One of the more interesting places we visited in New York was the Breuckelen Distilling Company, located in and pronounced like the famous borough. In the midst of city-battered warehouses, under the roar of the expressway, you can catch the rustic smell of fermenting grain and yeast, which provides a little preliminary cognitive dissonance to prepare you for what you’ll find inside.
bubbling wheat mash, from whence cometh the heavenly smell. there is no way to make this stuff look pretty.
Breuckelen is staffed and operated by four intrepid souls who are, admittedly, learning the distilling business as they go. Despite their sleekly designed, club-ready product, the whole operation has the charming nonchalance you might feel if your homebrewer friend got laid off and turned his hobby into a profitable business – which is apropos, since that’s more or less how Breuckelen was started.
They produce a gin, a whiskey, a neutral grain spirit, and a barrel-aged gin. Let me repeat that last one: barrel-aged gin. It’s gin. From a barrel. It’s brown. And it’s gin.
And it’s really good.
The regular gin is a fine example of it’s breed: not too heavy on the juniper, a little rosemary and citrus thrown in for brightness. It’s lovely. The whiskey is also okay, but I’m partial to Bourbon. Left in the barrel for a time measured in months rather than years, Breuckelen’s whiskey was described by a fellow whiskey snob as being so young it was “like statutory rape”. Ahem.
Assuming you’re smart enough to know what to expect from a pure grain spirit (it tastes of naught but alcohol, and you’re meant to steep things in it to flavor it), let’s move on to their star, the aged gin. It’s at once simple and difficult to describe. Really, it does what it says on the tin. Gin. Aged. Full stop. But it’s a bit tricky to wrap your mind around those two descriptors unless you can taste it.
It is unquestionably gin, but with caramel and honey notes that play quite well with the various aromatics and the wheat. The flavor is well-balanced, which I’m guessing is due in part to a short aging period; it seems like much aging beyond what is done would overwhelm the delicate herbal notes of the gin itself.
After a tour of the distillery, you can head over to the tasting room for a quick sample. Their “tasting room” isn’t so much a “room” as a “counter”, but there are stools for sitting, too. In front of jars filled with the various ingredients used to flavor the gin, tastes are poured by one of the four employees, so if you have any question about anything regarding their process or product, it will be answered with confidence. There is a casual arrangement of bottles near a register, but thankfully no pressure to purchase. The feeling is similar to the merchandise table at your buddy’s band performance – staffed by friendly acquaintances you enjoy talking to, and they’d probably really appreciate it if you enjoyed the show enough to buy a t-shirt or CD.
they must spend a fortune on ball jars
No, Breuckelen isn’t the only distillery with a barrel-aged gin on the market, but it’s the first one I’ve had, and I was impressed. I imagine it would be stunning in an Aviation, one of my favorite cocktails of late.
I got a wild hair today and took myself to the farmers market. It’s shocking how rarely I go; every single time I tell myself I should do it more often. I always come home with the most unusual and wonderful things (and no cash left).
Today, one vendor had the tiniest French breakfast radishes, most of them no longer than an inch. I decided to call their bluff and actually eat them for breakfast, along with some sliced baguette, anchovy-parsley-butter that was lurking in the depths of the fridge, and the mandatory fleur de sel. Not shown, but also appearing were soft-boiled eggs, fat wedges of avocado, and iced coffee.
Totally crushing on this tiny guy on the end:
And one more shot of the fleur de sel, to stress its importance:
On our recent trip to New York City, we stopped in at Momofuku Milk Bar. Christina Tosi, head Pastry Chef of David Chang’s Momofuku empire, has lately become a darling of the food world. With my training in Baking and Pastry Arts, I mostly wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
love this logo
I’ve already said my piece on the black sesame croissant we got (the short version: it’s awesome), but we also picked up the five cookie flavors they offered that day: Compost(TM)(srsly), chocolate-chocolate, cornflake-marshmallow, blueberry & cream, and corn. As you can see, some of them didn’t last until the photo shoot.
left to right: compost(tm), chocolate-chocolate, cornflake-marshmallow
Overall, these are good cookies. They have many qualities of acceptable bakery cookies: big as a small plate, sweet, interesting flavor bits, texture somewhere between chewy and soft. The chocolate-chocolate was the best of these three, with a sophisticated flavor redolent of Oreo, which I assume must be due to black cocoa. But if I’m honest, I didn’t get anything terribly special from the lauded Compost(TM) and blueberry & cream flavors. Yes, the Compost(TM) has interesting salty bits, and the blueberry has… blueberries; but they’re not really enough for me to travel across town for, let alone get on a plane to NYC.
compost(tm) cookie; reminded me of a gussied-up potato chip cookie my mom used to make
Maybe the problem is with me, though. Despite my scholastic specialization, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I’d much rather eat something salty and savory over a cookie any day. So for a cookie to impress me, it has to be something pretty darn special. It has to make me sit up, narrow my eyes, tilt my head ever so slightly, and maybe curse gently. It pretty much has to be Plato’s Ideal Cookie.
This, Gentle Reader, is that cookie.
Well, it’s where that cookie used to be, anyway. This is where the corn cookie used to be, the cookie that made me wish I had been responsible for its existence. How could anything that is not-corn taste so much like corn?
I’ve never tried to reverse-engineer a baked good before, but this cookie demanded an attempt. I had two clues at my disposal: one, the ingredients list (listed by weight, remember), and two, the knowledge that Chef Tosi uses high-quality ingredients with simple techniques. She was likely going to use whatever was easily at her disposal, and not futz with things too much. There would be no unnecessary complication, like, say, steeping churned-in-house butter with late-July corn cobs to infuse every possible mote with ultimate corn flavor.
cornmeal not ground finely enough yet
The one “mystery” ingredient, if it can be called that, was something listed as “corn powder (dyhydrated corn)” [sic]. I assumed that was a typo, and not corn with two types of water. And as chance would have it, while procuring cinnamon from the amazing spice store that I am lucky to live near, I noticed a register-side basket of nothing less than freeze-dried corn. Close enough.
look ma, no water
Back home, my research determined that this cookie dough was most likely a variant of the basic chocolate chip cookie, sans chips, of course. I listed the ingredients and amounts from four trusted recipes, and developed a recipe based on those, swapping some of the flour for finely-ground corn meal and freeze-dried corn.
The dough came together beautifully, to my glee, and baked into a soft and ultra-yellow cookie that looked surprisingly similar to the real deal. And the taste? I couldn’t very well do a side by side comparison, but it wasn’t far off from what I remembered: slightly under-sweet, buttery, and with a truckload of corn flavor.
It’s possible to tweak the amounts slightly and maybe achieve a more accurate recipe, but I’m pretty thrilled with what resulted. And unless someone is willing to sponsor me, I don’t really want to pay for the shipping involved in acquiring a new batch of “control” corn cookies for further analysis.
i has a corm cookie
EDIT: Based on this tweet that I just saw:
…I’m revising the recipe to include a mandatory fridge rest for the dough. I don’t know that all of Chef Tosi’s cookie recipes would necessarily include a rest, but one apparently does. I know it works miracles on most cookie dough, and I’ve always done it for this recipe with great success. And it’s my blog. So there.
Corn Cookies
Inspired blatantly from Christina Tosi’s Corn Cookies at Momofuku Milk Bar Makes about 4 dozen two-inch cookies
As with most cookie dough, this one may be frozen or refrigerated, and may actually give a better result if left to rest overnight in the refrigerator. If you can’t get your hands on corn flour, just use a good-quality cornmeal (preferably stone-ground, but whatever) and grind it to a very fine powder in a spice grinder. Don’t be tempted to use unadulterated cornmeal; it will give your cookies a gritty texture. No pun intended.
While I found the freeze-dried corn at my amazing local spice shop (they ship!), I know that natural-food groceries (like Whole Foods) often carry a brand of dehydrated vegetables that makes dried corn. They might have it in stock, or be able to order it for you.
Also, I specify a European-style butter, which has a higher fat percentage than American butter, making for a softer cookie. I don’t know what sort of butter Milk Bar uses, but I know their dairy is high-quality and sourced from a local farm, so I figured I’d use the good stuff. The recipe should work just fine with whatever butter you have, though.
Yes, I’m listing everything by weight. Grams, to boot. I don’t know how to translate “120 grams of freeze-dried corn” into cups; I’m sorry. But if you bake regularly, and you don’t have a scale, you should really, really, really invest the $15-20. It’s much more precise, and your baked goods will turn out more consistently.
175 grams unbleached all-purpose flour
120 grams freeze-dried corn, ground to a fine powder in a spice grinder
55 grams corn flour (see headnote)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
350 grams granulated sugar
225 grams (8 ounces) European-style unsalted butter (such as Plugrá), at room temperature
100 grams (2 large) eggs
1. Preheat the oven to 350º F. Whisk together the all-purpose flour, ground up freeze-dried corn, corn flour, salt, baking powder, and baking soda; set it aside.
2. In the bowl of a stand mixer (or by hand, if you’re into that), cream together the sugar and butter until just combined, scraping the bowl as needed. You should only need to mix for about a minute, maybe less. Please do not beat the living daylights out of it; your cookies will spread too much if you do.
3. Add the eggs one at a time, beating to incorporate after each addition. Add the dry ingredients and mix just until a soft dough forms. Gently scrape the dough into an airtight container (a plastic container, zip-top bag, or just wrap the lot in plastic wrap); no need to shape pretty logs, though that’s certainly an option if you like. Refrigerate for at least 1 hour, and up to 2-3 days. Alternatively, portion the dough out into individual cookie lumps, place on a single sheet pan (it’s okay if they touch), wrap in plastic wrap, and freeze until solid before storing in a gallon freezer zip-top bag.
4. If refrigerated, leave dough at room temperature for 30-60 minutes before proceeding. If frozen in portioned out lumps, proceed without thawing, but add a couple of extra minutes to the baking time. Scoop heaping tablespoons of dough onto parchment-lined or ungreased sheet pans, leaving about 2 inches between each. Bake at 350º F for 10-12 minutes, or until the undersides and the occasional outside edge turn golden brown. Don’t let the tops brown; the cookies should remain bright yellow with no (or very little) browning. Let cookies cool briefly on the pans before transferring to racks to cool thoroughly.
A working breakfast on the dining-table-cum-office: eggs fried over panko, with some herb sauce goodness, bread for dipping in the runny yolks, and lots of coarse salt. Oh, and coffee.
Two weekends ago, I spent the most incredible time in New York City with some dear, dear friends. It was my third visit to the city, but my first in about eight years, and certainly my first since I’ve cared much about food at all. And, oh. My. Goodness. The food.
The food, the food, the food.
And maybe a drink or two, here and there.
But, oh! the food. There was a not insubstantial amount of food, and we ate all of it. I’m afraid there is no more food in New York, because we ate it all.
We jetted off without a food itinerary, aside from one night, which might cause some type-A’s out there to lose a monocle or do a spit-take. But I prefer to travel that way; let chance, circumstance, and mood dictate the days, and things generally work out beautifully.
My only requirement was to stop at Momofuku at some point. No, I didn’t care which one. Any one would do, with weighted preference to Milk Bar and their take-away-friendly baked goods. Eventually, my (loudly) dropped hints took effect, and we made our way to the Midtown location – which just so happens to share a front door with Má Pêche, where we had a fantastic lunch. (Or was it breakfast? What do you call it when the first meal of the day is at 2 pm, and involves beer?)
We left with a taste of Milk Bar’s Cereal Milk(TM)(seriously) soft-serve and a bag of goodies, comprised of 6 cookies (more on those later) and one black sesame croissant. My holy grail, their kimchi and blue cheese croissant, was disappointingly absent from the case, but the black sesame version went a long way towards assuaging my grief.
I’ve never seen a croissant so swarthy. Inside, the nearly-foot-long behemoth swaddled a filling of strawberry jam and a sweetened cream cheese that one of us suggested might be Cereal Milk(TM) cream cheese. The tender and flaky layers of pastry seemed to be dotted with black sesame seeds ground to a powder or paste, which helps explain the off-black crust. It is also a thoroughly brilliant idea that I might have to try the next time I make croissants.
Apart from being a day old by the time we broke into the croissant (and slightly dried out, but surprisingly very little), I’d classify it as one of the best croissants I’ve ever had. Certainly, it’s the most creative. The filling was just restrained enough with sweetness, which pleased me, knowing Chef Tosi’s reputation as a sugar-lover extraordinaire.
And the fact that I missed out on the kimchi croissant just gives me an excuse to go back. Just as soon as my wallet recovers.
Stay tuned for more NYC adventures, as soon as I can catch my breath and post more.
I’ve been out of town for a bit, but now I’m back. More on that later; for now, here is a dinner (lightly inspired by David Chang) of green beans, seared in a pan until barely charred, and tossed with Korean chili paste. These are served over polenta and topped with blue cheese and black sesame seeds.
You ever make a batch of cookies, planning to blog about them? You ever bake them while fixing lunch, doing laundry, simmering two pots of stock, and thinking about where you have to be in a few hours and what you have to get done before leaving town the day after next? You ever turn off the timer without even thinking about what the timer means?
I never used to like coffee. It was too bitter, had too much of a burnt-toast quality, and more often than not was served hot enough to scald my tongue into a senseless stupor for a day or so. Pass, thank you very much.
Coffee was never a big deal in my parents’ house, either. Yes, my dad would dutifully set up the machine each night on a timer, and he and my mom would each have a cup or so (my mom invariably losing hers around the house a hundred times each morning), but half the pot would later get poured unceremoniously down the drain. Coffee came pre-ground in large canisters, and whole beans were a completely foreign thing, probably only for much fancier pants than us.
During my time working at a large-scale event planning agency, however, I began to notice a different attitude towards the drink. To be sure, it was still primarily a caffeine-delivery-system, but the people there had opinions about it. I don’t actually recall a coffee maker in the office, oddly enough. Instead, cups from CC’s Coffee House, the local coffee chain of choice, filled the trash cans and crowded the desks. A strange engine-oil-type container of Cool Brew waited in the fridge in case someone just wanted a plain coffee. Starbucks, though not exactly verboten, was looked upon as a last-ditch option, unless it came in tiny cans or bottles to keep on hand for emergencies. “Maxwell House” and “Folgers” became filthy, dirty words.
Faced with such convictions, I could only hold out as the lone coffee-abstainer for so long. I cut my teeth first on the saccharine Starbucks Doubleshot, then added splashes of Cool Brew when I started to find it too syrupy. I graduated to CC’s Mochasippi, which tastes far better than the silly name implies (and is still mandatory when I visit New Orleans). Eventually, I began taking my coffee black, and even began enjoying the occasional espresso. I formed my own prejudices about certain brands of coffee and certain coffee shops. I later became acquainted with a French press, and learned to insist on whole beans. My pants became fancy.
But as much as I relish a well-crafted cup of coffee, made with just-ground beans and plunged lovingly in the French press, most mornings I just can’t be bothered. It’s too fussy, especially when, you know, I haven’t had my coffee yet. In recent years, I’ve developed a foolproof system for delivering a great cup of coffee every morning, with hardly any more trouble than my parents go to with their automatic machine. It goes like this:
1. Open fridge.
2. Remove coffee concentrate.
3. Splash a bit into a cup.
4. Add water.
5. Microwave (optional).
6. Profit.
Did you notice the part where I don’t have to grind beans, wait more than a minute, wash anything, or use my brain? Oh, yes.
The key is something that New Orleanians have apparently been doing for ages: cold-brewing coffee. You may have heard of this method, either in the New York Times, or on anynumberofblogs. It involves mixing ground coffee with cold water, then giving it an overnight rest. In the morning, strain and enjoy. The science behind it is solid, and the cold extraction method leaves you with a highly-flavorful coffee that doesn’t lose its edge or become bitter like hot-brewed coffee does in painfully few minutes.
My variation is in batch size and concentration; I make a whole pound of coffee at a time, which produces an ungodly amount of highly concentrated coffee that’s far more potent than any espresso. Yes, it becomes a little dull over time, but it still beats the heck out of Sanka, and it’s just as fast.
I really don’t remember where I originally found the recipe, but I came across it 6 or 7 years ago, and have used it more or less ever since. These days, there’s always a bottle in my fridge. The weather’s finally warmed up enough for me to enjoy it cold in a glass, the way God intended, but in the winter it does just as well warmed up in my favorite mug.
Aside from drinking it, the inky stuff finds other uses in my kitchen. I’ve added a shot into the liquid for braising beef or pork, or into pots of beans or rich soups; and need I tell you that used instead of vanilla, it will make your brownies or chocolate cakes absolutely sing. Add a splash to ganache and make mocha truffles. Use your imagination; you’ll find other uses.
My go-to coffee to use for this is a blend with chicory, and, yes, it comes pre-ground. Please don’t tell anyone. Sadly, my grocery has just stopped carrying it, so I’ll have to experiment with new types and report back. But whatever sort of coffee you use, just make sure it’s a medium grind. You’ll understand why if you ever try to strain off an entire pound of super-fine espresso grind.
Make each cup of coffee to taste, starting with less concentrate than you think, and adding more as you see fit. Stirred into milk, it’s the best café au lait you’ll ever have, cold or hot. Mix it with sweetened condensed milk for a Vietnamese coffee. Pull out your blender and whizz together a pick-me-up on some hot afternoon. But don’t even try the recipe unless you’re ready to keep it in your fridge forevermore, because this stuff is life-changing. Your pants have been warned.
Coffee Concentrate Makes 10 cups
I make batches of this every 2 weeks or so, and funnel it into empty screw-top wine bottles to keep in the refrigerator. No matter how carefully or how much I strain it, it always ends up with a little bit of sediment in the bottom, so be aware of that when drinking the last few dregs. Use either stainless steel or glass containers for this recipe, because the concentrate will stain the dickens out of anything. Also, make sure the water you use for this tastes good, because no amount of good coffee can cover up the taste of bad water.
1 pound coffee, in a medium grind
10 cups cold water, filtered if necessary
1 three-fingered pinch salt (trustme)
1. In a large, non-reactive bowl, combine the coffee, water, and salt, whisking gently to wet all the grounds. Cover the bowl, and let stand at room temperature overnight, or about 12 hours.
2. The next day, strain the coffee through a fine mesh strainer into another large non-reactive bowl. Let the grounds drip until you get tired of waiting, then discard. Rinse the strainer, and line with a triple layer of cheesecloth (or use instead an extremely fine mesh strainer), and re-strain the concentrate. Strain as many times as you have patience for; very fine sediment will strain best if the concentrate is allowed to settle for 30 minutes or so between straining.
3. Funnel the concentrate into non-reactive containers of choice, and refrigerate.
4. To make coffee, pour a tablespoon of concentrate into a mug or glass, and top off with water or milk, leaving a little room. Taste. If you prefer it stronger, add more concentrate, adjusting as necessary. For hot coffee, microwave for 1 to 2 minutes. For iced coffee, um, add ice.
I forgot about this one; it’s from a few days ago. Pizza with a light smear of pesto, fresh sardines, ramps, capers, and finished with more herbs and Korean chili flakes. Is there nothing that gochugaru can’t make better?
An hors d’oeuvre I served at my Kentucky Derby party this weekend: whole-wheat puff pastry, cut into bite-size vol au vents, and filled with pimento cheese (for the uninitiated or un-Southern: a spread of pimentos, sharp yellow cheddar, and mayonnaise). Lovely.
Edit: I substituted roasted red bell peppers here, because I can’t ever seem to find pimentos up here. Many people consider this unacceptable. I am not one of those people.
