We love it so much, that we cannot do without it and as Sandor Ellix Katz suggests, we start a new batch before we finish the old one (see NOTE).

Adapted from my Mediterranean Vegetarian Feasts

Makes about 4 1/2 quarts (4.3 L)

1 medium-small green cabbage and 1 small red cabbage (5 1/2 to 6 pounds / 2.5 to 2.7 kg total)

3 tablespoons sea salt

1/2 cup (50 g) finely chopped seaweed (dulce, wakame, porphyra, or any other kind), soaked in 2 cups lukewarm water for 30 to 45 minutes

2 to 3 stalks celery (optional)

1 tablespoon caraway or coriander seeds (optional)

About 2 1/2 cups (600 ml) water or 1 1/2 cups (360 ml) water and 1 cup (240 ml) brine from a previous batch of fermented cabbage, as needed

Halve the cabbages, cut off the hard stems, and shred the cabbage into 1/4- to 1/3-inch (6- to 8-mm) strands.

Transfer to a large bowl, sprinkle with the salt, add the seaweed, and pour its soaking juice over the cabbage. Start rubbing and tossing the strands, and continue for at least 10 minutes, until they reduce in volume and start to soften. Add the celery branches and spices, if using, toss, and transfer to a 5-quart (4.7-L) cylindrical jar, pressing down hard with your palms. The liquid will almost reach the top of the cabbage; if not, add a little more water. Cover the entire surface of the shredded cabbage with plastic wrap and place a plate on top, almost as large as the jar. On top of the plate, put a large, heavy can or jar—at least 4 pounds (1.8 kg). Leave on the kitchen counter overnight.

The next day you will see tiny bubbles rising from the bottom of the jar as the cabbage ferments. This happens faster if you have used brine from a previous fermentation. Depending on the room temperature, it could take a couple days before you see the first results of the fermentation process. Be sure to check every day, pressing the shredded cabbage down. Gradually the white and red strands will change into a uniform pink color. Make sure that the cabbage is submerged in the brine at all times.

Taste the cabbage after 4 or 5 days to see if you like it. At this point I usually transfer it to smaller jars, pour enough brine over to cover the cabbage completely, then add a bag filled with clean stones as a weight to keep the cabbage covered in brine. I close the lids and store the fermented cabbage in the refrigerator. The cabbage will continue to ferment slowly in the refrigerator, and after 4 to 5 months it may eventually become too sour and pungent. Mine seldom lasts for more than a few weeks.

NOTE: As Sandor Ellix Katz suggests, start a new batch before you finish the old one. I remove the last pieces with a slotted spoon and then pack the jar with freshly shredded cabbage, which I mix with the leftover brine, adding some salted water made by stirring 1 1/2 to 2 teaspoons salt for each 1 cup (240 ml) water. This cabbage will ferment faster—try it on the third day—and it usually develops a more complex flavor.

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You can enjoy kolokotes as snack, complemented with yogurt, labne, or fresh cheese; drizzled with honey, date or any fruit molasses they become a lovely dessert. 

Marilena Ioannides’ recipe is by far the best I have tried –and I did try lots over the years. She bakes the pies on camera –speaking Greek with no subtitles, unfortunately; but consulting my recipe below you can easily follow and understand how to make these simple, exquisite pies.

To collect the old, traditional dishes she included in her book Cyprus Food Treasures, Marilena traveled all over the island, even to the remotest villages, and managed to find some incredible dishes! Often they are the missing link between age-old foods we read about in old manuscripts and the more recent variations we still encounter in parts of Greece or in other parts of the Eastern Mediterranean.

NOTE in the video as she prepares the pies leisurely, in real time, she weighs all ingredients –even the olive oil and water– as she adds them, one by one in the bowl of the mixer, zeroing her electronic scale just before adding a new item. This is a wonderful trick that helps cooks use a minimum of  bowls and other measuring utensils. 

My recipe is adapted from Marilena Ioannides’ Kolokotes. I have increased the amount of raisins and doubled the pepper; also substituted fennel seeds for the fresh wild fennel she suggests.

Makes 6 large pies

For the DOUGH:

1 pound bread flour or a combination of pasta flour and all purpose flour

1 teaspoon sea salt

70 grams olive oil

250 grams very hot or boiling water —the secret to make smooth, elastic dough

For the FILLING:

2 pounds butternut squash, peeled and seeded

1 1/2 teaspoon sea salt

100 grams bulgur (medium not fine)

150 grams raisins

30 grams olive oil

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 -1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper (I like it peppery)

1 teaspoon coarsely ground fennel seeds

Make the dough tossing the flour, salt, and olive oil in the bowl of a standing mixer. With the motor running pour in the hot water on the side, and work to obtain a soft, slightly sticky dough. Wrap in oiled plastic wrap and set aside. You can make the dough the previous day, refrigerate, wrapped, and bring to room temperature before proceeding further.

For the filling cut the squash in very thin slices, then in small cubes, matchsticks, or any kind of tiny bits. Add salt, olive oil and the raisins, then work with your hands to somewhat soften the squash.

Stir in the bulgur, cinnamon, pepper, and fennel seeds, and toss well to mix. 

Divide the dough into 6 pieces. (Marilena makes 7 pies but I find it difficult to divide the dough into an even number; I only use the scale for the filling).   

Preheat the oven to 150C  (about 300F) in convection mode. 

Roll each piece into roughly a 25 cm round, and place one sixth of the filling in the center, weighing all the filling  dividing the number into 6, then portioning and weighing 1/6th for each pie. Stir the filling each time before you take a portion as the moisture tends to go to the bottom.

Fold the round of dough to cover the filling; seal and crimp the edge, making sure the pie is completely closed so that the squash, bulgur etc. bake and steam inside the crust. Place the pies carefully on baking trays lined with parchment paper, and bake in the middle of the oven for 45 min to 1 h –until lightly colored on top and bottom.

If you bake both pans at the same time, change positions after 30 minutes, turning also the pans back to front.

Let the kolokotes cool on a rack or on thick kitchen towels before cutting to eat.

The flavor is infinitely better after they are completely cold, and I find that it is even better the next day! 

Keep on the counter for 2-3 days, if you manage to resist devouring them. You can also freeze and slowly reheat any leftover pies. 

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Adapted from my book The Foods of the Greek Islands.

The cornerstone of Greek sweets are the preserves made with the fruits of every season.

Each home has several different jars of fruit in the pantry, and guests are offered a teaspoon with a glass of water as a welcome to the house.

I know that fresh sour cherries are not the easiest fruit for most people to get, and their season is so short, so I suggest you make the preserves with perokerasa (Rainier cherries) instead.

Unfortunately, the true color of the Rainier cherries preserves is a quite unattractive murky yellow, so you are better off adding a few drops of red food coloring.  Instead, I prefer to boil a red beet with the cherries, a trick I learned from Tunisian cooks.

Makes 3 cups

2          pounds firm cherries, such as Rainier or Royal Ann (not pie cherries or Bing cherries), pitted (see NOTE Sour Cherry preserves)     

2          cups sugar      

1          small red beet, peeled and quartered (optional)       

1/4       cup freshly squeezed lemon juice      

2–3      teaspoons pure vanilla extract

In a large bowl, combine the cherries and sugar and toss well. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight, or for up to 2 days.

Transfer the cherry mixture to a large saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves.

Boil for 3 minutes, then remove from the heat.

Let cool completely. With a slotted spoon, transfer the cherries to a colander set over a large bowl. Bring the syrup to a boil and boil for 2 minutes. Add the beet (if using), the lemon juice and the syrup from the bowl. Boil the syrup until it reaches 235°F to 240°F on a candy thermometer.

Return the cherries to the pan and boil for 2 minutes more. Remove from the heat, add the vanilla extract and let cool completely. Discard the beet and pour the cherries into clean jars, filling almost to he top, then close he lids. As they cool, they will pop and seal so they will keep for up to a year, at least in a cool place.

If they do not seal, store in the refrigerator for up to 3 months.

NOTE: Vissino, Sour Cherry Preserves

As sour cherries are quite tart, you may need to double the amount of sugar. It all depends on your personal taste. The Greek tradition is to add 1 kilo sugar for each kilo of pitted cherries, but this is far too much for my taste.

No aromatic or coloring is needed here, of course.

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Last week I decided to fry the tomatoes, and instead of mixing in the eggs, I nestled them in the pan, and after 2-3 minutes, I moved the pan to a 200 C oven and baked for 5-8 minutes, until the eggwhite was opaque. We enjoyed it enormously with fresh crusty bread. 

Plain scrambled eggs are not a common Greek dish, but a huge egg and tomato scramble, as you might find in a Greek diner in America, is still a national institution. Some people add crumbled feta in the pan, but I much prefer to sprinkle it at the end; I enjoy my strapatsada with toasted bread or with olive-oil-fried potato slices, a heavenly combination!

Serve with toasted multi-grain, whole-wheat bread and a green salad, or with roast vegetables I often serve it with toasted bulgur pilaf, but simple sliced potatoes fried in olive oil are still my favorite complement.

See also the Scrambled Eggs with Fava beans which is another somewhat different, yet equally delicious combination. 

Menemen, the Turkish version, has diced peppers, both sweet and hot, along with tomatoes and chopped scallions. The Provençale bruillade à l’Arlésienne (scrambled eggs from Arles) has grated zucchini, tomatoes and garlic (see variations). Much like classic scrambled eggs, strapatsada needs to be soft and creamy, not dry or too watery. I use my own tomato confit or add a few sun-dried tomatoes to the pan to get the intense tomato flavor I remember from my childhood. 

Serves 2-4 as a main course, 5-6 as part of a meze spread

12 ripe plum tomatoes, confit (recipe follows) or 6  canned plum tomatoes (best quality), drained, plus 6 sun-dried tomatoes, coarsely chopped

2-3 tablespoons olive oil (less if you use tomato confit)

4-5 eggs

Salt

1/4 cup thick Greek yogurt

1 good pinch Maraş pepper or red pepper flakes, to taste

Feta cheese, crumbled (optional)

Good fruity olive oil, for drizzling

1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano or thyme (optional)

2-3 tablespoons coarsely chopped parsley (optional)

Toasted whole-wheat bread slices, for serving

If you use tomato confit, place in a skillet together with their oil and cook over medium-high heat, stirring often to thicken.

If you use canned and sun-dried tomatoes, warm 4 tablespoons olive oil in a skillet, add the tomatoes and cook over medium-high heat, stirring often for 10 minutes or until thickened.

In a bowl beat the eggs lightly with a pinch of salt and the yogurt.

Lower the heat and add the eggs to the tomatoes, sprinkle with the pepper and cook, tossing often with a wooden spatula until the eggs are just set. Be careful not to overcook the eggs.

Transfer to a shallow bowl and serve warm or at room temperature.  Sprinkle with Feta, if you like, drizzle with fruity olive oil, and add fresh oregano, thyme, or parsley, if you like.

Alternatively, you can spread tablespoons of the strapatsada on toasts and serve as bruschetta.   

VARIATIONS:

Menemen (Turkish Tomato and Pepper Scrambled Eggs)

Sauté 1 red or green bell pepper, seeded and diced, until soft. Add the tomatoes to the pan and proceed as above.

Bruillade à l’Arlésienne (Scrambled Eggs from Arles)

Grate a small zucchini and sauté in 1 tablespoon olive oil until soft. Add a small, minced garlic clove with the tomatoes and proceed as above.

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See José Andrés’ Athens list. 

We had compiled quite a few suggestions, but José surprised me when he chose Birdman, the Japanese-inspired Pub, for his fist afternoon bites and drinks in Athens. I had proposed we try a few cocktails there later in the night, since it was already past four, but this didn’t stop José from ordering most of the truly wonderful seafood and meat bites chef Ari Vezenes cooks on live fire. He loved the chicken liver and heart, even the Iberico Katsu that I was afraid would not meet his high standards…

* * *

Dinner was at Bobena fish tavern in Kesariani, arranged by avgotaraho producer Zafiris Trikalinos, ‘one of the world’s most incredible delicacies,’ according to José who could not stop eating it, especially freshly cured as we had it in various dishes throughout our meals. Fortunately, Tikalinos Avgotaraho is available in the US and ideal for a precious Valentine’s meal.

The taramosalata with avgotaraho was as I remember it from my early childhood when this iconic Lenten meze was prepared with this precious Greek fish roe –before cheap cod-roe from Norway and Iceland became available. We We also had linguine with avgotaraho, and loved the two kinds of home-baked breads, and the delicious sea-urchins from Chanea, Crete. The chef chopped and served us his incredible slow-roasted eggplant salad, and José created his avgotaraho-sprinkled olive-oil-fried eggs, as well as a sweet version of meringue lightly sprinkled with avgotaraho…

Before our visit to the Central Market the next morning, we stopped for coffee at Mokka, the usual coffee spot. Besides the traditional Greek/Turkish coffee prepared on hot sand, Jose tried the  cold brew which he loved. And we were surprised when visitors commented that these days Athenian cafés serve some of the best coffee in Europe.

January is a particularly good time for fish in Greece, and José was enchanted to find live karavides (langoustines) sold at a price that to me seemed exorbitant, but apparently it was considerably less than Spain or the US. He bought quite a few, and, at the newly established Hasapika restaurant in the Market, he proceeded to cook them for us full of joy! It is obvious that cooking is his favorite job and he misses it now that he is involved with World Central Kitchen and so many other things that keep him away from the kitchen. He simply boiled the langoustines in ‘water heavily salted similar to the sea,’  then peeled them and offered us sublime bites. He then braised some with olive oil and lemon, and fried eggs in their delicious sauce! For me this was one of the most memorable meals I ever had!

We then had a brief tasting at the humble Diporto, the old tavern José remembered from his previous visit, 20 years ago. Even after those incredible langoustines, the beans, chickpeas and fava still tasted wonderful, José exclaimed, as he was eager to be photographed with Mitsos, the old, tireless cook.

* * *

It was a pleasant, not too cold afternoon, and José and Tichi decided to visit the Parthenon. Then we all met at Pharaoh, the much talked-about new restaurant which has become the young Athenians’ favorite, but it is unfortunately small which makes it particularly hard to get a reservation.

Chef Manolis Papoutsakis’ homey dishes may not have included much avgotaraho, but José loved them, while chef Michael Costa besides the food enjoyed the jazz music, well-chosen by the DJ who plays old vinyl records on the turntable. We enjoyed the chestnuts stifado, with pearl onions and warm spices, a dish from the mountains of Crete, and José loved the humble rice with cabbage and leeks, and the rare monkfish avgolemono with ascolymvrous –the thorn particularly loved in Crete. The slow-cooked zygouri (1-2 year old lamb) risotto was exceptional, as was the lamb, and rabbit. As for the long wine list, it included some new Greek natural wines, along with an eclectic selection of international labels.

José, along with everybody else, were delighted and he immediately posted on his Instagram: “Amazing NEO Taverna, celebrating the traditional dishes of Greece with touches of Crete island in a cool place, with awesome food and unique Greek wines with many indigenous grapes and awesome music.”

* * *

Next morning I took chef Mickael Costa to Stani, the old loukoumades (fried dough-puff) and dairy shop, where my father used to take me and my sister when we were kids. It still makes THE best traditional, crunchy loukoumades in Athens.

On our way back, at a busy sidewalk we came upon a lady selling exquisite wild greens, in neat clean bunches: nettles, vrouves (white mustard shoots), mallow, chicory, sorrel, wild arugula. 

* * *

At Ergon Market we tried the freshly-grilled, sourdough Greek pita –very different from the crunchy-airy Zaytinya pita—which was drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with oregano and served with black, squid-ink taramosalata, which looked more impressive than it tasted. The lamb hunkiar, with mashed eggplant, and the shrimp saganaki were more interesting.

Nolan, star chef Sotiris Kontizas’ acclaimed small restaurant combining Japanese and Greek traditions, is always full. We only managed to get an outside table, braving the chill with portable heaters. We enjoyed zucchini and smoked eggplant salad with miso vinaigrette, raw shrimp and tuna in crunchy rice paper, and unusual fried chicken bites, among other dishes.

The last Athenian dinner for José and the team was at Kookoovaya, again lavishly arranged by Zafiris Trikalinos. He brought copious amounts of avgotaraho, which chef Periklis Koskinas served in various starters, mostly pairing it with morsels of  raw fish. I particularly loved the sea bream topped with blood orange slices and avgotaraho, but also the less sumptuous paper-thin fried zucchini and his rif on the traditional greens’ pie he simply accompanies with thick yogurt. 

Jose had a long discussion with the chef, and obviously would have loved to be able to get his hands on some of the exquisite fish the restaurant uses, but it was late and the kitchen was busy cooking for a large group of people…

Thinking back on my days with José in Athens, I would love to arrange for him to cook along with some of the chefs whose dishes he tasted. I only hope that he will soon return to Athens, which he characterized as a very interesting European food scene. Maybe he would also visit Crete and the north of Greece to sample wines and try his hand with our fish, vegetables, and meat, as it is more than obvious that the great José Andrés is certainly happier in the kitchen, cooking and creating for his friends and customers…

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From mid-December and up until after the New Year we usually keep on the festive table nuts and dried fruit, plus melomakarona and kourabiedes.  

Wikipedia refers also to the Sephardic Jewish tradition to serve various nuts, candied and dried fruits during Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year.  Catalans and Armenians share similar traditions.

When I first read a description of this traditional festive bread I was surprised by the amount of olive oil it contains. I looked up many French recipes and they all agreed that for each pound of flour there should be one full cup of olive oil added. There were few minor differences in the aromatics among the recipes, with some suggesting just a few aniseeds, and others a lot more –I chose to follow the latter.Some also had orange blossom water along with orange or lemon zest, which I preferred to leave out. Some recent version substituted butter for the olive oil (!) and also had egg in the dough. The recipe Saveur published in 2007 has no aromatics at all, and significantly more sugar; the headnote describes it as ‘a cross between a brioche and a focaccia.’ There is also a crunchy version of the Pompe a l’ Huile, which is baked in a low oven until completely dry.

Part of the traditional Christmas table in Provence this delicious olive oil bread is supposed to be torn into pieces with the hands and never cut with a knife. Pompe a l’ Huile is served along with twelve more desserts on Christmas Eve on the festive tables all around the Mediterranean coast of France. The thirteen sweetmeats include various dried fruits –figs, different kinds of grapes, plums etc.—candied pears and apples, as well as oranges and other citrus fruits, cookies, and nougat.

It is an old Mediterranean tradition to have different kinds of sweets on display during the end of the year holidays, supposedly to placate kalikantzaroi, the  malevolent goblins. In Greece we also keep on the table nuts and dried fruit, plus melomakarona and kourabiedes from mid-December and up until after the New Year. 

RECIPE: Pompe a l ‘Huile: Festive Bread from Provence

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For the New Year I decided to dress it up, sprinkling with diced, caramelized citrus peels and pistachios; I also cut the year’s numbers on tangerine peels that I simmered in syrup before placing on the cake. 

See more New Year’s Cake recipes HERE and HERE. 

Bake the cake at least a day before you plan to serve it so the flavors  have time to develop. Cakes are best the day after!  

In our family it was simply called Tou Yiaourtiou (the one with yogurt), to distinguish with another, more elaborate festive dessert my mother and aunts prepared with store-bought lady-finger cookies and a heavy margarine-based cream –butter and heavy cream were not a common ingredient in Greece in my childhood years. 

Only recently I realized that this, ubiquitous urban Greek dessert is the Gateau aux Yaourt the simplest French cake, the first one kids bake as the portions are measured in the yogurt pot. Obviously my family, as most other bakers in Athens, got the recipe from Tselementes’ book. He obviously copied the French cake, but substituted margerine (!) for the olive oil, calling it Yiaourtopita (yogurt pie) a name that many bakers use today.  

Whenever I have, I use lemons from my garden, or our local tangerines and oranges that are wonderfully aromatic. I suggest you seek organic fruits for this and my other recipes. 

See also my Orange, Lemon or Tangerine Olive Oil Cake which I make pulsing the whole citrus fruit, not just zesting it.  

For a 9-inch (23 cm) round or square pan

THE CAKE

2/3 cup light olive oil, plus 1 to 2 tablespoons for greasing pan

2 1/2 cups cake flour

2 1/2  teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

4 large eggs

1 cup sugar

Fine zest of 4 lemons –fresh, preferably organic– OR 2 large Oranges and 2 Tangerines 

1 1/2 cup full-fat strained yogurt (Greek)

1/3 cup lemon or orange juice

THE SYRUP & TOPPING (optional)

1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon or orange juice

1/3 cup water

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup home made Lemon Liqueur or any citrus-flavored liqueur

1 cup home made Lemon Marmalade or any citrus fruit marmalade you have at hand

1/2 cup toasted almonds or pistachios, coarsely ground

MAKE THE CAKE: Preheat the oven to 375°F (200 C)

Line a round or square 9-inch (23 cm) pan with parchment paper and very lightly brush with oil. 

In a large bowl stir together the flour, the baking powder and the salt. Set aside.

Using a standing mixer, or hand-held mixer and a stainless-steel bowl, beat the eggs and the sugar for about 4-5 minutes, until creamy. Add the olive oil, the lemon or orange zest and the yogurt, and beat until incorporated.

Add half of the flour mixture and work very briefly to incorporate then add the remaining flour and the lemon or orange juice. Just incorporate the last ingredients and don not overwork the batter.

Using a rubber spatula, fold the beaten egg whites into batter, working until just combined. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and even the top with a spatula.

Bake 45 minutes to 1 hour, until a knife or a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.

Let cool 15 minutes on a rack.

Make the Syrup: While cake bakes, in a small saucepan combine the lemon or juice, the water and the sugar. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the sugar is dissolved.

When the cake is cool enough to handle but still warm, invert it onto a serving platter, peel off the paper and prick the surface all over with a toothpick. Using a spoon, douse the cake with syrup, making sure you cover the entire surface evenly.

Sprinkle with the liqueur, cover loosely with plastic wrap, and let stand until it is completely cold.

Spread the lemon marmalade over the cake, and, if you like, sprinkle with toasted almonds or pistachios. Cover and let stand at room temperature a few hours or overnight before cutting to serve.

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See also my previous recipe.

Frosso gave me the recipe she had gotten from Mrs Dandoura, mother of her class-mate and best friend Chrysouli who recently passed. Mrs Dandoura had learned to make kourambiedes from her mother and grandmother. They came from a wealthy, shipping Galaxidi family, a town 15 klm southwest of Delphi that had flourished in the 18th and through the 19th century as a result of maritime trade and commercial exchanges with the West due to its exquisite natural port.

Calculating the generations that baked these festive cookies, we concluded that the recipe must be at least 200 years old.  Thus kourambiedes were not, as the Greek version of Wikipedia cites “brought by prosfyges (refugees),”  the Anatolian Greek population who fled after the defeat in the Greco-Turkish War (1919–1922) from Smyrna (Izmir) and other parts of Turkey. Prosfyges did, indeed, introduce quite a few special foods to Palaioelladites —the local Greeks– but certainly kourambiedes were already part of the local festive table in many parts of the country.  

Probably the word kourabies (plural kourabiedes) derives from Qurabiya a Persian and/or Arabic word with many variations, used for similar short-bread cookies throughout the Eastern Mediterranean and north Africa. Often sprinkled or with the addition of rose or citrus-flower water, I have not seen any version of these cookies that contained so many spices, and I just imagine that the cosmopolitan Galaxidi merchants were maybe inspired by the festive European/Grerman cookies. But this is my assumption, as I am also baking Pfeffernüsse and Lebkuchen these days…

Paula Wolfert in her wonderful 1988 book ‘Paula Wolfert’s World of Food‘ has a version of kourabiedes she calls ‘Greek Butter-Almond Cookies’ and over the years she kept telling me how amazing they were. As she wrote in the headnote she served them in her wedding, as many Greek families do.  

Makes about 30 large or 40 small cookies.

1 1/3 cup butter, or a combination sheep’s milk and regular butter, oftened

 1/4  cup confectioner’s sugar, plus about 2 cups to coat the baked cookies

1  egg yolk

2  tablespoons mastic-flavored liqueur, ouzo, Pernod, or any anise-flavored liqueur 

1  cup un-skinned almonds, toasted in the oven for about 20 minutes and coarsely chopped 

2 1/2 -3 cups unbleached cake or all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper (optional)

1 1/4 teaspoon baking powder

About 1/4 of a nutmeg, freshly ground

1/2  teaspoon ground cinnamon

About 1/4 cup citrus-blossom water to sprinkle the cookies

In a food processor or electric mixer, beat the butter for about 6 minutes until very light and fluffy. Gradually add the sugar and the the egg yolk, and continue beating, then add the liqueur or ouzo and process for 2-3 minutes more.

Sift the flour with the baking powder, and the spices.

Fit the processor with a dough hook and gradually add the flour. Process the mixture for just a couple of minutes, until a soft dough forms. Add the almonds and process until the dough is smooth again, about 1 minutes more.

Preheat the oven to 350º F (180º C).

Shape tablespoons of dough into round, oval, or crescent-shaped cookies, and place on a cookie sheet, leaving about 1 inch between the cookies so that they won’t stick together as they expand.

Alternatively flatten the dough on the work surface making about 1/3 inch thick squares, and with small cookie cutters cut rounds, squares or crescents. Collect and flatten the leftover dough, then cut into shapes again.

Bake for about 25 minutes, until pale golden. Cool for 5 minutes then sprinkle with the flower water.

Spread 2 cups confectioners’ sugar on a large serving plate. Very carefully, because they break easily, roll each cookie in the sugar, and place on a rack to cool.

Proceed with all the cookies, adding more sugar to the plate as necessary.

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I originally wrote and posted this seven years ago, as I was going through my first-grade school book published right after the Second World War. In it there was a description of fassoláda (bean soup), which was often referred to as ‘the Greek national dish’ in the old days. Surprisingly, the version in my book had no tomato! I was shocked, as fassoláda is always made with tomatoes as far as I can remember, but probably in those days canned tomatoes as well as tomato paste were not yet a common ingredient in all households. See also how the kitchen and stove looked in most parts of the country the 1950ies…

My revised recipe below is flavored with the wonderful Piperokama, the dried, smoked, hot peppers of Florina that our friend Naoumidis prepares.  I am told that it will be soon available in the US, as are his other deeply flavored roasted peppers which you can order  HERE and also HERE. 

We love to eat fassolàda with feta cheese, but also with canned sardines in olive oil or any smoked fish.

A simple bowl of olives, and/or taramosalata is the custom during the days of Lent, preceding Christmas.

Serves 4-6

2 cups dried white beans, like cannelini, soaked overnight in water and drained, or 4 cups pre-cooked beans

2/3 cup olive oil

2 small onions, halved and thinly sliced (about 2 cups)

4 large garlic cloves, sliced

2 tablespoons (70 grams) tomato paste

3 medium-small carrots, thinly sliced (about 2 cups)

One 16-ounce can diced tomatoes with their juice or 2 cups grated ripe tomatoes 

1 tablespoon turmeric

Peel from half an orange, in 2 strips or 2-3 pieces preserved lemon, thinly sliced

1 teaspoon sea salt, plus more to taste

2 teaspoons Piperokama, or Maraş (Aleppo) pepper, or crushed red pepper flakes, to taste

2 cups coarsely chopped celery, preferably ‘wild’ (see note)

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

Extra-virgin olive oil to drizzle

Fleur de sel, preferably from Kythera, to sprinkle

1 lemon, quartered, to serve (optional)

Place the beans in a large pot and cover with plenty of water, about 3-4 inches. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat to a simmer and cook 5 minutes. Drain, discarding the cooking water. If you use pre-cooked beans omit this step.

In the pot warm the olive oil, add the sliced onion and sauté for 3 minutes, stirring often. Add the garlic, sauté one minute more then add the tomato paste and stir a few seconds. Add the peas, if you use them, along with the carrots and the precooked beans. Toss a few times and add the tomatoes, turmeric, orange peel, salt, Maraş pepper, celery, and 2 cups water.

Bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer for 30 to 40 minutes, adding water as needed, until the beans are very tender, almost mushy. Add the mustard, taste and adjust the seasoning. Simmer for 5 minutes more, until the beans are just covered with broth.

Remove from the heat and serve, drizzling with extra-virgin olive oil.

Pass the lemon quarters so people can add a fresh, bright squeeze at the table, and also pass Piperokama or Maraş pepper, as well as good Fleur de sel, we use the one from Antheas, so diners can sprinkle more over the beans.

NOTE:

If you use common celery add an extra 1/2 cup coarsely chopped flat leaf parsley with the mustard toward the end of cooking.
The leaf or‘wild’ celery commonly used in Europe is strongly aromatic and looks like oversized flat leaf parsley. You can easily grow it in your garden or in pots. It is very different from American celery, which has long crunchy stalks, and wild celery is never eaten raw.
You can get leaf or ‘wild’ celery in Asian markets under the name kun choi or kin tsai. When you find it, buy it in quantity, wash it, coarsely chop it and keep it in zip-log bags in the freezer to use as needed. Unlike common celery, it does not keep long in the refrigerator.

The post Fassoláda: the Traditional Bean soup, Revisited appeared first on Aglaia's Table οn Kea Cyclades.

I though of adding squash and bell pepper to the eggpants as I had no leeks to sweeten and add color to the stuffing. This semi-open colorful pie/tart is the perfect main course for a vegetarian Thanksgiving or for any festive fall and winter meal.   

In the original pie of Drama sauteed leeks and eggplants are flavored with plenty of agad graviera cheese, and scented with cumin. Walnuts add a meaty taste to this delicious pie that I have baked on many occasions, both at home and also at various meals I have cooked over the years in the US. I often bake a rolled eggplant pie, as it is easier to cut and serve, especially if one uses commercial frozen phyllo, and not the wonderful home-rolled. 

Serves 10-12

About 2/3 cup Olive oil as needed

1 round eggplants, cut into slices

1 large purple onion, thinly sliced

 Half a small squash, peeled, seeded and cut into small dice –about 4 cups

1 red pepper seeded and cut into strips   

 2 cups aged graviera, pecorino or cheddar, grated

1 ½ cup smoked cheddar, grated

1 1/2 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped

1 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

Aleppo pepper or freshly ground black pepper

About ½ -1 teaspoon salt, as the cheeses are quite salty

½  packet thick frozen commercial phyllo, or homemade phyllo pastry

Preheat the oven to 375 F (200 C) and brush generously the eggplant slices with olive oil, place them on a parchment-paper-lined baking dish and bake until golden and tender, about 20 minutes. Let cool and then chop them into about half-inch pieces.

In the meantime, in a large skillet sauté the onion in 2 tablespoons of olive oil, until soft. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside. To the skillet add the pepper and sauté the pepper, remove when done, then add the squash and a little more olive oil and sauté on high heat, tossing often for 2-3 minutes, then reduce the heat, cover and continue cooking until soft, about 15-20 minutes. Cool in a colander to collect any excess oil.

In a large bowl mix the onions, eggplant, peppers, squash with the grated cheeses, the cumin and the walnuts. Add very little salt and plenty of pepper and toss well to mix.

Oil a pan or a cast iron skillet and lay 2 sheets of phyllo, brushing generously with olive oil and leaving the sheets hanging out of the pan. Add two more sheets of phyllo brushing with oil and then add the filling, spreading all over the pan and pressing to even it.

Fold the hanging phyllo, brushing with olive oil, to make a crown around the pan partly covering the filling.    

Bake in the middle of the oven, reducing the temperature to 350F (180 C) for about 40 minutes or more, until the phyllo turns golden brown and the filling sizzles.

Let cool a little before cutting to serve. The pie can be eaten warm or at room temperature. It can also be frozen and reheated.

The post Eggplant and Squash pie with Peper, Cumin, and Walnuts appeared first on Aglaia's Table οn Kea Cyclades.