The first mezes

I'm in Greece for the last couple of days and I'm walking on air! I'm home! I always feel so happy when I get the chance to come home in Athens. This time a wedding is the reason for my visit; the wedding of two close friends of mine.
Of course being in Greece automatically means that I have an array of ingredients available to me that I can't wait to use in some yummy recipe. Ingredients that unfortunately I can't find in Holland or that I'm just too lazy to go looking for places that sell them. So naturally, as soon as I got here, I had to cook. And what's a better thing to cook than the thing you're craving the most. From the moment my boyfriend booked our tickets, there was one thing on my mind. Taramosalata. Oh yes, the famous taramosalata. What? You don't know what taramosalata is? Don't fret. I'll explain.






Taramosalata is a Greek mezes. Ok, you don't know what a mezes is either? Let's take it from the beginning then. Mezedes (the plural of mezes) are an assortment of small hot or cold dishes or appetizers, served before a large meal. They can also be served on their own as an accompaniment to alcoholic drinks such as ouzo, raki, tsipouro, or wine. A Greek mezes can consist of meat, fish, olives, legumes, vegetables, cheese, eggs and almost anything you can think of, cooked in many different and interesting ways. For example, a mezes traditionally accompanying ouzo is boiled octopus that is then marinated in vinegar, olive oil and dried oregano. A mezes traditionally accompanying wine is veal or beef cut in small cubes and cooked in a rich dark tomato sauce. Depending on what you're drinking you have the appropriate mezes.





Taramosalata is the ultimate mezes for me. It literally means a salad made with taramas. Taramas is salted and cured carp or the less expensive cod roe which is caviar-like, and I need to tell you that taramosalata is not actually a salad, it's a dip. Well, it's the ultimate dip. It's so unbelievably tasty, it's sinful. It's a supremely delicious, salty, rich, slightly sweet, creamy dip that will make you want to lick the bowl.

Salted and cured carp roe or taramas

The ingredients of taramosalata are so simple it's ridiculous, assuming of course that you have the carp roe. All you need is some stale bread, onions, olive oil and a lemon. Could it be simpler than that? A word about taramas though. There are two types, white and red. White or light pink taramas is the superior of the two, since the red one is the result of the addition of food coloring to the roe. Make sure that you buy the white one.






Although many suggest that taramosalata can be eaten with raw vegetables cut into strips or grilled pita, I strongly suggest that you eat it alongside a rustic loaf of bread. Just that. A big chunk of bread, cut into thick slices and dipped into the taramosalata, or just a load of taramosalata spread generously over the bread. Trust me, that's the way to go!
I made whole-wheat bread with Greek honey to accompany my decadent taramosalata and even though it was my first attempt at making it, it was a complete and huge success. I was jumping for joy. The recipe will come at another time, I promise.












Taramosalata (Greek Dip with Carp Roe, Olive Oil, Lemon Juice, Bread and Onions)

The stale bread is a very important ingredient of the recipe. You must not use pre-sliced bread or white baguettes because they will be very soft once soaked in water. The appropriate bread is a stale rustic loaf that is dense and does not disintegrate or become muddy when soaked.




Yield: 3 cups

Ingredients
70 g white taramas (salted and cured carp or cod roe)
200 g white stale bread, soaked in water
1 medium-sized onion, finely chopped
5 Tbsp olive oil
1 Tbsp lemon juice, freshly squeezed

Special equipment: food processor


Preparation
Place the bread in a large bowl and fill it with tap water so that the water covers the bread. Leave it to soak for 4-5 minutes, then drain it and squeeze it in your hands so that the water comes out. Discard the upper and bottom crust of the bread if the color is too brown because it will discolor the taramosalata.


Place the onion in the food processor and chop it. Then add the bread and taramas and while processing them, add first the lemon juice, dripping it in little by little, and then add the olive oil in the same manner, until the mixture blends well, lemon juice and oil is incorporated, and the mixture becomes smooth and creamy.


Move taramosalata to a serving bowl, drip a little olive oil over it or put a nice big juicy Kalamata olive on top and serve, or keep taramosalata in the refrigerator for later use.

You can store it in an airtight container in the refrigerator for 3-4 days.

The power of a vegetable

Give us Greeks a vegetable, any vegetable, and we're going to transform it, chop it, fry it, stuff it, grill it, bake it, broil it, you name it! We have a real talent for that. Or perhaps we just have access to so many vegetables that we have to do something with them.
When I was little, I hated almost any vegetable I laid my eyes on, let alone put them in my mouth. I didn't even give them a chance. They were too green, too soft, too hard, too bitter (never too sweet mind you), too slimy, too awful smelling, too... anything! I was driving everyone crazy. Little did I know that a couple of decades later, I would be the stronger supporter of vegetables in my family. What? Having a meal without a vegetable being included? Unfathomable! Oh, how times change.






As it happened with eggs, my mother had to find ways to make me eat some vegetables. Camouflage was the name of the game. Vegetables not in plain sight, but artfully covered or mixed with let's say pasta, rice or meat.
The addition of a heavenly minced meat-tomato sauce filling (or better yet topping) and some scrumptious cheese on top, was all little Magda needed to be persuaded to eat a stuffed eggplant, or as we call it in Greek "Melitzanes Papoutsakia", the actual translation of which is "Eggplant little shoes".






This is a recipe well rooted in the hearts and stomachs of every Greek. It is a staple dinner dish enjoyed by the whole family, though still a special one that can be served at a celebratory dinner or a special occasion. Including hearty vegetables, meat, dairy in the form of cheese and of course olive oil, it covers every single food group a person needs to incorporate into his daily diet. And flavor, oh the flavor. It's magnificent. The slight bitterness of the eggplant marries perfectly with the sweetness of the tomato and the earthiness of the onion. The meat lends its precious proteins to the dish, making it both satisfying and substantial, and the melting cheese on top, cascading down the shiny eggplant, gives an extra depth of flavor to the overall dish.






Stuffed eggplant is a versatile dish, since you can either serve it as a main or as a first course dish. Either way, be sure to pair it with a nice bottle of robust red wine, like the excellent Greek wine Amethystos, which is a blend of Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and an ancient Greek variety called Limnio.











Melitzanes Papoutsakia (Greek Stuffed Eggplants with Minced Beef-Tomato Sauce Filling and Kefalotyri Cheese)


Literally every home cook in Greece makes their minced meat-tomato sauce filling in a different way. I suppose it's a matter of taste as well as family tradition. I've played around with enough ingredients myself for this recipe over the years, making this filling different almost every time, but the following recipe is my favorite.
Feel free to experiment yourselves, using your own taste and instinct. Keep in mind though that the more ingredients you add to your sauce, the less room you're leaving for the eggplant to shine as the main ingredient of the dish. Less is more in this case for me.




In Greece, the majority of people eat veal instead of beef, so that would customarily be the minced meat of choice for this dish. But beef works marvellously as well in this recipe, as long as it's a clean, lean cut of beef.

Traditionally, the cheese used in this dish is Kefalotyri, a hard, yellow Greek cheese made from raw goat or sheep's milk that has a slightly salty, mildly acidulous flavor and a sharp aroma. This cheese will bring authenticity to the dish.
Alternatively you can use Pecorino Romano or Parmiggiano Reggiano (Parmesan cheese) and if you're a Dutchie or simply want to try a cheese from the Netherlands, you can use Oude Geitenkaas, an aged goat's cheese which is fantastic.


Yield: 4-5 main course servings or 9-10 first course servings*

Ingredients
5 large eggplants (around 19 cm in length each)
1/3 cup olive oil
1 medium-sized onion, chopped
1 medium-sized garlic clove, sliced
400 g minced veal or beef (from a lean piece of beef)
400 g fresh tomatoes, skinned, seeded and cubed or canned diced tomatoes
2 tsp tomato paste
2 fresh thyme sprigs or 1/8 tsp dried thyme, crumbled
A small pinch of sugar
1/2 cup water
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
130-140 g Kefalotyri cheese, grated


Preparation
Be sure to choose eggplants that are firm, with a vibrant purple color, smooth skin and no disfigurement whatsoever. You also need to buy eggplants of similar size so that they take an equal amount of time to cook.
Wash them well under cold water, cut off their green stems and leaves and cut them in half lengthwise. Prick lightly with a fork the inside of the eggplants.
If you want to take the bitterness out of the eggplants, sprinkle the inside 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.
You can skip this part, and actually I do, because I rarely find eggplants bitter nowadays.

Preheat your oven to 180 degrees Celsius. Place the eggplant halves, skin side down, on a baking pan, sprinkle with a little salt and black pepper (if you have left them salted for an hour then you do not need to salt them again) and put pan on the middle rack of the oven. Bake them for about 45 minutes, until they soften but are not cooked all the way. You don't need them to be overly soft because they're going to bake for another 30-35 minutes.

Meanwhile, start preparing the filling. Heat the olive oil in a medium-sized, heavy-bottomed saucepan, over medium-high heat. Sauté the onions for about 5 minutes, until they become soft and transparent and then add the garlic. Sauté for 1 minute and add the minced beef. Sauté the meat for 4-5 minutes, stirring continuously with a spoon or spatula, until browned. Season with salt and black pepper, add the tomatoes and tomato paste and stir well.
Then add the thyme and sugar and pour the water all over the ingredients. Stir well and let the mixture come to the boil, uncovered. Once it does, cover and cook over low heat for 20 minutes, or until the meat is almost cooked.
While the filling is cooking, you need to keep an eye on it, stirring occasionally, because it might need more water.
Once cooked, the filling should not be dry. It must have an average amount of liquid in it in order to permeate the eggplants and give them extra flavor.

Press the inside of the partially cooked eggplants a little bit with a spoon to create a shallow shell and add the filling on top of the whole eggplant**. Place the baking pan on the middle rack of the oven and bake for 25 minutes at 180 degrees Celsius. Take the pan out of the oven and add a generous amount of grated cheese on top of the filling. Bake for another 10 minutes until the cheese has melted and has taken on a golden color.

Place stuffed eggplants on individual dishes and serve immediately.


*In case you want to make this dish for 2 people, you can buy and cook only two eggplants and use the rest of the beef-tomato sauce the next day, on top of a nice big bowl of spaghetti. Don't forget to grate your favorite cheese on top.

**Variation: At this point you can also add a béchamel sauce on top of the filling, but I usually avoid doing that because the dish becomes too heavy.

What's in a name?

My name is Magda but it could have easily been Rebecca. That's the name my mother wanted to give me when she first found out she was having a baby girl. She preferred though to honor her own mother by naming me after her. Magdalene.
Would my life be different had I been named Rebecca? No, not really, just my initials. Sure, our name is the first thing that defines us, that gives us an identity. "What's your name?" is one of the most common questions a person's being asked his whole life; from an old lady asking a cute little 5-year-old to ones future husband asking on the first encounter.




Having something named after you though is a completely different thing. In my mind, having food being named after you is an amazing thing. And so begins the story of a young, French 18th century peasant girl named Madeleine, or a French 19th century Cordon Bleu pastry chef named Madeleine, or... well, there are many theories regarding the origin of the name of these small cakes named madeleines.
Even though they're not named after me, I've always felt like I can share a bit of their glory because of my name (Magdalene is Madeleine in Greek).





I probably don't have to introduce these remarkable little sponge cakes to most of you. I bet you've eaten them at least once in your lives. But for those of you out there who haven't, let me be the one to familiarize you with them.
These wonderfully tasty sweets are incredibly light and fluffy, like a proper sponge cake should be, and when you effortlessly bite into them you can taste the rich butter and the delicate notes of lemon.




The recipe I adapted called for honey, so I had the chance to use one of the best in the world. Honey from the Greek island of Kefalonia, where I spent ten days of summer bliss last August. This honey is also known as Golden honey, which is wild thyme flavored honey. It really transformed the character of the madeleines, giving them a deeper and more luscious flavor but not making them overly sweet.

Madeleines are traditionally dipped into tea and then savored, but I'm not a tea person so I prefer having them on their own, plain or with a dusting of icing sugar, with homemade marmalade, or even with homemade strawberry syrup and a couple of scoops of vanilla ice cream.









Madeleines with Honey and Lemon
Adapted from Rick Stein's French Odyssey

The recipe for madeleines is very easy but you do need the right equipment for baking them. Their distinctive scallop shape can only be accomplished through the use of a mold/pan with shell- shaped depressions. You can find these molds at any decent cook shop or online stores, and they come in three types: silicone, non stick, or metal. I don't have a preference, but keep in mind that if you use the traditional metal pan, you have to generously butter and flour the molds so that the madeleines don't stick onto them. They tend to be very, very sticky.
There are two different sized molds for madeleines, small and large. I used a large one (cavity size 6.5 cm x 4.5 cm).

Yield: about 30 large madeleines

Ingredients

100 g sugar
3 medium-sized eggs
Zest of 1 large lemon, finely grated
100 g all-purpose flour, sifted, plus extra for dusting the molds
1 tsp baking powder
100 g butter, melted, plus 2 Tbsp butter, softened, for greasing the molds
1/8 tsp salt
1 Tbsp and 1 tsp good quality clear honey
Icing sugar (optional)

Preparation

If you're using a metal pan/mold, brush the cavities with the 2 Tbsp of softened butter and then dust with flour, making sure to tap out the excess. You don't need to do this if you're using non stick or silicone molds.

Sift flour, baking powder and salt into a small bowl and set aside.
Place the 100 g of butter in a small saucepan and melt over medium heat. Once melted, remove from heat and let cool slightly.

Meanwhile preheat the oven to 190 degrees Celsius and start making the batter. Put the sugar and eggs into a large bowl and whisk with a hand-held electric mixer for about 3-5 minutes, until thick and mousse-like. Whisk in the lemon zest and then add the sifted flour, baking powder and salt, a little at a time, folding them in gently with a rubber spatula, until incorporated. Be careful not to deflate the mixture.

Whisk a little of the egg-flour mixture into the cooled, melted butter along with the honey and then pour everything back into the egg-flour mixture. Fold in carefully until everything is incorporated. Place the batter in the refrigerator for 15 minutes to thicken slightly.

Fill each cavity 3/4 full with the batter and bake for 10 minutes, on the middle rack of the oven, until golden and puffed up. If you're using the small madeleine mold then bake for 5-6 minutes. Take pan out of the oven and allow to cool, then remove madeleines carefully from the cavities.

Wash the mold and repeat process to bake the rest of the madeleines.

If you want to dust them with icing sugar, wait until they have cooled completely.

You can store madeleines in an airtight container, at room temperature, for 2-3 days.