| This month: Zest vs. peel vs. rind (vs. pith) |
OK, so it might be a tempest in a teapot, but here is the question. If a recipe calls for a teaspoon of grated lemon rind, or orange zest, or lime peel, do you know exactly what part of the fruit that means?
The outer skin (or rind or peel) of citrus fruit is actually two layers, the colorful yellow/orange/green exterior and a spongy white layer (the pith) like a lining next to the fruit. Recipes often use the terms rind, zest, and peel interchangeably, failing to make the distinction between the oily and flavorful colored layer (the zest) and the entire rind or peel (which includes the bitter-tasting pith).
What’s a cook to do? When in doubt, use only the zest, which contributes a bright and fruity flavor to sauces and baked goods. The best tool? Some cooks favor a metal grater, but others insist a grater’s teeth cut too deeply into the pith. A swivel-blade potato peeler can do the job. But our favorite tool for this job is a zester, which looks like a tiny rake and takes off thin strands of the colored zest, which can then be minced and added to the recipe.
Readers: what food controversies do you argue about? Write to foodfights@digitalhearth.com and let us know what you think. |
| Hot Lemming Pudding and Other Pleasures |
Fall may be glorious during the day, but the early twilights and cold nights turn us inward, toward hearth and home. We start thinking about wool sweaters, flannel sheets, woodstoves, snow tires . . . and hot lemming pudding.
Lemming?
It’s a family joke, maybe one that your family would enjoy. Our friends Polly and David have a daughter, Sara, who is now 11. Sara has always loved animals, especially the more unusual ones (like unicorns) and the little ones (like guinea pigs and mice, and, yes, lemmings). A talented artist, she can draw any of these animals with a few quick lines, and as a little girl she often pretended to be a forest creature.
David’s favorite dessert, one his mother had always made, was called Hot Lemon Pudding in their family, but the recipe had been lost. A few years ago, Polly combed through cookbooks and finally found, in the 1975 edition of Joy of Cooking, Lemon Sponge Custard. It is made from a batter that holds together while it is being mixed, but magically separates while baking into a clear, quivery pudding with a spongy top. It sounded just like Hot Lemon Pudding.
So she tried it, proudly presenting the warm, glistening custard to David, who pronounced it to be exactly like his mother’s Hot Lemon Pudding. But Sara wouldn’t even try it. Would you, if you thought your dessert contained lots of poor little lemmings baked into a pudding?
This is the recipe from the 1975 edition of Joy. The new 1997 edition tinkers with the recipe, but we subscribe to the "If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it" school of cookery. Make it on a cold, crisp fall night, and enjoy.
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(a.k.a. Lemon Sponge Custard) |
3/4 cup sugar
1-1/2 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons grated lemon rind
2 or 3 egg yolks
3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 cup milk
2 or 3 egg whites
Preheat oven to 350°F. Cream sugar, butter, and lemon rind. Add egg yolks and beat well. Stir in flour alternately with lemon juice and milk. Beat egg whites until stiff but not dry and fold them into the yolk mixture. Place the batter into a buttered 7-inch baking dish. Set the dish on a rack in a pan filled with 1 inch of hot water. Bake for about 1 hour, or until set. Serve hot. Makes 4 servings.
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