truffles anyone?

hendrick's gin, fresh blueberries, fizzy water

i've been reading jean-anthelme brillat-savarin's physiology of taste (or transcendental gastronomy). just his name should give you a bit of a taste of what a stuck-up, pretentious prat he is. and tho' i am largely skimming (what else can one do via an eReader? i can't take reading seriously unless i can scribble in the margins), i went back and forth between eye-rolling and being provoked to ponderous deep thoughts to the occasional actual (and thus no kittens killed) laugh out loud. because tho' he's full of himself, he is witty in a kind of 18th century aristocratic, truffle-scoffing sort of way.

just his quasi-scientific method alone is worth the read...listing and categorizing and hierarchizing what is essentially an exploration of the pleasures of eating and drinking. and oddly, much of it still rings true today.

he opens with a self-congratulatory mini biography, extolling his own virtues as a truly excellent man of taste and cultivation. i somehow picture him as a cross between ben franklin and george washington in appearance, which is odd, since he's french, but there you have it. he says that he was satisfied with the simplest meal one could set before him, if it was just prepared artistically (emphasis mine). that's actually quite pretentious, but i like it. and i subscribe to the notion that care should be taken with the food we eat on a daily basis (tho' it may not always resemble art (see recent attempt to make homemade pita bread)). and frankly, often the simplest food is the most artistic (think japanese). tho' i imagine that he would think the simplest meal should contain truffles (he waxes lyrical about them for nearly 7 pages). and really, truffles are delicious.

but my favorite bit is the section about thirst. because inevitably, he gets around to talking about alcohol. and as you know, i am practically a daily inventor of new cocktails (what? you didn't know? you should really come around more often.). so, without reading the whole thing, i hereby declare my favorite passage to be:

alcohol is the monarch of liquids, and takes possession of the extreme tastes of the palate. its various preparations offer us countless new flavors, and to certain medicinal remedies, it gives an energy they could not do well without.

alcohol as royalty with medicinal properties? let's drink to that.

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an explanatory note: as you know, a group of us are taking advantage of the free course materials available through MIT and are taking a course together. (not for credit, just for fun.) we were interested in two courses and have managed to shuffle the syllabi and combine them - so that we are writing a cool eZine on the topic of food and culture as our end goal. we're just getting started and it's not too late to join us if that sounds appealing. this post represents our first assignment. if you'd like to join us, check out facebook group here, or leave me a comment and i'll gladly invite you.

in spring a (not so) young woman's fancy turns to...cocktails

the sun came out at long last this afternoon. the garden table beckoned. the birds sang. and after a long day at work, the lure of a relaxing cocktail was irresistible. but i didn't feel like an ordinary glass of my old pal chardonnay, nor was it quite warm enough to break out the rosé. the sun-kissed late spring air whispered of something a bit more exotic, something a bit seasonal, something sweet yet tart. in short, a cocktail worthy of one of the first late spring sunshiney days.

i stared into the refrigerator and caught sight of the bright jar of rhubarb syrup i made last weekend, bright and inviting, flecked with black specks of real vanilla suspended in its sweet, slightly thick pink goodness. we'd start there. there was also the ubiquitous bottle of schweppes indian tonic in the fridge-that's-not-a-smeg (sigh). i turned to the liquor cabinet and spied the bottle of thylandia genever, a danish-made, slightly golden historical (tho' newly produced) gin precursor with a whiff of juniper about it. hmm, it sounded perfect. and it was. i give you the rhubarb gin fizz...

the rhubarb gin fizz
it's pinker than this, i couldn't resist a bit of processing

much closer to the true color

you don't need controversial historical gin relatives to make this, use your favorite gin or even vodka. to make the rhubarb syrup, i cooked down about 30 rhubarb stalks (mine are a bit thin, if yours are thick, use less), very slowly with only a little water. after it was cooked, i put it in a strainer over a bowl and let the gorgeous pink liquid drain through, overnight, actually. i didn't press it a whole lot, as i didn't want any bits or pulp in it. then, the next day, i put the clear tart juice back in a pan with a generous cup of sugar (it was probably 3+ C of liquid) and a whole vanilla bean pod that i sliced in half and slowly brought it to a boil. i put it into a canning jar and sealed it, but it's already half gone, as we've used it to make sodas all weekend. as a soda, we had it mixed with plain water or schweppes lemon or fizzy water - it just depends on what you're in the mood for. but it's pretty heavenly with the genevere. tomorrow, i'll give it a whirl with the real stuff - hendrick's, my best and favorite gin (loved by a small handful of people, all over the world).

to make the cocktail, i poured about 3 shots of the rhubarb syrup into a tall glass, one generous shot of genever and filled it up with tonic. perfectly tart yet a bit sweet and with just the right hint of vanilla.

normally, i post recipes over on domestic sensualists, but this one seemed more like a moment of perfect clarity. i am brewing a rhubarb post for over there, so do check in with us soon. but first, grab yourself a nice springy cocktail.