Orange Marmalade

Putting food up for a later enjoyment in winter seems such a reasonable thing to do. And even now that we can actually buy whatever we want all year round and there is little need to put food up, preserving some of the seasonal produce is very satisfying. But I find that I got these things backwards, usually. I am currently thinking about investing in enough large jars to can tomatoes at the end of summer, even though I'd have to buy the tomatoes since I don't have the space to grow them.
And if I do can something, I usually only make a glass or two that I eat long before winter.
This year I bought organic oranges for my vin d'orange and after draining the vin off, I was left with wine/vodka soaked orange halves that I really did not want to just throw away. Canning is, after all, a sort of resourcefulness. As it turns out, the remnants of making vin d'orange make a really lovely orange marmalade, satisfying both my cravings for something sweet on my toast and my need to not throw that much food away.

Vin d'Orange

I am soo ready for spring. As in, I have been ready for spring for the last month or two but he (she?) decided to take some more time and leave me here in the dead of winter. But the last few days were warmer, I saw the first spring flowers peak out of the cold soil and I actually one day enjoyed lunch outside, though still wrapped up because it is not that warm here. As I write this, though, the temperatures are slowly dropping again, and we are expecting some snow on Thursday and Friday.
The one thing I am sad about saying goodbye to is citrus fruit. (Oh and Avocados. Avocados grow in winter in Spain, apparently). I'd love to bring citrus fruit into spring and summer with me, to hang out with cucumbers and tomatos and eggplant. And to just generally eat on a really hot day. I'd really love that. Since I can't (or techincally I can because I can probably buy oranges all troughout the year but won't since they are from South Africa or Australia then) I decided to preserve some of the last oranges and refashion it into a drink that is ready for spring and summer.

I had Vin d'Orange for the first and only time at Michael's parents' house, probably two years ago. I am not a liquor kind of girl, but this Vin d'Orange with some white wine, or better sparkling wine was just so good. I don't know what kept me from making it, it is really easy to throw together and the result is really delicious. I just hope I have made enough to actually have some leftover for when the days are warmer.

Vin d'Orange

8 oranges, sliced
1 lemon, sliced
350 gram sugar
350 ml vodka (40% alcohol)
1,5 - 2 bottles white wine(750 ml each)

Layer the orange and lemon slices with the sugar in several mason jars (I used three 1 l jars and had some wine leftover). Pour the vodka over the orange slices and fill the jars with the white wine.
Set aside in a cool dark place and shake the jars once a day, for about a week.
Drain the vin'd orange through a sieve lined with cheesecloth and fill it into bottles. Store it in the fridge and use within 6 months.

The vin d'orange is really great over ice, with a few mint leaves thrown in, and I plan to add it to a glass of sparkling wine, soon.

And stay tuned for an idea on what to do with all the lovely leftover orange you have after bottleing the vin d'orange.

Homemade

After getting over my fear of macarons and gougères, I decided to make croissants this weekend. And it really took me a weekend to make them, from making a starter on Friday, to cool the dough between folding and rolling it out on Saturday and then finally baking them today, and inviting a friend over to help me eat some/most of the freshly baked croissants. The croissants did turn out okay, I guess. After I did my best not to freak out over the little tears in the dough, or over the fact that I was too lazy to properly wrap my dough and having a little crust form on top (Going through the troubles of making the dough but not wrapping it? This seems just so typical for me), I am not quite sure that making croissants myself is worth the effort. The croissants were pretty good, mind you. Like a good croissant should be. But I still remember this croissant I had in France, almost two years ago. The croissant that was so unbelievably flaky and buttery all other croissants pale in comparison.
I am spoiled, and I don't think putting that kind of effort into making croissants is worth it if I don't get croissants out of it that resemble that perfect croissant of my memory.
Mind you, I still ate two croissants and a pain au chocolat, still warm, with a cup of coffee. But I am ready to move on and make something else from the list of things that kind of scare me.
Speaking of that list, I actually wrote the items that float through my head down and plan on tackling those things kind of soonish in the future. I think I'll share those things with you, but probably wont actually post recipes for those kind of things because I really don't know what I am doing with those things and just follow recipes I decide are trustworthy and hope for the best.

The list of things I want to make currently:
Macarons
Gougères
Croissants
Doughnuts
Bagels
Crumpets
Plum Knödel (an Austrian recipe, I had them once or twice at a childhood friends' home and I always loved them)
Mayonnaise/Aioli
sourdough starter/bread
Ginger Ale
Tonic Water
Meringues
Brioche
Ketchup and Mustard
my Grandmother's cake

And now I need go out to buy small bottles to bottle the vin d'orange I recently made so that I can share the recipe with you, before orange season is completely over.

An Easy Belgian Endive Salad

In my parent's household, eating salad was a must.
I don't know how my mother did it with four kids, listening to us complaining about the salad we had to eat every single day, after we had already eaten lunch and there was this huge bowl of salad still to be eaten. Maybe once in a few months did my mother let us go without the salad, when she deemed a Chinese stir fry incompatible with salad. We were so happy about those days.
Summer was alright, and winter too, until I started to really dislike beet salad, and all the different bitter winter greens that were seasonal, but just not to my liking. Or to my siblings'.
My mother stuck with this habit for as long as I can remember, and maybe after 10 years she started to see the fruits of her labour. I think my sister and I started to complain less way before my brothers did. There was that time my little sister wanted to finish that huge bowl of by herself, when at the same time the two boys would still sit in front of their salad 15-20 minutes after they had started eating it.
And last year I could not help myself but laugh out loud when my littlest brother told me about summer camp, and how they were never served salad, and on their free day, he'd go to the nearest supermarket to buy one of those already washed/cut salad bowls, pour the dressing that comes with it on top and eat the salad he had missed.
One problem for all of us, the least for my sister, was the bitter salad we had to eat throughout all winter. Endive, napa cabbage, radicchio and all the other varieties that do grow in winter but are just too bitter to be really likeable. And even when we complained less about salad, those bitter greens never really appealed to me.

But this winter I found a way to prepare Belgian endive that makes me want to eat it by the head full, and not share it with anyone else. Caramelizing the endive counteracts the bitterness, but since some of the bitter flavor remains, you don't end up with a boringly sweet salad. Really, that stuff is addicting. In fact, when a friend came over who was really sceptical about the endive, I hoped to have more for myself and was quite disappointed when she made it clear that the leftovers cannot go onto my plate alone.
This is easy, and if you are not too fond of the winter salad either, you really should give this a try. (And I do hope I can convert you, too)

Caramelized Belgian Endive Salad, with an optional hazelnut crunch

Cut as many heads of Belgian endive in half. Do not remove the bottom part or else they will fall apart when cooking. Rub the cut side with a little sugar, maybe a tablespoon for 2 heads.
Heat a skillet over medium heat, a just a little oil. Place the endive cut side down in the skillet and let brown for a minute or so. Remove from heat once nicely browned, place cut side up on plates and drizzle with a little oil (I used pumpkin seed oil, and have used pistachio, which is insanely good but insanely expensive, but use anything slightly nutty)
Sprinkle a little salt on top, and maybe add a little balsamic vinegar if you like.

If you want to make the hazelnut crunch I have in the picture above, just coarsely chop a few hazelnuts, toast them in the skillet before caramelizing the endive, and add a teaspoon or so of maple syrup. Let it bubble up for a few seconds, then remove from skillet, wipe it out and proceed to make the caramelized endive.

Macaron Making

So I promised to serve you good food if you ever find yourself in my home, in my kitchen. And I stand by that. But I also need to mention the kind of obligation that comes with it. I need you to come over when I make gougères, or macarons, or the doughnuts I am currently dreaming about, to help me eat what I have made and keep me from eating half the batch of macarons in the course of one hour.

If you are a picky, only eating pasta with butter and a little cheese but not the lasagna I have made, or even worse, if you don't like to eat, I am not sure we could be friends.
Not that I could not like you, it is just that I dont understand. At all.
Which reminds me of the boyfriend I once had, who sometimes forgot to eat until dinner came around. (WHAT?) I should have known from the beginning on that this could not turn out well. (As my father likes to say: You cannot trust a person who does not eat breakfast).

I do not have a recipe to share today, I am not enough of an expert on macarons to give advice or modify a recipe. If you want to try making macarons yourself, I have found the collection of links David Lebovitz put together here quite helpful. But I am just happy that this batch of macarons did turn out quite lovely. I still had some crackling and only one half of the macarons did develop feet (the one I let sit on the counter for about an hour), but I can see an improvement from the first batch, which makes me so happy.