Pannenkoeken

Fall is a significant time for the Dutch, especially if you’re at the age where you are still going to school. Holland’s summer vacation is fairly short ( if you get to have any summer at all) and before you know it, you’re back in the schoolbanken, agonizing over homework, teachers and hoping your bike hasn’t been stolen while you were in class. 

Thankfully Fall brings a well-deserved break, in the shape of a highly coveted one week vacation called herfstvakantie, or fall vacation. School’s out during that time and families undertake one last fun activity before the winter weather kicks in and reduces outside life to a minimum.  

Herfstvakanties are usually spent outside the home, weather permitting, on a day trip to a theme park such as the Efteling, a weeklong visit with grandma and grandpa, or a trip to the North Sea islands. But regardless of where you go, or with whom, you know that at least once during that week you are going to get treated to that typical Dutch kids favorite: pannekoeken!

Thin, flavorful and as-big-as-your-plate pancakes are a special treat, especially for kids, and are often the food of choice for children’s birthday parties or special occasions. Whole restaurants, called pannekoekenhuisjes (pancake houses), are dedicated to just that: offering a large variety of pancakes and toppings to please everybody’s tastebuds. The décor of these restaurants is usually rural Dutch: lots of white and red checkered tablecloths, big wooden tables and chairs and with an overall farm-feel to it.

But pancakes are not just for kids. For adults, pannekoeken also are a traditional Dutch meal: studded with chunks of apple, pieces of bacon (spekpannenkoek) or covered with a layer of melted aged Gouda cheese, these large flapcakes are a quick and affordable substitute for an evening meal. Unlike in the United States and Canada, pancakes are not part of the breakfast tradition in Holland and are more suited for dinner. Whereas kids usually prefer the batter made with white flour, recipes for grown-up pancakes will often mention buckwheat, whole wheat, or a mixture of both.

The most traditional choice is pannekoek met appelstroop, pancake with apple syrup, a tangy dark sugary spread made out of apple juice. The dark stroop is spread over the whole surface of the pannekoek, after which it is rolled up and either eaten as a wrap, or cut into bite size pieces and consumed with knife and fork. Other popular toppings are peanut butter, chocolate sprinkles, jam, powdered sugar, or just plain. As the batter does not contain any sugar, the pancake can be eaten either as a savory option or as a sweet one. A festive way of serving pancakes can be done in the shape of a pancake cake, a pannenkoekentaart, which consists of layering pancakes and adding flavored yoghurt and/or fresh fruit. 

Keeping Dutch tradition, most people will usually eat a savory pancake first, followed by one with a sweet topping, but you can do whatever you like best! 

Pannekoeken
2 cups (250 grams) flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
2 eggs
2 1/2 cups (500 ml) milk

2 tablespoons (30 grms) butter, melted and room temperature

1 tablespoon (15 gms) butter for the frying pan

Stir the flour and salt together, and then add two cups of milk and the eggs. Beat until the batter is smooth, and thin with the remaining milk. Melt two tablespoons of butter and stir this into the pancake batter. You are looking for a pourable batter. Cover the bowl and let it rest for 30 minutes.

Heat a 12-inch skillet, add ½ tablespoon of butter. As soon as the butter is melted (but not browned), take the skillet off the stove, pour in about 1/3 cup, or a small soup ladle of batter, and swirl the skillet so that the whole bottom surface is covered with a thin layer. Put the skillet back on the stove, and carefully bake the pancake until the surface is dry, about two minutes, then flip or turn the pancake over and cook the other side.

Stack the pancakes as you go and cover them with a clean kitchen tea towel while you bake the rest. Serve with a variety of toppings, both sweet and savory, such as peanut butter, cheese, jam, fruit jams, bacon, or sugar. Makes about ten large pancakes.

Appelstroop-ish
3 cups (700 ml) apple juice or apple cider
1 cup (200 grams) granulated sugar
2 tablespoons dark molasses (optional)

Stir the sugar into the apple juice and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer for the next twenty minutes. When the liquid has been reduced to about half, start monitoring the temperature with a candy thermometer. As soon as the syrup has reached 225F (107C), take the pan off the stove. Let it cool, stir in the molasses (optional), and serve with the pancakes. This appelstroop, when still warm, is not as thick as the commercial product but will thicken when refrigerated. The flavor is similar to the original. Makes one cup. 

Karnemelkpudding

Holland is dairy country par excellence. Much of that lactic largesse is reflected in its vast assortment of cheeses of course, a product so closely associated with The Netherlands that its inhabitants are often referred to as "cheese heads" or kaaskoppen. But the dairy domination does not stop at the cheese monger. Besides yogurt, ice cream and chocolate milk, the dessert section at the grocery store holds a huge variety of puddings, pourable custards (vla), drink yogurts, cream cheese, mousse and bavaroise, all made with delectable Dutch milk.

The pourable vla is a typical Dutch product, with the consistency and mouthfeel of yogurt but without the tang, and served in over twenty flavors: vanilla, chocolate, caramel, strawberry, banana, raspberry, apple-cinnamon, coffee....you name it. We'll do a separate chapter on vlas alone one of these days!

But one dairy product does not usually jump out at anybody for its mouthfeel, for its flavor or even for its innovative character: it's the slighly snubbed, often overlooked karnemelk, or buttermilk. The somewhat sour taste, the viscosity of the milk and sometimes even the smell, will put many off.

Karnemelk is the milk that is left over after the cream has been removed for butter. It's slightly sour and a little thicker than milk and is most often used for baking with: the slight acidity is an excellent trigger for a leavener such as baking powder. In the older days, buttermilk was used as a beverage and for the poorest of people, as a substitute for meat gravy on their potatoes. In the more rural areas of Holland you will still find that some older farmers pour buttermilk over their potatoes before they prak, or mash, them. Don't knock it till you try it!

From probably those same days stems an old-fashioned dessert called buttermilk pudding, or karnemelkpudding. Easy to make, the hardest part is going to exercise the patience to wait until its ready to eat: the pudding requires a minimum of four hours in the refrigerator, and even better overnight. It's a creamy, airy, slightly tangy with a sweet undertone pudding and goes very well with sweet fresh fruit such as strawberries or rode bessensaus, a red currant sauce. For a more wintery dish, try a jar of sweet dark cherries to pair this dessert with.

Karnemelkpudding
1/4 cup granulated sugar (85 grams)
1/4 cup (60 ml) + 2 tablespoons water
1 envelope gelatin powder (or 3 leaves)
2 cups buttermilk (500 ml)
1 cup heavy whipping cream (250 ml)
2 heaping tablespoons powdered sugar

Soak the gelatin leaves, if using, in a bowl of water. Mix the gelatin powder with two tablespoons of water and set aside.

Mix the sugar with the 1/4 cup of water and slowly heat on a stove, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Take the sugar water off the stove, add the gelatin (squeeze the water out of the leaves if using) and stir until it has dissolved as well.

When the liquid has sufficiently cooled, stir the sugar water into the two cups of buttermilk. Stir until everything is well mixed and set it to the side.

In a separate bowl, whip the cream. When you have soft peaks, add the powdered sugar one tablespoon at a time, until stiff peaks form. Carefully fold the whipped cream in with the buttermilk until they are blended. Rinse a 4 cup pudding form (either a large one, or several small ones) with cold water and pour the pudding mix into the mold. Cover with plastic film and refrigerate for a good four to five hours minimum, better overnight.

To remove the pudding from the mold, set the mold in a pan with hot water for ten seconds, then tip over on a plate. Decorate with fresh or canned fruit.

Gerookte Makreel

Mackerel and I don't have the best of relationships. My first encounter with this fatty finned food was while fishing one day on the North Sea, many years ago. It was cold, it was windy and trying to get those slippery fish off the hook while they void their vent on you is a hassle and a half. Not my idea of a fun afternoon, mind you, and I venture to say not the mackerel's either.

Last week, many years after our first date, we met again, mackerel and I. Not anywhere near the North Sea, but in the freezer department of a local grocery store. There it was, immediately recognizable by its distinct silver and dark blue pattern, but slightly less agitated than last time. Well, quite a bit less agitated actually, because it was frozen stiff.

The Dutch traditionally don't smoke many of their foods for preservation or flavor: rookworst (smoked kielbasa), rookvlees (thinly sliced smoked sandwich meat, made from either beef or horse), rookkaas (smoked cheese) are just about it. But visit any fish monger worth his weight and you will find smoked mackerel, smoked eel and smoked herring (bokking) as part of the assortment. Whether as a sandwich filling or as a fatty snack by itself, both mackerel and eel are Dutch favorites when it comes to fish.

Fatty fish are great sources for Omega-3 fatty acids and two portions a week are said to do you much good. Both eel and mackerel are fatty fish and a little bit goes a long way. A one pound mackerel will probably serve three to four easily. Do serve it with either a bread and butter pickle or a pickle spear, to cut through the fat.

*Caution: fatty fish are much more prone to spoilage. As soon as the fish has thawed, gut it and put in in a salt bath, per recipe's instructions. The salt will flavor the meat but also kill any possible pathogens. Brine it for at least three hours, or even better if you can leave it soaking overnight in the fridge.

For this dish you need a smokehouse or smoker. I purchased a Little Chief smoker and used apple chips to smoke the fish. Keep the temperature at an even 150F for the duration of the process: mackerel should be ready in about an hour and a half.

Gerookte Makreel

2 mackerel
Salt
Water
4 handfuls of apple chips

Thaw the fish in the refrigerator, or in the sink under running water. In the meantime, prepare a salt water solution (1 cup of table salt on sixteen cups of water) with enough water to cover both fish.

Lay the fish on its side, and cut open the belly with a short sharp knife from the vent to the gills. Carefully reach inside and pull out all the organs and the digestive tract. Cut out the gills. Rinse out the cavity and the head, and lay the fish in the salt water brine.

Keep the fish submerged in the brine for at least three hours, but if you can brine them overnight in the fridge, even better. The next day, rinse the fish and pat them dry. Insert a sausage hook (I used the metal hooks from a bungee cord) into the back of the head of the fish. 

Fire up your smoker. In the meantime, hang the fish somewhere where they are covered, out of the elements but with some kind of airflow. A small fan might just do the trick. Smoke does not penetrate into wet meats, so the drier the fish, the better the smoke flavor.

Hang the mackerel in your smoker, put the lid back on and get smoking! Mackerel has a distinct flavor of its own and apple will give a tender, non-dominant smoke flavor to the fish, but you are welcome to experiment with any other flavors, or stick to your favorite.

Remove the mackerel when they're golden and done, roll them separately in aluminum foil, and let them rest for an hour. If you want to eat them warm (and who doesn't!!), cut off the head and the tail, and carefully break open the fish by inserting your thumbs into the belly cavity. Remove the spines and the skin, and break the remaining meat into large chunks.

Serve as such, on a buttered roll with a pickle, or cold on some crackers as a snack or appetizer.

Beschuit met muisjes

I'm in such a happy mood! It's Spring, which is always a good reason to celebrate: new life, new births, new everything. I love seeing how the first flowers pop up in the garden, how the first leaves are carefully unfolding as if to check and see if winter is really over. It's a great time to celebrate life.

In Holland, the birth of a child is celebrated with beschuit, a twice-baked white roll that is as brittle and fragile as a new-born baby. Depending on the outcome, these rusks are buttered and sprinkled with pink muisjes if it's a girl, and blue muisjes if it's a boy. As it's usually either one or the other, only those two color variations exist for the sugar coated aniseed muisjes, or "mice". That is, unless you're royalty. In that case, the beschuit will be covered with orange muisjes, to represent the Dutch royal house, the Oranges.

Beschuit has been around since the early 1400s: the then bishop of Utrecht is said to already have enjoyed the twice-baked bread. During the 1600s, the city of Wormer made a name for itself with its beschuit, a finer table bread, and more delicate than its sturdier sister, the scheepsbeschuit or hardtack, that was produced for the seafaring population of that area. The popularity of both had, at one point, over 150 grain mills delivering the flour needed to produce all those beschuiten.

Nowadays, beschuit is still a favorite breakfast bread: it requires skill to butter the rusk without it breaking in three or four pieces and plenty of tourists have wondered why on earth the Dutch bother with something so dry and brittle if there are so many other breads to choose from.

But beschuit is one of those foods that triggers memories: softened with warm milk and sugar it becomes one of grandma's versions of lammetjespap (lambs porridge), crushed to fine crumbs it holds together that lovely schoenlapperstaart (cobbler's pie) or those famous Dutch meatballs, and if you were sick as a child, a cup of weak tea and a dry beschuit would sometimes be the only food you were allowed to eat.

Unfortunately beschuit is no longer baked by artesan bakers such as the ones in Wormer or Jisk, but large companies such as Verkade or Bolletje have included beschuit into their assortment of baked goods. Verkade started baking beschuit during the last part of the 19th century. Baking was considered a man's job but the beschuit was so brittle that Verkade started employing (unmarried) women to pack the rusks, as their hands were more slender and their packing skills more gentle than the burly beschuit bakers.

Making beschuit at home takes some time, but it's worth to do. You can vary with whole wheat flour, add sesame seeds or sprinkle cinnamon sugar on top for a sweet version. For the baking, use straight-edged ramekins that are five inches (approx. 12 cm) across and 1.5 inches (approx. 4 cm) high.

Beschuit
4 tablespoons (60 grams) butter, room temperature
4 tablespoons (50 grams) sugar
1 cup (250 ml) of milk
2 eggs
3 3/4 cups (450 grams) all-purpose flour
1 scant tablespoon (15 grams) baking powder
1 scant tablespoon (10 grams) active dry yeast
1 teaspoon of salt

Cream the butter and sugar. Mix the flour, baking powder, yeast, and salt in a bowl and add to the creamed butter. Add the milk and the eggs and knead everything into a pliable dough, for about five minutes.
Let it rest in an oiled bowl, covered for fifteen minutes, then divide into 3.5 ounces (100 grams) pieces. Roll and rest under a towel while you prepare the ramekins.

Preheat the oven to 350F/175C. Spray each ramekin with cooking spray. Place the dough balls on a baking sheet, cover each one with a ramekin and let the dough rise for about 30 minutes. Place the sheet on the middle rack and bake for twenty minutes, leaving the ramekins in place. Retrieve the baking sheet, remove the ramekins, turn the beschuit over and bake for another ten minutes.

Now, cool the beschuit until cold to the touch and slice the bread lengthwise in two. Place cut side up on the baking sheet and return the rusks to the oven, lowered to 325F/165C to dry and lightly brown.

This will take another ten to fifteen minutes, but keep an eye on the bread.

When they're golden and dry, remove, cool, and enjoy!! Makes approx. 7 beschuiten.

Tomatensoep met balletjes

The Netherlands is currently the world's largest exporter of tomatoes worldwide, ahead of Mexico and Spain. We have quite a history with tomatoes: at first deemed only a decorative fruit, the tomato was considered poisonous until they figured out that the tin plates on which they served them caused the toxins. It quickly moved from show-apple to love-apple, celebrating the presumed aphrodisiacal powers this fruit of the nightshade family might have, and has since 1900 featured in our diets in various formats, one of which is today's tomato soup. 

Unfortunately, our tomato soup has become one of those industrialized, run-of-the-mill soups that are available anywhere and everywhere. Tomato soup is standard on menus, is available from automated soup dispensers and is sold in large family-sized cans, but it's often not more than a gloopy, starchy red mass. No tomato proud of its heritage would want to end up in a can like that....so we're going to make our own!

Wintertime is a great time to put a bowl of steaming hot tomato soup on the table: the color and the flavor will bring back memories of summers past. But fresh tomatoes are hard to come by this time of year, or at least tomatoes that have great flavor, so my go-to during this season are canned diced tomatoes. They have more lycopene than fresh tomatoes, and the flavor is hard to beat since the tomatoes are processed when they are at their ripest, and in such a fast fashion that vitamins and minerals are often preserved. 

If it's summertime when you're reading this, it's a fantastic time to revive tomato soup from its sordid industrialized image. Gardens are flooded with large, juicy, ripe, sun-kissed tomatoes all over, just plain begging to be used up for a homemade, honest, honorable tomato soup. In Holland, tomato soup is traditionally served with soepballetjes, mini meatballs, and a splash of heavy cream. The recipe below makes about four generous servings of soup, and about 20 soepballetjes.

This is a quick soup. For a more elaborate soup, look for Oma's Tomatensoep in the near future.

Dutch Tomato Soup
2 lbs/1 kg ripe tomatoes (use a variety for more complex flavor) or a 28 oz (794 grms) can of (low-sodium) diced tomatoes*
1 beef or vegetable bouillon cube

4 cups/1 liter hot water for fresh tomatoes (2 cups/0.5 liter for canned)
1 small onion or shallot
1 tablespoon butter
3 sprigs fresh thyme
2 bay leaves

For the balletjes:

8 oz (250 grams) ground beef

1/2 egg, beaten

2 tablespoons breadcrumbs

Salt

Pepper

Nutmeg, optional

Peel and chop the onion or shallot and sauté it in the butter. Cut the fresh tomatoes up into small pieces, remove the seeds and, after the onions have become translucent and released their fragrance, add the (canned) tomatoes and simmer for the next ten minutes. Pour the hot water over the top, add the bouillon cube, the bay leaves, and the fresh thyme, bring it up to a boil, then cover and turn down the flame to simmer. In the meantime, season the ground beef with salt and pepper (nutmeg optional) and knead it with the egg and the breadcrumbs together until all the ingredients are mixed, then roll into small marble-sized balls (0.3 oz/8 grams) and let them simmer in the soup for a good ten minutes. 

Remove the bay leaves and the stem sprigs, pull out the meatballs, and blend the soup smooth. Taste and adjust with salt or additional herbs if desired, then add the meatballs back in. Before serving, pour a tablespoon of evaporated milk, milk, or sour cream into each plate and stir.

* I love the diced tomatoes with Italian herbs: perfect for a cold winter day! 

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Amsterdamse Koggetjes

Amsterdam koggetje cookies have quite the history. In 1935, a competition was held to come up with a luxury cookie for the city of Amsterdam. Both the secular Dutch Pastry Baker's Association and the Roman Catholic Baker's Association participated. 

The winner, whose name is not known with certainty but it's thought that it might have been a Mr. Van Dorssen, entered the Amsterdamse Koggetje, named after the medieval merchandise ships called Kogge (koggetje is a diminutive of kog, cog ship) that also appear on the oldest arms of the city of Amsterdam.



Courtesy of Pieter Bak
http://home.versatel.nl/bak014/

 Mr. Van Dorssen was a member of the Dutch Pastry Baker's Assocation, which excluded the Roman Catholic bakers from producing and selling the Koggetjes in their establishments. In order to ensure this, the cookies were sold in special made koggetjes cookie tins. Not too impressed with this move, the RC bakers came up with an enamel plaque to fasten next to the bakery's entrance, announding that "From Amsterdam, you bring Koggetjes home!" and baked the cookie regardless.

Nowadays, anybody is free to produce koggetjes at will. Even the HEMA, a much beloved Dutch department store, has them as a standard cookie in their assortment. Another name for koggetje is nougatine, referring to the caramel it contains, or kletsmajoor.

Koggetjes
7 tablespoons butter
1/4 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup and 1 tablespoon of sugar
1 tablespoon milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup flour, sifted

For the caramel
1/3 cup of sugar
2 tablespoons of water

Start with the caramel: heat the sugar and the water up, bring it to a boil and while stirring let it caramelize. Pour the hot caramel on a silicone baking mat or a piece of parchment paper and let it cool. Once cooled, break it into small pieces with the help of a rolling pin.

Cream the butter with the sugar, the salt, the milk and the vanilla. Stir in the flour until well blended, then fold in the caramel pieces. Add the dough to a pastry bag and pipe dollops on a well greased baking sheet or a silicone baking mat. Heat the oven to 320F and bake golden in 15 minutes. The dough will spread so make sure you leave enough space between the dollops.

When the cookies are golden and have a slight browned edge, carefully remove them from the oven and the baking sheet, and let them cool on a rack.  Makes approximately 24 cookies.

Prûmebôle

Hieronymus van Alphen, the famous Dutch poet who lived from 1746-1803, was especially known for his poetry for children. Even though he only managed to write less than 70 poems for this particular audience, his work ended up translated in French, German, English, Frisian and Malaysian, which for that time was quite a feat.

One of his most celebrated works is a poem called The Plum Tree (De Pruimeboom), about obedience and its rewards. It goes as follows;

Johnny saw some fine plums hanging,

Oh! like eggs, so very large;

Johnny seemed about to pluck them,

Though against his father's charge.

Here is not, said he, my father,

Nor the gard'ner near the tree,

From those boughs so richly laden,

Five or six plums - who can see ?

But I wish to be obedient,

I'll not pluck them; off I go.

Should I for a trifling handful

Disobedient be? Oh no.

Off went Johnny; but his father,

Who had overheard his talk,

Just then forward stepped to meet him,

In the garden middle-walk.

Come, my Johnny, said his father,

Come, my little darling boy,

Now for you some plums I'll gather,

Now you are your father's joy.

Then Pa gave the tree a shaking;

Johnny stooped with laughing face,

Johnny filled his hat quite brimful,

Off then galloped in a race.

For however lovely the poem is, its moral lesson went straight over my head. Only last week I saw gorgeous plums hanging in the neighbor's tree and reached to pick and eat one. Just as I sank my teeth into the sweet flesh, the neighbor walked out the door, grinning. Busted!!!

What could I do? I had a half-eaten fruit in my left hand, purple plum juice dripping down my chin and my right hand was still holding on to the branch of her tree. So I gave her a cheesy grin and shrugged my shoulders. Hey, what can I say? I'm not Johnny :-)

But this week I'm doing penance. Instead of scolding me, the neighbor lady picked two full bags of plums and left them on the porch for me to find. Nice! So I've been in plum heaven this week: I canned plum jam, dehydrated several trays of plum slices and made some yummie plum brandy. 

I also wanted to try an old recipe that I found in a Frisian cookbook from 1772, De Welkokende Vriesche Keukenmeid, one of the few recipes that lists plums. For some reason or other plums are not big in the Dutch kitchen and research only gave me two recipes: this one and a traditional Limburgse vlaai made from dark plums.

This recipe for a good old sturdy plum bread pudding, was traditionally a dish made with dried plums (i.e. prunes) and given to new mothers. Apart from the luxury of eggs, milk and sugar that surely did a new mother good, the prunes provided much needed relief from eh...well whatever prunes offer relief from. You know.

But since I didn't need the laxative benefits of a prune pudding (although some people may suggest otherwise) and I found myself with a copious amount of pre-prunes, I decided to make this dish with fresh plums instead. It lends itself to a gorgeously rich, fruity, sweet and slightly tart bread pudding that is wonderful eaten warm out of the oven, with or without a scoop of ice cream.....

Prûmebôle

10 fresh plums

12 slices of old bread

2 eggs

2 cups of milk

1/3 cup of sugar

3 tablespoons of brandy

1 tablespoon of cinnamon

1 tablespoon of orange zest

2 teaspoons of brown sugar

1/2 stick of butter, room temperature

Pinch of salt

Pinch of nutmeg

Butter an 8x8 baking pan. Cut the crust off the slices of bread and spread butter on both sides of the slice. Put four slices of bread on the bottom of the pan.

Slice the plums and distribute half of the slices over the buttered bread pieces in the pan. Sprinkle one third of the cinnamon over the fruit, and half of the orange zest. Place another four slices of bread on top, and divide the rest of the fruit over the bread. Sprinkle another third of cinnamon over the top, add the rest of the orange zest and cover with the last four slices of bread. Sprinkle the rest of the cinnamon on top, and the two teaspoons of sugar.

Beat the milk, the eggs, salt, nutmeg and three tablespoons of brandy into a foamy liquid, on medium high for about four minutes. Pour the milk mixture over the bread in the pan, cover and rest either overnight, or at least for two hours in the fridge. Remove from the fridge while you heat up the oven to 350F.

Place the pan on a baking sheet to catch any juices and bake the bread pudding for at least 45 minutes or until the top is golden. Best eaten warm.

Lekkerbekjes

"You are such a lekkerbek!" If someone says that to you in Dutch, just nod approvingly, wipe the grease off your chin and give them a big smile. A lekkerbek is someone who loves food, good food. And a not more appropriate name could have been given to today's dish, fried whiting, as it is indeed something an epicure might enjoy.

As a matter of fact, the whiting, is a bit of a lekkerbek himself, both in life and in eh....deep-fried afterlife, shall we say. Feeding primarily on shrimp and mussels, the whiting has a full and rounded taste, much unlike similar other white fish. You are, after all, what you eat.

Whiting was for the longest time the standard fish for this recipe, next to cod. A flavorful fish, cheap and abundant in the North Sea, it was battered, fried and served as Friday's meat replacement for the predominant Catholic south. Nowadays, whiting is not as abundant anymore and most lekkerbekjes are made from pangasius, not half as tasty as the whiting.

Fish stands and fishmongers are still easily found in cities and towns: most weekly markets will have at least one fishmonger who sells seafood, shrimp, herring and fish. People often buy a lekkerbekje to consume right there and then, or take it home for lunch or dinner. I guess it takes one to know one!

Lekkerbekjes

4 pieces of whiting or cod

1 cup of flour

1/2 cup of milk

1/2 teaspoon of dried dill

Pinch of salt and pepper

Dry the fish on both sides and rub a little bit of flour on it. Make a thick batter with the flour, milk, dill, salt and pepper. Add a tablespoon of milk if it's too thick.

Heat your fryer to 375F or heat oil in a cast-iron pan on the stove. Take the necessary safety precautions and keep kids and pets out of the kitchen! Try a little piece first: dip it in the batter and fry. Taste it and adjust the seasonings to your liking.

Put the rest of the fish in the batter, turn it over so that both sides are covered and drop it in the hot oil. Fry to a golden brown, remove from the oil and place it on a plate with some paper towels to drain the fat.

Serve with boiled potatoes and vegetables for dinner, or have it for lunch on a roll, with some tartarsauce on the side.

Kaas - Uienbrood

I'm always amazed at how one bite of something, or sometimes even just the smell, can so easily transport me back ages in time.....As you know by now, the Dutch love their breads. You can get such an amazing variety at the bakeries, and even at the much more limited supermarkets, that it's hard to imagine life without bread. The smell and taste of today's bread immediately whisked me back to my early teens, back in Holland.

During my lunchtime in 7th grade, instead of eating at school, I'd ride my bike over to the local bakery and try some of their breads: one day I'd buy a baguette, another day I'd choose two or three different soft rolls.....but always something different. I loved the clean, fresh taste of baked bread and all the different flavors and options.

One of the more elaborate breads, taste-wise, was a kaas-uien brood, a cheese-onion bread. A lovely flat bread topped with slices of onion and cheese, baked in the oven to the point that the cheese would melt and the onion would be cooked......It was a rich bite, but not much beats a warm cheese/onion slice of bread on a cold wintery day! Somehow that bread always stuck by me and reminds me of that small bakery in Blerick. You will find this bread at almost any bakery or lunchroom in Holland.

Kaas-uien brood serves well as a snack, as a quick lunch item or as a flavorful side to a bowl of split-pea soup, brown bean soup or even a good old-fashioned tomato soup. You can make a big slab and cut it in squares or make smaller loaves so that every person has their own. The bread is good either cold or hot. 

Your choice of cheese is personal. For this version I used an American Sharp Cheddar, but you are welcome to use the cheese you prefer.

Kaas-Uien Brood

2 1/2 cups (350 grams) all-purpose flour

1/2 tablespoon (3 grams) active dry yeast

1 cup (236 ml) warm milk

Pinch of salt

1 medium sweet onion

2 cups (180 grams) grated cheese

Place the flour in a bowl, add the yeast and the warm milk and knead quickly into a slightly sticky dough. Knead in the salt, cover and set aside to rise, until double its size. In the meantime, peel the onion, cut it in half and slice it into thin slices. 

Shape the dough into a log, cover and let it rise again, until about 2/3s of its former size. Use a rolling pin to flatten the dough about 1/2 inch (1.2 cm) high. Heat the oven to 375F/190C.

Distribute the raw onion slices over the bread and cover with the cheese. Put the sheet to the side, let the dough rise one last time, until it's nice and puffy, then place the baking sheet in the oven and bake for about twenty minutes or until the cheese is melted and has a nice golden hue to it.

Remove the bread from the sheet, and let it rest for five minutes before cutting in to it. Serve in small squares as a snack during a gezellige avond with friends, or serve for lunch or dinner with a side salad.

Gezelligheid kent geen tijd

"Time flies when you're having fun"

Gezellig is one of those typical Dutch words that defy translation and often confuse non-natives when confronted with it: it's not cozy, it's not comfortable, it's just gezellig. It describes a mood, a feeling and, dare I say, a national common purpose.

Gezellig is going shopping with a girlfriend to the market, seeing new products from stall to stall and then relaxing on a café patio with a cup of coffee and a piece of apple pie.

Gezellig is an evening at home with friends, talking over a nice dinner, a glass of wine, some snacks. Before you know it, it's 3am in the morning, you get ready to go home and everybody agrees that it was very gezellig and that you should do this again soon . In English you would say "time flies when you're having fun". In Dutch, it's Gezelligheid kent geen tijd. (Gezelligness doesn't keep track of time).

Gezellig is making time for each other, for connecting with like-minded people, for exchanging ideas, thoughts, visions without anybody getting upset or annoyed. You can't be gezellig alone, you need someone else there with you. If you get your panties in a twist or somehow easily upset the idyllic environment, you will be quickly classified as "ongezellig", or not gezellig at all. Not good if you thrive on other people's company, great if you're a hermit.

British-born Marianne Orchard from Like A Sponge, a former blog about the Dutch language and living in Holland, discussed this national characteristic in her post about the Avondvierdaagse (a national four day evening walking event that is held throughout the country) and mentions the following:

" Then I have a sudden flash of enlightenment and I understand the Avondvierdaagse better than I did last year: I just need to see it in terms of gezelligheid. (...) We are missionaries of gezelligheid. There will be no ungezelligd territory. On Dutch maps of yore it doesn’t say ‘here be dragons’ for unchartered territory: it says ‘here be ongezelligheid’."

It's almost a national decision to be gezellig, and very much the core of our culture. And let's face it, in these challenging times, shouldn't we make some time to deliberately be gezellig, with our family, friends or casual strangers.......So go forth and be gezellig today!

Aardappelsalade

As much as we like our potatoes, you'd think aardappelsalade, potato salad, would have a huge place in the Dutch kitchen. The potato as an edible tuber was introduced to the Netherlands in the late 1500's and since, thrifty housewives have found numerous ways of implementing potatoes into their daily menu.

Nevertheless, neither potato salad nor mashed potatoes are big in the Netherlands. Leftover boiled potatoes are usually just sliced and fried golden in butter and served with lunch or dinner the next day, and mashed potatoes still are most often made from a bag instead of fresh potatoes. I'm not saying that we don't eat potato salad, it just doesn't seem to have much of an appeal somehow.

This would explain why not many Dutch cookbooks, whether they cover modern, traditional, regional or last-century cooking, mention potato salad at all. Out of the random twenty books I pulled off the shelf only three books mentioned potato salad: one was a student cookbook, one a book on Limburg dishes and one was a general, basic cookbook from the early eighties. Any of the other books, not a word....

But aardappelsalade is not altogether absent either. Served as a cold salad on the side with an order of uitsmijter, you can still find it here and there, most often in road restaurants, or served with bread as a late evening snack at a party or a get-together. Aardappelsalade is also traditionally the basis of a more elaborate dish called "koude schotel", cold tray, that is often served at barbeque or grill backyard parties, summer lunches or rural weddings or funerals.

The aardappelsalade consists usually of a few main ingredients: boiled potatoes, onions, pickles and mayonnaise. Anything else beyond that is up to someone's own interpretation of the salad, and often depends on family or regional favorites. Some add leeks, spring onions, celery, or carrots ....others add bacon, roast beef, kielbasa or chicken. A lighter version can be made with yogurt instead of mayonnaise, or a more complex salad flavorwise is achieved with adding mustard or piccalilly.

This potato salad is one that my oma, grandmother, would make. Adding apple to a potato salad seems to be a more southern tradition and will not be liked by all, at first. However, the incredible flavor marriage between the salty and creamy potato, the crunch of the apple, the tanginess of the pickle and the slight sweetness of the onion.....it all comes together beautifully and will win over many a potato salad loving heart.

A refreshing, easy to make salad for those hot summer evenings, this potato salad will be a welcome addition to your backyard barbeque menu, or as a quick lunch snack with a slice of bread.

Oma's aardappelsalade

8 medium potatoes

1/2 of a small onion

8 dill pickles, whole

2 small red apples

6 tablespoons of mayonnaise

3 tablespoons of pickle juice

Salt and pepper to taste

Scrub the potatoes and boil in salty water until done, about twenty minutes. If a fork easily goes through the skin and hits the center of the potato without resistance, the potatoes are done. Pour off the water and set the tubers to the side to cool.

In the meantime, mince the onion and the pickle. Scrub the apple but leave the peel on, core it and dice. Peel the warm potatoes, then cube them into bite-size pieces. It's best if the potato is still slightly warm. Mix the mayonnaise with the pickle juice and carefully stir the potato cubes into the dressing, and add the minced onion, pickle and apple. Carefully fold the salad until all liquid is absorbed. Taste. Adjust seasonings with salt and pepper.

Cover and refrigerate for at least four hours or preferably overnight. Serve cold.

Kletskoppen

Sometimes this whole Dutch food mapping quest throws me a curveball. Ever since I was a child, I remember these crispy, sweet cookies to be flavored with peanuts. Heck, I even thought that the name for it, kletskop* (bald head), was because of the glabrous goobers rising above the flat surface of the cookie.

But when looking up kletskop recipes in my collection of cookbooks, I noticed that the ingredients consistently listed almonds. Either ground or chopped almonds, but no peanuts. I consulted some of the Dutch friends that were online whether they remembered kletskoppen with peanuts or almonds, and all but one remembered peanuts. On top of that, last Christmas when I spent some time in Holland I bought an array of cookies (gotta love the extent of research I do for this blog!!) and I distinctly remember the kletskoppen having peanuts.

What to do, what to do? For authenticity's sake I would use almonds, since that seems to be the official version, but for memory's sake I'm more inclined to go with peanuts, seeing as how that's what seems to be the "right" cookie. So I made both. And I definitely favor the peanut one, if only for the fact that it makes the cookie bulkier and nuttier.

If you are allergic to nuts, make the cookie by itself or substitute the nuts for chocolate chips, raisins etc....If someone else along the line changed almonds to peanuts without telling any of us, you are more than welcome to make this cookie your own!

*Kletskop can also mean "chatterbox". Where the name comes from is unclear but the city of Leiden seems to claim kletskoppen as their own.

Kletskoppen

4 tablespoons butter (60 grams), room temperature

1/2 cup brown sugar (100 grams), tightly packed

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup (50 grams) Spanish or regular peanuts

1/3 cup (60 grams) all-purpose flour

Cream the butter with the sugar and the cinnamon. Add flour one tablespoon at a time until it's all absorbed. Fold in the peanuts and preheat the oven to 400F/200C. Place the rack right above the middle position.

The dough should be slightly sticky but easy to work with. If it sticks too much, add a little bit of flour or refrigerate the dough for ten minutes, then try again. Test one cookie by rolling about 28 grams/1 oz  of dough into a marble. Line your baking sheet with a double lining of parchment paper or with a silicone pad. Put the dough marble on top and press it down with the palm of your hand. Bake for five to eight minutes. The dough will spread significantly because of the high sugar/fat content but will burn just as quick so keep an eye on it.

Take the tray out of the oven, let the cookie cool for a minute or two, then carefully transfer it to a cooling rack. It will harden as it cools. It should have spread to about 3.5 inches/8.5 cm in diameter. 

Did it spread too much? Add half a tablespoon of flour and mix it into the dough. Did it not spread enough? Add half a tablespoon of water. Try again. Once you have the right result, roll the rest of the dough into marbles and bake. 

Check after five minutes to make sure they're not burning, remove and after cooling for a minute or two, transfer them to a cooling rack. Store in a cookie jar, as humidity, will soften these cookies up in no time!

Makes approximately 20 cookies. This is a fantastic cookie to go with a cup of coffee or tea. Because of its crispness, it lends itself to more than just a treat with your daily beverage of choice. Add texture to your puddings with a crisp kletskop or use two cookies for an ice cream sandwich.

Kroketten

Market sign announcing the "one
and only" Van Dobben Kroket  on
a roll

The most popular posts on this blog tend to be either sandwich-related or fast-food related: the broodjes post scores high, as well as the bitterballen and the frikandellen posts. The latter scores high on a list of its own, the Top Ten of Favorite Snacks (http://snacks.toptien.nl/), and is closely followed by the ultimate deep-fried gravy stick, the meat kroket.

Companies such as Van Dobben and Kwekkeboom, both food establishments in Amsterdam, are famous for their meat kroketten and have been offering this fried delicacy since the mid 1940s. Each has their own following, and discussions about which kroket is superior is ongoing. Patisserie Holtkamp, one of the more sophisticated baked goods shops around town, also showcases kroketten, or in their case, croquetten, but has embraced a more varied flavor assortment: veal, cheese, sweetbreads/truffle and lobster. The Holtkamp shrimp croquet is their best-selling item. 

Holtkamp's Shrimp Croquet

Kroketten started as a great way to use up leftovers: Sunday's roast, or meat used to make soups, ended up in the meat grinder, then folded into a creamy thick gravy, after which it was refrigerated, rolled into logs, breaded and deep-fried to a beautiful golden bar. Meat kroketten are usually consumed with a good mustard, either by themself or on a white roll.

The cookbook from the Amsterdam Home Economics School, Kookboek van de Amsterdamse Huishoudschool, in its tenth edition from the 1940s, mentions a variety of croquetten: meat but also potato and shrimp, fish, sweetbreads, cheese and even macaroni. The spelling was fancier (the "c" and "q" were replaced by the more common "k" in later years) which also implied a more sophisticated presentation: according to the book, croquetten were to be deep-fried until golden, stacked in a pyramid-shape and served on a starched napkin with fried parsley for decoration.

Wow. Well, nowadays the meat kroket is usually served in a less charming manner: in a triangular paper cone or simply out of the wall on a paper tray, with no fried parsley or starched napkin in sight. And you'll be hard pressed to find a sweetbread kroket or a macaroni kroket in any of the establishments for supplying fatty foods such as the neighborhood snackbars or Febos.

But let that not stop us! Today we're making meat kroketten. The meat was first used to draw a beef stock for a vegetable soup, then shredded. You can also use leftover roast beef. If all you have is a pound of raw chuck roast or some other simmer meat, place the meat in a saucepan, add eight cups of water, half an onion, two peeled carrots and two chopped sticks of celery. Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for two hours. Skim the broth, discard the vegetables and cool the meat.

Make sure you bread the kroket on all sides: one small crack and the filling will spill out into the fryer and cause a mess. You can also use this mixture for bitterballen. Once you get the hang of it, experiment with your own flavors. Leftover bbq beef? Go for it. A vegetarian version with a mushroom medley? Awesome! Just because Kwekkeboom, Holtkamp and Van Dobben come up with all kinds of flavors, doesn't mean you can't :-)

Kroketten
1 lb (450 grams) beef, cooked and chilled
1 cup (250 ml) milk or beef bouillon
6 tablespoons flour

1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1/8 teaspoon dried thyme
1/4 teaspoon  ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon  salt
2 tablespoons (30 grams)  butter
2 eggs
1 cup panko or breadcrumbs

Shred the cooked meat and chop fine in a food processor, or by hand. Melt the butter in a pan, and stir in the flour. When the flour has soaked up all the fat, slowly pour in the milk or bouillon while continuing to stir. The flour will thicken the liquid and turn into a thick, creamy gravy. Stir at least one or two more minutes after the sauce has come together to get rid of some of the flour taste. Now add the tablespoon of chopped parsley, the pinch of pepper and salt and finally stir in the chopped meat. If the gravy is too thin, add another tablespoon of flour. Too thick? Carefully add a tablespoon of milk or broth to the mix and stir.

Spread this meaty mix on a baking sheet or a shallow plate, let it cool for about thirty minutes, then wrap and refrigerate it overnight.

Remove the roux from the fridge. Sprinkle some flour on the counter, divide the mixture into six equal pieces and roll each piece through the flour. Shape into tight logs, approximately 4 inches long and 1 inch wide. Your main concern will be to have kroketten approximately the same size. Wrap and refrigerate, while you prepare the rest.

Place three deep plates in a row. In the first one, put flour, the second one 2 beaten eggs, the third one, one cup of panko or breadcrumbs. Take the kroketten out of the fridge. With your dominant hand, lightly roll the kroket in the flour, then through the egg (make sure you cover the whole surface!) and finally through the breadcrumbs. Check to see that each area of the log is covered. Set aside while you repeat with the rest of the kroketten. Wrap and refrigerate while you heat up the oil.

Heat your fryer oil up to 375F. When it's ready, place one or two kroketten at a time in the hot oil and fry them until golden. This will take anywhere from 3-5 minutes. Take them out of the oil and let them drain on a couple of paper towels to get some of the fat off.

Serve hot. With or without fried parsley or a starched napkin, but do not forget the mustard!

Groentesoep met balletjes

One of the many perks of writing this blog is receiving and responding to emails from readers. Some of you comment on the articles, others reminisce about the memories a dish brings back, and yet others ask for a specific recipe. Soup must be in the air, so to say, as several requested "soep met balletjes", soup with meatballs, this last week.

Holland's cuisine knows many soups, from the sturdy thick split pea soup to a brothy, light, appetite-arousing groentesoep, or vegetable soup, like today's recipe.  A standard item in groentesoep are, besides the vegetables, these so-called soup balls, or soepballetjes. Not the big softball-size meatballs, or gehaktballen, that the Dutch serve for dinner, but bitesize balletjes the size of marbles. 

The meat used for these fleshy globes is "half-om-half", half pork and half beef. The fattiness of the pork makes sure that the meatballs stay juicy and tender, and the beef adds body and flavor. Omas, or grandmas, usually had a "pannetje soep" on the back of the stove, simmering, and many of us associate soup with Sunday afternoon visits to grandma's house. Soup is still a favorite starter for an evening meal or a Sunday lunch, and an easy and affordable dish to feed a family with.

Practically any kind of soup will benefit from these soepballetjes, whether they're stock-based or thick, puréed soups. You may consider rolling enough to freeze so you can have them at hand at any moment. Just a thought!

Today's soup is a simple vegetable soup: use either store-bought bouillon cubes to make the eight cups of stock, or make your own. Select a variety of chopped vegetables (typical Dutch soup vegetables are leeks, cauliflower, carrots and celery) or, if you're in a pinch, even a bag of frozen stir-fry vegetables will do.

Groentesoep met balletjes

8 oz (500 grams) ground pork
8 oz (500 grams) ground beef
1 tablespoon panko or breadcrumbs
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
8 cups (2 liters) bouillon or stock
2 cups (depends) vegetables

Mix the meats with the breadcrumbs, the salt, pepper and nutmeg until well blended. Roll small meatballs the size of a marble.

In the meantime, heat the bouillon stock to a slow boil. Add the fresh vegetables and simmer for a good twenty minutes. Put several soepballetjes at a time in the bouillon, wait ten seconds, then add some more, until they're all in the soup. The meatballs are done when they start to float, within a minute or two.

Taste the soup, adjust seasonings as needed and serve warm. This is one of those soups that improves with time, so feel free to make a large pot!



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