If peaches are the problem, what’s the solution? Why this Peach & Rosemary Sparkler of course.
But how can peaches be a problem? Well you see, I buy them whenever I see them. All summer long. It makes no matter how many bushels I already have, or how many fruit flies I have to chase around the kitchen. I always think I need just a few more peaches.
I eat peaches out of hand, over the sink– the juice running everywhere. I know you know that image, you’ve done it yourself. But I also like to use peaches in both sweet and savory recipes– from tarts to BBQ sauce to cocktails.
Yep, cocktails. In fact I just made a peach of a cocktail that I felt I needed to share. It’s a summery riff on the classic Mimosa. Or maybe it’s closer to a Bellini. Either way, it’s easy to make, it’s pretty in the glass. It’s a little sweet and a little herbal. It’s a light little sparkler, but still plenty potent enough to work its summer magic.
It starts with fresh peaches, purreed with rosemary simple syrup. You can make this with any sparkling wine you like but I think there is something so summery about a light fruity Prosecco.
Prosecco is a type of sparkling white wine generally made from Glera grapes and produced in the regions of Veneto and Friuli Venezia Giulia in Italy. Prosecco can be found in the fully sparkling (spumante) or lightly sparkling (frizzante, gentile) varieties for as little as $8 to $20 at most wine shops. I welcome its refreshment in the heat of the summer.
So what are you waiting for those peaches are piling up and becoming a big, big problem. GREG
The other day I posted a zabaglione I made with prosecco and apricots. It’s an elegant dessert that Ken and I enjoyed with a nice bottle of Botrytis cinerea kissed Castello di Amorosa Late Harvest Gewurztraminer. It was a very sophisticated way to end a meal for two people. But the recipe made six servings. Meaning we had plenty of leftover zabaglione. Zabaglione is not the kind of thing you can wrap up and keep in the fridge for another day. Zabaglione isn’t a good candidate for leftovers.
Coincidentally– Nathan (The Chocolate of Meats), Andy (The Wind Attack) and I were recording an episode of The Table Set podcast the very next evening. We had decided to devote an entire podcast to all things Ice Cream. The episode will have you partying like it’s 1899 and should hit the airwaves in the next few days. Which got the gears in my head a turnin’.
Now if you listen to The Table Set at all (and I know you do!). Then you know we have a recurring theme. We call it Highbrow/Lowbrow. Though we really should call it Lowbrow/Highbrow because it usually involves taking something a bit crass, rough, or uncivilized and turning the volume up on it a little bit– making something easily dismissed as tacky or tasteless into something hip, cool or even downright elegant.
So I got it in my head to do a true Highbrow/Lowbrow number on my already chic zabaglione by making it more familiar. So I decided to transform this silky, frothy Italian dessert into a tasty version of good ole American-style apricot ice cream. Everyone loves ice cream. Meaning its a dessert for the masses.
Isn’t summer simply divine? I’ve been sipping Castello di Amorosa Late Harvest Gewurztraminer, Anderson Valley 2011.
Speaking of simple. I have the simplest of desserts for you today. But don’t confuse simple with boring. Because I am making a delightful, delicate Italian treat known as zabaglione. Prosecco-Poached Apricot Zabaglione to pair with this wine. It’s a dessert that is less sweet than the wine. Which often is the key to making some pairings work.
But you may know this dessert as sabayon, zabaione, zabajone, sambayon, sabajan, or ponche de crema. Even that classic Christmas concoction known as eggnog is not too far off the original intention of zabaglione (not the kind in the carton, though…).
No one really knows where zabaglione originated. Some credit San Bajon, a 16th-century monk from Turin, with the dessert’s invention & name. Others believe the Venetians or the Medici family in Florence came up with it.
Technically, a zabaglione is a caudle, a hot, wine-fortified drink made as a healing draught for a sick person. The noun later morphed into the verb ‘to coddle’, meaning ‘to treat with extreme or excessive care or kindness.’ In its chilled form it starts to become very pudding-like.
We owe today’s Sicilian Cherry Tomato & Almond Pesto with Couscous to the Italian city of Trapani, on Sicily’s westernmost tip. It has an identity all of its own. That’s because geographically speaking it is closer both in distance and topography to Tunis than Naples. In fact it’s closer to several African ports than it is to any part of mainland Italy.
It owes much of its heritage to the sea and its importance to the ancient trade routes. Trapani flourished as the center of Phoenician trading because it was a navigationally necessary port during the Middle Ages. Without Trapani, links between Tunis, Naples, Anjou and Aragon may have been impossible at that time. These facts helped Sicily’s food to develop separately and distinctly from the rest of Italy. It’s a hot, dry, predominately flat landscape. It seems more reminiscent of North Africa than most parts of Italy, and that is another determinate factor in its culinary past.
So it’s no wonder that the foods we associate with North Africa have gained a footing in Sicily’s culture.
The most obvious example of a North African food that has found its way to Sicily is couscous. In todays’s recipe for Sicilian Sicilian Cherry Tomato & Almond Pesto with Couscous. I chose a whole-wheat “pearl” variety of couscous from Bob’s Red Mill. Andrew of Eating Rules fame gave me a sample when we were both at Camp Blogaway. I have been hoarding it away ever since this past spring. I knew it deserved some very special attention. So I pulled it out for this Sicilian specialty.
Almonds are another rather frequent visitor to the cooking of Trapani (and Sicily in general). They grow all over the place. It’s not unusual to see almond trees growing in the wild right alongside other trees, like date and citrus. All of which found their way there on ancient trading ships and have established themselves quite nicely.
I don’t always talk about food you know. Sometimes I save space on this blog to share something a bit more personal. So if you’re one of those people who leaves me nasty notes whenever I get personal. CLICK away now. But I warn you, you’ll miss meeting someone special.
Ken and I spend a lot of time in the desert near Palm Springs. We go there as often as we can as the guests of two of our greatest friends, Jeff & Peter. They have a house there and often invite their friends to spend the weekend relaxing in the sun, enjoying al fresco dinner parties, or just connecting with each other. One of the advantages to these extended stay House Parties is the time you spend getting to know people. People you might not have met otherwise.
House Parties are my favorite type of party. Parties in general are fun, but most last just a few hours– you make small talk, you have a few laughs, eat some great food and then head home. You probably had fun but the connection to the other guests may end there. However when the party lasts all weekend long, there’s time to get to know people. Not only your good friends, but the friends of those good friends. There’s usually no set plans, meaning there’s time for longer conversations. Some of these conversations happen as we all pitch in. Perhaps we’re planning a menu or cooking together. Some of the best conversations I ever had happened as I was planting palm trees with people I barely knew. With a shared purpose the conversation comes easily. Even during those times when we’re just laying by the pool, nose in a book, I notice that bonds build more easily when time slows down.
I hope your having a Happy Holiday.
This week on The Table Set Nathan, Andy and I naturally decided to tackle the subject of Indpendence Day. We had intended to share some fun ideas to make this year’s holiday a party to remember. But we quickly veered off course. Nostalgia took over and we spent a lot of time talking about the ‘fourthajuly’ celebrations from our childhoods
For Andy, it was the annual bike parade. I can just see him tricking out his bike with flag-inspired frills and hear the simple, joyful flick-flick-flick of a playing card snapping against the spokes of his bike. Or maybe that’s my memory. Still just the thought of it takes me back to the sulpher smells of neighborhood fireworks, and the sting of sunburn on my nose. Some 4th of July long past was the one and only time I ever puffed a cigarette, and it was at my dad’s insistence. Tune in and and get the details.
But Nathan’s memories of fireworks in the desert are the images that most resonate with me now. Desert holidays have become the norm in my life. Palm Springs is just a hop, skip and (a traffic clogged) jump out the 10 freeway. In fact Palm Springs (last year) is where I made this simple holiday celebration video for you. Have a happy, safe (and sane) ‘fourthajuly’! GREG
Purple Basil & Grilled Summer Squash Salad with Walnuts. Can squash be art?
Is zucchini life…
One is a question, the other a metaphor.
But, here I am (was, it is all so existential) walking through the Hollywood Farmers Market looking for inspiration for this week’s Market Matters. Then just ahead, past the nectarines and next to the fresh basil I see a golden glow. Or I think I do… What can that golden glow be I wonder? So I push my way through the crowd as in a dream when your feet seemed to be stuck in glue. I see the glow, I am almost there. But the crowd, the crowd is in my way. Why do they always put the “free” samples right in front of the golden glow? And why are people so enamored of free samples?
I push ahead towards the light. The crowd around me pushes back. They think I am in line to taste a strawberry sample, so see me as competition. But no, I am drawn towards the light.
The lovely golden light. The light that speaks of harps and angels.
Is this my moment? Is this the end?
Should I head TOWARDS THE LIGHT?
I love the ambiance of a good old-fashioned chophouse. Red leather booths, dark lighting, questionable martinis, and oh yeah, steak.
Usually damn good steak too. That’s because a good chophouse makes no apologies for its red-meat-centric position. So there is no need to hide behind any of the foodie pretensions of the moment.
Chophouses do meat. Several cuts, all of them grilled.
Chophouses were never simply restaurants. In another time, on another continent, the original English chophouses could easily be called the16th century gastro-pubs (to borrow an au currant foodie phrase) of their time.
The chophouse is actually an esteemed British institution dating back to the origins of modern commerce. Chophouses have long been meeting places where business people dined and conducted their affairs over hearty plates of traditionally cooked meats washed down with the alcoholic beverages of choice.
Not much has changed then. Today my brother Grant chose a chophouse friendly red wine– Dunham Three Legged Red from the Columbia Valley of Washington State.
