 |
|
By Lynn Coddington
|
|
This is a project as much as a recipe. Impatient folks should just hop along to the next page. Don't forget to mutter something derogatory about crazy foodies with way too much time on their hands.
Sarah's and my maternal grandmother descended from a Cornish miner who emigrated from Crowan Parish near Camborne, Cornwall to Wisconsin in 1846. Richard Harvey, our great-great grandfather, later settled in Central City, Colorado. His son, also named Richard Harvey, married the daughter of a Cumberland (Northern England) lead miner who apparently cooked a fair bit of regional Cornish fare. Somewhat to our youthful dismay, British foodways persisted through the generations. We were regularly fed the infamous Cornish pasty, for example, but it wasn't until a visit to Cornwall a couple of years ago that we discovered another Cornish specialty, clotted cream.
We ate so much of it my mother swears it induced the appendectomy she underwent a week later at London's Chelsea & Westminster Hospital. I'm not buying that for a minute. Why does no one make this in the US? Sure, it's full of fat and cholesterol, but since when has that stopped us eating way too many things from the top of the food pyramid? Besides, Atkins followers can gobble down as much clotted cream as they want, theoretically, although I'm not sure it would be as appealing without fruit or baked goods. Still, it's heady stuff. Thick and silky with a golden crust, sinfully rich and unctuous, it's one of life's decadent little pleasures. Since cacao has already snagged the botanical name, theobroma food of the gods, Sarah designates clotted cream Food of the Gods, Dairy Products Division. It's a natural with Frog Hollow Farm fruit.
As to making clotted cream, in the nineteenth century, Cornish mining and farm families typically kept a shallow pan of fresh milk on a warm spot on the wood or coal burning stove that would have had a banked fire going most of the time. The cream, after sitting in a cool place for a period first, and having now risen to the top, would thicken and form a wrinkly golden crust. Time for tea? Just dip a spoonful straight from the pan onto a bun or bit of bread pudding. Below, the raw milk would end up cooked enough to kill any stray bacteria. Modern day Cornish folk often have those lovely Agas and Raeburns that stay warm all day, but as California's inland valleys are a little hot for an Aga. we've had to improvise a bit, resulting in two methods for making clotted cream.
In the first version, we used whole raw cow's milk, which can be found at Whole Foods Markets or independent health food stores and markets in the Bay Area. We've tried two kinds, Organic Pastures, which is CCOF certified, and Claravale Farm, which is not, though they are extremely careful with feed and the care of their small herd. In their favor, Claravale Farm produces 100% Jersey milk, the milk of choice for many Cornish clotted cream producers. Both brands made delicious clotted cream, but the Claravale tasted startlingly like the real deal. Traveling gourmets know how rare it is to exactly duplicate foods indigenous to particular regions. The soil, the water, the air - no two places are exactly alike, and you can taste those subtle differences. I didn't get the clotted cream exactly right because the texture wasn't as evenly silky as Cornish producers'. Neither could I keep the crust uniformly on the top like the pros, but the taste was dead on.
In the second version, I used a combination of the raw cream skimmed off Organic Pastures raw whole milk and Clover Organic Heavy Whipping Cream, and dispensed with the raw milk (I tried making cottage cheese with it later - emphasis on tried;it looked like cottage cheese, but tasted iffy). The goal was to get a little more than the 5 ounces produced by two quarts of milk. This version tastes almost as good as the solo Jersey milk.
However you make your clotted cream, drop a spoonful onto a juicy peach or nectarine half, or make a Frog Hollow Farm Cream Tea: scones or splits (lightly sweet yeast buns sliced vertically), clotted cream, our apricot conserve, and a pot of your favorite tea.
METHOD 1
Ingredients:
2 quarts raw, whole organic milk
Instructions:
Pour the milk from the bottles into a clean glass or stainless steel bowl that will fit easily over water in a large saucepan. Refrigerate the milk overnight or for twelve hours, undisturbed, so the cream will rise to the top.
Put enough water in the large saucepan so that when the milk bowl is placed on top on it, it just touches the water. Heat to a bare simmer, 175°F (use a thermometer) - don't let it boil. Too high heat can make the cream taste bitter. Place the bowl of milk and cream over the water and heat to about 175°F. If your stove doesn't hold a low, even temperature well, you may have to turn the heat from low to off at intervals that will hold the milk between 165°-180°F for a minimum of an hour and a half.
The cream will turn yellowy and develop a cracked, wrinkly crust, maybe with some bubbles in it. After an hour and a half, skim this off into a small dish and refrigerate immediately. You can let another crust form and repeat the process until you've removed most of the cream from the milk. This is clotted cream. There won't be a lot of it, but what there is will be treasured. Keep it cold and use within a week.
The skimmed milk that's left is safe to drink. Cool it quickly and store in the refrigerator as you would any other milk. It should have a nice, cooked taste.
METHOD 2
Ingredients:
Organic cream skimmed from 2 quarts of organic raw, whole milk
1 pint of organic heavy whipping cream (NOT ultra pasteurized)
Instructions:
Put all the cream in a shallow glass or stainless steel pan. I use a ten-inch Pyrex pie pan with little handles that sit on the rim of my twelve-inch frying pan.
Put enough water in the bottom of a large frying pan so that the bottom of the cream pan will just touch it when set inside. Heat to 175°F, or a bare simmer. Do not boil the water - see above.
Place the cream pan over the water and heat the cream to between 160°-175°F. Hold it in this range for at least an hour and a half. You can cook it longer, which will reduce the cream more, and give a stiffer clotted cream, more similar to that made in Devonshire. Use a thermometer and don't let it get too hot. It will form a thick, crackly, golden crust. Skim into a bowl, and repeat the whole process a second, possibly a third time. The last time, let the cream cool slowly with the crust intact. When cool, skim the thickened cream off into a bowl and refrigerate. Use within a week.
There will still be cream in the pan. Chill and use in cooking, baking, ice cream, or in coffee.
Note: You can just use the heavy whipping cream without adding any raw cream. It doesn't taste quite as good, but it's easier.
A few notes on texture:
Commercial clotted cream made in Cornwall comes in tidy tubs, each with its own golden crust on top of the silky smooth cream. It's cooked in those individual tubs, and it's hard to get the same effect at home. It's easier to replicate the thicker, almost butter-like consistency of Devon-style clotted cream.
Both styles are scrumptious, but if you want that smoother Cornish cream, keep the nicest looking bits of the crust in a separate dish and spoon a little of the unthickened cream into the rest. Refrigerate until cold. The non-crusty bowl will be very thick with some runny cream underneath and at the sides. Beat the two together until smooth. Add more of the runny cream as necessary to achieve a thick hollandaise-like consistency. Smooth off the top, position the pretty golden crusty parts on the top, and pop back into the fridge until cold. Serve cold or at room temperature.
If you let the cream get too hot, the clotted cream may become grainy, as well as bitter. Lots of recipes I found recommend cooking the cream at around 180°F, but I didn't get as good results at that temperature.
Things to eat with clotted cream:
Serve over fresh, sliced Frog Hollow Farm fruit.
Spoon a bit over fruit crisps, pies, cobblers, or shortcakes.
Split a soft yeast bun vertically down the middle without cutting through the bottom.
Slather in clotted cream and jam. This is part of a traditional Cornish cream tea.
Strawberry jam is usual, but we're partial to peach or apricot conserve.
Spread on quick breads or toast instead of butter.
Top waffles or pancakes with fresh peaches and a spoonful of clotted cream.
Top warm slices of Frog Hollow Farm fruit galettes with a small dollop of clotted cream.
Try on a baked potato instead of sour cream.
Add a dab to one of Becky's Grilled Peaches with Pancetta.
|
|
|
|
|
