Rosemary-Citrus Dried Strawberries and Meringue: An Interpretation of Curtis Duffy and the Many Applications to Which It Leads

This post was supposed to be something drastically different. You were initially supposed to read a tragic-comic tale of how I -- a serious home cook who has absolutely no formal culinary training -- attempted to recreate Chef Curtis Duffy's Golden Trout dish only to find myself in the state of bewildered stupor and self-pity that lasted for hours once reality had kicked in. Instead, you're reading about the delicious and versatile rosemary- and citrus-infused dried strawberries along with rosemary- and citrus-infused meringue bark with a faint scent of pine and citrus dispersed throughout its light-as-cloud, airy, chocolate-laced self.

How did that happen?

It all started a few days ago, as we were working out the details of the cooking contest, when I asked Chef Duffy if he had any home cook-friendly recipe he would like to share with my blog readers. The request was made in such a short notice and the chef didn't have any layman-friendly recipes on hand. Well, except for one.

"Will this one work?" Duffy asked. "This one" is a list of instructions on how to create all the elements of his Golden Trout creation -- an exquisite combination of fresh golden trout, seared on one side in pine-infused oil, hon-shimeji mushrooms pickled in verjus vinaigrette, parsley purée, pine-infused savory pudding, and pine-scented meringue.


Has this ever happened to anyone? You're offered a chance to take on a project you've never done. And before your brain has a chance to say anything, your roaring ego has swiftly taken control of your tongue. Next thing you know, you hear yourself say delusional non-truths like, "Sure. Of course. That's easy. I can do that." Right after "that," the Machiavellian ego quickly flees the scene and skips town, while your brain looks on in utter disbelief -- with its pupils enlarged and its mouth open.

Long-time readers of this blog know how bad I am when it comes to beautifying food. Of all the things I'm known for, I can assure you that feminine grace and dexterity are not among them. If you remember, I've taken you down the hideous chicken tunnel, angered the fictional Babette of Babette's Feast by turning her beautiful Cailles en Sarcophage into shriek-inducing Cailles en Natation Synchronisée (forgot to truss the quails, you know), and decorated vegetables in ways that sane people don't. There was a time when I, after having discovered how ridiculously expensive a proper croquembouche mold is, seriously contemplated grabbing something like this off the street and using it instead.

As you can see, the chances of me recreating such an exquisite dish that tastes and looks like what Chef Duffy does are indeed quite slim.

But I persevered, because I'm stubborn like that.

Spending half my life savings on an expensive bottle of Olio Verde Harvest 2009 and a bottle of Perigord Verjus (So it's not exactly the verjus derived from the golden-skinned Sémillon grapes as specified. Shoot me.), I headed right into the kitchen. With everything else on hand -- even Xanthan gum -- I knew that though I might come close to dying in the process, I would survive.



The Golden Trout was put on the menu at Avenues shortly after Duffy had assumed the leadership there in 2008. Before arriving at Avenues, Duffy had worked for six years with molecular gastronomy wunderkind, Grant Achatz, for three years at Alinea and for another three years prior to that when both were at Trio. Add another three years of working different stations at the eponymous Charlie Trotter's and a month of staging at The French Laundry, the flagship restaurant of Thomas Keller, and you know why the young chef has so ably catapulted his own kitchen into a critically-acclaimed success in such a short period of time.

The idea behind this dish came in a semi-serendipitous manner. Duffy was out at a farm in Michigan checking out some golden trout which his farmer was presenting to him. Catching a glance of another farmer nearby trimming young tips off the spruce, the chef was compelled to purchase some of the beautiful spruce tips along with the trout.

Buna-shimeji mushrooms - Not quite Hon-shimeji, but this would have to do.
Well, Yesterday came to Sir Paul McCartney in his sleep, gravity knocked Sir Isaac Newton on the head in the form of an apple, and the Golden Trout came to Sir Chef Duffy when his eyes surveyed the amber-colored trout and the fragrant spruce tips lying side by side in his kitchen. That moment, memories of the sight, sound, and aroma of trout fishing in Colorado with his father when Duffy was younger came flushing in. The two would fish during the day, recalled the chef, "We would then clean and eat the fish later that night over burning fire made of pine wood and needles. The smell is what I can't get out of my head."

And that is how the scent of pine is paired with the trout in this dish. Add the vibrant, yet not too acidic, verjus and the earthy Japanese mushrooms to the mix, and you're immediately transported to a serene coniferous forest.

You see, even though I am aware that Duffy was at Trio at one point, what I didn't know was that he was the pastry chef there. That kind of explains how he pairs "savory" and "sweet" elements in one dish so exquisitely. That thought crossed my mind as I glanced through the ingredient list on the print-out of the golden trout recipe. Although, at that time, a sense of despair started to creep in and I began to feel mild cardiac palpitations coming on, I could still appreciate what I was looking at.

Parsley purée - Could be a little lot smoother. Where's a tamis when you need it?

The element which I've found to be the most interesting in the entire Golden Trout ensemble is the spruce-scented meringue and how it is used to complement the main savory element, i.e. the trout. I've rarely, if ever, seen fish and meringue used in the same sentence much less on the same plate. But it was quite good.

Actually, no -- I lied -- it wasn't good; it was terrific.

You see, I spent quite a bit, in terms of time, energy, and money, replicating that dish. And in the course of tracing Duffy's steps, it became clear to me that when the chef says that the use of the best, the most pristine ingredients is the very crux of his cuisine, he is not exaggerating. Each of these ingredients is meticulously chosen, and the way they are put together to create a perfect harmony of flavors, textures, and aromas requires much thought and extensive experience in figuring out what works and what doesn't.

It humbles me. Really. This exercise that I initially took on as a way of feeding my own ego has humbled me. I thought that if I could just find these ingredients, it would be just a matter of putting them all together. Well, easier said than done. I thought plating would be easy and involve not much more than strewing stuff about in an artistic manner. Wrong again.

I mean, look at it.

A first-grader could do better than this.
There was a time when I would make jokes about how chefs cleverly sell one ounce of raw beet for a ridiculous amount of money simply by calling it beet carpaccio, etc. I still do that from time to time when the case warrants it. But, in general, I don't say or think obnoxious things like that nearly as often these days. In the course of learning more about professional chefs and how to run food business, an academic like me has learned to appreciate what these hard-working individuals do and the effort they put into perfecting their craft and excelling in their profession.

At the end of the project, I was exhausted. Yet, I took pride in the fact that I saw it through to the end. The recipe was followed very closely with three minor deviations and only one major departure. The minor deviations are: 1. I didn't use dagger and emerald lettuces as I -- harrumph -- do not have an organic farmer growing those for me, 2. not only did I shamelessly use rainbow trout in lieu of the golden trout, I also poached the fish in clarified butter instead of searing it on one side as instructed, and 3. I used salmon roe instead of golden trout roe.

My version didn't even come close to the original, but it was certainly not bad, if I do say so myself. The one major departure, though, might put me in purgatory postmortem. I didn't use the spruce tips. (Gasp.)

It doesn't matter where in the world I am right now; let's just say that there are no spruce tips to be found anywhere around here. I could venture out into a forest preserve and snap some young pine tips off the branches, but I'm sure doing so would put me on the other side of the prison bars.

So I put my thinking cap on.


The only way to mimic the scent and flavor of the spruce tips that I could think of would be to use fresh rosemary for its pine-y aroma and the citrus essential oil that complements the rosemary. Together, they form an acceptable substitute for young pine tips which are hard to find and not available all-year round. With fresh rosemary and grapefruits in the refrigerator, I didn't need to risk incarceration by foraging in a forest preserve after all.

This has brought me to another point I was about to make before taking you on an excursus.


You see, the whole time I was heart-mind-body-and-soul involved in the process of replicating a dish made by an award-winning chef, served in a four-star restaurant, there was a little voice in my head that constantly asked the question, "So what?" And just like that annoying boy who stalked you in fifth grade, the more you ignored him the more relentless he became. That voice was relentless.

Grinding up sugar, grapefruit zest, and rosemary needles in a coffee grinder.
"So what?" The voice asked. So I would be writing about an accomplished chef, the dish he has made, and my ability to recreate that dish (well, kind of). Is there anything about any of this that is not inherently egotistical? What is there in all of this for people who spend time reading this post? Is it all about having people say, "Wow, that's cool," and go away not remembering much, if anything?

What are the applications for home cooks? How would my readers benefit from this?

The oil in the zest will keep the whites from holding stiff peaks, but that's okay.
You may not agree, but I think it's probably best to leave complicated, multi-element dishes -- the kind that's anointed with spuma or cooked sous vide -- to the pros. However, there are so many things average home cooks can learn from professional chefs.

For example, think about one of the dishes in the 15-course tasting menu which you really like and figure out what it is about the flavor or texture combination that makes that dish special to you. Then take that idea and apply it to everyday items that you already make on a regular basis.

I have found the fake spruce flavor derived from rosemary and citrus to be very pleasant. So in the past few days, I have used that flavor combination in plain sour cream scones, plain sugar cookies, steamed rice and quinoa, etc. The possibilities are numerous. A paste of ground rosemary and citrus zest can be used as part of a wet rub for barbecued meats, marinade, vinaigrette, aïoli, etc. You can also dehydrate the herb and the zest and grind them up; instead of a paste, you get a flavor element with which to make a dry barbecue rub, something to dust the outside of your sliced freezer cookies with, or even something to blend into a streusel mix with which to top your sour cream coffeecake.

Even writing about these ideas gives me so much joy.

Pre-baked meringue is marbleized with an ounce of melted chocolate.
I'm showing you here two ideas: rosemary-citrus meringue and rosemary-citrus dried strawberries.

The meringue is made simply by following Chef Duffy's recipe. Instead of simply adding the sugar to the egg whites, I grind up the sugar along with a teaspoon of citrus zest and a teaspoon of fresh rosemary needles in a coffee grinder. The essential oil in the zest will keep the egg whites from forming stiff peaks (which is what also happens if you use a greasy bowl or beater). In this case, though, since we're not piping the meringue, it's okay. The meringue is spread into a 1/4-inch layer on a parchment or a Silpat sheet and, instead of dehydrated as the recipe specifies, baked in a low oven at 250 degrees F for 2-3 hours. The dried out meringue is then broken into pieces by hand and kept in an airtight container to be snacked on as is or used as a dessert garnish.

Should you want to add another flavor element to it, you can also do what I have done which is drizzle an ounce of melted bittersweet chocolate on the pre-baked meringue and drag the tip of a rubber spatula up and down the length of the rectangle a few times to create the marbleized effect. Then bake the meringue as described above.


The dried strawberries are also a big success. A pound of fresh strawberries are quartered and macerated, for an hour, in some grapefruit juice reduction (1/2 cup of grapefruit juice that's reduced from the original 1 quart), cracked black pepper, crumbled dried guajillo pepper, and fresh rosemary. The macerated strawberries are scattered onto a parchment-lined cookie sheet and dehydrated in a 120 degrees F oven (or in a home dehydrator) until the strawberries have shrunken and become raisin-like in texture. The sweetness and aroma of the strawberries become concentrated resulting in a one-cup yield of intensely flavorful dried strawberries. The added peppers make it all even more interesting.


These infused dried strawberries can be used in much the same way as you would raisins or dried cranberries. I've made scones, cookies, pound cake, etc., with them, and these things all came out delicious with a mild hint of savoriness from the peppers. I've also chopped these strawberries up and added them to buttercream frosting for a simple yellow cake.

A Chinese cleaver - Best tool ever when it comes to chopping.
You see, there are new things waiting to be noticed, meditated upon, learned, and used everywhere -- yeah, even a professional kitchen.

Full Disclosure: SheSimmers.com is not affiliated in any way with Curtis Duffy, Avenues Restaurant, or The Peninsula Chicago. Any positive review found in this article or elsewhere on this website is not compensated for in any manner, monetary or otherwise, by the entities listed above. No complimentary meals or gifts have been offered in exchange for, or to encourage, a positive review.