GASTROnomi

The crunch and the crumb

2011-12-29T17:27:00.014+02:00

It happened quite casually several weeks ago, cycling. A week passed before I realized I had broken a rib. It turns out that ribs are quite fragile and tend to break rather easy. It was around that same time the Momofuku milk bar cookbook arrived in the post, now responsible for my latest addiction. I cannot get enough of the crunch nor the crumb; as the cracking sound of a crunch echoes my aching rib cage it is simultaneously sending frequency waves of pleasure to the rest of me.

I’ve already gone through made 3 crumbs and 1 crunch featured in the book just this past week so this must be an addiction. crunch. crumb. crumble.

They’re the easiest thing to make, not only in the book, but in the history of ever; they take 2 minutes to mix together and lay on a tray but the result triggers immeasurable pleasure and the smell in the kitchen is criminal.

They go on and in everything from ice cream, cakes and cookies, with pudding, sprinkled on yogurt or simply scoffed down by the bowlful. They'll last about a month if kept in an airtight container in the fridge/ freezer, so you can make plenty in advance and be ready for whatever life throws at you.

I have a sneaky suspicion these will go wonderfully well sprinkled over a buttered slice of bread, a la hagelslag.

It’s the crunch in any dish that adds an element of oomph, that je ne sais quoi quality, a crumbling joy, a crunchy excitement and a crispy pleasure in one mouthful, loud and noisy. The chocolate, milk and birthday crumbs as well as the cereal crunch all share the same highly addictive nature, sweet, salty and crunchy like that. They tap to our primary snacking pleasure gland, the achilles heal of snackers unite, with crumbs thats echo a buttery cake crust (aka the best part of the cake) and crunchy treats that elevate and celebrate the munching of cereals straight from the box.

Here is a link for the chocolate crumb and chocolate crumb cookie Recipes,

here is one for the milk crumbs and

one for the cornflake crunch.

For an older post on Momofuku milk bar's compost cookie click here.

To healed ribs and a crunchy 2012.

Calas and an antitheists Hanukkah

2011-12-18T19:57:00.008+02:00

I first heard of Christopher Hitchens when he died. Then I spent the better part of Saturday a saturday afternoon watching, listening and reading his lectures and interviews and articles.

Coincidentally with this time of year, Hitchens wrote a fascinating piece on Hanukkah in 2007, offering his alternative interpretation to the supposed victory of light over darkness and, reasonably and rather convincingly, claiming it a the victory of faith over knowledge and free thought and in so, the victory is of darkness over light.

As a firm believer in alternatives myself, I’ve attached a link to the piece here. Its an interesting read if you have a few minutes to spare, are open minded, inquisitive, value free thinking and the importance of asking questions about the world around us even if you think we hold all the answers already. It does not, however, offer a reading as to why we eat fried dough this time of year, every year.

In the spirit of offering alternatives at this particular sizzling season I made traditional Calas, a New Orleans breakfast specialty that is golden brown rice fritters just this side of sweet. Best served warm and freshly fried, the steaming fritters release a festive aroma complimented with a bite- an alternative option to the traditional latkes and doughnuts (and apparently works great with rice leftover from dinner).

Happy holidays, one way or the other.

Calas

Lightly adapted from Marion Cunnungham’s ‘The breakfast book’

Approx. 15 calas

Ingredients

¾ cup water

¼ cup long grain rice like Basmati, Perisan and Jasmine.

½ tsp salt

¼ cup lukewarm water

10g fresh yeast (or 3g active dry yeast)

1 large fresh egg

2½ Tbs sugar

½ tsp lemon zest

½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

¾ cup all purpose flour

oil, for frying

Serve with: confectioner’s sugar

A day earlier: In a medium saucepan boil¾ cup water. Add the rice and salt, reduce to a low flame, cover and cook for 25 minutes (longer then you would do making rice. The rice should melt to a lumpy paste). Strain any remaining water and use a fork to mash the rice.
In a small bowl, pour the¼ cup lukewarm water and add the yeast. Stir well and set aside for 5 minutes, until the yeast has fully dissolved in the water.
Add the yeast mixture to the mashed rice, cover with plastic wrap and set aside overnight.
The next day: in a bowl, beat the egg. Add the sugar, lemon zest, grated nutmeg and ½ cup flour and beat until combined.
Add the yeasted rice to the mixture and mix well for 2 minutes.
Add the remaining 1q4 cup flour and mix well. Taste and add salt, if needed. Cover and let proof at room temperature for 30 minutes.
In a large sauté pan pour oil to about 3-4 cm deep. once hot (but not smoking!) carefully drop batter in heaping tablespoons into the oil, 2-3 at a time. Fry the Calas until golden, about 1 minute for each side. Make sure the oil isn’t too hot as the calas would overfry on the outside and remain raw inside.
Using a slotted spoon, remove the Calas from the hot oil to a paper towel.
Serve warm, sprinkled with confectioner’s sugar.

Food photography / photography Food

2011-12-06T10:49:00.022+02:00

Newton’s law of motion states that every action is an equal and opposite reaction, and if that’s so, it only makes sense that just as Food can be captured through photography, photographic equipment should somehow be made edible. It’s a fine line that separates cookies from existential philosophy and I think I just crossed it.

Sometimes inspiration lies in the most unexpected of places. Cookie cutters, for example. These digital SLR, range finder and Rolleiflex camera cookie cutters (available from this site) were the inspiration for a long overdue homage to the tool that has been my lens to the world and a source of focus and perspective ever since my father handed me a Praktica on my 10^th birthday (which sadly met its demise about 10 years ago on a trip to Barcelona, after sharing space with a bottle of red currant juice that wasn’t screwed properly in my bag).

This is a sweet and baked homage, basic yet powerful, and, true to the early days of photography, it is in black and white.

Chocolate Sugar Cookies with White chocolate filling

I slightly adapted this recipe to bake approx 15 sandwich cookies

Ingredients

1 1/3 cups (175 grams) all purpose flour

3½ Tbs unsweetened Dutch processed cocoa powder

½ tsp ground cinnamon

¼ teaspoon salt

½ teaspoon (4 grams) baking powder

110 grams unsalted butter, room temperature

3/4 cup granulated white sugar

1 large egg

1-2 drops almond extract

100g white chocolate

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, cinnamon, salt, and baking powder.
In a separate bowl, either that of an electric mixer or using a hand mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 3 to 4 minutes.
Add the egg and beat well. Add the almond extract and beat until combined.
Gradually add the flour mixture and beat until you have a smooth dough.
Shape into 2 discs, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or until firm enough to roll.
Preheat oven to 175C (350F) and line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Remove one half of the chilled dough from the refrigerator and, on a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to a thickness of 5mm.
Lightly flour the cookie cutter and cut out desired shapes. Transfer cookies to the prepared baking sheet.
Place the baking sheets with the unbaked cookies in the refrigerator for 10 to 15 minutes to chill the dough, which will prevent the cookies from spreading and losing their shape while baking.
Bake until lightly golden, about 10 minutes but do not allow to brown. Transfer to wire racks to cool.
Repeat steps 7-10 with the remaining dough.
When ready to assemble the cookies, place the chocolate in a double boiler until melted melt.
Spread about 1/2 teaspoon of melted chocolate on the centre of one cookie and top with another. Repeat with the remaining cookies and allow to cool and the chocolate set.
To draw the contour of the cameras in chocolate I used this handy little thing (I like to go low tech).

The cookies will keep for several days in an airtight container.

Sugar cookies with dark chocolate filling

I slightly adapted this recipe to bake approx 15 sandwich cookies

Ingredients

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp baking powder

110g unsalted butter

1 cup sugar

1 large egg, lightly beaten

2 Tbs milk

1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

100g dark chocolate (min. 70% cocoa solids)

In a bowl, whisk together flour, salt, and baking powder.
In a separate bowl, either that of an electric mixer or using a hand mixer, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
With mixer running, add the egg, milk, and vanilla and mix until well combined.
With the mixer on low, slowly add the flour mixture and mix until just combined.
Shape into 2 discs, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or until firm enough to roll.
Preheat oven to 175C (35F) and line two baking sheets parchment paper.
On a lightly floured work surface, roll out dough to 5mm thickness.
Remove one half of the chilled dough from the refrigerator and, on a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to a thickness of 5mm.
Lightly flour the cookie cutter and cut out desired shapes. Transfer cookies to the prepared baking sheet.
Place the baking sheets with the unbaked cookies in the refrigerator for 10 to 15 minutes to chill the dough, which will prevent the cookies from spreading and losing their shape while baking.
Bake until lightly golden, about 10 minutes but do not allow to brown. Transfer to wire racks to cool.
Repeat steps 8-11 with the remaining dough.
When ready to assemble the cookies, place the chocolate in a double boiler until melted melt.
Spread about 1/2 teaspoon of melted chocolate on the centre of one cookie and top with another. Repeat with the remaining cookies and allow to cool and the chocolate set.
To draw the contour of the cameras in chocolate I used this handy little thing (I like to go low tech).

The cookies will keep for several days in an airtight container.

Butterscotch banana loaf cake

2011-11-19T14:21:00.011+02:00

Several nights ago I found myself watching ‘Louie’, Louis CK’s show. It was the one where he calls the grocers and orders, among other items, 6 bananas that are misheard as 60 hence he ends up with a lot of bananas. Totally not the point of the show but it got me thinking what I’d do had a large bunch of bananas landed in my kitchen. Little did I know what the cosmos had planned.

For several days now a winter/ tropical storm is bringing out my crave for winter foods and so far soups, casseroles, hot pots and baked apple cakes have already made an appearance in the kitchen and on my plate. The next morning I headed to the farmers market and without a banana thought in my head. Thats not strictly true, secretly I was hoping to find a rare bunch of ripe bananas among the green bunches always sold and as luck would have it I passed by a glowing stand radiating with bright yellow, some would say over ripe bananas past their best days. Perfect for baking, I thought.

At half the price I bought the lot and found myself standing in the kitchen surrounded with quite a few bananas. Whether it was a hunch, intuition, quantum physics or simply a coincidence, I had prepared in advance and had given the subject a little thought. So some I mashed, zip locked and froze for future use, some have now been transformed into a jam, now jarred, and some ended up in a Butterscotch banana cake that I like to refer to as ‘how I like to start the weekend’ cake.

The recipe for this cake was taken from Dan Lepard's latest cookbook.

A food columnist on The Guardian’s food channel, his latest cookbook arrived at my doorstep earlier this week and it’s a hefty one. With over 500 pages featuring hundreds of recipes from sweet to savoury, breads, cakes, tarts, candies and desserts it took me several hours to go over it and dress it up with technicolor ribbons marking all the ‘must bake’ recipes.

Turns out over- ripe bananas was just the place to start. And you never know which bananas tomorrow will bring.

Butterscotch banana loaf cake

Adapted from ‘Short & sweet: The best of home baking',

by Dan Lepard.

This cake begins caramelizing bananas before adding the sticky mixture to the batter. The result is a moist spicy banana toffee loaf that’s light and mildly sweet and pairs wonderfully with a cup of coffee, dunked in a bowl of custard or served with a dollop of sour cream.

For the butterscotch bananas:

2/3 caster sugar

50 ml water

2 bananas, sliced thickly

1-2 tbs unsalted butter

2 tsp vanilla extract or ½ vanilla stick, deseeded

a pinch of sea salt

for the cake:

½ cup caster sugar

¾ cup virgin coconut oil (or any other neutral flavoured oil)

3 medium eggs

50 g plain yogurt

1 cup all purpose flour

½ cup rye flour (of wholemeal/ spelt)

2 tsp of mixed spice ( I prepared a mixture freshly ground cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, Kampot and Melegueta pepper)

2 tsp baking powder

½ tsp baking soda

For the butterscotch bananas: pour the sugar and water in a large frying pan and bring to a boil. Continue to cook until the liquid turns to a rich caramel colour. Reduce the heat and add the bananas, butter and vanilla. Cook the bananas in the sauce until they’ve softened. Sprinkle the sea salt then set aside and allow to cool.
Preheat the oven to 180C and line a loaf pan with parchment paper.
In a bowl, sift the flour, rye flour, mixed spice, baking powder and baking soda.
In a separate large bowl mix the sugar, oil and eggs to a thick, yellow batter.
Add the caramelized bananas and yogurt and mix well.
Fold the flour mixture into the batter, not too much, just until incorporated.
Pour the batter into the loaf pan and bake for about 40 minutes. The cake is ready when it turns a tanned caramel colour and a skewer inserted into it comes out clean.
Release the cake from the pan and allow to cool on a wire rack.

Where Champagne wishes come true

2011-11-01T10:29:00.024+02:00

Turns our 2 weeks in France was just what I needed. I spent the majority of October immersed in the French terroir, enjoying the local food culture paired with wines I never dreamed of drinking.

Freshly baked breads complete with a cracking crust, butter rich pastries, macaroons, guimauve (hand made marshmallows), foie gras, mushrooms of all sorts in shades of autumn, scallops, cheese and charcuterie, Champagne and other local exquisite wines were all present, naturally.

In between long hours of lectures on the local food culture, history, science, theory, testing and tastings, visits to markets, vineyards and wineries I barely had time for to pinch myself, keep track and make sure this was all really happening. The experience was grand, rich and full, so this is merely an amuse bouche.

A food gypsy at heart, life seems to be the time I spend in between travelling in search of good food; local, seasonal, contemporary and traditional, Haute and bas.

In France, as we all know, mealtimes are never taken lightly, the forks face down (long story), wine is always present on the table to help wash down the food and much of the food is unapologetically drenched in as much butter as it can absorb (it tastes good).

Some of the highlights included an all night guided tour to Rungis market, the largest wholesale market in Europe, exceptional food & wine pairing pedagogical meals, fascinating lectures by leading professionals including Hervé This, the French chemist that in addition to the discovery of the perfect temperature for cooking an egg also coined the term ‘Molecular Gastronomy’. This link is an interesting read.

Rungis market is situated on the outskirts of Paris and we spent a night wondering through the various oversized warehouses, passing by an astonishing cornucopia of fresh fish and seafood, poultry in all shapes, shades, breeds and colours, feathered game birds and cuddly hares, hanging beef carcasses, pork slices, endless stacks of cheese, glistening innards, local and not so mush fruit & vegetables, some seasonal and some less so.

During mealtimes we had a chance to sample the local culinary tapestry, always accompanied with a choice of local wines, sparkling water, bread and at times, butter. Last but never least was dessert, flans and tatins, salted butter caramel, crème brulees, Florentins, glaces & sorbet, tarts and chocolate, it was always there and along with everything else, never taken lightly and never forgotten. Just as I’d have it when I rule my own country.

I could go on forever about the fantastic food, the new friends I've made, the places I saw, the wines I had, the pastries I devoured, the foie gras that melted in my mouth, the Chateau Margaux, the Champagne and all but instead I'll let the images speak themselves.

Au revoir France, until next time.

A taste of Jerusalem

2011-09-24T15:21:00.007+03:00

Its been many years since I left Jerusalem to discover the great wide world and all the delicacies it has to offer.

I left the harsh reality, the cold winters, the unbearable gravity of life, politics and religion. They all proved a little too much and I never looked back.

In fact, the further away life took me, the more I was deterred by the city and all it had to offer. Until now.

A recent project has brought me back to the city and I have come full circle, like a perfectly shaped Pita bread.

Food showed me the way back to the city but this time from a slightly different point of view, revealing, along the way, a delicious and distinctly unique foodscape, making Jerusalem easier to digest and easier to love.

East Jerusalem and West, Israeli and Palestinian, Jews, Muslims, Christians and Armenians, Ashkanazi and Sephardic, Secular and Religious, Kosher and Halal, old and new.

Past, present and future.

Nutmeg nutters muffins

2011-09-03T13:26:00.006+03:00

Summer is officially over, August 2011 is now a thing of the past. The still, humid evening air has been blown away by a cool evening breeze. I spent the majority of last month glued to my computer, mostly breathing conditioned air and avoiding daylight as much as possible. I may live in the Mediterranean but my East European heritage is impossible to avoid or deny. I like it better when its not hot and humid like the inside of a hamam.

That's right. I’m looking forward to winter, but I should also mention that winter in Tel Aviv is almost perfect. The city shines under shades of grey, as temperatures drop to a comfortable low of 13 degrees Celsius around January and the days are dotted with sporadic rainy days here and there alongside the occasional dramatic thunder storm, for extra effect.

I have decided to welcome fall and bake it into muffin form. Nutmeg and muffins make for a special treat for any nutmeg nutters out there as these aren’t what one might call MILD; we’re talking sharp and pungent treats with one whole grated nutmeg and definitely the next step up from a cinnamon addiction- one that I hold dearly to my heart.

These are best served warm a dollop of sour cream or a thick fruit compote and every bite is reassurance that autumn one step closer.

Nutmeg muffins

(12 muffins)

The recipe is slightly adapted from Marion Cunningham’s The Breakfast Book I discovered through Orangette.

Ingredients

1½ cups all- purpose flour

½ cup rye flour

½ cup sugar

1 tbs baking powder

1 ½ whole nutmeg, freshly grated

¼ tsp cinnamon

½ tsp salt

1 egg

¾ cup sour cream

¾ cup milk

40 gram butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 200C and butter or oil the muffin tins.
In a large bowl, mix the flour, sugar, baking powder, freshly grated nutmeg, cinnamon and salt to combine.
In a separate bowl beat the egg the add in the sour cream, milk and melted butter and stir to combine.
Add the cream mixture to the flour mixture and stir only until there are no streaks of flour. Do not overmix.
Spoon the batter into the muffin tins, about 2/3 full. Sprinkle a little cinnamon on top and bake until lightly golden, about 20 minutes.
Remove the muffins from the tins and serve warm with butter, sour cream or by itself. Alternatively, cool on a rack and freeze for later use.

Portugal, in a nutshell.

2011-07-23T00:08:00.016+03:00

There is no excuse for the utter and absolute neglect.

Well, there is, actually. I barely had time to breath let alone maintain my virtual abode when a wave of intensive commitments washed over, taking every spare moment I had with it. The overbearing heat and humidity aren't helpful and everything seems to be moving in slow motion, with great difficulty.I've managed to squeeze a few minutes for a long overdue post, a quick breather before its back underwater.

I did, however, spend the earlier part of the month in Portugal, though I'd swear it was another lifetime. I finally managed to sort through all of the photos and take the time to digest (not literally, I did that already...) the experience, the local terroir and the food.

The portugal I discovered is rich with wonderful local produce. While the local failed to wow us, venturing into local markets throughout our trip was immensely satisfying. Market stalls displayed a splendiferous array of sea life, greens and fruits and, after sampling quite a few of the local wines, my affair with red wine has rekindled.

Some of the highlights included:

The Francesinha, a Porto specialty and the local version of a Croque Monsieur, consists of a toasted sandwich filled with ham, pork and sausage, wrapped in cheese and soaked in a hot, beer based sauce. Loved the concept, prefer a salad.

Snails in the market, available in bulk or by weight.

Sintra cheese cake, aka Queijadas de Sintra, as well as pretty much all the pastry everywhere we went, is a variation on a recurring theme; egg yolk and sugar. no cheese.

The flaky ribbons that adorned a column adjacent to the sausages stall are dried intestines, complete with a 'meaty' aroma built in.

Breathtaking views along the Duoro river made up for the pastry.

Thank god for fresh summer fruit, ham, cheese and bread.

And fresh sardines, naturally.

Raspberry rye Sunday loaf in waiting

2011-06-18T20:44:00.006+03:00

Would you look at this monster?

I’m waiting.

Stuff’s happening, or supposed to. Or at least it should, soon enough.

It’s quiet, and that usually happens before a storm breaks out and yes, a storm in the summer months this side of the hemisphere, the irony.

In the meantime I try to workout, release excess stress that somehow always seems to settle on my shoulders. This is a good time to catch up with friends, eat in places I’ve been putting off and catching up on TV series forever on my to do list. Baking is my stress ball; a bit of dough making, kneading and mixing usually does the trick and it comes naturally with an invigorating aroma that hovers around the house for a good few hours, encouraging deep breaths and thus promoting a general sense of calm.

Its berry season and it feels like such a waste to east the ruby red edible raspberry diamonds straight from the box. Instead, I opted for a raspberry Sunday loaf. Its called a Sunday loaf but I baked it on a Saturday and it lasted the week. The loaf bridges between a quick bread and a coffee cake, the not too sweet loaf has a tanned crust, a buttery mouth feel and a pleasant crumble with chunks of ever-so-slightly sour raspberries bursting with mini tangy explosions that swirl in and around the batter.

Raspberry rye Sunday loaf

The recipe was heavily adapted from Marion Cunnigham’s Breakfast book. The raspberry jam was substituted with a generous quantity of raw berries and I also introduced the nutty flavor of rye flour.
Extremely recommended toasted and slathered with salted butter.

(makes 1 loaf)

Ingredients

2 cups all purpose flour

1 cup rye flour

½ cup sugar

4 tsp baking powder

1 tsp salt

100g butter, chilled and diced

2 eggs

1 cup fresh or frozen raspberries

¾ cup milk

For the glaze

2 tbs butter

2 tbs apple jelly jam (or any other jam you have or like)

Preheat the oven to 175C then butter and flour a loaf pan.
In a large bowl, use a fork to combine the flours, sugar, baking powder and salt.
Add the diced chilled butter to the mixture and use your fingers to ‘rub’ the butter into the flour mixture until the wole thing resembles coarse sand.
In a separate bowl, beat the eggs. Add the milk and mix until combined.
Pour the milk-egg mixture and the fresh berries into the flour mixture and stir only until no flour streak show. The mixture will be lumpy.
Spoon the batter into the loaf pan and bake until the loaf is a golden tan and a skewer inserted in the centre comes out clean, about 1¼ hours.
Leave the loaf in the pan for 15 minutes before turning it onto a rack.
Prepare the glaze: in a small saucepan combine the butter and jelly. Stir and bring to a simmer. Strain the glaze and once the loaf has cooled, spoon over the loaf.

The far road to clafoutis

2011-06-10T13:43:00.005+03:00

Cherry season is on and, while experimenting with the luscious stone fruit I was finally presented with the opportunity of making Clafoutis. Now that I did I cant believe it took me this long to discover it.

The name, Clafoutis, always conjured images of a flan- like crème, and looking at cook book images of it, I had imagined an shaky eggy dessert. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It just isn’t the sort of thing want to get up and start cooking, let alone eating.

It all began in Florence, almost 2 years ago now. A Latteria down the road from where I lived, one of the few left in the city was recommended to me, mainly for its cakes.

Back in the day this was the place people would come to by milk, cream and cheese. Today the few left milk bars offer light meals, coffee and cakes.

One day, after work, I stopped by and ended up with a slice that resembled cheesecake but was in fact far Breton, a typical dense baked custard pudding made in Brittany (France) with prunes soaked in Armagnac peacefully resting at the bottom. It came complete with a dollop of fresh thick cream, and sceptic as I was holding a spoonful in hand; I was forever changed after one mouthful. I tracked down a fantastic and embarrassingly (in the good sense of the word) simple to make recipe by Trish Deseine, which I have since prepared it at numerous occasions.

Once my aversion to the concept of flan was eradicated a whole new world of baked batter opened up and the Clafoutis was soon to follow. Rather similar to a far, its origins lay in Limousine and instead of prunes glazed cherries float in the batter. Often, the pits included for extra flavour, which also ups the risk factor during eating, like when eating an entire fish, bones and all. This sort of Clafoutis demands a certain concentration and multi tasking skills.

Superbly easy to make and sensationally titillating, cherries are now in season and so there really isn’t any other way.

Individual Cherry Clafoutis

Serves 8

400 gram (about 2 cups) fresh cherries, pitted or whole

½ cup AP flour

¼ tsp salt

2 fresh eggs

2 tbs sugar

½ cup milk

1 tsp fine vanilla extract

1 lemon, zested

A pinch of nutmeg, ground

Preheat the oven to 220°C and butter the muffin tins.
Using a food processor or a medium bowl and a hand whisk, beat the flour, salt, eggs, sugar, milk and vanilla extract until combined, for 1 minute.
Stir in the lemon zest and nutmeg and set aside.
Place 4-5 cherries in each muffin tin and pour the batter on top.
Bake until the Clafoutis have risen and the edges have a tan, about 20 minutes. Make sure not to open the oven door while baking as the Clafoutis may collapse.
Remove the Clafoutis from the oven and allow to rest for 5 minutes. Using a sharp knife, carefully cut around the Clafoutis and release it from the tin.
dust with powdered sugar and lemon zest and serve immediately.

Fried banana and Manouri crumble

2011-05-28T11:26:00.007+03:00

The first of the summer fruit are here, a cause worthy of celebration and Shavu’ot is just around the corner, also marking one of the best holiday foods of the year.

The Jewish calendar is rooted in the farming calendar, which, in biblical times, depended only on natural precipitation, ie no green houses or out of season crops. Celebrations often mark annual agricultural cycle, on occasions such as planting, first fruit, grape harvest, grain harvest and the reaping seasons.

It is not clear how and when this day turned into a fully blown lactic festival, marked with all things dairy. It is nothing short of a vegetarian fiesta bursting with anything fruit, veg and cheese from cheesecakes of sorts to quiche, pies flans, crepes and tarts celebrating the seasons’ offering.

The timing is excellent, following a long line of meat extravaganzas beginning in Passover and the traditional leg of lamb, to the traditional Passover BBQ, the Mimuna BBQ, independence day BBQ and finally, Lag Ba’omer, the night- time bonfire BBQ. For one guilt- free day meat is sidelined to the corner, and lambs, calves and chicks get to see another day. No death, dying or making sacrifices here, and all the better for it.

I recently tracked down Manouri cheese at the covered market, and whilst it is not a local cheese as such, it is local in the larger scale of thing, arriving from the relatively neighbouring Greece. The whey remaining from the production of goats’ or sheeps’ milk Feta cheese is cooked to a semi soft fresh white cheese with a texture reminiscent of ricotta. It is used in both sweet and savoury dishes, either fresh or cooked, and it really comes to life when fried. Unlike Haloumi cheese, there none of the (rather pleasing) rubbery- chewy texture. Instead, a crispy golden brown crust forms, protecting a soft and runny warm filling.

If you can’t get hold of Manouri, Haloumi cheese will make a good, yet slightly more savoury substitute.

Fried banana and Manouri crumble

Serves 2

Ingredients

2 bananas, sliced to 1cm thick rounds

100 gram Manouri cheese, crumbled

1-2 tsp good quality honey

Several mint leaves

½ lemon, zested

A pinch of cinnamon

A handful of pistachios, shelled and roasted in a dry pan

A knob of butter at room temperature, for frying

Heat a grill pan or a griddle over medium heat. When hot, brush the banana rounds with the melted butter on both sides and fry, about a minute on each side. Set aside.
In a clean pan, melt the butter. Add the crumbled Manouri cheese and fry, stirring frequently, until the cheese has a golden tan.
Place the fried bananas in a serving dish or 2 individual dessert bowls and top with the fried cheese crumble.
Using a spoon drizzle honey and sprinkle the lemon zest, mint leaves, cinnamon and roasted pistachios. Serve immediately.

Note: cherries will make an equally wonderful substitute, as would apples and pears, when in season. The addition of crushed gingerbread cookies would not go a miss either.

Walnut squares

2011-05-22T13:45:00.007+03:00

Almost 2 months ago Dana and Amit left to the far far east. Before they left we all met on a breezy Friday afternoon in a small patch of grass by the park. To our left an avant-garde theatre group was in the midst of rehearsals, hanging down from trees and making screeching sounds. To our right, fluorescently bright jacket donning folk carried around rakes and gathered scraps to build a local igloo.

I came to the spring picnic carrying a tray of the ‘take-away walnuts version of pecan pie’. The time consuming pie crust was replaced by a crumble pressed tightly and baked. The pecans were substituted for walnuts and mixed with brown sugar and grape molasses, turning gooey and sticky once baked. A dollop of sour cream rounded it all up, as always does.

Grape molasses is not that common a product, but if you can get your hands on a bottle- do. Traditionally, in both Turkey and Bethlehem the locals practice Islam, so instead of wine making, the grapes are preserved in the form of raisins and molasses, also called Dibs. The must is boiled and cooked down similar to date and carob honey, and the molasses, traditionally, is mixed with tahini for a quick and natural sweet spread. I also use it in baking, cooking and dressings. The dark syrup is less sweet then honey or maple syrup, a tribute I’m always happy to encounter. Not- too- sweet sweets are under valued, I find, and these walnut squares are just that- just sweet enough.

By now, D&A, I imagine, are somewhere on the far side of the globe, enjoying what I hope is the best foods of their lives; Bahn Mi, steaming Pho, rolls, dumplings, prawns, rice and all sorts of herbs.

It aint half bad around here either. x

Walnut squares

Heavily adapted from Saveur

(About 20-25 squares)

100gr cold unsalted butter, diced

1 cup + 2 Tbs AP flour

2 tbs + ½ cup dark brown sugar

¾ cup grape molasses (substitute with date honey or maple syrup)

1 cup walnuts, chopped coarsely

¼ tsp salt

2 eggs, lightly beaten

Sour cream, for serving

Heat the oven to 175°C. Butter and flour a square brownie baking pan and set aside.
In a food processor, add butter, 1 cup flour and 2 Tbs brown sugar and process until combined.
Transfer the sandy mixture to the pan and using your fists, press evenly and tightly into bottom. Bake until lightly browned, about 15 minutes.
In a small bowl, whisk the remaining flour, sugar, molasses, walnuts, salt, and eggs until combined.
Pour the mixture over the baked crust and bake until golden brown and set, about 30–35 minutes.
Serve with a dollop of sour cream.

Note: for variation, try using different types of nuts , or a mixture of various nuts and seeds.

Iceland snapshots

2011-05-09T18:40:00.030+03:00

For years Iceland was in the back of my head waiting to happen and when it finally did, it took my breath away as I had hoped it would, despite the whales, puffins and Northern lights making a no-show. The earth is agitated, unpredictable and constantly bubbling under the surface, physically and metaphorically. It is a geological playground brimming with glaciers, volcanoes, fjords, hot springs, geysers, snow, sleet, rain and last, never least and always present, the mighty wind.

It was clear from the start that food was to be our compass, leading the way through the innards of the land and weaving the sublime landscape with the local food scape. Despite or rather due to its arctic nature, Iceland, it turned out, had plenty to offer.

With no time to waste, plenty to see and mostly eat, our splendiferous Iceman dispensed us with the culinary itinerary in the shape of a double sided A4 list of foods for the week, categorized. If it weren't for the singed lamb's head, it would have bee a perfect score. The presence of a jaw, teeth and an eyeball proved a tad much...

Within an hour of our arrival we headed to dinner at Dill. Specializing in the New Nordic cuisine, each dish was served in exquisite Nordic china, and in its own particular way explored new ways of having fun with the finest local ingredients. The only thing that hindered the experience was my own personal repulsion of anything celery, that made an unfortunate appearance in one of the desserts.

A day later we enjoyed yet another glorious meal, this time at VOX. Once again we sat down to a 5 hour seasonal tasting menu complete with wine pairing for each dish (personally served to us by the head sommelier and 4- time winner Sommelier of the Year in Iceland- Alba Hough) for what turned into an unforgettable evening of incredible food and a unique insight into the emerging local cuisine.

We stayed at KEX, a biscuit (or kex, as they're called in Icelandic) factory turned boutique hostel in Reykjavik, unlike any other. It was here that I was introduced to Skyr, my first of many. Misleadingly reminiscent of thick yogurt, it is in fact a soft cheese made from skimmed milk. The exceptional buttercup yellow Smjor (butter) and the rich blue-veined, triple-cream ‘Stori dimon’ cheese (named after a local mountain) underlined the Nordic grass- fed- diet effects on the quality of the dairy products.

Not a day passed without the presence of local pastry, from the dense and sometimes sulphuric fried Kleina to crispyAstarpungar, aka ‘loveballs’; sweet yeast pastry dotted with raisins and deep-fried until crispy on the outside and succulent on the inside. It’s the simplest things in life that give the greatest pleasures like the dense, chewy doughnuts from the local supermarket, covered in thick dark chocolate tempered to a pleasing crackle and snap sound.

About the local Arctic fish and seafood. Yes, we had Hákarl, rotten shark that proved harmless and reminiscent of a mature hard cheese, especially pleasant with the local rúgbrauð. There was seal fat and yes, the 'surf & turf' in one, the controversial Minke whale (perfectly legal in Iceland). However, it was the Seawolf, redfish, blue ling, langoustines, halibut, Arctic char and blue mussels of which I could not get enough of. Having to settle for fish from the tepid Mediterranean waters on a day to day basis, this was a glimpse into the North Atlantic offerings. I'll put it this way: the biting cold North Atlantic seawaters turn the men into Vikings and fish into superior delicacies, juicy and succulent. Assuming they're fresh and in capable hands as was the case for most part, that is.

Sægreifinn, aka Sea Barron, is a restaurant by the water in Reykjavik, where both Locals and tourist show up for the lobster soup and sea- kebabs. Once we settled down from the stormy weather that hit us on the way, I noticed the walls, covered in local memorabilia and the odd taxidermy. We sat down on the buoys- turned- makeshift seats by one of three long and narrow tables. Conveniently positioned next to the till is the refrigerator, displaying skewered chunks of meat. It was here we tried our first whale kebab as well as halibut, redfish and scallops, all charred to a crisp on the outside, vivacious and succulent on the inside.

Langoustines are a local specialty and are referred to as lobster. At Fjorubodid in Stokkseyri lobsters are the house specialty. The Icelandic lobster soup (complete with bread rolls and butter) warmed us up before the main course: lobsters cooked in butter and garlic arrived. A lemon was squeezed and then, it was all but gone.

It never occurred to me the ease with which I take still air and gravity for granted. As the days passed we hardened, little by little, attempting to acclimatize to the unpredictability of the local weather, from brutally cold wind, sideways- pouring rain, sleet, snow, dark storms and just plain windiness that had waterfalls falling upwards.

There's more foods, adventures, memories, stories and pictures then I could possibly fit in, nor is possible to even attempt to map it into words. I do, however, hope that some of the fascinating and unique landscape and food- scape came across in between the words, lines and images. I still pinch myself in disbelief that it really happened, but also, that it is all but over.

(Ps. Takk Chris & Kate)

Links

Iceland's cuisine:

Should You Eat Like an Icelander? an article by By Jen Murphy on 'Food & wine'

Wikipedia's article on Icelandic cuisine

Restaurants:

New Nordic cuisine

Vox

Dill

Traditional Icelandic food

3 Frakkar

Lobsters (or what we refer to as Langoustines)

Fjorubordid

Best Kebbabs from the sea and Lobster soup (again, think Langoustines)

Mark Bittman's article in the NYTimes on Saegreifinn

Springtime hummus- ful

2011-04-16T18:15:00.008+03:00

Passover is right by the doorstep. The entire country is now in a fully blown OCD cleaning craze (they don’t call it spring clean for nothing). As per usual they are caught out in a sand storm the day before anything and everything has been boiled, bleached, disinfected and purified . Despite my affection for a good clean up, I’m happier in the kitchen where spring is in full bloom and in all its glory in preparation for the Spring celebrations, now underway, consisting on the most part of local and seasonal ingredients. That is, if I count out the (not Kosher by any account) chorizo. Even I have my limits and passing on a chorizo is one of them, so we're having it grace us with its presence in the table.

Lets not forget the cultural, traditional and religious ban on leavened goods during passover when anything made with any kind of cereal, including flour is a no-no. This has the potential of a disaster but mainly, it poses an interesting challenge when planning the festive dinner. however, with the cornucopia of seasonal produce available this time of the year one wouldn't even notice its absence. Green fava beans, green peas, green garlic and green almonds have the stage all to themselves, all lights are on them, au naturale and in the nude without bread, dough or pasta to outshine and overcast their glory.

Shopping lists have been written and crossed off as one by one all the products and ingredients are piling up. A 2kg happy reared leg of lamb? Check. 1kg of fresh chicken livers for making chopped liver? Check. Enough wine for 12 thirsty diners (who also happen to be my close family)? Check. What better way to celebrate Spring then by cooking it, serving it on a plate and eating it?

hummus- ful is a highly popular local combination of cooked and mashed dried fava beans seasoned and served over hummus with pita bread on the side. Both chickpeas and fava beans have been cultivated and consumed in the area since the beginning of times. This is as local as food gets; cheap, nourishing and satisfying resulting in both staples gaining mythological status in the local cuisine.

This is my deconstructed, springtime version of hummus- ful.

Happy Springtime.

Springtime hummus- ful

(Serves 2-4)

Ingredients

2 cups chickpeas, soaked overnight in plenty of water, then strained

1 garlic clove

Several sage leaves

2 cups green fava beans, removed from their pod

1 ripe avocado

1 green chili pepper, deseeded and chopped

1 scallion, finely chopped

Zest from ½ lemon

2-3 garlic cloves, finely chopped. If in season, use green garlic

Sea salt, to taste

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

1 lemon, juiced

Olive oil

Serve with:

Coriander leaves, washed

A handful of pistachios, roasted in a dry skillet and coarsely chopped

Sheep’s milk ricotta or other fresh cheese, crumbled

Prepare the chickpeas: place the strained chickpeas in a large saucepan. Add the garlic clove and sage leaves, cover with plenty of water and bring to a boil, skimming off the froth. Reduce the heat and simmer for about an hour. When the chickpeas are soft but not mushy, remove from the heat and strain.
Prepare the fava beans: bring a large saucepan with plenty of salted water to a boil and prepare a bowl of ice water. Blanche the fava beans for 1-2 minutes. Using a slotted spoon transfer the beans to the ice water, to stop them from cooking further. remove the beans’ outer shell.
Heat a large frying pan with a little oil and lightly fry the cooked chickpeas, until they are tanned.
In a large bowl mix the fried chickpeas and fava beans together. Using a teaspoons, scoop the avocado into the bowl.
Add the chopped chili pepper, scallion, lemon zest and garlic. Season with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. Taste and adjust the seasoning, if needed.
Sprinkle the coriander leaves, chopped pistachio and crumbled cheese and serve.

* Note: you can find the traditional recipe for hummus- ful here and here.

Beans, they way I remember Tuscany

2011-04-09T16:31:00.009+03:00

As part of my job at the Tel Aviv covered market, located a convenient 10 minutes cycle from my abode, I'm lucky enough to be surrounded with local and global, seasonal and random produce, all on a weekly, if not daily, basis. So much so that my trips to the supermarket have narrowed down to purchasing toilet paper, flour and sugar, and yes, also on those rare midnight cravings for an onion, a bell pepper, or a chocolate bar a supermarket has come in handy and to my aid, along with its bright and flickering fluorescent lighting.

White asparagus, purple basil, onion blossoms and fresh turmeric root have all become viable ingredients, and how easy they make it indeed, to forget that on a scale, between commodity and luxury, they tilt heavily towards the luxury corner.

I treat them like a bright red lipstick; not for everyday use but on occasion yes, that extra touch of glamour goes that extra step and, well, designer clothing will dig a far bigger hole in my bank account.

So I there’s my justification for adding a little glamour to the kitchen in the form of asparagus or a perfectly reduced version of a pineapple that was raised with whispers of love and strokes of affection.

I do, however, always return to the comforts of comfort, because as much as those heels are drop dead sexy, snickers will forever be more comfortable. A dense, thick-crusted bread with salted butter, rice topped with a poached egg and a bowl of hearty stew with added shaved parmesan are more then enough to satiate the hunger within. One such dish is this bowl of beans, cooked as I learned in Florence not too long ago, but now long gone.

Tuscany is known for the freshness of its beans when in season and this dish truly captures the effortless red lipstick of food, with a quintessential heavy Italian Acc-a-cent.

Beans, they way I remember Tuscany

Roughly based and heavily adapted from a recipe published in Jamie Oliver's Jamie’s Italy

serves 4

500g dried or fresh Borlotti beans (cannelloni, butter or zolfini beans will work too)

1 potato, peeled

2 ripe tomatoes, crushed

½ bulb of garlic

A bunch of fresh herbs (rosemary, thyme, sage and bay leaves)

Extra virgin olive oil

For the sauce:

3-4 garlic cloves, sliced thinly

3-4 ripe tomatoes, peeled and chopped

3-4 sage leaves

1 green chilli, chopped finely

Lemon juice, freshly squeezed

Sea salt, to taste

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

If using dried beans soak overnight in a large bowl covered with cold water. Drain and rinse.
In a large saucepan, place the beans, potato, crushed tomatoes. Garlic and herbs. Drizzle with olive oil, place over the heat and bring to a boil.
Skim any froth from the surface and simmer gently for about 40 minutes, until the beans are soft and tender.
Drain the beans, discarding of the all but 1 cup of the cooking water. Set aside.
Heat a glug of olive oil in a large skillet. When the oil is hot fry the green chilli for a few seconds, then stir in the garlic, sage leaves and tomato chunks. Cook for a few minutes until the tomatoes have come apart into a thick sauce. Pour the cup of cooking water and bring to a gentle boil. Season with salt and pepper.
Stir in the cooked beans and add the lemon juice. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed.
Drizzle olive oil and serve.

Brown butter, banana and walnut cookies

2011-04-02T22:23:00.012+03:00

This is an ode to a cookie. Sometimes all one ever wants is a chewy, succulent and juicy cookie. A cookie that’s large enough to satisfy such a craving and last an entire cup of coffee, but without sliding down a slippery slope to hedonism. A cookie that’s not too flat, nor too tall, that manages to strike a balance between the chewiest of cakes and the crispiest of cookies. I walked around the city last week in search for my morning coffee and a cookie to satisfy my lust, yet day after day I came back with nothing.

Why it is that the universe thinks I should be baking the cookie of my dreams instead of finding a cookie and then fall for it is beyond me, but I am not one to sit around and wait for a cookie to possibly be everything I want in a cookie. I was left with no choice and decided to bake the cookie of my dreams myself. What began by browning butter (like most good stories do) ended up as these cookies.

I shared the first batch and that was followed by a second batch, though I had to double the quantity. I shared some more, then I wrote about them in my column and now I’m posting them here. They are simply too good to keep from the world and I think the world should know. The second best thing to eating these cookies straight from the oven is having the recipe for how to make them.

Lets call it my humble attempt at making the world a better place. One cookie at a time.

Brown butter, banana, and walnut cookies

Makes 12 large and satisfying cookies.

Ingredients

100 g butter, diced

1 cup AP flour

½ tsp salt

½ tsp baking soda

½ tsp baking powder

¾ cup raw cane sugar

1 egg

1 ripe banana, pureed

1 tsp (real) vanilla extract

1 cup walnuts, chopped roughly

½ cup dark chocolate chips, optional

Prepare the brown butter: Place the diced butter in a heavy skillet over a medium flame, stirring it frequently with a whisk. Once melted the butter will begin to bubble and it is at this point you need to watch it from burning. Brown butter turns to a dark, charred butter in seconds. Once the air fills with a nutty sweet the butter is ready. Transfer the brown butter to a small bow, in order to stop it from browning any further. Set aside and allow to cool to room temperature.
In a bowl, mix the flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder.
In a separate bowl, place the brown putter and the sugar. Using a hand or electric whisk, beat until you have a smooth and creamy mixture. Add the egg and beat well until the mixture is light and airy.
Mix in the pureed banana and the vanilla extract to combine.
Add half the flour mixture and mix for 15 seconds. Add the remaining flour mixture and mix just until combined.
Fold the walnuts and chocolate chips, if using, into the batter. Cover with cling film and place in the refrigerator for at least 6 hours (and up to 5 days).
Preheat the oven to 190C and line a baking tray with parchment paper.
Using an ice cream scooper, scoop the cookie dough to balls and place on the tray, well spaced apart.
Bake for 12-14 minutes, turning the baking tray halfway through. The cookies are done when the edges turn golden brown.
Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 5 minutes before transferring to cool on a wire rack.
Store at room temperature in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Spring break

2011-03-28T20:46:00.013+02:00

Spring came knockin' and the annual Israeli SlowFood meeting, way up in the North of the country made for a worthy excuse to bake some cookies, pack a small bag and head out to the countryside. Thats the thing with cities. Seasons come and go, but one can never really tell, certainly not by looking at the watermelons and grapes already decorating market stands and supermarket shelves...

The countryside did not disappoint and we managed to squeeze two weeks of rustic air in less then 48 hours, including a freshly squeezed red grapefruit juice directly from the orchard and a festive spring potluck with the best of spring produce and some mighty fine alcohol. Nature came in the form of bird watching from a camouflaged trolley at Lake Hula (not so much lake as swamp) as unknowingly to them, thousands of storks and cranes were being watched by several birds of prey and eager tourists as they leisurely rested in between hours of flight from Africa to Europe.

This weekend was about soaking up a thousand shades of green and hundreds shades of pink, inhaling the aromas of fragrant herbs and blossoms as well as the stench coming in waves from a nearby cowshed or the odd muddy swamp. Lest not forget the several sneezes, bites and itches, greetings from local bugs and insects.

Its the short breaks that feel the longest and after 2 days in nature I was ready for home, my bed and city noise. Nature is rather exhausting.

Poppy seed cupcakes with toasted almonds & chocolate fudge

2011-03-19T15:09:00.014+02:00

Purim is here, the one holiday of the year dress up and intoxication are considered as 'tradition'. Traditional purim food is all about sugar and dough and can be categorized to 2 main schools of pastry: the east European variety consists mainly of either shortbread or sweet yeast pastry filled with poppy seeds or dried fruit (prunes or dates, ie what was available during the cold European winters), while the Mediterranean pastries consist of different versions of deep fried dough drenched in sugar syrup.

Following visits to an Iraqi and Tripolitanese pastry shops in the week leading to Purim, I’ve had my share of deep fried pastries and hydrogenated oil for the near future and so I decided to play around, baking poppy seeds.

Poppy seeds have quite a troubled reputation, and in a way, rightfully so. You see, if poppy seeds are ground they begin to taste bitter and stale within hours, and since this is how they’re sold in supermarkets, people have grown to assume this is what they taste like. Nasty.

Truth is, freshly ground poppy seeds are nutty and sweet and nothing like the nasty pre-ground version. I baked these cupcakes for Sabrina's Purim/Birthday party. These are a combination between a poppy seed loaf cake (turned cupcakes) and an ice cream flavor close to my heart, essentially apoppy seed & almond tart thrown inside an ice cream maker. heavenly.

If there’s one thing that will determine the success of these cupcakes it’s grinding the poppy seeds right before they’re ready to be used. The longer time passes between grinding and baking the sweet, nutty poppy seeds will begin to taste bitter and stale and generally awful. They can be ground using a spice or coffee grinder. Alternatively, buy them in a spice shop, ground to order, then rush home and keep them sealed in the freezer.

If you want to read more about Purim and its pastries, this is a link to an article published earlier this week on the NYTimes.

Poppy seed cupcakes

with toasted almonds & chocolate fudge

Adapted heavily from ‘Orna & Ella’

Makes approx 15 cupcakes

125g poppy seeds, freshly ground

2 heaped tbs all-purpose flour

3 heaped tbs breadcrumbs

100g butter, room temperature

1/3 cup sugar

4 eggs yolks

¼ tsp vanilla extract

1/8 almond extract

4 egg whites

2 tbs sugar

A pinch of salt

Chocolate fudge topping

100g dark chocolate (min. 70% cocoa solids), chopped

25g golden syrup

25g butter

A handful of slivered almonds, sliced and toasted

Preheat the oven to 170C. Butter and flour a cupcake tin and set aside.
Place a tin large enough to accommodate the cupcake tin and fill it with water to a height of 2cm.
In a small bowl, combine the ground poppy seeds, flour and breadcrumbs. Set aside
Using an electric hand whisk, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
Add the eggs, one at a time, whisking well after each addition.
Add the vanilla and almond extract and whisk until incorporated.
Gradually add the poppy seed-flour mixture, whisking it on the lowest setting until almost combined. use a spatula for the last few turns, until combined.
In a clean bowl, use the highest setting on your electric hand whisk to whisk the egg whites, salt and sugar to stiff peaks.
Fold 1/3 of the egg whites into the poppy seed mixture. Add the remaining egg whites and fold until incorporated.
Spoon the mixture into the tin and bake in the oven for 20 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in to the middle of a cupcake comes out clean.
Remove from the oven. Once cool enough to handle transfer to a rack to cool completely.
While the cupcakes are cooling away prepare the chocolate ganache: Place the chopped chocolate in a heatproof bowl and over a saucepan of simmering water (a double-boiler), until the chocolate has melted (make sure the bottom of the bowl isn’t touching the water).
Add the butter and golden syrup and stir until smooth.
Spread the fudge over the cupcakes and decorate with toasted almonds. Allow it to cool.

Fresh Garlic confit

2011-03-12T19:57:00.006+02:00

Its almost mid march. Thats a spit away from a fully blown spring. When did that happen?

This time of the year goes by so quickly, but for now the almond trees are in full bloom and, like lanterns showing the way, I see them scattered along the highway leading to Jerusalem.

At the market, alongside tomatoes, melons and grapes that are oddly offered and on display, the stalls are bursting with all sorts of green: there's spinach, peas and string beans, artichokes, fava, and an elusive favorite, the green garlic.

Most of the year one can mostly get a hold of dry imported garlic from China, but around this time of year the fragrant green version pops up here and there and worth watching out for.

The other day I was out market and bought a bunch. The garlic is sold with the thick stem and leaves still attached and this serves 2 needs; a) it looks good, all fresh and straight from the ground, but b) when put on the scale, the garlic weighs more, ending with the customer paying more for less. gotta love it. When I suggested to the vendor to do it the other way around I was met with a sniggering laugh. I must have been kidding. I returned home, poorer yet richer, with tagged by a garlicky cloud that followed me all the way back home.

The layers that dry up and flake away are fresh and fragrant. These I like to chop into a salad or soup. Using them up makes way for bright white garlic cloves that ooze a pungent freshness. There has got to be a way to hold on to these for longer. There is. Green garlic confit. The closest thing to stopping time.

There isn’t a recipe as such, the thing to do is buy quite a few, and prepare enough confit to last you for some time.

Garlic confit

Green garlic, separated to cloves (you can cook with the fresh leaves, so don’t throw them away)

Olive oil

Place the garlic cloves in a saucepan so that they reach halfway of its hieight.

Cover with plenty of olive oil and cook over medium- low heat.

The temperature shouldn’t be too high and small bubbles will gently rise to the surface but it mustn’t boil or simmer. We want the garlic to cook in the oil, not deep-fry it.

Cook the garlic for about 30 minutes or until the cloves softened. Set aside and allow to cool.

Transfer the garlic and the now aromatic olive oil to a clean jar and store in the fridge.

Remember to use only clean utensils to scoop the cloves out or drizzle the oil.

That’s it. A little work will take you along way. These are wonderful on toast with anchovy and rubbed tomato, as pasta dressing, with olive oil, salt and pepper, or minced and rubbed over flat dough, sprinkled with crushed salt and rosemary needles for a garlicky pizza.

The olive oil is the cherry on top, having been infused with the garlic. For immediate elevation use it to fry your omelettes, baked goods or anything else you use olive oil for.

Spelt and lima bean mujadara

2011-03-05T19:52:00.008+02:00

I grew up in Jerusalem but left as soon as I could. Its been a love-hate relationship ever since. For years it was strictly an ‘in & out’ arrangement, where I would come to my parents’ house and head back as soon as I could to modern civilization. Anything more was too much to handle.

I’ve been spending more time in the city recently for food purposes and I find am making peace with it through my stomach.

Once it stopped being a threat, attempting to swallow me back and suffocating me inside its dense stone walls I allowed myself to rediscover it, its timelessness quality and that je ne sais qua quality that gets people to lose their mind and fight over it, as if it could be won and be owned.

The heavy, overbearing seriousness with which reality is grasped by is refreshing, be it for a few hours at a time and it is nothing short of a trip abroad less then an hour away, as well as back in time.

Once again the power of food proves itself as a peacemaker and a softener of the heart.

I recently made mujadara, a dish that could probably spark yet another right of ownership war, as is the case with most dishes local to the region. It usually consists of lentils and either rice or bulgur, but I decided too give it a facelift and make it my own. I replaced the grains with spelt kernels, the lentils with lima beans and the yogurt topping for sheep’s milk feta cheese, leaving the fried onions (aka the best bit), untouched. With carbs, proteins, cheese, aromatic herbs, a satisfying crunch and a bouncing bite all in attendance and at their sharpest the only thing missing is dessert.

Spelt and lima bean mujadara

Serves 2

Ingredients

Olive oil

1 cup whole spelt kernels

1 cup lime beans, soaked in water overnight and cooked in boiling water until softened, about 35 minutes

1 red onion, chopped finely

1 sprig of rosemary, needles separated

½ lemon, freshly squeezed

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

Sea salt, freshly ground, to taste

Serve with

1-2 tbs sesame seeds, lightly roasted in a dry pan, then ground in a mortar & pestle
A handful of peanuts, lightly roasted and chopped

Sheep’s milk feta cheese, crumbled

Place the spelt kernels in a medium sized saucepan, pour 1 ½ cups of water and bring to a boil over medium- high heat. When the water is simmering, cover and cook over a low heat for 45 minutes. Remove from the heat and set the saucepan aside, still covered, for about 5 minutes. Use a spatula to fluff the spelt.
While the spelt is cooking heat a little olive oil in a frying pan. add the chopped onion and fry over a medium- low heat until fried and crispy, but not charred.
In a large bowl, add the cooked spelt lima beans and the fried onion. Add the rosemary and season with salt, pepper, olive oil and lemon juice. Taste and adjust seasoning, if needed.
Transfer to a serving plate and serve warm, sprinkled with ground sesame seeds, chopped peanuts and crumbled feta cheese.

Malted dried fruit and oat soda bread

2011-02-20T15:40:00.004+02:00

Call me naïve but I believe in the power of good and that goes to food too, as I believe that good food could never hurt you. How could something that was raised happily and had a good life, that was treated with respect and paired with equally happy ingredients even know what ‘bad’ is when the mere concept of it is non existant? Its simple math, plus and plus can only ever equal a plus and so how could good food have any other impact other then a positive one?

I arrived at bread baking long after I discovered cakes and pastry, fruit and vegetables, meat and fish. I was daunted by bread Baking. I wasn’t ready to stare it in the eyes and I certainly didn’t have the confidence with which bread should be baked. The confidence to feel it, knead it and bake it.

Bread can smell fear but requires love and warmth. It demands attention and time, yeast and kneading, a pleasant atmosphere and time to rise and come to full bloom. Then there’s soda bread, the bread that managed to sneak in through the bakery’s back door.

I made an oat soda bread last weekend and it took approximately 10 minutes to prepare. That, under any circumstance, is ridiculous. If other breads exert terror with starters and bigas, regular feedings, laborious kneading and long periods for leavening, oat bread is all about efficiency stretched to a max without compromising or neglecting the flavor, aroma and texture, freshly baked or toasted..

If baking bread sends shivers down your spine, this is the bread for you; baking soda replaces the yeast and the long minutes of heavy kneading are replaced by 30 seconds, just until everything is incorporated to a happy mass. Cant be bothered with leavening, short on time? No excuse there either, as the bread is rolled into a pan with a direct one way route to the oven. That’s it.

I was flabbergasted myself until the bread came out of the oven, all golden brown and fragrant, juicy, chewy and fruity in just the right places. This bread is situated somewhere between a sweet bread (!) and a mellow breakfast cake to have with coffee in the morning. The texture is pleasing, balanced perfectly between dense and airy to what I consider a baked version of an oat porridge.

Similar to the porridge, the bread version happily accommodates salted butter and a slather of honey or a dollop of sour cream. It can be filled with lots of goodies like chewy dried fruit, nuts and seeds and its flavor deepened with aromatic spices and a malt syrup or honey.

Malted dried fruit and oat soda bread

(Makes 1 loaf)

Butter, to grease pan

 2 cups rolled oats

2 ¼ cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting and kneading

1¾ teaspoons baking soda 

cinnamon, to taste

1¼ teaspoons fine-grain sea salt

1¾ cups buttermilk, plus more if needed + 2Tbs for brushing

2 Medjool dates, seeded and chopped coarsly

2 dried figs, chopped coarsly

6 prunes, seeded and chopped coarsly

1 Tbs rice malt syrup (I found this at a natural food shop, this is a sticky sugary syrup with a deep malt flavor made from rice and fermented barley) can be substituted with honey or date syrup)

caraway seeds, lightly roasted

Mixed seeds – sesame + pumpkin seeds

Preheat the oven to 200°C.

Butter and line a loaf pan with parchment paper and set aside. Alternately, the bread can be shaped to a ball and baked on a lightly floured baking sheet.

Sift the flours, baking soda, cinnamon and salt into a large bowl. Make a well in the flour and pour in the buttermilk. Stir just until everything comes together into a dough.

Turn out onto a lightly floured countertop and knead for 30 seconds or so, just long enough for the dough to come together into a cohesive, slightly flattened ball without many cracks or fissures. If the dough is on the dry side add more buttermilk a small splash at a time.

Add the chopped dates and prunes, caraway seeds and rice malt to the dough and knead gently just long enough until all the ingredient are dispersed throughout the dough.

Place the dough evenly in the prepared loaf pan and brush the top with buttermilk.

Sprinkle generously with sesame and pumpkin seeds and make a few deep slashes across the top.

Bake for about 30 minutes, then quickly (without letting all the hot air out of the oven), move the rack and the bread up a level, so the top of the bread gets nice and toasted. Bake for another 20 minutes, or until a hard crust forms and the bread is baked through.

It will feel solid and make a sound hollow when you knock on the bottom.

Carefully lift it out of the pan and allow to cool on a wire rack. Enjoy toasted with a good slathering of salted butter and sage honey.

Winter root vegetables soup

2011-02-12T20:51:00.007+02:00

Today I realized February must be my favourite month of the year. Whilst other parts of the world experience a tooth droppingly cold weatherת the weather in Tel Aviv is cold enough to help me forget how hot August was but is mild enough that I don’t need more then a jacket and a scarf around my neck to feel cosy and warm. Its when Tel Aviv shines and is at its best. Summer is long forgotten and one just might experience a day or two of rain. I can leave the house without taking my sunglasses but can still enjoy a coffee sitting out, enjoying the sun without the glare burning through.

Every winter I find myself returning to one dish over and over, recreating it in more ways then one. Three years ago it was a comforting honey- cinnamon semolina porridge with toasted Belgian waffles croutons, two years ago it was poached egg on rice, last year is a blur and this year is the year of the soup. Not just any soup but one soup; a chunky winter soup made from earthy root vegetables and sweet almost potato-y butter beans. It is a thick, hearty and satisfying soup cooked with a stock I make from marrow bones. This, as I discovered, is a clever move for more reasons then one. The stock adds that je ne sais quoi ‘umami’ X factor to the soup, but with using any meat, so it comes guilt free. The carcass, an otherwise discarded by- product is either cheap or for free, depending on the mood my butcher is in, so I get to save money too, always a bonus.

Did I mention that its tastes good so much so I'd rather stay in with a bowl?

I give you this winter’s staple soup in my kitchen, and mostly, when it comes to next years cold season, I’ll have this recipe posted here to remind me what kept me nourished and warm all over on most days, even when it wasn't really cold outside.

Winter root vegetables soup

Marrow bone stock

I usually get these free from the butcher, pop them in the oven for about 40 minutes until they are fully roasted. The bones are then boiled with water, then seasoned with turmeric, mace and white peppercorns and left to simmer for about 40 minutes. voila! a wonderful stock ready for use.

1-2 cups lima/ butter beans, soaked overnight, then cooked in water with added sage leaves, until soft but not mush, about 40 minutes.

1 onion or 2 leeks, finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1-2 potatoes, diced

1 fennel, diced

1 turnip, diced

1 chilli pepper, finely chopped (optional)

1 cauliflower, chopped (optional)

1-2 zucchini, diced

1 bunch wild spinach, chopped

Freshly ground white peppercorns

Freshly ground turmeric

Freshly ground mace

Sea salt, to taste

Olive oil

Serve with:

Grated Parmesan cheese

Poached egg

Heat a large saucepan with a glug of olive oil. add the chopped onion or leek and fry until golden. Gradually add each of the chopped vegetables (potatoes, fennel, turnip, zucchini cauliflower and chilli, if using, and garlic), allowing a few minutes between them and stirring occasionally.

When all of the vegetables haven been added and have begun to caramelize in places pour the stock (about 2 litres), cover and bring to a boil.

Season with the ground turmeric, mace, salt and pepper, add the spinach and butter beans, reduce to a medium heat, cover and allow to gently simmer for 15 minutes.

Taste and adjust the seasoning, if needed.

Serve with a toasted slice of bread generously lathered with salted butter.

Note: this soup, as goes with soups, tastes better the day after it was made and get better with everyday that goes by for about 4 days. Some meals, I re-boil the soup with pasta shells for a satisfying meal in a bowl.

Puy lentils, chestnuts and gorgonzola salad

2011-01-29T15:46:00.013+02:00

My time in Italy has now compressed to a collective of memories. Memories of food and friends, markets and restaurants and local and seasonal prodotti tipici.

Thankfully, food allows me to go back to a particular place in time and taste the memory all over, as if I was right there and then. Take this winter salad, for example: I was living in Firenze as part of my internship. Almost everyday would start in a short stroll to the market on the way to work. I’d fill my reusable bag with seasonal goodies in preparation for dinner and upon my return from work, in the early hours of the evening, I’d experiment in the shoebox that was my kitchen.

This is what this salad tastes of and it proved itself a keeper, standing the test of time. I recently made and wrote about on my weekly column and here it is again, worthy, in my eyes, of another post. It has Italy in autumn written all over it, and while you may say fall is long gone, the weather in this part of the world resembles a mild fall, even now, on the threshold of February.

When chestnuts are in season this salad can either serve as a side dish or a light meal in itself. The Gorgonzola melts into the hot lentils and coats the salad in a rich creamy dressing. Combined with the chestnuts and shallots, its nothing short of a celebratory nostalgic get- together in my mouth.

As per usual, the key to a fine result depends on the quality of the raw ingredients, ie. You might want to invest in raw chestnuts that require attentive boiling and peeling and a good Gorgonzola.

Puy lentils, chestnuts and gorgonzola salad

serves 2-4

400 grams chestnuts, with a shiny, tight, dark brown skin

1½ cups puy lentils

1-2 bay leaves

2-3 shallots or 1 red onion, chopped finely

75 gram Gorgonzola (dolce or piccante, as you like), crumbled

Sea salt, to taste

Freshly ground white pepper, to taste

Extra virgin olive oil

1 tsp rosemary needles

With a sharp knife make an X cut in the skin on the flat side of each chestnuts.

Simmer in a pan with boiling water for 15 minutes.

Peel the chestnuts taking care to remove both the outer shell as well as the inner brown membrane. It's much more simple to peel them when they're still hot, so work in small batches, keeping the chestnuts in the hot water.

Place the lentils in a saucepan and cover with water. Add the bay leaves, cover and bring to a boil. Allow to simmer for 20 minutes, until the lentils are soft.

Strain the cooked lentils and place in a bowl.

While the lentils are still warm add the peeled chestnuts, chopped shallots and the Gorgonzola cheese. The hot lentils will cause the cheese to melt into a thick dressing. Stir well.

Season with salt, pepper and olive oil, taste and adjust seasoning, if needed.

Sprinkle the rosemary on top and serve, still warm.

Cauliflower sunchokes and feta cheese pasta topped with a poached egg

2011-01-22T13:30:00.017+02:00

I spent the latter part of last week in bed with a throat infection. This was my opportunity to self indulge on comfort food. I brought all the big guns out: cauliflower, oat porridge, rice pudding, chicken soup (sans the chicken), and cheesy pasta all worked their magic and did what they do best: Comfort with a passion. The only one left out in the cold was the sun, shining as brightly as a mild spring May day on what should have been a cold, grey and rainy January, but I guess you cant have it all.

The few days of compulsory rest came following several hectic weeks that came to a peak last Saturday, at a food & design exhibition opening I was asked to showcase some of my work. An architect working through food or a food writer that talks architecture, I walk the walk in both worlds, with one foot in each and either. Walking the line between the two disciplines is the path I chose and so I jumped at the opportunity to discuss food and architecture through my photography . After some thought I showcased a projection of food photographs, as observed from an architectural perspective, with key architectural terms interlaced between the images, as if to ‘shape’ the eyes of the beholders and, in a sense, bring them into my world; a world where food is architecture and architecture is food.

A system, in space, through time.

Edible or Habitable, well, that’s just details…

Cauliflower sunchokes and feta cheese pasta with a poached egg

The ultimate in comfort food, this has it all: a runny egg, soft cauliflower, cheese and pasta.

Serves 2

Olive oil

½ cauliflower, grated to pea size crumbs

5 medium size sunchokes, peeled and thinly sliced

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

150 gram (small shell shaped) pasta

Freshly grated turmeric

Nutmeg, to taste

Mace, to taste

Sea salt, to taste

Freshly squeezed lemon juice

Freshly ground white pepper

50 gram feta cheese, crumbled

2 fresh free range eggs

Cook the pasta according to the package instruction. Start by bringing a large saucepan with plenty of salted water to a boil.
For poaching the eggs, bring a saucepan with plenty of water to a boil. For instructions on how to poach an egg check out this link.
In the meantime, heat a large frying pan with a glug of olive oil.
When the oil is hot add the sliced sunchokes and fry until golden. Add the grated cauliflower and stir well. Fry the mixture, stirring continuously, making sure the bottom doesn’t burn. Sprinkle the chopped garlic and mix well. Add ¾ cup of water and cover, steaming the vegetables until soft, around 10 minutes. Season with turmeric, nutmeg, mace and freshly ground white pepper. Squeeze a little lemon juice over, just to enhance the flavors slightly then cover to keep warm.
Poach the eggs and set aside.
When the pasta is cooked, drain it and toss in the pan with the sun chokes and cauliflower.
Add the crumbled feta cheese, taste and adjust the seasoning, if needed. Be careful when adding the salt as the feta cheese is already salted.
Serve in a serving bowl and place the poached egg on top.
I finished off the dish by sprinkling a little Japanese 7 spice (Shichimi tōgarashi) on top, for a little heat. You can substitute with your preferred choice of a burn or omit altogether. Whatever brings you comfort.

Playing with food #4: The Joy of Vegetables

2011-01-10T21:40:00.002+02:00

A 'raw food' workshop with the school kids. Turns out making sandwiches and rolls using lettuce, cabbage and seaweed instead of bread and a rich cornucopia of seasonal fruit and vegetables is not only great fun, but also tastes great. There was a lot of "I dont normally eat these but this is the best thing I've ever tasted". I suspect making you own colourful sarnie without being told you HAVE to have it doesnt hurt, either.

The food revolution is happening.

One step at a time.

Fried onion & chickpeas sambusac

2011-01-08T16:32:00.010+02:00

Several weeks ago I spent the day in East Jerusalem with Rafram. It wasn’t the Jerusalem I know and am familiar with but an undiscovered one; A Jerusalem that exists side by side the city I know and remember growing up in, the eastern side of Jerusalem is the Palestinian side. It is on this side wild herbs are sold by women kneeling down on the floor, where the sweetest confectionary is sold as a main course, hummus is prepared for breakfast and seasoned with the unique taste of time and tradition. Here the coffee beans are freshly ground mixed with cardamon seeds, okra is sold wild and tomatoes are detected from a far by their scent.

The Palestinian farmers grow their produce using traditional methods and heirloom varieties for lack of better means, meaning that produce is seasonal and still bears the scent and taste of how it never does anymore.

Thanks to Rafram I was introduced to a whole new world of foodstuffs that were unknown to me and still are to those that aren't obsessed with the local foodscape of Israel. Nothing new and innovative, these ingredients are local and seasonal and have been grown, made and produced using the same methods for centuries. I returned home that day on a full stomach after a lunch of fried brains and livers seasoned with the most delicate of seasoning, naturally served with a creamy sheep’s milk Labneh, a crispy salad dressed with tahini and the fluffiest of pita breads. Lunch was followed by a visit to my new favorite food shop somewhere on the east side of the city. Here, buttery potatoes are sold covered in soil, as they were picked and the clementines are still adorned with the stem, as they were picked off the tree. A bit of both, I also added the sheep’s milk clarified butter, unfiltered young olive oil, bitter and pungent from the recent harvest as well as the elusive thick, gooey ‘honey’ syrup made from grapes in Hebron.

Whilst it is always exciting to discover new treasures just when you thought you knew it all, the down side is the realization of how little one really knows. Nothing short of gems, these treasures are little known to the Israeli population and that may not be a bad thing considering previous examples of local dishes and ingredients ‘adopted’ by the Israeli palette, quickly followed by progress and industrialization.

Sold in recycled jars and plastic bottles, these products have changed little over time and have evolved over centuries, in harmony and keeping with the seasons, the land and nature. Perhaps they should remain a secret, now that they are gracing my kitchen.

These could be made using yeast dough or phyllo sheets, either fried or baked.

I chose the fast track and the crispiness of baked phyllo pastry sheets. Having tasted the end product, I suggest you do the same.

Fried onion & chickpeas sambusac

Ingredients

Makes about 15 sambusacs

Phyllo sheets, thawed overnight in the fridge, if using the frozen kind

1 cup chickpeas, soaked overnight, drained and cooked in water until tender.

½ cup red lentils, fried in oil until crispy (optional)

Olive oil

1-2 onions, chopped

2 garlic cloves, minced

½ chilli pepper, finely chopped

½ lemon, squeezed

Sea salt, to taste

Freshly ground pepper, to taste

1 egg yolk

2-3 Tbs sesame seeds

Prepare the filling:

Heat a frying pan over medium heat. Add a little olive oil.

When the oil is hot add the chopped onions and cook until golden, about 10 minutes.

Add the minced garlic and chopped chilli and cook for a few more minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.

Using either a food processor or a mortar and pestle mash the drained cooked chickpeas to a course paste.

In a medium bowl combine the chickpea paste with the cooked onions, garlic and chilli. Add the fried lentils, if using.

Season with salt, pepper, lemon juice and a drizzle of olive oil.

Preheat the oven to 190°C.

Prepare the phyllo pastry:

Using a sharp knife, cut the phyllo into 15 strips (or as many sambusacs you wish to prepare), about 8x25 cm. stack the strips, cover with plastic wrap and a damp kitchen towel.

If you let the dough dry out, it will crack and be difficult to work with.

Put the olive oil in a small bowl and clear an area on your counter to work with the phyllo dough.

Keeping remaining phyllo covered and working quickly, place 1 sheet on work surface and lay it flat.

Gently brush with some olive oil.

Filling and folding the sambusac:

This clip demonstrates how to fold the phyllo into a triangle and create a pocket in which to drop the filling.

Alternatively, Fold the corner of phyllo over to enclose filling and form a triangle.

Continue folding the pastry strip, maintaining a triangle shape.

Place the sambusac, seam side down, on baking sheet.

Repeat with remaining phyllo and filling.

Generously brush the samusacs with egg yolk and sprinkle with sesame seeds.

Bake until golden and crisp all over, about 25 minutes total. Cool slightly. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Chickpeas and spicy merguez salad

2010-12-18T16:59:00.010+02:00

The past few weeks have been hectic to say the least.

Still recovering from the copious amount of food (mainly gluten based baked goods), and since I chose a career path based on me eating, a day off is a rarity. Food is work and I’m happy to earn my bread, literally. Food, however, is all consuming and, and so my blog seems to be paying the price…

Its not all fun and games, as a short recap of some of my culinary adventures in the past few weeks reveals.I made another trip up north to Matat for work, always a highlight. This time I was mainly in the kitchen cooking for a photo shoot, and eating it all, which goes without saying. On the way back, and since we simply had to have dessert after a day of roasted, cooked and baked lamb, chicken, bread, casseroles and stews, we stopped in Kfar Yasif and found an ‘off the beaten track’ local patisserie for what was possibly the best halva Baklava I’ve had and exceptional Knafe. Nothing short of corrupt indulgence.

Last week was also our (Adi, Dafi and me) second meeting with the kids at ‘Shaked’ preliminary school in Ra’anana, as part of the year long ‘Garden to plate’ gastronomy workshop. This week’s theme was mother earth and, once we had finished reading a variety of mythological stories about her, and a short working session at the vegetable garden we set up, we prepared miniature plant pots inspired by Noma’s recipe, simplifying it to fromage blanc covered in savoury granola ‘earth’ and radishes from the farmers market.

Some don’t like cheese, others may take a dislike to radishes but then there was the kid that told me he hates radishes with a passion but he ate this one and liked it. If that doesnt make it all worth while I dont know what does. I feel how little by little, we're taking part in something bigger and helping to make difference as small as it may be. It’s the reason I do what I do and this is the place it all comes together.

Food is as a tool, a communicator and a creative outlet. It tastes good and it feels even better.

It’s the season for heavy casseroles, comforting meals that fit in a bowl, can be eaten with a spoon, thirsty for a dribbling poached egg.

This is one I made earlier.

Chickpeas and spicy merguez salad

(serves 2-4)

Ingredients

500gram chickpeas, soaked over night in water, rinsed and strained

3-4 sage leaves

1 garlic clove

6 merguez sausages, cut to bite size pieces

¼ curry powder

2 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped finely

2-3 tbs olive oil

¼ cup dried cranberries

coriander leaves, washed

¼ cup hazelnuts, roasted and chopeed coarsely

sea salt, to taste
White peppercorns, to taste, freshly ground

1 lemon, juiced

Place the chickpeas in a large sauce pan with the sage leaves and the the garlic clove. Cover with plenty of water and bring to a boil.

Use a spoon to remove the foam from the top surface, reduce to a low heat and cook until the chickpeas are soft but firm, about 1 hour.

When they are ready, strain and set aside.

Prepare the sausages:

Heat an iron skillet and fry the merguez until they turn a deep colour and covered in burn marks. You don’t need to use any oil since the merguez are oily as it is. Drain on a paper towel to remove excess fat.

Alternatively, these can be oven baked, placed on a baking tray and browned in an oven preheated to 200C, around 5 minutes.

In a dry saucepan, fry the fenugreek seeds and the curry powder until the aroma is released.

Remove from the heat and stir in the olive oil.

To assemble the dish use a large bowl to mix the cooked chickpeas, merguez sausages, coriander leaves, cranberries and roasted hazelnuts.

Season with the spiced olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper.

Taste and adjust seasoning, if needed.

Transfer to a plate and serve drizzled with raw tahini, chopped nuts and more coriander seeds.

If you’re feeling up to it, serve with a freshly poached egg on top.

Israel (and Jordan), a mouthful

2010-12-04T15:06:00.023+02:00

Kate came for a 10 day visit. This was always going to be an ambitious project, us trying to squeeze a diverse, ever changing, constantly evolving rich foodscape that is made up of dozens of different cuisines, local and from the various Diaspora; Street food, gourmet, cheap and expensive, simple and pretentious, fresh and seasonal, slow and traditional, we had it all.

This was a week of chicken, turkey and lamb shawarma, good hummus and bad, cheap borek, good borek and luxury crab meat borek, brains on toast, kibbeh soup, shakshuka, mujaddara, sweet knafe, mild Malabi and a sour sweet tamarind juice.

The new covered market at Tel Aviv port was the place we had a fluffy kebab and an inspiring gelato, at Levinsky spice market we collected spices, from dried Persian lemons to white Yemenite coffee, a mediocre borek and an unforgettable pomegranate orange juice. Lastly, we made a pitstop at HaCarmel market for some succulent Medjool dates.

Ali Karawan’s mind blowing hummus in Jaffa was a Friday breakfast appetizer, but then we simply had to stop at the doctor for a spicy shakshuka, a taste of his shawarma and a cuscus (Dr. Shakshuka has a Phd in shakshuka, in case you wondered).

A visit to Jerusalem's Mahne Yehuda market began with coffee and a visit to 'Marzipan' patisserie for their gooey dripping Rogelach and boreks before we headed to Azura for a taste of Kibbeh soup and okra cooked in tomato sauce. We had no time to waste and so we headed to the old city, for more food and some spirituality at the wailing wall and the church of the sepulchre.

It was late afternoon, and we had already sampled the local Knafe (fried kadaifi with sweet sheep's milk cheese, rose sugar syrup and pistachio) when the search for the best shawarama began. We didnt have an address as such, or a name for that matter, but we knew what we were after. Eventually we made it to a fluorescent lit dining hall, and were greeted by a large shawarma and several men with a smile that says: " I know you made quite a way to get this far and its well worth it". We were sat down and were served some salads, pita bread and two heaped plates of freshly carved shawarma. It was thanksgiving in the US and the turkey meat cooked in sheep fat was appropriate for the occasion. And it was wonderful too. Dinner was a disaster so I wont go into it. Suffice to say it didnt change Kate's mind regarding eggplants or tahini, both of which were badly made and expensively charged.
As part of the' once in a lifetime' experience we made plans to visit Petra. Although Jordan is the closest thing to abroad from Israel, this was to be my first time. A taxi ride, flight, border pass, and more taxi ride later we were in Wadi Mussa, ready to see the wonder. It may have been the end of November but you couldn't tell from the heat wave. We saw the wonder and even saved our packed lunch to have in it's presence. Several hours later, after marvelling at the landscape and trying to avoid the donkey rides that kept appearing in front of us we had dinner at a restaurant specializing in typical Jordanian cuisine.

Despite a few glitches like a random apple mayo salad, we were served local dishes such as stuffed zucchini and a fragrant lamb Maqluba, fresh yogurt, Hummus, bitter olives and beet salad. However, we both agreed that apart for the cold beer and free nuts at the Movenpick hotel lobby it was the 1 Dinari falafel and fried shawarma wrap that did it for us.

As a fitting finale to our Jordanian adventure, our taxi driver shared with us a freshly baked bread he picked up in a bakery on his trip back, still warm and humid from the taboon.

Dipped in fromage blanc and a bottle of beer it made for dinner, Biblical style.

There were many more dishes and meals, from 'North Abraxes', to 'Shila' and a hedonistic meal at the 'Basta', a Russian breakfast at 'Cafe Mersand' and a sabich finale at Tchernichovsky.

Now that I have caught on my sleep and the workload and had some time to ingest the week and digest the copious amount of foods I feel I must mention some of the catastrophes, mishaps and general cloud of strange coincidences that came flying our way from all directions and at all times, from dentists and mormons, to a fringe, a spilled jar of tahini in a suitcase, lost chargers, unstable bikes to one very bad film, to name but a few (all of which added to the experience and the taste of the food). I'd do it all over again kate.

Till the next time, however, there is no rest for the wicked and I have landed directly in the hands of Hanukah (thats code for fried latkes and more fried doughnuts).

Must. carry. on.

A year later...

2010-11-20T18:30:00.007+02:00

It is the 1-year anniversary since I graduated and returned home from Italy. I did a bit of soul searching this week (though I do that pretty much on a regular basis), looking back for a recount of the past year, my actions, my gains and the future. Could it be a coincidence that on this same week I found myself, on 2 separate occasions, standing in front of students, giving back and sharing my knowledge, sowing seeds of change, opening a door, shaking foundations?

I see the rocks obstructing my path, as stepping-stones and higher jumping boards that will take me leaps forward.

At the end of an exciting, nerve wrecking, stressful, angst-ridden week along came Friday and made it all better and the rest of the weekdays seem worth the pain, or rather growing pains.

Turns out that fear and anxiety are to be met with a force and not cowardness. luckily I did and it was and I’m better for it and thus, so is the universe.

Nothing like a group of eager students, curious to taste new flavours, hear things they never knew existed to fill one with a dose of always needed optimism.

I could hear the sound of communication; information passing from my inner world and landing on absorbent ears, and it felt like giving. This must have been the sound of me following my vocation and doing the one thing I can: communicating through food.

Everything happens for a reason. At what point is it too coincidental to be a coincidence?

pomegranate Cranachan

2010-11-07T09:28:00.003+02:00

I was recently introduced to the Scottish Cranachan. I stumbled upon it right around the same time I spent a family vacation at the Scott’s hotel in Tiberias. I felt I could not and should not ignore the evidently recurring theme.

Tiberias is a small city overlooking the sea of Galilee, and really that is its main feature. That and the Scott’s Hotel, perfectly designed so that there is no need to venture outside to the dreary surrounding, while enjoying a panoramic view, though in the case you do, you can get it in small doses, in the form of a tour and a guide.

Between the pool, the spa and the dining room, a room with a view and a whiskey bar, it was the closet to a vacation in Scotland without the need for a passport.

Cranachan, as I found out, is a Scottish dessert served during the harvest season, mainly summer and fall. It consists of the best in Scottish produce: dairy, oats, berries, honey and single malt whiskey. Scotland is still on my ‘go to’ places, but I have never been drawn to the cuisine with stories on deep fried everything and stuffed innards. I was more then pleasantly surprises to discover cranachan and how it spoke in a dialect I could relate to and understand.

This is no Scotland and so I took the original recipe and modified it using local and seasonal ingredients to a cranachan with a Hebrew accent. Similar to the Japanese version of tahini, it is always a pleasant surprise to find that some words mean the same thing no matter the language. This is one of those dishes.

pomegranate Cranachan

(serves 6)

Recipe heavily adapted from here

Ingredients

170g coarsely grated dark chocolate (min 70% cocoa solids)

1 cup hazelnuts, toasted, husked, coarsely chopped

1tsp cinnamon

1/3 cup brown sugar

1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats (not the instant kind)

1 3/4 cups chilled heavy whipping cream

1/3 cup sour cream

1/3 cup Arrack (or single malt whiskey)

3 tablespoons pomegranate molasses

1 pomegranate, seeded.

Preheat oven to 175°C.

Mix chocolate, hazelnuts, cinnamon and brown sugar in medium bowl.

Spread oats out on rimmed baking sheet and bake for about 7 minutes, until toasted and golden brown, stirring occasionally.

Stir hot oats into chocolate mixture. The hot oats will partially melt chocolate.

Set-aside until chocolate firms, at least 2 hours. This can be made 1 day ahead, covered and chilled.

Beat whipping cream until it reaches the stiff peaks stage.

Gently fold the sour cream, and Arrack into the whipped cream.

Fold the pomegranate molasses and gently fold to create red swirls in the whiteness of the cream.

Either in individual bowls or one large communal bowl layer 3/4 cup cream mixture and 3/4 cup oat mixture and repeat layering.

Top with the cream mixture and sprinkle with oat mixture and pomegranate seeds.

Can be served at once or prepared in advance and chilled for a few hours.

If you cant get hold of pomegranates or pomegranate molasses, you can substitute it with any honey and seasonal or preserved fruit you have.

Autumn day out

2010-11-01T09:33:00.009+02:00

Last week, on a spur of the moment I joined Anna, an Italian journalist in her research for material on a story for Italian TV about the local farmers market.

With Terra Madre taking place in Turin these days the story of various local farmers market, nurturing a complicated land with love and respect, we had less then a day and an impossible schedule.

From Tel Aviv in central Israel Anna, the photographer and myself headed south to a local olive oil producer. We had a chat, took a walk and snacked on an impromptu picnic on the back of his pick up truck, essentially bread, olive oil and tapanade.

By the time we left for the dairy farm, in the North of Israel, the sun had begun to set and the highways clogged with the end-of-week traffic. We arrived at the farm hungry, tired and agitated and it was already dark. The dairy was ready to close for the day, the cattle was back in the farm after a day's grazing, the herd dogs were smeared on the floor following a long day of herding and the last cheese was placed in the cold room, to begin its aging process.

Barkanit is a small family run dairy farm founded over 30 years ago. They have local varieties of goats and sheep that roam the local landscape during the day, feeding only on grass with no other additives, antibiotics or the likes.

The cheeses are all produced by hand using traditional methods, and according to Avinoam it is only women that make the cheese, as they have the right 'touch'. The range of cheese produced ranges from soft, semi soft, camembert style and blue cheese as well as hard aged cheese, all made naturally, by hand and with much love and care.

We roamed the land, met new people and generally had a welcome change of scenery, as from the back seat of the car endless fields replaced the grey urban landscape.

I met the salt of the earth.

Swedish Apple Cake

2010-10-25T18:05:00.008+02:00

I’ve had this recipe filed in the “must bake’ bookmark ever and today was the day I finally baked it.

Halloween is coming up and despite my attempts to do something with a pumpkin its simly not in my blood, probably because it is a non existent holiday on this part of the world and , well, the heat waves are confusing any notion of fall. If it weren’t for the apples, pumpkins and citrus fruit that began appearing in the market, I’d be lost.

I don’t recall what it was about this cake that caught my eye. I think it was it its pure simplicity and my affection for anything Nordic. You see, its Swedish, and Sweden can get quite cold. Quick and easy to bake it is not a flashy cake pregnant with failed promises, but is instead succulent and moist, naïve and pure in its plainness. And it filled my house with the warm air of a home.

It is one of those cakes that become a staple, a comfort, and I cant stop thinking about a slice sitting cosily inside a bowl of warm custard.

Swedish apple cake

This recipe is adapted from Allegra McEvedy’s Swedish apple that appeared here.

3 eggs

¾ cup unrefined cane sugar

2 cups flour

1½tsp baking powder

200g Sour cream

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and cut into bite-sized chunks

¼ tsp cinnamon

Pre-heat the oven to 175ºC.

Whisk the eggs and sugar until it is thick and pale.

Sift in the flour and baking powder, folding t gently until it is all combined.

Fold the sour cream into the mixture.

Fold the cinnamon and diced apples into the mix until it is all combined.

You can brush the top with melted butter and sprinkle liberally with golden granulated sugar and some cinnamon (I added cinnamon sugar I bought on my last trip to the Netherlands).

Grease a 20cm cake tin with a knob of butter, then pour the batter in.

Bake in the oven for 40-50 minutes, then take it out and leave to cool in the pan for 10 minutes.

Run a knife around the edge and turn out on to a plate, then flip again so the apples are on top.

Serve hot or at room temperature, as is or with a dollop of crème fraiche or vanilla ice cream.

For variations, try adding freshly ground mace, cardamon, chunks of candied ginger or apricot, raisin or chopped walnuts to the mixture for your personal signature apple cake.

Apple walnut goats cheese loaf

2010-10-19T16:09:00.011+02:00

This is the first time since I started this blog, that I haven’t updated it for this long. Its not for the lack of want, more like having to accept there are only 24 hours in a day and just so much I can do, despite being über- efficient.

I’ve been busy working food from different angles, but not before I recovered from the previous post, which took longer then anticipated.

The fall is here, despite it being warmer now then a hot day in August, and apples, Jerusalem artichokes and other fall vegetables are finally starting to appear in the markets in full glory.

it’s also the olive picking season.

I took a day trip to an olive grove that belongs to one of the finest olive oil producers in the land days before the olive harvest begins. Set by the Sea of Galilee, the fattoria grows and produces 7 different olive varieties from across the Mediterranean such as Suri, Barnea, Coratina, koroneiki, picholine, arbequina, leccino and piqual.

In order for an olive tree to produce it must cross-pollinate with a different variety so the grove is mixed, alternating every few rows.

I picked a handful of each variety and took them home with me. I made a cut in the flesh of each olive and set in a bowl of water for a week, changing the water daily. This is done to extract the bitterness from the olives, now resting in a sterilized jar by the window, infused with water, salt, herbs and spices. Now comes the waiting part. So I wait.

In the meantime, apples are calling me and whilst I do love me an apple cake, I decided to try as a savoury one. Paired with walnuts and a semi hard goats cheese, the result was part cake, part bread. I'll call it a loaf. It gives off the aroma of a comforting apple cake, of autumn, of home, but the bite is surprising in its maturity and the flavour isn’t masked by sweetness. It can be served as a side dish, for a picnic a brunch, or as part of a light lunch.

Apple walnut goats cheese loaf

Adapted from a recipe in the NYTimes

Makes 1 loaf

Ingredients

1 cup AP flour, sifted

¾ cup whole wheat flour, sifted

2 Tsp baking powder

1 Tsp salt

½ Tsp freshly ground peppercorns

1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil

3 eggs

1/3 cup goats milk yogurt

1 granny smith apple, cored, peeled and diced

50 gr semi hard goats cheese (like Bouche, for example), crumbled

Handful of walnuts, roasted and coarsely chopped

Atlantic sea salt

Needles from a Rosemary twigs

Preheat the oven to 175ºC and use olive oil to oil a loaf pan.

In a large bowl combine flours, baking powder, salt and pepper.

In a separate bowl lightly whisk the eggs, then add the yogurt and olive oil and whisk to combine.

Fold the liquids into the flour mixture and mix until it all comes together. The dough is pretty dry and thick, but don’t worry.

Fold the diced apple, crumbled goats cheese and walnuts into the dough and transfer to the loaf pan.

Drizzle some olive oil and scatter the rosemary needles and the sea salt above.

Bake for 35 minutes or until the loaf has turned golden and a knife inserted in the centre comes out dry.

Allow to cool for several minutes before realising the loaf from the pan, and leave on a rack to cool completely.

Use a serrated knife to slice the loaf and serve with a dollop of fresh sour cream.

The loaf can be kept frozen, tightly wrapped in foil.

Note: If you’re not a fan of goats milk, you can substitute the cheese and yogurt with sheep’s milk. for other variation trv substituting the apple and walnuts with other seasonal fruit, nuts and seeds, different herbs, or salumi of your choice.