Pizzeria Mozza's Butterscotch Budino

Despite my general paleness, dislike of Diet Coke, and progressive political leanings, one of the ways I know that I am indeed my mother's daughter is our shared love for super-thin crust pizza and dessert. Armed with this knowledge, the last time Mom was in town, I took her to Pizzeria Mozza where the two of us sat at the bar and indulged in a round of, in Mozza-speak, antipasti, pizza and dulci. It was great. Mom loved everything. And for one meal, we were a united food front—with only a moment of discord when the bartender recommended pairing their infamous dessert, the butterscotch budino, with the Moscato. My eyes lit up but Mom was already shaking her head no. (Mom doesn't like "the taste" of alcohol.) For the rest of the trip, all other fancy desserts paled in comparison. Sweet Lady Jane's Princess Cake? Urth Caffe's Chocolate Hazelnut? Mom concluded the same: "Not as good as that budino!"

When I arrived at the beach with the recipe printed out, my mom looked at me like I had just pulled the sword out of the stone. (In case you haven't heard already, the Internet is anathema to my mom and these kinds of everyday Google searches still somehow shock her. For the next fifteen minutes, I was fielding questions like: How did you find it? And: But who would leave this recipe floating around in the Internet?)

After Mom's and my canola oil/ olive oil disagreement, I knew I needed to keep my ingredient shopping on the down low, especially since Mom was fine with using vanilla extract instead of the bean and forgoing the dark rum altogether, but I didn't want to go Nancy Silverton/Mario Batali-lite on this. I wanted the budino exactly as remembered.

Remember when you were younger and would sneak around smoking cigarettes and/or doing other activities parents typically frown upon? What about shopping for vanilla bean and dark rum? With the veiled excuse of "really exploring" Charleston, Matt and I split up from the group to scour downtown Charleston for these already-vetoed ingredients. Half an hour later, we met up with our parents at the restaurant with the vanilla bean secured but alas, no dark rum. (South Carolina is one of those states where you can only purchase liquor at a liquor store—another reason to appreciate California? For sure.)

Pizzeria Mozza's version (our picture):

our version:

I didn't get the dark caramel color in either the pudding or the caramel sauce. For the pudding, I believe I can safely say this was because of our lack of rum and the substitution of brown sugar instead of dark brown sugar, but as for the sauce, I think I just didn't let it cook long enough.

I know what a huge hit my last animated gif was, so here is another one for you. I couldn't resist. You can kind of get the vibe of the whole vacay.

This one is pretty great, too.

"None of my parents are in this shot, right, Matt?"

Imperfect ingredients and all, the overall taste wasn't so far off from Mozza's. It's sweet and rich with just the right amount of salt, and the topping—whipped cream and creme fraiche—adds this tangy coolness that mellows out all that butter. Truly delicious.

A few tips:
1. Really let that caramel sauce bubble and cook until it's medium amber in color.
2. Allow yourself longer than 3 hours for the pudding to set up—after four hours, ours wasn't as custardy as I would have liked.
3. And lastly: enjoy with loved ones.

Butterscotch Budino with Caramel Sauce via NY Times:
Adapted from Dahlia Narvaez of Pizzeria Mozza
Time: 1 hour, plus 3 hours’ chilling

FOR THE BUDINO
3 cups heavy cream
1 1/2 cups milk
1 large egg
3 large egg yolks
5 tablespoons cornstarch
1 1/8 cups dark brown sugar
1 1/2teaspoons kosher salt
5 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 tablespoons dark rum

FOR THE SAUCE AND TOPPING
3/4 cup heavy cream
Scrapings from 1-inch piece of vanilla bean, or 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons butter
2tablespoons light corn syrup
1/2 cup sugar
1 1/4 teaspoons fleur de sel
3/4 cup crème fraîche.
1. For the budino, combine cream and milk in bowl or pitcher, set aside. Whisk egg, egg yolks and cornstarch in medium bowl, set aside.
2. Combine brown sugar, kosher salt and 1/2 cup water in pot. Place over medium-high heat and let sit until edges start to brown. Tilt pot as needed to even the browning until caramelized, nutty and deep brown, about 10 minutes.
3. Immediately whisk in cream mixture, mixture will steam and caramel will seize. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium. Whisk a cup at a time into egg mixture until half is incorporated. Remove from heat, and immediately whisk egg mixture back into pot until custard is very thick, about 2 minutes.
4. Whisk in butter and rum. Pass through a fine mesh strainer and divide among 10 6-ounce ramekins. Cover with plastic wrap, allow to cool, and refrigerate until chilled, about 3 hours or up to 3 days.
5. For sauce, combine 1/2 cup of cream and the vanilla in medium saucepan. Heat until simmering. Add butter and remove from heat; set aside.
6. In large heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine corn syrup, sugar and enough water (3 to 4 tablespoons) to make a wet, sandy mixture. Cook over medium-high heat, swirling pan for even cooking, until mixture is medium amber, about 10 minutes. Remove from heat and carefully whisk in cream mixture; set aside and let cool. (May be refrigerated and reheated before serving.)
7. Whisk remaining 1/4 cup cream in a large bowl until it begins to thicken. Add crème fraîche and whisk until thick and fluffy. To serve, spoon a tablespoon of warm caramel sauce over each budino. Sprinkle with 1/8 teaspoon fleur de sel, and add a dollop of cream topping.
Yield: 10 servings.

Guest/Restaurant Attempt: Osteria Mozza's Orecchiette with Sausage & Swiss Chard

Dear Readers:

Have you had the extreme pleasure of dining at Mario Batali's Osteria Mozza? Were you fortunate enough to order the orecchiette with sausage and swiss chard?

OK, well, our friends Sara and Sean had and decided to take on the challenge of recreating it.

Being the rare (never done before) restaurant attempt, we had to get a little unorthodox when it came to the "their version" photo. We found this one via Food GPS and it's taken of the actual dish served at Mozza.

Osteria Mozza's version:

Sara and Sean's version:

I wish every attempt were like this attempt. Not just because Matt and I didn't have to do everything or because it was delicious, but because it was picture perfect, and by that I mean: Sara knows how to take a picture that is perfect.

This recipe is mainly about the homemade pasta. And the homemade pasta is mainly about hard work and semolina flour, the latter of which Sean was worried about procuring but ultimately did at Surfas in Culver City.

Once the dough was made, it was rolled into a long tube and sliced into thin ovals.

Then, Sean and Matt placed each of the little ovals in the palm of their hands, one by one, and pressed with their thumbs from their other hand, forming the "little ears."

The sauce was interesting because, despite the reddish hue in the Batali picture, no tomatoes were involved. Swiss chard, on the other hand, is involved. Big time.

Much like our last Batali attempt, the sauce in comparison to the pasta seemed relatively simple: you remove the casings of both hot and sweet sausages and cook the meat with the chicken stock, garlic, swiss chard and hot pepper flakes, adding the olive oil and parmesan cheese at the end.

OK, so truth be told, there's more to why this attempt holds a special place in my heart.

1. Sara made these little menus that deemed the meal my birthday "feast attempt."

2. They served us burrata and heirloom tomatoes as the salad course.

3. Sara made tiramisu and made me blow out a candle, which I haven't done since I was sixteen, possibly longer.

SIDEBAR. I'd like to quote an email just in from Sara: "Go ahead. Rip on the tiramisu. That sh*t was truly dismal. And I blame Batali." OK, so I won't go crazy on the tiramisu (which was also a Batali recipe), but I will say that I think Batali's brandy proportion was a bit off. Every few bites you'd run into what one might call an extreme brandy situation.

4. We topped off the night with a few intense rounds of Memory with this amazing modern / designy version of the game, which reminded me that I have the memory of Izzie Stevens on last season's finale of Grey's Anatomy. Speaking of which, I missed the premiere this season. Did she die or what?

RECIPE via Cook's Illustrated

Note: Osteria Mozza does not just give out their recipes. So, according to readers on chowhound, this is as close as it gets to Mozza's version.
Another Note: We substituted swiss chard for broccoli rabe.
Triple NOTE: We tripled this recipe.

INGREDIENTS

Table salt
1/2 pound orecchiette (any from-scratch recipe should do if you are going for homemade)
4 ounces hot italian sausage , casings removed
3 medium garlic cloves , minced or pressed through a garlic press (1 tablespoon)
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 pound broccoli rabe , thick ends trimmed, remaining portion cut into 1 1/2 inch lengths
1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1 1/2 teaspoons extra virgin olive oil
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

INSTRUCTIONS
1. Bring 4 quarts water to a rolling boil in a large pot. Add 1 tablespoon salt and the pasta, stir to separate, and cook until al dente. Drain and return the pasta to the pot.
2. While the pasta is cooking, cook the sausage until browned in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, breaking it into 1/2-inch pieces with a wooden spoon, about 3 minutes. Stir in the garlic, red pepper flakes, and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring constantly, until the garlic is fragrant and slightly toasted, about 1½ minutes. Add the broccoli rabe and chicken broth, cover, and cook until the broccoli rabe turns bright green, 2 minutes. Uncover and cook, stirring frequently, until most of the broth has evaporated and the broccoli rabe is tender, 1 1/2 to 2 minutes.
3. Add the sausage-rabe mixture, oil, and cheese to the pot with the pasta and toss to combine. Serve immediately.

Gnocchi with Fresh Tomatoes, Green Olives and Smoked Mozzarella from Mario Batali's 327 Simple Italian Recipes to Cook at Home

I feel like the word simple in reference to recipes has gone the way of other misused words like peruse and the non-existent but commonly heard irregardless. The recipes in this book are many things, but simple they are not.

This one, in particular, was a doozy. Like the other recipes in Batali's book, it didn't post an "active time" and/or "total time," but I'm going to start posting these on the blog, because one should know what one is getting him or herself into when they roll up their sleeves and begin to tackle a recipe. And you can rest assured I'll tell you the true active time, including clean up and dishwashing, not the jenky, low-ball time all the magazines tell you. ("Easy Peazy Mushroom Risotto in 12 Minutes!" Yeah. Right.)

Batali's version: (recipe at bottom of post)

Stated active time: ? but, simple

our version:

active time: 2.5 hours
total time: 3 & change hours

OK. So, three plus hours reduced to one sentence: this was a massive gnocchi fail turned into a success by persistence and will power. Also, it should be noted that the we here is pretty much Matt and his mom as I was out for the count with a stomach virus.

And so we began with boiling 3 pounds(!) of potatoes.

Mario wanted us to put the potatoes through a vegetable mill, but we didn't have one, so we bon appetempted it and subbed the mill for the food processor.* Then, we covered it with flour and the one egg it called for, only, after kneading for about 5 minutes, it wasn't turning into a dough-like substance.

We added more flour and an extra egg, but still couldn't get the consistency into anything that would roll out into ropes. At this point, Matt and his mom were going back and forth saying: "We've got a failure on our hands!" & "Batali doesn't know what he's talking about. Three pounds of potatoes? To make four servings?! Since when is 3/4 lb a serving of pasta?" & "This recipe is wrong. Dead WRONG."

*later research would reveal that pureeing the potatoes in a food processor was a gigantic mistake. Shoulda used a grater or sprung for the vegetable mill, but we did NOT want the potatoes silky smooth; we needed them to be rougher and chunkier. Our bad.

With the dough runny and sticky we were frustrated, but also convinced that we were still working with the right ingredients and that there was an off, off chance this thing might still sort of work out.

So, we began tossing the weird potato goo in the boiling water spoonful by spoonful.

For real, what is simple about this?? We lost another sponge to the clean-up.

What came out didn't look like gnocchi, but we cut it up in pieces to make it look like the real thing.

Here's the real thing now.

Sort of looks like chunky, weird dumplings/noodles.

With the hard part finally complete. We were able to move forward with the sauce.

The recipe didn't call for basil, but we were leaving for vacation and had so much from our baby potted herb garden, and since this is the first edible thing I've ever grown, I wanted to share it here. Hope that's OK with you, mario batali. Wouldn't want to jenk-up your recipe by adding some fresh basil, MARIO. MARIOOOOOO! WHY WOULD YOU CALL THIS SIMPLE??
All right, so truth be told, the sauce was pretty easy.

Oh and the now traditional shot of one of our parents enjoying the fruits of our labor. Open wide! Speaking of Matt's parents: thank you for making this post pasta-ble!!

Also, since this came from a book not so easily linkable. Here it is below. And if you do try it, remember, no food processor for the potatoes. Just a grater or a ricer or a vegetable mill. OK? OK.

RECIPE:

1 pound plum tomatoes
6 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/2 cup green olives, such as Picholine, pitted
1 basic gnocchi (see recipe below)
4 ounces smoked fresh mozzarella, cut into 1/4-inch cubes
2 tablespoons fresh marjoram leaves
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot, and add 2 tablespoons salt.
Meanwhile, core the tomatoes and chop them into 1/4-inch cubes, reserving all the juices.
In a 10- to 12-inch sauté pan, heat the olive oil over medium-high heat until smoking. Add the garlic and cook until light golden brown, about 30 seconds. Add the tomatoes and their juices and cook until softened, about 2 minutes. Add the olives and remove from the heat.
Drop the gnocchi into the boiling water and cook until they float to the surface, about 3 minutes. Drain.
Carefully add the gnocchi to the pan with the tomato mixture. Return to the heat and toss gently until bubbling. Add the mozzarella and marjoram and season with salt and pepper. Transfer to a warmed serving dish. Serve immediately.
Basic Gnocchi
3 pounds russet potatoes
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup canola oil
1 extra-large egg
Put the potatoes in a large pot, add water to cover, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and cook at a low boil until potatoes are tender, about 45 minutes; drain.
While they are still warm, peel the potatoes, then pass them through a vegetable mill onto a clean work surface.
Bring 6 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot, and add 1 tablespoon salt. Set up an ice bath nearby. Make a well in the center of the potatoes, and sprinkle them all over with the flour. Break the egg into the center of the well, add the salt, and, using a fork, blend the egg and salt together. Using the fork, begin to incorporate the flour and potatoes as if you were making pasta. Once the dough begins to come together, begin kneading it gently until it forms a ball. Knead gently for another 4 minutes, or until the dough is dry to the touch.
Divide the dough into 6 balls. Roll one ball into a rope 3/4 inch in diameter, and cut it into 1-inch pieces. Roll each piece down the back of a fork to create the characteristic ridges. Drop the gnocchi into the boiling water and cook until they float to the surface, about 1 minute. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the gnocchi to the ice bath. Repeat with the remaining dough, replenishing the ice as necessary.
When all the gnocchi have been cooked and cooled in the ice bath, drain them and transfer to a bowl. Toss with the oil. The gnocchi can be stored, covered, in the refrigerator for up to 48 hours.
From Molto Italiano by Mario Batali