Butterscotch Pudding with Roasted Banana Whipped Cream

It was just about a year ago when I had the butterscotch budino (an Italian baked custard) at Delancey. Sitting on top of its perfectly smooth camel colored cap was a pile of billowy cream with streaks of roasted banana throughout. I’ve always been a fan of pudding and its not-so distant cousins; panna cotta, pot de creme, budino, etc. so it was not too surprising that I enjoyed this dessert. What was surprising was the extent to which I enjoyed it. It was intended to be shared but I did not. Every little streak of creamy pudding that hid in the corners of the shallow jar it was served in became mine. I staked my claim after the first bitter, sweet and a bit salty taste. It reminded me of Nips, those candies that were tucked deep inside Grandma’s purse when I was a young girl. She would pull out one of the gold wrapped oval candies with their circular indentation in the middle and pass one down the pew to me during church. The nearly impossible task of unfolding the foil lined wrapper while not disrupting the service was a worthy price to pay for that sweet, toffee-like candy.

The whipped cream on top obliterated my firm prior conviction that cooked bananas tasted of cardboard mush. I happily humbled myself with mouthfuls of the roasted banana cream, accepting that bananas cooked in butter and brown sugar are quite fine indeed.

A year or maybe even two years later on a gray and drizzling January day the sudden urge for those flavors struck intensely. In my home version I opted for a simple butterscotch pudding omitting the need for an oven and the sometimes frightful water bath. I went back to my banana souflee making days at Spago while I briefly sauteed the bananas in butter and melted brown sugar. Just as the bananas started to take on a deep amber coat I splashed them with a bit of rum. Once cool I purreed the bananas then folded the sweet and very unlike cardboard mush mixture into whipped cream and placed a very generous amount on top of the creamy, sweet and that wonderfully familiar toffee flavored pudding.
This time I shared. Some.

 

 



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Butterscotch Pudding with Roasted Banana Whipped Cream

Butterscotch Pudding adapted from Gourmet 2009 makes 4 servings This is an incredibly rich, sweet and pleasantly salted pudding. A few bites was sufficient for me (and then a few bites more every day for the next week). If you’d like less sweetness you can cut the sugar down to ½ cup. 3/4 cup packed dark brown sugar ½ t kosher or flaky sea salt 2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon cornstarch 1 1/2 cups whole milk 1/2 cup heavy cream 2 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract Whisk together the brown sugar, cornstarch, and 1/2 teaspoon salt in a medium saucepan, then whisk in milk and cream. Bring to a boil over medium heat, whisking frequently. Continue to whisk for 1 minute then remove from heat and add the butter and vanilla. Pour into a bowl, then cover surface with wax paper or plastic wrap. Chill until cold, at least 1 1/2 hours.   Roasted Banana Whipped Cream 2 ripe bananas, cut in 1” chunks 2 tablespoons butter 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar 1 tablespoon Rum 2 cups softly whipped cream In a large saucepan over medium high heat add the butter and brown sugar. Continually stir the sugar taking care so that it doesn’t scorch. Cook until the butter and sugar has melted together. Add the bananas and quickly cook for just about 1 minute. You want the edges to caramelize and coat in the sugar but you don’t want them to get too soft. Turn off the heat and carefully add the rum. Stir everything together and set this aside to cool. Once cool puree the bananas in a food processor. Add some of the banana mixture to the whipped cream and whisk to combine. This is done to taste. I added about half of the bananas but you can do more or less.

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Melted Leeks and Ricotta Tartine

Could it be that there is actually something good to be said of fear? It turns out that the emotion that I’ve dreaded and relegated to being “wrong” and “unhealthy” might possible be an indicator of exactly what I should be doing.

Let me back up for a moment. This past week I read, or listened to (audiobooks are the book-loving busy mom’s dream), the book, “The War of Art”
by Steven Pressfield. In it he basically gives us creatives, who tend to drag our feet in the mud, a swift, yet encouraging kick in the backside. A kick that puts us at our chairs where we must sit and actually do the work. But the work is hard and is surrounded by fear.

In this book, Pressfield asks, “Are you paralyzed with fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember one rule of thumb: the more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”

I make excuses all the time for why I can’t sit and write everyday, for why I shouldn’t pick up my pencil and sketch. As those excuses crumble the roots are exposed and fear is revealed. So yes, I am paralyzed with fear and apparently that’s good. This understanding is helping me not to fear the fear, makes me not feel incompetent for feeling it but rather turns it into a motivator.

I am plagued with fear around writing, succeeding and acting out the goals I’ve made. If fear surrounds what our calling is then it is now the fear that motivates me to just keep at it. Much of the time I question my direction, wondering if these things I fear are really even worth time pursuing but now I see, yes it’s worth it to fight through the fear as fear itself is the indicator that I’m on the right path.

The more I think about it I realize it’s not just in our work where this is true. Let’s be honest, being a mom is terrifying. These little people depend on me for so much. I do what I can to love them well but everyday (many times a day) I’m faced with my own fallibility and I let them down. And I will continue to do so because I’m human and imperfect and so are they. Because there is fear there doesn’t mean I shy away from the task. The fear reveals my love, passion and desire to mother them well.

This isn’t exactly where I intended this post to go. I’m here to talk about ricotta but actually fear isn’t that far off. Seeing recipes for homemade ricotta I envied the results but the process scared me. The heating, curdling then cheesecloth-using put me off for a time until I decided to face the fear of the thermometer (which it turns out you don’t even need) and try making my own. I did and now have done so dozens of times.

When Summer was in its prime along with red tomatoes heavy with juice and peaches so sweet you could smell their perfume before they were in sight, I was making fresh ricotta weekly. We’d make meals of it with bread and just sliced produce. And now that I’ve been making bread with a light and bubbled interior and a crisp, deeply golden exterior nearly daily, the ricotta has returned.


Sitting next to me as I type this are the few remains of lunch: two thick slices of bread baked last night with more than a smear but less than a dollop (although not much less) of ricotta, a bit of olive oil and flakes of crunchy sea salt scattered on top. Last week there were warm and buttery melted leeks resting on the ricotta. A few chile flakes gave a bit of heat to the simple tartine and the bread was crisped in the pan with olive oil.

One thing I have learned about fear is that the completed action that was once cloaked in it is so much more satisfying when conquered. Each batch of fresh ricotta is a reminder of a fear smashed, smothered and beaten up. And each time I sit down to write – be it 5 minutes of pure scribbles and mumblings that will never be seen – I become a bit more brave and sure that yes, this is exactly what I am to supposed to be doing.

 

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Melted Leeks and Ricotta Tartine

Melted Leek and Ricotta Tartine With such a basic recipe as this one adaptations are welcomed and encouraged. Replace the leeks with fennel, greens, carrots or tomatoes. Add fresh herbs, spices or bits of bacon. Of course as is this tartine, splendid in its simplicity, made for a lovely lunch. Homemade Ricotta adapted from Ina Garten I’ve been making ricotta for quite awhile now and have played around with the combination of milk and cream. It can be done with all milk but as you can imagine, cream makes it better. Ina goes as far as to add 2 cups of cream to 4 cups of whole milk and she’s got a good thing going. If I’m feeling rather indulgent that’s the version I use. But now it’s a weekly staple and this version is a bit lighter, cleaner and somehow makes me feel a bit better about slathering it atop crusty, warm bread. You can also pour a bit of fresh cream into the strained cream to add some extra richness and for an incredibly smooth ricotta. The point is it’s quite easy and adaptable so find the version that works best for you. 3 cups whole milk 1 cup cream 2 tablespoons vinegar (I’ve used distilled or cider, you could also use white wine vinegar) salt In a large pot combine the milk and cream and bring to a boil. Watch closely as it can boil over quickly and is a terrible pain to clean, spoken from multiple experiences. Once the milk has come to a boil turn off the heat and add the vinegar. Give a quick and gentle stir before letting the mixture rest for 1 minute. You should notice almost instantly the little curds begin to form and separate from the whey. You’re making cheese - how crazy is that?! Line a strainer with two layers of cheesecloth and place over a bowl large enough to catch the whey. Carefully pour the hot curds and whey over the cheese cloth. Let this drain for about 20-25 minutes or until it is the consistency you desire. Add a bit of good quality salt. You don’t need much, if any, if you plan to use it for sweet recipes. Before you cover and refrigerate your ricotta make sure to take a bite while it’s warm. There’s really nothing better. Refrigerated this will keep for one week. Melted Leeks 1 large leek 2 tablespoons butter pinch chile flakes salt Thinly slice the white part of a large leek. If you happen to cut where the white gradually transitions to citron I wouldn’t mind. In a skillet melt the butter then add the leeks. Add a pinch of salt and cook on medium-low until the leeks soften, become translucent and just start to caramelize. Top a crisp piece of bread with fresh ricotta, warm leeks and a bit of chile flake.

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