Justin Dunham

's journal about making things

Are avocadoes “vegan eggs”?

Filed under: Cooking Journal — Tags: , , , , , , , — Justin Dunham on October 15, 2011

Blackbird eggs. By Wikimedia Commons contributor Lokilech (picture links to page)

In this post I noted that I found some strange similarities between avocados and eggs. Avocados can be subsituted for eggs in some recipes (especially when not much egg is called for); they seize up and get rubbery just like eggs when they’re overcooked.

I also note, not that it’s relevant, that they’re constructed very similarly. Think about the inside of each – an embryo and its food source, suspended within the fruit by some other filling (egg white or avocado flesh). The possibility that avocados are some kind of “vegan egg” makes it tempting to draw as many parallels as possible.

So, I did a fair amount of research to try to understand whether avocados and eggs are really similar, chemically or in any other way. The answer, I’m afraid, is “not really”.

Baking

Avocados can do some neat baking tricks. You can make frosting, or substitute avocado for much of the butter in a brioche. The use of avocados in baking was the first thing that made me wonder if they have egg-like properties.

It is also true that avocados can substitute for eggs in baking occasionally, but generally only for a small amount of eggs – just one or 2. In this case, it’s also the fat that the avocado is taking the place of.

More generally, it turns out that in recipes like these, avocado is almost always substituting for butter, in order to add the fat that makes baked goods more tender and moist. This is a very similar technique to simply adding fruit puree, such as a blended banana, or applesauce, as a substitute. The difference with avocados is that they’re uniquely fatty – which is part of what makes them extra-delicious. As a result, they contribute more of what butter does than a banana or apple would. Just to be clear, however, it’s not really comparable. Butter is about 80% fat by weight, avocados 15%, and bananas less than 1%.

Emulsions

The other thing I wondered about avocados is whether they might be like eggs because they form emulsions. Before I go any further, let me explain what an emulsion is.

Normally, when you try to mix oil and vinegar together, or oil and water, you can’t. No matter how hard you agitate the mixture, all the little oil blobs inevitably find each other and then link up into one giant blob. There are lots of exceptions to this, however – mayonnaise, for example, contains water components (such as lemon juice and vinegar) and also lots of oil. And yet the mixture doesn’t separate.

This state is called an emulsion, and it’s brought about by emulsifers. Emulsifers are long molecules with one side that likes water and dissolves readily in it, and another side that likes oil and dissolves readily in it. When the molecule is simultaneously dissolved at both ends, oil and water molecules are linked together. One emulsifier you know is soap, which helps water remove grease from your hands. Another is the crema you sometimes get on good espresso, which is apparently an emulsion of coffee oils with water. Yum!

What keeps mayonnaise (our original example) from falling apart is a very common food emulsifier called lecithin. The readiest source of lecithin in a kitchen is the egg yolk, hence lecithin’s name from Greek lekithos (λέκιθος), “egg yolk”. The lecithin molecules from the yolk dissolve in the oil and water-based ingredients in mayonnaise, binding them together so the sauce is stable. There are lots of other emulsifiers too, including mustard, and there are even other common sources of lecithin, such as soy. But generally it’s egg yolks that play this role in the kitchen.

What does this have to do with avocados? If avocados are anything like eggs, you would expect them to have some emulsifying powers, like eggs. I think what made me suspect this was this Alton Brown recipe, in which he uses avocados instead of eggs to make ice cream. Eggs play a critical role in ice cream, which is to emulsify the fat and water present in the ingredients. How can you do away with them unless avocados also play this role?

It turns out that the fat in avocados is already emulsified within the fruit. This is the reason you can handle avocado flesh without getting your hands greasy. So, as far as I can tell, what you’re doing by adding avocado to ice cream is a little like adding butter (but much tastier and less weird), which shouldn’t really be a problem. And indeed, it turns out that avocados are a pretty weak emulsifer of anything else. You certainly can’t make mayonnaise with ‘em.

Conclusion

There are lots of other wonderful and delicious things you can do with eggs, too, like whipping them into a foam to make meringues, or making a delicious zabaglione or souffle. These are also things that avocados can’t do, though you may be able to find other egg substitutes for these contexts.

So, even though they look similar (at least to me), and poetically I would sort of like the avocado to be a vegan egg, it isn’t.

Rose, orange blossom, and elderflower marshmallows

Filed under: Cooking Journal — Tags: , , , , , , , , , , — Justin Dunham on September 13, 2011

Homemade rose, orange blossom and elderflower marshmallows.

Extreme closeup. These marshmallows look slightly different - the holes are a lot bigger and much less uniformly distributed.

Test cards for figuring out what was wrong with my original recipe.

At some point I will write a longer post about the work we did for our wedding, which included a lot of DIY stuff. Today I just want to talk about marshmallows.

I knew I wanted to make a bunch more for two reasons. First of all, I wanted to try out this egg white marshmallow recipe. For some reason, I lost my marshmallow mojo (you can call it “marshmojo”) a few months ago and every batch I’ve made since then has come out tasty, but dense; more like a soft candy than a marshmallow. After running a bunch of tests to see what was going wrong, I realized the most effective approach might be to try a different, more reliable recipe altogether.

Secondly, I also wanted to try making some fancier, more… conceptual… marshmallows than I have in the past. I initially thought about the idea of making them dessert-themed (guinness + chocolate topping, banana + caramel topping, something else) but I eventually decided to make them all taste like flowers. This was easier because I had already tested some elderberry-flavored ‘mallows a couple weeks before, so I knew it would probably work out.

I decided on elderberry, as well as rose and orange blossom. Marshmallows like this are not at all hard to make. You just follow the normal recipe, but at some point, you add a little bit of your chosen flavoring agent. In the case of rosewater and orange blossom water, I think I added less than a teaspoon to each batch; I was able to be more aggressive with the St. Germain.

You should add the flavoring to the cold water in which the gelatin blooms; you don’t want it to boil away! Be sure to taste it (before adding gelatin) to make sure you’re getting enough, but not too much, flavor. Keep in mind that you want it to be fairly strong since you’ll be adding a bunch of sugar and water later.

They turned out great, but actually making them involved three separate disasters which vary in importance depending on your point of view.

  • The markings on the thermometer I was using were poorly designed, leading me to read it as twenty degrees hotter than its actual indication. This ruined my first batch of marshmallows.
  • Rose water and orange blossom water, unlike elderflower liqueur, are really strong! They are completely undrinkable by themselves actually, a fact which I discovered accidentally about halfway through the second batch. I’m really glad I tasted the recipe before finishing it, but this lost me a whole lot of rose water and about a pint of strawberries.
  • I accidentally covered my wife’s Dad’s and stepmom’s kitchen in sugar, and I guess I am so used to a slightly sticky kitchen that I didn’t clean it up that well. Sorry guys. We all had a good laugh about this later. (Well, I did).

It’s good to persevere, though. After wasting a lot of ingredients, I finally ended up with three very large batches of marshmallows that looked and tasted great. I can pretty much guarantee that none of my guests had tasted marshmallows in these flavors before, and they may never again!

I tinted each batch very subtly so they could be told apart by color – orange blossom were orange, rose a light pink, and elderflower purple. We served them along with some wonderful floral cocktails and some normal marshmallows and s’more fixins (egg white marshmallows liquefy if you try to roast them).

Catering 2

One of these days I need to learn how to work a grill.

Cornbread and (in the background) a couple of different types of salads. I made too much cornbread, but people were happy to take it home with them...

Tres leches and strawberry country cakes.

Note: This is a followup to this post.

A month or so ago, I wrote about some of the constraints I faced with catering a barbecue for 40 out of my tiny Philadelphia kitchen. (Seriously, I think the kitchen is about 30 square feet, including all counter space, oven, and fridge). In this entry, I’ll talk about my experience in cooking and how everything turned out.

One thing that is surprisingly difficult to do in cooking is scaling a recipe. I mean, it’s not too hard for things like salad where you just multiply out the ingredients, or for soup. But when you’re baking things – and that can be cakes, pastries, or lots of savory dishes as well – things often don’t turn out the way you expect. For example, these miniature carrot souffles still take the 11 minutes to bake that a full-sized souffle does. I recently made some beet donuts (more on that later), and same deal, the miniaturization does nothing.

Those are easy examples, because the timing changes but everything else is fine. More heart-rendingly, take note of my experience with cauliflower gratin, which I attempted to make at approximately triple the size (i.e. three portions in a 3x baking dish).

Disaster. The dish is basically cauliflower in a rich cheese sauce. It seemed to bake fine, though it took an abnormally long time. I waited an hour or so for it to cool, and as it cooled… the sauce separated. Instead of a thick, pudding-like sauce, I ended up with a layer of fat on the bottom, and pools of grease on the top, of the dish. The grease then soaked through all of the ingredients, creating an inedible, soggy messy. I had to throw it away! Six cauliflowers’ worth of gratin, gone. I’m not sure exactly what happened, but I guess the lesson is, don’t scale if you don’t have to. It would have been much better to just cook a bunch of normally-sized portions.

The other lesson is to make lots of different things; because I had done this, losing one dish didn’t matter. And actually, my experience with the cornbread I made was the opposite – the vastly scaled-up sheets (the recipe isn’t even for bread, it’s for muffins) were some of the best cornbread I have ever made, with a soft, moist interior and a slightly crunchy top.

Overall, the meal seems to have gone pretty well. The avocado and tomato salad, cornbread, and deviled eggs were devoured. Part of the art, of course, is to pick things that are difficult to screw up, which worked in my favor. People seemed to have an aversion to the potato salad; I couldn’t figure out why. The cakes I made didn’t get finished either (actually only about half of each cake was consumed), but I did hear several people struggle with their inability to put down their fork, despite being stuffed. Overriding your eaters’ free will is every chef’s main goal.

Miniature carrot soufflés

Filed under: Cooking Journal — Tags: , , , , , , — Justin Dunham on July 13, 2011

Sitting in a bain-marie, waiting to be put in the oven. The batter is a mixture of carrots, milk, orange juice, eggs and other flavoring ingredients

Served with a simple arugula salad with roasted tomatoes on the side.

I had a bunch of carrots left over from another recipe, and I also have been waiting to make another soufflé for quite a long time. So I decided to make this tasty-looking carrot soufflé recipe. Only problem – not nearly enough carrots, as it turned out! So I decided to make miniature soufflés.

 

They turned out pretty well. To a carrot purée is added milk, eggs, cinnamon and orange juice – all very typical carrot-complementary flavors, many of which are in the recipe I use for carrot-ginger soup as well.

Despite letting them cook for quite a long time, the soufflés actually did not rise or really set up properly. That was unfortunate, but they did develop a crunchy crust on top, and were smooth and rich on the inside, so were actually still tasty. It was kind of like eating a carrot pudding, and that texture, combined with the sweet flavor of the carrot and cinnamon  reminded me of a fall dessert.

I think the mistake may have been setting the soufflés up in a water bath (see first picture). The idea was to cause the soufflés to rise more evenly; I was especially worried about this given their small size. But the recipe doesn’t actually call for a water bath, and so I wonder if I may have upset the action of the baking powder or caused some other problem by putting them in one.

I needed something to serve them with, so I added some arugula, parmesan cheese, and cherry tomatoes roasted slightly too much – so that they became almost jammy – in olive oil.

Leftover magic

Filed under: Cooking Journal — Tags: , , — Justin Dunham on June 28, 2011

Eggs benedict with the soup in place of hollandaise.

The soup.

I’ve blogged before about this thick, almost unsettingly rich avocado soup. It’s delicious, and not that hard to make, but it’s difficult to consume it all within a reasonable time since the flavor is not very complex – I guess what I’m saying is that it gets a little boring.

Repurposing is helpful. As you might know, hollandaise sauce is made with egg yolks, butter and lemon. It turns out that the avocado soup (the main constituents of which are avocadoes, chicken stock and lime juice) substitutes for it pretty well, so you can make a version of eggs benedict with it that tastes awesome. The lime juice takes the place of the lemon juice, and the chicken stock and avocadoes both provide the savoryness that you associate with butter, while the avocado also gives thickness.

I’ve found that avocadoes are strangely similar to eggs in general – overcooked avocadoes go rubbery when overcooked in a similar way, and avocadoes can sometimes be used in place of eggs; see for example this avocado buttercream recipe.

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