Vanilla-Bean Panna Cotta with Blueberry Compote

Vanilla has a reputation that is woefully undeserved. As an adjective, it connotes anything that's boring or bland, ubiquitous or common. And as an actual flavor, the vanilla naysayers have managed to get it all wrong. While it is true that vanilla has a long history serving as a selfless backdrop to a host of flamboyant and more colorful flavors, it is distinct in its own right, yet it gets little respect. It is much more than the pantry's universal donor. Considering where vanilla derives from and how it's readied for consumption, it is ironic in the extreme that such an exotic item has come to be viewed synonymously with "the everyday," for it is anything but.

I recently had the good fortune to be the recipient of a lovely little package of twelve vanilla beans--six Madagascar and six Tahitian--sent to me gratis (thank you very much) from an intriguing purveyor of imported and specialty products called Marx Foods. Because whole vanilla beans are relatively expensive for a typical home-baker like me, I don't use them as often as I'd like, so you can imagine my delight when I unsealed the manila envelope and discovered within it two narrow, securely sealed plastic packages, each carefully labeled and enclosing half a dozen beans.

Allow me to wax rhapsodic for just a moment, please?

They were beautifully fragrant, ebony hued, slightly moist, and undeniably shriveled. Each one resembled a well-worn, miniature shepherd's hook. I sniffed, then inhaled deeply. I entered a vanilla reverie. It was a lot like love.

But did you know . . . ?

Also in the envelope was a letter signed by one Justin Marx, and in it Mr. Marx noted some interesting facts. Did you know, for example, that,"In order to produce a pod (bean), each vanilla orchid flower must be pollinated within 12 hours of opening. Because only a few, rare species of animals pollinate these orchids naturally, all commercially produced vanilla must be hand pollinated. Once the flower has been successfully pollinated, it takes up to 6 weeks for the pods to grow, and another 9 months for them to mature before being hand picked." (And that's not all. After they're picked, the beans have to be cured for at least a month. I need a nap just thinking about it.)

My advice to you, fellow bakers . . . don't fear vanilla beans. And if you have some in your cupboard, let them out. Use them. They are a beautiful thing.

On to the recipes . . .

This panna cotta comes to us care of The Craft of Baking, by pastry chef Karen DeMasco (with Mindy Fox). Her recipe is called Cream Cheese Panna Cotta. I decided to use vanilla beans instead of vanilla extract, and thus I altered the name, but that's the only change I made. I also used her recipe for blueberry compote, and left that one intact except for halving it.

The only concern I had with this panna cotta was that it could have been just a bit firmer. If I were to use this recipe again, I think I'd increase the amount of powdered gelatin ever so slightly, perhaps from the recommended 3/4 tsp. up to 1 full tsp.

I suggest serving this with two or three, small, crispy, vanilla cookies, no larger than the traditional vanilla wafer you would buy in the grocery store (of course, you wouldn't serve those boxed wafers with this lovely panna cotta; you'd bake your own favorite little vanilla cookies).


Vanilla-Bean Panna Cotta with Blueberry Compote

(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

3/4 tsp. powdered gelatin (I'd considered upping this to 1 full tsp., as mentioned above)
3/4 cup whole milk
1/3 cup plus 2 Tbsp. heavy cream
3 Tbsp. granulated sugar
Seeds from 1/2 of one vanilla bean (I used a Madagascar bean), and the empty bean
1/4 tsp. kosher salt
3 oz. cream cheese, room temperature and cut into small chunks

In a medium bowl, whisk together the gelatin and 2 Tbsp. cold water.

In a saucepan, bring the milk, cream, sugar, vanilla seeds, and empty bean to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat, and remove the empty bean. Whisk about one third of the hot milk mixture into the gelatin mixture. Then pour the gelatin mixture back into the remaining milk mixture, and whisk to combine.

One chunk at a time, whisk the cream cheese into the milk mixture, adding a new piece as each one dissolves. Strain the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl, and then divide it among four ramekins or cups. (Note from Jane: I used six small metal tartlet pans. Each one was filled with 2 oz. of the liquid.)

Refrigerate until set, at least 3 hours. (Me again: Mine was not even close to being fully set at 3 hours. I'd recommend refrigerating it a lot longer than that, especially if you've just used the "3/4 tsp. of powdered gelatin.")

Once set the panna cotta can be kept loosely covered in the fridge for up to 2 days. Serve topped with a fruit compote/sauce, or with fresh fruit. To unmold the panna cotta onto a plate, dip the bottoms of the cups/pans in hot water very briefly.

Blueberry Compote

2 cups fresh blueberries, any stems removed
1/4 cup, and 1 and 1/2 tsp. granulated sugar
1 and 1/2 tsp. fresh squeezed lemon juice

Put half of the berries in a medium heat-proof bowl and set aside.

Combine the remaining berries, the sugar, and the lemon juice in a medium saucepan. Bring to a simmer over medium-high heat and cook, stirring frequently, until the berries release their juice, 5 minutes or so.

Increase the heat to high, bring the mixture to a boil, and cook, whisking frequently, until the compote has thickened a bit, about 2 minutes or more. Pour it over the uncooked berries, and using a rubber spatula, gently fold together. Serve chilled, with the panna cotta.

This compote will keep in the fridge for up to 3 days.


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Bakin' After Midnight . . . Cinnamon Biscotti with White Chocolate Chips . . .

Last night I found myself in a rare situation. No one around here at home but me--all night long. It's nice to have such a night now and again. You can do just about whatever you want, within reason of course, without cramping anyone's style. You can watch movies that hold no appeal whatsoever for your family members. Sometime past midnight I started watching "Elegy," with Ben Kingsley and Penelope Cruz, a sensuous love story (yeah, no kids in the room when this baby's on and don't forget to take the DVD out of the player when the film's over) that moves at the luscious pace of lukewarm caramel, and rewards the viewer with a slightly ambiguous ending. I liked it a lot, but then I enjoy caramel at any temperature.

Also, if you want to, you can eat nothing but microwave popcorn for dinner and wash it down with a self-destructive amount of diet pop (did that too . . . I'm no saint in the diet pop department lately. . . I really need to kick the habit). You can always surf baking blogs until you're blue in the face and start to get a headache. Did that. You can bang things around in the kitchen while you bake into the wee hours of the night. Did that too . . . no surprise there.

What was the fruit of my midnight labor? Cinnamon biscotti. Specifically, cinnamon biscotti with white chocolate chips, though you might not be able to tell from the photos. The chips sort of turned the color of butterscotch when the biscotti were on their final stint in the oven. The white chocolate chips still taste good . . . I guess one might say they just changed their complexion.

I like biscotti because it's one of few foods that hold up fairly well when dipped in a cup of coffee. Coffee and biscotti were made for each other. In terms of toothsomeness (that is a real word, you know) and texture, it's kind of the human equivalent of a milk-bone dog biscuit. Have you ever seen a puppy gnawing happily on one of those? They turn their head this way and that. They concentrate and give it all they've got. It's a real project for the pooch. That's how I feel about biscotti. Just give me a piece of biscotti now and then, along with a hot cup of coffee, and I'll follow you anywhere.

I got this recipe from an obscure website a while ago and jotted it down without copying the name of the site (dumb of me! . . . the words "always cite your source" might as well be tattooed on my arm from all the years I spent working for a publisher). Anyway, I think it's a decent recipe that would be easy to alter and customize in the future. The only changes I made to it last night were to use the seeds of half a vanilla bean instead of any vanilla extract, and to add in about half a cup of Ghirardelli white chocolate chips. Also, if I'd baked the biscotti as long as the original recipe indicated, it would have been burned to a crisp. Mine came out medium-well as it was so, accordingly, I've adjusted the baking times downward in the version below.


Cinnamon Biscotti

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

2 cups of All Purpose flour, bleached
2 tsp. of ground cinnamon (I used Penzey's Vietnamese Cassia--yeah, I know, I always say that)
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 cup granulated sugar
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, softened
2 large eggs
1 large egg yolk
Seeds of half of one vanilla bean
1 egg white, lightly beaten
1/2 cup white chocolate chips, if you like (or could use chopped nuts instead if you prefer)

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Line two cookie sheets with parchment paper.

In a medium bowl, combine flour, cinnamon, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In bowl of mixer, with paddle attachment, beat the sugar and butter until light colored and thoroughly combined.

Add the 2 eggs, and the 1 egg yolk; beat well.

Add in the vanilla seeds. Mix well, until you see the vanilla dispersed throughout the dough.

Gradually, with the mixer on medium low, spoon in the dry ingredients. Mix until well combined. Add in the white chocolate chips, if you're using them.

The dough will be very thick and sticky. Divide it in half, placing one half onto the middle of each cookie sheet. Place a small bowl of cold water nearby; you'll need to keep your hands wet in order to handle the dough. Shape each portion of dough into a shallow loaf shape, approximately t 9" by 3". The dough will expand considerably in the oven. Using a pastry brush, brush the beaten egg white onto each loaf; this will ensure a nice shiny top crust.

Bake for about 20 to 25 minutes, just until golden and firm to the touch. Leave the oven on, still at 325. Cool the loaves on their baking sheets for 10 minutes.

Using a very sharp, thin knife, slice the loaves widthwise, about 1/2" to 3/4" for each slice.

Place the slices on their sides (one cut side down) on the parchment covered baking sheets, and put them back into the oven. Bake until darker golden, about 10 minutes. When they're done, take them out and let them cool completely on their cookie sheets for at least an hour. Store them covered.

But before you store them, go get a cuppa joe, or a glass of milk, and start dipping!


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