Articles of Mastication

Almond Tahini and Mint Jelly Brûlée

My occasionally whimsical notions of what could be quite tasty have led me to invent some bizarre dishes with idiotic names. Vivid memories of the meek-then-monstrous Apple Faddle and the palate-punishing Orange Crüelly bear up the truth of this. Tonight, after a rather slow night at the restaurant, another wild hair wiggled in my brain and set me to creating something utterly ridiculicious.

In addition to the rhapsodical braised lamb shank we serve, the establishment at which I cook offers grilled lamb chops. And, yes, you may have mint jelly with them if you wish to embellish your chops in the conventional, old-school fashion (It’s an old-school fine dining establishment, after all). I’ve been thinking about mint jelly for the last week, lamenting the fact that such a distinct preserve doesn’t get put to more use. Whenever you see mint jelly, lamb is nearby; if there is no lamb, there is probably no mint jelly. And, let’s face it, if you served lamb with mint jelly to dinner guests in your home five years ago, the remainder of the mint jelly - the full jar minus two teaspoons - is probably still whimpering for attention from the shelf of your refrigerator door. Poor jelly!

Time for a deconstruction and re-tooling of the lowly mint jelly. I brainstormed. I removed the word ‘mint’ from the equation and focused on ‘jelly’. I asked myself, “What does one ordinarily do with sweet, sticky, fruity or spicy jelly in the kitchen?” The first thing that plopped into me noggin (after a few titillating non-culinary uses) was the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, The P.B.J. I took this and ran with it, and the inner monologue then went pretty much like this:

If mint is most frequently used in southern Mediterranean cuisines, then I should make a Mediterranean peanut butter and mint jelly sandwich. No, wait… not peanut butter. Mediterranean nut butter. Almonds. Almond butter. Almond butter and mint jelly sandwich. On what? Texas Toast? Toast points? Pointed, pixellated… buh, buh, buh, BRUSCHETTA! Wee, open-faced finger sandwiches on crusty bread, toasted or…. grilled! Yes, grill the bread. While you’re at it, grill some lemon slices to put some pucker and twang onto the pile.

I grilled lemon slices and bread.

I toasted almonds and ground them into a paste.

I opened the jar of mint jelly.

I assembled the elements of my little bruschette roughly, more concerned about testing the combination of flavors and textures than the eloquence of my presentation. But, as I hammered out my little project at the crème brûlée station, I looked up, noticed the bowl of white sugar and kitchen torch and thought: This idiotic little sandwich needs caramelized sugar.

Is it a dessert? An appetizer? A sophisticated child’s meal? A snack for a purple-assed Mediterranean baboon? You tell me. As I mentioned, this was a function-before-fashion trial of the “dish”, so I wasn’t concerned enough with the presentation to remove it from the broiling plate, or plant tiny umbrellas fashioned from palm fronds for the photo and sampling. But The Boss and a few of the waitstaff gave it a go.

The Verdict: Totally functional.
This one’s worth refining. On the next go, we’ll have stiffer almond butter and a less hurried, less blackened caramelization. And it’s time to experiment with the concoction of a less commercial-type mint marmalade from whole leaves, says I.