Smelling the Seasoning, Ribs.

I had a work gang making apple crisp for me yesterday.  As usual, the children were busy complaining at first, but dug into the task eventually.

We used Braeburn apples, which turned out to have a nice texture - the apples didn't cook to mush, but were very sour.  I had tasted them earlier and adjusted the sugar, but I felt the finished crisp was improved by ice cream, which in fact, I failed to have with the dessert because I wasn't hungry.  I got compliments on the 'crispiness' of the topping though.

As Rob attempted to peel the world's longest strip off a large apple, one kid chopped and sliced, and the other kid was supposed to cut the butter into some flour and sugar.  Unfortunately, she did not understand that "cut the butter into the flour" comes from a time when we did not have pastry cutters - people used two knives to reduced the butter from a large block to small pebbles the size of peas.  

We have a new fangled device.  It looks a bit like a potato masher, with a very sturdy handle, and straight, ridged rows of metal, which can be pushed through the hardest, coldest butter.  My clueless child was using this device to mash the butter into a paste as she tried to twist and push at the same time.  The old semi-circular pastry cutters would often bend and buckle if the butter was too hard.  No particular harm done, but I had to use a table knife to scrape the butter off the pastry cutter, and explain the principle of the task.  We've made crisp many times.  How could she have escaped this basic knowledge?   You also need to make sure you add enough butter.  Otherwise your crisp becomes more of a crumble, but no one minds the difference except for me.

I start by using an old Betty Crocker recipe to make my crisp topping.  It evolves from there.  I use different combinations of brown and white sugar, depending on how sweet the apples are.  (I prefer the old fashioned rolled oats for apples, but will mix in quick oats for blueberries, sometimes, because the finished product is runnier.)  For spices, I like cinnamon and nutmeg as a minimum.  Lots of cinnamon, especially with a tart apple.  From there, I added allspice, and cloves. 

"But Mommy, how do you know how much to add?"  I stuck the bowl under her nose and told her to sniff!  Her eyes crossed, but didn't stick.  She has a nice, orthophoric gaze, my child.  "Mmmmmm!"

For some reason, people don't seem to really smell their seasonings when they are following a recipe.  I always stick my nose in it.  I make the children stick their noses in it too.  When they were very small, I would take them to the spice cupboard, and we would spend a number of minutes smelling the seasonings.  Smelling informs the taste buds.  The aroma changes on heating, and it is the cook's experience which expedites the understanding of this transformation.  The easiest way to learn is by baking.  After a while, one can season many things just by thinking about it, and knowing the smell of the spice beforehand. 

Note:  The quality, age and quantity of a spice all affect its potency when used.  Once the cook knows these factors, very little time is required to adjust the seasoning.  Since I am often in a hurry, I usually don't need to pull out a spoon and actually taste the product (besides burning my tongue on things like spaghetti sauce).  What fun to try new foods, and anticipate the taste from the delicious odours wafting out of the kitchen.  Even more fun later, trying to replicate a new group of spices and smells when first introduced to a new cuisine.

Tonight, Rob made barbequed ribs.  He put a spice rub on them and grilled them at low heat for 3 hours.  Then he slathered on homemade sauce and wrapped them in foil to allow the sauce to steam onto the meat.  Apparently this is not a purist method either.  Well, I suppose I will never be a true gourmet, but I remain ready to appreciate food someone else cooks for me.  The ribs were spicy and tangy and sweet.  Add rice, frozen corn and leftover grilled zucchini.  We ate it all up.