A Day for Caramel Potatoes Crisped in Duck Fat, With Prunes

I had an accidental five-star day last Monday.  The kind of day that can only happen when you don’t plan a thing.  The kind that deepens laugh lines.  The kind that often occurs on a weekday afternoon for no good reason.

It started out with pho soup in Chinatown.  Then Dave and I bowled a few rounds and drank enough Sam Adams drafts to get a little giggly.  (To be clear: I got a little giggly.  Dave would not want me to suggest he is the giggling kind.) 

I also bought new gray and yellow wedges that were alleged [by a certain non-giggler] to only be appropriate to wear to a '70s key party.  I still advocate the shoes are dyn-o-mite.

We went home, opened a bottle of cinsault, and ate Mt. Tam triple cream on a baguette. And I got to work on dinner.  

Whole chicken was stuffed with wedges of orange citrus.  Chunks of potatoes were tossed in duck fat. A tamarind glaze thickened on the stovetop.  And we listened to Bill Cosby: Himself, while the food did its thing in the oven.   I laughed.  He laughed.  Particularly during Bill’s bit on chocolate cake-for-breakfast.

Bill Cosby: [when his wife sees he has given the kids cake for breakfast]

“I’ve always heard about people ‘having a conniption’ but I’d never seen one.  You don’t want to see ‘em.  My wife’s face … split.  The skin and hair split and came off of her face so there was nothing except the skull.  And orange light came out of her hair and there was glitter all around.  And fire shot from her eye sockets and began to burn my stomach and she said, ‘WHERE DID THEY GET CHOCOLATE CAKE FROM?’  And I said, ‘They asked for it!’  And the children who had been singing praises to me … lied on me … and said, ‘Uh-uh!’  ‘We asked for eggs and milk … and DAD MADE US EAT THIS!’  And my wife sent me to my room … which is where I wanted to go in the first place.”

Which brings me to these potatoes.  You see, they have caramel on them.  Yes.  Sugar.  Burnt and drizzled.  With prunes (prunes!)  The potatoes are crisped—pretty much slow fried for an hour—in duck fat. 

And you’d think this would make them a wholly inappropriate mealtime component.  All that fat and sugar.  But they’re not.  They’re salty-sweet.  Addictive.  Wonderful with sticky tamarind chicken.  And with Billy Cosby, for dinner, on a five-star day.

Caramel Potatoes Crisped in Duck Fat with Prunes

Adapted from Jerusalem: A Cookbook

Ingredients:

2¼ pounds russet potatoes

½ cup duck fat

5 ounces pitted prunes

scant ½ cup sugar

3½ tbsp ice water

½ tsp sea salt or kosher salt, plus more to taste

Instructions:

Set the oven at 475 degrees. Peel the potatoes and cut them into pieces about 1½ inch squared.  Rinse them under cold water and then place them in a large pot filled with cold water.  Bring the potatoes to a boil and then simmer them for 8 to 10 minutes.  Drain the potatoes and then shake them in a colander to rough up their edges a bit and drain off the excess water.

In a rimmed baking sheet or sheet pan, scoop in the duck fat and heat it up in the oven until it just starts to smoke (5 to 8 minutes). Carefully take the pan out of the oven and gently toss in the potatoes.  Place the pan back in the oven (on the highest rack) and cook the potatoes for 50 to 65 minutes, or until they are golden and have turned crunchy; during the cooking, turn the potatoes occasionally with a spatula to ensure even coloring.

When the potatoes look just about ready (this was at about the 50 minute mark for me), take out the sheet pan and—if the potatoes still contain a good deal of fat—carefully tip the pan to remove the excess (I did not have to do this: there was barely any fat left sitting in the pan).  Add ½ tsp of salt and the prunes, toss gently, and return the potatoes to the oven for about 5 more minutes.

During this time, make the caramel by placing the sugar in a medium saucepan over low heat.  Without stirring, cook the sugar until it turns into a liquid and becomes a rich caramel color (you can swirl the pan occasionally, if needed, if the sugar isn’t caramelizing evenly).  Remove the pan from the heat at once and quickly pour in the ice water. (Be careful it doesn’t spatter on you: don’t hold the pan too close).  (You’ll want to have the ice water ready, so place some ice cubes in water while you heat the sugar and keep a measuring spoon nearby.) Immediately return the pan to the heat and whisk to dissolve any sugar clumps.

Remove the potatoes from the oven, toss them with the caramel, and taste to add more salt, as needed. Serve at once.

Makes 4-5 cups

Notes:

-These potatoes will be crispy and not overly sweet despite the caramel.  They are lovely. Perfect for a roasted beast of any sort.

-I had a few stubborn lumps of sugar that just wouldn’t dissolve, so I strained them out.  Take care not to let the caramel thicken too much or it will become hard to toss the potatoes in it.  The whole caramel process happens rather quickly.

-Leftovers can be reheated in a microwave (or I assume an oven) and though they won’t be quite as crispy, they’ll still be good.

-If you don’t have russet potatoes be sure to use another floury potato type to get the proper texture and crisping (russets have a higher starch content).

There's Always Room for P-I-M-M-S

Brace yourself. Things are about to get real. And by real, I mean real weird. And by weird, I mean gelatin. But I can't help it, I love it during the summer. Having access to backyard mint and a steady supply of cool, crunchy cucumbers doesn’t hurt during the warmer months, either.

Nor does knowing how to make a Pimm's Cup cocktail. (Do you see where I'm going with this?) So what better way to combine these summertime items than by suspending them in gelatin.

But first: the Pimm's cup. I could talk rather poetically about how I first came to love the cocktail. I was with one of my oldest friends. You know the kind. The kind whose signature is in the majority of your yearbooks. And could probably blackmail you if she wanted.

We were in one of the oldest bars in Boston. In the company of tiny black and white tiles; antique-stained mirrors; and an attentive bartender, sipping a bright iced tea-looking liquid from Collins glasses. This makes us sound quite ladylike. I assure you, we were not. In fact, we probably—more accurately—were gulping instead of sipping, sucking them down until our glasses were dry, our slurping straws screeching for another round.

At the time we were at the Marliave, which originally opened in the 19th century and is tragically underrated in Boston. They have a great croque madame, very politely named the Mrs. Marliave. Don’t let her fool you. She is not a dainty sandwich and I’m pretty sure she caused some hushed cursing—and perhaps pants unbuttoning—that night. Yes, the Marliave makes a great ham and cheese sandwich. And an even better Pimm's Cup.

I won’t go into the details of making a Pimm's cup. Suffice to say that it’s often made with ginger beer. Or lemonade and club soda. Or some combination thereof. It’s frequently finished with cucumber slices and a sprig of mint. Molly from Orangette has a great take on the cocktail. Regardless of your version, it’s light and refreshing and takes very kindly to ham and cheese topped off with an over easy egg. It also works quite well when gelled and cut into cubes.

So, for the second year in a row, I make a boozy nod to Bill Cosby and the nostalgia of Jell-O jigglers. As refreshing as cold gelatin is in the summer, it’s heightened by the light, refreshing quality of a Pimm's cup cocktail. It also gets added crunch from the mint and the cucumber, which I assure you won’t disappoint: especially this time of year, when petite pickling cucumbers are abundant in farmers’ markets. It may not be refined, but it won’t necessitate any unbuttoning of pants. And it's a breeze to make.

Most importantly, it’s fun. Which often flies directly in the face of refinement. And that’s fine by me. Because today we are here to celebrate a different way to down a Pimm's cup: with our bare hands. Yes, Bill, they are a handful of fun.

Pimm's Cup Cocktail Cubes

Ingredients:

24 oz ginger brew or ginger ale, divided (for a total of 2 cans or bottles)

1/4 cup plus 2 tbsp sugar

Pinch of salt

4 packages of gelatin (I used Knox)

1/2 cup fresh lemon juice

1 cup Pimm's No.1

Pinch of cumin

1 small pickling cucumber, cut into thin slices

Few sprigs of mint

Instructions:

Heat 12 oz (1 can or bottle) of ginger soda with the sugar and salt in a saucepan until just boiling. Meanwhile, in a large bowl combine gelatin with the remaining 12 oz (or remaining can or bottle) to soften for a few minutes (about 3-5 minutes or so). Stir the lemon juice and Pimm's into the gelatin and then add in the boiling ginger mixture. Add a pinch of cumin and stir until gelatin is dissolved. At this point, you could taste the mixture and adjust the flavor as needed. (The sweetness may vary slightly depending on the ginger soda you use and your preference.)

Add in the cucumber slices and a few mint leaves off the sprigs. Pour into a rectangular baking dish (mine is 11 x 7). Refrigerate until firm, ideally overnight.

Makes about 15 cubes

Notes:

-I am loving Maine Root's ginger brew this summer. I used one bottle of that plus one of GuS extra dry ginger ale, which is also some kind of wonderful.

-The pinch of cumin is there to compliment the spicy undertones of Pimm's No.1, which has always reminded me slightly of curry.

-While we are on the topic of busting buttons on pants, I should let you know Nick and Theo will be hosting The Boston Pie Experiment at the Middle East in Cambridge on Sunday, July 31st. Anyone can compete. Anyone can attend. Everyone should wear elastic-waisted pants.

Take A Vacation From Your Problems ... With Sparkling Wine Gelatin

Gelatin. How can I put this delicately: it’s weird. Though its quirkiness is part of its charm. It’s like the slinky of the dessert world. And who doesn’t love a slinky? Life would probably be better with more random slinkies bouncing down stairs. Likewise, I probably don’t eat enough gelatin.

And I don’t know why. Whenever I have some form of the stuff, it’s like a mini vacation from my problems. There are a few other things that draw out similar feelings. Watching Audrey Hepburn movies is one. Champagne is another.

Recently, I found myself with a strange urge to make fruited gelatin. I ended up with something you might suppose Bill Cosby, Martha Stewart and F. Scott Fitzgerald would make, if they found themselves together on a lazy Sunday with some time to kill. Though, I am not confident that even Fitzgerald could have justified buying champagne for such a purpose. It turns out sparkling wine was even gilding the lily.

If you like your wine with a side of whimsy, tuck this recipe away in your ‘ace in the hole’ files. A woman has to have her go-tos. She needs a dress that fits like a glove, a fail-proof recipe, and at least one party trick. Since I can’t tie cherry stems with my tongue, I had better bring the gelatin.

I doubt anyone will object. Depending on the circumstances, it may even be necessary. To quote Betty Davis’s character in Old Acquaintance, “there comes a time in every woman’s life when the only thing that helps is a glass of champagne.” I’d like to amend this quote: “there comes a time in every woman’s life when the only thing that helps is a pan full of fruit-studded sparkling wine, eaten in cubes.” Eating said pan while watching Audrey Hepburn on a breezy summer Sunday? Now that’s gilding the lily.

Summer Fruit Sparkling Wine Gelatin

1.5 cups white grape juice

Pinch of salt

4 packages of gelatin (I used Knox Gelatine)

2.5 cups sparkling wine, divided

1/2 cup raspberries

1/2 cup blueberries

1/4 cup white currants

Heat grape juice until just about boiling. Add pinch of salt. Meanwhile, let the gelatin soak in 1/2 of the wine for a few minutes. Stir grape juice into the wine mixture until gelatin is dissolved. Add in fruit and remaining wine. Pour into 11 x 7 baking dish. Refrigerate for a minimum of 3 hours, ideally 5 or more.

Makes about 15 squares.

Notes:

-I was worried about maintaining the fizz, so I let the juice cool slightly before adding it to the wine. (It seemed reasonable to assume that heat might deflate the fizz.) This method seemed to work okay. I would have liked a little more fizz, but that said, I'd like a lot of things.

-These are essentially adult knox blocks. Don't feed them to the kiddies unless you feel like asking for it.

(How could I have forgotten how much I love Knox Blocks?)

-I pretty much add a pinch of salt to everything.