Raspberry Corn Madeleines
As I wrote last month, Madeleines are to me the quintessential decadent breakfast of my childhood. But our tough times require us to rework decadent into everyday. These Madeleines are made from 49-cent Jiffy corn muffin mix, scented with the zests of orange and lemon, and stuffed with good raspberry jam. They have the distinct French shape with an unmistakable American flavor and ingenuity. Maybe tough times aren’t so hard to swallow after all…
Especially if you wash them down with a glass of cold milk or dunk them in your morning coffee.
As always, the full recipe and the full article text for this week’s French in a Flash is on Serious Eats! Bon app!
80-Cent Citrus Corn-Muffin Madeleines with Raspberry Confiture
- 1 box Jiffy corn muffin mix
- 1 egg
- 1/3 cup whole milk
- Zest of 1/2 orange
- Zest of 1/2 lemon
- 1/4 cup good quality raspberry jam or preserves (recommended: Bonne Maman)
- Preheat the oven to 400°F.
- In a large bowl, whisk together the corn muffin mix, egg, milk, and citrus zests. Allow to sit for 4 minutes. Then stir again quickly just before dolloping it into the Madeleine pans.
- Spray one 12-madeleine pan with nonstick cooking spray, or grease lightly with vegetable oil or butter. Spoon one overflowing tablespoon full of batter into each shell mold. Bake for 8 minutes.
- After 8 minutes in the oven, pull the madeleines out. Using a pastry bag filled with the raspberry jam, and a tip that is narrow enough to poke a precise hold in the madeleines, but wide enough not to get blocked up by seeds, stab a hole halfway into the center of each madeleine, and pipe the jam in slowly just until the jam fills the hole and starts coming out around the top of the madeleine. Little bullet holes for bleeding hearts. Bake 2 to 4 more minutes—2 minutes until done; 4 minutes until golden and crisp.
- Now you have some traditional French cakes flavored with a dash of American ingenuity. Transfer to a cooling rack to cool, or eat warm with extra jam and a cold glass of milk. Parfait!
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Muscat Grapes and Muscat Wine
I know we’re in the middle of a recession, but if I have one culinary extravagance, it’s fruit. I’d rather spend $2 on a pear that’s perfect, than $1 on a pear that’s hard as rock or mushy as meal and have to throw it away. Isn’t that devastating?! I even have a fruit dealer at my local market who can pick the perfect pear or pomegranate or plum or pomelo every time (he also, coincidentally, knocks some of the price off for me–thanks!).
Three years ago, my “dealer” introduced me to my latest addiction. I was at the market picking up my daily bread and cheese, and I wanted something to go with it. He smiled a grim little grin, like he knew he was letting me in for it. He plucked a perfect, plump grape, a lighter shade of pale green blushing Victorian rose. I popped it in my mouth, and my knees felt weak. Love at first bite. I knew at that moment that it was no apple in the Garden of Eden; there is only one fruit worth falling for, and it is the Muscat grape. The only catch? They were over $10 per pound. I actually saved up for grapes.
Now, April doesn’t mean rain showers. It doesn’t mean daffodils. It means that tiny window of Muscat grape eating is here again, and I’ve been eating them at a rate of about a bunch per day for the last week. Why? Because it seems that even Muscat grape stock is down! They’re selling at Whole Foods for just $2.99 per pound; only 50 cents more than regular unreliable sweet-tart green table grapes.
They taste of sweet flowers and what I imagine ambrosia must have tasted like. Sweet and fresh and fragrant. And you can wash them down with a glass of muscat dessert wine (made in France!).
The Musketeers were all for one, and one for all. I’m all for one thing too: Muscat! A Muscateer pour toujours!
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Posted by Kerry |
Digging for lemons in the Covered Market, Oxford
The BBC Radio Oxford website is up! It is in its skeletal form, but eventually, all the recipes, pictures, and links will be posted HERE.
Every time I use it, people gape, mouth askew, and demand, “What is that?”
Pomegranate Molasses Cookies
Actually, I have many secret ingredients, and now I have another new series at Serious Eats to showcase them. I love to shop, from Prada to parsley, and I hardly make it out of a gourmet shop without some little bottle of some dashing elixir tucked away for further use. Most of the time, they sound so appealing in the shop, but then they just sit there, alone and neglected in my pantry, and I have buyer’s remorse, just like when a dress goes unworn in my closet.
Pomegranate Molasses BBQ Ribs
So, I’ve taken to experimenting: uncovering esoteric ingredients, and telling you what they are, where they come, and what to do with them, recipes included. March’s Secret Ingredient is one of my all-time favorites: Pomegranate Molasses, cheap and chic (and sweet/tart!). And in this month’s installment, I show you how to make Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies, and Pomegranate Molasses Barbecue Sauce for Pomegranate Molasses BBQ Pork Ribs.
Now, I’m sharing this secret with you. But shh! Don’t you tell on me…
Pomegranate Molasses and Pine Nut Cookies
There is a little something you should know about me: I love to shop. And while my closet can attest to that fact, so can my pantry. When I travel I am always sure to devote at least half a day to culinary pursuits—wandering through markets like the Boqueria in Barcelona, or visiting little gourmet shops in Paris. Inevitably, I return laden with corked perfumiers’ bottles of French rose extract, painters’ tubes of Moroccan harissa, and tiny ominous packets of Venetian squid ink. And when I’m grounded back home in the States, I still find excuses to dally around any corner gourmet shop, combing the aisles like a pirate who stands on the X on his map and expects, rightly so, to uncover unprecedented treasure.
I get a secret thrill when I bring out of these little bottles or jars, and guinea pig them on my friends and family. Inevitably, eyes widen in delight and speculation, and a general chorus echoes down the table: “Mmm! What is that?” I love revealing the answer: “Orange flower water!” “No!” “Yes.” All of a sudden everyone at the table feels like they are sharing in a gourmet adventure, whisked away to some corner of a forgotten world where everyone sits around snacking on orange flower water and Raz-el-Hanout. What they don’t know is that I paid less than three dollars for a bottle of the stuff just across town at Fairway.