*The recipe and production of making mozzarella balloons embodies the spirit of the Food Ninja, which is why I’m including it here as a launching inspiration for opening day of the contest! Starting today, for the next two weeks (until Oct 24), submit your Food Ninja Entries to FOODNINJA@saltyseattle.com in the following categories:

1. Ninja Recipe
2. Ninja Photo
3. Ninja Video
4. Ninja Blog Post
5. Ninja Wildcard (This can be ANYTHING- go crazy!)

No blog necessary to enter, just email. Here is a partial list of ninja prizes (which we hand-selected and asked each company if they would graciously provide):

1. Ninja Chef’s Knife from Ergo
2. Ninja Rice Cooker from Zojirushi
3. Ninja Spicy Sampler from Marx Foods
4. Mark Bittman’s awesome new food ninja book Food Matters
5. 10″ Frying Pan from Mans Pans
   

Remember- you’ll vote on winners and every participant gets to choose  an awesome Food Ninja badge from any of the below colors. What are you waiting for?(If you missed the rules of the contest, go check out this detailed post by Fuji Ninja, and follow @bellalimento @fujimama and @saltyseattle on twitter for breaking updates. Food ninja tweets found via hashtag #foodninja.

Now on to the mozzarella balloons:

Can I just say that these babies take mozzarella balls to a WHOLE NEW LEVEL? I mean really, Blowing up mozzarella curd with nitrous oxide is pretty much the greatest thing I’ve done with cheese in my kitchen in months. I say months because there will always be a special place in my heart for burrata, which I make fairly regularly. In fact there are curious similarities between mozzarella balloons and burrata. Both are made with hot mozzarella curd. Both are filled with an unctuous surprise that bursts in your mouth and can’t help but make you smile. Both elevate humble mozzarella to a rarified level of unbridled sizzle. The interesting thing is that one technique is deep-rooted, traditional, and practiced mainly in a very small region of a relatively tiny country in the world whereas the other technique is hyper-modern and falls under a category of cuisine that has been inexplicably banned by said country’s Ministry of Health.

In this case, I say screw the Ministry of Health and let me eat mozzarella balloons with miniscule amounts of a certain party drug inside because they transcend the worst orgasm you’ve ever had and come close to equaling the best. Lots of mad molecular geniuses make these fun bags, but I chose Sensei Achatz as my guru extraordinario. I did, however, change his Alinea recipe enough that I feel ok reprinting it here in my own words, just be aware it is an adaptation and I cannot take any responsibility for invention of this spectacular technique. Here’s what you’ll need:

Mozzarella Balloons

*with this recipe you could make 20 balloons if you made every one of them perfectly with no casualties.

• Roughly 4 lbs tomatoes
• 1 oz basil leaves
• 2 tbsp Diamond Crystal Kosher salt
• 3 sheets of leaf gelatin
• Diamond Crystal Kosher Salt
• 400 grams (14.1 oz)  mozzarella curd (this is regularly available from DeLaurenti if you live in Seattle. Outside Seattle you should be able to order cheese curd from any good cheese shop)
• Pea vines, spinach, arugula, or a bed of whatever you want to serve these babies on

For the tomato basil juice that fills the balloons:

1. Juice 1 lb of tomatoes with the basil. Reserve.
2. Blend remaining tomatoes with 2 tbsp salt. Put into a cheesecloth-lined strainer and gather the cheesecloth to make a straining satchel. Suspend the satchel over a bowl in the refrigerator and allow to drain overnight.
3. Mix the resulting tomato water with the reserved tomato basil juice and pour through a sieve. Measure 500 grams (17.6 oz) and save the rest for another use.
4. Immerse gelatin sheets in cold water for 5 minutes. Meanwhile bring tomato mixture to a very low simmer and remove from heat immediately. Stir in the gelatin sheets (squeezed of excess water) until dissolved. Strain this again so that there are no potentially-clogging particles. Transfer this mixture to a siphon canister (whipped cream whipper), and charge with an NO2 cartridge. Rest the canister in a bowl of ice water and shake frequently (every five minutes).

For the balloons themselves:

1. Heat (and maintain) a medium saucepan of salted water to 160° F. The level of salt you put in the water will result in the saltiness of the mozzarella balloons and is, therefore, subjective. Personally, I like my water to taste just like the sea. Don’t even think of not adding salt- your guests would hate you for ruining the balloons.
2. Cut your mozzarella curd into individual 20 gram pieces. Add one piece at a time to the water. Once the curd is pliable (about one minute), remove it from the hot water and knead it with your hands to remove all lumps. You want to work very quickly during this process as the curd needs to be the correct temperature and texture to accept the tomato filling without bursting.
3. When your curd is soft and manageable, roll it into a little circle. Form a ring with your thumb and forefinger and place the circle in it. Gently place the tip of the siphon canister in the mozzarella and pinch the sides of the curd tightly around the tip. Inflate the balloon by releasing the tomato foam slowly into the curd.  Once your balloon is roughly 2” in diameter pinch it off as though it were a balloon and make sure the seams seal together tightly. Allow balloons to rest and drain of excess water on paper towels while you make the remaining balloons in the same manner.
4. Serve these with anything you like, but I prefer a bed of greens for color.

I submitted an entry into the Queen Anne Farmers Market Holy Tomato! Contest last week. The objective: showcase the glory of the tomato. The parameters? None. What would you do? What do you think I did? Apparently I’m predictable as all get out, in more ways than one, since everyone who saw my dish (who knows me or my blog) took one look at it and knew I created it. I guess that means I have a niche, but sometimes it’s a little frustrating to be pigeonholed, especially if it’s the same hole you’ve been pigeoning around in more or less your entire life. I’ve always been, how do I say this properly, fringe-y. The first award I ever won was “most shocking pumpkin” at a pumkin-carving school contest when I was seven. Apparently sticking two meat cleavers on either side of the jack-o-lantern face was shock-inducing. Imagine a kid bringing that pumpkin to school in this day and age- seems crazy now that they let me get away with it.

The next award came along in junior high (this is not counting all the statewide spelling bee’s I so nerdily won, mind you) when I was voted “snazziest dresser.” WTF did snazzy mean in the 1990’s, people? I’m sure it was for the time I made a pair of bellbottoms out of upholstery fabric I found at the Goodwill and then tied 20 bells around the cuffs of each leg. I got sent home because my outfit was “disruptive.” Then in high school I was voted “most likely to be on the cover of Rolling Stone.” I have no idea where that one came from considering I haven’t played an instrument since the cello in sixth grade, and even though I KNOW I can sing, I’ve been assured by everyone else who’s heard me that I can’t carry a tune nearly as well as I can carry a glass of vino to my lips repeatedly, which is apparently my true Olympic talent. It was around that time I realized my calling was Halloween costume contests. I’ve never met a Halloween contest I couldn’t win, and enjoyed much success in that realm, due, in large part, to the fact that I’ve never dolled myself up like a “ho” and blasphemed the holiday by using it as an excuse to look cheap and tawdry. Not that I haven’t gone nearly nude, it’s just usually in more of an intellectual, complicated sort of way, and there tends to be fire shooting out my nipples or something equally as startling.

All this is to illustrate the fact that I’ve been eternally shoved into the odd box and I can’t seem to get out, no matter how hard I try to do something that might compel the masses. I’m really not counterculture- I have friends who drive Range Rovers, live in Beverly Hills and Bellevue, have fake boobs and get botox injections. I’m sure I know a Republican or two, even. I guess I just have a place in life and I might as well make myself comfortable and kick up my heels. Which is why I should have known my tomato entry would win “most creative” before I ever thought up what I was going to make. I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining- I am thrilled to add a notch to my bedazzled, Gaga-fied, chartreuse, shiny dragonskin belt. I just sometimes wish the ideas that come into my head as perfectly normal things to do wouldn’t be met with comments like “that’s so original” or “how on earth did you ever think of that?” I don’t try to be “creative” “original” or “complex,” especially on the plate. I just try to combine classic flavors in ways that seem delicious to me.

Once again, I deconstructed the classic BLT sandwich and presented it in frozen format. I did this last fall and I was not 100% thrilled with the outcome, so I went back to the drawing board, changed the “bread” to a maple-pecan Pizzelle, tweaked the bacon ice cream (by adding lots of bourbon), substituted pea shoots instead of lettuce in the sorbet, and finally messed around with egginess and creaminess in the tomato gelato. I garnished the plate with a candied heirloom grape tomato sitting on top of a pea shoot and piece of homemade bacon. It was pretty. It was classic. It was delicious (if you don’t mind me saying so). But I guess it was also “creative.” I’m just one big self-fulfilling prophecy so I better get used to it. The thing is, who wants to eat “creative?” Wouldn’t you rather eat “fan-fucking-tastic?” It’s kind of like the adjective I use when someone asks my opinion on something and I don’t want to insult them- “that’s interesting.” Or something you’d say to a five-year-old who just made you an indiscernible fingerpainting. “Very creative, little Suzie.”

photo courtesy of Queen Anne Farmers Market

That being said, I was thrilled to have won the award, and the ultimate accolade came when the lone chef at the judges’ table took out his iPhone and snapped a few shots of my dish. I don’t know what he was thinking, exactly, but whatever it was must have been inspiring enough to want to remember, so that made me very happy. All three judges popped the candied tomatoes like crack, and luckily I had brought an extra plate of them so was able to share some candied tomatoes with the crowd. They are so easy, and make great additions to other canapés and appetizers. For example you can candy a tomato and set it on a basil leaf perched on a round of mozzarella, or if you’re feeling really decadent top a cracker with a candied tomato and a slice of seared foie gras. I will leave you with the candied tomato recipe, though if you’re really interested in one of the frozen component flavors, let me know and I’ll email you that as well.

Candied Tomatoes

Note: increase the sugar and water as necessary if you have more tomatoes, or if your pan is not a very small saucepan, as you want enough depth to the candy syrup to be able to easily dip your tomatoes and coat them.

• 1.5 c granulated sugar
• ½ c water
• 24 grape tomatoes with stems intact, washed, and thoroughly dried

1. Boil the sugar and water in a small saucepan stirring constantly until the syrup reaches 330° as measured by a candy thermometer. Remove from heat. Working quickly, use tongs to dip the tomatoes into the syrup by their stems. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet to harden. If you want to affix them to the surface on which they will eventually set, do so within fifteen minutes so they retain some tackiness, but not right away, as they’ll be too hot.

How many reinventions can the classic BLT sandwich undergo? This version, while not your typical rendition, certainly packs a punch in the department of deliciousness.  My new favorite thing is blind gelato tastings; it’s amazing the flavors people think they’re eating, and when you break down and tell them the actual taste, the look on their faces tends to be photo-worthy.   With the BLT redux I did everything I could to make it obvious what we were eating.  The hardest part was the bread.  I finally settled upon shortbread cookies cut into squares and dipped in chocolate around the edges so as to resemble crust.  The color of each flavor turned out remarkably akin to their natural-state counterparts, yes, the frozen BLT is something to behold. 

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