Showing posts with label rum. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rum. Show all posts

3.27.2014

Carrot Salad with Mint and Dates, and Old Man Guavaberry


Carrot salad is something you’ve probably had with redundancy.  Likely alongside picnic potato salad or waffle fries.  Often upstaged by something piggy.  Hardly deserving of a special introduction.

Unless it’s good enough to voluntarily make three times in a week.  Especially if two of those times occur on vacation.  Then it might be worthy of a little discussion. 

I first made this salad out of arguable necessity on the island of Sint Maarten.  There we drank a lot of mojitos and Caribs, and ate chicken and rib platters saddled with four starch sides at a “lolo” called Sky’s the Limit, because a man named Elvis said so. 

Hot damn Elvis was right. 

It was the best thing we ate on the island.  You probably know where I am going with our second best.  We were lucky to have a small kitchen in our room and access to a grocery store that stocked carrots as big as hammers. 

We also had mint, leftover from the mojito-making.  And dates, leftover from Christmas that my mother thriftily packed in her suitcase.  And orange juice, with a little booze in it, leftover from my plane ride to the island.  Because I do not like to fly.

Throw in some lime, because it’s a crime to go without it when drinking Carib beer.  And some mayo, because eating a tuna sandwich with a little sand in it is pretty much a necessity on any beach vacation.  And the rest, as they say, is history.

When we weren’t gushing about our good fortune of Creole chicken plates and Elvis, we were eating this salad.  Because it is very, very good.  The dates add a caramel depth that the more traditional raisin addition leaves out. The citrus punches up the carrot, while the mint adds a peppery, grassy edge. 

The splash of rum is really a tribute to Old Man Guavaberry, the distillery on the island.  I brought a bottle home because, well, who can resist something like that?

To be sure it wasn’t the ocean—or our special island hammer carrots—I made the salad again this week.  It was just as good as it was in the Caribbean at happy hour.  The view isn’t quite as nice now, which you can clearly see below.  

But it's not so bad seeing carrot salad and a bottle of Old Man Guava at home, either.

Carrot Salad with Mint and Dates

Ingredients:

1 bunch of carrots (about 5 large or 7 to 8 small), peeled and shredded
juice of ½ a lime
1 to 2 tbsp orange juice
4 to 5 tbsp of mayo
splash of rum, bourbon, etc. (about a tsp or two)
1 to 2 sprigs of mint, leaves taken off and roughly chopped
8 to 10 pitted dates, roughly chopped
pinch or two of red pepper flakes
salt, to taste

Instructions:

Place the shredded carrots in a bowl and add remaining ingredients; stir well.  Taste and adjust seasoning. (For the ingredients given in ranges, start with the smaller amount and add more as needed.)

Pair with obligatory rum cocktail.

Makes about ¾ quart

Notes:
-There is a link above explaining a “lolo,” but essentially it is a small roadside BBQ joint.  I highly suggest reading about Sky’s the Limit too.

-This is definitely a salad with a carefree island attitude; it’s easily adjustable.  The hardest part is the shredding.

-I’m sure you can leave off the booze.  But it’s fun to add a little vacation in.


6.12.2011

Nutmeg Spice Cake To Have and To Hold

It’s official, summer wedding season is on. I hosted an engagement party for two dear friends last week and I’m still recovering from my sister’s bachelorette Florida getaway the past weekend. Already, certain themes for this series of matrimony have emerged. Lifelong happiness? The need to shun sweets to squeeze into a dress?

No, for me the theme is ice cream. And cake. Paired with booze. This is entirely my issue. And I have to live with that.

In my defense, I hadn’t planned on my sister’s bachelorette dinner in Daytona being so dismal that it forced forgoing the final course: our party—instead—opting for a taxicab ride to the Winn Dixie for dessert, etc.. I hadn’t planned on washing down a gallon of ice cream with plonk at midnight on a beach vacation. Flash to me with a bottle of cheap Riesling in one hand and a tub of Rocky Road in the other.

On a more successful dessert fĂȘte, my friends’ engagement party on my patio featured a buffet of homemade ice cream, paired with a number of fizzy alcoholic beverages for an adult ice cream float fest that would have made Bacchus proud. And there was cake. Specifically, nutmeg spice cake with a rum meringue buttercream.

While cocktails + ice cream is good—and sometimes a necessity—booze with cake is better. This will forever be true for me. And it likely explains why I have such strong feelings about wedding cake. (Read: + open bar.)

I now sit with a leftover slice of cake and can’t help but think how mind-blowing it would be to wash it down with some brandy. The cake itself is like reincarnated eggnog. Each ethereal bite is a cakey reminder of the special occasion cocktail I hold near and dear to my heart.

With this dessert, two souls become one. It’s the perfect marriage of innocence and depravity, a fluffy, moist cake, wrapped in a meringue buttercream and tucked in with a nip of rum. It’s not overly showy, nor is it overly complex to create, but it’s a recipe worth hanging on to all the days of your life.

This cake is patient, this cake is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is nutmeg and rum together, in arguably their finest hour.

So I, Emily, take you, nutmeg cake, to be my pastry partner. And with this fork, I thee eat.

Nutmeg Spice Cake with Rum Meringue Buttercream

Adapted from Joanne Chang's cookbook Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston's Flour Bakery + Cafe

1/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup olive oil
1.5 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
3 eggs
2 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1-1/4 tsp nutmeg, freshly grated
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cloves, freshly ground
1/4 tsp ginger
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1 cup buttermilk, at room temperature

Rum Meringue Buttercream
1.5 cups sugar
6 egg whites
1.5 cups unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp kosher salt
4-8 tbsp dark rum (to taste)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour two 8 inch cake pans (if making a layer cake) or one 9 inch pan. In a stand mixer with paddle attachment, beat butter and oil for about 1 minute. On medium speed, slowly add in sugar and vanilla and beat until light and fluffy (about 2 minutes). Add eggs one at a time and beat until well combined.

In a medium bowl, sift flour, baking powder, baking soda, spices and salt. Add about a third of this mixture to creamed mixture above and mix until just combined; add half buttermilk, mix briefly; scrape down sides of bowl to incorporate all of mixture. On low speed, add half of remaining flour mixture and then the remaining buttermilk. Add remaining flour mixture and mix until just combined. Pour into prepared cake pan(s).

Bake cake in the middle of your preheated oven for 30-40 minutes.

To make the buttercream, in a small heatproof bowl, whisk sugar and egg whites together. Place a small amount of water in a saucepan big enough to allow your bowl to fit in it. When the water is simmering, place the bowl with the sugar and egg whites over the water; ideally, the bowl should not be touching the simmering water. Whisk the mixture for 6-8 minutes or until the mixture is hot to the touch.

Pour mixture into the bowl of a stand mixer and whip on medium-high speed for 6-8 minutes, until it becomes a light, white meringue. Turn the speed down to low and add the butter at 2 inch chunks and mix for 2-3 minutes. If the mixture looks curdled it will eventually smooth out, you may need to beat it for a few more minutes.

Add vanilla, salt and 4 tbsp of the rum and whip for an additional 1-2 minutes. Taste and add additional rum until desired, whipping briefly to incorporate.

Frost cake. Dust with additional freshly grated nutmeg. Eat cake.

Serves 8-12 (this depends on the size of your slices and the amount of spirits you've consumed)

Notes:
-The buttercream can be refrigerated for a few days if you aren't using it immediately; out of the refrigerator, beat for about 10 minutes before frosting. (Frosting may separate, but it will come together again.)

-If you happen to have leftovers of this cake, it will freeze brilliantly (even frosted), allowing you to eat it at midnight should that tickle your fancy.

-This is the stuff dessert dreams are made of. Nutmeg is also said to be an aphrodisiac. I'm just sayin' ...

-Ironically, the pastry chef that came up with this dessert at Flour was making it for a friend's wedding.

8.02.2010

Keep Calm and Carry Rum

There is a lot we can learn from Hemingway. He wrote classics. He taught us that simplicity says so much. He drank. Hemingway’s scotch and lime drink: 3 ounces of scotch, with lime. (This is a man after my own heart.)

I have a friend that shares my fondness for Hemingway (and for strong cocktails). He is roughly 88% steel, 10% gin and 2% pixie dust. He also writes a blog for those of similar makeup: My Kind of Razzmatazz. If you are looking for tips on how to live like Hemingway, or other men of greatness, Razzmatazz is your bible.

Every so often we get together to cook and drink in a way that Hemingway might appreciate: these events are dubbed ‘the Hemingway Way.’ The meals usually involve some sort of grilled fish with lime. Always booze, typically rum. The man loved his rum.

And he loved daiquiris. Real daiquiris: not those glorified 7-Eleven Slurpees, with a splash of rum; you know, the kind you find at all-inclusive resorts and in bars with names like Tiki Dan’s. Hemingway’s famed daiquiri cocktail is the Papa Doble.

You may see it on ‘trendy’ bar menus. Be wary if it is served in a martini glass. In fact, be wary of any bar that serves cocktails—other than a gin or vodka martini—in a martini glass. Drinks should be served in a glass that best honors the booze, not for the simple sake of supposed sophistication. (After all, I’ve never known a drink to make you more sophisticated after you drank it.)

Hemingway was also particular with his drinks (as he was with most things in his life). It is said that while Hemingway loved daiquiris, he asked for double the rum ... with half the sugar. My kind of man: 66% rum, 30% discriminating, 4% lime/sugar. That’s 100% alive, if you ask me. While Hemingway is no longer alive, July 21st would have been his 101st birthday.

And so Razzmatazz and I celebrated ‘the Hemingway way’ in a way that Hemingway would have appreciated: we struggled. Much like the marlin from The Old Man and the Sea, my grill proved to be a worthy adversary: the grill's flames kept going out. We could not let the grill win.

We had harpoon-caught swordfish to cook. We had honor to uphold. We made more dark and stormy cocktails. We did not give up.

I realize that the dark and stormy cocktail probably wasn’t a Hemingway mainstay. The ingredients hail from Bermuda, while Hemingway was pretty partial to Cuba. Nevertheless, I am sure Papa Doble would have appreciated the simplicity of the cocktail. Also, I gave Razzmatazz the wrong shot glass to make the drinks, so we ended up with double the rum. It was like Hemingway was guiding us. We were even able to secure Barritt’s ginger beer; made since 1874 and notoriously hard to come by.

In the end—and after a few cocktails—we ate the fish of our labor. It was perfection. So much so that I bought harpoon-caught swordfish a few more times that week. Best eat it while you can; it is apparently only available for a short time. The fish are caught, one by one, from fishermen using time-honored harpooning methods.

As for the fisherman that harpooned the marlin in The Old Man and The Sea? He spent days dragging the fish back to land, only to find its carcass consumed by sharks along the way. I don’t blame the sharks. In fact, I sympathize if harpooned marlin tastes anything like harpooned swordfish.

If you are lucky enough to live in Boston, you only have to venture to Whole Foods to get it; though, how long it’s available is anyone’s guess.

If you don’t usually like fish: man up. Think of Hemingway. The man loved life, and he thrived on the raw moments.

“… there’s a whole big world out there full of people who really feel things. They live and love and die with all their feelings. Taste everything …” Ernest Hemingway (1919)

Taste everything.

The Menu

Rosemary-garlic potatoes roasted in bacon fat
Butter-braised cucumbers with oregano and red onions
Grilled harpoon-caught swordfish with lime butter
Dark and stormy cocktails (recipe follows)

The Dark and Stormy Doble

3 ounces Gosling's Black Seal Rum
Barritt's ginger beer
Lime slices, at will

Pour rum in a 10 or 12 ounce glass, filled with ice. Top off with ginger beer. Add lime slice(s).

Makes one (possibly makes one drunk, depending on your tolerance).

Notes:

No notes are needed; make your own notes.