It is Fall: Hungarian Mushroom Soup and Apple Pies

It is October; that Autumnal smell is in the air. 

Here in the Wasatch mountains, the changing of the seasons is particularly beautiful with the Rocky Mountain shrubs and oaks turning all manner of bright, warm colors, the mums blooming fervently, and the Utah gardens and orchards bountiful with the many fruits of Fall.  The apples are particularly delicious and abundant right now, and when we went to buy our pumpkins last week after school we couldn't resist buying a basket of Golden Delicious (literally and figuratively).  I promised Roman we'd bake his Daddy an apple pie, one of his favorite desserts, and maybe an apple turnover if there was leftover crust.  Roman agreed he'd help peel the apples.

Every year I look forward to Fall.  Halloween is tied for my favorite holiday with Christmas and at our house it is a rite of sorts to bring out the Halloween decorations and reminisce about them as we put them up.  We have the little mummy and skeleton bodies our jack-o-lanterns sit on, my witchy-witch hat (worn to hand out candy every year), Matt's extremely frightening Meatloafesque-skull mask (used to frighten neighborhood teenagers every year), Roman's "spirit" which hangs from a tree, bats, ghosts and all other manner of spooky things.  This year we bought a blow-up witch to add to the mix as well as a cackling witch figurine to replace a favorite cackling bobble head somehow lost in the mix.  I'm fairly certain our neighbors think we're pagans, but I somewhat delight in the outrage.

But Autumn isn't all ghouls and candy handouts.  In October we also look forward to buying our pumpkins and picking or buying local apples.  I was happily surprised to find that the area surrounding Salt Lake City is full of small farms and orchards.  In fact, in Ogden, our small city, most houses have at least one fruit tree and often a large home garden for the summer.  When we moved into our house I spotted a peach tree (sadly it is diseased) and we had about 6 rows of corn growing in our small allotment (more than enough for the entire summer for us and our neighbors), planted for us by the previous owners.  While the corn is gone now, everyone around us is still reaping the harvests of stone-fruit trees, squashes, and apples.  I can't say I mind this at all.

I've been told that this Utah practice of "grow your own" has something to do with the prevalent Mormon culture of (somewhat extreme) preparedness.  One of the first times Matt came to our new house to collect mail before we moved in, he found a small flier from a man in the neighborhood requesting all our personal information, that of our children as well as an itemized list of all the survival gear and food / water stores we had in our home.  Sooo, that went straight into the trash because, well, you know, identity theft.  But when we mentioned it to our neighbors months later they explained one person is assigned to each area by the city (and church) to keep tabs on every person and their survival stores.  You know, "just in case the mountain ever comes down on us," as my neighbor put it.  Way to make me feel like a paranoid jerk. :)  I assume everyone preserves and pickles the bounties of their gardens and while I'm  not sure we'll start hoarding canned goods and heat blankets, I think maybe I'll partake in the summer garden madness next year to a level I've never done before.  I've always wanted to grow eggplant.

So today I made the apple pie, and there was extra crust so I went ahead and made what came to be a lovely little apple turnover too.  The air was particularly crisp and so I thought a nice Hungarian Mushroom soup and some crusty bread would pair well.  I had this soup for the first time a week ago at a local deli called Berlin's.  Their sandwiches are so-so, but this soup, one I'd never heard of, was excellent and is very easy to replicate at home.  I added kielbasa to it to make it slightly heartier and for the meat-beast my husband tends to be.  I'll include the recipe for the soup below but as far as the apple pie, all I've got are tantalizing pictures of the butteriest, flakiest crust I've ever made.  We've yet to determine whether the dessert is improved by adding pecans.  As a Texas girl at heart, I can't see how it wouldn't be.  And how the heck did that not occur to me sooner?!

Happy Fall everyone!  To many delicious treats coming our way, no doubt.

*  *  *

Hungarian Mushroom Soup 

Serves 4-6

 

This soup's list of ingredients feels unorthodox to me.  How did Hungarian soup end up using soy sauce?  Don't question a good thing, my friends.  The addition of kielbasa was mine.  While tasty, it was totally unnecessary.  If you chop your mushrooms thickly they are just as good as meat - one of the many reasons I am a complete mushroom fiend.  This was delicious with white mushrooms, but I can only imagine that it would be elevated to superb with a mix of wild mushrooms.  Give it a try with some nice crusty bread.  

A perfect autumnal delight.

*  *  *

Ingredients

1 lb white mushrooms, sliced thickly (about 3-4 slices per mushroom)

1 medium yellow onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 lb kielbasa, diced (OPTIONAL)
1/4 cup flour
2-3 tbsps butter
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 1/2 - 2 tbsps Paprika
2 tsp dried dill (if using fresh, double the amount)
1 tbsp soy sauce (yes, weird!)
 4-5 cups chicken stock or water (if you use water either add a lot more salt or chicken bouillon)
1/4 cup milk
1/4 cup sour cream (OPTIONAL)
1/2 lemon, juiced
fresh dill to garnish (optional)


Method

1. Heat the oil and butter in a large pot over medium heat until butter is melted.  

2. Add the onions, mushrooms and kielbasa (if using) and cook, stirring occasionally, over medium-high heat until the sausage is somewhat caramelized and the mushrooms have begun to brown and released their juices.  This will take about 10 minutes or so.

3. To the pot, add the flour and paprika and let it cook for 1-2 minutes, creating a roux.  Do not let it burn or get too dark - turn the heat down if necessary.

4. Add the broth, dill and soy sauce and bring the mixture to a boil.  Once boiling, reduce the heat and simmer for 20 minutes, allowing the soup to thicken and reduce.  This will concentrate the flavors.

5. Season generously with salt and pepper and mix in the milk, sour cream and lemon juice.

6. Remove from heat.  Garnish with more dill and serve with crusty bread or garlic crostini. YUM.

Another spooky acquisition this year.

'Tis The Gift To Be Simple: Shaker (Meyer) Lemon Pie

Two glorious discoveries to share:

1. Shaker Lemon Pie is now in the running for my favorite pie of all-time.  Sorry, cherry.

2. I finally found my forever-pie-crust recipe.  The one I've been waiting for all these years. The flakiest, butteriest, best-est pie crust I've ever made.  It didn't come out perfectly this time because I used the wrong pie dish and sprayed butter on the top of my pie (do not do this!), but I know when done right it will be just what I want.  Thank you Smitten Kitchen and your pea-sized-butter-pieces-comment.  You have changed the way I make (and enjoy) crust forever. :)

And a belated Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone! 

St. Patrick's Day sneaks up on me every single year.  Matt is part-Irish so he always likes to celebrate.  We used to go to our favorite Irish Pub when we lived in New York.  These days, I tend to go home-made and buy the boil-it-yourself Corned Beef packet and make some cabbage, potatoes and carrots to go with.  This year, our Sunday night plans changed at the last minute and so we had to put-off St. Patrick's day until last night, Monday.  As an unplanned addition to my belated Irish meal, I remembered I had a bag of Meyer Lemons sitting in the fruit drawer that I'd been waiting to find the right recipe for.  Four lovely, yellow lemons, waiting to be made into something delicious.  What could be less Irish than four lovely Meyer lemons, right?

Well, that is when the English-Irish meal came together in a much-belated attempt to reconcile the two with no politics involved: Corned Beef & Cabagge and Shaker Lemon Pie for dessert.  Bold.  Very bold.

*  *  *

Simple Gifts.

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come 'round right. 

Written by Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett in Alfred, Maine

Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, Summer 2012

The Shakers are a widely-forgotten, American Protestant sect whose leaders were originally descended from the English.  They are known for their simply, Puritan-esque way of life - and their lovely, austere furniture and wood-working.  As fortune would have it, when we were about to leave Maine, my watercolor teacher Charles insisted we go to the Shaker village in Kentucky on the epic drive over to Colorado.  He said it was pretty.  He said it was interesting.  But, most of all, he said the Shaker Lemon Pie would change my life.
So we went to Pleasant Hill.  And pleasant it was.

Shame about the pie.

 After one beautiful - nearly ethereal - evening and night in Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, among the buildings and farms of the Shakers, I've fallen in love with many aspects of the Kentucky Shaker way.  The awe-inspiring, spiral staircases.  The unique and unexpectedly beautiful combination of Shaker design and architecture with the rolling hills and high-white-fences of the Kentucky countryside.  The mindset that less is more - that simple gifts are life's real treasure.  It was such a beautiful surprise, that one little day with the Shakers.  I'd go back again, just to watch Roman walk down the dirt road towards the sunset.  But...I wouldn't go back for the food.

Sad to say, but since the essential disappearance of real Shakers in Pleasant Hill, the food and quality thereof has gone somewhat downhill.  I don't doubt that when Charles had the Shaker Lemon Pie it was every bit as delectable as he described it.  But when I had it, it was so painfully forgettable I was almost ashamed to admit to Charles I'd gone and had it, because I didn't want to tell him that it was no longer the pie of his yester-year dreams.


It was then that I made a mental note to try making some Shaker Lemon Pie myself by finding an authentic Shaker recipe and using the best ingredients I could find.  Enter the Meyer Lemons.

I learned the hard way a couple of years ago that too much citrus does-not-a-good-dessert-make.  I tried Nigella's Clementine Cake to get rid of the million cuties I had in my house and it was SO gross (and I almost never use that word to describe food) that I had to throw the whole thing out (a first for me, actually).

I was, therefore, wary of using the entire Meyer Lemon in the Shaker Lemon Pie.  But I did it anyway.  And, happily, the result was one of the most complex, delicious pies I've ever had.  Ever, ever, ever.  And despite all the warnings from cooks that the flavor might be slightly bitter and too "sophisticated" for a child to like, Roman ate his up greedily.

Did I mention I love my son? :)

Shaker Stairway; Shaker Lemons

So here's the winning recipe.  The texture finds itself halfway between Lemon curd and lemon custard.  The pieces of candied rind add slightly bitter-but-fruit-filled notes to each bite.  Try this at home when the Meyers come back out next year.

Verily, I say, 'tis one of life's simple gifts.

*  *  *

Shaker (Meyer) Lemon Pie
Serves 6-8

if you're not greedy :)

The Shaker-like Non-Negotiables of This Here Pie:

1.  You MUST use Meyer Lemons.  Regular lemons will not do.  Too tart.  Too much pith.  The list goes on.

2. You MUST use a mandoline to slice the aforementioned Meyer Lemons.  Unless, of course, you are an accomplished sushi chef who can slice lemons paper-thin on a consistent basis.  And, let's face it, you're not.

3. You MUST let the lemons macerate for a WHOLE DAY.  Do not short-cut on this step.  I'm convinced this is what drew the bitterness out.  I cannot emphasize this enough.

4. You MUST respect this pie enough to make the amazing all-butter crust I mentioned above.  Follow the Smitten Kitchen recipe and process and pay particular attention to the fact that she leaves gigantic pieces of butter in-tact in her crust dough. DO NOT OVER CUT!

Ingredients
2 Meyer Lemons, thinly sliced with mandoline
(as thin as it will go); use the whole lemon!

2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp salt
4 Eggs
3 Tbsp flour (optional)
2 all-butter pie crusts (1 top, 1 bottom); chilled for at least 1-2 hours

Additional
Melted butter or egg-white to brush on top crust
Sugar for sprinkling on top

Method
1. Mix lemon slices (remove seeds) with the sugar and salt and set aside, covered, at room temperature for 24 hours.

2. Pre-heat oven to 425F

3. Roll-out your chilled crusts.  Drape the first over the pie dish with 1/2 inch overhang.

4. Mix the lemon mixture with the eggs and flour.  Pour into lined pie dish.

5. Drape top cover over.  Press crusts edges together to seal and crimp decoratively.

6. Slice top of pie for steam-venting purposes.

7. Glaze with butter or egg-white and sprinkle with sugar, if desired.

8. Bake for 25 minutes at 425F.  Reduce to 350F and bake for an additional 20-25 minutes.

Cool completely before serving.  Cheers!

Happy Valentine's Day Dammit: Milk Chocolate Soufflé for the Soul

Milk Chocolate Love

Some years Valentine's Day, in all its syrupy-sweet glory, is a natural extension of the fantasmagoric love-fest your life is.  Other years - like this one - it's just another snowy day in what was a pretty crap-tastic, cold, February week.  I sound bitter.  Here's why:

 *  *  *

Top 4 Crappy Things That Have Happened Lately

A Brief, self-thrown-pity-party-filled explanation in list-form

1. Two weeks ago I sprained my foot pretty badly by falling down two of the smallest, most-not-injury-worthy steps into the garage.  Roman was still strapped into his car seat and had to listen to me whimper and moan on the garage floor for several minutes (he was kind of freaking out) until I managed to hobble over and unstrap him.  Crutches, an air cast, ridiculous amounts of Ibuprofen, and two weeks later it's still refusing to fully heal.  I can't even walk up and down stairs comfortably, much less chase Roman or go skiing.  Such a pain.

2. A few days after the epic sprain, I discovered an epic-failure: our beloved pet, Frankie the Betta fish, has a severe case of dropsy and is currently in week # who-knows-how-long-it-took-me-to-notice of a long and inevitably drawn-out death.  I spent an afternoon looking up humane ways to euthanize fish - for which Matt made fun of me mercilessly - only to wuss out and settle on changing his water in order to "make him more comfortable" (whatever that means).  I literally wake up every morning expecting to find him floating upside down and I tell myself I worry because I'm afraid Roman will be upset, but really - it'll be me crying at the backyard funeral.

3. Earlier this week I gently (if that's possible) dropped my iPhone, the way I have a hundred other times.  Naturally, my decision to get the $3 silver-glitter-covered-cover decided to slap me in the face at that very moment and the front of the phone completely shattered.  As stupidly inane and ungrateful as it sounds to complain about, it just pisses me off to have to get a new one and tether myself a further 2-years to AT&T (which is, in and of itself, an irrational reaction as I had no intention of leaving AT&T).

4. Yesterday, I spent a lot of time making individualized Valentines and sprinkle-filled, pink, rice krispy treats painfully (literally) cut-out into heart shapes for Roman's entire pre-school class, only to be told by his teacher when I picked him up today that they "didn't have time to hand his Valentines out."  All this while Roman sweetly complained, "Mommy!  I didn't get to give my friends their treats." [Insert adorable pouty face by Roman and not-so-adorable annoyed face by Mom].

*  *  * 

Ok, ok, it's not that I don't want to celebrate.  Really, I just need something to remind me of the simple pleasures in life - breathe some warmth into the cold Denver winter, and even soothe my whiny little soul a tiny bit.  Something to show me the silver linings.

Lucky for me, Matt is cooking me a special, romantic dinner tonight.  I'm not sure what it will comprise of but I know this much: it will taste great!

I know this because dinner pretty much always tastes great when I'm being cooked for, but also because Matt so rarely cooks that I honestly believe God has bestowed him with some sort of permanent beginner's-luck-thing.  His food is always awesome - no matter how randomly or haphazardly prepared.

The only thing I'm responsible for tonight, besides this awesome Valentine's gift I found for Matt at Target, is dessert.  I wanted to make something special, kind of fancy, but not over the top in terms of work, time-commitment or flashiness.

Enter the Bon Appetit Milk Chocolate Soufflé.

There's something magical-sounding about the world soufflé - to "puff" or "blow up" (but prettier sounding) in French.  I think it will bring a fun but somewhat dramatic air to the closing of the dinner, without going too far into the realm of wannabe-chef.  I mean, how seriously can you take milk chocolate, even if it is gourmet and even if it is in a beautifully puffed up soufflé?
 
Which brings me back to the week-long pity party I've been holding for myself and the fact that I need to stop taking that - and myself - so seriously too.  So in the name of milk chocolate's levity, here are all the silver-linings to the above-mentioned Top 4 Crappy Things That Have Happened Lately:

The Silver Lingings

the milk-chocolate-y levity in the situation

1. The Ankle
I totally got pampered by both Matt and Roman for almost an entire week.  Roman learned that he can indeed use his stool to get the milk out of the fridge, and Matt learned that the house really does go to crap pretty quickly when the invisible cleaning fairy is out of commission :)

2. The Dropsy
Part of me believes that Frankie's demise might be karma coming to slap me in the face.  I'd been complaining a LOT lately that it's a lot of work to keep a large fishbowl clean.  I wouldn't be lying if I actually did briefly (ever-so-briefly!) wish Frankie might die soon.  So, in a way, even though it sucks to lose our only pet - I'm secretly pleased that I can de-clutter my counter and stop the bowl-cleaning madness for a while.

3. The iPhone
Oh yeah, I got an iPhone 5 today.  *sheepish grin*

4. The Rice Krispy Treats
I now know that the "raspberry" color combo on the back of neon food coloring is bullshit.  It turns an ugly mauve-y purple color.  Never again.  I also got to snack on the leftover, rather cute rice krispy hearts.  And for once, I rather enjoyed the sprinkles.

*  *  *

Milk Chocolate Soufflé for the Soul

Using the Bon Appetit Recipe, copied below 

Makes 8 Servings

waiting to be baked

The original recipe also includes a Nougat whip to dollop on top of the soufflés.  It all seemed too rich for me so I didn't make the nougat whip and, instead, served this with plain homemade whipped cream.

Ingredients
12oz high-quality milk chocolate (such as Lindt, Green & Black, or Valrhona), choppedpped 
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream 
2 large egg yolks 
Pinch of salt 
6 large egg whites, room temperature 
2 tablespoons sugar
Butter & sugar for ramekins 

The finished product.

Method
1. Butter eight 3/4-cup soufflé dishes; sprinkle with sugar, tilting cups to coat completely and tapping out any excess. Arrange prepared soufflé dishes on large baking sheet.

2. Combine chocolate and cream in large metal bowl. Set bowl over saucepan of barely simmering water and stir until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.

3. Remove bowl from over water. Stir egg yolks and salt into chocolate mixture.

4. Using electric mixer, beat egg whites in another large bowl until soft peaks form. Gradually add 2 tablespoons sugar, beating until semi-firm peaks form.

5. Using rubber spatula, fold 1/4 of beaten egg whites into chocolate mixture to lighten. Fold remaining egg whites into chocolate mixture in 2 additions.

6. Divide chocolate mixture among prepared soufflé dishes, filling dishes completely.  

DO AHEAD Can be made 2 days ahead. Refrigerate uncovered until cold, then cover and keep chilled.
  
7. Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 400°F. Bake soufflés on baking sheet until puffed and tops feel firm, about 16 minutes if at room temperature and about 18 minutes if chilled.

Serve soufflés immediately, passing whipped cream alongside.

 Happy Valentine's Day Dammit. :)

This post has been brought to you by How do you do - a freaky, fascinating, former #1 hit in the 70s that I'm obsessed with.   Thank you Mouth & MacNeal.

Forgettable Shrove Tuesday; Memorable Baked Pancakes.

In all its Shriven Glory.

 I always forget about Shrove Tuesday.  How could I not when it is so obviously overshadowed by the infinitely more exciting Mardi Gras and Carnival?  Who wouldn't prefer gorging on Cajun food or dancing in Rio to being "shriven?"  Even with Papa Ratzi resigning in a somewhat foreboding reminder of of the Lenten season being upon us, I can't help but want to celebrate, pull out the marks, have a last hurrah of sorts.

I also forget Shrove Tuesday because, as a more somber holy day, I tend to associate it with my time in England.  In England it's known as Pancake Day (see my brief classicized homage here) - a time to use up the larder's contents before the fasting of Lent.  "What better way than to make pancakes (or, technically, crepes in the case of Britain)?" said nobody, ever. :) 

Well, they're not gumbo, that's for sure (And I even had my act together and put a batch of my wonderful gumbo in the freezer for the occasion!).  And did I mention I even bought Roman a Mardi Gras mask!?  But the other day I received the random newsletter I still get from the lovely deli / gourmet food store I used to frequent in my London Days: Melrose & Morgan.  And in it was contained a recipe for something I'd never really tried before (gasp!): baked pancakes.


My curiosity was sufficiently stirred.  And since Matt is in Florida for most of the week (back in time to make me Valentine's Dinner though :)), I figured we'd go with pancakes for dinner tonight.  Roman was thrilled.  As was I - with the result, that is.

It's fitting that a British deli should post this recipe - the result is like a flatter, eggier, more crepe-y Yorkshire Pudding.  I loved it.  I'd recommend making more than one as Roman and I greedily split one together and I could easily have had more.  But then I'm a bit of a piggy.

This recipe comes from David Eyre and was published in the infamous Essential New York Times Cookbook from back in 1966.  Can't wait to get my hands on the 2011 reprint.
The recipe is currently featured on the Melrose & Morgan webpage, but I'll copy it below as I'm certain it will be gone soon enough as we move onto other exciting, seasonal goodies.

*  *  *

David Eyre's Baked Pancakes

Makes 1 large pancake (crepe) to share

I'd make more if I were you. :)

You'll note that the ingredients are also listed in grams and milliliters, as is the British custom.  I would take this moment to recommend that you use this as an opportunity to go out and buy a cheap but accurate kitchen scale.  Weighing ingredients in baking and pastry is something that should not be undervalued.  Significantly more accurate, therefore guaranteeing consistency over time.  Just my two cents. :)

Ingredients
80g (a little less than 1/2 cup) Plain flour
120ml (1/2 cup) of milk
2 eggs, lightly beaten
Freshly grated nutmeg (optional, but do it)
Pinch of salt
30g (2Tbsps) butter

For serving:
2 Tbsp icing sugar
Juice of half a lemon


Method

Preheat your oven to 425F (220C).

Mix all ingredients except butter, icing sugar and lemon juice in a bowl.  Do not over-mix.

Melt the butter in a 12-inch (or 10-inch, in a real pinch) pan.

Once melted, pour the batter and place in the oven for exactly 10-12 minutes (or until the edges are golden).

DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN until the time is up!


Sprinkle with icing sugar and lemon juice.  Serve warm with jam or maple syrup.

Yum.  I feel shriven. :)

Happy Birthday Matt!: Whole Wheat Skillet Cookie Cake

It's All You Want to Be on Your Birthday

Happy 29th Birthday Matt!

* * *

It's that time of year again.  Time to spoil the good old husb because he's one year more mature, one year more well-aged, one year the wiser, one year the better, and one year closer to being able to claim he's "distinguished" because of his premature gray hair. :) 

We celebrated his birthday last weekend with a trip to the beach where Matt learned to Wake Board, then we had hot dogs and cake for lunch, and then I took him to dinner at a steak house called the Rodeo Grill, where he tried Wagyu beef for the first time (a filet of grade 9 marbling which probably had a more pampered life than either of us, for the record).  We ended the night at the bar in the Cedar Lounge at the Fairmont Bab Al Bahr: a scenic Lebanese restaurant with an outdoor sheesha bar on the water.  My only complaint is that the belly dancer stayed inside. :)

Anyway, onto the cake!
Remember those shops in the mall where all they sold were giant cookie cakes?  They'd have little plates with cookie samples on them and I always made it a point to stop by and pretend I was going to buy a cookie just so I could steal a sample.  Lame, but worth it.   I am such a shameless chocolate chip cookie addict!  And the wonderful thing is that Matt is too.  So when I saw the recipe for a whole wheat skillet cookie on 101 Cookbooks a couple of weeks ago, I immediately knew that's exactly what I would make him for his birthday.  Not only is it exactly something that Matt would love to devour, it is also less time consuming than a regular sponge cake, and easier to eat.

I used some store-bought icing to write him a simple message.  My only advice is to wait until the cookie cools completely before doing any kind of decorating or your letters will turn into fat, blobby messes like mine did.  I kind of like to think of it as the "I'm-29-I-don't-need-precious-cake-letters" motif (right.).  Not sure if I pulled it off. :)

Baking a giant cookie in a cast-iron skillet is the kind of thing that foodie dreams are made of.  Cast-Iron skillets are like the old-tried-and-true kitchen gadget that everyone should have.  You can use them to make anything from biscuits, to gravy, to Spanish tortillas, to, well, skillet cookies.  You can sautee, bake, fry in them.  They are versatile and sturdy.  And best of all, you don't have to use soap to wash them (ok I admit, this part of cast-iron grosses me out but I bear with it).  I used them a lot in my Girl Scout days when we camped.  My leaders taught me to use some dirt and a wadded up piece of aluminum foil to clean them out before rinsing in water.  Pretty amazing how this keeps them "seasoned" and better for using than washing with soap!

The recipe Heidi at 101 Cookbooks used is fantastic.  It calls for 100% Whole Wheat flour, which I was a little bit wary of using for a cookie, but the result is actually amazing.  It gives the cookie a slightly nutty taste that I think we would not have liked to go without.  I also added a generous amount of roughly chopped walnuts to the recipe (next time I might go with pecans), which also gave it a nice touch.  I chopped up and froze about 3/4 of the cookie (I used a 12" cast iron skillet, which is GIGANTIC!), and we ate the rest, gluttonously, as only a 29, 30 and 2 year-old can do.

* * *

Whole Wheat Skillet Cookie Cake

a pictorial journey

RECIPE AVAILABLE HERE

 

 

Something to be Thankful for.

Don't hate me because my lattice work is beautiful.

This year we were in Abu Dhabi for Thanksgiving and we had the good fortune of being invited to a fellow American's house to celebrate, along with some Kiwi friends who were very much looking forward to their first Thanksgiving ever.  We had Native American headbands for the kids, Turkey coloring sheets and an abundant buffet line-up.  The dinner went off without a hitch and even though we celebrated on a Friday, there was no football, and we rounded off the evening with one child projectile vomiting all over her dad and half the table, there was still enough good cheer to watch a couple of rounds of hilarious SNL skits and gorge on delicious desserts.

I made the Turkey, stuffing and gravy, as well as corn pudding and a cherry pie (Matt's favorite).  Luckily there were no huge train wrecks in my food offering, and in fact everything turned out great.  As if wonderful friends and family weren't a good enough reason to be grateful, that definitely is. The cherry pie filling sold here is different from the one we like in the US (and fresh cherries are prohibitively expensive from what I can see), but the pie was still good and I am really proud of my crust and lattice work which is the best I've ever done, generally ending up with a wonky, anorexic looking version of Martha Stewart creations when I make pies.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.  We are headed to the states shortly but there is a forthcoming post on the culinary and aesthetic pleasures of Italy, I promise...

Paradise Lost. Qatayef Found.

Qatayef Asafiri bil Kashta: Qatayef with Cream

Shangri-La: the mere mention of the place is enough to evoke images of a grand utopia or earthly paradise.  Despite the reality being that Shangri-La does not and never did exist as it does in James Hilton's novel, people have happily adopted the concept as something that conjures up the essence of an intrinsic desire for the sublime.  Appropriately, one of Abu Dhabi's best known luxury hotels is called the Shangri-La, and for all the hype and money that surrounds and flocks to it, you'd expect it to be no less than a place where you no longer age.  So you can imagine my surprise when the hotel and the Iftar buffet at the "legendary" Shangri-La in Abu Dhabi was, well...underwhelming.

* * *

Paradise Lost.

Matt and I walked in dressed for a celebratory anniversary dinner only to find every short-wearing-tourist, local and their screaming-newborn-child scarfing down buffet-piled plates of semi-bland food in a shocking display of outright I-don't-even-know-what.  Let me revise that slightly: going to Iftar at a hotel was probably a bad idea to begin with because Iftar is usually a family affair, where friends are invited and food is consumed in a jovial but not race-you-to-the-dessert-station kind of way.

What I hated about it was the feeling that you were racing everyone around you to the buffet, racing them to finish your first, second and even third plate, getting more food than you could possibly consume, and delighting in not consuming it.  At one point I saw a man with a plate of nearly 20 ice cream scoops pass me.  At another point I found myself shamelessly shoving chocolate covered marshmallows into my mouth, fresh from one of the 3 chocolate fountains.  And even when I could eat no more, I managed to force-feed myself an extra couple of sour-gummy-candies, mounted on peg displays for easy access.

What I loved about it was the informal, haphazard and somehow familial feel to it.  Entire, large families were sitting at tables together, eating, celebrating - from the wide awake newborns to the proud grandparents - and this at 9pm.  After having spent Roman's first year in London, where highchairs are about as scarce as good service at restaurants and all children are banished to their bedrooms promptly at 7, I'd spent a lot of time feeling like a misfit and unfit parent for wanting to take our little one out to dinner now and again.  The Emiratis embrace their children as part of every aspect of the day, and that's something I can admire.  I loved seeing traditional Emirati cuisine prominently displayed and the fact that every table had its own date receptacle, so that you might break the fast traditionally (dates and milk, like the Prophet). 

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Qatayef Found.

Sadly, without warning, about 30 minutes into our meal they suddenly and abruptly took down all the Emirati food and replaced it with the normal hotel buffet dinner food, leaving me, once more, without a taste!  I didn't get to have any of the whole roasted baby lamb served over rice, or any of the many interesting soups and stews next to it.  But I did have some Umm Ali again (it was better at the Raha Beach Hotel buffet) and plenty of one of my new favorite desserts: Qatayef.

To me, Ramadan might not mean fasting or even that much feasting, but it has definitely meant new beginnings.  It seems that to recover from a full day of no food or water, Muslims pull out all the stops with regards to culinary splendor during the holy month.  And so, to celebrate Ramadan (as much as a Catholic girl might), here is a list of my 4 newly discovered, deliciously appreciated Arabic (Ramadan) Sweets.  I have had the pleasure to indulge in them almost every day so far because all the major supermarkets set up special tents in their bakery section just to sell Ramadan sweets.  Roman and I are regulars now, and that is saying a lot for a mother-son duo with not a sweet tooth in sight.

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Roman and Brenda's Top 4 Favorite Ramadan Sweeties

Oh, Matt kinda likes them too. :)

My Lu-Lu Supermarket spoils: qatayef, anonymous sweet, Awamat

I have to admit, I hate baklava in all its syrupy-sweet glory.  I was therefore highly suspicious when faced with a giant tent of baklava-esque sweets.  Arabic sweets draw heavily from the phyllo-honey-nut concept, and you'd think the variations would be tiresome, but they aren't!  I don't know how but all these sweets somehow incorporate honey, nuts, phyllo, cheese or cream and they are all different and uniquely delicious.  They also include a lot of rose and orange blossom water which is a flavor people in the West generally neglect, to their loss, if you ask me.  If you have an Arabic sweet shop near you, I highly recommend you go in and have a try, despite the unfamiliarity and vastness of the counter display.  The sweets are rich, but the portions are generally small - which means you can try 2 or 3...or 4 or 5. :)

  

Small Disclaimer: The spellings of these desserts vary as they are obviously transliterated into English from Arabic, but I've done my best to use the ones I see here in the UAE. 

4. Muhallabia: Milk Pudding is good for the Soul

Muhallabia
image credit

I have known of this sweet for some time because it is one of my mother's favorite desserts.  Being obsessed with Lebanese food as she is, she ordered it every time we ate at Noura, her namesake restaurant, in London.  At most posh restaurants you are served this dessert in a glass bowl, but during Ramadan you can find it in the sweet tent being cut with a small knife into small squares which you cart off on a small plate.  I prefer this snack-y way of serving it, actually, because it is usally at room temperature which seems to suit the dish.

This is a unique pudding in my mind because it is like a primer in Arabic desserts: it is made from milk, rice powder and cornstarch - so simple - but flavored with rose water and orange blossom water and then sprinkled with the deliciously ubiquitous pistachios (or "pista" as they say here).  It has the consistency of a creamy jell-o if you can image that, but is much more sophisticated.  I also find it cleanses my palate nicely, in preparation of the next sweets...

Roman's Favorite: Awamat

3. Awamat: Little fried lighter-than-doughnut-balls

(Also called Lokma in Turkey) This is one of Roman's favorites.  Everytime we go up to the sweet tent, he inevitably gets away with one of these firmly gripped in his little hand - and believe me when I say that is a treat in and of itself, because these things are HEAVILY slathered in honey and sugar syrup.  Lots of fun for me to clean up. 

But in all seriousness, these are wonderful little sweets not just because they look unctuously delicious but because they are.  While they may appear to be honey-soaked doughnut balls, they are significantly lighter than donut holes.  These small little balls are crispy on the outside but delicately doughy on the inside.  They are sweet but not as sweet as they look, which is why I like them.  Maybe this has to do with the use of yogurt in their dough. 

2. Arabic Cheese Sweet: Vague Name, Delicious Sweet

I am still convincing myself that I actually did see and eat this, so hard is it to find and describe and therefor get a name for.  It's a hard business speaking to supermarket and bakery employees, most of them not Middle Easter, and begging for help with a recipe, name or origin of a sweet.  Alas, the best I can do is "Arabic Cheese Sweet" because that's what it is.

This sweet is made with Akawi cheese, a Levantine cheese that is semi-soft.  The cheese is melted and then mixed with a sugar syrup and semolina to create a strangely pliable, delicious dough that is filled with cream.  It can be rolled in pistachios or left on its own, like I had it.  This is the only recipe and picture I could find, and it does not do it justice, but we will make do.

PS: If anyone knows what this is called, I'd be much obliged!

1. Qatayef: The Holy of Arabic-Sweet-Holies.

These little pancakes won my heart in about a nanosecond when I first read about them on Anissa Helou's blog post about Ramadan sweets.  Qatayef are the sweet to eat during Ramadan and whether you make them at home or buy them premade and packaged on a Styrofoam tray with cling film over it at the supermarket (a common practice), they are delicious.

These sweets vary from the regular and stereotypical Arabic sweet in that they are actually yeast-risen pancakes.  And because you know how much Matt and I love our pancakes, you know that I had my grubby little hands all over these as soon as I saw them.  I got all the different flavors and kinds - deep fried and not deep fried.  And of course I obsessively took pictures of them and even brought some to a new friend's house the other day.

You can make them the size of a silver dollar, but here they are more the size of your palm, so they deep-fried end product is really the size of a one-per-person portion.  But I can never have just one.  Or two, actually. :)  And by God, I will make it to the Ramadan Brothers stand in Damascus one day (Thanks Anissa for the tip)!

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Honorable Mentions:

These are delicious and delicious looking - they just aren't my absolute favorites.  Given the chance, though, I would totally scarf them down before dinner.

Kunafa: a typical Ramadan dessert of shredded sweetened phyllo dough and filled with cheese; thought to have originated in Palestine. (image credit)

Basbousa: A delicious almond semolina cake often cut into little diamonds, as seen here. (image credit)

 Jalebi: fried pretzel looking things which are actually fried and sugar-coated batter. This dessert is particularly popular in India and Pakistan for celebrations. (image credit)

 

Bamieh: A Persian dessert that look like mini-churros but are nutty tasting and slightly heavier, also soaked in a sugar syrup / honey.  Delish. (image credit)

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Qatayef Asafiri Bil-Kishta

Makes 12

Qatayef are different from American pancakes because they use yeast instead of baking powder, and therefore require resting time.  The batter is also more like a dough making them tricky little buggers to fry in a perfect circle!  Lastly, they are only cooked on one side, while the other is allowed to bubble and dry while on the pan, whereas American pancakes are flipped.  I cheated a little and flipped mine because the first couple of tries I used far too much dough.

The Qatayef you see most during Ramadan, from my limited experience here in Abu Dhabi, are the deep-double-fried ones.  They look like empanadas soaked in sugar syrup but are much tastier because they are made from small pancakes (much moister than an empanada pastry) and are indeed soaked in a sugary syrup.  They are stuffed with either an Arabic clotted cream called "Kashta," unsalted cheese (like ricotta), or a nut mix (usually walnuts, almonds or pistachios).  I would be lying if I said I did not love these, especially the ones filled with cream or unsalted cheese.

But my other favorite Qatayef is a fresher, less deep-fried-y version of the sweet: the freshly made qatayef pancake filled with kashta which is flavored with rose and orange blossom water and topped with roughly chopped pistachios and just a drizzle of sugar syrup.  I think it's the perfect ending to a Middle Eastern Iftar meal - or any meal for that matter.

Ingredients

Syrup:

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 tsp of rose water

1/2 tsp orange blossom water

1/4 cup water

1 tsp lemon juice (or to taste)

Batter:

1/2 tsp dry active yeast

1/2 cup + 2 tbsps warm water

3/4 cup all-purpose flour

pinch of salt

Filling:

4 oz (113g) ricotta cheese

1 1/2 tsp rose water

2 tsp granulated sugar

1 1/2 tsp lemon juice (or to taste)

Garnish: 

1/2 cup roughly chopped pistachios

1/2-3/4 cup vegetable oil for frying

Method:

1. Make the syrup by combining the water, sugar and lemon juice in a small pot and slowly bringing to a boil.  Allow it to boil a minute or two while stirring and then add the rose and orange blossom water, stirring and then removing from heat.  Allow to cool completely and set aside.

2. Combine yeast and warm (not too hot your hand can't go in it) in a bowl and allow to activate for 10 minutes.  Then whisk in the flour and salt until you have a smooth dough.  Set aside in a dark, dry place and cover with a damp cloth.  Allow the dough to rise for 1 hour.

3. Meanwhile, make the filling by combining all the filling ingredients in a small bowl.  Refrigerate.  Chop the pistachios and set aside.

4. Once the dough is ready, heat a pan and grease it with 1/2 the vegetable oil over medium heat.  Once the pan is hot, measure 1 rounded tbsp of dough onto it, spreading it into a small circle about 3 inches wide and 1/4 inch thick.  The dough is sticky and tough to spread so don't be afraid to press down with the spoon until you achieve the desired thickness and shape. 

Allow the qatayef to cook until the top has bubbled and dried, but do not keep it on too long as these pancakes are lighter than American ones and will become tough.

5. Repeat step 4 until the dough is used up, replenishing the oil as necessary and placing the qatayef on a clean plate with paper towels to drain the oil as you go.

My wonky little qatayef; beginner's charm, I always say.

6. When ready to assemble (right before eating them, ideally): hold the qatayef in the palm of your hand and place 1 tsp full of the ricotta filling in it.  Pinch one side of the qatayef closed.  Do this with as many qatayef as desired.

7.  Drizzle the sugar syrup over them (or simply serve on the side for people to doll out themselves) and sprinkle with a generous amount of chopped pistachios.  Enjoy!

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Ramadan Kareem!

Translation: "Ramadan is generous" - this alludes to the spirit of good-doing and generosity Muslims all over the world are taught to undertake during this month of fasting.