat on it (Link to my recipes for Shepherd's pie and Scotch broth is at the end of this post).

The lamb can be pot-roasted in advance.  When cold, it is much easier to slice and can be gently simmered in a covered skillet of hot gravy for a minute or two.  The same approach can be used for any frozen left-overs.

I use a large, oval enamel roaster whose voluminous cover allows moisture to precipitate over the meat, providing basting on its own.  The pan is placed over two burners, though a  butcher can shorten the leg so it can fit into a Dutch oven which would require only one burner.

First soak a small handful of dried cepes.  Then brown the leg of lamb trimmed of most of its fat and weighing about five pounds (2 kilograms which feeds 6-8) on all sides in some olive oil on moderately high heat.  Searing meat in this manner can set off smoke detectors so turn on the stove's exhaust fan if there is one.  I also open a nearby window overlooking the garden so I can turn my face away from the sizzling pan to feel a blast of fresh, wintry air on my face.

It is a bit of a bother to turn the joint, but tongs/wooden spoons can help or when nothing else works, I handle the lamb with a big wad of paper towels while rotating the leg where it needs to go.  Browning takes about ten minutes.


Remove the joint onto a platter so all the fat can be drained into a jar for disposal. Never pour animal fat down the kitchen sink unless you are weird enough to enjoy the considerable trouble of dislodging a column of solid fat from the plumbing.


Add the softened cepes along with their strained liquid to the pan, scraping to dissolve all the crusty bits.  Stir in a couple of tablespoons of tomato paste, several smashed cloves of garlic, a bouquet garni with additional rosemary, and enough water so the bottom of the pan is covered with about an inch of liquid.  Make sure you put the leg of lamb back in the pan!

 

Though this style of pan is reputed to be self basting, I still like to ladle the gravy over the joint several times during the simmering which lasts about four hours.  Because?  Call me old fashioned, but I just can't believe a pot can be untended by the cook for that long.  I also flip the leg over and check to see if more water needs to be added.  About an hour or so before the meat will be done, start working on the au gratin and roasted Brussels sprouts.


The lamb is done when it is almost ready to fall off the bone as you don't want the connective tissue to break down so much it just shreds.  Remove it carefully--in the sense it can easily slide onto the floor before you even notice you are forlornly holding an empty plate--and place on a platter.


Dayo is musing there was this large, covered pan on the stove for hours--no lamb in sight, and then WHAM!  In other words, it was a brilliant, olfactory-and-visual, full-frontal assault on my part which gave Dayo no time to pull any sneaky maneuvers from his box on the opposite end of the long, food-preparation table.

How did you do that, Mommy?

Pour out gravy into a saucepan and put the leg back into the covered roasting pan to keep warm.  Skim off any fat and remove the bouquet garni and any visible garlic skins.  If it is too thin and not rich enough, reduce over high heat until it is the way you like.  The gravy then can be blended right in the pot by using a stick blender which will further thicken it.  Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.  Keep gravy hot and carve the meat.
  


An easy dessert is frozen strawberries from the summer garden topped with whipped cream.


In the garden, a warm winter is encouraging early signs of growth.  Some daffodils are coming up.


As are a few fragrant sweet violets which are the ones that can be candied, and as it is fairly easy to do will be something I eventually do.  Violets were Napoleon's favourite flower, and candied violets are a speciality from Toulouse.  They are winter bloomers with luxurious, ground-covering evergreen foliage which do well in the shade.

A long time ago,  I bought a single chocolate decorated with a candied violet from an exceedingly fancy New York City sweet shop--as it was all I could afford--and never forgot its delicate but refreshing taste and fragrance of violet.  Now I live in southwest France with my own fresh supply of violets!  Too cool.


Numerous English daisies are popping up.  January's entry in Edith Holden's The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady has nearly two pages written in her calligraphy along with several of her illustrations devoted to Bellis perennis.  Among other excerpts of poems quoted are:

Wee, modest, crimson-tippet flower
Burns

Daises, ye flowers of lowly birth
Embroiderers of the carpet earth
That gem the velvet sod;
Clare 


The  gold-dusted evergreen Aucuba hedge brightens up a shady garden corner.


The heather nods its pink racemes in the pale winter sun.


For the last week or so, most mornings I have been hauling sack after sack of oak leaves from a small copse nearby.  I use a plastic crate lid as both a rake and shovel. This leaf bounty is part of my efforts to produce as much of leaf mould as I can as it significantly increases the moisture retention of soil, especially a thin, sun-baked one as mine.  Since it takes about a year to break down into mould, I get also a year's supply of mulch which suppresses weeds and conserves moisture.


Dayo is very interested in my leaf project.  Here he is readying his claws for some important work.


He helps shreds the leaves.  He does this much needed work in a very clever way--he pounces on the pile, creating a small valley which he then kneads with great focus. 


À bientôt!


Related Links
The definitive article on the raging to-sear-or-not-to sear meat controversy.

Related Posts 
How to Freeze Strawberries
Using Pot Roast of Lamb Leftovers:  Shepherd's Pie and Scotch Broth


Sunday, 23 December 2012

Joyeuses Fêtes!

For about two weeks, I, The Calm One, and Dayo all will be taking it easy--resting, enjoying good food, and being at home together.



We wish you all the most Joyeuses Fêtes!

(Regular weekly posting will resume January 8, 2013.)


Tuesday, 18 December 2012

A Berry Delicious Mess!

Since we wait around December to start enjoying the early summer strawberry harvest which I had sliced, lightly macerated in sugar, and then froze, it is now time to start coming up with ideas of how to use that bounty.  Of course strawberries can be defrosted partially--they become unappetisingly soggy if completely thawed--and served with whipped cream. 

However, I wanted to try something more elaborate, but not too fancy or difficult while perhaps learning a new culinary skill.  The solution turns out to be Eton Mess, a British pudding in which meringue pieces, sliced strawberries, strawberry coulis, and cream easily beaten into soft peaks* are combined without much finesse.

An appetising mess

Since the meringues are broken up into small pieces, it really does not matter if they are not rounds of sugary, whipped egg whites baked slowly to perfection.  Therefore, this recipe is great for learning how eventually to turn out superb meringues.  I am game if you are!  And if you are not game, it is permissible to buy already made meringues.


Ingredients
Makes six servings

  • Egg yolks, 3, from large, fresh eggs
  • Sugar, superfine, 6 oz (175 grams)
  • Strawberries, fresh (hulled) or frozen, 1 lb (450 grams)
  • Sugar, icing/confectioners, 1 rounded tbl
  • Cream, double/whipping, 20 oz (570 ml) 

Equipment

Electric mixer (large balloon whisk can be used instead, but it a lot of work)
Baking tray
Parchment paper

Pre-heat the oven to  300°F (150°C).  Separate whites from the yolks.  My method is to crack the egg into my well cleaned palm and let my fingers act as a sieve--the whites drain into the bowl on their own account.  Since it is imperative not to taint the white with any yolk, it is safest to drain each egg's white into a separate, small bowl.  This way, you will only waste that one egg's white.  A list of recipes using up egg yolks is found here. Measure out sugar.  If you do not have superfine sugar then whir it in your processor for a few minutes until fine, but not powdery.


Make sure your mixing bowl and whipping attachment are scrupulously clean and dry.  Put whites in the mixer's bowl and starting on low speed, gradually work up to high speed, beating until they form soft peaks.


Add tablespoon by tablespoon the sugar while beating at high speed until all the sugar is added (you may have to stop the mixer when adding the sugar as to prevent it spraying all over you), and the whites are stiff and shiny.*  If they are mixed past this point, their structure will start to break down.


With a wooden spoon, I eased out gently all that egg white jammed into the beater.


Place heaping tablespoons of the mixture onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper to make nine, large (4 inches in diameter) meringues.  Since these will not be served whole as they will be broken up to go into Eton Mess,  I practised making depressions with a tablespoon in preparation for making Les Petites Mont Blancs which are filled with chestnut puree, fromage frais, and mascapone. Hopefully I will be able to make those for New Year Day.


Dayo felt a little left out so he pretended to be a meringue.


Position the baking tray in the centre of the oven and turn the heat down to 275°F (140°C) and bake for 1 hour.   Then turn the oven off, leaving the meringues inside until the oven is completely cold or if more convenient to dry out overnight.

Since these meringues were baked as long as an hour, they are a light and tasty shade of caramelised brownAs I taste tested one, it melted in my mouth like solid cotton candy.  The ones I will eventually do for Les Petites Mont Blancs need to be baked half that time to ensure they stay mostly white befitting a representation of a snowy mountain peak.

Basically airy, crisp sugar cookies

Traditionally fresh, in-season strawberries are used, but frozen ones worked out well.

Superb Gariguettes from our summer garden

Slice or chop half the strawberries and reserve.  Put the other half along with the tablespoon of confectioner's sugar into a blender/processor to make the coulis.  Alternatively, use a stick mixer.


Pass through a fine wire mesh sieve to get rid of the tiny seeds.


Beat cream until soft, rounded peaks* form.


Gather together the meringues, strawberry coulis, beaten cream, and strawberries.


Break up the meringues into small chunks.  Add the strawberries and then the cream.


Fold gently the cream into the meringue pieces and strawberries.  When folding which ensures the delicate, foamy structure of either beaten egg whites or cream remains mostly intact, a wooden spoon--some use a rubber spatula or a large balloon whisk--is placed at the bottom of the bowl's inner side and moved under the mixture.

The filled spoon is then lifted upward while sliding it vertically along the bowl's inner side as to bring the mixture down on itself.  Move the bowl a quarter turn after each folding.  It took me about about four turns and ten seconds to fold in the cream.  Note the folding in the coulis is the next step so the mess being under mixed at this stage is not a problem. 


Reserve about a quarter cup of the coulis and lightly fold the rest to get a marbled effect.


Spoon into individual dishes and dribble the reserved coulis on top.  Serve immediately.  Alternatively, all the mess can be put in a large serving bowl and bought to table along with the coulis in a small pitcher.


This is the kind of dessert for which dessert spoons were created.  One aspect I enjoyed about our living in England was seeing that comforting and familiar spoon put horizontally above the place setting regardless of the restaurant's status.  The Eton Mess?  We found it to be scrumptious with the meringues' over-the-top sweetness being more than balanced by the unsweetened cream and tart berries/coulis.

Bon appétit! 

RELATED LINKS
*How to identify the various stages of beaten egg whites and whipped cream

RELATED POSTS
Harvesting and freezing strawberries
How to Make Strawberry Jam