Saté Babi with peanut sauce

One of the expected dishes at a rijsttafel, or Indonesian rice table, is without doubt the skewered and grilled meats, called saté. Served with a warm peanut sauce, satés are not only an intricate part of the rijsttafel's offerings, but have worked their way into the Dutch culinary cuisine as a lunch item, served with white bread, or as a late night snack.

The sauce itself can also be found on  patat oorlog: a serving of French fries doused in mayonnaise, chopped fresh onions and a generous helping of hot saté sauce, or as a dipping sauce for other meats, breads or vegetables. As an indispensable part of the blanched vegetable salad, gado gado, saté sauce can also spruce up a roast beef sandwich if you don't feel like cooking much. Make plenty of sauce in advance, as it freezes well and can be kept in the fridge for several days.

If you don't care for pork, you can use chicken or tender beef cut instead.

Saté Babi
2 lbs pork shoulder
2 tablespoons brown sugar
6 tablespoons ketjap manis (sweet soy sauce)

1 teaspoon coriander, ground

1 tablespoon oil

2 garlic cloves, minced

Juice of half a lemon

Cut the pork shoulder into 1 inch cubes. Mix the brown sugar with the ketjap, coriander, oil, minced garlic cloves and lemon juice into a marinade. Toss the meat with the marinade in a bowl,  making sure each cube is covered. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate, for at least four hours but preferably overnight.

Soak wooden skewers about an hour beforehand, or use metal skewers. Thread five pieces of meat onto a skewer and roast over a medium fire until done. Pay attention and turn the satés frequently, as the sweet marinade has a tendency to scorch.

Serve the satés with the warm peanut sauce.

Peanut Sauce
3 cups natural peanut butter
1 cup water

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon sambal oelek (spicy chili paste)

3 teaspoons brown sugar

¼ teaspoon trassi (shrimp paste, optional)

3 tablespoons ketjap manis

Milk (possibly coconut milk, if you prefer)

Warm the peanut butter with the water in a small saucepan. Stir in the garlic, the sambal and the brown sugar and bring up to heat, stirring well so that the sauce doesn’t burn. Add the trassi and the ketjap and stir until blended. Taste. If the sauce is too thick, stir in a tablespoon of (coconut) milk at a time.

Serve hot.

Rendang

Food is about love, about family (related or not), about community. No Indo event goes without food, no Sunday afternoon visits to family or friends goes without eating. The first question, after you've been greeted at the front door, back door or garden path is "Would you like something to eat?" And if you don't want, or don't have time to eat, you'll go home with a care package.

I have fond memories of an Indonesian family, friends of my father, that lived across town. We didn't interact very often, on account of me being busy with studying and eh....researching the Nijmegen nightlife, so to speak. On the occasions that I visited, their grandmother would immediately get up from her chair and go into the kitchen to cook, regardless of the time of day. If they had a particular kind of food they knew I liked, they'd call me to ask if I wanted some, and they would bring over a plate. Sometimes I would find a grocery sack hanging from the door knob with dinner, other times with a piece of spekkoek. At the time, as a young student and away from home, it made me feel welcome, loved and a part of something bigger than just my own little world. Nowadays, I find myself doing the same thing: sharing my food, showing love.

Braised meats, tender stews, marinated satays.....all foods that require attention and dedication. Rendang, today's dish, is one of those foods. With an intriguing variety of flavors, rendang takes time to prepare and mandates close attention towards the end, but the end results is very much worth the effort. It's Indo love on a plate.

Rendang

2 lbs beef chuck roast

4 shallots

1 lemongrass

4 cloves garlic

1 inch ginger, fresh

2 tablespoons of oil

1 cinnamon stick

3 star anise

1 lemon grass

1 cup coconut milk

1 cup warm water

2 teaspoons tamarind paste

4 kaffir lime leaves

1 tablespoon brown sugar

Remove the fat from the beef and cut it into one inch cubes. Blend the shallots, the lemon grass (the tender white part), the garlic and the fresh ginger into a paste. If the paste gets too thick, add a tablespoon of oil.

Heat a skillet and add two tablespoons of oil. When hot, quickly sear the meat on all sides. Remove it from the pan and set aside. Reheat the skillet, add another tablespoon of oil, stir in the paste and toss in the cinnamon stick, the star anise, a piece of lemon grass that has been pounded so it will release its flavor and fragrance. Stir on high heat until the paste thickens and starts releasing its smells, and then add the seared beef. Lower the heat and add the coconut milk, water and tamarind paste (you may need to dissolve the paste in the warm water). Stir to make sure everything is mixed well, and simmer.

After half an hour, stir in the kaffir lime leaves and the brown sugar, cover the pan and simmer slowly. The goal is to braise the beef to the point where it is very tender, and at the same time to reduce the liquid in the sauce so that it practically clings to the beef instead of swimming in it. You achieve this by moving the lid partially off the pan or crockpot after an hour, and letting the liquid slowly evaporate.

Atjar Tjampoer

The first item we're going to prepare for the rijsttafel is an atjar. A sweet and sour pickled vegetable dish, it's served as an accompaniment with the rijsttafel. The sourness will cut through some of the richer dishes, and the sweetness will offset some of the spicier ones. Atjar tjampoer, a pickled combination of a variety of vegetables, is best after it sits for several days. The flavoring and coloring comes from turmeric, a much used spice in the Indonesian kitchen.  

Cut your veggies small, and blanch them quickly, so they remain in shape and keep a bit of bite. A nice crunch is perfect to balance out the softer and creamier foods on the menu!

As turmeric is not necessarily a spice that we use often in our own kitchens, make sure that what you have on the spice rack is not past its date, or too old. As you only need a little bit, it might be worth purchasing a little bit from the bulk spice bins in specialty stores to ensure a good flavor and bright coloring.

Atjar Tjampoer
1 cup cauliflower florets
1 carrot
1 cucumber
1 medium sized yellow onion
1 cup bean sprouts
¼ green cabbage
2 cups white wine vinegar
2 cups  water
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon sambal oelek
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon coriander, ground
2 teaspoons turmeric

Wash and cut the cauliflower into smaller florets. Blanch them in boiling, salted water for a few minutes. Peel the carrot and slice thinly. Peel the cucumber, cut in half lengthwise and remove the seeds with the tip of a spoon. Peel the onion, slice in four quarters and cut into thin slices. Wash the bean sprouts and remove any brown skins or soft ends. Slice the cabbage into thin strips, removing the hard vein.

Bring the vinegar and water to a boil and stir in the sugar, the sambal, the ginger, coriander and turmeric. Add the vegetables and leave the mixture on a rolling boil for a few minutes, making sure you stir the vegetables well.

 

 

Strain the vegetables from the liquid and pack them in a clean, sterilized canning jar (depending on how small you cut the vegetables, you may need more than one jar). Pour the boiling liquid over the vegetables, making sure all vegetables are covered and there are no air bubbles in the jar. Screw a clean lid on the jar. Let it cool on the counter for two hours, then move it to the refrigerator. The atjar is best after three or four days, but will not hold indefinitely.

Rijsttafel

First published in Dutch, issue #5

In many ways, my dad’s past is a mystery to me. His life in Indonesia, his childhood, even the years he first lived in the Netherlands or his time in the Japanese camps, where he was kept with his brother and his mom: I know so little about it.  When asked, he’ll give an evasive answer at best, or claims he’s forgotten since “that was such a long time ago.”

But about once a year, during my own childhood, I’d get an opportunity to delve into his world. I must have been about six years old when we visited the Pasar Malam Besar in the Hague for the first time, during the mid-seventies. Walking through those doors opened up a whole new world for me, and allowed me to enter my dad’s world, even just for a day, just to catch a glimpse. I stepped straight from the soggy Dutch soil into the bustling, busy atmosphere of a colorful, enticing and dynamic Indonesian pasar malam, the night market…the colorful dresses, the grace of the dancers, the sweeping melodies and most overall, the pride that people had: presenting their art, sharing their food, telling their stories. It was so different from our daily, Dutch lives.  As a child, I soaked it all up. This was my father’s world, his culture, his background. 

I savored those days I got to go with my dad to the pasars. After listening to the music, we’d scout out the food stalls. He’d look at each stall, ask a question or made small talk with the vendors, and we’d move to the next one. I knew that it was just a matter of time before he’d buy something and we would sit, side by side, eating without saying a word.  Sometimes he would tell me it tasted just like he remembered from his childhood, other times he’d wait for me to finish up so we could move to the next stall, without saying a word.

It was here that I first tried tjendol, a sweet milk beverage with tapioca tears and flavored with rose syrup. Where I once sank my teeth into fried frog legs, and where I ate so many satés that it almost made me sick.  This is where, after a reprimand from my dad, I learned how to take small bites of my thin slice of spekkoek, honoring and respecting all the hard work that went into making this layered spice cake instead of devouring the delicacy in two big bites, like I used to do.

My Dutch and Indonesian roots are inseparably enlaced and it’s often hard to determine where one begins and where the other one ends. Those twinings are not only reflected in the history of the unique Indo culture: it is also expressed in its cuisine, of which the rijsttafel is possibly its capstone. A Dutch concoction, fathered perhaps by necessity,  greed or nescience, the rijsttafel or rice table contains a myriad of dishes, showcasing the large variety of colors, flavors, ingredients and cooking techniques that encompass the regional Indonesian kitchens.  Small plates containing meats, vegetables and condiments grace the table, sometimes up to 40 dishes at a time, and are a feast for both the eye and the eater. 

During the summer time, we will showcase various dishes to create your own rijsttafel, with as little or as many dishes as you like. Selamat makan!

Kaasvlinders

Birthdays are always an interesting event to experience in the Netherlands, and if you can get invited to one, I encourage you to attend, if not for culinary reasons, then at least for the interesting developments as the evening progresses.

For starters, guests will be welcomed by the front door and have their coats taken, usually by a younger member of the family. They are then invited into the living room, garden area, or whichever room is chosen for the celebration. If they're the first ones to arrive, they will congratulate the host and hand over the gift or flowers they brought, and take place on the chairs that are strategically placed in a wide circle. As later guests arrive, they will do the same, but not before going around the circle, shaking everybody's hand, and congratulating them with the birthday of the host. This seems odd behavior, and unless you're born and raised doing it, you're not even aware of how weird it is. Seriously.

If the birthday host is considerate, he or she will wait with the first offering of refreshments until the circle has been completed, and the mayority of guests have arrived. The first round of refreshments will invariably be coffee or tea, and cake or pastries. If this is your first exposure to Dutch pastries, by all means avoid the tompoes and the Bossche bol! The late comers now have the inconvenience of a) shaking the hand of someone who is already trying to balance a cup of hot coffee and a plate of cake on their lap b) trying to find a place to sit c) possibly running out of cake or pastries to chose from.

After the first round of refreshments has been consumed, a second cup of coffee or tea will be offered. If there are no takers, the host will move on to the next round of food and beverage: bowls of potato chips, nuts, and other savory samples will be presented for snacking, and soda and alcoholic beverages will appear on the table. Much chatter and goodhearted ribbing of the host will ensue, and a good time will be had by all. After the second round, various people will call it a night. Junior, if still awake, will be asked to retrieve the coats and goodbyes will be said, but not before the mandatory handshaking around the circle has been completed.

It's the die-hards that stay. If you're lucky and your host is a bit of a culinarian, you may be partaking of some homemade foods during the third round of foods, usually after consuming several adult beverages: the food will traditionally be served hot and be more in the fashion of a mid-night snack: small pieces of frikandel, or some bitterballen, but also saté or even soup with bread.

Kaasvlinders, or cheese butterflies, are a traditional savory pastry that is served during the second refreshment tour. In case you don't have the opportunity to attend a typical Dutch birthday, or prefer to enjoy these snacks in the company of your own choosing, here's a recipe:

Kaasvlinders
1 large sheet puff pastry
1 cup shredded sharp cheese
1 egg
Kosher salt
Ground black pepper

Dust the counter with a little bit of flour, and thaw the dough. Sprinkle the puff pastry with the shredded sharp cheese, and roll each end up, toward each other. Beat the egg, and brush the pastry dough where the rollups meet, so they'll stick together.

Cover or wrap with plastic film and set in the fridge for about thirty minutes, while the oven heats up to 375F. Remove the dough, and slice into half an inch pieces. Place each slice on its side, brush with the beaten egg, and sprinkle with some cheese (optional). Season with salt and pepper (just a dusting) and place the butterflies in the oven. Bake for 20 minutes or until puffy and golden. Cool on a rack.

Congratulations!

And we have a winner!!! Jody from  Gypsyspinner was the 451st commenter on the blog, a random number that was picked. Jody, enjoy the book and we look forward to hearing all about your Dutch cooking adventures!

Bummed you didn't win, but still want a copy of the book? Amazon lets you pre-order it here: http://amzn.to/KrMLP8. 

Disclosure: if you order through this link, a small percentage will be credited to my account.

Mokkataart

Oh, how we love to party! Any good old reason to crank up the coffee machine, bring out the coffee mugs, the creamer and sugar and a couple of pretty plates to serve pastries on, will do. Good weather, bad weather, the soccer team won, the soccer team lost, start of the summer holiday, the end of the summer holiday, and any valid reason inbetween. Sometimes because we're sad, other times because we're happy. We just love to get together, drink coffee, eat cake and have a gezellige time.

And today we're celebrating over a thousand likes on the site! I've been thrilled to read everybody's messages. Some are a little sad, because the recipes remind the readers of their childhood, their grandparents, and the times they miss. Others happy, as long lost favorites have been re-found. Several of you emailed me privately to ask for a specific dish, and even others were excited to know some family favorites could be made easily at home! Please record these recipes somewhere, in a notebook, handwritten preferably, with your personal notes on the side. Too many of you write to me that family recipes have been lost - how wonderful would it be to leave this culinary legacy to your kids?

But today, we celebrate! With a creamy, sweet mocca cake no less. Easily one of the most favorite choices of the cake-loving Dutch, a mocca cake combines the pleasant flavors of sweet sugar, slightly bitter caffeine and the lightness of the sponge cake. This is an incredibly rich cake, and will take a little bit of effort to make, but it will be sooooo worth it!

Mokkataart
7 eggs, room temperature
8 yolks, room temperature
1 1/2 cups sugar
3 1/2 cups cake flour
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

For the buttercream*
2 sticks butter, room temperature
3/4 cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons coffee syrup**
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 cup heavy whipping cream

Chocolate sprinkles or nougatine
Chocolate coffee beans (optional)

Whip the eggs and the yolks with the sugar and the vanilla for a good ten minutes at high speed, or until the mixture is light yellow, has tripled in size and falls in a thick ribbon off the whip. Sift the cake flour and fold it through the mixture, making sure you don't lose much of the air you've beaten into it. Butter and flour two 9 inch cake pans, and carefully divide the mixture between the two pans. Place on the middle shelf in an oven that's preheated to 350F. Bake for twenty five minutes or until done. If a toothpick comes out clean, the cake is ready.

Let the cake cool for ten minutes, then carefully remove it from the pan, and let it cool further on a cookie rack. In the meantime, cream the 2 sticks of butter with the powdered sugar, the coffee syrup and the vanilla for a good five minutes at high speed, you want that butter fluffy! Slowly pour in the heavy cream while you continue to whip: the buttercream will increase in volume and become a little lighter. If the mixture curdles, slowly melt a quarter of the mixture and return it to the bowl: give it a good whipping and the buttercream will come together. Taste. Add more powdered sugar or coffee, depending on how sweet or strong you want the cream.

When the cakes have fully cooled, cut off the top so you have two equally high pieces. Spread a thick layer of mocca cream on the top of one half, and place the other half on top. Spread cream on the side of the cake, and roll it through the nougatine or the chocolate sprinkles. Pipe the rest on top and decorate with chocolate coffee beans, malt balls or chocolate curls. Refrigerate.

Pour yourself a hot cup of coffee, or something else, and enjoy this in the company of good friends!

* If you prefer a lighter version,substitute the butter with a cup and a half of whipping cream. Adding the sugar and coffee will give you a lighter mocca option.

** Reduce a strong cup of coffee with two heaping tablespoons of sugar until you have two tablespoons of syrup left. You can also add instant coffee granules to this, if you wish for a stronger coffee taste. 

A thousand likes!

Just the other day I was on The Dutch Table page on Facebook saying that I was planning a surprise when the counter hit 1,000. That was April 12th. And in less than a month we've hit this milestone, I am so excited!!

So, in good Dutch fashion, we'll celebrate with cake. This weekend I'll post the recipe for a taart, but can't pick which one: mokka (mocca) or hazelnootschuim (hazelnut meringue)? You decide!

And to celebrate even more, I'd like to give the new Janny de Moor book, Recipes from my Dutch Kitchen (in English), to a random reader. The book is due August 12th of this year.

In order to get in the drawing, post a comment in the next ten days, until May 20th, with your favorite memory, favorite dish or request. Or just say hi and let us know you like the website! That can be either below this post, or on the post of your liking.

Past comments also count, so if you've posted in the past, no need to post again, unless you'd like to share something. I'll pick a random number, seek out that post and you may be the winner! Anonymous postings don't count.....

Thank you all for your likes, I am so grateful!

Gemberbolus

The last day in April, Queen's Day, with all its joyous festivities, is offset by a much more sobering and serious couple of days in early May.

It is on May 4th that the Dutch remember the victims, both military and civilian, of the war. Not just the Second World War but since 1961, Holland also remembers those who were killed during peace operations elsewhere.

On May 5th, the country celebrates Liberation Day, to commemorate the end of Nazi German occupation. Freed predominantly by Canadian troops, the war could not have ended soon enough for the Dutch citizens, as provisions were extremely scarce and many died during the hunger winter of 1944/45.

But for many, Liberation Day came too late. Amsterdam had a thriving Jewish population that influenced art, music, and all other aspects of life. Even the city's moniker, Mokum, was the Jewish name for the city: a "safe haven". Jews fled to the north from Spain and Portugal during the Inquisition, and found Amsterdam a welcoming city, hence the nickname. Until the war. Some fled, some hid, but many were taken away and were not heard from again. It's a dark page in our country's history. 

So today, in honor of those that lost their lives during those atrocious times, I'm baking a gemberbolus, or ginger roll. A traditional baked good that can still be found in many Dutch bakeries around Amsterdam, the ginger studded pastry is probably one of the most famous Jewish contributions to the city's baking repertoire. The bun is traditionally baked and served in an aluminum cup because it's very, very sticky.  

Gemberbolus

7 ounces of crystallized ginger

1 cup of water

3/4 cup and 3 tablespoons milk

2 teaspoons active dry yeast

3 cups of flour
1 teaspoon salt

11 tablespoons sugar, divided

3 teaspoons cinnamon, divided
1 egg

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

6 tablespoons butter, divided, room temperature

Bring the cup of water and the ginger to a boil, turn down the heat and let it simmer for ten minutes. Set aside to cool. In the meantime, warm up the milk to 110F, add the yeast and let it proof. Mix it in with the flour and the salt, and add one tablespoon of sugar, and two teaspoons cinnamon. Mix well, add the egg and two tablespoons of butter, and knead the dough until it's soft and pillowy.

Oil a bowl, add the dough, cover and let it rise. In the meantime, drain the ginger but save the water. Add the ginger, 2 tablespoons of soaking water and 2 tablespoons sugar to a blender, and purée the mixture. Stir in a teaspoon vanilla.

Take four tablespoons of water, 4 tablespoons of sugar, two tablespoons of soaking water and 4 tablespoons butter and put it on the stove in a small saucepan. Bring it slowly to a boil, then let it simmer for ten minutes until you have a buttery syrup. Set aside to cool. The syrup will thicken as it cools.

Punch down the dough, and divide into 12 equal parts.

Mix four tablespoons sugar with one teaspoon cinnamon. Sprinkle a teaspoon on your countertop. Roll each piece of dough into a small ball, then roll it out into a rectangle on top of the sugar. Put a line of ginger purée in the middle of the dough, lengthwise, and fold the dough over to the top. Fold one more time, pinch the seams and carefully roll the dough in the sugar. Now take one side of the dough and roll it, roly-poly wise, onto itself. Tuck in the end piece. Do this with all the pieces of dough.

Turn on the oven to 350F. Brush the inside of the aluminum cups (or a muffin pan) with the syrup, and place each gemberbolus in a cup. You can put a little bit of ginger purée in the middle, if you wish. Cover the rolls and let them rest for about fifteen minutes while the oven heats up.

Before you place the rolls in the oven, pour a tablespoon of syrup over each bolus. Place your cups or muffin pan on a baking sheet, and bake the bolusses in about fifteen minutes. They don't need to be golden brown, just cooked in the middle. (Temp 190F, they're done).

Brush the rolls with more syrup when they come out of the oven, and let them cool. Eat warm, cold or heated up.

Oranjebitter

In April, on the 27th of April, the Kingdom of the Netherlands will explode into a big, orange frenzy. The whole country turns into one huge party: live concerts, yardsales and food, food, food everywhere. What's the joyous occasion? It's King's Day!

First observed as a national holiday in 1885, the celebration started as Princess Day, to honor then princess Wilhelmina's fifth birthday, on August 31st. When she became queen in 1890, at the very young age of 10, it was renamed Queen's Day, a title it has held since. When her daughter Juliana became queen, in 1948, Queen's Day moved from August 31st to April 30th, Juliana's birthday.

The logical step would have been to move the national holiday to January, the now former queen Beatrix's birthday, when she succeeded her mother Juliana in 1980. But by then, the traditional outdoor activities around Queen's Day had taken such root that moving to January would have quite possibly rendered all activities impossible to maintain. When William Alexander took the throne in 2013, and since then Queen's Day has become King's day, and celebrated on his birthday, April 27th. This Royal Day is, per definition, a festivity celebrated with others: outside, in parks, on the street, on the canals. It's the one day a year where, in a country that does not know weekly yard or garage sales, everybody displays all their sellable wares for others to buy.

It's also the one day a year, except for some national soccer events, that food will be colored orange: orange tompoezen, orange potato chips, orange cakes and, let's not forget that old traditional Dutch drink, the oranjebitter. Few like it, and even fewer people will order it outside of Queen's Day, but one cannot imagine this national holiday without a shot of bitter, orange-flavored booze.

Bitters are alcoholic beverages that are flavored with herbs, fruit and/or spices. Oranjelikeur, similar to a bitter but with the addition of sugar, was first heard of in 1620, but gained national appreciation after a member of the house of Orange, Willem I, became the nation's king in 1814. The drink was reintroduced, now as a nationalistic and patriotic beverage, and has remained as such ever since.

For a long time, bitters were very popular, but we like our beverages sweet nowadays, so slowly but surely the bitter manufacturers have been adding sugar back into the drink. Still nowhere as sweet as a liqueur, this oranjebitter does have some sugar to sweeten the flavor.

If you don't care for it as a beverage, try it sweetened over ice cream or in hot tea.

Oranjebitter
1 teaspoon whole aniseed
6 cardamom pods
1 large orange
1 large lemon
2 cups (500 ml) vodka
3 tablespoons sugar
1 star anise
1 cinnamon stick

For the syrup
1 cup (236 ml) water
1 cup (200 grams) sugar

Scrub the orange and lemon, and peel thinly, without much pith. Juice the fruit and save the seeds. Dry the fruit peels and the seeds in a warmed oven or on a hot air vent, until crisp.

In a mortar, bruise the dried peel, the dried seeds, the aniseed, cardamom pods, and the three tablespoons of sugar with a couple of good stomps from the pestle: you're not grinding it, just breaking it up a bit. Scrape everything into a clean, large mason jar. Pour two cups of vodka on top and two cups of water, and the orange and lemon juice. Add the star anise and the cinnamon stick, give everything a good swirl and screw the lid on the jar.

Place the jar in a dark, room temperature area, such as your kitchen cabinet or in the broom closet by the water heater. Give it a careful shake every two or three days.

After three weeks, taste-test and see if you like the strength of the flavors. If yes, good. If not, screw the lid back on and let the jar sit for another week.

Now carefully line a strainer with a wet paper coffee filter on top of a clean jar, and pour the liquid into the strainer. Clear, golden orange liquid should now filter into the vessel below.

In the meantime, bring a cup of water and a cup of sugar carefully to a boil, stir it until the sugar has dissolved, and let it cool. Add enough to the oranjebitter to bring it up to the level of sweetness you like. Multiple tastings will be in order ;-). Whatever is left, serve cold over ice or straight.

Happy King's Day!!!

You can "enhance" the oranjebitter with a drop of red and yellow food coloring, to give it a more commercial orange look, or add a drop of orange essence to increase the orange flavor.

Rabarbermoes

As soon as we come out of the cold winter months, the first signs of spring (and of good eating) are on their way. Peultjes, or peas, are carefully poking their head out of the soil, and regardless of whether the IJsheiligen (the ice saints, more about these frosty figures later!) decide to freeze these first garden treasures or not, some vegetables are hardy enough to enjoy the cooler temperatures.

Rhubarb is one of those old-fashioned, ubiquitous vegetables that grows abundantly in fields, near homes and in gardens all over the country. It's a hardy plant that appeared on the Dutch gardening panorama in the early 1900s, and consequently showed up in the kitchen, although in a very limited variety: mainly as a side dish, jam, a compote or as a moes, or sauce.

Although rhubarb is an acquired taste, many do like the tangy, slightly astringent flavor. As a side dish, the stalks (either green or red, depending on the variety) are simmered down into a stringy, tangy supersour unsweetened vegetable moes and served either cold or warm with potatoes and meat. Not everybody's favorite choice of vegetable, I am sure, but rhubarb is supposedly very healthy, so there you go.

Sugar or other sweeteners like strawberries or pineapple are added during the preparation of jam, compote or sauce to add some additional flavor, although some will eat the stalk straight off the plant, often with a dash of salt. The leaves are poisonous, only the stalk is edible.

Rhubarb sauce can be made with just rhubarb (in which case the sugar is omitted and it's used as a savory condiment with meats) or with the sweet combination of strawberries, like in today's moes. Try pouring the sauce warm or cold over hangop, yoghurt, or make it into a fruit vlaai. A thicker sauce can be achieved by slowly simmering away some of the moisture, and can make a great rhubarb jam for beschuit or a slice of bread !

Rabarbermoes
2 lbs (1 kg) rhubarb stalks
2 cups (300 grams) strawberries
1/2 cup (100 grams) sugar
Pinch of salt

Wash and cut the rhubarb stalks into one-inch pieces. Wash the strawberries, hull, and slice them. Add the rhubarb and the strawberries to a Dutch oven or thick bottomed pan, add the sugar and salt, and toss. Pour half a cup of water in the pan, and slowly bring to a simmer. Cover the pot, and let the mixture simmer for twenty minutes, making sure the sauce doesn't burn.

When the rhubarb breaks up into stringy pieces, the sauce is done. Taste. Adjust the sweetness if necessary.

If you want jam, thicken the sauce with pectine according to the instructions on the package for canning, or with a little bit of cornstarch slurry for immediate consumption.

Gerookte Paling

"They'll be in next week", the fishmonger said when I called to see what happened to my order. "We're flying them in from Atlanta, so they'll still be alive when they get here. You don't mind killing them yourself, do you?". And he excused himself and hung up.

I sat there for a minute, wondering. I love food, and I love to eat. But I'm not very good at killing things. I mean, I don't mind squishing the odd ant that has found a way into my kitchen, or making a mosquito shaped splash on my bedroom wall, but anything bigger than that.....not so much.

So I talked to Frankwin, a Dutch friend who grew up in the province of Zeeland and had experience with these things. And to our sous-chef who was going to go into this eel adventure with me. And I looked online to see what the most humane way to have an eel go from icky slimey to yummie smokey was, and it seemed that there was no easy way.

All week I read about eels. How they start as little glass eels and swim their way around the ocean before finding a place to grow and get fat and tasty. How they have two skins, the outer one a slimy, icky one and a thinner black one, and that you have to strip the slimy one before you can do anything with the eel. And that there are very few eels left and so the price is high and the availability scarce. And how there's a better availability in other areas of the United States but somehow Idaho was not on the eel-map. Chris, a kind and encouraging reader of the blog, would even send me pictures of how to smoke eel (something he does frequently, and well!) and give me tips and suggestions for when the precious cargo would arrive.

Try to get the biggest pieces

But I did not get eel. Somehow the order was messed up, or they lost them on the plane, or something happened somewhere, but no eel for me. Which, quite honestly, was a bit of a relief, because I had not yet decided how I was going to tackle this whole eel-killing business. Phew!!

Nevertheless, the desire for smoked eel kept making waves in the back of my head, figuratively speaking. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the Asian market in Boise, shopping for completely unrelated items, and my eye spotted the word "eel" on a package in the freezer. Yes!!! Yellow eel steak from Vietnam, neatly cut into four inch pieces, peeled off its squishy coat, and best of all, frozen stiff. Deader than dead, and ready for cooking.

Smoked eel is a Dutch delicacy. The eel is long, fat and meaty, and one eel will easily feed two people. Gerookte paling, or smoked eel, is available at the visboer (fishmonger) or at one of the many local herring shacks around town. It's one of the many types of fish that people buy as a snack, much like the smoked mackerel or herring. Yellow eel is a younger, therefore thinner eel, but will do to get a taste of gerookte paling.

Gerookte Paling

Swimming in brine

2 packages (14oz each) frozen yellow eel
2 cups water
1 heaping tablespoon salt
Hickory chips

Thaw the eel, rinse it and place it in a container. Dissolve 1 tablespoon of salt in two cups of water and pour over the eel, making sure they're covered. Brine the eel in the fridge for at least three hours but not much more.

Pour off the brine, rinse the eel, pat it dry with some paper towels and allow it to air dry on a cookie rack or grill rack, something that will allow for air circulation. Smoke will adhere best to dry matter, so make sure the eel has a chance to dry on all sides. A small fan placed on the fish will speed things up. Don't spend more than thirty minutes.

Start the smoker and place hickory chips on your tray. Place the eel on the racks, close and smoke on low temperature for approximately 30 minutes. The skin will be golden and slightly wrinkly. Don't smoke the eel too hot, because the fat will cook out of it, and you'll be left with fish sticks, and not the right kind!

To eat the eel, especially the thinner yellow eel, it's easier to insert both thumbs into the rib cavity and gently pull the sides apart. Peel the meat off the skin (or the other way around, whatever comes easiest) and snack away! Bones and skin are not edible.

Eet Smakelijk!

Paasbrood

Previously published in the magazine Dutch, issue March/April 2012

The gathering of family and friends around the breakfast, lunch or dinner table is always a feast on First Easter Day. It was, especially for the Roman Catholic areas in the country, the first celebration after Lent and the one that broke the 40 day fast. For those that didn’t fast during that time, it was a Spring time event that warranted celebrating just for the sheer joy of better times ahead. The stark diet, whether for religious reasons or because winter rations were running out, was replaced by a day of abundance and good cheer. Children had saved their candy during Lent and were now allowed to dig into their sweet savings, and adults splurged on meat, eggs and fresh spring vegetables.

Eggs were, by definition, a sign of new life and a great source of protein to strengthen and gather energy after a cold, dark winter. Breads were enhanced with sugar, dried fruits and almond paste, and meat-filled soups were part of the tradition: all to celebrate with abundance the arrival of Spring, of new life and of warmer weather.

During these Easter days generally all stores are closed. Children are out of school during this time, and will dress in their "Paasbest" (Easter Best) with new clothes and shoes. Eggs are colored, hidden and if lucky, all found. Many remember missing at least one or two eggs: leave them be for several weeks and they’ll be hard to miss!
First Easter Day is usually celebrated with an extensive brunch. The table is set with the best china and some Spring flowers, and the spread will consist of luxury rolls and of course paasbrood, a cinnamon flavored rich bread, studded with golden and dark raisins, currants and citron and orange candied peels. The table would not be complete without various cold cuts, sweet bread toppings, a boterlammetje (butter in the shape of a small lamb), a couple of warm egg dishes and often a soup or something else savory such as a pasteitje (puff pastry shell) with egg or chicken ragout (gravy), and large amounts of coffee or tea.

Paasbrood can be served as a loaf or, as shown in the photos, as rolls, or shaped like paashaasjes.

Paasbrood (2 loaves)

1/2 cup (75 grams) golden raisins
1/2 cup (75 grams) dark raisins
1/3 cup (45 grams) currants
4 cups (600 grams) flour
2 1/2 tsp (7 grams) yeast
1/4 cup (50 grams) sugar
Zest 1 lemon
1 egg
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
1 1/4 cup (300 ml) milk, warm
1 stick (115 grams) butter, melted
1 heaping tablespoon citron peel
1 heaping tablespoon candied orange peel

Place the raisins and the currants in a small saucepan, add a cup of water and bring to a simmer on the stove. Let it simmer for a good ten minutes, then turn off the heat and let the fruits sit. Proof the yeast in half a cup of the warm milk. Mix the flour, the sugar and the cinnamon, and slowly pour in the proofed yeast and the rest of the warm milk. Keep mixing and while the dough comes together, add in the egg, the melted butter and the salt, then mix and knead the dough until it comes together in a soft, pillowy dough. If the dough is too sticky, add a tablespoon of flour.

Place the dough in an oiled bowl, turn it over so that both sides of the dough are greasy, cover the bowl and let it rise, away from cold drafts, for an hour or until doubled in size.

Drain the fruit and pat them dry with a towel. Toss the fruit with the candied peels and the lemon zest. Punch down the dough and carefully knead the fruit mix into the dough, until the mixture is well distributed.

Now divide the dough in half, shape them into loaves, grease two 9 x 5 (23 x 13 cm) bread pans and place the bread, seam down, into the pans. Cover and let rise for about 30 minutes or until the dough fills the pans.

In the meantime, heat the oven to 350F/175C. Place the bread pans on the middle rack and bake golden in about 40 minutes. If the bread browns too quickly, tent the pans with a sheet of aluminum foil. Brush the tops with water when the bread is done and place them back on the rack for a minute, then take them out.

Paasbrood (6 large rolls)

Divide the dough into six equal parts, roll them into balls, cover and let them rise until puffy, about thirty minutes at room temperature. Make an incision in the top with some scissors and press an unboiled egg in the dough, making little nests. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper, heat the oven to 350F/175C. Bake the breads for 30 minutes, or until done. 

Let the breads cool on a rack before you slice them. Serve with some good butter. Zalig Paasfeest!

Spekpannenkoek

All this talk about spekkoek last week left me with a taste for bacon! Luck would have it that yesterday, on March 30th, the Netherlands celebrated Pancake Day. The centuries-old tradition stems from the onset of Lent, a forty day fasting period that would lead straight into Easter. The Tuesday before Lent would be the last day that the believers were allowed to consume luxury items such as eggs, milk, butter, and meat. That day is known as Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras, but has no particular name in Dutch.

And so neither is Pancake Day celebrated on that famous Tuesday, like in many other countries, but almost a month later, on March 30th. Schools engage in baking pancakes for the retirement homes in their neighborhoods, parents will bake pancakes for dinner that day, and kids are thrilled that there will be no Brussels sprouts, broccoli, or sauerkraut on the menu.

Lent or no Lent, pancakes are always a welcome sight at a lunch or dinner table, whether that's at home or at one of the many pancake restaurants around the country. The traditional flavor is sweet, with plain pancakes, apple pancakes or chocolate spread pancakes as the main favorites, but often savory pancakes are eaten as well. The most traditional of those savory delicacies is the spekpannenkoek, or the bacon pancake.

Choose your favorite bacon (thick sliced, peppered, hickory smoked, honey maple......the varieties are endless!) and experiment! This is a basic spekpannenkoek. To make it more interesting, you could sprinkle a handful of grated Gouda cheese on the pancake right before serving, or fry slices of apple with the bacon before adding the pancake batter.

Spekpannenkoeken
10 strips of your favorite bacon
2 cups (250 grams) flour
2 1/2 cups (500 ml) milk

2 eggs

2 tablespoons (30 grms) butter, melted and room temperature

1 tablespoon (15 gms) butter for the frying pan (you may need more)

Cut the slices of bacon in three or four pieces, if desired. Stir the flour, two cups of milk, and the eggs together. Beat until the batter is smooth, and thin it with the remaining milk. Melt the two tablespoons of butter, let it cool a little bit, and stir this into the pancake batter. You are looking for a pourable batter. Cover and set aside for 30 minutes.

Heat a 12-inch skillet, and add in ½ tablespoon of butter. Brown the pieces of bacon in the butter, turning them over as they crisp up. Remove them from the skillet and pour off any surplus fat, you want just enough to grease the bottom but nothing more. Add the bacon back in the pan, arranging it so that it's distributed evenly. Pour in half a cup of batter and carefully swirl the skillet so that the whole bottom surface is covered with a thin layer of pancake batter. Bake the pancake until the surface is dry, about two minutes. Then flip or turn the pancake over and cook the other side for another two minutes. Repeat until the batter is finished. If there is no more bacon left, bake plain ones, they are great with a bit of jam!

Stack the pancakes as you go and cover them with a clean kitchen tea towel while you bake the rest. Serve the spekpannenkoeken with appelstroop or pancake syrup.  Makes about ten large pancakes.

Spekkoek

For some foods you have to slow down, relax and take it easy. Long simmering stews on the back burner, bread dough slowly rising on the counter.... Hurrying will make it no better, or faster, and in the long run the patience exhibited is key to the wonderful, rounded flavors of the dish. So too with this Indonesian layered cake called spekkoek. Each layer is painstakingly spread, baked and brushed. Cakes will often count up to twenty layers: they sell for high prices on the market as time is money, and money is easily spent. One of these Sundays, treat yourself to some time in the kitchen. Get an easy chair, or a comfortable stool and park yourself next to the oven, monitoring each layer's progress carefully. You'll be so glad you did!

The name "spekkoek" initially doesn't sound very enticing: "spek" means bacon, or fat, and "koek" is cake or cookie. Fat cake just doesn't have that sort of  a ring to it where you want to drop everything you're doing and get yourself a slice. Much less two.

And yet, the Indonesian layered spice cake that is graced with such a...shall we say, unfortunate name, does look a little bit like bacon at first glance. The alternating light and dark layers could very well be considered a modernist rendition of a slice of bacon, but that's where all similarities end. For the rich, flavorful cake does not taste anything remotely like bacon, but contains a wonderful mixture of spices and sweetness instead.

The spekkoek is thought to be a Dutch adaptation to an Indonesian recipe, or perhaps a Dutch invention or an Indonesian rendition of a Dutch spice cake....who knows. Regardless of the fact how this tastebud-teasing cake came to be, it is a small work of art and a feat of patience. For each layer is to be baked separately, painstakingly slow. But not so slow that you can walk away from it. Because if you do.....dang! The whole thing burns and you have to start from scratch. Which is no fun.

This "thousand layer cake" is incredibly rich, and that's perhaps where its "fat" name applies. Ten eggs, two sticks of butter on merely two cups of flour, and a cup and a half of sugar......this cake is not for the faint of heart, neither in preparation nor in consumption. No wonder the layers are carefully counted in certain circles and if found lacking, considered to be the work of a "lazy housewife". Cakes should have at least ten layers or more in order to be respected and appreciated!

So, this time, no slicing thick pieces of spekkoek and devouring it in two bites or three. Neither the richness of the cake nor the time spent to make it allows for a quick snack. It is a cake to be taken in carefully, small bite by small bite, and shared with those we care most about.

Spekkoek

2 sticks butter, room temperature
1 1/2 cup sugar, separated
10 eggs, separated
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg, ground
1/2 teaspoon cardamom, ground
1/4 teaspoon cloves, ground
1/4 teaspoon ginger, ground
1 tablespoon powdered sugar
parchment paper
1 tablespoon of flour

For brushing: melt 3 tablespoons of butter

Cream the butter with 1 cup of sugar until light golden and creamy. Carefully mix in two egg yolks at a time until all 10 have been blended in well. Mix in the vanilla extract. In a separate bowl, squeaky clean, whip the ten egg whites with the remaining 1/2 cup of sugar until stiff. Rub a little bit of whipped egg white between thumb and index finger to see if all the sugar dissolved: if not whip a little longer.

Sift the flour above the creamed butter mixture and carefully fold it in, until well blended. Then spoon the egg whites in the mixture and fold in. You should have a light, scoopable batter.

Divide the batter into two bowls, and assign a half cup measuring cup to each batter. Sift the spices above one and fold them in. Sometimes the fine spices do not fold in fully and create lumps: just squish them on the side of the bowl and fold them right back in.

Grease and flour an 8 inch spring form pan (the traditional form is round, but you are also welcome to bake the spekkoek in a bread pan or a square pan). Cut a circle out of parchment paper to cover the bottom of the pan and grease it as well. Flour the pan with a tablespoon of flour, tap the pan and remove any loose flour.

Heat the oven to 325F. Spray the inside of the measuring cup and scoop half a cup of spiced batter into the pan. Spread it along the bottom, so that it covers the whole pan. Now place the pan in the oven for several minutes and bake the first layer. Since it's a very thin layer, it only takes a few minutes. You want the layer to be baked and have a slight toasted top.

Remove the pan from the oven and carefully brush the layer with melted butter. Spray the inside of the second half-cup measuring cup and scoop out half a cup of the light batter on top of the baked layer, spreading it and making sure all areas are covered, preferably with the back of a spoon so the bottom layer doesn't rip. Put the pan back in the oven, but this time turn on the broiler.

Wait several minutes, remove the pan from under the broiler and check to see if the layer is baked and is lightly golden on top. If yes, brush with butter and add a layer of spiced batter. If not, return it to the oven and bake for a little while longer. On average, between brushing, spreading and baking you need about 8 to 10 minutes per layer. Keep track of which batter goes on top of which, you want to make sure you alternate the colors and flavors!

When the last layer is baked, brush it, and use a skewer to test the done-ness of the cake. Insert it in the middle, and if the skewer comes out clean, it's ready to cool down. If there is still some batter clinging to the skewer, turn off the broiler and bake the cake for several more minutes. Sprinkle the top with the powdered sugar.

Cool the spekkoek in the form, then carefully insert a knife around the edge and cut the edges loose: sometimes it will not release by itself. Carefully slice a piece of cake to admire and taste your hard work, then wrap it in plastic film and cover it with aluminum foil, to avoid the cake drying out.

Serve a thin slice with coffee, or as a well-deserved ending to a rijsttafel.

Saveur's Best Blog Awards 2012

Saveur, the top culinary magazine of America, is accepting nominations for their 2012 Best Blog Awards. If you enjoy reading the recipes and stories at The Dutch Table, please consider submitting us for a possible win! It would be a great way to get Dutch cuisine on the culinary map.

Click on this link: http://www.saveur.com/food-blog-awards/nominations.jsp and fill out the information, it will take less than a minute. Our website address is www.thedutchtable.com. Nominations close on March 29.

Thank you!