Roll out the red carpet, blow the shiny, loud horns, wear your fanciest dress (you too, men) – guess who’s back? Yes, I am still alive. Yes, Jonny has been keeping this blog afloat for a year now. And yes, I am ready to try to blog again. After a year of figuring out how to be a parent (and how to be comfortable being a mom and finally coming to terms with the fact that my life will never, ever be the same again) and learning to balance everything that comes with this new, crazy world, I finally feel like I want to write again. And what could be better to write about than the grapevine that not only GREW in the soil of our Brooklyn, NY, yard but even FLOURISHED and provided over 20 lbs of sweet, delicious Catawba grapes?

Many of you may have never heard of Catawba grapes before and until researching how to use the grapes for jam, neither had I. One factoid I did learn is that it is a native grape, discovered in 1802, mostly an east coast varietal and is used to produce some wine. I was amazed at how incredibly sweet the grapes were and figured the wine made from them would probably be some sort of dessert wine. In fact, the Catawba grape is responsible for the first American sparkling wine. I thought it was pretty cool to know that little old USA has native wine-growing grapes (in fact, there are about four types of native grapes). In the mid 1800′s, Catawba sparkling wine was even lauded by many experts in Europe (one person shockingly wrote it was better than anything that came from the Rhine!). The Finger Lakes region in upstate New York still uses this varietal to make much of the wine produced there.

As you’ve probably read in earlier posts, our garden bounty has been enormous this year and our two grapevines growing against a beautiful Brooklyn chain-link fence did not disappoint. Never having worked with home-grown grapes before, I realized that they could be used to make delicious jam. After de-skinning (by hand!) 4 pounds of them and making 5 jars of delicious grape jam, I needed something else. We found this wonderful recipe for a sweet flatbread in a Tuscan cookbook and I knew that I had to have it. It was incredibly easy to make and worked well with our morning espresso.

A quick, sweet post to kick-start your weekend about a ridiculously simple, ridiculously delicious Argentinian dessert – Chocotorta. This very popular dulce de leche-spiked, layered dessert reminds me a bit of tiramisu with an Argentine twist. What could be more Argentinian than dulce de leche? When Joan of Foodalogue revisited her Culinary Tour food event (which I love, by the way) to represent South America, I looked at the list and saw Argentina and thought about all the Argentinian specialities we still wanted to make for the blog. We had done so many Argentine posts before (including locro, milanesas, choripan and the ubiquitous parilla delicacies), but never anything sweet. With the deadline looming, I quickly did what I could to recreate the fabulous, famous Chocotorta. It’s not perfect, but it sure was delicious.

Just like any famous American desserts, the Chocotorta can be made in a variety of ways.  It seems as though different families make it different ways.  Two things that are constant in every family’s recipe are chocolate wafer cookies or biscuits and dulce de leche.  Some soak their cookies/biscuits in coffee before they begin to layer, others soak it in milk, cafe con leche or even sweet wine. Many use a mixture of only cream cheese and dulce de leche for the filling while others use whipped cream or a mixture of whipped and cream cheese. Some top their chocotorta with icing, chocolate or dulce de leche and others just top it with a final layer of cookies/biscuit.  I take all these variations as a “freedom of choice” – be creative and make your chocotorta the way you want to!

Unfortunately, I had to “wing it” on the chocolate biscuit front because there were only a limited type at my grocery store. Traditionally, the Argentines use the rectangular Chocolinas to do their layering. I used the circular Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer Cookies (which, after some research are sometimes difficult to find in stores…strange) and even had to throw in a layer of Goya Maria Cookies because I was desperate and ran out of the others (don’t kill me over lack of authenticity, please!). The final result ended up pretty because of the circular cookies and, because I let the flavors meld together for a day, it held together very well and tasted fabulous.

This is most definitely a dessert anyone can make, even someone like me who CAN NOT BAKE. If you can dip, stir and layer, you’re good to go. This recipe probably makes more filling than you need. Do what I did and store it in the freezer for a day when you either want to make another one or (like me) feel like grabbing a spoon and having filling for dessert.

Chicken and Waffles.  Two foods that many obsess over individually but wouldn’t even think to pair together.  Why, I wonder?  Have you ever dipped your crunchy piece of bacon into your pancake syrup, even if it’s accidental?  How about some fabulous thai sauces that have that sweet sticky flavor paired with some fried calamari?  What about any dish with sweet, salty and crunchy combination?  If you’re a nonbeliever, please, believe.  One taste of Chicken and Waffles and it quickly gained a top 10 spot on my “Death Row Last Meal” list.   You know you have one too.

The history of the beginnings of Chicken and Waffles is a perplexing one.  No one is really sure of its origins.  One of the original theories claims that Thomas Jefferson brought a waffle machine to the US from France in the 1790′s, thus beginning a waffle craze (even though the Pilgrims brought it to the New World back in the early 1600′s, we guess Tommy really sparked the interest). Soon after, being embraced by the African American community, Chicken and Waffles began appearing in cookbooks (although, curiously, it did not appear in the first cookbook written around 1880 by a Black former slave called What Mrs. Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking by Abby Fisher).  The Pennsylvania Dutch (the first Germans to have settled in the US) have been pairing chicken with waffles probably before Thomas Jefferson was a twinkle in his mother’s uterus.  Instead of frying their chicken pieces, the PA Dutch version uses shredded pieces of boiled or roasted chicken on top of waffles and top it with lots of creamy gravy instead of hot sauce and syrup.  You may think this either looks like sick on a waffle or, possibly, chicken pot pie over a waffle. The final and most common origin is that Chicken and Waffles began in the 1930′s during the Harlem Jazz hayday, specifically at a place no longer in existence called Wells Supper Club. When the Jazz musicians walked into Wells after a long night of playing, they wanted a combo of dinner and breakfast (dickfast?  dinfast?) and the staff created the crispy, crunchy, salty, sweet combo we love today.

Clearly we’re not the first to try making chicken and waffles at home.  I still remember drooling over our friend Heather’s version almost a year ago.  After our fun maple syrup taste-test, we figured it was the perfect time to make something we had wanted to make for a long time.  This experience also gave me a chance to finally give that damn supposedly amazing Thomas Keller fried chicken recipe a whirl.  I combined his recipe with some tips from Serious Eats supposed “Best Fried Chicken Recipe”.  The result?  Damn ass good.  If I could be guaranteed to not gain weight or get a major cholesterol problem, I could possibly eat this every day.  This recipe is hands down worth the time and effort if you’re going to bother doing your own fried chicken. Please, take my word for it – it was perfectly cooked, perfectly crunchy, and very, very moist inside.  If you don’t try the chicken and waffles, please use this recipe for some damn good fried chicken.  Make it with a side of  Lipitor.

PS: How awesome does that old Herbie Hancock album cover look against this “set”? I laugh every time I look at those gold medallions on his neck. By the way, we’re cheap – that’s one of Jonny’s shirts as our “faux country” tablecloth.  We’re professionals, folks.  Real professionals.

New Yorkers may remember back in January, 2009 (and in ’05, ’06, ’07 and ’08), there was this mystery plaguing our city. The watercoolers in Midtown offices were buzzing with workers asking the question, “Why the hell does our city smell like maple syrup?” Even our ridiculously rich mayor couldn’t figure out what was going on. Just like one may walk in the city on a hot summer day and smell wafts of trash cooking on the sidewalk mixed with sauteed onions and garlic, and possibly a hint of sidewalk vendor smoke, during this week you really smelled syrup. In fact, Gothamist blog created an awesome Google Map showing where the majority of calls and e-mails about this phenomenon came from during that time (using oh-so-cute mini Mrs. Butterworth images to pinpoint them on the map).  Also noted, was the maple syrup mystery made its way on to a segment of 30 Rock.

After a lot of investigating, it was discovered that the smell that took over the city was from a North Bergen, New Jersey (god, we really DO love Jersey, we swear) factory that produces “food flavors” (I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit) and the culprit of the smell was from the processing of fenugreek seeds.  Many of you may use fenugreek in your cooking — most commonly in cooking Indian food.  But, did you know, fenugreek seeds are also one of the main ingredients used to flavor fake maple syrups (besides nasty things like high fructose corn syrup and sodium hexametaphate, a sequestering agent most commonly found in soap and photography products)? We’re not not joking here.  Yup, you learn something new every day, huh? The maple syrup smell that overtook NYC was not from an actual tree, but from a processing plant across the river. Sigh.

This summer we took a lovely roadtrip to Quebec City for a few days. Driving lazily through New York State, Vermont, and some of Canada was not only relaxing but helped us see some beautiful parts of the great Northeast. We found ourselves at a Vermont Maple Syrup Shack and picked some up. Later on in our trip, we discovered how crazy the Quebecois are for their own maple syrup.  So, yet again, we bought some Canadian Maple Syrup, curious what the flavor difference between this and the Vermont kind would be like.  Growing up on Aunt Jemima, I figured it was a worthwhile experiment to do another blind taste test  (remember our Vodka tasting?) of fake versus real maple syrup. Could we spot the fake? Would we really, really like the real stuff? Would I, GASP!, prefer high fructose corn syrup and refined fenugreek seeds to real sap from an actual tree?

I was actually nervous to eff this one up. Jonny, on the other hand had less to lose — his palate isn’t as trained to spot the fake as mine. He has only had the pleasure of getting to know pancakes as a normal weekend breakfast for the five years he’s been living here in the States. In fact, one of the first interactions he had with my mother (now his mother-in-law) was when he sat down for his first breakfast with the family and mom asked Jonny if he wanted syrup with his pancakes. Without even waiting for an answer (and in typical “Italian-American Mama” fashion) she proceeded to give a death grip squeeze to the plastic Aunt Jemima bottle, dousing his silver dollar Bisquick beauties in the fake stuff. Politely, he changed his side-to-side head-shake to an up-and-down nod saying, “Well, yes. Thank you!”. These days, he knows how to speak up to the Italian-American Mama…. it takes some practice.

So, last night we did a blind taste-test of four kinds of syrup. On the block were two American “fake” favorites: Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth.  On the “real” side were the Vermont “Dark Amber” style syrup and the Canadian Medium 100% maple syrup.  Jonny was blindfolded first and I wrote down his comments. then we switched places.  Here are some of the results of our taste test:

#1: TASTE TEST RESULTS FOR AUNT JEMIMA

Jonny’s Comments:

• “Taste like Sunday morning at Rosie’s” (that’s my mom – his mother-in-law.)
• “Not actually that bad on the whole.”
• “Caramel backnote, very sweet, burnt-flavor.”

Amy’s Comments:

• “Less chemical-tasting than #1 (later to find out was Mrs. Butterworth’s) but with an aftertaste of corn syrup.”
• “Buttery, thick and, I’m going to regret this, but I kinda like it.” (Probably because this is the crap I was brought up on!)

Jonny’s Guess: Aunt Jemima – CORRECT (+1 for Jonny)

Amy’s Guess: Mrs. Butterworth’s – INCORRECT (0 for Amy)

#2: TASTE TEST RESULTS FOR MRS. BUTTERWORTH

Jonny’s Comments:

• “Powerful nose!” (LOL – you’d think he was at a wine tasting).
• “Very sweet, more flavor than #1 (which was Aunt Jemima), more caramel flavored in the mouth.”
• “Tastes darker and thicker than some of the others – not loving this one.”

Amy’s Comments:

• “Very sweet, very familiar.”
• “Gluey, sticky and thick.”
• “Sugar and caramel in flavor.”

Jonny’s Guess: Vermont Dark Amber Maple Syrup (Oh boy!) – INCORRECT (0 points for Jonny)

Amy’s Guess: Aunt Jemima (at least I knew it was fake!) – INCORRECT (0 points again for Amy)

#3: TASTE TEST RESULTS FOR VERMONT DARK AMBER REAL MAPLE SYRUP

Jonny’s Comments:

• “Eww! Very Sugary and sweet.”
• “Tastes like the bottom of a teacup.”
• “I don’t like it at all – you need to rely on good pancakes to save that!” (Oh Jonny, you really are going to be embarrassed when you find out that you royally messed up on this one!)

Amy’s Comments:

• “More natural than the first one (Mrs. Butterworth).”
• “Less fake sweet and more natural in flavor.”
• “Almost floral in smell – this one is my favorite.”

Jonny’s Guess: Mrs. Butterworth  – INCORRECT (0 points for Jonny)

Amy’s Guess: Vermont Dark Amber Maple Syrup – CORRECT (1 point for Amy)

#4: TASTE TEST RESULTS FOR CANADIAN MEDIUM MAPLE SYRUP

Jonny’s Comments:

• “Much thinner than the others, less viscous.”
• “I really like this.”
• “No caramel flavor, cleaner in the mouth and very woody – like freshly cut pine.”

Amy’s Comments:

• “Stronger and sweeter than #2 (the Vermont Maple).”
• “Stronger flavor and thinner than 1 & 3 (the two fakes).”
• “Very nice.”

Jonny’s Guess: Canadian Medium Maple Syrup  – CORRECT (1 point for Jonny)

Amy’s Guess: Canadian Medium Maple Syrup – CORRECT (1 point for Amy)

Well, this experiment proved to be an interesting one.  I grew up with fake maple syrup and I could spot it from a mile away, unlike Jonny.  I was actually disappointed in myself for not nailing the Aunt Jemima test — that was the household favorite back in the day.  One thing that is for sure though, Jonny and I both preferred the real maple syrup.  I enjoyed the Vermont Maple best and Jonny loved the Canadian. The grades of the maple syrup may have made it harder to really do a side-by-side test of the two real ones.  Either way, it was obvious to me that there is a major difference in the texture, flavor and aftertaste of real maple syrup versus fake.  It is worth the cost to get the real deal.  A little goes a long way!  And why would anyone want to put those chemicals in their bodies just to save $9?

Some food for thought – fake maple syrup costs about $28 per gallon to produce where real maple syrup typically sells for around $100 per gallon. The fake stuff is quick, cheap and easy to make.  Why tap a tree for sap when you can make a whole fake bunch of it in something that resembles an oil refinery?

Although Jonny made a huge boo-boo by thinking Vermont Maple syrup was Mrs. Butterworth’s, he doesn’t have the years of expertise that I do. He’s actually eaten more fake syrup while living in American than real. I’d like to say he was at a disadvantage, but I’d encourage you all to seek out some real maple syrup and think twice about what’s in that $1.89 version of “table syrup” you may have been eating for years.

Next, we’re on the hunt for real NY State Maple syrup!  Check out this site if you’re interested too.

One of the most familiar (and enjoyable) flavor combinations to many cultures – sour and sweet or, as the Italians call it, agrodolce.  There is something about tartness and sweetness that just makes you want more.  Think Sour Patch Kids, Pisco or Whiskey Sours or your favorite Chinese take-out order.  Yes, sweet and sour is everywhere.

A traditional agrodolce is very basic and usually only includes vinegar, sugar and maybe wine.  Similar to the French gastrique, agrodolce was thought to have been brought to Sicily from the Arabs.  We took a few other sour/sweet combos and added them to our basic sauce, just to up the flavor a few notches.  Let me tell you folks, this is a winner.  Thanks to the amazing vinegar sauce we ate at Prune a while back, we figured the addition of raisins and cornichons wouldn’t hurt. In fact, we wished we had made more of the sauce just to eat it by itself.

This agrodolce would work well with many other things besides cornish game hen such as pork, chicken or fish.  Get a nice crust or crispy skin on any of those and the sauce will meld perfectly with it.  We hope you give this a try.

This meal was fabulous and so easy to make. It could wow dinner guests and, if you can find some cheap legs, will cost next to nothing per plate.  Crispy skin, sweet sauce, creamy side dish – what else could you ask for?

DUCK LEGS WITH PEAR, CURRANT AND BALSAMIC SAUCE (serves 2)

• 2 juicy, deliciously plump duck legs
• 3/4 cup, white wine
• **2 cups stock (chicken or veggie)
• 3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
• 1 bay leaf
• 6 whole stems of thyme
• 3 shallots, minced
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• 1/2 cup dried craisins/dried cranberries (currants would work too)
• 2 teaspoons sugar (optional)
• 2 pears, peeled and chopped into squares

**RE: Amount of Chicken Stock: You may need more or a little less stock depending on the size of your dutch oven/pot.  The key to keeping the skin of the duck legs crispy is to not allow the level of braising liquid to go over the skin.***

What to do:

1. Trim some of the excess fat off the leg. Score the fat on the duck legs to create “diamonds” (meaning, cut 3 lines one way and 3 intersecting lines the other way – but do not cut deeply into the meat, only score the fat).  Rub salt  and pepper all over the legs.
2. In a dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot, cook the duck legs, skin/fat side down until lightly browned, about 3 or 4 minutes.  Turn over and brown on the other side for one minute.  Remove legs and allow to rest on a plate for a few moments.
3. Add garlic and shallots along with a bit of olive oil (if not enough fat rendered out of the duck legs) and allow to cook for one minute. Deglaze the pot with the wine and add the balsamic. Scrape up the bits off the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon and allow the wine to reduce for a minute or two.
4. Add the thyme, pears and craisins and stir.  Put the legs back, skin side up, into the pan along with any accumulated juices. Add the stock, but do not allow the liquid level to go above the duck leg skin. You don’t want to lose the crispy skin. Bring to a boil and then lower to a gentle simmer. Cook at a low simmer for 1 1/2 hours, uncovered.
5. Take the legs out and skim as much of the accumulated fat off the sauce – a lot will have risen to the top!
6. Run the sauce through a sieve and smush down all the good bits (cooked pear, garlic, shallots) to get as much of the flavor out as possible.  Return the sauce to the pot, add the sugar (leave out if you feel it is sweet enough!) and boil sauce for 3 minutes to thicken it.
7. Plate the duck with the sauce and a side of celeriac mash (if you wish).

Even though mulled wine should remind me of being in the church choir as a cherub-faced youngster and singing Christmas carols with frosty breath overlooking a seasonally-decorated nave and a sea of pink-cheeked parishoners, it doesn’t. In spite of this being the way I was introduced to this most famous Yuletide beverage, my abiding memories of it from childhood (before I ever got to drink any, I should mention) are of a warm cinnamon-scented aroma spiked sharply with the acrid tang of disinfectant and the musty odor of old people. And this, perhaps unsurprisingly, had put me off it until comparatively recently.

You see, as part of the church’s annual carol-singing calendar, we choristers had to visit all the hospitals, hospices and senior citizens homes in town, and my sensitive smell-o-memory was scarred for many years by this revolting combination of smells. That was, until I visited a friend in the French city of Lyon around Christmastime a few years back.

As an icy mistral wind blew down the Rhône valley, vin chaud or hot wine was being served out of a deep cauldron to chilled shoppers perusing the seasonal wares of Lyon’s famed Christmas market in Place Carnot. And I found the atmosphere of seasonal bonhomie, red noses, black tobacco, and warm, spicy alcohol irresistible. I’m not sure whether it was the cold, the booze, or the giant cans of duck confit and cassoulet on sale that so moved me, but from that moment on, I have been hooked on mulled wine.

A Brief History of Mulling

In days gone by, wine went bad pretty quickly due to poor bottling techniques, so during the Renaissance period, spices began to be added – as they were to virtually everything else in that time – to both delay spoilage and make spoiled products taste less nasty. And since young wines were commonly bottled during the early fall, mulling (which originally only meant to ruminate or ponder lengthily) was necessary by Yuletide as some were beginning to turn to the dark side, and hence how the consumption of “mulled wine” became a holiday tradition.

The exact combination of spices varies from country to country and person to person, but, on the whole, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and bay are mixed into claret or another Bordeaux to form the basis of flavors. Variations (and there are many) include the addition of mace, juniper, black pepper, dry citrus peel or vanilla, and substitutions include honey or molasses for the sugar, cardamom for the cloves, and brandy, sherry, acquavit, brenivin, fruit wine or vodka for the red wine.

Mulled wine, aka vin chaud, gluhwein, glögg, vin fiert, vin brulé, quentão, is drunk in most European countries in some form or another around Christmas, but it is particularly associated with German and Nordic traditions where so-called “glogg” parties are a holiday season staple. At these shin-digs, the spiced wine is typically drunk with other Yule specialties including gingerbread, blue cheese and, perhaps rather curiously, rice-pudding.

In my house growing up, however, we only ever had mulled wine when we were expecting company because my father, who has something of an intolerant nose for anything strongly perfumed, can’t abide the stuff, and, it being during the early 1980s, it was accompanied by cheese and pineapple cubes on toothpicks, cocktail weenies (chipolatas), factory-made mince pies, and potted shrimp. All of which is perhaps another reason why I didn’t really catch on to the subtle flavors and myriad charms of mulled wine until I’d left home.

But, of course, now that I have, I’m almost obsessed with making it every year, and so impassioned am I about it, that I’ll frequently pour myself a large glass and then go and stand outside in the cold to drink it to try to recreate the Lyonnaise atmosphere of years ago. Of course, it doesn’t work that well, but it beats the shit out of taking my glass and hymn book to a seniors center and evoking older memories…

Happy Boozy Holidays to you all!

Jonny’s Holiday Mulled Wine (serves 6-8)

Ingredients:

• 2 bottles of red wine
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
• 1 teaspoon of cloves
• 2 bay leaves
• 4 star anise
• 4 sticks of cinnamon
• 12 tablespoons brown sugar
• 1/3 cup of orange juice
• peel of 1 orange
• peel of 1 lemon
• 1 orange sliced in 1/4 inch rounds

What to do:

1. Optional: Tie all spices in a piece of cheesecloth using kitchen twine. You can skip this if you’d prefer to laugh at guests with cloves stuck in their teeth.
2. Heat wine in pot gently with spices/sachet and peel until aromas fill the room (at least 15 minutes). Do not boil, only simmer very, very gently.
3. Stir in sugar and orange juice. Taste for sweetness and adjust if necessary.
4. Place orange rounds in mugs and ladle in wine.
5. Stir and serve with a cinnamon stick and enjoy!

Tradition
Now, it’s very common — almost traditional, some would say — for the British, when visiting another European country, to buy a bottle or more of the local tipple as a souvenir. This tends to the eaux-de-vie / grappa-type firewater, often distilled with herbs from the surrounding hills, that the locals swear has health-restoring powers, but in fact is the cause of the blindness and insanity in endemic communities. And, just as commonly, once back in the UK, said bottle is placed in a dark recess of ones’ liquor cabinet and only ever reached for if, say England win something, anything, at football (soccer), and everything else in the house has already been drunk in the course of celebrating. Such was my thinking when we bought this curiously slim bottle of vin santo.

Even when I learned that it was in fact a dessert wine and not a paint-stripper, I remained cautious. After all, during the 1990s and the early years of this century, dessert wines had consistently been given a bad rap. People looked down their noses at sweeter wines as dry, crisp wines like chardonnay were all the rage. My theory (based on no research at all) is that skinny southern Californians are to blame for this. You see, the 90s power lunch diet of a “dinner salad” sans bread, expensive mineral water, and glass of something dry and white seems to have persuaded the rest of us that not only was dry white wine somehow sophisticated, but it was also lower in calories than a sweeter wine, and therefore better for us.

Research, Kinda
However, some recent actual research on the shelves of Gary’s Wines and Liquors (Flatbush Ave. and Sixth Ave., Brooklyn, NY) confirmed that wine stores which had previously been stocked almost exclusively with chardonnay, chenin blanc, and sauvignon blanc, are now burgeoning with viognier, gewurztraminer, albarino, riesling and several others whose names I forget. Clearly, there is some of sort of change in tastes afoot.

Taking this research a step further, I also noticed sweeter dessert wines are appearing on menus in my neighborhood and amongst them, in at least one restaurant, I found vin santo. All of which convinced me to find out more about this unusual beverage and, hell, give it a try!

Some Facts
Literally “holy wine”, vin santo is made from malvasia and trebbiano grapes that are left on the vine late to develop their sugars. The derivation of name vin santo is subject to some controversy since some believe that it had miraculous properties that cured plague in the 14th century. Others attribute it to a certain Greek Bishop who in the 15th century proclaimed upon drinking it “This is the wine of Xanthos!” — a pressed raisin wine from Santorini, which his fellow diners mistook for “santos”, i.e. “this is the wine of the saints”. Dismally though, it’s thought that the most likely derivation is its sometime use in Tuscany as a sacramental wine during mass.

The third most planted grape in the world by area, trebbiano grapes have usually received a bad reputation because they (when unblended) tend to produce very rough and ready wines (mostly white, some red) that have usually only been drunk young as table wines. Some chianti producers use them as a blend with sangiovese grapes, but again due to their inherent instability, they are being phased out in favor of 100% sangiovese these days.

Similarly, malvasia grapes are mostly used to make young and fairly rough white table wines, and are widely planted across the world too — most famously on the Portuguese island of Madeira where they are used to create the eponymous sweet wine. And, it is when trebbiano and malvasia are allowed to age that they become spectacular and display their real talents – both are commonly used as the base for other fortified wines like sherry, brandy and port.

Once picked, vin santo makers allow their grapes to dry and develop even more sweetness as they hang from rafters in well-ventilated rooms until they are pressed. Then the sweet juice is extracted and placed into small, cigar-shaped barrels called caratelli. After an initial open-barrel fermentation, and in a similar method to aging balsamic vinegars, these barrels are sealed and then stored in garrets or attic spaces and left to age, the best for as long as ten years.

It is because of this extended aging and sweetening process, as well as the deliciousness of the final product, that vin santo is so highly prized (and priced). It’s comparatively low yield per kilo of grapes picked and long production time means that not only is it a scarce commodity but it requires a lot of patience and care before it is ready.

So, erm, what does it taste like? 

At the end of this 10 year period, the wine is a beautiful golden amber color with a slightly nutty flavor. It is certainly sweet but not in a honeyed or saccharine way. Rather, it has a perfectly balanced flavor that works wonderfully well at the end of a savory meal without completely coating the palate with sugar.

Vin santo is typically served with almond or hazelnut biscotti-type biscuits/cookies (“cantucci e vin santo”) which are often dipped into the wine to soften them and accentuate their taste as a dessert combo, but it may be drunk as an accompaniment to other desserts or by itself as a digestive. However, and probably because of its sweetness, it is never served with cheese.

Since first trying it and realizing that, like so many of my typically English preconceived notions about all things “foreign”, it’s actually very good and those “foreigners” know much better than the English when it comes to food, we’ve drunk it mostly by itself without biscotti. But you should get yourself some and drink it any which way you choose. Sadly, after squeezing as many small nips from it as we could manage to prolong its life, we have just finished the bottle we bought in Italy. Like many of the best things in life, you have to be sparing and savor it in order to get your money’s worth.

Now, depending on where you live vin santo may be harder to find, but it’s easy to get hold of online, if a little expensive. So I encourage you to give it a try, perhaps at a restaurant first so your initial investment is limited, but I’m sure you’ll find, as I did, that re-evaluating ones prejudices towards sweet wines is a rewarding exercise.

So, maybe I’m trying to blame everyone and everything else for this crappy attempt at cooking. Ok, I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I’m going to put a picture of my baking soda-less ‘cake’ here:

Delicious, right? Are you still there? Do you still love us? Could you possible forgive me for not knowing how to cook sweets? PLLLLEEEAAAASSSEEE, I’m on my knees beggin’.

Well, the next day I dusted myself off, wiped my tears and snot away and threw that flour-stained apron on for one last attempt. This time I’ll used the baking soda!! I also changed recipes. Pixie at You Say Tomato had a sweet idea to bake better and more easily – check off the ingredients you’ve used and the steps you’ve finished. Brilliant!! So, I did it. Here’s the result.

I used some Nigella Lawson icing recipe but I have to tell you that two days after I made the cake, alot of the icing actually was absorbed by the cake instead of staying on the cake. Maybe this is a normal thing and most people finish cakes in 2 days. Hey, there’s only two of us here! I was also able to use a bit more of the blood oranges from this post to color the icing a bit pink.

Anyways, I’m sure I haven’t inspired you to bake with this post, but I had to share the story of a “Girl Baker Gone Wild”. I may leave the baking to the husband from now on.

STRAWBERRY BUNDT CAKE WITH ROYAL ICING

Ingredients for Cake:

• 3 cups cake flour (or substitute 3 1/2 cups of regular flour with 1/2 cup corn starch to make 4 cups of the cake flour “substitute” – remember to only use 3 cups of it, though!)
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 2 1/2 teaspoons baking powder (this is important, remember!!)
• 3/4 teaspoons salt
• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1/2 cup milk
• 3 large whole eggs
• 2 egg yolks
• 1 tbsp. vanilla extract
• 1 1/4 cup unsalted butter (divided)
• 10-15 fresh strawberries, sliced and mashed with back of a fork

What to do for cake:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Generously grease and flour a 12-cup Bundt pan or tube pan. Tap out any excess flour.
2. Sift the cake flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, and salt into the bowl of a standing electric mixer.
3. In a medium bowl, using a fork, beat together the sour cream, milk, whole eggs, egg yolks, and vanilla until very well blended and smooth. Add the butter and half the egg mixture to the dry ingredients. Beat at low speed just until thoroughly incorporated. Increase the speed to high and beat for 1 minute; do not overmix.
4. Add the remaining egg mixture and beat at medium-high speed until the batter is fluffy and smooth, about 1 minute longer.
5. Throw in the sliced/mashed strawberries along with any juice that was extracted and fold into the batter.
6. Scrape the batter into the prepared bundt pan. Rap the pan on the counter several times to remove air bubbles. Bake the cake in the middle of the oven for 50 to 60 minutes, or until it is well browned, pulls away from the pan sides, and a toothpick inserted in the thickest part comes out clean.
7. Run a thin knife around the pan edges to loosen the cake if necessary, then invert onto a serving plate. Allow to cool before adding icing.

Ingredients for Icing:

• 2 large egg whites (or substitute powdered egg whites)
• 3 cups confectioners’ sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon lemon juice plus 1/2 teaspoon blood orange juice (Feel free to just use 1 whole teaspoon of lemon juice if you don’t have any blood orange juice)

What to do for icing:

1. Combine the egg whites and confectioners’ sugar in a medium-size mixing bowl and whip with an electric mixer on medium speed until opaque and shiny, about 5 minutes.
2. Whisk in the lemon juice/blood orange mixture, this will thin out the icing. Beat for another couple of minutes until you reach the right spreading consistency for the cake. Should be stiff but able to run a bit down the sides of the cake.

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