Frittata Dreams. Frittata Daydreams.

As I lay in bed this morning, already unable to sleep for several hours (jet lag), my thoughts went, as they often do, to the contents of my fridge. Though I knew there was little in there, I do fancy myself somewhat skilled at the "clean out the fridge" dish creations, and my thoughts turned to what to do with the eggs. Long story short, a fritatta was born... one that was very much enjoyed earlier this morning. But it is not this fritatta that is the star of my tale, but rather an altogether different, more refined and delicate creature. What I cooked this morning was one thing (tomatoes, feta, herbes de provence). But what I was dreaming of was another.  It is the fritatta of my foodie daydreams and those moments when we epicurians ponder, mentally taste, and concoct in our heads, the ultimate object of tastebud desire. I had to create this sexy beast in the way a writer creates a character, and this I did...

Now I know everyone is in resolution mode at the beginning of the year and is probably scouring the internet for the leanest, low calorie menu items available (admittedly I have also been cooking up a healthy storm), but really, isn't part of being good to yourself knowing when to let go of the reigns once in a while? So go ahead and cosy up this weekend and reward all that good behavior so far - it's way too cold to leave the house anyway - and enjoy a little idle morning time with this delicious dish for breakfast or brunch.

Ham, Leek and Camembert Frittata with Thyme and Tarragon

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon of butter
• 6 Eggs
• 1/4 cup of cream
• 1/4 raclette cheese (or a very mild gruyere), shredded
• 1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves

• 1 tablespoon chopped fresh tarragon

• 1 large or 2 small leeks, light part only, sliced very thinly.
• 3 slices smoked ham, diced
• Handful of crimini mushrooms sliced very thinly
• About 1.5 oz of super gooey camembert or brie. Don't mess around - go double or triple cream.

To serve: some lightly dressed greens.

Method:


1. Melt the butter and sauté the leek, about 3 minutes. Add the ham and sauté until lightly browned, followed by the mushrooms. Set aside and allow to cool slightly.
2. Meanwhile, beat the eggs with cream, cheese and herbs, and season with salt and pepper.
3. Cut the camembert into cubes as well as you can... it's should be pretty gooey, but doable.
4. Heat up a small pan to medium hight heat and pour in the egg mixture. Add the leek, ham and mushrooms and stir slightly for even distribution.
5. Evenly place the camembert throughout.
6. Cook for 4-5 minutes until the bottom is set and the top is slightly bubbling.
7. Place under the broiler until the top is set, roughly 5 minutes.


And if you do insist on keeping to the straight and narrow, all is not lost. Go ahead and take out most of the egg yolks (I would keep one at least!), substitute milk for the cream, and some goat cheese for the camembert.

This feeds about 4-6 morning risers or brunches.

Enjoy!

When All You Got Is Them Apples.

Having returned yesterday from a 2 week trip to South Africa, I was excited to see what the seasons are bringing at the Union Square Growers Market. Evidently, we are in a produce lull, and all we got is apples.

But when life gives you apples, you can always make a gorgeous apple tart.

The recipe I'm sharing is less of a recipe than a loose set of instructions. It's easy, casual and foolproof. You can use any kind of apples you like — I prefer to use a mixture of whatever looks good that day — and options for sweetening and flavoring are limitless. The first time I made this I was rushing like mad to get a dinner party ready, and just blindly made the whole thing up, hoping for the best. The best is what I got. Second time, same story. It's for this reason the recipe below is a rough estimation, which you can adjust to your taste. But I can tell you from experience that the resulting tart, especially when served with bourbon ice-cream, will cause guests to crawl onto your lap and purr like  kittens. I'm completely serious.



Foolproof Apple Tart

Ingredients for Tart:


• 4 apples (try to include one granny smith), peeled, cored and sliced. 
• 1 pack of puff pastry, defrosted
• 2 tablespoons of melted butter
• about 1/4 cup of sugar (white, brown, palm... whatever you have)
• juice from 1 lemon
• 1 tablespoon of ground cinnamon or pumpkin pie spice
• 1/4 cup of bourbon (optional - I have yet to decide how much this influences the flavor)
• a handful of chopped walnuts
• crumble topping - see below 


Method: 


Set oven to 400 F. 
In a bowl, mix the apples, sugar, lemon, spices and bourbon. 
Lay the puff pastry on a tart tin, cookie sheet or whatever you have that's big, flat and oven proof. Brush with melted butter, and combine the leftover butter with the apple mixture. 
Layer the apples onto the pastry. Top with nuts and crumble and bake for 50 minutes. 


Serve with vanilla or bourbon ice-cream. 


Ingrdients for crumble topping: 

1/4 cup butter
1/4  brown sugar
1/3 c. all-purpose flour

Mix the ingredients until they resemble course crumbs. Add more flour if need be. 

Enjoy! 

xx Annah

The Prosperity of Dumplings in the Year of the Rabbit.

As I sit staring out from the cramped 8' x 8' space that is the seating area of Prosperity Dumpling, I bite into one of my delicious "five for a dollar" pork and chive parcels,  and contemplate my weak will. About a half hour ago I left the safe, warm, and decidedly dry-floored confines of my apartment to move gingerly across icy Brooklyn sidewalks to the subway. Headed to Manhattan's Chinatown, I was ready to pick up some dumpling-making supplies. As the year of the Rabbit approaches (today being it's eve) I did this with the awareness that Chinese families throughout the city will spend the evening making jiaozi, Chinese dumplings, in preparation for a midnight feast that signifies the start of the Lunar New Year. It's a way for generations of family to be together at the start of the new year. A way of bonding and sharing. Admittedly, I do find myself  —despite being Polish— to be an honorary Chinese, as my formative years were spent in Taiwan, so of course I was not to miss out on this important tradition. 

Now, for those non-Chinese readers who would like to kick off the new year in this fine Chinese way, you generally have three options:

Option A: Do a quick Chinatown grocery run, call some friends and spend the evening wrapping and eating dumplings in celebration. I highly encourage this option and have supplied you with a wonderful jiaozi recipe at the end of this post.

Option B: Run to your nearest dumpling dealer, like Prosperity, and have someone do the work for you.

Option C: Score an invitation to a celebration at a Chinese household. Having done this in Taiwan, I can tell you that the slight awkwardness of generally not understanding what the hell is going on is completely offset by the high authenticity of the experience.

Today, I'm sticking to Option A... and B. Truth be told, my pit stop today is actually just that —  a pit stop on the way to picking up ingredients to make MORE dumplings at home. Yeah, I know— weak will.  While crossing the Williamsburg Bridge on the M train — destination Canal St — the words "juicy, fatty, porky, fried" just took control of my mind, and later my body, leaving me with no option but to leap through the subway doors just as they were closing, 2 stops shy of my target. "I simply need some inspiration for later" I rationalized. Meandering through the human traffic of the Eldrige station, I additionally told myself that at just $1 for the experience, I was sacrificing nothing (and with all the brisk walking I was doing, it will be like the whole calorie thing never happened). I made it to this well-known hole-in-the-wall and waited less than a minute for the object of my affection to be handed over on a paper plate, and after a quick squirt of soy/vinegar mixture and dollop of hot sauce, I found myself looking out the window, chewing in dazed delight. (As a side note, I've heard some mixed reviews about Prosperity Dumpling in the past, and just for the record I would like to say that they are amazing, though sometimes they have bad days. So, in the event that you weren't super impressed the first time, think about giving them another try).

Feeling sufficiently satisfied to continue on my intended trajectory, I headed over to Mott Street to my favorite butcher /fresh grocery/ prepared food store. Those who have been to Deluxe Food Market might know how the next 15 minutes played out. Old ladies pushing past at surprising speed  (I am of the firm believe that they actually cannot see me at all), an array of legs, chops, heads and other undefinable animal parts displayed behind glass, crates of food being hauled from one end of the hallway-like space to the other. And of course, everyone having an overall disregard for personal space — "everyone" now having come to include me.  I love this place. It's like stepping out of the Chinatown of Manhattan into the Chinatown of myths, with not only the ingredients you'll need to create some authentic creations, but also a large amount of cultural stimulus. Admittedly, for sauces, frozen and dried goods, and even homewares, I prefer the one-stop shopping of Kam Man, or Hong Kong Supermarket (their Manhattan location is sadly now closed). However, nothing beats the authenticity of Deluxe. I've seen it all here, from every imaginable part of a chicken, pig or cow through to alligator legs and even a poor little creature going by the name of Patrick. But I digress — it was pork I was after, and more importantly, pork fat.

1lb of ground pork (already streaked with fat), and 1/4 lb "fatty ground pork" (read: ground pork fat) to be exact. Fat fat fat fat fat! Now, I know it's February and some of you just shed a layer of "holiday weight," are "being good" by hauling ass to the gym, rain, shine or hellish snow storm — but hear this, you can not, CAN NOT, make a good dumpling without the fat. Regular supermarket ground pork will not do. It's too lean, and your dumplings, despite their new "healthy" seal of approval, will taste like seasoned cardboard. Please don't make this mistake. I have tried and failed before, and I don't want you going to all this work for it to all end in tears. (Another side note: They also sell dumpling mix that already has vegetables and seasoning added. I can't vouch for this as I've never tried it. The way I see it, if you are going to buy ready made mix, you may as well just get ready-made frozen dumplings. Save it for Sandra Lee. But, if you disagree and decide to give it a try, let me know how it is.) Aside from the pork, I grab some dumpling skins, scallions, ginger, garlic and Chinese cabbage.

And with that, I headed home to do what generations of Chinese have done for years, and quite interestingly, what generations of Poles do on their Christmas: sit at a table with family and friends wrapping dumplings (in the Poles' case, pierogi and uszka). Ok, so I'm exaggerating for the sake of prose — I will not be sitting at a table with generations of Chinese and Poles tonight. But I will, in a more solitary mode, be celebrating a bit of my own Chinese New Year, and hoping that the making of these dumplings, which symbolize prosperity and good fortune, will also send a little luck my way. (Tip: a coin is often added to one dumpling, the fortunate recipient thought to be lucky in the financial realm for the rest of the year. In these financial times, it might be an idea to try for all the help we can get).

And with this, I wish my Chinese friends a very happy Year of the Rabbit, and urge those who have not celebrated something like this in the past to see what a little new year tradition might bring for you in the coming year. 

新年快樂! 

Jiaozi - Chinese Dumplings

The following recipe is for pork, scallion and Chinese cabbage dumplings. However, vegetarians need not miss out - a really great green vegetable version can be found here. The vegetarian recipe is for zheng jiao, which are folded differently, but the filling works no matter how you fold. 

Ingredients:

• 1lb of ground pork

• 1/4 lb of ground "fatty pork"

• 5 cups Chinese cabbage, chopped finely (you can substitute other Asian greens as if you like)

• 2 cups chopped scallions

• 3 tablespoons light soy sauce

• 2 tablespoons Chinese rice wine

• 2 - 3 tablespoon sesame oil

• 3 cloves of garlic, chopped

• 2 tablespoons of chopped ginger

• 1 pack of round dumpling wrappers 

For dipping:

• 3 tablespoons light soy sauce

• 3 tablespoons black vinegar or rice wine vinegar 

• a few drops of sesame oil

Method

Mix ingredients in a large bowl, being carful not to over-mix. Place a large teaspoon of filling in the middle of the wrapper and rub a little bit of water around one edge. Fold in half and pinch the sides up to seal. For more detailed (and authentic) wrapping instructions, see here. 

Jiaozi are traditionally boiled in a large pot of water for 8-10 minutes, however i've recently started steaming them which is also really great (the skins retain more of their integrity). If you choose to steam them, they will also need about 10 minutes. 


Serve with dipping sauce and hot sauce if desired. 

Enjoy! 

"Beets" - The Great Australian Taste

Today being Australia Day, I of course have begun to ponder what food I'm missing out on at the various celebratory barbecues throughout that great nation. Having called Sydney my home for 7 years, there are a multitude of dishes that I just can't get here — those dirt-cheap mystery meat sausages are something I particularly miss — or don't often get the chance to make myself (pavlova, it's time to reunite, old friend).  Sitting here in the deep freeze of New York in January, I find myself nostalgic for days spent holding an ice cold beer while turning steaks and "snags" on the grill in sweltering heat. 


As I reminisce, I find myself mostly craving my favorite Australian specialty  — a simple, yet specifically prepared, steak sandwich. The toasted bread, the caramelized onions, the smothering of BBQ sauce, combined with salty, greasy, meat drippings. Talk about serious food porn. But what makes this sandwich so iconically Australian? Essentially the same thing that makes a hamburger and any other sandwich "Australian": beetroot. Or as Americans refer to them, beets. When I first arrived in New York, I had a very drawn-out, confusing, and rather embarrassing encounter with a Hispanic worker at a juice shop.  I asked for beetroot in my juice, repeatedly. It took him and another baffled staff member's varied suggestions of what "bea-tooooot" could be (with me, wide eyed with frustration, pointing at the purple tuber in the pile of glassed off vegetables saying "THIS!! THIS!!") before I was finally informed, in broken English and smirks all around, that what I was after was in fact a "beet." Regardless, a juice made from "beet," celery, and carrot does wonders for the skin.


In Australia, any beets sold in a can are actually pickled, unlike their counterparts in the US, where canning doesn't denote any particular process or treatment. Upon my arrival here, I had to specifically seek out pickled beets after noticing that the canned ones did not have that light vinegary touch that I was accustomed to. But make no mistake: "pickled"= "to die for" when it comes to the beet as a sandwich ingredient. Unlike roasted beets, which have a deep "terroir" richness, pickled beets tend to feature less earthiness while maintaining a delicious sweetness. In my opinion, pickling really elevates them to rockstar status in the vegetable world.


The great Brooklyn sandwich joint Saltie seeminly agrees, featuring pickled beets on a number of their sandwiches (the mighty Scuttlebutt is particularly exceptional) and truly showcasing how this amazing ingredient can pair with numerous others (dill and hummus are particular standouts). But today, I want to share a much simpler, yet brilliantly delicious, flavor profile: one that brings me back to the times spent drinking VB outdoors, shading myself from the deadly australian sun, and enjoying something iconically Australian. Aussie Aussie Aussie! Oi Oi Oi! 




Australian Steak Sandwhich: 
Note: this sandwich is a mess (but fun!) to eat.


Makes 2 sandwiches


Ingredients:


• 1 large brown onion, thinly sliced
• oil
• about a half pound of steak - filet steak is your best bet, however they can run pretty expesive so something like a boneless NY strip would also work.
• around a cup of sliced pickled beets
• a few boston lettuce leaves
• one beautifully ripe tomato
• 4 slices of sourdough or other good quality white bread, lightly grilled or toasted.
• BBQ Sauce
• Ketchup


Method: 


Caramelize the onions over medium heat in a generous amount of oil. Do not add salt, as it will release the liquid in the onions and the sugars will not caramelize. If you are generally an impatient cook, this is a time to let go of that, as this process needs some time — about a half hour. The result should be very soft, rich in color, lightly sweet, and VERY worth the time spent. For more information on this very delicate art, see here. 


While the onions are caramelizing, salt and fry or grill the steaks to medium rare. Allow them to rest for about 15 minutes, covered in foil if desired. 


To compose the sandwich, slice steaks on the diagonal, and place on bread slice followed by the onions, BBQ sauce and ketchup. Top with pickled beets, lettuce and tomato and of course the top piece of bread. Enjoy with at least 5 or 6 napkins. 




And as a last note, I would like to wish a Happy Birthday to my husband who, despite being born on Australia Day, does not in any way share the nation's love, or enthusiasm, for beets. 


'Till the next feast for thought! 


xx Annah

Pomelo Yellow

My first encounter with pomelo was in high school in Taiwan, when I saw little kids running around during the Moon Festival wearing its thick peel as a hat. While everyone was spending the holiday stuffing their faces with moon cakes, I was busy tearing apart its thick green skin and marveling at the deliciously firm citrus flesh.  Though now somewhat common, back then this grapefruit relative (the humble grapefruit is actually a hybrid of Indonesian pomelo and Jamaican sweet orange) was an addictive novelty that rivaled even the mighty bell apple for my interest, and since then it's become one of my favorite fruits - something I look forward to each winter, when, along with the pomegranate, it's actually in season. So the other day when I was looking at a poor, lone bulb of fennel sitting in my fridge waiting to be used, I immediately thought of this ideal partner. 

A Time in Africa

There is something I adore about an old, worn recipe - whether it's hand written or typed, on plain or lined paper. So much is expressed by the yellowed, acid-stained sheets. There's also something in the knowledge that it's been held dear by so many and changed hands under potentially interesting circumstances. In this case, the recipe above was obtained by my father-in-law from Baptist missionaries in Cameroon in the early 1960s when he was there as part of the Peace Corps. This (and pages for many other dishes) was prepared for foreigners working in isolated areas and called for ingredients available in local markets, the only alternative to the highly overpriced French stores that were found occasionally in some capital cities. 

A Christmas Tradition & A Mad-Car Pile Up

It's been quite some time since my last post - as it happens I tend to get absorbed in the food aspects of the  Holiday Season and was spending what would otherwise be my blogging time cooking and baking as if preparing for a deadline. For four days my husband quizzically observed me hauling grocery bags from all corners of Brooklyn and Manhattan. "Relax, it's the holidays. Why are you making this so hard on yourself?" he asked. This would be met with an irritated, "What do you mean? It's tradition!" 


But in all honesty, for me, the Polish pre-Christmas tradition of Wigilia (Christmas Eve dinner), which was historically a 12 dish "meatless fast" (now more like a coma-inducing mushroom, sauerkraut and fish filled feast), is a hugely importatant and very necessary part of my year-end celebrations. And so after all the preparation, I feel it necessary to share a small part of these adventures with you.