My Little Expat Kitchen

My two passions

2012-01-20T01:38:00.014+01:00

Half of the second floor of our apartment is a music studio. I don't know if I have told you this before but S and I are both musicians. S plays electric guitar and writes music and I sing.

When I first met S, more than ten years ago, we formed a band with three other musician friends. We used to rehearse in our drummer's home studio and at those god forsaken rehearsal studios in downtown Athens, filled with cigarette ashes and smoke and crazy music coming out of every other door you'd pass by. Friends would come to our rehearsals and jam sessions and it would become one big party. Until the real party would begin. The real gig.

We'd play all around Athens, in small pubs and bigger clubs, sometimes just in front of friends and acquaintances, and others in front of crowds of total strangers who danced and clapped and sang along and drank and applauded and had a good time; all because of us, of our music. That was probably the most joyous, carefree and fun period of my life.

Through the years, the band changed members and it eventually broke up, but the music never stopped for S and me. It's impossible for anyone who loves music as much as we do, to just give it up. Instead, much like ourselves, our music grew and evolved, and when opportunity came knocking, we opened the door wide open.

S, among other music album collaborations, has co-written the soundtrack for three Greek films that were released in theaters all around Greece and I have contributed several songs in the soundtrack of two of those films. Our music and vocals for two of the soundtracks were recorded here, in our apartment in Holland, in our little home studio.

When we went to Greece two years ago for the opening night of one of the films, at the Athens film festival "Νύχτες Πρεμιέρας" (Opening Nights), and actually heard the music coming out of the big loud theater speakers, it was an otherworldly experience. I could not believe it was me that was heard singing when on the big screen an actual film was being played. It was extraordinary.

Getting paid to do something that you really love is like nothing else in the world. Granted, we can't actually make a living from music, but that's what our day jobs are for. Besides, like true romantics, we are not in it for the money but for the feeling that we get when we create music and share ideas.
It is when I sing that I'm truly happy.

Creativity for me equals happiness. It is impossible to say the word "happiness" without humming a tune or without having the desire to go into the kitchen and cook. My two passions, singing and cooking.

Making bread is perhaps the most primitive form of cooking. The kneading, the tucking of the dough, the warmth needed for it to proof, expand and grow, all that remind me of the process that I go through when I create a melody for a song, when I write lyrics and when I sing. I need my time, my space to feel the music. My mind travels wherever the rhythm takes me, my thoughts intertwine with my emotions and the warmth manifests itself in a song, coming from deep inside me.

From me to you; bread.

To S, Alex, Greg, Thodori and Ektora.

Dutch Corn Bread - Maisbrood

This bread is crusty on the outside and soft and springy on the inside. It has a subtle corn flavor and a little sweetness to it and the cornmeal grains give a gentle crunchiness to the crumb.

You may remember seeing it in this post featuring a savory French toast with poached eggs for which it is ideal, but it is also perfect for a sweet French toast, for a sandwich, to spread some homemade cashew butter on it, or to accompany any kind of juicy dish with lots of sauce that needs gathering up.

I invariably use a bread pan to bake the corn bread in, but you can certainly bake it free form, placing it straight onto a baking tray lined with baking paper. You can also bake it on a pizza stone, if you have one.

Not all flours were created equal so you may need a little more or less than the amount indicated in the recipe. Keep in mind that you can always add more flour but you can't take it out.
Also, it's best if the dough is a tad wet rather than it being stiff and hard.

You can either knead the dough in a stand mixer or with your hands. Below, I'm including instructions for both.

Yield: 1 large loaf, around 1.2 kg

Ingredients
60 g coarse cornmeal (or polenta) plus extra to sprinkle over the loaf
30 g demerara sugar (cane sugar)
7 g instant or active dry yeast
250 ml lukewarm whole milk plus extra to brush over the loaf
250 ml lukewarm water
15 g fine sea salt
700 g all purpose flour

olive oil for brushing bowl and bread pan

Special equipment: electric stand mixer (optional), bread pan 11 x 27 cm and 9 cm deep (optional), plastic wrap

Preparation
In the bowl of your stand mixer or in a large bowl, add the cornmeal, the demerara sugar, the yeast and the lukewarm milk and water. Mix with a fork and let stand for 5 minutes until the mixture is frothy.

Add the flour and the salt and if you're using a stand mixer, attach the dough hook and knead for about 10 minutes, on the lowest speed, until the dough no longer sticks to the sides of the bowl, and it is elastic.

Note: if you're kneading the dough by hand, you will definitely have to knead it for more than 10 minutes, about 15 minutes until it becomes smooth and elastic.

Yes, that's all perfect when you read it huh? But sometimes, when you're actually making the dough yourself, either by hand or in a mixer, you see a big mess of sticky dough and you wonder what the heck the person who wrote the recipe was thinking. Well, it has happened to me numerous times. Here's the deal, at least for this type of bread.
If the dough is sticking too much, all around the bowl, then you definitely need to add more flour. A little at a time.
If it is sticking just a little bit, then it's ok. Remove the dough from the bowl and knead by hand to check the consistency. If it is sticking to your hands a lot and you see that you can't form it into a ball, add a little flour.
If it sticks a little to your hands but you can form it into a ball, then it's ok.

So, form the dough into a ball and place it back on the bowl of your stand mixer, or in another large bowl, that you have oiled all around with olive oil so that the dough won't stick as it proofs.
Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and leave it in a warm place in your kitchen or anywhere around your house where it is not drafty. I always place it on the stovetop while the oven below is preheated, or right in front of it, on a chair.
The dough will need approximately 45 minutes to 1 hour to proof and double in volume.

Why cover the bowl with plastic wrap and not a kitchen towel? Because the plastic wrap prevents a crust from forming on the dough as it proofs.

In the meantime, brush with olive oil the bottom and sides of the bread pan, if you're using, and sprinkle with a little flour. Tap out excess flour.

Empty the dough onto a clean, lightly floured work surface and beat the air out of it. Knead for 1 minute, shape the dough into a rectangle, similar to the size of the bread pan, and place it in the pan.
If you're using a baking sheet, line it with baking paper, dusted with a little flour or cornmeal, and place the dough (shaped into a ball) on top.

Cover the dough with plastic wrap and leave it to proof in a warm place until it almost doubles in size.

Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius.

Brush the top of the dough with a little milk and sprinkle with some cornmeal. Take a very sharp knife and slash the dough at an angle to 3-4 places. Place the bread pan (or baking sheet) on the middle rack of the oven and bake the bread for 30 minutes. Then lower the heat to 185 degrees Celsius and bake for further 5-10 minutes, until it is golden-brown on top.
It's a general rule that a bread loaf is ready when it makes a hollow sound when tapped on the bottom.

Take it out of the oven and leave it in the pan to cool for 10 minutes. Then take it out of the pan and if you're patient enough, let it cool completely on a rack.

Enjoy with some butter, or whatever your heart desires.

Soothing

2012-01-10T19:21:00.006+01:00

One of the worst things that can happen to a person who loves cooking and eating good food, is a bout of gastritis. I have never experienced anything like this before and let me tell you, it is not pleasant.

All I'm able to eat for the past few days is chicken soup, boiled vegetables, crackers and low-fat cheese a.k.a. your basic nightmare, or at least mine.

I'm feeling better today and hopefully I'll be fully recovered in a couple of days. Till then, let me have another spoonful of this homemade chicken soup.

Dedicated to all of you out there who have the flu, stomach problems, those of you who want to soothe your tummy for whatever reason or those of you who simply want to detox.

For obvious reasons, I was unable to take any photographs of the soup while I was preparing it. These photographs were actually taken the third day into eating this soup, when all the vegetables and chicken were already consumed by yours truly and I was down to eating just plain old chicken broth. Ah, the glamor of food blogging, right?

Soothing Chicken Soup with Vegetables

You can add whatever vegetable you want to this soup. It's a good way to clean out your refrigerator of all those vegetables you haven't had the chance to use.

Yield: 4-6 servings

Ingredients
1 whole small chicken, about 1 kg
1 large onion, peeled
2 large carrots, peeled and cut in half crosswise
2 large parsnips, peeled and cut in half crosswise
100 ml (about ½ cup) olive oil
1 vegetable or chicken bouillon (stock) cube
Tap water, cold
Salt
Pepper

Preparation
Place the chicken inside a large pot. Add the onion, carrots, parsnips, a little salt and pepper and the bouillon (stock) cube. Add enough water to almost cover the chicken and add the olive oil.
Turn the heat on to high and bring to the boil. Then turn heat down to medium-low and put on the lid. Allow to simmer for 30 to 40 minutes or until the chicken is cooked (it should be falling off the bones) and the vegetables have softened.
If you want (I didn't), as the chicken is simmering, you can skim the fat/foam that collects on the surface of the water.

Turn off the heat, remove the onion from the pot and discard it. At this point, you can remove the vegetables and cut them into smaller pieces (I didn't bother doing that either).
Remove the chicken and place it on a tray or platter. Allow to cool down enough to handle. Pick the meat off the bones and cut them with your hands or a knife into bite-sized pieces.

If you want, you can pass the soup through a fine sieve. (Do I have to state the obvious and say that I didn't do that either?).

Return the vegetables and chicken pieces to the pot, check and adjust the seasoning, and serve.

It keeps excellently in the fridge for 3-4 days.

That's all I'm eating

2012-01-05T00:17:00.005+01:00

I was thinking of telling you about my New Year's Day feast but then I thought it would be cruel to describe succulent pieces of roast pork with honey, thyme and orange juice, crispy pork skin, melt-in-the mouth potatoes and the best Politiki Vasilopita (New Year's Day Greek brioche-type bread) I have ever made, when all I'm going to share with you today is a salad.

A salad I did not serve at my New Year's Day feast but a salad I made and enjoyed the day after. I know it's not fair, but then again maybe it is. Because perhaps you're fed up with seeing pictures of fatty meat or better yet, fed up with eating it. I know I am. I think I'm all "meated" out.

My body yearns for salads and fruits, grains and legumes. That's all I'm eating these days. Greek lentil soup, clementines*, homemade barley bread and salads. This one here could easily be a part of a Christmas or New Year's dinner but I saved it for the following days on purpose. I don't want to lose all that glitz and glamor when January 2nd hits. I want my after-the-holidays salads to be just a tad superior to the everyday, middle-of-the-winter ones.

Last year's first post was again a salad—I guess I'm developing a pattern here. One with endives, apple, walnuts and Roquefort cheese. This year's salad though is not your typical winter salad. It's a herb salad. It is earthy, citrusy and well, herby.

Herb salads are nothing like vegetable salads. They're more pungent, more aromatic and their flavors can travel you to places you rarely visit. Places where parsley, mint and dill are treated not as your ordinary herbs but as stars in their own right.

The fresh herbs are paired with pomegranate seeds, winter carrot, fennel bulb and fennel seeds that are toasted and add another dimension of spiciness to the dish. And then my favorite citrus fruit, the orange, decorates the plate and enhances the overall flavor of the salad, firstly with its juicy segments and secondly as a reduced orange juice-syrup that is added to the dressing along with olive oil and lemon juice.

The result is an amazingly refreshing, vibrant and sweet-smelling salad. I'm not going to mention how healthy it is for you, that is obvious, I'm just going to tell you that it's guaranteed to boost your senses. Pinky swear.

P.S. I got this as a New Year's present from S. I foresee a lot of brûléeing in my future. Hang on tight!

* Whenever I talk about clementines, Kate Winslet (which I love) and this movie (which I also love) always come to mind.

Herb Salad with Fennel, Carrot, Pomegranate and Orange
Adapted from Nadia Zerouali & Merijn Tol

You can serve this salad with a grilled steak, chicken, a nice piece of fish or with some grilled cheese like halloumi or feta. Along with a glass of wine, you have dinner.

Yield: 6 salad servings

Ingredients
1 Tbsp fennel seeds
2 large oranges (the sweeter the better)
100 ml orange juice, freshly squeezed
1 small bunch of fresh dill
1 bunch of flat-leaf parsley
1 small bunch of fresh mint
1 pomegranate
1 medium-sized carrot
1 fennel bulb and fronds
80 ml extra virgin olive oil
Juice of ½ medium-sized lemon, freshly squeezed
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Preparation
Place the fennel seeds in a non-stick skillet and dry-fry them over medium-high heat, stirring them around constantly, until they become fragrant, for about 1 ½ minutes. Be careful not to burn them. Remove them from the skillet and let them cool.

Cut the oranges by using a sharp knife. First, cut off the peel, then the white pith all around the fruit, exposing the flesh, and finally, cut free the flesh of the fruit from the membranes that are in between the wedges. Put the orange segments in a bowl and set aside. Squeeze the rest of the orange and measure the juice. If you don't have 100 ml, add some ready-squeezed orange juice or squeeze it from another orange.

Place the orange juice in a small saucepan and boil it over medium heat until it becomes syrupy, for about 10 minutes. Be careful not to burn it or reduce it too much because it will become bitter. Leave it to cool.

Pick the leaves from the dill, parsley and mint and place them in a bowl. You can do this ahead of time and keep the herbs in a Ziploc bag in the fridge.

Cut the pomegranate in half and take the seeds out with a spoon. Place the seeds in a bowl.

Peel the carrot and cut it lengthwise into ribbons, using a sharp knife, a vegetable peeler or a mandoline.

Cut the fennel bulb lengthwise using a sharp knife or mandoline. Cut the fennel fronds and add them to the herbs.

You can cut the carrot and fennel ahead of time and keep it in a bowl filled with water and ice cubes so that the vegetables remain crisp.

Make the dressing by adding in a small bowl the reduced orange juice, the olive oil, lemon juice and a little salt and pepper. Mix together well, using a whisk.

Drain the carrot ribbons and the fennel in a tea towel.

In a large salad bowl or platter, combine the dill, parsley, mint, fennel fronds, carrot, fennel and pomegranate seeds. Add the orange segments and drizzle with the dressing. Sprinkle some toasted fennel seeds on top and serve.

New Year's chestnuts

2011-12-31T00:14:00.009+01:00

There are not many things I can say about 2011 other than that it wasn't a very good year for me in many respects. I can't wait for it to end and for 2012 to begin.

I never do the whole 'resolutions' and 'looking back' kind of thing so I will spare you the trite speeches and grand declarations about the things I want to, will try to or never will change in the new year.

I am simply going to concentrate on chestnuts, mascarpone, savoiardi biscuits, brandy and what you can achieve by combining them together into a dessert. And that's an incredible chestnut tiramisu.

Yes, I'm aware that I have been posting a lot of sweets lately and no, I'm not turning this into a dessert blog. It's just that I'm in desperate need of sweet things in my life right now. Sweet, comforting and delicious things, and that's clearly what this tiramisu is.

Savoiardi biscuits, otherwise known as ladyfingers, are briefly soaked in a mixture of freshly brewed espresso coffee, sugar and brandy. I opted for Armagnac, a brandy made in the Armagnac region in the southwest of France, simply because that's what I had on hand, but the Greek Metaxa would do wonders too. Egg yolks are beaten with sugar to create a light and airy concoction, to which whipped cream and luscious mascarpone are added, followed by the chestnut purée.

Layers of plump, boozy savoiardi biscuits and sumptuous chestnut and mascarpone cream fill the glasses and are only separated by a light dusting of dark cocoa powder.
There may be many desserts with chestnuts out there but only few of them can achieve such a level of flavor complexity and yet be so simple at the same time.

Sweet, but not overly so, earthy, nutty and bursting with chestnut flavor, creamy but with a slight bite from the chestnut purée and positively elegant, this tiramisu is exactly what a New Year's dessert should be. Don't you think?

I'm wishing all of you a Happy New Year filled with health, love, good luck and happiness!

Thank you all for your friendship, love and support. They really mean a lot to me.

Chestnut Tiramisu
Adapted from here

Ideally, I would make my own chestnut purée for this dessert by roasting some chestnuts in the oven and then puréeing them, but quite frankly, store-bought chestnut purée is extremely good so I didn't bother doing it.

I used chestnut purée and not chestnut cream. What's the difference you might ask? Chestnut purée is cooked and puréed chestnuts, it is unsweetened and has a thick texture, whereas chestnut cream or crème de marrons is puréed candied chestnuts, it is sweet and has (obviously) a creamy texture.

I used freshly brewed espresso coffee but you can also use instant granules. It's up to you.

As with all tiramisu recipes this one also has raw eggs. Make sure the eggs you use are as fresh as possible.
I want to remind you also that raw eggs should not be consumed by pregnant women, infants, the elderly and those whose immune system is compromised.

Yield: 6 small or 3 large glasses

Ingredients
3 large egg yolks, at room temperature
100 g caster sugar
130 ml cream, full-fat
250 g mascarpone
160 g unsweetened chestnut purée

250 g savoiardi biscuits (ladyfingers)
120 ml espresso coffee
35 g caster sugar
25 ml brandy of your choice

20-30 g Dutch-processed cocoa powder

Special equipment: stand or hand-held mixer, sieve for the cocoa powder

Preparation
In the bowl of the stand mixer or in a large bowl, beat the egg yolks with the 100 g sugar on medium speed with the whisk attachment or with your hand-held mixer, until the mixture is white, light and fluffy. Add the chestnut purée and beat until incorporated. Because the chestnut purée has a thick texture, the texture of the mixture will be ever-so-slightly grainy after you beat it. The brilliant thing about this is that each time you eat a spoonful of the cream, you'll experience small chestnut-flavored bursts as you bite into the small granules.

In another bowl or in the bowl of the stand mixer (empty the chestnut mixture in another bowl and wash it), beat the cream on high speed with the whisk attachment, until it is thick. Add the mascarpone and beat on medium speed, until the mixture becomes creamy and fluffy.
Add the chestnut mixture to the mascarpone and cream mixture and mix it in gently with a spatula until incorporated, making sure it doesn't lose its volume.

Have your glasses ready to fill them with the components of the tiramisu.

In a medium-sized bowl, combine the espresso coffee with the 35 g sugar and brandy.

Take the savoiardi and start dipping them one by one in the liquid mixture and placing them at the bottom of the glasses. You might need to cut them in half to fit the glass. Add a layer of cream on top and then a sprinkle of cocoa powder. Continue in the same manner, layering the tiramisu, until your glasses are full. I made 3 large glasses of tiramisu.

Place the tiramisu in the refrigerator for at least an hour before serving them.

They will keep in the refrigerator for 2-3 days, preferably covered with plastic wrap.

This Christmas...

2011-12-24T01:28:00.006+01:00

... I will be cooking a goose. I will be making goose fat-roasted crunchy potatoes (one of the best kind of roasted potatoes, the recipe of which I definitely have to share with you sometime), glazed carrots and I will be baking my own bread.

I have already prepared a chicken liver parfait—parfait and not paté because parfait is simply smoother, creamier, better—, cranberry chutney and I will definitely be making a tray of tyropita (Greek cheese pie).
Yes, Christmas is going to be a full day in the kitchen for me.

But after that, I'm going to enjoy these little round-ish beauties. Because, let's face it, for a chocoholic like myself, no good meal can end without chocolate. And since I will have already stuffed myself with copious amounts of the aforementioned goose, potatoes etc, I thought I'd better keep dessert as small and simple as possible, for my own good.

I know they're not glamorous, extravagant or incredibly elaborate but they fit perfectly with my idea of a sweet and chocolaty Christmas treat. They are essentially ganache truffles (a simple cream and chocolate mixture) and they're cinnamon-infused, which makes them even more delicious, if that's possible. They are dense and rich and the cocoa powder that surrounds each little imperfect round, gives a welcomed bitterness and adds a contrast in texture.

During the following days I'll be catching up on my sleep, I'll be spending some much needed quality time with S, I'll be watching Christmas movies while drinking hot chocolate, I'll be eating leftover goose and chutney sandwiches, I'll be going for long walks around The Hague and I'll be staying away from my computer.

So I'll see you all next week!

Merry Christmas everyone! Happy Holidays!

Cinnamon-Infused Chocolate Truffles

Make these for an after-dinner dessert or to give away during this festive season as a gift to loved ones or to have in the fridge for those late-night chocolate cravings.

Use good quality chocolate and/or a chocolate whose taste you really like as it will make all the difference in the flavor of these truffles.

You can alternatively coat them with melted chocolate (see here how to do it) or with chocolate sprinkles.

Yield: 25-30 truffles

Ingredients
250 ml cream, full-fat
2 cinnamon sticks
410 g good quality dark 55% chocolate (you can also use 70% if you like the taste of bitter chocolate), finely chopped
A pinch of sea salt
100 g Dutch-processed cocoa powder

Special equipment: small saucepan with lid, sieve

Preparation
Place the cream in a small saucepan and add the cinnamon sticks. Heat over medium-high heat and just before the cream comes to the boil, turn the heat off. Put the lid on the saucepan and leave to infuse for 1 hour.

Place the finely chopped chocolate in a large glass bowl.

Remove the cinnamon sticks from the cream and discard them. Turn the heat on to medium-high and when the cream starts to steam, pour it over the chopped chocolate. After 30 seconds, add a pinch of salt and stir the chocolate and cream with a spatula until the chocolate melts. If for some reason the chocolate doesn't melt completely, place the bowl over a pan of simmering water (bain-marie) and melt it.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for at least 3 hours, until the ganache is very cold and set but still pliable. Don't allow the ganache to set too hard, otherwise it'll be difficult to roll into balls.

Using a tablespoon as a measure, scoop balls of ganache, roll them in your hands to create a rough ball (it doesn't matter if they're not perfectly shaped) and drop them into a plate filled with sieved cocoa powder. Roll them around gently in the cocoa powder and place them on a clean serving dish.

You can serve them immediately or you can place them in the fridge (in an airtight container) to become a bit harder.

You can keep them in the refrigerator, in an airtight container, for a week. They will become harder but not rock-hard; they'll by fudgy and melt-in-the-mouth delicious.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!

Zebra cookies

2011-12-19T01:29:00.009+01:00

I'm not much of a cookie person so for me, this time of year is not all about endless hours in front of the oven, baking batch after batch of cookies.

The only cookies I do make repeatedly during the holidays, are Greek traditional Christmas cookies, melomakarona and kourabiedes. Those I can't live without. They are embedded deeply in my Christmas-cooking/baking DNA.

I have been meaning to share them with you for the past two years but something always happens. Either I don't have the time to take photographs, or it's too dark outside to take photographs (that's Holland for you), or I just give priority to other recipes, ignoring to post them altogether. I will be baking them this week though, so I do hope I get the chance to post them. Fingers crossed.

Every year however, I try a new cookie just for fun. Just to see what I've been missing. And this year, I gave zebra cookies a chance. I found the recipe on last year's Christmas issue of Dutch Delicious magazine and once I made them, I became instantly addicted.

These zebra cookies are quite easy to make and require ingredients that I am certain you already have in your kitchen cupboards. Flour, sugar, egg, vanilla, baking powder. Oh, and some icing sugar and cocoa for the dark stripes.

These are basically a kind of sugar cookie (an American/English type of cookie) and they are sweet and biscuit-y, i.e. crunchy and utterly delicious. But don't go thinking that these are boring cookies. They are anything but boring.

The fact that this is a two-in-one kind of cookie, really explains it. Two doughs, one vanilla-flavored and one enhanced with the all-encompassing flavor of cocoa, make up the stripy zebra cookie. Vanilla and cocoa. What more can you ask? Ok, some may say icing, a glaze, chocolate coating. Well, to those I say, do it! You can ice them, you can glaze them, you can dip them in chocolate, you can even make two separate cookies instead of one, if you're so inclined. Just make sure you make them!

Zebra (Vanilla and Cocoa) Cookies
Slightly adapted from Dutch Delicious

The vanilla-flavored dough is a basic type of sugar cookie dough which you can use to make many kinds of cookies. This dough yields cookies that don't lose their shape since it holds well during baking, but it is also smooth and very easy to roll out.

You can add chocolate chips to the dough to make chocolate chip cookies and you can make simple jam cookies just by sandwiching your favorite kind of jam in between two cookies.

These are perfect as Christmas presents. Wrap them up in some cute paper, tie them up in a bow and you're set.

Yield: 40-45 cookies

Ingredients

for vanilla-flavored cookie dough
130 g unsalted butter, at room temperature
185 g caster sugar
1 large egg
½ tsp vanilla extract
Pinch of sea salt
280 g all-purpose flour
½ tsp baking powder

for cocoa-flavored cookie dough
20 g Dutch-processed cocoa powder, sifted
20 g icing sugar

Special equipment: sieve, hand-held or stand mixer, rolling pin, 2 large baking sheets, baking paper, plastic wrap

Preparation

basic cookie dough (vanilla-flavored)
Sieve the flour and baking powder in a medium-sized bowl, add the salt and mix it in.

In a large bowl and with a hand-held mixer (or in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment), beat the butter and caster sugar until light and fluffy, for about 10 minutes. Add the egg and vanilla and beat well until incorporated. Fold in lightly half of the flour-baking powder-salt mixture, using a rubber spatula. When it is incorporated, add the rest of the flour mixture and fold it in using your hands this time, because it will be a little too stiff for the spatula. In the end you should have a smooth, soft and pliable cookie dough that doesn't stick to your hand.

Cut the dough in half. Take one half, shape it into a disk, cover it with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for 30-40 minutes.

cocoa-flavored dough
Take the other half of the dough, return it to the bowl you made the dough in and add the sifted cocoa powder and icing sugar. Knead with your hands until incorporated. Shape the dough into a disk, cover it with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for 30-40 minutes.

Rolling out the dough
Take first the vanilla-flavored dough out of the fridge and place it in between two large sheets of plastic wrap. This will ensure that once you have rolled it out, it won't break when you try to move it. Roll it out using a rolling pin, into a 20 x 20 cm square.
Then take out the cocoa-flavored dough and roll it out in the same manner.
If you find it difficult to roll the dough out neatly enough to make a square (like I do) then roll it out a little wider and longer and trim it to 20 x 20 cm. Don't throw away the trimmings; use them to make some extra cookies.

Place the cocoa-flavored rolled-out dough on top of the vanilla-flavored rolled-out dough and trim the edges. Cut the dough into 5 cm squares (you'll end up with 16 squares) and make 4 blocks of squares; each block consisting of 4 layers of vanilla and 4 layers of cocoa-flavored cookie dough. Press them gently to seal the layers of dough together. Don't press them hard because they'll lose their shape.
Cover each block with plastic wrap and place them in the refrigerator for 30-40 minutes.

Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius.

Cutting and baking the cookies
Cover your baking sheets with baking paper.

Take the blocks out of the fridge and unwrap them from the plastic wrap. Take each block and cut it into 3/4 cm-thick slices. Place each slice on the baking sheet, spaced apart (3-4 cm) so they don't stick together when cooked. They will expand slightly during baking because of the baking powder.
Place the baking sheet on the middle rack of the oven and bake the cookies for 8-10 minutes, until lightly golden. They should be a little soft when they come out. They will become harder as they cool.
Once ready, take them out of the oven and place them immediately on a wire rack to cool.
Continue baking the next batch.

They will keep for a week to ten days, in a cookie tin.

And a side dish of carrots

2011-12-15T00:52:00.005+01:00

I would love to tell you how this dish will change the way you view carrots forever. I would love to tell you how this dish was a revelation for a non carrot-loving person like myself. I would even love to tell you how the taste of carrots in this dish is something you have never, ever, tasted before.

But, no. I'm not going to tell you any of these things, because they simply would not be true.

What I am going to tell you is that if you're looking for a good vegetable side dish for your Christmas, New Year's, (or Festivus) dinner that tastes fantastic and is not going to bore you to death, then look no further.

Listen, I'm not the kind of person who serves side dishes just for the sake of serving them or just for the sake of filling up a dinner table. I'm the kind of person who, particularly at special occasions, I want to enjoy every single mouthful.

Every dish I put on the table has to be worth it and believe me, this is totally worth the twenty to twenty-five minutes it'll take you to prepare and cook. Yes, you don't need more than that, which of course leaves you with ample time to focus your attention on the other, more intricate dishes you're planning to make.

And as far as the flavor goes, imagine sweet, young, winter carrots glazed in luscious thyme honey, glistening under good melted butter, having the pungency of grained mustard and the delicate sourness of lemon. It is obvious that balance is key here, which is certainly achieved, but what is paramount, is enjoyment. So enjoy!

Thyme Honey-Glazed Carrots with Whole Grain Mustard and Lemon

I hate categorizing foods and saying that this dish is for Christmas, that is for Easter etc. This is simply a great side dish. You can make it anytime you want a side of vegetables to accompany a big, juicy steak, your favorite meatballs, or fish.

I use very young and rather small and thin carrots for this dish, which means that I don't boil them before I glaze/caramelize them. In case your carrots are bigger and thicker, boil them first for 6-7 minutes and then continue the process as in the recipe below.
Also, I don't like my carrots too soft, I want them to have some bite, so I don't cook them for too long. That is all a matter of preference of course. So, taste as you go along and cook them according to your own textural preference.

I always use thyme honey but you can use any other type of honey you have on hand.

Yield: 4-6 servings

Ingredients
500 g carrots (small, conical and thin ones)
125 g unsalted butter
1 Tbsp thyme honey (or any other runny honey)
1 tsp whole grain mustard (I used Maille à l' Ancienne)
2 Tbsp lemon juice, freshly squeezed
Salt
Lemon zest, freshly grated (from 1 lemon)

Preparation
Remove the green leaves from the carrots, leaving some greens still attached. Wash them well under cold running water and peel them.

In a small bowl, add the honey, the mustard and the lemon juice and stir well until combined.

Place the carrots in a large and wide skillet, in one layer. Add the butter and heat over medium-high heat. When the butter has almost melted, pour the honey-mustard-lemon juice mixture over the carrots and add salt to taste. Allow the carrots to cook for about 20 minutes over medium heat, until they soften and caramelize, making sure to turn them every now and then in order to cook evenly.

When they are ready, remove them from the pan and arrange them on a platter. Pour some of the melted butter-mustard sauce on top and garnish with lemon zest.

You can prepare them in advance and reheat them when you want to serve them.

Sofigado, the Greek sweet and sour beef stew

2011-12-11T00:35:00.021+01:00

There are some fruits that have an instant allure, a certain something that attracts your senses either by the way they smell, the way they look or even by the way they feel when you touch them. Strawberries, cherries and persimmons are such fruit.

And then there are other fruits, the "ugly" ones, those that don't have much going for them at first glance. You need to get to know them in order to appreciate what they can really do for you or for one of your dishes. Such fruits are quinces.

Unassuming, rather unappealing fruit that can become so much more just by adding some sugar to them and boiling them, thus creating the amazing quince paste, or by sautéing them in lots of butter to accompany a steak, or caramelizing them and serving them with a winter ice cream. But where they actually shine is in dishes like this one, a traditional Greek island dish called Sofigado.

This dish comes from the beautiful, green island of Lefkada located in the Ionian Sea, off the west coast of Greece. Sofigado is a rich, sweet and sour beef stew with quinces and petimezi (grape-must syrup) and its history, much like Pastitsada's, is rooted in the times of Venetian occupation.

It's a pretty straightforward winter stew but with extraordinary flavors and some unique ingredients. As it always happens in Greek cooking, it all starts with olive oil and onions. Lots of onions which, after the meat has been browned in the oil, are sautéed until soft and translucent. Then the meat goes back in the pan and garlic, tomato paste, red wine vinegar and fresh rosemary are introduced to the mix.

The beef is stewed until succulent and then the quinces are added, as well as the petimezi. I have my friend Kiki to thank for a bottle of fresh petimezi that she sent me a couple of months ago (as she did last year, which back then gave me the chance to make Greek moustokouloura cookies). Thanks Kiki!

After twenty minutes or so, when the quinces have softened but still retain their crunch, when the petimezi has permeated the meat and a rich sauce has been created, the stew is ready. Ready to be savored. You'll rarely find such a combination of sweet and sour flavors in traditional Greek cooking, especially when it comes to beef dishes.

The experience of tasting Sofigado resembles that of a rollercoaster. The sweet flavor of the petimezi and quince, reminiscent of the spoon sweets that Greek grandmothers make, hits you first and then the sourness of the fruit becomes the prominent flavor. The umami-ness of the meat comes to balance out all the flavors and the ride goes on and on until you suddenly end up with an empty plate, asking for more.

Greek Beef Stew with Quinces and Grape-Must Syrup from Lefkada or "Sofigado Lefkaditiko"

Sofigado can be enjoyed by the whole family as an everyday meal but is also elegant enough to become part of a festive holiday meal or a dinner party.

You can accompany it with rice or mashed potatoes for a festive or special meal, and with French fries or a big green salad for an everyday meal.
You can either use beef or veal in this dish.
For those of you living in The Netherlands, the meat you should use is runderriblap.

In traditional Greek cuisine, onions are usually grated in a box grater rather than chopped. This gives a different texture to the resulting sauces, making them thicker and richer. If you can't bother grating the onions in this recipe, you can whiz them in the food processor until they are almost puréed.

The beauty of this dish is in its sweet and sour flavors and contrasting textures of tender, succulent beef in a rich sauce and juicy, soft yet firm quinces.
The more ripe and fragrant the quinces, the better they are for this dish. If they're not ripe, their taste will be too sour, but don't worry, you can rectify that by adding extra petimezi at the end.

You can find petimezi (grape-must syrup / grape molasses) in Greek or Middle Eastern stores.

Yield: 4-6 main-course servings

Ingredients
1 - 1.2 Kg boneless beef stewing steak like chuck steak
120 ml good quality olive oil
2 medium-sized red onions (about 250 g), grated
40 ml red-wine vinegar
7 medium-sized garlic cloves, peeled
1 Tbsp tomato paste
Freshly ground black pepper
2 fresh sprigs of rosemary
Pinch of sugar
330-350 ml hot water
Salt
3 large quinces (1 - 1.1 kg), peeled and cut into wedges
100 ml petimezi (grape-must syrup / grape molasses)

Special equipment: pan or Dutch oven with a 5 - 5.5 liter capacity, box grater or food processor

Preparation
Take the meat and cut with a knife the large pieces of fat off, leaving a fair amount of fat on in order to flavor the dish. Cut the meat into pieces, about 6x6 cm each. Place them on paper towels and pat them dry. This is an important step because the meat will not brown properly if it's damp.

In a large, deep, heavy-bottomed pan or preferably in a Dutch oven, add the olive oil and heat over medium-high heat. When it starts to shimmer, add enough beef pieces to cover 2/3 of the bottom of the pan (do not overcrowd the pan because the beef will boil rather than brown) and brown the pieces on both sides. Remove pieces from the pan and place them in a bowl. Brown the rest of the beef pieces in the same manner and place them in the bowl.

Add the grated onions to the pan and sauté them on medium heat for about 4 minutes until they soften and become translucent. Return the browned beef pieces to the pan, along with the juices accumulated in the bowl you kept them in, and add the red-wine vinegar. Stir well with a spatula or spoon and add the garlic cloves, tomato paste, freshly ground black pepper, rosemary sprigs and a pinch of sugar and stir well. Add the hot water (hot so the cooking process won't stop) and stir well. Put the lid on and let it come to the boil. Then turn the heat down to the lowest setting and let the meat stew for 1 - 1 ½ hours or until it is tender (keep in mind though that it'll cook for a further 25 minutes when you add the quinces). Check the meat every 20 minutes or so, stirring it around a bit.

Then, remove the rosemary sprigs (the leaves would have fallen in the sauce) and add salt. The reason you're adding the salt now is because if you add it at the beginning of the cooking process, the beef will become tough and chewy. Add the quinces and the petimezi to the pan and stir well with a spatula or spoon. The quinces must be almost covered with liquid in order to cook, so if there's not enough liquid in your pan, add a bit of hot water. Put the lid back on and allow beef and quinces to simmer for about 25 minutes, stirring every now and then (not with a spatula or spoon, but by holding the pan by its handles and moving it around in circular motions so that everything gets stirred. You're doing that so that you don't break up the quinces. You don't want them to disintegrate into the sauce. They must remain in whole wedges and not become mushy).
Check the quinces after 15 minutes. It's good to taste them at this point and if they're too sour, you can add a little more petimezi to the pan.

You should end up with tender beef in a rich sauce and soft but not mushy quinces. They should hold their form and add texture to the dish.

Serve hot with your favorite accompaniment and make sure to have lots of bread on the table for dipping it in that delicious sauce.

Sofigado tastes even better the second day.

All I need *

2011-12-04T17:41:00.012+01:00

It's strange what I miss being away from home. Besides my family and friends, what I miss the most are the small things. The way the sun shines gloriously in Greece, the way the rain smells when it hits the rocky hills of Athens, the way the sea glistens under the moonlight at Batis beach.

It's the small things in food, too. I miss our sardines and anchovies, they taste like nothing else in the world, my favorite feta, aged in large wooden barrels, that I buy from a shop in my neighborhood, and Miranda biscuits, which I crave when it's really cold outside and all I want is to drink a hot cup of cocoa.

Sure, Holland is famous for its cookies and pastries, but nothing beats Greek Miranda cereal biscuits. When I was little, my mom would make for my brother and me her famous hot cocoa, always with Van Houten, and she'd give us a box of Mirandas. We would use the hot cocoa as a dip, dunking the rectangle-sized biscuits in it, allowing them to soften and then devouring them in one huge bite.

When my mom visited me this past August, among the numerous foodstuff she brought with her, she also brought me Mirandas. Needless to say, I was ecstatic when I saw her taking the boxes of biscuits out of her overstuffed suitcase. My instinct, even if we were in the middle of a heat wave, was to immediately go into the kitchen and make myself a hot cocoa, or better yet, a hot chocolate. And so I did.

I may still be trying to find a recipe for making these Miranda biscuits (and if anyone knows, please share) but I have already found the recipe for my ideal hot chocolate. Not cocoa, chocolate. That's the best.

There's something about pure, dark chocolate melting into hot, steaming milk that gets my taste buds all tingly and excited. When the smell penetrates my nostrils, I'm filled with anticipation for the hot, dark, liquid gold. There's just nothing like it.

Seventy percent chocolate, whole milk, and my secret ingredient, kaimaki (or kaymak). No need for heavy or whipped cream when there's something like kaimaki around, with its rich, creamy texture, to give the hot chocolate that extra-velvety consistency. One tablespoon is enough to make a difference.

Tackling the heavy Dutch winters is not an easy thing. A cup of this hot chocolate drink and a boxful of my favorite biscuits, is all I really need to make it just a little bit easier.

* The writing of this post was accompanied by the music of Air and especially by this song.

Hot Chocolate

I always use 70% chocolate for this drink and of course, the better the quality of the chocolate, the better the quality of the drink. As I always say where chocolate is concerned, make sure you use one whose taste you really like, otherwise you're not going to enjoy the flavor of the drink.

In case you can't find kaimaki where you live (try Middle Eastern stores), you can substitute with clotted cream, crème fraîche or even whipped cream (but it's not going to be the same).

Yield: 2 large (or 4 small) cups

Ingredients
500 ml whole milk
100 g good quality chocolate, 70% (I use Lindt), plus some extra shavings for sprinkling on top
1 Tbsp sugar (or to taste, depending on how sweet you like your chocolate)
2 Tbsp kaimaki

Preparation
Chop the chocolate into small pieces.

In a small saucepan, add the milk and heat over medium heat. When it starts to steam, add the chopped chocolate and stir with a whisk. When the chocolate has melted, add the sugar and stir to dissolve. Don't allow the milk to boil.
Turn the heat off and beat the hot chocolate well with the whisk, in order to create a light foam. Pour immediately into two large cups, add a tablespoon of kaimaki on each cup and sprinkle some chocolate shavings on top.

Enjoy with your favorite biscuits!

Inspiration

2011-11-29T00:10:00.009+01:00

Yes, this is a food blog, but there are so many things that inspire me, that I can't help but wanting to share them with you.

Who knows, perhaps this will be a regular thing around here.
Tell me what you think!

• I believe I have told you what a huge Woody Allen fan I am. This latest documentary on PBS about his life and work, left me even more impressed by this multitalented man and legendary filmmaker. I lurve Woody.

• This is what you get when a prima ballerina, wearing ethereal clothes by Chloé, dances to music by Philip Glass.

• Ashley Rodriguez's video on how to make a gradient cake with rolled fondant. She makes it look so easy. (Ashley writes the wonderful food blog Not Without Salt).

• Have you ever considered dining in the sky?

• I love creative couples, and iconic Dutch fashion photographer duo Inez van Lamsweerde and Vinoodh Matadin, are a fascinating one. The music video for Bjork's Moon, from her latest album Biophilia, is the perfect combination of their imaginative visual creativity and Bjork's evocative musical talent.

• I'm not at all good at DIY stuff but this I have to try; how to make your own distressed wood background for photographs.

• This and this are my favorite television series of late.

• Mikkel Adsbøl is a Danish food photographer. Check out his work. His photographs are stunning.

See you soon with a recipe!

Two Years

2011-11-27T00:01:00.015+01:00

I can't believe it's been two years since I wrote these words.

Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for joining me on this creative gastronomic adventure.

We've only just began!

The second mode

2011-11-23T23:36:00.012+01:00

I have two cooking modes. The fancy, "over-achieving" mode in which I make everything from scratch, and the quick and easy cooking mode, aka the I'm-too-tired-to-cook-anything-but-pasta mode.

The first mode is the one I get into when I have a lot of time on my hands, a lot of energy and a whole lot of patience. It is during such days that I feel like I can conquer the world with my cooking, and I create dishes like Greek feta-filled breads and small hand pies, or desserts like saragli and bars of chocolate dulce de leche with shortbread crust.

The second mode is my everyday mode. It's the mode I get into when I come home from a busy day, and can't or won't cook anything that takes more than half an hour to prepare. Those days are usually salad, pasta or grilled chicken days.

Yet, this type of cooking for me, need not be uninspired. The outcome doesn't have to be a boring plate of food. See, I love my food and dinnertime is special for S and me. It's our time; when we catch up on our day, when we have the chance to unwind over a glass of wine, enjoy a plate of good food and feel that we are doing something special, even if we're staying in.

Dishes like this one are meant for such evenings. A plate of pasta that is easy and quick to prepare, but that is also elegant and deeply flavorful. Spaghettini with mushrooms, olive oil and garlic.

There's something really comforting and relaxing in the idea that you can make a plate of scrumptious food in less than half an hour. And there's no need to be fussy over the ingredients. Choose your favorite pasta, it doesn't have to be spaghettini, some mushrooms, from the fancy chanterelles to the common button, any kind you have on hand will do, even dried ones that if you give them some time in warm water they'll do wonders for the dish, some good olive oil, garlic and cheese—parmesan, pecorino, kefalotyri—, anything with a tang and a strong umami flavor to match the meatiness of the earthy mushrooms.

And, if your day has been particularly challenging, then play your favorite music in the background, serve the pasta in your most beautiful plates, have a glass of wine and toast to the small, everyday pleasures and to the simple things that bring you joy.

Spaghettini with Mushrooms, Olive Oil and Garlic

The "sauce" for this dish is created by adding wine to the sautéed mushrooms and a little pasta water (water that the pasta has been boiled in) if needed at the end.
I used a white Bordeaux to liven up the dish but you can also use a Sauvignon Blanc.

Don't skip adding the parsley on top. It's not a garnish; it really brings a freshness and vibrancy to the dish.
I also love this dish with pappardelle, tagliatelle or spaghetti.

Serve the pasta with a simple green salad tossed with olive oil and a dash of balsamic vinegar, and have the cheese at hand on the table for further grating on top of the pasta. I always need more cheese on my spaghettini.

Yield: 2 servings

Ingredients
200-250 g spaghettini
3 Tbsp plus 1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium-sized garlic clove, finely minced
100 g button mushrooms, sliced
50 ml white wine
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
A handful of fresh parsley leaves, finely chopped
Parmesan cheese, for grating on top of the pasta

Special equipment: grater, colander

Preparation
In a medium-sized skillet, heat the 3 Tbsp of olive oil over medium-high heat and add the garlic. Turn heat down to medium and sauté for 30 seconds, being careful not to burn the garlic. Add the sliced mushrooms along with some salt and pepper and sauté for 2-3 minutes. Add the wine and cook for a further 2 minutes. You don't want all the juices from the mushrooms and wine to evaporate. You need them in order to make up the "sauce".

In the meantime, prepare the pasta. Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil over high heat and add the spaghettini. Cook until al dente (firm but not very hard), or cook to your liking. Be careful though, spaghettini cook very quickly because they're very thin pasta.
Reserve 60 ml (1/4 cup) of the pasta water and drain the spaghettini in a colander (but don't shake the pasta), discarding the rest of the water. Return pasta to the pot and add the mushrooms, making sure you scrape every last drop of the liquid out of the skillet and into the pot. The starch from the pasta will create a light "sauce".
Mix well with a large fork or a pasta fork, add the 1 Tbsp of olive oil, and if you find the pasta to be too dry for your liking, add some, or all, of the 60 ml of pasta water you reserved earlier.
Toss pasta well and serve while it's hot on two dishes.
Sprinkle with some finely chopped parsley and grate a generous amount of parmesan on top.

Dutch apple pie

2011-11-15T00:20:00.009+01:00

After four years of living in Holland, after four years of speaking just basic Dutch, the decision was made. S and I started taking Dutch language lessons. Better late than never.

It's not hard to get by in Holland with only English, at least in cities with an international character like Amsterdam, Rotterdam and The Hague, where we live. Most people speak English and unless your work demands it, you don't have to learn Dutch. Besides, it's a difficult language.

But now is the time for us to learn it. Perhaps because we're tired of not understanding what's been said on the news about Greece (especially during these past months), perhaps because we want to be able to socialize more with Dutch people rather than only with other expats from Europe or elsewhere, or maybe because we realized that with everything that's been happening in Greece, we are better off living in Holland.

Thoughts of moving back to Greece no longer cross our minds, at least not until further notice. That is until we are able to find a decent job there without having to kiss someone's ass, until we are not obligated to bribe a doctor to take care of us when are in need of his services, until the thought of starting a family in Greece doesn't scare us to death, until people start reading history and stop voting the way they have been voting for the past couple of decades, until we can live with dignity and feel that we have a future in our own country, until, anyway, all the things that made us leave our home in the first place four years ago, actually change.
But I digress.

I may have only just started learning the Dutch language properly, but I have already managed to delve into Dutch cuisine. Granted, it's not the most celebrated cuisine in the world nor is it exceptionally imaginative or unique, but it has some very good characteristics, especially in the baking/pastry department.

Case in point, the Dutch apple pie (Hollandse Appeltaart), Holland's magnificent national pastry. It dates as far back as the Middle Ages and it is said that during that time, because ovens with temperature control didn't exist, baking time was measured by the number of prayers a person had to say until the pie was ready.

The Hollandse appeltaart is displayed in the windows of every café, bar and bakery in Holland. It is famous the world over and the Dutch are very proud of their sweet, apple creation. Quite rightly so, I'd say. Even though I'm not a fan of fruit pies and tarts, I must confess that this apple pie is amazing.

It differs from apple pies from other countries in many respects, mainly in that the filling contains raisins, cinnamon and lemon juice and that the crust is not your basic tart crust, but one reminiscent of Pasta Frola (or Pasta Flora as we call it in Greece), which is something between pâte brisée and cake.

You line the bottom and the sides of a spring-form pan with the dough, which is a cinch to make, and then you fill it with small pieces of apple that have been mixed with raisins, sugar, cinnamon and lemon juice. Thin, round strips of dough are latticed on top, decorating the pie, but leaving the apples still visible underneath. The pie goes in the oven and when it comes out, it is brushed with an apricot glaze, which gives it a beautiful shine.

It is eaten preferably warm, straight out of the oven, and is always served with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. The Dutch apple pie is not very sweet, since it doesn't contain much sugar and the apples used in the filling are of a tart variety, and it has a very unique flavor.

As expected, the apple flavor is prominent yet it is accompanied by small taste explosions of juicy, sweet raisins. The cinnamon complements the fruit perfectly and the crust is crumbly and at the same time soft and light. If you want to get a real taste of Holland, then all you have to do is make this Dutch apple pie.

Dutch Apple Pie - Hollandse Appeltaart
Adapted from Dutch Cooking

Traditionally, this apple pie is made with a Dutch variety of apples called Goudrenet, which is a tart (but not too much) apple. If you can't find those, use Granny Smith apples or any other kind of tart apple. Be careful though, you don't want to use apples that are too tart, otherwise you'll end up with a sour-tasting apple pie.

Yield: 1 apple pie / 8-10 pieces

Ingredients

for the filling
1 kg tart apples, like Goudrenet (which I used) or Granny Smith
Juice of 1 medium-sized lemon, freshly squeezed
70 g caster sugar
2 tsp ground cinnamon
50 g raisins

for the dough
175 g unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus extra for greasing the pan
175 g all-purpose flour
175 g self-raising flour
175 g caster sugar
1 large egg
½ tsp lemon zest, freshly grated
1 Tbsp water
Pinch of salt

1 Tbsp dried breadcrumbs

for the glaze
70 g apricot jam
30 ml (2 Tbsp) white rum (or water)

Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream for serving
Ground cinnamon for sprinkling over the top

Special equipment: 22 cm spring-form pan (7 cm deep), fine sieve, stand or hand-held mixer, pastry brush

Preparation
Put the raisins in a small bowl along with a cup of hot water and let them soak for 15 minutes.

Prepare the filling
In the meantime, in a large bowl, add the lemon juice. Start peeling, coring and cutting the apples into small pieces, placing them in the bowl as you go. Stir them around in the lemon juice every once in a while, so that they don't discolor.
Drain the raisins, squeeze them with your hands and add them to the bowl along with the sugar and cinnamon. Mix well with a wooden spoon or spatula. Set bowl aside.

Butter the bottom and sides of your spring-form pan generously.

Preheat your oven to 180-185 degrees Celsius.

Prepare the dough
In the bowl of a stand mixer (or in a large bowl), beat the butter on medium speed with the paddle attachment (or with your hand-held mixer), until softened and creamy, for 1-2 minutes. Sift all-purpose and self-raising flour directly into the bowl and add the sugar, salt, lemon zest, water and the egg. Mix all the ingredients with your hands and knead until you have a smooth, shiny, soft yet pliable dough that's not sticking to your hands. It will come together very quickly and easily. If it's too dry, add a teaspoon of water and if it's sticky, add a little bit of all-purpose flour.

Cut off a third of the dough and leave it aside.
Take the rest of the dough, shape it into a ball and place it in the middle of the spring-form pan. Using the back of your hand, press the dough over the bottom and up the sides of the pan. The dough should come up to 2/3 of the height of the pan. Try to spread the dough as evenly as possible.
Sprinkle the base of the pastry case with the dried breadcrumbs, which are used to soak up the juices from the apples, so that the base doesn't become soggy.
Mix the filling once more with a spoon or spatula and empty it into the pan. It should fill the whole pastry case.

Take the piece of dough you left aside and divide it into smaller pieces. Roll each piece into long, thin round strips and use them to decorate the tart, lattice style. See photos below.

Place the pan on the middle rack of the oven and bake for 45-50 minutes, until the crust takes on a golden-brown color.

Prepare apricot glaze
Ten minutes before the pie is ready, prepare the glaze by putting the apricot jam and the rum (or water) in a small saucepan. Heat the jam over medium heat, until it comes to the boil and then immediately remove from the heat.

When the apple pie is ready, take it out of the oven and immediately glaze it, using a pastry brush. Allow the pie to slightly cool inside the pan and then remove the sides of the pan. Allow to cool completely and if you want, move the pie onto a platter or cake stand.

The pie is eaten either warm or at room temperature. Serve with a dollop or two of whipped cream or a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and sprinkled with a little ground cinnamon.

It is best eaten the day you make it, as well as the following day.
It can be kept at room temperature, covered, for 2 days (3 tops) but as the days pass, the crust will become softer and more cake-like.

The Greek octopus

2011-11-06T13:54:00.007+01:00

I have always lived near the sea and I can't imagine living anywhere where the sea isn't at walking (or biking) distance. Even if I don't have a view of it from my window, I can still feel its presence and that, in some way, makes me feel free.

It seems that I fell in love with the sea from a very young age. I don't remember exactly when I learned how to swim but I can't remember a time when I wasn't swimming.

We had a summer house by the sea and for three whole months, I'd be at the beach for hours each day either swimming, playing with my friends, or engaging in my other favorite activity; helping my grandfather with his catch of the day.

No, my grandfather wasn't a fisherman, but he loved going diving for mussels and clams, and adored going spearfishing for octopi. Whenever he'd catch one, he'd emerge from the sea like another Poseidon, trident-type fish spear in one hand, octopus in the other, and my brother and I would go running towards him, eager to see it. It would still be moving and curling its tentacles upwards or inwards, and I just couldn't help but touch his little round suckers.

My grandfather would carefully hand it to one of us and then the real work would begin. We had seen him do it a hundred times and we knew exactly what to do. Under his watchful eye, either I or my brother, would grab the octopus by the head, hold it firmly and start smacking it repeatedly against the seaside rocks. Then we would rub it in a circular motion against those same rocks until it foamed up and changed color, a process called paragouliasma in Greek.

Of course at that age, we had no idea that what we were actually doing was tenderizing the octopus, making it easier for my grandmother to cook it later on the day. What we did know was that we were having loads of fun doing it.

When we'd get home, tentacled trophy in hand, we'd give it to our grandmother who'd prepare it depending on our wishes. She would make htapodi ksidato (marinated octopus in vinegar), htapodi sti shara (barbecued octopus), or htapodi me makaronaki kofto (braised octopus with short pasta).

The latter was always my favorite and it's an all-time classic Greek dish. One that I prepare fairly often in my little expat kitchen. The octopus is first boiled in its own juices, then it is braised in a tomato, red wine and garlic sauce until succulent and finally, the pasta is added to the pan which cooks in the sauce and the octopus' juices.

The marriage of flavors in this rustic dish is purely divine. The sweet, juicy octopus, the smooth yet sharp red wine and tomato sauce and the al dente pasta, combine excellently to create an authentic taste of Greece. This is a culinary peek into my childhood.

Greek Braised Octopus with Short Pasta or "Htapodi me Makaronaki Kofto"

People (usually non-Greeks) are intimidated or scared of cooking or eating octopus. They shouldn't. Apart from it being delicious, it is also quite easy to cook. You just need to know how to cook it properly.

If cooked right, its texture is slightly chewy (if it's overly or unpleasantly chewy then that's a sign that it has not been cooked properly), and tender (if it's too soft or tough, it means it has been cooked for too long or too short a time).

The flavor of octopus is very difficult to describe. Unless you have tasted it, you can't really understand its flavor. There isn't any other seafood that has a similar taste or texture to the octopus.

Pair this dish with a Greek horiatiki salad, lots of bread and a good red wine, like a Greek Xinomavro or a Pinot Noir.

Below, I'm giving instructions on how to tenderize, clean properly and braise an octopus. I hope you find all the tips helpful!

Yield: 4-6 main-course servings

Ingredients
1 medium-sized octopus (about 1 kg), fresh or frozen
170 ml good-quality olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 medium-sized shallots, finely chopped
2 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
500 g fresh Roma tomatoes, cut into small cubes, or 500 g canned chopped tomatoes
4 tsp tomato paste
3 dried bay leaves
120 ml red wine (a Greek Xinomavro or a Pinot Noir)
Octopus juice (from boiling the octopus / I ended up with 400 ml)
500 g short pasta such as canneroni or maccheroni
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Special equipment: fine sieve

Preparation

Tenderizing the octopus before cooking
If you are lucky enough to have a fresh octopus in your hands, the best way to tenderize it would be to whack it with a kitchen mallet for about 10 minutes until it foams up (unless you're near the sea so you can do what I described above—5th paragraph). Let's assume though that most of you will get the octopus from your local fishmonger. Your fishmonger will have already done this for you in one way or another so you won't need to worry about such things.

Cleaning and cutting the octopus
If you get a whole octopus (mantle/sack on) that is not cleaned, you first need to empty the sack of the octopus' innards and ink sac. Turn the sack inside out, remove them with your hands and don't get all dainty on me; you need to do this! Of course, if you buy the octopus from your fishmonger or if it's frozen, the innards and ink sac won't still be inside the octopus' sack so you can skip this step. Only fresh octopi will have their innards intact.

Using a large, sharp knife, cut the head off. You need to cut at the point right below the octopus' eyes so that you're left with it's tentacles and head with sack (see photo No1 below).

You will notice that at the point where all the tentacles meet, right in the middle, there is a hole. Inside that hole is the beak, which is the mouth of the octopus (see photo No2 below). You need to remove the beak. Push it with your thumb until it comes out the other way, through that little hole between the tentacles on the bottom side of the octopus (see photo No 3). In case you can't get it out, remove it by cutting a circle around it with a sharp knife. That's the easiest way.

Now, take the head, and cut it above the eyes, so that you're left only with the sack (see photo No4). That is edible.

You don't need to remove the octopus' skin.

Rinse the octopus well under running water, making sure to clean well the tentacles and the sack (inside and out).

Separate the tentacles by cutting them at the joints (see photo no5).

Pre-cooking the octopus
Place the tentacles and the sack of the octopus inside a large, heavy-bottomed pan with 120 ml (½ cup of water) over low heat. Cook for 20 minutes until the octopus releases its juices. Then remove it from the pan and place it in a large bowl. Pass the octopus juices through a fine sieve and into another bowl, measure it and reserve it. I ended up with 400 ml of octopus juice.
Cut the tentacles into 2 cm-thick slices and cut the sack into similar-sized pieces.

Note: At this point, you're not looking to cook the octopus completely. You are tenderizing it so that it braises more quickly. Don't worry if it's a bit tough.

Braising the octopus, preparing the sauce and cooking the pasta
Add the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan (or a Dutch oven if you have one). Heat it over medium-high heat and add the chopped onions and shallots. Sauté for about 5 minutes until they soften and become translucent.
Add the garlic and sauté for 1 minute and then add the octopus pieces. Sauté for 2-3 minutes and add the chopped tomatoes, the tomato paste and bay leaves. Stir well and add the red wine and the octopus juices. If you have less than 400 ml of octopus juices, compensate with water.
Add some salt and black pepper and stir well. Let it come to the boil and immediately lower heat to the lowest setting and close the lid. Braise the octopus for 35-40 minutes, until it's barely done. It must be tender but not soft. Sample a piece and see for yourselves how it tastes and how the texture feels. It must be slightly chewy. The sack will always be tougher than the tentacles. Keep in mind that you're going to add the pasta to the pan, so the octopus will cook for a further 12-15 minutes. You don't want to end up with mushy octopus. That's even worse than tough octopus.

Note: I would advise you to sample a piece of the octopus after 30 minutes of cooking. Not all octopi are the same and some cook sooner than others. For example, frozen octopi sold at supermarkets, cook much faster than fresh octopi and that's because when you place octopus in the freezer, it tends to soften.

You are going to need 150-200 ml boiling water for the pasta, which is going to cook in the same pan. In this particular case, you can add more water but you can't take it out of the pan, so I would advise you to start by adding 150 ml of boiling water to the pan along with the dried pasta. Stir well and allow the pasta to cook. You need to stir every 3 minutes or so, making sure the pasta doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan, and you need to check if the pasta needs more water by tasting it. If you need to add more water, always add boiling water.
The pasta needs 12-15 minutes to cook, depending of course on how you prefer the texture of your pasta. Once it is ready, turn heat off, close the lid, and let stand for 10 minutes. Then serve immediately.

This dish tastes best the day you cook it. It will be delicious the next day as well, having a deeper, fuller octopus flavor, but it will be a bit dry. You can't do anything about that; that's the nature of the dish.

Simplicity

2011-10-29T00:02:00.008+02:00

I'm in need of simplicity. In flavors, sounds, images, people.

There are times when I make my life difficult by paying too much attention to meaningless details, to situations that only bring me negative energy, or to people who have nothing to offer but annoying idle talk and an empty know-it-all attitude.

I yearn for simplicity. In emotions, in music, in food, in my personal space.

I try to free myself of anything that feels pretentious and I want sincerity and naturalness to characterize my relationships with those around me.

When I cook for someone I love, I offer them a piece of myself. My creations need not be complicated or intricate to be remarkable. There is an ancient Greek saying "Εν τη απλότητι το κάλλος" (en ti aplotiti to kallos), meaning that beauty lies in simplicity, which says it all.

So when I present someone with a bowlful of yogurt, drizzled with Greek thyme honey and sprinkled with chopped walnuts, I truly feel like I'm presenting them with the most beautiful food prepared by human hands.

Greek Yoghurt with Greek Thyme Honey and Walnuts

This can hardly be called a recipe since it only has three ingredients and almost zero preparation time, but it is a timeless Greek dessert that never fails to satisfy; not to mention that it's probably the healthiest one out there.

Yield: 1-2 servings (share it with someone you love)

Ingredients
200 g Greek strained yoghurt, full-fat, well stirred
1 Tbsp Greek thyme honey (or any other runny honey you prefer)
2 tsp roughly chopped walnuts

Preparation
Place the yoghurt in a bowl, drizzle with the honey and sprinkle the walnuts on top. Instant gratification.

If you enjoy the flavors of honey, yoghurt and nuts then this tart (do you remember it?) will delight you. Whenever I make it, I can't help but think of the classic "Greek yoghurt with honey and walnuts".

One more try

2011-10-21T22:40:00.007+02:00

The person for which I cook the most, is my boyfriend. S loves his food and according to him, it is one of the greatest pleasures in life. We tend to agree on that.

Over the years, I have come to trust his opinion about my cooking, and I always ask what he thinks about different dishes I prepare or experiment with. He is truthful in his responses and since I fancy myself as having a BS detector, I believe I would know if he was lying. Or would I?

The other day, as we were sitting together on the couch browsing the internet, the conversation came to salads. How we liked the one with radicchio we ate at a restaurant last week or how we hated the one with pears our friend 'x' made the other night, and then all of a sudden, the conversation came to the salads I have made.

He started fumbling his words when I mentioned some of the more, let's say adventurous salads I have prepared at times, and sentences like "I didn't quite enjoy that one baby" and "I didn't like that one either", started coming out of his mouth.
What???

Ok, I know S isn't the type of man who is looking forward to the salad part of a meal (is there any man who does?) but rather the main attraction, like a nice piece of rib-eye steak or my special roast chicken. Still, I make some mean salads. He oughta now that.

Truth be told, he can eat a bowlful of Horiatiki salad and I have to fight him over the last bite of an endive and apple salad every single time, but I guess I have to accept the fact that he will never enjoy raw kale or cauliflower.

Now, if you think this story has a happy ending, with an enthusiastic S loving this delicious, seasonal butternut squash salad I prepared in order to entice his appetite, you're sorely mistaken. S didn't like this one either. But I did. So who you're gonna trust, huh?

Spicy, Roasted Butternut Squash Salad with Lime, Chilli and a Yoghurt and Tahini Dressing
Adapted from Plenty

The flavors in this wholesome salad are quite unique. The earthy sweetness of the butternut squash, the gentle spiciness of the cardamom, the acidity of the lime, the heat that comes from the green chilli and the cool, refreshing Greek yoghurt, are all working together to create a wonderful balance of flavors.

Enjoy it with some whole-wheat bread and a glass of Viognier.

Yield: 4-6 salad or 2 main-course servings

Ingredients
1 medium-sized butternut squash (about 1 kg)
2 Tbsp green cardamom pods
1 tsp allspice, ground
2 whole limes
3 + 1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
1 green chilli, thinly sliced
A handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves (or coriander leaves), (about 15 g)
Sea salt

for the yoghurt dressing
140 g Greek strained yoghurt, full-fat
40 g tahini, stirred well
1 Tbsp lime juice, freshly squeezed
1 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
3-3½ Tbsp water
Sea salt

Special equipment: mortar and pestle, large baking sheet

Preparation
Place the cardamom pods in a mortar and pound them with the pestle in order to take the seeds out of the pods. Discard the pods and keep the seeds.

Grind them to a rough powder and place them in a small bowl. Add the ground allspice and 3 Tbsp of olive oil and mix well with a spoon.

Preheat your oven to 210 degrees Celsius.

Line your baking sheet with baking paper.
Rinse the butternut squash under running water and peel it with a vegetable peeler or a sharp knife. Cut it in half lengthwise, scoop out the seeds and discard them. Then cut each half crosswise into 1cm-thick slices.
Arrange the squash slices on the baking sheet in a single layer and brush them over with the aforementioned spice and olive oil mixture. Sprinkle them with a little sea salt and put the baking sheet in the middle rack of the oven. Roast squash for about 15 minutes or until tender when tested with a fork. Once ready, remove sheet from the oven and allow squash to cool.

While the butternut squash is roasting, take the two limes and, using a sharp knife, first cut off the peel, then the white pith all around the fruit, exposing the flesh, then cut into quarters, cutting from top to bottom and finally cut each quarter into thin slices, about 2mm thick. Put them in a small bowl, add 1 Tbsp of olive oil and a little sea salt and stir with a spoon.

for the yoghurt dressing
Put the yoghurt in a small bowl. Add the well stirred tahini, the olive oil, water, lime juice and a little sea salt and mix well with a spoon. What you're aiming for is a thick but runny enough dressing to pour over the salad. You may need to add more water if your dressing is too thick.

arrange and serve the salad
Arrange the cooled butternut squash slices on a large platter. Scatter the lime slices over the squash and drizzle with the yoghurt and tahini dressing. Scatter the chilli slices over the salad and finish it off with some parsley leaves. Serve immediately.

Put the rest of the dressing in a small bowl and place it on the table.

What I've been reading

2011-10-15T22:58:00.003+02:00

• Macarons by Pierre Hermè

Until about a month ago, this book was only available in French. As soon as it came out in English, I snatched it. And by "snatched it", of course I mean I ordered it on Amazon.

I have been reading, looking, swooning, craving but not baking; at least not yet. I'm a macaron-making virgin so I'm a bit timid about venturing into the magical world of Monsieur Hermè's macarons. All that's about to change though, really soon.
I have to admit, it helps that I have already tasted the real thing.

Can't wait to make:
Salted-butter caramel macarons
Infinitely chocolate macarons
Chestnuts and matcha green tea macarons
Olive oil and vanilla macarons
Raspberry, red pepper and parmesan macarons

• Plate to Pixel: digital food photography & styling by Hélène Dujardin

Can someone fall in love with a book? That's a resounding yes. I'm in love with this one and even though I don't have a dSLR but only a point-and-shoot camera, Hélène has me hooked.

As she points out, "photography is pricey" and you "shouldn't let yourself be dazzled by special features, cool accessories and size". That's some good advice right there. So, I need to weigh my options before I spend precious money on a new camera.

In the meantime, I'm learning some amazing new things, from how a camera really works to composing a photograph for a shoot and valuable styling tips.
This book has opened my eyes to a lot of things I had no idea about.

• Will write for food by Dianne Jacob

I discovered Dianne Jacob through her blog, a great resource and conversation platform for all things food-writing, but it took me a while to decide to buy her book. I'm not an impulse shopper, especially when it comes to books, but looking back, in this particular case I should have gone for it sooner.
This lady knows what she's talking about when it comes to writing about food.

I was inspired to write things I never knew I had in me. Thank you Dianne.

• Asian Dumplings by Andrea Nguyen

I don't remember exactly when or how I became interested in Asian cuisine. What I'm certain of is that I'm crazy about Asian food and I can never say no to a good dumpling, spring roll, fried Chinese bun or Indian samosa.

I have made several recipes from this brilliant book by Andrea Nguyen and they have been successful every single time.
The recipe for Steamed filled buns is perhaps my favorite.

Can't wait to make:
Japanese pork and shrimp pot stickers
Spicy potato samosas
Fried sticky rice dumplings
Milk dumplings in cardamom and saffron syrup

• Δειπνοσοφισταί (Deipnosophists - The Banquet of the Learned) by Athenaeus

This monumental literary work by Athenaus, dating back to the 3rd century A.D., is composed of fifteen books. It is a gastronomic guide, the oldest one in Greek history, that includes information on how food was prepared in ancient Greece. It has priceless historical value as it explores the gastronomic preferences, customs and behavior of ancient Greeks.

I have always wanted to read these books and I'm currently finishing book one; I'm enthralled by it.

You can find it both in Greek and in English.

• The Murders in the Rue Morgue by Edgar Allan Poe

I got this book back in July when I was in Paris.
I'm a Poe fan and this short detective story is probably the best of its kind.
You should read it.
The end.

• Η μεγάλη χίμαιρα, 1953 (The great chimera) by M. Karagatsis

M. Karagatsis is one of the greatest contemporary Greek novelists and one of my favorite writers. I read "The great chimera" recently for the second time and I have to say that I'm fascinated by Mr. Rodopoulos' (his real name) writing as well as by the mystical and deeply symbolic elements that are dispersed throughout the book.

This book is written in Greek. So why am I listing it here? Perhaps you can find the translation.

What have you been reading lately? Do share.

Have a great weekend!

The fig tree

2011-10-07T23:12:00.007+02:00

The yard was huge. It seemed endless in my eyes back then. It was paved with concrete and whenever I'd stumble and fall after being chased by D., I'd scratch my knees and they would bleed. I never cried, I was never afraid of blood, or pain.

It looked almost empty. There were some small, almost bare trees on the far end next to a large wooden table with rusted metal legs, and a couple of shrubs near the gate. Every time I'd walk past them, my dress would get caught on a branch and it would lightly prick my thigh.

In one corner, right opposite my bedroom window, the tree stood proud. Its leaves facing downwards every afternoon when the scorching sun would make them sizzle. Hidden underneath, the fruits. Some of them dark, dripping with juices and sweetness, and others still green, unripe.

She would pick them every now and then, when she had time or was feeling up to it, and she'd bring them into the kitchen. She'd rinse them and arrange them meticulously in a large, hand-painted, clay platter with their stems always facing upwards. It was for good luck, she'd say.

She would call us to come sit next to her and she'd lay a fruit on our hands. She'd also take one in hers and she would show us, slowly, how to peel it without tearing its skin. We were amazed by her ability to expose its flesh with such ease, almost effortlessly.

First, its milky white flesh would appear and from a single glance she could tell if the fruit would be worth eating. When she'd come across a bad one, she would throw it away into her apron, showing her dissatisfaction by grimacing in such a way that would make us burst into laughter.

Then, she would rip it in half to reveal its ruby red inner flesh and myriad of yellow seeds while we would jump out of our chairs, both of us eager to be the first one to grab a piece off her hand.

When our turn would come to peel our own, sap, juices and skins would go flying all around as we'd unwittingly pierce the fruits' flesh with our tiny fingers. Our giggles would be heard throughout the neighborhood, reaching all the way to the seashore.

We would eat them greedily, as if we realized from such a young age their ephemeral nature. Their sweetness would fill our mouths and we wouldn't be content until we ate one more, and then another, until she'd have to stop us, warning us that we'd end up with tummy aches.

Lying in my bed at night, with the moonlight reflecting on my crisp sheets, the taste of the fruit would be on my mind. As my eyes would close, I'd discover one more seed stuck between my teeth and I'd fall asleep smiling.

Homemade Fig Jam

This jam is the perfect way to say farewell to the year's fig season and preserve their unique flavor for months to come.

The vanilla complements and elevates the taste of the figs and it gives the jam an incredible aroma.

Preparing this jam doesn't involve any complicated jam making skills and it is quite quick too.

I usually enjoy it for breakfast, smeared on a piece of bread along with some butter, or on top of a couple of spoonfuls of Greek yoghurt, but I absolutely love it served like this: slices of toasted (or not) bread with some slivers of pecorino Romano or Greek kefalotyri cheese and a dollop of fig jam on top. The perfect appetizer or snack.

Yield: about 1 liter (3 medium jars)

Ingredients
1 kg ripe figs (I used purple figs)
500 g sugar*
1 vanilla bean
60 ml freshly squeezed lemon juice (juice of 1 lemon)
Zest of 1 lemon

Special equipment: glass jars, potato masher (optional)

Preparation
Rinse the figs well under running water. Cut their stem off and cut each fig into four or eight pieces, depending on the size of the figs. Add them to a large, deep, heavy-bottomed pan along with the sugar, lemon juice and zest. Cut the vanilla bean in half lengthwise and, using the dull side of the knife, scrape the seeds out. Add them to the pan along with the bean.
Mix everything with a wooden spoon and allow the figs to macerate for 2 hours at room temperature, with the lid on, stirring occasionally. This process will soften the figs.

Next, put the pan over a low heat and cook, stirring continuously, until the sugar has dissolved. Take the potato masher or a large fork and mash the figs lightly. Turn heat up to high and boil rapidly for about 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Be careful not to burn the jam or turn it into glue. Keep an eye on it.
The fig skins must have softened by now. If not, boil a while longer, until they have.

You can check if the jam is ready by doing the following: put a small plate in the freezer for 5 minutes. Take it out and spoon a little of the jam on it. Leave to cool for 1 minute and then push the jam with your finger; the top should wrinkle. If not, boil a couple of minutes longer and test it again.

Keep in mind that as the jam cools, it will become thicker.

Once the jam is ready, you may gently mash the fruit with the potato masher or a fork for a smoother texture, or leave it as is. I mashed mine and was left with smallish skin pieces.

You can either discard the vanilla bean or you can add it to the jar along with the jam. It goes without saying that the second option is preferable.

Allow the jam to cool for 30 minutes, empty it into sterilized jars and turn the jars upside down. Once the jam has cooled completely, put the jars in the refrigerator.
The jam will keep for several weeks in the fridge.

If you want to store or preserve the jam, take a hot sterilized glass jar—making sure you're not touching the inside of the jar—and fill it with the still piping hot jam. Secure the lid tightly and put the jar in a cool, dry place for storage. (Read here on how to sterilize glass jars).
You may keep an unopened sterilized jar of this jam in a dark and cool place for up to a year. Once you open a jar, you have to immediately refrigerate it.

*If the figs you're using are very ripe and intensely sweet then you might want to add less sugar (about 450 g).

One of those days

2011-10-03T19:09:00.009+02:00

Today is one of those days, when I sit at my computer and I try to write something, anything, but nothing comes out. Well, of course something comes out because you're reading this, but this is not what I was meaning to write.

So, I could sit here, at my desk, facing the dread that is the blank page, or I could go out there, where the birds are chirping and the sun is shining and the whole of nature—who has obviously forgotten it's the beginning of October—is screaming for me to get out of my apartment.

Would you blame me if I chose the latter?

I knew you wouldn't.

Oh, and before I go, I know it's kind of soon to be posting another ice cream recipe after this one but people, we got an Indian summer on our hands over here. I have to take full advantage of that before it's too late.

Ice cream is in order. White chocolate ice cream with a caramel-Kahlua sauce.

It's good.

It's pretty damn good actually.

[Those of you who are living in places where the cold weather is already knocking at your door, no hard feelings, ok?]

Enough said.

Where did I put my flip-flops?

White Chocolate Ice Cream with a Caramel-Kahlua Sauce
Ice cream recipe adapted from The Perfect Scoop

This ice cream is not too sweet and has a subtle white chocolate flavor.
You can also serve it with a raspberry sauce.

The caramel-Kahlua sauce was a very successful improvisation by yours truly (I can do it with music and I can do it with sauces too. Ha!). It has a silky smooth texture and is not overly sweet, and I just can't stop using it on ice creams, waffles and cakes ever since I made it for the first time a couple of months ago.

You must use good quality white chocolate; I can't stress this enough. If it's not good quality then the ice cream will be granular and it will not taste good. I'm speaking from experience.

If you don't have an ice cream maker, don't you worry. Below, I'm including instructions on how to make the ice cream without it.

Yield: about 1 liter of ice cream / about 1 ½ cup of caramel-Kahlua sauce

Ingredients

for the ice cream
230 g good quality white chocolate (at least 28% cocoa butter), chopped
240 ml whole milk
130 g sugar
Pinch of salt
5 large egg yolks
470 ml cream, full fat

for the caramel-Kahlua sauce
115 g unsalted butter
115 g soft, light brown sugar
120 ml cream, full fat
60 ml Kahlua

Special equipment: fine sieve, ice cream maker (optional yet preferable), instant-read thermometer (optional)

Preparation

for the ice cream
Put the chopped white chocolate in a large bowl and set a fine sieve over it.

In a medium-sized saucepan, add the milk, sugar and salt and warm over medium heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves. The milk must get warm, not hot.
In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the four egg yolks. Very slowly, pour the warm milk over the egg yolks, whisking quickly and continuously. When you have poured all of the milk, return mixture to the saucepan and heat over medium heat, stirring constantly with a heatproof spatula. Stir the mixture until it thickens and coats the spatula, or until an instant-read thermometer reads 76 degrees Celsius.
Pour the custard through the fine sieve and into the bowl containing the chopped white chocolate. Stir well with a spatula until the chocolate has melted completely and you have a smooth mixture. Then add the cream and stir well.

Fill a large bowl with ice cubes and a little water, and place the bowl with the ice cream mixture on top. Stir the mixture with a rubber spatula in order to cool it down. Once cool, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for about 1 hour.
Then whisk the mixture and pour it into your ice cream maker. Continue, following the manufacturer's instructions.

Alternatively, if you don't have an ice cream maker, empty the chilled ice cream mixture into a container suitable for the freezer. Put mixture in the freezer, take it out after 40 minutes and whisk it very well. You can also beat it with a spatula vigorously (or you can use a blender, or even a stick blender).
Continue doing the same thing every half hour, until it's too thick and frozen to beat or whisk. The whole process will take about two and a half hours.

for the caramel-Kahlua sauce
Put the butter in a medium-sized saucepan and melt it over medium heat. Add the sugar and stir with a wooden spoon until dissolved. Continue stirring until the mixture starts to bubble, begins to take on a dark caramel color and thickens.
You need to be very careful because the mixture will be extremely hot.

When the mixture has become thick enough (slightly thicker than condensed milk), remove the saucepan from the heat.
Then add slowly the cream and whisk until incorporated. Add the Kahlua and stir well with a wooden spoon. Empty the sauce in a clean bowl and allow to cool.

You can either serve it warm or put it in the fridge for later use. When served straight from the fridge it is thicker and better in my opinion.

Keep it in the fridge, covered tightly with plastic wrap for 3 to 4 days.

My Little Expat Kitchen on SAVEUR.com, 55 Great Global Food Blogs

2011-09-30T12:53:00.006+02:00

This is perhaps my longest blog post title ever, but I figure the occasion deserves it.

I have been an avid reader of Saveur, one of the top culinary magazines in the United States and the world, and the online version, SAVEUR.com, for quite some time now.
So when I found out yesterday that my blog is among the 55 Great Global Food Blogs, I was thrilled, to say the least.

According to the editors of SAVEUR.com, My Little Expat Kitchen is in the must-read list of blogs in the international food blogging community.

It's truly amazing when your work is recognized by such an important food magazine. It is indeed a great honor!

Thank you Saveur!

The Briam

2011-09-23T00:05:00.016+02:00

Having grown up in a house that smelled of spices and lamb roasting in the oven, of freshly baked, sweet, syrupy baklava and buttery tyropites (cheese pies), of keftedakia (meatballs) and whole fish frying in large pans and, well, living in your typical Greek, crazed-about-food household, I can't imagine growing up any differently.

Those home cooked meals shaped the way I taste and experience food, and no matter how much I expand my culinary horizons, I'll always crave the foods that I grew up with. This is the case with briam.

It was one of those dishes that crept into my childhood diet every once in a while, giving my mom the chance to feed me and my brother some vegetables that we wouldn't complain about eating.

She was so clever as she'd mash together all the vegetables on my plate with a fork so I wouldn't focus on the ones I didn't like (i.e. all of them) and refuse to eat them. Of course, as years went by, I realized what a delicious dish it was, and her artfulness in hiding the vegetables was no longer needed. I was hooked. I loved that dish, and I've loved it ever since.

Briam is a dish of vegetables—potatoes, zucchini, eggplant, peppers, tomatoes—baked in the oven with onions, parsley and lots and lots of olive oil. It belongs to the category of "Ladera" (of which I have written before in this post), meaning dishes prepared with olive oil and without the addition of any other type of fat.

If you were ever wondering what Greeks cook in their homes, well, this is it. There are many versions of this dish depending where in Greece you are from, with different vegetables being added or subtracted from the mix. Oftentimes, the vegetables used in briam are simply those that one has on hand.

My version is my family's briam. The one my grandmother has been cooking for the past sixty years, the one my mom has been cooking for almost thirty, and the one I have been taught to cook by those two food heroines of mine.

Round cut potatoes are placed at the bottom of the "tapsi" (large baking pan). Then come the zuchinni slices, then the onions, the eggplant and the green bell peppers. The fresh chopped parsley is sprinkled on top and the tomatoes are scattered haphazardly all around whereas salt, pepper and extra virgin olive oil are added just before putting the tapsi in the oven.

After a couple of hours of slow simmering in the oven, you have the most delicious, sweet, melt-in-the-mouth baked vegetables in a sumptuous tomato and olive oil sauce that you'll ever taste. Feta and crusty bread are all the accompaniments you'll need. Just make sure you have enough; once you start dipping that bread into the sauce, there's no turning back.

Briam (Greek Baked Vegetables)

I have always thought that us Greeks would make terrific vegetarians or vegans because we're used to eating dishes like this one. Whenever I eat briam, the thought of vegetarianism passes through my mind, but then I recall the taste of beef or pork-fat dripping out of a souvlaki and I suddenly come to my senses.
That was so not the point I was trying to make. But, you know what I mean, no?

This is a main dish that can be served both straight out of the oven but also at room temperature. It is actually preferred to be eaten the next day as the flavors become fuller and deeper overnight.

My grandmother shallow-fries all the vegetables lightly in olive oil before putting them in the "tapsi" but I, being more health conscious, skip that step. I have to admit though, her version is better because of it.

You might think that the quantity of vegetables is a lot but trust me, they will cook down, releasing all their water and juices and you'll end up with half their volume.

Yield: 6-8 main course servings

Ingredients
4 large floury potatoes (about 900 g), peeled and cut into 1-1.5 cm-thick slices
3 medium-sized zucchinis (about 750 g), cut into 1-1.5 cm-thick slices
3 onions (about 200 g), thinly sliced*
4 small eggplants** (about 600 g), cut into 2-2.5 cm-thick slices
3 small green bell peppers (about 450 g), cut in large pieces
A handful (about 25 g) fresh flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped plus extra for sprinkling over the dishes
4 medium-sized tomatoes (about 500 g), chopped or 400 g canned chopped tomatoes
250 ml extra virgin olive oil
65 g tomato paste
350 ml water
Sea salt (or any other salt, I just always use sea salt in my cooking)
Black pepper, freshly ground

Special equipment: large baking pan

Preparation
Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius.

It is best if you sprinkle a little salt and pepper after the addition of each type of vegetable rather than solely at the end.

First, place the potatoes at the bottom of your baking pan and add the sliced zucchinis on top. Those two vegetables need to be at the bottom of the pan because they require more time to cook. Then add half of the onions, followed by the sliced eggplants. Then add the rest of the onions and the bell peppers. Add the tomatoes and sprinkle the chopped parsley on top. Add the tomato paste to the 350 ml of water and stir well to dissolve. Pour it all over the vegetables along with the olive oil. Add a last sprinkling of salt and pepper. Mix a little with a large spoon without messing up the vegetable layers and place the baking pan on the lower rack of the preheated oven.

Check the vegetables every half hour, mixing each time carefully with a large spoon.
The briam will be ready after about 2 hours or when the vegetables are soft, have taken on a golden brown color and have become crispy around the edges. The tomato sauce at the bottom of the pan must be shiny and rich.

Allow to cool slightly and serve. Sprinkle some fresh chopped parsley on top if you want.

It freezes extremely well so if you have any left, put it in an airtight container suitable for the freezer and enjoy it any other day you want.

*In case you don't like the texture of onions, you can grate them with a box grater or chop them finely.
** If you want to take the bitterness out of the eggplants, sprinkle the slices with some salt and leave them inside a colander for an hour. Then rinse them well and squeeze them lightly to get a little bit of their juice out.

Ice cream, you scream

2011-09-14T23:15:00.014+02:00

As I'm writing this, it is pouring rain outside. The wind is howling and I can see the trees from my window swinging back and forth like green giants caught in a storm, trying to find their balance by opening their huge, leafy arms wide open.

As I'm writing this, I'm eating ice cream. It is not the typical thing one would eat in such a weather but I have always been a stubborn person. I'm still resisting the idea that it is officially autumn.

I'm in an ice cream-making mode for quite some time now and I'm not planning to stop. Not in the foreseeable future. Not unless S gets sick of testing my icy experiments or I get sick of craving them—neither will be happening any time soon, I can assure you. So be warned; you might see some out of season ice cream recipes here in the following months. I hope you're game.

I have always been crazy for chocolate ice cream but I've been reluctant to make it myself for a very long time. I thought that it couldn't possibly be as good as the ones from my favorite ice cream shops so why bother. Boy, was I wrong.

When my first chocolate ice cream came out of the freezer, I couldn't believe I was the one that had made it. It was intensely chocolatey with a creamy texture that made me scream with joy. I had of course David Lebovitz, the ice cream genius, and his "Perfect Scoop", my ice cream bible, to thank for its success.

There's really no need to be intimidated by the idea of making ice cream. It's rather simple once you get the hang of it. Making the custard is perhaps the most tricky part, making sure your eggs don't separate or curdle, but apart from that, everything else is a piece of cake.

Yes, you'll probably need an ice cream maker to achieve a smooth texture and the right consistency, but I have tried it the old-fashioned way too and it was still pretty good.

My mom was visiting last month from Greece and I made this ice cream for her. My mom doesn't like ice cream. In fact, my mom hates ice cream; particularly chocolate ice cream. When she tasted this one though, she asked for a second scoop, and the next day she went snooping in the freezer to eat some more.
Man, it felt good to finally make an ice cream lover out of her.

Homemade Dark Chocolate Ice Cream
Adapted from The Perfect Scoop

It is very important that you use a chocolate whose flavor you enjoy because that's how your ice cream will taste. Make sure that it's a good quality chocolate as well.

I have made this ice cream with 70% as well as with 55% chocolate and it was equally flavorsome. As expected, if you use 70% chocolate, your ice cream will have a more bitter chocolate taste.

After churning the ice cream, you can add some chopped chocolate [if I write the word chocolate one more time I will scream] in order to give it a more intense chocolate [insert scream here] flavor.

If you don't have an ice cream maker, don't fret. Below, I'm including instructions on how to make the ice cream without it.

Update 27.09.11: I had written by mistake 340 ml milk when the correct is 240 ml milk.

Yield: about 1 liter of ice cream

Ingredients
470 ml cream, full fat
30 g (3 heaped Tbsp) cocoa powder, Dutch processed
140 g dark 55% chocolate, chopped
240 ml whole milk
160 g sugar
Pinch of salt
4 large egg yolks
½ tsp vanilla extract

Special equipment: fine sieve, ice cream maker (optional yet preferable), instant-read thermometer (optional)

Preparation
In a medium-sized saucepan, add half of the cream and all of the cocoa powder. Heat over medium heat, whisking constantly until the cocoa powder has completely dissolved. Bring to the boil, reduce heat to low and simmer for 30 seconds, whisking continuously.
Take the saucepan off the heat and add the chopped chocolate. Whisk until the chocolate has melted into the cream and you have a smooth mixture.
Add the remaining half of the cream and stir with a rubber spatula. Empty the mixture into a large bowl, making sure you scrape every last drop of the mixture out of the saucepan. Set a fine sieve over the bowl.

Using the same saucepan, add the milk, sugar and salt and warm over medium heat, stirring until the sugar dissolves. The milk must get warm, not hot.
In a medium-sized bowl, whisk together the four egg yolks. Very slowly, pour the warm milk over the egg yolks, whisking quickly and continuously. When you have poured all of the milk, return mixture to the saucepan and heat over medium heat, stirring constantly with a heatproof spatula. Stir the mixture until it thickens and coats the spatula, or until an instant-read thermometer reads 76 degrees Celsius.
Pour the custard through the fine sieve and into the bowl containing the cream-chocolate mixture. Stir well with a spatula until well blended and add the vanilla extract. Stir well.

Fill a large bowl with ice cubes and a little water, and place the bowl with the ice cream mixture on top. Stir the mixture with a rubber spatula in order to cool it down. Once cool, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and place it in the refrigerator for about 1 hour.
Then whisk the mixture and pour it into your ice cream maker. Continue, following the manufacturer's instructions.

Alternatively, if you don't have an ice cream maker, empty the chilled ice cream mixture into a container suitable for the freezer. Put mixture in the freezer, take it out after 40 minutes and whisk it very well. You can also beat it with a spatula vigorously (or you can use a blender, or even a stick blender).
Continue doing the same thing every half hour, until it's too thick and frozen to beat or whisk. The whole process will take about two and a half hours.

Seven

2011-09-06T23:16:00.007+02:00

A little while ago, I was invited by three fellow food bloggers, Vanessa, Nicole and Nancy, to participate in My 7 Links Project. I was flattered that they thought of me but was a little hesitant to "play" since I don't usually take part in similar projects. I found it interesting though and actually gave me the chance to reflect on my almost two years of blogging.

In search of the posts that would best fit the categories designated by the project, I went back through my archives and read some of my earlier posts as well as some recent ones. I found myself craving a lot of the food I have been cooking over these past two years and realized that I have become a better cook because of this blog.
I also became aware of how much my writing and photography has improved and evolved, and how this creative outlet has morphed into something that I am really proud of.

What was admittedly surprising, was the realization of how much this blog has become a part of my life and how much of my life I have been sharing through it with you, my readers.
So I would like to thank each and every one of you for coming to this space of mine, for reading my words and cooking my food, for sharing your own thoughts, ideas and stories with me, and for making all this worthwhile.

Here's my list of 7:

1. My most beautiful post

It was difficult to choose this one. They are all my "babies", how can I pick one?
In the end, I had to go with the Triple Chocolate Cake that I made for my birthday last November. Yes, I know not too many people make their own birthday cakes but I did, and it was perfect.

2. My most popular post

I couldn't believe it when I looked at my blog's statistics, but the most popular post on the English page (stats on the Greek page are different) is my very own recipe for Greek Baked Giant Beans. This is a dish which I make about once a month—that's how much I love it—but the fact that people all over the world enjoy it too, is just amazing. Greek giant beans rock!

3. My most controversial post

The post on which ingredients should and shouldn't be included in a real Greek Horiatiki Salad is not a controversial one per se, but it was the post that stirred up the most conversation in the comments.

4. My most helpful post

In many of my posts, I include tutorials and comprehensive instructions on how to clean, handle or cook certain ingredients, but the one featuring my recipe for Greek Mussel Pilaf was much appreciated for its instructions on how to clean mussels.

5. The post whose success surprised me

When I posted my Greek Beef Stew from the Island of Kefalonia on top of Tubular Pasta named "Pastitsada", I never expected it to be such a hit. Surely, for many Greeks this is a classic dish that we love and cook often in our homes in one version or another, but I never expected people all over the world to embrace it. It was such a pleasant surprise.

6. The post that didn't get the attention it deserved

My post for the famous Greek dip Taramosalata, was one of my earlier posts so I wouldn't expect it to be successful since not many people followed my blog back then. I was expecting for more people to discover it though as time went by. Taramosalata is the ultimate mezes. It is a salty, rich, slightly sweet, creamy dip that's honestly one of the best dips Greek cuisine has to offer.

7. The post I am most proud of

Without a doubt, my post titled "Family ties" is very close to my heart. It is a personal post in which I describe the cuisine I grew up with, "Politiki Cuisine" (the cuisine of the Greeks from Constantinople). I talk about an important person in my life, my grandfather, who was an excellent home cook and a great inspiration to me, and I cook Greek Manti, the recipe I am most proud to have mastered and perhaps my favorite one on the blog thus far.

I would like to invite the following five bloggers to take part in this project, share their own seven links and continue the fun, and I encourage all of you to visit their wonderful sites.

David of Cocoa & Lavender
Peter of Souvlaki For The Soul
El of Fresh
Peter of Kalofagas
Maria of Organically Cooked

In Bruges (and Brussels)

2011-09-02T23:32:00.005+02:00

Visiting the medieval town of Bruges feels like going to sleep and waking up in a fairy tale.

I fell totally and utterly in love with its narrow, cobbled streets, its imposing buildings and Gothic architecture, its unique ambiance, its warm and welcoming people, its history and awe-inspiring art and its purely satisfying food.

Bruges (Brugge in Flemish) is a Flemish city in the northwest of Belgium, whose old city center is, unsurprisingly, a World Heritage Site of UNESCO.

The city center is rather small and nearly encompassed by canals.

Right in the middle of the old town, there is the Markt (Market) where one of Bruges' most prominent symbols is situated; the Belfort (Belfry), a 13th century medieval bell tower.

The Provinciaal Hof (Provincial Court), a neo-gothic government building, is also situated in the Markt.

In Burg square, very close to the Markt, you can see the Heilig-Bloedbasiliek (Basilica of the Holy Blood); a Roman Catholic church built in the 12th century. The Basilica houses a venerated relic of Christ—his very blood on a piece of cloth, used by Joseph of Arimathea during the Descent from the Cross.

In the same square you can also see the Bruges Stadhuis (City Hall).

Another famous sight in Bruges is the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk (The Church of Our Lady), a 13th century church that houses the marble sculpture by Michelangelo, "Madonna and child".

I was captivated by the paintings from Flemish masters like Jan Van Eyck, Petrus Christus and Pieter Pourbus at the Groeninge Museum.

Besides all the fascinating scenery, architectural marvels and art, Bruges also has to offer some pretty amazing food. And chocolate. And beer.

There are innumerable chocolateries in Bruges and I have to say that the chocolate I sampled there was superb. The place to buy it? The Chocolate Line. This small shop sells top-quality chocolate that will make you swoon from the very first bite. It is not part of a chain (a very popular thing in Belgium) and they make the chocolate in-house. Try the bitter chocolate with cream that is sold in a cup and the dark and milk chocolate with almonds or praline, sold in blocks by weight.

Local beer, Brugse Zot (Bruges' Fool)

S was in heaven in Belgium. There were beers everywhere. So many of them actually that it was impossible to pick one to drink. Thankfully, we had inside information and one night we went to Cambrinus, one of the best beer-brasseries in Bruges. Cambrinus offers a selection of over 400 beers and the staff there were more than eager to help us choose the ones that fit our particular tastes.

Belgium is synonymous with waffles and we couldn't leave without trying one, or two, or, ok you got me, I can't resist waffles, ok? BitterSweet serves some delicious waffles and the best cappuccino S has had outside of Italy. S is an espresso and cappuccino fiend. He knows what he's talking about.

The Flemish part of Belgium is famous for fries (Vlaamse frites) and if you want to try the real stuff then you have to go to Chez Vincent. They also serve Hollandse bitterballen (Dutch meatballs) and fries to-go paired with mayonnaise—just like here in The Netherlands—which is ideal when you'd rather go sight-seeing around town than sit at table.

While in Bruges, we went to two restaurants where the food, service and atmosphere were simply excellent.
The first, De Vlaamsche Pot, served real Flemish food. We had Zeeland steamed mussels with Belgian fries, Burgse (from Bruges) sausage that was made by a local butcher specifically for the restaurant, and Waterzooi van zeevis (fish stew).
The second, Brasserie Raymond, served Belgian-French cuisine. We had North Sea shrimp croquettes with fried parsley, bouillabaisse, Belgian beef steak with béarnaise sauce, and Vol au vent with poultry, a classic Belgian dish.

I need to go back there. I miss the food.

We then headed towards Brussels, which is only an hour drive from Bruges.

House of Dukes of Brabant

The Grand Place (Grote Markt) was magnificent.

The Guild Houses

Victor Hugo described it as "the most beautiful plaza in the world".

Brussels Stadhuis (City Hall). A Gothic building from the Middle Ages.

I liked it. In fact, I was quite impressed by it.
But, it wasn't Bruges.

Click here to see more photos from Bruges and Brussels.

We interrupt this program...

2011-08-23T16:59:00.015+02:00

...to show you some snippets from this past week. Oh, and share some waffles with you.

I can't get enough of watching windmills. I don't know what it is with them but, especially when they're in action, I think they have the power to hypnotize me.

Rotterdam is the second largest city in The Netherlands and the largest port in Europe. It is a busy, vibrant, multicultural city but in the middle of all the hustle and bustle, you can find this. Het Park. The Park.

There's nothing more relaxing than going for a walk around this park. It's so calm, so serene.

Texel island in North Holland. The scenery of this island is breathtaking.

Dunes and fields of purple flowers.

The beach at sunset.

Sea shells creeping out of the sand.

The sky.

The seals at Ecomare.

Texel is famous for its sheep and of course, their wool.

Texel, where the strawberries are plenty and strawberry jam is perhaps the most delicious I have ever tasted.

Case in point. The breakfast of the last couple of mornings. Bread with butter and strawberry jam. See? Whole strawberries!

And waffles with strawberry jam.

S gave me a waffle iron last month as a present and I have been going crazy making waffles ever since. They're so quick to prepare and so unbelievably tasty, they're verging on sinful.

Crispy yet soft, fluffy, light and slightly sweet, they are perfect with honey, strawberry jam or fresh fruit, for breakfast. Topped with chocolate spread and/or ice cream, they make the ideal dessert.
And if you're feeling a bit adventurous, add some parmesan cheese in the batter and serve them with onion jam. They make a mean snack or appetizer.

The only limit is your imagination and trust me, you'll become addicted to these waffles in no time. Which of course can only be a good thing, right?

Classic Waffles

This recipe is quite light on eggs, butter and sugar so you can splurge on the toppings. Be generous and creative.

If you enjoy the flavor of vanilla, you can add a teaspoon of pure vanilla extract to the batter.

Yield: 14-16 standard-sized waffles

Ingredients
300 g all-purpose flour
1 heaped tsp baking powder
Pinch of salt
85 g caster sugar
100 g unsalted butter, melted
2 large eggs
500 ml whole milk

Vegetable oil for oiling the waffle iron

Special equipment: waffle iron

Preparation
In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt.
Create a well in the middle and add the sugar, eggs and melted butter.
Add the milk gradually while whisking together all the ingredients.
When you have added all the milk, whisk vigorously to break up any lumps in the batter. In the end, you should have a slightly thick and smooth batter.
Let it stand for about 1 hour, covered with a clean tea towel.

Lightly oil and preheat your waffle iron.

Whisk the batter and add a portion of it in the waffle iron. (Portion depends on the size of your waffle iron). Ensure that the batter fills all grooves and close the lid. Don't open it for a couple of minutes because the waffles need time to set and create a skin. If you open the iron, the waffles might break up.
Cook them for 4 minutes or until they have taken on a golden color.
Take them out with the help of a rubber spatula and continue cooking the rest.

Serve them immediately, as they tend to go soggy fairly quickly. Top them with jam, honey, syrup, preserves, chocolate spread, fresh fruit, ice cream or anything your heart desires.

You can keep the batter in the refrigerator for a couple of days, in an airtight container.

Evolutionary food

2011-08-17T02:24:00.011+02:00

It is widely understood that what led to the brain development of our species, was a change in diet. The introduction of seafood into homo sapiens' diet was key to the evolution of modern man. It is only natural then that we all have an affinity for eating fish and shellfish. Or you'd think so.

I'm constantly surprised by how many people prefer eating fish sticks from a box bought from the supermarket rather than real, fresh fish from their local fishmonger. I'm amazed when a friend of mine says she gets grossed out by the fact that she needs to clean the fish or break up the shells of shellfish before eating or cooking them.

C'mon people. There's nothing better than seafood. I know that, sometimes, taking bones out of a red mullet when you're extremely hungry is kind of an ordeal but the taste is reward enough. Yes, it may be time-consuming to clean mussels properly but unless you've made my Greek mussel pilaf, you haven't realized what you can do with these little mollusks.

And don't let me get started with shrimps. Who is able to resist shrimps? That sweet aroma and flavor of their juicy, white-pinkish flesh is something out of this world. Those early homo sapiens knew something when they turned to the sea to feed their hunger.

Shrimp, prawns, whatever you like to call them, are extremely versatile and this dish is a shining example of that. It is an Egyptian-inspired recipe of sautéed shrimps with a tahini and garlic sauce and a sumac, cumin seed and pistachio dukkah.

I don't know how many of you are familiar with dukkah. I discovered it about two-three years ago when I had the pleasure of eating it at an Egyptian friend's house who happens to be an extraordinary cook to boot. Dukkah (also spelled dukka or duqqa) is an Egyptian nut and spice mix that is served mainly as part of an appetizer ensemble along with pita bread and olive oil. And the experience goes something like this; you take a piece of bread, you dip it in the olive oil, then in the dukkah, and then you eat it. It truly is an experience.

Apart from spices and nuts, dukkah can include also dried herbs like mint or marjoram, chilies, different kinds of pepper and salt. Typically, the nuts and spices are lightly toasted in a dry pan and then pounded in a mortar and pestle along with the rest of the ingredients to a coarse consistency. The resulting blend can be used not only as an appetizer/dip but also as a dry rub or marinade for meats, poultry or fish, and for seasoning or sprinkling over cooked seafood like in this dish.

No one can go wrong with sautéed shrimps and when a tahini and garlic sauce is introduced to the mix, you then have a magnificent marriage of sweet and pungent flavors. The final, generous sprinkling of the spicy dukkah comes to complete the picture with its earthy hints from the cumin seeds, the citrusy zing from the sumac and the nuttiness from the pistachios. Paired with a dry Muscat wine, you have yourselves a summery appetizer that is quite impressive, to say the least.

Sautéed Shrimps with Tahini and Garlic Sauce and a Sumac, Cumin Seed and Pistachio Dukkah
Adapted from Food & Travel

This recipe makes one cup of dukkah but you will not need all of it for this dish. Store the rest in an airtight container, in a dry, dark, cool place for about a month and use it on chicken or other fish, or even to spice up a simple boiled egg by sprinkling some on top. Play around with it. That's what food is all about.

The tahini and garlic sauce pairs excellently with other crustaceans besides shrimp, such as lobster, crab, Mediterranean slipper lobster or even with any white fish.

Yield: 8 appetizer servings

Ingredients

for the dukkah
3 Tbsp shelled, unsalted pistachios
3 Tbsp cumin seeds
4 Tbsp black sesame seeds
1 tsp ground sumac
1 tsp sea salt

for the sauce
50 ml tahini
100 ml cold water
1 large garlic clove, crushed
1 tsp ground cumin
45 ml (3 Tbsp) extra virgin olive oil
40 ml (2 ½ Tbsp) lemon juice, freshly squeezed
Sea salt, to taste

500 g fresh (or frozen) shrimps/prawns (I used tiger prawns), peeled and deveined
30 ml (2 Tbsp) olive oil

Garden cress, for garnishing (optional)

Flatbreads for serving

Special equipment: mortar and pestle (or spice grinder)

Preparation

for the dukkah
In a large, non-stick frying pan, add the pistachios, the cumin seeds and the black sesame seeds. Toast them over a medium-high heat for 1 minute, stirring often with a rubber spatula so that they don't catch, until they start to release their aromas.
Remove them from the pan and onto a plate and allow them to cool. Place them in a mortar and pestle (or spice grinder) along with the ground sumac and sea salt and grind them to a coarse consistency. The dukkah mixture should have the look of wet sand.

for the sauce
In a medium-sized bowl, add the tahini, cold water, crushed garlic clove, ground cumin and olive oil. Whisk everything together until well blended and add the lemon juice and sea salt just before adding the sauce to the shrimps.

Sautée the shrimps
If you're using frozen shrimps, make sure to thaw them first.
Rinse the shrimps under cold running water and drain them well in a colander. Place them on paper towels and pat them dry.
In the same large, non-stick frying pan that you toasted the spices, heat the olive oil over medium heat and when it starts to shimmer, add the shrimps in one layer. If your pan is not large enough, sautée the shrimps in batches.
Sautée the shrimps until they're lightly golden, for 2-3 minutes on one side and 1 minute on the other for small/medium-sized shrimps, or a couple of minutes longer you're using jumbo shrimps.
Remove them from the pan with a slotted spoon and arrange them on a platter.

Drizzle the shrimps with 3-4 Tbsp of the sauce, or more if you want, sprinkle them with 1-2 tsp of the dukkah and serve immediately. Optionally, you can garnish with garden cress leaves.
You can place a bowlful of the sauce and a bowlful of the dukkah on the table, so that your guests can help themselves with more if they wish.

Serve the dish with some freshly baked flatbread.

You can keep the tahini and garlic sauce in the fridge for a day.
For the dukkah, see recipe head notes.

As Greek As It Gets

2011-08-08T00:47:00.014+02:00

The salad that I accompany eighty percent of my dinner meals with, is a Horiatiki salad (Χωριάτικη Σαλάτα) or Greek salad as it is called outside of Greece.

Horiatiki means "in the peasant manner" and it denotes the rustic character of the salad with its roughly chopped, colorful vegetables glistening under the rich coating of Greek extra virgin olive oil.

For me, there is no other salad that can even compare to Horiatiki in freshness, vibrancy, combination of flavors and utter simplicity which is, ultimately, the main characteristic of all traditional Greek food.

This is principally a summer salad, since its main ingredients—tomatoes, cucumbers and peppers—are at their prime during the summer months but I can honestly tell you that there isn't one day during the whole year that's not a good Horiatiki salad day for me.

In Greece, there isn't a single person (I hope) that doesn't know how to prepare this salad. Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing for the rest of the world. I have never been to a Greek restaurant or taverna outside of Greece that serves a proper Horiatiki salad. They always tend to bastardize it with whatever ingredients they think "fit" with it. I get so annoyed by that.

Horiatiki is made with a number of specific ingredients. It is not a collection of random vegetables and herbs. It is not, "let's put anything in there that is remotely reminiscent of Greece or what is believed to be used by Greeks even if it's not".

Don't get me wrong. I'm all for experimenting and trying new things, adding or subtracting ingredients from a recipe to make it your own or suit your particular tastes but, when it comes to certain recipes and traditional Greek cooking in particular, then I'm a stickler for authenticity.

So, let me set things straight.

Ingredients that should never, ever, under no circumstances, even if you once ate it like this somewhere in Greece, be included in a Horiatiki salad:

—Lettuce or leafy greens of any kind
—Parsley
—Mint
—Lemon juice
—Fresh oregano
—Yellow or red bell peppers
—Crumbled cheese
—Croutons

Ingredients that should be included in a real Horiatiki salad:

—Tomatoes. The freshest, juiciest, ripest tomatoes you can possibly find, cut into wedges.
—Cucumber. Long, fresh, chilled, peeled, sliced.
—Green bell peppers. The thinner-skinned you can find, the better. Cut into rings.
—Red onion. Strong, pungent, cut into rings.
—Olives. Pit still in. Plump, juicy, shiny, Greek Kalamata olives. Some people add throubes (a wrinkly type of black Greek olive) or even green Greek olives. Be my guest. I can be flexible, see?
—Feta. Greek feta (is there anything else?), hard, salty, creamy and in one large piece.
—Oregano. Greek, always dried and lots of it.
—Olive oil. Greek, extra virgin. My friends from other parts of the Mediterranean will have to excuse me when I say this but, Greek is the best.
—Red wine vinegar. A must. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

You retain the right to make whatever kind of salad you want with whatever ingredients you want but it won't be a Horiatiki (Greek) salad. It will be something else.

What you must always have on hand when you're eating this salad is bread. A big loaf of rustic, hard-crusted bread.
A typically Greek thing to do when you're eating a Horiatiki is a "papara". Papara is to dunk a small piece of bread into the oil, vinegar and vegetable juices that have accumulated at the bottom of the salad bowl, allow the bread to soak up all the juices that it can hold, being careful not to break it up, and then eat it.

Papara in progress

Papara is something you do when you're sharing a meal with friends or family and not when you're at a business lunch. Outside of Greece it is considered a bit rude but I think it's the best thing in the world. You haven't eaten a Horiatiki salad properly if you haven't made a papara.
If you want to be more "courteous" though, you can put a small piece of bread on your fork and dip it into the salad juices instead of holding the bread with your hand. Not the same thing but, eh, what can you do?

Greek dried oregano

Horiatiki Salad (Greek Salad / Peasant Salad) or "Horiatiki Salata"

It would be ideal if you could find Greek dried oregano, Greek red-wine vinegar and good quality Greek extra virgin olive oil to use in your Horiatiki but your salad won't be less flavorful if the ingredients you use aren't Greek.

This salad can either accompany your main meal or it can be enjoyed as your main meal. It can easily become a vegetarian dish or suitable for Lent by omitting the feta.

Always prepare Horiatiki salad right before serving it and since it doesn't keep well in the fridge (it gets soggy really quickly), make sure you prepare no more than you need.

Yield: 2 main-meal servings or 6 salad servings

Ingredients
4-5 vine-ripened tomatoes, about 350 g, cut into wedges
½ large cucumber, peeled and sliced
½ large green bell pepper, cut into rings
½ large red onion, cut into rings
10-12 Kalamata olives
200 g Greek feta, in one or two large pieces
1 ½ Tbsp red-wine vinegar
4-6 Tbsp Greek extra virgin olive oil
1 ½ tsp Greek dried oregano
Sea salt, to taste

Preparation
Toss together the tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, onion and salt in a bowl and then transfer them to a medium-sized salad bowl.
Add the olives and the feta on top and sprinkle with the dried oregano.
Pour the vinegar all over the salad and then drizzle the olive oil all over the ingredients.

Serve immediately along with lots of crusty bread.

Cherry-sh the day *

2011-07-31T00:26:00.020+02:00

I never know what to do with cherries. That's the simple truth.

I don't particularly like them in savory dishes, except if it's something like this salad, and I hate them in pies.

Fruit pies are not my thing. Perhaps because it's not a Greek thing and I'm just not used to them but, then again profiteroles are not a Greek thing either and I never complain when I get served up those.

I have always eaten cherries on their own. The ritual being invariably the same; grab one by the stalk, put it in my mouth, pull it gently with my teeth to detach it from the stem, break the small spherical fruit open with a decisive bite, take out the pit and savor its sweet, juicy flesh.

Yet, I've always felt like I've been missing out on something. I have never used them in, well, anything.

Not until last year that is, when I decided to make cherry ice cream. And, it was awful. I don't know if it was the recipe, the cherries or me, but I hated it and so did S.

I wasn't disheartened though and when cherry season finally arrived this year, I couldn't wait to try something different again. I found Greek dark cherries at the market which was a complete surprise and impatient as I always am, I ended up taking more than a kilo home.

I remembered I had bookmarked a cherry sorbet recipe a while back and thought that would be the perfect one to usher in the cherry season with. Let me tell you, it was the Best Cherry Sorbet Ever and when I turned it into a popsicle, it was even more exciting.

The sorbet is not very sweet, has a slight hint of vanilla, is brimming with fresh cherry flavor and is extremely light. I was lucky to have bought the freshest vanilla bean I have ever used and it gave such a beautiful, aromatic dimension to the sorbet that it was unbelievable.

No spoons, no bowls, no trying to find where I put my ice cream scoop only to realize that I had broken it about a month ago while scooping what was supposed to be a milk chocolate ice cream but turned out to be a cement-like concoction.
No, this is pure lickable cherry pleasure.

I must have made this sorbet four times during this brief cherry season, the last one being just a few days ago and we cannot get enough of it.
So, hurry up! Grab the last fresh cherries of the year and make these popsicles.
Satisfaction is guaranteed.

* While I was writing this post I was listening to this song. The title is inspired by it.

Dark Cherry Sorbet Popsicles
Adapted from The Independent

There are three easy steps in preparing this sorbet. The first step is to prepare a vanilla-scented syrup, the second to make a cherry purée and the third to mix the two together. Then you just need to pour the mixture into the shot glasses, put them in the freezer and after a few hours, you have a delicious cherry sorbet.

Don't forget that the taste of the sorbet depends largely if not solely on the quality and ripeness of the cherries. The tastier the cherry, the tastier the sorbet.

You can pass the cherry purée through a sieve to take out all the skins but I love the little flecks of dark cherry skin in the sorbet. They add texture to it and they are flavorful too. Plus all the antioxidants of the fruit are concentrated there.

I used vodka shot glasses for the popsicles but feel free to use any other kind of popsicle mold you have. Don't use oversized glasses or molds because the stick will not be able to hold the weight of the sorbet and the popsicle will probably break when you take it out of the mold.

Yield: about 25 popsicles (50-60 ml each)

Ingredients
1 kg fresh, sweet, dark cherries (I used Greek dark cherries)
400 g sugar
170 ml water
1 vanilla pod, split in half lengthwise
30 ml (2 Tbsp) lemon juice, freshly squeezed

Special equipment: cherry pitter, food processor, 25 vodka shot glasses (50-60 ml capacity), wooden popsicle sticks

Preparation
Put the sugar, water and vanilla pod in a small, heavy-bottomed pan and set it over a low to medium heat. Stir until the sugar has dissolved and turn heat up to medium. Don't stir again at all, otherwise the sugar may crystallize. Simmer for about 5 minutes (or until a candy thermometer registers 107 degrees Celsius).
Remove pan from the heat and let the syrup cool completely.

Wash the cherries well under cold running water, place them on a clean kitchen towel and pat them dry.
Using a cherry pitter, remove the pits, place the cherries in a food processor and purée them until they are smooth. If you don't have a large food processor use a small one and purée the cherries in batches. Place the cherry purée in a large bowl.

Once the syrup has cooled completely, remove and discard the vanilla pod. Pour the syrup over the puréed cherries and add the lemon juice. Stir well with a rubber spatula to combine and pour into the vodka shot glasses or any other popsicle mold you're using. Add the wooden popsicle sticks and put the glasses in the freezer. Allow the sorbet to set. It will take about 2 hours.
Keep in mind that if you're using larger molds, the sorbet will take more time to set.

Alternatively, you can pour it into an ice cream machine and then in a suitable container and into your freezer, thus making simply a sorbet and not pospicles.

Taking out the popsicles from the shot glasses is a piece of cake as long as the sorbet has set properly inside the glass. Run the sides of the shot glass under running water and holding the wooden popsicle stick with your hand, turn and pull the popsicle out of the glass. You might feel some resistance at first but it will come out.

Enjoy!

No napkins, no plates

2011-07-24T22:49:00.016+02:00

The first thing S and I ate after dropping off our luggage at our hotel and venturing out into the city of Paris late last month, was a baguette with butter and ham. Just that. Bread, butter and thick slices of ham. It was perfection.

It reminded me of the sandwiches I used to have as a kid, when my mom would buy from the bakery small bread loaves with sesame seeds on top or whole baguettes, slather them with soft butter and generously fill them with ham, Hungarian salami and Greek kefalograviera cheese.

It was one of those sandwiches that even if you were full after eating one, you desperately wanted another.

And then the other day, I made this beef steak sandwich with Dijon mustard and rocket leaves. And that same thing happened to me again. I couldn't eat just one. No matter how hard I tried to resist, and believe me I tried, I couldn't do anything but give in to its powers.

See, now I have to stop. I have to stop writing. Because every time I sit down to write something about this sandwich or choose the photographs for this post, I get so incredibly hungry that I need to get up, go straight into the kitchen and fix myself a little something to sustain me until I have my proper dinner. This post is ruining my eating schedule.

Anyway, where was I?

Yes. The powers of this sandwich. Listen, this is a pretty straightforward sandwich as all good sandwiches should be and the actual cooking part of the recipe is the grilling of the meat.

Ah, the meat. The cut of meat I chose was entrecôte, a very popular steak in The Netherlands as well as in Greece. It's a premium cut and utterly delicious and since I'm very particular when it comes to red meat—I don't like a lot of fat on it, I hate it when it's tough and sinewy, etc.—it is ideal for my taste.

I also believe that if you choose pour quality meat to put in such a beautifully simple sandwich then the whole thing is ruined. An inferior cut has nowhere to hide here. There are no rich sauces, no fried onions, no fatty cheese to disguise it. There are only rosemary leaves, lemon juice and virgin olive oil that dress the steak and add a great depth of flavor.

As far as bread goes, ciabatta is number one in my book as a choice for a good sandwich. Not too much crumb, wide enough for the filling to spread around nicely and once heated in the oven just until it becomes a little crunchy around the edges but still soft, there's just nothing like it.

Grilled meat juices trickled down my hand and all the way to my elbow as soon as I bit into the sandwich. Mustard dripped all over my chin, falling straight onto my t-shirt. No napkins, no plates.
I'm usually not this messy when I eat. This sandwich brings out the worst in me. Or perhaps, the best.

Entrecôte Steak Sandwich with Dijon Mustard and Rocket Leaves
Inspired by Jamie Oliver

Cutting a thick steak in half lengthwise and then pounding it with a mallet, reduces the grilling time and also makes a steak that's not one of the cheapest of its kind go a long way. You can also use sirloin steak instead of entrecôte, or even rump steak.

You can use a grill or griddle to cook the steak but you can also use a regular skillet (preferably heavy-bottomed)*. The directions for cooking the meat are the same as when you cook it on the grill.

In my previous post, I asked you about your favorite kind of mustard and both here and on the Greek page of my blog, I discovered through your comments some very interesting varieties. So many mustards for me to try. Thank you for all your suggestions! I hope my fridge can handle it.
I have to admit that my all time favorite is Dijon and that's why I'm using it here. Feel free to add your own favorite mustard but make sure it is a strong one; the steak needs it.

Yield: 3 large sandwiches

Ingredients
1 thick, large, boneless entrecôte steak (mine was 280 g with a 2 cm thickness) or sirloin steak or rump boneless beef steak
The leaves from 1 rosemary sprig
1 Tbsp plus 1 tsp virgin olive oil (plus 1 Tbsp for the oiling of the grill/skillet)
1 ½ tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 Tbsp Dijon mustard
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
70 g baby or wild rocket leaves
1 large ciabatta

Special equipment: a grill or griddle (this is the one I use), kitchen mallet

Preparation
Take the steak out of the refrigerator at least 15 minutes before grilling in order to allow it to come to room temperature. Trim most of the fat off the steak and with a big, sharp knife cut it in half lengthwise. Place steaks over a large sheet of plastic wrap, sprinkle them with salt and pepper and add the rosemary leaves on top. Cover them with another large sheet of plastic wrap and, using a mallet, pound them until they become half in thickness. Be careful not to tear them apart or pound them too thin.
Remove the plastic wrap, place steaks on a plate and rub them with 1 Tbsp of olive oil.

Place ciabatta in a preheated oven (about 200 degrees Celsius) for 4-6 minutes until it becomes slightly crispy around the edges.

Rinse the rocket leaves under running water and strain them in a colander.

Oil your grill or griddle with 1 Tbsp of olive oil and heat over high heat. Once it gets very hot (in order to check, you can pour a few drops of water on the grill and if they sizzle it is ready) add the steaks and grill them for 2 minutes on one side and 1 minute on the other. Be careful not to overcook them otherwise they'll become rubbery and lose all their flavor and juices. The cooking time depends of course on your own personal taste.

Remove the steaks from the grill and put them on a plate. Drizzle 1 tsp of olive oil over them and 1 ½ tsp of freshly squeezed lemon juice. Let them rest for 2-3 minutes.

Cut the ciabatta in half lengthwise and spread the Dijon mustard on one piece of the bread. Add the rocket leaves and place the steaks on top. Pour the juices that have accumulated on the plate you rested the steaks on, on top of the steaks. These juices are extremely flavorful. Don't make the mistake of throwing them out!

Cut the ciabatta into three large pieces and enjoy your steak sandwiches!

*If you don't have a grill or griddle and want to cook the steaks in a skillet, you need to pour 1 Tbsp of olive oil into it and heat over high heat. Once the oil starts to shimmer, add the steaks and cook according to the above instructions.

The battle of the mustards

2011-07-20T23:00:00.009+02:00

Have I ever told you how tiny my fridge is? It is tiny. It goes well in my tiny kitchen but it doesn't go well with our huge appetites. This fridge is not my friend.

Every time I buy a (small) watermelon from the market, there is always a battle for space. A battle between the watermelon and everything else that is in my fridge. Eggs, cheese, nuts, butter, vegetables, condiments, milk, the occasional bottle of wine or beer and of course these jars of mustard.

I believe I have more than enough for S and me. I actually think I have more than enough for a small army.

When I was little, I used to open the fridge and eat the mustard straight from the jar with a spoon. Everyone thought I was a child with peculiar tastes. Now those same people think I'm an adult with peculiar tastes.
The only difference is that now, I'm not content with one jar. Now I feel like I need at least ten different kinds of the yellow stuff.

At this moment, in my fridge, there are eleven different jars/bottles of mustard. Jars that are occupying precious refrigerator space.

So let me introduce you to,

the French.
Among the best.

The Dutch.
They do mustard really well here.

The English.
Very strong vinegar flavor. Too potent for me.

The American.
Yellow mustard is a classic but this particular one is not.

And then we have... Winnie the Pooh.
Don't ask.

Oh, and let's not forget these. Because who can live without mustard powder or mustard seeds??

And how about you? Do you have a favorite kind of mustard? C'mon, don't leave me hanging. Please tell me I'm not alone in this mustard-crazed world of mine.

P.S. I'll be back at the end of the week with a recipe including... well, you guessed it, mustard.

Not then, not now, not ever

2011-07-17T22:02:00.013+02:00

The first time I went to France, I was eight years old. It would be the very first time I'd travel outside of Greece and the very first time I'd get on an airplane. I remember feeling so excited about the prospect that I couldn't sleep for days before the trip.

My dad, mom, my brother and I were about to embark on a winter vacation around France with some very close friends of my parents, one of whom was French, and their three kids.

We traveled to Lyon and Grenoble, Rouen and Bordeaux and of course Paris. That was the first time I saw the Eiffel Tower and the Arc de Triomphe, the first time I tasted crème brûlée and tarte tatin aux pommes (with apples) and the first time I spoke French. The eldest daughter of my parents' friends taught me a single phrase and I managed to drive everyone crazy by repeating it again and again.

Even though it's been more than twenty years since that first visit to France, my memories are still incredibly vivid. One of those memories involves a lot of chocolate and a serious tummy ache. I couldn't control myself when it came to chocolate; not then, not now, not ever. And chocolate was again on my mind when S and I visited Paris late last month. Chocolate and our anniversary.

S and I have been together for many years and this anniversary was really special to us. So when he suggested that we take a short trip to Paris in order to celebrate it in style, I jumped for joy. He didn't have to say it twice.

Paris is only a two and a half hour train (Thalys) ride from Rotterdam which in turn is only a half hour train ride from The Hague were we live. It is ridiculously close and we couldn't believe we haven't ventured into France sooner.

Apart from all the wonderful places that we visited during our stay, the sights and sounds of the city that we soaked in, the tantalizing food that we enjoyed, I also could not resist the allure of the patisseries of Paris. Being an obsessive chocoholic, it was only natural.

The most memorable dessert experience was the tasting of a layered, bitter chocolate dessert from Pierre Hermé. S and I decided to share it (big mistake) and in the end we were fighting over the last bite. We couldn't get over how smooth and light its texture was.

Since returning from Paris, I have been yearning for the sinful decadence of chocolate. So what if it's summer and most people go for fruity desserts? This French chocolate tart or tarte au chocolat never ceases to excite me. It's not your ordinary tart though with a crust and a filling. It is a light, moist cake almost like a sponge cake, with a luscious chocolate glaze.

The eggs and sugar are beaten together ferociously until a mousse-like texture is achieved and then the sifted flour is rained and folded in, followed by the melted chocolate. You put the mixture in the oven and once baked, out comes a silky cake that is then covered with a rich chocolate glaze that intensifies its flavor.

This voluptuous tart has an extraordinary flavor and a velvety texture that, dear reader, you must try. It's all that you'll ever want from a chocolate tart and more.

Tarte au Chocolat - French Chocolate Tart
Adapted from Georges Blanc

The most important ingredient of this tart is of course the chocolate. Use good quality chocolate; it will make all the difference.

The dusting of cocoa powder over the chocolate glaze gives a bitter finish (which I love) to the tart, balancing its sweetness. You can omit the cocoa powder, leaving the tart looking all glossy from the chocolate glaze.

Yield: 1 tart/ 8-10 servings

Ingredients
130 g good quality dark 55% chocolate, roughly chopped
100 g butter, unsalted plus extra for buttering the tart pan
4 medium-sized eggs
150 g sugar
50 g all-purpose flour, sifted

for the chocolate glaze
100 g good quality dark 55% chocolate, roughly chopped
80 ml cream, full-fat
20 g butter, unsalted

Dutch-processed cocoa powder for dusting over the tart

Special equipment: sieve, stand or hand-held mixer, fluted tart pan 28 cm in diameter with removable bottom

Preparation
Butter well the bottom and sides of the tart pan.

Melt chocolate and butter in a bowl set over a pan of barely simmering water, stirring often and making sure the chocolate doesn't burn. The bottom of the bowl must not come in contact with the simmering water. Once the mixture is smooth and melted, remove bowl from the top of the pan and set aside to cool.

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the whisk attachment (or in a large bowl and with a hand held mixer), beat the eggs with the sugar on high speed until you have a mixture with a mousse-like texture, that is fluffy and airy. Fold in the sifted flour with a spatula, being careful not to knock all the air out of the mixture. Then fold in the cooled melted chocolate. The batter will become less airy and will deflate a bit but that's normal.

Empty the batter into the buttered tart pan and place it on the middle rack of the preheated oven. Bake for about 20 minutes, until a toothpick or cake tester inserted in the middle of the cake comes out with some dry crumbs attached to it or even clean.

Place the tart pan on a wire rack so the tart can cool slightly and then remove the sides of the pan leaving that tart on its base. Let tart cool completely.

for the chocolate glaze
Meanwhile, prepare the chocolate glaze.
Melt chocolate and butter in a bowl set over a pan of barely simmering water, stirring often and making sure the chocolate doesn't burn. The bottom of the bowl must not come in contact with the simmering water. Once the mixture is smooth and melted, remove bowl from the top of the pan. Heat the heavy cream in a small saucepan and pour it into the melted chocolate. Beat cream well into the chocolate mixture using a spatula.

When the tart has cooled, pour the chocolate glaze over the top and with the help of an offset spatula, spread the glaze around. Allow the glaze to cool off and set before dusting the top of the tart with the cocoa powder.

Keep the tart covered, at room temperature, for 3-4 days.

Paris, je t'adore

2011-07-10T23:28:00.006+02:00

I'm back. I think.
Because even though I'm home, sitting at my desk, in front of my computer, writing these words, I might as well still be in Paris.
Mentally, that's where I still am.

I'm still marveling at the imposing Eiffel Tower,

admiring the grandeur of the Notre Dame,

eating an apple tart with the most flaky, buttery and delicious puff pastry ever made, from the boulangerie of all boulangeries, Poilâne.

I'm still shopping at Mora, getting lost among the rows and rows of shelves filled with pots and pans, wooden spoons of all shapes and sizes and innumerable pastry bag nozzles,

gazing at the Seine, daydreaming about what it would be like if I lived here, in Paris.

I'm still guiltily stuffing my face with 1.5€ macarons from Pierre Hermé while S is going on and on about how overrated they really are.

1.Pistachio, 2.Salted caramel, 3.Passion fruit with milk chocolate filling, 4.Rose, 5.Chocolate

I'm still amazed by the glorious works of art housed in Paris' museums.

I'm still celebrating my anniversary with S while having a glass of wine at a quaint restaurant in Montmartre.

I'm living in the moment.

I'm still frantically changing metros in the chaotic, bustling Parisian underground,

eating a sandwich à la Grecque with feta, cucumber and tomato and wondering how a taste of home, so far away from home, can be so damn good.

I'm still standing on Pont Alexandre III contemplating the beauty of Paris,

dining at an old Parisian restaurant and feeling like I'm transported back to the 1890s when it first opened its doors.

I'm still wandering the streets of Paris, holding hands with my love, not caring where we'll end up.

I'm back. I think.

Escape

2011-06-24T00:58:00.013+02:00

The weather last Saturday was bleak. Dark skies, pouring rain, howling winds. In other words, a typical Dutch summer day. But I had other plans. I wasn't about to give up on my Saturday. I was not going to sit around the house complaining about the horrible weather. No.

View from my kitchen window

I got off my warm, cozy bed, I ate my rich in fiber breakfast and decided to brave the glorious, greener-than-green, Dutch countryside. But first, I had to wake up my sleeping boyfriend. A huge task, not to mention a perilous one, but someone had to do it. I abide by the belief that persistence leads to success so eventually, after a few tries, I managed to wake him up and come out of it unscathed.

This girl right here though, is a bona fide city girl who can't just venture into the wilderness without good reason. It's not easy being exposed to that much clean air and open fields. I need an incentive.
Cheese! Milk! Butter! Eggs! Fresh! Straight from the cow!
Were these enough to convince me?
Oh, yes!

We jumped in our car, delicious cookies in hand (sent to me by Ioanna from Greece), S sat comfortably on the passenger's seat playing dj on the car stereo while I was the designated driver for the day and we headed to a dairy farm just thirty minutes out of The Hague.

Thirty minutes out of The Hague. Thirty minutes out of the city. Thirty minutes away from all the hustle and bustle, you come face to face with this.

And this

And this

This dairy farm, located just 3 kilometres outside the city of Leiden, makes one of the best Leidse cheeses in The Netherlands. Boeren-Leidse met sleutels kaas (P.D.O.) is a farm-made cheese originating from the Leiden region in the province of South Holland that can be recognized by its red-brown coating and the official seal depicting the keys of the city of Leiden on top. It is a semi-firm, low-fat, raw cow's milk cheese made from skimmed milk and the addition of whole cumin seeds and has a creamy, sharp and spicy flavor that is quite unique.

The addition of spices to cheeses is very common in The Netherlands and dates back to the 1600s when the Dutch East India Company controlled the world's spice trade. The Dutch grew accustomed to the taste of spices and their new exciting flavor was quickly incorporated into their local cheeses.

Whenever I look at this photo, I start singing this song

The farm we visited, called "De Keizershof" (The Emperor's Garden), is run by the Van Leeuwen family since the late 1970's. Apart from their Leidse kaas, they are also famous for their Boeren-Roomboter (Farmhouse Dairy Butter), which is a very rich butter, made with the cream that's scooped from the surface of the milk which is used to make cheese. Both this butter and the Leidse cheese are in the Ark of Taste, which is an international catalog of food in danger of extinction that is maintained by the global Slow Food movement.

This is real farmhouse butter and it is delicious. We bought half a kilo (oh yes we did) and the first 250 grams were gone in a matter of a couple of days.
We smeared it on top of a pain rustique,

a whole-wheat bread,

and this Dutch corn bread.

We also wouldn't pass on the opportunity to buy a dozen of freshly laid eggs from the farm hens—who were running around freely and happily making the farm dog crazy (who by the way fell in love with S and followed him around everywhere)—and two liters of raw (unpasteurized) cow's milk.

S asked the farmer whether we should boil the milk before drinking it and another guy waiting to buy his own milk laughed at our ignorance. "This is good for you", he said with a heavy Dutch accent. "Drink it as is".

After we left the beautiful farm, we stopped by another dairy farm nearby that sold freshly churned ice cream. Naturally, I couldn't resist having a taste. It was one of the most flavorful ice creams I have ever had. Incredibly creamy with a subtle milky undertone.

We couldn't wait however to get home. We couldn't wait to try the butter and the eggs and the milk and the cheese we'd bought.

My instinct, as soon as I see eggs, is to fry them, sunny-side-up. It is the way S prefers them as well. And let me tell you, they were unbelievable.

The following day, I started wondering what I could do with all that raw milk besides the obvious and then I saw Deb's (of Smitten Kitchen) recipe for homemade ricotta. I thought I had just hit the jackpot. I prepared it the same day, using just raw milk, no cream, and it came out perfect. I couldn't believe I had made my own cheese. S absolutely loved it.

Yesterday, as I opened the fridge and realized that there are no more fresh eggs, no more raw cow's milk, no more farmhouse butter, I decided that that thirty-minute drive to the country will be one that I'll be taking again and again.

Farm DE KEIZERSHOF
Van Leeuwen Family
Noord Aa 4
2381 LV
Zoeterwoude
The Netherlands

Slow Food Nederland

Inside the pod

2011-06-16T23:31:00.020+02:00

What do you do when you want to post a recipe but you're not in the mood to write anything about it? Do you worry that your readers will take it personally and assume that you're too bored to address them? Will they think that you believe the recipe is boring even though you took the time to post it? Will it diminish the value of the recipe itself if a story is not attached to it? Will anyone care at all because, let's face it, who reads whatever the hell you're writing anyway?

These questions are on my mind lately whenever I sit down to write a post.

Perhaps because I'm not in the best of moods these past few weeks. I've been cranky, sad, gloomy, anxious, angry and many other negative things that I don't care to mention. I have been struggling to post anything, hell, it's been hard to do anything lately. Blogging is perhaps the last thing on my mind.

Ever since my dad passed away four months ago I've been going through the motions.
It seems like I'm doing whatever I have to do to stop myself from thinking too much about... everything.

Even though I have two degrees in Psychology I feel like I need to be reminded of the basics. I need to tell myself that "It will take time"
"I shouldn't force myself to feel a certain way"
"I need to go through this at my own pace"
"I mustn't be reluctant to rely on the people I love"

I have been trying to conquer my nearly constant bad mood in many ways and one of them is by keeping my mind busy with this blog of mine. Yet, it's futile. As soon as I hit "publish", it's me again. With my negative thoughts and feelings.

Food has always managed to put me in a good mood. It still works some days. Others not so much.

Feta drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with dried oregano

S told me the other day as we were eating a bowl of these fresh peas that cooking is the only form of art that has an immediate and tangible outcome and offers instant gratification. I believe he's right.

Cooking; that's the art form I practice every day in my kitchen although I doubt if my everyday culinary creations can be considered art. Yet, this dish can.
The mellow, sweet flavor of the fresh peas, the starchy sweetness of the potatoes, the vibrancy of the dill and green onions make this dish artful in all its simplicity.

Greek Fresh Peas with Potatoes, Green Onions and Dill or "Laderos freskos arakas me patates, freska kremmydakia kai anitho"

This is a classic Greek dish that belongs to the category of "ladera". Ladera means "with oil" or "oily" (ladi is the Greek word for oil) and denotes dishes, specifically vegetable dishes, that are prepared with olive oil and without the addition of any other type of fat.
There are two varieties of ladera: a) vegetables that are braised or baked in an olive oil and tomato sauce and b) vegetables that are braised or baked in an olive oil-based sauce without tomato and with the addition of different fresh herbs.
This dish is of the second variety.

Ladera are a huge part of Greek cuisine and one of the reasons why it is considered among the healthiest in the world. They are peasant-style dishes that rely on the freshness of the ingredients used, they celebrate the importance of vegetables and olive oil in the Greek diet and are consumed all year round, though they are especially flavorful during spring and summer when fresh Greek produce is abundant. They are also the preferred type of dishes to be consumed during periods of fasting, like Lent.

Ladera are always accompanied by big chunks of cheese like feta, manouri or kefalotyri and lots and lots of crusty bread.

I make this dish of peas with potatoes all year round, almost twice a month, using frozen peas (usually petit pois) whenever I can't find fresh ones, that work beautifully in this dish. They require a bit more cooking time though, about 25 minutes more than fresh peas.

Yield: 4 servings

Ingredients
1 kg fresh peas in their pods (after shelling them I ended up with 475 g) or 500 g frozen peas
150 ml virgin olive oil
4-5 potatoes, medium sized (about 600 g total), cut into approximately 3 x 3 cm cubes
8-10 small green onions, white and pale green parts only, thinly sliced
300 ml tap water
30 g (about 1 cup) fresh dill, divided into stems and leaves, finely chopped plus a little extra for sprinkling over the dishes
Salt
Black pepper, freshly ground

Preparation
Rinse the pea pods well under cold running water. Shell the peas and discard the pods, keeping the shelled peas in a bowl. Do not rinse them.

Pour the olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan and heat it over medium heat. Add the green onions and sauté them lightly for 1 minute. Add the chopped dill stems and sauté them for ½ minute. Add the cubed potatoes and sauté them for 2-3 minutes, stirring often. Add the shelled peas (or frozen peas) and stir them around the pan with a wooden spoon so that they get coated with the olive oil. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste, turn heat up to high and let it come to the boil.
Cover the pan with the lid and turn heat down to low. Let peas and potatoes simmer for about 20 minutes (or if using frozen peas about 45 minutes), until they are tender.
Just before they're ready, about 5 minutes before, stir in the rest of the dill (the chopped leaves).
The peas should not be mushy. They should remain crisp and juicy.

Note: do not overcook the peas otherwise they'll lose all their flavor and freshness.

Serve immediately, sprinkling some extra chopped dill on top of each plate.
This dish can also be served at room temperature, as is common with all Greek ladera dishes.

Greek snacking

2011-06-06T00:33:00.040+02:00

I like to snack. No, I love to snack. I'd probably say that there are many times when I prefer it to regular sitting-at-the-table-and-eating-out-of-a-plate kind of thing. Anyone with me on this?

Of course when most people hear the word snack, their minds immediately jump to unhealthy food. Packaged, processed foods like potato chips and cheese puffs. That's not the kind of snacks I'm talking about even though just between you and me, I can't say no to these Greek potato chips with oregano or these chips that I found here in Holland, ever.

A bag of fresh baby carrots, baby roma tomatoes or mini cucumbers, various fruit like cherries and grapes, homemade sandwiches, kritharokouloures and nuts have always been my go-to snacks but nothing, absolutely nothing, beats good homemade Greek pies.

Greek pies come in all kinds of shapes and sizes and they are the quintessence of Greek food. They can have a number of different fillings and the dough can be made with various ingredients and in different ways thus giving each pie a distinctive texture and taste.

Meat, cheese, greens, olives; these are the preferred pie fillings. The main ingredient is usually mixed with herbs like dried oregano, mint, fresh dill or parsley and the amount of filling is always subject to personal preference. The dough that is most used for pies is phyllo but us Greeks also love puff pastry as well as kourou, which is a type of short crust pastry.

Feta cheese is the most popular ingredient for filling any kind of pie and I have to admit, it is one of my personal favorites. Cheese pie or tyropita is sold in every bakery across Greece and it's only rival is another classic pie, spanakopita (spinach pie).

There are as many recipes for pies as there are Greek cooks. Everyone has their own recipe that they swear by and this is mine. Well, my grandmother's to be exact but I don't think she'll mind me sharing it with you. These individual cheese pies (tyropitakia) and meat pies (kreatopitakia) are the taste of home for me. I literally grew up on these.

The melt-in-your-mouth dough is made with Greek strained yoghurt and a generous amount of butter and once baked in the oven, it becomes puffy, flaky and crispy on the edges. The filling of the cheese pie is the glorious Greek feta which is combined with just one egg that allows the tangy, creamy flavor of the cheese to shine through, whereas the filling of the meat pies is lean minced beef that is sautéed in a skillet with onions and finished off with a good sprinkling of chopped fresh dill.

Eaten while sitting in front of the computer, trying to work, write a post or getting lost in pinning inspirations on this site, munched while watching Roland Garros on tv (I'm a huge Nadal fan by the way), nibbled while riding the train back home from work or shared among fellow protesters/indignados in every large city in Greece, these pies are the portable dream snack.

Greek Individual Cheese Pies & Meat Pies or "Tyropitakia & Kreatopitakia"

I like making my individual pies rather substantial. I like a lot of filling. Feel free to make them smaller if you want.

The dough for these pies is a version of the Greek kourou dough, made with yoghurt and butter which is the best version in my opinion. There are other versions that contain margarine, olive oil (like this one) and are made with or without yoghurt.

I always grate the onion in a large box grater for the meat pie filling. This way the onion is less crunchy and gives a different overall texture to the filling. If you can't bother grating the onions, you can whiz them in the food processor until they are almost puréed.

If you don't like the flavor of black sesame seeds use white instead or skip them altogether. I usually sprinkle with sesame seeds just the cheese pies.

Yield: 35 individual pies (17 cheese & 18 meat pies) about 14 cm long and 4 cm wide each

Ingredients

for the dough
800 g self-rising flour
½ tsp sea salt
380 g unsalted butter, softened
480 g Greek strained yoghurt, preferably 2% fat (Total brand is the one I use)

for the cheese filling
300 g feta cheese
1 large egg

for the beef filling
2 large onions, around 370 g total
260 g lean beef, minced
40 ml (a little less than 3 Tbsp) olive oil
20 g (a small bunch) dill, finely chopped
50 ml water
Salt
Black pepper, freshly ground

1 small egg, beaten, for brushing over the pies
3-4 Tbsp black sesame seeds, for sprinkling over the pies

Special equipment: grater with coarse grating surface, large baking trays, baking paper

Preparation

for the dough
In a large bowl, add the flour and salt and stir with a spoon. Add the rest of the ingredients for the dough and knead with your hands until you have a smooth dough that is pliable and somewhat soft but doesn't stick to your hands. Don't overwork the dough because it will tighten up and be tough when you bake the pies.

Shape the dough into a ball and let it rest in the bowl at room temperature for 15 minutes, covered with a clean kitchen towel. If the temperature in your kitchen is very hot, put the dough in the fridge for 10 minutes instead.

for the beef filling
In the meantime, grate the onions using a box grater (coarse grating surface) and add them to a large skillet/frying pan. Add the olive oil and cook over medium heat until the liquid from the onions has evaporated, for about 8 minutes. The onions shouldn't be browned. Add the minced beef and sauté lightly stirring often. Add the freshly ground pepper, chopped dill and water and let beef cook for 10-12 minutes over low heat. Don't put the lid on and make sure to stir regularly. Add salt and take pan off the heat.
The filling should not be very wet otherwise the pies will be soggy.

for the cheese filling
Grate the feta cheese using a box grater (coarse grating surface) and put it in a medium-sized bowl. Break the egg inside the bowl and stir with a spoon until you have a homogenous mixture.

Roll out the dough
Divide the dough into 35 pieces and shape them into balls the size of a small mandarin. Working on a clean surface, take each ball and roll it into a croquette shape (see photographs above).

Note: as far as the dough is prepared and kneaded properly, you will not need to flour it in order to shape it and roll it out. Also, you will not need a rolling pin but just your hands since the dough is pliable.

Take each croquette-shaped dough piece and using your fingertips, press the dough outwards in order to spread it open and create 17 x 9 cm rectangles with a thickness of around 0,4 cm.

Preheat your oven to 175 degrees Celsius.

Prepare the cheese & meat pies
Place the filling along the center of each rectangle lengthwise.
For the cheese pies place 3/4-1 Tbsp of filling and for the meat pies 1-1½ Tbsp of filling on each piece of dough. Don't spread the filling towards the edges of the dough because you'll not be able to seal them properly.
Fold the dough over the filling and pinch the edges together, pressing down to form rolls and tuck the two far edges inwards (see these photographs). Place the pies, seam side down and spacing them well apart because they will puff up during baking, on a baking tray lined with baking paper.
Brush the pies with the beaten egg and sprinkle some with all of them with the sesame seeds.

Place them on the middle rack of the oven and bake them for about 40 minutes, until they take on a golden-brown color.
Take them out of the oven and place them on a wire rack to cool.
Continue baking the rest of the pies.

Eat them the same day, warm or at room temperature. They are equally delicious the next day without the dough becoming soggy and losing its crispy and buttery texture.

Keep them at room temperature, lightly covered with aluminum foil, for a day or two although I highly doubt they'll last that long.