The fifth sense

I'm in my living room, sitting in front of my computer. I have a cold, one of those colds that you least expect to get because the past few days have been so sunny, spring was in the air and flowers were blooming and the idea of going out when you've just had a shower and your hair was all wet, was a good idea.






But now, some days later, my nose is running, my throat hurts, my ears are buzzing, I have a slight fever and I can barely keep my eyes open. Outside, the weather seems to be in sync with how I feel. It is raining like it never rains in Holland, with thunders that you rarely hear when you're living in this part of the world. How I miss that sound.






The worse thing of all, apart from the fact that I can hardly speak let alone sing, is that I can barely taste a thing. Not that I have much of an appetite but even my tea is devoid of flavor, even after I've poured in it more than enough of my favorite honey. I'm daydreaming of food that tastes bold and bright and adventurous and new but, alas, I can only eat chicken soup.






I'm one of those people to whom food is not just for survival. I love food with all my heart, and being in this state saddens me. I know it sounds weird but it does and, all I'm dreaming right now, is the food I had a couple of days ago, when I still had all five of my senses, the last thing I cooked and photographed for the blog; hummus.






I love hummus; with the garlic and the chickpeas and the tahini and my own personal touch, the sumac. Oh, it's torturous to have in the fridge and not being able to taste it. Torture, I tell you! But that can't stop me from writing about it or sharing it with you.






So, let me start by setting things straight and by demolishing another false idea about Greek food. Hummus is not Greek. Many people think it is, but we don't usually eat it in Greece, at least not too many people do. It is a Middle Eastern recipe which is also very popular in Cyprus.






I like my hummus thick and creamy, not stodgy. It needs to have some miniscule legume pieces still intact, giving it some added texture; it needs to have a lot of garlic and lemon juice balancing the sweetness of the chickpeas, and a generous amount of that divine sesame paste that is beyond amazing in flavor; it needs to be highly aromatic, taking my senses by storm and not just be another dip you simply dunk your bread in; it needs to be creamy enough to be able to scoop with a piece of pita but thick enough that it doesn't run down the side of my hand.
I hate runny hummus, or runny any dip for that matter.






I know, there are so many recipes for hummus out there, who needs another one, right? Well, I don't care. I love hummus and I need to share this with you now. So, since I can't just go open my fridge and savor my own, please make this for yourselves, and enjoy it for me, will you?










Hummus

If you choose to make the hummus with dried chickpeas, something I always do since it results in a superior-tasting dip, you'll need to start the night before by soaking the chickpeas. I know it sounds like extra work, but seriously, it is worth it. Of course, using canned chickpeas is easier and you can be more spontaneous, preparing it whenever you feel like it. Your choice, really. Below, I include instructions for both.

It's the perfect mezes to accompany either meat or fish. Serve it with fresh baked pita or plain bread, or an array of fresh seasonal vegetables.

You can halve the recipe if you want a smaller yield.






Yield: around 1 ½ kg hummus, enough for many people

Ingredients
500 g dried chickpeas (that'll yield around 1 kg cooked chickpeas), or 1 kg canned chickpeas
1 tsp baking soda
4 medium-sized garlic cloves, peeled and roughly chopped
160 ml tahini, stirred well
160 ml lemon juice (from 3 lemons), freshly squeezed
200 ml liquid from the cooked chickpeas
130 ml extra virgin olive oil, plus a little for drizzling on top
½ tsp salt
Sumac, for sprinkling on top

Special equipment: colander, large food processor or blender


Preparation

if using dried chickpeas
The night before, put the dried chickpeas in a large bowl, add the baking soda and 2 liters of water. Stir with a spoon and leave the chickpeas to soak overnight. They need 12-14 hours of soaking.

The next day, empty the chickpeas into a colander and rinse them well under cold running water. Place them in a large pot and add 2 liters of tap water. Bring to the boil over high heat. You will notice that once the water starts to boil, the chickpeas will start to create a white foam that will come up to the surface of the water. Remove the foam with a large spoon and drain the chickpeas in a colander. Return the chickpeas in the pot and add 2 liters of boiling water. Bring them to the boil over high heat, then turn heat down to low and cook chickpeas for 20-30 minutes, or until they soften. Not all chickpeas are the same so you need to keep an eye on them. You want them to be tender but not mushy. One way to check doneness, apart from simply tasting one of the chickpeas, is by pressing one with your finger; if it breaks easily, it is ready, if not, you need to cook them for a while longer. The chickpeas must not be tough otherwise your hummus will be grainy.


When the chickpeas are cooked, reserve 300 ml of the cooking liquid (you'll need 200 ml but you might need more) and drain them in a colander. Allow them to cool before continuing with the preparation of the hummus.

if using canned chickpeas
Make sure you keep the liquid when you open the can of chickpeas. Measure it and add enough water to reach 200 ml of liquid.

make the hummus
In the food processor or blender, add the drained, cool chickpeas (or the canned chickpeas) and then add the chopped garlic cloves, the tahini, the lemon juice, 200 ml of the cooking liquid (or the canned chickpeas-liquid along with the water), the olive oil and the salt.


Process until smooth and check the seasoning, adding more salt if needed. Check the texture of the hummus. If it is too thick, add a little more cooking liquid or water to thin it out.

Transfer as much as you want into a serving bowl, drizzle some olive oil on top and sprinkle with a little sumac.

You can keep it in the refrigerator, in an airtight container, for up to 5 days. Take it out of the fridge half an hour before serving and stir it very well with a spoon or spatula to make it creamy and to fluff it up.

The best things in life are free... and easy

Sunday, noon.

Two hungry people.

Fresh bread from our neighborhood bakery.

Fresh baby spinach in the fridge, fresh broccolini, lots of feta, and just a small piece of Parmesan.






When hunger strikes, creativity ensues.

Quick lunch, inspired by the Greek spanakopita (for which a recipe is coming really soon, I promise).

Tartines aka open-faced sandwiches.

Spinach, feta, dill, spring onion.

Broccolini, parmesan, black pepper.

Greek extra virgin olive oil poured over both.






Sunday, afternoon.

Two full, utterly satisfied and very happy people.










Spinach and Feta Tartines

You can use wild instead of baby spinach but I would advise you to use just the leaves and to blanch them, as they tend to be a little tough.
Use any kind of fresh bread you have on hand but please don't use white sliced sandwich bread.
I used white sourdough and multigrain bread.






Yield: enough for 2 people

Ingredients
2 large and thick slices of country bread
A couple of handfuls of baby spinach leaves
1 spring onion, sliced
A handful of dill leaves, chopped
Feta cheese, crumbled
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil


Preparation
Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius.
Place the bread slices on a baking sheet and place it on the middle rack of the oven. Toast the bread for about 7 minutes until it becomes crunchy.

Rinse the spinach under cold running water and pat it dry with some paper towels.
Arrange the spinach leaves on top of the toasted bread.

Mix together the sliced spring onion, the chopped dill and the crumbed feta, and place the mixture over the spinach.
Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper and drizzle some olive oil on top.









Broccolini and Parmesan Tartines

Broccolini (or bimi in Dutch) is extremely popular in The Netherlands and is swiftly becoming one of my favorite spring vegetables. If your broccolini is very delicate and tender, you don't need to blanch it like I did.
You can substitute with purple sprouting broccoli (scheutjesbroccoli in Dutch).






Yield: enough for 2 people

Ingredients
2 large and thick slices of country bread
8-10 broccolini, trimmed
Parmesan cheese, shaved
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Extra-virgin olive oil


Preparation
Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius.
Place the bread slices on a baking sheet and place it on the middle rack of the oven. Toast the bread for about 7 minutes until it becomes crunchy.

Fill a medium-sized saucepan with water by 2/3, and bring it to the boil over high heat. Rinse the broccolini under cold running water and drop them in the boiling water. Blanch them for 2-3 minutes, empty them in a colander and rinse them under cold running water. Pat them dry with some paper towels.

Arrange the broccolini on top of the toasted bread and sprinkle with a little salt. Place the shaved Parmesan on top, sprinkle with a little black pepper and drizzle with olive oil.

The remains of the day

What I love about Greek tsoureki, besides it being the most delicious sweet bread there is, is all the things I can do with it.






The simplest thing to do is slather it with a decent, or better yet obscene amount of butter and my favorite jam, which is and will always be strawberry.




Make French toast, of course, where all you need to do is dip your stale tsoureki slices in a mix of eggs and milk, fry them in butter, pour honey all over them and finish them off with a good sprinkling of cinnamon.






And then there's this dish. The tsoureki bread and butter pudding; the ultimate option.
I have to be honest. This dessert is all very new to me. It's not typical in Greek cuisine and certainly not something my grandmother would make the day after Easter but, when I gave it a try, I just couldn't believe how incredible it was.






You take your stale tsoureki, still fragrant and full of promise, you slice it and arrange it on a well-buttered baking dish. You prepare a rich custard, eight egg yolks mind you, you pour it all over the tsoureki and you top the whole thing off with fresh strawberries, dried currants and demerara sugar.






I guarantee your mouth will water even before the dish is out of the oven. The intoxicating aromas of the vanilla, the strawberries and the mahlepi in the tsoureki will penetrate your nostrils and you'll be filled with anticipation for what you're about to taste. And once you do, you will certainly be amazed.






Amazed by the luscious texture and flavor of the tsoureki, the juiciness of the sweet strawberries, the soft and gooey bottom of the pudding and the beautifully crusty, caramelized top. You'll want to eat more than you can handle which is only natural but you'll have to control yourself. It's a rich dessert, I don't want you to regret it afterwards. Then again, well, we only live once, right?












Tsoureki Bread and Butter Pudding with Strawberries, Vanilla and Currants
Adapted from Donna Hay

My Politiko tsoureki is ideal for bread and butter pudding simply because it ages well. It retains its structure when it gets stale and has a well-browned crust and robust crumb.
You can substitute of course with other types of sweet bread like brioche or challah.

Instead of vanilla extract, I used vanilla bean paste which is my new find. What an amazing flavor it has! If you haven't tasted it before, the time is now. Buy a jar, you won't regret it. It is vanilla flavor x 2.

I love using demerara sugar (like in this dessert) because it has such a deep flavor but you can also use caster sugar.






Yield: 8-10 servings

Ingredients
30 g unsalted butter
15-17 slices of stale tsoureki (or any other sweet bread)
620 ml cream, 35% fat
500 ml fresh, whole milk
8 medium-sized egg yolks
110 g caster sugar
2 tsp vanilla bean paste or extract
600 g fresh strawberries, hulled and cut in half lengthwise
40 g dried currants (I used Black Corinth)
20 g demerara sugar (or caster sugar), for sprinkling over the top before baking

A little caster sugar for sprinkling over the top after baking

Special equipment: large baking dish with a 2-2.5 liter capacity


Preparation
Grease the baking dish well with the butter. Arrange the tsoureki slices in the baking dish in such a way so that one slice leans on the other.

In a large saucepan, add the cream and milk and stir to combine. Heat over medium-high heat until it starts to steam. Remove from the heat and allow to cool slightly. You need it to be warm and not hot.

In a large bowl, add the egg yolks, the caster sugar and the vanilla bean paste or extract and whisk until well combined.


Preheat your oven to 200 degrees Celsius.

Pour the warm cream mixture in the egg mixture very slowly, whisking quickly and continuously, being careful not to scramble your eggs. Pour the custard over the tsoureki slices, making sure you pour it over every single slice and not in the middle of the dish.
Add the currants and the sliced strawberries on top. Sprinkle with the demerara (or caster) sugar and place the baking dish on the middle rack of the oven.
Bake for 20-25 minutes or until the top has taken on a golden brown color.


Remove the baking dish from the oven and allow the pudding to cool slightly. Sprinkle the top with a little caster sugar, serve it in individual plates and eat it while it's warm from the oven.
I also like it the following day, at room temperature, but I wouldn't advise you to keep it longer than one day.

Eggs, eggs, eggs

Today was the second day of Easter and my fridge was full of eggs. I had no idea what to do with them.






I'm not a fan of eggs. They're not my favorite food in the world, to say the least. Especially hard-boiled eggs.






The only way I can bring myself to eat a hard-boiled egg is if I camouflage it. Take the egg yolk out of the egg white, mix it with a number of delicious ingredients and then spoon it back in. Now, that I can handle.






I know, I'm difficult. But this is not. These deviled eggs with avocado, crème fraîche and salmon roe are simply delicious.
I was a happy little picky eater today.






So, dear reader, if you have some Easter (or other) eggs on hand, give this a try.

See you very soon!






P.S. I think I ate too many of these. I should've known better.
Be warned. They're addictive.










Deviled Eggs with Avocado, Crème Fraîche and Salmon Roe

The combination of the egg yolk, the avocado and the crème fraîche is extremely pleasing to the palate, and the gentle saltiness of the salmon roe on top works really well against the dull richness of the egg.

Needless to say, these eggs are perfect for a dinner party, served as an appetizer or amuse bouche. There, I said it.

Make these just prior to serving because once you cut the avocado, it tends to darken after a while. If you want to make these ahead, see note at the end of the recipe.

You can use herring roe in place of the salmon roe but the latter has a superior flavor.






Yield: 14 deviled eggs

Ingredients
7 medium-sized, hard-boiled eggs
1 small, ripe avocado (about 200 g), flesh scooped out and roughly chopped
3 ½ Tbsp crème fraîche
1 Tbsp lemon or lime juice, freshly squeezed
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1-1 ½ Tbsp salmon roe

Preparation
Peel the eggs and cut them in half lengthwise using a sharp knife (not serrated). Remove the egg yolks gently with the help of a teaspoon and place them into a medium-sized bowl. Add the roughly chopped avocado and mash together with a fork. Don't mash them completely but leave some bits of yolk and avocado to add texture to the dish.
Add the lemon or lime juice and a little sea salt and pepper to taste and mix well with the fork. Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary.


Take each egg white half and, using a teaspoon (or even a piping bag if you're comfortable using it), fill them with the egg yolk mixture. Top each egg half with the salmon roe and arrange the deviled eggs on a platter.

Serve immediately.

Note: If you want to make these ahead, prepare the egg yolk mixture without adding the avocado and place it in the fridge, covered with plastic wrap. Keep the egg white halves refrigerated and covered with plastic wrap as well. Just before serving, mash the avocado, add it to the egg yolk mixture and mix everything together with a fork.

A red granita

I said this again about two weeks ago, I'm not giving up on citrus fruit yet.
When I went to my greengrocer's the other day, I found the most amazing blood oranges looking up at me from one of the stalls, begging me to take them home. It was futile trying to resist them. Of course I ended up with a bagful of them.






On my way home, I was daydreaming of juicing them into ruby-red liquid nectar but then the image switched to that of a luscious green salad dressed with scarlet-colored orange segments. What I actually ended up making, was something totally different and unexpected. A blood orange granita with juniper berries and Dutch jenever.






The recipe I followed called for gin, but living in the country that gave birth to gin or more accurately, jenever, which was later taken by the English and turned into gin, I couldn't use anything less than the original and iconic alcoholic spirit.






Jenever (pronounced jeh-nay-fer) is by far better than its English counterpart and even though I'm by no means an expert in alcoholic drinks, a single try was enough to convince me of its superiority. There are two types of jenever, oude (old) and jonge (young), yet this distinction has nothing to do with the age of the spirit but rather the process of its distillation.






Jonge jenever is the mildest-tasting of the two. It has a dry, neutral flavor, reminiscent of vodka or the Greek tsipouro, and it's clear-colored, much like gin, whereas oude jenever is caramel-colored and more aromatic. It has a robust, malty, sweet and full flavor, and taste-wise, bears a similarity to whiskey. Both these types of jenever are made with the addition of juniper berries, which give it its unique flavor, and actually jenever means juniper in Dutch.






I'm not very much accustomed to using juniper berries in my cooking as they're not common in Greek cuisine but ever since I came to Holland, I discovered their unique qualities and they swiftly became a staple in my spice rack. I have used them with venison and in marinades for pork and beef—their pungent and piney aroma and taste complement game and red meat well—, but this was the first time I was using them in a dessert, and a granita at that.






The blue-black dried berries manage to give such an earthy quality to the zingy citrus-based granita, that it is quite remarkable. The blood orange, with its bright color and even brighter flavor, the gently spiced sugar syrup and the addition of jenever, make this granita refreshing, rejuvenating, slightly boozy and not too sweet. The ideal palate cleanser after all the meat consumed at the Easter table, don't you think?










Blood Orange Granita with Juniper Berries and Dutch Jenever
Adapted from The Wall Street Journal

The original recipe calls for gin but I opted for jonge jenever. Don't use oude jenever because it has a different taste.

In Greece, you can buy dried juniper berries at spice stores. In Holland, you can find them in every super-market.

To make this suitable for kids, omit the jenever/gin from the recipe.






Yield: 6-8 servings

Ingredients
1 tsp dried juniper berries (15-17 berries)
230 ml water
115 g caster sugar
470 ml blood orange juice, freshly squeezed
45 ml Dutch jonge jenever (or gin)

Special equipment: mortar and pestle or rolling pin, sieve, shallow baking tray or dish 33 x 24 cm in size (approximately)


Preparation
Crush the juniper berries in a mortar and pestle or with a rolling pin. Place them in a small, heavy-bottomed saucepan along with the water and caster sugar. Set saucepan over medium-high heat and stir the sugar until it dissolves. Bring to the boil, turn heat down to low and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and let juniper berries steep until the syrup has cooled completely.


In the meantime, squeeze the blood oranges and pour the juice into a medium-sized bowl. Pass the cool syrup through a sieve and into the blood orange juice. Discard the juniper berries.
Add the jenever or gin and stir well with a spatula.


Pour the mixture into a large, shallow baking dish or tray, large enough that the liquid isn't more than 3-4 cm deep. I used a 33 x 24 cm tray and it worked well. If you use a smaller tray, the granita will take a very long time to freeze, which is not good.
Place the tray in the freezer for 1 hour, until the liquid turns slushy. Take it out of the freezer and scrape the granita with a fork, breaking up the ice, and put it again in the freezer. Repeat the same process every hour, until the granita is completely frozen. This will take about 4 hours, depending on how strong your freezer is.


Scrape the frozen granita with one or two forks and scoop it into bowls or glasses, chilled if you want. Serve immediately.

The granita will keep in the freezer for many days, as long as it is covered well with cling film. Naturally, the first few days, it's at its best.






Happy Easter to everyone who is celebrating today! For us Greeks, Easter Week starts tomorrow and Easter is next Sunday!