1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (139 page)

New Orleans’s romantic dessert.

Although the term
Creole
may denote spiciness, in this case it refers to Louisiana’s soft-as-silk, unctuously rich and creamy cheese, with its teasingly piquant and complex flavor. Essentially a farmer-style cheese—only slightly ripe—it is made by adding bacterial starter and rennet to milk, so that it acidifies and coagulates into curds, then pressing out some of the curds’ moisture to create a dryly malleable, gently crumbling spread. Buttermilk and sometimes cream or half-and-half are added to this soft, fresh cheese, an ultra-rich, creamy creation that calls to mind a French Fontainebleau.

Often incorporated into sweets, molded into hearts and served with strawberries for a delectable Valentine
coeur à la crème
, or sprinkled with sugar and slathered with cream and fresh fruit as a breakfast treat, the French-inspired cheese has a long history in New Orleans. An entry in
The Picayune’s Creole Cook Book
of 1901 describes it being sold by a “cream cheese woman” who roamed the streets of the French Quarter with a covered basket holding a number of small, perforated tins.

The cheese almost went the way of the cream cheese woman herself. For many years, local dairies such as Gold Seal and Borden supplied it to the city, but today it is very difficult to find outside of traditional Creole restaurants. Many devotees make their own when they can’t get to the few specialty shops or local dairies that stock it.

Where:
In New Orleans
, Commander’s Palace, tel 504-899-8221,
commanderspalace.com
;
in Metairie, LA
, Dorignac’s, tel 504-834-8216,
dorignacs.com
.
Mail order:
For cheesecake made with Creole cream cheese,
store.jfolse.com
(search cheesecake).
Further information and recipes:
The Picayune’s Creole Cook Book
by The Times-Picayune Publishing Company (2014);
nolacuisine.com
(search creole cream cheese recipe);
saveur.com
(search coeur a la creme with strawberries);
foodnetwork.com
(search homemade creole cream cheese).
Tip:
Blue Bell Creameries makes Creole Cream Cheese Ice Cream as a seasonal flavor. For information on where to purchase it, or to splurge on mail order, visit
bluebell.com
or call 979-836-7977.

Luscious stuffed eggs can be found in various parts of Europe, especially France, but nowhere are the finger foods more frequently served than in the United States. Rich, flavorfully snackable favorites at Fourth of July picnics and summer cocktail parties alike, the peeled, cooked eggs are halved, their yolks removed and mixed with mayonnaise, hot mustard, and an herb or spice or two, then piped or spooned back into the whites. It’s a dish whose simplicity leaves little margin for error, particularly when it comes to the eggs themselves.

To ensure an appealing-looking finale, they must emerge from their shells in immaculate condition—a result best achieved by using eggs that are neither too old nor freshly laid. The fresher the egg, the fuller it will be in the shell and so the more difficult to peel; so it’s wise to buy the eggs a week ahead and keep them refrigerated, allowing some of their water to evaporate and leaving them looser in the shell.

To prevent them from bursting while cooking, bring the refrigerated eggs to room temperature and pierce the wide bottom of each raw egg with an egg-piercer or a needle to let some air escape. Place them in a pot of cold water, bring it to a boil, and then reduce the heat and leave the eggs to barely simmer, half-covered, for eight to ten minutes, depending on their size. Immediately drain off the cooking water and run cold water into the pot to cool the eggs as rapidly as possible.

Then comes the critical peeling step, during which many a potential deviled egg has been lost. Proceed with care, tapping each egg gently on all sides until the shell is well crackled, then rolling them gently between your palms to loosen the shell before you peel. If the shell is stubborn, run a stream of cold water under a cracked edge to lift it off.

Let the eggs cool before cutting them in half lengthwise, then remove the yolks and place them in a bowl. Set the whites aside. Let the yolks cool slightly before mashing them with a stainless steel fork. If they are warm when
mashed, they tend to turn wet and pasty; and they can be turned gray by a silver fork, or overly smooth and liquid by a food processor or blender.

Stir in salt, freshly ground pepper, mayonnaise, and hot Dijon-style mustard, and then the rest is up to you. For a spicier result, try a pinch of cayenne or a few drops of Tabasco, and if you want to add sophistication, stir in a dab or two of anchovy paste, foie gras, finely minced black truffles, chives, tarragon, or elegant chervil. Then refill the whites, by either spooning or piping the mashed yolks back in to form a raised mound. Place the filled eggs in a fairly deep glass or ceramic dish and cover it with plastic wrap or aluminum foil, making sure that the cover does not crush the mounded yolks, and refrigerate. Remove the filled eggs from the refrigerator about fifteen minutes before serving.

For a reddish glow, sprinkle a bit of hot, sweet, or smoky paprika on top just before serving—a classically devilish finish.

Where:
In New York
, Foragers City Table, tel 212-243-8888,
foragerscitygrocer.com
.
Further information and recipes:
The Joy of Cooking
by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer Becker, and Ethan Becker (2006);
Deviled Eggs
by Debbie Moose (2004);
Mastering the Art of Southern Cooking
by Nathalie Dupree and Cynthia Graubart (2012);
nytimes.com
(search all-american deviled eggs);
saveur.com
(search deviled egg recipes).

Sometimes the tried, true, and rustic can offer the most delectable surprises, and nowhere is that better illustrated than at the outpost of Western kitsch that is the Fort, an awe-inspiring restaurant in Morrison, Colorado, about a thirty-minute drive southwest of Denver.

A great venue for fans of the old Wild West, be they grown-ups or children, the Fort was the creation of the late Sam Arnold, a student of all things western, who bought a piece of Colorado land and on it built an adobe-brick home as a reproduction of the historic trading post, Bent’s Fort. With its fortress towers, high guard walls, and southwestern décor, the unusual architecture of what eventually became the restaurant is matched by hearty and equally unusual food.

Farm-raised local game is the specialty. The snake in that rattlesnake cake—with a pleasantly mild flavor not unlike chicken, served in a preparation similar to a crab cake—did indeed come from a farm, and ditto for those tender elk chops that taste like a cross between beef and veal. Same goes for the venison, for the lean and flavorful buffalo and bison meat in its many forms, and for the tender quail.

Special offal dinners featuring assorted innards can be ordered in advance, and the tender, savory bison liver is a sure winner. Popular items on the standard menu include the delectable, buttery roast bison marrow bones favored by Julia Child, and a Historian’s Platter that serves up guacamole with sides of the juicy bison sausage called boudies, bison tongue, and none other than the famed (or infamous) regional specialty known as Rocky Mountain oysters—fried buffalo testicles, with a flavor and texture much like that of sweetbreads. There also are smokehouse buffalo ribs, big and crunchy, a 20-ounce buffalo rib-eye
steak, and “bison eggs” (pickled quail eggs wrapped with bison sausage meat and accented with sweet-hot raspberry-jalapeño jam).

Capping off the menu are the spectacular desserts, including the negrita, a whip of dark chocolate and Myers’s rum heaped in a chocolate tulip cup; and the sweet, hot, and heady chocolate chile bourbon cake.

Where:
19192 Highway 8, Morrison, CO, tel 303-697-4771,
thefort.com
.
Further information and recipes:
The Fort Cookbook
by Samuel P. Arnold (1997);
Shinin’ Times at the Fort
by Holly Arnold Kinney (2010).
See also:
Carnivore
.

Whether it’s spooned up with cloudlets of whipped cream or dipped into rivulets of heavy sweet cream, this rich, dark, velvety, quintessentially chocolaty confection has been the font of pleasant childhood memories for generations. If chocolate pudding has not achieved gourmand renown, that’s probably because it is almost always made with packaged mixes. The proper devotion just might raise it to the level of the chocolate mousse (see
listing
) or
pots de crème
(see
listing
) and it’s up to home chefs to lead the charge.

The recipe below combines two chocolates—solid bittersweet and unsweetened cocoa powder—for double intensity. Supermarket bittersweet baking chocolate and brands of cocoa will do, but for the most exquisitely delicious results, use either Callebaut from Belgium (see
listing
) or Valrhona from France. And be sure to top off each luscious serving with sweet cream, whipped or not.

Serves 4 to 6

2 ounces (2 squares) unsweetened baking chocolate, chopped or grated

1 scant cup sugar

2 cups cold whole milk

Pinch of salt

3 tablespoons cornstarch

3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

2 tablespoons (¼ stick) cold unsalted butter, cut in small pieces

½ teaspoon to 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Lightly sweetened whipped cream or unwhipped heavy cream, for serving

1.
Melt the chocolate in the top of a double boiler set over gently simmering water, stirring frequently.

2.
Slowly stir in the sugar, 1⅔ cups of the milk, and the pinch of salt. Continue stirring until the mixture is completely integrated. Leave the milk and chocolate mixture over the gently simmering water.

3.
Sift the cornstarch and cocoa together in a small bowl. Stir the remaining ⅓ cup of milk into the cocoa mixture, then slowly pour it into the hot milk and chocolate. Stir the chocolate mixture slowly but constantly until the pudding thickens and almost forms mounds when stirred gently, 7 to 8 minutes.

4.
Cover the double boiler and continue cooking the chocolate mixture over very low heat without stirring for about 10 minutes.

5.
Remove the top pan of the double boiler from the heat and slowly stir in the pieces of cold butter until they are melted and well incorporated.

6.
Let the pudding cool for about 5 minutes, then stir in the vanilla, to taste. Pour the pudding into individual cups or a single large bowl. Cover the cups or bowl with plastic wrap to prevent a heavy skin from forming. Let the pudding cool at room temperature for about 10 minutes, then place it in the refrigerator for at least 7 hours or overnight. It will keep for about 2 days. Just before serving, top each portion with 1 to 2 tablespoons of lightly sweetened whipped cream or pour a little heavy cream on top.

Mail order:
For chocolate,
gourmetfoodstore.com
(search belgian dark chocolate baking block; valrhona cocoa powder).
Tip:
Chocolate pudding, made from scratch or even from a package mix, is an excellent filling for Chocolate Cream Pie (see
listing
).
See also:
Pots de Crème
.

If lamb chops are not a wholly American pleasure, the ultra-simple presentation is. Simply broiled, they are usually unadorned, save for a sprinkling of salt, and perhaps a dash of pepper and a quick smear of butter. The English can have their mint, and the French tend to cook their chops in racks. The very best lamb chop in the U.S. begins with Colorado lamb that has never seen a freezer, and with double chops cut from two adjoining ribs, their long bones only lightly Frenched, meaning that they were trimmed of the lumpiest fat and cartilage.

This is the time to shun charcoal and iron griddles in favor of the hot overhead flames of a preheated broiler—the only reliable way to render the teasingly gamey meat a deep rose at its center, while the edges of fat turn a crisply seductive golden brown.

An alternate triumph of the American steak house, double-rib lamb chops offer just the right meaty texture. They are to the silkier center-cut loin chops (also known as baby lamb chops) as the sirloin steak is to the all-too-tender filet mignon. The former assures a quintessentially meaty experience—and the long bones of the rib chops offer yet another bonus in that they can be picked up and gnawed upon after the meaty portions are gone.