Kibbeling

There are certain Dutch joys that cannot be explained, such as after bicycling home from school, a cup of hot split pea soup in your gloveless, cold hands. Or sitting on the cold shoulder on the side of the canal, taking a break from skating, with a mug of hot chocolate and a gevulde koek. Going to oma's on Sunday and smelling the groentesoep on the stove....... 

Just simple things that make you happy to be alive. Often it's the memories that make the food special. Sometimes food doesn't have any memories, but it just tastes good. Like today's kibbeling.

The last time I recall eating kibbeling was at a fish vendor's cart on one of the many beaches that Holland is rich. I can't remember which one, or what business it was. All I remember was the sun on my face, the slight salty breeze in my hair and a plate of hot, greasy fish nuggets on my lap. Bliss!

For the batter, you can use milk, sparkling water, or beer.  

A fairly modern development with kibbeling is the use of a spice mix. Most fish vendors will have their own personalized mix, but there are a few commercial mixes on the market. The main ingredients are salt, white pepper, paprika, ground mustard, curry powder, nutmeg, onion powder, and dried herbs, such as dill or parsley. If you can't find any on the market, see if you can get a start with those ingredients. Season a piece of fish, batter and fry it, and see how it tastes. It may take a few times to get the right mix per your preference. Or see if your favorite fish vendor will sell you some of his or her own mix - doesn't hurt to ask.

Kibbeling
2 lbs (1 kg) whiting or cod
1 cup (150 grams) flour
1/2 cup (125 ml) milk

1/2 teaspoon dried dill or parsley

1 teaspoon paprika powder

Pinch of onion powder, dried mustard, curry

or
Kibbeling spice mix (see above)
Pinch of salt and pepper

For the remoulade dipping sauce:
4 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon capers, chopped
2 dill pickles, chopped fine
1 tablespoon fresh parsley, chopped

Oil for frying (canola, sunflower, peanut*)

Pt the fish dry on all sides. Cut it into two-inch pieces, and pat it dry again - this is important! Dust the pieces with the spice mix, then with a tablespoon of the flour. Make a thick batter with the rest of the flour and milk, salt, and pepper. Add a little bit of milk if it's too thick.

Heat your fryer to 350F or heat oil in a cast-iron pan on the stove. Try a little piece of fish first: dip it in the batter and fry until golden. 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, a few pieces at a time. Fry to a golden brown, remove from the oil, and place it on paper towels to drain the fat.

Mix the mayo with the capers, chopped pickles, and parsley. Taste. Adjust with salt and pepper if desired, and add a little bit of pickle juice if it's too thick.

Serve the pieces of kibbeling when they’re hot, and serve the dipping sauce on the side. Even kids will love the taste of this fried fish, so make plenty!

 

*Please advise if you have guests in case they have a (pea)nut allergy.

Speculaasjes

Each season has its charms: in the winter we embrace heavy dishes of stamppot and erwtensoep, and we break the heavyness in the spring when we enjoy the first bounty of the land with white asparagus and early strawberries. The summer regales us with an abundance of fresh fruits and vegetables, and the fall is host to mussels and a variety of apple dishes.

But nothing smells as good as this time of year, when we start preparing for the upcoming holidays of Sinterklaas and Christmas.  Enticing autumnal aromas waft from the kitchen as we bake taai taai, kruidnoten en gevulde speculaas. The fragrance bouquet of cinnamon, nutmeg, clove and ginger is one that belongs to this season, and neighbors will be wondering what you're up to, hoping for a taste of whatever it is you're baking!

Today's recipe, the humble speculaas cookie, is a great and welcome gift to those same neighbors, and will hold you over with a cup of coffee while you're waiting for the next tray to come out of the oven. It's also a good way to test your mix of speculaaskruiden, speculaas spices, and see if some spices need adjusting if you are going to do additional baking this season. Speculaaskruiden are used for speculaas, gevulde speculaas and even apple pie!

The dough will hold several days in the fridge, so there is no need to bake everything at once. Makes approximately 75 cookies. You can use cookie cutters or the more traditional speculaas molds, wooden boards that are cut out with traditional figures. If you do, dust your board well and make sure the dough is stil fairly cold so it doesn't stick to the board. Here's a video on how to accomplish this: http://www.cookerathome.nl/shoart.php?artikelid=126.

Speculaasjes
2 sticks butter
2 cups dark brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 cup speculaas spices**
1/4 cup buttermilk


Cream the butter with the sugar and the salt. Sift the flour with the baking powder and the spices and knead it into the butter. Use the milk to make it to a rollable, but slightly stiff dough, it is not allowed to stick to your hands! Wrap the dough in plastic film and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, warm the oven to 325F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicon mat. Divide the dough in four pieces. Re-wrap three and return them to the fridge.

Dust the counter with a little bit of flour and roll out the dough. Cut out shapes* (I used a windmill cookie cutter but you are welcome to use any kind you fancy) and place them on the parchment. When you're done, return the baking sheet briefly to the fridge for about ten minutes, then place in the oven and bake. The cookies are done after about twenty minutes.

Cool on a rack.



* If you don't have any cookie cutters you like, just cut cookies the size of a business card, about 2 x 3.5 inches. You can sprinkle some slivered almonds on top if you wish.

** ** For the spices: start with 2 heaping tablespoon of ground cinnamon. Mix in a 1/2 scant teaspoon nutmeg, 1/2 teaspoon scant ground cloves, 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger, 1/4 teaspoon cardamom, 1/4 teaspoon mace and 1/4 teaspoon white ground pepper and, if you have it, 1/4 teaspoon of dried orange peel. If you like the flavor of anise, add a 1/4 teaspoon of ground anise to give it a special twist. Smell and decide if you like it. Too much clove? Add in a bit more cinnamon. Prefer more ginger? Feel free to add some more. You are welcome to make it your very own, but make sure you write down the quantities and ingredients so you can replicate your personal recipe. Store in an airtight jar.

Rijst met krenten

Holland is a great country to grow up in, as a child. Besides plenty of playgrounds in the many parks the country is rich, we have fabulous theme parks like the Efteling or Madurodam, and hands-on museums like Evoluon, where you can learn, explore and just enjoy being a kid.

But one of the best parts of growing up in Holland is being able to read, or being read, Jip and Janneke stories. These creations, from industrious and talented Annie M.G. Schmidt, are short and witty tellings about two neighbors: Jip (a boy) and Janneke (a girl) with fantastic illustrations by Fiep Westendorp. And this month, they celebrate their 60th anniversary!

The stories started as weekly publications in the Het Parool newspaper in 1952, but quickly gained a following. The stories are short, simple and sweet. Jip and Janneke celebrate their birthdays, bake an Easter bread, visit grandma or stay up until midnight on New Years Eve. Nothing grand, nothing overly adventurous, but just two small kids living life.

Most everyone that grew up with Jip and Janneke has a favorite story. Mine is the one where Janneke's family is having company over and Jip and Janneke admire the cake that will be served after coffee. Jip smells the cake and says it is wonderful, upon which Janneke wants to smell it too. But she is a little too hasty and her little nose disappears in the frosting, leaving a small hole. After their initial dismay, they decide to make a row of small holes by sticking their noses in the cake, all along the outside. So cute!!!

Another story, and one that I used to base the recipe on today is the "rice with raisins" dog: the common nickname for a Dalmatian. Jip and Janneke visit a farm and see this huge dog, upon which Janneke exclaims; "It's a rice-and-raisins dog!" because of its white coat and black dots. The dish itself is an old-fashioned, easy to prepare and enjoyed by all, cold weather dessert.

If currants are not easy to come by, you can easily replace them with dark raisins.

Rijst met krenten
1 cup short grain rice
4 cups milk
1/2 vanilla bean
Salt
3 tablespoons raisins
2 tablespoons sugar

Wash the rice until it rinses clear. Pour the milk on the rice and bring slowly to a boil, add the vanilla bean, a pinch of salt, the raisins and the sugar. Slowly simmer until the rice is cooked, about twenty minutes. Remove the bean, taste and adjust with sugar, or a little bit of cinnamon, and serve warm.

Optional: pour the rice in ramekins, sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon and place under the broiler so that the sugar melts and hardens for a crunchy topping.

 

Poffertjes

Poffertjes... the name alone invokes visions of carnivals, festivities and palatal pleasure. Even saying it brings joy to the vocal cords. You can't say poffertjes (POH-fur-tjes) without a smile on your face, try it!

Poffertjes are an integral part of national holidays, summer festivals and fun celebrations. During the Christmas and New Year season, you will find poffertjes vendors on every Christmas market, usually right next to that other holiday treat, oliebollen. 

A recipe for poffertjes (also known as bollebuisjes or broedertjes) first appears in a cookbook from the mid 1700s. Made exclusively with buckwheat flour, water and yeast, it was considered a poor man's meal. Buckwheat only grows on arid, poor ground and provided poor farmers with the necessary substance. And you can see why: a plate full of hot pancakes, covered with powdered sugar and a rapidly melting piece of butter will give anybody enough energy to get back out there and take on the weather elements. Later recipes call for wheat flour, milk and eggs, but always keep yeast as a leavener which gives it its puffiness.

When the Dutch settlers came to America, they brought the poffertjes and the pan they're made in with them. In James Eugene Farmer's book "Brinton Eliot, from Yale to Yorktown" we read: "On the evening of the 4th of May, Jans and Hybert Weamans were seated near the trap-door of the cellar, smoking, drinking beer, and eating puffards from the puffet-pan." Puffards, puffets, bollebouches.......they're all the same name for our beloved poffertjes.

Made on a dimpled cast iron pan for the home cook, or commercially on large copper dimpled plates as seen in the pictures below, poffertjes can also be made at home on a griddle if you don't have a poffertjespan. Just place tablespoons of batter on the slightly greased surface and turn them with the tine of a fork when the outside rim has dried up a bit and bubbles come to the surface. Their name comes from the way these small pancakes act once you turn them over: they puff up.

Traditionally served with powdered sugar and a healthy chunk of butter, poffertjes are a welcome treat!

The buckwheat flour we have access to here in the United States is much darker than the light, white version that is used in northern Europe. If you can find it, substitute half of the flour for light buckwheat flour. There is a link under Shop For This Recipe.

Poffertjes
1 cup (250 ml) warm milk
3/4 teaspoon active dry yeast
2 cups (300 grams) all-purpose flour
2 eggs
Pinch salt
Powdered sugar
Butter

Sprinkle the yeast on top of the warm milk and set aside to proof. When ready, mix the flour with the eggs and slowly add the milk, beating well and making sure there are no lumps. Add in the pinch of salt. Cover and set aside to rise, about 45 minutes to an hour.

Heat the pan and lightly butter each dimple. Pour a small amount of batter into each dimple. I prefer to pour the batter in a squeeze bottle of which I have removed part of the tip: it allows me to control the amount of batter for each dimple.

When the sides dry up a bit and bubbles appear on the surface, use the tin of a fork to flip the poffertjes over. Take a peek here if you're not sure how to do this! This takes a bit of practice, but not to worry, even the spoils will taste good!

Serve hot, sprinkle with powdered sugar and a piece of butter.

Shop for this recipe

Appelflappen

 

It's Fall!!! Time to fire up the oven again, as the evenings get colder and, for that matter, the mornings too. But, first a side note. A comment from a reader last week brought an interesting fact to mind, one that has had me puzzled for quite some time. For some obscure reason, Americans confuse Dutch with Danish. I'm not entirely sure if they do it the other way around too, as I don't know any Danish people around here that I can ask.

The thing is, I have encountered it so much, and in such different age groups, that I am beginning to think that it's taught in school. I cannot explain it otherwise.

Nevertheless, every time somebody asks me if I'm Danish or speak Danish, I can't help but think of pastries. I know it's silly, because I've been to Denmark several times and have very dear friends living there. Surely I could think of many other things besides baked goods, but no.....pastries it is. I can't help it!

Danish pastries are very similar in texture to puff pastry. Loaded with butter, they nevertheless have a light and layered presentation and pair well with fruits and custards. A traditional Dutch Danish therefore would be a koffiebroodje, or for something fruitier, an appelflap, or apple turnover. And as it happens, the orchard down the road just emailed to say that the apples are ripe for picking.....so appelflappen it is!

This is a typical pastry that you will find in bakeries, and places where they serve coffee and tea. It's crispy, sweet and filled with the goodness of apples.

Appelflappen
2 tablespoons currants
2 tablespoons raisins
1/2 cup apple juice
3 dried apricots
2 Jonagold apples
2 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of cinnamon
1 lb puff pastry (or one Pepperidge Farm package)
Coarse sugar

Add the currants and the raisins to the apple juice. Put the dried apricots in a small cup and add enough warm water to cover. Soak the currants, raisins and apricots overnight, or at least for a good four hours.

Allow the puff pastry to thaw, while you peel and core the apple. Chop the apple in small pieces. Drain the raisins and currants and add to the apples, stir. Mince the apricots until almost a pulp and fold it into the apple mixture, then add the sugar and the cinnamon and stir until everything is well mixed. Set aside.

Unfold the puff pastry and cut into squares, 4.5 x 4.5 inches approximately. Place them before you with one corner pointing downwards. Place about 1/4 cup of filling on the bottom half of the square, wet the edges of the dough and fold the top part over, forming a triangle. Carefully press the dough around the filling and on the edges, making sure they are tight.

Place the triangles on some parchment paper on a baking sheet and place it in the fridge while you turn on the oven. Heat to 385F.

Remove from the fridge, and moisten the top of each triangle with some water, then sprinkle the coarse sugar on top. Place the baking sheet on the middle shelf in the oven, and bake the turnovers for 20 minutes or until golden.

Makes 8.

 

Tongrolletjes met garnalensaus

For a country that's partially below sea level, surrounded by the North Sea and with a history of seafaring daredevils, you'd think we'd eat fish every day. Or if not every day, at least more often than we do. Perhaps it's because there are so many exciting things to eat from the Dutch waters that we don’t know which one to pick: mussels, eel, herring, oysters, clams, trout or plaice. This last one, during the yearly fish auction at Urk, fetched a record 63,000 Euros this summer. Often, fish companies will auction off the first catch of the season for a good cause. It gives people an opportunity to travel out to the regional auction houses and spend the day enjoying food, festivities and fun.

Sole is a fish that's traditionally caught in the North Sea, and one of the national delicacies. Its taste is not overly fishy but tends to lean towards a more shrimp-like flavor, and goes especially well with the shrimp sauce that today's recipe calls for. The meat holds up well, and the fish is suitable for a variety of cooking methods: grilling, steaming, frying or stewing. If you cannot find sole or if the price is prohibitive, try flounder instead.

Tongrolletjes in garnalensaus
8 pieces sole
2 cups fish stock
1 cup white wine
1 carrot, chopped
1 stick celery, chopped
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 bay leaf
4 peppercorns
2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup cocktail shrimp
2 tablespoons breadcrumbs

Dry the fish and roll each one up, holding it together with a toothpick. Bring the fish stock to a boil, add the wine, the vegetables and the herbs and simmer for ten minutes. Carefully lower the rolled up flounder into the stock and simmer for six minutes, then remove them and drain. Pour the stock through a metal strainer to remove the vegetables and herbs.

In a skillet, melt the butter and the flour and stir together into a paste. Slowly add in the stock and stir well, breaking up any lumps, into a thick sauce. Taste and adjust with salt and a little bit of pepper. Fold in the shrimp. Remove the toothpicks, arrange the flounder rolls in an oven dish, pour the shrimp sauce on top and sprinkle the breadcrumbs over it. Place in a 350F oven for ten minutes or until hot, then toast the breadcrumbs to a golden crisp under the broiler.
 

Great with steamed rice and sautéed spinach.

 

 

Even pauze...

....we're taking a short break... See you next week!

 

Dutch butter

My time in England is winding down. I've been on a discovery tour of the British kitchen: fabulous cheeses, great baked goods and plenty of good butter. As always, out of curiosity, I wonder how much of an influence the Dutch kitchen has had on the English one. After all, there is only a small stretch of water between the two monarchies and they've often spent time sailing the seas together.

In the mid-1500's, Dutch and Flemish protestants fled religious persecution and arrived in Norwich, close to the east coast of England. Over time, close to 6,000 "strangers", as the Dutch were called because of their different clothing and customs, settled around the area. But they did not only bring clothing and customs, they also brought their own pots, pans (such as a frying pan) and dishes. In the book The North Sea and Culture (1550-1800), part of a letter from Claus van Werveken from Norwich to his wife says: "Bring a dough trough, for there are none here.....Buy two little wooden dishes to make up half pounds of butter: for all the Netherlanders and Flemings make their own, for here it is all pigs' fats."

Imagine that. We presumably introduced butter to Norwich. We brought frying pans. Can you visualize the possibilities?! Lard is good, but butter is so much better. It warms my heart to think that such small items of comfort made these refugees feel at home in their new country, and that it left a lasting culinary contribution.

The picture is of a Limburg dish called Kruimelvlaai, or better known in the Venlo dialect as "bôttervlaaj", butter pie. On a cold, rainy and dark day like today, it's seems like an appropriate pie to salute these friendly "strangers" with, and thank them for introducing this significant spread.

 

Huzarensalade

And it's (drumroll)....summer!!! News arrives of sunny skies, warm weather, and even some sunburnt skins. When the sun's out in Holland, you never know how long it's going to last. If they can, people will drop anything they had planned and head out to the parks, the beaches or their own backyards and balconies to make the most of the sunshine.

The last thing you want to do in such a case is spending hours in the kitchen, preparing a meal. Today's dish, huzarensalade, is a perfect dish to serve on a day like this, and using up any leftovers  you may have laying around. It only needs the minimum of attention and dedication, but will be a welcome sight on your table. Give it a light cover of mayonnaise, and decorate the salad with egg, pickles, a dusting of paprika, slices of tomato to transform it into a Limburg "koude schotel", cold platter. 

Huzarensalade, or hussar's salad, was supposedly invented by the Hussars, a light cavalry regiment. As their tactic was to be inconspicuous and since they were always on the go, they would not build fires to cook their food but chop up whatever they had and mixed them together: a boiled potato, a piece of meat, some pickles and created this cold salad, perfect for leftovers..... Whether the story is true or not, is almost irrelevant: the result is a tasty, filling and refreshing dish with a minimum of effort!

Preferably use leftover veggies for this salad. If you don't have any leftover roast, ham or cold steak, simmer some beef the evening before. Depending on the cut of meat, this can take up to two hours: just let it simmer on low under tender. If you simmer the beef with some carrots, celery and onion, you can use the remaining broth for a light, flavorful groentesoep.

Huzarensalade
10 oz (280 grams) beef, cooked
2 large potatoes, boiled
1 small sweet onion
8 medium dill pickles
1 red apple
1 small can of peas and carrots (if you don't have leftover veg)
4 tablespoons mayonnaise
2 tablespoons dill pickle juice

For the garnish:
Boiled eggs
Mayonnaise
Cocktail onions
Tomatoes
Paprika

Cut the beef and potatoes to small dice. Chop the sweet onion and pickles. Peel the apple (or not, as you please), core it and cut it in small dice. Drain the liquid from the peas and carrots and mix everything together with the mayonnaise and the dill pickle juice. Taste and adjust if needed.

Rest the salad overnight. The next day, put the salad on a big plate, slather lightly with mayonnaise and decorate with garnish, sprinkle with the paprika. Serve it with buttered toast and a smile :-), you can now enjoy the rest of the day without anybody going hungry!

Krentjebrij

It's quite the summer in the Netherlands! Cold and rainy one day, and sunny and warm the next. It's of no surprise to the Dutch ofcourse, as often summers are a mixed bag of blessings, weatherwise. Nevertheless, no need to worry food-wise, as fresh fruit is abundantly available, and summer desserts often reflect the rich bounty of these lowlands. Strawberries, cherries and red currants preceed the rich apple and pear harvest in the fall, and neighboring countries supply any produce and fruits that the climate does not allow for.

This week's recipe is a traditional, old-fashioned dessert, made with a variety of summer berries and grains. It is a very convenient dish, given the season's fickle atmospheric conditions, as it can be served either cold or warm. The dessert is called krentjebrij, or watergruwel. Although a pleasant and filling dessert that is sometimes served as a main dish, its names do not entice one to grab a spoon and dig in. Neither name sounds appetizing, quite honestly, with the first one called a currant brij, i.e. a thick, sticky goop, and the other one named watergruwel or water revulsion....Gruwel however is an adaptation of the English word "gruel" meaning thin porridge, and not a description of aquatic abhorrence: not a practical attitude in a country that's partially below sea level!

Krentjebrij is also sold readily made in supermarket stores, in the dairy section, as one of the few non-dairy based products, under the name Bessola. When several years ago the company decided to take it off the market, as it wasn't selling as well as other desserts, a national uproar caused the company to rethink their decision.

Use a mix of fresh berries such as strawberries, red currants, raspberries and blackberries to simmer with the barley. Blend the rest of the fruit to mix in afterwards.

Krentjebrij

1/2 cup of pearl barley
1 1/2 cup of water
1 cinnamon stick
1/4 cup of raisins and currants
1 strip of lemon peel, no pith
4 cups of fresh mixed berries, chopped
1 cup of mixed berry juice
2 tablespoons of sugar


Rinse the pearl barley and bring to a boil with the 1,5 cups of water. Turn down to a simmer, add the cinnamon stick, the lemon peel, the dried fruits and a quarter cup of the fresh fruits, stir and let it simmer for forty minutes, or until the barley is soft. You may want to keep a little bit of water on the side to add, in case it needs more liquid.

When the barley is cooked (soft, with just a bit of a bite), add in the blended fruits, the sugar and add enough water to cover the barley, and simmer for another ten minutes. Taste (watch out, it's hot!), adjust the sweetness to your liking and remove the lemon peel and cinnamon stick.

Serve hot or cold. A splash of heavy cream will make this dessert even lovelier.

Wat eten we vanavond?

When I was working on a culinary project in England, studying the traditional cuisine of the country, I realized how similar the English kitchen is to ours, in many ways. The colonial influence on the cuisine, as well as the ghost of long-time-ago traveled trading routes, is palpable and palatable. Spices and dried fruits are heavily present in traditional dishes and desserts, and Jamaican Ginger Cake in many ways reminds me of peperkoek.

But it wasn't the cake that made me reflect on our Dutch kitchen. A comment from one of my coworkers last week triggered it. Someone, somewhere, had paired up the "wrong" vegetable with a particular sausage dish for one of the menus. Not being familiar with the meat dish, I asked what the traditional vegetable to serve would have been, and was told "cabbage". Looking at the menu, I pointed out that cabbage was exactly what was served. "But it's red cabbage", the answer came back. "and that's wrong. It has to be green cabbage".

I realized that, unless very familiar with a country's cuisine, building menus and pairing ingredients can be a tricky deal. Many of the culinary combinations are steeped in tradition, and all of a sudden cabbage is not cabbage anymore: it's either right or wrong for a particular dish. Would the red cabbage not have complimented the sausage dish well? It would have in any other part of the world. But when tradition dictates otherwise, it becomes an awkward accompaniment.

Think about our own cuisine. Hutspot goes with klapstuk, zuurkool goes with spekjes, spinach is traditionally served with fish. Boerenkool, kale, is accompanied by a smoked kielbasa. You wouldn't think of serving zuurvlees with anything but fries, or mashed potatoes. You'd be pushing it with steamed rice, which would be considered edible, but most certainly not traditional, and brown rice would definitely catapult you straight into the "geitenwollensokken" category, whether you wear them or not.

The question "Wat eten we vanavond?" (What's for dinner?) is, in Holland, traditionally answered with only mentioning the vegetable. If you know the vegetable, the blanks regarding protein and starch are automatically filled in. Bloemkool, cauliflower, is traditionally served with a white sauce, boiled potatoes and a gehaktbal. If the answer is zuurkool, you know it will most likely be mashed with potatoes and either rendered pieces of bacon or, if you're lucky, both bacon and a kielbasa.

But if the answer is "hussen met je neus ertussen", you are just going to have to wait and see!

Kwarktaart

Last week, we made kwark, a dairy food that has a key role in the Dutch kitchen. Whether used as a base for savory dips, nutritional snacks or in cooking, kwark is healthy, light and pleasant. So what better than to whip it up with some good old cream, add a pleasing dose of sugar, throw in some cookies and butter, load the whole thing up with fresh, seasonal fruit and make ourselves a traditional old-fashioned Dutch kwarktaart? Exactly, not much. If a little bit is good for you, a lot is better, right? Right :-)

The kwarktaart is a traditional choice for dessert, for birthday celebrations or for any other celebration for that matter, whether it's made up or real. We do love a party, and any excuse will do! The taart can be served plain or flavored (usually with fruity flavors such as lemon or mandarin orange), but don't let that stop you. Nobody says you can't make a lovely chocolate kwarktaart so if that's what you're craving, go for it!

Summertime especially is a great time for kwarktaart. Served chilled, with a good cup of coffee, and adorned with seasonal fresh fruit, it is a pleasant reminder of the goody good goodness that Holland has to offer.

Kwarktaart
10 cookies (approx. 1 1/2 cups when crumbled)
9 tablespoons sugar, divided
1 teaspoon cinnamon
6 tablespoons (75 grm) butter
1 cup (250 ml) heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon vanilla essence (or 1 envelope vanilla sugar)
1 cup (250 ml) whole milk
1 envelope gelatin (or 3 sheets)
2 cups (500 ml) kwark*

Put the cookies in a plastic bag and roll into crumbs with the help of a rolling pin. Add to a bowl. If you selected fairly bland cookies, like tea biscuits or Maria cookies, mix in 2 tablespoons of sugar and one teaspoon of cinnamon. If the cookies you picked are sweet and flavorful on their own, like Bastogne, speculaas, or Oreos, you can skip the sugar and cinnamon. Melt the butter, pour it over the cookie crumbs and mix until the crumbs are wet and soaked through.

Place a circle of parchment paper on the bottom of a spring form pan. Press the buttery cookie crumbles in the bottom and flatten with the back of a spoon, so that the layer is fairly even. Put the pan in the fridge so the cookie bottom can harden.

Gelatin Powder: mix 3 tablespoons of sugar with the contents of the gelatin envelope in a bowl. Bring the cup of milk to a boil and pour over the sugary mixture. Stir until the gelatin has dissolved.

Gelatin Sheets: soak the sheets in a bowl of cold water, for at least ten minutes, but longer is better. Warm up the cup of milk, squeeze the water out of the sheets and stir them into the warm milk. Stir until they've fully dissolved.

Whip the heavy cream with 3 tablespoons of sugar and the vanilla. Stir the whipping cream into the kwark, and carefully fold in the last tablespoon of the sugar, if needed, for extra sweetness. Taste first!

When the warm milk has cooled down, carefully stir it into the kwark and whipped cream, until it's a smooth, creamy liquid.

Pour this into a 9 inch (23 cm) spring form pan. Tap the sides carefully to pop any air bubbles, cover the pan with plastic film or aluminum foil, and place the pan back in the fridge. Let rest overnight for best results, preferably 24 hours, but at least a good four to six hours. Test the consistency before you pop open the spring form: if the mixture has not set, leave it a couple of hours longer to set. 

Carefully slide a knife along the rim to loosen the cake. Spread with fresh strawberries, mandarin oranges or any other fruit you may like.

I made a quick puree from the leftover strawberry trimmings (cut up, and simmer in a small saucepan with a tiny bit of sugar until it has reached jam consistency, then cool) and spread it over the top of the cake before layering it with the fruit. It's a great way to use up all the scraps and contributes to the strawberry flavor. You can do the same with any other fruit you may use.

*If there is no quark available, or you don't want or can spend the time making it yourself, try using plain Icelandic skyr instead. Whole milk plain yogurt works as well, as long as you can suspend it for a couple of hours so that the whey can drain and the product thickens. If the yogurt has any kind of gum, starch or anything else besides bacteria and dairy (read the label), the whey will probably remain suspended in the yogurt and not drain. Check before you buy!

Kwark

Kwark, or fresh cheese, is one of the many dairy products that our country is rich. Mixed with fresh fruit, it is a light dessert, and spread on bread it can be used as a calorie-poor substitute for butter or margarine. But where kwark is probably at its best, is in a luscious kwarktaart, or fresh cheese cake. More on that next week, let's start with making kwark first!

Kwark is more about patience than skill. Make sure you avoid any buttermilk that contains any kind of gums, cornstarches or any other ingredient that is not natural to cows: it suspends the whey in the liquid and does not allow for proper drainage.


Kwark
6 cups of whole milk
2 cups buttermilk (avoid buttermilks with gums, cornstarch etc)

Pour both milks in a heavy pan and slowly bring up to 100F. Cover the pan and let it sit at room temperature overnight. The next day, the whey should have separated from the milk solids. Pour everything into a tea towel, knot the four ends together and suspend the package from the kitchen cabinet’s door knob. Place a bowl underneath to catch the whey. Suspend for a good three hours or until the whey has stopped draining.

Scrape the kwark out of the towel and fluff up with a fork. If it’s too dry, add a tablespoon or two of milk. If it’s still too wet, continue to drain for a little bit longer. You are looking for a thicker yoghurt consistency.

Makes two cups of kwark.

Gado Gado

And lastly, but surely not least, the final dish on our mini-rijsttafel series: gado gado. These last weeks we've discovered rendang, saté, and atjar. Combined with a big bowl of steamed white rice, these dishes will give a you a great start on getting familiar with one of Holland's colonial cuisines, Indo food. At yet at the same time, it doesn't even begin to cover the vast variety of dishes, colors, flavors and textures that a larger rijsttafel can offer. I encourage you to visit some of the Indo food sites on Facebook or the web, like the Dutch-Indo Kitchen: recipes, opinions and flavors vary according to regions or even down to families, so it's a great culinary adventure that you can certainly set to your liking!

Gado gado is a warm vegetable salad, served with a spicy peanut sauce and topped with crushed krupuk, or shrimp crackers. Krupuk can be found in Asian food stores and is prepared by frying the pieces in hot oil on the stove. The salad can be assembled with as many vegetables as you like. Cabbage, bean sprouts, carrots and green beans seem to be the more traditional choices but use whatever you have available to you that showcases a colorful plate, and a variety of textures.

Not preparing a rijsttafel? Blanch the vegetables in half water, half coconut milk and finish the salad off with some grilled chicken (check the saté recipe for a tasty marinade!) to make a flavorful and refreshing summer salad!

 

Gado Gado
¼ green cabbage
2 large carrots
2 cups green beans, fresh
1 cup bean sprouts
1 cucumber
2 boiled eggs
2 boiled potatoes
½ cauliflower

Cut the vegetables in bitesize pieces and blanch in boiling water for a minute or two, depending on how crunchy or well done you like your vegetables. Peel the boiled eggs and slice them in half, lengthwise. Cut the potatoes in half. Arrange the vegetables on a plate, drizzle the warm peanut sauce on top or serve on the side. Recipe for peanut sauce in the Saté Babi link!

Saté Babi with peanut sauce

One of the expected dishes at a rijsttafel, or Indonesian rice table, is without doubt the skewered and grilled meats, called saté. Served with a warm peanut sauce, satés are not only an intricate part of the rijsttafel's offerings, but have worked their way into the Dutch culinary cuisine as a lunch item, served with white bread, or as a late night snack.

The sauce itself can also be found on  patat oorlog: a serving of French fries doused in mayonnaise, chopped fresh onions and a generous helping of hot saté sauce, or as a dipping sauce for other meats, breads or vegetables. As an indispensable part of the blanched vegetable salad, gado gado, saté sauce can also spruce up a roast beef sandwich if you don't feel like cooking much. Make plenty of sauce in advance, as it freezes well and can be kept in the fridge for several days.

If you don't care for pork, you can use chicken or tender beef cut instead.

Saté Babi
2 lbs pork shoulder
2 tablespoons brown sugar
6 tablespoons ketjap manis (sweet soy sauce)

1 teaspoon coriander, ground

1 tablespoon oil

2 garlic cloves, minced

Juice of half a lemon

Cut the pork shoulder into 1 inch cubes. Mix the brown sugar with the ketjap, coriander, oil, minced garlic cloves and lemon juice into a marinade. Toss the meat with the marinade in a bowl,  making sure each cube is covered. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate, for at least four hours but preferably overnight.

Soak wooden skewers about an hour beforehand, or use metal skewers. Thread five pieces of meat onto a skewer and roast over a medium fire until done. Pay attention and turn the satés frequently, as the sweet marinade has a tendency to scorch.

Serve the satés with the warm peanut sauce.

Peanut Sauce
3 cups natural peanut butter
1 cup water

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon sambal oelek (spicy chili paste)

3 teaspoons brown sugar

¼ teaspoon trassi (shrimp paste, optional)

3 tablespoons ketjap manis

Milk (possibly coconut milk, if you prefer)

Warm the peanut butter with the water in a small saucepan. Stir in the garlic, the sambal and the brown sugar and bring up to heat, stirring well so that the sauce doesn’t burn. Add the trassi and the ketjap and stir until blended. Taste. If the sauce is too thick, stir in a tablespoon of (coconut) milk at a time.

Serve hot.

Rendang

Food is about love, about family (related or not), about community. No Indo event goes without food, no Sunday afternoon visits to family or friends goes without eating. The first question, after you've been greeted at the front door, back door or garden path is "Would you like something to eat?" And if you don't want, or don't have time to eat, you'll go home with a care package.

I have fond memories of an Indonesian family, friends of my father, that lived across town. We didn't interact very often, on account of me being busy with studying and eh....researching the Nijmegen nightlife, so to speak. On the occasions that I visited, their grandmother would immediately get up from her chair and go into the kitchen to cook, regardless of the time of day. If they had a particular kind of food they knew I liked, they'd call me to ask if I wanted some, and they would bring over a plate. Sometimes I would find a grocery sack hanging from the door knob with dinner, other times with a piece of spekkoek. At the time, as a young student and away from home, it made me feel welcome, loved and a part of something bigger than just my own little world. Nowadays, I find myself doing the same thing: sharing my food, showing love.

Braised meats, tender stews, marinated satays.....all foods that require attention and dedication. Rendang, today's dish, is one of those foods. With an intriguing variety of flavors, rendang takes time to prepare and mandates close attention towards the end, but the end results is very much worth the effort. It's Indo love on a plate.

Rendang

2 lbs beef chuck roast

4 shallots

1 lemongrass

4 cloves garlic

1 inch ginger, fresh

2 tablespoons of oil

1 cinnamon stick

3 star anise

1 lemon grass

1 cup coconut milk

1 cup warm water

2 teaspoons tamarind paste

4 kaffir lime leaves

1 tablespoon brown sugar

Remove the fat from the beef and cut it into one inch cubes. Blend the shallots, the lemon grass (the tender white part), the garlic and the fresh ginger into a paste. If the paste gets too thick, add a tablespoon of oil.

Heat a skillet and add two tablespoons of oil. When hot, quickly sear the meat on all sides. Remove it from the pan and set aside. Reheat the skillet, add another tablespoon of oil, stir in the paste and toss in the cinnamon stick, the star anise, a piece of lemon grass that has been pounded so it will release its flavor and fragrance. Stir on high heat until the paste thickens and starts releasing its smells, and then add the seared beef. Lower the heat and add the coconut milk, water and tamarind paste (you may need to dissolve the paste in the warm water). Stir to make sure everything is mixed well, and simmer.

After half an hour, stir in the kaffir lime leaves and the brown sugar, cover the pan and simmer slowly. The goal is to braise the beef to the point where it is very tender, and at the same time to reduce the liquid in the sauce so that it practically clings to the beef instead of swimming in it. You achieve this by moving the lid partially off the pan or crockpot after an hour, and letting the liquid slowly evaporate.

Atjar Tjampoer

The first item we're going to prepare for the rijsttafel is an atjar. A sweet and sour pickled vegetable dish, it's served as an accompaniment with the rijsttafel. The sourness will cut through some of the richer dishes, and the sweetness will offset some of the spicier ones. Atjar tjampoer, a pickled combination of a variety of vegetables, is best after it sits for several days. The flavoring and coloring comes from turmeric, a much used spice in the Indonesian kitchen.  

Cut your veggies small, and blanch them quickly, so they remain in shape and keep a bit of bite. A nice crunch is perfect to balance out the softer and creamier foods on the menu!

As turmeric is not necessarily a spice that we use often in our own kitchens, make sure that what you have on the spice rack is not past its date, or too old. As you only need a little bit, it might be worth purchasing a little bit from the bulk spice bins in specialty stores to ensure a good flavor and bright coloring.

Atjar Tjampoer
1 cup cauliflower florets
1 carrot
1 cucumber
1 medium sized yellow onion
1 cup bean sprouts
¼ green cabbage
2 cups white wine vinegar
2 cups  water
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon sambal oelek
2 teaspoons ground ginger
1 teaspoon coriander, ground
2 teaspoons turmeric

Wash and cut the cauliflower into smaller florets. Blanch them in boiling, salted water for a few minutes. Peel the carrot and slice thinly. Peel the cucumber, cut in half lengthwise and remove the seeds with the tip of a spoon. Peel the onion, slice in four quarters and cut into thin slices. Wash the bean sprouts and remove any brown skins or soft ends. Slice the cabbage into thin strips, removing the hard vein.

Bring the vinegar and water to a boil and stir in the sugar, the sambal, the ginger, coriander and turmeric. Add the vegetables and leave the mixture on a rolling boil for a few minutes, making sure you stir the vegetables well.

 

 

Strain the vegetables from the liquid and pack them in a clean, sterilized canning jar (depending on how small you cut the vegetables, you may need more than one jar). Pour the boiling liquid over the vegetables, making sure all vegetables are covered and there are no air bubbles in the jar. Screw a clean lid on the jar. Let it cool on the counter for two hours, then move it to the refrigerator. The atjar is best after three or four days, but will not hold indefinitely.

Rijsttafel

First published in Dutch, issue #5

In many ways, my dad’s past is a mystery to me. His life in Indonesia, his childhood, even the years he first lived in the Netherlands or his time in the Japanese camps, where he was kept with his brother and his mom: I know so little about it.  When asked, he’ll give an evasive answer at best, or claims he’s forgotten since “that was such a long time ago.”

But about once a year, during my own childhood, I’d get an opportunity to delve into his world. I must have been about six years old when we visited the Pasar Malam Besar in the Hague for the first time, during the mid-seventies. Walking through those doors opened up a whole new world for me, and allowed me to enter my dad’s world, even just for a day, just to catch a glimpse. I stepped straight from the soggy Dutch soil into the bustling, busy atmosphere of a colorful, enticing and dynamic Indonesian pasar malam, the night market…the colorful dresses, the grace of the dancers, the sweeping melodies and most overall, the pride that people had: presenting their art, sharing their food, telling their stories. It was so different from our daily, Dutch lives.  As a child, I soaked it all up. This was my father’s world, his culture, his background. 

I savored those days I got to go with my dad to the pasars. After listening to the music, we’d scout out the food stalls. He’d look at each stall, ask a question or made small talk with the vendors, and we’d move to the next one. I knew that it was just a matter of time before he’d buy something and we would sit, side by side, eating without saying a word.  Sometimes he would tell me it tasted just like he remembered from his childhood, other times he’d wait for me to finish up so we could move to the next stall, without saying a word.

It was here that I first tried tjendol, a sweet milk beverage with tapioca tears and flavored with rose syrup. Where I once sank my teeth into fried frog legs, and where I ate so many satés that it almost made me sick.  This is where, after a reprimand from my dad, I learned how to take small bites of my thin slice of spekkoek, honoring and respecting all the hard work that went into making this layered spice cake instead of devouring the delicacy in two big bites, like I used to do.

My Dutch and Indonesian roots are inseparably enlaced and it’s often hard to determine where one begins and where the other one ends. Those twinings are not only reflected in the history of the unique Indo culture: it is also expressed in its cuisine, of which the rijsttafel is possibly its capstone. A Dutch concoction, fathered perhaps by necessity,  greed or nescience, the rijsttafel or rice table contains a myriad of dishes, showcasing the large variety of colors, flavors, ingredients and cooking techniques that encompass the regional Indonesian kitchens.  Small plates containing meats, vegetables and condiments grace the table, sometimes up to 40 dishes at a time, and are a feast for both the eye and the eater. 

During the summer time, we will showcase various dishes to create your own rijsttafel, with as little or as many dishes as you like. Selamat makan!