STIR THE POTS

Torta de yuca

 

When it's as cold and windy as this weekend, it's time for some comfort food. Sure, eggs, bacon, and pancakes are fine. But why not indulge in a griddled starchy tropical tuber filled with mozzarella and scallions instead? Yuca, manioc, cassava... the funny waxed and woody thing found amongst the other odd tubers and fruits in the Latin section of your mega supermarket or local bodega.

It's white flesh is usually sweet, though at times it has a kind of bitter aftertaste, the latter less welcome. It's a indigenous to the Americas and is one of the foods carried by colonial trades across the oceans from Africa to Southeast Asia.

I first had this particular preparation from my wife. This morning she asked me to show her how to shape smaller tortas, as her's were mammoth, not a bad thing if you're hungry!

This is a no-recipe recipe. Basically, find a nice tuber, firm, check for black spots or mushy specimens. Peel the yuca of its waxed skin, then split and cut into two halves. Make smaller pieces about an inch or two, try removing the center vein, as you can't chew on that.

Place into a pot and cover with water, and add a couple pinches of salt. Cook till tender and mash with the back of a fork. Have some grated mozzarella and chopped scallions around. To make a flattened cake of mashed yuca, place a good bit of cheese and onions in the center, fold over the yuca on to itself and flatten to a round sort of pancake. I used a black skillet with about a tablespoon of oil over medium heat. Cook till golden brown and flip over and crisp the other side. Serve hot with some coffee, maybe some  chicharrón would be nice too.

Mecklenburger Landbrot

I recently bought a German book about rye bread, and perusing the pages of grain speckled breads, one particular dark loaf caught my eye. It's called Mecklenburg Landbrot. I was not familiar with its origins. What struck me was it's gorgeous brown hue and scattered schrot on it's crust. But later, finding out that Mecklenburg is a region, my interest was peaked.

Though I was born and lived in Germany, I never really traveled to those distant northern provinces. With their Teutonic heritage and mix of Slavic and German traditions, you would undoubtedly find some great breads, especially rye. Mecklenburg, it seems, is in the lowlands. Snug between Schelswig-Holstein and Pommerania, it's  always been a poor land, and the peasants always got the short end of the stick.

I won't try to give a history lesson here. But reading about its rye production, I knew that this loaf was from that place, even with its bit of wheat to give the poor rye some gluten! It was a bread from peasant stock, but rich enough to be a king or emperor?

This bread is wonderful with cheese. I had some apple cheddar from England with it, even hummus and just plain, worth eating however you like it!

 

Mecklenburger Landbrot(adapted from Roggen-Der Standardwerk, by Olaf Bauermann &Ines Gromes)

Sauerteig (DEF =Detmolder Einsufenführung, single build)

sourdough

8g Anstellgut or levain

198.5 g rye (I used whole grain throughout the formula, as I haven't received

shipment of my white rye!)

158.5g water

16 -24 hours @ 78-80 F 26-27 Celcius

Quellstück

Soaker

188g rye meal

188g water

68-77 F 20-25 C

15-20 hours

Teig

Final dough

357g sourdough

376g soaker

123.5g Rye (light or medium if you got it, though whole grain is just fine!)

127.25g Wheat flour (A.P.)

15g Barley malt

Yeast (optional, I didn't use it or need it!)

12.5g salt

.5g ground caraway

125g water

Mix 4 minutes on 1st speed/2 minutes on 2nd speed

DDT: 82-86 F

First rise: 20-25 minutes,(I let mine go a bit more since I didn't have yeast.)

divide: 1150g loaves

Shape: Blunt batard for a more rustic form or use bread pan mold for a more uniform looking loaf?

Second proof: 40-45 minutes, I would say an hour and a half for straight sourdough.

Bake: Start oven @480 F and gradually lower to 445 F with some steam to start

Bake time: 50 to 55 minutes for a dark loaf,due to malt.

Simit au levain

Simit is a bread that is  found usually sold in red carts on the streets of towns and cities throughout Turkey. It's simply delicious and the choice of most Turks who seem to enjoy it with some cheese and çay. 

While I had seen the simit carts  on my first trip to Istanbul, I didn't manage a taste. This trip, I made sure to try it. My first initiation was on a ferry ride to a market near Istanbul. Dilara, my host, had our driver purchase some as we waited for the boat. Finally boarding, Dilara inspected the simit, bit into it with a piece of cheese, and her face dropped. According to her it was stale. Later, we had a chance to try it again. Much better. How to describe it?  Well, it's a cross between several different well known and similarly crafted breads; bagels, pretzels, taralli. In otherwords, a hybrid of all these cousins.But with simit, they are plated, dipped in a solution of molasses (pekmez) and water, then coated with sesame seeds and baked.

I can't seem to find a baker back home in New York City who makes a decent simit. So I took a formula adapted from the book, Classic Turkish Cooking by Ghillie Başan. It's a great reference book, which everyone online seems to have interpreted or just copied. Anyway, I felt souring or fermenting this dough with levain would kick it up a bit! Depending on how fresh it is, simit can be airy, chewy, or stale, in which case it really sucks! The best I had was when my friend Gökhan Sökmen, Abracadabra's baker extraordinaire, made g me breakfast, preparing a simit with tomato and melted cheese - a delicious meal.

Anyway I feel it's time to start introducing some of these terrific breads so you can try and enjoy or even close your eyes while chewing on the sesame seed crusted simit and think of Turkey, like I often do.

Simit au levain 

237 g    Levain

781g       flour

164 g    water

10g       salt

Dip:

225 g molasses (I used carob pekmez)

225 water

680 sesame seeds

Mix flour, levain, salt and water. Knead  hand, or  mixer, until the dough is very smooth and resilient. Put the dough in a oiled bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let rise 2 hours.

Lightly degas the dough place on a lightly floured work surface,  divide into equal pieces,(mine were 50 grams each.) Roll each piece into a loose ball and let rest under a slightly damp towel about 30 minutes.

Roll each ball into a 14 inch/ 35 centimeter long rope. Hold down one end of the rope with one hand while twisting it with the other. Then form this twisted rope into ring, pressing and rolling the overlapping ends together on the work surface with one hand to seal. Place on a greased baking sheet and let rest 1 hour or check with the finger and poke your simit. If your indentation doesn't spring back your about there!

Dissolve the molasses in 225g water in a bowl. Put the sesame seeds on a flat plate or sheet pan and set it next to the molasses water dip. Dip each simit in molasses water solution first, then in the sesame seeds, making sure the ˇ˝simitˇ˝ is completely and thickly coated with the seeds on all sides. Put it back on the baking sheet and let rest for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 550 degrees Fahrenheit or 287 Celsius  30 minutes before baking. Put a few cups of water in an ovenproof pan and place it in the oven, or spray with a mister.

Take each ring and rotate it gently through your hands, enlarging it into a 7 inch/ 17 centimeter circle. Place the rings back on the baking sheet and let rest for 15 minutes or until well puffed.

Bake about 15-20 minutes until rich golden brown in color.

They are their best eaten fresh out of the oven.

Pide,Tunçilik=dinner

The weather got warm again in New York. Feels like summer and time to enjoy the last bits of it. I found some nice peppers and eggplant shopping at Fairway market in Redhook, all to say that I was ready to act on a porterhouse steak dinner. But I wasn't in the mood for a grand production. I quickly changed gears and  instead went for something easy; vegetarian in fact!  Tunçilik, a Thracian dish I often ate for meals at Abracadabra. The smokey flavors and unctuous oil rich dish is comforting, especially topped with some yogurt and some fiery Aleppo pepper flakes.  As with any Turkish meal, a bread was needed, and I was out of a loaf, so I whipped up some pide, a recipe sent by Dilara, modified it into a sourdough pide.This is a non-recipe recipe for tunçilik - basically you roast or grill an eggplant, a tomato, a couple of banana peppers,(aka "Carliston pepper") and chop some garlic, make a simple vinaigrette of vinegar and oil, a dash of salt and pepper, chopped parsley, voila!

Pide you asked?, well ok here it is:

Straight dough

Flour                250g 

 salt                      5g

 sugar                 15g

 yeast                   5g

 water               160g

Sourdough version:

levain                 82 gr

flour                   210gr

water                 110gr

 salt                     5gr

yeast                    2gr (optional if your in need of hybrid dough?)

make   a smooth dough soft as your ears lobes,(Dilara's directions), cut 50gr balls and let them rest a half an hour, than "flatten" them, brush with some yogurt on top and and dot them with your finger tips towards the edges,top with sesame, hashhash,(Turkish spice) zatar, almost anything you like on top.. oven 270 C or 520 F (if your oven gets that hot!)

Rhubarb chutney

Many moons ago, working for Chef Jean Michel Bergounoux, I was lucky to get a chance not only to learn his cooking methods as well as techniques. The experience was hands-on private cooking classes. By far he was my biggest influence and I think one of the best chefs in New York City. Strictly rooted in the French classics, he has years of experience in the most renowned kitchens both in France and throughout Europe. Beyond experience, he has an adventurous streak, a constant curiosity to try elements not in his usual repertoire, something that would seem out of  terroir for many Frenchmen.

For instance, he'll create a chutney, more common in the pantries of English kitchens. When first meeting to discuss our opening menu for the restaurant we were launching, Jean Michel had us take notes for the various preparations. One recipe he pulled out was for rhubarb chutney. Jean Michel told us he had found it in some old American cook book. Since the name of the book escapes me, I credit it to my former boss and mentor. The flavor packed chutney  accompanied a roasted duck breast. We often used it with seared foie gras for amuse bouche, or ate leftover in the copper pots  by spoonfuls.

Recently I rustled up the recipe from my folder. Its food stained and yellowing pages had already been torn from the notebook years ago. I wanted to pass it on to a new friend, Sonia F. Bañuelos, who makes some fabulous chutneys herself on her site, Saffron Paisley. She mentioned her gardens rich bounty of California fruits, herbs and vegetables and how she is  preparing all sorts of delicious sounding recipes for preserving from her home  kitchen. I decided to send over this recipe so she could rate this old favorite of mine.  The recipe is a deliciously spiced, unctuous jam, a perfect foil for foie gras or duck breast like we made with Jean Michel. It's a refreshing snack like the one pictured above, which I accompanied with a some rye hopped beer recently. I am sure Sonia will find a good dish to marry it with!

Rhubarb Chutney

2lbs Rhubarb

11/2 cups onions chopped

1/2 cup of raisins

11/3 cup sugar

4 cloves garlic chopped

1 Tbsp. ginger grated (you can use dry, but I prefer fresh!)

1Tbsp. Sel rose or Salt peter (optional)

1Tbsp. Mustard seeds

1/2 Tsp.Coriander seeds

1/2 Tsp. cinnamon

2 Cups Vinegar

1/2 cup of sugar

Cut rhubarb into dice, add the rest of the ingredients except the 1/2 cup of sugar, cook over low heat covered for about an hour, stirring  every few minutes to avoid scorching. Add in the last 1/2 cup of sugar and cool. Can be eaten cold or heated according to what you serve it with.

Inge's Ribiselküchen

 

I like to think seasonally when I cook, but yesterday was an exception. While shopping for food at Trader Joe's, I spied some red currants in the fruit and vegetable section, and quickly stuffed them into my filling cart! These red jewels, slightly sweet and a bit sour were going into a dessert I have had on my trips to Switzerland visiting my sister. It's a recipe from  her mother in-law Inge  who kindly gave me a copy. Since  I rarely see currants in New York, Trader Joe's gave me both ingredients and inspiration to act.

So what is this memorable treat? Ribiselküchen, or more simply currant cake. It's perfect marriage of cake, merengue and fruit that make for a Mama cake. My problem is not being able to have just one slice. It's easy to demolish this cake in one seating. I know it happened to me once or twice.

Inge's Ribiselküchen

Serves 6-8

Cake:

150g Powdered sugar

5g Vanilla Sugar

3 Egg yolks

3 Tbsp. water

50g Melted butter

250g flour (A.P. or cake)

1/2 tsp. Baking Powder

160ml Milk

Beat powdered sugar, vanilla sugar, yolks, water until light. Add sifted flour, baking powder, and milk in thirds slowly folded slowly.

Spread into a cake pan 8x8, non-stick or lined with parchment and buttered. Bake for about 15 minutes until 3/4 cooked in a 350 oven. Spread meringue and currant mix on top and finish for about 10 minutes or until meringue is golden and slightly firm to touch.

Merengue Topping:

3 egg whites

200g sugar

5g Vanilla sugar

300g Currants (fresh)

Whip egg whites and gradually add sugar until fluffy and stiff. Fold currants  and spread on top of 3/4 cooked cake. Finish in the oven until whites are golden colored.

Bolon on my mind (Economics and a plantain recipe)

Today while making my breakfast of "bolon", a plantain cooked and enriched with chicharron (fried pork), mani (peanut butter) and cheese. It's a dish I first learned about from my wife who is from Ecuador. As well my brother in-law was famously named, "Rey" del bolon for his renowned version, with what he secretly confided to me on a visit was the "concentrado;" his approach in which the sucs and juices were added and absorbed into the awaiting plantain.

Anyway, after a visit to Ecuador, I never found anyone producing them here in the USA. So I taught myself and have since every so often when in the mood, make a batch at home or at work. It just happened this morning while browsing the headlines, I read about Ecuador defaulting on it's foreign debt accrued by corrupt former leaders and how the new President who wants to change the way banks hold nations hostage with there own draconian methods. While enjoying my rendition of this Ecuadorian comfort food, I reflected on how the current economic craziness would effect that nation, especially with the latest drop in oil prices since Ecuador is a nation that depends on selling natural resources like oil as much as bananas.

What will that mean to those there who struggle daily, the people? My tribute or my commiseration with my "Querido Ecuador" can be only a simple gesture; make bolon, a dish that incorporates simple components but gives comfort and goes really well with some great coffee, especially from Zaruma my wife's hometown.

Bolon (my gringo version)

2 servings:

2 green plantains
1 speckled maduro (yellow plantain, just getting some spots)
4-6 Tbsp oil
1 piece chicharron (I used some maple wood smoked bacon)
3 Tbsp cheese (queso fresco if you can get it in a Spanish market,buffalo mozzarella, or I like morbier, melts great!)
2 tsp peanut butter (I like chunky, if you just have peanuts crush them in a mortar to a paste or a blender!)
Salt to taste

Peel and cut plantains into 1 inch pieces. Heat oil in a frying pan, add in plantains till golden brown, drain on towel and place into a bowl. Add warm chicharron, crush with a malet for pounding meat or a pestle, add peanut butter. Finally add in cut in pieces of cheese to warm mixture, season with salt.Then form into a soft ball and serve with a piping hot coffee...enjoy y buen provecho.

Pide Suçuk by any other name would be pizza with salsice?

Like most nations, Turkey's cooking is varied so far as flavors, textures, etc. More interesting are the range of culinary influences, other cultures brought in to the mix during the historic Ottoman empire. Since coming back from Istanbul, I've missed the plethora of street food, yearning for the flavors I sampled but also missed (there was so much I wanted to try!).

Dilara, who runs Istanbul's excellent restaurant Abracadabra, sent me home  from my recent trip with a gift basket full of delicious things. One such delicacy was suçuk, a dried sausage known around the whole of the former Ottoman empire. It's a dried sausage made of beef or lamb, redolent with flavors and scents that are a reminder of the spice route that ran through Anatolia. Since I have been slaving at work, that suçuck has been hanging out in my fridge waiting to be sampled. My cat has been eyeing it for some time, so yesterday I took it off the hook from which it was hanging on the side of my baker's bench, afraid it  would be gnawed to bits by my cat if I waited.

Meanwhile I set about converting the pide hamuru (dough) recipe from my friend Gökhan the baker, throwing in some old fashioned intuition, not to mention some useful videos in Turkish on You Tube. Together, this assortment of ingredients and user-help led to a fair recreation of the great street food I've been pining for since returning from  Istanbul. The result is a winner, and it sure beats that tired take out pizza from your local where you're lucky if they bake the pie rather than just reheat.

   

 

 

 

Gökhan’s  Pide Hamuru with suçuk

Dough

Serves two (Unless your hungry and don't want to share!)

285 g Flour
8 g Salt
5g yeast(optional)
14g sugar
170 g water or as Gerkan said, squeezing his index and thumb to ear (gauge hydration by feel.)
68g levain

I used a combination no knead like Jim Lahey with a couple fold like Dan Lepard, but left the dough for about 8-10 hours or so to rise, while I went shopping at the market for the rest of the ingredients!

I cut the dough into two equal portions and rolled them out into oblong shapes covered with the fillings and pinched up the side of the dough like the shape of a canoe. Brushed with extra virgin olive oil and baked in a 450 F oven for about 15-20 minutes till nicely colored, finish with another coat of olive oil, can't get enough of the stuff!

Fillings: In this I used

1 sliced onion slightly sauted with 2 green peppers, also sliced. ( green frying Italian style peppers)

1 beautiful red ripe tomato, quatered and slice about a 1/4 inch wide

Suçuck chopped up, you could substitute any good sausage really, chorizo, merguez etc...

I didn't have any mozzarella, instead I used grated ricotta salata.

With this delicious pide I had a wonderful Hog Heaven Barley winestyle- ale from Avery Brewing Co. in Boulder, nice.

Some rye baking, by way of the Danube.

Susan of wild yeast just posted a story about how her longtime dislike for rye changed after a class demo at SFBI,  where she gave in to its flavor palette of earthy chewiness. Along with Nils from Inversecook, whose rye loaves - whether plain, or with hemp, seeded, soy or nuts always look good to eat - I can't get enough of the stuff! Trouble is nobody bakes it here, or at least as well as the loaves in Germany or France and Switzerland! Sure you can say we got Jewish deli rye here. But what Jewish bakers are still baking it? The few who still have the skills are likely retired, and advised their kids to avoid the sweat of the kitchen for the sweat of Wall Street. Actually, after last week's financial melt-town, maybe some of that younger Jewish talent will see cooler possibilities in the non ethereal, grounded (and sweeter smelling) profession of the kitchen.

Regardless, rye is not at all like working with wheat. It feels different, it's like wet clay or cement. Once mastered and appreciated what emerges from the oven baked , is a golden sweet, earthy  tasting loaf that when slaked with butter or layered with leberwurst it can't be beat. My own efforts are definitely hit or miss!  That was the case with my last Stonehenge monolith loaf. I don't know if it was the percentages gone "awry," but I failed at an attempt with Seigle de Augverne, a recipe from Dan Leader's Local Bread. My version worked best as a door stop that made a deep hollow thud as it hit my basement's trash compactor. There have been others that could be rated ok; some even good looking enough for a snap of my camera, but for eating? Not! Reaching into my archives, I recalled a loaf I had spied on Graham Prichard's site. The loaf was by Boris, aka. Danubian. Bakery instructor, fly fisherman and more than often one of the strong voices of artisan baking on the forum.  Upon request, Boris was so kind as to let me post his formula. I made only one loaf, as light rye, medium rye or even whole grain rye seem harder to get these days except for mail order or health stores. Definitely when people taste these loaves you won't consider just eating wheat loaves. Heck you may even go and try spelt next or quinoa?

Thanks Boris, die brot hat geschmeckte sehr gut!

 

I got the munchies for some Patlican salatasi and pide!

While in Istanbul, among the terrific dishes I tried was a great eggplant salad. Besides being just damn good, it's also damned healthy. So I wanted to share the recipe, along with its partner pide, a flat bread that accompanies any good Turkish meal.

Patlican salatasi, or... in Istanbul parlance, "aubergine salad." It’s a simple dish that goes especially well with a nice pide,along with yogurt and olives.The pide here are from an Abracadabra's house recipe, something served fresh daily. Abracadabra's variation is includes cooked spinach inside the bread. It's a must for wiping your plate. Douse it in olive oil scented with oregano or with patlican salatasi.

While I never wrote down the exact recipe, Abracadabra's Meze chef, Murat Ceylan, let me hang out frequently watching him make it. All to say, hopefully I captured it via old fashioned culinary osmosis. And I was able to score a specific pide recipe from my wonderful food artisan friend, Dilara. As my trip to Istanbul was too short (painfully so), the flavors, smells and sites have me dreaming of my return. Guess there's only one thing to do with such memories. Time to cook!

1 Aubergine (eggplant)
1 Chopped tomato, peeled and seeded
2 pieces of scallion sliced thin

1 garlic clove, minced
1 red pepper roasted or raw, diced
2tsp Cumin powder 

1 Tbsp lemon juice

2-3 Tbsp olive oil2-3 Tbsp. Chopped Italian parsley
                           salt and pepper to taste

Serves 4-6

Prick the eggplant with a fork on all sides,broil or grill till soft. Set aside till cool. Peel cooled eggplant and mash eggplant with fork along with a peeled and seeded, chopped tomato. chopped scallion. minced garlic, cumin and lemon juice. Mix with a fork while whisking in olive oil, finish with salt and pepper to taste.

Served room temperature with a dollop of labne or strained yogurt and olives.



 

Pide: the puffy one with spinach and sesame ( there is no spinach in this version)

250gr A.P. flour

   5 gr salt

15 gr sugar

  5 gr yeast

enougth water

make a dough with enough water that feels as soft  as your ears, cut and make balls  about 8 small, 4 large.  Let them sleep(rest) half an hour, than "open" (flatten) them, with both hands together make indentations into the dough like foccacia along the whole dough, brush with yogurt and sprinkle with whatever toppings, such as sesame, nigella, zataar...bake till golden in a 500 F. 270 c.

( I bulk fermented the dough first for about 1 hour, Dilara hadn't mentioned it in her notes, so assumed she may have missed that part?)