The Case of the Mysterious Tapioca

The other day I was blindly pawing through a cupboard and tipped over a long-forgotten box of tapioca.  Fortunately, the potential mess was averted as it was confined to a zip-lock storage bag, so I set it to the back of the counter for later consideration.   That’s the thing about tapioca.  It’s not a staple that I regularly use and it is packaged in a fairly small box that tends to get lost and forgotten.  Even if it’s in line for rotation it is easily squeezed out by the bigger players, unwittingly benched to the back of the shelf.    

Unless you are a slave to old-fashioned tapioca pudding or inclined to pie baking, tapioca may carry with it very little value or significance.   I had no clear recollection of why or when I last used it and wondered if it was still good. Later, I took a closer look at the slim classic red and white box, on the top of the box was stamped Nov. 08, 2010.  Hmmm.  I also noted it was microwaveable ‘minute’ tapioca, not the original pearl variety.  Beyond that, I recalled that it’s advisable to soak the larger pearl tapioca first.  Why? What’s the difference? I puzzled.

I did a little further digging and thanks to Ellen at Ellen’s Kitchen, I found a helpful explanation of tapioca in its various incarnations.   Fact is, it’s a pretty powerful thickening agent known to out-match flour in many sauces and long cooking dishes.  Tapioca comes from the cassava plant’s root system, of which some portions are highly poisonous.  This is a point worth fully researching if you are considering a future in tapioca markets.

It’s a complicated process.  Their preferred roots are ground into a pulp, and then liquefied into a starch that is dried and pulverized again before becoming tapioca flour.   To make pre-cooked pearls, the tapioca flour and water is slowly simmered until it reaches the dried flake stage.  At this point the flakes are milled into recognizable uniform pearl shapes―of which the smallest is the instant or minute tapioca, with its noticeably small pearls. The larger pearls need to be soaked again to soften them for cooking purposes.       

Along the way, I also read that tapioca can lose its thickening power if it has been opened too long.  Oops. I decided to ignore the warning, jump right in, and continue my investigation into the mysteries of tapioca.  I passed on the pie idea; I was interested in something a little more outside the box.  I knew I was onto something good when I discovered Judith Fertig’s Lemony Baked Apple Tapioca in All-American Desserts. This is an invaluable resource that celebrates a wide swath of regional sweets, all owning a particular spot in the American landscape of desserts.

Unlike the average tapioca pudding which requires tedious stirring, here apples and tapioca simmer unattended in the oven.  As usual, I made a few adjustments along the way, like substituting ¾ cup brown sugar  for 1 cup granulated sugar and a hint of vanilla in lieu of fresh lemon juice. 

This cleverly comes together in a charming pudding with bites of baked apple adrift in nubby tapioca all mysteriously tucked under a golden brown meringue dome.  Best of all,  time did not seem to alter tapioca’s amazing ability to manifest into a thick and tasty pudding.  Now, that’s deliciously entertaining. 

 

Baked Apple Tapioca 

Inspired by All-American Desserts, Judith M. Fertig

Ingredients

2 tart apples, such a Granny Smith or Jonathan, peeled, cored, and cut up

1 lemon, zest

1/3 cup quick-cooking tapioca
1 tsp. vanilla
4 cups milk
¾ cup brown sugar
2 eggs, separated
1 Tbsp. cinnamon-sugar
 
Directions 
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Butter the bottom of a 2-qt baking dish.  Arrange the apple pieces over the bottom and sprinkle with lemon zest.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the tapioca, vanilla, milk, sugar, and egg yolks.  In a medium bowl, whip the egg whites until stiff.  Whisk the whites into the tapioca-milk mixture until lightly blended. 

Sprinkle the apples with the cinnamon-sugar and pour the tapioca-milk mixture over the fruit.

Bake until the tapioca has firmed and apples are soft, approximately 30-40 minutes. (Allow the pudding to cook about 10 minutes after it begins to bubble.)  It will thicken and set as it cools, serve warm.   Yield:   6 or more servings. 

Conflicted by Crumpets

What is it about crumpets that makes them so endearing?  For the longest time these stodgy stepsisters of the elegant English muffin were hard to find, even unavailable in many American markets.  Perhaps the food marketers theorized, "Why bother, we have English muffins, don't we?" 


Crumpets from TastyDays.com

Once sampled, I was completely charmed by crumpets’ dense satisfying yeastiness. They evoke in me a peculiar primal yearning that must harken back to ancient days of yore and early gobs of comfort food.  Best described as a spongy cross between a pancake and a biscuit, these heavy lumps of air-specked dough surely lodge in the intestinal tract for days ―maybe years. 

Crumpets' air of mystery could come from the special props required to make them.  As with the luminous pan for the lofty kugelhopf, or the shell-shaped molds for classic madeleines, special metal rings hold the batter/dough in place on a griddle until crumpets are set and firm enough to cook on their own. 

I toted a set of rings around for years and finally sold them at a yard sale - in their original box.  Truth be told, I was more than a little intimidated by the cooking process. 

My fears were quelled recently when the cheeky video, “The Great British Crumpet” from Titli’s Busy Kitchen, popped up on YouTube.  In her version, Titli manages to de-mystify the formidable art of British crumpet making. 

 


It looks like fun, I mused, but what about the rings?  In my pantry, I eyed two cans of tuna fish and sensed I had a close enough match.  Why did I need six anyway?  Titli gets by quite nicely with only two rings. 
 
Forewarned:  the tuna cans did not work.  Bumblebee has re-engineered their cans with a curved bottom edge, making them far too difficult to cut open with a manual can-opener.  Fortunately, Dole pineapple has not seen the need to do so.  I moved on―with one ring. 

The batter-like dough came together in a bubbly gooey mass and filled the ring mold, just like Titli's.  That’s where the similarities ended.   Even with adjustments to burner heat, the interior of the crumpets lacked their characteristic large holes and remained soggy when sliced.    

Of course, that didn’t stop me; I finished the cooking process in the microwave.  While steaming hot, I slathered a slightly shrunken version with butter, and proceeded to burn the roof of my mouth devouring it―but ready to test the next. One ring worked well with this method.  Unfortunately, my rhythm did not allow time to document my findings. 

Who knows when next I will be tempted to try again? I’m still digesting the last batch.    For future reference, here's my working copy of Titli's recipe: 

The Great British Crumpet

From Titli's Busy Kitchen

Ingredients

1 cup warm milk

¾ cup warm water, divided

1 teaspoon each active yeast and granulated sugar

½ teaspoon salt (my addition)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder 

Instructions

Proof the yeast with ½ cup warm water and sugar until it bubbles, about 10 minutes.  (My option; Titli combines all liquids here and proofing was very slow.)  

In a large bowl combine the yeast mixture, the milk, remaining water, and the salt.  Whisk in the flour until the mixture is smooth.  Cover and let rise in warm place until light, about 1 hour.

When ready, in a small bowl combine the baking power with about 2 tablespoons warm water and stir into the dough. 

Preheat non-stick pan with flat bottom over medium heat and spread the muffin rings thoroughly with butter.  When hot place, butter the pan, place the rings in pan and fill each with ½” to 3/4” full.  Reduce heat to medium low to avoid burning.  Allow to cook undisturbed until the muffin rises and surface is filled with bubbles (like pancakes), about 10 minutes.  Run knife around the edge to release and turn to toast second side, 1 minute or longer.  Wash the rings, butter again, and repeat.

Fifty Shades of Grey: The Dish

Today my joy knows no bounds because my mind and body are still reverberating from last night’s dinner.   I realize that chicken livers do not have that delirious affect on everyone, but they certainly can make me crazy when they are presented in a deeply satisfying, succulent, piping hot package. 
 

These guys, in fifty shades of grey, are not knock-out gorgeous and will not likely dazzle you with their hunky-chunky visual charm.  Let’s face it; chicken livers of this magnitude are not much to look at, but they are real sleepers and deliver a powerful complement of earth-shaking nutritional revitalization that will surely rock your world.  If you are looking for robust flavors and rip-roaring atavistic satisfaction, look no further. 

This is a riff on Vivian Howard’s Dirty Farro, prepared at her highly regarded restaurant, Chef & the Farmer, in Kinston, North Carolina. In her outstanding treatment, she combines a few chicken livers, breakfast sausage, and semi-pearled farro (a whole wheat grain) into an unctuous variation of the old southern favorite, dirty rice.   

I have taken Vivian’s concept and substituted cremini mushrooms, sage, savory, and allspice for the sausage; of course I increased the chicken livers, and added a healthy bunch of tender rainbow kale from the garden (the last of the season!).  So, if you aren’t big on chicken livers and love breakfast sausage, I urge you to try her excellent dish, which can be found at Epicurious.com.  

Dirty Farro
Inspired by Vivian Howard, Chef & The Farmer, Kinston, NC.  Courtesy of  Epicurious. com and Bon Appétit | February 2012

Ingredients

2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided
1 cups semi-pearled faro
2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoons kosher salt plus more
1/2 pound chicken livers, trimmed, large chop
1- ½ cups cremini mushrooms, large chop
1 medium onion, fine chop
1 stalk celery, fine chop
2 cloves garlic, mince
1 teaspoon sage leaves, minced
1 teaspoon savory leaves, minced
¼ teaspoon allspice
1 teaspoon ground cumin
¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1 bunch kale, clean: about ¾ cup stems, chop; 6 cups leaves, large chop
1/3 cup thinly sliced scallions (dark-green parts only)
1/3 cup celery leaves from inner stalks

Instructions
In medium sized pot, heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium heat. Add farro; stir until toasted, about 2 minutes. Add thyme, bay leaf and2 ½  cups water. Cover and cook for 10 minutes. Uncover, add ½ teaspoon salt, and simmer until farro is tender but still firm to the bite, about 20 minutes. Remove from pot and let cool.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in same pot over medium heat. Add the livers; cook, about 4 minutes, until they begin to color on the outside. Add the mushrooms and cook until they begin to release liquid.  Add onions, garlic, the herbs and spices, the kale stems, and a pinch of salt. Sauté for 2 minutes.

Add the kale leaves and approximately ½ cup water; bring to a simmer. Cook, uncovered, until liquid is reduced by about half, about 8 minutes. Stir in cooked farro; simmer until liquid is absorbed, about 5 minutes. Discard bay leaf. Stir in scallions; garnish with celery leaves. Yield:  4 servings.   

The Zen of Morning Rituals: Coffee

What does morning mean to me?  Since I am an optimist, I like to consider that magical transition between dark and daylight as pure ripening potential: a time to open my mind to all the possibilities and new experiences looming on-the-horizon, coming my way for the plucking.

As part of my morning wake up, I typically head for the kitchen to prepare a lively pot of hot coffee; it’s my signal that a new day is underway.   

Over a fresh cup of well-made coffee, I spend a little time in quiet contemplation: I write a bit, set a few goals, and I create a list of my to-dos for the day ahead.   Since I look forward to this special time, my morning coffee has become associated with comfort, anticipation, pleasure, and creativity. 

My coffee making history is also a reflection of an ever-changing lifestyle. For many years the plug-in coffee maker with the drip filter was just fine.  It was during those hectic days that the novelty of a built-in timer became a must-have addition. When espresso makers hit the market I was all over that.  During this period, a favorite called the three-in-one made filter coffee, espresso, and also frothed milk for lattes and cappuccinos.  What could be better?! 

When I lived in Florida, the Cuban influence took over and I got hooked on the simple stove-top aluminum espresso maker.  However, I finally had to admit that a little of this espresso was like drinking jet fuel, that the jolt was rocket propelled, and perhaps more suitable for an afternoon pick-me-up. 
   
This was also a time of serious weather upheavals; we had one wild hurricane after another.  I was in luck.  Armed with the stove-top espresso method and my propane catering stove, I was set and assured of my morning coffee ― under any conditions.    

I’ve always believed the French press was a kinder and gentler way of preparing and enjoying coffee.  In this Zen manner (if that is possible), the coffee beans are not ‘cooked’ over high heat; rather, briskly boiling spring water (preferably) is held briefly to reduce its heat, then a slight amount is poured over the freshly ground beans ― allowing them to expand and bloom.  More very hot water is poured over the ground beans and then allowed to stand for a few minutes to further develop their essential flavors and aroma.  

With that approach to coffee, you can well imagine my reaction.  A small individual portion would surely not suffice.  It was not long before a larger unit was mandatory.  

I have since moved on to an even bigger and better  48 ounce thermal press, plus an electric water kettle ― for the maximum Zen experience. 

Ah, yes, there’s nothing like a fresh cup of coffee to launch my day. 

Soup’s On!

According to my calendar, today officially marks the start of fall, and if this weekend’s grey and rainy conditions are any indication, it would appear that it has arrived promptly on schedule.    

Coaxed indoors, I have picked up the challenge launched with last week’s blog and seized the opportunity to expand my chard repertoire and to keep up with my garden’s burgeoning crop. This rapid reprieve from summer’s incessant heat has once again opened the door to all the welcoming possibilities of soup. 

One of my favorite go-to sites for such cooking ideas is Epicurious.com.   I tend to relate to their food style and I can usually find reliable ideas such as Michael Romano’s Secret-Ingredient Soup.  My imagination was instantly sparked by his chard soup incorporating a good chicken stock, onion, leeks, and carrots, Italian sausage ― and his mystery ingredient, cornmeal.

Armed with this great starting place, I’ve taken Michael’s basic premise and made a few adjustments of my own.  For a little heartier soup, I substituted a link of Spanish linguica, included white beans and added a bit of fresh sage and rosemary from the garden.

Thank you, Michael, for this lovely taste of fall in a bowl. 

Hearty Chard, Bean and Linguica Soup

Inspired by Michael Romano's Secret-Ingredient Soup at Epicurious.com.  From his book, Family Table: Favorite Staff Meals from Our Restaurants to Your Home by Michael Romano and Karen Stabiner, © 2013 Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Ingredients

2 tablespoons olive oil

3/4 cup finely chopped onion

3/4 cup finely chopped peeled carrot

3/4 cup well-washed thinly sliced leeks

1 teaspoon finely chopped garlic

1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/4 teaspoon Aleppo pepper or red pepper flakes

½ teaspoon fennel seeds

½ teaspoon dried oregano

8 ounces Spanish linguica sausage, cut up

2 tablespoons medium-grind cornmeal (polenta)

5 cups Chicken or Vegetable Stock

1 ½ cups cooked white beans, such as cannellini or mayo coba

1 teaspoon minced rosemary

1 teaspoon minced sage

4 cups packed stemmed and coarsely chopped kale or chard leaves, or a combination

Grated Parmigiano-Reggiano for serving

Directions

1.       Heat the oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion, carrot, leeks, garlic, salt, black pepper, Aleppo pepper, fennel and oregano and cook, stirring, until the onion becomes translucent, 8 to 10 minutes, and remove from pot.

2.       Cook the sausage to lightly brown, about 5 minutes; remove and drain.

3.      Drain off the excess fat in pot and return vegetables to the pan.   Stir in the cornmeal. Add the stock, stirring, and bring to a boil.  Add the cooked beans, rosemary, and sage; reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

4.       Stir in the greens and cook for 15 minutes more, or until tender.  Ladle into bowls and garnish with grated Parmigiano.  Serves 4 to 6. 

Season's Bounty: Chard Torta with Creamy Basil Sauce

My chard crop has officially gone crazy.  Now, when my neighbors see me coming they have begun to back away with eyes glazed over, demurring, “No more chard, thank you.”

Swiss chard is a beautiful and wondrous asset to any garden, especially the rainbow variety, with its brilliant green leaves. Their tall spires generously unfurl amidst a thicket of red, yellow, and orange stems.  One of the benefits of including this friendly vegetable in my garden is that I can avoid the old woody bunches frequently sold at the market.  Instead, I can select younger leaves and pick them while their stems are tender and require minimal cooking. 

Fortunately, I am not even close to tiring of chard, yet.   Not only is it tasty and filling, it is roaring with nutritional value.  As with its relatives, spinach and kale, chard has plenty of vitamin A, C, and K, plus a generous a supply of iron, potassium, and magnesium.

 

Of course, it was only a matter of time before the combination of chard and millet would collide and become one in my kitchen, like star-crossed lovers.   I will restrain from my praise of millet, since that is a well-known fact here.  Suffice to say, the humble millet provides a perfect backdrop for this torta’s big flavors of chard, bacon, and Coppa ham ― all handsomely bound together with eggs and cheese.  It’s a nice addition to a Sunday brunch and is easily reheated for a mid-week dinner. 

A creamy basil sauce adds the perfect topping and finish for this torta.  The delicious pesto included in the sauce can also be found in the index; or simply scroll back to the previous post, and find it along with another reason to make pesto! 

Chard & Millet Torta

with Creamy Basil Sauce

Torta

1 cup millet

1 ¾ cup boiling water

1/3 cup mixed fresh herbs, chopped, such as oregano, thyme, savory

1 tsp. butter of olive oil plus ½ cup bread crumbs or Panko for lining baking dish

4 bacon strips, cut into ½” slices

1 medium onion, chopped

1 clove garlic, minced

8 cups chard leaves, cleaned, drained, then chopped

2 cups tender stems, chopped

6 eggs

½ tsp. dried chile flakes

2/3 cup Parmesan cheese, grated, and divided

2/3 cup milk

½ tsp. salt

5 slices Coppa ham, sliced into ½” strips

Directions 

1.  Prepare the millet by adding 1 cup to 1 ¾ boiling water and simmering partially covered until water evaporates and millet is tender, about 20 minutes.  Place in large bowl with herbs and cool.

2.  Coat a large quiche dish or other 2 qt. oven ware with 1 tsp. butter or olive oil and dust it with ½ cup bread crumbs or panko.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

3.  In a sauté pan, cook the bacon until almost crisp, remove and drain.  Cook the onion in about 1 Tbsp. bacon fat until soft; add the garlic and cook 1 minute. 

4. Add the chard stems and cook about 3 minutes.  Stir in the moist chard leaves and toss to wilt slightly, cover loosely and cook 8 – 10 minutes.

5.  Meanwhile, combine the eggs, 1/3 Parmesan, through the salt.  When the chard is cooked, stir it into the millet.   Pour in the egg and milk mixture, then the bacon and the Coppa ham. 

6.  Pour mixture evenly into prepared dish and bake covered for about 40 minutes.  Sprinkle with 1/3 cup Parmesan and bake additional 10-15 minutes or until top begins to brown. Remove and allow to rest a few minutes before cutting.  Serves 4.

Basil Cream Sauce

2 Tbsp. butter

2 Tbsp. flour

1 clove garlic, crushed

1 chicken bouillon cube dissolved in 1 cup hot water

1 1/3 cup milk

1/8  tsp. Tabasco sauce, or to taste

1 Tbsp. Parmesan cheese, grated

2 Tbsp. pesto

1-2 Tbsp. minced green onion

Directions

1.  In sauce pan over medium heat, melt butter and stir in the flour, cooking with whisk for 2 minutes; add the garlic, stir for a minute to incorporate well.   

2.  Slowly stir in the bouillon mixture to form paste.  Add the milk and whisk until thick, stirring in the Tabasco and the Parmesan.  When well blended and smooth add the pesto; stir in the minced onion; adjust seasoning and serve.