Crisp Bread for Crisp Days

I was back in Stockholm over Easter for a friend's 30th and to catch up with relatives.  I left behind a London that had just started to wake up to Spring to land in the middle of an icy Scandinavian winter, where the mercury barely teetered over zero most days.  Having said that, the sun stayed out and I didn't see a cloud the whole time I was there.  The snow gradually started to melt, freezing overnight to create sheets of lethal, slippery glass over the pavement and roads.

You know it's cold when water freezes straight out of the drainpipes

The Swedes do Easter with a bit more pizzaz than their southernly neighbours.  They love an excuse to get crafty and break out a bit of colour in order to liven up the last days of winter.  Feathers, dyed lurid tones of yellow, pink and blue, are the decor of choice, but many paint eggs and hang up wreaths too.  There's usually a family get-together for a big Easter meal, but we eschew lamb in favour of a smörgåsbord of traditional feast food- pickled herring, salmon, eggs, meatballs, potatoes, Janssons temptation.  Rich, indulgent dishes, originally created to fuel the manual labour that farming the land required.  Not quite as necessary these days, of course, but still absolutely delicious.

Although we, too, like to give Easter eggs (generally decorated cardboard ones brimming with sweets), I'm always more interested in the baked goods category when it comes to festive eating.  Whether it be the spiced breads and biscuits at Christmas, the berry-filled tarts at midsummer or the cream filled cardamom buns available during Lent.  Snappy crisp breads, although enjoyed all year round, particularly come into their own with the rich foods served during the holidays.  Over Easter, my godmother, Margareta, very kindly shared her technique for making home made rye crisp breads.  Over an afternoon, we rolled, poked holes and scattered various toppings over the dense dough that gets slowly dried out in the oven.  It is quite a physical, painstaking job, but absolutely worth it.  Not least because the results could probably survive a nuclear holocaust.  Make a big batch, wrap it up in an airtight container and you'll have delicious bread or canapé bases on tap.

Melting ice on lake Mälaren

Easter decorations for sale on Mariatorget

Rye Crisp Breads

(a big batch, recipe can be halved)

You will need:

25g fresh yeast

600ml water (blood temperature)

1 tbsp honey

3 tsp salt

500g rye flour

300g spelt flour

100g sunflower seeds

50g linseeds

100g sesame seeds

Method:

1.  Crumble the yeast into a large bowl and add the water, which should simply 'feel wet' (i.e. not hot, not cold, just the same temperature as your finger when you test it).  Stir to dissolve.  In a separate bowl, mix together the seeds.  

2.  Add the rye flour and 200g of the spelt flour to the liquid and yeast mixture, reserving the rest for later.  Add half of the seeds, mix well and knead together for a few minutes to form a sticky dough.  

3.  Leave to rise in a warmish place for at least an hour.  

4.  Preheat the oven to 210 C.   Divide the dough into 15 bits and roll into balls.  Dust your work surface with some of the reserved spelt flour and roll out each ball into rounds about 1/2cm thick.  It will be quite sticky, so do keep dusting more reserved flour.  Make a hole in the center of each round (using a small glass or jar) for traditional crisp breads or, alternatively, roll and cut out long rectangular shapes.  

5.  Place onto a lined baking sheet.  Poke each bread with a fork to dimple.  Sprinkle with the remaining seeds.  

6.  Bake in batches for 10-12 minutes.  Once each batch is done, turn off the oven and place all the breads onto a couple of baking sheets.  Put these into the oven and leave to dry out completely for a few hours.  

Chippy

I've been going a bit polenta mad recently.  It has been turning up in my baking, as a side dish with a chop and some roasted red peppers and even in place of breadcrumbs for pané-ing.   But these chips take the (polenta) biscuit.  They are fun, delicious and ridiculously easy to make.

You could flavour them with anything that takes your fancy really, but I went with a goats' cheese and rosemary combo.  Other ideas include chili and coriander, chives and sour cream, sage or just leave them salt-and-pepper-plain, of course.  The only thing I would say is do oven roast them, rather getting out the deep fat fryer.  Not only is this obviously much better for you and less faff, I actually find it the best method to retain any of those added flavours.

Goats' Cheese and Polenta Chips

You will need:
250g polenta (ideally the quick cook variety)
Fresh Rosemary, finely chopped
100g Soft goats cheese
Sea salt
Pepper
Olive oil
Fresh torn herbs: rosemary, thyme

Method:

1.  Cook the polenta according the packet instructions.  I normally bring a big pan of salted water to boil (about 1L), or even stock for extra flavour, and then pour in the polenta in one steady stream.  It will bubble up something rather vulcanic, but be ready in no time at all.

2.  Remove from the heat and add the goats cheese, stirring until melted.  Pour into a baking tray so that the polenta is about 1 inch thick.  Smooth over slightly and leave to cool and set completely.          

3. Meanwhile, preheat your oven to 200 C.  Cut the cooled polenta into 'chip' like strips.  Place on a large roasting tray and drizzle over some olive oil, herbs, sea salt and pepper.  Toss to coat thoroughly.

4.   Bake for approx 30 minutes or until lightly golden and crispy.  Enjoy with a dip of your choice- I found chili jam was a bit of a match made in heaven.

Summertime blues- Fresh Cream

I am aware that I've been posting a lot of sweet things lately.  Pies, cakes, desserts and the like.  I'd like to take this opportunity to apologies for this lack of variety in both thematic and nutritional content. 

Well, I'm not all that sorry, truth be told.  And what with Spring finally deciding to get out of bed and grace us with her presence,  I thought it would be an excellent opportunity to break out the ice cream machine.   I made this crème fraîche ice cream as part of a trio of puddings for some guests recently as it works well with pretty much anything .   It is absolutely delicious, with a slight tang that cuts through the creaminess to make for something really rather refreshing.  I'd recommend it even if the sun decides never to come out again.  

 

Crème Fraiche Ice Cream

You will need:

450ml full fat milk

225ml double cream

4 large egg yolks

135g sugar

400g crème fraiche

Method:

1.   Combine milk and cream in a saucepan.  Place over a medium to low heat and cook without boiling, stirring occasionally.

2.     Whisk the egg yolks until smooth before gradually adding the sugar until you have a pale yellow coloured mixture that leaves a ribbon-like trail.

3.     Pour the warm milk and cream mixture slowly over the yolks, stirring all the while.  Rinse out your pan and pour in the custard.  Return to a low heat and cook very slowly until just thick enough to cover the back of a wooden spoon.  Stir continuously and do not allow to boil.

4.        Pour the mixture through a fine-mesh strainer into a clean bowl and leave to cool before refrigerating.  As with any ice cream mixture, it should be really cold before pouring into the machine, so leaving it overnight is probably your best bet.

5.     Stir the crème fraiche into the cold custard and mix to incorporate.  Pour into the ice cream maker (while it is running_ and churn according to manufacturer’s instructions.  Place in a seal-proof tub and freeze for a few hours at least before serving.

Always So Hungary

 

I’m back to blogging after a busy few weeks and slowly catching up on a backlog of posts.  This one is particularly old but brimming with pics, so I felt it was worth persevering with.  So- a while back, I won’t mention quite how long ago for fear of revealing my blogging laziness, we made the uncharacteristically adventurous decision to have a proper holiday somewhere new.  Toby has a bit of a thing for Easter Europe, so we booked a long weekend in Budapest.  

Having not seen much of this part of the world, I wasn’t sure what my expectations were really.   But I was totally taken aback by this enchanting city reminiscent of Belle Epoque Paris with such a rich (albeit recently pretty horrific) history, beautiful architecture and dense cultural (we manged to catch not one, but two concerts) and food scene. 

Of course, you have to do a few token touristy things, like walk over Chain Bridge and grab the cable car to the top of the Castle District and take in the views, warming up with a vin chaud along the way.  An afternoon spent at one of the many spas came highly recommended by all of our guidebooks and didn't disappoint.  Our spa, picked entirely at random, the Kiraly, dates back to the Turkish rule, which is rather incredible in itself.   Once we got past the rather complicated ticket booth issuing locker keys and towels, we got changed (though you can go to some spas entirely in the nude, should that be your thing) and then walked through a series of cave-like chambers, with pools at a variety of different temperatures, each more serene than the last.  

 
There is a vibrant café and cake culture in Budapest, which we were more than happy to indulge in .  We particularly enjoyed a decadent breakfast at  the lavish Central Café (8 Andrássy Út) and later at the rather swish New York Café (Erzsébet körút 9-11).

Elegant café ceilings

On our first evening was spent Klassz bistro (Andrássy út 41) which is owned by the Hungarian wine society.  Brilliant, carefully roasted duck and excellent wine, including a bottle of Lollipop- a sparkler we ended up bringing back home for a couple for quid.  We also really enjoyed the Doblo Wine Bar (Dob St 20), where staff spoke animatedly in perfect English about Hungarian wines, plying us with sips to try before deciding what to take back home.  




Although it was relatively cold when we went, on the plus side there were plenty of outdoor winter markets scattered throughout the city.   It seemed every time we turned a corner, we were greeted by a collection of little huts selling traditional produce and warming spiced wine.  Although partly, of course, a tourist rouse, they did offer plenty of opportunity to try local delicacies, if of the slightly kitch variety. 

The Central market was clearly the place the stock up on paprika, but we also stumbled upon a Hungarian take on a farmer’s market in the Szimpla Kert (14 Kazinczy Utca) bar on the Sunday morning before our flight.  Kerts are apparently old ruin bars- ramshackle affairs in old townhouses with courtyards that are meant to be brilliant during the summer.  Come daytime, they turn into cafés and clearly also event spaces, including for this market where you could pick up anything from pickles to blueberry juice.

Emerging from the Kertz farmer's market with a proud purchase

Inside the Kertz

A novel way of selling veg

The streets of Budapest

A camera shop we passed that caught my eye

Browsing classical LPs

                   


Back at home, I wanted to take inspiration from some of the dishes we'd tried and loved.  Particularly the warming winter stews and smoky flavours.  This particular dish naturally sprung to mind as not just typical of Hungary but a modern day classic.  Who can forget, after all, this scene from When Harry met Sally? 

For this recipe, any old paprika will do, but  if you can get hold of some of the smoky, slightly sweeter variety that is ubiquitous is Hungary, that will absolutely make for the most evocative dish.  



Chicken Paprikash Stew

You will need:
4 chicken thighs (skin on)
1 large onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1-2 tsp paprika
1 tsp flour
generous pinch oregano
salt and pepper
1 tbsp tomato paste 
3 large tomatoes, chopped
300-400ml chicken stock
2 peppers- 1 yellow and 1 orange, cut into strips
100 ml full fat crème fraiche
handful flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped

Method:
1.     Brown chicken thighs over a low heat, rendering the fat right down.  Set aside and wipe out the pan of any excess fat. 

2. Soften diced onions in the same pan, without colouring (as they teach us in school, a damp cartouch, low heat and a pan lid will generally do the trick.  As long as you don’t walk too far away from the kitchen for too long). 

3. Once the onion is soft, add garlic and cook for a minute or two.  Add flour, seasoning, tomatoes and tomato paste and continue to cook for another few minutes before gradually adding the stock. 

4. Bring to a simmer then add chicken pieces.  Leave to bubble gently on the hob for approx. 30 minutes. 

5. Finally, add the peppers and cook for approx. 5 minutes.  Stir in crème fraiche and heat through until thickened slightly.  Add chopped parsley before serving in generous bowls with a bit of bread or with a rice. 

Notes from the School Kitchen, Lemons and Eggs

I have always believed that a poor workman blames his tools and therefore try (albeit with muttering reluctancy) to take some responsibility for my stumbles, both in the kitchen and out.

That was until I started at catering college.

Never again, Ikea knives.  Never again, sieves with holes in them, blunt graters and rusty pans.  The knives in particular are a revelation.  They cut through tendons and joints like butter, making filleting  flesh a cinch. I realise I sound ever so slightly Hannibalistic, but I think Japanese steel could awaken the inner butcher in anyone.

Also- who would have known there were so many uses for a slotted spoon?  Why on earth don't I have one at home?  Why do I never warm my plates or use a warming oven?  I've been eating tepid food all my life, I'm sure.  What about using a cartouche?  I'm really only being mildly dramatic when I say that this little piece of circular baking paper, scrunched up, dampened and placed on top of frying veg, has changed my life forever.

The effects of my first five weeks of cooking under watchful, reassuring tutelage have perhaps not begun to seep into my technique quite yet- I still chop vegetables at roughly the same speed as the Hammersmith and City line.  And don't even get me started on turning them.  However, the month has certainly made a kitchen materialist out of me.  Lakeland and Nisbets-  you'll have seen me coming.



And while we're on the subject of knife skills, a friend recently told me that she imagined catering college was a bit like that scene from Julie and Julia, where Meryl Streep is manically chopping onions.  Needless to say, the reality isn't quite worthy of a movie-montage.  It's much too slow, with ups and downs, highs and lows and more gradual sense of achievement.  And sometimes just flat out disappointment.  The majority of the time, though, I feel so flooded with information that I get to the end of the week and can't even remember what I've cooked that same day (spaghetti vongole and sauce espagnole, for those who were wondering.  And yes, I made the pasta from scratch. Natch.)

In short, I hope all this goes some way to explain why Always So Hungry has had slightly less activity than usual- it's not because I haven't been doing any cooking.  Rather, because I've been doing too much cooking!

So until I've mastered  a bit more and taken stock (from making stock...sorry, couldn't resist), I'll leave you with a recipe for a culinary classic.  One that I made ages ago and simply haven't had the time to post.  It seems particularly apt to feature meringues, given that I seem to get through about a billion eggs every week.  Enjoy. 

Lemon Meringue Pie
(from Leiths Cookery Bible)

You will need:

For the pastry (rich, sweet shortcrust):
170g plain flour
pinch of salt
100g butter
1 egg yolk
ice water

For the filling:
4 tbsp cornflour
225g caster sugar
290 ml water
4 egg yolks
grated zest and juice of 2 1/2 large unwaxed lemons

For the meringue topping:
3 tbsp water
2 tsp cornflour
4 egg whites
110g caster sugar + a little extra

Method:

1.  Sift the flour with the salt into a large bowl.  Rub in the butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs (you can also use a food processor at this stage if you have one).

2.  Mix the egg yolk with about 2 tbsp of water and sprinkle about half of this mixture over the flour.  You may need to add more, but be careful not to make the pastry too damp.

3.  Mix to a firm dough, first with a knife, then with one hand.  Add more of the yolk-water mixture if necessary.

4.  Wrap in clingfilm and leave in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. 

5. Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C.  Roll out the pastry and line a round 20 cm flan or tart tin.  Chill until firm in the fridge then blind bake in the oven- removing your baking beads/grains when the sides are almost golden and allowing the base to cook through. 

6. Turn the oven temperature down to 180 degrees.  Make the filling by combining the cornflour, sugar and water in a saucepan.  Cook over a medium heat, stirring constantly, until thick and translucent.

7. Whisk the egg yolks into the still hot mixture then pass through a sieve.  Add the lemon juice and zest.

8. Pour the hot filling into the warm pastry case and place in the centre of the oven for 5-10 minutes.

9. Make the meringue topping by whisking the water and cornflour in a small saucepan over a medium heat, again, until thick and translucent.  Remove from the heat.

10. Whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks before gradually adding the caster sugar, whisking all the while.  Whisk in the warm cornflour mixture.

11. Pile the meringue on top of the filling, starting at the edge next to the pastry, then moving towards the centre, to form a bit of a mound in the middle. Use a fork to create peaks, then sprinkle with a little extra sugar.

12. Bake in the oven for 15-20 minutes until the topping is light brown.

13. Allow to cool before serving or refrigerate if serving the next day.