Homemade Ricotta -- Fun with Buttermilk Part I

This ricotta recipe was another one of those too-good-to-be-true recipes swirling around the cuisinet a while back -- maybe 2005 or so -- just like the no-knead bread recipe. As with the no-knead bread, the ricotta recipe is absolutely not too-good-to-be-true.

I had forgotten all about it, until my mom handed over one of the Los Angeles Times' Food Sections that she saves for me. Right on the front page was Russ Parsons singing the praises of making your own ricotta.

Thank you, mom! Thank you, Russ!

If you love fresh cheese and/or amazing science projects, you should rush out to the market and buy the necessary 9 cups of whole milk, and buttermilk. I'm betting you have the salt and distilled white vinegar at home already.

That's all you need.

Oh! Don't forget the cheesecloth. Most of us have it in the kitchen on a regular basis. But if you've run out, you may end up lining your strainer with ripped up disposable tea bags (These are so handy for making tea and bouquets garnis!) like I did. Certainly, less classy.

Making your own ricotta is more of a snap than you can imagine, and it is so cool to watch your hot milk turn into curds. It is almost unbelievable. Oh, Science!

You heat the milk and buttermilk until they reach 185 degrees, and then you add the salt and the vinegar and remove the pot from the heat. As if by magic curds start to appear. The smell is warm and a bit sweet, reminiscent of bread baking, really. And ten minutes later, you are scooping out curds of your very own house-made ricotta. All that is left is the straining.

The straining is important, because the wet whey is all over your curds. You want to get rid of it, by straining the curds in a cheese-cloth lined strainer. The recipe says to drain the curds for five minutes. I did it for a little longer and even pressed on the curds a bit, to accelerate draining. Ever the impatient one.

Don't go overboard like I did! My ricotta was slightly drier than it should have been, although still mighty delicious.

The taste is so far superior to the Precious stuff that you get in the market. Certainly, the substantial improvement in flavor is well worth the little investment in time.

My parents, sister, Fe, and I hungrily ate it up on whole grain toast drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil, and sprinkled with salt. Another route would be to eat it with figs and honey -- deservedly a classic. Or stir it into hot pasta with some olive oil and your best homemade tomato sauce. Or make bruschetta with garlicky cherry tomatoes and basil.

It went quickly, so I plan on making another batch to stuff into tomatoes or as Russ Parsons suggests, roasted peppers.

Homemade Ricotta

9 cups whole milk

1 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon salt

2 1/2 teaspoons distilled vinegar

Heat the milk and buttermilk in a heavy pot over medium heat until it reaches 185 degrees. Add the salt and vinegar and stir. Remove the pot from the heat. Let stand for 10 minutes.

Line a large strainer with cheesecloth. Place the strainer over a bowl. Scoop the curds out of the pot using a perforated spoon or skimmer. Place the curds in the strainer. Repeat until all the curds have been removed. Discard the remaining liquid, called whey.

Drain the curds for 5 minutes. Transfer to a covered container to store in the refrigerator. Tastes best the first day, but is still good for 3 or 4 days after.

Tomato and Ricotta Toasts

I spend so much time thinking about what to prepare for dinner that lunch all but falls by the wayside. During the week when it's just Fe and me, it doesn't matter so much.

On the weekends when A. is around, I should be trying harder. There is an art to making a lovely lunch, and I need to master it. Running out to the nearest taco shop becomes a sorry excuse for lunching after a while.

I think I was on the right track on Saturday. I stepped back and assessed what I had on hand -- lots of beautifully ripe tomatoes, a giant whole-grain demi-miche, a tub of ricotta, herbs growing in the garden, a handful of shallots, a small basket of garlic and a container of micro-greens from the C.S.A. Clearly the makings of something good.

I perused the summer section of David Tanis' A Platter of Figs and bumped into the perfect inspiration for what I had on hand -- Cherry Tomato Crostini with Ricotta. No, I didn't have cherry tomatoes and there was nary a loaf of ciabatta in sight, but with a little tweaking on my part a lovely summertime lunch was within reach.

I used about five medium-sized tomatoes. Halved cherry tomatoes will make for a perkier and much neater presentation. I will likely prepare this recipe again tonight with yellow pear tomatoes, as something to tear into with drinks. But if there are no tiny tomatoes on hand, I wouldn't hesitate to make this anyway.

You're basically making little toasts -- crostini or bruschetta. I'm calling them toasts, because of their complete lack of consistent shape.

Very rustic.

I laughingly love that term. It dresses up anything that is a bit of a mess!

So as I said, no ciabatta. That shouldn't stop you. Any baguette, country boule, or substantial loaf would work fine. Use what's on hand! Just hack it into slices or wedges that are about a half inch thick. They need a little girth to support the fresh ricotta and tomatoes.

The sweetness of the tomatoes and the creaminess of the ricotta are punctuated by a serious kick from the raw garlic and shallots. The bite is no joke, and will likely be with you most of the day, but it provides a pleasing contrast. Throw in the basil and these toasts taste just like summer.

Of course, macerating the shallots in red wine vinegar does take the edge off a little bit. In fact next time I make this, I will cool my heels a bit longer than my impatience allowed for this time, and let the shallots sit for about ten to fifteen minutes.

So that you can learn from my mistakes -- a bit of advice. When making crostini, bruschetta, or toasts, please use a timer. If you are at all distracted like I am, you may be making two or three batches before you are ready to eat. When the bread is turning golden, you have very few moments before it turns black!

I know you know this. So do I.

That doesn't always help! A timer does.

If you use the timer and avoid remaking the toasts, this is quick work. You make a vinaigrette, pound some garlic, fold in the tomatoes, and make toast. When the toast is golden brown, you lightly rub it with garlic, and slather on the (hopefully excellent quality) ricotta. Sprinkle a little salt and red pepper over that, and mound the tomato mixture on top. A sprinkling of basil chiffonade is all that's left to do.

Cherry Tomato Crostini with Ricotta

1 large shallot, finely diced

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar

Salt and pepper

1/2 cup olive oil

2 garlic cloves, smashed to a paste with a little salt, plus another peeled garlic clove or two

2 pounds cherry tomatoes, halved

1 loaf Italian ciabatta

1/2 pound fresh ricotta

1 teaspoon red pepper flakes

A handful of basil leaves

Macerate the shallot with a little salt in the red wine vinegar. Whisk in the olive oil. Add the garlic paste and the tomatoes. Season with salt and pepper and mix. Let marinate for a few minutes.

Cut the bread into 1/2-inch slices. Toast the bread on both sides until golden under the broiler. Rub the toasts lightly with the garlic clove. Just gently, there is already plenty of garlic present.

Slather on a tablespoon of ricotta per toast, and set on a platter. Sprinkle with a little salt and red pepper. Spoon the tomatoes over. Sliver the basil and strew about the toasts.