Chocoladevla

 Some foods don't need a lot of explanation, like today's vla. It's chocolate, and it's vla. It's good. You can eat it as dessert, all by itself. You can stir it with vanillevla and mix it up. You can use it as a dip for fresh bananas. It's comforting, enticing, yummie and chocolatey. And it's vla.

And if there's something we love for dessert, it's vla, a pourable sweet pudding, available in over fifty flavors. The rectangular vla cartons look much like the American quart sized milk cartons, and will appear on the table after dinner. If you're fairly  new to the table, people will probably give you a clean bowl. If you're family, whether blood-related or not, you will probably pour your vla of choice on the plate in front of you, the one that you just finished eating your main course of. A good reason to finish your plate!

You will find vla in the dairy section of the grocery store. There are seasonal vlas, like an apple-cinnamon for the Fall, or a fruity lemony one for the Spring. There are fufu-fancy ones and there are the run-of-the-mill vlas, like today's chocolade vla. Together with vanilla, hopjesvla and raspberry, it's probably one of the most popular flavors and bound to show up on a Dutch dinner table sooner than later.

The best thing is that it's so easy to make. Some milk, a bit of corn starch and good old-fashioned Van Houten cocoa powder and sugar is all this takes. The making of the vla takes less than ten minutes, but it's the waiting until it's cooled off that takes the longest....unless you eat your vla hot!

Chocoladevla
1/3 cup cocoa powder
1/4 cup corn starch
1/3 cup sugar
Pinch of salt
2  1/4 cup milk

Stir the cocoa powder, corn starch, sugar and salt together in a bowl. Add a cup of milk and whisk until all lumps are gone. Bring the rest of the milk to a low simmer, add the chocolate milk to the pan and stir together. Keep stirring while the milk comes to a boil, and boil it for a good one or two minutes, or until the mixture starts to thicken. Pull off the stove, pour in a bowl or container. Cover the surface of the vla with plastic food film to avoid a "skin" forming.

Cool in the fridge. Stir before serving.

In The Dutch Kitchen.....

For the longest time, the Dutch kitchen was considered practically non-existent in the food world. And, quite honestly, we will not be dominating the culinary covers of  those big food magazines any time yet. No hot features in Saveur, although I still think it was a huge faux pas to omit us here. Food and Wine doesn't talk much about Dutch cooking, and neither Bourdain nor Ottolenghi have spent much time trying to master the intricacies of the frikandel or philosophize on the practice of prakken.

But that's okay. We've gone from sheer opulence during the Golden Age where our cuisine was predominantly influenced by the French, to a practically austere kitchen as part of the Protestant and Calvinist ideology. Food was not to be a source of pleasure, of identity or joy, but was meant for simple sustenance. I personally believe it allowed us to focus on other areas where we could contribute in a different way: science, literature, travel, music, technology......

Still, throughout the ages, in country kitchens, in humble homes, we have ultimately managed to create a kitchen that defines us, and that has become part of our identity. We've gathered a wealth of regional products and produce that is unique to our country and slowly but surely, we're learning to enjoy it and to add it back into our culinary repertoire. Most importantly, we're allowing ourselves to be proud of it, and that is saying something.

Last year, I contacted the National Bureau for Tourism and Conferences in The Netherlands. Their website, www.holland.com is the main site for world travelers to learn about our country, our national treasures, habits and history. People all over the world use it to plan trips, pick out sites to see or simply travel to our beautiful country from the comfort of their own home. I praised them on every aspect of the site, but then asked them why they were not spending any space on Dutch recipes, on Dutch cooking and on our local cuisines. I offered to write for them, they accepted, and the first series on recipes and short introductions is now live:
http://www.holland.com/us/Tourism/Interests/Food-Drinks/Dutch-recipes.htm

Excited? You bet! Proud? Quite! I have been on this quest to bring more focus and attention to the Dutch cuisine, and I feel that this is another great step in the right direction. Time to celebrate! 

Tosti Ham Kaas

It's been one of those weekends where you run errands, you run from one side of town to the other, and finally you run ragged. And when you finally plof down on the couch, you realize that it's time for dinner. But you don't feel like peeling potatoes,  you haven't really given the vegetables any thought and you forgot to pull the meat out of the freezer. So what is one to do?! Calling out for pizza is not always an option in the Netherlands and thinking about pulling out of that parking space in front of the house that you circled the block ten times for is out of the question. So what will it be? Yep, tosties!!!

Grilled ham and cheese sandwiches are probably as popular in Holland as in any other country that has bread and cheese as a staple. Tostis (a tosti by itself is usually ham and cheese) or tosties are a standard go-to snack when a sandwich just will not do. They are on the menu in cafés, offered in any broodjeszaak or sandwich shop around town and tend to be a favorite in many households. There are about as many variations as there are people in the country: first comes the selection of the bread (wheat, white or anything inbetween , then the type of cheese (young, mature, old, Leidse, or foreign cheeses like Brie or Camembert), a selection of meat (ham, salami, roast beef....you name it). Everybody in the family has a favorite combination. 

Usually the buck stops here but others go even further. A Tosti Hawaii is, of course, a ham and cheese grilled sandwich with a slice of pineapple, which is my favorite. There is a Tosti Kaas Ui (cheese and caramelized onion), Tosti Kaas Champignon (with, you guessed it, cheese and sautéed mushrooms) and so on and so forth. Slices of tomato or cucumber are also often added to the tosties. (If you are reading this right after Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, remember to set some food aside for a fantastic turkey/stuffing/cranberry sauce tosti!)

So the easiest thing to do is to pull out the tosti-ijzer (a small countertop tosti making machine, much like a panini press or a sandwich maker grill) which just about any Dutch family has. Some kitchens have them permanently located on top of the counter, others will have to dig it out of a cupboard, but most homes do have one. Grab all the breads out of the broodtrommel, the bread box, retrieve several cheeses and meats from the fridge, raid the produce pantry or groentela, the produce drawer in the fridge, and have everybody make their own tosties. Don't have one of those fancy tosti making machines? Not to worry: just like making grilled cheese sandwiches, tosties can also be made in frying pans. Make a big salad, pour everybody a glass of cold milk, and dig into the tosties! 

And after the savory tosties come, naturally, the sweet ones: a tosti with apple and cinnamon, or one with banana and peanut butter or strawberry jam, another using up the pineapple slices from the Tosti Hawaii that someone made earlier......it's a great way of using up those last pieces of cheese, sandwich meat or a lick of leftover jam that needed to go. Quick and easy, and yet such comforting food! 

Tosti Ham Kaas

2 slices bread

2 slices cheese

2 slices ham

Butter

Optional; mustard, mayonnaise, ketchup

Spread butter, mustard, or mayonnaise on the bread slices on one side of each, and arrange the cheese and ham between these slices. Butter the outside of the bread, and place it in the hot panini grill, the sandwich maker, or in a hot skillet. When the bottom side of the sandwich is golden brown, carefully flip it over. Continue to grill/fry until the other side is now golden brown too. Remove from pan. Cut in half, dip in ketchup, and eat. Eat hot! 

*If you don't have, or want to use butter, slather the outside of the bread slices liberally with mayonnaise and fry the sandwich in the pan. Use real mayo, not salad dressing!

Gebakken aardappelen

This text was published previously in Dutch, the mag.

You would think we had invented it ourselves, this vegetable, with as much as we like it. Ask any Dutch person what a typical Dutch meal consists of, and they’re bound to mention the potato. Whether they’re boiled, fried, mashed, it seems to matter not. We just love our taters! But if you think these nutritious aardappels, earth apples, were originally from our clay fields, you’re wrong. Well, partially wrong.

The potato, via a long way from South America, was first introduced in Holland in 1593, when botanist Carolus Clusius brought them to the gardens in Leiden from where they expanded to Groningen and Amsterdam. The potato back then was not grown for its capacity to feed many, but almost as a medical curiosity and was considered to have curative powers. It wasn't until the early 1700's before any serious growing of potatoes took place, and not for human consumption but as animal fodder.

We had to wait until the 1880's before the potato was considered edible. It has never reached that status of super-food or fancy fare, but managed to provide sustenance for many of the less fortunate population. And just like with carrots, the ingenuity of the Dutch and the desire to improve the product, lead to a large variety of new types of potato from our home soil, of which the Bintje is probably the most famous one.

The Dutch kitchen has never been the same since. The warm evening meal more often than not contains potatoes. Evening snacks and Saturday evening take-away consists often of French fries. If we've boiled too many potatoes the day before (and some will do it on purpose), they’re sliced and fried in butter the next day, sometimes tossed with sautéed onions and bacon, and served alongside a green salad. So don't be shy, peel and boil a couple of potatoes extra, slice and fry them in butter the next day, toss them with sauteed onions and bits of bacon and you're set for the evening!

Gebakken aardappelen

6 boiled potatoes (preferably boiled the day before and refrigerated overnight)

2 tablespoons butter

1 small onion, diced

4 slices thick cut bacon, diced

Cut the potatoes into thick slices. Heat the butter in the pan and fry the diced bacon. Remove the bacon when slightly crispy and add the slices to the grease. Make sure each slice touches the bottom of the skillet. Turn to low and slowly fry the potatoes until golden. Flip them over to the other side. You may have to do several batches.

When the potatoes are golden on both sides, quickly sauté the diced onion in the grease, and toss it with the bacon and the potatoes.  Season with salt to taste, and serve hot. 

Lammetjespap

It's cold, dark, rainy and on top of that I'm not feeling all that hot. Well, actually I AM feeling hot, but not in a good way :-).

When kids (and not-so-kids) are feeling a bit under the weather, a comforting dish that's quickly made and often meets approval is something called "lammetjespap", lamb's porridge. Depending on where you were raised, that might either mean warm milk thickened with flour and sweetened with sugar (northern provinces). It's similar to bierpap but without the beer. Or it could be a couple of beschuiten (Dutch rusks) in warm milk with a generous serving of sugar, as they do in the southern provinces.

The beschuiten version was the one my grandma Pauline would make for me. She would break two beschuiten in a deep soup plate, sprinkle some sugar on top and pour warm milk from the stove. The dried rusks would soak up the milk, soften and turn into small, mushy pieces. I often wondered why it was called "lamb's porridge". The lumps of soaked rusk could vaguely resemble the woolly back of little lambs, I guess. Very vaguely, I realize, and surely the onset of a fever helps with the visualisation there. Maybe the name was given to the porridge because it was warm, comforting and just overall...well, woolly and cozy and warm. Just like a little lamb.

But the porridge is not just a contemporary dish. Lammetjespap was also standard on the menu for recovering TB-patients, many which were young children, during the early years of the 19th century. Prominent Frisians financed the Friesch Volkssanatorium voor Onvermogende Beginnende Borstlijders (Frisian Popular Recovery Center for Destitute Early Chest Sufferers) in an effort to halt the spreading of the contagious disease. Medication was, at that time, not yet available and because of its popular nature and low daily fee, the recovery center provided beds for the poor, but little else. The consumption patients had to recover with the help of light, air, a lot of rest and nutritious food, in this case lammetjespap.  The flour porridge (northern versions of lammetjespap consist of little more than milk, flour and sugar) was comforting, filling and delivered some nutritional value, albeit little, to the suffering ill.

Today is lammetjespap-day for me, the southern version. I'm cuddling up with a bowl, a blankie and a book. See you next week!

 

A Dutch dinner party!

I love three day weekends! It gives me a little bit more time to do something extra: I sleep in a little bit longer, I pull out a recipe of two I've been wanting to try, or I kick back with a book or a magazine. But the best thing about three day weekends is that it gives me one more evening to plan something to cook. And a Dutch dinner party sounds just like the ticket!!

How about we start with an appetizer while the guests arrive? Maybe some bitterballen and diced Gouda cheese on a platter (with good mustard of course!) while we visit over a glass of something or other. It's a great time to relax, share the latest news, or make plans for a weekend away together.

When people are finally seated, start with a witlofsalade, or a light soup such as groentensoep met balletjes. That's easy enough. But now comes the hard part! What vegetable are you going to serve? Boerenkool met worst is wonderful but perhaps a bit too casual? How about a traditional gehaktbal met jus, cauliflower, and cute little boiled potatoes? Or hachee with mashed potatoes and rode kool met appeltjes? And don't forget those delectable slavinken!

Finish your dinner with hangop or vla, whether it's hopjes or vanillevla. And how about an appelbol, or kersenvlaai with your 8pm coffee to round off the evening. Sounds like a splendid time!

What would you like to see on the menu?

 

Hoornse Broeder

 

It's carnaval this weekend!! Thousands have cancelled the next couple of work days, dusted off their favorite masks, costumes or festive gear and have taken to the streets to party en masse, weather permitting, of course. Granted, the mayority of this carousal takes place "below the rivers", referring to the more southern provinces of the country, particularly Noord-Brabant and Limburg, but even up north we see evidence of carnival outings.

Not in the least outdone by the carnival-related foods of the southeners, with their nonnevotten, haringsalade, and boerenkool met worst, the northerners also have their share of carnival foods. Surprised? So was I! And apparently it's not a new trend or something they picked up in the last couple of years, but carnival has been known to be celebrated in provinces as far north as, well as far north as you can go before getting your feet wet!

Vastenavond, literally fasting evening, is the Tuesday night before the forty day fast that starts on Ash Wednesday. It was the last day that people could indulge in all that tasted good. Villages would bake sugary pastries or sausage rolls to get one more serving of all that they'd be missing out on during the Fast. That was the purpose of some traditional foods back then, nowadays they more often serve to provide a good buffer for all the drinking that may occur.

Brabant has its worstenbroodjes, Limburg has its nonnevotten, that's practically common knowledge. But reading up on festive dishes, it turns out that Hilversum, in the province of Noord-Holland, bakes schuitbollen (or at least used to), Harlingen has Festeljoun brea (vastenavond bread), and in Borculo they eat haspels. 

Today's breadcake comes from Hoorn, in the region of West-Frisia, in the province of North-Holland. It is a heavy bread, with plenty of raisins and currants and a center of melted brown sugar. Sometimes slices of bacon would be added to the syrupy middle. The Broeder was traditionally baked on a petroleum stove, on low heat, in a heavy pan with a tablespoon of oil and flipped halfway through.

Nowadays it can be done either in a cast iron pan on the stove, in a spring form in the oven or just free form on a baking sheet. Traditionally served with carnaval, but also often presented as a gift to a new mother, the Hoornse broeder is now available year-round.

Hoornse Broeder
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup warm milk
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
1 egg
Pinch of salt
1 cup mixed golden and dark raisins
1/4 cup currants

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 cup brown sugar
Cinnamon (optional)
1 tablespoon butter

Mix the flour, milk, yeast, egg and salt into a kneadable dough. Cover and let it rest and rise until doubled in size. Punch it down, roll it out and knead the raisins and currants into the dough. Cut in half, roll into balls and cover for ten minutes.

Use a rolling pin to flatten each ball of dough into a circle. Add a cup of brown sugar on top of one, leaving about an inch of dough uncovered. Sprinkle with cinnamon, if desired. Dot the sugar with the butter, and place the second circle of dough on top. Press down the sides so that they stick together, you may want to brush the dough with a little bit of water if needed.

Heat a cast iron pan and add 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil. Place the broeder in the pan, cover with the lid and bake on low on the stove (or bake in the oven at 350F). After thirty minutes, check and turnover so that the other side gets baked (don't need to do that in the oven).

Cut and serve while warm so the butter and brown sugar are still gooey and syrupy, or wait till the whole bread has cooled down. The sugar will go back to being slightly crumbly and create a layer of goodness between the two breads. I prefer mine warm and runny, so there is hardly any filling visible in the picture.

 

 

Broeder is usually not served with powdered sugar on top, in case you noticed.......I got distracted and the top colored much darker than I wanted to! Oops!

 

Spruitjes

 

"Spruitjes? Vies!" ("Brussels sprouts? Gross!") is Dutch for what most children would say if they heard that Brussels sprouts were on the menu. Quite often, when asked what the evening dish entails, the Dutch will answer by simply stating the vegetable. It is generally understood that boiled or mashed potatoes are part of the deal and traditionally, a certain type of meat is expected to go with a particular dish. So by learning what vegetable will be served, the whole menu will usually be crystal clear. Tonight's dinner therefore consists of spruitjes, boiled potatoes and fresh sausage, or braadworst.

But back to the spruitjes. Possibly a child's least favorite vegetable because of the bitterness (and the similarity to rock hard green marbles?), spruitjes however are a staple on the Dutch table. Whether simply boiled, or mashed into a stamppot, they are often found on the menu during the winter months. Brussels sprouts, just like other cabbages, will often benefit from a bit of frost, where the starches will convert to sweet sugars.

Nowadays, however, Brussels sprouts have been modified to taste less bitter. Although the flavor has changed, the nutritional value of these little green globes has remained: a very valuable source of vitamin B and C. Just what you need in the winter!

Spruitjes can be steamed, boiled or stir-fried.

Spruitjes
1 lb Brussels sprouts
6 large potatoes
4 fresh sausages
2 tablespoons butter
Salt
Nutmeg

Clean the sprouts by cutting off the bottom and removing outer leaves, if damaged or heavily soiled. Peel the potatoes, cut in half and bring them to a boil. In a separate pot, bring water to a boil, add the sprouts, add some salt and boil on low for ten minutes. Drain, melt one tablespoon of butter in a skillet and slowly braise the vegetables, covered, until they're done. In the meantime, melt the rest of the butter in a skillet, fry the sausages until brown on each side, then add half a cup of water, cover and simmer. Drain the potatoes.

Serve the potatoes with the sausage and the sprouts. Put a pinch of nutmeg on the sprouts and pour a tablespoon of pan gravy over the potatoes, in case you wish to prak them.

 

Witlofschotel

Witlof, or Belgian endive, is a common vegetable in the Dutch kitchen. Although more favored by the older generation than the younger one, possibly because of its slightly bitter taste at times, the Dutch still purchase about 3 to 4 kilos per person a year of the chicory-related vegetable.  It ranks in the top ten of most consumed vegetables in the country and really became popular during the mid-1900s. It's often served as an oven casserole, with ham and cheese, like we're making today, or braised by itself and served in a bechamel sauce with a pinch of nutmeg. Blue cheese and witlof also make a great combination, either served raw in a salad or as a savory witlof-pie. It's a very versatile vegetable, low in fat and tender in flavor to where it compliments stronger tasting fellow ingredients.

 

Witlof, meaning "white leaf", is originally a Belgian discovery from right around 1850. Chicory roots were grown because it provided an affordable substitute for coffee. Left on their own device, in the dark, the roots grew white leaves that, upon discovery by farmer Jan Lammers, turned out to be edible and a welcome addition to the winter table. Farmers started selling some of it on the local markets and history was made. France is now the top producer of this white vegetable, with Belgium and the Netherlands following close.

 

Another story relates that it was François Béziers, the head of the Botanical Gardens in Brussels who discovered that several stored chicory roots had produced white leaves. He sent some to Paris where they were eagerly purchased. And for good reasons too: witlof as well as chicory root is beneficial to the liver and the gallbladder, and contains large amounts of potassium and vitamins B and C. Nowadays, full grown witlof is produced in less than twenty days by forcing one year old roots in an area with a controlled temperature of about 50F. The harvest consisted of crops of white, creamy, slightly bitter tasting witlof. A perfect winter vegetable to chase away the winter blues!

 

Witlof can be served raw or cooked. As a salad vegetable it barely needs much more than a splash of vinaigrette and maybe some citrus, as in a witlofsalade. Cooked, its tender nature benefits from robuster flavors.

 

Belgian endive will hold well, provided it is kept in a cool and dark location. Purchase smaller ones for eating whole. Larger endive will need to be cut in half and have the core removed as it tends to be rather hard and bitter.

 

Witlofschotel

4 Belgian endives
4 slices of ham
4 slices of cheese
1/2 cup shredded cheese
6 large potatoes
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup milk
2 teaspoons coarse ground mustard

 

Remove the outer leaves if damaged, remove the stem end. Cut in half and core the endive if it's fairly large. Bring a small pot of water to a boil and quickly blanch the vegetables, then let them drain. Set aside.

 

Peel and quarter the potatoes and bring them to a boil. Cook until done. Pour off the remaining water, and mash the potatoes with the butter and the milk. Fold in the mustard. Taste and adjust with salt and pepper if needed.

 

Butter an oven dish and spread the mashed potatoes on the bottom. Wrap each endive with a slice of cheese, then a slice of ham. Tuck in the ends. Place the witlof on top of the mashed potatoes and cover with the shredded cheese.

 

Place in a 350F oven for twenty to thirty minutes, until the cheese is melted and the vegetables are cooked.

 

 

 

 

 

Friese Dumkes

If you're in The Netherlands during the wintertime, and the temperature holds below zero for several nights in a row, you'll notice people starting to get a little nervous. Their eyes will dart from the sky back to the water (virtually impossible to be anywhere in the country and not be near a canal, a lake, a river, a stream or any other body of water) and then back up again. They'll consult newspapers, listen endlessly to the weather updates (even more than usual) and, while wringing their hands, whisper conspiratorially to each other: "Giet it oan?". (Frisian for "Is it going to happen?")

I'm probably exaggerating a little bit, but as soon as the temperature drops, the nation prepares itself for a possible exhilarating event: the Elfstedentocht. The Eleven Cities Tour is a physically challenging skating tour through the province of Friesland: it's 200km (124 miles) of skating on frozen canals, channels and lakes through eleven Frisian cities, starting and ending in the city of Leeuwarden, the province's capital.

The route takes the skater through Sneek, Ulst, Sloten, Stavoren, Hindelopen, Workum, Bolsward, Harlingen, Franeker en Dokkum. Although the cities are always the same, the route will depend on the quality and the thickness of the ice. As a maximum of 15,000 skaters are allowed to participate (and unfortunately, many miss out on the opportunity to join), the thickness of the ice has to be guaranteed all along the route. Often, a last minute break in the ice or a warm night will suspend the whole event until further notice. And that notice can sometimes be ten years later.....Only fifteen tours have been ridden in total. The first one was in 1909, and the last one in 1997.

The toughest of all tours was the one in 1963. On January 18th, fifty years ago today, the thermometer registered  -18C (-1F) with strong winds. From the 15,000 skaters that started that morning only 69 made it to the finishing line, many in deplorable conditions with broken bones and suffering from snow blindess and hypothermia. The tour was won by Reinier Paping, presumably on the nourishment of a bowl of  Brinta he ate for breakfast. The tour became so legendary that a movie was made, called "The Hell of 63".

This year, whispers of "Giet it oan?" are starting to surface again. We'll keep our fingers crossed!!

In the meantime, we're baking a Frisian cookie to get in the spirit. Fryske Dúmkes (Frisian Thumbs) are made with hazelnuts, aniseed, ginger and cinnamon, and receive their name either because their size is initially the size of a children's thumb or because the baker pushes his thumb print into the cookie when it comes out of the oven and is still soft. I chose to bake a slightly larger cookie instead and omitted the thumb print part: those cookies are very hot when they come out of the oven!

Fryske Dúmkes
1 stick butter, room temperature
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger, ground
1 teaspoon aniseed, ground
1 heaping tablespoon whole aniseed
1/2 cup chopped hazelnuts*, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon milk
1 cup and 2 heaping tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 egg, beaten

Cream the butter with the sugar. Add in the spices, the nuts, the salt, the baking powder and the milk, and lastly the flour. Knead into a pliable dough (use a little bit more milk if too dry, add a tiny bit of flour if too wet), wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate. The longer it sits, the better the flavors meld together, but no longer than 4 hours.

Heat the oven to 325F. Roll the dough out and cut into 1 x 2 inch rectangles (or use an oblong cookie cutter, if you wish). Brush with the beaten egg and bake, on a parchment lined baking sheet, lightbrown in 20 to 25 minutes. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet for a moment (if you want to press your thumb print in the hot cookie, this is a good time as any), then move them with the help of a spatula to a cooling rack.

Makes 20 as in the picture, 40 to 50 if you stay with 1 x 2 rectangles.

* If you can only find whole hazelnuts with skin, do the following: bring 2 cups of water and 1 tablespoon of baking soda to a boil. Add 1 cup of whole hazelnuts and bring back up to a boil. Simmer for three minutes. Pour off the water, and rub the skin off the nuts with a paper towel. Carefully roast the nuts in a dry skillet on the stove, then chop into small pieces.

 

Kersenvlaai

Vlaai, vlaai. Sókker oppe vlaai, Ik wool det ik der ein stökske van had, En al waas det stökske nog zoo klein Dao mot waal sókker op zeen.

(Vlaai, vlaai. Sugar on the vlaai. I wish I had a little piece of it. And even if that piece was very small, it does have to have sugar on top.)

Ofcourse it rhymes in Limburgs, but you get the gist. It is an old traditional children's song from the region, and it showcases how much they like their vlaai (and quite honestly, what a sweet tooth they have!). Vlaaien are century old delicacies, created or at least first recorded by the Germanic tribes that roamed the area. They used to bake flatbreads with an elevated rim and top those breads with fruits, honey or fruit juices: I guess all that Germanic tribe-ing they did all day made them hungry!

The fruit vlaaien that are baked nowadays in Limburg still follow pretty much the same format: a yeast or bread dough is used to line a shallow baking pan, fruit purée or chopped up fruit is packed in between the sides and the vlaai is either baked with a lattice top, streusel or no top at all.

During the winter times, fresh fruit was not available. Fortunately, the thrifty Limburg housewife had plenty of canned fruits in her food pantry so the production and availability of vlaaien never stopped. Which was just as well, because vlaaien are, or used to be, a mainstay in the Limburg household. Sunday coffee dates, birthdays, funerals, weddings, county fairs.....you name it, any reason was good enough to bring out the large pie plates (there was often more than one vlaai to choose from) and share a piece, or two. Even better, nowadays you can purchase single serving vlaaien: a whole small vlaai all to yourself!!

The kersenvlaai was a pie that would often appear during winter times: it is a fruit that benefits from being canned and stored for a little while so it can release all its beautiful sweetness and juices. The cherries used here are canned, dark, sweet cherries. Use an 11 inch/28 cm tart pan for a large pie, or four 4 inch /10 cm small ones.

Kersenvlaai

1/3 cup milk and 2 Tbsp (100 ml), lukewarm
1 1/2 teaspoons (5 grams) active dry yeast

1 3/4 cup (250 gr) all-purpose flour
2 Tablespoons (30 grams) sugar
1/2 teaspoon (4 grams) salt

1 egg

1/2 stick butter (55 gr), soft at room temperature

2 tablespoons breadcrumbs or panko

For the filling:

2 cans dark sweet cherries (16 oz/453 grams each)
1 heaping tablespoon (10 grams) cornstarch
1 tablespoon (15 grams) sugar
3 tablespoons panko or breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons coarse sugar for decorating

Knead the flour, yeast, milk, butter, sugar, salt and half of the beaten egg into a soft dough. Grease a bowl, add the dough, cover and let it rise in a warm area for about 45 minutes.

In the meantime, drain the cherries and roughly chop them once or twice. Make sure you look for possible cherry pits that may have sneaked their way into the can! Add the juice (you should have about a cup and a half) and the sugar to a saucepan, remove two tablespoons, and bring it up to a simmer. Stir the two tablespoons of juice with the cornstarch into a slurry and add that to the juice. Bring to a boil while stirring: when the sauce thickens and changes color, fold in the cherries. Let cool.

Preheat the oven to 400F/200C. Divide the dough into six pieces (or leave it in one piece if you want to make one big pie). Roll the dough out, line each buttered form with the dough. Roll the other two pieces to cut strips of dough. Cover and let rise for about 15-20 minutes until the dough is puffy. Prick holes in the dough with the tines of a fork. Sprinkle a little bit of breadcrumbs in each form, and divide the cherries over them. Cover with the lattice. Brush the rim and the lattice with the remaining egg and sprinkle some coarse sugar over the top. Bake for about 18 - 20 minutes for small pies, or 25 - 30 minutes for a large one. Keep an eye on the lattice: if it starts to brown prematurely, cover it with some aluminum foil.

Cool on a rack. 

Siepeltjespot

With a new year, come new opportunities. Ever year, butchers, bakers and candlestick makers (well...maybe not these last ones) sign up to participate in the many professional competitions that the country is rich. Best sausage, best roll, best anything-you-can-think of....throughout the year we do our fair share of tasting, eating, testing and some more taste-testing. Hey, we love good food!

The Netherlands loves to showcase the amazing skills their artisan food makers possess, and is proud of its many producers. Today's recipe is based on an award-winning dish from Butcher Gerard Koekman of Nieuwegein, who won the competition for best oven casserole several years ago. It pairs ground beef with bacon, sauerkraut, mashed potatoes and Dutch cranberries. Now, wait a minute! Dutch cranberries? Yup. Read on.

A looooong time ago, around 1845, vats of cranberries reached the shores of the island of Terschelling, presumably all the way from America. Excited, the beach combers ran out to gather the wooden barrels, thinking it contained wine. Imagine their disappointment when they found only hard, sour red berries in the barrel. Disgusted, they threw the berries in the sand dunes and went on with their day. At least, so the story goes.

Several of those berries caught on and soon the island of Terschelling, on the northern Dutch coast, was growing cranberries. The tart fruit never made it much further than jam, sauce or beverage material, but nevertheless it's something to be proud of.

Fast forward to right around now. Butcher Koekman found an old recipe from the Cranberry barn on Terschelling, adjusted it to his liking and hey presto! won the national casserole competition and eternal fame. The dish is called "siepeltjespot" and is presumably an old-fashioned dish from the Terschelling island. It's quick to make, and is a very comforting dish: the smokyness of the bacon, the sauerkraut and the sweetness of the cranberry compote go beautifully with the creamy mashed potatoes. We did a bit of adjusting of our own, and it's a winner alright!!

Siepeltjespot
5 slices smoky bacon
1 lb (450 grams) ground beef
1 small onion, chopped
10 oz (275 grams) sauerkraut
1 cup (280 grams) cranberry compote*
6 medium (1 kg) potatoes
4 tablespoons (60 grams) butter, divided

1/2 cup (125 ml) milk
Pinch of salt

Dice the bacon and slowly render it in a skillet. Remove but one tablespoon of fat. Add the ground beef and the small onion to the bacon in the skillet and brown the beef. Season to your liking. In the meantime, peel, quarter and boil the potatoes. When done, pour off the water, and mash the taters with two tablespoons of butter and the milk. Add a pinch of salt. Adjust the amount of milk if needed.

Add a thin layer of mashed potatoes to the bottom of a casserole dish. Put the ground beef on top (drain any fat previously!). Squeeze any juice from the sauerkraut and distribute it evenly on top. Spread the cranberry compote over the sauerkraut and top with the rest of the mashed potatoes.

Bake the casserole in a 350F/175C oven for thirty minutes. After twenty minutes, dot the potatoes with little flecks of the remaining butter and bake the casserole until the top is golden brown. You may broil it for some extra golden goodness!

Serve warm.

* This is a great opportunity to use up your leftover cranberry sauce from Thanksgiving or Christmas. If you are caught without, boil three cups of cranberries in a cup of water, three tablespoons of sugar, a sprig of rosemary, two garlic cloves, a bay leaf and a splash of balsamic vinegar, until the berries pop. Purée, taste and adjust the flavors. A can of cranberry sauce will do in a bind, but don't use cranberry jam or preserves: they are too sweet.

Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!!

Wishing you a very happy 2013! May you have much love, good friends and great food!

 

Thank you for making this a great year!

 

Brinta

The month of December is one of our sweetest and richest months, food-wise. We kick off the festivities with Sinterklaas and all his goodies, then move onto Christmas where we eat and indulge in more sweets, baked goods and candies, and we wrap up the year with Oudjaarsavond, New Year's Eve, where oliebollen and appelbeignets will be a mandatory part of the celebrations. In between eating, cooking, baking, and shopping, I sometimes crave just a simple bowl of good old-fashioned porridge. If it's later in the evening, I might indulge in some bierpap, but for a solid start of the day I often get a bowl of homemade Brinta.

Growing up in the Netherlands, a child's palate is subjected to a vast array of pap, or porridges. It usually starts out with Bambix, a creamy, sweet porridge of mixed grains that is mixed with milk and given to toddlers and preschoolers. It is comforting, velvety and has a tender and sweet taste.

When you're a little older and have been graced with teeth, regardless of whether you're sporting a "fietsenrek" or a full set of pearly whites, you traditionally "graduate" to a grown-up version of Bambix, a so-called porridge called Brinta.

Made only with whole wheat flour, Brinta could either make or break your day. If you were at the breakfast table the moment the hot milk was mixed in with the powdery flakes, life was good. If you were but five minutes late, to where the porridge had cooled considerably and the fibers had had an opportunity to soak up all the liquid, your lovely, warm, early morning breakfast was now fit for slicing. It had turned into a cold, lumpy, mushy bowl of wet concrete. Ewww!

Permission granted Brinta

Brinta, short for Breakfast Instant Tarwe (wheat), was created in the province of Groningen in 1944. The partially English name was given to the product as a tender (or commercially sound) gesture to the English and American armed forces who were stationed in our country during that time, and who were much more familiar with robuster breakfast grains. In 1963, the year of the coldest Elfstedentocht yet, the winner of this long-distance skating event happened to mention that all he had had for breakfast was "een bordje Brinta" (a serving of Brinta porridge). The connection between sports and Brinta was made, and it continues to this day.

Since then, Brinta has expanded their product line with breakfast beverages, a variety of porridges or mush and even loaves of bread, all made with the goodness of whole wheat flour. It is apparently available in Canada but not in the United States, unless you purchase it from a Dutch food importer. A similar product is possible to make at home. 

Makes 1 serving.

Brinta(-ish)
3 heaping tablespoons (40 grams) whole wheat unbleached flour
3 tablespoons (45 ml) milk
1 cup (250 ml) milk
1 tablespoon (8 grams) whole wheat bran (optional, not in original product)
Pinch of salt

Mix the flour with the tablespoons of milk in a bowl and make it into a paste. Bring the cup of milk to a simmer. Pour half of the warm milk on the flour paste in the bowl and stir to dissolve, add in the (optional) wheat bran and the pinch of salt, and pour everything back into the pan. Bring everything to a low boil and continue to stir while the porridge thickens, for about five minutes. Depending on how thick or thin you like your pap, adjust the amount of bran/milk accordingly!

Serve with brown or white sugar, and eat hot!

Merry Christmas!

 

Wishing you peace, love and good food.

 

The Dutch Table

Kersttulband

It's Christmas time, and this special time of year is celebrated in the Netherlands with good food, family visits and well....more good food. Old favorites are dusted off, new exciting dishes are being prepared and people look forward to spending some quality time together, and enjoying some good homecooking. During this time, an old-fashioned, traditional cake in the shape of a turban, or tulband is often baked. Usually, the tulband is a simple pound cake, but for Christmas it becomes a special treat.

Rich with butter, sugar and dried fruits, generous slices of this kersttulband are often served when enjoying the visit of a friend or family member. It is good by itself and will hold, because of its richness, for several days. Dress it up with a beautiful red bow and give it as a gift, or keep it for yourself and enjoy it during these holiday times! Red and green candied cherries give it a festive, Christmas-sy feel.

Tulband
2 sticks butter, softened (225 gr.)
1 cup sugar (200 gr.)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
4 eggs
2 cups self-rising flour (300 gr.)
1/2 cup golden raisins (75 gr.)
1/2 cup dark raisins (75 gr.)
1/4 cup candied citron peel or chopped apricots (50 gr.)

Cream the butter and the sugars until they're fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, and allow each one to incorporate before adding the next one. Sift the flour and carefully fold it into the buttery mix, but hold back one large tablespoon. Toss the dried fruits with that flour, then carefully fold everything into the batter.

Butter and flour a baking pan, either a turban one, or a Bundt pan. Spread the batter into the pan, and bake the cake for an hour in a 350F oven. When a toothpick comes out clean, the cake is done.

Drizzle the cake, when it has cooled down, with your favorite glazed frosting, or make one by mixing a cup of powdered sugar with a tablespoon of milk, and decorate with red and green candied cherries.

* If you don't have vanilla sugar, or can't find any, add a teaspoon of vanilla extract to the batter.



 

Mosterdsoep

This recipe first appeared in Dutch, Issue 8 November/December 2012                              

It is so cold outside! It's snowing and these dark days before Christmas sure makes me just want to curl up on the couch, grab a good book and hide from the elements. But no such luck! I need to head out in this weather to get some last-minute groceries, the Sunday  newspaper and maybe a stocking stuffer or two. Sinterklaas has come and gone, now it's time for the Kerstman!

With all the eating, baking, sampling and tasting that is going on these days in this household, there is very little need for a full meal. But a quick pick-me-up cup of soup during this time really hits the spot.

Today, I made a quick mosterdsoep, a mustard soup. A variety of regions in The Netherlands produce coarse grain mustards, like Doesburg, Groningen and the Zaanstreek area, all with a slight variation on flavor, coarseness and ingredients. It is a traditional item served with many of our foods: it's hard to imagine bitterballen or kroketten without mustard, or a gehaktbal on bread, without a generous lick of the creamy, dark yellow condiment.

Mosterdsoep is a velvety, creamy soup that tastes like, well, mustard. Select a coarse grain mustard if you can find it, preferably a Doesburgse or Zaanse Mosterd. If not, try something like Grey Poupon Harvest Coarse Ground mustard for a valid substitute. It is best with some crispy bacon garnish, and a slice of rustic bread.

Mosterdsoep
1 small leek
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
4 tablespoons of coarse grain mustard

Wash and thinly slice the leek, white part only. Melt the butter in a pan and slowly sweat the vegetable. When it starts to release its lovely fragrance, stir in the flour to make a roux. Carefully continue to stir the butter and flour until it's come together, much like a paste, until it’s slightly golden. Now add the broth little by little, all the while stirring, making sure the roux incorporates all the liquid. Make sure there are no lumps. Bring to a boil, and boil for a good five minutes, until the soup thickens slightly. Turn down the heat to simmer, stir in the mustard and stir slowly until it dissolves. Taste. Adjust the flavor with some more mustard or a bit of salt if needed. 

Mosterdsoep can be served as is, or with some crispy bacon as a garnish.

Duivekater

The Christmas season is one of many gezellige evenings together. We take the time to visit with friends and family over coffee and a slice of banketletter or a piece of speculaas. Or we spend some needed alone time, going through the many recipe magazines available, to plan our Christmas menu while nibbling on some leftover kruidnoten from Sinterklaas.

This season has some of the richest baked goods: they're heavy on sugar, dried fruits and nuts. Many of these traditional recipes stem from the times that families would bring out their best items out of food storage to share with each other. The best sausages, hams and dried meats would appear on the table, together with specialty items such as oranges and other exotic luxuries. This was a serious time to celebrate!

It is also a time of rich, luxurious breads. Kerststol, a rich buttery bread studded with dried fruits and almond paste, is found in stores and bakeries during this time of year. Many a breakfast or morning coffee will include a slice of buttered stol, just to set the mood. Christmas is celebrated during two days, the 25th and 26th of December, and is a great way to showcase your cooking and baking skills by inviting friends and family to come and celebrate with you!

A regional, rich bread that used to appear during these festive days but is now available year-round, is the duivekater. Predominantly present in the province of North-Holland, in the Amsterdam area and the Zaanstreek, the duivekater is a rich, sweet white bread, flavored with lemon zest and is lovely by itself or toasted and served with a lick of butter. The real interesting part about the bread is the shape: it is thought that the duivekater was a sacrificial offering, from Germanic origen, a bread that replaced an actual, physical sacrifice to the gods. If the gods were pleased, the devil would stay away. As the bread is shaped like a bone, a shinbone perhaps, it is assumed that the bread replaced an animal offering (kater = tomcat) . The richly decorated body of the bread represents the shaft, and both ends are shaped like medials, or the lumpy bits at the end of a bone.

But let's not dwell on that too much! The bread is represented throughout history on several paintings by Jan Steen and Pieter Aerts, and although it has lost some of its popularity, it can still be found in the Zaanstreek, albeit less decorated. It's a heavy, sweet, dense white bread, with a wonderful hint of lemon.

Duivekater
3 cups cake flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon and 2 teaspoons active dry yeast
3/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons powdered milk
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons butter, softened
Zest of one lemon
1 egg

Mix the two flours. Warm the milk, add the yeast and a pinch of sugar, set aside to proof. In the meantime, mix in the rest of the sugar, the powdered milk and the salt with the flours. When the yeast is bubbly, mix it in with the flours. Depending on whether you're a light or heavy scooper, you may need to add a little bit of milk to make it a pliable, workable dough. Add the butter and lemon zest, and knead the dough until it's pillowy and soft, but not sticky. Oil a bowl, add the dough and cover for its first rise.

Knead the dough a second time and shape it into a log. Cover and let it rest for five minutes. Now cut about 2 inches on each side and curl the dough inwards (like on the picture) or outward, whichever you prefer, you are trying to achieve something that vaguely looks like a bone.

Cover the bread and let it rise a second time, for about thirty minutes. Make decorative slashings in the rest of the bread and brush the whole bread with egg.

Heat the oven to 400F. Bake the loaf for 25 minutes or until done inside (190F and rising!). If the bread browns too quickly, tent it with aluminum foil until you reach the desired internal temperature.

Cool the bread, slice, slather with butter, sit back and relax. Best enjoyed with a cup of coffee and a couple of good friends.