Salt is a must in soup, we all agree. But in dessert? It’s amazing how, especially in sweet dishes, a few crumbs of salt can make all the difference between ordinary and sophisticated. I was inspired to create this mousse by the chocolate pudding at the bar Asturianos, one of my many favorite spots in Madrid. The pudding is mixed at the table with a little salt and olive oil – when your mouth is full of chocolate flavors and you bite into a salt crystal, it’s simply amazing. —Ralph Schelling

Ingredients:
1 egg
1 tbsp sugar
150g dark chocolate
400ml single cream
Extra virgin olive oil
Fleur de Sel

Beat the egg and sugar in a thin-sided bowl over a gently simmering pan of water using a whisk or hand mixer until frothy. Be careful that the egg does not curdle.

Turn off the heat. Chop the chocolate, add it to the egg mixture in the bowl, and melt in the residual heat. Stir everything together and let cool slightly.

Whisk the cream until fluffy and carefully fold it into the mixture with a whisk.

Cover the mousse and refrigerate for about 3 hours. Scoop out dumplings with a tablespoon, arrange on plates, drizzle with olive oil, and finish with fleur de sel.

Tips:
Like many of my colleagues, I prefer chocolate from the Schwyz producer Felchlin; their factory shop in Ibach is a must for chocoholics. For my mousse, I used the Grand Cru “Maracaibo Clasificado 65%” couverture from Venezuela. For white chocolate mousse, replace the dark chocolate with white chocolate.

For chocolate mousse fans, a visit to the “Kronenhalle” in Zurich is worthwhile. There, it is served with Crème de la Gruyère.

The post Chocolate Mousse with Olive Oil and Fleur de Sel appeared first on Yolo Journal.

Cliodhna Prendergast is an Irish photographer and writer based on Ireland’s west coast, who we first encountered when our friend David Prior wrote about her and others in the region’s locavore movement back when we were at Condé Nast Traveler. She trained as a chef at Ballymaloe cookery school in Cork and grew up foraging throughout the sea, fields and woods around the small family-run seaside hotel where she grew up.  She’s also the founder of the immersive Workship photography and creative retreats in Ireland and the UK—the next one is taking place in the Scottish Highlands at Boath House on October 17^th-20^th,, with one to follow in Ireland in March (details TBD). Imagining a recipe that represented Ireland in fall, we turned to her for inspiration and she overdelivered with four! —Alex Postman

Walking the wind-swept Atlantic beaches of the west of Ireland, we find storied banks of oyster, mussel and clam shells. These are “Kitchen Middens,” ancient deposits of shells from coastal communities that occupied these lands as far back as 6000 BC. These shellfish were their staple diet, they harvested them from the abundant seas and swallowed them raw.

In Connemara where I live on the west coast, bare mountains rise like limpet shells that skirt the coastline and sweep down to white sandy beaches with clear, often turquoise water. The area is known for its spectacular shellfish and mountain lamb and Connemara ponies as well as its wild, raw beauty.

I was a chef before I became a photographer and so food, its provenance and its producers make up a large part of my personal story. I have gathered, cooked and eaten this regional food for the best part of my life. Oysters and sweet blue lobster from cold Atlantic waters, lamb with notes of hillside herbs and heather, forest mushrooms, small beach cockles and Killary fjord-grown mussels eaten only moments after they are lifted from their ropes. I count myself lucky to have easy access to these delicious wonders of nature and nourishment.

There is a satisfactory sucking sound as the oyster knife prises its way between tightly locked, chalky oyster shells. Keeping the knife against the top shell, sliding it through the dark and unseen, the muscle is cut and the lid lifts like a jewellery box opened by a special key.

We have two main types of oysters in the west of Ireland: the gigas oyster, also known as rock oysters, a species originating in the Pacific but prolific now on our coasts; and our native flat oysters. The two species have very different flavours, and oysters from different bays have subtle flavour differences, leading to the term “merroir,” like terroir for the soil. Both are delicious.

Although enjoyed all year, autumn is the best time to eat this ancient delicacy, as this is when they are in their prime, plump, creamy and mouth-watering. Local producers offer oyster tours and tastings: Kelly’s oysters in Galway Bay, DK oysters in Dawros, Connemara and Flaggy Shore oysters in the Burren have their special Flaggy Shore oysters as well as Flaggy Shore daintys, smaller and intensely flavoured native oysters. Sitting by a roaring fire at the fisherman’s pub in Ballynahinch Castle with a plate of oysters can make for an utterly dreamy afternoon. If you are in the south of Ireland, in Cork, Rossmore Oysters have been grown sustainably by the Hugh-Jones family since 1969. On the southeast coast, at a table with crisp white linen and a glass of chilled white wine at the Tannery is the way to go. 

I enjoy oysters anytime; however, eating oysters always has a celebratory element. Therefore although they tend to figure more at the weekend, we can enjoy them seven days a week. Meeting friends in the local fishing village of Roundstone on a Friday evening is a great time to enjoy a half-dozen naked oysters, straight from the shell and washed down with a pint of creamy Guinness, a perfect pairing and a great way to mark the end of the week.

While walking around Galway on a Saturday morning, I was introduced to oysters with buttermilk by Sheena Dignam of Galway Food Tours, a surprising and delicious combination of creaminess with the tart buttermilk. Sunday brunch is when I love to combine oysters with a Bloody Mary Granita, a bold and perfectly refreshing combination of that tabasco tomato flavour that goes so well with the briny fresh sea flavours of the oysters.

I believe that gathering and eating food from your immediate area brings you closer to it, and at this time of the year, on the weekends, I often gather the family for a walk and pick mushrooms. In September and October, our woods are covered in winter chanterelles or “yellow legs,” as we called them as children. So on Monday, I might make “Forois agus Farraige,” which is Irish for forest and sea, my little rendition of surf and turf. This is a very handy recipe, particularly if you find shucking oysters difficult. If you are grilling them anyway, you can pop the closed oyster under the grill and the lid will pop open after a minute or two. All you have to do is remove the lid and fill with the mushrooms and breadcrumb mix.

Tuesday would be for oysters with a quick cucumber pickle. My favourite recipe is from Ballymaloe cookery school in Cork—it is fresh with a perfect balance of sweet and salty. A little goes a long way on an oyster, but you can use the rest for delicious sandwiches and salads.

The Kirwin family have operated Goatsbridge trout farm in Kilkenny since 1962, and produce trout roe that goes beautifully with oysters. Their roe are little pockets of salty deliciousness which only lifts a natural oyster without overpowering its flavour. Any kind of caviar would be delicious here, and brings a flair to an average Wednesday evening.  

This brings me to Thursday, which I reserve for mignonette. If you can find samphire vinegar it is magnificent with oysters, made in Ireland by Wildwood Balsamic. Otherwise, just use your favourite vinegar with finely chopped shallots and cracked black pepper.

Whichever way you enjoy them, be it a special occasion or seven days a week, kept safe in their briny bath, oysters are the perfect fast food.

RECIPES

Forois agus Farraige  (“Forest and Sea”)

1 dozen oysters

A large handful of fresh chanterelle mushrooms

A drop of rapeseed oil 

A knob of cold butter

1 clove of garlic finely chopped

2  tbsp softened butter

2 handful of breadcrumbs

Salt and pepper

Warm the oil on a hot pan and add the mushrooms. Do not disturb for a minute or so (agitating  the mushrooms on a pan and adding salt too early will bring out the water in the mushrooms and they will stew). Turn the mushrooms and add the cold butter. When the mushrooms begin to soften, add salt and pepper along with the garlic. Allow to cook for a further minute, then remove to a chopping board and chop finely. When cooled, mix through with the softened butter and the bread crumbs.

Shuck the oysters, or pop them open under the grill. Drain off most of the liquid (you can save the excess oyster juice for the Bloody Mary granita). Place the oysters snugly on a tray and top each one with the mushroom mix. Place under a hot grill for about 4 minutes or until the crumb has turned golden brown.

Oysters Mignonette

1 dozen oysters

1 shallot diced very finely

50 mls samphire vinegar or your favourite vinegar

Freshly ground pepper

Mix shallots, vinegar and a twist of pepper and allow to macerate for about a half hour, serve with chilled, freshly shucked oysters

Oysters + Bloody Mary Granita

Makes enough for 2 dozen oysters

2 shots of vodka or poitin for extra Irishness

15 fl. oz of good tomato juice

1 tbsp lemon juice

A few drops of Worcestershire sauce

A few drops of Tabasco

½ tsp celery salt 

A pinch black pepper

Adding the juice of the oysters you have is delicious, too

Add all the ingredients together and place in a large flat tub to freeze. Then scrape the frozen mixture with a fork to top the oysters as you serve.

 Quick Ballymaloe Cookery School Cucumber Pickle

1 lb thinly sliced unpeeled cucumber

1 red onion thinly sliced

4 oz sugar

1/2 tablespoon salt

4 fl oz cider vinegar

Combine the cucumber and onion sliced in a large bowl. Mix the sugar, salt and vinegar together and pour over cucumbers. Place in a tightly covered container in the refrigerator and leave for at least 1-2 hours or overnight before using. 

Keeps well for up to a week in the refrigerator.

The post A Week of Oysters appeared first on Yolo Journal.

Known for her substack Letter from Berlin and memoir My Berlin Kitchen, Berlin-based writer and cook Luisa Weiss has a knack for making traditional German dishes feel both exciting and approachable. Her latest cookbook, Classic German Cooking, dives deep into the country’s comfort foods and timeless staples. We love these cabbage rolls wrapped up like edible presents—perfect for earmarking as a cozy dinner on cooler nights.  

Stuffed cabbage will always remind me of the wholesome lunches I was fed at the cafeteria in my public school in Berlin. From stuffed cabbage to Milchreis to chicken fricassee, school lunch was a meal my classmates and I ate with gusto. Freshly prepared by grumpy ladies in white hats, dolloped out onto trays with pudding and fruit, and costing a little less than five Deutschmark per child, it was good, honest food. Sure, the older we got, the more we thought the kebabs down the street were a way better use of our lunch money, and by the time twelfth grade rolled around, eating in the lunchroom with seventh graders was, like, totally out of the question, but while it lasted, I sure loved those lunches.

Even with my rose-colored memory glasses on, though, I can assure you that this recipe will be even better than any cafeteria fare, especially if you use Savoy cabbage, which must be the most beautiful cabbage far and wide.

Despite being blanched and browned and braised here, it manages to retain its structure and some of its color at the end. For Germans, the flavorful sauce is almost as important as the stuffed cabbage itself.  

SERVES 4

3 Tbsp vegetable oil

2 onions, minced

1 tsp salt, plus more as needed

2 stale white rolls, very thinly sliced, or equivalent amount of stale sandwich bread, cut into ¼-inch/6mm cubes

½ cup (125ml) whole milk

1 head of Savoy or green cabbage

½ lb (250g) ground beef

½ lb (250g) ground pork

1 egg

1 tsp dried marjoram

Freshly ground black pepper

Small bunch of flat-leaf parsley, minced

⅓ cup (1.7 oz or 50g) minced Speck or bacon

2 Tbsp tomato paste

½ cup (120ml) red wine

1 cup (250ml) beef broth

1 tsp cornstarch, optional

Preparation

Place 1 Tbsp of oil in a small sauté pan and cook half of the onions with ½ tsp of salt over medium heat until translucent and fragrant, about 8 minutes. Set aside.

Place the bread in a large bowl. Heat the milk and pour over the rolls. Toss well, then set aside while you prepare the cabbage.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Place a large bowl of cold water on your work surface. Carefully loosen about 10 outer leaves from the head of cabbage without tearing them (set torn ones aside to use elsewhere). Cut out the thick rib. Blanch the leaves in the boiling water for 5 minutes, then place them in the bowl of cold water to stop the cooking process. Set them on a kitchen towel and pat dry.

The bread should have completely absorbed all the milk by this point. To the bowl with the bread, add the remaining ½ tsp of salt, the sautéed onion, both meats, the egg, marjoram, pepper to taste, and the parsley. Mix very well until you get a homogenous mixture.

Fill the cabbage leaves: Start by spreading one cabbage leaf out in front of you. You have enough filling to make between 8 and 10 cabbage rolls. Place around 3 oz (½ cup) of filling on the cabbage leaf, centering it. Fold the side edges over the filling, then roll up the cabbage leaf from the bottom. No filling should emerge or be visible. Tie with kitchen twine and set aside. Repeat with the remaining leaves and filling.

Place the remaining 2 Tbsp of oil in a large pan over medium-high heat. Sear the cabbage rolls until golden brown on both sides, 5 to 8 minutes total. Do this in batches, if necessary. Don’t crowd the rolls. Remove the rolls from the pan and set aside on a plate.

Add the remaining half of the onions to the pan along with the Speck. Cook, stirring, for 5 to 8 minutes, until the fat has started to render and the onion is translucent and fragrant. Add the tomato paste and stir well to loosen and distribute. Continue to cook for another 3 minutes. Pour in the wine and bring to a boil, then pour in the beef broth. As soon as the sauce comes to a boil, carefully place the cabbage rolls into the sauce. Cover, turn down the heat, and simmer for about 45 minutes.

When the cabbage rolls have finished cooking, take them out of the pan and set aside. Snip off the kitchen twine. Taste the sauce and adjust the seasoning if necessary. If you want a slightly thickened sauce, take 3 Tbsp of sauce out of the pan and whisk with the cornstarch in a small bowl until no lumps remain, then whisk this slurry back into the sauce. Let the sauce simmer, stirring, for another few minutes until it starts to thicken just ever so slightly. Turn off the heat. Place the cabbage rolls back in the sauce and serve.

“Classic German Cooking” Copyright © 2024 by Luisa Weiss. Photographs © 2024 by Elena Heatherwick. Published by Ten Speed Press, an imprint of Crown Publishing Group.

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Last May, I finally made it to Isla Holbox, that sliver of white sand off the northern tip of Mexico’s Yucatan peninsula. For years, I’d heard about its nature reserve, populated by flamingoes and pelicans, and its shallow, electric-blue water—a one-time haven for backpackers and bohemian travelers that’s been steadily drawing more visitors as Tulum’s crowds reach a tipping point. One of the early arrivals was Cuban-born music-industry veteran Sandra Pérez, who arrived when there was almost nothing here. She built a family home, then gradually added more rooms, opened it to friends, and eventually to paying guests. 

Twenty-five years later, her 18-room Ser Casasandra hardly stands alone on the beach—Holbox’s secret has been too well discovered—but once you step inside its whitewashed walls, it still feels like an isolated sanctuary. Cuban and Mexican-designed bespoke furniture and artwork fill the airy spaces. (You can read my full Guest Book here.) Across the still-unpaved sandy road, the beach club, Mojitos, is a chill spot for lunch and a swim.

Every day there, I ordered the same thing: aguachile. Similar to ceviche, this Mexican dish features raw seafood (usually shrimp or snapper) in a spicy, citrusy broth of lime juice and chiles. They had several versions—rainbow-bright and super refreshing—which I slurped up and washed down with a Tecate. Before leaving, I asked for the recipe. It’s not something I would have thought to make at home, but on a hot August day with fresh seafood on hand—plus cucumber, red onion, radish, and avocado—it’s surprisingly simple to throw together. And instantly, I’m back at those languorous, feet-in-the-sand lunches, pelicans swooping overhead.

Aguachile de Camarón

Yield: 1-2 servings
Estimated time: 30 minutes

Ingredients:

150g cleaned shrimp
30 ml extra virgin olive oil (divided)
200 ml lime juice (divided)
½ firm avocado 
¼ sliced red onion 
10 g celery
1 clove garlic 
½ piece serrano chili (+ extra for garnish)
15 g fresh cilantro 
½ cucumber (divided)
1 whole radish 
¼ white onion 
3 g fine salt (or to taste) 
2 g dried oregano 

Steps:

1. Marinate the shrimp
Mix the shrimp with 25 ml EVOO, 130 ml lime juice, and salt. Refrigerate while preparing the remaining elements (approx. 15–20 minutes)

2. Prepare the aguachile (green sauce)
Blend together:
– ¼ peeled cucumber
– White onion
– 70 ml lime juice
– Celery
– 1 garlic clove
– 20 ml EVOO
– Cilantro (reserve a few sprigs for garnish)
– ½ serrano chili
– Salt

Strain using a fine mesh sieve or chamois. Keep chilled.

3. Pickle the red onion
Slice into petals or fine julienne. Blanch in boiling water for 10 seconds, drain, and place in a bowl with lime juice, salt, and oregano. Let pickle for at least 10 minutes.

4. Prepare the vegetables for garnish
Thinly slice:
– Remaining serrano chili
– Radish
– Cucumber (with skin)
– Avocado 

5. Assemble the dish:
Place the marinated shrimp in the center of the plate. Arrange slices of avocado, cucumber, radish, and chili around the shrimp. Add pickled red onion petals. Garnish with cilantro sprigs, a drizzle of EVOO, and coarse salt.

6. Complete:
Just before serving, pour the reserved aguachile sauce over the dish

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I’ve been cooking my way through chef and content creator Meredith Hayden’s Wishbone Kitchen Cookbook this summer, and it’s introduced me to so many great recipes and cooking techniques I would never have tried before (I might even be able to spatchcock a chicken by the end of the month!). Not least of which is a favorite new riff on the Negroni. 

I made this Negroni recipe when a friend came over for dinner and was so pleased when she admitted she loved it, even though she wasn’t a “Negroni person.” The twist in this version is Lambrusco, a sparkling red wine predominantly from Emilia Romagna. While Lambrusco got a bad rap in the ‘70s and ‘80s thanks to Riunite’s overly sweet, mass-produced exports, smaller producers have since revived its reputation with drier, silkier, and more effervescent styles. In this cocktail, Lambrusco softens the edge of the Campari and gin, making it dangerously sippable, and the olive and orange garnish just screams aperitivo. I’m so glad Meredith was open to sharing it here, and I’m sure that, Negroni person or not, you’ll love it too! 

Lambrusco Negroni

1 serving

1 ounce gin

1 ounce Campari

2 ounces Lambrusco, well chilled

Sweet vermouth, to taste (optional)

Orange slice, for serving 

1 green olive, for serving 

Extra-virgin olive oil, for serving (optional)

Add a large ice cube to a rocks glass along with the gin and Campari and stir until chilled. Top with Lambrusco, sweet vermouth (if using), an orange slice, an olive, and a drizzle of olive oil if you’re feeling crazy.

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Near the end of summer, when there’s often a surplus of vegetables at the market—zucchini, yellow summer squash, several varieties of green beans, and loads of fresh tomatoes, as well as garlic, onions, and some bright garden herbs—we make ratatouille. Traditionally, this vegetable stew from Provence involves cooking the vegetables separately and combining them at the end, which can be time-consuming and labor-intensive. Purists say that’s the only way to get the right texture, consistency, and taste. But I prefer to take a few liberties. My riff is a one-pot, quick yet no less delicious alternative to the original. (I also omit eggplant, but feel free to add chopped pieces in with the squash if you like.) Try the ratatouille on its own for lunch with grilled bread, or as a side for grilled or roasted chicken or fish. This is one leftover that stays as it is and does not get converted into any other type of dish. In fact, the flavors really start to jibe when the dish rests overnight or for a day or two in the fridge and then gets reheated.

Serves 4 to 6 

½ cup (80 ml) extra-virgin olive oil

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

1 large onion, chopped

2 medium zucchini, chopped into ½-inch (1 cm) pieces

2 yellow squash, chopped into ½-inch (1 cm) pieces

1½ pounds (680 g) plum tomatoes, cored and chopped, or one 28-ounce (794 g) can crushed tomatoes

½ pound (225 g) green beans, stemmed and cut in half

2 sprigs fresh flat-leaf parsley or thyme (optional)

Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper

¼ cup (10 g) fresh basil leaves (optional)

Grilled bread, for serving

Heat the oil in a sauté pan over medium heat until it shimmers. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the onion and cook just until soft-ened, 3 to 4 minutes, then stir in the zucchini, squash, tomatoes, green beans, and parsley, if using. Season with salt and pepper. Add up to ½ cup (120 ml) of water if the mixture seems dry; the vegetables will release moisture as they cook. Gently simmer, uncovered, until the flavors meld and the vegetables are soft but not mushy, about 25 minutes. Tear the basil leaves and stir in, if using. Season again with salt and pepper and serve with grilled bread.

Adapted from A Man & His Kitchen (Artisan), by Matt Hranek

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A trip to Italy may not be in the cards this summer, but I’ve found a little of its charm in my kitchen. Here in California, most days are swollen with heat and it is far too hot to turn on the oven, although I’ll happily stand at the stove for a moment to make this particular dessert: Almond-scented yogurt panna cotta paired with a dark, sweet, icy espresso granita. This is a dessert made for languid afternoons and abbreviated conversations, when all you really want is something delicious and cool.

Yogurt and Almond Panna Cotta 

Serves 4 

150 ml heavy/double cream

150 ml whole milk

80 g caster sugar

3 gelatin leaves (platinum gelatin sheets)

385 g plain yogurt

1 tsp almond extract

1 tbsp lemon juice

1 tsp vanilla paste

Method 

1. For the panna cotta –  heat the cream, milk and sugar in a medium pot over medium heat until hot. Remove from heat.
2. Soak the gelatin sheets in cold water. 
3. Once the cream has cooled slightly, remove the gelatin sheets from the cold water, and stir the sheets into the cream mixture until fully dissolved, then add the yogurt, vanilla paste, almond extract and lemon juice. Mix.  
4. Pour into moulds or glasses and refrigerate for 2-3 hours or overnight. 

To serve

Dip the molds in warm water to loosen the panna cotta and with confidence, invert onto plates or bowls, and serve with espresso granita.

Espresso Granita 

550 ml prepared strong black coffee ( I recommend 3-4 shots of strong espresso mixed with water)

120 g brown or white sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract 

Directions

1. In a small bowl, whisk together the strong black coffee, sugar, and vanilla extract until the sugar is completely dissolved. 
2. Pour the mixture into a shallow, medium  dish. Place in the freezer, uncovered, for about 1 hour, until the mixture starts to freeze around the edges. 
3. Use a fork to scrape the ice crystals into the liquid. Repeat this process every 25–30 minutes, about four-five times, until a granita-like consistency is achieved. (Yes, it’s a little hands-on, but the effort will be worth it, I promise)
4. Serve immediately, or freeze overnight for a firmer texture.

Serve with the panna cotta or freshly whipped cream. 

The post Almond Panna Cotta & Espresso Granita appeared first on Yolo Journal.

Ingredients 
Serves 6

1 lb pork trotters
1 lb chicken
1 lb lamb
1 Alentejo chorizo
1 Moorish chorizo
1 Farinheira Alentejana
3 cups Savoy cabbage
1 1/4 cups green beans
2 cups potatoes (cubed)
1 1/2 cups carrots (sliced)
1 medium white or yellow onion
2kg dried chickpeas
Parsley, Sage and Mint to taste
Salt to taste

Cook the previously soaked chickpeas in salted water and drain. Cook the meat and chorizo in salted water with the herbs (save some fresh mint for the end). When the meat is cooked, remove from the heat, de-bone and shred and save the stock. Cut the chorizo and farinheira into thick slices. Set everything aside, including the stock. Cut the savoy cabbage and green beans into pieces, the potato into large cubes, the carrot into thick slices and the onion into quarters. Boil everything in salted water. When they’re cooked, add the chickpeas, the meat (except the farinheira) and a little of the meat stock for flavor. Leave to simmer for a few minutes. Serve in a deep dish with a few pieces of farinheira and fresh mint leaves.

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I have never liked muesli—I don’t like the texture or the flavor—but this version, which they serve at the Buchinger Wilhelmi clinic, is delicious. If you’re on the fasting program, you get to try this when you’re done with the fasting (liquid only) phase, and it’s usually the day before you’re leaving. It’s so good (and filled with antioxidants and healthy fats) that I literally have said I’d rather stay an extra day just so we can have it one more time. However, I have convinced my husband to make it once we’re back home. It does take work to put it all together, but the end result is worth it. —Yolanda

INGREDIENTS (for 1 portion)

• 1 tablespoon of low-fat quark (Alt: yogurt or almond milk)
• 1 teaspoon of cold pressed linseed oil (alts: hempseed oil, walnut oil, pumpkin oil, camelina oil)
• 3 tablespoons of freshly squeezed orange juice (alts: lemon juice, apple juice, pear juice, buttermilk, or pureed berries)
• 1/3 banana  
• 1 tablespoon of grains – fresh, finely ground oats, millet, or buckwheat
• ½ an apple, coarsely grated
• 4 tablespoons of fresh, local, seasonal fruit – berries, grapes, melon, peaches, apricots or citrus
• 1 teaspoon of nuts and seeds ground, whole or roughly chopped – hazelnuts, cashews, walnuts, pine nuts, pumpkin seeds, sunflower seeds, sesame seeds, linseeds (must always be ground!). Soak in water beforehand if you have difficulty digesting.
• Natural herbs and spices (if desired) – vanilla, cinnamon, lemon or orange zest, mint, lemon balm, orange water, ginger 

Mix together the quark, oil, banana and juice until a smooth consistency is achieved. Stir in the remaining ingredients. The grated apple loosens up the mixture while giving substance with only 260 calories.

Energy and nutrient content per portion: ~258 kcal; 9 g fat; 34 g carbohydrates; 9 g protein

Substitutions: for dairy free muesli, you can replace the quark with 1 tbsp of almond butter, nut butter or tahini. For a gluten free option, substitute oats for sweet corn, rice, millet, quinoa, amaranth, or buckwheat. Buckwheat is particularly suitable for muesli (soaked for approx. 1 hour in advance), as is millet or quinoa (coarsely ground and soaked overnight).

The post The Best Muesli I’ve Ever Had appeared first on Yolo Journal.

As fellow smugglers of all sorts of condiments from foreign countries, when we saw this essay and Sparkling Yuzu Marmalade recipe in Andrea’s Substack, Wild Larder Journal, we knew we had to adapt it! —Team YOLO

It is a cold winter morning. I am upstate in our tiny farmhouse on the north slope of a mountain, where big fat snowflakes silently blanket the frozen ground. No one is up yet except the cat, and while I am physically in the upper-western Catskills, my spirit travels through toast.

I move around the kitchen, reach for the salt, and stop to clip a small piece of oregano from the dried bundle hanging near the stove. As I do so, I am thinking about the market in Catania and the blinding salty limestone cliffs of the Scala de Turchi. I generously smear my toast with local Jersey butter, sparkly citrus marmalade, pungent dried Sicilian oregano, and fleur de sel from the salt flats of Trapani.

Toast is the perfect talisman to carry collected flavors and memories from afar. It is a humble partner waiting for me to unload my heavy suitcase, filled with anchovies and astrattu (tomato purée) from Sicily, honey from a convent in France, a dusting of powdered bottarga from the shop near the fish market in Venice, pickled kritamo (sea fennel) from Ischia, and rose petal and almond spoon sweets from Andros. These condiments may be small, but are big in flavor and easily tucked away in luggage bound for home.

The salt and oregano I sprinkle on my toast are comestibles collected from a recent trip to Sicily; in that regard, this small meal becomes much more than a slice of bread—it’s an adventure and an invitation to time travel. Toast is not a recipe. It’s more of an instinct, hands reaching for a serrated knife, a quick cut, edges browned to just crispy, center soft. Slather it with a smear of buttercup-yellow, softened salty butter. Eat it just like that, or dress it up as above. Toast is comforting and rich with memories. As I bite into it, a drip of butter hits the table. The flavor profile is so ridiculously good. I start to dream about other ways to use it. Just like that, inspiration comes and a flavor profile is born, all from a distant memory of a blinding hot summer day, the mountain breeze densely fragrant with wild herbs, and the salty sea.

RECIPE: SPARKLY YUZU MARMALADE

I started making marmalade in the late winter of 2020. It comforted me to have the house filled with the beautiful smell of citrus. The windows were all steamy, and in the end, I had glistening jars of marmalade to share with family and friends. The taste of it made me think of my great-grandmother and her love for lemons.

Since then, I’ve made many kinds of marmalade with all types of citrus, including everything from yuzu to oroblanco, Meyer lemon, calamansi, and limequat. When I travel, I am looking always looking for citrus. It goes back to being an exchange student in Italy and seeing for the first time the Api trucks piled with lemons from the Amalfi Coast to Puglia. No winter is complete without friends from California sending boxes of citrus from their backyard. It’s the one thing that makes me jealous of Californians.

I’ve made this marmalade so often that I stopped following any recipe and went on intuition. When a friend asked me for my recipe earlier this winter, I couldn’t tell her, because it was all in my head. So, I made a small batch of marmalade to work out the ratios; this is the recipe below. There are as many ways to make marmalade as roast a chicken. I am using a whole fruit method here, because it’s quick; other methods involve soaking the rinds overnight to four or five days! Some marmalade recipes will have you peel the rind and supreme the fruit (removing the peel/pith and segmenting it). Yuzu benefits from the whole-fruit method because they are full of seeds and don’t have an abundance of juice or flesh to supreme. If you decide to experiment with another citrus, feel free to supreme them and soak the rind for days and days, if that’s your thing. Here in New York, we are fortunate to find many kinds of citrus becoming increasingly popular in mainstream grocery stores, such as Whole Foods and Wegmans, where I saw piles of yuzu in November and early December. If you are looking for a specific citrus you can’t find in your area, I’ve added links at the bottom to farms I’ve worked with. I hope this inspires you to make your sparkly jars of marmalade.

INGREDIENTS
2 pounds yuzu fruit, approx 5 cups rind
2 teaspoons pink Himalayan salt or sea salt
4 cups sugar
4 cups poaching water (see directions below), plus 4 cups fresh water
3 tablespoons ume plum vinegar
Juice of 4-5 lemons, about 1 cup juice

METHOD

• Stick a couple of small plates in the freezer before beginning this project. You will use them later and want them to be super cold. Wash the fruit. Sterilize jars in boiling water.  
• Fill a large stock pot with water about ¾ full and add the two teaspoons of salt. Add the whole yuzu fruits to the pot. The salt helps to soften the skin and adds to the umami-ness of the marmalade. Bring to a boil and reduce the heat to a bare simmer until soft. You are essentially poaching the fruit. You want to pierce the skin with a fork easily. If it is still tough, cook until soft. This can take anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half.
• Remove from heat. With a slotted spoon, transfer the citrus to a bowl to cool. Save the poaching water. As the citrus cools, it will look shrunken from all sides. This is normal. Line a colander with a piece of cheesecloth, set the colander inside another bowl, and set it aside.
• When the citrus is cool enough to handle, cut it in half and scoop out the insides—the flesh and pits—into the colander lined with cheesecloth). Any juice will be caught in the bowl below.
• Once you have scooped out all the seeds and flesh of the yuzu, tie the cheesecloth into a bundle so the seeds can’t escape. (It helps if you use a new cheesecloth for this project.) 
• Now, you are ready to cut your citrus into thin strips. Cut each round into quarters using a sharp knife, then cut thin strips. This is where the hand of the maker comes in. You can cut the rind as thin or thick as you want; it depends on how you prefer your marmalade. Set the rinds aside in a large bottomed stock pot or a copper jam pan.
• Once the strips of rind are placed in the pot, add 4 cups of poaching liquid and 4 cups of fresh water to the rinds. Tuck the bag of flesh and pips into the pot, and boil for about an hour until the liquid is visibly reduced by half.
• Remove from the heat; remove the muslin or cheesecloth and set it in a bowl to cool. Once cool enough to handle, squeeze the bag of flesh and pips to remove as much pectin as possible into the bowl through the muslin; it will be thick and dense. Make sure to keep it tied up so no pips escape.
• Add the pectin, sugar, umeboshi plum vinegar, and 3/4 cup lemon juice to the cooked rinds. The umeboshi vinegar is my secret umami for all of my marmalades. It adds a slight saltiness and bitterness and is perfectly paired with the sweet-sour of the citrus.
• Turn heat to medium and boil for a minute or two, stirring until all the sugar is dissolved. Reduce the heat to a bare simmer for about an hour.
• Marmalade set times are fussy, so use your eyes, intuition, and hands to check when your marmalade is ready. First, watch for the bubbles to get slow and thick; people often say it is like bubbling crude oil, but who has a reference for that? I recently read that Alison Roman likens marmalade readiness in bubbles to slow-blinking fish eyes; this I understand. As soon as the bubbles start changing, grab your thermometer and see where you are for temperature. Add the last 1/4 cup of lemon juice and stir in. Most recipes say the marmalade setting time is 220, but I like my marmalade a little runny. My sweet spot for marmalade is around 218 degrees, but this produces a pretty runny result. (I add it to yogurt, ice cream, labneh, or on top of my favorite cheesecake or piece of toast; these benefit from a looser set.) If you want a thicker marmalade, take it to 220 and test it as soon as it reaches that point. Take out your frozen plate, put a small spoonful on it, and let it cool for a minute. Smear the marmalade with a spoon through the center; if it pools quickly back together, it needs more cooking time; if it stays somewhat separated, it is ready. This may seem a little daunting, but trust me, once you do it, you’ll understand.
• When the marmalade is ready, add the juice of 1 lemon and let it cool for ten or fifteen minutes before filling the sterilized jars and covering them with lids. You can store the marmalade in your fridge or hot-water bath can (see link below). If you store them in your refrigerator, tell your friends to refrigerate when you give them away. If you hot-water bath the jars, they will be shelf-stable and don’t need to be refrigerated until opened.

Citrus Suppliers
Bhumi Growers
Pearson Ranch
Here is a link to hot-water bath canning.

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