Zuurkool

Some foods don't sound very appetizing. Take for instance today's ingredient, zuurkool. Sour or soured cabbage just doesn't quite do it for the ol' appetite now, does it?

Nevertheless, the fermented white cabbage is a staple in the Dutch kitchen. Especially during colder winter days this vegetable can really brighten your day in a zuurkoolschotel with mashed potatoes and a smoked rope sausage, or in an island dish called siepeltjespot, made with potatoes, ground beef, sauerkraut and cranberries. And not just in the winter: sauerkraut lends a crisp, slightly tangy side to summery salads, or a surprising flavor to soups.

Zuurkool is said to have originated with the Tartars, a roaming group of Mongols, who formed part of Genghis Khan's army in the early 13th century. Whole cabbages don't travel well in saddle bags for obvious reasons, so they would cut them up in strips and transport them that way. The salt of the horse's perspiration would soak through the bags and trigger the cabbage to start fermenting and hey presto! zuurkool was invented. These culinary conquistadors are also presumably responsible for the invention of the steak tartare.

From China, where pickled cabbage became a big hit, it traveled to the Romans and Greek cultures, who fermented the zuurkool in wooden barrels, and on to the rest of the European cultures. Zuurkool, because of its high amount of vitamin C, would also travel well on ships and seafaring expeditions and help avoid scurvy.

The Netherlands produces on average about 45 million pounds of the sour cabbage: it's a very popular item! In the old days, many Dutch households would have a stone crock in the basement and make their own zuurkool, nowadays it's bought fresh from the produce market or in the grocery store. Here is a quick video from 1948 where you can see how it was made in factories back then. But we're spread out all over the world, and sometimes zuurkool is hard to come by, so we're going to make our own!

It is an easy item to make, although it does require patience and some light monitoring.  And you'll be pleased to know that no sweaty horses are needed! Some cuisines add juniper berries, herbs or white wine, but the Dutch prefer theirs just made plain, with only salt, but you are welcome to experiment!

Zuurkool
5 lbs (approx. 2.5 kg) white cabbage (about 2 large heads)
10 teaspoons (approx. 100 grams) pickling salt, kosher or sea salt*

Remove a few outer leaves on each head. Cut the cabbages in half, remove the core and slice the cabbage very thin. You can do this on a mandolin (be careful!!) or with a chef's knife.

Take a clean container: I use a pickle jar as you can see in the picture, but a stone crock or any other jar will work just fine. Wash and rinse it so that it's clean and dry. Place one or two whole leaves on the bottom of the jar. Weigh out 8 ounces of sliced cabbage and add it to the jar. Use a sauerkraut tamper or a potato masher or other blunt instrument to push down the cabbage. Sprinkle a teaspoon of salt on top. Layer with another 8 ounces of sliced cabbage, push down well, sprinkle salt. Repeat until the jar is packed, and finish with another two or three whole leaves. 

The salt will start pulling liquid from the bruised cabbage and soon (although this could take up to 24 hours), the cabbage will be sitting in its own, salty, juice. Perfect!

Push the cabbage down as it will be wanting to float. Use a clean, inverted dish with a rock on top like they did in the old days or join the 21st century. I use a large foodsafe zipped bag that I fill with water. It weighs down the cabbage, flexible enough to cover every nook and cranny but is light enough to let any gases escape. The key is to have the cabbage submerged!

If there is not enough water to cover all the cabbage after 24 hours, carefully salt a cup of water with 2 teaspoons pickling or kosher salt, stir it until it's dissolved and add to the pot.

Let the crock sit on the counter for two days. Then move it out to a cooler part of the house, maybe the basement or the pantry. Make sure no pests, dirt or debris can get into the pot. As you're fermenting cabbage, gases will appear and create a slightly sour smell: that's a good sign!

After about three to four weeks, the zuurkool should be done. We'll make a traditional Terschelling dish, siepeltjespot, with it!

 * Do not use iodized or table salt as it is usually laced with other ingredients: use only sea, kosher or pickling salt.

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Champignonsoep

These are busy times. Sint Maarten hasn't even left the building, figuratively speaking, and the next Saint is already eager to step forward and take his place. Set aside the wafels of Sint Maarten, because now it's time for Sint Nicolaas kruidnoten, speculaas and borstplaat!

But all that sweetness sometimes leaves you wanting for something else. Not a full meal, not a sit-down affair, but a quick pick-me-up. A hot, savory something to gulp down, before you get back on your bike and rush out to get some more Sinterklaas gifts, ingredients to make gevulde speculaas or some of those horrible-but-can't-stop-eating-them "kikkers en muizen", sugar-filled chocolatey candy in the shape of frogs and mice, wrapped in aluminum foil overalls. (Yes, you read that right, they are wearing bright-colored overalls. Why? I have no clue, but I'll try and find out!)

How about a savoury, steaming cup of mushroom soup instead?

The fact that mushroom soup is one of Holland's traditional soups is hardly surprising. Since the start of the first mushroom production in 1825, the country has become the third largest mushroom grower in the world. The fields of northern Limburg, Noord-Brabant and Gelderland proved to contain the perfect growing conditions and these provinces produce almost 94% of its national total. Nowadays, mushrooms are grown in very controlled and covered environments.

Creamy mushroom soup is therefore, next to tomato soup and split pea soup, one of the favorite choices for a cold, winter day!


Champignonsoep
1 lb mushrooms
5 cups chicken or vegetable broth
½ cup onion, diced
1/3 cup celery, sliced
2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
4 parsley sprigs, stems and leaves separated
Pinch of freshly chopped thyme
2 cloves
1 bay leaf
½ cup heavy cream


Wash and slice the mushrooms, keeping one mushroom whole. Melt the butter in a pan, and slowly sweat the onions and the celery in the fat, until the vegetables are soft. Add the mushrooms and the thyme, stir several times while they slowly release their juices and gain flavor.

When the mushrooms are soft, remove about half a cup for garnish and set this aside. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables in the pan and stir several times, so that they’re coated and slowly add in the stock. Keep stirring to make sure all the flour is dissolved. Bring to a boil, then turn to a slow simmer.  Take the whole mushroom and stick the bay leaf to it with the help of the two cloves. Add it to the soup, as well as the parsley stems. Simmer for twenty minutes.

Take out the whole mushroom, remove the bay leaf and the cloves and chop the mushroom in pieces, and return it to the soup. Use a stick blender to purée the soup to a fine consistency. Taste. Stir in the heavy cream and warm the soup, but do no longer boil. Taste again. Adjust seasonings to your liking. If you have it, a drop of sherry will do this soup good.  Add in the remaining mushroom slices, garnish with some chopped parsley leaves and serve hot.

 

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Sint Maarten Wafels

November 11th is an important date in Holland. For children, it marks St. Maarten's day, the day kids venture out in the evening carrying small candles in paper lanterns to sing songs at neighbors' doors and get candy or fruit in return. For the grownups, "the eleventh of the eleventh" at 11:11am initiates the beginning of the famous Carnaval season. It is the day that the new Prince Carnaval is elected, who in turn announces his "adjudant" or helper, and the "Raad van Elf", the eleven organizers who will be tasked with setting up parties, parades and ofcourse, determine the theme of this year's carnaval. The number 11 has, since old times, been the number for fools and simpletons.

But back to St. Maarten, one of the most recognizable saints in Catholicism. For him November 11 wasn't such a good day, as that is the day he was buried. On his way to somewhere, St Maarten saw a poor beggar by the side of the road who needed protection from the cold. St. Maarten cut his coat in two and gave the man one half. That night, in his dreams, he had a vision of Jesus wearing half of his cape. The next day, the cape was miraculously restored.

The beginnings of this ritual were originally pagan (carrying lit candles or "holy" fire around the neighborhood at dark was part of a fertility ritual that was a widespread custom in Western Europe at the time) or traditionally religious in nature (on November 11, the reading of the Bible is verse 11:33 of the book of Luke, ""No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead he puts it on its stand, so that those who come in may see the light.").

Either way, it was a begging fest, much needed during the lacking winter months, and definitely a festivity for the poor, as one song indicates:

Hier woont een rijk man,

Here lives a rich man
Die ons wat geven kan.
Give us something sure he can
Geef een appel of een peer:
Give an apple or a pear
We komen ’t hele jaar niet meer.
We won't come around for another year

As with many things, these festivities usually find place in the southern, mostly Catholic, region of the country. The kids in the northern regions, however, have caught on to this free candy thing and now, too, stroll the dark nights. After having collected enough candy the kids gather with their parents at the town square where a huge bonfire is lit to celebrate the end of the evening. Most paper lanterns end up in the bonfire, and children are handed hot chocolate and waffles to warm up.

Whether you're out and about this evening, or staying home, these yeast waffles are tasty and, because of the egg whites, surprisingly light.


St Maarten Wafels
2 cups flour
2 cups milk, warm
2 teaspoon dry yeast
3 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/2 stick (60 gr.) butter
2 teaspoons brandy (optional)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or 1 sachet vanilla sugar)



Mix the flour and the milk into a batter, and fold in the yeast. (Alternatively, you can also sprinkle the yeast on the milk and let it proof, then mix it in with the flour). Let proof for ten minutes, then stir the batter once or twice, and add the sugar and salt. Stir again. Split the two eggs. Beat the egg yolks and stir them into the batter. Cover and let the batter sit for thirty minutes in a warm spot. In the meantime, beat the egg whites to stiff peaks, and melt the butter. Let the butter cool, but do not let it solidify.

When the batter is showing signs of yeast activity (the batter will show bubbles, like in the picture above), carefully stir in the melted butter, holding one tablespoon back for the waffle iron. Add the vanilla extract and the brandy to the batter. Fold in the egg whites carefully, to lighten and thin the batter. You are now ready to bake!

Heat the waffle iron, lightly grease it if necessary and bake waffles golden. Sprinkle with some powdered sugar and serve warm. Makes about 12 waffles.

Happy St. Maarten!

St. Hubertusbroodjes

I love old traditions, especially ones that involve food. As luck has it, the month of November leads into a whole Saint-related food fest, with Saint Nicholas as a culmination in early December.

Today, November 3rd, is St. Hubertus day. St. Hubertus was born in and around the early 650s and was an avid hunter. On Good Friday, when he chose to go hunting instead of attending church, he came across a huge deer in the woods. The animal displayed a burning cross between its antlers and the voice of God spoke: "Hubert, turn your life around or else!" Or something to that extent.

Long story short, Hubert listened, moved to Maastricht, eventually was elected bishop and became the patron saint of archers, huntsmen, mathematician and a myriad of others. He's probably most famous for being invoked to combat rabies, as he presumedly once healed a dog from rabies by performing the sign of the cross over the animal's head.

It also inspired the tradition of applying a heated key called St. Hubertus key to the animal's forehead, after which it had to stay in confinement for nine days and only be fed dry bread. This is presumably where the St. Hubertus rolls tradition started: a soft, white roll, sometimes with raisins or anise, but most often plain, with a cross cut in the top was baked by hundreds of bakers during this time, blessed by the church on November 3rd and consumed by both dog and owner.

Bakeries in a variety of locations in the Brabant province will sell thousands of St. Hubertus rolls (also known as hupkes, huipkes or hubkes) today, rolls that earlier that morning have been blessed by the local Catholic clergy. People of all ages will enjoy a huupke today, and are sure to give a piece to their dogs as well. Better a roll in the mouth than a key on the forehead, I say!

If you don't have dogs or don't believe in tradition, this recipe is also good for just a plain, soft white roll. Increase the weight on the roll to 2 1/2 oz.

St. Hubertusbroodjes
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons active dry yeast
1/2 teaspoon salt
2  1/2 cups milk, warm
4 oz butter
1 egg

Proof the yeast in the warm milk. Mix the flour with the salt, add the milk and knead together, adding in the butter and the egg as you go. Knead it all together into a soft dough, let it rise to double its size,  punch it down and cut into 1.5 oz portions.

Roll each piece of dough into a tight ball, place them side by side in a buttered baking pan. Cover and let rise. Preheat an oven to 400F.

Right before baking the rolls, cut the top of the dough from left to right, and top to bottom. Bake for 10-15 minutes until done, then brush with some butter when the rolls come hot out of the oven.

Optional: some Hubertusbroodjes have raisins or currants in them, which you can add after having kneaded the butter and the egg into the dough. Others have a slight anise flavor: add two tablespoons of gestampte muisjes to the flour before you mix in the rest.

 

Kibbeling

There are certain Dutch joys that cannot be explained, such as after bicycling home from school, a cup of hot split pea soup in your gloveless, cold hands. Or sitting on the cold shoulder on the side of the canal, taking a break from skating, with a mug of hot chocolate and a gevulde koek. Going to oma's on Sunday and smelling the groentesoep on the stove....... 

Just simple things that make you happy to be alive. Often it's the memories that make the food special. Sometimes food doesn't have any memories, but it just tastes good. Like today's kibbeling.

The last time I recall eating kibbeling was at a fish vendor's cart on one of the many beaches that Holland is rich. I can't remember which one, or what business it was. All I remember was the sun on my face, the slight salty breeze in my hair and a plate of hot, greasy fish nuggets on my lap. Bliss!

For the batter, you can use milk, sparkling water, or beer.  

A fairly modern development with kibbeling is the use of a spice mix. Most fish vendors will have their own personalized mix, but there are a few commercial mixes on the market. The main ingredients are salt, white pepper, paprika, ground mustard, curry powder, nutmeg, onion powder, and dried herbs, such as dill or parsley. If you can't find any on the market, see if you can get a start with those ingredients. Season a piece of fish, batter and fry it, and see how it tastes. It may take a few times to get the right mix per your preference. Or see if your favorite fish vendor will sell you some of his or her own mix - doesn't hurt to ask.

Kibbeling
2 lbs (1 kg) whiting or cod
1 cup (150 grams) flour
1/2 cup (125 ml) milk

1/2 teaspoon dried dill or parsley

1 teaspoon paprika powder

Pinch of onion powder, dried mustard, curry

or
Kibbeling spice mix (see above)
Pinch of salt and pepper

For the remoulade dipping sauce:
4 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon capers, chopped
2 dill pickles, chopped fine
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped

Oil for frying (canola, sunflower, peanut*)

Pt the fish dry on all sides. Cut it into two-inch pieces, and pat it dry again - this is important! Dust the pieces with the spice mix, then with a tablespoon of the flour. Make a thick batter with the rest of the flour and milk, salt, and pepper. Add a little bit of milk if it's too thick.

Heat your fryer to 350F or heat oil in a cast-iron pan on the stove. Try a little piece of fish first: dip it in the batter and fry until golden. Taste it and adjust the seasonings to your liking.

Put the rest of the fish in the batter, turn it over so that both sides are covered, and drop it in the hot oil, a few pieces at a time. Fry to a golden brown, remove from the oil, and place it on paper towels to drain the fat.

Mix the mayo with the capers, chopped pickles, and parsley. Taste. Adjust with salt and pepper if desired, and add a little bit of pickle juice if it's too thick.

Serve the pieces of kibbeling when they’re hot, and serve the dipping sauce on the side. Even kids will love the taste of this fried fish, so make plenty!

 

*Please advise if you have guests in case they have a (pea)nut allergy.

Speculaasjes

Each season has its charms: in the winter we embrace heavy dishes of stamppot and erwtensoep, and we break the heavyness in the spring when we enjoy the first bounty of the land with white asparagus and early strawberries. The summer regales us with an abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables, and the fall is host to mussels and a variety of apple dishes.

But nothing smells as good as this time of year, when we start preparing for the upcoming holidays of Sinterklaas and Christmas.  Enticing autumnal aromas waft from the kitchen as we bake taai taai, kruidnoten en gevulde speculaas. The fragrance bouquet of cinnamon, nutmeg, clove and ginger is one that belongs to this season, and neighbors will be wondering what you're up to, hoping for a taste of whatever it is you're baking!

Today's recipe, the humble speculaas cookie, is a great and welcome gift to those same neighbors, and will hold you over with a cup of coffee while you're waiting for the next tray to come out of the oven. It's also a good way to test your mix of speculaaskruiden, speculaas spices, and see if some spices need adjusting if you are going to do additional baking this season. Speculaaskruiden are used for speculaas, gevulde speculaas and even apple pie!

The dough will hold several days in the fridge, so there is no need to bake everything at once. Makes approximately 75 cookies. You can use cookie cutters or the more traditional speculaas molds, wooden boards that are cut out with traditional figures. If you do, dust your board well and make sure the dough is stil fairly cold so it doesn't stick to the board. Here's a video on how to accomplish this: http://www.cookerathome.nl/shoart.php?artikelid=126.

Speculaasjes
2 sticks butter
2 cups dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 cup speculaas spices**
1/4 cup buttermilk


Cream the butter with the sugar and the salt. Sift the flour with the baking powder and the spices and knead it into the butter. Use the milk to make it to a rollable, but slightly stiff dough, it is not allowed to stick to your hands! Wrap the dough in plastic film and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, warm the oven to 325F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicon mat. Divide the dough in four pieces. Re-wrap three and return them to the fridge.

Dust the counter with a little bit of flour and roll out the dough. Cut out shapes* (I used a windmill cookie cutter but you are welcome to use any kind you fancy) and place them on the parchment. When you're done, return the baking sheet briefly to the fridge for about ten minutes, then place in the oven and bake. The cookies are done after about twenty minutes.

Cool on a rack.



* If you don't have any cookie cutters you like, just cut cookies the size of a business card, about 2 x 3.5 inches. You can sprinkle some slivered almonds on top if you wish.

** ** For the spices: start with 2 heaping tablespoon of ground cinnamon. Mix in a 1/2 scant teaspoon nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoon scant ground cloves, 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger, 1/4 teaspoon cardamom, 1/4 teaspoon mace and 1/4 teaspoon white ground pepper and, if you have it, 1/4 teaspoon of dried orange peel. If you like the flavor of anise, add a 1/4 teaspoon of ground anise to give it a special twist. Smell and decide if you like it. Too much clove? Add in a bit more cinnamon. Prefer more ginger? Feel free to add some more. You are welcome to make it your very own, but make sure you write down the quantities and ingredients so you can replicate your personal recipe. Store in an airtight jar.

Rijst met krenten

Holland is a great country to grow up in, as a child. Besides plenty of playgrounds in the many parks the country is rich, we have fabulous theme parks like the Efteling or Madurodam, and hands-on museums like Evoluon, where you can learn, explore and just enjoy being a kid.

But one of the best parts of growing up in Holland is being able to read, or being read, Jip and Janneke stories. These creations, from industrious and talented Annie M.G. Schmidt, are short and witty tellings about two neighbors: Jip (a boy) and Janneke (a girl) with fantastic illustrations by Fiep Westendorp. And this month, they celebrate their 60th anniversary!

The stories started as weekly publications in the Het Parool newspaper in 1952, but quickly gained a following. The stories are short, simple and sweet. Jip and Janneke celebrate their birthdays, bake an Easter bread, visit grandma or stay up until midnight on New Years Eve. Nothing grand, nothing overly adventurous, but just two small kids living life.

Most everyone that grew up with Jip and Janneke has a favorite story. Mine is the one where Janneke's family is having company over and Jip and Janneke admire the cake that will be served after coffee. Jip smells the cake and says it is wonderful, upon which Janneke wants to smell it too. But she is a little too hasty and her little nose disappears in the frosting, leaving a small hole. After their initial dismay, they decide to make a row of small holes by sticking their noses in the cake, all along the outside. So cute!!!

Another story, and one that I used to base the recipe on today is the "rice with raisins" dog: the common nickname for a Dalmatian. Jip and Janneke visit a farm and see this huge dog, upon which Janneke exclaims; "It's a rice-and-raisins dog!" because of its white coat and black dots. The dish itself is an old-fashioned, easy to prepare and enjoyed by all, cold weather dessert.

If currants are not easy to come by, you can easily replace them with dark raisins.

Rijst met krenten
1 cup short grain rice
4 cups milk
1/2 vanilla bean
Salt
3 tablespoons raisins
2 tablespoons sugar

Wash the rice until it rinses clear. Pour the milk on the rice and bring slowly to a boil, add the vanilla bean, a pinch of salt, the raisins and the sugar. Slowly simmer until the rice is cooked, about twenty minutes. Remove the bean, taste and adjust with sugar, or a little bit of cinnamon, and serve warm.

Optional: pour the rice in ramekins, sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon and place under the broiler so that the sugar melts and hardens for a crunchy topping.

 

Poffertjes

Poffertjes... the name alone invokes visions of carnivals, festivities and palatal pleasure. Even saying it brings joy to the vocal cords. You can't say poffertjes (POH-fur-tjes) without a smile on your face, try it!

Poffertjes are an integral part of national holidays, summer festivals and fun celebrations. During the Christmas and New Year season, you will find poffertjes vendors on every Christmas market, usually right next to that other holiday treat, oliebollen. 

A recipe for poffertjes (also known as bollebuisjes or broedertjes) first appears in a cookbook from the mid 1700s. Made exclusively with buckwheat flour, water and yeast, it was considered a poor man's meal. Buckwheat only grows on arid, poor ground and provided poor farmers with the necessary substance. And you can see why: a plate full of hot pancakes, covered with powdered sugar and a rapidly melting piece of butter will give anybody enough energy to get back out there and take on the weather elements. Later recipes call for wheat flour, milk and eggs, but always keep yeast as a leavener which gives it its puffiness.

When the Dutch settlers came to America, they brought the poffertjes and the pan they're made in with them. In James Eugene Farmer's book "Brinton Eliot, from Yale to Yorktown" we read: "On the evening of the 4th of May, Jans and Hybert Weamans were seated near the trap-door of the cellar, smoking, drinking beer, and eating puffards from the puffet-pan." Puffards, puffets, bollebouches.......they're all the same name for our beloved poffertjes.

Made on a dimpled cast iron pan for the home cook, or commercially on large copper dimpled plates as seen in the pictures below, poffertjes can also be made at home on a griddle if you don't have a poffertjespan. Just place tablespoons of batter on the slightly greased surface and turn them with the tine of a fork when the outside rim has dried up a bit and bubbles come to the surface. Their name comes from the way these small pancakes act once you turn them over: they puff up.

Traditionally served with powdered sugar and a healthy chunk of butter, poffertjes are a welcome treat!

The buckwheat flour we have access to here in the United States is much darker than the light, white version that is used in northern Europe. If you can find it, substitute half of the flour for light buckwheat flour. There is a link under Shop For This Recipe.

Poffertjes
1 cup (250 ml) warm milk
3/4 teaspoon active dry yeast
2 cups (300 grams) all-purpose flour
2 eggs
Pinch salt
Powdered sugar
Butter

Sprinkle the yeast on top of the warm milk and set aside to proof. When ready, mix the flour with the eggs and slowly add the milk, beating well and making sure there are no lumps. Add in the pinch of salt. Cover and set aside to rise, about 45 minutes to an hour.

Heat the pan and lightly butter each dimple. Pour a small amount of batter into each dimple. I prefer to pour the batter in a squeeze bottle of which I have removed part of the tip: it allows me to control the amount of batter for each dimple.

When the sides dry up a bit and bubbles appear on the surface, use the tin of a fork to flip the poffertjes over. Take a peek here if you're not sure how to do this! This takes a bit of practice, but not to worry, even the spoils will taste good!

Serve hot, sprinkle with powdered sugar and a piece of butter.

Shop for this recipe

Appelflappen

 

It's Fall!!! Time to fire up the oven again, as the evenings get colder and, for that matter, the mornings too. But, first a side note. A comment from a reader last week brought an interesting fact to mind, one that has had me puzzled for quite some time. For some obscure reason, Americans confuse Dutch with Danish. I'm not entirely sure if they do it the other way around too, as I don't know any Danish people around here that I can ask.

The thing is, I have encountered it so much, and in such different age groups, that I am beginning to think that it's taught in school. I cannot explain it otherwise.

Nevertheless, every time somebody asks me if I'm Danish or speak Danish, I can't help but think of pastries. I know it's silly, because I've been to Denmark several times and have very dear friends living there. Surely I could think of many other things besides baked goods, but no.....pastries it is. I can't help it!

Danish pastries are very similar in texture to puff pastry. Loaded with butter, they nevertheless have a light and layered presentation and pair well with fruits and custards. A traditional Dutch Danish therefore would be a koffiebroodje, or for something fruitier, an appelflap, or apple turnover. And as it happens, the orchard down the road just emailed to say that the apples are ripe for picking.....so appelflappen it is!

This is a typical pastry that you will find in bakeries, and places where they serve coffee and tea. It's crispy, sweet and filled with the goodness of apples.

Appelflappen
2 tablespoons currants
2 tablespoons raisins
1/2 cup apple juice
3 dried apricots
2 Jonagold apples
2 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of cinnamon
1 lb puff pastry (or one Pepperidge Farm package)
Coarse sugar

Add the currants and the raisins to the apple juice. Put the dried apricots in a small cup and add enough warm water to cover. Soak the currants, raisins and apricots overnight, or at least for a good four hours.

Allow the puff pastry to thaw, while you peel and core the apple. Chop the apple in small pieces. Drain the raisins and currants and add to the apples, stir. Mince the apricots until almost a pulp and fold it into the apple mixture, then add the sugar and the cinnamon and stir until everything is well mixed. Set aside.

Unfold the puff pastry and cut into squares, 4.5 x 4.5 inches approximately. Place them before you with one corner pointing downwards. Place about 1/4 cup of filling on the bottom half of the square, wet the edges of the dough and fold the top part over, forming a triangle. Carefully press the dough around the filling and on the edges, making sure they are tight.

Place the triangles on some parchment paper on a baking sheet and place it in the fridge while you turn on the oven. Heat to 385F.

Remove from the fridge, and moisten the top of each triangle with some water, then sprinkle the coarse sugar on top. Place the baking sheet on the middle shelf in the oven, and bake the turnovers for 20 minutes or until golden.

Makes 8.

 

Tongrolletjes met garnalensaus

For a country that's partially below sea level, surrounded by the North Sea and with a history of seafaring daredevils, you'd think we'd eat fish every day. Or if not every day, at least more often than we do. Perhaps it's because there are so many exciting things to eat from the Dutch waters that we don’t know which one to pick: mussels, eel, herring, oysters, clams, trout or plaice. This last one, during the yearly fish auction at Urk, fetched a record 63,000 Euros this summer. Often, fish companies will auction off the first catch of the season for a good cause. It gives people an opportunity to travel out to the regional auction houses and spend the day enjoying food, festivities and fun.

Sole is a fish that's traditionally caught in the North Sea, and one of the national delicacies. Its taste is not overly fishy but tends to lean towards a more shrimp-like flavor, and goes especially well with the shrimp sauce that today's recipe calls for. The meat holds up well, and the fish is suitable for a variety of cooking methods: grilling, steaming, frying or stewing. If you cannot find sole or if the price is prohibitive, try flounder instead.

Tongrolletjes in garnalensaus
8 pieces sole
2 cups fish stock
1 cup white wine
1 carrot, chopped
1 stick celery, chopped
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 bay leaf
4 peppercorns
2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup cocktail shrimp
2 tablespoons breadcrumbs

Dry the fish and roll each one up, holding it together with a toothpick. Bring the fish stock to a boil, add the wine, the vegetables and the herbs and simmer for ten minutes. Carefully lower the rolled up flounder into the stock and simmer for six minutes, then remove them and drain. Pour the stock through a metal strainer to remove the vegetables and herbs.

In a skillet, melt the butter and the flour and stir together into a paste. Slowly add in the stock and stir well, breaking up any lumps, into a thick sauce. Taste and adjust with salt and a little bit of pepper. Fold in the shrimp. Remove the toothpicks, arrange the flounder rolls in an oven dish, pour the shrimp sauce on top and sprinkle the breadcrumbs over it. Place in a 350F oven for ten minutes or until hot, then toast the breadcrumbs to a golden crisp under the broiler.
 

Great with steamed rice and sautéed spinach.

 

 

Even pauze...

....we're taking a short break... See you next week!

 

Dutch butter

My time in England is winding down. I've been on a discovery tour of the British kitchen: fabulous cheeses, great baked goods and plenty of good butter. As always, out of curiosity, I wonder how much of an influence the Dutch kitchen has had on the English one. After all, there is only a small stretch of water between the two monarchies and they've often spent time sailing the seas together.

In the mid-1500's, Dutch and Flemish protestants fled religious persecution and arrived in Norwich, close to the east coast of England. Over time, close to 6,000 "strangers", as the Dutch were called because of their different clothing and customs, settled around the area. But they did not only bring clothing and customs, they also brought their own pots, pans (such as a frying pan) and dishes. In the book The North Sea and Culture (1550-1800), part of a letter from Claus van Werveken from Norwich to his wife says: "Bring a dough trough, for there are none here.....Buy two little wooden dishes to make up half pounds of butter: for all the Netherlanders and Flemings make their own, for here it is all pigs' fats."

Imagine that. We presumably introduced butter to Norwich. We brought frying pans. Can you visualize the possibilities?! Lard is good, but butter is so much better. It warms my heart to think that such small items of comfort made these refugees feel at home in their new country, and that it left a lasting culinary contribution.

The picture is of a Limburg dish called Kruimelvlaai, or better known in the Venlo dialect as "bôttervlaaj", butter pie. On a cold, rainy and dark day like today, it's seems like an appropriate pie to salute these friendly "strangers" with, and thank them for introducing this significant spread.

 

Huzarensalade

And it's (drumroll)....summer!!! News arrives of sunny skies, warm weather, and even some sunburnt skins. When the sun's out in Holland, you never know how long it's going to last. If they can, people will drop anything they had planned and head out to the parks, the beaches or their own backyards and balconies to make the most of the sunshine.

The last thing you want to do in such a case is spending hours in the kitchen, preparing a meal. Today's dish, huzarensalade, is a perfect dish to serve on a day like this, and using up any leftovers  you may have laying around. It only needs the minimum of attention and dedication, but will be a welcome sight on your table. Give it a light cover of mayonnaise, and decorate the salad with egg, pickles, a dusting of paprika, slices of tomato to transform it into a Limburg "koude schotel", cold platter. 

Huzarensalade, or hussar's salad, was supposedly invented by the Hussars, a light cavalry regiment. As their tactic was to be inconspicuous and since they were always on the go, they would not build fires to cook their food but chop up whatever they had and mixed them together: a boiled potato, a piece of meat, some pickles and created this cold salad, perfect for leftovers..... Whether the story is true or not, is almost irrelevant: the result is a tasty, filling and refreshing dish with a minimum of effort!

Preferably use leftover veggies for this salad. If you don't have any leftover roast, ham or cold steak, simmer some beef the evening before. Depending on the cut of meat, this can take up to two hours: just let it simmer on low under tender. If you simmer the beef with some carrots, celery and onion, you can use the remaining broth for a light, flavorful groentesoep.

Huzarensalade
10 oz (280 grams) beef, cooked
2 large potatoes, boiled
1 small sweet onion
8 medium dill pickles
1 red apple
1 small can of peas and carrots (if you don't have leftover veg)
4 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons dill pickle juice

For the garnish:
Boiled eggs
Mayonnaise
Cocktail onions
Tomatoes
Paprika

Cut the beef and potatoes to small dice. Chop the sweet onion and pickles. Peel the apple (or not, as you please), core it and cut it in small dice. Drain the liquid from the peas and carrots and mix everything together with the mayonnaise and the dill pickle juice. Taste and adjust if needed.

Rest the salad overnight. The next day, put the salad on a big plate, slather lightly with mayonnaise and decorate with garnish, sprinkle with the paprika. Serve it with buttered toast and a smile :-), you can now enjoy the rest of the day without anybody going hungry!

Krentjebrij

It's quite the summer in the Netherlands! Cold and rainy one day, and sunny and warm the next. It's of no surprise to the Dutch ofcourse, as often summers are a mixed bag of blessings, weatherwise. Nevertheless, no need to worry food-wise, as fresh fruit is abundantly available, and summer desserts often reflect the rich bounty of these lowlands. Strawberries, cherries and red currants preceed the rich apple and pear harvest in the fall, and neighboring countries supply any produce and fruits that the climate does not allow for.

This week's recipe is a traditional, old-fashioned dessert, made with a variety of summer berries and grains. It is a very convenient dish, given the season's fickle atmospheric conditions, as it can be served either cold or warm. The dessert is called krentjebrij, or watergruwel. Although a pleasant and filling dessert that is sometimes served as a main dish, its names do not entice one to grab a spoon and dig in. Neither name sounds appetizing, quite honestly, with the first one called a currant brij, i.e. a thick, sticky goop, and the other one named watergruwel or water revulsion....Gruwel however is an adaptation of the English word "gruel" meaning thin porridge, and not a description of aquatic abhorrence: not a practical attitude in a country that's partially below sea level!

Krentjebrij is also sold readily made in supermarket stores, in the dairy section, as one of the few non-dairy based products, under the name Bessola. When several years ago the company decided to take it off the market, as it wasn't selling as well as other desserts, a national uproar caused the company to rethink their decision.

Use a mix of fresh berries such as strawberries, red currants, raspberries and blackberries to simmer with the barley. Blend the rest of the fruit to mix in afterwards.

Krentjebrij

1/2 cup of pearl barley
1 1/2 cup of water
1 cinnamon stick
1/4 cup of raisins and currants
1 strip of lemon peel, no pith
4 cups of fresh mixed berries, chopped
1 cup of mixed berry juice
2 tablespoons of sugar


Rinse the pearl barley and bring to a boil with the 1,5 cups of water. Turn down to a simmer, add the cinnamon stick, the lemon peel, the dried fruits and a quarter cup of the fresh fruits, stir and let it simmer for forty minutes, or until the barley is soft. You may want to keep a little bit of water on the side to add, in case it needs more liquid.

When the barley is cooked (soft, with just a bit of a bite), add in the blended fruits, the sugar and add enough water to cover the barley, and simmer for another ten minutes. Taste (watch out, it's hot!), adjust the sweetness to your liking and remove the lemon peel and cinnamon stick.

Serve hot or cold. A splash of heavy cream will make this dessert even lovelier.

Wat eten we vanavond?

When I was working on a culinary project in England, studying the traditional cuisine of the country, I realized how similar the English kitchen is to ours, in many ways. The colonial influence on the cuisine, as well as the ghost of long-time-ago traveled trading routes, is palpable and palatable. Spices and dried fruits are heavily present in traditional dishes and desserts, and Jamaican Ginger Cake in many ways reminds me of peperkoek.

But it wasn't the cake that made me reflect on our Dutch kitchen. A comment from one of my coworkers last week triggered it. Someone, somewhere, had paired up the "wrong" vegetable with a particular sausage dish for one of the menus. Not being familiar with the meat dish, I asked what the traditional vegetable to serve would have been, and was told "cabbage". Looking at the menu, I pointed out that cabbage was exactly what was served. "But it's red cabbage", the answer came back. "and that's wrong. It has to be green cabbage".

I realized that, unless very familiar with a country's cuisine, building menus and pairing ingredients can be a tricky deal. Many of the culinary combinations are steeped in tradition, and all of a sudden cabbage is not cabbage anymore: it's either right or wrong for a particular dish. Would the red cabbage not have complimented the sausage dish well? It would have in any other part of the world. But when tradition dictates otherwise, it becomes an awkward accompaniment.

Think about our own cuisine. Hutspot goes with klapstuk, zuurkool goes with spekjes, spinach is traditionally served with fish. Boerenkool, kale, is accompanied by a smoked kielbasa. You wouldn't think of serving zuurvlees with anything but fries, or mashed potatoes. You'd be pushing it with steamed rice, which would be considered edible, but most certainly not traditional, and brown rice would definitely catapult you straight into the "geitenwollensokken" category, whether you wear them or not.

The question "Wat eten we vanavond?" (What's for dinner?) is, in Holland, traditionally answered with only mentioning the vegetable. If you know the vegetable, the blanks regarding protein and starch are automatically filled in. Bloemkool, cauliflower, is traditionally served with a white sauce, boiled potatoes and a gehaktbal. If the answer is zuurkool, you know it will most likely be mashed with potatoes and either rendered pieces of bacon or, if you're lucky, both bacon and a kielbasa.

But if the answer is "hussen met je neus ertussen", you are just going to have to wait and see!

Kwarktaart

Last week, we made kwark, a dairy food that has a key role in the Dutch kitchen. Whether used as a base for savory dips, nutritional snacks or in cooking, kwark is healthy, light and pleasant. So what better than to whip it up with some good old cream, add a pleasing dose of sugar, throw in some cookies and butter, load the whole thing up with fresh, seasonal fruit and make ourselves a traditional old-fashioned Dutch kwarktaart? Exactly, not much. If a little bit is good for you, a lot is better, right? Right :-)

The kwarktaart is a traditional choice for dessert, for birthday celebrations or for any other celebration for that matter, whether it's made up or real. We do love a party, and any excuse will do! The taart can be served plain or flavored (usually with fruity flavors such as lemon or mandarin orange), but don't let that stop you. Nobody says you can't make a lovely chocolate kwarktaart so if that's what you're craving, go for it!

Summertime especially is a great time for kwarktaart. Served chilled, with a good cup of coffee, and adorned with seasonal fresh fruit, it is a pleasant reminder of the goody good goodness that Holland has to offer.

Kwarktaart
10 cookies (approx. 1 1/2 cups when crumbled)
9 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 teaspoon cinnamon
6 tablespoons (75 grm) butter
1 cup (250 ml) heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon vanilla essence (or 1 envelope vanilla sugar)
1 cup (250 ml) whole milk
1 envelope gelatin (or 3 sheets)
2 cups (500 ml) kwark*

Put the cookies in a plastic bag and roll into crumbs with the help of a rolling pin. Add to a bowl. If you selected fairly bland cookies, like tea biscuits or Maria cookies, mix in 2 tablespoons of sugar and one teaspoon of cinnamon. If the cookies you picked are sweet and flavorful on their own, like Bastogne, speculaas, or Oreos, you can skip the sugar and cinnamon. Melt the butter, pour it over the cookie crumbs and mix until the crumbs are wet and soaked through.

Place a circle of parchment paper on the bottom of a spring form pan. Press the buttery cookie crumbles in the bottom and flatten with the back of a spoon, so that the layer is fairly even. Put the pan in the fridge so the cookie bottom can harden.

Gelatin Powder: mix 3 tablespoons of sugar with the contents of the gelatin envelope in a bowl. Bring the cup of milk to a boil and pour over the sugary mixture. Stir until the gelatin has dissolved.

Gelatin Sheets: soak the sheets in a bowl of cold water, for at least ten minutes, but longer is better. Warm up the cup of milk, squeeze the water out of the sheets and stir them into the warm milk. Stir until they've fully dissolved.

Whip the heavy cream with 3 tablespoons of sugar and the vanilla. Stir the whipping cream into the kwark, and carefully fold in the last tablespoon of the sugar, if needed, for extra sweetness. Taste first!

When the warm milk has cooled down, carefully stir it into the kwark and whipped cream, until it's a smooth, creamy liquid.

Pour this into a 9 inch (23 cm) spring form pan. Tap the sides carefully to pop any air bubbles, cover the pan with plastic film or aluminum foil, and place the pan back in the fridge. Let rest overnight for best results, preferably 24 hours, but at least a good four to six hours. Test the consistency before you pop open the spring form: if the mixture has not set, leave it a couple of hours longer to set. 

Carefully slide a knife along the rim to loosen the cake. Spread with fresh strawberries, mandarin oranges or any other fruit you may like.

I made a quick puree from the leftover strawberry trimmings (cut up, and simmer in a small saucepan with a tiny bit of sugar until it has reached jam consistency, then cool) and spread it over the top of the cake before layering it with the fruit. It's a great way to use up all the scraps and contributes to the strawberry flavor. You can do the same with any other fruit you may use.

*If there is no quark available, or you don't want or can spend the time making it yourself, try using plain Icelandic skyr instead. Whole milk plain yogurt works as well, as long as you can suspend it for a couple of hours so that the whey can drain and the product thickens. If the yogurt has any kind of gum, starch or anything else besides bacteria and dairy (read the label), the whey will probably remain suspended in the yogurt and not drain. Check before you buy!

Kwark

Kwark, or fresh cheese, is one of the many dairy products that our country is rich. Mixed with fresh fruit, it is a light dessert, and spread on bread it can be used as a calorie-poor substitute for butter or margarine. But where kwark is probably at its best, is in a luscious kwarktaart, or fresh cheese cake. More on that next week, let's start with making kwark first!

Kwark is more about patience than skill. Make sure you avoid any buttermilk that contains any kind of gums, cornstarches or any other ingredient that is not natural to cows: it suspends the whey in the liquid and does not allow for proper drainage.


Kwark
6 cups of whole milk
2 cups buttermilk (avoid buttermilks with gums, cornstarch etc)

Pour both milks in a heavy pan and slowly bring up to 100F. Cover the pan and let it sit at room temperature overnight. The next day, the whey should have separated from the milk solids. Pour everything into a tea towel, knot the four ends together and suspend the package from the kitchen cabinet’s door knob. Place a bowl underneath to catch the whey. Suspend for a good three hours or until the whey has stopped draining.

Scrape the kwark out of the towel and fluff up with a fork. If it’s too dry, add a tablespoon or two of milk. If it’s still too wet, continue to drain for a little bit longer. You are looking for a thicker yoghurt consistency.

Makes two cups of kwark.

Gado Gado

And lastly, but surely not least, the final dish on our mini-rijsttafel series: gado gado. These last weeks we've discovered rendang, saté, and atjar. Combined with a big bowl of steamed white rice, these dishes will give a you a great start on getting familiar with one of Holland's colonial cuisines, Indo food. At yet at the same time, it doesn't even begin to cover the vast variety of dishes, colors, flavors and textures that a larger rijsttafel can offer. I encourage you to visit some of the Indo food sites on Facebook or the web, like the Dutch-Indo Kitchen: recipes, opinions and flavors vary according to regions or even down to families, so it's a great culinary adventure that you can certainly set to your liking!

Gado gado is a warm vegetable salad, served with a spicy peanut sauce and topped with crushed krupuk, or shrimp crackers. Krupuk can be found in Asian food stores and is prepared by frying the pieces in hot oil on the stove. The salad can be assembled with as many vegetables as you like. Cabbage, bean sprouts, carrots and green beans seem to be the more traditional choices but use whatever you have available to you that showcases a colorful plate, and a variety of textures.

Not preparing a rijsttafel? Blanch the vegetables in half water, half coconut milk and finish the salad off with some grilled chicken (check the saté recipe for a tasty marinade!) to make a flavorful and refreshing summer salad!

 

Gado Gado
¼ green cabbage
2 large carrots
2 cups green beans, fresh
1 cup bean sprouts
1 cucumber
2 boiled eggs
2 boiled potatoes
½ cauliflower

Cut the vegetables in bitesize pieces and blanch in boiling water for a minute or two, depending on how crunchy or well done you like your vegetables. Peel the boiled eggs and slice them in half, lengthwise. Cut the potatoes in half. Arrange the vegetables on a plate, drizzle the warm peanut sauce on top or serve on the side. Recipe for peanut sauce in the Saté Babi link!