Last year, I shared with you a variation of the traditional Easter bread my mom always made, Easter Bread Dolls, or Primorski Uskrsne Bebe.  It seemed fitting to choose this time-honoured recipe to share with you, for a couple of reasons.  It was the first Easter recipe I posted here on The Suburban Peasant and I wanted that recipe to communicate what Easter is to me and my family, but also because it was my first time celebrating Easter at home, in a long time.  Spending the last few years away from the traditions I grew up with made me nostalgic for those customs, and compelled me to share a recipe that truly represents Easter for me.  This year, I am hosting Easter, and since we’re breaking with tradition by having a new generation-er (me) cooking lunch, I thought I’d try my hand at a new Easter bread.

Me, cooking Easter lunch is kind of a big deal.  I’ve cooked for my family and extended family many times before, but this is the first time I am going to cook for them for a major holiday.  In reality, it’s no different from making Sunday lunch or when I cooked for my husband’s 30th birthday, which was almost double the amount of people I am cooking for on Sunday.  However, on a more profound level, one that examines the significance of such family gatherings and how time, relationships, and plain old growing up really do change things, no matter how hard we try, it’s difficult to part with those traditions we have become so accustomed to.

I don’t mean to get all philosophical here, but I think you know what I’m talking about.  I’m sure at one time or another, you mourned the way things use to be.  If you’re a parent of grown kids or a grandparent with grown grandchildren, letting go of your child’s youth, and the good times had that went along with it, can be a bitter pill to swallow.  Just yesterday, I called my grandmother to wish her a happy birthday and she commented on how she wishes things were like they use to be.  When we were all together, squished around the table in their basement, swapping Easter eggs and slurping soup with paper napkins tied around our necks as makeshift bibs.  Those were the days.  But those days have long since come and gone, and while I am sure there will be many more feasts around Baka’s table or my mom’s table, I am honoured to keep the tradition – as different it may turn out to be – alive.

So, since I’m stirring things up by hosting Easter this year, I thought why not try a new Easter bread.  In reality, Pinca (peen-tza) isn’t new at all, it’s just new to me.  Also, it’s not all that different from the recipe I grew up with, except that it includes the additions of lemon and orange zest, as well as rum, and if you like, raisins.  Pinca is the Dalmatian version of my go to recipe.  Those Dalmatians with their warm climate, soothing sea, sunny dispositions and laid back attitudes, put a little spin on their Easter bread to reflect the uniqueness of their land – citrus!  The addition of flavourings to the bread make it so fragrant and really irresistible to eat.  Similar to challah, Pinca is dense and buttery, with an almost cake-like texture that makes it the perfect celebratory loaf, after a long 40 days of Lent.

Flashback from last year: Goulash 

Pinca (Croatian Easter Bread) 

This recipe makes two loaves of bread, but it can be easily halved to make one.  Leftovers, if there are any, would make fantastic french toast.  It’s also just as delicious lightly toasted and smeared with jam for breakfast.

400 mL luke warm milk

2 packages (16 g) active dry yeast

1 teaspoon sugar

7 cups flour

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 package vanilla sugar

2 teaspoons salt

zest of 1 lemon and 1 orange

1 cup melted butter

3 egg yolks, lightly beaten (1 egg white reserved for the egg wash)

1 tablespoon rum

1 tablespoon šljivovica (plum brandy) or brandy

Proof the yeast in the luke warm milk and 1 teaspoon of sugar for 10 to 15 minutes, or until it has doubled in volume.

Meanwhile, in a stand mixer with the dough hook attachment on, combine the flour, sugar, vanilla sugar, salt and zests.  Mix on low to combine.

Create a well in the dry ingredients and pour in the milk and yeast mixture, the egg yolks, melted butter, rum and šljivovica.  Turn the mixer on to low and slowly combine.  When the ingredients begin to come together, turn the mixer up to medium high and knead for 5 minutes.  After 5 minutes check to see the progress.  Dough should be very smooth and only slightly sticky.  If it it’s still fairly wet, add a little flour, a tablespoon at a time, and continue mixing until smooth.  Remove the dough from the bowl and on a lightly floured surface, knead 10 to 15 times, just enough to make a smooth mass.  Lightly flour the dough and place in a clean bowl, covered with a tea towel, and set in a warm, draftless area of your kitchen.  Leave it to rise for 4 hours, or until it has doubled in volume.

After 4 hours, punch the dough to deflate it, and turn it out onto a lightly floured surface.  Knead briefly (4 or 5 times) and cut the dough into two equal halves.  Knead each half 3 or 4 times to make a smooth, round ball and place each on its own baking sheet, lined with parchment paper.  Allow to rise for another 2 hours before baking.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.  Brush each loaf with the egg white that has been lightly beaten with a little water.  Cut a cross on the top of the each loaf, using a small, sharp knife (I used scissors and it didn’t turn out right).  Bake the loaves one at a time, for 30 to 40 minutes, or until it is a deep brown.  Cool completely on a wire rack before cutting.

This Friday is Good Friday, one of the most solemn days in the church calendar for all Christian denominations.  For Catholics, this is also a day of fasting, abstinence, quiet reflection, and penance.  The idea behind fasting is to imitate Jesus, to show an appreciation and a cognisance of the suffering He endured.  The notion and practice of fasting has changed over the centuries.  At one point, fasting meant only one meal for that day, a meal that abstained completely from meat, eggs, fat, dairy, alcohol and any other “luxury” ingredients.  Today, the church has adapted a more lenient interpretation that often consists of simple meals centred on fish, absent from more indulgent ingredients.  This is the tradition we observed in my family home growing up.

My dad was pretty strict when it came to fasting.  Everyone in the house had to observe the no meat, no eggs, no sweets rule, including the kids.  The only thing that exempted you was if you hadn’t made your First Communion yet.  So by the age of 7 or 8, once you made the sacrament you were required to fast.  Today, I think most parents would classify this as an example of child negligence or something.  In reality, there is no harm in not eating meat for one day or telling your child they can’t eat chips or candy bars until Easter.

With meat off the table on Good Fridays, another option was required, which more often than not, was fish.  I’ll have to admit, as a kid I wasn’t too keen on fish.  It smelled funny, had a weird texture and at that time, wasn’t the most palatable choice for me.  Today I love it, and strive to make it as often as possible.  As a result, I’ve had to expand my fish recipe repertoire beyond the battered and fried options.  While my husband would have no problem eating fish and chips every Friday, I rather care about our health and opt for healthier options.

The preparation I have for you today is a classic, pan roasted salmon with dill sauce.  I love this recipe because it’s quick enough for a speedy weeknight dinner, but also sophisticated enough for dinner guests.  But most importantly, it’s a surefire way to prepare perfectly cooked salmon.  Salmon, when done right is so good on many levels, but when overcooked, it can be a bland, dry and lack luster disappointment.  The trick in preparing salmon fillets is all about the technique.

Like many recipes that are prepared simply, everything is about the execution.  There are no fancy ingredients here to add flavor, or an abundance of fat to mask dryness.  The flavor here is that of the salmon.  The finished product is moist and succulent not because of the addition of butter and oil, but because it was prepared just so.  While the ingredient list is as short as it can get, you will notice that my notes and instructions are a little longer than usual.  Don’t get discouraged – this is one of the easiest dishes you can make.  All it takes is a little understanding of what makes it great.  Cooking is a lot more than slapping ingredients quickly to get a meal on the table, and this recipe proves that.  It’s these simple techniques that can elevate your cooking from ho-hum to mmm yumm!

Flashback from last year: Orecchiette with Sausage and Rapini

Pan Roasted Salmon with Dill Sauce

When buying the salmon, buy a whole fillet if you can and cut the portions yourself.  This will allow for more uniform pieces and is usually more economical.  Second, decide if you’d like to sear it with the skin on or off.  Leaving the skin on and cooking it until shatteringly crisp is delicious, but may take some practice.  I have included the technique on how to get that crispy skin in my notes below.  For this recipe I removed the skin myself, because the fish counter lady lied to me when I asked her if the fillet had been scaled.  It wasn’t  – grrr.

Key to getting a proper sear, even on skinned salmon, is ensuring that the pieces are patted dry thoroughly.  Any moisture will only steam the fish, preventing that crisp exterior we all love so much.  When it comes to hardware, a large nonstick, oven safe pan is your best bet to take the fish from stove top to oven easily.  If you don’t have an ovenproof pan, you can cover the handle in aluminum foil; this will protect the handle from becoming damaged by the heat of the oven.  Alternatively, you can transfer your fillets to a preheated baking sheet to finish cooking. 

Even though we are using a nonstick pan, some oil is required when searing.  Don’t use extra virgin olive oil here, the high heat requiring in the searing process will ruin the delicate flavor of the oil and make the salmon taste quite unpleasant.  Vegetable, canola or grape seed oils are good options.  They are flavorless and have high smoking points that are ideal for intense temperatures.  Ensure that the oil is very hot before placing your fish in the pan, and once it’s in there, don’t overcrowd it.  Even though this preparation is skinless, leaving the salmon enough space to sear nicely, will allow for a crust to develop.  If you find you can’t accommodate all the pieces comfortably in one pan, then use two. 

Once in the oven, you don’t want to cook the salmon to a bone dry well done.  The pieces should be a uniformly light pink.  One way to tell if it’s done, give it a poke.  If it’s firm but still gives a but it’s done.  You can also use the knife test.  Insert a knife into the fillet and hold it there for 10 seconds or so.  Remove it and with your fingers, check the temperature of the blade.  If it feels warm to hot it’s done.  If it still feels cool, give it a few more minutes in the oven.  Ideally, you want to catch it before it’s well done.  The fish will continue cooking even after it has been removed from the oven and you’ll be left with a moist and succulent filet.

Makes 4 to 5 salmon portions (depending on the size of the filet) and 1 cup of dill sauce

Serves 2 to 4

Dill Sauce

¼ cup mayonnaise

¼ cup sour cream or Greek yogurt

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

½ shallot finely minced

1 clove garlic finely minced

2 tablespoons fresh dill chopped

Juice of half a lemon

Salt and pepper to taste

In a small bowl, combine all ingredients.  Season with salt and pepper to taste, adjusting the seasoning and adding more lemon juice if necessary.  Refrigerate for at least 20 minutes to allow the flavours to develop.

Salmon

1 filet of salmon, cut into equal portions

Salt and pepper

2 tablespoons oil (vegetable, canola or grape seed oils are all good options)

Season both sides of the salmon generously; with salt and pepper (don’t be shy).  Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit.  Add the oil and preheat a pan (or two) large enough to sear the salmon portions, without overcrowding the pan.  When the oil is hot, place the salmon skin side down (if you are cooking the salmon with skin, sear it on the side the skin use to be on) and sear over high heat for 4 minutes.

After 4 minutes, transfer the pan to the oven and continue cooking for another 8 to 10 minutes.  Check for doneness by using one of the methods above.  Plate and serve immediately with dill sauce and wedges of lemon.

Skin on preparation:

Follow the instructions for the skin off preparation, but when placing the salmon in the pan, quickly put pressure on the portions with a spatula, ensuring that the skin is in constant contact with the hot pan.  Alternatively, you can lightly oil the bottom of a heavy pan or pot (so it doesn’t stick to the fish) and use this to press down on all of the salmon portions equally, and at the same time.  After 2 or 3 minutes, remove the pan and continue cooking on the stove for another 2 minutes, before transferring to the oven.  Doing this allows for some of the steam that has accumulated under the pan to evaporate, and further crisp up the skin.  Finish cooking in the oven for 8 to 10 minutes.

I love finding new places to hangout in. I’m a true believer in loving the city you live in and learning about all it has to offer. That’s why I’m always on the lookout for new coffee shops, a hip and funky boutique or a fantastic new restaurant in my adopted home of Hamilton, Ontario.  It was during one of these jaunts across the Hammer, where I came across Mulberry Street Coffee House and tried the dessert that inspired the post I’m sharing with you today. This great spot and their in-house baked cranberry coconut lemon squares sent my mind a spinning and my culinary wheels a turning. It also reaffirmed my belief that Hamilton’s embarrassing “armpit” of Ontario moniker really needs to be retired.

Many have a sordid reputation of Hamilton, especially those from the other side of the Lake Ontario.  Torontonians and other habitants of the GTA, who shall remain nameless, see Hamilton as the Golden Horseshoe’s cesspool, a place of heavy industry, low class citizens, sketchy neighborhoods and confusing one-way streets.  While some of these characterizations are true, the wheel that turns Hamilton’s economy is steel production (hence the nickname, “The Hammer”) and one-way streets do plague the downtown area, the city is so much more than what people make it out to be.  Hamilton is a diamond in the rough, a city in the middle of a cultural renaissance and on the cusp of urban renewal.  It’s those unfairly tagged, “sketchy” neighbourhoods that are being transformed into the pride of the city, and the very thing that is beckoning young professionals to live, work and play in the burgeoning arts and culture sector of the Hammer.

Frequenting neighbourhoods, with their unique shops, quaint store fronts and family owned businesses is the factor that makes you feel like you’re a part of a bigger picture, a citizen in your own town.  You don’t get that feeling from shopping at the mall or dining at a Kelsey’s. It’s for these reasons I love spending my time going out of my way to find those special spots unique to the city I live in.  Like Ottawa Street in the east end that has emerged beyond their roots as the source for fabric, to a lively home décor hub.   Not only is Ottawa Street the home of the first Tim Horton’s ever, this eclectic stretch hosts Sew Hungry, Canada’s largest food truck festival.  It’s littered with antique shops, including my favourite furniture consignment store, The Millionaire’s Daughter.  A sprinkling of bakeries and restaurants, as well as a year round farmer’s market, pulls the community together.  Then there’s my favourite spot, the incredibly cheerful and inviting space that is the The Cannon Coffee Co.

Moving further west, just past the downtown core is Locke Street South, a stretch of fantastic and original restaurants, specialty shops and bakeries.  Places like Chuck’s Burger Bar, Cheese Shoppe on Locke and Earth to Table Bread Bar provide unique places to eat and a source for gourmet foods and cheeses.  Antiques stores, vintage shops, salons and spas, an independent bookstore and enough coffee and tea spots to keep you wired for the entire day, round off this special neighbourhood.

A lot of what is redefining Hamilton can be found on James Street North.  The changes that have been happening here is what is taking Hamilton from “Steeltown” to an arts and culture hub.  Independently owned art galleries are popping up everywhere, small businesses and entrepreneurs are introducing new economic opportunities that have never been seen before in Hamilton.  The low cost of real estate, progressive thinking, and art-centric attitudes that can be found here, are attracting young professionals to set up roots in The Hammer.  ArtCrawl, the monthly art showcase of all the James Street North galleries, happens every second Friday of the month and has brought mounds of attention and a plethora of good vibes to Hamilton’s cultural scene.  Acclamation, a cozy Portuguese resto serves up the best Portuguese seafood gumbo you’ll ever have outside of Portugal.  Then there’s my favourite spot on the strip, Mulberry Street Coffee House.   With its walls adorned with local art, a hip and eclectic atmosphere filled with the sounds of smooth jazz, and their equally smooth and robust coffee, makes this place a hotspot for young and old alike.

It was here where I was inspired to make today’s recipe.  Their cranberry coconut lemon squares are the perfect marriage of sweet and tart.  The almost curd-like interior stays smooth and luscious when baked, while the coconut lends a chewy contrast to the surface.  Coupled with the buttery texture of the crust and a double whammy of tartness from the cranberries, these bars are heaven!  Wanting to put my own spin on this recipe I thought mangoes and limes would create an interesting, tropical variation to this dessert.  And boy does it ever!  The texture of the supple mangoes contrasts nicely with the chewy coconut and the fragrant limes adds the tang that makes this recipe a breath of fresh air to the overly sweet desserts that are out there.  The bright flavours of these mango coconut lime bars may actually make you think spring is here, even though the ground is still blanketed in snow here in Hamilton, with flurries on the forecast for the next three days.  So if you’re tired of Winter and annoyed with the groundhog that apparently predicted an earlier spring, whip up a batch of these lovelies.  They’ll make you feel all warm and spring-like inside, and help you forget about that layer of snow and ice out there – at least for the time being.

Flashback from Last Year: Baked Palačinke with Ricotta Cheese and Rosehip Jam

Mango Coconut Lime Squares

If you would like to make the original inspiration for this recipe, the cranberry lemon variety, simply substitute 1/3 cup of lemon juice for lime and 2 cups of fresh or frozen cranberries for the mango.

Recipes inspired by Mulberry Street Coffee House and adapter from Cranberry Lemon Squares, Canadian Living Magazine

Makes 15 squres

For the Crust:

2 cups all-purpose flour

¼ cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

¾ cup butter, cubed and softened

For the Filling:

3 eggs

1 cup sugar

Zest of one lime

1/3 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 cups mango, cubed (roughly 3 atoulfo mangoes or 2 regular mangoes)

2 cups shredded coconut

For the Crust:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees farenheit.  Line a 13 inch by 9 inch pan with parchment paper.  Size the paper so that it is larger than the pan, using the overhang as handles to pull the entire dessert out of the pan easily.

In a bowl combine flour, sugar and salt.  Add in the softened butter and incorporate the butter into the flour using a pastry cutter, a fork or a food processor.  Combine until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs and is moist enough to squeeze together.  Press into the prepared pan and bake until lightly browned, roughly 20 minutes.

Meanwhile prepare your mangoes and filling.  In a bowl, whisk the eggs and sugar together.  Add in the zest, lime juice, flour, baking powder and salt.  Fold in the mango and coconut.

When the crust is finished baking, pour in the filling and return to the oven for 30 to 40 minutes, or until the centre is firm and set (if the centre is wobbly it’s not ready).  Let cool completely on a wire rack.  When cool, remove from the pan by lifting the entire dessert, using the parchment paper overhang as handles.  Slice into squares and serve at room temperature.

A braised Italian classic that is sure to satisfy even the most critical dinner guests.

Have you ever had one of those dishes at a restaurant, when the instant the fork passed your lips, entered your mouth, and your taste buds came in contact with that delicious bite of food, you knew you had to recreate that dish at home as soon as possible?  The kind of dish that made you savour every bite, meditate on the layers upon layers of complex flavours, and unabashedly lick your plate.  These are the dishes of memorable meals; meals that stick with you for years.  This is the standard that all other dishes are compared to, and the one that conjures pangs of regret following below par dining experiences.

I had a few of these types of meals in my time and my heart just flutters when I think about it.  I think you all know I love food.  I love to cook food, but I loooovvvee to eat food, especially when it’s prepared by expert hands.  There is nothing that brings me greater pleasure than an evening spent dining at a cozy restaurant, eating sophisticated but homey, unpretentious but beautiful food, and reveling in the flavours plated in front of me.  This is why for the past few birthdays, I have spared my husband the misery of finding the perfect birthday gift, and opted for” birthday experiences” instead.  And as you might have guessed, these experiences usually centre on food; usually a dinner at a restaurant that I’ve had my eye on for quite some time.  It was at one of these birthday dinners where I had osso buco for the first time.

Up until that point I only vaguely knew what osso buco even was, but after that meal I knew that I needed to recreate this dish to enjoy at home.  If you’re not familiar with osso buco, it’s time to get familiar with it!  And because I like you so much and I like osso buco so much, I’d like you to meet each other, share a glass of wine and make a new friend at the dinner table.  A new friend is just what osso buco will become.  Like a good friend, osso buco is easy to get along with, reliable and always forgiving, and a welcomed addition to any party.

It’s easy to get along with because this is a no fuss no muss kind of dish.  Sure there’s some chopping, some searing and some stirring, but once that’s done and over with, you can turn all the work over to your oven, sit back and get a head start on that bottle of wine.  It’s reliable and forgiving because there really is no way to screw it up.  Measurements do not have to be exact, cooking time hinges on the “fall off the bone test”, and if you suddenly realize that you only have half a can of opened tomatoes sitting in the fridge or red wine instead of white, it’s all good.  Like I said no fuss, no muss!  Finally, this is one dish that is dressed to impress, perfect to serve to guests not only because of its great ahead-of-time cooking ability, but because of its shear sophistication.  Just think of the ooohs and aaahs you’ll get when you tell your guests they will be dining on osso buco.  Imagine the pride you will feel as you carry out this stunner, plated on a bed of risotto Milanese.  You, my friends, will be a dinner party superstar.

If none of these reasons have compelled you to give osso buco a try in your kitchen, maybe this one will.  In terms of deliciousness I give it a big, fat 10.  And like many of the recipes I post on here, the deliciousness, in my opinion, is compounded by the simplicity of the ingredients.  Osso buco which literally means “bone with a hole” is a veal shank, cut from the hind leg.  The “hole” refers to the marrow in the bone that not only imparts body to the luscious sauce, but a flavor that is as rich as it is yummy.  As I alluded to earlier, after hours of low and slow braising, the meat becomes so tender that removing the shanks from the pot, without it falling to shreds, becomes a task in itself.  Then to bring it all together, the pièce de résistance, a topping so fresh and so fragrant, that enlivens the flavour and heightens the senses; a mixture of lemon zest, minced garlic and parsley, called gremolada.  So go and give this one a try while the nights are still cool and the only thing that will chase away the chill is a comforting pot of braised goodness, a fine bottle of Chianti and some warm laughs amongst good friends, all around the dinner table.  Have I convinced you yet?

Flashback from last year: Pork Chops with Grainy Mustard and Caramelized Onion Cream Sauce

Osso Buco

There are a couple of things I forgot to do, and it turns out, I forget these two things every time I make this dish.  First, I forgot to truss the shanks (tie them up).  This is an important step, because even though this step may not seem necessary, after a few hours of cooking the meat becomes very tender, falls off the bone and becomes difficult to plate.  Trussing it allows you to easily remove the osso buco, without it shredding to pieces.  Do remove the twine once you’re ready to serve.

Whenever I prepare this dish, I always forget to serve the osso buco with the gremolada.  Usually, I prepare the gremolada, leave it in a dish and in the haste of trying to get everything on the table, I absentmindedly leave it behind.  This time I was determined not to forget; however, what I did forget was to buy the parsley.  So while I do include the ingredients and directions for gremolada, I have not pictured it.  Also, I chose not to picture the risotto, except for the one shot, to show you the beautiful yellow hue the saffron imparts to the risotto.  I did include the recipe for you, as it is the classic accompaniment to osso buco.

Recipes adapted from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking, by Marcella Hazan

Serves 4 to 5 (depending on the size of the shanks)

Osso Buco

4 to 5 veal shanks (1 to 2 per person, depending on size), tied tightly around the middle

Salt and pepper

Flour, spread on a plate

1/3 cup vegetable oil (divided)

1 tablespoon butter

1 onion, chopped fine

2 small carrots or 1 medium carrot, chopped fine

1 large stalk celery, chopped fine

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup dry white wine

1 cup meat or chicken stock

1 1/2 cups canned imported Italian tomatoes, chopped (see this post)

1/2 teaspoon fresh thyme or 1/4 teaspoon dried

2 bay leaves

2 or 3 sprigs of parsley

Salt and pepper to taste

Gremolada

1 teaspoon lemon zest

1/4 teaspoon garlic, mined very fine

1 tablespoon chopped parsley

For the Osso Buco:

Preheat oven to 350 degree farenheit.  In a large, heavy bottom pot, such as a dutch oven, heat 2 tablespoons of oil over medium-high.  Season the shanks with salt and pepper and dredge lightly in flour, shaking off any excess.  Brown the shanks on both sides in batches, adding another 2 tablespoons of oil for each new batch added.

Once all of the shanks have been browned, remove excess fat, except for 1 tablespoon and add the butter.  Sweat the onions, carrots and celery until soft, then add the garlic and cook until fragrant.  Pour in the wine and reduce down to one 1 tablespoon, then add the stock and tomatoes.  Bring to a simmer, add the bay leaves, parsley and thyme, a teaspoon or so of salt and a few grinds of fresh pepper.  Return the shanks to the pot.  If you cannot fit the shanks in a single layer, overlap them slightly, by arranging them in a concentric circle, like pictured above.  The braising liquid should come up 2/3 of the way up to the top of the shanks.  If it has not, add a little more stock or water.   Allow the sauce to come to a simmer once more, then cover with a tight fitting lid and braise at 350 degrees for the first 30 minutes, than reduce to 325.  Cook for 2 to 2 and half hours, or until the meat is very tender and pulls away from the bone very easily.

Before serving, remove the shanks to a platter and cut off the twine (if you are individually plating this dish, then don’t cut off the twine just yet).  Keep warm in a 250 degree oven while you prepare the sauce and gremolada.  Place the pot with the sauce over a medium-high flame and reduce for 10 minutes.  When ready to serve, pour the sauce over the platter of osso buco and sprinkle with the gremolada.  Alternatively, in a shallow bowl, plate a serving of risotto Milanese and top with one shank, and the sauce spooned over it.  Sprinkle with gremolada and serve immediately.

For the Gremolada:

Risotto Milanese

 5 cups meat or chicken stock

2 tablespoons diced pancetta

3 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 tablespoons onion, chopped very fine

2 cups Arborio rice

1/3 teaspoon powdered saffron of 1/2 teaspoon chopped saffron strands dissolved in hot stock

Freshly ground black pepper

1/3 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese

Salt

Bring the broth to a gentle simmer.

In a wide, heavy bottom pot, over medium-high heat,  sauté pancetta, 1 tablespoon of butter, vegetable oil and chopped onion.  Cook and stir until the onion becomes translucent, then add the rice.  Stir quickly and thoroughly until the grains are coated well.

Add 1/2 cup of simmering broth and cook the rice, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the liquid is gone.  Be careful to stir often, as if left alone the rice will stick to the pot.  When there is no more liquid in the pot, add another 1/2 cup and stir until absorbed.

When the rice has cooked for 15 minutes, add half of the dissolved saffron, pouring the stock through a fine sieve.  Continue to stir and when there is no more liquid in the pot, add the remaining saffron.

Finish cooking the rice until it is tender, but firm to the bite and there is no more liquid in the pot.  Off of the heat, add a few grindings of pepper, the remaining butter and all of the grated cheese.  Stir thoroughly, check for salt and serve immediately.

I am very excited about this recipe.  I’m excited for a few reasons; first and foremost it’s good.  I don’t mean to toot my own horn, but it’s really good.  It’s the kind of cheesecake that will make you change the way you think about this classic dessert.  If you’re the type of person that feels cheesecake needs to be rich and dense, followed by a serving of guilt and self-loathing, think again.  Cheesecake can be so many things, but it doesn’t need to be that.  In fact, it doesn’t have to be cream cheese, sour cream and graham cracker crusts either.  Light, airy, silky and smooth can be adjectives used to describe cheesecakes, without the preconceived cheesecake judgements that often accompany such characteristics, such as, “no-bake” or “Jello”.  These, people, are not cheesecakes but gelatinous imposters.  If you’re looking for a great flavour, texture and ultra smoothness, but still need that feeling you can only get when you eat a proper cheesecake, look no further.

Enter my Light and Lemony Ricotta Cheesecake and the second reason why I’m so eager to share this recipe with you - it’s my own spin on a time-honoured Croatian  recipe.  An East meets West cheesecake - Eastern Europe that is.  I’m kind of proud of this one.  It’s not exactly my own recipe, but a conglomeration of a few recipes and techniques that marries a timeless Croatian staple with the style and flavours that North Americans expect from a cheesecake.  So what makes this cheesecake unique?  Egg whites, whipped cream and a pastry crust, to begin with.  But to get an understanding of why these components are special, I have to give you a bit of a background on the Croatian component of this recipe, and the recipe where it’s all derived from - pita od sira (cheese pie).

I think most people conjure up images of spanakopita, cheese burek, or the politically correct term, sirnica, when they hear cheese pie.  But this pita od sira is what us continental Croatians associate with cheese pie.  The regions who make the impossibly thin doughed varieties listed above call these sandwiched pies lijena pita, lijena  meaning lazy; because it’s a lot easier to make a double pastry crust, than stretching a small ball of dough over a two metre long table.  Like pita od jabuka (apple slab pie), this pie is also sandwiched between a pastry crust, like a North American pie, but rectangular, not round and cut into small squares to be eaten with your hands like a cookie, rather than a fork.  This was one of the first things I wanted to change about the recipe.  I wanted pita od sira to be a little more refined.  Something elegant to serve for dessert, and a little closer in appearance to the classic North American cheesecake.  So I ditched the rectangular pan and brought in cheesecake’s best friend.  The only pan that allows for the beauty of a naked, towering cake without the mess of unmolding it, the springform pan.

With the springform pan in place, the next thing to consider was the crust.  I knew I wanted to include the pastry crust synonymous with pita od sira.  The tender, buttery texture of the pastry adds a layer of richness to the lightness of the cheese filling.  The question though, was whether or not I wanted to stick with tradition and add the top layer, a buttery, crumble top - an option I came across while doing my research - or forgo the crust altogether and go topless.  I opted for tradition and capped off this cheesecake with a lovely pastry whose appearance harkens back to its roots.

Next came the filling, in my opinion the most important component.  I knew the choice of cheese would have to be ricotta, as fresh cow’s cheese (svježi sir) is unavailable in North America.  Sadly, the most important ingredient in pita od sira is banned here because it’s unpasteurized.  My grandmother in Croatia still makes her own, simply by gently heating day old milk (from the cow, not the grocery store) then straining the curds from the whey.  That’s it.  The stuff is incredible and sadly, it’ll soon be gone.  Once Croatia enters the EU, little old bakas like mine won’t be able to sell their cheeses at markets because of food laws that prohibit the sale of unpasteurized dairy products.

I’ve had ricotta based cheesecakes in the past and those experiences have shown me that these varieties can often be grainy and dense.  I considered using marscapone cheese, in addition to the ricotta, for extra richness and creaminess, but decided against it when I remembered how expensive it is!  So, after a little research I came across a recipe that uses one cup of whipped cream to lighten up the batter.  That, coupled with beaten egg whites, sounded like just what I needed to ensure a creamy filling and airy texture.  Boy was I right!  Never have I had a lighter, cloud-like cheesecake.  With hints of lemon and vanilla and that butter crust, this cheesecake has it all . . .  except for a topping.

Like I said earlier, my goal for this recipe was to weave two great cheesecake traditions, and one of the most important components of a the North American variety is not what goes in it, but what’s found on top.  So I knew I needed to come up with something reminiscent of the new world staples, fruity, sweet and tart, all at the same time, but also, one that would be just as much at home in a Croatian kitchen.  Then it hit me, a sauce made from jam, but not just any jam but rosehip (šipak) jam, a classically Croatian specialty.  After gently heating it to make it pourable, and the addition of some lemon juice and zest to liven up the flavour, I had the perfect marriage of old and new, east and west and the best cheesecake you’ll ever have.

Flashback from last year:  Carrot Cake with Maple Cream Cheese Frosting

Light and Lemony Ricotta Cheesecake

Make sure to purchase full fat, extra smooth ricotta cheese.  Don’t try to cut the calories by buying the light stuff.  The results just won’t be the same.

Adapted from “Pita od Sira,” Hrvatska za Stolom and Pita od Sira

Makes one 9 inch cheesecake

Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon baking powder (the original recipe says, on the tip of a knife)

1/2 cup sugar

pinch of salt

3/4 cup cold butter, cubed

2 egg yolks

1 tablespoon sour cream

zest of half a lemon

Filling

750g extra smooth, full fat ricotta cheese (3 cups or 1 and 1/2 containers)

3/4 cup sugar

1 package (9g) vanilla sugar

zest and juice of one lemon

pinch of salt

3 egg yolks

1/3 cup flour

1 cup whipped cream

3 egg whites, beaten to stiff peaks

Topping

1 cup rosehip jam

zest and juice of one lemon

For the crust:

In a stand mixer, measure the flour, sugar and salt.  Add the cubed, cold butter and using the paddle attachment, combine until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.  Add the egg yolks, sour cream and lemon zest and continue mixing until fully combined and dough begins to pull away from the sides of the bowl.  On a lightly floured surface, knead gently just enough to combine into smooth ball.  Cut the ball in half and form into two discs.  Cover each disc with plastic wrap and refrigerate for half and hour.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees farenheit.  Roll out the first disk on a well floured surface, rotating often so it does not stick, just enough to fit the springfoam pan.  Using the bottom of the pan, trace a circle into the dough with a small knife.  Repeat the same process with the second disc.  Carefully transfer one of the circles to the bottom of the springform pan, that has been lightly greased and floured.  Poke the surface of the dough with a fork, to prevent it from bubbling during the baking process.  Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, or until the crust just begins to colour.  Chill the second circle in the refrigerator while you prepare the filling.

In a food processor, combine the ricotta, sugar, lemon juice and zest, egg yolks, flour and salt.  Mix until combined and completely smooth, 2 minutes.  Pour the mixture into a medium sized bowl.  Beat the heavy cream until stiff peaks form.  Fold gently into the cheese mixture.  Beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form and fold this gently into the cheese mixture.  Pour into the springform pan and top with the second pastry circle.  Using a small, sharp knife, poke small slits into the curst in an ordered pattern.  Bake in a 350 degree farenheit oven for 40 to 45 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean.  The centre will still be wobbly, but will set as it cools.  Cool and serve at room temperature with rosehip jam topping.

For the jam:

In a small saucepan over medium heat, warm jam with the zest and lemon juice.  Heat until smooth and pourable and all lumps dissolved.  Serve while still warm (will thicken up again when cooled) by spooning one tablespoonful or so over each piece.

This weekend my husband began the preliminary stages of our kitchen reno. I can hardly contain my excitement!  There wasn’t much that was done, and if I didn’t tell you what he did you wouldn’t even realize the change. That said, it is one item that has been checked off of our to-do list and another step closer to my new and improved kitchen!

Anyone who spends the majority of their time in the kitchen can imagine what I am feeling right now.  It’s something like the anticipation that the Christmas season brings, combined with the relief of spring after a long, cold winter. I cannot wait until all the work, mess, stress and inconveniences are a forgotten memory (kind of like my orangey coloured cabinets). When I get to revel in the beauty of cooking with everything at my fingertips – a luxury only a functional kitchen can bring. The sense of relief of never having to go down to the basement for a bag of pasta or can of tuna (because whoever designed my cookie cutter house forgot to put a pantry in my kitchen) is so overwhelming that I am giddy just thinking about it. And the prospect of extra cabinet space, a backsplash that will cover the permanent grease splatter on my walls, improved organization and a space that will just look so much better than it does now, is bringing on a sense of calm and liberation; liberation from a kitchen that no longer works.

At first glance, my kitchen looks pretty roomy and functional.  It’s not big at all, to say the least, but it appears to have enough counter space and cupboards; all very necessary attributes to a functional kitchen. But upon closer examination, lots of cooking and excessive kitchen gadget purchases, my seemingly comfortable kitchen became well, inadequate. The first and biggest inadequacy that became apparent very early on, was the lack of a pantry. How can any kitchen these days not have a pantry? In my eyes, a pantry is  as vital to a kitchen as a prepping area on your counter. Yes, you can get away with a little 2 x 2 piece of counter wedged in between your stove and the sink (this is what I had in my first apartment) but it can make cooking very, very unpleasant. The same goes with a kitchen without a pantry. You can allocate a cupboard for canned goods, snacks, dried pasta, legumes and such, but these shallow spaces are meant to house mugs and glasses, plates and bowls, not my giant canisters of flour and sugar that require the removal of seven other things before a safe extraction is even conceivable. Like a properly situated and adequately proportioned prep area, a pantry also needs to be easily accessible and ample in space – not a couple of Rubbermaid shelves sitting in a corner of my unfinished basement. Thus, it was here and after many, many jogs up and down my basement stairs that I knew I would no longer accept a kitchen sans pantry. This is where my kitchen reno plans began.

Luckily, my kitchen has a suspiciously pantry-esque open space, that will at the end of this construction, house our future food store. I say suspicious, because this open area at the end of a row of lower cabinets and one set of uppers that float, rather conspicuously on their own, seem to give up the builder’s secret: that they cheaped out on putting in a pantry. This space was very clearly reserved for a pantry. However, somewhere down the line when our house was being built, an architect or contractor thought, “These people don’t need a pantry.” Yes we do!  And luckily, my husband is about as handy as Mike Holmes and is going to build me one!

This very important fixture in any kitchen, brings many other significant changes in my cooking space. First and foremost, item number one on our kitchen reno to-do list, that I alluded to earlier: a new electrical socket! This seemingly trivial modification finally brought life to our idle wine fridge. Our lovely mini wine fridge, gifted to us by a couple of wonderful friends, sat stocked with wine but no power. With a little planning and a lot of cursing, on my husband’s part (he curses a lot when he works) my husband not only installed the new socket, but rewired some other important knobs and switches that needed to be moved in preparation for the new pantry. So now, after four years, we can finally plug-in our wine fridge, enjoy both red and whites at their ideal temperatures, and move onto the construction of my long-awaited pantry.

Now, on to the star of this little recipe I have for you today, citrus fruits!  But before I get to the dish, here’s an interesting tidbit of information I came across in LCBO Food and Drink Magazine this past summer.  Oranges in the southern hemisphere, where it is warm all the time, are not orange.  Remember those green oranges the juice lady in Cuba made your freshly squeezed orange juice with every morning at your all-inclusive hotel?  You thought serving up unripe oranges was another thing wrong with Cuba’s Communist system!  Turns out, oranges only become orange when the temperature drops and the fruit no longer makes chlorophyll to keep them green, like leaves in autumn that turn from green to orange, red and yellow.  Neat huh!

I don’t know about you, but when I think of citrus dishes summer fare instantly comes to mind. The bright, fragrant and fresh scents and flavours are often indicative with the way we eat during the hotter months of the year. However, now is the time you should be enjoying citrus fruits, at the height of its season. Lemons, limes, oranges, etc. are at their very best from December until about March. That’s why we often see large bowls of clementines for decorative and culinary purposes at Christmas time. I remember my grandmother telling me that as children, she and her siblings would receive oranges in the socks they placed at the foot of their beds on the feast of St. Nicholas in December. Citrus fruits have always been a part of the winter months and can continue to be today, starting with this recipe.

Flashback from last year: Farro and Shiitake Mushroom Risotto with Spinach and Pine Nuts

Citrus Marinated Chicken

A little planning is required for this recipe, as it needs time to marinade in the refrigerator.  I prepped it the night before, flipped the chicken over in the morning before work and popped it right into a preheated oven when I got home.  Makes for an easy weeknight dinner, with a little thinking ahead, of course.

The original recipe calls for two whole chickens quartered.  The rationale: make two so that you have plenty of leftovers to use throughout the week.  This is a great idea, but I wanted to use this marinade for a single dinner with some chicken legs and thighs.  Any pieces will work here, but you do want pieces, not a whole chicken.  A whole chicken will not soak up the marinade as effectively.  If you are using breasts, place them in the centre of the pan, surrounded by the dark meat, so they don’t dry out.

Recipe from “Citrus Marinated Chicken”, Fine Cooking Magazine   

Serves 4

1 whole chicken quartered, or an assortment of chicken pieces

Salt and pepper

2 lemons

1 large orange

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 tablespoon dried oregano

2 tablespoons soy sauce

1 tablespoon honey

1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

In a roasting (not aluminum, as it will reactive with the citrus juice) arrange the chicken in a single layer and season both sides with salt and pepper.  In a small bowl, combine the marinade ingredients.  Zest one of the lemons and the orange.  Cut the lemon and orange you zested in half.  Slice one of those halves into wedges.  Tuck the wedges underneath the chicken pieces (don’t place them on top, or it will not brown properly).  Squeeze the juice from the remaining halves.  Juice the second lemon.  In that same bowl, add the garlic, oregano soy sauce, honey and pepper flakes.  Pour over the chicken and refrigerate for 6 to 12 hours.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees farenheit.  Roast the chicken at this temperature for the first 20 minutes, then reduce to 375 and roast for another 30 minutes, or until the juices run clear when pierced with a knife.  Remove chicken to a serving platter.  Skim off any excess fat from the marinade and pour into a small sauce pan.  Reduce the marinade to about 1 cup by bringing it up to a boil for 10 minutes or so.  Serve hot alongside chicken.

Last year around this time, I shared with you a Croatian tradition for Shrove Tuesday, krafne.  These light and airy doughnuts with a hint of lemon zest, a filling of jam and a smattering of icing sugar, is a common indulgence all around Eastern Europe for the last day before Lent.  What was once a necessity to prevent the spoiling of rich foods such as eggs, butter and milk during the fasting period of Lent, today it has become like most traditions, a connection to days passed and a symbolic gesture of preparation to this solemn time in the Church calendar.

In English-speaking Canada the traditional food that is consumed on this day of gluttony is the pancake.  A custom brought to North America by the British, it is still enjoyed by many Canadians to mark Shrove Tuesday.  But even more so, a good pancake recipe is an essential recipe to have in your repertoire for special weekend breakfasts and family brunches.

I don’t think I know of anyone who does not like pancakes.  Really, what’s not to like?  If done well, they’re light and fluffy; slightly crisp on the outside and buttery on the inside.  They must be eaten with real maple syrup and maybe a little butter for extra indulgence.  It is perfectly acceptable with fresh fruit or fruit toppings; however, a bottle of maple syrup (especially if you’re Canadian) needs to be found somewhere on the table.  My husband though, lover and observer of childhood practices and food memories, shuns the good stuff for the bottle of the maple “flavoured” imposter: Aunt Jemima.

The one thing pancakes do not have to be are fattening and calorie laden.  In fact, pancakes made with whole wheat flour, oat flour or other healthier varieties actually taste a lot better!  The heartier flours add a greater depth of flavour that leans on nutty.  The issue that comes a long with using these flours though, is that they do make a heavier pancake that does not rise as easily.  The trick is to use part white flour to achieve great results.  Another great technique I came across is to separate the eggs and whip up the whites to stiff peaks and fold into the batter, making them light and airy, just like any good pancake should be.  Finally, the addition of buttermilk not only adds another layer of yummy goodness, it also results in a tender product and fluffy cake.

Give this recipe a try today and surprise your family with pancakes for dinner.  And if you’re feeling guilty about it, just tell yourself your observing a centuries old tradition.  Happy Shrove Tuesday!

Flashback from last year: Cicmara (Sweet Corn Bread)

The Perfect Pancakes and Blueberry Syrup

These are pancakes that you shouldn’t feel bad about eating.  The 1/2 cup white flour in this recipe is hardly anything you should worry about and buttermilk is actually very low in fat.  If you’re worried about saturated fat, you can substitute the butter for canola oil.  Honey, a natural, unprocessed sweetener is a better alternative to white sugar and the topping, blueberries and maple syrup, is full of antioxidants and a healthy, unrefined sugar.  These of course can be made with nothing but all-purpose flour or an equal ratio of all-purpose to whole wheat flour.  However, do add at least 1/2 cup of all-purpose to your combination, as the lighter texture makes for a fluffier pancake.

Makes 1 1/2 cups syrup

Blueberry Syrup

2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries

1/2 cup maple syrup

Zest from 1/2 lemon

In a small pot, combine all of the ingredients and bring to a boil over medium heat for 5 minutes.  Remove from heat and serve warm (not hot) over pancakes.

Makes approximately 24, 3 inch pancakes

The Perfect Pancakes

3 eggs separated

1 2/3 cup buttermilk

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1/2 cup oat flour

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons melted butter

1 tablespoon honey

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Butter or oil for griddle (optional)

In a medium-size bowl, beat the yolks and add the buttermilk and baking soda.  Set aside.  Meanwhile, beat the egg whites until stiff peaks form.

To the bowl with egg yolks, beat the yolks, buttermilk and baking soda.  Add the three types of flour, baking powder, salt, melted butter, honey and vanilla.  Gently combine using a whisk.  Using a rubber spatula fold in, one-third of the egg whites into the flour mixture and combine.  Add the rest, stirring gently, being careful not to deflate the egg whites.  Once combined (and it doesn’t have to be fully combined, as the more you stir, the tougher they’ll get) set aside to rest for 15 to 20 minutes.

Preheat a griddle or non-stick pan over medium heat add a little butter or oil if you like.  Using a small ladle, scoop the batter into the pan.  Make the pancakes as large or as small as you like.  When bubbles begin to form on the surface of the pancake flip and continue to cook for another half a minute or so.  Keep the finished pancakes warm by placing them on the lowest setting of your oven.  Repeat with the rest of the batter and serve warm with blueberry syrup.

Soup is the holy grail of Croatian cuisine.  Not just any soup though, but the soup, domača juha (dom-a-cha yoo-ha).  Domača juha means “homemade soup” in Croatian.  Everything I make on here is homemade, so I knew that translation wouldn’t work in describing this staple.  I needed to think of something that would highlight this course’s importance, one that would illustrate its place in Croatian cuisine and a title as simple and pure as the dish itself.  In my About + Follow Me introduction, I describe this soup as a culinary tradition in Croatian households, the starter to the long, multi-course Sunday meals.  It is what marks the Sunday lunch as special, celebratory and nurturing.  What more appropriate and noble name for a soup that is this special, than Sunday soup?  I know of none.

In my house we just call it soup.  This is how transcending and all-encompassing Sunday soup really is.  When I say soup, my husband knows I don’t mean lentil soup or cream of broccoli or Italian wedding, but the clear, yellow, richly flavoured broth and the ethereal-like noodles that float so delicately across the surface.  This is the stuff that perfumes your entire home as it simmers on the stove for hours.  One of the first forms of solid foods that pass through the lips of little Croat babies.  It is the magical remedy that cures all ailments from the flu, to an upset stomach, homesickness and yes, even hang overs.  It is what your mom made you eat above all the other items that filled the holiday tables and until you did you couldn’t go play with your cousins.  Finally, it is the prerequisite to the all important and never to be missed, dessert at baka’s house.

I know I’m becoming a bit redundant now, but I really cannot stress enough, how important this soup is to Croatian cuisine, much of this importance relies on the fact that this is a dish that is eaten with a spoon.  Eating soup with a spoon isn’t an earth shattering revelation, in fact it’s down right obvious.  However, it is the connotations that go along with a meal that requires a spoon that makes these dishes so revered in Croatian cuisine.  This is what exalts Sunday soup to its superstar status.  Traditionally, Croatian peasant food was poor, simple and kind of dry in texture.  In fact, one of the most common “criticisms” I received from family members visiting from Croatia, on what they thought about North American cuisine is that everything is covered in sauces.  So while they might like their dry, sauce-less and over cooked meat, they do need to get their nutrients from somewhere.  This is where soup enters the picture.

Soup is filled with the nutrients that these types of diets often lacked, plus it was a great way to stretch costly ingredients like meat.  Furthermore, in a time when throwing out scraps or getting rid of food that was on its way out was unheard of, making soup took care of that problem and still does today.  Got a couple of limp stalks of celery in your crisper?  Toss ‘em in the pot.  Squishy onions, wilted parsley – all perfect soup material.  How about an obscene looking carrot?  Sure, no one’s looking!  Just don’t add too many carrots; it makes the soup sweet. You don’t need a lot of ingredients to make a fantastic tasting soup.

There really is nothing simpler than Sunday soup, it’s so straightforward it really needs no recipe at all.  Like many ethnic meals everyone has their own way of preparing it.  Some forgo peeling the onions, swearing the natural dyes in the skins add to the lovely yellow colour of the broth.  Many add different poultry pieces to the pot, often scraps from whatever is being cooked that day for lunch: turkey or duck necks, wings or extra beef bones.  And just as there are multiple techniques in making a pot of soup, there are as many ways to finish them.  The classic and most loved are the paper-thin homemade noodles.  If you’re lucky enough maybe your mom or grandmother has got your back and always sends a batch over whenever the pasta maker comes out.  Recently I started to make a stracciatella-like soup, that my family loves, using eggs and parmigianno reggiano.  If you’re out of noodles, knedle (also called nokle or fučki - pronounced fooch-key, NOT you know what) are a dumpling that can bewhipped up in seconds and spooned into the broth to cook.

To end this essay today, I’d like expand on the word fučki for a second.  It wouldn’t be the first time the English language butchered a Croatian word or name.  If any of you followed the biathletes during the last Winter Olympics in Vancouver, you might remember Jakov Fak and how the announcers avoided saying his name like the plague, for obvious reasons.  English is not kind to the Croatian language and I can personally attest to that – my given name is Ankica.  But it has been much more cruel to Jakov Fak.  In the end though, I’m sure all of us who watched this biathalete in action and cringed or snickered everytime the commentator said, “Jack-ov Fak” thought to ourselves, “Well at least he doesn’t live in an English speaking country!”

FYI it’s pronounced Ya-kove Faak.  Ok, his last name is pronounced the same in Croatian as well, but I will have you know it does not share the same meaning.  Poor guy.

Flashback from last year: Potato Moussaka

Sunday Soup (Domača Juha)

The best Sunday soup is made with hens.  These old chickens have a ton of flavour that make the tastiest soups.  The downside is that unless you’re making soup for 30 people every Sunday, you may want to stick to chicken pieces.  Hens are large and will make a very greasy soup if you’re only filling a standard size stock pot.  Another option would be to quarter the hen, this way you’ll have all the flavour and enough meat for four soups.  If using chicken pieces don’t use breasts.  They are far too lean.  Legs, thighs, backs and necks are all great options. To save money I always buy bone in chicken breasts with the backs still attached.  When I get home, I debone them and save the scraps for soup.  The second most important factor in Sunday soup are the beef bones.  They do not have need to meaty, but a little extra meat always adds good flavour and a lovely pre-lunch snack once the soup is done its simmering.  What’s important here is the marrow.  Find some bones with a good amount of it.  Marrow is flavour packed and adds a wonderful richness to the final product.

In my essay above I described the three ways I finish the soup; namely, noodles, dumplings or stracciatella style.  Nothing is easier than making soup with noodles, but there are many, many things that are a lot simpler than making your own noodles.  I get mine from my mom, with much gratitude.  I find there a re a few good brands out there in European delis, and while the grocery store brands are acceptable they are not like homemade.  As for myself, when I run out of noodles I would much rather make dumplings or stracciatella, then slurp thick, starchy noodles.  Below you will find pictures, ingredients and the method for making my Croatian version of stracciatella, as well as the ingredients and method (sorry no pictures) for the dumplings.

Unless you’re having a dinner party, you will have a lot of broth leftover.  I recommend only preparing enough soup with the noodles or whatever you have chosen to finish it with, for that day and then refrigerate or freeze the rest.  This way you can make a fresh batch of soup later on in the week, or freeze it to use as the base for other soups, sauces and stews.  Say bye-bye to Campbell’s chicken stock!  

Makes about 12 cups of broth

1 to 1 1/2 pounds of chicken pieces (legs, thighs, backs, necks, wings) or one-quarter of a hen

1/2 pound to 1 pound of beef bones (with or without meat, preferably with marrow)

1 onion, peeled

1 large carrot, peeled

1 medium parsley root with tops attached, peeled

2 stalks celery (I like to use 1 green stalk and 1 yellow stalk from the centre of the bunch)

2 cloves garlic, peeled

6 litres cold water (or enough water to fill to the top and cover all the ingredients)

4 or 5 peppercorns

2 teaspoons salt

Add all of the ingredients to a large stock pot and cover with water.  Toss in the peppercorns and salt and over medium-high heat, with the lid of the pot covering it half-way, bring to a simmer.  This will take about a half hour or so, since the water is cold.  It is important to use cold water so that all of the ingredients come to temperature together.

Shortly before the contents come to a boil, you will notice foam starting to accumulate on the surface.  Skim these impurities off with a spoon.  As soon as you see the stock come to a simmer turn down the heat to low.  You are looking for only the smallest bubbles to break the surface.  Anything more will create a cloudy soup.  Impurities will continue to rise to the surface for the next half hour or so, continue skimming periodically until gone.  Continue took simmer gently with the lid off for no less than 3 hours.

After 2 hours you will notice that the volume has gone down.  You can top it off with fresh water, or leave it as is.  I prefer to leave it because as the water evaporates, the flavour becomes more concentrated.  But if you’re worried about a greasy soup, then add some water.  You can also skim some of the fat off after cooking, or chill it and remove the fat when cold.  In our house, the sign of a good soup is the kind that leave your lips slick!

After 3 hours it is now time to strain your soup.  If you’re making just enough soup for that day’s meal get yourself a smaller pot and a second larger pot to cool and or store the remaining broth.  Place a fine mesh sieve over the smaller pot and strain enough broth to make soup for that day.  Then move your sieve to the larger pot and strain the remaining broth.  Set the larger pot aside to cool, while you bring the smaller pot to boil.  The meat left behind after the cooking process is what I loved to pick at when I was a kid, so don’t throw it out; it’s delicious!  Save the carrot as well.  Slice thinly and set aside for later.

When the broth comes to a boil, start by sprinkling a teaspoon of Vegeta in at first.  Taste and add more if necessary.  Now is the time to add the noodles, dumplings or other alternatives.  If adding noodles sprinkle in 2 or 3 handfuls (not too much because they do expand) and let them come to a boil for a minute or so.  Add in the carrots and some freshly minced parsley and serve immediately.  For other alternatives on how to finish the soup, keep on reading.

Knedle (dumplings)

These also have many different preparations that include varieties with griz or cream of wheat hearts.  My favourite though, has always been the simple egg and flour method

2 eggs

1 to 1 1/2 cups flour

In a small bowl, beat the eggs lightly.  Add 1 cup of the flour to the eggs.  With a fork, combine the flour and eggs until all of the first cup of flour is incorporated. Next, add about a tablespoon of flour at a time, until a soft and sticky ball of dough begins to form.  Once you have reached a state where you can cleanly make a small dumpling with a spoon, you’re good to go.

Bring the broth to a boil and using a teaspoon, begin making your dumplings by spooning a little bit of dough into the soup at a time.  These do not need to be perfect, just don’t make them too big, as they expand slightly when cooking.  Continue this process until you have used up all of the dough.  You know they’re cooked through once all of the dumplings have floated up to the surface.

Stracciatella

2 eggs

1 cup finely grated parmigianno reggiano cheese

2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley

In a small bowl, beat the eggs lightly.  Add the cheese and parsley and combine to form a runny mixture that resembles a loose porridge.  If you find that it is too thick add a tablespoon of water at a time until you get the right consistency,

Bring the broth to a boil and slowly pour a thin stream of the egg and cheese mixture into the pot, as your slowly stir the broth with a spoon using your other hand.  The stirring prevents the eggs and cheese from clumping up in one mass.  Once you have poured in the entire contents of the bowl, break up any larger chunks with a fork,  Bring to a boil for one minute and serve immediately.

Last year around this time, I wrote about the imminent arrival of aging with an ode to the passage of our twenties when my husband celebrated his 29th birthday last year.  Here we are, a year later and my husband just celebrated his 30th birthday.  A big birthday like this makes you reflect on a lot; successes and accomplishments, trials and tribulations and all those little changes that you never really noticed until those two ugly digits unwelcome as they are, appear on your birthday cake.  Namely, just how out of the “loop” you really are.

It doesn’t matter how young you feel – because in my mind I still feel pretty young – you just can’t compete with the 18 to 20 something-year-olds when it comes to knowing what’s in.  Maybe I should restate that, because more often than not, what is “in” really isn’t that good.  It’s just that the young ones look at you like you sprung a dozen grey hairs before their very eyes when you tell them you’ve never heard of Swedish House Mafia or know what “fml” means (I had to ask my 17-year-old sister this recently).  Not that SHM (I don’t even know if they go by that acronym, I’m just trying to be cool and make it seem like I know what I’m talking about) isn’t good – I looked them up on YouTube and I’d buy their CD, I mean download their album off iTunes.  It’s just that if you don’t like what they like, then your automatically deemed old and out of it.

I suppose this age group really doesn’t know everything there is about the best music, the coolest places to hang out, or what’s fashionable.  I mean the pop charts will tell us that by some sort of magic the likes of Katy Perry and Kesha, or wait, I mean Ke$ha, reign supreme.  Then there’s the penchant of this age group to hang out at places where you can’t walk to the bathroom without some greasy guy grinding up against you, or the belief that short and tight make for the perfect skirt.  Now, I don’t want you to think that I am taking on the holier than though stance here, because I have been there and done all of that, trust me.  I am just saying, maybe it’s time to acknowledge those days as fond memories and look forward to the many good things the 30′s can bring.

30 doesn’t have to be so bad; in fact, I’ve decided to carry that badge with pride when I approach this milestone in September. I will be the first of my local girlfriends to turn 30 (I say local because my hometown girls are all turning 30 before me).  The way I look at it, things can only get better from here on out.  Those awkward 20′s are out of the way.  Gone are the days where you’re trying to find yourself but still worrying if people like you.  Meeting loser guys and then making yourself sick worrying if he’ll ever call you.  I have a great husband and family who support me, friends who respect me regardless of my quirkiness, and a life that I am pretty darn thankful for.  So bring it on 30 – I’m ready for you!

The little recipe I have here for you today is an example of the kind of meals I love eating when it’s cool, damp and yucky outside.  It has that hearty, comfort food feeling that often only high fat meals will give you, but without the guilt.  It’s a lovely vegetarian dish, filled with healthy, fibre rich lentils, meaty cremini mushrooms and my favourite superfood – sweet potatoes!  I love this meal because it’s just as satisfying as a shepherd’s pie but so much healthier, not only because you’ve cut out so many calories by taking out the meat, but you’re replacing it with nutrient rich food.  You’re probably thinking was Ana kidnapped by aliens and replaced by a health conscious hippie?  I know, I am usually about the indulgent, traditional recipes but even I know you can’t eat like that all the time (I did sneak in some butter and cheese though, just so you remember where you found this recipe).  So here is a dish to add to your Meatless Monday repertoire that is both seasonal, comforting and just plain good.  Period.

Flashback to last year:  Red Lentil and Chorizo Soup

Mushroom and Lentil Cottage Pie

I had planned to call this recipe “Mushroom and Lentil Pot Pie” but then thought, “Isn’t a pot pie made with a pastry crust?”  So I did a little research and looked up “pies with a mashed potato crust” and just I suspected, these are not pot pies, but cottage pies – in case you’re wondering. ; )

For this recipe that I photographed, I used a mixture of sweet potatoes and Yukon gold (I didn’t have enough sweet potatoes to top the entire pie).  I have also made it with just sweet potatoes and solely regular potatoes as well.  Each way is delicious, so prepare it anyway you and your family will enjoy it.

For the mushrooms, any variety will do.  If you’re going for a simple but still very tasty dish go with the cremini over button, they have more flavour.  If you want to take it up a notch add in some shiitake or oyster mushrooms, as well as some dried varieties, such as porcini.  The possibilities are endless.  Just be sure to soak the dried mushrooms in hot water to rehydrate before using.

The addition of little cubes of cheese that melt during baking is optional, but soooo tasty.  I used a specialty local goat cheddar by Jensen which I purchased from my butcher, VG Meats.  If you live in the Hamilton area, go to VG and buy it, or look for it in your specialty shops – it’s fantastic!  It has all the flavour of chèvre but the texture of a cheddar.  It melts beautifully in the cottage pie and lends another level of earthy richness to this dish.  If you can’t get your hands on this then a sharp cheddar or Gruyère would be very nice.  Whatever you choose, pick something that packs a punch!

Adapted by Mushroom Parmentier, by Laura Calder

Serves 4 to 6

3 lbs sweet potatoes (or a mixture of sweet potatoes and Yukon gold potatoes)

4 cloves garlic, peeled and kept whole

1 tablespoon butter

2 tablespoons sour cream

1/4 to 1/2 cup of milk (depends on how creamy you like your mashed potatoes)

1/2 cup cubed cheese, I used goat cheddar (optional)

1 cup brown lentils, rinsed

2 tablespoons butter

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 onion, chopped

2 pounds of cremini mushrooms, cleaned and quartered (or assorted fresh and/or mushrooms of your choice)

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 tablespoons fresh thyme, minced

1/2 cup white wine

1/2 cup stock or water (if you are using dried mushrooms, use the soaking liquid)

Salt and pepper to taste

1 tablespoon butter

1 tablespoon flour

1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano (optional)

Peel and quarter your potatoes and boil until fork tender, along with the 4 cloves of garlic (this will give you the roasted garlic flavour in your mashed potato topping, without having to take the extra step and roasting it in the oven).  Drain and mash until creamy, with the butter, sour cream and milk (or however you like to make your mashed potatoes).  Season generously with salt and stir in the cubed cheese.  Set aside while you prepare your filling.

Cook the lentils in 2 cups of water until tender.  Drain and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees farenheit.  In a large pan, melt the butter and oil over medium-high heat.  Add the onions and cook until translucent, about 5 minutes.  Add the mushrooms and cook for 3 minutes without stirring.  You want to brown the mushrooms.  After 3 minutes toss and cook for another 3 minutes without disturbing.  Continue cooking until all of the moisture has evaporated.  Add the garlic and thyme and cook until fragrant.  Pour in the wine and reduce until about 1 tablespoon remains, then add in the stock.  Bring to a simmer.  In a small bowl, knead the flour and butter into a thick paste, until the flour is fully incorporated into the butter.  Add in little bits of the paste to thicken the sauce.  Add as much or as little as you like.  If you find that the sauce has become too thick, loosen it with the addition of a little water.  Toss in the lentils and season with salt and pepper.

Pour the filling into an oven proof dish and top with the mashed potatoes.  Smooth out the top and sprinkle with grated  Parmigiano Reggiano if you like.  Bake for 30 minutes or until the top is golden and you can see the filling bubbling up the sides.  Serve warm.

Do you know what today is?  Go on, take a guess.  It’s not my birthday.  It’s not my husband’s birthday.  It’s my blog’s birthday!   Yay!  Happy Birthday to The Suburban Peasant!  It has been one year since I started writing this blog and boy am I ever glad I did.  It has been so much fun cooking and sharing some of my favourite recipes with you, capturing the process along the way and reminiscing about memories attached to these much-loved foods.

Your reception to these recipes has been monumental and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.  A lot, and I mean a lot of time goes into each and every post.  I have to admit there have been times when I asked myself if the countless hours I spend testing and cooking, shooting and editing, writing and editing, researching and networking are worth it – and you know what?  Your feedback and readership makes it all worth it.  I am so grateful to be doing what I am doing and extremely fortunate to know that you like me, you really like me!

When I began this blog my premise was to share with you recipes that are fresh, wholesome, simple and authentic.  Many of these meals, soups, sides and deserts are from my own background; the foods I grew up with in a Croatian household. I receive the most hits on these humble dishes (my top three most popular posts are Goulash, Krafne  and Palačinke).  It never ceases to put a smile on my face when a reader tells me that they’re so happy to find a particular recipe because their own grandmother made it and they can’t wait to share it with their family.  It’s with comments like that I know I must be doing something right.

Today, instead of sharing a recipe with you from my cultural heritage, I’d like to offer one up from my dear home, Canada.  Canadian food and culture can be rather hard to put your finger on.  Ask any Canuck to describe what makes a Canadian, a Canadian and you may or may not be surprised to find out that we’ll struggle with that answer for a bit.  More often than not, we’ll describe what it is to be a Canadian by differentiating ourselves from Americans.  So if you think about it, Canadians don’t describe themselves as what they are, but what they’re not – Americans.  No offense to Americans here, it’s just really difficult to shine next to your big and powerful next door neighbour.  Throw in the same language, similar historical beginnings and that modest underdog persona we’re so well-known for and you’ve got the perfect recipe for a sibling rivalry.

Americans may not know it, but Canadians try hard to differentiate themselves from their big “brother”.  We might highlight the fact that we are a peace keeping nation – well sort of.  That kind of changed after Afghanistan, but nevertheless we do not have the military prowess of the U.S.  Canadians like to think of themselves as modest people, we have universal health care, we say things like schedule pronounced with a “sh” sound.  The letter “z” is pronounced “zed” not “zee” and colour is spelled with a “u”.  We really do say “eh” a lot, and find it much more polite than “huh?”  Winter hats are called toques and we drink pop, not soda.  But perhaps one of the most telling characteristics of Canadian culture is how seamlessly other cultures are woven into it.  Canada is a multicultural nation, we are one big tossed salad where other cultures are welcome to be who they are, and we see our country as being better off because of it.  This notion rings so true that the first thing people often say when visiting Canada, especially a huge, diverse city like Toronto, is how multicultural it is.  Perhaps Canadian culture is the sum of all its people’s parts in a land where diversity is treasured.

So in honour of my dear, humble home I give you a treat that is as sweet and unpretentious as the land from which it comes from – the butter tart.  I have to admit I did not know butter tarts were Canadian until I caught this interesting bit of information in a radio program I was listening to.  If you’re new to Canadian cuisine, the butter tart is similar to the French-Canadian sugar pie and can be juxtaposed to the Southern American dessert, pecan pie, but it is different in its own way.  Unlike pecan pie that is made with a thickened filling, butter tarts have a oozing centre that slowly seeps out when you bite into it.  If you’ve ever had a butter tart you might have had one with walnuts or pecans.  This is acceptable, but if you’re looking for the authentic version you got to add raisins.  This is actually my variety of choice, as I find the crisp and flaky crust adds enough texture contrast against the gooey filling, and the absence of nuts really allows the natural flavours to shine through.  So if you’re reading and you’re Canadian, embrace the Canuck-ness within you and give this recipe a try and if you’re not, here’s a great way to take a bite out of our culture and try something new, eh?

Flashback to last year: Gnocchi and the Best Tomato Sauce You’ll Ever make

Butter Tarts 

To prepare for this post, I read through many different recipes and decided to test out two.  The first was a more sophisticated version with extra dark, demera brown sugar, maple syrup and pecans.  The second was the traditional variety with regular brown sugar, corn syrup and raisins.  The first variety was very good, but the demera sugar was a bit too overpowering and left me with  an almost bitter aftertaste, reminiscent of burnt sugar.  The second recipe, with the regular brown sugar had flavours that reminded me of great butter tarts I had in the past, but felt it could have been even better with maple syrup instead of corn syrup. So, sticking with Canadian tradition and ingredients I subbed in the king of syrups for the over processed corn variety and came out with a butter tart that will just knock your socks off.

Tart shell recipe from “Pecan Butter Tarts,” Bake with Anna Olson and filling adapted from “The Best Butter Tarts,” by Christine Cushing.  For a savoury adaptation to this crust click here.

Makes 24 butter tarts (recipe can be easily halved to make 12)

Tart shells

2 1/4 cups cake and pastry flour

2 tablespoons sugar

3/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces

6 tablespoons cold water

1 tablespoon white vinegar

Filling

2 eggs

1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 cup dark brown sugar

1 cup maple syrup

1 teaspoon real vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup raisins

For the shells:

Stir the flour, sugar and salt to combine in the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Cut into the flour on low-speed until just small pieces of butter are visible and the mixture as a whole just begins to take on a pale yellow colour (indicating that the butter has been worked in sufficiently).

Stir the water and vinegar together and add this to the dough all at once, mixing until the dough just comes together. Shape the dough into a disc then cut in half.  Roll the halves into logs, wrap with plastic wrap and chill for at least 1 hour before rolling.  Note:  If you have chilled your dough for 2 hours or more, remove it from the fridge 20 minutes before you intend to roll it out.  Failing to do so will make the dough very difficult to roll out.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees farenheit and grease two muffin tins. When ready to roll out pastry, cut each log in half and cut those halves into three, giving you 12 pieces all together.  Roll out each piece to about a 1/4 of an inch and use a 4 inch circle cookie cutter to cut out circles.  Fit the cut out pastry into the tin, gently pressing down into the sides, to take the shape of the cup.  Repeat this process with all 12 pieces then combine the scraps and start again for the next 12.

For the filling:

In a bowl, with a set of electric beaters, beat together the softened butter, eggs, sugar, vanilla and salt, until just combined.  Divide the raisins and place them in the bottom of each tart shell.  Divide the mixture between the shells and bake in a 400 degree farenheit oven for 10 minutes before reducing the temperature to 375 degrees farenheit.  Continue baking for another 10 to 15 minutes or until the filling is set (centre will still be gooey) and the edges of the tart shells are lightly browned.  Cool the tarts in the tin and after 5 minutes, gently twist them to ensure they don’t sick to the pan.  Serve warm and refrigerate to keep for up to 4 days.