A belated independence

So I'm about a week late, but I was just too busy celebrating my independence from the Queen and rebuking her tea tax by um, well making iced tea and taking walks in her parks.... it's a proper summer in London, what's a girl to do?

Make apple pie!  Because what is more American than apple pie right?  Actually, I have something to tell you.  I kind of feel like I'm about to tell you Santa doesn't exist but as a cultural anthropologist and a food lover I have to come clean.  Apple pie is not American.  I know.  I'm sorry. 

There are records of apple pie recipes that date back to 1381, clearly before the good old US of A declared it's independence.  Even worse yet, while the origins are not perfectly clear it is probable that apple pie originated in either England or Holland/Netherlands.  That being said there were no apples in the Americas before the landing of Columbus, so while the origins of the apple pie are not American, there is certainly a connection between the discovery of the 'new world' and the fruit itself.

It seems that the real origins of the patriotism behind the pie was created by powerful marketing.  Advertisers in the 1970's exploited the patriotic connection with the commercial jingle "baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet". There are also claims that the Apple Marketing Board of New York State used such slogans as "An apple a day keeps the doctor away" and "as American as apple pie!", and thus "was able to successfully 'rehabilitate' the apple as a popular comestible" in the early twentieth century when prohibition outlawed the production of cider. 

Also upon further research I have discovered that 'American as apple pie' was actually the shortened version of 'As American as motherhood and apple pie', clearly developed to create a wholesome and family oriented effect.  Given the ridiculousness of that statement I can see why it was so quickly shortened...

So I added to the classic 'American' apple pie by creating a British/American fusion with a punnet of gooseberries- a tart grape-like looking fruit found in Britain, Europe and parts of Africa and Asia.  I think in the future I would bake the pie for a bit longer, as the gooseberries were very tart!  But, it was patriotic I thought, and fun to make the pie- and we ate it following a dinner of bbq ribs and corn on the cob.  No doubt our forefathers would have done the same!  

• 4 cups (1 L) green Ontario Gooseberries
• 2 cups (500 ml) thinly sliced and peeled Ontario New Apples
• 1 cup (250 ml) granulated sugar
• ¼ cup (50 ml) all-purpose flour
• Pinch salt
• Pastry for 9 in. (23 cm) double-crust pie
• 1 tbsp (15 ml) butter
• Milk

Top and tail gooseberries; combine with applies in large bowl. Reserve about 1 tsp (5 ml) sugar; combine remaining sugar with flour and salt. Mix well with fruit; set aside.

On lightly floured board, roll out just over half the pastry. Without stretching it, fit into 9 inch (23 cm) pie plate. Spoon in gooseberry mixture and accumulated juices. Dot with butter. Roll out remaining pastry. Moisten rim of bottom shell with water. Cover with top pastry. Tuck edges under and crimp to seal.

Brush top with milk, avoiding crimped edges. Sprinkle with reserved sugar. Bake in 425F (220C) oven for 15 minutes. Reduce heat to 375F (190C) and bake for 25-30 minutes longer or until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbly.

Historical Coffee Controversy

So I've put in the time and done my research on my delicious Rhubarb and ginger coffee cake from last week, and what never fails to surprise me is the amount of controversy that is wrapped up in the history of food!  First there was the English cake/biscuit court case I discovered, and now an official call made by Pope Clement VIII on whether or not coffee was the beverage choice of Satan!  Let us begin...

Coffee was first brought to Europe by Venitian traders with strong ties to the Middle East, importing it's coffee into Italy in 1615.  It was then that Italy began it's love affair with coffee, and the Italian espresso-style coffee began what is now a multi-billion dollar industry and an eventual globalisation of the coffeehouse culture, a culture only prevalent in the Middle East at that time.  Italians are now famous for their coffee, their style of making and serving coffee, and for the prestige that comes with being a barista in Italy.  The coffeehouse culture is one that may now be associated with intellectuals, artists, writers and academics however at the time that it was first introduced to Europeans it was a different story.  According to many accounts, a group of Christian clerics tried to have coffee banned before it had become widely available. They came to Pope Clement VIII (1535-1605), claiming that coffee was for Satan's followers, and that Christians who drank it might lose their souls to the Devil. However before Pope Clement would ban coffee he insisted on tasting it. After drinking his first cup, the Pope was so impressed with the flavor, that he reasoned that such a drink could not possibly be the work of Satan and instead declared that coffee should be baptized to make it a true Christian drink.  That's right, coffee was baptised.

The first person recorded in history to brew coffee in England was an international student named Nathaniel Conopios from Crete, who was studying at Balliol College, Oxford. This simple act, which happened in May 1637, was recorded by both scholar John Evelyn and historian Anthony Wood. Although, shortly afterwards Conopios was expelled from college, his influence had a lasting effect on Oxford, as it was in Oxford that the first English coffeehouse was opened in 1650 by Jacob, a Lebanese Jew. Even though Jacob moved to London a few years later to repeat his success, he had begun a trend that saw many more coffeehouses open in Oxford during that decade.

I would like to take a moment just to thank Mr. Conopios from Crete for his tenacity by brewing that first cup of controversial coffee in England and starting the momentum for coffee culture to (albeit very late as it was fighting with the tea culture) to catch on, the eventual coffee shop on Putney High Street to be built, several hundred years later.  That coffee shop was where I spent many weekend afternoons studying when I was in graduate school and it was where I met my husband.  Surely if Mr Conopios were still alive I would have invited him to our wedding. 

Now how did we get from coffee to coffee cake?  The custom of eating some sweet yeast bread while drinking one's coffee probably began in the 17th century in Europe. Dutch, Scandinavian, French and German immigrants all brought a recipe for some sort of breakfast bread when they came to North America. All the recipes used flour, eggs, yeast, sugar, nuts, spices and dried fruit and probably were more bread- than cake-like. Over the years, people experimented with those recipes and began adding creamy fillings, cheese, yogurt and sugared fruit.

By 1879, coffee cakes were well-known in America and there were already countless recipes for crumb cakes, streusel cakes and streusel/crumb-cake combinations. Streusel cakes have that swirl of cinnamon/brown sugar throughout the center while crumb cakes have a topping of crumbly flour, sugar and butter and cinnamon.

Many of today's coffee cakes are made with a Bundt pan (a ring with a hole in the center, but clearly not the one above!). The Bundt pan is actually a fairly recent innovation.   It was created in 1950 by H. David Dalquist of Nordic Ware. Two of his Jewish customers told him how they missed the heavier European cakes they had grown up with but needed a cake pan with a hole in it. The holes allowed heat to penetrate the heavier batter and did not leave unbaked dough at the center. The women showed Dalquist a ceramic kugelhopf pan and he made a similar version in all-purpose aluminum. However, while kugelhopf pans are spherical with folds like a turban, Dalquist introduced fluted folds into the fluted edges and patented the design.

So little did I know when making my Rhubarb and ginger coffee cake last week, how much my personal history was tied into the history of what I enjoyed eating!  The recipe, which is so worth making, was found on one of my favorite food blogs, Smitten Kitchen.

‘Big Crumb’ Coffeecake with Rhubarb
Adapted from The New York Times 6/6/07
Yield: 6 to 8 servings

Butter for greasing pan

For the rhubarb filling:
1/2 pound rhubarb, trimmed
1/4 cup sugar
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

For the crumbs:

1/3 cup dark brown sugar
1/3 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger**
(So I meant to only but in 1/2 teaspoon but as I was sprinkling it in and just eyeballing it, a huge clump fell in so it ended up being about 2 tsp- was fantastic and a touch spicy!)
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup (1 stick or 4 ounces) butter, melted
1 3/4 cups cake flour (I was out and used all-purpose and it worked great)

For the cake:
1/3 cup sour cream
1 large egg
1 large egg yolk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup cake flour (ditto on the all-purpose flour–worked just fine)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons softened butter, cut into 8 pieces.

1. Preheat oven to 325F/ 175C degrees. Grease an 8-inch-square baking pan. For filling, slice rhubarb 1/2 inch thick and toss with sugar, cornstarch and ginger. Set aside.

2. To make crumbs in a large bowl, whisk sugars, spices and salt into melted butter until smooth. Then, add flour with a spatula or wooden spoon. It will look and feel like a solid dough. Leave it pressed together in the bottom of the bowl and set aside.

3. To prepare cake, in a small bowl, stir together the sour cream, egg, egg yolk and vanilla. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, mix together flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Add butter and a spoonful of sour cream mixture and mix on medium speed until flour is moistened. Increase speed and beat for 30 seconds. Add remaining sour cream mixture in two batches, beating for 20 seconds after each addition, and scraping down the sides of bowl with a spatula. Scoop out about 1/2 cup batter and set aside.

4. Scrape remaining batter into prepared pan. Spoon rhubarb over batter. Dollop set-aside batter over rhubarb; it does not have to be even.

5. Using your fingers, break topping mixture into big crumbs, about 1/2 inch to 3/4 inch in size. They do not have to be uniform, but make sure most are around that size. Sprinkle over cake. Bake cake until a toothpick inserted into center comes out clean of batter (it might be moist from rhubarb), 45 to 55 minutes. Cool completely before serving.

Coffee cake in a teacup...

So I'm cheating.  Rather than not do my homework on the history of coffee cake; the delicious treat I cooked up this weekend for a quick trip to the in-laws, I thought I would give you a preview to wet your tastebuds with a photo of the rhubarb and ginger goodness and promise a thorough report including history, sights, smells, tastes and reactions to follow.

Are you salivating yet?  I am!  I also must confess instead of accompanying our coffee cake with well, coffee we had ours with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.  It's almost like coffee...

One proud pickle

So after a long week of salivating each time I walked past my pickling jar, stopping myself from doing what I did with most of the savings bonds I've ever been given (cashing it in early), I let my four green pickles sit in their brine day after day until I believed they had reached their highest possible worth of deliciousness. 

While they were pickling they made for good company for our fish Spike for the week, sitting along side him in their nearly matching glass jar.  Despite Spikes gripes that they looked at him a bit funny from time to time, I think he was sorry to see them go today.  Nick and I however were not, and we celebrated the occasion by making burgers (done the Heston Blumental way where all of the grains of your meat line up the same way vertically so the burger breaks nicely when you bite into it... not to be confused with the Heston way where you take 3 days to make a stock out of truffles which you have picked yourself, which you then marinate with boars eyeballs over dry ice for another 3 days before you douse it in propane and light it on fire and mold it into the perfect shape to accompany your starter). 

Needless to say this recipe resulted in the salty, garlicy, crunchy dill pickle that has always had a place in my heart.  My only regret is that I only bought four cucumbers...   

As promised, here is your recipe.  Please make these.  For my sake.

Dill Pickles from Michael Symon and Michael Ruhlman

Ingredients:

3 tbsp kosher salt
1 bunch fresh dill
10-15 garlic cloves (I went more towards 10 and still found it to be very garlicy)
1 pound pickling cucumbers (ideally young and small)

Method:

Combine 3 3/4 cups water with the salt, dill and garlic in a saucepan and bring to a boil, stirring until the salt is dissolved.  Remove the pan from the heat and let it cool to room temperature.

Arrange the cucumbers in a nonreactive container and pour the brine over them.  *I ended up having to make double the brine as the liquid needs to fully cover your cucumbers.  You can also weigh the cucumbers down with something if they continue to float back up to the surface* 

Place in a cool place (like by your fish tank) and allow to ferment at room temperature for one week.  Taste the cucumbers.  If you want them to be more sour leave them out for 2 more days.

To store them, strain the fermenting liquid into a nonreactive pan and bring to a boil.  Allow to cool to room temperature.  Pour the cooled brine back over the cucumbers, cover and refrigerate for up to one month.
 

An Ode to the Pickle

 Pickles... possibly one of the biggest things, food wise of course, that I crave from life in the US, and more specifically life in Cleveland.  Now I'm not talking about your standard 'gherkin', the most widely represented cucumber pickle that you can find in Great Britain.  I'm not talking about your bread and butter pickle either, although those too are nice at times.  I am speaking directly and specifically about the classic Jewish deli accompaniment to any decent sandwich worth your time; the Kosher Dill Pickle.  This is what I dream about, what I gorge myself on during our trips back to Cleveland (a city which has once had the highest percentage of Jewish people per capita outside of Israel), tucked in the vinyl booths of Jacks Deli amongst the geriatric populations out for 'a bite to eat'.

It's not that the British can't pickle- believe you me they pickle.  They love their pickled beets with their pickled herring, next to their ploughmans sandwiches with Branson pickle and their pickled onions.  Even one of the buildings in the London skyline has been lovingly nicknamed the 'gherkin', but yet no matter where I have tried the deli's never seem to be 'Jewish' and the pickles never seem to be 'dill'.

It's not that the 'Kosher Dill Pickle' is actually kosher.  There is no rabbi I know of whose job consists of going around to all the picklers and blessing their fermenting cucumbers.  The term comes from the style of pickling first done by the Jewish deli's in New York City, back in the 19th century where garlic was added to the dill brine.     

So after my mother's visit last week I am now in possession of a wonderful Michael Simon book.  (A hometown Cleveland chef turned TV chef personality and owner of three restaurants in C-town and one it's it rival city; Detroit.)  It contains many recipes that remind me of Cleveland in the best of ways, along with what I hope to be a fantastic recipe for kosher style dill pickles.  Before I go posting the recipe willy nilly, lets make sure the outcome of this week-long brining process delivers the results I crave. 

Should I be successful my next post may entail my quest to find a deli here who puts more than two slices of meat on their sandwich to partner my pickling accomplishments... 

Cooking the Generations

Things I would do with my mother more if we were living in the same city;

-Get our nails done more often than twice a year together
-Go to the movies and see girly things our husbands couldn't be dragged to with bowls of popcorn
-Hang out in our pj's and linger over coffee in the morning
-Spout off ideas for dream jobs, dream vacations, dream homes etc.
-Take turns giving each other cooking lessons while cooking things from both of our childhoods.

So while we did get to some of the things on the list (the movies will have to wait for the next trip) one of my favorites from my mothers trip to the 'big (foreign) city' was making my great grandmothers 'Lochshen Kugel', a dish both she and I had growing up.  It's familiar taste and smell reminded us both of our childhoods, a double pleasure I'm sure for my mother watching her 'baby girl' (nearly 30 now) pick at the raw mixture the same way I did when I was little.


Kugel is a baked Jewish pudding or casserole, similar to a pie, most commonly made from egg noodles (lochshen kugels) or potatoes, and can be made sweet (which is what we always had) or savory by the use of apples, pineapple, apricots, raisins, spinach, broccoli, cranberry, or sweet potato.



The name of the dish comes from the Germanic root meaning 'ball' or 'globe'.  The Yiddish name, a derivation of the German name seems to reflect a different shape than the kugels Great Grandma Bess used to make out of a rectangular dish, so it is likely that the shape changed over time (perhaps Pyrex has something to do with this...).

The first kugels were made from bread and flour and were savory rather than sweet.  Then, about 800 years ago, cooks in Germany replaced bread mixtures with noodles or farfel. Eventually eggs were incorporated. The addition of cottage cheese and milk created a custard-like consistency which is common in today's dessert dishes.


Kugels are a mainstay of festive meals in Ashkenazi Jewish (Jews of Eastern European descent like me) homes, particularly on the Jewish Sabbath and other Jewish holidays.  In fact some Hasidic Jews believe that eating kugel on the Jewish Sabbath brings special spiritual blessings, particularly if eaten in the presence of a Hasidic Rabbi.  However as Judiasm is now more than ever a culture as well as a religion, there is no reason or need to wait for the timing of a holiday to make and eat kugel.  Kugel is special because it is a simple form of comfort food.  It is easy to make, easy to pick at while making (a requirement of mine for any good comfort food), and grants its recipient the satisfying creaminess and sweetness of the filling, coupled with my favorite starch of choice- noodles.

Kugel is what we ate around family- whether it was my grandmother who made it for break the fast at Yom Kippur (a holiday based around the idea of asking forgiveness from others and forgiving yourself), or whether it was my mother planning one of our daily family meals, kugel was never eaten alone.  It was and is something to be shared and enjoyed with family, whatever the occasion.

 

Great Grandma Bess's Lochshen Kugel

500g/ 1lb wide egg noodles
4 large eggs
1 stick butter
6oz can crushed pineapple
1/2cup sugar
1 cup cottage cheese
1/2- 2/3 cup flour or bread crumbs
*cream cheese or sour cream to taste optional*

Directions

Cook and drain noodles.

Melt the butter in your 9" x 13" casserole dish in a hot oven 175C/ 350F.  Swirl the melted butter around in the pan to coat it.  Then pour the remaining in with your drained and cooled noodles.
Add all other ingredients, saving the eggs for last so the mixture will have cooled down enough so as not to cook them.

Mix well.

Bake for 45 minutes, checking periodically to insure the top is becoming crispy, but not burnt.

Cool, cut and enjoy for breakfast lunch or dinner with your momma!

Scone verses Biscuit...

Oh the controversy which surrounds the word 'biscuit'.  'Controversy?' you may question.  Yes, controversy- between the British and the Americans (as our household represents) and what the word biscuit actually represents.  Depending on which culture you are referencing or surrounded by, when asking for a 'biscuit' you might be brought one of two things; a sweet and crunchy accompaniment to your tea or milk- generally served after a meal, or a buttery flaky morsel which often accompanies sausage gravy or fried chicken and takes part in the meal itself.

The controversy surrounding this post all started off quite innocently with my quest to use up the rest of the buttermilk I had purchased for last week's Red Velvet adventures.  I had already make pancakes (American style- thick and served in a stack with maple syrup), and needed something else, something a bit easier perhaps as I had been sick for most of the week, and of course something comforting.  So I went to some of my favorite places for recipes and looked up ones that contained buttermilk.  Low and behold the theme for this week quickly unveiled itself.  The online discussion on whether or not one particular recipe was for scones or biscuits was surprisingly feisty and lengthy!  There was also added controversy when I brought said recipe for 'Traditional Scottish Scones' to my Scottish husband for his thoughts and he added that now-a-days 'traditional' Scottish scones would be made using potatoes and not just flour (as perhaps another intentionally distinguishing difference between the Scottish and the English)- thickening the dilemma and culture clash even further!  So the desired simplicity of my chosen recipe for the week certainly has an underbelly of cultural debates and history I surely must uncover and explain, perhaps negating the simplicity altogether....

To begin with here is a bit of history on the use of the word 'biscuit'- 




What Americans refer to as 'cookies' the British refer to as 'biscuits', for the most part.  I have found the British hold very dear to their definition of biscuits- 'cookies' being much larger than your standard Oreo, and 9 times out of 10 are soft and freshly baked rather than pre-packaged.  Why the rigid definition?  This time it is not just a case of the British being British, but rather the outcome of biscuits being defined in a famous court case in 1991.  I kid you not.  Let me explain.

'Jaffa Cakes' are biscuit-like cake in the UK and Ireland.  McVitie and Price introduced the Jaffa Cake in 1927.  Jaffa Cakes are circular, 54mm (2 1/2 inches) in diameter and have three layers: a sponge cake base, a layer of orange flavoured jelly and a coating of dark chocolate (and are one of my husbands favorite snacks ever).  Under UK law, no Value Added Tax (VAT) is charged on biscuits and cakes. Chocolate covered biscuits, however, are subject to VAT, currently 17.5%, as they then become a luxury rather than a necessity. McVities classed its Jaffa Cakes as cakes, but in 1991, this was challenged by Her Majesty's Customs and Excise and the case ended up before the courts. This may have been because Jaffa Cakes are about the same size and shape as some types of biscuit, and particularly because they are commonly eaten alongside, or instead of, traditional biscuits. The court asked "What criteria should be used to class something as a cake?"

McVities argued that a distinction between cakes and biscuits is, among other things, that biscuits would normally be expected to go soft when stale, whereas cakes would normally be expected to go hard. It was demonstrated after a 12 inch Jaffa Cake was made for the court as demonstration that they were in fact cakes, that Jaffa Cakes become hard when stale. After other factors taken into account it was ruled that the Jaffa Cake is a cake. McVities therefore won the case and VAT is not paid on Jaffa Cakes. 

Moral of this story?  DO NOT under any circumstances call a traditional scone a biscuit when in the company of of the British, they fought long and hard to define their biscuit so just let it be!

But speaking of scones (not biscuits) my mother is coming to visit us in just one week!  I remember my family's last and first visit to London just a few years back, and the way my father took to the scones we had in the cafe by the Tower of London.  It was his first real connection to British culture (outside of my then boyfriend Nick) and it was a pleasure to share in his enjoyment.  Though I know these scones won't last for my mother to take them back with her when she leaves (they may not even make it for her arrival if we're not careful), they are also an acknowledgment of my family's last visit, and of my father and his own appreciation of the controversial scone/biscuit, magnified only by the clotted cream he piled on top of them.

By the way Mom, I'm saving this one for you! 

As for the distinguishing difference between the Scottish and the English... that is for another day.

Easy Scones

Ingredients

400g (14 oz) plain flour
100 g (3 3/4 oz) caster sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
175g butter at room temperature
250ml buttermilk, plus some to brush the top of scones before baking

Method

Preheat oven to 175C *I use a fan assisted oven, if you're not using one you can bump it up to 195 or so...


Combine together all dry ingredients.  Cut your butter into small cubes and use a fork to mix into the dry ingredients until mixture resembles small bread crumbs.

Create a well with your dry ingredients and pour in the buttermilk .  Mix until fully combined and you dough is now moist.

Take half of your dough and roll it into a ball with your hands, then place on a well-floured surface.  Knead the dough for 3-4 minutes before using a floured rolling pin to roll the dough out to about 3/4-1cm in thickness.  Using either a rounded cookie cutter or just the lip of a glass cut 6 rounds out and place onto an ungreased baking tray.  Brush with buttermilk and sprinkle with sugar if desired.

Bake for 12-15 minutes or until rounds have risen and tops are golden.  You can roll out the second half of your dough while waiting for your first set of scones.  Cool and consume with clotted cream and strawberry jam- or whatever you prefer!