Feasting For Thought

Frittata Dreams. Frittata Daydreams.

2012-01-04T17:08:00.000-08:00

As I lay in bed this morning, already unable to sleep for several hours (jet lag), my thoughts went, as they often do, to the contents of my fridge. Though I knew there was little in there, I do fancy myself somewhat skilled at the "clean out the fridge" dish creations, and my thoughts turned to what to do with the eggs. Long story short, a fritatta was born... one that was very much enjoyed earlier this morning. But it is not this fritatta that is the star of my tale, but rather an altogether different, more refined and delicate creature. What I cooked this morning was one thing (tomatoes, feta, herbes de provence). But what I was dreaming of was another. It is the fritatta of my foodie daydreams and those moments when we epicurians ponder, mentally taste, and concoct in our heads, the ultimate object of tastebud desire. I had to create this sexy beast in the way a writer creates a character, and this I did...

Now I know everyone is in resolution mode at the beginning of the year and is probably scouring the internet for the leanest, low calorie menu items available (admittedly I have also been cooking up a healthy storm), but really, isn't part of being good to yourself knowing when to let go of the reigns once in a while? So go ahead and cosy up this weekend and reward all that good behavior so far - it's way too cold to leave the house anyway - and enjoy a little idle morning time with this delicious dish for breakfast or brunch.

Ham, Leek and Camembert Frittata with Thyme and Tarragon

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon of butter
• 6 Eggs
• 1/4 cup of cream
• 1/4 raclette cheese (or a very mild gruyere), shredded
• 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon

• 1 large or 2 small leeks, light part only, sliced very thinly.
• 3 slices smoked ham, diced
• Handful of crimini mushrooms sliced very thinly
• About 1.5 oz of super gooey camembert or brie. Don't mess around - go double or triple cream.

To serve: some lightly dressed greens.

Method:

1. Melt the butter and sauté the leek, about 3 minutes. Add the ham and sauté until lightly browned, followed by the mushrooms. Set aside and allow to cool slightly.
2. Meanwhile, beat the eggs with cream, cheese and herbs, and season with salt and pepper.
3. Cut the camembert into cubes as well as you can... it's should be pretty gooey, but doable.
4. Heat up a small pan to medium hight heat and pour in the egg mixture. Add the leek, ham and mushrooms and stir slightly for even distribution.
5. Evenly place the camembert throughout.
6. Cook for 4-5 minutes until the bottom is set and the top is slightly bubbling.
7. Place under the broiler until the top is set, roughly 5 minutes.

And if you do insist on keeping to the straight and narrow, all is not lost. Go ahead and take out most of the egg yolks (I would keep one at least!), substitute milk for the cream, and some goat cheese for the camembert.

This feeds about 4-6 morning risers or brunches.

Enjoy!

When All You Got Is Them Apples.

2011-03-09T14:08:00.000-08:00

Having returned yesterday from a 2 week trip to South Africa, I was excited to see what the seasons are bringing at the Union Square Growers Market. Evidently, we are in a produce lull, and all we got is apples.

But when life gives you apples, you can always make a gorgeous apple tart.

The recipe I'm sharing is less of a recipe than a loose set of instructions. It's easy, casual and foolproof. You can use any kind of apples you like — I prefer to use a mixture of whatever looks good that day — and options for sweetening and flavoring are limitless. The first time I made this I was rushing like mad to get a dinner party ready, and just blindly made the whole thing up, hoping for the best. The best is what I got. Second time, same story. It's for this reason the recipe below is a rough estimation, which you can adjust to your taste. But I can tell you from experience that the resulting tart, especially when served with bourbon ice-cream, will cause guests to crawl onto your lap and purr like kittens. I'm completely serious.

Foolproof Apple Tart

Ingredients for Tart:

• 4 apples (try to include one granny smith), peeled, cored and sliced.
• 1 pack of puff pastry, defrosted
• 2 tablespoons of melted butter
• about 1/4 cup of sugar (white, brown, palm... whatever you have)
• juice from 1 lemon
• 1 tablespoon of ground cinnamon or pumpkin pie spice
• 1/4 cup of bourbon (optional - I have yet to decide how much this influences the flavor)
• a handful of chopped walnuts
• crumble topping - see below

Method:

Set oven to 400 F.
In a bowl, mix the apples, sugar, lemon, spices and bourbon.
Lay the puff pastry on a tart tin, cookie sheet or whatever you have that's big, flat and oven proof. Brush with melted butter, and combine the leftover butter with the apple mixture.
Layer the apples onto the pastry. Top with nuts and crumble and bake for 50 minutes.

Serve with vanilla or bourbon ice-cream.

Ingrdients for crumble topping:

1/4 cup butter
1/4 brown sugar
1/3 c. all-purpose flour

Mix the ingredients until they resemble course crumbs. Add more flour if need be.

Enjoy!

xx Annah

The Prosperity of Dumplings in the Year of the Rabbit.

2011-02-02T14:17:00.000-08:00

As I sit staring out from the cramped 8' x 8' space that is the seating area of Prosperity Dumpling, I bite into one of my delicious "five for a dollar" pork and chive parcels, and contemplate my weak will. About a half hour ago I left the safe, warm, and decidedly dry-floored confines of my apartment to move gingerly across icy Brooklyn sidewalks to the subway. Headed to Manhattan's Chinatown, I was ready to pick up some dumpling-making supplies. As the year of the Rabbit approaches (today being it's eve) I did this with the awareness that Chinese families throughout the city will spend the evening making jiaozi, Chinese dumplings, in preparation for a midnight feast that signifies the start of the Lunar New Year. It's a way for generations of family to be together at the start of the new year. A way of bonding and sharing. Admittedly, I do find myself —despite being Polish— to be an honorary Chinese, as my formative years were spent in Taiwan, so of course I was not to miss out on this important tradition.

Now, for those non-Chinese readers who would like to kick off the new year in this fine Chinese way, you generally have three options:

Option A: Do a quick Chinatown grocery run, call some friends and spend the evening wrapping and eating dumplings in celebration. I highly encourage this option and have supplied you with a wonderful jiaozi recipe at the end of this post.

Option B: Run to your nearest dumpling dealer, like Prosperity, and have someone do the work for you.

Option C: Score an invitation to a celebration at a Chinese household. Having done this in Taiwan, I can tell you that the slight awkwardness of generally not understanding what the hell is going on is completely offset by the high authenticity of the experience.

Today, I'm sticking to Option A... and B. Truth be told, my pit stop today is actually just that — a pit stop on the way to picking up ingredients to make MORE dumplings at home. Yeah, I know— weak will. While crossing the Williamsburg Bridge on the M train — destination Canal St — the words "juicy, fatty, porky, fried" just took control of my mind, and later my body, leaving me with no option but to leap through the subway doors just as they were closing, 2 stops shy of my target. "I simply need some inspiration for later" I rationalized. Meandering through the human traffic of the Eldrige station, I additionally told myself that at just $1 for the experience, I was sacrificing nothing (and with all the brisk walking I was doing, it will be like the whole calorie thing never happened). I made it to this well-known hole-in-the-wall and waited less than a minute for the object of my affection to be handed over on a paper plate, and after a quick squirt of soy/vinegar mixture and dollop of hot sauce, I found myself looking out the window, chewing in dazed delight. (As a side note, I've heard some mixed reviews about Prosperity Dumpling in the past, and just for the record I would like to say that they are amazing, though sometimes they have bad days. So, in the event that you weren't super impressed the first time, think about giving them another try).

Feeling sufficiently satisfied to continue on my intended trajectory, I headed over to Mott Street to my favorite butcher /fresh grocery/ prepared food store. Those who have been to Deluxe Food Market might know how the next 15 minutes played out. Old ladies pushing past at surprising speed (I am of the firm believe that they actually cannot see me at all), an array of legs, chops, heads and other undefinable animal parts displayed behind glass, crates of food being hauled from one end of the hallway-like space to the other. And of course, everyone having an overall disregard for personal space — "everyone" now having come to include me. I love this place. It's like stepping out of the Chinatown of Manhattan into the Chinatown of myths, with not only the ingredients you'll need to create some authentic creations, but also a large amount of cultural stimulus. Admittedly, for sauces, frozen and dried goods, and even homewares, I prefer the one-stop shopping of Kam Man, or Hong Kong Supermarket (their Manhattan location is sadly now closed). However, nothing beats the authenticity of Deluxe. I've seen it all here, from every imaginable part of a chicken, pig or cow through to alligator legs and even a poor little creature going by the name of Patrick. But I digress — it was pork I was after, and more importantly, pork fat.

1lb of ground pork (already streaked with fat), and 1/4 lb "fatty ground pork" (read: ground pork fat) to be exact. Fat fat fat fat fat! Now, I know it's February and some of you just shed a layer of "holiday weight," are "being good" by hauling ass to the gym, rain, shine or hellish snow storm — but hear this, you can not, CAN NOT, make a good dumpling without the fat. Regular supermarket ground pork will not do. It's too lean, and your dumplings, despite their new "healthy" seal of approval, will taste like seasoned cardboard. Please don't make this mistake. I have tried and failed before, and I don't want you going to all this work for it to all end in tears. (Another side note: They also sell dumpling mix that already has vegetables and seasoning added. I can't vouch for this as I've never tried it. The way I see it, if you are going to buy ready made mix, you may as well just get ready-made frozen dumplings. Save it for Sandra Lee. But, if you disagree and decide to give it a try, let me know how it is.) Aside from the pork, I grab some dumpling skins, scallions, ginger, garlic and Chinese cabbage.

And with that, I headed home to do what generations of Chinese have done for years, and quite interestingly, what generations of Poles do on their Christmas: sit at a table with family and friends wrapping dumplings (in the Poles' case, pierogi and uszka). Ok, so I'm exaggerating for the sake of prose — I will not be sitting at a table with generations of Chinese and Poles tonight. But I will, in a more solitary mode, be celebrating a bit of my own Chinese New Year, and hoping that the making of these dumplings, which symbolize prosperity and good fortune, will also send a little luck my way. (Tip: a coin is often added to one dumpling, the fortunate recipient thought to be lucky in the financial realm for the rest of the year. In these financial times, it might be an idea to try for all the help we can get).

And with this, I wish my Chinese friends a very happy Year of the Rabbit, and urge those who have not celebrated something like this in the past to see what a little new year tradition might bring for you in the coming year.

新年快樂!

Jiaozi - Chinese Dumplings

The following recipe is for pork, scallion and Chinese cabbage dumplings. However, vegetarians need not miss out - a really great green vegetable version can be found here. The vegetarian recipe is for zheng jiao, which are folded differently, but the filling works no matter how you fold.

Ingredients:

• 1lb of ground pork

• 1/4 lb of ground "fatty pork"

• 5 cups Chinese cabbage, chopped finely (you can substitute other Asian greens as if you like)

• 2 cups chopped scallions

• 3 tablespoons light soy sauce

• 2 tablespoons Chinese rice wine

• 2 - 3 tablespoon sesame oil

• 3 cloves of garlic, chopped

• 2 tablespoons of chopped ginger

• 1 pack of round dumpling wrappers

For dipping:

• 3 tablespoons light soy sauce

• 3 tablespoons black vinegar or rice wine vinegar

• a few drops of sesame oil

Method

Mix ingredients in a large bowl, being carful not to over-mix. Place a large teaspoon of filling in the middle of the wrapper and rub a little bit of water around one edge. Fold in half and pinch the sides up to seal. For more detailed (and authentic) wrapping instructions, see here.

Jiaozi are traditionally boiled in a large pot of water for 8-10 minutes, however i've recently started steaming them which is also really great (the skins retain more of their integrity). If you choose to steam them, they will also need about 10 minutes.

Serve with dipping sauce and hot sauce if desired.

Enjoy!

"Beets" - The Great Australian Taste

2011-01-25T23:00:00.000-08:00

Today being Australia Day, I of course have begun to ponder what food I'm missing out on at the various celebratory barbecues throughout that great nation. Having called Sydney my home for 7 years, there are a multitude of dishes that I just can't get here — those dirt-cheap mystery meat sausages are something I particularly miss — or don't often get the chance to make myself (pavlova, it's time to reunite, old friend). Sitting here in the deep freeze of New York in January, I find myself nostalgic for days spent holding an ice cold beer while turning steaks and "snags" on the grill in sweltering heat.

As I reminisce, I find myself mostly craving my favorite Australian specialty — a simple, yet specifically prepared, steak sandwich. The toasted bread, the caramelized onions, the smothering of BBQ sauce, combined with salty, greasy, meat drippings. Talk about serious food porn. But what makes this sandwich so iconically Australian? Essentially the same thing that makes a hamburger and any other sandwich "Australian": beetroot. Or as Americans refer to them, beets. When I first arrived in New York, I had a very drawn-out, confusing, and rather embarrassing encounter with a Hispanic worker at a juice shop. I asked for beetroot in my juice, repeatedly. It took him and another baffled staff member's varied suggestions of what "bea-tooooot" could be (with me, wide eyed with frustration, pointing at the purple tuber in the pile of glassed off vegetables saying "THIS!! THIS!!") before I was finally informed, in broken English and smirks all around, that what I was after was in fact a "beet." Regardless, a juice made from "beet," celery, and carrot does wonders for the skin.

In Australia, any beets sold in a can are actually pickled, unlike their counterparts in the US, where canning doesn't denote any particular process or treatment. Upon my arrival here, I had to specifically seek out pickled beets after noticing that the canned ones did not have that light vinegary touch that I was accustomed to. But make no mistake: "pickled"= "to die for" when it comes to the beet as a sandwich ingredient. Unlike roasted beets, which have a deep "terroir" richness, pickled beets tend to feature less earthiness while maintaining a delicious sweetness. In my opinion, pickling really elevates them to rockstar status in the vegetable world.

The great Brooklyn sandwich joint Saltie seeminly agrees, featuring pickled beets on a number of their sandwiches (the mighty Scuttlebutt is particularly exceptional) and truly showcasing how this amazing ingredient can pair with numerous others (dill and hummus are particular standouts). But today, I want to share a much simpler, yet brilliantly delicious, flavor profile: one that brings me back to the times spent drinking VB outdoors, shading myself from the deadly australian sun, and enjoying something iconically Australian. Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi Oi Oi!

Australian Steak Sandwhich:
Note: this sandwich is a mess (but fun!) to eat.

Makes 2 sandwiches

Ingredients:

• 1 large brown onion, thinly sliced
• oil
• about a half pound of steak - filet steak is your best bet, however they can run pretty expesive so something like a boneless NY strip would also work.
• around a cup of sliced pickled beets
• a few boston lettuce leaves
• one beautifully ripe tomato
• 4 slices of sourdough or other good quality white bread, lightly grilled or toasted.
• BBQ Sauce
• Ketchup

Method:

Caramelize the onions over medium heat in a generous amount of oil. Do not add salt, as it will release the liquid in the onions and the sugars will not caramelize. If you are generally an impatient cook, this is a time to let go of that, as this process needs some time — about a half hour. The result should be very soft, rich in color, lightly sweet, and VERY worth the time spent. For more information on this very delicate art, see here.

While the onions are caramelizing, salt and fry or grill the steaks to medium rare. Allow them to rest for about 15 minutes, covered in foil if desired.

To compose the sandwich, slice steaks on the diagonal, and place on bread slice followed by the onions, BBQ sauce and ketchup. Top with pickled beets, lettuce and tomato and of course the top piece of bread. Enjoy with at least 5 or 6 napkins.

And as a last note, I would like to wish a Happy Birthday to my husband who, despite being born on Australia Day, does not in any way share the nation's love, or enthusiasm, for beets.

'Till the next feast for thought!

xx Annah

Pomelo Yellow

2010-03-05T15:12:00.000-08:00

My first encounter with pomelo was in high school in Taiwan, when I saw little kids running around during the Moon Festival wearing its thick peel as a hat. While everyone was spending the holiday stuffing their faces with moon cakes, I was busy tearing apart its thick green skin and marveling at the deliciously firm citrus flesh. Though now somewhat common, back then this grapefruit relative (the humble grapefruit is actually a hybrid of Indonesian pomelo and Jamaican sweet orange) was an addictive novelty that rivaled even the mighty bell apple for my interest, and since then it's become one of my favorite fruits - something I look forward to each winter, when, along with the pomegranate, it's actually in season. So the other day when I was looking at a poor, lone bulb of fennel sitting in my fridge waiting to be used, I immediately thought of this ideal partner.

The following salad is similar to ones made in Italy using blood oranges, but I think the sweet and tangy taste of the pomelo, along with the firmness of the flesh, make it even more suitable for this type of recipe.

Pomelo and Fennel Salad

Ingredients:

• 1 pomelo, separated into segments (More detailed instructions here)
• 2 large fennel bulbs, very thinly sliced
• Fennel fronds (tops), chopped.
• Half a red onion, very thinly sliced
• Juice of 1 lemon
• Good glug of flavorful extra virgin olive oil
• Sprinkle of kosher or other coarse salt

Method:

Combine ingredients in a bowl and adjust oil/lemon/salt to taste. This can be enjoyed alone, but it also pairs splendidly with grilled fish or other seafood. Healthy and delicious!

Until next time!

xx Annah

A Time in Africa

2010-02-02T15:09:00.000-08:00

There is something I adore about an old, worn recipe - whether it's hand written or typed, on plain or lined paper. So much is expressed by the yellowed, acid-stained sheets. There's also something in the knowledge that it's been held dear by so many and changed hands under potentially interesting circumstances. In this case, the recipe above was obtained by my father-in-law from Baptist missionaries in Cameroon in the early 1960s when he was there as part of the Peace Corps. This (and pages for many other dishes) was prepared for foreigners working in isolated areas and called for ingredients available in local markets, the only alternative to the highly overpriced French stores that were found occasionally in some capital cities.

Now, I'm not sure what part of this beautifully aged recipe is my favorite - that it uses "cigarette tins" as a standard form of measure, that it "can also be served with Yam Foofoo" (of course!) or the suggestion that peanuts are known in some places as "monkey nuts." In any case, it ended up in my hands after I asked my father-in-law if he had anything that would address the needs of an old friend of mine, Camille, who I have known since my high school days in Taiwan. She recently moved to Gabon with her husband and children - the same region of Africa in which this story begins - and recently asked me for an easy chicken curry recipe ("I don't have the talent to mess around in the kitchen or deal with random chicken parts") for which she would not need any specially ingredients ("Remember it's gotta be easy and accessible to those of us living in the 3rd world!"). Knowing she has two children under 5, I assumed it would also need to be somewhat kid friendly.

So today I've come up with a fusion of past and present that will hopefully both satisfy my friend's request and - although she clearly lives in conditions far different from that of a 1960s Peace Corps volunteer - would also nourish a small connection with the place she now calls home. Essentially an extension of the 1960's version, it is lightly flavored (so the kids will go for it- this, along with the fact that it essentially contains peanut butter, will hopefully make it a hit), uncomplicated, and quite delicious!

Groundnut (Peanut/Monkey Nut) Chicken Curry (Note: you will need a blender or food processor for this recipe. If you do not have one, it's best to use peanut butter in place of the peanuts for similar results).

Ingreditents:

• vegetable oil or if available, ghee (clarified butter)
• 2 inch piece of ginger (around 2 tablespoons), finely chopped
• 3 cloves of garlic, chopped
• 1 medium sized onion, diced
• 1 stalk of celery, diced (optional)
• 2 large chicken breasts
• 2 large tomatoes,chopped or a 14oz can of tomatoes
• 1 1/2 tablespoons of garam masala (Indian curry spice blend) or, if unavailable, curry power
• 1 tablespoon of ground cumin
• 3 cups of chicken broth
• 2 red peppers
• good handful of spinach
• 1.5 cups of roasted peanuts or 3/4 cups of crunchy peanut butter
• cilantro to garnish

Method:

1. Heat oil in a pan and add garlic and ginger and fry until fragrant (about 30 seconds).
2. Throw in the onions and allow to soften (around 10 min), seasoning with salt.
3. Add the garam masla (or curry powder) and cumin. Heat for a few more minutes. If your garam masala is mild and you would prefer some kick, you can also add chili powder.
4. Add the tomatoes and 1/2 cup of stock, cooking for about 5 more minutes. Season again with a little bit of salt.
5. Blend the onion, garlic and tomato spice mixture. If you don't have a blender you may skip this step, but it does add a depth to the dish. Separately blend the peanuts with one cup of stock (you can leave some whole if you like a bit of texture), or mix together the peanut butter and 1 cup of stock.
6. Back in the pan, fry the peppers and spinach in oil, adding about a cup of stock to allow them to soften. Add the chicken and fry until brown.
7. Combine the blended mixtures with chicken and vegetables - serve with rice and garnish with cilantro.

A part of the story I didn't quite get to is that my father-in-law made it back to Africa several times after his stint in the Peace Corps, namely to Zaire in the 1980's along with his wife and son. Interestingly, the easiest chicken curry recipe I know comes from his son/my husband (I could have made it easy and just simply shared that recipe with you, but what fun would that be?). For his Chicken Curry, skip the nuts and the blending and add your curry powder/garam masala to the onions after frying. Follow this by browning the chicken, and then adding a can of tomatoes. Before serving, stir in about 2 cups of plain yogurt. Serve with more yogurt and if available, mango chutney. Nothing is easier than that!

If anyone with kids tries either of these recipes, let me know your thoughts!

Until next time, enjoy!

A Christmas Tradition & A Mad-Car Pile Up

2010-01-13T15:09:00.000-08:00

It's been quite some time since my last post - as it happens I tend to get absorbed in the food aspects of the Holiday Season and was spending what would otherwise be my blogging time cooking and baking as if preparing for a deadline. For four days my husband quizzically observed me hauling grocery bags from all corners of Brooklyn and Manhattan. "Relax, it's the holidays. Why are you making this so hard on yourself?" he asked. This would be met with an irritated, "What do you mean? It's tradition!"

But in all honesty, for me, the Polish pre-Christmas tradition of Wigilia (Christmas Eve dinner), which was historically a 12 dish "meatless fast" (now more like a coma-inducing mushroom, sauerkraut and fish filled feast), is a hugely importatant and very necessary part of my year-end celebrations. And so after all the preparation, I feel it necessary to share a small part of these adventures with you.

My Wigilia preparations began surrounded with tradition. As I made my way to Polam, a stellar Polish meat market in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, I could already overhear mumblings of Wigilia shopping lists and related discussions. (For those of you who don't know, Greenpoint is a Polish neighborhood - a really Polish neighborhood, and therefore the perfect opening setting for any Polish Christmas food story). "Oh, we forgot to get the herrings," "I still need dried mushrooms, but let's get them from the place near the house," "Should we make golabki? Grandpa likes golabki. It's too much work, but Grandpa likes golabki. Oh to hell with it, I'm not going to all that work to make him golabki," etc.

Aside from having probably the best cold cuts and kielbasa outside of my favorite joint in Warsaw, Polam is a 500 sqft virtual madhouse of all that is great and amusing about the culture I call my own. There are dozens of similar places on this block, yet this one is always packed to the gills, their apparently equally stocked neighbors attracting just a few clients. Enveloped by the amazing smells of smoked meats and fish (smoked mackerel = heaven), air dried kielbasas and cured hams, a virtual circus of shoppers and workers dodges each other seamlessly. There is always a line, but right before Christmas and Easter one's sense of personal space and ability to cooperate can really be tested by pierogi-fattened old women grabbing items from all around, with "excuse me" requests coming from every direction.

I was maintaining my footing in this line equivalent to a Polish mad-car pile up when of course, my mother called. With the phone balanced on my shoulder as I dodged a passing crate of sauerkraut, I asked her to email me the preparation method for a certain component of the approaching Wigilia dinner. Interestingly, despite the request of the recipe via email (simple! efficient!), my mother imediatley began to explain the recipe verbally, stage by stage, ingredient by ingredient, interjecting past mistakes and future improvements. (For the record, she did later email me the recipe, in non-paragraph format). While listening to her talk, I realized what a part of our family tradition that type of spiel really was - a verbal handing down of cooking methods and advice. How could I have expected her to do it any other way? I thought of how my father would similarly explain recipes to me, enthusiastically detailing the exact shade the onions needed to be before, for example, the mushrooms were added. As much as the Wigilia dinner itself, this passing on of information was a part of my Polish Christmas tradition. Later that day, flipping through Polish Heritage Cookery in search of a pierogi dough recipe, I was again struck that all the recipes read just like my parents verbal instructions. Paragraphs, just as if someone was reciting them aloud. The Wigilia "tradition" encompassed me, and as I continued over the next several days to put together the various dishes I was pushed along knowing that even with my reinterpretations and personal additions, I was still taking part in something more special than just the meal alone.

So today I'm going to share with you, though not in the oral tradition, the recipe for my favorite, and very traditional, dish from Wigilia - Barszcz z Uszkami ("Borscht"- to use the more familiar Russian term - with mushroom "ravioli"). Interestingly the Uszka (translated as Little Ears) are as traditional as you get - made following a method my family and others have followed for years. On the other hand, the barszcz has some of my own adjustments. It holds to the basic idea, but has a few additions I imagine will end up as part of my continued family tradition.

For both of these you will need about 6 onions chopped and caramelized in canola or other vegetable oil (olive oil has too strong a flavor so avoid using it if possible). It's best to do this all at once for both dishes.

Uszka

Filling

• 3 onions, chopped finely (or half of the previously mentioned batch)
• 1.5 cups dried Polish mushrooms (such as Borowiki, Podgrzybki or Prawdziwki, available at any Polish food store. If you can't find these, dried Porcini work as well)
• Canola or other vegetable oil
• Salt and Pepper

Method:

1. Pour hot water over the dried mushrooms and let them sit for at least an hour. I usually do it the night before and refrigerate.
2. Caramelize the onions in the oil (don't add salt as they will not caramelize properly) - this should take at least 30 minutes.
3. Chop the mushrooms finely and add to the onions along with some of the mushroom liquid. Reserve the rest of the liquid for the barszcz.
4. Season with salt and pepper.
5. Optional: if you have a food grinder, run the mixture through the rough setting. This will refine it a little more.

Dough:

• 2.5 cups all purpose flour, plus extra for rolling dough
• 1/2 teaspoon salt.
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup cold water

Method:

1. Sprinkle the salt into the flour.
2. If using a mixer, throw in the flour and place the egg in the middle and begin to mix with the paddle attachment slowly adding the water. Otherwise make a volcano shape with the flour. Place the egg in the middle and begin to mix, adding the water gradually.
3. Put the dough in a bowl and cover in plastic wrap. Leave it to sit in a warm place for about a half hour. If your dough looks a bit lumpy the sitting time should take care of this.
4. Sprinkle your workspace with flour and divide dough into 4 parts. Roll out one part with a rolling pin or a pasta maker/ pasta maker attachment to your mixer. It will need to be pretty thin (think chinese dumplings).
5. Cut into roughly 2 " x 2 " squares.

Shortcut: buy dumpling skins at an Asian food store and cut into squares. Avoid wonton skins as they are way too thin. This will not be 100% authentic but does the job in a pinch.

6. To construct your uszka:

This can be hard to explain so check out this link showing how to fold them. Excuse my laziness!

7. Place them on a very well-floured board and cover in plastic wrap until cooking time. You can also freeze them but make sure they are covered in a very good amount of flour or they will stick together quite easily.

8. To cook, throw them into rapidly boiling water for about 5 minutes or until they rise to the top. If you like you can follow that by frying them - which is a method I most prefer.

Barszcz

The basic stock:

• 2 large carrots
• 3 stalks of celery
• 1 large or 2 medium parsnips
• 2 medium onions
• 4 cloves of garlic
• 6 beets, scrubbed, along with their stalks (leaves don't add much so I wouldn't bother).
* Note: to make a really rich barszcz, you will need more than 6 beets, but what I do is use the fresh ones for the stock base and then use canned ones in the later part of the recipe. If you want to go all out with fully fresh ingredients and have the cash to spend on lots of beets, go ahead, but it can be a bit of a pain overall.
• handful of dried Polish mushrooms
• handful of peppercorns
• 2 bayleaves

Method:

Throw everything in a large stockpot, bring to boil. Reduce to simmer and cook for at least 2 hours. Strain and discard vegetables.

To continue:

• 2 large cans of beets
• half of the previous onion mixture or 3 onions, finely sliced and caramelized
• small bottle of pomegranate juice or cherry juice (this adds an amazing depth and richness)
• a few pinches of nutmeg
• a squeeze of lemon (or if available, sour red currants)
• half a bunch of fresh dill (to serve)

Method:

1. Place all ingredients except for the dill and lemon into base stock and allow to simmer for about an hour.
2. Strain again. Squeeze in the lemon or currants to taste so the barszcz has a slight tartness.
3. Chop the dill and add to the top, reserving a little for when you serve with uszka.

Before I go, I wanted to mention an article that was published in the New York Times Dining section last week, just after I had started writing this post. It was an item on Veselka, the famed Ukranian restaurant in the East Village. Coincidentally, the article featured recipes for three tradtional Ukrainan Christmas dishes - two of which were "Borscht" and "Vushka." For those interested, take a look to see how these traditions vary cross-culturally!

Until next time - Enjoy!

xx Annah

Bacon, Cheese and Scallions Makes Everything Better

2009-12-06T17:05:00.000-08:00

Having always loved savory breakfast muffins, I made a rather experimental batch this weekend (with BACON!) that turned out to be quite a hit with my friends. Since then several people have asked for the recipe I thought I would share it with you here.

The great thing about these is that they freeze really well - you can make them ahead of time, freeze them, and have a great and easy breakfast every day. I must admit that I like every meal to be somewhat noteworthy and I'm by no means a fan of shoving a donut in my mouth as I leap through the subway doors in the morning, so if you're anything like me I'm sure these will be a great morning solution. To defrost them, place them in a 350F oven for 15 minutes or leave them to defrost overnight.

Bacon, Cheese and Scallion Muffins

• 10 slices of bacon, chopped (or more if you are like me and no amount of bacon is ever enough)
• 2 cups of flour
• 1 1/2 cups of cheddar
• 1 tablespoon sugar
• 1 teaspoon chopped fresh rosemary
• 2 tablespoons baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 1/2 tablespoons garlic powder
• 4 scallions, chopped
• 1 egg, beaten
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/2 good quality extra virgin olive oil
• 1/2 cup sour cream

Preheat your oven to 400F.
Fry the chopped bacon until crispy and drain on a paper towel. While it cools, mix the dry ingredients (cheese and scallions count as dry) and set aside. Mix the wet ingredients together and fold into the dry mix slowly. Mix in the bacon. Grease or line a muffin tray and spoon in the mixture. 20 minutes in the oven will do the trick, after which you should cool them fully before freezing. Make sure to freeze them within the hour, that way they will defrost with the same level of freshness.

Enjoy!

xx Annah

Bottoms Up! The Bloody Mary Salad

2009-12-03T11:45:00.000-08:00

Inspiration can be found in the strangest of places, and in this case I found it at the bottom of a large pitcher of Bloody Mary on a rooftop in Melbourne. Looking out at the skyline from our perch at Madame Brussels - self proclaimed “rather fancy terrace and public house”- our group of three had been working on this savory concoction for quite some time. As it was way past my dinner time (this was the first week of a 5-week food-fueled trip through Australia and Asia and consumption was foremost on my mind), I had already eaten the celery, olives, parsley and cucumber slices that had adorned the top of our shared beverage. So it was with revived enthusiasm that I fished out the remaining cucumber slice from the bottom. This one was different from the others – it had soaked up the spicy, tomatoey booze and resulted in a light, crunchy pickle that left me wanting more. As we finally set off to Gills Diner for some real sustenance, the flavor and texture of that cucumber danced in my head - I had to recreate it, to see if this little morsel could be turned into a dish that I could eat by the plateful. So upon our return to New York, my first task was to do just that.

Now, although I’ve had many a Bloody Mary in the past, I was surprised to realize that I’d never actually made one myself. So the recipe that follows is one I adapted from what I found online and sourced from friends (thanks Andy!). I must admit it turned our pretty well. This works well as both a Bloody Mary mix and marinade, though if you plan on having several of these as a bevy, you might want to add a little more tomato juice as it’s pretty intense.

Mix/Marinade/Dressing:

• 4 cups of tomato juice

• Juice of 2.5 lemons

• 2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

• ½ cup freshly grated horseradish (you can use a prepared horseradish as well, but it doesn’t really have that zing of fresh horseradish. When grating, make sure to use the finest grater and to go with the grain – it’s a bit of struggle otherwise)

• 2 teaspoons celery salt

• 1 clove of garlic minced

• 2 tablespoons coarsely ground pepper

• 1 teaspoon tobasco or other hot sauce

• 2 tablespoons mirin (Mirin is a Japanese sweet cooking wine - if you don’t have mirin, substitute sugar)

• 1 tablespoons capers

• ½ cup of vodka (in all honestly, I found the vodka doesn’t make a massive difference to the actual salad in terms of flavor, so you can just save it to drink with the leftover mix if you like)

Mix all the ingredients in a pitcher and let it sit in the fridge for at least a few hours to let the ingredients marry. Trust me, it really makes a difference.

The Salad:

• 2 English cucumbers sliced on the diagonal

• 2-3 celery stalks sliced on the diagonal

• ½ a red onion, thinly sliced.

• Bloody Mary mix – strained.

Mix these together in a bowl or ziplock bag and add enough marinade to cover. Let it marinate at least overnight.

To compose the salad:

• 2 roma tomatoes, seeded and sliced into strips

• Handful of celery leaves

• Handful of Italian parsley leaves

• ¼ cup of large green olives, pitted and sliced lengthways

• 1 tablespoon of capers

Toss ingredients together and drizzle with some extra marinade. I served this with a pan seared cod (any white fleshed fish would work really well) which I also drizzled with a bit of the marinade - it was perfectly light and the acid in the salad complimented the fish really well.

So there you go. From a rooftop in Melbourne to a table in Brooklyn - it’s amazing where you can find a little feast for thought. Throughout our trip I encountered many such inspirations, which I will write about in upcoming entries. But for now, we are just happy to be home, back in the kitchen, and kicking back with a Bloody Mary.

See you all soon!

xx Annah