Recipe: Kale Galette with Yogurt Crust (Χορτόπιτα με Φύλλο Γιαουρτιού)

A few days ago we left Athens on a sunny 80°F day, warm enough to welcome airport air-conditioning. Thirty-six hours later, back in Anchorage, the sun still shone, but the temperature was only 40°F. A chill north wind cut through the lightweight clothing I’d donned on another continent.

When we arrived home, the first order of business was inspecting the garden. We’d heard there’d been a killing frost in Anchorage, so expected the worst. Zucchini, peas, Swiss chard, and most lettuce had been taken out by the cold. Broccoli and cauliflower had gone to seed. Cabbages were perfect and ready to harvest, as were arugula, garlic, onion, herbs, and a small second planting of Lau’s pointed leaf lettuce that inexplicably was unaffected by frost.

The garden’s best producer this year was Tuscan/Lacinato/dinosaur kale. The blue-green strappy kale leaves are lush and healthy despite nighttime temperatures well below freezing. Its perfect condition is remarkable; nearly every other garden plant was plagued by a horde of slugs brought forth by this year’s record-breaking rainy summer.

Having a kale glut seemed like the perfect opportunity to try Ayse Gilbert’s sour cream crust recipe. I used Greek yogurt, an ingredient I always have on hand, rather than sour cream. The dough mixed up easily and was a pleasure to roll out. This is a good crust recipe for beginners; it’s much easier to work with than standard pie crust dough.

With the tangy crust, I wanted a little sweetness to complement kale’s earthy flavor, so included dried currants and lightly sautéed onions in the filling mix. Feta always goes well with greens and I’d just brought some back from Greece that’d been mauled by a customs agent (don’t get me started) and needed to be used right away. So feta went in the mix, along with some garlic and Aleppo pepper.

The filling was well-balanced and its flavors worked well with the deliciously crunchy, flaky crust. Best of all, my friends liked it, the true measure of a recipe’s success.

Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska has moved as of March 2011. To read this post please go to


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Rabbit Recipes: Litsa's Rabbit and Onions & Froso's Wine-Marinated Rabbit with Onions and Potatoes (Κουνέλι της Λίτσας & Κουνέλι της Φρόσω)

In Greece, our village’s economy depends on wheat and barley farming. In the last 10 years, rabbit populations have spun out of control, ravaging newly sprouted fields, and destroying entire seasons worth of crops. As a result, local hunters work diligently to keep the rabbit population in check, sharing their bounty with fellow villagers.

In September, rabbit is common village fare. Last week, two of my friends, excellent village cooks, served braised rabbit for dinner, but cooked it different ways. I decided to try both their recipes. Both were delicious; I’ll make each recipe again.

Litsa’s Rabbit and Onions (Κουνέλι με Κρεμμύδια της Λίτσας)
Serves 4
The sweetness of onions and Litsa’s light spicing combine with wine and meat juices to form a wonderfully flavorful sauce for rabbit. Our guests were sucking bones, licking fingers, and cleaning plates with bread to capture every bit of the delicious sauce. Chicken may be substituted for rabbit.

Froso’s Wine-Marinated Rabbit with Onions and Potatoes (Κουνέλι Μαριναρισμένο σε Κρασί με Κρεμμύδια και Πατάτες της Φρόσω)
Serves 4
Froso’s deeper, richer spicing gives a more sophisticated, slightly Middle Eastern edge to rabbit’s simple clean taste. Taking bites of meltingly soft onions and rabbit together elicited sighs of pleasure from diners, who smashed the potatoes into sauce to maximize flavor. By using only a small piece of cinnamon, Froso prevents its flavor from dominating the rabbit. Froso says marinating rabbit for 2 days is best, however, 24 hours is sufficient. Use slightly waxy potatoes like Yukon golds or red potatoes, not Russets or baking potatoes which tend to fall apart when braised with meat. The small onions used in this recipe should be about 1 1/2” in diameter, nor pearl onions. Chicken may be substituted for the rabbit, in which case, marinate the chicken for 12-24 hours.


Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska has moved as of March 2011. To read this post please go to


http://www.laurieconstantino.com/two-simple-recipes-for-cooking-rabbit/


Please click on over and visit my new site. Thank you!

A 2 Part Tale of 2 Plants in 2 Countries with 2 Recipes: Purslane-Tomato Salad (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με Γλιστρίδα) and Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad/Salsa (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με «Άγριο Σέλινο»)

Introduction

In Greece, friends and relatives are endlessly curious about Alaska. We’re quizzed about daylight, animal life, cost of living, how many thousand miles we live from family. Every exotic Alaskan detail is examined and catalogued.

Back in Alaska, a vast land peopled largely by recent transplants, we describe life on a Greek island in a small village filled with relatives (family roots on the island go beyond reach of transmitted memory). We divert Alaskans with stories of family intrigues, open-handed generosity, and island bureaucratic snafus.

Greece and Alaska could not be more different. Yet, in both places, I shop for groceries, forage for wild edibles, and cook with abandon.

A friend of mine recently asked whether a dish cooked in a Greek kitchen tastes the same when made in Alaska. The simple answer: no.  The same recipe tastes different in Greece and Alaska because the ingredients aren’t the same in the two places.

For example: Greek tomatoes have more flavor, as do Alaska spinach and lettuce. Wild greens available in Greece don’t grow in Alaska and vice versa. American and Greek flour, butter, and eggs all bake up differently. Similar differences are found with virtually every ingredient. In both countries, I use the same basic recipes, but the results always vary, sometimes slightly, sometimes significantly.

No matter where one cooks, the key to a good result is tasting what you are making as you are make it. No one should ever blindly follow a recipe (even mine), no matter how trusted the source. The flavors of vegetables, herbs, spices, meats, cheese, fruits, you name it, all change subtly from purchase to purchase and day to day. The only way to compensate for these changes, and to generally adjust a recipe to please your palate, is to taste.

Two articles with recipes follow that illustrate this point. Part One was written in Greece last summer. It’s about purslane, Portulaca oleracea, a weed growing rampant in much of the world (including North America, but not Alaska). I combined the purslane with tomato to make a cooling salad.

Part Two is about a recent gathering expedition for beach lovage, Ligusticum scoticum, in Alaska. Using the Greek Purslane-Tomato Salad as the starting point, I tweaked the flavors to accommodate my Alaskan ingredients.  I served Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad with grilled king salmon; loaves’ herby freshness and the salad’s tart dressing nicely complimented king salmon’s richness.

Part One: Purslane-Tomato Salad in Greece

For years, our yard in Greece was a wasteland of weeds.  Every year on arrival we whacked down the tangle and borrowed a truck to haul away several loads of debris.

Our messy yard contrasted sharply with the carefully tended gardens of family, friends, and neighbors. Cousin Effie has an especially green thumb.  Most of her yard is paved over, but her narrow strip garden holds an impressive collection of flowering plants.

A couple years ago, Effie was sighing over her lack of a vegetable garden.  Since she lives only a few blocks away, and we are in Alaska for most of the year, we suggested she use our yard.

Now, when we arrive in Greece, we open the gate to a healthy, green garden, both decorative and edible, instead of a jungle. We planted roses and a bottle brush tree.  Effie and cousin Tzani have surrounded them with smaller, flowering plants. Blue jasmine from Tzani and a sweet-smelling white-flowered vine climbs the neighbor’s wall. What were tiny rosemary starts are now bushes.

This year the vegetable garden includes eggplant, okra, green beans, summer squash, tomatoes, mint, and celery.  The eggplants are heavily laden with fruit.  We pick them only when it’s time to cook (or gift eggplants); their texture and flavor are dramatically better than any supermarket eggplant available in Alaska.

While in the village, we take over weeding and watering the garden.  This year, purslane and crab grass were the most dominant weeds. While crab grass is purely an annoyance, purslane makes a tasty edible green.

Purslane has been used in Greece throughout recorded history.  Hippocrates, Galenus, and Dioscurides documented its many medicinal uses.  In the kitchen, it’s used raw in salads, mixed with yogurt, added to soups, served with meat or fish, and pickled for winter salad.

In Greece, purslane is best harvested by June or July, at which time both stem and leaves can be used. In September, stems are too tough to eat, but leaves still taste great.

This year, our first day back on the island, we drove to the main town to shop for basics. The day was a scorcher; we returned home hot and tired.  I wasn’t in the mood to cook and, after a day spent under the relentless Greek sun (at least to an Alaskan), didn’t want to eat more than a salad.

While I cut vegetables, Steve collected a colander full of purslane from the garden. Its succulent, slightly sour leaves, combined with sweet tomatoes and tart lemon juice, made a refreshing salad, perfect for a hot day.

Purslane-Tomato Salad (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με Γλιστρίδα)

Serves 2 – 4

If you don’t have fresh purslane, see the recipe below for Beach Lovage Salad and follow the recommended substitutions there for a fresh, cooling summer salad.

Dressing:

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Salad:

1 1/2 cups diced tomatoes, 1/2” dice

1 1/2 cups cleaned purslane leaves

3/4 cup diced cucumbers, 1/2” dice

3/4 cup diced red onions, 1/2” dice

1/4 cup minced fresh parsley

1 Tbsp. minced fresh mint

Make the dressing: Whisk the olive oil into the lemon juice. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Make the salad: Toss all the ingredients together. Drizzle with the dressing and toss again. (You may not need all the dressing.) Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed.

Beach Lovage and Chocolate Lilies

Part Two: Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad in Alaska

Nearing the spring equinox, by June’s second week Anchorage was enjoying almost 20 hours of daylight. Winter doldrums were a distant memory; the whole town was in a good mood.

Sunday we woke early. Sun streamed in the window, warming our faces. The sky was clear bright blue. Staying in bed wasn’t possible. We headed out to find a beach where we could harvest wild plants.

After making the circuit of possible foraging sites, we finally came across a field of beach lovage (Ligusticum scoticum).  Also known as Scotch lovage, sea lovage, wild celery, and petrushki, beach lovage grows on sandy beaches along the coasts of Alaska, Canada, and the Northeastern United States.

Beach lovage is easy to identify with its three-lobed leaflets and smooth, reddish-purple stem.  It’s best harvested before flowering.

One caution: Beach lovage is in the Umbelliferae family and its flowers are similar to those of relatives like carrots, parsley, and dill. However, water hemlock, a poisonous plant is also in the Umbelliferae family, and has similar flowers but very different leaves. As with all wild foraging, be certain you know what you’re gathering and be sure to follow the forager’s primary rule: “when in doubt, throw it out.”

The flavor of fresh beach lovage is unique and wonderful. The closest approximation would be to mix celery, parsley, and a little lemon zest, but there is still a missing flavor, the hint of wild bitterness that makes beach lovage special.

Although the flavors of purslane and beach lovage are not at all the same, both have a tart freshness that can't be purchased in a supermarket. As I tossed about ideas for using the beach lovage, I kept thinking about the Purslane-Tomato Salad we'd had last summer. With that in mind, I started mixing and tasting, adding cucumbers, then more mint, then more lemon juice, a little of each at a time, until the balance of flavors was correct for beach lovage - and for our palates.

In the last two weeks, I’ve used beach lovage in a risotto that was devoured by guests, a lovely topping for pan-fried halibut, and delicious halibut cakes.  The best way I served beach lovage was in the modified version of my Greek Purslane-Tomato Salad.

Beach Lovage-Tomato Salad/Salsa (Ντομάτα Σαλάτα με «Άγριο Σέλινο»)

Serves 4 as a salad, or 8 as salsa for serving with fish

If you don’t have beach lovage, substitute 1/4 cup minced parsley, 1/4 cup minced celery leaves, and 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest (or 3 Tbsp. minced parsley, 1 Tbsp. minced lovage, and 1/2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest).

Dressing:

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Salad:

1 1/2 cups diced tomatoes, 1/2” dice

1 1/2 cups diced cucumbers, 1/2” dice

3/4 cup diced red onions, 1/2” dice

1/2 cup minced fresh beach lovage leaves

3 Tbsp. minced fresh mint

Make the dressing: Whisk the olive oil into the lemon juice. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Make the salad: Toss all the ingredients together. Drizzle with the dressing and toss again. (You may not need all the dressing.) Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed. 

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This post is included in Weekend Herb Blogging compiled by Chris from Mele Cotte.

Recipe: Spinach Saganaki (Σπανάκι Σαγανάκι)

Fresh garden greens started trickling into Anchorage farmers’ markets this morning. In two weeks, the trickle will turn into a flood. Greens of all kinds thrive in our cool maritime climate.

Though cultivated greens are only now appearing, we’ve been eating wild greens for the past month. As soon as the snow melted, dandelion greens insistently pushed their way through the saturated earth and were ready to be harvested.  Fireweed shoots, devil’s club, and nettles; chickweed, dock, lamb’s quarters, and shepherd’s purse; all end up in the pot. (For tips on harvesting wild plants, go here.)

Until my husband and I first lived in Greece (1987), eating wild plants never once crossed my mind. I grew up in a family where picky eating was an art form. My father didn’t eat cheese, yogurt, or sour cream. My mother didn’t eat lamb, broccoli, cauliflower, cucumbers, squash, green pepper, and so many other foods I could never keep track.  If my parents didn’t eat it, neither did we.  Plus I had my own food quirks; raw tomatoes didn’t pass my lips until I was 24.

So wild greens? Not likely. It wasn’t just my family; the concept of eating wild greens didn’t remotely exist in the small Pacific Northwest town in which we were raised.  In our world, food came from the grocery store. Food could also come from the garden, but only from seeds that were planted and carefully tended. For wild food, we only knew berries, seafood, and dead animals. 

When  the first rains came the autumn of our arrival in Greece, there was a palpable sense of excitement in the village.  Once the rain stopped, half the village took to the fields, quickly gathering the emerging flush of snails. Over the next week, the dirt roads surrounding the village became peppered with the bent-over backsides of black-clad women, systematically working their way through the fields, gathering an abundance of fresh wild greens.

Though my Greek was limited in those days, I learned by example which greens were tastiest, how to harvest them, and how to clean them. I learned a mixture of different greens cooked together tastes better than a single variety cooked on its own.  I learned to love and crave greens of all kinds, wild and domesticated.  Most importantly, foraging became a permanent, enriching part of our lives.

These days, we eat greens several times a week, and I regularly post recipes using them.

For the past year, my favorite greens recipe has been Spinach Saganaki, based on a dish we had at Tzitzikas and Mermigas (Τζίτζικας και Μέρμηγκας), a restaurant on Mitropoleos Street, just off Syntagma Square, in downtown Athens. (A tasty place to eat on a shady street, particularly if you’re carrying a heavy load of way too many cookbooks; but that’s another story.) I’ve made the dish with a wide range of different greens, alone and combined, including spinach, Swiss chard, kale, amaranth, nettles, and dandelions; every version has been a success.

Two notes about the name:

1) I like calling it Spinach Saganaki only because it translates in Greek to the perfectly alliterative “Spanaki Saganaki.” Ignore the name and don’t limit yourself to making it with spinach; the dish is delicious with all kinds of greens. 

2) I recently described this dish to someone who asked why it had “saganaki” in the name since it didn’t include flaming cheese.  In Greek, “saganaki” is a small two-handled frying-pan, and gives its name to a range of dishes that are traditionally served in the pan, including shrimp saganaki, mussels saganaki, and cheese saganaki. As for setting cheese saganaki on fire, I’ve seen it done in Greece rarely, though it’s common in the US. I can’t explain the difference.

Spinach Saganaki (Σπανάκι Σαγανάκι)

Serves 4 as vegetable or 8 as part of appetizer spread (mezedes/μεζέδες)

Inspired by Βλητοκορφές Σαγανάκι at Tzitzikas and Mermigas/Τζίτζικας και Μέρμηγκας in Athens, Greece

Any wild or domesticated greens, alone or in combination, may be used for Saganaki. Because they cook fastest, it's easiest with greens like spinach, Swiss chard, domesticated dandelions, nettles, vlita (amaranth greens), or poppies. The recipe may be assembled hours in advance and refrigerated; bring to room temperature before baking.)

1/4 cup chopped fresh dill

1/4 cup chopped Italian parsley

3/4 cup chopped green onions, both white and green parts

3/4 cup diced fresh tomatoes, 3/4” dice

1/2 - 3/4 cup roughly crumbled feta cheese

3 -4 Tbsp. olive oil

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1/2 pound spinach, or any roughly chopped, cleaned greens (6 packed cups raw, 1 1/2 cups cooked)

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Mix together all the ingredients except the spinach.

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. Add the spinach and cook just until it wilts (NOTE: The length of cooking time depends on the greens used. Spinach is done after 10 seconds; tougher greens will take longer.) Drain the spinach, quickly squeeze out any excess liquid, and mix it with the other ingredients. (The recipe may be made ahead to this point.)

Put the greens mixture in a 9” glass pie pan or other shallow baking dish.  Bake for 10 minutes.  Serve immediately with crusty bread and olives.

Variation: Substitute Peppadew peppers, or roasted red peppers, for the tomatoes. I’ve done this when I’ve been out of tomatoes and it changes the dish entirely, but in a very delicious way.  With tomatoes, the flavor of the dish is lighter and fresher; with peppers the flavor is deeper and heartier.

Variation: Substitute wild sea lovage or purslane for the parsley. (I’ll write about wild sea lovage and purslane tomorrow or the next day.)

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This post is included in Weekend Herb Blogging hosted by Rachel from The Crispy Cook.

Salty Cake (Easy Cheese Bread) (Kέικ Αλμυρό)

Greeks are famously hospitable.  Visitors to Greek homes are warmly welcomed and showered with treats of all kinds.  Coffee with sweet pastries, ouzo with savory delicacies, water with preserved fruits; no matter your beverage, a Greek hostess quickly puts together a tasty accompaniment.

For some of us, enjoying Greek hospitality comes with a cost: overeating.  Before I spoke Greek, this was more of a problem. Because we couldn’t converse, people communicated love and affection by giving me double portions. Since everything was delicious, and I didn’t know how to decline, I ate it all.  Unfortunately, I was gaining 5-10 pounds for every month we spent in Greece, and dieting for 2 months afterwards so my clothes would fit again.

I finally learned how to say no. This is more difficult than it sounds.  It’s nearly impossible for a Greek hostess to accept “no” for an answer. The more you decline, the more you’re offered.  It’s also slightly rude on my part; if I were a more polite guest, I’d graciously accept some of the tasty tidbits.

After ten years of declining all snacks (and apologizing for being such a difficult guest), our friends and family have grudgingly accepted this peculiarity of mine – at least when it comes to sweets. Diabetes is rampant in the village and, in the last few years, turning down sweets has become a medical necessity for many.  Since so many can’t eat sweets, village hostesses now keep a supply of “salty” (almyro-αλμυρό) snacks on hand.

In the village, salty snacks aren’t things like potato chips, pretzels, and peanuts. Salty, in this context, just means not sweet.  Salty cookies (koulourakia) look identical to sweet cookies but, without the sugar, taste like thick crackers. Salty cakes include ingredients like cheese, olives, or ham; in the US, they’re called quick breads.

Lately, when I decline something sweet, a hostess may triumphantly declare that she has something salty instead.  Surely, I can try a few bites of a salty treat, something with absolutely no sugar? No, I sadly say, I can’t manage anything salty either, even though I’m sure it’s absolutely delicious.

Although I’m a difficult guest, I happily fulfill my duties as a hostess. In our village house, where visitors constantly stop by, the refrigerator is stocked with beverages, pastries are in the cupboard, and there’s even a salty little something for those who don’t eat sweets.

Treasured Recipes: A Collection of Personal Recipes from the Women Members of the Hellenic Athletic Club of Khartoum and Their Friends (Khartoum 1983), the Sudanese-Greek cookbook I recently wrote about, has an interesting recipe for Salty Cake.  This recipe is quite simple, but produces a rich, cheesy quick bread with wonderful flavor and a hint of mint. It’s tasty served to visitors as a snack or for brunch, but it also makes a nice accompaniment to soup or chili.

Salty Cake (Easy Cheese Bread) (Kέικ Αλμυρό)
Makes 1 9”x9” square bread or 1 9”x5” loaf
Adapted from Lefko Tsanakas and Lucy Vassiliou’s recipe for “Cake Almiro” in Treasured Recipes: A Collection of Personal Recipes from the Women Members of the Hellenic Athletic Club of Khartoum and Their Friends (Khartoum 1983)

Lefko and Lucy call for either feta or a combination of various cheeses, but emphasize using some “feta cheese is essential.” The recipe may be doubled and baked in a Bundt pan for an attractive brunch offering (when doubling the recipe, use 7 whole eggs and no egg yolks). This bread is best served warm. If you bake it ahead, wrap it in foil and refrigerate; to serve, warm in a 350°F oven for 20 minutes.

3/4 cup softened butter
3 large eggs
1 egg yolk
2 cups crumbled feta or 1 cup crumbled feta and 1 cup grated graviera, asiago, or other cheese
2 Tbsp. dried mint, crushed
1 3/4 cup flour
1 1/2 Tbsp. baking powder
3/4 cup milk

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Butter a 9” square pan or 9”x5” loaf pan, dust bottom and sides with flour, tap out and discard any excess flour.

Beat the butter until creamy. Beat in the eggs and yolk, one at a time.  Add the cheese and mint and mix to combine.  Stir together the flour and baking powder.  Add flour to the cheese mixture one third at a time, alternating with additions of milk (one third at a time), until all is combined. Pour batter into the prepared pan. Smooth out the top to evenly distribute the batter.

Bake for 45-60 minutes, or until the bread has a nice brown crust on top.  Let cool for 30 minutes and remove from pan. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Recipe: Chickpea Stew with Mint and Feta (Ρεβύθια με Φέτα και Δυόσμος)

I’m just back from Seattle, where my sister lives and my mom has resettled. After her crazy awful 2009 (husband of 65 years died, sold her home of 50 years, moved to a small apartment in a new city), my mom is positively engaged in her new life. Her motto: “Choose Happiness.” My mom, always quirky but never boring, is an inspiration.

Regular readers know nothing makes me happier than cooking with my sister. A couple days into the visit, we dished up a delicious dinner of salmon and lentils with red wine sauce. The food was beautiful; my sister suggested I take a picture and blog the meal (another day, I promise). I was too hungry for photography.

Over dinner, my sister claimed it was traditional for me to blog about one meal cooked in her kitchen each visit. Who knew? It’s funny how traditions sneak into your life without warning. And ignoring tradition, even one newly adopted, is bad juju. So that night, I found myself lying in bed dreaming up recipes.

At the store, we’d just bought chickpeas and gorgeous lamb steaks. My sister was out of coriander, so we'd bought some of that too. I decided to pair the chickpeas and coriander in a stew with plenty of fresh mint. The next day we went to Big John’s PFI, a Seattle store with a great cheese selection, and bought Greek sheep feta (and, of course, much more), the perfect finishing ingredient for chickpea stew.

Sadly, the Seattle stew pictures didn’t turn out (bad lighting, no tripod), so I “forced” myself to remake the stew when I returned to Alaska. Since I’d been craving leftover chickpeas during the foodless flight home, I was quite happy to make them again, especially because the stew goes together so quickly. It was as tasty the second time as it was in Seattle. This time, I ate the leftovers, and the flavor, already great, was even better the next day.

With generous quantities of mint, my chickpea stew goes particularly well with lamb. It also makes a deliciously filling meal on its own. The recipe has definitely been added to my permanent rotating repertoire.

Chickpea Stew with Mint and Feta (Ρεβύθια με Φέτα και Δυόσμος)
Serves 4
Serve as a side dish with grilled lamb or chicken, or as a main course with steamed rice or couscous. A crisp green salad nicely completes the meal.

3 cups diced yellow onions, 1/4” dice
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup olive oil
1 cup diced carrots, 1/4” dice
1 cup diced celery, 1/4” dice
1 Tbsp. minced garlic
2 tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
2 14.5-oz. cans diced tomatoes
3 1/2 cups cooked chickpeas or 2 15-oz. cans, rinsed and drained
1/2 cup minced fresh parsley
1/2 cup minced fresh mint
1 1/2 cups crumbled feta

Sauté the onions, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil until they soften and start to turn golden. Stir in the carrots and celery and sauté for 5 minutes. Stir in the garlic, ground coriander, and crushed red pepper flakes and cook for 1 minute. Stir in the tomatoes and chickpeas and bring to a boil. Cover, turn down the heat, and simmer for 45 minutes, or until the sauce thickens and the flavors meld. Stir in the parsley and mint and cook for 5 minutes. Stir in the feta and serve immediately.
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This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging hosted this week Katie from Eat This.

Eggplant Recipes: Melitzanosalata & Hünkar Beğendi with Tomato-Lamb Stew (Μελιτζανοσαλάτα με Πιπεριές & Χιουνκιάρ Μπεγiεντί με Αρνί Κατσαρόλας)

Two simple and delicious ways to use eggplant are Eggplant-Red Pepper Dip (Melitzanosalata) and Hünkar Beğendi, a smoky eggplant purée that pairs perfectly with Tomato-Lamb Stew.

Even though we recently returned from Greece, I’m still craving Greek food. Luckily, when I went to Costco to restock our supplies, they had fresh eggplant and figs. Combined with the lamb, crusty bread, and cheese Costco always has on hand (and a quick trip to the farmers’ market for a pile of vegetables), we had everything necessary for a Greek feast. Or two. Or ten.

I was particularly happy about the eggplant. They were in perfect condition: firm flesh and shiny, unmarred skin. Unlike many eggplant sold in Anchorage, these were picked small, and hadn’t developed a large mass of seeds inside.

The Costco eggplant came 4 to the 1.75-pound bag. To be efficient and save energy, I oven-roasted them all at one time. (If you want to store eggplant raw, here’s how.) Half the roasted eggplant went immediately into Melitzanosalata; the other two I refrigerated to save for Hünkar Beğendi.

Fire-grilled eggplant tastes better in recipes than oven-roasted but, the day I cooked eggplant, we were too damn tired from the trip home to start a fire. To add smokiness to my Melitzanosalata, I added a grilled-over-a-gas-burner red pepper. It’s lucky there were only two of us; the pepper-laden Melitzanosalata disappeared quickly.

I used a different technique to add smokiness to Hünkar Beğendi. I had roasted 2 eggplants whole, and stored them without breaking the skins (if you break the skins, the eggplant juices leak out). I took the eggplant directly out of the refrigerator and charred their skins over a gas burner. Because the eggplants were cold when I started charring them, they didn’t leak juices over the stove, as I 'd feared they might. This “smoking” technique was quick, easy, worked well, and added lots of flavor. I’ll do it again.

Hünkar Beğendi is a famous Turkish eggplant dish that’s also made in Greece, particularly in areas where many people have roots in Constantinople (Istanbul), Smyrna (Izmir), or other parts of Anatolia (Asia Minor). Translations for “Hünkar Beğendi” abound: Sultan’s Delight, Sultan’s Pleasure, The Sultan Liked It, Her Majesty’s Delight, Her Majesty’s Favorite, and The Sultan Approved.

The origins of Hünkar Beğendi are murky. Some say the dish was created in the early-17th century for Sultan Murad IV (who was half-Greek). Others say it was created for a French empress in the late 19th century. My favorite version of this story is in The Art of Turkish Cooking by Neset Eren (New York 1969):

When the Empress Eugénie, the wife of Napoleon III, was in Istanbul as the guest of Sultan Abdulaziz, the Ottoman emperor, she fell in love with eggplant purée, at that time a specialty of the Topkapi Palace. She asked her host if he would allow his chef to teach her cook how to prepare it. The sultan obliged. The next day the French chef requested an audience with the empress and begged to be excused from this impossible task. “I took my book and my scales to the Turkish chef,” he said, “and he threw them out. ‘An imperial chef,’ he told me, ‘cooks with his feelings, his eyes, his nose.’” The empress returned to France without the recipe for her favorite dish.

In Lords of the Horizons: A History of the Ottoman Empire (London 1998), historian Jason Goodwin repeats the Empress Eugénie story. However, in Η Οθωμανική Μαγειρική: 99 Παλατιανές Συνταγές (Ottoman Cooking: 99 Recipes from the Palace) (Athens 2004), an extremely interesting and well-researched book, author Marianna Gerasimos says:

I searched hard to find how and when the famous eggplant puree, called Hünkar Beğendi, entered Ottoman cuisine. … There are many rumors and allegations about [it being made for Empress Eugénie] but, for now, there is no written historical evidence of this.

Although Empress Eugénie may not have feasted on Hünkar Beğendi, I certainly have. In the same way that mashed potatoes are exactly right with turkey and gravy, Hünkar Beğendi and Lamb Stew are wonderful together.

Eggplant-Red Pepper Dip (Melitzanosalata) (Μελιτζανοσαλάτα με Πιπεριές)
Makes 1 cup
The smoky flavor of eggplant grilled over an open fire makes the best Melitzanosalata, although it’s not absolutely necessary to success. When I don’t want to start a fire, I oven-roast the eggplant and add a grilled red pepper for smokiness. Although you can make Melitzanosalata in a food processor, I far prefer the more rustic texture that results from knife-chopping the eggplant. Serve with crusty bread and olives for a tasty appetizer, or as a flavorful accompaniment to grilled meat.

1 1-pound eggplant, or 2 1/2-pound eggplants
Olive oil
1 red bell pepper
2 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4-6 tsp. white wine vinegar
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Rub the whole, uncut eggplant with olive oil, and place on a rimmed baking sheet. Bake for 45 – 70 minutes, depending on the size of the eggplant, or until the eggplant collapses and is cooked all the way through. (Better yet, grill the eggplant over fire until it’s cooked through.) Peel the eggplant, cut it into large chunks, and place the chunks in a colander for 15 minutes to let some of the juices drain off. When the eggplant is cool enough to handle, use your hands to squeeze out as much liquid as you can.

Roast and clean the pepper (see Note below).

Place the eggplant flesh on a cutting board, finely chop, and put in a bowl. Finely chop the roasted red pepper and add to the bowl. Purée the garlic by mashing it into the salt, and add to the bowl. Add freshly ground black pepper, 4 tsp. vinegar, and extra virgin olive oil, and mix well. Taste and add vinegar or salt, as needed.

To serve, spread the Melitzanosalata evenly over a plate and drizzle with a small amount of extra virgin olive oil.

Note on Roasting and Cleaning Peppers: The traditional method of roasting peppers is over a hot wood fire, but you can also roast them on a gas grill, directly on a gas burner (without a pan), under the broiler, or by baking in a 450° oven for 30 minutes. Unless you are baking them in the oven, turn the peppers frequently as they roast to ensure the skins char evenly and the flesh doesn’t overcook. When the skin is completely blackened, place the peppers in a paper bag and close it up for 5 minutes. Hot pepper flesh releases steam in the closed bag, loosening the charred skin and making it easier to peel.

Once the peppers are cool enough to handle, remove the burned skin from the softened flesh with your fingers or a paper towel, gently scraping away any stuck bits with a knife. Resist the temptation to rinse the peppers in water, as doing so washes away too much flavor. If necessary, dip your fingers in a bowl of water to release clinging charred pepper skins. Remove the seeds and any white pulp from the inside of the pepper.

Smoky Eggplant Purée with Tomato-Lamb Stew (Hünkar Beğendi) (Χιουνκιάρ Μπεγiεντί με Αρνί Κατσαρόλας)
Serves 4
Beef can be substituted for lamb in the stew; meatballs and grilled meats also go well with Hünkar Beğendi. In Anchorage, the best price for lamb is often on boneless leg roasts at Costco. I cut out and grill a couple “steaks” from the center of the roast, and then make stew out of each end. If you use lamb with bones, cook them in the stew for extra flavor. Unlike Melitzanosalata, smokiness is an essential flavor in Hünkar Beğendi. If you don’t have access to a grill, oven-roast the eggplant as described in the Melitzanosalata recipe, refrigerate them without puncturing the skin, and thoroughly char the skins directly over a gas burner.

Tomato-Lamb Stew:
1 1/2 – 1 3/4 lb. boneless lamb, excess fat removed
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 cups diced yellow onion, 1/4” dice
1 Tbsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
1 14.5 ounce can (or 2 cups fresh) diced tomatoes
1 Tbsp. dried oregano, crushed
2 Tbsp. tomato paste
2 cups water

Smoky Eggplant Purée:
1 1-pound eggplant, or 2 1/2-pound eggplants
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 cup whole milk
2 Tbsp. butter
3 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
1/2 cup grated kasseri or Romano cheese
Pinch of nutmeg

Make the Tomato-Lamb Stew: Wash and dry the meat, cut it into 1” cubes, and season on both sides with salt and freshly ground black pepper. In a large pot, cook the lamb in olive oil until it is browned all over. Stir in the onions, lightly season with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and sauté until the onions begin to turn golden. Stir in the garlic and Aleppo pepper and cook for 1 minute. Stir in the tomatoes, oregano, tomato paste, and water, bring to a boil, cover, turn down the heat as low as possible, and simmer for 1 hour. Remove the cover and simmer for 30-60 minutes, or until the lamb is very tender and the sauce the thickness you prefer. Stir the sauce from time to time and, if it starts sticking, add a little bit more water. Taste and add salt and freshly ground black pepper, as needed. (The stew can be made ahead, refrigerated, and reheated just before serving.)

Make the Smoky Eggplant Purée: Grill the eggplant whole until it softens, collapses, and is slightly charred on all sides (or oven-roast and char as described in note above). Peel the eggplant, cut it into large chunks, and place the chunks in a colander for 15 minutes to let some of the juices drain off. When the eggplant is cool enough to handle, use your hands to squeeze out as much liquid as you can. Place the eggplant flesh on a cutting board, finely chop, and sprinkle with the lemon juice.

Warm the milk over low heat or in the microwave. Melt the butter in a saucepan, mix in the flour and cook for two minutes, stirring constantly; be careful not to brown this mixture. Slowly stir in the warm milk and cook, stirring, until the sauce is thick and smooth. Add the eggplant, cheese, and nutmeg and cook, stirring constantly, until the ingredients are thoroughly combined. Taste and add salt, as needed.

To serve, spoon some Smoky Eggplant Purée onto a plate and top with the Tomato-Lamb Stew.
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This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted this week by Cinzia from Cindystar.
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Bob, in a rabbit stupor

Recipe: Clams and Giant White Beans with Buttery Wine Broth (Κυδώνια με Γίγαντες)

Last fall we took a quick trip to San Francisco where, unsurprisingly, the weather was cloudy and the food delicious. One Saturday we went to the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, ogled vegetables and local cheeses, and ate at Hog Island Oyster Company. Though our table was outside on the chilly plaza, we warmed ourselves with champagne and garlicky Clams with Gigantes and Buttery Wine Broth. We walked away happy.

Gigantes, also known as giant Greek beans or Phaseolus coccineus (multiflorus), have a starchy texture that is a perfect foil for sauces of all kinds. They're a PGI product of Greece, and always a treat to eat. (In the European Union, a PGI designation identifies foods grown in unique regions that have special qualities and characteristics.)
....

When I was working, I made steamed clams because they were quick. Now I just make them because they taste good. 

Clams with Giant White Beans and Buttery Wine Broth (Κυδώνια με Γίγαντες)
Serves 4
Inspired by Hog Island Oyster Company, San Francisco, California
If you prefer not to eat butter, this dish is delicious when made with extra-virgin olive oil. Gigantes may be cooked several days ahead (or canned beans may be used), in which case this makes a deliciously quick mid-week meal. 

Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska has moved as of March 2011. To read this post please go to

http://www.laurieconstantino.com/clams-with-gigantes/

 

Please click on over and visit my new site. Thank you!

Greek Cookbooks: Varoulko: Colors, Smells, and Tastes with Recipe for Sea Urchin Risotto (Ριζότο με Αχινό)

The sun is setting over ice-rimmed Turnagain Arm, the inlet I see out my Anchorage window. The snow sparkles in the setting sun’s reflection.

My body is here, but my mind is in Greece. I’m wading the shallows of a Northern Aegean island, a plastic basin of sea urchins floating beside me. It’s mid-February and the sea urchins are in their prime. Their tongues of “roe” are plump and full; their flavor captures the sea’s pure essence.

Four master chefs recently discussed what they wanted for their last meal on earth. For mine, I want a pile of just-harvested sea urchins, followed by a bowl of Lefteris Lazarou’s Sea Urchin Risotto, and then a few more fresh urchins.

Lazarou is the genius chef behind Varoulko, one of the best seafood restaurants in Athens. He flawlessly cooks sea creatures and, right when their flavors peak, sends them to his guests. One summer night we went to Varoulko and ate under the open sky in an Acropolis-view roof garden. This was our menu:

~~ Whole Wheat Toasts with Sea Urchin Roe
~~ Filo-Crusted Sardines with Silky Smooth Eggplant Sauce
~~ Grilled Calamari with Feta and Wine Sauce
~~ Angel Hair Pasta with Grouper Cheeks, Fresh Oregano, and Tomatoes
~~ Braided, Grilled Garfish Drizzled with Smoky Fava Sauce
~~ Filo Napoleon with Custard, Figs, and Rosemary & Yogurt Sorbet

Because Lazarou focuses on seafoods’ essential flavors, his dishes aren’t overly fussy. To accompany the superb food, Varoulko’s list includes many Greek wines that pair well with seafood.

Varoulko is extremely expensive and not a place for everyday eating. If I want reliably good, reasonably priced, high quality seafood in Athens, I head to fish tavernas; Logia tis Ploris and Trata o Stelios in Kaisariani are two of my favorites. Yet, for a special occasion, or just to be inspired by Lazarou’s skill, Varoulko is well worth a visit.

In 2006, Lazarou, working with Greek food writer Diane Kochilas, published his cookbook: Βαρούλκο Χρώματα, Αρώματα και Γέυσεις (Varoulko Colors, Smells and Tastes) (available only in Greek). This may be the most beautiful cookbook I’ve ever seen. It’s printed on high-quality paper that showcases Vassilis Stenos’ stunning food porn. Subtle background drawings of fish, akin to holographic watermarks, grace every page.

Lazarou’s recipes are straightforward and, like the food at Varoulko, emphasize flavor over showy technique. Best of all, his brilliant recipe for Sea Urchin Risotto, the one I want to eat as part of my last meal, is in the cookbook.

If you’re in Greece, head for the shore to gather sea urchins during the next few months. After eating your fill of raw urchins, including a few extra for me, gather enough to take home and make a batch of Lazarou’s Sea Urchin Risotto. )

Those who don’t live near wild urchins can make Sea Urchin Risotto with roe sold under the Japanese name “uni.” To find it where you live, locate a sushi bar that offers uni and ask for their source of supply.

Sea Urchin Risotto (Ριζότο με Αχινό)
Serves 4
Adapted from Βαρούλκο Χρώματα, Αρώματα και Γέυσεις (Varoulko Colors, Smells and Tastes) by Λευτέρης Λαζάρου με Νταϊάνα Κόχυλα (Lefteris Lazarou with Diane Kochilas)
Depending on the season, it can take awhile to clean sufficient sea urchins for risotto. The dish is absolutely delicious when made with 1/2 cup fresh sea urchin roe, as Lazarou specifies, and decadent if 3/4 cup roe is used, as I admit to having done. The easiest way to warm plates is to microwave them on high for 1 minute. Here are directions, with photographs, for opening sea urchins.

1 cup diced yellow onion, 1/8” dice
1/4 cup olive oil
Salt
Freshly crushed white peppercorns
1 cup Arborio rice
4 – 5 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup white wine
1/2 – 3/4 cup fresh sea urchin roe, carefully cleaned of all spines and grit, divided

Sauté the onions, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly crushed white peppercorns, in olive oil until they soften and start to turn golden. Stir in the rice to completely coat it with oil and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Add the wine, and stir until it’s almost absorbed. Add 1/2 cup stock and cook over moderate heat, stirring constantly, until the stock is almost absorbed. Continue adding stock, 1/2 cup at a time, and stirring while its absorbed, until the risotto is the consistency you desire; it should be moist and creamy, not dry. It takes about 18 – 20 minutes for the rice to cook.

When the rice is just done, stir in 1/4 cup sea urchin roe, and divide the risotto between 4 warmed plates. Make a shallow hollow in the center of each portion, and fill it with the remaining sea urchin roe, evenly divided.

Serve immediately.
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This is my entry for Bookmarked Recipes hosted and created by Ruth of Ruth’s Kitchen Experiments.