The sleeper hit of Thanksgiving were these sultry persimmon puddings. Really they were more like persimmon panna cotta’s since they were so slippery, luscious and texturally succulent. Many of my more fortunate friends across the globe are swimming in persimmons right now. I am not. This is a travesty I would like to correct at some point in my life, but I’ve been told there is little hope if I continue to reside in Seattle.

Persimmons, like kumquats this time of year, mostly grace the gardens of my friends in more Southerly climes, much to my chagrin. I am willing to perform a trade, if you are reading this. I can bottle rainwater for you in exchange for a fat sack of bulging persimmon goodness. Ok ok, I am being bad and not at all heeding my locavore credo. Sue me- trading posts existed in ye olde West, I’ll see you a persimmon and raise you a pine nut, you crazy tribal beeyotch!

into the water bath they go

The spoon sex that happens when you put persimmon pudding to your lips can’t possibly happen with any other food- even the ones that begin with the letter P. Did you know that the most lascivious foods are brought to us by the letter P? Just ask Sesame Street. Pomegranates, pea shoots, pears, prosciutto, and pie- still wanna argue? So it’s only natural that persimmon pudding, with its double whammy alliteration, ups the ante on the P-style fun bags, and here’s why.

ready to come out

You may not think about it directly, but every time you take a bite there are quite a few factors at play. First, there is smell. Then temperature. Next invariably is texture. These all contribute to a greater factor we know as taste. Some of us are more in tune than others to various tastes, textures, smells, and temperatures. There is, of course, the age-old crunchy versus creamy debate. Personally I like things that deliberately challenge the palate to think outside the tongue, and this dessert does that, albeit in a very unassuming way.

I am fortunate to be able to cook these little love cups sous vide, however a water bath in a low oven would probably work fine too. In terms of ingredients, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. While I do, on occasion write down ingredient lists for things I invent, more often than not I toss in a little bit of this, taste, then toss in a little bit of that, taste, and wrap it up in a whole lotta love. The things that turn out best tend to be the ones I’m dying to make, the ones that have a little planning, but a lot of passion behind them.

They are the creations I put other things on hold for- yes, the parsnip puree needed to be completed and I wasn’t even planning to bring these puddings to actual Thanksgiving dinner, and yet I set everything aside to pursue a notion of the heart. I recorded some basic measurements, but that will never be enough to replicate a recipe. The touch of superior taste comes from the indiscernible added fervor that gives an edge to the highest level of precision. To cook is to love food. To understand food. To use chemistry and science for the greater good of providing pleasure. These persimmon puddings are the ultimate example of the collision between food, love and science.

Persimmon Pudding

15 minutes active time, 1.5 hours inactive

Serves 8

• 4 pureed Fuyu Persimmons
• 1 egg
• 2 egg yolks
• ½ c cream
• ½ c whole milk
• ¼ tsp baking powder
• 1 c sugar
• ¼ tsp vanilla extract
• ½ tsp freshly-grated ginger
• ¼ tsp freshly-grated nutmeg
• Pinch kosher salt

1. Heat a waterbath to 180° (alternatively, you can place a cake pan with an inch of water in a low temperature oven and cook these using bain marie method).  Pass the persimmon puree through a mesh strainer in order to remove the sinewy bits.
2. Combine all of the ingredients in a blender and blend until smooth. Pour into 8 individual portion ramekins and cover each tightly with cling film.
3. Place the ramekins in the sous vide water bath or in the bain marie. If you are cooking en sous vide, cook until just set and cling film has bubbled up taut, like in the photo. This takes approximately 1.5 hours, but you can always test by removing a ramekin and jiggling it a little to see if it’s firm. (For bain marie-style, do the same, but likely it will take much less time, perhaps a half hour.)
4. Once the puddings are set, invert them onto a serving platter. I serve mine with a generous helping of whipped cream.

This post is going to be a tricky Technicolor dreamcoat to weave. I have a lot to say and I somehow have to tie it all up in a hot ice cream bundle and deliver it to your eyes in a sort of cornucopia fashion since it’s Thanksgiving. You are scratching yourself wondering what hot ice cream has to do with Thanksgiving, no doubt. Well considering the fact that it is currently 26°F and snowing in generally temperate Seattle, if I’m going to be eating any ice cream, it’s going to be hot. Hot like your short-shorts-clad bootay on pleather car seats in August in Texas.  If that’s not a good enough justification for making hot ice cream in November, I don’t know what is.

First of all- What the HELL is hot ice cream? Well, bitches, I’m going all molecular on your asses again, yes I am.  Hot ice cream is a fucking cool concept that the folks over at Ideas in Food came up with, near as I can tell. They make theirs with cream cheese, but I wanted to substitute mascarpone because I wanted the dish to be a take-off of the traditional Italian dessert- affogato. Affogato literally means “drowned” in Italian, and consists of a scoop of gelato that is drenched in hot espresso. I figured affogato would be the perfect way to serve hot ice cream, simply by inverting the two ingredients, aka hot ice cream and cold coffee.

The magic molecular ingredient that makes hot ice cream possible is called methylcellulose. It is a vegetable-derived chemical compound that has the intriguing property of being a thermo-reversible gelling agent. What that means is that unlike the gelling agent you are perhaps most familiar with- gelatin- methylcellulose sets as it gets hot. Gelatin, as you know, sets upon cooling. If you are like me, reading this paragraph had undoubtedly catapulted your brain into a deep mineshaft of endless crystalline possibilities. Stay with me for a moment, while we indulge in mine.

The ice cream was straightforward enough, but I spiced it up by adding butter, because, you know, straight mascarpone couldn’t possibly be creamy enough, right? But the real trick, the real trick indeed, was turning this into an affogato corretto- that means “drowned corrected.” If you didn’t get it from the connotation, Italians believe that to “correct” something means to add booze to it. Let’s call that reason #4269 why I LOVE that heady land. So I corrected the error of my sober ways by tossing in a hefty shot of Ron Anejo  Aniversario and lo! Suddenly this classicly warped affogato became not only a reverse dessert, but also a hot-buttered rum! Can somebody get me a mensa application, please?

I’ve been trying to figure out a way to segue gently from hot ice cream toddies to what I really want to say in this post, but there is no subtle transition, unless you’re drunk from said toddy, in which case life in general will be one giant subtle transition (#notaeuphemism). Thanksgiving. It’s a time of year to engorge, play couch calisthenics, and surround yourself with the ones you love. It’s also the time of year when most folks go around the table and share tales of why they are thankful. This year I have been thinking more about this than ever before because I have many reasons to give thanks.

I have so many reasons, in fact, that I cannot help but think of the innumerable souls out there who have less. This year doing my part means gathering warm clothes, blankets, socks, and bringing them to the shelter. It means putting my money where my mouth is as much as possible. It means not forgetting that people fall upon hard times 365 days a year, not just during the soup-kitchen glory days when it’s fashionable to don a ladle and a pious smile.

It also means thanking you for taking this journey with me and giving me support when I feel down. After more than a year having a blog and immersing myself into the milieu of social media, I have realized that in a way I am on constant public display. Random people in coffee shops stop me and ask where to get cheese curd or if they can try some of my salt. Lasting friendships are formed on the strength of watching someone perfect the art of the macaron over several months.

We champion each other to strive for big opportunities and console one another when our dreams are temporarily dashed. What I am trying to say is thank you, community, for showing me that this world is truly my home more than any physical address ever could be. My slice of hyperspace is brimming with great things, and in large part it’s due to you. Thank you for still liking me while I geek out, do insane things, wax on about fruity protuberances, and frequently fail. Happy Thanksgiving, world. Love, Linda

Hot Mascarpone Butter Ice Cream

Takes 15 minutes active time plus overnight to set, makes 10 affogatos

• 200 grams mascarpone cheese, softened
• 50 grams quality butter, softened
• 100 grams sugar
• Pinch of kosher salt
• Seeds from ½ vanilla bean ( I like the Tahitians from Marx Foods)
  
• 120 grams water
• 20 grams methylcellulose (note: I use methylcel from Willpowder.net. Different methylcel’s have slightly different properties, and you may find with other brands you have to use more or less in order to achieve the right level of gelling.)

1. 1. Using an immersion blender, mix the mascarpone, butter, sugar and salt until just blended. (do not aerate too much or mixture will separate)
2. 2. Place the vanilla bean and water in a small saucepan and bring to simmer.
3. 3. Whisk in the methylcellulose until incorporated.
4. 4. Drizzle the methylcellulose water into the cream mixture and blend until just combined.
5. 5. Place in the refrigerator in a sealed container overnight.
6. 6. The next morning, bring a saucepan of water to a low simmer. Using an ice cream scoop or a small ladle, gently nestle scoops of the cream mixture into the water. For the first minute, keep the cream in the ladle, since this is when the shape is setting. After a minute, gently dislodge the scoops and allow them to continue to set in the gently boiling water for an additional 2 minutes.
7. 7. Serve scoops in a cup with iced espresso and rum poured over.

If you read that title and you still need convincing, there is probably very little hope for you in life. Go back to your meuslix munching and leave the artery clogging to me. Or maybe you need convincing because you don’t know what a bucatini nest might consist of and you cannot fathom why in Yoda’s name one might fry such a thing. In that case, keep reading and I will initiate you into a world so coveted, so special, so pasta-slurpingly scintillating you won’t ever want to turn back.

Bucatini are a type of extruded pasta- long like spaghetti, but hollow on the inside, rather like bendy pixie stix. They are my favorite above all extruded pastas, but let’s rewind. Do you know the difference between extruded versus rolled/sheeted pasta? It’s simple. Extruded pasta is made by forcing dough through a small die, typically resulting in a round shape that would be impossible to achieve using traditional roll and cut methods. Examples of extruded pasta include spaghetti, cappellini, macaroni, penne, and rigatoni. If you are ever in doubt, think of it like this: would I be able to make this pasta using a rolling pin and my own two hands? If the answer is no, it’s probably extruded. Rolled or sheeted pastas include tagliolini, tagliatelle, lasagna, fettucine, and all manner of ravioli and agnolotti.

Want to know a little secret about the difference between rolled pasta dough and extruded dough? Rolled pasta dough from most regions of Italy (there are a few exceptions) typically contains at least egg yolks and often egg whites too. In contrast, extruded pasta is generally made from flour and water. There is an important reason for this. You see, extruded pasta is made from pushing the dough through a small die, usually using a motor (but often just a hand crank) and therefore the dough that comes through the die must not be sticky or it will come out a gloppy mess. In contrast, it’s nice to have some elasticity to rolled pasta dough in order to be able to roll it thin. Eggs enable that.

Various regions of Italy tend to use farina tipo “00” (similar to all-purpose flour), semolina flour, or a combination of both in rolled pasta. In contrast, extruded pasta is almost always made from semolina, which again comes down to texture. Semolina is a more durable grain and so when extruded it holds whatever shape it’s meant to take much better than softer flour might.

When I moved back to the United States from Italy several years ago, bucatini was not easy to find. I had perfected my hand at rolling out sheets of dough, but no amount of coercion could coax my sheets into tubes. With great pleasure and after much ado, I finally bought a pasta extruder. It is an attachment to the Kitchenaid mixer and I am in love with the creations it makes. Extruding pasta is a quick and painless process; however it is important that the pasta has time to air dry completely before being boiled.

I extruded some bucatini to keep me happy on this rainy day, and I got to thinking- I miss egg in my pasta. I thought about serving noodles with a sous vide egg over them, but wanted to use some red pepper I’d juiced to make sauce and didn’t feel red pepper sauce complemented a sous vide egg. Instead, I got the idea to coat cooked bucatini in egg yolk and parmigianno then fry it in little nests in a hot skillet. I served the nests over the red pepper sauce and topped them with pumpkin and bacon. It was very clearly divine intervention because fried bucatini turns out to be one of life’s greatest tastes.

Fried Bucatini Nests on Red Pepper Cream with Bacon and Pumpkin Parisienne

Serves 4. Time: 45 minutes

• 1 lb bucatini
• 3 egg yolks
• 1 c parmigianno reggiano, grated
• 1 cup red pepper juice (made by juicing 3 red peppers)
• 1 cup heavy cream
• 1 tsp paprika
• Salt and pepper to taste
• 1 tsp lemon zest
• 1 lb bacon, chopped medium
• 1 shallot, chopped fine
• 40 small scoops of pumpkin meat (or just cut chunks if you don’t care how pretty)

1. Cook the bucatini in salted water until just al dente. Drain and reserve in colander.
2. In a medium saucepan, combine the red pepper juice and heavy cream. Bring to simmer and reduce by 1/3. Add paprika, salt, pepper and lemon zest. Stir frequently. Maintain a very low simmer until service.
3. In a large skillet, fry the bacon. Add the shallot after two minutes. Stir to incorporate the shallots and bacon, then add the pumpkin. Cook, stirring frequently, until the pumpkin is softened and the bacon is crisp.
4. Meanwhile, place the egg yolks and parmigianno in a large bowl. Toss the bucatini into the mixture and coat with the egg. Place a mixture of butter and oil into a skillet and fry the bucatini until crisped on one side. Flip the bucatini nests and crisp the other side as well. I use a round 4” cutter to maintain the shape of the nests of bucatini, but you could simply pan fry them as well.
5. At service, spoon a bed of red pepper sauce on a rimmed plate, top with a nest of bucatini, then sprinkle the bacon and pumpkin over the top.