http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/nigella-lawson/scallops-with-thai-scented-pea-puree-recipe/index.html
This is "classic" because I've now made it three times. The first time, I decided to spring for jumbo scallops. It turned out great - the scallops caramelized perfectly. They were slightly crispy on the outside and deliciously tender and sweet in the middle, just like they are supposed to be! The second time, I opted for frozen bay scallops, which are much smaller but roughly half the price. They released way too much liquid into the pan and did not caramelize at all. They still tasted pretty good, but were a bit rubbery, completely soggy, and a little fishy.
Last Sunday when I saw bay scallops on super-sale at Whole Foods, I couldn't resist - despite my prior water-logged experience. I vowed that this time would be different. I'd thaw them in plenty of time so that I wouldn't be scrambling to thaw frozen scallops right as I throw them in the pan. Oops. As it turns out I totally forgot about them until this afternoon. I had to thaw them under running water in my strainer. Still determined to avoid sogginess, I put them in a single layer between two paper towels. Before I put the top layer of towel on, I sprinkled them with a little salt to draw out extra water. (You are evidently not supposed to do this with seafood as it can become rubbery.) Then I only sauteed half at a time so that they were not pressed against each other while cooking. It worked! Each batch caramelized beautifully - although having to turn a bunch of tiny bay scallops is a pain in the butt. They were tender and sweet on the inside, buttery and slightly crisp on the outside. The pureed peas were a lovely compliment. The Thai curry and sour cream make them more exotic than the pureed peas I feed Astrid. But it's really the same thing.
At dinner, Annika thanked me profusely for the food, insisting that I make the best food ever and that I am therefore the best mommy ever. I can't lie - that will never (ever) get old. Annika ordered everybody to eat their peas first because they were delicious. I am not going to question the logic of what deliciousness has to do with order of consumption; the point is my four-year-old is eating peas like they're french fries.
The real treat of the evening, however, was our homemade ice cream. In what is becoming a Sunday tradition, I let Annika pick out a recipe to make with me. (This week was lasagna.) Feeling generous, I let her pick out an ice cream flavor for us to make in our very neglected ice cream maker. She chose strawberry. The problem was that I forgot that I had to put the ice cream maker bowl in the freezer for about 24 hours prior to making the ice cream, otherwise it isn't cold enough. I remembered this on Sunday morning. Oops. (If you're keeping score at home, I forgot to take the scallops out of the freezer and forgot to put the bowl in the freezer. Welcome to my life.) So we had to push the ice cream to Monday instead.
Annika chose strawberry ice cream. "Because it is my favorite color - pink! And because I like strawberries." I sliced up two cups of strawberries and put one and a half cups into the food processor with a cup of two percent milk, a cup of heavy cream, and three-fourths a cup of turbinado sugar (all organic). After blending until smooth, we stirred in the remaining half cup of strawberries. To make ice cream, we poured the mixture into the (now sufficiently-frozen) bowl of the maker and attached the top, which has a mechanical spatula that slowly spins to keep the ice cream soft as the bowl freezes it. It took about 20 minutes until we had just over a quart of strawberry ice cream. It probably wasn't cheaper than buying a quart, but it was tastier and all organic.
As any child would be, Annika was delighted with the ice cream. The true test was Swede, who does not really care for sweets. I consider it to be a genetic defect. Swede was impressed - probably because it tasted more like strawberries and cream than sugar. We each had a small bowl and put the rest in the freezer. We'll see how long it lasts . . .
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