64 sq ft kitchen

Again

2009-06-17T16:15:00.002-04:00

Here I am again.

Nearly a month since my last post, my last cookies and, actually, a month, or even more, since I baked anything sweet. (Apart from the day we went for a picnic with friends and I promised to bring a cherry tart. A mighty good tart, I must say. I don't know how I managed not to ruin it, but I did). Here I am again.

Cooking hasn't been much present lately. The only things I've been making are salads, not so thrilling ones, bread, because I have to, roasted vegetables, because I have a toddler to feed, and sometimes, when I'm feeling really good, a soup.

I wish I could tell you that I am as excited about fresh vegetables and silky tagines and rustic dishes as I was before, but honestly I am not! My burners are off most of the day and the only things that get me excited recently are crusty bread, milk, juicy peaches and my bed.

I hope to get back on my feet pretty soon and be able to appreciate my cuisine as I used to; until then I hope you are all well and content.

And, as always, thank you for your support, for your words. Thank you for just being here.

Warda

Fekass: Moroccan Anise-Flavored Cookies / Fekass: Croquets Marocains à L'anise

2009-05-22T00:00:00.006-04:00

I was six. May be seven. I don't remember.

My nana was already up, already in her kitchen with her stained apron wrapped around her tiny waist and the two stove burners already whistling. Her kitchen smelled the dried orange rinds and the sticky wax tablecloth. The olive green curtains were twisted above the glass door. The glass door opened into a small balcony with concrete stairs that led to the backyard, the henhouse, the deserted former owners cellar and the trees of pomegranate, lemons, figs and loquats. Nana had planted a small vegetable garden along the neighbors wall : mint, tomatoes, lettuce, fava beans and green peas.

That day, like many other days, the neighbors youngest daughters, Hassiba and Jawher, came to my grandparents house to play together. They were cousins and lived in the same house with parents, cousins and grandparents. Hassiba was the youngest: chubby, rosy cheeks and the thickest, most beautiful hair I have ever seen. Jawher was just a few years older: tall, loves to wear flowery dresses and talks with this piercing, loud voice. I have very fond memories with these girls in my nana's backyard, where we would play hide and seek, skipping rope, dolls, treasure hunt and, most often, organize dinner parties. Nana would provide us with small old plates, diced vegetables, like carrots, tomatoes and cucumber, freshly baked bread, hard boiled fresh eggs and fruits. We would make salads and pretend to have big conversations, like having Rita, my grandparents dog, over for tea and whether or not we should paint the bird's house red or yellow with green pock dots, while stirring the olive oil into our homemade salad and holding our glasses of lemonade high to the sky and giggling hard at our cheers.

Often, and because I think she enjoyed sitting on our miniature bunches and using miniature plates, my grandmother would invite herself as our surprise guest. She would knock on our pretend door. We would greet her with a hug and kisses on her cheeks. She would sit on the backyard bunch and this is where she would give us her almond and anise cookies. We would tell her that she shouldn't have and that she is always welcome to our "house" with or without the cookies. But the almond and anise were our favorite and she knew it well. And we welcomed them with shaking hands, glasses of milk and eyes and mouth wide opened.

The cookies, in my memory, had almost like a half moon shape. They were not quite flat but not thick either. When my nana would make them, the whole house, and even backyard, would smell the anise seeds and the orange aroma from the orange rinds stirred into the batter. One day, the neighbor's wife told us she knew when Zora, my nana, was making her fakass when the scent of anise was gently crossing the wall between our two houses. Little bits of almonds, anise and sesame seeds were in every bite, in every journey into our glass of milk. They were little gems. Just like my nana.

Sadly, my nana passed away and I've never had her recipe. All I knew was that, just like biscotti, fekass was baked twice: once in the shape of a cylinder and the second time thin slices of fekass, thinner than biscotti, were sent back to the oven until crispy and golden. Not wanting to give up those sweet little things and armed with my favorite biscotti recipe, the same one that my sister-in-law calls "the best homemade biscotti she has ever tasted" and the same one that I have been making for the last five years at least once a week, I went exploring back my senses, my memories and mixed spices and flavors of what I hoped was nana's heart-warming fekass to my favorite biscotti recipe. The result: If I closed my eyes, just a little bit, I could see hassiba and Jawher in my kitchen, and the hen house, the lunatic rooster, the sweet figs that gave me many mouth ulcer when I was a toddler, Rita, the smells, the kitchen, Ba, my grandfather, and nana.

I had a dream about my nana the other day. I was in her kitchen, standing by her white Arthur Martin stove when she knocked on the kitchen door. I opened it, and there she was. In my dream I knew she was dead and that I was dreaming but I didn't mind. I didn't want to wake up.

She stood by the door for a minute. She was wearing her shawl. She asked me to hurry and bake something as we were having guests over very soon. Obediently, I went whisking, and weighing and baking. She stayed by the kitchen table watching me quietly. Not a word was exchanged.

I arranged cookies and cakes in small plates and had the coffee on a tray. And then we waited, and waited and waited, but no guests.

Frustrated, I went sobbing, as the whiner that I am, in my grandmother's arms because I have been baking all afternoon for nothing. She wiped my tears away, looked at me and said: "There is nothing to cry about, benti, my daughter, who needs guests when we have this baraka, blessing. I was craving cookies anyway!" She kissed my forehead and left from the kitchen door holding an almond cookie in her hand.

Fekass: Moroccan Anise-Flavored Cookies

Recipe:
- 2 cups all purpose flour
- 1 ½ tsp baking powder
- ½ tsp salt- 2 large eggs
- ¾ cups sugar
- ½ cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled
- 1 tbsp candied orange rinds, diced (or the zest of one orange)
- 1 tsp orange blossom water
- 1 scant tbsp anise seeds
- 1 scant tbsp sesame seeds, toasted
- 1 cup coarsely chopped almonds

In a large bowl beat the eggs and sugar until light and thick; about 3 min. Beat in the melted butter, orange rinds, or zest, anise seeds, sesame seeds.

Add the dry ingredients sifted. Using a wooden spoon, stir in the almonds. The dough will be soft and sticky.

Divide the dough in two equal parts. Put them onto a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Shape them into a log 7 inches long, 3 inches wide and spacing the logs 3 inches apart. With damp fingers, gently smooth the surface of the logs.Bake the logs in a preheated 350F (175C) oven for 20-25 min, until golden on the outside.

Reduce the oven temp to 300F (150C). Let the logs cool on the baking sheet for 10 min.
On a cutting board, using a sharp knife, and using a back and forth slicing motion followed by a fast single cut, cut each log into slices 1/2 inch thick. Return the slices to the baking sheet and bake them until crisp on the outside, about 15-17 minutes (and between 17-20 minutes if slices are thicker than 1/2 inch). Let cool completely on a wire rack. Store for up to two weeks in an airtight tin.

Fekass: Croquets Marocains à l'Anise

In francais please:
- 315g farine
- 1 ½ c.c de levure chimique
- ½ c.c de sel
- 2 gros œufs
- 185g sucre
- 125g beurre, fondu
- 2 c.c de pelures d’oranges confites, coupées en dés (ou le zeste d'une orange)
- 1 c.c d'eau de fleur d'oranger
- 1 c.s de graines d'anise entieres
- 1 c.s de graines de sésame, légerement torrifiées
- 125g amandes hachées grossierment

Dans un grand bol, battre les oeufs et le sucre jusqu’à ce que le mélange devienne épais; 3 min environ. Ajouter le beurre fondu, les pelures d’oranges, ou le zeste, l'eau de fleur,les graines d'anise et de sésame.

Ajouter les ingredients secs, tamisés. Avec une cuil en bois, incorporer les amandes. La pate sera collante et molle.

Diviser la pate en deux et les mettre dans une tole patissiere, tapissée de papier sulfurisé. Donner aux pates la forme d’un cylindre avec 18 cm de longueur, 7.5 cm de largeur et les espacer de 7.5 cm. Avec vos doigts légerement mouilles, lisser la surface des cylindres.Faire cuire dans un four prechauffe à 175C jusqu’a ce qu’ils deviennent dorés, 20-25min.

Faire baisser la temperature du four a 150C. Laisser les cylindres refroidir dans la tole pendant 10 min. Sur une planche en bois, couper les cylindres en tranches de 1 cm d’epaisseur. Remettre dans la tole. Faire cuire une deuxieme fois les morceaux de fekass, jusqu’à ce qu’elles deviennet dorées et croustillantes, environ 15-17 minutes (ou 17-22 minutes si les tranches sont un pleu plus épaisses). Laisser refroidir completement sur une grille à patisserie. Peut se conserver jusqu'à deux semaines dans une boite à fermeture hérmetique.

A Mouthful of Spring / Une bouchée de Printemps

2009-04-30T01:06:00.003-04:00

Though she seems to be all about cooking and stirring and baking, there were days where cooking was the last thing she wanted to do. Days where she couldn't stand spending more than an hour in front of the hungry stove, the piling dishes and the scratched cutting board. yes, there were days where she believed a sublime meal could come from a can of creamy pinto beans, some spices, a roasted red pepper and fresh, hearty Tuscan kale.

On those days, she enjoyed watching the blooming trees and flowers. Seeing the backyard flourishing, last year basil raising its tiny leaves from the dirt again and the hairy chives waving goodbye whenever the wind blows at the window.

She saw life nestled in a tree.

She saw life in the eyes of a little fairy.

She felt good walking barefoot in her house, on the grass, on the dirt, on the concrete. She smiled at the sight of her daughter throwing her little shoes and baring her naked feet to the warm sun while counting the bees.

She wore skirts and sandals. She curled her hair and opened wide her windows. She took a nap while a familiar breeze lifted the curtains to the ceiling tickling her toes and bringing back sweet memories.

She gave her family a helping hand when needed, a glass of tea when thirsty, a slice of tart when hungry. They all sat outside watching the sunset. Silent, they listened to the birds going to bed, the squirrels running up and down the trees. And the breeze. Always this familiar, sweet breeze.

On those days, near the river, the grass, the dirt, the blooming trees, she saw life. And it was beautiful.

I didn't have plans to make this dish, even less to post about it. I mean look at it! It doesn't look like from where you are: beans, herbs and bits of roasted pepper here and there. But the truth is, it has all what I was looking for on that warm spring day. In fact, I wish I had a can of pinto beans in my pantry right now so I can make it again today (note to self: buy pinto beans asap).

The dish is called Tbikha. In North Africa, especially in Algeria and Tunisia, Tbikha refers to a dish made with a combination of fresh and dry vegetables. Herbs are often added to the dish, as well as some heat like harissa or hot peppers. Peppers, squashes, carrots, turnips, cardoons and spinach are most often used, along with chickpeas and dried beans. The herbs are what makes this tbikha fresh, moist and bright. The creaminess of pinto beans, along with the delicate, slightly sweetness of kale and smokiness of roasted red peppers make it the perfect pair to a crusty bread. And may be some harissa coated olives…and why not some extra ground cumin to sprinkle liberally. Really, have a mouthful of spring this weekend. You will love it!

Tbikha Kale with Pinto beans and Roasted Red peppers

Recipe: Serves 4
- Two bunches of Tuscan Kale (or curly kale)
- 3 tbsp olive oil
- 1 can pinto beans, drained
- 1 medium onion, finely chopped
- 5 green onions, chopped
- 1/2 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped (or whole depending on your taste)
- 1 cup parsley, finely chopped
- 1 cup cilantro, finely chopped
- 3 garlic cloves, minced
- 1 tsp cumin, freshly ground
- 1/2 tsp sweet paprika
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper
- 1 red pepper, roasted, peeled and finely diced
- The juice of 1/2 lemon

Wash the kale and remove the stems. Chop roughly and set aside.

Pour the olive oil in a pan over a medium heat. Add the onions, cover and cook until translucent but not browned, stirring frequently. Add garlic, jalapeno pepper, cumin, paprika and herbs and cook for a few minutes until fragrant. Add the chopped kale, cover and cook until wilted and the leaves turn bright green. Season with salt and pepper. Add the beans, drained, and the roasted red pepper. Stir, cover and let cook for another 10 minutes for the flavors to infuse.

Serve in a plate drizzled with some good olive oil, the lemon juice and sprinkle with chopped coriander and green onion.

B'ssahatkoum (To your health!)

Tbikha le chou frisé aux haricot blancs et poivron rouge

In Français please: Pour 4 personne
- 2 bouquets de chou frisé (ou épinard ou blettes)
- 3 c.s d'huile d'olive
- 1 oignon moyen, finement haché
- 5 oignons verts, hachés
- 3 gousses d'ail, finement émincées
- 1/2 piment vert, finement haché
- 1 boite de haricots blancs, égouttés
- 200ml de persil haché
- 200ml de coriandre hachée
- 1 c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- 1/2 c.c de paprika
- Sel, poivre noir fraichement moulu
- 1 poivron rouge, rôti, épluché et coupe en petits dés
- le jus d'un demis citron pour finir

Laver le chou frisé et n'en garder que les feuilles. Couper grossièrement et mettre de côté.

Chauffer l'huile d'olive dans une poêle sur feu moyen. Ajouter les oignons, couvrir et laisser cuire jusqu'à ce qu'il deviennent transparents mais ne pas laisser caraméliser, en remuant fréquemment. Ajouter ail, piment vert, cumin, paprika et les herbes et laisser cuire pendant quelques minutes. Ajouter les feuilles de chou frisé, couvrir et cuire jusqu'à ce que les feuilles fondent et qu'elle aient une belle couleur verte. Assaisonner de sel, poivre noir. Ajouter les haricots blancs, égouttés, et le poivron rôti en petits dés. Remuer, couvrir et laisser encore sur un feu doux pendant 10 minutes.

Servir dans un plat avec un filet d'huile d'olive dessus, le jus d'un demis citron et quelques feuilles de coriandre et un oignon vert haché dessus.

B'ssahatkoum (A votre santé)

A Classic / Un Classique

2009-04-02T03:10:00.003-04:00

This might be The best Chicken with olives tagine I have ever made. It has all what I look for in a tagine: succulent chicken, creamy and highly spiced sauce, sweet stringy onions and melt-in-your mouth pale-hued olives with just the right amount of acidity to them. My fingers were shaking every time I would dip my bread and mop all the goodness up from my plate. My tongue would wiggle every time an olive would yield to my jaw releasing the sublime sauce hidden in its flesh. My eyes went drowsy every time a person would lift the serving spoon to fill their plate a second time.

I didn't know we could feel this way about something as classic as chicken with olives tagine.

I didn't know my former chicken with olives tagine were unmemorable before I made this one.

Now before you scroll down to the recipe, let me share with you some of the lessons I've learned, the guidelines that made my husband fall in love with chicken and olives tagine all over again:

*Although named after the vessel it is traditionally cooked in, you don't need to have a Tagine to make luscious tagine. A heavy vessel is recommended though, as it surrounds the food with uniform and steady heat. This modern way lacks romance but relies on the same principal of trapping the meat and its juices in a moist, fragrant chamber surrounded by steady, low heat. A Tagine is just a braise laid in an exotic bed.

*Seasoning and marinating the chicken a day before is key to a fragrant, moist chicken. I find it improves flavor and enhances the sauce and is worth the little planning it requires. If your schedule is tight, reducing the lead time will diminish the effect, but is better than skipping it.

*Not all Tagines require the use of preserved lemons. They certainly add a unique pickled taste and a special silken texture to any dish but aren't always present in every chicken with olive Tagine. Preserved lemons cannot be duplicated with fresh lemons or lemon zest.

*Ripe "midway" olives are the most adequate for chicken or lamb tagines. My favorites happen to be Greek Kalamatas and Italian Gaetas. But in this recipe I used the variety I had in hand, which was Spanish Manzanilla olives, the one that comes stuffed with pimento. I removed the pimento and blanched the olives three times to get rid of its sourness. If using Kalamatas or Gaetas, you don't have to do anything to them except rinse them before adding them to the tagine.

* You can either add to the sauce a bouquet of cilantro and parsley, or a bay leaf, fresh or dried. The first option will result in a fresh, bright sauce, and the later one will give you a warm, sharper sauce. Both options are delicious. It really depends on your mood and taste.

*I like to use S'men in Tagine, but you can use sweet butter or just regular oil. S'men is a cooked and salted butter that is left to "ripen" in a cool place until a sharp cheesy flavor, almost like blue cheese, develop. It is then placed in the fridge.

* I like to have extra onions and to actually see the sliced parts in my tagine. It gives some texture to the sauce, but it is purely personal. You can chop it finely if you prefer. The depth of liquid ranges from one-quarter to one-third of the height of the poultry. You can always add more water during the cooking time, if necessary.

*Unlike the tradtional braising, Tagines don’t require browning the meat. It gets its golden skin from a last cooking trip to the oven to get all crispy and beautiful.

*Finally, have plenty of bread to serve, and don't wait all the years I've waited to have an exquisite Djej Bil Zitoon worth daydreaming about.

Chicken with Olives Tagine (Djej bil Zitoon)

Recipe: Serves 4
- 3 chicken legs and 3 chicken thighs, with skin still attached
- 1 cup ripe or midway olives (Greek Kalamatas, Italian Gaetas are the favorites, but you can even use Spanish Manzanilla olives)
- 1 medium sweet onion, quartered and sliced
- 2 tbsp S'men, butter or vegetable oil
- 4 small sprigs each of cilantro and parsley, tied together with a string
- 1/2 a lemon
- 1/2 cup water
- For the Chicken Marinade:
- 1 tsp sweet paprika
- 1/2 tsp turmeric
- 1 inch fresh ginger, finely grated
- A pinch of saffron
- A pinch of freshly ground cinnamon
- 1/2 sweet onion, roughly diced
- 1 tbsp olive oil
- 1/2 tsp kosher salt
- 1/4 tsp freshly ground black pepper

The day before, put all the marinade ingredients in a food processor and blend to a paste. Pour it over the chicken and marinate overnight. Refrigerate, covered. If you forget to do this step the day before, a minimum of one hour would work too, though the longer the marinating time the better the flavor of your chicken will be.

The next day, place the chicken thighs and legs, along with its marinade, the S'men, butter or oil, and the sliced onion in a tagine or a casserole. Add the water and the bouquet of herbs nestled in a corner. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer on a medium-low heat 35 minutes, turning the chicken often in the sauce.

If using the kalamatas or Gaetas olives, just rinse them to get rid of the excess brine and set aside. If using Manzanilla olives, which come often stuffed with pimento, remove the pimento with a toothpick and blanch the olives three times, adding a teaspoon of sugar to the third blanching. Set aside.

After thirty five minutes of cooking, add the olives to the chicken. Add water, if necessary. Continue cooking 10 minutes.

Preheat the oven at 375F (180C).

Discard the herb bouquet and transfer the chicken pieces, along with the sauce and the olives, to an ovenproof dish, if necessary. Continue cooking the chicken until nicely browned on the surface, about 10 minutes, depending on your oven.

Transfer the chicken to a serving dish and spoon the olives and sauce around them. Drizzle a few drop of 1/2 a lemon on the sauce, depending on your taste. Scatter some chopped parsley on top and serve at once with plenty of bread.

B'ssahatkoum! (To your Health!)

Tagine de Poulet aux Olives (Djej bil Zitoun)

In Français Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 3 cuisses et portes cuisses de poulet, sans retirer la peau
- 250ml d'olives (Kalamata, Gaeta sont mes préférées mais vous pouvez aussi utiliser les espagnoles Manzanilla)
- 1 oignon moyen, coupe en quatre et émincé finement
- 2 c.s de S'men, beurre ou huile végétale
- 4 tiges chacune de persil et coriandre, attachées d'une ficelle
- 1/2 citron
- 125ml d'eau
- Pour la marinade du poulet
- 1 c.c de paprika douce
- 1/2 c.c de curcuma
- 2 cm de gingembre frais, finement haché
- Une pincée de safran
- Une pincée de cannelle en poudre
- 1/2 oignon grossierement haché
- 1 c.s d'huile d'olive
- 1/2 c.c de sel
- 1/4 de poivre noir fraichement moulu

Un jour avant, mettre tous les ingredients de la marinade dans un robot menager et reduire en une pate molle. Verser cette derniere sur les morceaux de poulet et laisser mariner toute une nuit. Mettre au frais, couvert d'un film plastique. Si vous oubliez de mariner le poulet la veille, vous pouvez toujours le laisser mariner un minimum, même si plus le plus baignera dans sa marinade plus savoureux il sera.

Le jour J, mettre le poulet, et sa marinade, le beurre, s'men ou huile, et l'oignon émincé dans un tagine ou une poêle. Ajouter l'eau et le bouquet d'herbes. Porter a ébullition, couvrir et laisser mijoter sur feu doux pendant 35 minutes, en retournant le poulet souvent dans sa sauce.

Si vous utilisez des olives Kalamata ou Gaeta, rincer les pour vous débarrasser de l'excès d'amertume et mettre de coté . Si vous utiliser les Manzanilla, retirer a l'aide d'un cure-dent les petits piment et faire blanchir les olives trois fois, en ajoutant 1 c.c de sucre aux dernier blanchissement.

Apres 35 minutes de cuisson, ajouter les olives aux poulet. Ajouter l'eau, si nécessaire. Continuer la cuisson pendant 10 minutes.

Préchauffer le four a 180C.

Retirer le bouquet d'herbe et mettre les morceaux de poulet avec sa sauce et les olives dans un plat allant au four. Faire cuire jusqu'à ce que la peau des morceaux de poulet prenne une belle couleur dorée, environ 10 minutes, dépendant de votre four.

Présenter les morceaux de poulet dans une belle assiette avec la sauce et les olives autour. Finir avec quelques gouttes de citron sur la sauce et du persil hachée parsemé sur tout le tagine. Servir tout de suite avec du pain.

B'ssahatkoum! (A votre santé)

Home-grown memories / Trésors faits-maison

2009-03-26T01:47:00.003-04:00

I went silent, again, for more than a month. I had you starring at this spinach and bulgur thing for more than a month and I won't be surprised if you've gotten sick of it. Because I did. And so did all of the people I know.

The truth is the kitchen is still busy and I am still cooking and baking more than ever. The truth is whenever I make something and it turns out scrumptious and belly-rubbing-delicious and I want to tell you all about it, the camera seems to disappear. Then, I decide to make it again and it is even tastier than before and I take photos, download them to my computer, store them and at that moment the sun goes down, my sleepy eyes tell me I need my bed and before I knew it March is nearly over.

The truth is I love coming here and I miss it when I don't visit for a while. I love facing the white, smooth screen and thinking about what I'm going to write. I love my little kitchen journal, my childhood scented dishes, my home-grown memories.

The truth is I enjoy sharing my recipes with you all. I do it for you. I do it for me. I do it so I won't forget what should be remembered. I also do it for my daughter. My adorable Layla whom I love dearly. I do it for her because I want her to remember that harira was her favorite soup ever since she started solid food, and that one day she got her eye lids sticky because she got too much honey on her m'semmen, or how she loves the smell of couscous steaming and picking olives out of everybody's plate.

Because on her first day of school she can count on having her favorite homemade bread with butter and pooh's honey. Because her birthdays will always be filled with dark chocolate cakes, princess costumes and balloons. Because whenever she would need comfort a warm hug and a big kiss will always be there. Because I want her to know that her father loves making merguez for her and that he will always call her "my little girl" and I " my life". Because my days are sweeter when I she is here and that I miss her when she takes her nap. Because I want her to know that the day she will become a mother herself, I will put henna on her hands and her feet, will put kohl to her eyes, prepare a big bowl of berkoukes and a plate of sellou and I will give her more honey.

While sellou is rather complicated to categorize, it is considered in Algeria and Morocco as an energy paste, a traditional sweet often served at birth celebrations. It is basically flour that Is cooked in a dry skillet on the stove or roasted in the oven until nutty and golden. To that we add honey, melted butter, ground almonds, or any of your favorite nuts, ground anise seeds, ground cinnamon and sesame seeds. It is highly addictive, has a unique flavor and comes together in a snap. No eggs, no pan greasing, no baking. The flour may take some time before turning into a beautiful blonde shade, that's where a friend, a husband or the phone come in handy. Toddlers around the kitchen not obligatory but most welcomed, as they love the smell of roasted flour and cinnamon. And so do we.

Sellou (Fragrant Roasted Flour with nuts and honey)

Recipe: Serves 4-6 people
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 2 ounces sesame seeds, lightly toasted
- 4 ounces blanched almonds,or your favourite blend of nuts, ground
- 1 tbsp aniseed, freshly ground
- 1/2 tsp cinnamon, freshly ground
- 1 stick of butter, melted and cooled
- 1/4 cup honey
- Some icing sugar to decorate

In a dry skillet, on medium heat, cook the flour, stirring continuously until it turns a golden colour. Remove from the heat and transfer to a bowl.

Add to the flour the sesame seeds, ground or left whole, the almond meal, the aniseed and the cinnamon, and stir to combine. Add the melted butter and honey and stir first with a wooden spoon then with your hands to break any remaining lumps.

Mound the mixture in a pyramid on a plate. Dust with the icing sugar and decorate with some almonds or almond dragées.

Eat with teaspoons and serve with mint tea or coffee.

Sellou (farine torréfié au miel et amandes)

In Français please: pour 4-6 personnes
- 250g de farine
- 50g de graines de sésame, torréfié
- 100g d'amandes émondées et moulues
- 1 c.s de graines d'anis, fraichement moulues
- 1/2 c.c de cannelle, fraichement moulue
- 100g de beurre, fondu
- 100ml de miel
- Du sucre glace pour décorer

Dans une poêle, sur feu doux, faites cuire la farine en remuant constamment jusqu' a obtenir une belle couleur dorée. Retirer du feu et mettre dans un bol.

Ajouter a la farine les graines de sésame, moulues ou entières, les amandes moulues, l'anise en poudre et la cannelle. Remuer a l'aide d'une cuillère en bois. Verser le beurre fondu et le miel dessus et remuer d'abord avec la cuillère en bois, puis en vous servant de vos mains en frottant bien le mélange pour émietter tout grumeau restant.

Présenter le sellou en pyramide dans une assiette et décorer avec du sucre glace et des amandes entières ou des dragées si vous le souhaiter.

A déguster a l'aide de cuillères a café et servir avec du the a la menthe ou du café.

The Kitchen / La Cuisine

2009-02-25T11:58:00.004-05:00

My trip to Algeria was about spending time with my family and friends, soaking up the sun, the blue sky and the sea; introducing my daughter to her origins, to my country, to my continent, to the place where her dad and I first met, to her cousins, her big and diverse family. Our trip was about love, fun and food.

We were six under the same roof. Every morning, my daughter would run down the stairs and into the kitchen to jump into my father's arms before sitting on his lap and take a sip from his coffee. My mother would already be wrapped in her apron doing important things like sweating some onions or dicing some vegetables. Breakfasts were toasts, caak, croissants, pastries, for the brave souls, which I am not, and m'semmen for special days and weekends. Mornings were laid-back, evenings were lingering with tea and sweets at 6PM and chocolate and dates at 12AM. My husband then joined us, followed by my sister, her husband and her three kids. We were then twelve under the same roof. There was no need to turn on the heating and no room to feel lonely. Some of us enjoyed spending time in the family room, others, like myself, snuggled in my parents bed watching cartoons with the kids. But the kitchen was where we all came together. It was in the kitchen where we laughed, argued, ate delicious meals, relaxed, danced, teased one another, where my daughter had her first earrings, where twice a week I ironed my father's shirts, where my sister nursed her one month old son, where my father reads his newspapers, where my husband had his first roasted lamb's tail and where I covered my eyes to avoid seeing such things as people eating lamb's tail.

But let's not talk about animal parts today. I'll leave it for later, for the brave souls. Today I want it to be special. As you have always been so nice to me, I want to share with you a recipe I should have told you about a while ago, as it is my favorite of all. I believe if I had one last meal, this dish would be on my table no doubt about it. This is my mother's spicy greens with bulgur.

Originally, the recipe calls for a variety of greens called khoubiz or bakool , which is found growing wild in the fields of North Africa. It tastes like a cross between arugula (rocket leaves) and watercress, with a hint of acidity, and there is no real equivalent for it here in the US. After experimenting, with fair results, with spinach, arugula, Tuscan kale, dandelion, I've had the best luck with the combination of spinach and arugula. It may not be much to look at, but when you have cumin, turmeric and red pepper flakes mingling with bulgur and spinach and arugula, the fusion is irresistible. Even for those who pretend detesting spinach, or any greens for that matter. (I have a friend who wouldn't eat anything with a green color and he absolutely loves this dish)

The spices and the cloves of garlic are pounded using a mortar and pestle to extract as much aroma before adding the resulting paste to the "sweaty" onions. As you pour the stock over the lovely ochre colored onions, restrain yourself from dipping your bread, or your fingers, as the sauce gets ready for the bulgur. At the end, steamed spinach and arugula join the party; a party that took half an hour to put together and will take half the time to gulp down. It's exquisite, I assure you. It's even exquisite the following day straight from the fridge, sitting on the countertop with a piece of bread in one hand and orange soda in the other. Every bite brings with it a part of home and my mother's kitchen into my own kitchen.

Thank you, mama!

My mother's Spicy Greens with Bulgur (Tchicha bel Khoubiz)

Recipe: Serves 4
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 1 medium onion, peeled and finely chopped
- 3 garlic cloves, peeled
- 1 tsp cumin, freshly ground
- 1 tsp red chili pepper flakes
- 1/4 tsp turmeric
-1 tbsp tomato paste
- 2 cups chicken or vegetable stock
- 2 tbsp fine bulgur
- 1 spinach bunch
- 1 arugula bunch
- 1 tbsp cilantro leaves, roughly chopped
- 1 tbsp parsley leaves, roughly chopped
- Salt, Black Pepper

Wash the spinach and arugula. Drain off the excess water and put them in the basket section of a steamer. Cover and steam over simmering water until the greens just start to wilt, but still have their vibrant green color, about 5 - 7 minutes. When cold to handle, squeeze the water out of the greens and chop roughly. Set aside.

In a pan, heat the olive oil. Add the onions and cook on a medium heat until translucent but not brown, about 5 minutes. Meanwhile, pound the garlic with turmeric, cumin, and pepper flakes to a paste using a mortar and pestle. Add the garlic paste to the onions and stir to incorporate. Add The tomato paste and the stock and bring to a boil. Add the bulgur and stir again. Lower the heat to a gentle simmer and cook covered until the bulgur is tender, about 15 minutes, depending on the variety of your bulgur.

Uncover the pan and add the steamed greens and the herbs to the sauce. Stir and cook for another 2 minutes and then remove from the heat. Season with salt and pepper and serve.

The dish keeps well in the fridge for up to 2 days, although I never recall keeping it longer than one day.

La recette épicée des épinards au bulghour de ma mère

In Français Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 2 c.s d'huile d'olive vierge
- 1 oignon moyen, finement haché
- 3 gousses d'ail
- 1 c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- 1 c.c de poivre rouge du chili
- 1/4 c.c de curcuma
- 1 c.s de tomate en conserve
- 2 c.s de boulghour
- 500ml de bouillon de volaille ou de légumes
- 1 bouquet d'épinard
- 1 bouquet de roquette
- 1 c.s de coriandre, grossièrement hachée
- 1 c.s de persil, grossièrement haché

Laver les épinards et la roquette. Essorer le plus de liquide possible et les faire cuire a la vapeur jusqu'à ce que les feuilles commencent a "fondre" mais tout en gardant leur belle couleur verte, environ 5-7 minutes. Essorer l''exces d'eau et hacher grossièrement les herbes. Mettre de cote.

Dans une poêle, chauffer l'huile d'olive. Ajouter l'oignon et laisser cuire jusqu'à ce qu'il devienne transparent, mais sans qu'il caramélise, environ 5 minutes. Entre temps, a l'aide d'un mortier réduire les gousses d'ail et les épices en une pate. L'ajouter aux oignons et tourner a l'aide d'une cuillère en bois. Ajouter la tomate en conserve et le bouillon. Porter a ébullition puis verser les graines de bourghoul en pluie sur le bouillon. Réduire le feu, couvrir la poêle et laisser les graines cuire, environ 15 minutes. Découvrir la poêle et ajouter les épinards, roquette, persil et coriandre. Remuer encore avec la cuillère en bois et donner un autre bouillon avant de retirer du feu, environ deux minutes. Gouter et assaisonner de sel et poivre noir si nécessaire. Servir.

Ce plat se garde bien au frais pendant deux jours, mais j'avoue ne l'avoir jamais garder plus d'un jour dans mon frigo car il est irrésistible.

Hello!

2009-02-11T17:07:00.001-05:00

Hello there! It's been a while. Two months and nine days is a long time. So many things to say, and even more to share. I don't know where to begin. There were cousins meeting for the first time and one sweet nephew coming to the world. There were sunny mornings and rainy afternoons, warm days and chilly nights; walks on the beach with my father looking for shells and windows shopping with my mother; roasted chickens and head of lamb one day, savory mille feuille and snails stew the other (not on the same day, obviously).

I am back home and it feels so good. I missed my husband, my house, my kitchen, my ugly stove and the snow. Yes, the snow. Though, now, I can't wait for spring to finally be here.

I'll see you very soon, my friends. Let me gather my memories and my photos and I promise to be back pronto . This time with a recipe.

An Old Favorite / Un Classique

2008-12-02T14:37:00.001-05:00

I don’t know how it is where you are, but here it has been raining cats and dogs for the last week or so. The sun is still here, though. Sometimes. If you squint real hard you can see its arms reaching up to the window from behind the heavy clouds.

It is on rainy days that I enjoy baking the most. From weighing the ingredients, to mixing them together, to whistling, yes I do whistle a lot when I bake and even when I cook for that matter, to the smell of the cake when it gently rises in the oven, baking warms up my heart and my soul.
In one week I’ve made a banana cake, a brownie, one of my biggest disappointments, and this delicious yogurt cake, my grandmother’s recipe, to which I added orange zest and dates. It was perfect. An old favorite with my beloved winter flavors.

One of my earliest childhood memories is of seeing my nana in her gloomy kitchen baking a pound cake or yogurt cake to take with us when going to visit her sister every Thursday.
Although she had many cake recipes to her repertoire, those two were her most reliable. The kind of cake she would make half asleep. She got the recipes from a radio show. Every morning, while making lunch for us, my nana listens to the radio waiting for her favorite cooking show. Standing by her side, she would dictate the recipe to me and I will write it down on a small green notebook. If she liked the recipe, she would ask me to help her learn it by heart this way she would be able to make it when I wasn’t there. Though she didn’t know how to read or write, nana was a smart woman and was able to learn recipes very quickly.

The cake baked and wrapped in a big napkin, the basket filled with freshly picked eggs from her henhouse and bright, yellow lemons from her tree, nana would hide the cake under her silken hayek to protect it from the rain.

I haven’t been to my nana’s grave yet. I have so much to tell her, a great-grand daughter to introduce to her and so many things to thank her for. This cake is one of them. I hope it won’t be raining that day.

Yogurt Cake with Orange and Dates

If you like cakes that are fragrant, very moist and most of all very easy to make, then this cake is the one for you. Oranges and dates are very abundant in Algeria right now and like my father always says, there is a reason why they come to the market on the same season: the sweetness and richness of the dates balances out the tartness of some oranges. I couldn’t agree more. The cake was so good that I couldn’t stop talking about it and thinking about it for almost a week. The cake was gone in its second day.1 pot, or jar, of yogurt would be the equivalent of 125G or 1/2 cup.

Recipe: From my grandma’s recipe and Molly’s adaptation
For the cake:
- 1 pot plain yogurt
- 2 pots granulated sugar
- 3 large eggs
- 3 pots unbleached all-purpose flour
- 2 tsp. baking powder
- ¾ cup dates, pitted and diced
- The zest of 1 big orange
- 1 jar canola or vegetable oil

For the glaze:
- Juice from 1 orange
- 1/2 pot powdered sugar (or less depending on the sweetness of the orange)

Preheat the oven to 350°F ( 160°C).

In a large bowl, combine the yogurt, sugar, and eggs, stirring until well blended. Add the flour, baking powder, and zest, mixing to just combine. Add the oil and stir to incorporate. At first, it will look like a horrible, oily mess, but keep stirring, and it will come together into a smooth batter. Pour and scrape the batter into a buttered bundt cake pan or a 9-inch round cake pan

Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the cake feels springy to the touch and a toothpick or cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Do not overbake.

Cool cake on a rack for about 20 minutes; then turn it out of the pan to cool completely.

When the cake is thoroughly cooled, combine the orange juice and powdered sugar in a small bowl and spoon it gently over the cake. The glaze will be thin and will soak in like a syrup.

Enjoy.

Gâteau de Yaourt, Orange et Dattes

Si vous aimez que votre gâteau soit parfumé, bien moelleux et surtout très facile à faire, alors ce gâteau est fait pour vous. C’est la haute saison des oranges et des dattes ici en Algérie, et comme mon papa le dit si bien la richesse et la douceur des dattes est parfaite pour l’aigreur de quelques oranges. Je suis entièrement d’accord avec lui. Le gâteau était un tel succès qu’il n’en restait plus après seulement deux jours.Ici, 1 pot de yaourt est l'équivalent de 125g.

In français please : recette de ma nana et adaptation de Molly
Pour le gâteau :
- 1 pot de yaourt nature
- 2 pots de sucre en poudre
- 3 œufs
- 3 pots de farine
- 2 c.c de levure chimique
- 100g de dattes, dénoyautées et coupées en dés
- Le zeste rapé d’une grosse orange
- 1 pot d’huile végétale

Pour le glaçage :
- Le jus de l’orange
- ½ pot de sucre en poudre (ou moins, tout dépends du taux de sucre de l’orange)

Préchauffer le four à 160°C.

Dans un grand bol, mélanger le pot de yaourt avec les œufs et le sucre jusqu’à obtention d’un mélange homogène. Ajouter la farine, la levure chimique et le zeste et mélanger encore. Verser dessus l’huile et bien incorporer a la pâte.
Verser le tout dans un moule a manqué ou a savarin bien beurré.

Mettre au four et faire cuire pendant 30-35 minutes jusqu’à ce que le gâteau soit souple au toucher et qu’un cure-dent inséré en ressort propre et sec.

Laisser-le refroidir dans son moule sur une grille a pâtisserie pendant 20 minutes, puis démouler et laisser refroidir complètement.

Entre temps, mélanger le jus d’orange avec le sucre glace et verser doucement, à l’aide d’une cuillère, sur le gâteau. Le glaçage sera très liquide et le gâteau l’absorbera comme un sirop.

Bon Appétit!

Exquisite Day / Un Jour Exquis

2008-11-25T17:20:00.000-05:00

I meant to tell you more stories today.
I meant to tell you about the neighbourhood market, the home brined olives, the pile of juicy organic oranges in our kitchen, the street foods, the people, the roadside vendors, the local art, the local music, the regional clothes, the sand, the sea and the warm days.

I meant to tell you all. I meant to tell you about the unforgettable couscous with swordfish my mother made on a beautiful sunny Friday. She usually uses grouper, which I personally prefer, but swordfish isn’t a bad choice either. We took out the gorgeous plates her friend Hassiba made for her and we feasted on couscous, grapes and dates. We were full, we were dizzy and we all took a nap, which was very appropriate on a heavy Friday afternoon.

I apologize if there will be no recipe of the couscous today, but I wanted to stop by to wish you all a happy, blessed and exquisite Thanksgiving Day.

I am sure your kitchen, and your family, must be whistling of excitement. And in case you need some last-minute ideas, what follows is some of my falls favourite.

Soup and Starters:
- Roasted Beets Salad
- Harira Soup
- Roasted Butternut Squash soup
- Marinated Feta Cheese
- Parmesan Black Pepper Crackers
- Bourek

Bread:
- Algerian Semolina Bread
- Challah with Candied orange peels

Side Dishes:
- Sweet Potatoes Tagine
- Spicy Roasted Carrots
- Broiled eggplant Zaalouk
- Chedar, Goat cheese and Cilantro Cake
- Warm leek salad

Dessert:
- Easy Peasy Lemon Tart
- Egyptian Bread Pudding
- Fragrant Rice Pudding

Home!

2008-11-17T19:55:00.001-05:00

I wake up every morning in my bedroom, where I have my orange painted closet, my teenage books, my grandparents’ old wireless radio and some dried roses still stapled over my desk; and I realize that I am home. It feels good. It feels really good.

Some furniture has been added around the house, old neighbors moved out and new ones moved in, more cats came to the nearby printing works and the lemon tree has finally started to bless us, but I still drink my milk in the same mug and still love taking naps in my parents’ bed; my mother still do her daily crosswords before falling asleep and we still have our mint tea with a big plate of M’ssemen and honey later during the day. It feels good. It feels really good to be back, to have some routines back, to see my daughter running in the house where I have so much found memories, and to hear her laughing out loud at the sight of our turtles.

I wake up every morning to a spring day and goes to bed to a fall night.

My parents live in the west side of the country. A coastal city called Oran, once known for its lions, hence the name given to the city to commemorate the last two lions that used to reign over the nearby forest. Old, sometimes crumbling, often neglected, buildings, statues and forts still stand proud and tall all over the city, reminiscent of the Spanish and French eras.
With a glass of strong coffee or mint tea sitting on the side of the table for over an hour, Moorish coffees are the place where men of all ages meet to talk politics, and life, play cards and dominos or just sit there gazing at the passers by. Today I saw a group of four old men gathered around a traditional tray, sitting on small bunches on the sidewalk and enjoying coffee and some good looking pastries while people continuously passing by. My mother told me that only in Algeria you could see people taking their coffee on a busy avenue. I thought it looked like a nice gaada (company).

My mother and I went to one of my favorite, and most entertaining and diverse, local market the other day. And though I don’t have any photos, yet, to share with you, let me tell you something about our markets: They are not your usual farmers markets. They are loud, they are crowded, and they have everything from fruits and vegetables to shoe-shine boys, coffees under a tent, live poultry and rabbits, plumbers waiting to offer their service, letter-writer, marabout describing out loud on a microphone how his “medicine” can help urinary infections, and so much more.

Though I could have spent the whole day listening to the marabout and his fascinating stories, our basket was empty and the sight of sticky dates, pomegranates, roman beans and shiny fennel was more tempting. As we filled our mouths with samples and our baskets with heavy cabbage, tomatoes, dates, tangerines, Jerusalem artichoke, cardoons, fennel, herbs and olives, lunch was quickly taking shape. It was going to be a cabbage salad with celery and tomatoes, my father’s favorite, braised fennel with grilled meat and oranges. We carried our heavy bounty together, we were content with what we had, and nothing was missing. As we turned back to go home, we saw fall. We saw fall in a small red, dirty sweet potato. They were hidden between other potatoes and cauliflowers. They were heavy, they were beautiful, and they were going to be our third course.

My mother has different ways of cooking sweet potatoes. She bake them, fry them like French fries and sprinkle them with cinnamon and sugar at the end, or cook them in a tagine with saffron, cinnamon and honey. The dish takes 30minutes from peeling the potatoes to having them on your plate, and they are absolutely delicious. They melt in your mouth; they absorb all the spices and aromas of the syrupy sauce and they are all what a home is all about: sweet, warm and comforting.

Sweet Potatoes Tagine

Recipe: Serves four
- 2lb sweet potatoes, peeled and diced
- ½ cinnamon stick
- A pinch of saffron
- ½ tsp ground turmeric
- 1tsp orange blossom water
- 1tbsp honey
- 1 cup water
- A pinch of salt
- 1tbsp sweet butter
- A handful of raisins to serve (optional)

In a saucepan, put all the ingredients and bring to a boil over a medium heat. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered with a lid, until the potatoes are just tender, but not too mushy, and the sauce reduces to a thick syrup, about 20 minutes.
Serve immediately sprinkled with raisins or roasted, flaked almonds.

Tagine de Patates Douces

In Français Please: pour 4 personnes
- 1Kg de patates douces, pelées et coupées en morceaux
- ½ bâtonnet de cannelle
- Une pincée de safran
- ½ c.c de safran de l’Inde
- 1c.c d’eau de fleur d’oranger
- 1c.s de miel
- 225ml d’eau
- Une pincée de sel
- 1c.s de beurre
- Une poignée de raisins secs pour servir (facultatif)

Dans une casserole, sur un feu moyen, mettre tous les ingrédients, couvrir et porter à ébullition. Réduire le feu et laisser mijoter jusqu’à ce que les patates soient tendres et que la sauce soit d’une consistance onctueuse, environ 20minutes.
Servir tout de suite saupoudré de raisins secs ou d’amandes effilées légèrement grillées.

Ciao!

2008-10-24T19:01:00.006-04:00

Thirteen hours, three planes, four airports and one sleepy toddler later, I was finally in Montpellier, France, hugging my sister and resting my head and my body on a real comfy bad, having a real exquisite meal.

I was exhausted, yet excited. I was drowsy, yet couldn’t sleep. I don’t remember how the first day went by, or how I managed to do it all. I don’t remember what I saw, or what I said the first day. I remember Marion, and her beautiful smile, at the airport of Paris. I remember digging my teeth into the most wonderful Pastry I’ve ever eaten. I remember her kindness, her sense of humor, my clumsiness. I remember my daughter dancing in the middle of the airport and playing hide and seek even after such a long trip. I remember my sister crying when she held her niece in her arms for the first time. I remember the gorgeous weather of Montpellier, how I loved having the sun on my face, how I loved the vineyards on the side of the roads and how everything seemed small, organic and earthy.

I remember when I held my niece in my arms for the first time and how I thought she looked a lot like my sister. I love her laughter. I remember Montpellier International Fair we visited that same day; and the following day and the day after. I remember taking Mo’s old Camera, which I’m deeply in love with, and taking many photos and memories with it; memories of my daughter with her cousins running and dancing in the middle of the fair, memories of fruity cheeses, cookies, lanterns, masks, sun dried tomatoes, foreign accents and black truffles.

I still don’t know how I managed to do it all that first day. But if I have to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing; except the airplane seats.

These photos are from the enchanting Italian Hall at Montpellier International Fair. Another destination, dear to my heart, will follow soon.
Until then, I send you some sunshine and a basket of love and laughter from Latte, a beautiful village near Montpellier where I enjoy my days with my family.

Chocolate and Hazelnut Squares / Carrés de Noisettes et Chocolat

2008-10-12T02:12:00.002-04:00

As I type this, my black suitcase is wide open and clothes and shoes are lying on the floor and on the ironing table waiting for me to decide of their faith. My head is spinning in all directions, my fingers are typing faster than ever and I can’t wait for Wednesday to come and for the plane to take me closer to my family.

I am going to my other home, my first home. I can’t type these words without having tears running down my cheeks and feeling my heart coming out of my chest. It’s been a long time. Three long years. Three long years where I haven’t kissed my sister, where I haven’t had her hand in my hand, three long years where I haven’t had my favorite nephew in my arms, where I haven’t kissed my father goodnight, where I haven’t took a nap with my mother after finishing a pint of ice cream, where I haven’t fought with my two brothers over the bathroom.

I missed births, wedding ululations, birthdays, new years and harvests. I miss the beach, the street food stands, the smells, the noisy neighbors, the nosy neighbors, the crowded market, the loud streets, the narrow streets, and the wobbly streets.
I miss it all. The good and the not so good.

Yes, it will be a long nine hours trip. Yes, we will be exhausted, our hair will be a mess and our eyes will be puffy, but it will be all worth it when at the airport we will be greeted by a dear friend; when I will see my daughter play with her cousins for the first time; when we will land in the beautiful continent that is Africa and have grandparents, uncles, aunts, older and younger cousins around us; and when we will have my mother bake for us my all time favorite, ever since I was a kid, chocolate and hazelnuts squares. But this time, I’ll be the one baking it for them.

Every year when my mother would start baking cookies for Eid El Fitr, she would ask each and every one of us what cookies we would like to have and my vote would always go for these squares. Despite the numerous steps in the recipe, they are very easy to make and never failed to please us. Never. The use of rose water is very optional but I quite adore the floral note it adds to nuts, especially hazelnuts. Pure vanilla extract can be used in place of the rose water. While my mother makes it using unsweetened coconut instead of ground hazelnuts, the combination of chocolate and hazelnuts is so addictive and irresistible that I just had to make it. And now that I did, and that the last square was gone by the following day, I have one thing to say: Walk, run, bike to your nearest grocery store to get the needed ingredients and start baking these square today. Don’t wait a single minute, a single hour; you can’t make up for lost time, but you can always build and share new, beautiful ones.

Happy Sunday, everybody. See you very soon.

Hazelnuts and chocolate squares

Recipe:
For the crust:
- 9oz all-purpose flour
- 5oz butter, cold, cut in cubes
- 1 tbsp sugar
- 4 tbsp ice water
- 7oz bittersweet chocolate, melted
For the filling:
- 5 eggs, at room temperature lightly beaten
- 5oz caster sugar
- 7oz hazelnuts, roasted and finely chopped
- 1tbsp rose water
- Flaked almonds (optional)

Prepare the crust. In the large of a stand mixer fitted with the patted attachment, combine the flour and sugar. Mix on low speed until blended, about 10 seconds. Turn off the mixer, add the butter and continue mixing on low speed just until the mixture forms large, coarse crumbs the size of large peas, about 20 seconds. Add the ice water 1 tablespoon at a time, and mix on low speed just until the mixture begins to hold together, about 20 seconds. The dough will form large clumps and pull away from the sides of the bowl, but will not form a ball. Shape the dough into a disk and wrap it tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate until well chilled, about 1 hour or for up to overnight.

Line a 9 by 10 inches baking pan with parchment paper overlapping the edges of the pan. Roll out the dough on a floured surface and press it into the bottom and 1 inch up the prepared pan.

Position a rack in the middle of the oven, and preheat to 375F. Bake the crust partially until it looks dry and the edges becomes lightly golden, about 20-30 minutes. Let the crust cool on a wire rack.

Melt the chocolate on a simmering water bath. Spread it over the bottom of the crust and refrigerate until set.

Prepare the filling. In a large bowl, mix the eggs with sugar until pale and thick, about 5 minutes. Add the hazelnuts and rose water and mix again until blended. Pour the filling over the chocolate. Sprinkle the flaked almonds over the top and bake until the filling is set and golden brown, about 30-40 minutes.

Transfer to a rack and let cool. Using a large, sharp knife, cut into small squares. The squares keep for up to three days in an airtight container at room temperature.

Petits Carrés aux Noisettes et Chocolat

In Francais Please:
Pour la pate:
- 250g de farine
- 125g de beurre, froid coupe en petits dés
- 1 c.s de sucre
- 4 c.s d’eau glacée
- 200g de chocolat noir a 60%
Pour la garniture:
- 5 oeufs, légerement battu
- 150g de sucre semoule
- 200g de noisettes, grillées et finement hachées
- 1 c.s d’eau de rose
- Amandes effilées (facultatives)

Préparer la pate en mélangeant la farine avec le sucre. Ajouter le beurre en petits dés et mélanger jusqu’a ce que le beurre soit de la taille de petits pois. Ajouter l’eau petit a patit jusqu’a obtention d’une pate. Arreter de travailler la pate lorsque une pate se forme. Mettre en boule, couvrir d’un film plastique et mettre au frais au moins 1 heure.

Préchauffer le four a 180C. Garnir un moule rectangulaire de 30cm-20cm de papier sulfurisé. Etaler la pate au rouleau et garnir le moule de la pate en essayant de la faire monter le plus possible le long des bords. Faire précuire pendant 20-30 minutes, ou jusqu’a ce que la pate devienne seche, mais pas completement cuite.

Faire fondre le chocolat au bain marie, puis l’étaler sur la pate précuite. Mettre au frais jusqu’a ce que le chocolat devienne dure.

Préparer la garniture. Battre les oeufs avec le sucre jusqu’a doubler de volume. Ajouter les noisettes et l’eau de rose. Verser sur la couche de chocolat. Parsemer les amandes effilées dessus et faire cuire pendant 30-40 minutes ou jusqu’a ce que la surface devienne dorée.

Laisser refroidir, retirer en soulevant le papier sulfurisé et couper en carrés.

Tomorrow / Demain

2008-09-30T22:52:00.001-04:00

Busy bee in the kitchen, hoping from a cookie to another.

Busy bee in the kitchen, rolling in sugar, cinnamon and honey.

The bee baked and ate, and baked again. She added flour, nuts, rose water and sugar a million times. She ate and baked, and ate again.

Baking sheets are sore. Oven is blazing hot. She will bake more. Not today. Not tomorrow. Tomorrow she will dress up. Her daughter will wear a beautiful cream dress with Cross-Stitch embroidery. Her better half will wear a suit and a sky blue tie.

Laughter, prayers, photos, family, cookies, hugs and kisses will wrap this joyful day.

Tomorrow.

Happy Eid al-Fitr!

Thank you, for everything.

Almonds and Orange Blossom Cake / Gâteau Aux Amandes et Fleurs d'Oranger

2008-09-25T00:55:00.001-04:00

Fall! You are already here and I don’t know if I should deny you or embrace you.

I saw you at the farmer’s market last week. You were warm and glowing, orange and yellow. You came holding pumpkins and acorns and some late raspberries. You were sharing apples and pears with scarecrows and furry dogs. You threw a jacket on my shoulders and beets in my basket. You were warm and glowing, sunny and breezy.

You scared me at first with your chilly nights and misty mornings. I guess I am not the only one to tell you this, but I wasn’t expecting you that soon, that early. I knew you were coming sooner or later. This is how it goes. How life gets its final word. How the year addresses its epilogue, with apples in one hand and a blanket in the other.

Oh, Fall! I can’t deny you anymore. I can’t when I know how beautiful you are and how generous you can be. I can’t because on a breezy September evening you were here as I said yes to the love of my life. I can’t when I know that in a few weeks I’ll be kissing my sister for the first time after three long years; that I’ll be resting my head on my parents shoulders, that I’ll be hugging my two brothers and showing my daughter my room, my childhood places, my country.

Oh, fall! I was waiting for you all this year. I counted the days, the clouds and the seasons. My hair grew longer, my daughter got bigger and the grass grew taller. Last week, while you were timidly coloring the leaves, I baked you a cake with almonds and orange blossom water. I left you a slice on the bench by the thyme plant. I hope you will get the time to enjoy it, or the squirrels will.

I believe I was thirteen or fourteen when I first made this cake. It was and is still one of the easiest cakes I’ve ever baked. It is a traditional cake from Algeria, very popular during Ramadan where it is served along with mint tea. Unlike most cakes, this one has no flour in the batter but a mixture of equal parts of ground almonds and ground butter cookies. Eggs, melted butter and baking powder are then added to the batter and the cake is flavored with lemon zest, or orange zest, and orange blossom water. After baking, it is immediately sliced and soaked in an orange scented syrup, which gives the cake a delicate and very moist crumb. Absolutely delicious!

I made it again today using a honey and cinnamon flavored cookies and it was even better. Even better was a glass of apple cider, a blanket and a book. Fall never felt that good.

Khobz Tunis: Almonds and orange blossom cake

Recipe: Serves 6-8
- 9oz whole almonds, ground
- 9oz Graham crackers or butter cookies, finely ground
- 4 ½ oz unsalted butter, melted and cooled
- 3 ½ oz granulated sugar
- 6 eggs
- ½ tsp baking powder
- A pinch of salt
- 1 tsp vanilla sugar
- 1 tbsp orange blossom water
- The zest of one lemon
- For the syrup:
- 14 oz granulated sugar
- 2 cups water
- 1 tsp lemon juice
- 2 tbsp orange blossom water

In a bowl, mix the almonds, crackers, sugar, baking powder, salt and lemon zest. Add the orange blossom water, butter and eggs and mix until well incorporated. The dough will be sticky. It is supposed to be so.

Butter a 9-by-13-inch baking pan. Pour the dough in the prepared baking dish and bake in a preheated 350F oven until golden on top.

Meanwhile, prepare the syrup. Bring the water, sugar and lemon juice to a boil. Simmer for 8 minutes and remove from the heat. Mix in the orange blossom water and cool. The syrup can be made ahead, cooled and chilled for a week. The addition of lemon juice will prevent the sugar from crystallizing.

Get the cake out of the oven, cut into squares and pour the syrup over it right away. Let it cool in the pan. Serve the squares at room temperature.

Khobz Tunis: Gâteau aux Amandes et fleurs d'oranger

In Francais Please: Pour 6-8 personnes
- 250g d’amandes entières moulues
- 250g de petits beurre ou biscottes moulus
- 125g de beurre fondu
- 100g de sucre
- 6 oeufs, battus
- 1 sachet de levure
- 1 sachet de sucre vanilla
- 1 c.s de fleur d’oranger
- Le zeste d’un citron
- Pour le sirop:
- 400g de sucre en poudre
- ½ l d’eau
- 1 c.c de jus de citron
- 2 c.s d’eau de fleur d’oranger

Dans une jatte, mélanger les amandes, les biscottes, le sucre, levure, vanilla et zeste de citron. Arroser de fleur d’oranger puis ajouter les oeufs battus pour obtenir un mélange homogene. La pate vous semblera collante, ce qui est tout à fait normale.

Etaler la pate dans un moule de 30cm sur 20cm bien beurre. Lisser la surface et faire cuire à 160C jusqu’à ce que le le gâteau devienne dore.

Entre temps préparer le sirop en portent l’eau, sucre et jus d’orange à ébullition dans une casserole. Laisser cuire à feu doux pendant 8 minutes. Retirer du feu. Ajouter l’eau de fleur et laisser refroidir. Le sirop peut etre préparé à l’avance et mis au frais jusqu’à une semaine.

Dés la sortie du gâteau du four, coupez-le en losanges, sans le retirer du moule, et l’arroser du sirop. Laisser refroidir. Servir les losanges, demoulés, à temperature ambiante.

Ramadan Nights / Les Nuits de Ramadan

2008-09-12T00:00:00.003-04:00

The milk and dates on the table. The soup. The bread. We sip, bite, savor and relax. Already ten days since the beginning of Ramadan, the trees are turning gold, squirrels are digging holes in my backyard, there is a fall smell in the air and I don’t know where the time has gone. I really don’t!

I remember the first time I fasted. The first time I wanted to be a grown up. The time I wanted to be as brave and patients as the adults. I was ten, may be eleven, I don’t remember, and it was a warm day. It was Ramadan, the festive month, the month of blessings, forgiveness, togetherness, thirst and hunger. I was ten, may be eleven, I don’t remember, and I was brave and patient for a day. That night, when I ate, I felt older. I became older. I drank a big glass of milk in which my mother had put her ring, just like her mother has done before on her first day of fasting. I was a princess for one night, in my puffy blue dress and butterflies and ribbons on my hair. My mother threw me a party with cakes, candles, henna on my little hand and a basket of fruits and dates on the table. I invited friends and neighbors. We ate, laughed, shared silly stories and ate a little more.

This is how I remember Ramadan. That and the glorious food mothers make for their families, staying extremely late and entertaining every night of the month for friends, neighbors and loved ones.

Every year, daily soups and homemade bread would make their way to our table. Every day, even before dusk, the coffee table would already be garnished with coffee, for my father and my grandmother, mint tea, for the rest of us, and three kinds of sticky sweets made of semolina, ground almonds and scented with orange blossom water and honey to enjoy after dinner.
The whole house wears a coat of cinnamon, allspice, saffron, tomatoes and warm yeasty bread. Rumbling stomachs and watery eyes are roaming in the kitchen. Kids are sent to play outside to leave the mother alone. The streets are loud with chants, men, soccer games and whistling pans coming from the windows. All of a sudden empty streets. Silence. Prayers. Thanks. Squeaking chairs, sticky dates, noisy spoons, smiling faces and sweet tagines.

As diverse and different the nights of Ramadan are, as sophisticated and splendid the dishes and aromas are, the first meal of Ramadan has always been about maintaining traditions. Always. My mother would make Harira, or Chorba, followed by Bourek with ground meat, roasted peppers with garlic, tomatoes and olive oil, a salad, a roasted leg of lamb, and to end the feast a seasonal fruit salad, scented with orange blossom water, and the marvelous Prunes Tagine. Lamb and Prunes Tagine is the core of what North African cuisine is all about. It is sweet, savory with spicy notes, all bathed in a luscious complex sauce. The lamb is gently simmered in a fragrant, savory sauce, with saffron, ginger and cinnamon. The prunes and dried apricots are then added to the sauce where they all mingle and interact with a drizzle of honey and a splash of orange blossom water. It is comforting yet luxurious at the same time. It is expected yet exciting and exhilarating and new. New like those sacred nights. Exhilarating like that day where she wore her puffy blue dress and ribbons and butterflies on her hair.

She remembers all of it now.

Lamb and Prunes Tagine

Recipe: For 6 servings
- 2 pounds leg of lamb, cut into chunks
- 1 whole sweet onion
- 3 tbsp butter
- 3 tbsp peanut oil, or canola oil
- 1 tsp ground ginger
- ¼ tsp saffron threads
- 1 small cinnamon stick
- 1 small bunch of fresh coriander, tied with a string
- 1 cup water
- 1lb prunes, pitted
- ¼ lb dried apricots
- 1 tbsp orange blossom water
- 1 tbsp honey

Heat the oil and butter in a pan. Add the lamb and brown lightly on all sides. Cover with water and add whole onion, ginger, cinnamon stick, saffron and coriander. Bring to a boil then cover and lower the temperature to a simmer.

Cook until the meat is fork tender. Uncover and let the sauce thickens to an almost syrupy consistency. Discard cinnamon, coriander and onion.

Set aside the meat in a warm plate. Add prunes, dried apricots, orange blossom water and honey to the sauce. Cover and simmer on a very low heat for 10 minutes.

Arrange the lamb in a serving plate with the prunes and dried apricots garnished on top and drizzled with the sauce. Garnishing the tagine with roasted blanched almonds adds a nice crunch to the dish.

Tagine d’agneau aux pruneaux

In Francais Please: Pour 6 personnes
- 1kg de gigot d’agneau, coupe en morceaux
- 1 oignon entire
- 30g de beurre
- 3 c.c d’huile d’arachide ou huile vegetale
- 1 c.c de gingembre en poudre
- ¼ c.c de safran
- 1 petit batonnet de cannelle
- 1 petit bouquet de coriandre
- 250ml d’eau
- 500g de pruneaux, denoyautes
- 200g d’abricots secs
- 1c.s d’eau de fleur d’oranger
- 1c.s de miel

Faire chauffer le beurre et huile dans une marmite. Ajouter la viande et faites dorer de tous les cote. Couvrir d’eau et ajouter l’oignon entire, la cannelle, gingembre, safran et le bouquet de coriandre. Porter a ebullition, couvrir et baisser la temperature du feu afin que la viande mijote paisiblement.

Laisser cuire jusqu’a ce que la viande devienne tres tendre. Decouvrir la marmite et laisser la sauce reduire jusqu’a epaississement. Retirer la cannelle, oignon et coriandre.

Retirer delicatement la viande et la reserver au chaud. Ajouter les pruneaux, abricots secs, eau de fleur d’oranger et miel a la sauce. Laisser mijoter sur un feu tres dou pendant 10 minutes.

Freshman / Première Année

2008-08-28T02:17:00.010-04:00

My first year of college was spent 80 miles away from home, sharing a 170 sq ft room (16sq m) with my older sister, two metal beds, one noisy spring mattress and one tiny fridge.

Except for the old beds and the desk, everything was brought from home. Our mother helped us clean and redecorate the room, gave us her mini electrical oven, supplied us with home baked cakes nearly every weekend and gave us unconditional love and support.

Despite all this effort, the dormitory was far from homey. It was badly maintained, with noisy neighbors and hungry mosquitoes. Every other day, after school and already in our pajamas, my sister and I had to go down the three story building, stand in line to fill up our two five gallons jerrycans with water, because our sink was just ornamental, then go back to our room, catching our breath at each story. I have memories of girls washing their clothes outside by the water fountain and carrying them in big, wide plastic bowl while singing popular songs. Memories of dinners with my sister’s friends in our tiny room, where some of them would sit on the beds, some by the window and me on the desk. You had to go outside to cough.

The meals there were a matter of mood, luck and sometimes bravery. While my sister was in charge of doing the dishes and keeping the music going, I was in charge of feeding us and keeping us safe. To cook I had to bring out the folding table from under my sister’s bed (I had the oven and one folding chair under mine), put it in the middle of the room, place the electric stovetop on it, sit on my knees on the corner of the bed and keep the door shut at all time to avoid an accident. Dinners were simple, convenient and meant to keep us from starving. Rice, pasta, fruits and cheese were often on the table; the most sophisticated meals I’ve made being a ratatouille and chicken saffron rice.

Sometimes, when feeling fancy, we would go to the nearby butcher and by a rotisserie chicken, to which he would always add a loaf of bread for free. That night, we knew dinner was going to be savored blissfully; when other times, when feeling lazy, and brave, we would dine at the dinning hall. Standing in line, we would slide our steel trays along the kitchen windows to see our plates filled with, once more, what is supposed to be mashed potatoes, a suspicious fish soup, unseasoned cucumber and tomatoes salad, a slice of bread, cheese and plain yogurt. When extremely hungry, and extremely fearless, we would gulp down the soup, leave out the mashed potatoes and take the salad, bread, cheese and yogurt to our room. That night, we knew dinner was ruined and that our fridge was, yet again, going to add another cup of yogurt to its shelf. By the end of the week, and four cups of plain yogurt later, my sister and I sitting on the desk, our feet up on the window, we would feast on cereal and yogurt, yogurt cake and sometimes eggplant and yogurt dip.

We left the dormitory the next year, but took our beloved eggplant dip home with us.

Spicy Eggplant and Yogurt Dip

Recipe: Serves 4-6 people
- 2 medium eggplants
- ½ cup plain yogurt
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- 2 garlic cloves, finely minced
- 2 tbsp parsley, finely chopped
- 1 tbsp mint, finely chopped
- 1 tsp harissa
- 1 tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
- ½ tsp cumin, freshly ground
- Salt
- Pita chips for serving

Preheat the broiler. Line a baking sheet with foil. Prick the eggplants in a few places with a pointed knife so that they will not burst. Put the eggplants under the broiler until the skin is black and blistered. Turn on the other side for a few more minutes. Roast the eggplants for 15-20 minutes, or until they feel very soft when you press them.

When cool enough to handle, peel the eggplants and remove as much seed as possible. Drop the flesh into a colander. Chop the flesh roughly with the point of a knife to let the juice escape.

Pour the eggplants into a bowl and beat in the olive oil, the harissa and the yogurt and mix until it is thoroughly blended. Mix in the rest of the ingredients. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed.

Spoon into a serving bowl, cover with a plastic wrap and refrigerate until cold. Serve with pita chips (pita wedges baked in a bakeware at 350 for 5 minutes, or until crunchy) The dip is even better served the following day.

Dip épicé d’Aubergine et Yaourt

In Francais Please: Pour 4-6 personnes
- 2 aubergines moyennes
- 100ml de yaourt nature
- 2 c.s d’huile d’olive vierge
- 2 gousses d’ail, finement émincées
- 2 c.s de persil, finement haché
- 1 c.s de menthe fraiche, finement haché
- 1 c.c de harissa
- 1 c.c de jus de citron
- ½ c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- Sel
- Chips de pita pour servir

Préchauffer le grill de votre four. Couvrir un tole de patisserie de papier aluminium et mettre dessus les aubergines. Piquer les aubergines tout autour à l’aide d’un coteau pointu et mettre sous le grill jusqu’à ce que la peau noircisse et a se froisser. Retourner l’aubergine de l’autre côté. Eteindre le grill mais laisser le four allumé afin de continuer la cuisson des aubergines pour 15-20 minutes, ou jusqu’à ce qu’elles deviennent molles.

Refroidir les aubergines. Peler, épépiner le plus possible et mettre dans une passoire et couper grossierement avec le pointe du couteau pour se debarasser du jus.

Verser les aubergines dans un bol et y ajouter l’huile d’olive, la harissa et le yaourt et bien mélanger. Ajouter le reste des ingredients et mélanger encore une fois. Rectifier l’assaisonnement.

Mettre dans un bol pour servir. Couvrir de film plastique et mettre au frais jusqu’à ce qu’il refroidissent completement. Servir avec les chips de pita. (Des tranches de pita passées au four, 160C pendant 5 minutes ou jusqu’à ce qu’elles deviennent croustillantes)
Ce dip est encore meilleur le lendemain.

Baked Apricots Filled with Almond Paste / Abricots Fourrés à La Pâte d’Amandes

2008-08-25T02:21:00.001-04:00

I hated apricots for almost five years. I hated them like I now hate pistachios, like I once detested puddings, like I will always despise mint flavored chocolate.
Apricots were, and still are sometimes, deceiving and unpredictable. Apricots were rare, fleeting and dear one year, overwhelming, turned down and abundant the next; 70 pounds abundant, to be exact. And even with quite a big kitchen, they were crowding our space and our heart sitting by the wicker bread pin.

Of course we were delighted when we first received this sweet treasure. We polished it, smelled it and ate it at breakfast, lunch and dinner. We shared them with neighbors. We painted the pits, kept them in our pockets and invented games. My mother and I made apricots jam, apricots tarts, galettes, cakes, fruits salads and clafoutis. We were happy, although busy nearly every afternoon, worried about rotten apricots every night and growing tired of them every morning. Until summer 2003: 20 pounds of apricot jam in our kitchen, snug jeans and one bottle of Pepto Bismol. I was done with apricots.

It took me five years to make peace with apricots again. But not any apricots: ripe, sun kissed, rose blushed apricots that were winking at me last Saturday at the farmer’s market. They were so beautiful, so sweet and meaty that I had to make the ultimate, dead easy, lazy friendly dessert that is Baked apricots with almond paste.

Almond paste based desserts are a staple in our kitchen and in many Mediterranean kitchens. While different recipes and varieties exist, the one that we use in North Africa is basically ground almond to which we add sugar and orange blossom water, or rose water, until we obtain a smooth paste. You halve the apricots, fill them with the almond paste and bake them until they start to soften slightly. That’s all. It is tart, sweet and wonderfully scented. Along with a scoop of ice cream, a cloud of crème Anglaise or Zabaglione, and I might even reconsider eating mint flavored chocolate again. Or may be not!

Baked Apricots Filled with Almond Paste

Recipe: Serves 4
- 8 apricots, ripe but still firm
- 4 ounces whole almonds, finely ground
- Caster sugar
- Orange blossom water

Preheat the oven at 350F. Butter a baking dish and set aside.

Halve and pit the apricots. Mix the ground almonds with some sugar, depending on the sweetness of the apricots. Taste the almonds and sugar mixture as you mix to see if you need to add more sugar or not. Start by adding 1 tbsp of orange blossom water to the almonds mixture and add more if necessary until you have a smooth paste.

Fill each apricot half with the almond filling and cover with the other apricot half. Continue with the remaining apricots.
Put them in your prepared pan and bake them for 10-15 minutes, or until the apricots start to soften slightly. Keep an eye on the apricots after 10 minutes, as you don’t want them to fall apart.

Serve warm as it is, or with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The latter choice happens to be my favorite.

Note: This dessert should be consumed on the same day, as they become mushy once in the fridge.
You can find orange blossom water at Middle Eastern stores.

Abricots Fourrés à La Pâte d’Amandes

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 8 abricots, pas trop mûrs
- 100g d’amandes entieres, finement hachées
- Sucre en poudre
- L’eau de fleur d’oranger

Préchauffer le four à 180C. Beurrer un plat allant au four et mettre de côté.

Couper les abricots en deux. Mélanger les amandes hachées avec un peu de sucre. La quantité du sucre depends de la douceur des abricots. Gouter au fur et à mesure le mélange d’amandes pour voir si il vous faut rajouter du sucre. Commencer par verser une c.s d’eau de fleur d’oranger sur le mélange d’amandes, et rajouter si necessaire jusqu’à obtenir une pâte homogene et souple.

Fourrer chaque moitié d’abricots de la pate d’amandes et couvrir de l’autre moitié du fruit. Continuer jusqu’a épuisement des fruits.
Arranger-les dans votre plat préalablement beurré et faire cuire 10-15 minutes, ou jusqu’à ce que les abricots soient tendres. Garder un oeil sur les abricots après 10 minutes de cuisson, car vous ne voulez pas que les fruits s’effritent.

Servir tiede, seuls ou avec une boule de glace à la vanille. La derniere proposition est celle que je préfere.

Note: Ce dessert doit se consommer le jour meme. Une fois au frigo, il commence à se ramollir

Preserving Summer / Conserver L'été

2008-08-21T17:41:00.004-04:00

I didn’t mean to be away from my blog. I didn’t mean to leave you starring at this olive and chicken tagine, which started to go bad, for this long. August has been very busy around here. And the busiest month is yet to come, both for my kitchen and I.

I don’t know about you but since I can remember, our summer afternoons have always been filled with preserving the year’s bounty. It was a ritual, written in our book of life.
My father would bring us crates of green peppers, tomatoes, apricots and peas and my mother and I would spend our afternoons in the kitchen peeling, seeding, halving, blanching, roasting, cooking and freezing while talking about how this summer looks hotter than the others, why the cousin didn’t get married and how I need to work quickly instead of talking all the time. “El-hadra wel maghzel!” she always tells me, which means: “chitchat and distaff!”
The next day was the same: peel, seed, halve, blanch, roast, cook and freeze, chitchat chitchat, repeat! By the third day, afraid of not being able to reach the lower part of the crates and just growing tired of all these never ending crates laying around the kitchen, my mother would give the rest to neighbors and friends saying to herself that we have fairly enough for the winter. Until next summer comes along with crates, funnels, ladles, pots and wiser hands.

This year, although away from my mother’s kitchen, was no exception. Green peppers have been roasted and frozen, strawberries and blueberries were turned into jam, verbena was dried for our late nights herbal teas, basil was turned into pesto, pounds and pounds of ripe, delicious tomatoes were turned into the most exquisite tomato sauce and hot peppers were either roasted and frozen, or dried and turned into Mo’s, that would be my other half, signature hot sauce: Harissa.

Although being a North African condiment, I didn’t grow up eating Harissa that much. The rare occasions where I would have Harissa was at street vendors where they serve it along with Karentika, a chickpea based snack a bit similar to the Italian Farinata. Though it added a nice heat to the snack, I didn’t enjoy Harissa by itself. It was unnecessary hot and that was it. No flavor, no aromatic spices. Just hot!
And then came Mo, with dried chilies in one hand and tales of the best Harissa he’s ever had, while studying in Paris, in the other.
All I knew about Harissa was shattered into million pieces and blended with the dried chilies and the spices, and I loved it. I loved being wrong because my life will never be the same without Mo and his four jars of Harissa in our fridge. And while I wish I could give you the recipe of his Harissa, there is a tiny close in our marriage contract, next to the do-the-dishes-from-time-to-time-honey close, that says that I shall never give away his recipe to anyone. But you can always persuade him to send you a jar or two.

We usually eat Harissa as a condiment with soups, tagines, grilled kefta, couscous…in a word everything but desserts and salads, but this time I wanted to mix it to my usually boring squash fritters batter. Yellow squash can be very bland sometimes and the warmth of Harissa along with cumin, coriander seeds, garlic and mint add a much-needed burst of flavors to the fritters and conclude a happy ending to an intense day of preserving summer.

Yellow Squash Fritters with Mint and Harissa

Recipe: Serves 4
- 1 pound small yellow squash, grated (You can use green zucchini as well)
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 eggs, lightly beaten
- 2 tbsp all-purpose flour
- 1 small bunch parsley, chopped
- ½ tsp cumin, freshly ground
- ½ tsp coriander seeds, freshly ground
- 1 tsp Harissa paste
- 10 mint leaves, chopped
- Salt and freshly ground black pepper
- Olive oil

Squeeze the grated yellow squash dry by wring it out in a towel. (Using a towel is the best way I’ve found to get rid of the excess water, which you can use to water your plants)

In a large bowl, combine the yellow squash with the rest of the ingredients. Heat a film of olive oil in a nonstick sauté pan over medium heat. For each fritter, pour a generous tablespoon of the squash batter into the pan. Turn them over after the bottom turns golden. Cook on the other side until golden. Drain on paper towels. Serve right away.

Beignets de Courgettes jaunes a la Harissa et Menthe

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- 500g courgettes jaunes, râpées (Vous pouvez la remplacer par de la courgette verte)
- 2 gousses d’ail, émincées
- 2 oeufs entiers, légerement battus
- 2 c.s de farine
- 1 petit bouquet de persil, haché
- ½ c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- ½ c.c de graines de coriandre, fraichement moulues
- 1 c.c de harissa
- 10 feuilles de menthe, hachées
- Sel et poivre noir fraichement moulu
- Huile d’olive

Essorer les courgettes râpées dans une serviette pour enlever le plus d’eau possible. (Vous pouvez arroser vos plantes avec l’eau des courgettes)

Dans un bol, mélanger les courgettes essorées avec le reste des ingredients. Faites chauffer un filet d’huile d’huile dans une poêle ainti-adhesive sur feu moyen. Pour chaque beignet, verser une cuillere à soupe du mélange de courgettes dans la poêle. Retourner quand la surface des beignets prendra une belle couleur dorée. Faites cuires l’autre coté jusqu’à obtenir une belle coloration. Egoutter sur du papier absorbant et servir tout de suite.

Set a Date / Fixez une Date

2008-07-24T16:38:00.004-04:00

It was just a matter of time before I would tell you about the cherished dish that is Djej Bil Zeetoon, Chicken with Olives. It hasn’t been my intention to torture you with what I am about to write down, but I must warn you that this post contains some lips smacking passages and increasing saliva anecdotes that might be inappropriate for a hungry, growling stomach. I suggest nibbling on something before we go further. Go ahead! I can wait…

you’re back? Wow! That was quick!

Chicken with Olives is one of the most, if not the most, popular dish in both Algeria and Morocco. It can be served as a simple midday lunch for four or as an elaborate and extravagant meal for two hundred people. It follows the seasons as well as the wallets. In spring Chicken with Olives becomes Chicken with Olives and Artichoke, or green peas, or fennel, or cardoons or young potatoes.
Chicken with olives is the dish of the people. It is the dish of cities and villages. It is the gathering, the cheerful faces, the flying olives, the bread moping and the yellow fingers.
It is the definition itself of what Algeria and Morocco are all about: warm, spicy and bitter on the edges, but always sweet and comforting at heart.

What makes the Algerian Djej Bil Zeetoon different from its Moroccan version is the omission of preserved lemons. We don’t use preserved lemons in this dish or any other tagine. But that doesn’t mean that ours are better or vice versa. It is just different.

The traditional Chicken with Olives, or at least the one I know, will have onions, garlic, saffron, turmeric, ground ginger, a dash of cinnamon and of course olives and chicken. I had it made with different spices and different sauces before, all as magnificent and memorable. My mother makes hers the traditional way and the “non-traditional” way, where she cooks the chicken in the juice of diced tomatoes, garlic, paprika and a bit of cumin and let the sauce reduce to sumptuous, thick, caramelized on the edges sauce. An Absolute delight. But I have to say that the one that resonates deeper in my heart is the one I bought once from our corner chicken butcher. In the last few years, Algeria has known a boom of what is known as “the healthier butcher”. Butchers specializing only in selling chicken pieces and delicacies because it is cheaper and for the customers it seems healthier than the red meat. From chicken scallops to chicken merguez, bourek, liver and of course the rotisserie chicken. My parents have one of these butchers across where they live. I love this butcher. Not only his rotisserie chicken comes out always moist and perfectly cooked, but he also gives you a complementary olives tagine and potatoes with your chicken. What makes his olives tagine, and also potatoes for that matter, oh so special is that during the whole cooking process of the chickens, those lucky tidbits are quietly and warmly snuggled under the dripping, hot spinning chickens. Not so good for your heart after all, but so good to watch and devour.

I wanted to recreate the experience of roasted chicken with olives in my own kitchen, but with a more modern, non-traditional twist to it. And of course without the rotisserie.
My Djej Bil Zeetoon today involves the addition of apricots to the sauce. It may seem odd at first to combine sweetness with olives, but I guarantee that you will be seduced with this dish, as it is the perfect example of how North African cuisine mixes savory and sweet with great success. The chicken is first marinated in a honey spiked marinade, then roasted until perfectly crisp and golden, while the olives simmer gently and quietly in a sauce where saffron, cilantro, ginger and a dash of cayenne pepper fuse with the apricots until the sauce becomes syrupy and lightly caramelized on the edges. Have some crusty bread to mop up all the juicy goodness; followed by a warm mint tea to wash it all down and you will find yourself setting another date to make this dish again and again and again.

Chicken with Olives and Apricots (Djeje Bil Zeetoon wel Mechmech)

Recipe: 4 servings
- 1 big onion, finely chopped
- 1 garlic, minced
- 1 small cilantro bunch, tied with a string
- 3 tbsp canola oil
- 1 tbsp butter
- A pinch of saffron
- 1 tsp ground ginger
- ¼ tsp turmeric
- 1/8 tsp cayenne pepper (or more depending on your taste)
- ¼ stick of cinnamon
- 1/3 cup water
- ½ cup green olives, drained and blanched once
- ½ cup fresh apricots, halved, or dried apricots
- Salt
- Freshly ground black pepper
- For the chicken marinade:
- 4 chicken thighs
- 2 tbsp honey (I used clover)
- Juice of 1 lemon
- 2 tbsp Extra Virgin Olive oil
- 1 tsp Kosher Salt
- Freshly ground black pepper
- ½ tsp sweet paprika

In a bowl, whisk the honey, lemon juice, olive oil, salt, pepper and paprika together. Pour it over the chicken and let it marinate for at least 1 hour or overnight.

In a pan, over a medium flame, heat the canola oil and butter and add the onions and garlic and cook until the onions are soft and tender but not caramelized, about 3-4 minutes. Add saffron, ground ginger, turmeric, cayenne pepper and cinnamon. Stir until fragrant. Add water, the cilantro bunch, blanched olives and cook covered for 20 minutes, then uncover and let the sauce reduce until thickened and syrupy. Discard the cilantro bunch. (If using fresh apricots, add them 10 minutes before turning off the heat. If using dried apricots, add them along with the olives)

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 400F. Drain the chicken and arrange it on a baking sheet. Bake until the skin is golden brown and the chicken is cooked through, about 35 minutes.

Serve the chicken in a plate and the sauce around. Sprinkle with some chopped cilantro.

Poulet aux Olives et Apricots (Djej Bil Zitoun Wel Mechmache)

In Francais Please: Pour 4 personnes
- Un gors oignon, finement haché
- 1 gousse d’ail, émincée
- 3 c.s d’huile végétale
- 1 c.s de beurre
- Une pincée de safran
- 1 c.c de gingembre en poudre
- ¼ c.c de curcuma
- ¼ bâtonnet de cannelle
- 1/8 c.c de cayenne (ou plus selon le gout)
- 1 petite botte de coriandre, attachée d’un fil
- 80ml d’eau
- 75g d’olives vertes, égoutées et blanchits une fois
- 50g d’abricots frais, coupe en deux, ou secs
- Sel
- Du poivre noir fraichement moulu
- Pour la marinade du poulet:
- 4 cuisses de poulets
- 2 c.s de miel
- Le jus d’un citron
- 2 c.s d’huile d’olive
- 1 c.c de sel
- Poivre noir
- Paprika douce

Dans un bol, mélanger le miel, jus de citron, huile d’olive, sel, poivre noir et paprika. Verser cette marinade sur le poules et matter au frigo au moins une heure ou toute une nuit.

Sur un feu moyen, faites chauffer l’huile et le beurre dans une poele. Ajouter l’oignon et l’ail et laisser cuire jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient tendres mais pas caramelisés, environ 3-4 minutes. Ajouter le safran, le gingembre en poudre, curcuma, cannelle, cayenne et mélanger jusqu’a ce les aromes des épices se dégagent. Couvrir d’eau et ajouter la botte de coriandre et les olives et cuire couvert pendant 20 minutes, puis découvrir et laisser la sauce réduire en un mélange sirupeux. Retirer la botte de coriandre. (Si vous utilisez des abricots frais, ajoutez-les 10 minutes avant la fin de cuisson. Si c’est des abricots secs, les ajouter en même temps que les olives).

Entre temps, préchauffer le four à 200C. Egoutter le poulet de sa marinade et le deposer dans un plat anti-adhesif allant au four. Faire cuire jusqu’à ce que la peau du poulet soit bien dorée et croustillante et que le poulet soit completement cuit, environ 35 minutes.

Servir le poulet dans une assiette et la sauce autour. Décorer de coriandre hachée.

Greedily, Blissfully, Peacefully / Goulûment, Voluptueusement, Paisiblement

2008-07-15T23:50:00.003-04:00

I wanted to call each and every one of you to tell you about this cake the minute I ate it. It was that good.

We baked it when my husband’s nieces, who now I just call my nieces, my sisters, my dear sisters, were here. The house was warm with their laughter, their helping hands in the kitchen, their midnight chitchat in bed and their little quarrels. Oh how I miss their chitchat with me in the kitchen and even their quarrels! They reminded me of my older sister and I.

I love having people over. I love seeing my guest room pleased and bright and being used for its actual purpose and not what was and is now a room where ironing table, a few days old folded laundry and mismatched baggage cohabit. I love to see my daughter playing and chasing her cousins, while being able to scream only one syllable of their names: “Sha!” “Meen!”

I loved our obstinacy to have dinners on the deck under pouring rain, laughing out loud at our “moist” salad. I loved our dinners on the deck under hungry mosquitoes, spraying and itching in pain. I loved our afternoons run to the near by supermarket to buy ice cream. I loved our expressions when we had our first tastes of Durian and then the second and third, and the look on our faces when we drove back home with this stinky fruit in the trunk of our car.
I drove you crazy with my persistence to stop you, even my hubby, from eating while standing up (you know it stresses me out)
I drove you crazy with my fake Pad Thai and your uncle with his charred-pseudo-grilled- shrimp. Remember?

I remember. I remember how happy I was to have you in my house, in my kitchen. I remember how we enjoyed going to the backyard to pick black raspberries and to make this cake together, which I chose to make, you agreed to help and we all loved to eat greedily, blissfully, peacefully, sitting on the countertop. I remember how sad I was to drop you at the airport and how hard it was to say goodbye and to let you go, my dear sisters.

I was drawn by this cake more than any other cake in Jamie Oliver cookbook mainly because the use of olive oil in the batter intrigued me. I’ve heard about this odd combination before but never had the courage to give it a go. What a waste of years! All my life I’ve been dipping bread in olive oil, which isn’t a bad thing either, when I could have used it to make this cake. This is pure genius. The olive oil gives richness and moisture and most importantly depth of flavor to the cake that no other vegetable or canola oil or even butter would have given. The crumb is light and the berries are just drenched in this lovely aroma of citrus and olive oil. The cake can be whipped up in ten minutes without even using a stand mixer. Weeks later and I still have the taste of this lovely combination in my mouth. Still have the lovely voices of my sisters in my heart.

Nada’s Cake

Recipe: Adapetd from Jamie’s Italy
- 4 large eggs at room temperature
- 1 ¼ cups sugar
- ¾ cup unsalted butter, melted
- ½ cup extra virgin olive oil
- ¾ cup milk
- 1 tsp pure vanilla extract
- 3 cups unbleached all-purpose flour, sifted
- 1 ½ tsp baking powder (This is the one I use all the time)
- A good pinch of sea salt
- Zest of 2 lemons, grated
- Zest of 2 oranges, grated
- 6 oz fresh black raspberries or blueberries or red sweet grapes such as Muscat or fragola
- A bit of butter to grease the pan

Preheat the oven to 350F. Generously butter a 9-inch pan and line the base with waxed paper. Set aside.
Either by hand or in a the bowl of stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, whisk the eggs and sugar until thick and pale yellow, about 3 minutes, then add the butter, olive oil, milk, lemon and orange zest and vanilla. Mix well, then mix in the flour, baking powder and salt until everything is thoroughly blended. Set aside for 10 minutes for the flour to absorb the liquid.

Stir about a quarter of the berries into the batter, pour into your prepared cake pan, and scatter the rest over the top. Bake the cake for 45- 55 minutes, or until the top is a deep golden brown and a toothpick inserted comes out clean.

Let it cool on a wire rack in the pan for 10 minutes, then run a knife along the sides of the pan to turn it out.

The cake can be stored at room temperature, wrapped, for up to four days. It is even better on the following day.

Gâteau Nada

In Francais Please: adaptée de Jamie’s Italy
- 4 gros oeufs, a temperature ambiante
- 270g de sucre en poudre
- 200g de beurre, fondu
- 125ml d’huile d’olive extra vierge
- 200ml de lait
- 1 c.c d’extrait de vanille
- 360g de farine, tamisée
- 1 ½ c.c de levure chimique
- Une bonne pincée de sel marin
- Le zeste de deuz citrons
- Le zeste de deux oranges
- 400g de framboises noires, de myrtilles, ou de petits raisins type Muscat
- Une noisette de beurre pour le moule

Préchauffer votre four a 160C. Beurrer génereusement un moule à gâteau de 22cm de diametre et garnir le fond de papier sulfurisé, puis mettre de côté.
Avec un fouet ou à l’aide d’un mixeur, battre les oeufs avec le sucre jusqu’à ce que le mélange devienne épais et d’une couleur jaune pale, environ 3 minutes. Ajouter le beurre fondu, le lait, l’huile d’olive, les zestes et la vanille. Bien mélanger puis ajouter la farine tamisée, la levure chimique et le sel et incorporer jusqu’à obtenir un mélange homogene. Ne pas trop mélanger. Laisser reposer 10 minutes afin que la farine absorbe un peu du liquide.

Incorporer le quart des fruits à la pate, verser dans le moule préparé et mettre le reste des fruits sur le gateau. Faire cuire 45-55 minutes, ou jusqu’à ce que la surface soit d’une belle couleur dorée et qu’un cure-dent inséré en ressort propre.

Laisser le gâteau refroidir dans son moule sur une grille patissiere pendant 10 minutes, puis passer un couteau autour des bords du moule et démouler.

Ce gâteau se conserve à temperature ambiante, couvert de film plastique, jusqu’à quatre jours. Il est d’ailleurs meilleur le lendemain de sa cuisson.

Good Night and Good Morning! / Bonne Nuit et Bonjour!

2008-07-15T00:40:00.002-04:00

Hello, my dear friends!

I thought I will be able to write my text tonight, but it’s 12:35 AM and my eyes are itching and burning, and the bed is calling my name and my dreams have already cuddled my brain and I don’t know what I am typing anymore.

I’ll see you tomorrow (or should I say today?) with the recipe of this wonderful cake that I made a couple of weeks ago with the help of my lovely nieces and Jamie Oliver.
(Of course Jamie Oliver wasn’t really in the kitchen with us. My older niece, who is the lovely model on this photo, would have fainted. After taking this photo, she joked and asked me if she was a good background for my food. She was the best and sweetest background I’ve ever had. My backgrounds are usually quiet and don’t have any sense of humor).

Good night, to some! Good morning, to the others!

I’ll be back after a good night of sleep.

Raspberries Season / La Saison des Framboises

2008-06-28T17:41:00.002-04:00

Hi there. Anybody here?

My mother told me the other day that she’s had enough of nibbling and spreading every time she takes a look at my blog. I am sure she isn’t the only one. I know I’ve had enough of it.

I didn’t mean to be away this long, but knowing how summer in Michigan can be fleeting we are spending most of our days outside with my family and my husband’s adorable nieces who came to spend the month of June with us. Our days are spent strolling around town, playing cards, which I must say I am now quite addicted to, watching soccer games, which I must admit we are all addicted to in the family, doing a lot of cooking, chasing fire flies, rolling in the grass and picking raspberries in my own backyard. Let me say it again because I still can’t believe it: Picking raspberries in my own backyard. Ah! It’s like music to my ears… and my senses.

I’ll be back very, very soon with recipes, a basket of berries and more summertime stories.

Happy weekend, my friends!

Nibble And Spread / Grignoter Et Tartiner

2008-06-09T16:52:00.003-04:00

Oh June! I didn’t know you had such a hot temper.

First you came with open arms and roses and candle lighted dinners on the deck. You were beautiful, pleasant, and funny. You were the answer to our prayers after harsh cold winter days. Mornings with you were cool and breezy. Mornings with you had a scent of the beach and shells and fishermen coming back from the sea. Mornings with you were lovely.
We opened our house, our windows and our kitchen to you. The curtains were pulled all the way to the ceiling. The winter clothes were buried in the basement. Hairdressers were busy. Children were free. We went to the park together and you delighted us with tender asparagus, crunchy radishes and sweet strawberries. You told us stories about friendship and riding bikes and festivals and scraped knees and picnics and how you liked being on the spotlight announcing the summer season. We laughed together. We raised our glass to you. You gave us more strawberries.

But then everything changed. Something must have happened. Someone must have upset you. We must have upset you.
You left. August came. You said it was just for a day or two. It has been more than a week and you are still away. Different. Upset. Hot. Humid. Angry. Thirsty. Rude. Pitiless. 95.
We shut down our windows. We pull down our curtains most of the day. We drink and we are still thirsty. We huff and puff and drink and we are still thirsty. You threaten my kitchen garden. You threaten my sweet bread. You threaten my hometown and scared my mother. You gave me a sunburn on my shoulders. You leave my daughter wearing onesie all day long; leaving her beautiful pock dot dresses buried in her closet. We consider living under the shower. We consider living in our basement. We think about shutting down the stove and lighting up the grill. We think about going to work in shorts and flip-flops. We think about spending our day “farniente”, stretching our hand just to nibble and spread…and maybe gulp some ice cream to cool your hot temper down.

If I had to list my favorite summer food, olives would definitely be on my top five. No doubt about it. I like to eat oil-cured olives, also called Moroccan olives, with a piece of crusty bread and a glass of fresh, cold lemonade to wash everything down. This marinade is very easy to make and has become a staple in my house since the beginning of spring. Warm spices with fresh herbs complement the olives and give them another dimension of taste and warmth.

Muhammara is a Bell pepper and walnut spread originated in Syria and is very popular in most of the Middle East. I don’t remember how this addictive spread came into my life, but I’m glad it did; because the minute a spoonful of it laid into my slice of bread I promised my self to set a date for another batch of Muhammara. June goes much smoothly with olives and muhammara on the table.

Muhammara

Recipe: Gourmet, December 1993
- 3 red peppers, roasted, seeded and peeled, or a 7-ounce jar roasted red peppers, well drained - 2/3 cup fine fresh bread crumbs
- 1/3 cup walnuts, toasted lightly and chopped fine
- 2 garlic cloves, minced and mashed to a paste with 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, or to taste
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1/2 teaspoon dried hot red pepper flakes
- ¼ to ½ cup extra-virgin olive oil
- Bread to spread on

In a food processor blend together the peppers, the breadcrumbs, the walnuts, the garlic, the lemon juice, the cumin, the red pepper flakes, and salt to taste until the mixture is smooth and with the motor running add the oil gradually and blend very briefly to a rough, slightly chunky paste.
Transfer the muhammara to a bowl and serve it at room temperature with the bread.
Muhammara should be stored in an airtight container in the fridge.

Marinated Olives

Recipe:
- 8 oz of your favorite olives* (I used kalamata olives)
- 2 tbsp fresh cilantro, finely chopped
- 2 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
- 1 fat garlic cloves, minced
- ½ tsp cumin, freshly ground
- ½ tsp coriander seeds
- A good pinch of cayenne pepper, or to taste
- 1 tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
- 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
- A dash of sea salt to taste

Rinse the olives two or three times under running water to remove the excess brine. Set aside to drain.
Put the remaining ingredients in a mortar or a bowl and mix enough to combine. Pour the marinade over the olives and stir well. Let the flavors develop for at least 1 hour before serving.

* Most Middle Eastern stores have a good variety of olives for a fair price. My favorite variety is the oil cured black olives; sometimes called Moroccan olives.

Muhammara

In Francais Please: Gourmet, Decembre 1993
- 3 poivrons, grillés, épluchés et épépinés ou une jarred de poivrons de 200g
- 25g de chapelure de pain fine
- Une poignée de noix, légerement grilles et hachées
- 2 gousses d’ail, finement émincées avec ½ c.c de sel
- 1 c.s de jus de citron, plus ou moins selon le gout
- 1 c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- ½ c.c de piment rouge en flocons
- 50 a 100ml d’huile d’olive
- Du pain pour tartiner

Dans un robot ménager, mélanger les poivrons rouges avec les noix, ail, le jus de citron, le cumin, le piment jusqu’à une consistence onctueuse. Avec le moteur en marche, verser l’huile d’olive en filet juste assez pour que le mélange prenne du volume mais reste riche en petits morceux.
Mettre la Muhammara dans un bol et servir avec des morceaux de pain pour tartiner.
Muhammara se conserve mieux au frigo dans un bocal à fermeture hermétique.

Olives Marinées

- 225g d’une selection d’olives (J’ai utilisé des olives Kalamata)
- 2 c.s de coriandre, finement haché
- 2 c.s de persil, finement haché
- 1 grosse gousse d’ail, émincée
- ½ c.c de cumin en poudre
- ½ c.c de graines de coriandre
- Une bonne pincée de cayenne, selon le gout de chacun
- 1 c.s de jus de citron
- 2 c.s d’huile d’olive vierge
- Une pincée de sel marin

Rincer les olives deux ou trois fois sous l’eau coullante pour enlever le plus de saumure possible. Laisser égouter.
Mélanger le reste des ingredients dans un mortier ou un petit bol et bien mélanger. Verser la marinade sur les olives et laisser les aromes se connaitre entre elles au moins une heure avant de servir.

A Glorious Wednesday / Un Mercredi Glorieux

2008-06-03T00:27:00.005-04:00

Somehow every Wednesday, and sometimes Friday, I find myself in the kitchen baking. I love baking. I really do. When my mother would entertain a crowd, I was the one in charge of baking dessert, setting the table and frying Dauphine cheese. My brother always teases her about her redundant dauphine cheese and how he can tell that we are expecting guests only at the sight of cheese dauphine…and mushrooms sauce. They are very good, though.

A lot of people are afraid of baking. I understand it. I get afraid of baking, too; especially when it involves cakes and tarts. The failures I had with these too are more than I can count and handle. A few months before I got married, I invited my then soon to be sister in law and her husband for an afternoon tea. I wanted to impress them by making one of my mother’s signature tarts: Pears and walnuts cream tart. (Actually, I wanted my then soon to be sister in law to be impressed so she can call my then soon to be husband and tell him how lucky he is to have such a talented baker. What a lame plan!)

I read the recipe, set my ingredients on the counter top and began kneading my dough to have it come together. The recipe said: work flour, butter and water together until your dough comes together. “Until my dough comes together?” That’s what I did. I might have worked the dough a tad longer, and added more flour to speed up the process, but how was I supposed to know!
I garnished my tart, baked it and served it to my guests. I was sitting next to my then soon to be sister in law when she tried to take a piece of my disobedient tart with a fork and her little portion of tart literally went flying past my shoulders and landing on her husbands laps. We all looked at each other, looked at our portion of tart and started laughing. (Needless to say that my plan to impress her was a fiasco and that I made her promise not to say a single word about my rebellious flying tart to my then soon to be husband. She kept her promise. I ended up telling him the story anyway, this exact same day. We laughed about it. He still wanted to marry me!)

A few days ago, it might have been a Wednesday, too, I don’t remember, I went to make one of the many cakes both my mother and grandmother would make for our afternoons snacks: Semolina and raisins cake.
As I started reading the recipe I was afraid this was going to be yet another baking fiasco to add to my résumé. The recipe says: “1 small bowl of semolina” Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve never felt comfortable with these kind of recipes. “A small bowl?” how small? Is there a standard for small bowls that I wasn’t aware of?
(My mother told me the other day that every time a friend of her would give her such recipes that involved small bowls and small cups, she would ask them to give them the exact bowl that they used for their recipe. She now has all kind of mismatched bowls and cups, and she remembers which one goes with which recipe. Now, that’s smart!)

Not having my mother near by to “borrow” her small bowl, I turned my web cam on and asked her to tell me which of my bowls she thinks was right for this recipe. After too many “No! That’s too big! Your bowls are too big!” and having all my kitchen cabinets on my desk, she finally gave the verdict that my small cup of coffee was the right “small bowl”. Confusing, I know!

This cake is one of my favorites growing up. Despite the confusing “small bowl”, which I weighed to make it easier for everybody, it is a fairly easy cake for novice bakers. The cake yields a moist, smooth, and delicate crumb that is a fusion between cheesecake and clafoutis.
The preparation is quite similar to making baked polenta or rice pudding. Here the semolina is added in a stream to the bowling milk and cooked for a few minutes until creamy and smooth. The remaing ingredients are added to the milky mixture away from the heat, then the batter is turned onto an oiled pan to bake until a nice, chewy golden crust, which happens to be my favorite part, forms on top. And then all you do is let it cool a bit, slice it with a butter knife without being afraid of flying pieces and enjoy this glorious moment – until next Wednesday, at least.

Semolina and Raisins Cake

Recipe:
- 4.5 ounces fine semolina flour
- 4 cups whole milk
- 6 tbsp granulated sugar
- 4 eggs, at room temperature, lightly beaten
- 1 tsp orange zest
- ½ cup black raisins
- 1 tbsp butter

Scald the milk, then add semolina in a thin stream, whisking. Cook over moderate heat whisking constantly for 10 minutes, until the mixture will look like a smooth porridge. Away from the heat, add butter, eggs, orange zest and raisins, and whisk until well incorporated.

Turn the batter into an oiled square or rectangular pan and spread it evenly with a spatula. Bake at 375F for 25-30 minutes or until golden brown on top.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Gateau de Semoule et Raisins

In Français Please:
- 125g de semouline (semoule fine)
- 1L de lait entier
- 6 c.s de sucre en poudre
- 4 oeufs, a temperature ambiante, légerement battu
- 1 c.c de zeste d’orange
- 50g de raisins secs, noirs
- 1 c.s de beurre

Porter le lait à ébullition, puis verser dessus la semoule en pluie en remuant avec un fouet. Laisser cuire sur feu doux tout en remuant pour éviter de bruler le fond, environ 10 minutes, ou jusqu’à ce que le mélange ressemble à de la bouillie. Hors du feu, ajouter le beurre, les oeufs, le zeste d’orange et les raisins secs, et mélanger pour obtenir un mélange homogène.

Verser la pate dans un moule carré ou rectangulaire bien beurré et lisser bien la suface. Cuire à 180F pendant 25-30 minutes ou jusqu’à ce que la surface soit dorée et qu’un cure-dents inséré à l’interieur en ressort sec.

Servir tiède ou à temperature ambiante.

A Long Weekend / Un Weekend Prolongé

2008-05-28T00:00:00.002-04:00

My brother asked me lately, after noticing the lack of meat recipes in my blog, if I had become a vegetarian. Though I had my years, back when I was a teenager, of semi-vegetarianism and cooking only vegetarian meals for my siblings when my parents were away for the day, I can tell you that I am not a vegetarian. I am a vegetarian three days a week, but I can never be a complete vegetarian; because every time my father, or in today’s case my husband, brings out the grill to treat us with kefta, an unknown urge of getting closer and closer to the blazing charcoal and the sizzling meat would take over me.

Last weekend was a lovely weekend. When we weren’t inside coloring balloons, taking naps, making caak, and getting ready for this week garage sale, we spent most of the time outside, taking a long stroll to the farmers market, going to the Detroit Zoo to see my daughter’s eyes lighten up at the sight of the animals, watering our newly planted vegetables, and having silly conversations with my husband like this one:

Me: Don’t you think long weekends are so much better than regular weekends?
Him: Oh, yes!
Me: Don’t you wish they were always like this?
Him: (smiling) I’ll get used to it with no trouble.
Me: me too! This way we won’t have grumpy, difficult Mondays!
Him: You will have grumpy, difficult Tuesdays!
Me: Yeah! Right! I didn’t see it that way.

This is how we spent our long weekend: Me getting dumber by the minute, and him listening to my non-sense and grilling corns and kefta.

Kefta, or Kofta in the Middle East and Asia, is meat (lamb or beef) finely ground and generously seasoned with spices and fresh herbs. In Morocco and Algeria, there are no such things as the ultimate kefta recipe. Every home has its own recipe and its own preferences when it comes to the choice of spices and meat.
I tried a lot of keftas, some more memorable than others. I made a lot of keftas, some more disappointing than others; but this is the one I can proudly present as one of the best, if not the best, I made so far. It has the perfect amount of spices, the perfect moisture, the perfect amount of freshness from the herbs, and the perfect long lasting pleasure of a perfect long weekend.

Kefta Mechwiya (Grilled Kefta)

Recipe: For 4 big patties
- 1lb ground beef
- 1 medium onion, grated
- 2 garlic, finely chopped
- ¼ cup cilantro, finely chopped
- ¼ cup parsley, finely chopped
- 1 tsp freshly ground cumin
- ½ tsp freshly ground coriander
- ¼ tsp sweet paprika
- 1 tsp salt
- Freshly ground black pepper

Mix all the ingredients together and let ripen at least one hour.
Form the ground meat mixture into small or big patties. Grill on both sides, 3 to 4 inches over charcoal, until done to taste. (I like mine well cooked) Serve hot, with soft bread or as desired.

Kefta Mechwiya (Kefta Grillée)

In Francais Please: Pour 4 gros tournedos
- 450g de boeuf haché
- 1 oignon moyen, râpé
- 2 gousses d’ail, finement émincées
- Une petite poignée de parsil, finement haché
- Une petite poignée de coriandre, finement hachée
- 1 c.c de cumin, fraichement moulu
- ½ c.c de coriandre en poudre, fraichement moulu
- ¼ c.c de paprika douce
- 1 c.c de sel
- Du poivre noir fraichement moulu

Incorporer tous les ingredients et les laisser reposer au moins une heure avant de les faire cuire.
Former des tournedos de la taille de votre choix. Faire griller des deux cotés, 6 a 8cm au dessus du charbon, jusqu’a ce qu’il soit cuit a votre gout (J’aime mes kefta bien cuites) Servir chaud, avec du pain ou comme vous le souhaiter.