Dolphin Encounters

(What a great coincidence that I’m posting about dolphins on Leap Day. It’s almost like I planned that.)

Reflecting on my trip to the paradise archipelago of Islamorada in the Florida Keys, I’ve dubbed this year’s winter vacation “The Week of the Dolphin.” 


I’ve learned many things about dolphins this week, the most notable of which is that dolphinfish are not those adorable smart and sleek sea mammals that recently starred in Dolphin Tale. They’re the ones that put up a Moby-Dickensian fight against die-hard anglers and often become the fish fillets gracing the menus in nine thousand variations at every waterfront restaurant in the Keys. I’ve eaten dolphinfish before of course. But I always knew it as one of it’s many aliases, mahi mahi (which is not the west coast translation of “big rainbow Neanderthal-browed fish that tastes like chicken,” as I thought. It simply means “very strong” in Hawaiian). Never mind that we had a six-foot long, stuffed and mounted dolphinfish on our wall in the den for most of the formative years of my childhood, and the story about how my sister reeled in this beauty at a very young age was repeated ad nauseum at family gatherings. It's taken me until adulthood to fully appreciate the value of this fish, which for me is all about eating.

Over the course of four days, we ate fried dolphin sandwiches, blackened dolphin, “keys style” dolphin (involving exotic fruit and melted cheese), dolphin with jalepeno and cilantro, grilled dolphin, teriyaki dolphin, roasted garlic dolphin, and tropical BBQ dolphin, among others. This was in addition to conch fritters, crab cakes, conch chowder, crab legs, grilled grouper and seared tuna. I can’t believe I’m even writing this, but we actually didn’t leave room for the lobster! Our week in the Keys was a super-sized fishfest, and even the kids held their own at dinnertime. If you’re looking for a good mahi mahi recipe, try this website, featuring Paul Prudhomme, the king of blackened-style cooking.

But what I really want to tell you about is the other kind of dolphin in Florida -- the brilliant gray doe-eyed variety that responds well to behavioral training. It turns out we were blessed with these dolphin encounters in abundance as well. On our first full day on the islands, we visited the Theatre of the Sea (TOTS). TOTS is a wildlife sanctuary that features a number of short “shows” with trained wildlife, including sea lions, parrots, and of course, the highlight: the dolphins. We were also treated to an open bottom boat ride through the dolphin habitat. The guests sat along the edges of the boat in a square, and as we motored along, the dolphins swam right up inside the boat, jumped through a hoop hanging in the center, and rang a bell. Pretty cool stuff, even if it is a little contrived:

Back on land, during the dolphin show, a trainer performed synchronized swimming stunts with her partner, young dolphin Twister. It was beautiful to watch Twister push the trainer through the water as she posed gracefully as a figurehead on top of his nose. The flips, dives and emotive movements were straight out of a Cirque De Soleil performance, and the audience was thrilled. Then my daughter, The Bean, was called up to the deck to meet and greet Twister herself. She happily shook his flipper, and in that moment I thought, “She's a goner. Now’s the time to start saving for the advanced degrees in marine conservation.” 

During the next show, the boy got his turn, and The Pie Guy bravely shook the flipper of a sea lion. The kids crashed into bed that night, full of dolphinfish and dolphin memories. It was a perfect day.

The highlight of the vacation, however, came the next day. Grandpa had rented a fishing boat and he couldn’t wait to share the experience of fishing on the open water with the grandkids. But before we even got to the fishing spot, as we motored just off the shores into the Gulf of Mexico, we had our third dolphin encounter. We were about 10 minutes from shore, clipping along in our little speedboat at 20 mph. All at once, we spotted something leaping out of the waves just a few hundred yards away. Our guide immediately slowed the motor and circled closer to the site. Three wild dolphins were waiting for us, and they were ready to play. We pulled up next to them and trolled along slowly beside them as they began their improvised show.

The dolphins stayed on the right side of our boat, just a few feet away, playing in the waves for ten minutes, and their acrobatics were even better than the trained dolphins we’d seen the day before. 

The wild dolphins leaped several feet out of the water and crashed back down on their sides; they reared up on their tails so that they were almost completely upright; one dolphin lifted half it’s body up toward the boat and pointed his nose to us in greeting; at one point two dolphins even jumped through the air, criss-crossing over each other. 

Each time they reared up out of the water, my heart leaped with them. The experience was so intense that it literally brought tears to my eyes. I realize that dolphins are by nature very playful creatures and that spotting them in the wild is not completely unusual. But this doesn’t make the experience any less amazing and memorable. We all feel very lucky to have been in the right place at the right time, and I for one have a new appreciation for these intelligent, beautiful creatures with whom we share our oceans. 

Bring A Napkin (TWD BWJ Chocolate Tartlets)

There are two kinds of dessert lovers out there. In one camp, there are the people who enjoy sinfully rich desserts, like fudgy pot-au-crème or a 10-pound pecan pie. These folks like to live on the edge. They want big, bold, gut-wrenchingly deep flavor from their desserts. It’s a take-no-prisoners approach to the final course. And then there are people like me, who gravitate toward lighter, dry or fruity finishers, such as biscotti, scones or a nice little apple galette. I like to think of these people as being a touch more subtle, nuanced, even mysterious. But I’m probably reading too much into this.

In my experience, most people fall neatly into one or the other of these factions, but rarely into both. The Chocolate Truffle Tartlets that I made for the latest Tuesdays with Dorie project had the potential to appease both sides of the dessert battlefield, since the tarts incorporate four different kinds of chocolate plus chunks of biscotti and a cookie crust (recipe here). But in the end, the tartlets really are a chocolate-lovers confection. It is no wonder, then, that my version of chocolate truffle tartlets did not win rave reviews from the critics (i.e., the kids and husband).

If you discount the issues with the moisture in the crust, the recipe was manageable enough, but the end result was unremarkable. This is primarily because, true to my dry-crumbly passions, I took some risks in the biscotti department.

In typical glass-is-half-full fashion, I’m choosing to view this latest baking adventure as a success. Yes, I learned that cornmeal biscotti, even when stuffed full of toasted coconut, does not play well with white, dark, milk or bittersweet chocolate. But I also learned that coconut cornmeal biscotti, sans chocolate, and paired with a nice cup of tea or coffee, is possibly the greatest invention since unsliced bread. 

The weirdest part is that I didn’t even mean to do it. I stumbled my way -- backward and blind -- into a truly great cookie. This ad-hoc recipe for biscotti reminds me of a Stella D’oro Margherite cookie, but it is a lot more coconut-y and crumbly. The coconut flavor is somehow enhanced by the minimally-invasive cornmeal, creating a subtle, “what’s going on here?” reaction on the tongue. The result is a gritty, tropical, complex and potentially tooth-breaking cookie. Somehow, each bite makes me crave another huge swig of tea, followed by seconds or thirds on the biscotti. Even with the dental risks. (Note that you can actually make these cookies reasonably soft by adjusting the cooking time on the second round of baking. But then you’d have no excuse for dunking it into hot beverages. Your choice.)

If you live in the dry-crumbly camp, cornmeal coconut biscotti is a perfect teatime treat. And even if chocolate is your primary raison d’être, I urge you to take a walk on the wild side – you may find that you like it. Just remember to bring napkin with you to catch all those crumbs.

____________

Cornmeal Coconut Biscotti
(adapted from Dorie Greenspan's Lennox Almond Biscotti)


1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 cup yellow cornmeal
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
scant 1 cup sugar
2 large eggs
1 cup raw, unsweetened coconut, coarsely chopped

• Preheat oven to 300 degrees F.
• Place coconut on a baking sheet and toast until lightly browned on the edges, 5-10 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool.
• Turn oven heat up to 350 degrees F.
• Line a clean baking sheet with a piece of parchment paper.
• Whisk the flour, baking powder and salt together. Add the cornmeal and whisk again to blend.
• Working with a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter and sugar together at medium speed for 3 minutes, until very smooth. Add the eggs and continue to beat, scraping down the bowl as need, for another 2 minutes, or until the mixture is light, smooth and creamy. Reduce the mixer speed to low and add the dry ingredients, mixing only until they are incorporated. Scrape down the paddle and bowl and toss in the coconut just to blend.
• Scrape half the dough onto one side of the baking sheet. Using your fingers (if you wet them slightly they won't stick to the dough) or a rubber spatula, work the dough into a log about 12 inches long and 1 1/2 inches wide. The log will be more rectangular than domed, and bumpy, rough and uneven. Form a second log with the remaining dough on the other side of the baking sheet.
• Bake for 15 minutes, or until the logs are lightly golden but still soft and springy to the touch. Transfer the baking sheet to a rack and cool the logs on the baking sheet for 30 minutes.
• If you turned off the oven, bring it back up to 350 degrees F.
• Using a wide metal spatula, transfer the logs to a cutting board, and, with a long serrated knife, trim the ends and cut the logs on a slight diagonal, into 3/4-inch-thick slices. Return the slices to the baking sheet--this time standing them up like a marching band--and slide them back into the oven.
• Bake the biscotti for another 15 minutes, or until they are golden and firm. Transfer them to racks and cool to room temperature.
• Enjoy alongside your favorite tea or coffee.

Haiku To A Tea Shop

You, dainty floral

Delicate bites of England

Me, bull with china


Disclaimer: the photo here is not an actual cup and actual cookie from my "high tea" with the girls. It is for representational purposes only. Actual cup and plate designs varied, and actual tea time snacks were much smaller and prettier than my monstrous, over baked coconut biscotti. Though I think I can match them on taste, actually.


I have to admit that I was pretty skeptical when a friend suggested we visit Tea Rose's Tea Room this week for an authentic "Afternoon Tea." I've never been one to appreciate anything dainty, girly or even British. I think I'm missing the traditionally female gene that makes us long to collect dolls, tiaras, floral patterns and tiny baked goods. 


Still, the outing involved lunch with good friends, tea, and an excuse to avoid the laundry for another day, so I was game. 


The Tea Room was exactly what I expected -- thousands of delicate tea cups, saucers and china pots in one room, just waiting for a klutz like me to knock something over. I made a fairly good showing, as these things go -- I only tipped over one creamer-full of milk, but at least nothing chipped. The food was better than expected, too: there were the requisite cucumber sandwiches on soft round white bread, some lovely tea bread, mini quiches, an unoffensive chicken salad, and of course, there were the scones. 


Oh, the scones. For those of you who know me, you may know that I have a bit of a scone addiction. And there is truly nothing like a tiny, heart-shaped, crumbly brown sugar scone with double cream, lemon curd and strawberry preserves to make a girl go weak in the knees. It took every last ounce of self-control I had not to ask for the recipes. (Somehow I felt that would be inappropriate for our day in Downton Abbey.) I can't comment on the other desserts, because I was too distracted by the scones to bother with the rest of the delicacies. My friends tell me the other sweets were lovely, and I suspect they will never let me live down The Day Tammy Refused Dessert.


One of the teas, however, did stand out. Provided by SerendipiTea, Congo Bongo is a coconut-mango black tea that somehow creates an intense, caramel-like aroma and flavor. I bought some Congo Bongo and brought it home for my tea-snob husband, and even he agreed that it paired very nicely with chocolate after dinner that night.


We left the Tea Room charmed by our experience there, full of talk about when we might be able to return. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a true convert in the dainty department. Now, I have the strangest urge to bake tiny, heart-shaped scones in time for Valentine's Day. I've gone to four stores in the past two days in search of a mini-heart scone pan, but so far, no luck. If you know where I can score one, please send me a note.

Mother Of Invention

I love the phrase “Necessity is the Mother of Invention.” Today, I’d like to share that title: “Tammy and Necessity are the Mothers of Invention.” Doesn’t quite have the same pithy ring, but let’s go with it.

It’s Day One of the Tuesdays with Dorie project, and the assignment was to bake two “white loaves” from the Baking With Julia cookbook. Since I have made this recipe several times before, today I was ready to mix it up a bit.  I knew one loaf would be a raisin-cinnamon swirl version. This was my shameless bribe, which was offered in exchange for the enduring love and respect of my children. (They are suckers for all things carb -- particularly if there is a little extra sugar involved.)  

For the second loaf, I wanted something new. I just finished Molly Wizenberg's wonderful book “A Homemade Life” this weekend, so her father’s stewed prunes recipe must have been kicking around in the back of my head. As I scanned the shelves in search of the perfect “swoosh," a jar of prune butter caught my eye. Lightbulb! Purim is coming up soon, and that to me says “hamentashen.” Why not make hamentashen bread? (If you're not familiar with it, here’s some background on the history of the holiday and the three-cornered hamentashen cookie.)

My favorite filling for hamentashen has always been prune, and I’d purchased the jar of prune butter months ago thinking this delightful cookie deserved to make an appearance more than once a year. But school and parenting schedules being what they are, and blog deadlines being what they are, the cookie has morphed into a bread.

It’s a good thing I opened the jar to inspect the primary ingredient though. Having neglected to “refrigerate after opening” the prunes several months ago, I found that there was a thick fuzzy layer of mold rimming the inside of the jar. This is the point where Tammy takes over from Necessity as the Mother of Invention. Did I NEED to add a new element to this already quite acceptable white loaf? Did I NEED to go to the grocery store in the middle of a baking project? Not really, but the idea of hamentashen bread had captured my imagination and I wasn’t going to let a little hairy fungus stop me. So during the first rise, I made a quick trip to Stop and Shop. As long as I was there, I also picked up an orange to brighten up the deep-winter flavor of the prunes.

And it was worth the trip, even after the inevitable embarrassing run-in with a friend, during which I realized that my hair, still unwashed, was sporting last night’s scrunchie. I also had forgotten to put on makeup, and I was coated head-to-toe in flour. 


The dough waits not for beauty. I quickly packed up my groceries and ran home to finish up the loaves.

In the first loaf, I added butter, a cinnamon-sugar mixture, ground walnuts and few raisins:

For the second, I added a little ground almond and orange zest to the prune butter:

The light from the kitchen window was adding some drama to the baking process, so I snapped a few pictures along the way:

Butter, cinnamon, sugar, walnuts and raisins in the first loaf

A healthy slather of prune filling for the second loaf

Here's what I've learned:


First, the breads will take more time to cook than the original recipe (maybe 45-55 minutes instead of 35-45). Second, don't overdo it on the filling, or you'll end up with some overflow, like I did:

Third, Molly Wizenberg and her dad were right: prunes rock. They added a babka-esque quality to the otherwise fairly savory bread. The difference was that the bread wasn't cloyingly sweet and heavy like traditional babka. I also enjoyed the fact that my "swirl" looked more like a question mark than a spiral. It seemed as if the bread itself was asking "what am I, breakfast or dessert?" My vote is for both. 

For the basic recipe for White Loaves, buy the Baking with Julia book or visit the Tuesdays with Dorie project.










PS: The cinammon swirl loaf, as expected, was also a big hit with the family. Next time I'll add a thicker layer of everything, though, since the swirl itself looked a little weak:

Clean Out The Fridge Quiche

 “Clean out the fridge” dishes are a popular theme in my house. There’s something terrifically satisfying about using random bits of found food from the back of the fridge to create something new and utterly enticing. It harkens back to the days of Victory Gardens and (sub)urban food foraging expeditions. It also appeals to my cheap, I mean frugal side, so I know it will make the hubby happy too.

Yesterday I came up with this beauty:

It incorporates a sweet-as-honey squash from Monday’s dinner, some previously-fresh spinach, a sautéed onion, a little aged gouda cheese that was nearing it’s expiration date, and the piece de resistance: a chunked up hunk of ham that was gifted to us after a meal with friends on Saturday. I’m not usually one to throw meat into my quiches, but somehow this salty little slice of heaven perfectly offset the sugary squash and onion.

The dish put me in a celebratory mood, since pie is the harbinger of all things spring. The groundhog is on his way out tomorrow, and then, before you know it, Pi day will be here. We are reviving our oldest and most revered tradition this March. For Pi day (3.14 or March 14, for those of you who may not be as mathematically inclined), we’re pulling out all the stops and having a full on Pie party. More on this as it gets closer.

One last picture of a found food treasure: butternut squash with currants and almonds.

As usual, there’s no recipe, really. Just bake up the cubes of squash until tender, then throw in the currants and almonds, sprinkle with a touch of butter and brown sugar, and return it to the oven for 10 minutes until it melts together into one autumn-luscious treat.