Recipes: Split Pea Soup with Ham Hocks & Garlic Yogurt

As many of you know, my 88-year-old father is nearing the end of his happy and fortunate life. For the past couple months, as his health has gone downhill, I’ve been spending lots of time with my parents in the Pacific Northwest, hence my lack of blog posting.

I’m heading back down to Washington again on Wednesday. At home in Alaska, I’ve been making lots of freezer food so my husband can have quick and easy meals while I’m gone. This weekend, I spent a lazy Saturday afternoon making a giant pot of Split Pea Soup, comfort food at its most basic.

I started making Split Pea Soup 35 years ago as a college student living on work study wages. In those days, I ate it because it was cheap, filling, and very tasty. Now, I eat Split Pea Soup just because it tastes good. As it has evolved over the years, my Split Pea Soup recipe is one of my favorites.

There are two keys to making wonderful split pea soup: the soup must cook at low temperature for a long time and the ham hock (or leftover ham-bone) must be meaty and of best quality. Low and slow cooking allows the flavors to meld seamlessly into one another, and the cartilage in the hock to dissolve and give the soup a silky mouth feel.

In Anchorage, Mr. Prime Beef on the Old Seward Highway sells beautifully meaty smoked ham hocks; make sure to have the butcher cut them into thirds for ease of cooking and better tasting soup. The other day, I also say nice-looking whole ham hocks at Natural Pantry; sadly, this store doesn't have an in-store butcher to cut them up.

Split Pea Soup with Ham Hocks
Serves 12
Finish Split Pea Soup with a dollop of Garlic Yogurt (see recipe below) or a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. Whether to purée split pea soup is a personal decision, and isn’t necessary. I’ve served and enjoyed the soup both ways. Lately, I’m liking the more refined puréed version; its flavors seem to be better balanced. Split Pea Soup freezes really well and a quart freezer bag easily holds enough Split Pea Soup for two. Of course, you can always cut the recipe in half if you aren’t serving a crowd or stocking your freezer or don’t have a large enough pot (a Dutch oven is only big enough to make half a recipe). I use a mortar and pestle for crushing the peppercorns, but you can also crush them with the bottom of a saucepan.

2 pounds dried green split peas
4 cups diced onion, 1/4” dice (about 2 large)
2 cups diced garnet yams (sweet potatoes), 1/4” dice (about 3 medium)
1 1/2 cups diced celery, 1/4” dice (about 3 stalks)
1 cup diced carrots, 1/4” dice (about 3 medium)
1 Tbsp. freshly crushed black peppercorns
1 Tbsp. freshly crushed dried thyme
2 cups white wine
5 bay leaves
2 - 2 1/2 pounds smoked ham hock, cut in thirds
Water
1 Tbsp. Worcestershire sauce

Spread out the split peas on a tray or flat pan and inspect carefully, removing any pebbles or debris. Rinse and drain the split peas.

Put the split peas, onions, garnet yams, celery, carrots, crushed peppercorns, crushed thyme, white wine, bay leaves, and ham hocks in a very large stock pot. Add water to cover the ingredients by 6 inches (3 inches if you cut the recipe in half). Bring the mixture to a boil, cover, turn the heat down to low, and simmer for 2 hours. Remove the cover and simmer for 1-3 more hours until the split peas are very soft, the meat is falling off the bone, and the liquid is reduced to your liking.

Using a slotted spoon or tongs, remove the bay leaves and the ham hocks, including all the bones and chunks of fat. If you are puréeing the soup, process it with a stick blender (or in a blender or food processor) until it is very smooth.

Remove and discard all the fat and bones from the ham hocks. Dice the meat into bite sized pieces and add it back to the soup. If the soup is too thin, simmer it longer. If it is too thick, thin it with water and simmer for 15 minutes before serving.

Garlic Yogurt
When I’m in a hurry, or have strained Greek yogurt on hand, I don’t bother with straining the yogurt. It tastes fine if you just mix all the ingredients and serve immediately, though the texture is better if you strain the yogurt. This recipe makes enough for about 6 servings of soup, so double the recipe if you’re serving Split Pea Soup to a crowd.

1 cup whole-milk yogurt
1-2 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. Kosher or coarse-grained salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Line a colander with paper towels. Dump the yogurt into the lined colander and let the liquid drain out of the yogurt for 30 – 60 minutes. Puree the garlic by mashing it into the salt. Mix together the drained yogurt, mashed salted garlic, and freshly ground black pepper. Taste and adjust the seasoning by adding garlic, salt, or pepper, as needed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is my entry for My Legume Love Affair – 9th Edition (MLLA9) which I am hosting this month and which was created by Susan of The Well-Seasoned Cook.

All About Za'atar with Recipe for Za'atar Herb Blend and 5 Recipes for Using Za'atar

If za’atar is within reach, anyone can make delicious food at the drop of a hat. The possibilities are endless: Za’atar Olives, Za’atar and Labneh, Za’atar Tomato Sauce with Grilled Meat, Za’atar Bread, and Za’atar Pizza are only a few ways to use this versatile ingredient. I almost have my Za'atar Chicken recipe ready to post.

Za’atar is valued for more than great taste. “Who for forty days eats powdered dried leaves of za'tar fasting can be harmed by no serpent.” If the worst happens and you’re bitten by an asp or stung by a scorpion, za’atar cures “the bitings and the stings of venomous beasts." A Bethlehem proverb teaches, “Thyme and oil lead to the prosperity of the home.” Even more importantly, “eating za'atar improves your memory and makes you more intelligent.”

So what is za’atar?
A. An herb blend
B. Savory
C. Thyme
D. Oregano
E. Biblical hyssop
F. All of the above

The answer is “(F) All of the above.”

Za’atar (ZAHT-ar) is a class of herbs, and includes members of the thyme, oregano, and savory families. Za’atar is also a Middle Eastern herb blend, containing one or more of the za’atar herbs. As with many centuries-old dishes, za’atar blend has many regional and familial variations.

Disparity in za’atar’s spelling is pervasive; za’atar, za’tar, zatar, zahtar, satar, zahatar, and za’ater are all used. The spelling confusion is easy to explain. Za’atar is an Arabic word (الزعتر). Like Greek and other languages that don’t use the Roman alphabet, Arabic is inconsistently transliterated into English.

Some experts claim the herb za’atar is only one specific type of savory; others claim with equal vehemence it’s one specific type of oregano. Both may be right, but only for the region or family they’re writing about.

No matter its local or historical usage, “za’atar” has come to be a generic term used in the Middle East for a group of similarly-flavored members of the herb genus Lamiaceae. Za’atar herbs grow in the same habitat and have similar appearances. These practical factors may have led Middle Easterners to use one word for all the plants.

Linguistic confusion over “za’atar” is not unique to Arabic. In Turkish, the plant groups Origanum, Thymbra, Coridothymus, Satureja, and Thymus, generically called za’atar in Arabic, are all referred to as “kekik.”

Scientific analysis supports the pragmatic use of one word to refer to a plant group rather than a single plant. Gas chromatography and mass spectrometry show “the chemical profiles of the specific chemotypes of Satureja thymbra L. and Thymbra spicata L [a]re very similar. They are also very similar to those of the chemotypes of Coridothymus capitatus and Origanum syriacum.” [These four herb species are all called za’atar.]

Adding to the confusion, each za’atar herb is known by more than one name:

· Coridothymus capitatus aka Thymus capitatus aka Satureia/Satureja capitata (conehead thyme, headed savory, Persian hyssop, za’atar parsi, Spanish oregano)
· Origanum maru aka Origanum syriacum/cyriacum aka Marjorana syriaca (Biblical hyssop, Lebanese oregano, Syrian oregano, Egyptian marjoram)
· Satureja/Satureia thymbra (Roman za’atar, za’atar rumi, pink savory, barrel sweetener; in Greek, Θρούμπι, Τραγορίγανη)
· Thymbra spicata (spiked thyme, donkey hyssop, desert hyssop)

There are also several varieties of commercially available za’atar blends. For example, according to Paula Wolfert, “The taste of a za’atar mixture can be herbal, nutty, or toasty. …’Israeli’ is a pale green blend of pungent herbs that includes the biblical hyssop, along with toasted sesame seeds and sumac. The ‘Syrian’ blend, the color of sand, has a decidedly toasty flavor. The ‘Jordanian’ blend is dark green and very herbal, with some turmeric.” These aren’t the only za’atar blends; each spice merchant and family has a unique formula.

Before creating my own za’atar blend, I bought and tasted several commercially available varieties. I experimented with diverse combinations of herbs trying to best approximate the flavor of my favorite commercial brand. I also read as many English-language za’atar recipes as I could find.

For the herbal flavor in za'atar blend, many North American recipes use only dried domestic thyme, or a mixture of domestic thyme and domestic marjoram. These recipes, when tasted side by side with imported za’atar blends, tasted bland to me. I discovered that Greek oregano (preferably, but not necessarily, wild-harvested and sold on the stem) is key to creating flavorful za’atar in Alaska. Greek oregano’s spicy flavor, when tempered by combining it with dried wild or domestic thyme, approximates the flavor of authentic za’atar blend.

For anyone interested in growing their own, the various plants referred to as za’atar can be purchased from Well Sweep Herb Farm or Mountain Valley Growers. Although they’re tasty, keep in mind that most domestically grown herbs don’t have the flavor of their wild progenitors. There’s nothing like scarce water, poor soil, and hot sun for developing flavor.

For those who live where there are Middle Eastern markets or specialty stores, by all means buy ready-made, preferably imported, za’atar. You can also order za’atar blends online.

In Anchorage, you can buy sumac, a key ingredient in my za’atar blend, at Sagaya, City Market, and Summit Spice. Summit Spice sells its own Anchorage-made za’atar blend in tiny packets using marjoram, thyme, sumac, and sesame seeds. Summit also has a product labeled “Greek oregano,” which they tell me may be grown on farms in Greece or Turkey, depending on the shipment.

Za’atar Herb Blend
Because za’atar has so many uses, I make a lot at one time: 1/2 cup oregano, thyme, and sumac, 1/4 cup sesame seeds, and 1 Tbsp. salt. The sumac, which has a sour taste akin to lemon, is what gives za'atar its red color.

1 part dried Greek oregano, preferably wild-harvested
1 part dried thyme
1 part ground sumac
1/2 part white sesame seeds
Salt to taste

Grind the oregano and thyme in a spice grinder or blender, making sure it’s free of sticks and stems. Put the herbs in a glass jar with a tight sealing lid. Add the sumac, sesame seeds, and salt and shake well to thoroughly combine. Put on the lid and close it tightly. Store away from heat and light.

Za’atar Olives
Made entirely with pantry staples, Za’atar Olives are easy to prepare and make a great last-minute appetizer. Especially when warm, Za’atar Olives are an addictive treat.

2 cups Kalamata olives
1/2 cup olive oil
3 Tbsp. Za’atar Herb Blend (see recipe above)

Rinse the olives and dry them well. Put the olives and olive oil in a small saucepan, bring the olive oil to a simmer, and simmer the olives for 15 minutes. Stir in the Za’atar Herb Blend and simmer for 5 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Za’atar Flatbread (Mana’eesh bi Za’atar)
Makes 12 6” flatbreads
When I have breakfast with Marie, an Armenian friend who was born and raised in Beirut, she always serves Mana’eesh, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, and cheese. Breakfast at Marie’s was my first introduction to za’atar; it's been a part of my repertoire. To make it from scratch, I use my Palestinian friend Salwa’s recipe for pita bread, and top it with Za’atar Herb Blend and olive oil. Although Marie serves this for breakfast, we eat it for a snack, for lunch, or as part of an appetizer spread. If you’re cooking for a small family, like I do, use half the dough for Mana’eesh and the second half for Za’atar pizza (see recipe below).

Dough:
2 1/2 cups lukewarm water
1 Tbsp. yeast (1 packet)
1 tsp. sugar
1 Tbsp. salt
6 – 7 cups all-purpose or bread flour

Topping:
1/2 cup olive oil
1/2 cup Za’atar Herb Blend (see recipe above)

Make the Dough: Place the water in a large bowl. Sprinkle the yeast over the water, sprinkle the sugar on top and let sit for 10 minutes, or until the yeast begins to foam. Mix in the salt and half the flour. Add the rest of the flour one cup at a time, just until the dough holds together. Knead the dough well (either by hand or in a standing mixer), adding flour as necessary until the dough is smooth and shiny. You may need more or less flour than called for in the recipe.

Put the kneaded dough in an oiled bowl to rise, cover the bowl with plastic wrap and a dish towel, and put it in a warm spot. Let the dough rise for 1 hour, or until it has doubled in size.

Preheat the oven to 500°F.

Divide the dough into 12 pieces and pat each piece into a 6” round flatbread. Place the flatbreads on baking sheets with rims; 6 dough rounds fit on a half-sheet pan. Use your fingers to dimple the tops of each flatbread. Let the flatbreads rest for 20 minutes.

Make the Topping: Mix together the olive oil and Za’atar Herb Blend.

Assemble and Bake the Flatbreads: Dimple the flatbreads one more time. Divide the topping between the flatbreads, about 1 Tbsp. each, and spread it evenly over the flatbreads’ tops. Bake the flatbreads, one baking sheet at a time, for 8-10 minutes, or until the flatbreads are golden. Serve immediately.

Note: Mana’eesh can be made ahead and rewarmed just before serving. To rewarm, stack the Mana’eesh, topping side to topping side, and wrap in aluminum foil. Put in a 300°F oven for 5-10 minutes, or until they are warmed through.

Za’atar with Labneh (Yogurt Cheese)
Makes 3/4 cup
Plain Labneh goes really well with Za’atar Flatbreads. For garlic fans, mix 1-2 cloves puréed garlic into the cheese (an easy way to purée the garlic is with a standard Microplane rasp grater). Usually, I let the yogurt drain into the sink. If I’m feeling ambitious, I let it drain into a bowl and use the liquid to replace some of the water when I’m making bread dough.

2 cups plain yogurt, preferably whole milk
Pinch of salt
Za’atar Herb Blend (see recipe above)
Olive oil (optional)

Line a strainer with a paper towel. Mix a little salt into the yogurt and dump the salted yogurt into the paper-towel-lined strainer. Let the yogurt drain for 4 hours or overnight.

Spread the yogurt on a plate, sprinkle with Za’atar Herb Blend to taste, and drizzle with olive oil (if using). Serve with crackers, pita chips, or triangles of pita bread.

Za’atar Pizza
Makes 12”-15” pizza
Extra Za’atar Tomato Sauce is a great way to dress up grilled chicken, lamb, or pork (see recipe below); it also may be frozen for future pizzas. The amount of Aleppo or red pepper depends on how spicy you like your food. Pick either Topping#1 or Topping #2 or, if you want to try them both, make the full amount of Za’atar Flatbread dough.

1/2 recipe Za’atar Flatbread dough (see recipe above)

Za’atar Onion Topping (Topping #1):
1/2 cup thinly sliced onions
1/4 cup chopped parsley
2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp. Za’atar Herb Blend (see recipe above)
2 tsp. minced garlic
1/4 – 1/2 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1/8 – 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper (optional)
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese

Za’atar Tomato Sauce (Topping #2) (makes enough sauce for 2 pizzas):
1 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes, preferably fire-roasted
2 tsp. finely minced or puréed garlic
2 Tbsp. Za’atar Herb Blend (see recipe above)
1/2 – 1 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1/4 – 1/2 crushed red pepper (optional)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 cup water or white wine
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup thinly sliced onions
1/2 cup crumbled feta cheese

Shape the Pizzas: Shape the dough into a 12-15” round; the exact size depends on how thick you like your pizza crust. Place the dough on a pizza pan or baking sheet with rims. Use your fingers to dimple the top of the pizza, and let it rest for 20-30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 500°F.

To Make Topping #1: Mix together all the topping ingredients except the crumbled feta.

To Assemble Pizza with Topping #1: Spread the topping mix over the pizza. Sprinkle the crumbled feta over the topping.

To Make Topping #2: In a saucepan, mix together the tomatoes, garlic, Za’atar Herb Blend, Aleppo pepper, olive oil, and water or wine. Bring to a boil, turn down the heat, and simmer for 15 – 20 minutes, or until the sauce is very thick. Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed.

To Assemble Pizza with Topping #2: Spread half the tomato sauce over the pizza to cover it (use more if you like saucy pizzas). Save any extra tomato sauce for another purpose. Evenly distribute the onions over the tomato sauce and sprinkle with crumbled feta.

Bake the Pizza: Turn the oven down to 450°F. Bake the pizza for 25-30 minutes or until the crust is nicely golden. Serve immediately.

Grilled Pork Steak with Za’atar Tomato Sauce
Serves 4
Za’atar Tomato Sauce goes equally well with grilled lamb or chicken. The sauce is identical to the one used for Za’atar Pizza (see recipe above). For the same reason that brining improves the flavor of pork chops, salting meats well in advance of grilling makes them taste much better. If you can only find large pork steaks, buy 2 and cut them in half.

Meat:
4 pork steaks
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Za’atar Tomato Sauce:
1 14.5 ounce can diced tomatoes, preferably fire-roasted
2 tsp. finely minced or puréed garlic
2 Tbsp. Za’atar Herb Blend (see recipe above)
1/2 – 1 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1/4 – 1/2 crushed red pepper (optional)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 cup water or white wine
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Prepare the Meat: Rinse the steaks and dry well. Season both sides with salt and plenty of freshly ground black pepper. Let sit at room temperature while you make the sauce.

Make the Tomato Sauce: In a saucepan, mix together the tomatoes, garlic, Za’atar Herb Blend, Aleppo pepper, olive oil, and water or wine. Bring to a boil, turn down the heat, and simmer for 15 – 20 minutes or until the sauce is the thickness you prefer. Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed.

Cook the Meat: Grill the pork steak over a medium hot fire or in a grill pan on top of the stove. Turn the meat regularly until it is just done; be careful not to overcook it. Serve immediately with Za’atar Tomato Sauce spooned over.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, which I am hosting this week at Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska.

Recipe for Lemony Carrot Ginger Soup (Σούπα με Καρότα, Λεμόνι και Τζίντζερ)

I’m sick and tired of my refrigerator being filled to the gunnels. Something must be done; the situation is dire.

Condiments and ingredients with a permanent spot in the refrigerator are a big cause of the problem. Preserved lemons, sourdough starter, 3 kinds of olives, 10 kinds of hot sauce, mayonnaise, mustard, pickles, Asian sauces, capers, anchovies, jam, milk, cream, orange juice, eggs, and who knows what else; it all adds up.

Cheese and salumi are always available at our house. And since I buy them at Costco, the single best source of cheese in Anchorage, they come in big packages and take up too much space. There are also the cheeses we bring back from Greece; we freeze what we can, but some can’t be frozen. They’re squatting on valuable real estate in the back of the refrigerator.

Produce completes the trifecta of refrigerator hogs. We eat a lot of vegetables and they take up space. Make that lots of space. When our Full Circle Farm CSA box arrives every other week, I struggle to cram in everything that needs to be refrigerated. I don’t always succeed.

Don’t get me started on the leftovers. They live perpetually on the verge of hurling themselves on anyone who is so bold as to open the refrigerator door. It’s quite a thrill when a yogurt container full of soup jumps out, drenching you and spreading its liquid goodness far and wide on the kitchen floor.

I can’t take it anymore. I’m done. I’ve reached my limit. I need a second refrigerator and I need it soon. I’m officially in the market for a used refrigerator. If you know of anyone in Anchorage who wants to get rid of one, or anyone who knows of anyone who knows of anyone, please let me know. In the meantime, I’m working my way through the produce.

Next up, three bunches of carrots; it’s soup time. Although I make a great Moroccan Carrot and Chermoula Soup, I decided on Carrot Ginger Soup, a recipe from the website of Beth, my partner this month in Taste and Create. Taste and Create is an event created by Nicole from For the Love of Food in which food writers are paired with a randomly assigned partner, and asked to cook and review one recipe from their partner’s blog.

Although I loved the concept of Beth’s recipe, it included orange juice, a flavor I don’t care for in savory dishes. Instead, I used lemon peel and juice. It was a fortuitous substitution; lemon’s tartness pleasingly balanced the sweet carrots and cinnamon. I added sautéed onions to bring out the soup’s savory notes, and crystallized ginger for its multi-dimensional sweet heat.

Sweet-yet-tangy Carrot Ginger Soup was a delicious treat on a snowy winter evening, even though it made only the tiniest dent in my refrigerator problem. We enjoyed the soup with Celery and Olive Salad, and were impressed by how much flavor we found in a simple dinner of carrots and celery.

Lemony Carrot Ginger Soup (Σούπα με Καρότα, Λεμόνι και Τζίντζερ)
Serves 2 as a main course or 4 as a starter
The yogurt or cream stirred in at the end helps smooth out lemon’s sharp edges, but isn’t at all necessary. The soup tastes great without the dairy.

2 cups diced onions, 1/2” dice
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 pound carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
4 cups vegetable or chicken stock
1 Tbsp. finely grated lemon peel
2 Tbsp. minced crystallized ginger
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup plain yogurt or cream (optional)

In a Dutch oven, sauté the onions, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil until they soften and begin to turn golden. Stir in the carrots and cook for 2 minutes. Stir in the stock, lemon peel, ginger, and cinnamon and bring to a boil. Turn down the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 40 minutes or until the carrots are soft.

Purée the soup with a stick blender (or in a blender or food processor) until it is very smooth. Return the soup to the pot, stir in the lemon juice, and cook for five minutes. Taste and add salt, freshly ground black pepper, or lemon juice, as needed. If using yogurt or cream, stir it into the soup. Serve immediately.

The Language of Baklava by Diana Abu-Jaber with Recipe for Jordanian Kofta and Yogurt Sauce (Ιορδανικό Γιαουρτλού Kεμπάπ)

Diana Abu-Jaber grew up in the environs of Syracuse, New York during the 1960s and 1970s. She shares the dominant cultural references of all Americans her age. Her mother and influential maternal grandmother are Americans, their distant heritage “Irish, German, maybe Swiss?”

Abu-Jaber’s father is from Jordan; his heritage Bedouin and Palestinian. His large, loud, exuberant family, many of whom lived in or near Syracuse, was a constant in Abu-Jaber’s life. At home and in her lunchbox, Abu-Jaber ate Middle Eastern food. This food and her Arabic name, so unlike her pale skin and murky green eyes, set her apart from her schoolmates.

When Abu-Jaber was in grade school, her family moved to Jordan. In Jordan, it was her pale skin that set her apart. The smells and sounds and experiences of life in a crowded Middle Eastern city woke up senses Abu-Jaber hadn’t known in America. Just as her heart began to beat with the rhythm of Jordanian life, Abu-Jaber’s family moved back to America.

“America is a cold breeze that snaps us awake … We’ve left Jordan, with its lush winds, dust, and sun-stained air. When I wake in a hotel bed on the first morning back in America, I’m dazed by a blankness around me: the sleekly painted walls, the air slack without the scents of mint, olive, and jasmine, and an immobilizing silence. I close my eyes and conjure the songbirds Mrs. Haddadin kept in a gold cage hanging from a tree branch; the wobble of Munira’s singing as she dashed a broom through the courtyard. … We’ve returned to Syracuse, to a split-level house that does not have another family living in the upstairs apartment or a communal courtyard or thick hedges of mint.”

In her 2005 memoir, The Language of Baklava, Abu-Jaber describes her rootless journey to adulthood. She struggles to connect with her American and Jordanian cultures, often standing as an outsider to both.

Abu-Jaber grew up in a family of storytellers: “To me, the truth of stories lies not in their factual precision, but in their emotional core. Most of the events in this book are honed and altered in some fashion, to give them the curve of stories. Lives don’t usually correspond to narrative arcs, but all these stories spring out of real people, memories, and joyously gathered and prepared meals.”

The essential truths and complexities of Abu-Jaber’s relationships to her family and twin cultures, as revealed through her stories, are captivatingly real. By book's end, we understand Abu-Jaber’s American and Jordanian heritages are inseparably bound in her heart and soul.

In telling her family's stories, Abu-Jaber reveals universal truths about the immigrant experience in America. Like millions upon millions of immigrants who've given strength and diversity to their adopted homeland, Abu-Jaber’s family, many of whom are Arab and some of whom are Muslim, is inextricably woven into the fabric that makes up America. None of these immigrants, or their descendants, can be categorically ejected or rejected without leaving an irreparable hole.

In other words, there is no “us” and there is no “them.” As Abu-Jaber wrote in the Washington Post, “The world is a place of nuance, flux, hardship and complexity: We all live together in it. The real safety will come from learning how to live together better, not from trying to push others out.”

For me, Abu-Jaber’s book had special resonance. The Language of Baklava is, in many ways, a love letter to Abu-Jaber’s father. I began reading it in a nursing home, by the bedside of my ill father who, briefly and terrifyingly, didn’t recognize me. The veil of sadness through which I read The Language of Baklava made its message of paternal love particularly poignant.

I returned home from visiting my father emotionally drained. That night, I cooked some of Abu-Jaber’s recipes for my husband. As we greedily piled our plates with Jordanian Kofta and garlicky Yogurt Sauce, I experienced anew the relationship between food and love that inspired The Language of Baklava.

Jordanian Kofta and Yogurt Sauce (Ιορδανικό Γιαουρτλού Kεμπάπ)
Serves 4 as a meal or more as an appetizer
Adapted from The Language of Baklava by Diana Abu-Jaber
These taste best when cooked over a grill (in winter, we grill in our fireplace), but can also be made on a stovetop grill pan. To serve as an appetizer, make smaller kebabs by dividing the meat into 16 equal pieces rather than 8. Serve with Tomato, Cucumber, and Onion Salad, feta cheese, Kalamata olives, and warm pita bread.

Sausage:
1 pound ground lamb or beef
1 egg
1 cup finely diced onion, 1/8”dice
2 Tbsp. minced fresh parsley
2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 tsp. freshly crushed cumin
1 tsp. chile powder, preferably Ancho
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground allspice
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Bamboo skewers

Yogurt Sauce:
3 cloves garlic
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 cups plain yogurt, preferably whole milk
1/4 – 1/3 cup fresh lemon juice

Make the Sausage: Put all the sausage ingredients in a bowl, and knead everything together with your hands. Divide the seasoned meat into 8 equal pieces. Roll each piece of meat around a bamboo skewer into a long sausage shape. Refrigerate until you’re ready to cook the Kofta. (The recipe may be made ahead to this point.)

Make the Yogurt Sauce: Purée the garlic and salt with the flat of a chef's knife or using a mortar and pestle. Mix the garlic purée with the yogurt and 1/4 cup lemon juice. Taste and add salt or the remaining lemon juice, as needed.

Cook the Sausages: Grill over a hot fire, turning regularly, and being careful not to overcook. Serve immediately, the hotter the better, with a generous dollop of Yogurt Sauce on the side.

To cook on the stove, heat a cast iron grill pan until it’s very hot, cook the sausages until they are well-browned on one side, turn them over, immediately turn down the heat, and cook until they are done on the other side. Serve immediately.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my entry for Cook the Books Club, founded by Rachel at The Crispy Cook, Ioanna from Food Junkie, Not Junk Food, and Deb from Kahakai Kitchen. Cook the Books is an online book club; this month’s selection is The Language of Baklava by Diana Abu-Jaber.

Recipe for Leek Mousaka (Μουσακάς με Πράσα)

Happy New Year to one and all!

I’m back from recent travels and recovered from holidays full of family, parties, and baking. You heard it here first: I’m never eating cookies or candy again. Ever. Or at least until memories of the last month fade into nothingness.

It’s hard to decide what to write about because I have a giant backlog of recipes and photographs. So instead of actually making a decision, I jumbled my stack of notes, and randomly drew out the recipe for Leek Mousaka.

When we arrive in Greece from Alaska, the first thing we do is go to an airport newsstand for newspapers and at least one cooking magazine. Properly armed, we head for our hotel to read and relax from the long trip.

Lately, my favorite Greek magazine is Olive (a spin-off of BBC Olive). Sprightly Greek food personality Ilias Mamalakis first drew me to Olive, but I continue reading it for updates on the Greek food world and interesting recipes. Sadly, Olive isn’t available in Alaska, even by subscription.

As a leek lover and someone with a healthy supply of homemade Greek egg noodles (hilopites), Olive’s recipe for Leek Mousaka was intriguing. Out of curiosity, I googled “Μουσακάς + Πράσα” (Mousaka + Leeks) to see if Olive’s recipe was unique. A number of websites had identical Leek Mousaka recipes, but only one credited the magazine. None credited Georgia Kofinas (Γεωργία Κοφινάς), who Olive identifies as the recipe’s creator.

There’s no way for me to know whether the recipe actually originated with Kofinas or someone else. However, the issue of copying recipes without attribution is one that, sooner or later, all food writers must confront. It’s infuriating when others appropriate recipes without permission or attribution. On the other hand, it’s easy to give credit to those whose work contributed to your creation.

Here's my practice and, if I could wave a magic wand, it’s one all food bloggers and writers would follow:

1. If I use a recipe exactly as written (which I rarely do), under the name of the recipe I write “recipe by” and identify the author and source of the recipe. My article about the recipe also includes a review of the source book, magazine, or blog and applicable permalinks.

2. If I make only minor changes to a recipe, under the name of the recipe I write “recipe adapted from” and identify the author and source of the original recipe.

3. If I make major changes to someone else’s recipe, under the name of the recipe I write “recipe inspired by” and identify the author and source of the inspirational recipe.

4. If I don’t designate “recipe by,” “recipe adapted from,” or “recipe inspired by,” the recipe is my creation.

Of course, there are simple dishes that many cooks discover or invent on their own, without ever having seen a similar recipe. Oven-roasted vegetables, vinaigrettes, risottos, soups, and eggs are only a few examples of such recipes. Any similarities in recipes like this are, more likely than not, coincidental.

In the case of Leek Mousaka, I significantly changed the original recipe. I cooked the leeks without water to boost their flavor, used a personal recipe for tomato-meat sauce, enhanced the topping with cream and cheese, and adapted the recipe so it can be made with ingredients available in the United States. Even though I made major changes to the original recipe, I wouldn’t’ve made it without Olive’s inspiration, so included a credit for both the magazine and the recipe’s creator.

Leek Mousaka is quite different from the typical Mousaka found in Greek restaurants around the world, and is wonderfully delicious. The sweetness of sautéed leeks enhances the minty tomato-meat sauce and contrasts with the tart yogurt. Noodles play harmony to Leek Mousaka’s aromatic flavors, and form a pleasurably crispy top crust. The resulting dish is attractive, delectable, and suitable for any occasion.

Leek Mousaka (Μουσακάς με Πράσα)
Serves 6 – 9
Inspired by Μουσακάς με Πράσα, <<Φθινοπωρινή συμφωνία>> by Γεωργία Κοφινάς in BBC Olive (Greek version), Issue 19, October 2008
Leek Mousaka can be made for vegetarians by using my recipe for Tomato Sauce with Celery and Mint (and simmering it until it’s thick) instead of the meat sauce described below. Although Leek Mousaka has many steps, it goes together quickly once the component parts are done. The meat sauce may be made days ahead (or months ahead if you freeze it). The yogurt may also be made well ahead (or purchased, if strained Greek yogurt is available where you live). Because I prefer strained yogurt for all purposes, I usually strain yogurt right after I bring it home from the market so it’s ready when I want it. Leeks can hold dirt between their layers, so must be carefully cleaned. After removing the dark green portions and the root ends (both of which can be saved for vegetable stock), cut the leeks in half. Under running water, rinse out any dirt trapped between the leeks’ layers, using your fingers to help remove any stubborn clumps of dirt. Every layer of Leek Mousaka is separately salted (doing so brings out the full flavor of each ingredient), so be careful not to over-salt any one layer or the finished dish will be too salty.

Yogurt Filling:
2 cups plain yogurt, preferably whole-milk (or 1 1/4 cup strained yogurt, see Note above)
2 medium-sized garlic cloves
1/4 tsp. salt

Meat and Tomato Sauce with Celery and Mint:
1 pound ground beef
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
2 cups diced onions, 1/4” dice
1 cup diced celery, 1/4” dice (2 – 3 stalks)
1 Tbsp. minced garlic
1 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper
1 14.5-ounce can, or 2 cups fresh, crushed tomatoes
3/4 cup dry white wine
1/4 cup minced fresh mint

Noodles:
1/2 pound thin egg noodles, vermicelli, fides, broken-up angel hair pasta, or any other similarly-shaped pasta

Leeks:
8 cups diced leeks, white and light green parts only, 1/2” dice (4-5 leeks)
3 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Topping:
2 eggs
1/2 cup heavy cream
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

Olive oil for coating the baking pan
1 cup freshly grated kefalotyri, parmesan, or Romano cheese, divided

Make the Yogurt Filling: Line a strainer with a paper towel and dump in the yogurt. Let the yogurt drain for at least 1 hour (straining for 2 hours is better if you have time). Purée garlic by mashing it into the salt with the flat of a knife or in a mortar and pestle. Mix the puréed garlic into the strained yogurt.

Make the Meat and Tomato Sauce with Celery and Mint: Sauté the ground meat, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground pepper, until it is nicely browned. Add the diced onions and celery and sauté until the onions begin to brown. Stir in the garlic and Aleppo pepper and cook for 1 minute. Stir in the crushed tomatoes and white wine and bring to a boil. Cook rapidly for five minutes, stirring constantly. Turn the heat down to medium, and simmer for 15 – 20 minutes or until most of the liquid in the sauce has evaporated. Taste and add salt and freshly ground black pepper, as needed. Stir in the mint and take the sauce off the burner.

Cook the Noodles: Add the noodles to boiling salted water and cook until they’re half done. (Because the noodles are small, they cook quickly.) Drain and set aside.

Make the Leeks: Sauté the diced leeks in olive oil, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, until the leeks are soft.

Make the Topping: Whisk together the eggs, cream, a little salt, freshly ground black pepper, and 1/3 cup of grated cheese.

Assemble the Mousaka: Preheat the oven to 400°F.

Thoroughly oil a 10” x 10” baking pan. Spread half the noodles over the bottom of the pan. Evenly sprinkle 1/3 cup grated cheese over the noodles. Evenly spread the leeks over the grated cheese, the yogurt filling over the leeks, the meat sauce over the yogurt, 1/3 cup grated cheese over the meat sauce, the remaining noodles over the grated cheese, and the egg/cream topping over the noodles.

Bake for 50 to 55 minutes. Let cool for at least 10 minutes before cutting into pieces with a very sharp or serrated knife.

Serve with a crisp green salad, Kalamata olives, and crusty bread.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted this week by Pam from The Backyard Pizzeria.

Recipe for Eggplant Clafoutis (Κλαφουτί με Μελιτζάνες)

(From Greece)

Eggplant Clafoutis: I saw the reference in my blog reader and quickly went to find the recipe. Alas, while TS and JS at Eating Club Vancouver came up with the idea, they deemed their recipe “A. Weird. Failure.”

Though Eating Club hated their recipe, the more I thought about Eggplant Clafoutis, the more I wanted it. My craving was timely; I had an embarrassment of eggplant riches. A sack of eggplant sat in a cool corner of the kitchen (eggplant shouldn't be refrigerated) and the plants in our garden remain productive.

After two nights of falling asleep to thoughts of Eggplant Clafoutis, I broke down and made it.

Clafoutis (klah-foo-TEE) is a simple-to-make, country dessert from France, in which fruit is baked in a custardy batter. There are a million and one different clafoutis recipes. I’ve tried many of them, some wonderfully delicious and others only pretty darn good. The best clafoutis is light-textured and not too sweet, allowing the flavor of the fruit to shine.

I’ve never made or tasted savory clafoutis before, and couldn’t find an actual Eggplant Clafoutis recipe. Instead of a recipe, I used basic principles of sweet clafoutis-making for my savory version. The first step was deciding how best to pre-cook the eggplant (Eating Club used uncooked eggplant, which they deemed a mistake). Because I planned on serving this dish as a light lunch, I didn’t want it to be oily.

As eggplant cooks know all too well, it soaks up oil like a sponge. This is because eggplant flesh has many tiny air pockets just waiting to fill up with oil. According to Harold McGee, America’s preeminent food scientist, “the absorptiveness of eggplant can be reduced by collapsing its spongy structure before frying. This is accomplished by precooking it – microwave works well – or by salting slices to draw out moisture from the cells and into the air pockets.” On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen (2nd Rev. Ed.), Harold McGee, 2004. Based on personal experience, I agree with McGee that salting reduces, but doesn’t eliminate, eggplant’s sponge-like qualities.

While we’re on the subject of salting, some people recommend pre-salting eggplant to draw out its juices before cooking to remove alleged bitterness. Over the years, I’ve done repeated side-by-side tastings of salted and unsalted eggplant and have never detected bitterness in either version. It may be the bitterness meme is a holdover from days when eggplant was more bitter than it is today (McGee: “Farmers and plant breeders have worked for thousands of years to reduce the bitterness of … eggplants…”).

McGee says modern eggplants can turn bitter when they’re grown in dry conditions, which North American supermarket eggplants are not. Interestingly, McGee says salting doesn’t actually eliminate bitterness, but may reduce “our perception of the alkaloids” thus “suppress[ing] the sensation of bitterness.”

In any case, I rarely bother with pre-salting eggplant. The best ways to avoid oily eggplant are to “steam-fry,” oven-roast, or grill it. I use steam-frying for eggplant chunks, oven-roasting at high temperature for slices, and grilling whenever we have a fire going. To steam-fry, eggplant is briefly sautéed, which helps develop its flavor, and then steamed in a covered pan until the eggplant is fully cooked. I like letting steam-fried eggplant char a little as it cooks, the smokiness adds wonderful flavor to the finished dish.

Since I wanted chunked eggplant in the clafoutis, I steam-fried it. This worked well; it brought out eggplant’s subtle flavors that are sometimes masked by too much oil or tomato sauce. After spreading the cooked eggplant over the bottom of a springform pan, I topped it with cheese, sautéed onions, and a batter flavored with basil and garlic.

The finished dish was full of flavor, and slices of it, paired with a tomato and onion salad, made a delicious, warm from the oven, lunch. The next day I served Eggplant Clafoutis cold, cut into diamonds, as part of an appetizer table (mezedes – μεζέδες) and it disappeared quickly. Like its sweet siblings, savory clafoutis is equally good served warm or at room temperature.

This recipe for Eggplant Clafoutis was “A. Great. Success.” Many thanks to Eating Club Vancouver for the inspiration.

Eggplant Clafoutis (Κλαφουτί με Μελιτζάνες)
Serves 4 – 6 as a main course or 12 – 16 as an appetizer

Eggplant:
1 pound eggplant, peel left on and cut into 1” chunks
2 Tbsp. olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Water

Clafoutis:
1 cup grated graviera, kasseri, or asiago cheese
2 cups diced onion, 1/2” dice
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes (optional)
3/4 cup all purpose flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1 3/4 cup milk
1/4 cup strained yogurt
3 tbsp. minced fresh basil or mint
1 Tbsp. minced garlic
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
3 eggs

Preheat the oven to 450°F.

Steam-Fry the Eggplant: Heat the oil in a large sauté pan over high heat. Add the eggplant chunks, lightly season with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and quickly stir the eggplant to brown it. When the eggplant starts sticking to the pan add 1/4 cup of water, stir to distribute, cover the pan, and reduce the heat to medium high. Let the eggplant steam until you can hear it sizzling (which means all the water has cooked off). Add 2 Tbsp. of water, stir to distribute, and cover the pan. Repeat until the eggplant is just cooked through. If the eggplant chars a little in between doses of water, all the better; the char adds good flavor to the finished dish.

Make the Clafoutis: Grease the bottom and sides of a 9” round springform pan or 9”x9” square pan (if you want to serve the clafoutis upside down, in addition to greasing the pan, line the bottom with greased waxed or parchment paper. Arrange the cooked eggplant on the bottom. Sprinkle the grated cheese evenly over the eggplant.

Sauté the onion, lightly seasoned with salt and freshly ground black pepper, in olive oil until the onions soften and start to turn golden. Stir in the red pepper flakes, if using, and cook for one minute. Evenly distribute the onion over the grated cheese.

Sift the flour and whisk in 1/4 tsp. salt. Whisk in 1 cup milk, yogurt, basil, garlic, and freshly ground black pepper. Taste and add salt or freshly ground black pepper, as needed. Whisk in the eggs and remaining milk, and continue to whisk until the batter is smooth. Pour the batter over the ingredients in the pan.

Put the clafoutis on the preheated oven’s center rack. Bake 20 – 25 minutes, or until the clafoutis is puffed up and golden on top. Let cool for at least 15 minutes before cutting. Serve warm or at room temperature.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my entry for Weekend Herb Blogging, hosted this week by Zorra from Kochtopf.

Greek Wild Thyme Honey with Recipe for Cinnamon-Honey Tart (Melopita – Μελόπιτα)

Sandy beaches and rocky promontories alternate along the island’s irregular coastline. Mounds of wild thyme cover the hills sloping down to the sea, and scent the sea air with their heady aroma.

Harvesting Wild Thyme

By the start of summer, the wild thyme is in bloom. Yiannis, our beekeeper friend, has already moved his hives to fields near the shore and the abundantly blooming thyme. The bees spend their summer making thyme-flavored honey that Yiannis harvests and sells to locals and tourists alike.

I fell in love with thyme honey years ago at a galakatopoleio, a type of Greek store that sells milk, yogurt, and desserts like rice pudding (rizogalo) and custard pies (galaktoboureko). We’d stopped for a late breakfast and I ordered yogurt.

Used to American yogurt, which has a much thinner consistency than its Greek counterpart, I was surprised to see the galaktopoleio’s proprietor slice off a thick slab from a long yogurt loaf. He served the yogurt slice with liberal drizzlings of thyme honey. Despite its simplicity, the combination was utter perfection. Thyme honey, unlike the bland clover honey I grew up with, has a robust flavor.

When we return from Greece each year, we always have a supply of wild thyme honey in our baggage. However, in Alaska, Greek yogurt is difficult, and usually impossible, to find. When available, it’s too expensive for my budget.

If I crave Greek yogurt and honey in Alaska, I buy plain, whole-milk yogurt (Pavel’s Original Russian Yogurt, available at Natural Pantry in Anchorage, is my favorite brand), and strain it for at least an hour through a paper towel set in a colander. Strained American yogurt mimics the texture of the yogurt we buy in Greece. I like straining yogurt right when I bring it home from the market; that way, it’s ready to eat at my convenience. All I need do is drizzle a scoop of strained yogurt with Yiannis’ honey, and my favorite breakfast is ready to serve.

Honey isn’t a newcomer to the Greek table. It’s been an important ingredient in Greek cooking throughout recorded history and continuing to the present day. In The Deipnosophistae of Athenaeus, which includes excerpts from the earliest Greek writings about food and cooking, honey appears regularly. Among other uses, the ancient Greeks combined honey with wine, added it to savory sauces, and drizzled it over all kinds of sweets.

Athenaeus (circa 200 AD) catalogs “cheesecakes of every sort and every name,” including many that contain honey. In a recent post, Mariana of History of Greek Food wrote about her version of one cheesecake described by Athenaeus.

Cinnamon-Honey Tart (Melopita), a dessert using many of the same ingredients as the cheesecakes documented by Athenaeus, is still popular in Greece today. There’s also a Greek honey cake called Melopita; for clarity, I’ve translated the cheesecake-style Melopita as Cinnamon-Honey Tart.

On some Greek islands, and notably on Sifnos, Cinnamon-Honey Tart is traditionally made for Easter feasts. It’s worthy of a place at any special occasion table.

Cinnamon-Honey Tart (Melopita – Μελόπιτα)
Serves 10 - 12
The texture of Cinnamon-Honey Tart filling is similar to pumpkin pie filling, and is better when made with whole-milk ricotta. In Greece, fresh, unsalted myzithra is used instead of ricotta, but this product isn’t available in Alaska. The myzithra sold in most US supermarkets is dried, salted, and not suitable for a sweet tart filling.

I like making Cinnamon-Honey Tart in an 11” tart pan with a removable bottom to increase the crust to filling ratio. Use a 9” springform cake pan if you prefer cheesecake to tarts (more filling, less crust), a 9”x13” pan if you want to serve the dessert as bar cookies (great for potlucks), or pastry-lined cupcake tins or tartlet pans to make individual-size servings. In developing the recipe, I baked various versions of the filling as custards (without the crust) in a water bath at 325°F for 30 minutes. The custards are tasty, dead simple to make, and may be made ahead (the flavor develops over time).

Crust:
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 Tbsp. finely grated lemon peel (peel from 1 lemon)
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 cup cold butter (1 stick) cut in chunks
2 Tbsp. lemon juice

Filling:
15 – 16 ounces ricotta, preferably whole milk, or fresh, unsalted myzithra
2/3 cup thyme honey or other full-flavored honey
3 large eggs
1 Tbsp. cinnamon, preferably true Ceylon cinnamon (see About Cinnamon below)
1/8 tsp. salt

Make and Bake the Crust: Put the flour, sugar, lemon peel, and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse to mix the ingredients. Add butter chunks to the processor bowl, and process until the butter and flour are evenly mixed. Sprinkle in the lemon juice and process until the dough just holds together. If the dough is too dry, add 1 – 2 Tbsp. ice-cold water.

Dump the dough onto a sheet of plastic wrap, and knead lightly to form a flat disk. Wrap and let rest for at least 30 minutes before using.

Preheat the oven to 450°F.

Roll out the dough into a round with a diameter 3” wider than the tart pan (or enough to cover the bottom and 1” of a 9” springform pan’s sides). Use the rolling pin to lift the dough and place it in the pan; press the dough firmly into pan’s sides and bottom. Trim the dough’s edges so there is just enough to fold under and cover the sides of the tart pan with a double layer of dough (if using a springform pan, trim the dough so it goes 1” up the sides. Prick tiny holes all over the crust with a fork.

Press a double layer of aluminum foil directly onto the dough-covered bottom and sides. Bake the crust for 15 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for 5 minutes or until the crust is set and lightly golden. Remove from oven and place on a cooling rack. Reduce the oven heat to 375°F.

Make and Bake the Filling: Mix all the ingredients together to form a smooth batter. Pour the batter into the pre-baked pie crust. Bake for 20 – 25 minutes, or until the sides of the tart are set and the middle is still a little jiggly; residual heat will finish cooking the filling (because the springform pan is deeper, the filling in it will take a little longer to cook). Overcooking Cinnamon-Honey tart causes the filling to crack.

About Cinnamon:
I tested the filling recipe multiple times, using a different kind of cinnamon each time (Ceylon “True” Cinnamon, Korintje (Indonesian) Cassia Cinnamon, China Tung Hing Cassia Cinnamon, and Vietnamese “Saigon” Cassia Cinnamon), as well as a mixture of “True” Cinnamon and allspice. My favorite was the version made with “True” Cinnamon; the citrus notes in this variety blended perfectly with the lemon-flavored crust. Although Vietnamese “Saigon” Cassia Cinnamon is the cinnamon I prefer in most dishes, its flavor was too overpowering for this dish. I order my cinnamon online from The Spice House, Penzeys, or World Spice Merchants. Supermarket cinnamon is just fine for this recipe.

Novel Food: Corelli's Mandolin and Recipe for Cephalonian Meat Pie (Κεφαλονίτικη Κρεατόπιτα)

Cephalonia, a Greek island in the Ionian Sea, is famous throughout the world for its meat pies.

In recent years, Cephalonia has also become known as the beautiful setting for the novel (and movie) Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis De Bernières (Pantheon Books 1994).

Corelli’s Mandolin opens in Cephalonia during the early years of World War II, shortly before the invasion of Greece. In those years, despite the hovering threat of war, life on Cephalonia continued unchanged. A procession celebrating the death of St. Gerasimos, the patron saint of Cephalonia, was held as it had been for the last hundred years:

“Outside in the beautiful meadows of the valley and amongst the plane trees that lined the road from Kastro, pilgrims and Corybants had been arriving for two days, some of them from distant parts indeed. … The pews were filled with distant acquaintances renewing their friendship by means of the animated and voluble conversation that non-Greeks mistakenly construe as irreverence. Outside, the pilgrims unloaded animals laden with feta, melons, cooked fowl, and Cephalonian meat pie, shared it with their neighbors, and composed epigrammatic couplets’ at each others’ expense. Groups of laughing girls strolled about, arm in arm, smiling sideways at potential husbands and possible sources of flirtation, and the men, pretending to ignore them, stood about in knots, gesticulating and waving bottles as they solved the outstanding problems of the world.“ Corelli’s Mandolin at p. 74 - 75.

Eight days after the celebration of St. Gerasimos described by De Bernières, the Italian dictator Mussolini demanded that Greece allow Italy to occupy certain strategic parts of the country. On October 28, 1940, the Greek prime minister refused this demand and Italy immediately invaded Greece. (Today, October 28 is a Greek national holiday honoring the 1940 refusal to submit to foreign tyranny.)

Although the Greek army held off the Italians, the country fell when Germany joined the battle. Greece was occupied by a joint force of Germans, Italians, and Bulgarians for the duration of World War II. Corelli’s Mandolin describes life in occupied Cephalonia.

Captain Antonio Corelli was a reluctant officer of the Italian garrison on Cephalonia. The fictional Captain Corelli loved music, culture, and his mandolin. Corelli tried to be a benevolent member of the occupation. He was quartered in the home of the town’s doctor and eventually fell in love with Pelagia, the doctor’s daughter.

When the doctor became aware that Pelagia was in love with Corelli, he tried to dissuade her from consummating the affair. The doctor warned Pelagia of the many dire consequences, tangible and intangible, that could result from consorting with an Italian occupier.

Leaving Cephalonia and forsaking its meat pies were some of those consequences: “Are you ready to leave this island and this people? What do you know of life over there? Do you think that Italians know how to make meat pie and have churches dedicated to St. Gerasimos? No, they do not.” Corelli’s Mandolin at p. 281

Corelli’s Mandolin is ultimately the story of Pelagia’s life and the life of Cephalonia, and how both survived the upheaval brought by war. De Bernières used Cephalonian meat pie (Kreatopita) in describing idyllic island life before the war and, when Pelagia is at a crossroads that could lead her away from the island, as a symbol of all that is good about Cephalonia.

The phrase “Cephalonian meat pie” encompasses a multitude of recipes. Most households on Cephalonia have their own version of this delicious dish. In Prospero’s Kitchen: Mediterranean Cooking of the Ionian Islands from Corfu to Kythera, Diana Farr Louis and June Marinos say, “Recipes for Kreatopita in Cephalonia are like recipes for bouillabaisse in Marseille: each one is offered as the only truly authentic version handed down by a mythical grandmother.”

Louis and Marinos describe Kreatopita recipes with prunes, raisins, almonds, and pine nuts. Some recipes use rice, others potatoes; some use marjoram, others oregano. Some Kreatopitas are made with goat, beef, pork, or lamb, and still others with a combination of two or three different meats. Some recipes add hard-boiled eggs to the filling. Louis and Marinos conclude, “It all boils down to a matter of taste.”

Here is the version of Kreatopita that suits my taste. It is based on one I had many years ago at an Athens restaurant that no longer exists. I’d forgotten this dish until recently, when I ate it in a dream and woke up with the taste of Kreatopita in my mouth. The garlic yogurt accompaniment, while not traditional, is how the Kreatopita was served in my dream. It provides a wonderful counterpoint to the meat pie.

For company, I prefer making Kreatopita in 4 - 4 1/2” tart pans (with removable bottoms) so that each person gets their own individual pie. The individual pies may also be frozen whole, to serve later for easy meals. One large meat pie is equally good for serving a crowd, and easier to make than individual pies.

Cephalonian Meat Pie (Κεφαλονίτικη Κρεατόπιτα)
Makes eight 4 1/2” pies or one 10” pie
Cephalonian Meat Pie may be made with pork, beef, lamb, or a combination of some or all of these meats. It may also be made with leftover roast. (If using leftovers, start by sautéing the onions, and add the cooked meat along with the tomatoes, herbs, and spices.)Traditionally, kefalotyri cheese is used for Kreatopita, but any firm cheese may be substituted. I most recently made this with P’tit Basque sheep cheese, and its earthy flavor paired well with the cinnamon-scented meat.

Using a little butter in the crust (filo) isn’t traditional, but it adds good flavor and flakiness. Olive oil can fully replace the butter, and the crust will still be tasty, but slightly tougher. More water is needed to make the crust if butter is left out. The dough may also be made by hand. If mixing by hand, make sure the olive oil is evenly distributed in the flour and use a fork or pastry cutter to add the butter.

Crust (Filo):
3 cups flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup cold butter, cut into small chunks
1/3 – 2/3 cup ice water

Filling:
2 pounds meat, cleaned of all bones, fat, and gristle
1/4 cup olive oil
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper
4 cups diced onions, 1/2” dice
2 Tbsp. minced garlic
2 tsp. Aleppo pepper or 1 tsp. crushed red pepper
3 cups ground tomatoes, fresh or canned
1 cup red wine
1 cup beef or chicken stock
1 cinnamon stick
1 tsp. allspice
1/2 tsp. nutmeg
1 Tbsp. dried oregano, crushed
3 bay leaves
1 pound peeled and diced waxy potatoes (red or Yukon gold), 1/2” dice

1 cup minced fresh parsley
2 cups grated kefalotyri, kasseri, or other firm cheese

For the crust: In a food processor, mix the flour, salt, and olive oil until the olive oil is thoroughly incorporated into the flour. Add the butter and pulse three or four times to break up and distribute the butter; when you are done, the butter pieces should be the size of small lentils. Add 1/3 cup ice water and pulse to mix. Pinch together some of the dough to see if it holds together. If it does not, add small amounts of water, pulsing to mix, until the dough holds together when pinched.

Dump the dough onto a piece of plastic wrap and knead lightly until the dough holds together. If you are making individual pies, separate the dough into sixteen pieces, shape the pieces into flat disks, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. If you are making one large pie, separate the dough into two pieces, shape them into flat disks, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

For the filling: Dice the meat into 1/2” pieces, and season it with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Sauté the meat in olive oil until it is browned on all sides. Stir in the onions, and continue to sauté until the onions soften and begin to turn golden. Stir in the garlic and Aleppo pepper and sauté for 1 minute.

Stir in the tomatoes, wine, stock, cinnamon stick, allspice, nutmeg, oregano, bay leaves, salt, and freshly ground black pepper. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat, and simmer for 30 minutes. Stir in the potatoes and continue to cook until the sauce is rich and thick (it is not necessary to fully cook the potatoes). Taste, and add salt, freshly ground black pepper, or oregano, as needed. Let cool. (The filling may be made ahead to this point.) After the filling has cooled a little, stir in the parsley.

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Roll out the bottom crusts (or crust if you are making one large pie) and press into the bottoms and sides of the tart pans (the bottom crust needs to overhang the pan). Divide the filling between the pans, and top with the grated cheese. Roll out the top crusts and place over the filling. Trim the edges of dough if they are too long, roll the edge of the bottom crust over the top crust, crimp the two crusts together, and tightly seal the edges. Use a sharp knife to cut a slit in the top crust; this will allow steam to escape as the Kreatopita bakes.

Bake for 45 - 50 minutes, until the top of the pies are golden brown. (If you are making one large pie, cook for 45 minutes at 400°F, turn the heat down to 350°F, and cook for 30 minutes more. Cover the edges of the pie with foil if they get too dark.)

Serve with Garlic Yogurt on the side, a crisp green salad, dried black olives, and crusty bread.

Garlic Yogurt
2 cups whole-milk yogurt
4 cloves garlic
1 tsp. coarse-grained salt
1 Tbsp. white wine vinegar
2 Tbsp. olive oil

Line a colander with paper towels. Dump the yogurt into the lined colander and let the liquid drain out of the yogurt for 30 – 60 minutes. Puree the garlic by mashing it into the salt. Mix together the drained yogurt, mashed garlic, salt, vinegar, and olive oil. Taste and adjust the seasoning by adding garlic, salt, or vinegar, as needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my entry for Novel Food sponsored by Simona of Briciole and Lisa of Champaign Taste. Simona's half of the wonderful round-up is here and Lisa's half is here.

Gold Out of Straw: Recipe for Lemon Yogurt-Raisin Cake with Crunchy Almond Topping (Γιαουρτόπιτα με Σταφίδα Γλυκό του Κουταλιού)

I made the cake for my friend Teeny’s birthday. It was astonishingly good. The cake was dotted with tender raisins, and was lemony, not too sweet, and very flavorful. The crunchy, lemon-glazed, roasted almonds on top contrasted nicely with the moist cake. My kitchen disaster became one of the best cakes I’ve ever made.

For Christmas presents, I’m making raisins in syrup accompanied by copies of the Lemon Yogurt-Raisin Cake recipe. And this time, I’m cooking the raisins too long on purpose.

Lemon Yogurt-Raisin Cake with Crunchy Almond Topping (Γιαουρτόπιτα με Σταφίδα Γλυκό του Κουταλιού)
Serves 10
The cake must be glazed while it is still hot, so make the glaze while the cake is baking.

Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska has moved as of March 2011. To read this post please go to

http://www.laurieconstantino.com/gold-out-of-straw-a-kitchen-disaster-that-wasnt/


Please click on over and visit my new site. Thank you!

Raisin Spoon Sweets
Makes 3 1/2 cups

Mediterranean Cooking in Alaska has moved as of March 2011. To read this post please go to

http://www.laurieconstantino.com/gold-out-of-straw-a-kitchen-disaster-that-wasnt/


Please click on over and visit my new site. Thank you!