Thursday, June 28, 2012

Domestic D-Rod (Or how cooking is the most fun thing ever)




Google image search provided me with this for "Cursed Clive”
I don’t know whats going on, but everyone looks
super concerned about it

You stand everyone in a circle.  One person starts, saying their name and an adjective that starts with the same letter (or sound) as their name (IE Stinky Steve, Pillaging Pete, Curse-ed Clive) (Also double as good pirate names). You proceed left or right, and each subsequent player says first the names and adjectives of each proceeding player, finishing with their own name and adjective.  At the end you challenge as many players as you can to say everyone’s name and adjective.  For bonus challenges you may rearrange the order or try making people say just names without adjectives.  Theoretically by the end everyone knows everyone else’s name, and knows that they hate whomever made them play another dumb name game.

If you’ve ever been at a summer camp you’ll be familiar with this game.  I don’t know if it is a fixture of any other establishments, for all I know the senate is full of Boisterous Bobs and Diligently-fulfilling-all my-campaign-promises Daves, but  identification activites are a MUST for camp counselors.
Point of Story, the apprentices at Calypso were played this game informally.  (we did not stand in a circle, we were really just making up adjectives for each other that started with the same letter as our names).  Everyone had a pretty funny one, but the one that has stuck the most was mine: Domestic D-Rod.  In addition to learning about farming, education, and not having kids soon, I have learned that I love to make food.  I’m going to post about making bread one of these days (my passion for baking is on the rise), but today you’re hearing about sorbet!



Rhubarb.  GIT YOU SOME!
Rhubarb sorbet is REALLY EASY TO MAKE provided you have (get this) rhubarb and an ice cream maker.  I recently learned that you can get an attachment for your kitchen aid that is an ice cream maker and it cranks it out so you don’t have to!  So but anyway, the rhubarb sorbet recipe I used is (this isn’t going to surprise any of you) the first one that comes up when you google “rhubarb sorbet”.  Also (this, too, will surprise no one) I didn’t follow it.

These are the ingredients for the sorbet recipe which I didn’t follow, but for argument’s sake I’ve included them.  I’ll include my final recipe at the end.

  • 3 1/2 cups of chopped fresh rhubarb (4-5 stalks)
  • 2 1/2 cups of water
  • 1 2/3 cups of sugar
  • 1/4 teaspoon of salt
  • 2 teaspoons of orange zest
  • 2 teaspoons of chopped fresh ginger
  • 2 tablespoons of corn syrup



It’s hard to tell in this picture, but that is a HUGE Rhubarb leaf
My cellphone was included for scale.

Rhubarb is a really really cool plant, it looks sort of like celery, but the bottom (and sometimes the whole length) of the stalk is pink or red.  It doesn’t taste like celery.  It’s very sour, and has a sort of savory taste if you eat it raw, it sort of reminds me of meat a little bit.  It does not taste like meat if you cook it.  It grows in dense clusters of stalks, which have one big leaf on the end of each of them.  The flowering stalks are round, hollow, and have smaller normal stalks branching off of them part way up.  It is sour because it contains Oxalic Acid.  The leaves contain a higher concentration of this acid and, as a result, can make you sick.   So don’t eat them.


It’s THEIR fault mine wasn’t all Fuchsia-y
So to make about a quart (one large yogurt container full) you’ll need 3½ cups of chopped rhubarb.  The recipe I looked at claims that this is about 5 stalks and they’re full of it.  Rhubarb does not come in uniform thickness, nor are they all the same length, therefore trying to specify stalk number is a futile effort.  By all this I mean I didn’t count how many stalks I used, I doubled the recipe but also defiantly used more than ten.  Also, the stalks I used were green and pink, because they do that, and so the end result isn’t as pink as the one in the picture on the website (I’ll give you a minute to google it right now.  Don’t worry, I’ll wait.  There you go, it’s less pink than that).  If you want to make it as pink as that stuff, use only the red parts of the rhubarb (IE waste a bunch of it).
This is a really pretty picture I took of chopped rhubarb.
No but seriously, ginger is a Big. Freaking. Deal.
I had ginger, and no orange zest, so I heavy loaded ginger in my first batch, and it was really really good.  That said, I’m a total ginger junkie, so if you don’t L-O-V-E love (you’re supposed to say each letter out loud, followed by the whole word, like El Oh Vee Eee Love) ginger, you don’t have to add nearly so much.  You could also add some other stuff to it if you wanted, like lemon juice, or some other fruit, or pretty much whatever you want.  I’d recommend against Goldfish or Kale, but hey, whatever sheers your sheep, man.  Also, don’t try to zest clementines.  I don’t have a funny picture to go along with this, but that mess does not zest! 
There is salt in me, do you know why?

Next you put your rhubarb and your ginger or whatever in a pot with 2½ cups of water, and your sugar.  The recipe calls for 1 and 2/3 cups of sugar but I did a bit less than that because I didn’t want to cut the rhubarb’s tartness too much.  You also put some salt in.  I didn’t measure this.  Does anyone know why the crap everything you ever cook calls for salt?   Like, cookies call for salt.  I think there is a great salt conspiracy, where producers of salt are trying to keep their product relevant and are paying everyone to say “yo throw some salt in that puppy” on every damn recipe.  I think it might actually matter with this one, since it does change the boiling point of water, but still, screw you, salt!  Anyhow, you bring your rhubarb water sugar and (sigh) salt mixture to a boil, then let it simmer until the rhubarb falls apart easily.

Sorry for freaking out earlier, I’m cool now, man.  Really.
At this point you’re supposed to let the mixture cool for ten minutes.  Nothing indicates why you do this, nor is there any criteria for what constitutes “cool enough”, so I pretty much just did whatever on this.  Anyways after your cooked rhubarb mess has chilled out sufficiently, you blend that mess!

That is one fiiiiiine strainer you go there!
You’re supposed to blend it in small batches, I guess in case you’re using a blender for GI Joe’s or something, since you can definitely fit a quart of liquid in a normal blender.  Anyhow, after that you strain out the pulp using a fine mesh strainer.  This part is funny, because the first time I did it I pushed most of the pulpy stuff through the strainer, and the sorbet turned out perfectly.  The second time I removed most of the pulpy stuff, and the result was a glorified slushy.  Feel free to experiment with this, I certainly intend to.  Maybe you don’t need to strain it at all.  Then you’re supposed to add corn syrup.  I added some honey, I don’t think it matters.  Either way, you want to chill the puree after for a few hours until it too has calmed down.  Err... cooled off.

This is my favorite part of the recipe.  Now you “follow the instructions on your ice cream maker”.  So... make it ice cream.  After it finishes, you still need to put it in the freezer, but the end result, at least for me, was AWESOME.  That said, I outsourced the ice cream maker part, since one of the people who works here has an electric ice cream maker.  This is what I got back.
So. Good.

 We served it at our fundraising brunch this past sunday over rhubarb crumble.  Be jealous.
 

Mom, Dad, if you really loved me you’d come visit me in Alaska and let me make this for you.
 OKAY.  So in fine
31/2 cups rhubarb, chopped
1 2/3 cups sugar
2 1/2 cups water
ginger to taste
like, some salt but not a whole lot, and maybe none who knows
whatever the heck else you want to put in it but not Goldfish
maybe some honey

Put rhubarb water sugar and ginger and salt and not goldfish into a pot.  Bring said pot to a boil, turn down heat and let it simmer.  Once rhubarb falls apart easily, take off of heat and let cool for a little while, or maybe don’t.  Puree sugary gingery rhubarb compote.  Strain it, or possibly don’t strain it, or aggressively push it through strainer with a ladle.  Maybe add some honey.  Cool that in the fridge over night.  Put in your ice cream maker and then do whatever you do with those to make ice cream (proceed to crank it, or push “On” or whatever).  Freeze the resulting sorbet, or just eat it.  In fact, at pretty much any point in this recipe you can just eat what you have, it’s all pretty good.








2 comments:

  1. This looks amazing. I'm jealous that you have a big kitchen and a garden to cook with! I think rhubarb smells and tastes like hard boiled eggs. No? I'm crazy?

    Also, I'm dying to bake bread. The first two times I tried it didn't rise because it was January and my apartment was about 40 degrees. So I guess I should try again. Send me a recipe?

    If you have more rhubarb (season's mostly over here), I made some kick-ass rhubarb BBQ sacue!

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  2. D-Rod:

    Maddy and I are reading this aloud on the back deck and laughing since everyone else is away on overnights and we have the whole Cove to play in. So we're sitting here reading your blog because we love you (and because the internet hasn't been working until just now and we came to check our email for the first time in many days and wanted to see how you were).

    We are not surprised at all by how you made this recipe. Send us some rhubarb and maybe we'll make it for camp. But probably not. We mostly follow recipes in the kitchen, except for when we don't (ie we follow Vini's cornbread recipe but made up sloppy joes).

    We got your package last night and read Annie's letter at staph meeting. The poop is on the Look What I Found table. You might be lucky enough to have the first installment of an incredible story on its way to you soon.

    Miss you.
    Love,
    Kyle and Maddy

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