Welcome back! It's been an exceedingly long time since I last blogged. I guess I just haven't felt like I had much to say. I could come on here and wax poetic about the accomplishments of my children and the joys of parenting, but, honestly, nobody wants to read that. It's self-aggrandizing and that just ain't me. Anyway, since I have this thing, I may as well use it. Here it goes.
Much like Julie Powell and her trip through Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking, I'm on my own culinary journey. It started last year when I made a New Year's resolution to make a dish each month from a foreign cuisine. I did okay, with some dishes really standing out (ie. shrimp etouffee, ropa vieja, and schnitzel with spaetzle) and others failing miserably (I'm looking at you, Coquilles St. Jacques and bangers and mash). It was a fun learning experience.
So here we are in 2011. I entered this year with no idea what my next cooking adventure would be. My husband, Jeremy, suggested I attempt the 5 Mother Sauces (Bechamel, Veloute, Espagnole, Sauce Tomat, and Hollandaise). Challenge accepted.
I began my journey this morning with Eggs Benedict. What a mess! Hollandaise sauce is tricky and requires insane whisking skills. My first attempt started wonderfully. My yolks were solidly separated from the whites, the butter nicely melted, lemon juice freshly squeezed. Within two minutes of the slow agonizing drizzle of butter into egg, the sauce broke into a scrambled mess. Slightly defeated, I tried again. This time, the butter exploded in the microwave. Shrug. I melted another stick on the stove, took a deep breath, and began to temper. When the eggs scrambled again, I lost my temper. I gave myself a quick pity party in the dining room, composed myself, and marched back into the kitchen with a renewed sense of purpose. Ok, maybe not a renewed sense of purpose so much as a sense of "I'll be damned if I let a freaking sauce defeat me". Knowing that my whisking skills are mediocre at best, and that my arm was exhausted from the last two attempts, I broke out the hand mixer and whisk attachment. I defiantly separated the eggs, whisked in the lemon juice and prepared for another battle with the melted butter. My makeshift double-boiler tried it's hardest to impede my efforts, but to no avail. Electric whisk and insane patience in drizzling in the butter resulted, finally, in a velvety yellow sauce. A pinch of sea salt and cayenne later and, voila, Hollandaise. I stepped back in shock, as if I was waiting for the sauce to spontaneously curdle or burst into flames. When it didn't, I moved to step two: poaching eggs.
Out of 8 eggs, I poached 5 well, and 3 with the yolks too stiff. Not bad for a first time endeavor. I won't bore you with the rest of the preparation; I've done enough already. My Eggs Benedict turned out pretty well. I think the Hollandaise could probably have used a bit more salt and cayenne, but it was quite tasty. Perhaps there is some hope for me in this challenge. We'll see.
Until next time, I'll be cleaning exploded butter from the nooks and crannies of my microwave.
Eat well!
