Vanilla Bean-Honey Panna Cotta with Strawberries
Vanilla Bean-Honey Panna Cotta Served Two Ways
A set panna cotta made with honey and cream, served with strawberries from the garden and a drizzle of basil olive oil or strawberry balsamic. A small record of early season fruit, kitchen testing, and hands full of springtime. This started with strawberries still warm from the garden, some barely making it inside before being eaten by my little helpers. I wanted something soft and cool to hold them, something that would sit quietly under their sweetness instead of competing with it. So, I made panna cotta. Honey instead of refined sugar. Vanilla bean for depth. Cream and half-and-half to make it feel like a dessert worth lingering over.
Ingredients (6–8 servings)
4 cups heavy cream
2 cups half-and-half
1/3 cup honey
2 packets gelatin
1 vanilla bean pod
Method
Split the vanilla bean and scrape the seeds into the cream mixture.
In a saucepan, gently warm the cream, half-and-half, vanilla seeds, and pod. Keep the heat low—just enough to steep the vanilla.
Whisk the gelatine and honey into the warm cream mixture until fully dissolved.
Remove the vanilla pod.
Pour into jars or ramekins.
Chill until set, at least 6 hours or overnight.
To serve
I made two versions. One unmolded onto a plate, soft and trembling, topped with strawberries, a drizzle of basil olive oil, and a little salt in the background of the bite. The other stayed in its jar. More informal, layered with strawberries and finished with strawberry balsamic. Something you can take on a picnic. Both feel right in different ways.
From the archive
Filed under seasonal desserts, garden fruit, and spring.
Week 2 of CSA to Table Project
Radishes Roasted in Butter
with Fresh Herbs & Flaky Sea Salt
There is a specific kind of patience required for the first harvest of the year. In our little Tennessee garden, the radishes are still reaching for full size.(It is my first attempt at a proper vegetable garden, after all.) When the CSA box arrived with a surplus of gorgeous bright fuchsia roots, I decided to lean into a simple school of thought: if you can’t beat the heat, mellow it with butter.
I brought them inside in a simple brown paper bag. A humble, crinkled container for something so vibrant. In the span of ten minutes, that aggressive bite transforms into a tender, succulent sweetness. We ate these straight from the skillet, standing at the kitchen counter.
What to do with what:
A bunch of fresh radishes, halved
Two tablespoons of unsalted butter
10–12 sprigs of fresh oregano and thyme, divided
A very generous amount of Maldon flaky sea salt