Looking for a quick antipasto platter that uses a selection of fall flavors from cross-cultures? I am your woman today.  I’m serving up a bit of prosciutto direct from Parma, Italy.  What’s always nice with prosciutto? Many say melon, but it’s November for god sakes- no hostess worth her mostest would dare bust out a Chilean-grown locavore-ignorant cantaloupe this time of year! No, has to be something seasonal, complementary, well-paired but not well-played out.  Since I am also big on alliteration, I opted to pair my prosciutto with persimmon- take that my lovely Italian traditionalist amici!  Plus, the fuyu persimmons look so good right now they make me straight-woozy in the knees inamorata, so there you have it. 

Italy? Check. Japan? Check.  Now what about my locavore’s dilemma? I need a bit of Seattle to throw into the mix so we’ll go with good old Armandino and his buttery smooth salami from local cult gem Salumi.  But something’s missing. Shouldn’t every good antipasto platter have a decadent hunk of cheese? Yes, yes it should.  But where to go? When in doubt go old-world with new world flair and mix a couple of countries into the same wedge of fromage to boot.  Yes, we’ve got aged cheddar from England, but it’s infused with Portugese ruby port- score! 

Something has to bring this baby home though- I’m thinking something red to tie in the pink of the cheese and prosciutto.  Let’s see, multicultural feast on American soil bringing people together over food in November.  Oh yeah, that’s Thanksgiving, Il Giorno di Ringraziamento as our Italian friends call it.  So how about we go local again as well as tie in some of the flavor of the cheese by reducing some cranberries in port wine? The finished product is tart with a touch of sweetness that is far from cloying and can stand up to the rest of the big boy flavors on the plate.  Doesn’t hurt that she’s pretty, oh so pretty either.  There you have it, a minute inside the crazy mind of Salty Seattle- but doesn’t it all come together so nicely? And judging by the fact that it was gone in the first five minutes of guests’ arrival, I’ll say it tasted a’ight too!

There is a new trend sweeping the catering nation and I am all for it.  We’ve all been there; you’re at a wedding juggling a glass of wine, your overly-crammed purse (you brought the cute little one that matches your shoes, but it can’t possibly hold even half your necessary arsenal- that’s what your husband’s pockets are for!), and the ornate wedding program you’re trying desperately to hang on to though know in your heart of hearts it won’t make it past the champagne toast before it’s carelessly tossed on the buffet table so you can get out on the dance floor and bring “Sexy Back.”  Just as you’re wishing you had a third hand, a waiter comes by with a tray of salmon caviar toasts.  They look innocent enough so you somehow find a way to shift your possessions to make room for the little delicacy.  Once you’ve got it in your hand (of course you forgot to grab a napkin) what looked like one bite on the tray suddenly seems like stuffing Mount Everest inside Moby Dick.  There is no way to eat this daintily because if you bite it in half you’ll get crumbs everywhere, but if you try to shove in the whole thing you’ll be out of commission chewing down your blowfish cheeks for five minutes.  Frustrated, you pass it off to your husband and decide to seek out another drink; if you can’t eat you might as well screw up enough liquid courage to not care what you look like doing the Running Man to YMCA later, right?

 We all know how much trouble this scenario can lead to, thankfully one bite wonders have hit ground running in the party circuit this year, so don’t fret; you should be able to get through the upcoming holiday season fete’s without deciding to regale your bemused coworkers with your over-the-top rendition of Paula Abdul’s Coldhearted Snake.  The trick to creating these delectable little canapés is to start with a cracker base half the size you initially think is appropriate.  Once you pile them high with goodness, they will be plenty big.  Feel free to use my recipe as a rough guideline; there is no steadfast need to use duck breast prosciutto rather than a nicely aged prosciutto di Parma- I just happened to have it on hand.  You could possibly substitute the membrillo, which is quince paste, with another tart, firm jelly, but if you can find membrillo at your local specialty market or Whole Foods, it is worth your efforts.  Typically membrillo is paired with Manchego cheese (and I like to throw in Marcona almonds for good measure).  Because I wanted to complement the duck breast prosciutto and let it be the star attraction, however, I opted to go with a lighter, creamier sheep’s milk cheese from the French side of the Pyrenees mountain range. 

Membrillo Prosciutto Canapes

• 1 package artisan crackers or flatbreads  broken into bite-sized jagged pieces
• As many small slices of duck prosciutto (or regular) as you have pieces of cracker
• Thinly shaved sheep’s milk cheese or other mild cheese of your choice
• Membrillo

1.  Arrange your cracker pieces on a serving platter.  Pile them with pieces of prosciutto and cheese.  Finish them with tiny slivers of membrillo, serve, and dance the night away! 

My first homemade charcuterie project was a resounding success; thanks, Michael Ruhlman, for your super informative book.  Recently I’ve become pretty intrigued with at-home charcuterie; it all started with the extra refrigerator Jonas brought home a few months ago from the office that sat languishing on our deck.  I hate useless appliances, and I really try to keep my kitchen fairly gadget-free (though I confess to being lured in by promised convenience more than I probably should).  That’s why this refrigerator was bothering me so much just sitting there mocking me from our unused upper deck without so much as a nearby electrical outlet so we could plug it in. 

I finally requested that Jonas make a morning project of rearranging our master bathroom closet to accommodate the refrigerator- how many mismatched Missoni bath towels and pilfered Mondrian soaps does a girl really need?  I’ve had it up and running for a month now- it’s great.  I bring Bentley’s bottle of milk upstairs at night, use the second fridge to house said milk, and take it out for the baby in the morning so I don’t have to make the arduous journey downstairs.  That’s it.  There is not another damn thing that has seen the inside of the spare refrigerator to this day, mainly because I can’t regulate the temperature enough inside it to ensure even curing.  What does this have to do with my luscious duck boobies? Not a thing, since it was my laborious mistake in the first place, but I promise you, you will see home-cured pork belly cum bacon coming out of that refrigerator before the year’s end even if I have to get a refrigeration and humidity degree just to figure out how to regulate the chilly sucker! 

Now on to more important matters- duck breast prosciutto, wowsa! If you choose to give up an active hour or so of your life to this project, you will not regret it.  And neither will your lucky friends who are sure to reap the joys of your efforts once your breasts have shriveled to just the right sinuousness and you decide it’s time to bias slice them for the oral pleasure of all around.  If all this sounds a bit disgusting and too anthropomorphic for your taste, don’t forget, we’re talking duck breasts here.  Just think of the exact opposite thing you look for in a nice, human busom and that’s what you’ll want to do to make that of the duck taste simply divine.  Scrub it down, slather it in salt, and hang it to dry for days upon days until it shrivels and shrinks to 70% of its original size and you’re guaranteed goodness.  Again, we’re talking ducks here, not Grandmas, people! 

Here is a detailed account of my exact technique. 

Mix 20 juniper berries, 30 coriander seeds, 10 blessac peppercorns, 4 crumpled bay leaves, 8 oz white Hawaiian salt and 16 oz curing salt with one heaping spoonful of sorghum.  Place 1/3 of this mixture in the bottom of a pyrex dish just large enough to hold four duck breast sides (basically two split breasts).  Trim the duck breast sides of excess fat and make note of the weight of each side (you want the flesh and the fat to be about the same diameter all around. You may have to split your breasts if your butcher has not already done so or if you were lucky enough to bow-hunt your own this season.)

Pack the remaining salt mixture around the duck breasts so that they are completely covered, put the lid on the pyrex and refrigerate breasts for 24 hours.  Remove from refrigeration, wash off salt, and wrap breasts in one layer of cheesecloth. Tie according to illustration and hang in a temperature-controlled chamber that is between 60-65 degrees.  My wine fridge worked perfectly since it has a great thermostat.   The breasts are done curing when they weigh 70% of what they originally weighed.  For example, each of my breasts started off around 5.75 ounces, and after 8 days they were down to nearly 4 ounces each.  Once they are done curing you can untie the cheesecloth and wrap them in plastic wrap in the refrigerator. They will keep for several weeks.   The addition of spices to the salts is purely subjective and came out of my head.  You can substitute molasses for sorghum (which is a syrup made from the juice of sorghum cane, commonly found in the southern US), and play around with your own mix of berries and seeds.  You also may substitute regular salt for curing salt, I just didn’t want to take any chances and I have easy access to curing salt down at Market Spice  (I believe they ship).

Now on to the gustatory factor: these little boulders are blasphemously tasty, as sensuous on the palate as they are dangling willy nilly from their rip cords during curing.  I’ve eaten them straight up to get a real sense of their character, very rich, a little bit goes a long, long way.  My favorite serving thus far (we still have two luscious lobes left) has been ever-so-slightly melted on a raclette griddle served on a baguette slice over melted raclette cheese.  I think they would be off the hook on pizza- that’s my next kitchen adventure.

After spending an oozingly satisfying morning making burrata from scratch, I knew I had to have a superlative plan for serving it later that night.  The whole crew who came along for the burrata adventure was going to be there, and I wanted them to experience the efforts of their toils in a way they would not soon forget.  The task was compounded in difficulty by the fact that I was pretty insistent upon doing multiple courses with different variations of the burrata.  I was hoping to make each course unique enough that every time someone experienced that gushing burst of burrata bliss it would be just as good as the first.  This post deals with two of those courses- both succulent enough to inspire salivation in the most sated soul. 

We started with burrata in white nectarines with a fava bean puree because it’s refreshing, light (even with the burrata!) and the nectarines act as a great amuse bouche opening the palate to further pleasures.  I’ve served many variations on this fairly classic presentation of burrata, though normally I opt for apricots.  They were not in season at the market, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The nectarines had the added benefit of intensified sweetness to counterbalance the fava as well as a larger depression where their pits used to be, allowing me to cram in a perfectly plump dollop of burrata.  In the past, I had always oscillated between balsamic drizzle and mint simple syrup when dressing this dish, but this time I decided to go for broke and try both.  I wanted to be sure that each would have a different texture, so I upped the ante with the mint simple syrup and continued it to the point of caramelization.  That way, I could crumble the mint and drizzle the balsamic, and trust me, everyone was very happy. 

The more daunting project of the afternoon was pulling a random idea out of my head for stuffing burrata into sheeted pasta and bringing it all together.  I was lucky to have the assistance of my good friend Deanna for this course, because cuscini don’t exactly make themselves.  Cuscini is the moniker we came up with once we saw what shape our pasta had taken- they looked just like delicate little Italian pillows.  I had originally intended on a form closer to the Piedmontese agnolotti, but it became apparent that the texture of the burrata filling would not lend itself to a pasta quite so small. 

My biggest worry in stuffing the cuscini was that the burrata would be so full of liquid it would be difficult to contain within the pasta.  I actually thought for weeks on this, and finally remembered frenzied afternoon lunches with friends at Eataly; the only way to ensure that you got your fair share of burrata was to arm yourself with a fat slice of bread to lap up the juices once the ball was placed upon the bar for all to have a go.  I went with my hunch that breadcrumbs would do the same thing inside the pouches, and it worked like a charm.  My husband had major trepidation with me adulterating the simple goodness of burrata by annihilating its awesome form and tearing it to bits as a stuffing, but one bite shut his trap permanently- well, except to chew! 

The actual process of rolling and stuffing the cuscini took a fair amount of time, so naturally Deanna and I indulged in a bit of wine to get us through.  Because I didn’t want to pulverize the burrata completely beyond recognition, I tore it a fair amount but left some particles decent sized.  I’m glad I did because when you bit into the pasta the larger pieces gave it a silky texture not at all reminiscent of the sometimes gritty ricotta-filled ravioli.  The slightly larger pieces also caused our stuffing pockets to require about an inch of space, thus making our entire rectangle of pasta close to 2” long when it was all said and done- hence calling them “Pillows.” 

I went back and forth on a sauce for my little bedtime bundles; too creamy would take away from the cheesy interior, but call me crazy, I’ve never been a huge fan of burrata with tomato, so a red sauce was out of the question for me.  In the end, I decided to incorporate peas and prosciutto so that they would be the stars of the sauce- the white wine reduction and bit of cream thrown in for good measure merely provided some sleekness.  The sauce turned out to be just the right thing to accent the subtle flavor of the burrata; not one thing in the dish screamed “look at me,” rather they all worked together to reduce us diners to stunned silence.  It’s a good thing the Bach Cello Suites were doing a nice job keeping our ears entertained, as there was a good few minutes when all anyone did was chew and swallow- and this from a group of carousing partiers. 

I urge you to host your own burrata bash presto, if it’s anywhere near as successful as ours, you’ll be kicking yourself for not doing it sooner.  Both recipes follow the post, so scroll down for the burrata and nectarines. 

Burrata Cuscini con Prosciutto e Piselli:  Burrata Pillows with Prosciutto and Peas

Serves 4-6

For the pasta:

• 11 egg yolks
• 12 oz semolina flour
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• ½ tsp salt
• Water as needed
• All purpose flour as needed for kneading

For the burrata filling:

• 1 roughly 15 oz ball of burrata
• ½ cup breadcrumbs from 2 slices of potato bread, crusts removed
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• ¾ c Parmigiano Reggiano grated
• ½ tsp Trapani sea salt, crushed
• ¼ c fresh basil leaves chopped fine

For the prosciutto sauce

• 2 tbsp butter and 1 tbsp olive oil
• 1 shallot julienned
• 2 cloves garlic minced
• 1/3 lb prosciutto separated and chopped into 1/2” squares
• ½ c white wine
• 16 oz frozen peas (Cascadian farm are great)
• 1.5 c heavy cream
• Trapani sea salt and pepper to taste
• ½ c Parmigiano Reggiano
• Chiffonaded basil for garnish

1.  Put the semolina, egg yolks, oil and salt into a standing mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment.  Mix on low speed until mixture resembles coarse meal.  Add a little water and continue to mix until dough starts to come together.  Turn out onto a very large, floured surface.  Knead until dough becomes a malleable ball- not too dry, but not overly sticky either.  Cover with a tea towel and let rest while making the filling.
2. In a medium bowl, mix all filling ingredients together and set aside until ready to fill the pasta sheets.
3. To roll out pasta sheets, divide dough into six small, manageable balls and shape each ball into a rectangle.  Roll the pasta sheet out retaining the rectangular shape.  The width of the sheet should end up around 3-4”.  The length will depend on the size of dough ball you started with, but you should strive to roll out the dough as thin as possible without tearing it, as well as keeping an evenly sided and straight rectangle.  Repeat with remaining dough balls, covering each sheet once it’s rolled with a lightly misted tea towel so that it retains its moisture and doesn’t dry out to the point of cracking once you stuff it with filling.  Once all your sheets are rolled, it’s time to begin filling.
4. Prior to filling the pasta sheets, I highly recommend watching this short video for hints on technique.  Essentially, you want to use a teaspoon to drop dollops of filling equally spaced about 1.5” apart down the middle of the pasta sheet.  Because my dough often dries a bit while I’m rolling out my sheets, at this point I use a pastry brush to brush along the bottom edge of the sheet, in between each of the dollops, and along the top part of the sheet where the bottom will be rolled up and sealed.  Working carefully and quickly, roll the bottom of the pasta sheet over the dollops and seal it with your fingertips near the top of the pasta sheet.  Do not go all the way to the top of the sheet; rather leave a little lip that you will eventually trim off like in the video recommended at the beginning of this step.  Pinch the cuscini closed between each dollop, pinch the ends closed, and using either a pasta cutter (if you want the fluted edge) or a pizza cutter (if you want a straight edge, which I prefer), trim off the upper edge excess as well as cutting between each cuscino.  Do a final check to make sure all edges are sealed, and place on a sheet pan lined with parchment and floured while you make the rest of the cuscini.  Once you have formed all of your pasta, cover the sheet pan with a tea towel and set aside for up to one hour at room temperature.  If you need more time, cover the cuscini and put them in the refrigerator for up to 4 hours. 
5. Fill a large stockpot with water and bring to boil.  Oil and salt the water.  Cook cuscini in batches- 10-12 at a time, or as you feel comfortable to manage.  Once cooked, let them rest on an oiled sheet pan set in a 200° oven.
6. Meanwhile, heat butter in a large sauté pan over medium heat.  Add shallot and garlic and sauté until softened, about one minute.  Add prosciutto and sauté for 2 additional minutes, stirring frequently to break up clumps.  Toss in the white wine and stir vigorously until reduced almost completely, about a minute.  Add the peas and cream, turn the heat to low, and cook for four minutes until sauce thickens slightly.  Season with Trapani sea salt and pepper and toss in cuscini. Coat the pasta with the sauce, toss in the Parmigiano, and serve immediately, garnishing each plate with a bit of basil. 

Burrata with White Nectarines, Fava Puree and Caramelized Mint Balsamic Droplets

Serves 6

• 1.5 c fresh mint leaves washed
• ½ c sugar
• ½ c water
• 1 lb fava beans boiled and shelled
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• 2 tsp lemon juice
• Salt to taste
• 3 white nectarines
• 1- 15 oz ball of burrata
• Few drops balsamic vinegar for garnish
• 6 mint sprigs for garnish

1.  Boil ¼ c sugar with ¼ c water in small saucepan until slightly reduced. Remove from heat and stir in one cup mint leaves.  Cover saucepan and allow leaves to steep until slightly cooled- about ten minutes.  Meanwhile, chop remaining mint leaves fine.  Once syrup has cooled, strain out steeped mint leaves, add remaining sugar and water, and set over low heat to boil again.  Bring simple syrup to point that it forms large bubbles stirring constantly.  At this point it will feel sticky and start to mass up.  Remove from heat, add chopped mint leaves, and continue to stir until cooled.  The mixture will turn into hard crumbles of caramelized mint. Set aside.
2. Puree fava beans, olive oil, lemon juice and salt in immersion blender.  Place a dollop of fava puree in the center of each of six serving plates.
3. Halve and seed nectarines.  Place each half open-side up on top of fava dollop.
4. Cut the burrata ball into six wedges.  Place each wedge inside each peach where the pit used to be.  It should spill out a bit. 
5. Garnish each plate with some crumbles of caramelized mint, a few drops of balsamic, and a mint sprig. 

Can you think of a better way to start an evening post-horseback wine tasting than with delicious slices of fresh, bursting peaches? Yeah, me neither, which is why it was the first thing I cooked (yes, cooked peaches) over the campfire the other night once we got back to the posh teepees to settle in for a night of “Glamping”— that is, glamorous camping.

If all this is a little nonsensical to you, let me just explain that we decided to get out of the city a few days ago for some much-needed midweek r&r and figured there was no better place to do it than in Central Washington’s up-and-coming wine country. Specifically, we stayed at the Cherry Wood Bed and Breakfast which offers luxurious accommodations in teepees as well as the opportunity to do your wine tasting on horseback. There is nothing like sidling up to a tasting room on a saddle, and riding amongst the vines was an experience unto itself indeed, but in this post I will focus on the peaches, as the recipe warrants it’s own entry.

Right now in the Yakima valley where the fruit ripens in an afternoon and vineyards sprawl from hill to hill, the peaches are so plentiful they’re practically giving them away.  I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying several succulent beauties nearly every day since the season started, and I’m to the point where curious uses of peaches beyond cobbler and cream are starting to intrigue me.  I developed this recipe for Salty Seattle based on that little bit of culinary ecstasy you experience when you bite into something that marries sweet and savory in an unexpectedly decadent way.  These bites of goodness are great crowd pleasers, and while I did mine over a campfire grill, you could just as easily fry them up in a buttered skillet at home, or pop them in the barbecue if it’s easy.

Campfire-Grilled Prosciutto-Wrapped Peaches

Serves 4 assuming two wedges per person.

• 1 succulent peach sliced into eighths
• 8 paper-thin slices of prosciutto (preferably recently sliced from a reputable deli such as that of Metropolitan Market or De Laurenti
• 8 large mint leaves plus sprigs for garnish
• cooking spray
• 1 crusty baguette from which you will cut 8 ½” slices, so you’ll have some left over
• 8 tbsp fresh Chevre (make sure you buy a nice, spreadable goat cheese such as Rollingstone Chevre)

1. Place a mint leaf on a peach slice and tightly wrap the mint and peach in prosciutto. Repeat for remaining peaches.
2. Heat a grill grate over an applewood campfire.  Spray grate with cooking spray.
3. Simultaneously grill peach slices and baguette slices on the sprayed campfire grill moving with tongs periodically to ensure even cooking and no sticking.  Turn to grill both sides.
4. Remove the baguette slices, slather each with 1 tbsp Chevre, and place the grilled prosciutto peaches on top. Garnish with an additional mint sprig and serve immediately. Enjoy.