Important Fruit Clarification and Dunnett Connection

The dried currants which we buy at the store (usually from Sun-Maid) are not the dried form of the fruit "currant" (which I always associate with Grandma B.) but rather a dried grape. The "Zante Currant" is actually the name of a grape. Wikipedia explains the confusion of names. The Currant Company rather vociferously huffs and puffs about the confusion of names.

The anti-oxidant benefits of currants apply to true currants (a Ribes) and not to zante currants (Vitis vinefera). So don't go pouring them in your batter thinking they'll make your cream scones healthy -- you'll have to get some true dried ribes for that. (And perhaps cut out the cream, the refined sugar and the white flour, too.)

The Dunnett connection is too totally obvious. Zante Currants are named for the island of Zakynthos, where of course our lovely Philippa discovers peachy sweet Kuzum. The naming confusion comes from the old French "raisins de Corauntz" -- which language, of course, our Philippa spoke (had she not been a fictional character).

(Photo not mine; from a website.)

Still Life with Reindeer

I made a "Black Cake" for the holidays this year. The recipe came from the Houston Chronicle, published in early July, 2008. I was in Houston to attend my aunt's funeral, and I liked the idea of making the cake as a sort of tribute to her, even though I don't know if she ever made fruit cake. The recipe starts by calling for macerating dried fruit for several months in Manischewitz wine, which I dutifully carried out.

Mom used to make a fabulous fruit cake, which her children loved (from what I've heard, the fruit-cake-gene did not make it to the next generation). Hers is a very dark, crumbly but moist mixture of dried fruits and just enough cake to barely hold it all together, with big chunks of candied cherry punctuating the "healthy" fruit. And then it is soaked in brandy for as many months as possible (I remember the Christmas when I realized the brandy was a good flavor, and I could stop pushing the outer crust of cake to the side of the plate.) Last time I asked, she didn't have a recipe, or didn't know where it was, or something. Anyway, I'm going to put pressure on her to find it, or to make one up for me to try.

This "Black Cake" is pretty good. It is certainly moist, and if there aren't enough cherries, that's my own fault for not adding enough. It is far too light in flavor, however. The recipe called for a frosting of fondant, which I tried out of curiosity. I didn't make the fondant, but bought it in a box from a specialty store as recommended by several cookbooks. I wouldn't recommend it to others, unless you have a need for a splendid look (because even with the rips, uneven "ribbon" and smeared icing dots that I amateurishly produced, it looks quite wonderful), but the flavor was merely acceptable. (I am not a big frosting fan, however.)

Desultory Cordon Bleu from Vivi

Over the last couple of weeks, we've slacked off a lot on Cordon Bleu, for a number of reasons. One of the household is formally On A Diet (and others of us are informally following suit because we really need to anyway). Money is tight, this tax month, and Cordon Bleu meals tend to be pricey. And I haven't been that interested in cooking (I've had a cold), nor in the meals as presented.

However, we have done some. I made a cheese soufflé a week ago Saturday, that was quite tasty. I've never made one before, and it was both surprisingly easy, and fun to watch bake.

(through the oven door, Before....and After)






And it was very tasty. I used the called-for cheese, a Conté, basically a French Swiss cheese (with no holes), which I got at Trader Joe's for cheap. Stinky, but very nice melted with a lot of eggs.
Then, on Wednesday this week, I made the dessert for Lesson 16 (for which I have not made the other dishes), Pêches, Poires, et Pruneaux au Vin Rouge (Poached Fruit in Red Wine). I used pears and prunes, as called for (but no peaches, as they are out of season, and you can't even get them from Mexico -- which of course, we wouldn't do anyway, for environmental reasons). It calls for madeleines alongside, which I was excited about, because I've never had madeleines.

Every time I encounter Pears poached in Red Wine, something about them, perhaps the spicy, sweet-sharp scent of the dark syrup, reminds me of Mother Bleu's eldest sister. She served them for dessert once, for Mother Bleu and me. I was a callow girl in her mid-20's, unworldly, still full of hopes and dreams not yet set adrift by so-called "polish" or refinement.

I really ought to read more of Proust before I try writing a send-up. By "more" I mean "any".

I actually did first experience this dish at our aunt's house, but I can't remember anything at all about the meal or the visit, except that we had pears poached in red wine. I had never eaten anything so sophisticated. To be honest, I remember more delight in being treated as a grown-up than in the flavor combination -- the pears were fruit after all, not chocolate or ice cream, and the wine tasted very, well, winey -- I didn't drink wine in those days, and certainly didn't like red wine. But, my, I felt urbane, eating that dessert.

My tastes have changed dramatically. Everyone quite liked the pears (not the children -- the pears and prunes are fruit after all, not chocolate or ice cream, which they chose instead). I used, I fear, the cheapest Shiraz from Australia that I could find, not the Burgundy called for, but it didn't seem to make a difference. And I forgot entirely to serve the madeleines! (which I had purchased, not made.) I want to make the dish again, if only to get those literary cookies on the table.

For those without the recipe, it's essentially a bottle of red wine, 10 oz. red currant jelly (no sugar), 12 peppercorns, and a cinnamon stick. Let it boil for 5 minutes, then poach the peeled and cored fruit (6 pears and 6 peaches, and 24 prunes) for 15 minutes. Let the whole mixture cool together, and serve. They have you soak the prunes in water for 20 minutes ahead of time, but I had purchased fresh, soft prunes, and after 5 minutes they were half dissolved.

(By the way, they are now called not prunes, but dried plums, as Baby Boomers hope to differentiate their middle age digestive issues from those of their parents').

We will have a guest for dinner on Sunday, so it will be another Cordon Bleu day. I haven't yet decided whether to cook from Lesson 16 (Carrot Soup and Breaded Veal Scallops -- I'll use Eggplant -- with Milanaise Sauce and Spaghetti), or Lesson 17 (Duck Breasts with Pears). If I do the former, we could have the Poached Pears again (this time remembering the madeleines). Otherwise, it will be Pots de Crème (and it's hard to bypass Pots de Crème, particularly when they are vanilla, chocolate and coffee flavored. It's not a fruit dessert, after all).