Trendy

America has always been one for trends. Invariably there are trends in fashion, entertainment, VIPs, cars, and most irresistibly to me: in food. And true to trends' nature, they come and go.

I used to really like roasted garlic on crunchy toast but haven't seen it in ages. Tiramisu, that fabulous rich coffee dessert that was on so many menus, now I can only find it in traditional Italian restaurants. A California Cooler, that sweet headachy beverage, I guess it's a good thing that it has fallen out of favor. Or everything drizzled with truffle oil, kinda out of style. But lately, there is all things heirloom, and mac and cheese can be found in many fancy variations and in most restaurants. Hardly anyone eats regular yogurt anymore only Greek, and Kale was recently labeled vegetable of the year.

There's always something new to try out, something new to learn how to make, some all the rage ingredient. When I worked for this fabulous catering company  I was in my element when more often than not I poured over tons of cookbooks and magazines coming up with new and exciting stuff to put on our menus.

One of the chic desserts our clients started to see in our repertoire back then was Panna Cotta, a delicious Italian custard. A fitting event dessert, it can as easily be made for 6 or 200 and it's a breeze to put together. When our kitchen first tested different recipes, the owner snuck many times into the walk-in fridge to make sure the Panna Cotta would set properly, jiggling all the little custard cups. It always did.

Panna Cotta is an elegant and a very, very pretty creamy treat. Snowy white with jet-black vanilla freckles, it's cool to the tongue with a delicate lightness that gets even better when served with a handful of ripe berries or a drizzle of sweet berry coulis.

So when I feel like eating Panna Cotta, I don't care if I am up-to-date, it's a keeper.

Panna Cotta

makes 4 (or 6 small) servings

Adapted from David Lebovitz who wrote the great The Sweet Life in Paris

2 cups (1 pint) half-and-half

1/4 cup sugar

1 teaspoons of vanilla extract, or ½ to 1 vanilla bean, split lengthwise

1 packet powdered gelatin

3 tablespoons cold water

Heat the half-and-half and sugar in a saucepan or microwave. Once the sugar has dissolved, remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract. If using a vanilla bean, scrape the seeds from the bean into the mixture and add the bean pod and let infuse for 20 - 30 minutes. Remove the bean then re-warm the mixture before continuing. 

Sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water in a small bowl and let stand 5 to 10 minutes. Pour the very warm Panna Cotta mixture over the gelatin and stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved. Divide the Panna Cotta mixture into 4 (or 6) custard cups which have lightly been brushed with a neutral-tasting oil. Chill in refrigerator until firm, which will take at least four hours or overnight. 

Run a sharp knife around the edge of each Panna Cotta and un-mold onto a serving plate. You can also use cute little dessert bowls and serve the Panna Cotta without un-molding. Garnish with ripe fruit ; it's especially tasty with strawberries, nectarines, mangoes or peaches.

Say Smelly Cheese

Of all the things to be known for, the little Bavarian town I grew up in went for cheese. It's packaged as a small square cube, about 2 oz. and wrapped in foil with the Bavarian colors of blue-white. “Miesbacher Delikatess-Käse” is fairly well known in our region and even available at the illustrious Oktoberfest. Supposedly great with beer, there is really only one word to describe it, it stinks.

When my father and grandmother (my mother was curiously absent) opened that little package and ate with gusto, I was disgusted. All I could smell was something resembling funky perspiring feet, and I had to be excused, not just from the table, but the whole room. I was scarred for a long time and wouldn't touch cheese until I was well into my twenties. And then I was only going for mild and bland, definitely not stinky. I embraced American cheese.

Nowadays, I like all types of cheese: interesting blues, flavorful hards and runny soft ones. So when I went back home to Miesbach last time, I thought I'd be brave and give the little stinker another chance. I expectantly unwrapped that little cube and... I couldn't do it.

It's a good thing Bavaria has more to offer in the cheese department than just “Miesbacher”. One of my personal favorites, and no respectable beer garden in Bavaria will be without, is the creamy melange “Obatzda”.

Velvety ripe Camembert is smashed up with a fork and combined with whipped butter, finely chopped red onion and sweet peppy Paprika. It looks a bit rustic and lumpy with a pretty blush, and is brought to the table with a copious sprinkle of zesty chives. I like to spread it thickly on a crusty pretzel or rich dark bread and have a handful of crunchy radishes alongside a frosty light beer. The best thing about it, it smells wonderful.

Bavarian Cheese Melange (Obatzda)
A snack for 4

6 oz. Brie or Camembert
2 1/2 tb unsalted butter, softened
1/2 tsp sweet paprika (or more to achieve a nice rosy color)
1/4 tsp ground or finely chopped caraway seeds + 1/4 tsp whole caraway seeds
1 tb very finely chopped red onion
1 tb light beer
salt to taste
1-2 tb finely chopped chives

Remove rind from cheese and let sit at room temperature until soft. Using a fork, mix in butter until well combined. Fold in paprika, ground or chopped caraway seeds, onions and beer until evenly tinted and creamy. Season with salt and sprinkle with chives and whole caraway seeds.

Serve with radishes and pretzel sticks or crusty baguette.