Nectarine Bourbon Galette & A Galette Party!

Recently, Kingston and I threw a little party for a couple of preschool friends that he's stayed in touch with and seen often this summer.

Everyone needs friends, but before I had a child, and a boy no less, I didn't spend much time thinking about how children actually develop relationships with one another. It's been fascinating, though, to watch Kingston -- and his often rough-and-tumble guy buddies -- create relationships filled with a lot of visible tenderness.

It's been an important reminder to me of how real, sustained connection with others allows us to truly thrive. To kick your feet and swing together toward the sky, laughing and calling out to each another with joy. Or, to hold hands just because you're happy to see each other. Does it get any better than that?

The day of our party, the boys came over with their moms and we quickly got going. I had set up three stations on our dining room table where we could work together. Mamas paired up with their boys to roll out dough that I had made ahead of time. Sure, there was some manhandling involved. Dough was squished with warm hands and much enthusiasm. But, it was all okay.

We filled our rolled-out dough with different types of fruit: blueberries we'd picked together a few days earlier at a farm in Ferndale, pears that one smart mama had preserved with a dash of brandy last summer. Then, we made a couple of galettes with nectarines from Eastern Washington.

Which brings me to the nectarine. Why is it that I've never heard anyone gush about eating the "perfect" nectarine? Usually, that sort of praise is reserved for summer peaches and jewel-toned plums. I mean, listen to Mark Bittman in his book, How to Cook Everything. He writes, "The peach is not only delicious. It can be downright erotic. Nectarines, good as they are, are not in the same league."

Pretty gushy.

But the nectarine! Let's not forget about its virtues. I get woozy from their sweet aroma as they sit nonchalantly on the kitchen counter. The smooth-skinned fruit doesn't have to be peeled like its fuzzier relative. When I eat a juicy nectarine out of hand, I don't wince when I eat the skin, like I do with many types of plums. In my mind, it is equal to any peach.

But back to the dough squishing.

I have to admit that I was very surprised once I pulled our first tray of goodies out of the oven. The "well-handled" dough had become transformed into golden, flakey crust. What a surprise! 

To me, this proved a couple of important things. First, that anyone can bake a beautiful free form galette or tart. And second, that if you are going to let anyone, including a bunch of preschoolers make pastries, this is a good dough recipe to use.

Even if you are only four years old, baking and creating together offers a lot of positives that go beyond pleasing the palate and the belly. Our activity that afternoon let both kids and grownups work and learn together in a joyful, fun and tactile way. It also gave us a chance to strengthen connections and deepen friendships.

After everyone ate, helped clean up and then went home, I found another round of dough in the fridge, along with extra nectarines. I rolled out the dough, sliced the fruit and tipped in a bit of Kentucky bourbon. As I put my own grown-up galette into the oven, I felt content. Full of the sweetness of fruit, buttery crust and the tender kindness of friendship.

Nectarine Bourbon Galette
Here's my ode to the nectarine. Since I was going for quickly making a lot of dough for the party, I used my food processor. You can use the food processor method here or also make this by hand. If you want to make a larger quantity of dough to throw your own party, simply multiply the amounts. In my 14-cup food processor, I am able to make up to four times the amount of the dough below.

Makes one large galette.

Ingredients:
Crust
1 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup spelt flour (or use all-purpose)
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup butter, cold, cut into small cubes
1/4 cup ice water

Filling
5 cup nectarine slices, about 1/4 to 1/3 inch thick
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest, finely minced
1 tablespoon bourbon
1/4 cup natural cane sugar, plus 1 tablespoon
1/4 cup natural brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/3 c almonds, coarsely ground
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar

To finish
1 egg white
1 tablespoon water
2 tablespoons turbinado sugar

Instructions:
Preheat oven to 375°F. Prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper.

In a food processor, pulse together flour(s) and salt. Add butter, pulse for no longer than 10 seconds. The mixture will look like coarse cornmeal. Turn processor on then add water in a steady stream. It will become incorporated within 15 to 20 seconds and you'll see the dough come together. Don't process it longer, or your dough may become tough. Remove dough from bowl of processor and onto a lightly floured board or counter top. Form into a flat round, about 1 1/4-inch thick. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and place in refrigerator while preparing the filling.

In a large bowl, toss together nectarine slices, bourbon, sugars and salt. Set aside. In a small bowl, mix together ground almonds, flour and sugar. Set aside.

On a work surface lightly dusted with flour, roll out chilled dough. Use light pressure, rolling from the middle toward but not all the way to the edge. Give the dough quarter turns as you go. When the dough is about 10 inches in diameter, dust lightly with flour then flip over. Continue rolling your circle of dough until it is 12 inches in diameter. Fold dough into quarters and transfer to prepared baking sheet. Spoon almond mixture onto the middle and spread into a thin, circular layer. Spread nectarine mixture on top, leaving a 3-inch edge of uncovered dough. Fold edges of dough over the filling, leaving the center part exposed, and forming a more or less circular shape.

Beat together egg white and water. Brush egg wash all over the dough. Sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Place on center rack of preheated oven. After 20 minutes, rotate the galette and bake an additional 25 minutes, or until crust is golden to golden-brown and juices are bubbling.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Rhubarb & Wild Rose Galette

However damp the days are here, they have also been sweet with the fragrance of wild roses. About three weeks ago, the buds began their ephemeral bloom, first slowly and shyly, before unfurling their petals all at once in a show of pink exuberance. 

There are two varieties that I've seen growing right behind our house, at the edges of the woods and along trails all ever town: Woods' Rose (Rosa Woodsii) and the Nootka Rose (Rosa Nutkana). These flowers grow wild (and tall, up to four feet) around the Northwest, including along the Columbia River, in areas traversed by Lewis and Clark. In fact, these sweet, old-fashioned blooms, always demure and never too showy, are mentioned in the journals of their expedition.

Meriwether Lewis writes on June 10, 1806 that "there are two speceis of wild rose both quinquis petallis and of a damask red..." with quinquis petallis referring to the bloom being five-petaled rather than many-petaled like the cultivated roses we are more used to seeing.

The petals of the Woods' Roses are a much deeper pink than those of the Nootkas, which at times can be found in a blush hue so pale that it seems merely a variant shade of white. It seems to me that the flavors of the darker blooms are stronger in taste as well. I discovered this a few days ago when I was walking the dog, tasting the velvety petals as I came across them.

That's when I thought the roses might be perfect combined with rhubarb. They could add dimension to rhubarb's enthusiastically sour flavor, which I've always found to be one-note on its own. I think rhubarb does best in the company of friends, like a scrape of vanilla bean, a handful of strawberries or strands of citrus zest.

I decided to gather some petals and blooms before they were gone. I climbed onto a cherry log pushed up against our back fence and reached outward and upward toward a Woods' Rose shrub that was growing from the highest part of the drop where our retaining wall ends. Somehow I managed to pluck whole blooms and catch petals in my bucket without falling overboard! Success. 

You'll want to make this galette as soon as possible to catch the end of the wild roses and rhubarb. Or, if the bounty where you live stretches into June, you can wait until the 10th to commemorate Lewis and Clark's first encounter with these beautiful roses in 1806.

Rhubarb and Wild Rose Galette
Tart, sweet and aromatic with each bite, you can adjust the rose flavor with the amount of petals you use. Just be sure not to overdo it! You can also make this with petals from cultivated, pesticide-free roses, though you'll have to play around with how much you use. For a gluten-free version, use this crust from Aran, and then substitute white rice flour in the filling.

Adapted from Alice Waters. 

Makes 1 galette.

Ingredients
Dough for 1 pie or tart, such as the one here.

For the filling:
1 lb. rhubarb, all leaves and ends trimmed off
3/4 cup natural cane sugar, divided
generous pinch of kosher salt
6 tablespoons unbleached all-purposed flour, divided
1/4 cup almond meal
2 to 3 generous handfuls of wild rose petals (depending on how much rose flavor you want)

To finish:
1 tablespoon melted, unsalted butter
1 tablespoon Turbinado sugar

Instructions
Preheat oven to 400F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Wash and dry rhubarb. Cut stalks into pieces 1/4" thick and about 2" long. In a bowl, toss with 2 tablespoons of the flour, 1/2 cup sugar and the salt. Set aside.

Roll crust out to 1/8 inch thickness to form a 14" circle. Transfer to prepared baking sheet to finish assembly of galette. 

In a small bowl combine remaining 1/4 cup sugar and the almond meal. Spoon mixture onto the middle of your circle of dough then push out toward edges leaving a 1 1/2 inch border uncovered. Place pieces of rhubarb at the edge of the circle of dough and roll the dough over the rhubard and crimp, turning the pan as needed to form a rim which will prevent juices from flowing out of your galette during baking. 

Toss rose petals over the almond meal mixture. Place the remaining pieces of rhubarb on top, in whatever pattern you like, covering everything up to the edges. Brush rim with melted butter then sprinkle with the Turbinado.

Place in middle rack in oven. Turn tray after 15 minutes of baking. After another 15 minutes turn again. Do this again a third time, for a total of 45 minutes of baking time. 

Cool competely then sprinkle with more rose petals, if you like. Serve alone or with a dollop of whipped cream. 

A Winter Sorbet (Orange-Pomegranate)

It can be a rollercoaster ride around here this time of year. In the past week, we've had high winds, mud slide warnings and flood watches, with a rogue spot of sun blotted out by rain via what are known as atmospheric rivers.

And, it's not technically winter yet.

The winters of my childhood were nothing like the ones here in Western Washington. We had sunny and warm Southern California days with clear blue skies and cool nights. We could walk coatless, often even sweaterless, or if we were really daring, in shorts down to the park. 

We also had oranges. Piles of them, from the orange groves further inland. I can still see mounds of the thick-skinned navel type gathered on the kitchen table. They were an inextricable part of our Chinese immigrant household. Oranges, always oranges, after dinner.

Our uncles would tote them into our house in large, white cartons that only they could lift. The adults were crazy for them, polishing off case after case. Each time we walked into one of our many aunts or uncles' homes, we'd be greeted with the offer of tea and oranges. As a child, I wondered what magical sway the citrus orbs held over them. To me, the grown ups seemed bewitched.

Each of us kids would try to peel the fruit in one ragged spiral. I, being the youngest, was the most inexperienced, the slowest, the least competititve. With my small fingers, my orange finally clean of pith and peel, I would pry open the ball of segments, the sweet juice running down my forearms.

Even as a tiny child, I was greedy for every last drop of goodness. I wanted to -- and did -- slurp all of the juices off my hands, my arms. 

I didn't wonder, until I got older, and found out about things like cheesecake and chocolate chip cookies (which didn't exist in our home) whether there was anything better than a sweet winter orange from San Bernadino.

Honestly, I don't think there is.

A Winter Sorbet
I was interested in trying out the technique that the River Cafe uses to make their Strawberry Lemon Sorbet. They puree an entire lemon along with the sugar to bypass the usual simple syrup and add a touch of pleasing bitterness. I think it adds some body and textural interest as well. I've used all sugar here, but if you want a smoother result, you can sub out part of the sugar with a non-high fructose corn syrup. You can also remove the orange pulp and zest before freezing by pressing your mixture through a fine-meshed sieve. But, I like the texture! 

Adapted from River Cafe via Food 52's Genius Recipes (a terrific book!).

Makes about 1 1/2 quarts.

Ingredients
2 1/2 cups cold orange juice, freshly squeezed
1 1/4 cups cold pomegranate juice
1/2 an orange, preferably organic and cut into pieces
1 cup of granulated sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice

Instructions
Mix the orange and pomegranate juices together in a large, 4-cup measuring cup. In a food processor, blitz together the orange pieces and sugar. If it remains clumpy add a spoonful or two of the juice you've measured out. Add pureed mixture to orange and pomegranate juices. Add lemon juice. 

Freeze according to instructions on your ice cream maker. It will be soft, so if you'd like it firmer transfer it to an airtight container and freeze for four hours before serving. This is nice served in small portions after a rich meal. 

Variation: To make into a sherbet add one cup of whole milk, half and half, or heavy cream to the fruit and juice mixture and freeze according to your ice cream maker's instructions.

Today's Bonus, my favorite song mentioning tea and oranges, "Suzanne," by Leonard Cohen. Actually, one of my all-time favorite songs by one of my all-time favorite artists. Enjoy!

Cherry-Blueberry Iced Terrine & A Rooster Dinner

We needed a special dessert for our dinner this past Sunday. Not because it was Fourth of July weekend, a birthday, or anything like that. 

My brother, Jackson, was coming over to eat his roosters.

Two chicks from the flock of Langshans and Delawares he was raising, all of whom were meant to be laying hens, had the appearance of having developed into males. This guess was confirmed when one day last week, the first began crowing. The following day the second did the same. 

Something had to be done. Roosters, you see, are not allowed within our city limits due to the disruptive, early-morning noise they make. A neighbor had already stopped by to remind Jackson about this.

Jackson quickly put them on craigslist and immediately received several phone calls from people who sounded very eager to take the unwanted roosters.

"What do you think they want to do with them?" I asked.

He had no idea. He also hadn't told any of them to come over to take the birds. I sensed some ambivalence from him about giving them away. 

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"Why don't we cook them? We can make coq au vin," I blurted, in some perhaps, misguided attempt to get to the bottom of his ambivalence.

After all, I had never made coq au vin before, and had only eaten it once in Belgium about a million years ago. (And again, why didn't he want to just get rid of the roosters anyway when there were eager takers awaiting his return calls?)

But I had just read through the coq au vin recipe in Mimi Thorisson's cookbook. Why not try it?

To my surprise, his face lit up at my suggestion. Then he said okay.

Stipulations, boundaries, expectations must always be immediately set forth when dealing with one's own family members in relation to such matters as slaughtering and processing an animal. 

"You need to make sure they're totally clean, I mean like chicken from the supermarket," I said emphatically.

This was my PTSD speaking, from him suddenly showing up last year at my house with some dead chickens, feet and heads still attached, feathers on -- the creatures plonked into a heap at the bottom of a Home Depot bucket. 

"Okay, okay," He agreed.

The roosters arrived mostly clean. I followed Mimi's recipe, which resulted in tender, flavorful meat with a rich, inky sauce. Everyone at dinner agreed that it was a tasty dish. Then, our friend, Ralph, stopped by and tried it. He remarked that he was surprised that the meat wasn't tough.

The conversation came around to us talking about eating something you've raised yourself. My brother commented that the roosters were twelve weeks old when he killed them and that he had raised them from tiny chicks. There was something to that. He had a wistful look in his eye. 

Then, he told us that he'd followed our mom's tip (she once lived on a farm in Kowloon) to sneak up on the rooster and step on its foot so it can't run away from you. She had also directed him to pick up the rooster, cuddle it and gently stroke it so it would be relaxed and happy before he slit its neck.

Perhaps that is the key to a delectable coq au vin? I'm not quite sure.

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What I can tell you is that while many people move further and further away from knowing the sources of their food, including the meat they consume, there is something powerful about knowing that two roosters that were raised -- then slaughtered -- by my brother were made into something delicious that our friends and family could share around a table.

I would assert that the act of sharing this meal tied us together in a way that made us better humans. It made us think, and sparked conversation between all of us about the meaning of where our food comes from, why it matters. 

That night, Ralph, recalled a scene in The Last of the Mohicans, which he read when he was a boy and still remembered vividly. After a deer hunt, the hunters thanked the animal for providing, in its death, for them and their families.  

Roosters, we thank you. I remember when I would hand over strawberry tops, spinach stems, and other scraps to my brother for your enjoyment. I hope you liked when we tossed you meal worms and said "Hello ladies!" even though you were anything but. 

You gave us a wonderful meal. You were the highlight. Even the spectacular dessert we had afterward could not eclipse you. 

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Iced Cherry and Blueberry Terrine
Really, I'm not exaggerating, but every time I offer a slice of this to anyone, they just stare at it and say "Wow," before they actually eat it. Make it when you want to impress someone. If you don't have an ice cream machine, this is the perfect almost-ice cream treat for you. Actually, I might go so far as to say it is even better than ice cream, with it's layers of textures and flavors. And zero churning! It's super-easy to make and comes together quickly once you have all the elements ready. You will have to turn on the oven for parts of this, but please trust me on this one: it's worth it.

You can play around with the types of fruits you use. There is no sugar added to the cream since the meringues add the requisite sweetness. While there is a four-hour minimum freeze time, this is best eaten within 24 hours, if not sooner. It will start to get icy after that, unless you have it well wrapped and in an insulated, freezer-proof container.

But why try to save it? I think this is the sort of thing you should invite a bunch of friends over to eat right when it's ready. You don't need to have any particular reason like a rooster dinner! Do it just because it's delicious and you want to share something that will make everybody happy. Hand anyone a slice of this and I promise his eyes will light up.

Adapted from Nigel Slater's wonderful book, Ripe.

Makes 10 servings.

Ingredients
For the terrine:
Roasted red cherries and blueberries (see below*)
2 cups heavy whipping cream
3/4 cup chocolate almond meringues (see below**), crumbled

*For the roasted cherries and blueberries:
2 cups red cherries
Pinch of cinnamon
1 1/2 cups blueberries
1 teaspoon Lyle's Golden Syrup, maple syrup, or honey

**For the chocolate almond meringues:
5 egg whites 
1 1/2 cups superfine sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/3 cup bittersweet chocolate (use the best you can find, hopefully 60-72% cacao), finely chopped
1/2 cup raw, sliced almonds

Instructions
Make the meringues:
Preheat oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Spread the sugar on the parchment and bake for 7 minutes, until the sugar is hot and the edges are just beginning to dissolve. 

While the sugar is heating up, place the egg whites in clean bowl (make sure there is no fat residue of any kind, including yolk). Using a stand mixer, whisk the whites on medium until foamy. Add vanilla. When the sugar is ready, pour it slowly in a stream into the the whites while your whisk is still going. Once the sugar is incorporated, turn to high and beat for another 9 minutes until the whites are firm, shiny, and smooth. The meringue should be cool at this point.

Fold in the chocolate. Spread almonds on a large plate. Using two spoons, gather a scoop of the meringue and roll the bottom on top of the almonds. Place the meringue onto the prepared baking sheet. Continue in the same manner with the remaining meringue. Make sure to leave enough room between the meringues, as they will expand.

Bake for two hours. Allow to cool before removing to a wire rack to complete cooling. Meringues may be prepared up to 2 days ahead of time and stored in a tightly sealed container. You will have a bit of extra after you have finished making the terrine. 

Make the roasted cherries and blueberries:
Preheat oven to 425°F. Cut cherries in half and pit them. Place in a single layer in a small baking pan. Add cinnamon. Place blueberries in a single layer in a separate baking pan. Drizzle golden syrup over the blueberries. Bake for 15 minutes, until the fruit have given up juices which have thickened slightly. Cool completely. Fruit may be prepared up to 3 days ahead.

And finally, for the terrine:
Prepare a loaf pan by lining it with plastic wrap. Allow the edges of the wrap to drape over the sides. Press wrap into the pan.

Place whipping cream in bowl of stand mixer. Using whisk attachment, beat the cream until it is just starting to thicken but has not yet formed peaks. Remove from mixer. Add crumbled meringues, distributing it throughout the whipped cream. 

Place a layer of the whipped cream-meringue mixture (half) into the bottom of the prepared loaf pan. Add the cherries, carefully swirling them quickly and with a light hand through the cream. Add another layer (the other half) of the remaining whipped cream-meringue. Drizzle the roasted blueberries and syrup over and then swirl quickly and with a light hand through the second whipped cream layer. Cover completely with plastic wrap. I added another layer of foil for more secure coverage.

Place in freezer for 4 hours and up to 24 hours. To serve, remove terrine from loaf pan by lifting the edges of the plastic wrap. Unwrap terrine and slice into 1-inch slices. Serve immediately. 

Best when eaten within 24 hours.

Roasted Blueberry and Lemon Balm Ice Cream

Blueberries are the friendliest and easiest to love of all the berry types available to us here in Western Washington. Sweet, slightly tart and free of tiny seeds or pits, when the blues are plentiful, we snack on them all day. 

We freeze pounds and pounds of them every summer. Usually they lasts us until about February, March if we're lucky.

Last August, Kingston and I were down at Bow Hill Blueberry Farm picking enough beautiful organic fruit to keep us happy through the cold months.

After our busy morning, our trunk packed with fruit, we paused for some ice cream. Kingston hopped around on the bench out front, eager for us to dig into the single-serving container. Together, we scooped up the creamy goodness with tiny wooden spatulas. 

The ice cream was made by a certain San Juan Island purveyor. It was just the right temperature for cooling off on an already warm morning. We both certainly enjoyed it a lot. But as I was eating it, I kept thinking that I wanted more of that spark of cheerful blueberry flavor.

So, when we opened this week's box from our CSA to find the first of this season's blueberries, last summer's blueberry ice cream at Bow Hill popped into my mind. A note in the CSA box suggested that we make blueberry shortcakes, but I had other ideas of course. Ice cream!

And off I went.

Inspired by my favorte ice cream maker, David Liebovitz, I drizzled Lyle's Golden Syrup over the berries and put them in the oven. After half an hour, the downstairs of our house smelled intensely like blueberries. The extra water content in the berries had oozed out and evaporated, leaving behind a thick purple syrup alive with berry flavor.

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A bunch of lemon balm was also in our CSA box. I tore off a leaf and bit into it to discover a deep lemony aroma with strong floral notes. Blueberry and lemon are ideal partners. The lemon balm, which contains both herbaceous and floral scents, would add a citrusy quality with undertones of more.

This is an ice cream with deep blueberry flavor. Each bite is full of the whole, roasted berries which are both toothsome and fruity.

Kingston and I served this to his Dad and his Uncle Jack, who is also a Dad, for Father's Day. The guys ate everything without uttering a word. 

"Does it taste blueberry-ish enough?" I dared to ask while they were still eating.

Silence. Then, nods all around. 

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Blueberry and Lemon Balm Ice Cream
A perfect treat for Father's Day, Midsummer's Day, or any time, really. It's for anyone who loves blueberry flavor, plus more.

Adapted from David Liebovitz.

Ingredients:

For the roasted blueberries:
1 lb. blueberries, fresh or frozen
2 tablespoons Lyle's Golden Syrup (or substitute honey)

For the ice cream custard:
1 3/4 cup whole milk
1/2 cup (100 g) sugar
2 teaspoons finely chopped lemon balm
3 strips of lemon zest
1 cup heavy whipping cream
5 egg yolks

Instructions:

For the blueberries:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Place blueberries in one roasting pan (use two if needed) large enough so that the berries remain in a single layer. Drizzle the Golden Syrup over the berries. Place in the preheated oven and roast for 30-35 minutes, stirring at least once. Roast until the berries have given up some of their liquid and a thick, purple syrup has formed. Place berries in a container and set aside to cool.

Blueberries may be prepared up to three days ahead.

For the ice cream custard:
In a large bowl, prepare an ice bath. Place a smaller bowl in the ice bath and set a fine-meshed strainer on top. Pour heavy cream through the sieve into the bowl.

In a small saucepan, combine sugar and milk. On medium-low heat, warm the mixture. When warm, add the lemon balm and lemon zest. Turn off heat, cover with lid, and allow flavors to infuse for 30 minutes.

After the 30 minutes, reheat the milk over medium-low heat until it is hot, Stir together egg yolks. Add a few tablespoons of milk to the yolks and stir quickly. Add a bit more milk and stir again. This warms up the egg yolks and prevents them from curdling.

Pour the yolk mixture into the heated milk-sugar mixture and stir quickly using a heat-proof spatula. Continue stirring and scraping the bottom. This will prevent lumps and clumps from forming. As you stir and scrape, you will eventually notice that the bottom is becoming easier to scrape. It almost feels silky, as if the spatula is gliding across the bottom of the saucepan. This is a sign that your custard is nearly done. It is fully done when the mixture coats the spatula.

Pour the custard through the sieve and into the bowl of cream. Mix quickly and vigorously so that everything is combined and cools slightly. Cover the bowl and place in the refrigerator to cool completely. Overnight is best.

When the mixture has thoroughly cooled, place it in your ice cream maker and churn according to manufacturer's instructions. Once you have started the churning, add the blueberry mixture. When done with churning, place the finished ice cream in a freezer-proof container and put in the freezer for a few hours to harden a bit more.

Serve plain or with some fresh berries, and garnish with lemon balm leaves.