Everything Old is New Again

There is much focus, in the culinary world, on the creation of new flavor combinations. Much stock (pun intended) is put in the ability of a chef to show his prowess through novel combinations of common ingredients. It's the sort of drive that leads to the combination of oysters and licorice, coffee and pork. Originality is key. Jordi Butrón, research-cook at the experimental center of the Adrià brothers (of elBulli fame) said in a recent article:

The key thing now for a cook is to develop a library of flavors that you can recall. If I say to you, ‘Apple and cinnamon,’ you would click in immediately. ‘Yes, apple! Yes, cinnamon!’ The library of your mind contains that. But what if I say ‘Apple, asafetida’? Nothing! You have nothing stored there. Now, this is a benefit to the chef, because if I do apple and cinnamon and you don’t like it you think there’s something wrong with me, but if I do apple and asafetida and you don’t like it there’s something wrong with you.

It's tempting to write this off as a modern phenomenon, this idea that originality supersedes merit and experience, but as Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin famously wrote in 1825: "The discovery of a new dish confers more happiness on humanity, than the discovery of a new star." This is not Savarin trying on hyperbole; he really believed. The elevation of novel foods is not new.

I do not agree, however, with the general sentiment at all. There is, admittedly, a challenge in pairing together ingredients in combinations never before seen, all while, hopefully, making them taste good. I've suffered through many such attempts at some of the best restaurants in Sydney. A few stand outs in the “failure” column: avocado blancmange, sweet corn ice cream (served as a palate cleanser), and crab roe chawanmushi. Other combinations have been much more pleasant, a few were quite good. The fact remains, however, that the focus here is on novelty above all else, which is something I can't quite swallow.



The real challenge in cookery is re-evaluating well known flavor combinations. Making old friendships fresh again. As Butrón points out, when you botch a classical paring everyone knows it. It's a brave chef who is willing to trot out a collection of old favorites in a new way, but this, more than the invention of new flavors, is the viscera of culinary change.

By way of comparison, ages ago, a creative writing instructor told me that the success of any writing endeavor depends on the ability of the artist to use “fresh, usual words.” Not exotic, thesaurus words. Normal, everyday language. The kitchen should be no different: normal, everyday flavors in fresh ways.

I've been promising to post about making fresh pasta for some time here at OHC. This week I'm both making pasta and re-thinking the classic combination of rocket, feta and pumpkin. Its a trio of flavors I've eaten in countless salads. The salty feta contrasts with the sweet, roasted pumpkin, while the rocket adds a peppery counterpoint. I'm putting all three together in a lasagna.



Feta, Pumpkin, and Rocket Lasagna

As per usual, I'll break this down into parts. This will make a 20cm x 20cm lasagna, enough to serve 4 generously.

Pasta

Right, you'll need a pasta machine for this one. If you don't own one, ask around. You'll be surprised how many people have one lurking, unused in the recesses of their cupboards.

250g flour
2 eggs
1 yolk

Place the flour on a large board and make a well in the center. Crack the eggs into the well. Using a fork, gradually work in the flour until it forms a dough. Continue working in the flour with your hands until most of it is incorporated and a stiff, dry dough forms. (Alternately, you can use a food processor: start the processor with the flour in and add the eggs while it is running. Process until the mixture looks like breadcrumbs and just starts to come together. Turn on to a board and knead together.)

Knead your dough on a floured board for 5-10 minutes, until it is elastic and smooth. It should be quite stiff. Wrap it in cling film and rest it (and your arms) for 30 minutes.

To roll out your pasta, flatten the dough by hand as much as possible and run it through the largest setting on your pasta machine three times. Drop the settings down a notch, and run the dough through three times again. The overall goal is to work the dough and stretch it so that when you cook your pasta it is firm. Under-worked pasta is soft and soggy.

Continue tightening the settings on your pasta machine one notch at a time, running the dough through a few times on each setting, until you get to about the second or third finest setting (I find the finest setting to be too thin). Cover the pasta sheets with a slightly damp (not at all wet) cloth and refrigerate.

Feta Béchamel

This is a simply a classic white sauce with feta melted into it. The result is deliciously tangy and rich.

25g flour
25g butter
400ml milk, heated to near boiling
150g feta, crumbled

Melt the butter in a small pot on medium heat. Add the flour, stir to combine and cook, stirring constantly, until the mixture just begins to color and becomes foamy. Add the hot milk, whisking constantly and cook until the mixture thickens and starts to bubble. Add the feta and stir until incorporated. Remove from the heat. Taste and adjust seasoning. Don't allow the béchamel to cool below room temperature, or it becomes difficult to work with.

Roast Pumpkin

I was tempted to call this a purée, but it is more of a mash, as the roasted pumpkin gets no more than a cursory mush with a spoon so that it is easy to spread.

600g peeled and seeded pumpkin, butternut or similar variety

Preheat your oven to 180ºC. Cut the pumpkin into 1cm thick wedges. Lightly season the pumpkin and arrange in a single layer on a baking paper-lined tray. Bake until soft and lightly colored – about 20 minutes. Remove from oven, cool, and mash slightly with the back of a spoon.

Rocket

Most pasta recipes which call for leafy greens suggest blanching as the preparation method. Blanching works just fine, but adds unneeded moisture and, as anyone out there who has blanched a handful of spinach and then squeezed it dry can attest, leaves you with something like 0.1% of your initial volume. I use a different method: sautéing. Wilting greens in a pan with a touch of oil cooks them without adding water, and retains a bit more of their volume, so you don't need to buy a market box or rocket to end up with enough for 4 serves.

500g rocket
lemon

Heat a pan on medium heat and add a tablespoon of oil. Working in batches, fill the pan with leaves and toss and stir until they have wilted. Add a squeeze of lemon, season, and remove from the pan. Drain on a towel. Chop roughly and squeeze out any excess moisture.

Feta, Pumpkin, and Rocket Lasagna

Preheat your oven to 180ºC. Line the bottom of a 20cm square baking dish with baking paper. Cut your pasta sheets to cover the bottom. Top this with a layer of pumpkin purée. Add a second layer of pasta and top this with first béchamel and then a sprinkling of rocket. Repeat this layering: pasta, pumpkin, pasta, béchamel and rocket, pasta. Top the last layer of pasta with a layer of béchamel, and sprinkle, if you like, with a bit of additional feta or some parmesan.

Bake, uncovered, for about half an hour. Remove from the oven, cool slightly, and serve immediately.