This here is a quick sub-post, to show a few more pictures relevant to the previous post. I normally don’t replate and retake pictures, but it’s been bugging me that I didn’t quite get a proper picture the first time round, and this dessert has been on my mind all week. It’s twisty nature reminds me of how conflicted I currently feel about work. I mean, I love work, but I also don’t love work. But I love work more than I don’t love it, y’know. If that makes sense to anyone at all.

I also realised I forgot to mention a couple of things. Firstly, Sneh of Gel’s Kitchen featured me in her ten questions series (thanks Sneh). If you’re new to Gel’s Kitchen, you might want to read her post on her ten fondest food memories and check out a very yummy looking recipe for potato proscuitto matzo balls.

Less recently, I wrote a review of one of my all-time favourite baking books for The Gastronomer’s Bookshelf, run by Mark (No Special Effects) and Duncan (Syrup & Tang). Look to this site for news on the latest cookbook releases and for reviews for all those cookbooks you’ve been eyeing but have been unsure about buying (we all have a list of those, don’t we?).

Hope everyone is having a fabulous weekend!

I went clothes shopping the other day and remembered why I dislike it so much. Nothing ever seems to fit me properly. It will be just right in one spot, but too big in another and too small somewhere else. Jeans, for example, are always too long. Whenever I go shopping, I have to base my decisions on the true cost of any item of clothing, which is usually the inflated price tag plus the hidden cost of getting it altered.

So I was standing in the change room, weighing up the benefits of a Little Joe top I had fallen in love with which was too big in the shoulder area, and it occured to me that I also experience similar hidden costs at work and in life. Unfortunately, there is no price tag you can place on the value of working a specific job or making a significant decision in life. How then will you know if you can afford these costs? At what point will you be able to recognise that the costs are starting to outweigh the benefits? When is it time to put the job back on the rack and try something else?

Maybe for me, clothes shopping is like life. I’m not particularly adept at it. I stumble along, managing to be vaguely presentable and every now and then, meet people along the way who I ‘fit’ with.

This dessert is inspired by Jordan Khan and the classic flavours of lemon meringue pie. The frozen liquid sable recipe is from Under Pressure by Thomas Keller. It is sandy, like normal baked sable, and melts luxuriously on the tongue. Because it is liquidised, it is capable of being frozen and twisted or cut into unusual shapes. My original twists of sable looked slightly more impressive than the picture, but it started to wilt a little as I spent too much time trying to get a decent shot. I might take more pictures next weekend when I have the time, and will include them in this post. This dessert is for Dan, who I believe as a friend, doesn’t have any hidden costs.

And for the record, I didn’t get the Little Joe top.

I had been waiting for what seemed like an excrutiatingly long time, for my preordered Fat Duck cookbook to arrive. A couple of days ago, I got home to the sight of a huge parcel leaning casually against our front door. I dragged it into the apartment and ripped it open, rather excitedly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the Fat Duck book, which at the time I thought I actually forgot to order. Instead, amongst the plastic packaging was a copy of Marcus Samuelsson’s Aquavit. Oh, when did I order that?

Flipping through the book (always from the back first, where the desserts are!), the words poppy, seed, parfait, caught my eye. I had never really thought about this before, but I seem to have a certain fondness for most things poppyseed-related. Lemon and poppyseed cake would be the first thing that comes to mind, but I’ve also seen lots of creative ways in which people utilise poppyseeds, such as in a vinaigrette dressing and in pasta dough. My friend Gabby also makes the most amazing Hungarian poppyseed pastry rolls called beigli.

This dish is my interpretation of Marcus Samuelsson’s recipe. The rhubarb in particular was very delicious – rhubarb and ginger are one of those heavenly matches that always leave me reaching for more. With the leftover cooking liquor, I diluted it a little, and froze it to make a pretty-in-pink granita to complement the rest of the dish.

As for the Fat Duck book? Well, I’ve since realised that I didn’t forget to order it afterall, so now I’m the ridiculous owner of not one but two copies of that gorgeous book. How, I ask you, do I manage to do these things!? 😛

Poppyseed Parfait :
(from Aquavit, by Marcus Samuelsson)

1 cup poppyseeds
1/4 cup pine nuts, lightly toasted
scant 1/4 cup honey
3 cups heavy cream
5 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons dark rum
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

Combine the poppyseeds, pine nuts and honey in a small saucepan and heat over low heat for about 5 minutes, until the honey is liquefied. Remove from the heat and let cool.

In a large bowl, whip the cream until it holds soft peaks. Set aside.

Combine the egg yolks, sugar, and rum in the top of a double boiler or a heatproof bowl. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds to the pan. Set over simmering water and heat, whisking constantly, until hot to the touch. Remove from the heat and continue to whisk until thick, pale yellow, and cool. Fold in the poppyseed mixture, then fold in the whipped cream.

Divide the parfait among eight glasses. Cover and freeze for at least 6 hours, or overnight.

Poached rhubarb:
(a variation on Marcus Samuelsson’s recipe for a rhubarb compote)

300g trimmed rhubarb stalks
1 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 stalk fresh lemongrass, lightly smashed and cut into 4cm lengths
1 small piece ginger, peeled and coarsely chopped
1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise in half

Cut the rhubarb into 4cm lengths. Slice each piece into 1/2, or 1/4 if they are thick pieces.

Combine the sugar, water, lemongrass and ginger in a medium saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add the seeds and pod to the pan. Bring to a boil, turn off the heat, and let stand for 20 minutes to infuse the liquid with flavour.

Strain the infused liquid and return it to the saucepan. Add the rhubarb and simmer for 10-15 minutes or until the pieces are just tender. Remove from the heat. Strain the liquid and let cool slightly before serving.