Chèvre Tart

 

 

Oftentimes before bed I read, and it's very likely the topic will be food related.
A couple weeks ago I was reading a chapter from The Food and Wine of France: Eating and Drinking from Champagne to Provence by Edward Behr. The particular chapter I had landed on that evening was about a cheesecake made with chèvre. A blackened cheesecake- merely black on the surface but not burnt in flavor, tourteau fromagé, from around Poitou. While Mr. Behr set out on a journey to find and sample versions, they weren’t always made with chèvre, and he found himself slightly disappointed upon biting into a cow’s milk based torte and wishing for the more bold goat’s milk style.

Now, I’ve never personally tasted said cheesecake, and this version I have here is likely nowhere near that which Edward pined after. 

(Poor Edward.)
However, the addition of tangy goat cheese to a “cheesecake” was a very nice thought that gave me a jumping-off point. 

I'm not the biggest fan of cheesecake as it is. Perhaps it's the combination of dense, heavy, and thick.
By that I mean dense in its texture in the mouth, heavy in its richness... and face it, slices of cheesecake aren't exactly short in stature.
Does it sometimes feel like eating an oddly dry-moist wedge of cheese? 

The first round of creating this recipe was fine, but I wanted a bit lighter and creamier.
Good news: round two turned out to be more like what I had imagined.

Maybe it's a bit more custardy than a cheesecake, though definitely not a custard- or it's somewhere between custard and cheesecake on the dairy spectrum (though, yes, closer to the cheesecake side).

The ratio of crust to filling in a tart form would definitely help lighten the dessert- part of the reason I went for this particular iteration of cheesecake. Plus, I guess I just prefer tarts.

It may not look exciting from the outset, and perhaps at a glance it could be easily mistaken for a version of lemon tart due to its initially snow-white filling’s sudden egg-yolk-dyed sunny hue.
The flavor is a bit tangy from the chèvre, crème fraîche, and lemon, though it’s also fresh.

And while the flavor of chèvre is more subtle due to it being cut with cream, that flavor is still present. Quieter, but there.
A pile of fresh berries on top is almost a requirement, but the tart is certainly more than ok on its own.

You can obviously use whatever pastry you choose for your blind baked crust, but THIS RECIPE found at David Lebovitz's site makes things awfully easy. Throw it together, press it into the pan, and bake. No rolling, no resting in the fridge, no pie weights... though you will want to bake it so it’s “done” and golden around the edge since the second bake with the filling isn’t going to do much to cook it further.

As it bakes and rests the filling balloons up,  comes over the edge of the pastry a bit, and becomes gilded on top... then it falls back down and sinks to tart level as it cools.

Like with any cheesecake, slicing and eating while it’s warm isn’t a good idea. 

Just be sure you’ve set aside the time needed for chilling before serving.

Chèvre Tart 

(makes 1, 9-inch tart, serves 10-12)

1, 9-inch blind-baked with golden edges and cooled tart crust (recommended recipe link above if needed)

6 oz (170 g) chèvre
5 oz (142 g) crème fraîche

3/4 c (180 ml) heavy cream

3 large egg yolks 

1/2 c (114 g) sugar
1/4 t (a large pinch) kosher salt
1 1/2 t (7 ml) vanilla extract
zest of 1-2 small lemons (depending on how lemony you like it)


Preheat oven to 325 F (163 C).
In a medium bowl, carefully whisk the chèvre and crème fraîche together until smooth. Stir in the cream, then add the egg yolks and whisk again until blended. Add the sugar, salt, vanilla, and lemon zest and whisk until fully incorporated.

Pour the filling into the prepared crust and place the tart pan on a baking sheet (to catch any possible spills), and place the pan in the center of the oven. Bake 40 minutes.
Turn off the oven and let the tart sit in the hot oven 40 minutes to rest and finish cooking.

Remove the tart from the oven and let cool to just warm, then place it in the refrigerator to chill for several hours, until cold.
At least 15 minutes before serving, pull the tart out of the refrigerator. Slice and serve cool to room temperature with fresh berries.

Mushroom Soup for Autumn

This is my updated mushroom soup- the flavor is MUSHROOM.
It's fairly simple and it doesn't take much time. It's the version of mushroom soup I've been using for several years now... one of those things you get to and think, "Ok, I don't need to look any further."
(It's like when you find or figure out your OFFICIAL crème brûlée recipe... I mean, I feel like it's a waste of your time and taste once you know what you want.)
It's also very easily vegan, actually- but I don't think anyone would know it.

There's a little shop at the farmer's market that only sells mushrooms, year round. Hen-of-the-woods, lion's mane, chanterelle, button, oyster, portabella, dried porcinis and morels, candy caps... and truffles- you can always count on finding fresh whole truffles there- in addition to the sliced, pasted, and infused oil versions.
But when it's fall and you're in the mood for something like this, it's a very convenient place- especially if you already find yourself over there.

You can use any mushroom you choose- I used a mix of brown and baby shiitakes here. Mixes make things a bit more interesting, and depending on the type of mushroom, can make the soup more meaty, savory, mushroomy, and robust in flavor.
White button are perfectly fine, of course. What you use is obviously a combination of what you like and what you can find at the time.
Just remember (depending on what you use) certain mushrooms need to be treated differently- fully grown shiitakes have woody stems that you wouldn't want to use. If they're tender though, go ahead and use them.

 

The only thing that's wanting with mushroom soup, in my opinion, is the color. That cement shade is great for a sweater, but sadly, not so much for food. So if you feel the need to add a bit of something for the eye before serving, please do.
See above.
(Charming, right?)

Mushroom Soup
serves 4-8 

1/4 c (60 ml) olive oil 
1/2 large yellow onion, large dice
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 lb. (454 g) mushrooms, cleaned and sliced, halved, or quartered depending on size
4 large garlic cloves, minced
8 oz (227 g) starchy potato (Russet, for instance), peeled and large-diced
3/4 (180 ml) cup white wine
5 cups (1.18 L) chicken broth, vegetable stock, or water- separated
1 T fresh minced oregano (no weight sorry, but visually 1/2 of a golf ball)
2 t fresh minced thyme leaves (again, no weight, but it's 2/3 of the above amount)

For serving:
sour cream
minced chives or parsley  



Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and a pinch of salt and saute until a bit golden at the edges. Add the mushrooms another pinch of salt and a few good grinds of pepper, and saute until the mushrooms begin to lose their juices. Add the garlic and stir through about 30 seconds, then add the potato and saute a few minutes until everything is thoroughly mixed and warmed through. 
Pour in the white wine and bring the mixture to a boil, then simmer a couple minutes before adding 4 cups (about 950 ml) of stock or water along with the oregano and thyme. Bring the mixture back up to a boil, then turn it down to a simmer and cook 10- 15 minutes, or until the potato is soft. 
Remove the pan from the heat and let cool slightly before using an immersion blender or blending thoroughly in batches- only filling 1/2 to 2/3 full (don't fill a blender with hot liquid as it expands and can explode into a mess...).
Pour each batch into another pan before moving onto the next round. 
If you want the soup a little thinner, depending on evaporation and how dense the potato made the soup, you can add some or all of the extra stock as you puree. 
Season to taste. 
Serve the soup hot.

Rosemary - Peach Salad

I house sat this summer, and several weeks ago I was locked in a chicken coop.
Twice. Within a couple days.
The first time the knot on the rope to open the door from inside had slipped and come undone.
Normal problem I'm sure, it'd eventually happen anyway.
Luckily, I was only in there about 10-15 minutes, looking around and wondering how I’d get out, before someone showed up who I could call to open the door for me. I was certainly grateful.
You see, chickens are ok company, but not my most favorite.
Anyway, I "fixed" the door so it wouldn't happen again.

Yes, I fixed it by not really paying complete attention and tying the rope to the wrong hole in the latch. The door shuts behind you, and... it doesn't matter how much you pull the rope.
(Uh-oh and a bit of internal panic.)
The second time it happened was a Saturday and nobody else was around so I had to figure something out by myself. 

I found a stick on the dirt floor of the coop, and I was able to get it through a gap in the door, and wiggling it into the hole of the latch, jimmying it at the right angle while slightly shaking the door so that the latch would release.

While I was working on this, I had the feeling of being a monkey in a film strip (these things seemingly ONLY in film strips, the kind you'd possibly watched in grade school, if we had some of the same early grade school experiences- projector, rolls of film pulled from tin cans, and pull-down screen... the whole shebang), while the voice-over would say, "We had previously thought man was the only animal having the use of tools."
And I was glad no one was there to watch.

Long story short, it ended up working (yay), and again I was only locked in there 10-15 minutes.
Next step, I want to learn how to pick locks. It's inspired.

Why tell this story?
There's really no good reason, other than about the same time I was trying to brainstorm different ways to use summer fruit.
Good story.

And so, this is a fabulous end-of-summer salad with a great combination of flavors.  It could be your starter, or you could possibly make into a light meal with a little tweaking.
I've served it six times for different dinners in the past few weeks, and I made it for my own dinner twice this week, along with open-faced BLTs (also great for summer if you find some good heirloom tomatoes and meaty bacon). Needless to say, I think it's quite alright.
And a safe bet.
No eggs required.

Rosemary - Peach Salad
(Vinaigrette for 4-5)

Vinaigrette:
1 T (15 ml) finely minced shallot
1 T (15 ml) Sherry vinegar
1/8 t kosher or sea salt (a nice pinch)
1/2 t fresh minced rosemary needles (visually, maybe a hazelnut-sized amount)
1 t (5 ml) honey
4 T (60 ml) extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

proscuitto/speck (thinly sliced, about piece per person- depending on size)
greens (mixed, spring, baby spinach...) 
a ripe peach (1 large for 4 people)
thinly sliced green onion (optional, but nice)
minced parsley (ditto)
toasted sliced almonds (or pecans... not optional)
fresh basil leaves (also optional here, but a great addition- I promise, use if you have it)

Other possibilities: 
fresh mozzarella or burrata
cherry tomatoes
strawberries (maybe it sounds crazy, but I think a little bit would add some nice color and flavor here)


Preheat the oven to 400 F (204 C).
To make the vinaigrette,  combine the shallots, Sherry vinegar, and salt in a small jar or bowl.  Let sit 5 mintues, add the rosemary, and let sit another 5 minutes. To the sherry mixture, add the honey and mix well.  If making vinaigrette in a jar, add about 1/4 of the olive oil and shake the jar to blend. Add about 1/2 of the remaining olive oil and shake well. Add the last of the olive oil and shake again to combine. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste and set aside.
(If using a bowl to make the vinaigrette, whisk in the olive oil in a slow stream...)

While the shallots sit in the vinegar, crisp the proscuitto. Carefully separate the proscuitto and place it on a sheet pan in a single layer, and cook in the preheated oven 5-8 minutes. It will darken and dry as it cooks, but will finish crisping after it has been removed from the oven to cool. Move the proscuitto on the pan a bit to make sure it's not stuck, then let cool completely.

To assemble salads, place a handful of greens on each plate or in bowls. Sprinkle with green onion and parsley (if using). Cut the peach into eighths and use 2/8 per person, slicing into bite-sized pieces and distributing them over the greens. Re-shake or whisk the vinaigrette (if necessary) and spoon over the salads. Crumble the proscuitto over the salads and top with sliced almonds. Sprinkle with a little chiffonade of basil, if using, and serve.

Honeyed Walnut Cake

Ok, so, this one was a bit difficult to name.
It's not a "cake" in the baked-and-eaten-with-a-cup-of-tea dessert-y, cake-y texture sense of the word.
I mean it more as a shape, a configuration, the tight togetherness of the ingredients.
While going through potential words in English to describe the form, they sounded so inelegant: brick, log, block, slab, chunk... bleh.
Sometimes the English language is decidedly lacking in charm.
Then I thought about other, more strictly fruit and nut confections- pressed date and almond, fig and walnut- and with a slight stretch, even panforte fits the bill. They're cakes. So cake it shall be.

I had found something like this months back, and it was wonderful to nibble with a glass of red wine, or as dessert with a splash of Port. The problem being, ooh, it was pretty expensive.
I thought maybe I could make it myself for much cheaper.
There are four ingredients, just like the other one. Maybe it's not exact proportion or technique-wise, but it's really good and certainly not cost-prohibitive.
 

 

I'd recommend it for a wine and cheese party, with appetizers, or for after dinner as part of cheese based dessert board along with that Port, maybe some dark chocolate... go ahead and add fruit, too (though this by itself is perfectly fine).

You're going to use two amber liquids here- one more pale golden, the other a bit deeper- two syrups I'd be willing to bet many, if not most, people have on hand anyway.
Honey and maple syrup, but make it pure maple syrup, real maple syrup, not a thick corn syrup based concoction.
Personally, I think it's good both are included here. Honey alone can be intense at times, not my most favorite ingredient, but it does have it's place. 
The syrups are cooked to reduce a bit and become the cement holding the walnut bits together.
I didn't give a temperature for cooking the syrup... it's a small amount, and it would difficult to get an accurate reading on a thermometer, so in this case it's more sensorial than measurable and exact.

Of course the recipe can be halved for a smaller group, or if you prefer assurance it will disappear.

Test the size of your mould after you've broken up the toasted walnuts. You can use a ring mould, a metal cup measure, something rectangular if you've got it, if you're careful- a metal can with both ends cut out... perhaps even a wide-mouth jar (as long as you'd be able to remove the finised cake). Place the  nuts in the container you plan to use and shake things a bit so the walnuts fall into place, giving you a general idea how things will fit.

A friend had also suggested sprinkling the mould with sesame seeds to help combat the stickiness you may encounter upon serving (at least the bottom, which becomes the top when unmoulded).

I'm going to recommend doing this by weight, at the very least for the walnuts since their shape is so irregular...


Honeyed Walnut Cake 
(6-8 portions?) 

150 g whole walnuts (this comes to about 1 1/2 c in volume)
4 T honey (60 ml)
2 T maple syrup (30 ml)
1/4 t fine sea salt (small for weight, but my measure says 1.2 ml)

Toast the walnuts lightly in a preheated 325 F (163 C) oven 7-10 minutes.
Remove the pan from the oven, and when cool enough to handle, break the walnuts into pieces (I usually do this by hand as I think it gives a nice size with soft edges, just twisting each walnut. Then I rub handfuls of the walnuts a bit between my palms to remove any loose skin.)
Bring the honey, maple syrup, and salt to a simmer in a medium saucepan over medium, then reduce the heat a bit and cook 5 minutes, swirling the pan several times. You'll have to watch it, because the honey mixture can really bubble and expand.
(The syrup can quickly reduce and become stiff, so it's important not to overcook it, likewise it's important not to cook at too high a heat as the sugars can burn. You'll only know it it cooked too much for sure afterwards when the walnut cake is cool... it may be a crispier, stiffer confection to slice, but it's still very edible.)
Turn off the heat and stir the walnuts through for a couple minutes, to warm them again and make sure everything is coated nicely.
Have a mould at the ready, lined with lightly buttered or sprayed parchment or waxed paper. Spoon/pour the walnut mixture into the prepared mould. Fold over the edges of the paper so that everything is contained within the mould and press down so the nuts all find their place and are all tightly packed together.
Let cool completely- it may take a couple hours since it's so dense.
Unmould, unwrap, slice and enjoy with wine and cheese, etc., as an appetizer or a dessert. 

Nectarine-Brown Butter Tart

Need a summer fruit dessert?
I'm trying to write things down in a more or less solid place because I keep misplacing my notes...
I first made a version of brown butter nectarine last year (though maybe it was peach at the time), and I can't remember where I found the "jumping off point" recipe- so I can't give credit where credit may be due- but, there were changes made a few times if that makes anyone feel better about the situation.
However, it's also very much like the peach pie we used to have in the summer when I was growing up... which I'm realizing I haven't had in years... so there's that, too.
(For now it is what it is, but I hope to try the pastry out with an oat/rice/cornstarch blend in the near future.)

You can use any stone fruit on this one, wonderful this time of year- as you choose or whatever is available to you. Make sure it's something ripe, though not overly so: nectarines, peaches, plums, apricots--- even cherries.
No matter what, you want to use a type of fruit that is intense and slightly sweet and/or tart with a luscious heavier flesh, a body to it. No flimsy fruit.
And I'd advise to always pick up a bit of extra fruit, a bit more than what is called for- just in case, you never know.
I don’t say this to brag, but the fruit here in California is fantastic... no matter what it happens to be... not that you actually have to DO anything to it, but I'm very grateful I can use it so easily.

Making this tart is not a difficult project, but you'll need to allot some time- though in my opinion it’s well worth it. The longest stint for this recipe would be chilling the brown butter filling before moving on to tart assemblage... at which point it's a very thick but still somewhat spreadable creme (referring to texture here, not content).

Look at the flecks of browned butter and vanilla in there:

You must give yourself time for this one (i.e. start it in the morning if you want to serve it in the evening, OR start it a day ahead and don't spend precious time waiting). Otherwise, if you choose not to wait, things can get a bit messy.

After baking, the filling of the tart will be puffed, browned, and slightly wobbly. But you leave it to cool and then chill. The filling settles and sets to a consistency somewhere between custardy and fudgy so it can be sliced with nice sharp edges.  

It may not be the most drop-dead gorgeous dessert you've ever seen- vibrant color suffers with the heat of baking- and it's a tad rustic... but it tastes pretty nice!
Not too sweet, but caramel-y and sweet-tart fruity with a shortbread-like crust.
It's even great for breakfast (if you do that sort of thing) with some damn fine coffee. Black.

 

You will need an 8 inch tart pan with removable bottom for this...

Nectarine - Brown Butter Tart
Serves 6-8

1/2 c (1 stick, 113 g) unsalted butter
1/2 vanilla bean (OR 1/2 t vanilla bean paste or a teaspoon of vanilla extract)
2/3 c (134 g) sugar
1 1/2 T (13 g) flour
1 extra large egg
a pinch of salt

5 T unsalted butter (71 g), at cool room temperature
3 T (24 g) powdered (confectioner's) sugar
1c plus 2 T (108 g) flour
1/4 t (scant 2 g) salt
1 egg yolk

2-3 ripe nectarines (or peaches, maybe 3-4 plums, 4-6 apricots, a bunch of cherries...)


To make the brown butter filling, melt the butter in a small saucepan over medium heat along with the scraped seeds from the vanilla pod or vanilla paste (throw the empty pod into the butter, for extra flavor). Continue heating until the milk solids begin to brown and become nutty. It'll take maybe 10 mintues- be careful because it may sputter a bit, and it can burn close to the end- so watch it!
While the butter browns, whisk the sugar and flour together in a bowl, then add the egg and whisk to combine (as well as the vanilla extract if you're using it).
When the butter is finished, remove the pan from the heat, fish out the vanilla pod or strain as you pour the warm browned butter and any toasty solids into the bowl with the sugar mixture. Mix well and leave to cool about 20 minutes before covering and chilling in the fridge at least 6 hours.

To make the pastry, blend the butter with the sugar, flour, and salt in a medium-sized bowl until you have a crumbly mass (you can use your hands for this). Add the egg yolk and work it in until you have a uniform dough- though you don't want to over work it (gently, just until it comes together). If it's not coming together very easily- err on the side of caution and undermix in this case- you can add just a sprinkle of water to help get the job done.
Bring the dough together, smash it into a thick disc, wrap in plastic or waxed paper and refrigerate at least an hour to rest.

Preheat the oven to 375 F (190 C). Lightly grease an 8" round tart pan with a removable bottom with butter or baking spray. Roll out the chilled dough between two sheets of plastic wrap or parchment paper so it will fit the pan (it'll be somewhere in the range of a few mm to 1/2 cm thick). Fit the pastry into the pan, pressing into the fluted sides, and cut off the excess with a knife. Freeze about 10 minutes (or if you're still waiting for the browned butter mixture to chill, you could place the prepared tart pan in the fridge for longer).
Prepare the fruit just before assembling. Halve and pit the fruit, and slice into thin pieces (a nectarine or peach- maybe into 12ths, an apricot- maybe 6ths... if using cherries, just pit and halve).
When ready to bake, remove the tart pan from the fridge and pour in the chilled brown butter filling. Smooth it as best you can, hitting the edges- though it doesn't have to be perfect as it will level itself out while baking. Arrange the fruit on top of the tart (I think concentric circles work pretty well) pressing the slices in gently.
Place the prepared tart on a sheet pan to accommodate any overflow and bake about 45 minutes

The tart is done when the edges of the pastry are a light golden brown and the filling is browned everywhere surrounding the fruit. The filling will be a bit wobbly. 
Place the tart on a rack and let cool to warm before placing it in the fridge to chill all the way through and set completely (this will take a couple hours).

Slice and serve the tart at a cool room temperature.

Ginger-Soy Rice Noodle Salad

I saw a rice noodle salad somewhere several days ago I thought looked pretty good, so I thought I'd try to put one together (mostly, I wanted one for lunch, and this is the outcome that worked fairly well).

As far as a meal like this goes, whether it's room temperature or cold, this type of dish can be nice light meal for a warm summer afternoon or evening- that's where I was going with it.
Or you could add shrimp, chicken, or beef to make it a little more robust.

For this recipe, things are left pretty open- it's mostly lists.
Amounts are to taste as the additions to each individual dish, though I'd say maybe 4-5 oz of noodles for 2-3 people, but anything extra is an easy meal the next day.
Vegetables can be raw, blanched, or given a quick saute.

 

(But whatever you do, as is quite often the case, the best part of the salad is the end since all the goodies that aren't tangled up with everything else fall to the bottom of the bowl to be captured at long last.) 
Quite honestly, after photographing I added a bigger mess of herbs, more vegetables, and I stirred in a bit more sauce before devouring.

A word of warning: the amount of dressing will certainly cover more than two salads- more like four or more. But that's ok.
If you're at all wary about any of the ingredients and the amounts, perhaps add what you like, let it sit to blend, then taste. The dressing by itself could potentially be whack-you-in-the-face strong to some, but when tossed with the bland noodles, it's great... I think I could eat it on lots of things so I'm perfectly fine with the leftovers (stored in a jar in the fridge). Again, go easy on certain ingredients and/or the amount you use when dressing the noodles it if you're at all concerned.
(And don't spill any fish sauce on yourself. A wonderful flavor in smaller doses, great as part of a whole, it's pretty rank by itself and if you spill you'll probably have to change your clothes.)

 

Ginger-Soy Rice Noodle Salad
(Dressing serves at least 4)
Rice noodles (whatever style you choose)

Ginger- Soy Dressing:
1 1/2 T freshly grated ginger
1/4 c (60 ml) tamari or soy sauce
2 t (10 ml) fish sauce
1 1/2 t (8 ml) sriracha (optional if you like a little heat)
1 T plus 1 t (16 g) sugar
2 garlic cloves, minced
Zest of 1/2 lime, plus 1 T (15 ml) juice 

Vegetable options:
cubed avocado
thinly sliced red pepper
sliced sugar snap peas
cucumber batons
grated or julienned carrots

Fresh herbs:
green onion
basil
cilantro
mint

To serve:
chopped peanuts
caramelized shallots
lime wedges
sriracha

Extras:
cooked shrimp, chicken, or beef



*As there are different types of rice noodles, make sure to cook them according to package instructions. Drain, shock under cool running water, drain well again, and set aside.

Stir together the dressing ingredients in a bowl and let sit at least 10 minutes while you prepare the rest of your salad ingredients. 

When ready to put salads together dressing noodles, add enough dressing to moisten and loosen the noodles, and toss well to distribute. 

Place noodles in bowl (or bowls) and add vegetables and herbs as desired.
Top with peanuts and shallots, and add extra dressing, lime, or sriracha if you wish.

Blood Orange Marmalade and Four Citrus Marmalade

 

This weekend I wanted to make use of blood oranges before they disappeared, so I made a bit of marmalade. Some will be given away, but the rest will be stashed.

One thing about jams and marmalades: you'll never be able to make the same batch twice. That's nature, that's variation...  some fruits may be sweeter, or juicier, some more tart, some more pithy and bitter. Things will never be exactly the same. In some ways that's too bad, but in other ways it keeps things interesting.

Marmalade is great for eating on toast, with yogurt, or even to serve with a pork roast or maybe turkey (save to doctor cranberry sauce for Thanksgiving?)- in my opinion marmalade is a nice thing to have around.

There are two recipes here, one is basically blood orange (with a bit of lemon), and the other includes four types of citrus.  I did some experimentation with amounts and techniques, and I didn't want to lose what I'd done- notes were taken, recipes were written, and now they're posted.

In the photo with two jars of marmalade, you can see a difference in color. The blood orange is obviously the more red one, and the four citrus is more orange.

When I made the blood orange marmalade, I did not end up soaking the peels. It would have made the marmalade less bitter, so it's a good tip for marmalade if you prefer less of that bitterness. 
So: after slicing, soak the orange peels for a few hours if you prefer (see the Four Citrus Marmalade recipe below for the how-to on that).

In slicing, you can make the pieces of fruit as thick or thin as you like. Use a mandoline if you would like your oranges very thinly sliced, or perhaps a food processor for the sake of speed.  I think mine were between 1 and 3 mm, obviously not exact... but they're hand cut, so we'll call it "rustic" in this instance.

And I'm sorry, but I didn't actually take into account the yield of marmalade in each batch. It'll vary a bit depending on how long it's cooked and allowed to reduce...
However, I'm going to guess two quarts with the blood orange, but it's less with the four citrus.



Blood Orange Marmalade
makes about 2 quarts

3 1/2 lb. (1580 g) blood oranges
2 c (480 ml) water
2/3 c (120 ml) fresh Eureka lemon juice 
3 c (675 g) sugar


Place a small plate in the freezer.
Start a large pot of water to boil and place jars and lids in it to sterilize. 

Wash the oranges well and cut off the ends to expose the inside. Cut the oranges into quarters and slices the ends of each quarter to remove a bit of extra pith. Thinly slice the oranges, removing any large seeds. Add the pieces of orange as well as any orange juice to a large pot. 
Add the water, lemon juice, and sugar to the pot and stir the mixture to combine. Bring the oranges to a boil over medium heat, then reduce to low and simmer, stirring occasionally, until the peels are cooked, the juice in the  marmalade is reduced and it passes a gel test.  To test, pull the plate out of the freezer and and place a bit of the cooked marmalade on it. Place the plate back into the freezer for a few minutes to cool it quickly, then check the consistency by pushing it with a finger to see if it wrinkles or is generally thick enough for you.  
This takes about an hour and a half (90 minutes).

Drain the hot jars one by one and ladle hot marmalade into them to about a centimeter or 1/2 inch from the top. Wipe the rims and threads with a clean, damp towel, and screw the hot lids on. 
At this point I may place the finished jars back into the boiling water for a few minutes to help sterilize further as well as clean the jars of sticky marmalade on the outside. 

Leave the jars on a counter to cool to warm, then refrigerate (I don't fully/officially can them, so the fridge in lieu of the pantry is a safety step). 
Share or save to enjoy later...

Four Citrus Marmalade

2 lb.  (about 900 g) Cara cara navel oranges
1 lb. (about 450 g) blood oranges 
2 Eureka lemons, juiced
1 Meyer lemon
1 1/2 c (360 ml) cold water
2 2/3 c (400 g) sugar


Place a small plate in the freezer.
Start a large pot of water to boil and place jars and lids in it to sterilize.
Wash the citrus well. Juice the navel oranges and slice the peels. Juice the blood oranges and slice 3 of the peels. 
Reserve the juices and place the sliced peels into a large pot of cold water. Let soak 3 hours, then remove the soaked peels to a large pot. Add the reserved orange juices, as well as the lemon juice and the sliced Meyer lemon, the water, and sugar.

Bring the mixture to a boil over medium heat, then reduce to a simmer over low. Stir occasionally, until the peels are cooked, the juice in the marmalade is reduced and it passes a gel test. To test, pull the plate out of the freezer and and place a bit of the cooked marmalade on it. Place the plate back into the freezer for a few minutes to cool it quickly, then check the consistency by pushing it with a finger to see if it wrinkles or is generally thick enough for you.   
This will take at least an hour, perhaps an hour and a half (90 minutes).

Drain the hot jars one by one and ladle hot marmalade into them to about a centimeter or 1/2 inch from the top. Wipe the rims and threads with a clean, damp towel, and screw the hot lids on. 
At this point I may place the finished jars back into the boiling water for a few minutes to help sterilize further as well as clean the jars of sticky marmalade on the outside. 

Leave the jars on a counter to cool to warm, then refrigerate (I don't fully/officially can them, so the fridge in lieu of the pantry is a safety step). 
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