The Happy Maker

Cremasse - Let the festivities begin

Cremasse – Let the festivities begin

In the early 1990’s, my recipe for mulled wine, quickly dubbed ‘moldy wine’ by my brother, became a Christmas Eve tradition. This was soon followed by a recipe in 1992 for hot butter rum, nicknamed hot bubba, made with a vanilla ice cream base. For the next 20 years, tradition necessitated a mug of moldy wine before appetizers followed by hot bubba after dinner with the cookie tray.

Last year, the firm where I work produced a “Holiday Cheer Guide” of employee family recipes. After hastily skimming the guide, it was headed for the trash – no need for for Aunt Edna’s fudge recipe or Mom’s secret ambrosia salad – when I happened upon a coworker’s recipe for Cremasse, a traditional celebratory beverage from Haiti. This was something I wanted to taste!

Within one evening, Cremasse (a.k.a. The Happy Maker) has usurped both hot bubba and moldy wine as our festive holiday cocktail of choice. At first sip, I knew this was no sissy’s drink and must be consumed slowly and judiciously, but surprisingly (or maybe not so surprising), the carafe was entirely drained within a few hours.

Cremasse – The Happy Maker

1 L.         dark or spiced rum**
2 c.         sugar
¼ c.        water
3              cinnamon sticks
14 oz.    sweetened condensed milk
12 oz.    evaporated milk
15 oz.    cream of coconut
2 T.         vanilla extract
1 T.         almond extract
1 t.          ground nutmeg
1 t.          ground cinnamon
1 t.          salt
Zest of two limes

Combine sugar, cinnamon sticks and water in a saucepan and place on low heat. Allow sugar to fully dissolve and make a simple syrup. Remove from heat and cool.

Whisk rum into cooled syrup. Combine condensed milk, evaporated milk and coconut cream. Vigorously whisk milk mixture into rum in a steady stream to avoid curdling. Add extracts, spices, and zest. Set aside of two hours to allow flavors to meld. Strain through a fine mesh sieve. Pour into glasses, garnish with nutmeg and serve. Cremasse can be served cold or room temperature – I prefer it cold.

**dark rum allowed the almond to come through while spiced complimented the cinnamon and nutmeg

Time for sleep

Time for sleep

Gibassier, mon amour

It would not be hyperbole to proclaim that we ate (and drank) our way through Portland this holiday season.  Some notable meals included a lovely Christmas Eve dinner at Bar Avignon that began with a perfectly seared foie gras and country pork pate and moved through duck leg confit with cranberry gastrique, cauliflower with pickled raisins and a roasted chicken with hazelnuts, blue cheese, beets and bacon. Our dinner at Imperial was also a high note – hitting the highest with the duck meatballs with prunes and orange gremolata as well as the quail with grilled figs and mint/walnut pesto.  Our dinners at Urban Farmer and Lincoln were forgettable, except for the braised short ribs (Urban Farmer) and pig skin “pasta” with lamb ragout (Lincoln) – both unctuous and satisfying, but the rest of the meal fell flat. 

We somehow managed to make it to Lardo for sandwiches three days straight – and after our second day, we decided to revisit rather than try our luck at Bunk.  Our favorites were the lemony Italian tuna melt with olive tapenade and shaved fennel and the drippy Korean pork shoulder with house kimchi and cilantro.  Both sandwiches deserve a revisit – as well as those spicy, salty, sweet, crispy homemade Korean BBQ potato chips.

As far as beverages go, the infamous Amontillado sherry and tequila eggnog (sounds disgusting, tastes amazing) at Clyde Common fortified us for the chilly Portland evenings.  And, of course, we tried an array of donuts from Blue Star – blueberry/bourbon/basil, marionberry with PB powder, pistachio cheesecake and passion fruit/cocoa nib were some of the favorites we sampled in our assortment of eight flavors. 

Among all of these great tastes, however, the food memory I bring back home with me like a souvenir is the breakfast bread from Pearl Bakery called gibassier (the pronunciation is difficult to come by, but I’ve read it’s zee-bah-see-ay).  After doing some research for a recipe (I cannot live my life without another one – even if I must make them myself!), I realized that I’m not the only one to wax poetic about these humble little treats.  Best consumed with a steaming coffee drink, these yeasty little fists of dough are subtly flavored with olive oil and orange blossom water and studded with candied orange peel and aniseed.  Once they emerge hot from the oven, they are given a bath of clarified butter and coated with superfine sugar giving them a sandy crust worth licking from one’s fingers.  If I could pop one of these in my mouth every day along with my morning cuppa, life would be grand.

Gibassier photo from Shantilly Picnic

photo from Shantilly Picnic