From Sweaty Stink to Sweet Goodness: The Magic of Browning

It never ceases to strike me as nothing short of magical how turning chopped onions in a pan over a hot stove fills the kitchen with the aroma of sweet caramel, succulent and penetrating to the very core of things. Usually the pleasantly invasive aroma, sneaking like Santa Claus down the chimney to offer gifts, complements the rich savory scent of meat or the naturally sweet and sour aroma of fresh tomatoes. It was for a vegetable & meat dish involving roasted eggplants and pork for which I stood over the stove the other day, browning onions slowly and thinking about the complexity of scent which man has added to the already rich palette of the natural world. By simply introducing the element of fire (simmering, browning, roasting over an open flame or over charcoals) man multiplied the pleasure of the olfactory sense exponentially. The reason is less romantic than my introduction, but fascinating to follow nonetheless.

via pinterest

Onions specifically offer a great glimpse into the mechanism of this aroma giving process. Their sulfurous "bouquet" has been likened to the scent of female sweat (as has grapefruit, another sulfurous material), but no matter what your view on that is (Flaubert and Baudelaire notwithstanding), most people classify volatile sulfurous components as unpleasant, more on which later. The organosulfur compounds called thiols present in onions (allyl mercaptan is the compound released upon slicing an onion) form a group,  also called mercaptans in the older days; a portmanteau deriving from the Latin mercurium captans  thanks to their superior bonding ability to mercury compounds. Thiols/Mercaptans are compounds with the -SH group bonded to a carbon atom.

Now you might be forgiven to think that mercaptans remind you of decay and stench; they're produced by animal and plant decay, are found in beer that has been exposed to ultraviolet light or in faulty wines (sulfur and yeast reacting in wild patterns) and are infamously contained in skunk secretions and in flatus. One form of mercaptan, T-butyl mercaptan, is routinely added to otherwise odorless natural gas to render a leak more likely to be detected. But they're not a damning thing per se: specific forms of thiols are responsible for the characteristic and coveted scent profile of grapefruit or ~interestingly!~ released upon roasting coffee beans, surely my idea of heaven this side of heaven.

The good part involving cooks and onions is that thiols can be easily oxidized to disulfides and higher oxidation products such as sulfonic acids, free from the associations had with their predecessor. Furthermore onions are comprised of 75%  water and they contain complex sugars. By browning a sliced onion in the pan the increased temperature makes water evaporate and break the bonds that hold chemical compounds contained and we see the plant matter shrink in front of our eyes and become soft and miserable. Yet those complex sugars are thus broken into monosacharides, i.e. glycose and fructose, resulting in caramelization and a more intense, sweet flavor than previously.

The so called Maillard reactions, a non-enzymatic type of chemical reaction that happens a lot in the kitchen, even at room temperature, also accounts for the breakdown of a reducing sugar with an amino acid, rendering things brown (This is the chemical process responsible for the nicely brow appearance of baked goods). The larger the sugar, the slower it'd react with the amino acids. Last but not least, the cysteine in the stewed pork (another sulfur containing ingredient) reacts with the sugars in the onions in another Maillard reaction to render the umami of meat that fills the mouth with rich satisfaction and the kitchen with the sweet caramel goodness of a deceptively wholesome dish. How far the mind can wander while making dinner…

Aromaforks: Scent Gadget to Enhance Food Experience

"A techy new fork boasts a special panel that can be infused with scents.
The Aromafork has a built-in spot for strips whose scents, when paired with actual food, can be registered by the brain as a new flavor combination.
The strips are made of materials not unlike facial blotting papers, and can be loaded with scents including chocolate, banana, basil, coconut and wasabi, among others."Read more on the Daily Mail.

pic via the dailymail/Molecule-R Flavors Inc.

Of course flavor is in big part smell, so this makes sense. I bet dedicated foodies however might have a dissenting voice or two among them.

What do you think? Wow or Yawn?

Lemon Verbena Cream with Blackberries & Blueberries Tart: The Taste of Early Autumn Prolonged

The flavor of verbena, lemony tart and yet with a slightly bitter, herbaceous edge to it, is incomparable when used in haute cuisine. It lends the freshness of lemon without the resinous facets, while on the other hand it has a refined and uncommon profile. It's enough to use it in panacotta or crème brûlée once (or indeed as an enhancer of the meatier edges of meat or fish) to get hooked. The small, uppermost top leaves of verbena are the most tender, as are the small blossoms, handy when homegrown for the kitchen, easy to find in the grocer's, farmers' market and specialty super-markets or dried in spices & fine tea stores. 

The joy of early autumn and of the harvest season is encapsulated in a filling and eye-catching crust tart, so different than the expected pumpkin pie, hereby filled with the pillowy lemon verbena flavored cream and strewn with blackberries and blueberries: the contrast between sweet and sour is a play on the taste buds like no other.

It would be wonderful to accompany this culinary duet with the iconic, classic L'Artisan Perfumeur fragrance Mûre et Musc (Blackberry and Musk) which juxtaposes the tartness of berries with the fruity facets of a specific musk ingredient. So here's to the perfect pairing of food and perfume!

via phillymarketcafe.blogspot.com

Here is an appetising, gorgeous looking recipe adapted from pastry sous-chef Michael Brock's (of Los Angeles's Boule) Mara des Bois Strawberry Napoleons recipe:

Ingredients:

0.5 pound/ 0.220kg cold, all-butter puff pastry dough
2/3 cup whole milk
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup loosely packed fresh or dried whole lemon verbena leaves
1/2 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped
2 large egg yolks
1 1/2 teaspoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon unflavored gelatin
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 cups approx. of fresh blackberries and blueberries

Preparation:

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F/190°C.

2. Prepare the pastry: Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the puff pastry and then transfer to sheet. Chill for 10 minutes in the fridge. Then cover the pastry with parchment paper and top with another baking sheet (to prevent the pastry from puffing when baking). Bake for about 35 minutes. Remove sheet and parchment on top and let it cool completely off while you prepare the cream.

3. Make the cream: Bring the milk and sugar to a simmer in a saucepan. Add the lemon verbena leaves and the vanilla bean and seeds. Remove from the heat, cover and let stand for 15 minutes. Strain into a measuring cup. In a bowl, whisk the egg yolks with cornstarch and flour and slowly whisk in the hot milk. Pour the mixture into the saucepan and cook until the pastry cream is thick and comes off the sides of the pan. Transfer the pastry cream to a bowl.

4. In a glass bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over the water and let stand until it becomes soft. Heat the gelatin on bain-mari until melted. Whisk the gelatin into the warm pastry cream until they're mixed well. Now chill the cream in the fridge.

5. Use your electric mixer to beat the heavy cream until it stiffens. Fold the the remaining whipped cream with a rubber spatula into the refridgerated lemon verbena cream and put in the fridge again for a few minutes.

6. When thoroughly chilled, pour the cream over the pastry and decorate with fresh blackberries and blueberries and a twig of verbena leaves.

 Bon appetit!

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Aromatic Cuisine, scented recipes and epicurean adventures

Travel Memoirs: Istanbul, part2

Much of the olfactory enjoyment when in Istanbul comes from the culinary exploration of dishes that delight all the senses and make one abandon all expectations of following a diet regime in a flash. It is no accident that the Turkish refer to Culinary Arts when talking about food. The abundance and diversity owing to the rich flora and fauna of the area provide rich culinary escapades for an inquisitive gourmet palate. Babette's Feast with an oriental twist!
And so often food and drink is accompanied by oryantal dancing* to excite the senses even more: One feels like James Bond.



With a nomadic origin back to the first millenium in Central Asia, the Turkish repertoire has been influenced by the Arab, Persian, Greek /Byzantine, Seljuk and French traditions, as well as the Imperial Kitchen of the Ottomans, adding colourful spices and refined techniques. The little balls of delight that are içli kofte with their outer shell of bulgur and minced meat and their filling of pine nuts and spicy minced meat are inducement to a glimpse of heaven. They are chased away with tangy turnip juice. In Imam Bayildi bittersweet aubergines in onion and tomato sauce are sweetly melting into the tava (pan). The name literally means 'the Imam fainted', presumambly with pleasure. My favorite and one I recreate at home is Manti, home-made ravioli-like bites stuffed with minced meat with a yoghurt sauce on top.

Cumin and turmeric are especially prized and used in meat preparations which are roasted (kebap), stewed (yahni) and grilled (külbastı). Their acrid, sweaty flavour enhances the oiliness of onion-marinated meat, accompanying donerli rice pilafs in earthen pots topped with bright sauces to be enjoyed with your commensall. The background of those spices recalls the Arabic tradition of the souk echoed in the Serge Lutens perfumes and indeed this is the place to comprehend their intricasy best. Everything mingles nicely in this melting pot of civilizations: their Iskender Kebab is named after the Persian name for Alexander the Great!

When the weather is warm and the bitter orange trees in Balat are in bloom one can catch whiffs of their honeyed goodness intemingled with the sweet smells of the bakeries meters away. To the East, along the Golden Horn, brings you to Eminonu and the Spice (Egyptian) Bazaar, both old trading districts dating to Byzantium and the Spice Road. The pungent, rich smell leads you by the nose across the stalls of the sellers. Each one in its own heap of bright vermillon, deep mustard and brownish golden, they invite you to lean and take a deep breath with the desire to immerse your hands into the expensive, little red stigmata, yellow-green leaves of lemongrass and brown seeds. I find myself trying to mentally decipher the composition of Safran Troublant, a fragrance by L’artisan Parfumeur composed by Olivia Giacobetti. The natural combo of bitterness and sweetness like that in iodoform, as well as the smooth, pleasant feel of saffron(Crocus cartwrightianus) escape from the bottle like djenies from a middle-eastern tale with merchants and thieves. The same feel accompagnies me in Agent Provocateur where the rose is playing cello to saffron’s basso.
All these references are here dissected with the precision of a surgeon: saffron here, rose petals there, curcuma and turmeric like mustard-coloured dust, and fenugreek for pastırma, a delicasy that is destined for the brave and adventurous.

Pastırma is made from wind-dried cured meat, usually veal. Legend has it that agressive horsemen preserved meat by placing slabs of it in the pockets on the sides of their saddles, where it dried by the pressure of their thighs on the horse (this is also the origin of Steak Tartare). Then dried meat is covered in a paste called çemen comprising crushed cumin, fenugreek, garlic, and hot paprika as well as salt. Pastırma is intensely rich with the aroma of fenugreek (Trigonella foenum-graecum), an herb primarily used as a galactogue for millenia, as well as for cattle food. An opaque, rather bitter smell with a nutty undertone, it traverses the urinary track to scent a person’s urine as well as their sweat and intimate juices. Its seeds’ odour is comparable to thick maple suryp. Fenugreek is featured in many fragrances which have rippled the waters of niche perfumery with pre-eminent examples Sables by Annick Goutal and Eau Noire by Christian Dior (composed by nose Francis Kurkdjian). Everytime I smell them I am reminded of the intense flavour that this spice gives them.

To take the heat off those spicy dishes the Turks have devised the wonderfully refreshing drink Ayran or Airan, a mix of yogurt, water and salt, not too different from traditional Lassi from India. It manages to clean the palate and restore the stomach to its best function.
But the most fascinating of them all is the winter drink Boza, a fermented drink made from bulgur. It tastes tart and is thick as glue. Traditionally served with a dash of cinnamon on top and double roasted chickpeas (called leblebi in Turkish) on the side, it was confided to us by our waiter that it grows the breasts to become bigger! I can't vouch for its effects but it sure makes an impression upon hearing the rumour, doesn’t it?


To be continued with bittersweet romance, hammams and desserts...

Pics through Fotosearch and cafefernando.com. Clip from the film From Russia with Love, courtesy of JamesBondwiki.com

*For you ladies who consider this kind of dancing demeening, please click to see this AMAZING clip!

Travel Memoirs: Istanbul

"The ghosts return at night, little lights for unredeemed souls
And if you gaze up at the barricades, you’ll see figures looking back at you
And it’s then that a complaint wanders you through the cobblestone alleys
Of Constantinople, a lover from yore, whom you find in someone else’s embrace".

~"Vosporos", by Nikos Zoudiaris, sung by Alkinoos Ioannidis

Travel Memoirs begins with one of the most sensuous destinations: Istanbul ~the Ottoman name under which the former capital of the Byzantine Empire, Constantinople, is known today.
Initially the city was named after the Roman emperor Constantine the Great who made it Nova Roma, over the site of the ancient Greek colony founded by Megara citizens simply named Byzantium. Yet the name Istanbul itself is based on the common Greek usage of referring to Constantinople simply as “The City”, because it was the crown jewel of medieval cities with a population and grandeur that exceeded many western European cities, such as London, Paris and Rome, for centuries. It derives from the phrase "εις την Πόλιν" or "στην Πόλη" {(i)stimboli(n)}, both meaning "in the city" or "to the city".

And it is no surprise that in an Empire whose majority of the population was Greek or speaking Greek, there is still a strong Greek element running through the fabric of memory when one sets foot on Istanbul’s soil. But the Ottoman heritage is none the less interesting to witness: minarets and mosques, majestic palaces, bazaars, carpet dealers and salep sellers on the street peppered with excellent cuisine and suggestive dancing render the visitor captive of its charms. It’s this fusion between Occidental and Oriental that gives Istanbul its extraordinary character. A character of strange melancholy: perhaps it’s the ancestral call…

Passing through the arabesque cobblestone on Istiklal across from the fish market, one enters the Cukurcuma district, full of antique shops, lazy cats sunning their bellies and the aroma of slowly roasted, dark coffee on hot sand, Turkish coffee (Türk kahvesi), made the traditional way. The preparation begins by boiling finely powdered roast coffee beans in a copper ibrik, the shape of a tiny ewer, with the addition of cardamom and (optionally) sugar. The thick liquid boils and boils again ceremoniously, emitting the aroma beyond the scope of the little terraces where it is served. Made one cup (fildžan) at a time, where the dregs settle and a thick golden cream forms on top, the köpük, it is a process of slow anticipation, a largo of animation. And also a journey into the past and the future. In this small fildžan I can almost glimpse the Levantine Arabs bringing the fruit of coffea bush to Constantinople. The Ottoman chronicler İbrahim Peçevi reports the opening of the first coffeehouse in İstanbul:

“Until the year 962 (1554-55), in the High, God-Guarded city of Constantinople, as well as in Ottoman lands generally, coffee and coffeehouses did not exist. About that year, a fellow called Hakam from Aleppo and a wag called Shams from Damascus, came to the city: they each opened a large shop in the district called Tahtalkala, and began to purvey coffee.”

~ Cemal Kafadar, "A History of Coffee", Economic History Congress XIII (Buenos Aires, 2002)

But I can also forsee the future: those sludgy grounds left at the bottom serve for tasseography, an old tradition of fortune telling. The cup is turned onto the saucer and the symbols formed are deciphered by some older woman.The flavour of cardamom and sometimes kakule (pistachio grains whole seed "pods", pistachio-looking like of the cardamom plant) settles in the mouth, lingering for a long time, like the prophecies revealed by the symbols on the cup. “Will they ever come true?”, one wonders gallivanting through the medieval alleys.



In Kapali Carci (the Grand Bazaar with the 1000 shops) one comes across all kinds of scented products. Fragrant balms for the hair, henna paste for body and hair, oils of rare plants and fossilised resins, like lumps of gum benjamin (benzoin), Turkish sweetgum (Liquidabar orientalis) and all the spices of Arabia. If one persists there are manuscripts, or should I say copies of old manuscripts posing as older than they are, with recipes using them. One of them is "Theriaca Andromachi Senioris", a Venice treacle recipe that uses benzoin appearing in the 1686 d'Amsterdammer Apotheek, a honey- or molasses-based alexipharmic composition once thought to be effective against venom. First developed in Italy, then exported throughout Europe from Venice and ending in Constantinople. If only the offered manuscript were authentic…

And of course there is Anatolian rose Otto (from Ottoman) which leaves an intense trail of almost fruity scent to one’s hands after handling the precious little bottles, with the name Gül (Rose) written on the label. I try to recall if any commercial fragrance captures the intense, decadent and yet also fresh odour of such an essence and come up with none. One is hard pressed not to haggle with the local sellers who are expecting so and the little treasure is secured into a handbag, folded with a silk handkerchief depicting seagulls. It will linger in a drawer with old, frayed photos of ancestors, impregnating their precious memory with the essence of the place they begrudgingly had to leave.



To be continued....

Pic shows Ortaköy Mosque (officially Büyük Mecidiye Camii, the Grand Imperial Mosque of Sultan Abdülmecid) and the Bosphorus Bridge by cafefernando.com.
Translation of lyrics by the author.
Clip from the intro of Greek-Turkish film Politiki Kouzina, uploaded on Youtube by JasonSeaman1.