cream

In her book, Home Cooking: A Writer in the Kitchen, Laurie Colwin devotes an entire essay to the wonders of British cream.
How did I not read this woman's writing before? When my friend Janet shoved the book into my hands, I was hungry, I ate it up, and it hit the spot like a good baked mac and cheese.
Laurie Colwin died the year I entered high school, but she is one of those writers who puts herself right there on your couch, or better yet, in your kitchen. I think that personal essays might be one of the most accurate ways to achieve immortality; people just keep meeting you over and over again.
As I read this essay on cream, and the uselessness of American cream, and about how she asked a friend to bring back some double cream from the UK and it leaked all over everything but she got most of the bottle anyway, I started to think a bit obsessively on British cream.
I've never been to the UK, but my love of tea and scones reveals my genealogy. Her descriptions of the taste, the texture, the uses! It was almost cruel- to invoke so much desire towards an unattainable substance. Oh Laurie! I cried. Why do you torture me so?
This morning I was doing the Wednesday morning raw milk run. I am one of about fifty families belonging to a raw milk club, and in exchange for my copious amounts of milk, I go to the farm once a week and bring the milk to the pick up spot. So there I am, laboriously labeling each top of the glass milk bottles with the sell by date, and in walks Paul Paisley, the farmer who gives his heart and to the twelve cows who, in turn give us their milk.
"Hey, Alana." he speaks softly over my shoulder. (if you're reading this out loud, note that he's British).
"Hi Paul." (still laboriously dating the milk)
"I've got a jar of double spun cream in there for you."

Thank you Laurie. I don't know how you made it happen, but I am forever in your debt.

Raw Milk Panna Cotta

Well, I must say I'm really waiting for my spinach to peak out of that cold ground out there. I don't think that it's really going to happen, but when it does, my food inspiration is going to come out with it. I'm being optimistic I know, but one must in these cold April days up here in the frozen Berkshire tundra.
I feel it necessary to confess that I spent a small but substantial chunk of yesterday hiding in my basement eating peanut butter cups while my children whined at me without noticing that I wasn't actually there. "Mo-om, Rosie's breathing on me, and I need spa-ace." "Mo-om, why don't you buy the crackers that I li-ike. I'm so hun-gry." And most often, "Mo-om, my awe-my la do stedahhhhhhhhh......." (yeah I can't understand whiny language either). Anyway, I think a bit of spinach would do us all some good.
But in the mean time, all I want is pudding, and custard, and the occasional peanut butter cup. And David Lebovitz was so kind to remind me how easy Panna Cotta is to make. And Panna Cotta makes me really happy. And it fills up the girls for a few minutes to stop the whining (OK, OK, it's not really that bad- it was just one of those weekends, you know?).
I made his Panna Cotta with creamy raw milk instead of all cream, and then I could eat a lot more of it with out getting a bellyache.

Panna Cotta

Eight servings

Adapted from David Lebovitz, who in turn adapted from Secrets From My Tuscan Kitchen by Judy Witts

1 cup heavy cream
3 cups raw milk (or pasteurized will work too, I'm just plugging for the raw as usual)
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons of vanilla extract
2 packets powdered gelatin (about 4 1/2 teaspoons)
6 tablespoons cold water

1. Heat the heavy cream, milk and sugar in a saucepan or microwave. Once the sugar is dissolved, remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract.

2. Lightly oil eight custard cups with a neutral-tasting oil.

3. Sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water in a medium-sized bowl and let stand 5 to 10 minutes.

4. Pour the very warm Panna Cotta mixture over the gelatin and stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved.

5. Divide the Panna Cotta mixture into the prepared cups, then chill them until firm, which will take at least two hours but I let them stand at least four hours.

6. Run a sharp knife around the edge of each Panna Cotta and unmold each onto a serving plate, and garnish as desired.

Panna Cotta is quite plain and comforting, and it will take any sauce you like. I like to cook up a few frozen berries, and pour them on top.