Malted dried fruit and oat soda bread

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

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

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

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

1. Cook the pasta according to the package instruction. Start by bringing a large saucepan with plenty of salted water to a boil.
2. 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.
3. In the meantime, heat a large frying pan with a glug of olive oil.
4. 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.
5. Poach the eggs and set aside.
6. When the pasta is cooked, drain it and toss in the pan with the sun chokes and cauliflower.
7. 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.
8. Serve in a serving bowl and place the poached egg on top.
9. 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

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

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

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.