|
This newsletter may contain some affiliate links. I only recommend things I personally use and enjoy—if you purchase through them, I may earn a small commission at no extra cost to you. |
|
|
Hi Reader
I wasn't expecting the flowers on my newly planted hachiya persimmon tree to do anything but bloom and fall, but they held on and I can see little nubs of fruit forming. If they do end up going all the way through into fall, I might actually get to make dried persimmons, hoshigaki in Japanese, a treat prepared and enjoyed all over Central Asia too. Fill them with cream cheese and a toasted walnut, then slice through the fruit to get thin rounds that are sweet, salty, creamy, and savory all at once.
Not everything in the garden has gone as expected this season, and I mean that in the best possible way. I planted a sachet of dark purple sunflower seeds a while back, and the flowers finally arrived. They're striking, but not quite the deep purple I was expecting. There are hints of yellow and orange bleeding through, and the purple reads more muted than the seed packet suggested. As it turns out, there's a straightforward explanation.
The dark color in those petals comes from anthocyanins, the same pigments responsible for the color in red cabbage, blueberries, and purple basil. Anthocyanins are unstable. They shift color depending on soil pH, temperature, light exposure, and the mineral composition of the ground they're growing in. In acidic conditions they lean red and pink; in neutral to alkaline conditions they shift toward blue and purple. A slight variation in any of these factors can mute or alter the color significantly from what a seed packet photograph, typically shot under controlled greenhouse conditions, promises.
The yellow and orange showing through are carotenoids, the same family of pigments that color egg yolks, carrots, and saffron. Every sunflower produces them as a baseline. In a dark variety, anthocyanins are layered on top, masking the carotenoids underneath. When anthocyanin expression is incomplete, the carotenoids show through. What I'm seeing is essentially the flower's default palette bleeding through where the purple pigment isn't fully covering it.
This same dynamic plays out in the kitchen. Anthocyanins in red cabbage turn blue-grey when cooked in alkaline conditions, which is why adding a splash of vinegar or lemon juice keeps braised red cabbage vibrantly red rather than dull and muddy. Carotenoids, by contrast, are fat-soluble and stable under heat, which is why a saffron-butter sauce holds its golden color where a red cabbage garnish might not. Two pigment families, two very different behaviors, and both visible in a single unexpected flower.
|
|
|
THE RECIPEs
In keeping with the birthday theme, this week I selected, yes another cake but one of my favorite breakfast/brunch dishes to wake up to my special day.
|
|
Çilbir/Turkish Eggs
The breakfast and brunch dish of my dreams, and let me tell you why. Creamy, garlicky yogurt topped with perfectly poached eggs and a warm drizzle of spiced butter makes this dish deeply comforting. The yolks melt into the tangy yogurt, creating a rich, silky sauce you will want to scoop up with every bite. Chili flakes and paprika bloom in butter, adding gentle heat and depth without overpowering the flavors.
|
|
|
The Ultimate Mango Layer Cake
If you're going to make one showstopper cake this mango season, make it this one. Cardamom in the cake, lime curd in the middle, saffron in the buttercream, and freeze-dried mango pulling flavor into all three. The full recipe, with make-ahead notes, is on the blog now.
|
|
|
|
THE SCIENCE EDIT
THIS WEEK'S PRINCIPLE
Certain ingredients are exceptionally rich in glutamates: kombu, Parmesan, tomato paste, miso, anchovies, soy sauce, fish sauce. Many of them earned that status through fermentation, a process that breaks proteins down into amino acids and floods the finished ingredient with savory glutamate.
But glutamate doesn't work alone. When nucleotides, specifically inosinate and guanylate, found in meat, fish, and bonito, are present at the same time, they change the shape of the glutamate receptor on your tongue and amplify the savory signal dramatically. The umami you perceive can be 20 to 30 times stronger than glutamate alone. This phenomenon is called umami synergism.
This is why certain combinations hit so much harder than their individual parts suggest. Dashi pairs glutamate-rich kombu with nucleotide-rich katsuobushi. Caesar salad puts Parmesan and anchovies together. Even a cheeseburger is doing this instinctively: cheese supplies the glutamate, beef supplies the nucleotides.
The practical takeaway: whenever you want more depth in a dish, look for a way to pair one glutamate-rich ingredient with one nucleotide-rich ingredient. You're not just adding flavor. You're multiplying it.
Cooking tips to try it at home:
- Add a small spoonful of tomato paste or a splash of soy sauce to any braise or stew that already contains meat. The meat brings the nucleotides, the tomato paste or soy sauce brings the glutamate.
- Finish a bowl of pasta with a grating of Parmesan and a small anchovy melted into the butter or oil.
- Stir a teaspoon of miso into a mushroom soup (made from dried mushrooms) or sauté. Dried mushrooms already contain both glutamates and some guanylate, and miso pushes the glutamate load higher. (Dried mushrooms have signficantly higher levels than fresh)
- Add a dash of fish sauce to a ground meat dish, tacos, bolognese, or a burger mix. It disappears into the background but the depth it adds is immediate and noticeable.
- Keep a tube of tomato paste and a bottle of fish sauce or soy sauce within reach of your stove. Those two ingredients together cover most of what you need to stack umami in almost any savory dish.
If you want to take this further, The Flavor Equation includes a detailed table of glutamate and nucleotide levels across a wide range of ingredients. It's the most useful pairing reference I know of for building umami intentionally in a dish. You can find the book
|
|
|
What I'm Cooking
Last Sunday I grilled Japanese eggplants with olive oil and a pinch of salt, then brushed the cut halves while still warm with a dressing of extra-virgin olive oil, jarred crushed Calabrian chiles, chives, preserved lemon for funk and acid, and a little agave syrup. Tucked between slabs of focaccia with a glass of icy lemonade on the side, it made for a very happy afternoon. Honey works in place of the agave if that's what you have.
|
|
|
COMING UP
|
|
Fundamentals of Flavor is available for preorder now — this one has been six years in the making and I'm genuinely proud of it. If you've been cooking with me for a while, this book is for you.
|
|
|
|
I hope something here sparks an idea. |
|
|