Scottish Recipes - Whisky Fudge

This is a recipe which some may refer to as Whisky Tablet (similar to fudge but more brittle).
Ingredients:
1 Kilo white sugar
300 grammes butter
1 tin Nestles sweet condensed milk
1 tea cup of whisky
2 pints of freshly made, hot, milkless tea
Method
Melt butter in a large saucepan, then add the tea. Add all sugar stir continuously until all the sugar has melted. Stir in the milk and whisky and stir continuously until the correct consistency is reached (about 10 to 15 min.)
To get the correct consistency have a cup of cold water handy and add a teaspoon of the mixture to it from time to time until it sets firm in the water.
Pour the fudge into a large buttered tray and when partly set cut into bite sized squares.

http://www.scotlandforvisitors.com/wfudge.php

Bourbon Fudge Recipe
2 c Semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cn 14oz sweetened condensed milk
1/4 c Maker’s Mark
1/2 ts Orange extract
1 pk 3/4oz slivered almonds
Combine chocolate chips and milk in large bowl and cover loosely. Cook in microwave for 3 minutes on High. Remove from microwave and stir until smooth. Add bourbon and orange extract; mix well. Grease an 8 inch square pan and sprinkle bottom of pan with almonds. Pour mixture in pan; let stand until firm or chill in refrigerator.
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Creamy brown sugar fudge
• 2 ounces fine-quality white chocolate such as Lindt
• 2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter
• 1 1/2 cups packed light brown sugar
• 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
• 3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons heavy cream
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 2 teaspoons vanilla

Source - Good advice, too complicated for my purposes here – I was working after midnight, after all with one eye open and no desire to deal with thermometers and think very hard..

Taste Technique

We start with some basics:
A love affair with wine begins with open eyes and an empty glass. Pick something and pour and drink a little. Linger, savor, then swallow. Now sit up and pay attention.
Wine appreciation uses four of our five senses, sight, smell, touch and taste to perceive wine’s five basic structural components: sweetness, acidity, body, tannin and fruit.

• Taste is sensed in your mouth by tiny papillae; each is configured to sense a particular element.
• Primeval sweet perception is immediate; you discover that, by the way, the first moment you put candy in your mouth. Sweet is good,; sweet is yummy, but only that…
• Acidity is also only ever sensed in the mouth. Your lips pucker and you salivate after tasting something tart.
• Body is a tactile sensation also detected by nerve endings in your mouth. The best way to understand body or texture is to compare wine to milk. Does it feel thin like skim or does it coat your mouth like cream, or maybe it falls somewhere in between?
• Tannin is a strictly tactile element as well. For now, we will associate tannins with red wine, the colors from which are acquired by the pressed juice’s extended contact with skins, stems and pips while macerating. Some grapes are inherently deeply colored, others need time to properly bleed. The horrifying, drying out sensation you feel after sipping over steeped tea; well those are tannins.
A final element, which is also the least understood by a novice, is fruit. A term that does not equal sweet or tart; it only refers to the aromas and flavors of a wine and is perceived not by your mouth, but by your olfactory bulb which resides in the primitive part of your brain. Alcohol evaporates at a relatively low temperature, carrying wine’s many flavor components up into your retronasal passage where they are sensed, identified and then labeled.
You experience a wine more by its aroma than its taste. Some wines I want to smell forever, but disappoint once drunk. A fruity wine is one with strong fruit intensity, like a jolly rancher, or a warm, squashy peach on a hot summer day. Lighter fruit intensity might be akin to an under ripe pear from a supermarket shelf or out season strawberries shipped to your local grocer from somewhere far away. Aromas or flavors which are not necessarily fruitlike count as well. For example, newly turned earth, wet dog, rotten mushroom, damp undersides of river stones are all fruit descriptors. Seriously, you can reference the “Aroma Wheel” in the Oxford Wine Companion if you have any doubts.

How to taste:
Step 1 – Look at the wine in your glass.
Do this preferably against a white background, like a tablecloth or a bed sheet. What color is it? Is it pale or deep, flat or reflective? Give it a swirl and coat the glass – are there barely visible droplets running down the sides of the bowl? Old French men of yesteryear, perhaps lonely for company, used to wax poetic about the mystery of a wine’s legs. Now we understand they are caused by the tension between the glass surface and a wine’s viscosity – its level of alcohol or sugar. A sweet or boozy wine will drip many fast moving legs; while a thin, light wine will demonstrates a few, if any at all. If you feel weepy, melancholy or at all sentimental, by all means…call them tears.

Step 2 – Place your nose inside the glass…all the way in and inhale.
What do you smell? Assuming the wine has no faults, corky mustiness, like a moldy cellar, you should perceive your wine’s dominant aromas. Are they citusy, appley, tropical? Or do you get berries, plums or licorice? Maybe there are peppercorns, flowers or coffee? Whilst many a pretentious taster takes pride in sniffing out the odd or exotic - to the dismay of anyone standing nearby; the fact is many seemingly unrelated aromatic components actually exist in your glass. That these aromas are both objective and subjective, makes tasting with others fun. What I call raspberry, you may call strawberry, but we agree the fruit component is absolutely red.
Give the glass another swirl. The increased surface area magnifies all the aromas. How intense are they? Does the wine need a bit of coaxing to open up? Is it shy or bold? Perhaps there is a hint of something you didn’t catch before?

Step 3 – Lift the glass to your lips and take a greedy swig.
Swish it around, allow it to coat every corner of your mouth and keep it there. Ask yourself basic questions about taste. Is it sweet? If there is no perceptible sweetness, the wine is dry. Is it tart? A wine’s crisp acidity is softened when you eat something salty. How’s the texture – thick, thin?
Spit or Swallow. Does your mouth pucker and dry out? Tannins can feel rough like gnawing pencil shavings, plush like chewing velvet or softly soothing like licking microsuede. Altogether, it is the same sensation you experience when drinking over-steeped tea. Does it come at you harsh? Or actually pleasant?
Slurp another mouthful. Be adventurous - roll the liquid around your mouth and suck in some air. Can you sense the same aromas you smelled before? Have they changed, evolved, opened up? Look for oakiness – vanilla, toasted nuts in white wine or licorice, black peppercorns, coffee and baking spices in red.

Step 4 – Final impressions. Stop and think. Do the flavors linger or just fade away? Do you bask in its glow, like the morning after a steamy encounter that your imagination returns to again and again? Or is it a one-note wonder? An easily forgettable quickie?
Is it satisfying? Is it typical? After you’ve tasted the world’s wines, you will know, for example, whether the Sauvignon Blanc in your glass belongs to the Loire, California or New Zealand. Each has a typical style.
Is it balanced? This is the million dollar question. Do all the elements integrate well with the wine’s structure? Most commercial wines will be balanced, but in the most basic, monotone sense. But there is so much more out there. The reason those old lonely Frenchmen of yesteryear, pining and languishing, identified wine so closely with women is because both can be luscious, unpredictable, elegant, wild. It’s the je ne sais quoi factor which separates the great from the mediocre. The depth of a wine’s flavors, along with its structural elements, its capacity to age vs. its current drinkability, all combine and create the difference between a wine that is merely good and one that is great.

Everyone possesses the anatomy needed to taste; though, some are lucky to have extraordinary physical attributes. But like other personal and social skills, practice makes perfect. Sample and smell everything, from the rocks, stones and grass, to the fresh or rotten fruit sitting in your fridge. The half empty bottle of week-old red sitting atop your counter, and coffee, candy, meat - unwashed body parts and dirty socks, celery and leeks from a nearby garden.
Wine is a living product with a personality. It changes and evolves, sometimes right in front of you. Sometimes it disappoints, be prepared for this. Mostly it delights and elevates your senses to unbelievable heights. Each bottle can be different and change from day to day.
To appreciate wine is to embark on a tumultuous relationship in which you are unsure where you’ll end up. As in life, however, you must embark. And in the same way, you’ll be better for the experience.

-

Paris Hermitage Take 1

Pre-arrival – 3 Feb 2009
Moving day from the cozy retreat at Chez Cousin, St Martigne-Briand. Was this productive? Not too sure…

I was off the grid. No computer, essentially no communication. That is the rule of the provinces. I am happy with that.

4 - 9 Feb 2009

Greetings from my temporary hermitage in Paris.

I am indulging my reclusive self this trip (much research, writing, thinking to do) and I am wasting away hours in an adorable apartment that I found on the Place de la Bastille. It’s just too cozy, too feminine… so easy to lie about; my outgoing self cannot put up much of a fight.
One must listen to one’s internal needs. I made it to Paris again, after all…
And today is for perching, quite contentedly, under a friendly, unusual for the time of year, Parisian sun, on a precarious terrace, laptop steadied. And today is for munching a perfect soft goat cheese omelette with a glass of sauvignon blanc from Quincy (drop of coy blush, hint of vin gris, ripe grapefruit and springtime grass on nose and palate, Beverly Sills soprano acidity). In fact it feels like Spring might be lurking nearby; the afternoon turns downright warm.

I arrived two nights ago.
The agent from the rental company was younger than I thought he would be. His correspondences were so official and cold. I was surprised, in a good way. After a long trip from the countryside, he was exactly the type of Parisan guy I wanted to see. Amiable, engaging, patient. He got me settled; I unpacked a bit, took a look around, freshened up and went out to hunt for food.

An acquaintance recommended a casual restaurant with good wines, so that’s where I went. He claimed it was close to Place Bastille. After walking, and passing three restaurants I might have been perfectly happy with - one with a pig on the door…what’s more welcoming than that? – I enter, felt put off because I stood for two minutes before I was gestured to sit anywhere. The sparse, wood grey room, with creaky floors, is empty, save for the two Asian girls flirting with some greying, long haired guy at the bar and a table of four businessmen, halfway through what will end up being five bottles of wine. I could have been in an American steakhouse watching the American-esque group. One, with a generous man belly, sat back with his power pink Trump-esque tie thrown over his shoulder. They were speaking French, however and I remembered I am in Paris.

I ordered a glass of VdP Loire Courtois, (can’t seem to leave Eden) a salmon risotto and the planche de Charcuterie with a bottle of Jean Paul Brun Morgon. I love Morgon – a favorite Cru from Beaujolais, am internally shocked because this is the first time I ever order a bottle of anything as a single diner. The waiter / server / host guy shook his head and suggested the Moulin au Vents instead. Well, yes, I agreed, that one is better… but I like Morgon. He wouldn’t hear of it, especially as it was a couple euro more… Was he being kind or condescending? He also followed up each sentence with an English translation. I wasn’t sure to be grateful or irritated.
The food: Salmon risotto that needed more salmon, really creamy, slightly undercooked, also needed salt. White wine, took the edge off my crankiness, exactly what I needed. Charcuterie – mix of cured meats on a plank, came with butter : ) had to ask for mustard : (

Oh and the JP Brun Moulin à Vents…brilliant! He decanted; it was opulent ruby, delicate looking, smelling and tasting, with red cherry fruit, and stone scraping minerality.

I finished with the cheese course – Livarot, Chevre, and Cantal. Just fine.

I watched the server guy spoon compliments all over two girls seated at the bar. “Your French is perfect!” And they get extra rounds for free, rewards for good French, I suppose and they giggle and blush at their mediocre admirers. I am incensed, but looking around, it seems I have become a cranky American, scribbling away at her notebook in a corner, with a full bottle to drink and too much food. Oh well.

He returns and of course, remnants of charcuterie, the greater half of my bottle still sit, fork and knife placed at four o’clock. The server guy (Thomas, I discover) wants to know if I’m finished. “Yes…but I was wondering, could I, is it possible to…” “Wrap it up?” He asks, surprised. “Well, yes…(eyelashes bat, perhaps unnecessary) “I don’t think you do that here.. in Paris.” He sweeps up the plate and returns with a packet of silver foil. Perfect!
“And the bottle?” He asks. “Ummm, well…” “Would you like me to pour it back and pop a cork in?” I brighten up, “Yes! Please!”
He does so and I am happy. Here I will return.

Day 2:
I sleep away the morning and most of the afternoon. Then I get up – must buy food.
List:
Paper towels and TP – apartment has no back up.
Coca Light – Sorry, 1 bad habit Caffeine swathed in chemical sweetness
Cheese, Wine
Grapes and oranges
Bread, Honey, eggs and milk, maybe jam

Sounds easy…
I headed down the same rue as I did last night. There was a cheese shop close by, I thought. There was, but it was closed. (open from 10 – 2, then 4 – 8). Curse these oddball French hours! I head up to a wine shop I heard about, Paris Terroirs. I walked and walked some more. Maybe should have taken the Metro, but I wanted to see the neighborhoods. I walked some more (damp air) and consulted a map. Turns out I was way off path, (wretched circular streets) OK. So I head to the left and walk some more. Eventually, I find it, step inside a clean, organized, dry sawdusty smelling store and find my favorite type of young Frenchman behind the counter: amiable, engaging and patient.
After choosing, 6, yes 6 bottles – I had to ask him to pick at least one… I carry my spoils home, but not after asking where he knew of a good cheese shop.
One block behind and down on Rue Oberkampf, it seems. OK, off I go.

A trip to Paris is never complete without going to a cheese shop and making the lady (no matter what her age) behind the counter purse her lips in disapproval at the indelicate amount of cheese you buy. Her frown lines became more deeply etched as I poked around and made some selections. She gives me a total – no wait! I need eggs…and butter… oh you have honey! And look at the confitures! Finally done, the purse-lipped lady hands me a bag. I pay and realize that it’s an enormous effort to haul a half case of wine with a bag of cheese, honey and eggs back to the apartment.
Feeling like a worker ant carrying half its weight in hard-earned nourishment, (certainly this was a satisfying exercise, since a great reward laid waiting at the end of this long journey,) I marched up Richard Lenoir feeling rather triumphant.

And - after dropping my precious wine and cheese off, I headed to the Franceprix, around the corner for paper towels, Coca Light… and oh! Look at the chips! Is that a natural foods store à la français next door? It was and I decided I needed lavender soap and tea, along with Biodynamique milk. The bread, I grabbed an Artisan Boulangerie.

All so I can sit here, a well set up hermit with my runny goat cheese omelette, glass filled with Qunicy and watch Paris zip by.

Postscript:
Ending the evening with a stolen Coteaux de Layon from the Loire Renaissance des Appellations dinner from Dom. Des Hautes Gohardis, SGN 2003 (open a few days now, still richly honeyed, sweet apricot nectar, pine nut tart crust finish) and many small spoonfuls of Brillat Savarin covered in Marc soaked raisins. Must stop… can’t control hand holding spoon… the voice in my head finally reminds, “4 oz of this must be equivalent to 2 pints of Haagen-daz.” My hand puts the spoon down. This hermit will eventually go out and face the world. Best not to do that 10lbs heavier.

What I bought:
Touraine - Clos de la Roche Blanche – Côt 2007
Qunicy – Domaine de Villain – Sauvignon Blanc 2007
Côte du Rhone – Domaine des Escaravailles « Les Sablières » Rhone Blend 2007
Beaujolais, Fleurie – Pierre-marie Chermette, Domaine du Vissoux « Les Garants – Gamay 2007
Pays de l’Ardeche – Hervé Souhaut « La Souteronne » Gamay 2007
Saumur – Philippe et Françoise Gourdon, Château Tour Grise – Cabernet Franc 2003 (sales guy pick)

Cheese – I couldn’t ask the thin lipped lady to write all names down, I selected what seemed interesting and unfamiliar. Included were a mild, ash-coated chevre, a Cantale, a tome from sheep’s milk from Corsica, the aforementioned Brillat, a Chabis, Thyme herb honey, and one small jar each of Spiced Black Cherry and Quince Confiture.

(For excellent sublets Paristay.com!!! – They’ve made me a very, very happy hermit)

Where I went:
La Muse Vin
Restaurant et Cave à vin
Address : 101 rue de Charonne, 75011 Paris.
Metro : Charonne (lines 9).

Fromagerie & Produits Régionaux
Address: 120, rue Charonne, 75011 Paris.
Phone: 01.43.71.58.48
Metro : Charonne (line 9).

Le Jardin Fromager
Alain Nadim Propriétaire
Address: 53, rue Oberkampf, 75011 Paris.
Phone: 01.48.05.19.96
Metro: Parmentier (line 3), Oberkampf (lines 5, 9)

Paris Terroirs (Wine Shop)
Dominique Tissier – Propiètere
Address: 68, rue Jean Pierre Timbaud, 75011 Paris.
Phone : +33 (0)1 43 57 92 97
Metro: Parmentier (line 3), Oberkampf (lines 5, 9)

Day 3.

Persephone is a vicious tease. No sign of early spring; today it is cold. And snowing. (Though it won’t melt…see http://www.o-chateau.com/blog/snow/) Nevertheless, I have been charged with a mission from the buyer at the wine shop where I work in NY. Search out the Mets & Vins (wine and food pairing) board at Lavinia - large, fancy wine shop on Place de la Madeleine.

I did so, (after circling l’Eglise Madeleine and finding by accident La Maison de la Truffe – truffley aromas melted my squishy insides and thawed my dead frozen toes. I purchased a jar of truffle butter and truffled breadsticks. (They’re truffle-ectable! : )

Here is what I reported:

So I have completed my reconnaissance mission for you. Actually what greeted me at the door was a display of “Vins Bio” which I thought was interesting. A through out the store there were green rings labeled “Vins Bio” along with their “Sommelier Selections” and “Vins Moins de 10 EU.”
Anyway, I found the Mets et Vins display. It was sleek and modern, much like the store. There were placards along the top with dishes, like “Tourte de Saumon,” “Tournedos Rossini,” “Omelette au Truffes,” “Escalopes St. Jacques,” and so on. Beneath, the wines were displayed as they are throughout the store, stuck in those little holes, The labels beside them said things like “Etonnant,” “Parfait,” and “Classique” – one surprising choice, one classique, and one just right. I surreptitiously took a couple photos, but my flash went off, so I was told that “if I wanted to take pictures, I could not use the flash.” The display was very clean and streamlined –quite simple and the wines were gathered in bins underneath.

I like how polite the sales staff is, the elegant layout of the store, the moderate lighting, and the feeling of calm. I allowed some one (amiable, engaging and patient, once more) to help me select a demi-bouteille of Bourgogne Blanc (I got a Puligny from Dom. Leflaive which at first I thought was overpriced - it wasn’t - and on impulse I got a demi-bouteille of Cuilleron Condrieu 2007. They don’t have near the selection of half-bottles as we.)

I was happy to stop by here; it has been a couple years since I made time to get back to this neighborhood in Paris. But it is wet and cold and snowy today, so I am biding some time, at the restaurant upstairs, (écrasé de pommes de terre aux truffe – mashed potato with black truffle shavings, do you sense a theme?) to regain some sensation in my toes before heading back to the Metro.

Did you know that it’s OK to ask for “doggie bags” now? I’ve seen it twice.

Hope this helped!

See y’all next week.

La Maison de la Truffe (here I will return…they will get to know and love me and demand my return again and again– says the innocent optimist American child)
Address : 19 Place de la Madeleine, 75008 Paris.
Phone : +33 (0)1 42 65 53 22
Website : www.maison-de-la-truffe.fr

Lavina – A Parisian Wine Super Store
Address : 3, boulevard de la Madeleine, 75001 Paris.
Phone : +33 (0)1 42 97 20 20
Website : www.lavinia.fr
Metro : Madeleine (lines 8, 12, 14)

Day 4: the hermit stays in.

Day 5:
I have passed by a couple times now, an Irish style Pub on rue Charonne. (evidence of mixing cultures of the European Union or tourist trap?)
In an effort to be around more European guys (to observe their behavior patterns, of course) I decide to don a mini skirt and head over there. It’s a Sunday afternoon, a safe time to sit at the bar alone with laptop and a great time to watch these guys react to a popular sporting event.

They watch with equal zeal and attention as any American watching a football game. One great difference, the chanting. I have no idea what they’re singing, so drunkenly, so enthusiastically, but they’re organized; they clap in rhythm… none of the coarse yelling and grunting (well, maybe some) and all this, along with energetic youthful footballers! EU sporting events are so much more entertaining for me, an American girl who generally doesn’t give a rat’s ass about such things (it’s the boy watching.)
Time has gone on, I remain in my corner, tapping away, computer surreptitiously plugged in as 90s new wave plays in the background. I spot another lonely only eating chicken wings, of all things, (messy fingers) and reading by himself. Darn it that the sun has just about set already and I want to return to the nest, but there is so much energy here, courtesy of the music, I think, and those football fans from earlier… It just feels so familiar… So I stay put. (Really? Gun’s ‘n Roses? Whose Ipod are they playing from?)

Bar Corcoran (A sports bar chain – actually feels like a spot of the USA - sorry)
The one I visited was just off the Place de la Bastille on Rue du Faubourg Saint Antoine
There are many locations – the one that always comes up on Google first is:
28, Rue St André des Arts, 75006 Paris, France‎ - 01 40 46 97 46‎ - and many paris bloggers say this is “a pub très genial”

Another place – La cabane à huîtres – 4. Rue Antoine Bourdelle 75015, Paris – never been there, but it comes recommended both for the oysters and for the “boyish camaraderie”

Tomorrow, Maison de Trois Thés – Hell or Highwater! (Hah! – Never went)
And a final return to la Muse Vin, before packing : (

Day 6:
Ate more cheese.
Walked by my future home, between to Place bastille and Place Republique.
Discovered La Fée Verte, a café has free WiFi, decent-ish food and a waitress who understood me and shed no judgment upon my laptop – I heard a Parisienne version of “eh, whatever”
St Nick de bourgeuil – perfect midday wine with an OK-ish “salad terroir” (yes, more cheese)

La Muse de Vin – encore, empty. I am so sorry to be their only customer tonight. I couldn’t ascertain any concern from the two proprietors. Though it is rainy – quite rainy I must say, outside – other restaurants are populated. Feist plays on Thomas’ MP3 . I am seated in a corner, by a window, enveloped by creaking wood; an uneven planked floor, a humid room that smells faintly of wine cooler cedar, surrounded by bottles of tasty wine made by people I have come to know, hearing the whish of a car, or the buzz of a motor scooter rushing by on a windy, rainy night, worthy of a Dickinsonian description, (cobblestones, darkly clothed gaunt figures – some who laugh, some who argue, some who grimace wielding upturned umbrellas). I crack into a crème brulée with sweet, sweet red grapefruit at the bottom paired with a petal pink rosé from Corsica.
Finally something other than melancholy…I smile.