I’m applying for a patent on this one. It is going to be very difficult to describe the extraordinary nature of this dish without employing the use of exuberant expletives, but I will try.  It all started with a strawberry picking and tasting adventure a mere one hour from Seattle and yet worlds away.  As my city-slicking Mercedes rolled through the gentle flats of the Skagit Valley, signs encouraged drivers to “slow down and follow your nose” which I did with aplomb.  The fertile flats of Skagit produce some of the finest grown goods in Washington, and stellar strawberries are no exception. Our small group had the great pleasure to tour and visit Skagit Sun berries as well as listen to the insightful musings of Farmer Don on the history of his berries and cucumbers (that sentence was not meant to sound dirty, but upon rereading it, I suppose it could be misconstrued).

Photo courtesy of Luuvu Hoang

We participated in a blind tasting of eight varieties of strawberries; I had no idea there would be such a vast difference in flavor.  In the end, I preferred two varieties: Shuksan and Hood. Shuksan berries are sweet and red throughout, with uniform flesh, a short shelf-life and unbeatable versatility in terms of complementing sweet and savory dishes as well as being great fresh or cooked.  The Hoods were piquant and almost candy-like in flavor with a thorough, intense sweetness that lingered on the palate for ages.  It is the height of Shuksan season right now, so get them while you can. Farmer Don was kind enough to let us pick our own flats of Shuksans so my mental wheels got to turning whilst we were out there under the haze-laced sun plucking away.  I love jams and jellies as much as anyone, but I was not about to preserve these precious plumpies for posterity.  I decided on both a sweet and a savory application, and somehow the divine inspiration of the strawberry gods put the idea of chocolate pasta into my head (well that and a conversation with my friend Luuvu).

When I got home, I promptly made a custard of Shuksans and lavender that would become ice cream the next day.  I also whipped up a crema pasticcera (pastry cream) infused with lavender with which to fill the chocolate pasta sheets.  The next day, the real work began.  {INSERT TERRIBLE CONFESSION HERE} Regular readers of my blog will know that I’m a primadonna pasta purist. I do not crank out sheets of pasta, I gently roll them with an old wooden pin, then cut whatever pasta I’m forming using a pastry cutter.  As far as tools go, I’ve always been happy (to make pasta 3+ times a week) with my pin, cutter and a glass of wine.  Well, the universe conspired and produced a gift certificate and a HUGE sale I couldn’t refuse, so long story short, I’m now the proud recipient of a pasta attachment for the Kitchenaid.  This chocolate pasta is the second I’ve made with it, and the most unfortunate part is that I no longer seem to need the glass of wine while pasta-making. You see, the wine acts as a thirst-quencher between rolls, but when a machine takes all the work away, you no longer require parch-abatement.  I suppose the pasta machine will help cure my excessive wino-ism, but it has also taken a little piece of my soul along with it.  I’m vowing to hand-roll at least once a week- we will see how it goes.

For the pasta, I made a typical dough of flour and eggs, to which I added Dutched cocoa and a touch of sugar.  I was worried about the consistency, but it rolled out beautifully and crimped together perfectly to form round discs filled with pastry cream.  I made the pasta around noon and did not boil them until 9pm, so they sat on a parchment-lined sheetpan for many hours with no refrigeration. There were no ill-effects of this, as they boiled up nicely and the texture was perfect.  Since my pasta would not be complete without a sauce, I boiled down Shuksans into a compote with butter, sugar and Grand Marnier.  I put it through a sieve to remove the seeds, then drizzled the sauce over intermittent rounds of ravioli and scoops of ice cream.  This is the part where I would use some holy s3*TTTT expletives to describe the wow-factor of all the complementary flavors and textures in this dish, but I promised not to, so I’m going to have to go stuff my gullet full of sweet sweet bliss aka chocolate ravioli and bid my adieu to you. Until next time, keep it super real out there in the spectacular sunshine.

Ever tasted sorghum? Know what it is? It’s made from extracting syrup from stalks of sorghum grass, which incidentally is one of the five top cereal grains in the world along with wheat, oats, corn and barley.  To me, it’s kind of like a cross between molasses and something malted with maybe a tinge of maple thrown in for fun.  It’s magnificent, but a really specific sweetener. You want to know what you’re pairing it with before you go willy nilly drizzling it all over someone’s waffles.  I love to use it for bacon-curing in place of maple just to spice things up. I’ve been dreaming about it in ice cream for quite some time, but couldn’t quite come up with the right combo- until now. I was walking through the garden with my shears on the hunt for some oregano when I noticed my culinary lavender was blooming earlier than usual this year.

Coincidentally, I’ve been dreaming of lavender ice cream all winter long, so I trained my shears on the lavender and promptly forgot the oregano I was originally after.  I brought in the lavender and laboriously snipped up the buds- I think a mere quarter cup took me ten minutes! Then I steeped it in warmed milk for an hour while I consulted David Lebovitz’ Perfect Scoop for an idea springboard.

I changed things up quite a bit from his suggested lavender recipe, not because he isn’t the master, I love his original but wanted to add a new dimension. I also never think he adds enough eggs. I like my custard so creamy and thick it holds up even when it melts a little, so I adjust accordingly.  Once I had swirled in lavender-laced sorghum and set my custard to chill, I dreamed up a shortbread peppered with lavender and mint with which to lap up the ice cream.  The shortbreads came out tasting surprisingly similar to Mexican wedding cookies, an observation I’ve never made in such a biscuit.

I served the finished dessert just as the clouds broke and the sun who has been mighty elusive this spring graced us with a few moments of his body heat.  It was perfect timing, having a little bit of pretend summer by which to eat real, really good ice cream.  I’ve made a little pact with myself that I won’t make any more ice cream until summer officially rears her hot head, so if anyone has any clout with the weather gods, please make it happen- I’m already jonesing for gelato.

The Power of a Savory Tart in Seattle’s Waning Summer.