Transitions

Much attention has been given in recent years to the savory-sweet crossover in desserts. I think we've seen it all by now: from beet, parsnip, eggplant, fennel, tomato, chili, bell pepper, and mushrooms to bacon, duck fat and truffle. Recently, I had a nice dessert that incorporated freeze-dried peas. And years ago I recall a "restorative" sweet prepared by my friend Daniel Tay, a pastry chef in Singapore, that relied on certain frog parts as both a gelling agent and subtle flavoring. Though I certainly dabble in the conceptual, I've never been interested in the sheer shock value of such ideas. Someone once suggested to me, only half-joking, that put enough sugar on anything- even a steak- and you could call it dessert. And granted, I once theorized a dessert built around trout roe, but it was just that: a theory, not a fully realized dish that anyone ever tasted, let alone ordered in a restaurant. What interests me, apart from simple deliciousness, is the perception and context of flavors and ingredients, which are usually no more than psychological or cultural hang-ups. Carrot cake and pumpkin pie are classics; parsnip and butternut squash are considered edgy. Bean pastes are a hard sell to the Western palate, but they are practically the sole element on which Japanese sweet traditions are based. And then there are the many cooking lessons we can learn from history. A modern dessert paring chocolate and corn appears to some as avant garde, but the combination dates back thousands of years in Central America. I always get a chuckle when I discover other such combinations that prove there really is little that is "new".

So the sweet-savory approach to desserts is here to stay. While I have both benefited from the exposure of such "unconventional" ingredients in desserts, I've also felt the frustration of being compartmentalized into a certain style; such is the nature of trends. While I like the idea that such desserts are now accepted with a pinch of salt (as opposed to taken with a grain of salt!), I've become more interested in the actual transition of savory courses into sweet ones. Surely, what a pastry chef serves after a savory course, or a string of them, has always been important. There must be a cohesive style and logical progression. Individual egos aside, I think that is a pastry chef's greatest responsibility and challenge: working with others, or the Chef, to create the tidy package that is a meal. Within longer tasting menus-a dozen courses or more- subtle sweet accents inserted here and there keep a diner's attention and their taste buds fresh. Grant Achatz years ago coined the term "rolling hills" to describe this philosophy. My own maturity, confidence, and skill level have obviously played a part of my evolution; I've seen my "style" change over time, but markedly so as I've transitioned from one restaurant to another. What I produce now at Le Bernardin is often much simpler, focused, and refined than what I put forth at Tribute, where the "fusion" menu by nature was more complex. And neither style would have worked at Emily's where the approach was more rustic and traditional Mediterranean. That said, I do have just enough ego to always want to push any given style to it's extreme!

But what of that transition between main course and dessert? This is where that sweet-savory realm can really come into play, and cheese is the perfect vehicle. I've always been fascinated with every aspect of this most simple yet complex of foods; it's amazing how many infinite varieties spring from such few ingredients as milk, salt, and, well, bacteria. Cheese, of course, stands on it's own, but also becomes an ideal platform for other, sweet, spicy, salty, acidic, bitter, and fruity flavors. And the possibilities are endless; the cheese course is kind of like a chef's playground. For years I was in charge of maintaining a cheese program, presenting both simple selections and composed plates. But at Le Bernardin that has always been the shared responsibility of the dining room captains. I've missed handling, tasting, and serving cheese, but then again, with so much else going on, I haven't missed it. However, several months ago, in the course of preparing a spontaneous tasting menu for a handful of VIPs at our Cayman outpost, I thought it would be fun to play with some cheese in addition to a handful of desserts. The kitchen had all the necessary ingredients to pull off an old idea of mine: Fourme d'Ambert with bacon, gingersnap, and soy caramel. My boss loved it so much, we've been thinking of a way to put it on the menu ever since.

To some, the blue cheeses are an acquired taste, as much so as the runniest, stinkiest Epoisses. The fact that its mold is so obvious probably has something to do with it. But they are among my favorites for their varying textures, and sharp, salty flavor. Fourme d'Ambert, along with its nearby cousin, the slightly drier Fourme de Monbrison, hail from the Auvergne region of France. That they lie on the milder and drier end of the blue cheese scale makes them ideal for composed courses. The origin of this particular dish dates back six years or so, when a colleague at Tribute dared me to use bacon in something, partly because I was a pastry chef, but also because bacon makes everything better. Funny thing is, not only did I rise to that task, but I also ended up marrying the woman that put forth that challenge!

The first component to hit the plate is the soy caramel, comprised of sugar, water, orange juice, and just a touch of soy. While the saltiness of the soy is perceptible, what I like about this sauce is its depth of complex flavor, which I tend to describe as being similar to butterscotch. In the years since developing this caramel, I've used it in several ways, notably in a dessert of roasted apricots, black sesame panna cotta, and cherry granite which appeared on our menu last summer. In this dish, I think the soy caramel reflects the salty sweetness of the cheese itself.

Adding a bit of texture and a spicy molasses note are the crushed gingersnaps, though I've alternatively used dried and crumbled pain d'epice. For a touch of heat, a pinch of black pepper suffices. And rendered bacon, of course, for it's salt, smoke and fat, coaxes more sweetness from the cheese and fulfills our "savory" requirement. The intention of the stretched out composition of the plate is to allow the diner to sample the cheese with different components and in different proportions.

While I've used several different fruit elements in this composed cheese course, from cherry to fig to sherry soaked prunes, here I've chosen preserved green walnuts. This has become one of my favorite recent discoveries, not only for its mellow spiced sweetness and soft texture, but also because it forms the base for the green walnut liqueur I wrote of a few weeks ago. Though these specific walnuts come from Armenia, they are also native to the same southern French countryside where the Fourme d"Ambert is produced. I've also begun using these syrup-packed nuts along with conventional caramelized walnuts, in  a nougat glace on the current menu.

The final component is the tuile craquante. I borrowed this recipe years ago from Frederic Bau's amazing book, Au Coeurs des Saveurs. Its novelty lies in the fact that pectin works as the binder of all of that water, sugar, and fat, though I've since come to add a tiny amount of flour for structure (While I haven't ever played with sucrose esters like the one sold through the Texturas line, I suppose that similar, or even more refined results could be achieved). Straight from the oven, these tuiles are a molten liquid, but provide a small window of opportunity to both shape and stretch at whim. As its French name implies, its delicate texture and crunch adds a final contrast the soft, rich cheese.

I've turned out a handful of similar composed cheese dishes in my time, centered around firm cheeses, washed rind cheeses, and triple creams, from cow, sheep, and goat's milk, with components that have included wheat beer, squash, and candied olive. But cheese certainly has a place in dessert proper, and recently tasting a friend's rendition of carrot cake, but with a Brillat Savarin ice cream, got me thinking of my own versions of that classic. As a bonus here's one of those twists, the traditional cake paired with condensed milk ice cream, raisins, pistachio, and a goat cheese cream.

 

Download Carrot.pdf

 

Download Fourme d'Ambert Recipe.pdf

For general notes on the recipes posted here, please read About the Recipes. And for hard to find ingredients or equipment, please refer to Resources.

Comments

[Vicente Echeverria]

By the way, who is taking the pictures for the blog? are you?. They're pretty nice!

[Henry]

In China there's something called fermented beancurd (tofu) which comes in white as well as red (with red rice added) varieties. They're sometimes called 'cheese of the orient' and their use in Chinese cuisine is varied, from simply mixing with plain rice to give it a salty kick or using it as a sauce for braising pork belly. No-one, of course, has ever used it in a sweet course! I would imagine it'll work as beautifully in a souffle (just like a cheese souffle). In fact in Canton there are biscuits scented with a little red fermented beancurd. It's interesting how different food cultures come up with similar applications of food!

[chadzilla]

The sweet-savoury border melting is exciting. As westerners, we often focus on the obvious balance of salty and sweet in this trend (excuse me for using that word). What we are oblivious to (perhaps because of it is so obvious) is the increasing of umami-rich ingredients in desserts from this practice.
I am not sure any study (at least I have not seen information) on the sensation of umami in 'sweets.' We know that certain processes such as fermentation, drying, curing dramatically increase umami-causing enzymes in foods... but these are often looked at in the savory sense alone (perhaps because the concept of umami is Eastern-based where there is less of a line drawn between sweet and savoury).
When you add soy sauce to a caramel, you are not simply adding salt... but you are increasing a primitive reaction imbedded in our tongues through thousands of years of human civilization with umami as our guide. We do not think about it but the 'deliciousness' is obviously oblivious to us.
I cannot wait for the line to further dissolve in the future. As chefs (be it pastry or not), we will all eventually have to think this way.

[annie]

Great post. I particularly enjoyed your bacon challenger anecdote. It's always interesting to witness someone's violent reaction to candied bacon when the following Saturday they'll probably be having their bacon drizzled with maple syrup.

Just yesterday I mentioned an olive oil chocolate mousse with fleur de sel, and my friend nodded knowlingly and said, "Ahhh... you like the avant garde stuff." No, Catalans have been enojoying that combination since WWII.

Question: where would one find preserved green walnuts?

Thanks. I'm really looking forward to the recipes.

[Raffi]

Loved this post too, and would also like to know where to get the Armenian walnuts. On another note, I first ran into Fourme d'Ambert as a poor college student, because I couldn't afford Roquefort (the difference in price between the two, to me, is one of the great indicators of the power of marketing). It ended up one of my favorite cheeses.

[Daniel]

Hello Michael I find your site by a coincidence at Tailors homsite. I really like your style. If you want you could take a look at my site I have a lot of desserts there. Take care best regards Daniel From Sweden

[YaRoo]

Fascinating read, Michael. As a traditionalist, I usually try to avoid desserts with savory ingredients, only because so much of them were poorly conceived. This is a good reminder that when flavors are well thought out, ingredient, whether it is savory or sweet, is just that an ingredients to be used. The carrot cake looks positive delicious by the way.

[ulterior epicure]

I just had both the Fourme d'Ambert AND the Carrot at Le Bernardin. What a coincidence to see them on your blog in retrospect.

[Sheltie Girl]

A wonderful post and beautiful pictures. I am fascinated with your tuiles made with pectin. I'll have to see if I can find Frederic Bau's book.

Natalie @ Gluten a Go Go

[We Are Never Full]

Excellently written and informative post. It is difficult to understand why anyone wouldn't want to try various bleu's - they kind of are an acquired taste. They are some of my absolute favorites in cheese. Cabrales being tops in my book! Great post.