The clarified butter known as ghee is made by slowly simmering butter until all of its moisture has evaporated and its milk solids begin to brown. These solids are then strained out, and the remaining pure butterfat has a nutty flavor and aroma and an ultrahigh smoke point (485 degrees). It can be used as a slightly richer, more buttery substitute in any recipe that calls for clarified butter and can even be used for high-heat applications-such as frying and making popcorn - in which regular butter (with a smoke point of 250 or 300 degrees) would burn. Another benefit: Its pure state means that unlike regular butter or simple clarified butter (which contains water that contributes to rancidity), it doesn't have to be refrigerated, and it will keep for at least three months. Traditionally made ghee is made on the stovetop, but we like this hands-off oven method.
Place 1 to 2 pounds unsalted butter in Dutch oven and cook, uncovered on lower-middle rack of 250 degree oven for 2 to 3 hours, or until all water evaporates and solids are golden brown.
Let cool slightly and strain ghee through fine-mesh sieve lined with cheesecloth. Pour into clean glass jar, let cool completely, and seal. Ghee can be kept, sealed in a cool, dark place for up to 3 months or refrigerated for up to 1 year.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Got Ghee?
If you gotta have butter, then let me introduce you to my new beau. Just when I thought all was lost, and I would have to learn to live without love - I mean butter, I was introduced to ghee. Ghee? What is that? Isn't that some kind of odd food like tofu or falafel? (Bear with me here - I'm a Cajun from Lafayette, Louisiana. Certainly your definition of odd will be different than mine. I do after all, eat mudbugs.)
Now where was I? Oh yeah, Ghee. Conjures up for me images of dirty, dusty streets in India with slender, robed people in ramshackle street markets offering up plates of unrecognizable, unpronounceable (for me) foods with background music provided by chattering mobs of street children and the wailing of unseen devotees behind temple walls. (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel anyone?)
At first, I wasn't convinced about this new beau named Ghee. (No, not the gorgeous French guy on Dancing with the Stars. The butter, Ghee. Are you paying attention at all?) ANYWAYS....where was I? Oh, yeah. Ghee. Not sure about him (I mean it) yet. Will it be anywhere close to the original? Will it be a let down like Cinnamon Raisin Gluten Free Bread? At almost $6 for a 7.5 oz jar I wanted to make sure I wasn't making a committment that was not going to work out.
Then I had an epiphany. (No, that is not a new brand of dairy free ice cream.) I was on the phone with my sister living in South Carolina, having a conversation about what else, food.
"Ghee"...I said. "I'm just not sure."
"Isn't it clarified butta?" Said Sista.
(Oops. Sorry. Every time I get on the phone with my siblings I start taking on a southern/Cajun drawl.)
"Yeah, I guess it is," I replied.
"Well then, isn't that the same butter used to dip lobster in?"
"Why, yes, it is!" It's LOBSTA BUTTA!!!!!
HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!!HALLE........LUJAH!!!!!!
Now THAT is a Ghee I can love! Now THAT conjures up images I can relate to!
From the day I turned old enough to style my hair and paint my nails, as a young southern belle, I was wooed by young southern gentlemen in the traditional way - dinner and candlelight at a dark, romantic cafe or restaurant resplendent with white linen tablecloths, fine china and silverware, with the obligatory single rose stem in a cut crystal vase.
Dinner was usually steak or lobster or both, served with either a buttery wine reduction sauce or well, just butter. But not just any kind of butter. LOBSTA BUTTA. Somehow, in that dimly lit restaurant, it tasted even better than the butta at home I typically slathered all over a huge hunk of French bread just before diving into a steaming bowl of Chicken Gumbo.
IT'S LOBSTA BUTTA. Do you hear me? LOBSTA BUTTA. It's going to be okay, honey chile. Life is still worth living after all....
If you gotta have butter, then let me introduce you to my new beau. Just when I thought all was lost, and I would have to learn to live without love - I mean butter, I was introduced to ghee. Ghee? What is that? Isn't that some kind of odd food like tofu or falafel? (Bear with me here - I'm a Cajun from Lafayette, Louisiana. Certainly your definition of odd will be different than mine. I do after all, eat mudbugs.)
Now where was I? Oh yeah, Ghee. Conjures up for me images of dirty, dusty streets in India with slender, robed people in ramshackle street markets offering up plates of unrecognizable, unpronounceable (for me) foods with background music provided by chattering mobs of street children and the wailing of unseen devotees behind temple walls. (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel anyone?)
At first, I wasn't convinced about this new beau named Ghee. (No, not the gorgeous French guy on Dancing with the Stars. The butter, Ghee. Are you paying attention at all?) ANYWAYS....where was I? Oh, yeah. Ghee. Not sure about him (I mean it) yet. Will it be anywhere close to the original? Will it be a let down like Cinnamon Raisin Gluten Free Bread? At almost $6 for a 7.5 oz jar I wanted to make sure I wasn't making a committment that was not going to work out.
Then I had an epiphany. (No, that is not a new brand of dairy free ice cream.) I was on the phone with my sister living in South Carolina, having a conversation about what else, food.
"Ghee"...I said. "I'm just not sure."
"Isn't it clarified butta?" Said Sista.
(Oops. Sorry. Every time I get on the phone with my siblings I start taking on a southern/Cajun drawl.)
"Yeah, I guess it is," I replied.
"Well then, isn't that the same butter used to dip lobster in?"
"Why, yes, it is!" It's LOBSTA BUTTA!!!!!
HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!HALLELUJAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HALLELUJAH!!!!!HALLE........LUJAH!!!!!!
Now THAT is a Ghee I can love! Now THAT conjures up images I can relate to!
From the day I turned old enough to style my hair and paint my nails, as a young southern belle, I was wooed by young southern gentlemen in the traditional way - dinner and candlelight at a dark, romantic cafe or restaurant resplendent with white linen tablecloths, fine china and silverware, with the obligatory single rose stem in a cut crystal vase.
Dinner was usually steak or lobster or both, served with either a buttery wine reduction sauce or well, just butter. But not just any kind of butter. LOBSTA BUTTA. Somehow, in that dimly lit restaurant, it tasted even better than the butta at home I typically slathered all over a huge hunk of French bread just before diving into a steaming bowl of Chicken Gumbo.
IT'S LOBSTA BUTTA. Do you hear me? LOBSTA BUTTA. It's going to be okay, honey chile. Life is still worth living after all....
Thursday, May 2, 2013
It's a Brave New World
Went to the Co-op today. Gazed longingly at the Woolwich Goat's Milk Brie in the round wooden box, remembering my hedonistic past - simple, indulgent meals with said Brie playing the leading role, accompanied by a fresh loaf of French bread, and a split of my favorite champagne.
Unfortunately for me, those days are over - at least for awhile. A month? 6 months? A year? Don't know how long. Don't want to know how long it will be before I can dig my teeth into a chunk of triple creme heaven and feel the crunch of golden crust between my teeth while I pause a moment to let the flavors meld together before washing it down with a glass of Veuve Cliquot. Am I destined now to be in some kind of foodie rehab? Did I just join some kind of gustatory nunnery? What in the hell am I going to eat now? No cheese? No bread? NO BUTTER!!!!??
After all those years of looking down on people who ate forbidden foods after having a triple by-pass or judging the diabetic guiltily wolfing down a huge slice of Death by Chocolate cake, I finally understand. Seems simple to the outsider to say, well, what's the big deal? If you'll live a longer, better life by changing your diet, why wouldn't you? What is so hard about it? Would you RATHER another episode of having your chest cracked open? Why are you being such a wimp about it?
Now it seems, I am in their shoes. Now I get it. It IS a big deal to change your diet so dramatically. It is NO fun to go to a party and watch everyone else eating and drinking while you have to find a way to politely turn down all the offerings your host or hostess worked so hard to prepare. But the alternative is to be sick all the time. To have health problems that just keep getting worse and worse every year. To feel like you are in a prison because you have to be careful about everything that touches your lips or the air you breathe or the perfume on the friend you are hugging. So I went looking for answers.
After rounds of office visits to every allergist, naturopath, hydrocolon therapist, cardiologist, and every other ist you can think of, after pouring thousands of dollars into that supplement program or this miracle pill or that miracle treatment, and after 15 years of suffering from increasing health problems including multiple allergic reactions, I finally found someone who gave me some answers.
Only thing was, part of me didn't really want to hear those answers. My wellness doc looked at me and I knew what was coming. Heavy sigh. I can't remember exactly how she put it, but the gist was this: part of my health problems stemmed from food intolerances. (Not food allergies, food intolerances. Google it if you want to know more.) I'd need to give up all gluten and dairy to start with. Here's where I'd normally include an expletive or two, but I'll spare you.
Kill me now, I told my friend Becky later. Before that dark day, my definition of the 4 food groups was meat, butter, dairy and bread. Sure, I knew I should eat more veggies. I even knew I should juice dark leafy greens and eat lots of salads. But when push came to shove, more often than not, I gravitated towards fettucine alfredo, chicken swimming in vermouth sauce, or some butter/wine reduction of one kind or another, accompanied with lots of yummy bread and some decent wine to wash it down. And don't forget dessert! Coffee icecream or pot de creme were my two favorites.
So I have two choices. I can look at this journey into a gluten free/dairy free world as a prison sentence, or I can look at it as a new adventure in learning how to create meals that are delicious and healthy without depriving my hedonistic taste buds. I choose adventure. For those of you on the same journey, I welcome your company, your recipes, tips and yes, even your gripe sessions. Tell me all about how much you miss Coldstone Creamery coffee icecream with chocolate shavings. It's okay. I will listen for awhile, then I'll send you a new recipe I've found for Coconut Chocolate Ice cream. It's really good. I swear on my Brie lovin' soul.
Unfortunately for me, those days are over - at least for awhile. A month? 6 months? A year? Don't know how long. Don't want to know how long it will be before I can dig my teeth into a chunk of triple creme heaven and feel the crunch of golden crust between my teeth while I pause a moment to let the flavors meld together before washing it down with a glass of Veuve Cliquot. Am I destined now to be in some kind of foodie rehab? Did I just join some kind of gustatory nunnery? What in the hell am I going to eat now? No cheese? No bread? NO BUTTER!!!!??
After all those years of looking down on people who ate forbidden foods after having a triple by-pass or judging the diabetic guiltily wolfing down a huge slice of Death by Chocolate cake, I finally understand. Seems simple to the outsider to say, well, what's the big deal? If you'll live a longer, better life by changing your diet, why wouldn't you? What is so hard about it? Would you RATHER another episode of having your chest cracked open? Why are you being such a wimp about it?
Now it seems, I am in their shoes. Now I get it. It IS a big deal to change your diet so dramatically. It is NO fun to go to a party and watch everyone else eating and drinking while you have to find a way to politely turn down all the offerings your host or hostess worked so hard to prepare. But the alternative is to be sick all the time. To have health problems that just keep getting worse and worse every year. To feel like you are in a prison because you have to be careful about everything that touches your lips or the air you breathe or the perfume on the friend you are hugging. So I went looking for answers.
After rounds of office visits to every allergist, naturopath, hydrocolon therapist, cardiologist, and every other ist you can think of, after pouring thousands of dollars into that supplement program or this miracle pill or that miracle treatment, and after 15 years of suffering from increasing health problems including multiple allergic reactions, I finally found someone who gave me some answers.
Only thing was, part of me didn't really want to hear those answers. My wellness doc looked at me and I knew what was coming. Heavy sigh. I can't remember exactly how she put it, but the gist was this: part of my health problems stemmed from food intolerances. (Not food allergies, food intolerances. Google it if you want to know more.) I'd need to give up all gluten and dairy to start with. Here's where I'd normally include an expletive or two, but I'll spare you.
Kill me now, I told my friend Becky later. Before that dark day, my definition of the 4 food groups was meat, butter, dairy and bread. Sure, I knew I should eat more veggies. I even knew I should juice dark leafy greens and eat lots of salads. But when push came to shove, more often than not, I gravitated towards fettucine alfredo, chicken swimming in vermouth sauce, or some butter/wine reduction of one kind or another, accompanied with lots of yummy bread and some decent wine to wash it down. And don't forget dessert! Coffee icecream or pot de creme were my two favorites.
So I have two choices. I can look at this journey into a gluten free/dairy free world as a prison sentence, or I can look at it as a new adventure in learning how to create meals that are delicious and healthy without depriving my hedonistic taste buds. I choose adventure. For those of you on the same journey, I welcome your company, your recipes, tips and yes, even your gripe sessions. Tell me all about how much you miss Coldstone Creamery coffee icecream with chocolate shavings. It's okay. I will listen for awhile, then I'll send you a new recipe I've found for Coconut Chocolate Ice cream. It's really good. I swear on my Brie lovin' soul.
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