Yule love Scandinavian baking

Christmas baking time again, and it's a return to Europe with a tea party of Scandinavian Xmas treats. Rather than do a pan-Scandinavian, I decided to do one of the most essential Xmas bake from each of the three Scandinavian countries: Denmark, Norway, and Sweden.

Beginning in Denmark, I started with pebernødder (pepper nuts, literally). There's no pepper in them, but there's a hint of a spice or two, depending on the recipe. For mine, I used a teaspoon of ground cardamom, mixing it with 350g flour and a half teaspoon each of baking soda and baking powder. I then mixed 225g sugar with 80g salted butter, folding in an egg and then 100ml whipping cream. I combined this with the flour mixture to get a dough, kneading and adding a little flour until homogeneous and firm.

I pulled fist-sized blobs from this dough and rolled them out into long sausages on a floured board, using a greased knife to cut out inch-long segments to lay out on the baking tray for a 15 minute bake at 225C, until they got golden brown on top.

I got 48 pebernødder from this recipe. These were mildly sweet and subtly spiced, delicious eaten with hot tea, and kept well after as leftovers.

Moving on to Norway's sandkaker (sand cake). I mixed 200g butter into 250g flour to get a dense dough, adding in 100g almond flour, an egg, and 100g sugar to knead. The almond flour gives it a sandy texture to which the name refers. I refrigerated the kneaded combined dough for about an hour, covered.

I had bought special shell-shaped tartlet tins for this item; it is the traditional shape, although I could have used my regular flat tartlet baking tray had I not been able to find them. While preheating the oven to 175C, I pressed the cold dough into the tins (perhaps a little too thickly, in retrospect), and then baked them for about 15 minutes, until the edges of the tartlets became golden brown. After they were done baking, I let them cool for about 10 minutes before prying them out of the shell tins and letting them cool to room temperature. 24 sandkaker in all, and maybe half as many more if I had spread them thinner.

Lacking multe berries, I made do with raspberries to top, spread over with generous helpings of whipped cream to make a treat that appealed to the palate and eye alike.

The final baking destination was Sweden and its saffransbullar (saffron bun), also called lussekatt (after St Lucy's Day, which falls during Advent). In a mortar, I ground up 1.5g saffron with about a teaspoon of sugar, and cultured 25g yeast by mixing with 150ml warm milk and 100g warm melted butter, letting it sit for several minutes. I then added the ground saffron and 100g sugar, plus half an egg, half a teaspoon of salt.

Finally, I added 375g flour, kneading up a dough into which I mixed about 40g raisins. I let this springy dough rise, covered, for about 30 minutes in a warm place. I rolled lumps of twelfths of the dough out into small sausages, letting them sit covered for 10. Finally, I rolled them out twice as long, then rolling in the ends into double-spiral S-shapes around a couple of raisins, and letting them sit covered for about 90 minutes. Before baking for about 5 minutes each at 220C, until golden brown on top, I brushed the buns with a mixture of the other half of the egg and a couple tablespoons of water.

The buns were delightfully fluffy, sweet to the taste, and a gorgeous bright yellow color inside and out.

An Emirati feast for National Day

It's been a few years since I began my culinary tour of the world through home-cooked theme meals. December 2nd of 2014, though, would mark the day I did some "adopted home: cooking, as I finally got around to putting together an Emirati meal, in celebration of the UAE's 43rd National Day. With some downloaded Emirati traditional music playing, and with flags and flag-colored balloons decorating my apartment, I welcomed my 9 guests to the most authentic Emirati feast I could muster.

First came procuring the essentials. Samen (ghee, or clarified butter), in the yellow jar, is one of the main fats used for frying, cooking, and garnishing in Emirati cuisine. For desserts and beverages, ma2 al ward (rosewater), here in the bottle, is frequently used. If you're doing anything savory, you almost certainly will be using the Emirati spice mix they call bezar, here in the silver packet with the green label. And last, but not least, I got those two bags containing sufficient quantities of loomi (dried lime), one bag of whole and one bag of powdered. These make a world of difference in giving that distinctive aroma and taste to many Emirati dishes. They are all available in major hypermarkets around here -- definitely in Union Co-op, which visibly markets towards the Emirati demographic.

As a light starter, I made Emirati street and snack mainstay, dango, by soaking 2.5 cups of dried chickpeas overnight with 1.5 tsp soda bicarbonate, and boiling the drained chickpeas with salt and 10 small dried red chilies on low-medium heat for about an hour, until tender. For such a simple dish, it's surprisingly tasty and hearty.

For my other starter, I made the Emirati comfort food they call harees. I had about 650g of lamb on the bone and 2 cups of whole wheat (sold under the name of harees itself) boiled with 6 cups of water and simmered for two hours, until the free water had evaporated. I then added a tablespoon of salt and another cup of water for a further hour of sealed simmering.

After removing the bones, I used a handheld blender to blend it all down to a thick puree, and served it the traditional way: warm, spread into a platter, and garnished with samen. A subtly flavored dish, with a unique texture.

I made two entrees of seafood, the first of which was the Emirati staple called jesheed -- a dish made with the meat of the local baby shark. Probably because it's primarily an Emirati thing, I could only find this in Union Co-op, and you need to buy a whole shark at a time, which they will skin, gut, and partially cut for you.

I boiled about a kilogram of shark meat chunks for about an hour, until they became firm enough to easily debone and shred. While I was doing the deboning and shredding, I fried 4 sliced onions golden in vegetable oil, then adding 2.5 tbsp loomi powder, 1.5 tbsp turmeric, 1.5 tbsp bezar and 4 crushed garlic cloves to fry and let the flavors mingle. I then stirred in 5 chopped tomatoes, followed by the shredded shark meat and a little water, and simmered it all under a lid for about half an hour.

I believe this was my first time eating shark, and I found the texture a bit strange at first. But once I mentally digested the fact that this wasn't regular fish, I came to quite like the mildly spicy, umami-rich taste of this dish.

My second entree was robeyann nashif, a spicy shrimp dish that's popular at Emirati dining tables, and the curry leaves in which might indicate some influence from my own home country.

I again fried 4 sliced onions golden in vegetable oil, then stirring in 2.5 tbsp bezar, 1 tbsp turmeric, 1 tsp ground fennel seeds, 5 crushed garlic cloves, 3 tbsp loomi powder, 1.5 tsp cummin seeds, 15 curry leaves, 1.5 tbsp tomato paste, and 2.5 tbsp grated ginger for a few minutes of frying. Finally, I added the cleaned, shelled large shrimp, and cooked on low heat for about 15 minutes.

Served with store-bought markouk bread (my attempt at making regag failed, due to my lack of a proper gas griddle), this dish, with its sharp, spicy taste, turned out to be an unqualified hit, and not a lick of it remained.

Then came the main course: fogga diyay (diyay being the Emirati pronunciation of dejaj, Arabic for chicken). A fogga, known also as machboos/makboos/kabsa, is basically a dish of rice cooked in a meat stock, flavored with loomi and other spices. The previous night, I prepared its typical accompaniment, daqus (center), by pureeing 4 chopped tomatoes with half a chopped onion, 4 fresh chili peppers, and a tablespoon of hot sauce.

Late in the morning of the lunch, I rubbed in pieces of chicken (mostly drumsticks and thighs) with some salt and a lot of bezar (top), cooking them in samen until they were slightly cooked (right). I then added 6 cups of chicken stock, 3 chopped fresh tomatoes, 8 chopped cloves of garlic, 5 whole loomi, 2 large sticks of cinnamon, and 12 bruised pods of cardamom, simmering covered for about 20 minutes (bottom). Finally, I added some salt and 5 cups of rice that had been soaked and drained. Without stirring, I let this cook, loosely covered, until the stock was absorbed and rice had risen, and then placed a tight lid on it to cook for 15 minutes.

I served it hot with the daqus and some cold yogurt that had been mixed with chopped mint. The chicken was so tender that it was falling apart, and the stock had imparted a wonderfully savory flavor to the rice, all enhanced with the taste of bezar and the aroma of the whole loomi. Next time, though, I would cut the quantity of rice to half, or two-thirds at most. Rice-heavy is apparently how it's done in the khaleej, but it's too much for my tastes.

And finally, for dessert, I prepared a quintessential Emirati pudding called aseeda bobar. While this pudding can be and is made without pumpkin -- which would be just aseeda -- the bobar version is more popular for texture lent it by the pumpkin flesh.

I first steamed 850g of local pumpkin flesh cubes, while roasting 400g of whole wheat flour (top). I then mashed and mixed these together with 350g date syrup (most recipes call for honey, but I used date syrup instead, for that really local taste), a teaspoon of saffron threads, and a teaspoon of ground cardamom (bottom right), moistening as necessary. After cooking for about 10 minutes, I added 3 tbsp of ma2 al ward and half a cup of samen (bottom left), and cooked it for another 10 minutes.

I served generous lukewarm scoops of the resulting fluffy pudding with plenty of brown raisins and almond flakes, and it went down a treat with everyone.

To punctuate the meal, I prepared some core Emirati beverages. First, I made a welcome drink of aseer tazza (right), a blend of 6 cups of orange juice with 1.5 cups of lemon juice, 3 teaspoons of ma2 al ward, and sugar to sweeten.

To help wash down the entrees and prepare for the main, I brewed some chai jerfau, a "tea" made by boiling 8 sticks of cinnamon with a little sugar and 1 tsp saffron in 5 cups of water (bottom).

Finally, to end our authentic Emirati meal, I brewed some gahwa (coffee) local style by boiling half a cup of freshly ground coffee beans in 5 cups of water, and steeping it with 1 tsp saffron, 1 tsp crushed cloves, 4 teaspoons ma2 al ward, and 2 tsp coarsely ground cardamom (bottom). Served in shot quantities, it helped get all the hearty dishes and eclectic tastes of the local cuisine settled in our tummies.

Recipes based on those in "The Complete United Arab Emirates Cookbook" by Celia Ann Brock- Al Ansari (1994)

When in Romania, Eat

Romania has an unfortunate association with foreboding castles, vampire legends, and the Numa Numa song. Okay, the latter one can at least be technically ascribed to Moldova, but the whole Dracula thing still gives off undeserved creepy vibes. That is why I chose Halloween as the perfect day to have a party of six and celebrate the non-scary side of the country through its food, with some downloaded Romanian folk music to set the mood.

First up, an essential soup for a Romanian meal: ciorba de perisoare, a pork meatball soup cooked in a sour beef and vegetable broth.

I added two each of chopped peeled and chopped medium parsnips and large carrots (one of the parsnips can also be replaced with a parsley root, if available), a sliced onion, a chopped bunch of Dutch parsley, and about 300g of stewing beef to 6 cups of boiling water (I used 5 cups of water and one of sauerkraut juice). Once the boil resumed, I let it simmer covered for about half an hour, using the time to make the meatballs.

I made the meatballs by mashing 300g of lean pork mince with about a cup of breadcrumbs, a chopped onion, 2 tbsp uncooked rice and a dash of warm water, adding a little salt and pepper. Bringing the soup back to a boil, I hand-molded small meatballs of the mash and lowered them into the soup one by one. After the boil resumed, I once again let it simmer for about half an hour, before stirring in 3 tbsp tomato paste.

I seasoned it with a little salt, adjusted the sourness with a little vinegar (one can use just vinegar for the sourness if one does not have sauerkraut juice), and garnished with a little chopped parsley before serving with sour cream on the side.

I started the dish by draining off the juices from about 750g sauerkraut (using some for my sour meatball soup), washing the sauerkraut, and then draining and squeezing it of any running juice. I then stirred it in a hot pan with 50g of melted butter until thoroughly coated, adding 2 tsp black pepper and 1.5 cups tomato sauce before bringing to boil.

I then simmered it for nearly an hour, stirring every now and then, and adding a couple pinches of salt, a tablespoon of paprika, and half a cup of white wine, before the last 15 minutes of simmering time. This dish, verza calita, went really well with the starch, especially moderated with a little sour cream.

I also made mititei, a sort of kebab or "skinless sausage". 800g ground beef mashed in with 2 tbsp each of olive oil and water, 4 chopped and crushed garlic cloves, a half teaspoon each of thyme, red pepper and paprika, and 2 tsp each of salt and ground black pepper. I also added a little breadcrumb and uncooked rice to help bind the mash and absorb excess moisture, respectively. I formed these into sausage shapes on a greased pan, and baked at 180C for about 20 minutes.

For the starch, I made mamaliga, a sort of polenta. It's a simple one to prepare: I gradually added a cup of coarse yellow cornmeal to boiling water into which I had melted 2 tbsp butter and added 2 tsp salt. I let it cook for about 45 minutes, whisking often, until I got a thick cornmeal slurry, into which I stirred half a bunch each of finely chopped dill and chives, and 2 tbsp feta cheese.

I may have let it sit warm for too long, so it lost a little more moisture than I would have liked. In any case, it had a rich, herbaceous taste, and the grainy, mashed-potato-like texture made it a good base for the other main dishes.

I served the mititei, mamaliga, and verza calita with a dollop of sour cream and roasted chilli pepper. A most excellent combination of tastes, textures and colors.

And for dessert, I made cozonac, a Romanian Easter cake. This was a bit more complex.

I first needed to get the yeast culture (top left) done, by stirring a mixture of 4 tbsp milk and a packet of yeast into 1.5 tbsp flour that had been whisked in hot milk, also 4 tbsp.

After allowing the culture to sit and bubble, I mixed it with 2 tbsp warm milk, 2 egg yolks, half a cup of caster sugar, 60g raisins, zest of a lemon, and 225g flour, kneading with some butter to get a standing dough. Finally, I added a tablespoon each of rum, vanilla extract, and vegetable oil, kneading again, and letting it rise for about an hour.

Finally, I brushed on the yolk of an egg, sprinkled on a handful of crushed walnuts, and baked at 180C for about 45 minutes.

It did not rise as much as I would have liked, but it was baked through properly, and served after cooling, was a delicious finale to our Romanian meal.

Strait-up Indonesian Cooking

To host my seven fellow Draupadi drama team members in celebration of our successful play, I selected the cuisine of a country which is only second to the homeland of the Mahabharata in the epic's popularity and cultural influence: Indonesia. Due to its location at the nautical crossroads of Asia, yhis cuisine has been influenced by those of lands near and far -- not to mention India, from where both the Mahabharata and culinary traditions were imported during the area's Hindu/Buddhist phase. In turn, it has traveled well regionally, and can also be found internationally, especially in the Netherlands, the homeland of its former colonizers. It has also made inroads in Dubai, and can be found in a few authentic restaurants in various parts of the city.

The rice base for the meal would be Nasi Kuning, favored for special occasions due to its bright yellow color reminiscent of gold.

It was fairly easy to make. 4 cups washed and drained jasmine rice, 2 tsp turmeric powder in 2 tbsp water, 4 cups of coconut milk, 4 cups of water, 2 bay leaves, 4 kaffir lime leaves, 2 bruised stalks of lemongrass and 2 tsp salt, brought to boil at medium heat and allowed to cook through on low until the rice was done (occasionally turning it to check).

I served it garnished with a few kaffir lime leaves. The herbs give it a good aroma, while the coconut milk used in the cooking process makes it a good complement for most any spicy sauce dish.

For the vegetable dish, I prepared Terong Balado, dish of eggplants in a sweetish chili sauce.

I first cut 4 long Japanese eggplants into large chunks, soaking them in salty water for a while, and then frying the drained eggplant chunks in a few tablespoons of oil until their color began to change (about 5 minutes).

Setting aside the eggplant, I ground 40g red chilies, with 10 shallots, 5 cloves of garlic, and 2 tsp salt into a paste, and fried this in the oil still in the pan for about 5 minutes, then adding 50g brown sugar (in place of palm sugar) and 20g tamarind pulp dissolved in 2 cups of warm water, to boil for another 5 minutes. For the next and final 5 minutes of cooking, I tossed in the eggplant.

The strong combination of sweet, hot, and sour flavors in the sauce went wonderfully with the Nasi Kuning.

The main dish for the meal was Ikan Bumbu, a dish of fish cooked in a spicy, nutty sauce. I rarely cook mackarel, so I thought I'd give that option a try, although numerous other white fish would have worked.

I rubbed in a kilo of halved fish with the juice of two limes and salt to let sit for a half hour. In the meantime, I ground 10 red chilies, 16 shallots, 8 cloves garlic, 10 macadamia nuts (in place of candlenuts), 2 cm ginger root, 2 tbsp tamarind juice, and a dash of salt.

I stir-fried the paste for about 5 minutes, and stirred in 2cm bruised galangal, 2 bruised lemongrass stalks, 4 bay leaves, and 6 kaffir lime leaves. I poured in half a litre of warm water and 2 tbsp Indonesian sweet soy sauce and brought it to a simmer, before adding the fish and letting it all cook until the sauce thickened and the fish was cooked.

The flavors from the herbs and chilies penetrated the fish to make it very tasty, and the sauce was rich and savory.

And for dessert, I chose a simple rice pudding called Bubur Ketan Hitam. In the absence of black sticky rice, I used 3.5 cups of red rice, washed and drained, and simmered them with 4 pandan leaves in 10 cups of water for about 45 minutes.

Finally, I added a cup of sugar syrup and cooked until most of the water was gone, then adding a pinch of salt and allowing it to cool before serving. It was good, but not very different from a regular rice pudding (except for a hint of pandan), and I someday hope to find and prepare it using the real black rice required for this dish.

Louisiana Lunch: Big Food on the Bayou

With one major American cuisine under my belt (in more than one sense), and having been to a few other countries since, I thought it about time to return to the States and have a go at another one for my party of seven guests. The logical remaining choice was the cuisine of Louisiana -- a fairly mature culinary tradition fusing those of the French, West Africans, and several others over the years.

Based on a "holy trinity"of bell peppers, onions and celery (the Louisiana version of mirepoix), it offers scrumptious options for fans of rice and seafood, and makes good use of local (to Southern America) ingredients. The cuisine is popular well outside Louisiana in America, and really should be more popular globally, since it includes a spice component that can be easily adjusted to local levels of tolerance.

As a welcome drink, I prepared the Ramos fizz, a New Orleans cocktail consisting of (per person) a shot of gin and the white of an egg, mixed with a tablespoon each of lemon juice, lime juice, sugar syrup and cream, shaken with a dash of orange flower water and some ice, and added to soda water.

For the soup course, I chose the crab and corn bisque (would have made a crawfish bisque if I could find some good crawfish). True to its French roots, the first ingredient was a blonde roux prepared by whisking 3 tbsp flour into 45g melted butter, cooking and whisking for a further 8 minutes. I then finely chopped and cooked a large onion, 2 cloves of garlic, and a large celery stalk in a tablespoon of vegetable oil for about 2 minutes, adding some Cajun seasoning, then a cup of chicken broth, 1.5 cups of corn kernels and 2 bay leaves.

After bringing this to a simmer, I poured in 475ml milk, 475ml heavy cream, and a teaspoon of liquid shrimp seasoning, and let it simmer for about 10 minutes before throughly blending in the roux, adding a pound of crabmeat, a quarter cup of chopped green onions, and a half teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce. 10 more minutes of simmering, and a I seasoned it with salt and pepper to serve.

It probably should not have been quite as thick, but it still went down a treat.

Thanks to the Hank Williams song and/or its covers, many of us have heard of "file gumbo". Believed to originate in the culinary traditions of West Africa, and with a little French influence, gumbo is centered on okra, which gives it the texture those familiar with Arab bamiya or Indian bhindi fry will recognize. As I already had a meat-heavy dish lined up, I decided to go for the vegetarian Lenten version called gumbo z'herbes, which (in this case) used mushrooms in the place of meat. I also had no access to file, so I had to make do with thyme as a substitute.

I first sauteed a finely chopped clove of garlic, onion, and green bell pepper in a tablespoon of oil, until tender, then stirring in stir in 225g thawed, frozen, and halved mini-okra, 225g thick-sliced mushrooms, a 400g can of diced tomatoes with the liquid, a 225g can of tomato paste, a teaspoon of thyme, 3 bay leaves, and a dash of salt and pepper. I stirred and cooked this about 45 minutes, before adding a dark blonde roux made with 2 tbsp each of oil and flour, cooking until it thickened.

I served it garnished with a little chopped parsley. It's great with rice, and very filling.

Shrimp etouffee is another popular New Orleans treat. I first sauteed the holy trinity -- a cup each of chopped onion, chopped green bell pepper, and celery stalk -- with half a cup of chopped green onion and 6 minced cloves of garlic in 90g of butter, until tender.

I then stirred in half a cup of chopped parsley, 5 tbsp tomato paste, 1 can of condensed cream of chicken soup, 700g of medium-sized cleaned shrimp, a dash of salt, and a teaspoon each of hot pepper sauce and ground cayenne pepper, cooking and turning for about 15 minutes.

This dish has a lovely spicy bite that complemented the milder gumbo nicely.

Rather than serving plain rice with the gumbo and etouffee, I just went ahead and made a jambalaya to serve as our starch. Also made famous by Hank Williams, this one was based on a recipe closer to Cajun style.

I sauteed pieces of 4 chicken breasts and about 350g of german sausage in oil, until lightly cooked, then stirring in 2 diced onions, 2 diced green bell pepper and 1 cup diced celery with 3 tbsp chopped garlic. Seasoning with half a teaspoon cayenne pepper, a teaspoon of onion powder, and some salt and ground black pepper, I let the pot's contents cook until the vegetables were tender. I then added 3 cups of soaked white rice, 6 cups of chicken stock, and 6 bay leaves, bringing to a boil so I could simmer it covered for about 20 minutes. Before serving, I stirred in 3 tsp Worcestershire sauce and 2 tsp hot pepper sauce.

Jambalaya is heavy, and like paella or biryani, can be a meal by itself. The meats were suitably tender, and the rice, having taken in the meats' flavors, also served as a tasty accompaniment for the gumbo and etouffee.

For dessert, it was Bananas Foster, an old New Orleans favorite. The only thing I had to cook for this was the sauce, made by stirring 290g dark brown sugar, 100ml rum, 3 tsp vanilla extract, and 1 tsp ground cinnamon into 110g melted butter in a hot skillet. When it started bubbling, I added half a cup of chopped walnuts and 6 bananas that had been split and sliced thickly, letting it cook for about 5 minutes before serving it hot over a good vanilla ice cream.

Simple, quick, and gloriously delicious.