Strawberry gin fizz with Thai basil.

I’ve written about this drink before, but it’s feeling like summer again in Seattle and spring strawberries have returned to the farmer’s markets. This drink feels like summer.

Since my last summer strawberry fizz, I’ve discovered a couple new gins that I’d highly recommend: St. George’s Terroir Gin, of California, which tastes of Douglas fir and sage; and The Botanist Gin, a gin laden with botanicals foraged from the windswept, peaty Scottish island of Islay. They’re both fantastic for a summer of G&Ts. Enjoy!

Strawberry-basil gin fizz

The recipe below is for individual servings. Feel free to substitute other berries.

• 1/4 cup fresh strawberries (about 4-5 berries), roughly chopped
• 1 tablespoon superfine sugar
• 3 basil leaves
• 2 oz / 1/4 cup gin
• 1 oz / 2 tablespoons fresh-squeezed lime juice
• club soda to taste
• ice

1. Muddle the strawberries, basil and sugar in a shaker. Add the gin, lime juice and ice. Shake vigorously, at least 20 seconds, and strain (or pour, if you like pulp) into a glass with fresh ice cubes. Top with club soda and garnish with basil or a lime wedge.

2. Alternatively, you can blend the strawberries, basil, lime juice and sugar in a food processor. Pour into a glass and stir in the gin. Top with club soda and serve.

May flowers

Every year, I hope I get my act together for the holidays: a Christmas tree erected, witty cards sent, pretty packages of homemade rum balls and peppermint bark assembled. This year, I failed again … but I was closer this time!

Our $15 Chubby & Tubby tree was less than five degrees off from perfectly straight. The cards never materialized. Rum balls were dreamed of.

I did, however, make caramels, along with a few other edible gifts. The rum balls might finally debut in 2013, but this caramel recipe was too good to keep under wraps.

Merry Christmas!

Smitten Kitchen’s apple-cider caramels

This recipe is by Smitten Kitchen, one of my all-time favorite food blogs. Her recipe was spot on. My only change was to add the cinnamon salt as a topping, instead of mixing it into the caramel. The caramels keep for about two weeks.

• 4 cups / 945 ml apple cider
• 1 stick / 8 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into chunks
• 1 cup / 200 grams sugar
• 1/2 cup / 110 grams packed light-brown sugar
• 1/3 cup / 80 ml heavy cream
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 2 teaspoons flaky Maldon salt
• Ice water
• Canola or another neutral oil for the knife

1. In a large saucepan, boil the apple cider over high heat, stirring occasionally  until it measures about 1/3 to 1/2 cup in volume, about 40 minutes. The cider should become a thick, dark-colored syrup.

2. While the apple cider is reducing, measure out the sugars and cream and prepare the butter. In a separate bowl, mix the Maldon salt and the cinnamon together. Set it aside.

Line a baking sheet with 2 sheets of crisscrossed parchment to create a sling. (A quick tip: Put the longer parchment — the one spanning the length of the baking sheet — on top so the caramel doesn’t have an edge it can ooze under.)

3. When the apple cider has reduced, reduce the heat to medium-high. Immediately add the sugars, heavy cream and butter. Stir well. Let the caramel mixture boil for five minutes. You can test the caramel by dropping a small amount in ice water and see if it becomes firm, chewy and able to be rolled into a ball.

(Note: Smitten Kitchen recommends attaching a candy thermometer to the side and letting the caramel boil until the thermometer reads 252 degrees. This technique did not work for me — the caramel overcooked and turned brittle — but try it if you have an accurate candy thermometer.)

4. Immediately remove the caramel from the heat and pour it onto the prepared baking sheet. Sprinkle the top generously with the cinnamon salt mixture (your choice on how much to use).

5. Let the caramel cool until firm, about 2 hours.

6. Once cooled, use the parchment sling to transfer the caramel to a cutting board. Cut the caramel into squares, oiling your knife as needed to prevent the caramel from sticking to the blade. Wrap each caramel in a wax-paper square and twist the ends shut.

Ramos gin fizz

I’m celebrating the end of election season for journalists (and yes, it is a little preemptive, considering we don’t yet know the next governor the governor of Washington state is being settled right at this moment!). And when deciding how to celebrate when you’re too tired to want company and too slovenly to run to the store, you start with what you have.

The starting point: lemon, lime, sugar

These were the ingredients I came up with: gin, cream, orange flower water, lemons and limes. Yes, I am shocked that I had only two of the four ingredients needed to make a Manhattan. My home bar is running a little high and dry these days. But, somehow, I had all the right ingredients to make this fussy little gin drink come together.

It’s an interesting drink. Would I say I loved it? No, I don’t think so. But, it’s probably the most intriguing drink I’ve ever had. There was something startling about the flavor and the texture of this drink. It’s a drink I’ll certainly remember. And, like any mysterious memory, I’m sure that one day, I’ll pinpoint a craving and realize it’s for this floral-scented snow-white drink that reminds me of winter.

Ramos gin fizz (New Orleans fizz)

This recipe comes from Saveur. I barely tweaked it, and the changes I made are probably sacrilegious. This drink was first created by Henry C. Ramos at his New Orleans bar, the Imperial Cabinet Saloonin, in 1888, according to the never-faulty Wikipedia. The recipe below makes one drink.

• 2 teaspoons fresh-squeezed lime juice
• 1 teaspoon fresh-squeezed lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon superfine sugar
• 1½ oz gin
• 1 oz heavy cream
• ¼ teaspoon (or less, if you’d prefer a less floral flavor) orange flower water
• 1 egg white
• Several ice cubes
• 1½ oz cold seltzer or club soda

1. Add the lime juice, lemon juice and sugar in a cocktail shaker and stir until the sugar is dissolved.

2. Add the gin, cream, orange flower water and egg white to the cocktail shaker. Cover and shake vigorously for at least 10 seconds.

3. Add several ice cubes, cover again and shake vigorously, at least 45 seconds.

4. Strain into a highball or collins glass. Top with seltzer or club soda.

I had heard that the Republican cocktails might be nonalcoholic since Mitt doesn’t drink, but turns out that order was too tall for a bartender. All three are alcoholic, although Canon bartender Jamie Boudreau’s “The Red State” is a riff on the barely boozy drink, bitters and soda.

My life will be a bit crazy until the election is over, but I encourage you to make these cocktails if you’re looking to celebrate (or, I suppose, to wallow in your drink).

Top of my list to try: A “Republican” Rockwell & Porter (Utah-produced rye, port, maple syrup and bitters) and a more “Democratic” John Lee Hooker (bourbon, scotch, Averna Amaro, beer, chocolate bitters, egg white) for an Obama cocktail.

Eye candy

I was recently in Utah, at a trading post off a highway in the middle of nowhere, holding a pair of Zuni turquoise earrings and wondering whether I’d regret not buying them, when a friend turned to me and said, “Treat yo’ self.”

Mouth candy

Prior to that little epiphany, I had been one giant stress ball, squeezed by little sleep, long hours and shleps to the airport. Now, I’m all treat. It’s been caramel cake and desert hikes amidst a fair amount of nostalgia and reflection, due to a recent reunion.

Note: The batter in the top photo, a first attempt, was lumpier than it should have been. This should look smoother, if mixed properly.

The work and the sleeplessness hasn’t let up, but there’s a lot of joyous activity rattling around me these days.

This recipe is from the grandmother of one of my dearest friends. You can see the original recipe here (front) and here (backside includes a few notes about high-altitude adjustments).

Decadently frosted

Caramel cake

This is a sweet cake, so if you don’t have much of a sweet tooth, I’d steer you away from this cake and towards a pile of cauliflower. I’m not sure where the original caramel-cake recipe came from; the caramel-icing recipe is a spin-off of a Joy of Cooking recipe. The recipe makes enough icing to generously frost between the two cake layers and the top of the cake. If you want to frost the sides, I would double the recipe.

For the batter:

• 1 stick / ¼ lb butter, plus extra for greasing the cake pans
• 1½ cups sugar
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 teaspoon baking soda, dissolved in 2 tablespoons hot water
• 1 teaspoon cream of tartar
• 2½ cups flour, plus extra for the cake pans
• 4 egg whites

For the icing:

• ½ cup cream
• 1½ cups brown sugar, packed
• 2 sticks / ½ cup butter

To make the cake:

1. Preheat oven to 350 F degrees.

2. With an electric mixer, cream the butter and sugar in a large bowl.

3. Add the buttermilk and vanilla to the butter mixture. Mix thoroughly.

4. Dissolve 1 teaspoon baking soda in two tablespoons hot water. Add to butter mixture and combine.

5. In a medium bowl, sift together the cream of tartar and the flour. Add half of the flour mixture to the wet mixture and stir until just combined. Add the rest of the flour and stir until combined.

6. In a separate bowl, beat four egg whites until soft peaks form. Fold gently into the cake batter. It doesn’t look like the two want to combine at first, but keep folding from the bottom of the bowl to the top, and it’ll come together soon enough.

(The first time I made this cake, I was scared of over-folding the egg whites and ended up with a lumpy dough. The next time, I was more patient about folding the egg whites in and ended up with a much smoother batter.)

7. Butter and flour two nine-inch cake pans. Divide the batter evenly into the two cake pans.

8. Bake for 30-32 minutes at 350 F degrees, until the tops are golden and a toothpick inserted into the middle comes up clean.

9. Remove from the oven and allow to cool completely on a rack.

To make the icing:

1. Over medium heat, add the butter, heavy cream and brown sugar to a thick-bottomed pot. Stir until completely melted.

2. Cover the pot and cook for three minutes to dissolve any sugar crystals on the sides of the pan.

3. Uncover and cook until the temperature of the caramel reaches 238-240 F degrees. (Okay, truth be told, I eyeballed this without a thermometer and was just fine, though the texture of the caramel still had a slight graininess from the sugar.)

4. Remove from heat and allow to cool to 110 F degrees.

5. Beat the caramel mixture until smooth and creamy. Use cream to thin the icing, if necessary.

6. Frost the cooled cakes!

Life before caramel cake

The good news is that I haven’t stopped reading or eating, and there’s been a bit of drinking, so you’ll see more regular updates soon.

Where I’ve been:

Where I am now:

I’d give myself solid grades for my beer and wine knowledge, but I’m definitely failing cocktails. I can never remember liqueurs and what they taste like, no matter how many times I’ve looked them up. Here’s just a few of my stumpers:

• Aperol, a less alcoholic version of Campari, which I can’t remember either;
• caraway- or dill-spiced aquavit;
• anise-flavored pastis;
• fernet, a strong-flavored Italian herbal liqueur;
• yellow chartreuse, a mild French herbal liqueur, and green chartreuse, a stronger French herbal liqueur colored from chlorophyll;
• sweet and dry vermouth, aromatized and fortified wines used in martinis and Manhattans.

I suppose the day all these liqueurs are familiar to me will be the day of reckoning when I realize I’ve squandered too much of my money and liver on vice.

Perhaps the only liquor I could identify blindfolded is gin. Gin is the sequoia of liquor’s landscape; you can recognize it anywhere for its distinctly piney aroma of juniper berries. I’m no gin expert — I haven’t had an 80-martini lunch (and don’t even suggest to them that martinis should be made with vodka) — but I have worked my way through a bottle of Hendrick’s and recently uncorked a bottle of Washington-made Dry Fly gin.

I’ve also been picking strawberries.

Strawberries, tayberries (back left), raspberries

And that sparked this (update: broken GIF, too lazy to fix):

(Dry Fly, call me. I’ll take two bottles in exchange for the advertising)

I’ll warn you that this first drink was a bit rough around the edges. The strawberry pulp and chopped basil made for a country-style drink, one that had clearly come from a plaid kitchen and not a mustachioed bartender.

So the next day, I tried to gin up the drink (and me!). Turns out that making individual drinks in a shaker makes for a much classier beverage, perfect for an urban porch with a peg for the fedora. Pick your punch; I’ve included both variations below.

Strawberry-basil gin fizz 1.0

The recipe below makes two rustic drinks that would be pretty easy to double, triple or quadruple for a crew without any extra work.

• 1/2 cup fresh strawberries (about 8-9 berries)
• 2 tablespoons superfine sugar
• 5-6 basil leaves
• 4 oz / 1/2 cup gin
• 2 oz / 1/4 cup fresh-squeezed lime juice
• club soda to taste
• ice

1. Blend the strawberries and sugar in a food processor until as liquefied as possible. Add the basil leaves and pulse until well combined.

2. Split the strawberry puree, gin and lime juice between two glasses, preferably chilled. Add ice (I used three cubes) and top with club soda. Garnish with basil or a lime wedge.

The long shadow of liquor

Strawberry-basil gin fizz 2.0

Ahh, you’ve chosen the classier route — very nice. The recipe below is for individual servings.

• 1/4 cup fresh strawberries (about 4-5 berries)
• 1 tablespoon superfine sugar
• 3 basil leaves
• 2 oz / 1/4 cup gin
• 1 oz / 2 tablespoons fresh-squeezed lime juice
• club soda to taste
• ice

1. Muddle the strawberries, basil and sugar in a shaker.

2. Add the gin, lime juice and ice. Shake vigorously, at least 20 seconds, and strain into a glass with fresh ice cubes. Top with club soda. Bonus points if you rub the rim of the glass with a basil leaf. Garnish with basil or a lime wedge.

I found this torte recipe a few years ago, and it’s never gotten too dusty in the recipe box. (And selfishly, the reason I’m posting this is exactly that: I have to unearth the recipe every few months, so publishing it online will make finding it a jiffy.)

This is a perfect cake for potlucks, as it’s foolproof to make. The crackly crust and sinfully rich center make for a party-pleaser. You’ll likely have all the ingredients in your pantry, assuming, of course, that chocolate lasts longer in your cupboard than it does mine.

5 eggs = not for the faint of heart.

I’m sorry for the lack of reading material of late. I’m paging through books I’ve read several times over and don’t feel the need to finish them. They’re trusty friends on my bedside table, which I open for comfort and a nice turn of phrase: Invisible Man sitting atop Pride and Prejudice, which is resting on A Room of One’s Own and my secret stash of Vanity Fair.

The story that’s been on my mind lately is a recent Washington Post essay on adults delaying parenthood for cultural and economic reasons — and its impacts on those children. Here’s a quick snippet:

The irony is that when you have a child at 45, you’re ensuring that your children will grow up faster than you ever had to. It guarantees that your kids will have a little less of the freedom you enjoyed because they’ll be taking care of you a little earlier.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my circle of friends have children later in life — in their 30s or later, sometime after the itch to travel is tempered and a career established. But, reading this, I wonder if this is something we would later regret. It’s food for thought that’s dense enough to match this cake, but worries don’t stand a chance against a pound of butter and chocolate.

Dark chocolate torte

If you don’t have salted butter, use unsalted butter and about 1/4 teaspoon salt (or less) for each stick of butter. The original recipe is from Bon Appetit, and includes a ganache and spiked blackberry coulis that sounds divine, though I don’t think this torte needs accoutrements to shine.

• 1⅔ cups / 10 oz / 285 g semisweet chocolate
• 3/4 cup / 1½ sticks salted butter
• 1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1 teaspoon instant espresso powder or instant coffee powder, optional
• 5 large eggs
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla, optional

1. Preheat oven to 350 F degrees.

2. Butter a 9-inch springform pan and line the bottom with parchment.

3. Stir in the chocolate and butter in a medium saucepan over low heat until smooth. Whisk in cocoa powder and espresso, if using. Let cool 10 minutes.

4. Beat the eggs and sugar in a large bowl on high speed until thick and pale yellow, about 6 minutes. Fold in the chocolate mixture. Pour the batter into the springform pan.

5. Bake the torte until its top looks dry and cracked and a tester inserted into its center comes out with some moist batter attached, about 40 minutes.

6. Cool the torte in the springform on a rack for about an hour. The center will collapse in. Carefully remove the side of the springform, using a knife to loosen the edges as needed. You can serve as is, or invert on a plate to remove the parchment paper. Allow to cool completely.

7. Dust with powdered sugar or top with whipped cream, if desired, and serve!

Last week was one of those weeks. Except, that would be underselling it. Suffice it to say I was fighting for la révolution of … workflow changes. C’est la vie.

I lost sight, briefly, of the hobbies that raise my spirits and instead retreated into evenings of Thai takeout and Mad Men. After a few days, I finally returned to my kitchen, with its own red-plaid window dressings and 1960s-esque cabinetry, and found a more productive solace there.

Cooking has always been an escape: it’s meditative, creative but practical. There’s nothing stressful about flipping through the pages of a cookbook, especially one on new-age canning, and wondering what to make.

Canning for a New Generation by Liana Krissoff

I settled on a recipe for pickled garlic scapes, the springtime blossoms of garlic. They’re whippy little things, curled with a tight bud on one end. The buds and tips are edible, though they can be tougher than the bottom lengths of the scapes. I used just the bottom six inches or so for my pickles, and the rest for pesto.

Garlic scapes (also called garlic whistles)

The best part of cooking with garlic scapes is its aroma: bright, sharply green, so unbelievably garlicky. If you see these in a grocery story or farmer’s market, be sure to pick up a handful. (Disclaimer: Seattle is one of the few places in the entire country where scapes could still be hanging around. Everywhere else, they’re already far past their prime.)

Garlic scape pickles

These pickles are bracing. They’re crisp, vinegary, spicy and herbaceous. Not a pickle to trifle with, but one that can stand up to any meat or grilled veggies you eat alongside it. I had about eleven scapes, and used the bottom 6 inches of each scape to make a 1/2 pint jar of pickles. This recipe is from Canning for a New Generation; I didn’t touch the recipe, only downsized the quantity.

• 1/3 lb. garlic scapes (about 11)
• 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar, 5% acidity
• 1/4 cup water
• 1/2 tablespoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes (less if you don’t like spicy foods)

Prepping the jars:

Wash a half-pint jar. Submerge the jar in a pot that will hold enough water to cover the jar by at least an inch. Bring the water to a boil.

If you are making refrigerator pickles that will be eaten within weeks and kept in the fridge, boil the jar for at least 10 minutes to sterilize the jar. If you intend to keep the jar in your pantry, no need to sterilize the jar now, since it will be sterilized later.

Making the pickles:

Cut two 3-inch lengths from the bottom of the garlic scapes. If you have a different-sized half-pint jar, work with those proportions. The scape lengths should be just shy of the height of the jar. Canning extraordinaire Liana Krissoff says to use only the bottom 4 to 8 inches of each scape, as the tops are tougher.

Combine the apple cider vinegar, water and salt in a nonreactive pot. Bring just to a boil. Do not heat longer than necessary, since the acetic acid in the vinegar will evaporate quickly.

Removing jars from water bath:

Meanwhile, remove the hot half-pint jar from the water, pour out any water and place upright on a towel.

Put the jar lid in a separate heatproof bowl and add a few ladlefuls of hot water to soften the rubberized ring seal on the underside of the jar lid.

Filling jars:

Add 1/4 teaspoon of red pepper flakes into the jar. Pack the scapes upright in the jar, though not too tightly. Ladle in the hot vinegar mixture, leaving a 1/2-inch headspace. Remove air bubbles around the side of the jar with a chopstick. Wipe off the rim of the jar with a paper towel, place the lid on and screw on the ring until tight.

Sealing the jars:

If you intend to eat them soon, let the jar cool and keep in the fridge.

If you intend to keep them longer, the jar will need to be processed. Return the jar to the canning pot with the hot water, making sure the jar is covered by at least one inch of water. Bring to a boil, and process for 15 minutes. Remove the jar from the hot water onto a towel, and leave undisturbed for 12 hours. After one hour, you should be able to make sure the jar is sealed properly by pressing in the center of the lid. If it can be pushed down, it hasn’t sealed and, congratulations, you’ve inadvertently made refrigerator pickles, which should be kept in the fridge. If the jar lid does not pop down, it has correctly sealed and you’ve successfully made storage pickles!

Garlic scape pesto

This pesto is a must-not-miss lemony, garlicky shmear. Unlike the pickles, which some will love and some will hate, everyone will love this pesto. If you don’t make the pickles, use the entire scape here. Its best perk: no discoloration a day later, if it makes it that long. Like any pesto, you can substitute other herbs or nuts. Recipe adapted from Serious Eats.

• 3/4 cup roughly chopped garlic scapes (just under 1/3 lb.)
• 1/4 cup walnuts
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1/4 cup grated parmesan
• juice of 1/2 lemon, strained to remove seeds
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• pepper to taste

1. In a dry pan, lightly toast walnuts on low heat until fragrant, about 3 minutes.

2. Add the scapes, walnuts, parmesan*, lemon juice and salt to the food processor. Pulse until combined. Add the olive oil in a steady stream while the motor is running. Taste for salt and pepper. Enjoy!

*If freezing, do not add the parmesan at this step. Once the pesto is thawed, fold in the cheese and serve.

We went mushroom hunting this weekend around Mount Rainier, though I won’t say exactly where. A coworker who led this particular trip has a shirt that says: “Anyone silly enough to ask a morel plucker where he found ‘em is also foolish enough to believe the answer.” So, I’ll play by the rules and stay mum.

Ben and I were skunked two weekends ago hunting for morels, and no wonder why: You have to find the right habitat, time the mushrooms to catch them when they’re fruiting, and, if you manage all that, find the little fellas. As Matt, our mushroom guide, said, “Finding morels is about half knowledge and half mojo.” We had neither without Matt.

What we're looking for. (Photo credit: Matt)

This past weekend, we found a few black morels (Morchella conica) right away, though the mushrooms were past their prime. (In mushrooming terms, they were grade “Cs,” so they’re not good for much else but drying.)

Ben makes morel hunting look easy. (Photo credit: Lauren)

We then went up a bit in elevation on a different type of slope and Ben found a cluster of verpas (Verpa bohemicas), which Matt said was an indicator that it was too early for morels there.

Matt, by the way, is among the most generous people I know. He brought bags of morels from his last hunt to make us a scallop-and-morel risotto dinner that was out-of-this-world decadent.

Dinner prep: a pot full of morels. (Photo credit: Lauren)

Bay scallops, morels, celery leaves (Photo credit: Lauren)

Brock found the first “A” — a morel in perfect condition — in an old burn by our campsite the next morning. That morel debuted in a new campsite delicacy: a skewered, bacon-wrapped mushroom roasted over the fire. Ben called it the gourmet paleo diet.

Pics or it didn't happen

The real queen of the hunt was Lauren, who found more than two dozen morels, including her first cluster!

Morel cluster (Photo credit: Lauren)

The rest of us found a handful each, including some coral and puffball mushrooms. The coral reminded me of scallops or lightly cooked squid in texture, though not in taste. The puffballs were melt-in-your-mouth soft and reminded me immediately of foie gras, both in flavor and mouthfeel. For Californians who won’t be able to buy foie gras starting July 1st, puffballs are your friendly, vegetarian alternative. (But please, oh please don’t make them vegan; they need butter!)

This is blasphemous, I know, but I actually preferred puffballs to morels when served straight up, hot out of the pan and glistening with butter. As a mushroom to cook with, though, morels can’t be beat since their flavor and texture stands up to other ingredients.

Morels, corals and puffballs, oh my! (Photo credit: Matt)

The only spring mushroom we missed were the spring kings — porcinis. But, if all goes to plan, we’ll be back out there in a few weeks to see what we can find.

Snapped this Pacific tree frog on my phone (no filter!)