A Dutch dinner party!

I love three day weekends! It gives me a little bit more time to do something extra: I sleep in a little bit longer, I pull out a recipe of two I've been wanting to try, or I kick back with a book or a magazine. But the best thing about three day weekends is that it gives me one more evening to plan something to cook. And a Dutch dinner party sounds just like the ticket!!

How about we start with an appetizer while the guests arrive? Maybe some bitterballen and diced Gouda cheese on a platter (with good mustard of course!) while we visit over a glass of something or other. It's a great time to relax, share the latest news, or make plans for a weekend away together.

When people are finally seated, start with a witlofsalade, or a light soup such as groentensoep met balletjes. That's easy enough. But now comes the hard part! What vegetable are you going to serve? Boerenkool met worst is wonderful but perhaps a bit too casual? How about a traditional gehaktbal met jus, cauliflower, and cute little boiled potatoes? Or hachee with mashed potatoes and rode kool met appeltjes? And don't forget those delectable slavinken!

Finish your dinner with hangop or vla, whether it's hopjes or vanillevla. And how about an appelbol, or kersenvlaai with your 8pm coffee to round off the evening. Sounds like a splendid time!

What would you like to see on the menu?

 

Hoornse Broeder

 

It's carnaval this weekend!! Thousands have cancelled the next couple of work days, dusted off their favorite masks, costumes or festive gear and have taken to the streets to party en masse, weather permitting, of course. Granted, the mayority of this carousal takes place "below the rivers", referring to the more southern provinces of the country, particularly Noord-Brabant and Limburg, but even up north we see evidence of carnival outings.

Not in the least outdone by the carnival-related foods of the southeners, with their nonnevotten, haringsalade, and boerenkool met worst, the northerners also have their share of carnival foods. Surprised? So was I! And apparently it's not a new trend or something they picked up in the last couple of years, but carnival has been known to be celebrated in provinces as far north as, well as far north as you can go before getting your feet wet!

Vastenavond, literally fasting evening, is the Tuesday night before the forty day fast that starts on Ash Wednesday. It was the last day that people could indulge in all that tasted good. Villages would bake sugary pastries or sausage rolls to get one more serving of all that they'd be missing out on during the Fast. That was the purpose of some traditional foods back then, nowadays they more often serve to provide a good buffer for all the drinking that may occur.

Brabant has its worstenbroodjes, Limburg has its nonnevotten, that's practically common knowledge. But reading up on festive dishes, it turns out that Hilversum, in the province of Noord-Holland, bakes schuitbollen (or at least used to), Harlingen has Festeljoun brea (vastenavond bread), and in Borculo they eat haspels. 

Today's breadcake comes from Hoorn, in the region of West-Frisia, in the province of North-Holland. It is a heavy bread, with plenty of raisins and currants and a center of melted brown sugar. Sometimes slices of bacon would be added to the syrupy middle. The Broeder was traditionally baked on a petroleum stove, on low heat, in a heavy pan with a tablespoon of oil and flipped halfway through.

Nowadays it can be done either in a cast iron pan on the stove, in a spring form in the oven or just free form on a baking sheet. Traditionally served with carnaval, but also often presented as a gift to a new mother, the Hoornse broeder is now available year-round.

Hoornse Broeder
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup warm milk
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
1 egg
Pinch of salt
1 cup mixed golden and dark raisins
1/4 cup currants

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 cup brown sugar
Cinnamon (optional)
1 tablespoon butter

Mix the flour, milk, yeast, egg and salt into a kneadable dough. Cover and let it rest and rise until doubled in size. Punch it down, roll it out and knead the raisins and currants into the dough. Cut in half, roll into balls and cover for ten minutes.

Use a rolling pin to flatten each ball of dough into a circle. Add a cup of brown sugar on top of one, leaving about an inch of dough uncovered. Sprinkle with cinnamon, if desired. Dot the sugar with the butter, and place the second circle of dough on top. Press down the sides so that they stick together, you may want to brush the dough with a little bit of water if needed.

Heat a cast iron pan and add 1 tablespoon of vegetable oil. Place the broeder in the pan, cover with the lid and bake on low on the stove (or bake in the oven at 350F). After thirty minutes, check and turnover so that the other side gets baked (don't need to do that in the oven).

Cut and serve while warm so the butter and brown sugar are still gooey and syrupy, or wait till the whole bread has cooled down. The sugar will go back to being slightly crumbly and create a layer of goodness between the two breads. I prefer mine warm and runny, so there is hardly any filling visible in the picture.

 

 

Broeder is usually not served with powdered sugar on top, in case you noticed.......I got distracted and the top colored much darker than I wanted to! Oops!

 

Spruitjes

 

"Spruitjes? Vies!" ("Brussels sprouts? Gross!") is Dutch for what most children would say if they heard that Brussels sprouts were on the menu. Quite often, when asked what the evening dish entails, the Dutch will answer by simply stating the vegetable. It is generally understood that boiled or mashed potatoes are part of the deal and traditionally, a certain type of meat is expected to go with a particular dish. So by learning what vegetable will be served, the whole menu will usually be crystal clear. Tonight's dinner therefore consists of spruitjes, boiled potatoes and fresh sausage, or braadworst.

But back to the spruitjes. Possibly a child's least favorite vegetable because of the bitterness (and the similarity to rock hard green marbles?), spruitjes however are a staple on the Dutch table. Whether simply boiled, or mashed into a stamppot, they are often found on the menu during the winter months. Brussels sprouts, just like other cabbages, will often benefit from a bit of frost, where the starches will convert to sweet sugars.

Nowadays, however, Brussels sprouts have been modified to taste less bitter. Although the flavor has changed, the nutritional value of these little green globes has remained: a very valuable source of vitamin B and C. Just what you need in the winter!

Spruitjes can be steamed, boiled or stir-fried.

Spruitjes
1 lb Brussels sprouts
6 large potatoes
4 fresh sausages
2 tablespoons butter
Salt
Nutmeg

Clean the sprouts by cutting off the bottom and removing outer leaves, if damaged or heavily soiled. Peel the potatoes, cut in half and bring them to a boil. In a separate pot, bring water to a boil, add the sprouts, add some salt and boil on low for ten minutes. Drain, melt one tablespoon of butter in a skillet and slowly braise the vegetables, covered, until they're done. In the meantime, melt the rest of the butter in a skillet, fry the sausages until brown on each side, then add half a cup of water, cover and simmer. Drain the potatoes.

Serve the potatoes with the sausage and the sprouts. Put a pinch of nutmeg on the sprouts and pour a tablespoon of pan gravy over the potatoes, in case you wish to prak them.

 

Witlofschotel

Witlof, or Belgian endive, is a common vegetable in the Dutch kitchen. Although more favored by the older generation than the younger one, possibly because of its slightly bitter taste at times, the Dutch still purchase about 3 to 4 kilos per person a year of the chicory-related vegetable.  It ranks in the top ten of most consumed vegetables in the country and really became popular during the mid-1900s. It's often served as an oven casserole, with ham and cheese, like we're making today, or braised by itself and served in a bechamel sauce with a pinch of nutmeg. Blue cheese and witlof also make a great combination, either served raw in a salad or as a savory witlof-pie. It's a very versatile vegetable, low in fat and tender in flavor to where it compliments stronger tasting fellow ingredients.

 

Witlof, meaning "white leaf", is originally a Belgian discovery from right around 1850. Chicory roots were grown because it provided an affordable substitute for coffee. Left on their own device, in the dark, the roots grew white leaves that, upon discovery by farmer Jan Lammers, turned out to be edible and a welcome addition to the winter table. Farmers started selling some of it on the local markets and history was made. France is now the top producer of this white vegetable, with Belgium and the Netherlands following close.

 

Another story relates that it was François Béziers, the head of the Botanical Gardens in Brussels who discovered that several stored chicory roots had produced white leaves. He sent some to Paris where they were eagerly purchased. And for good reasons too: witlof as well as chicory root is beneficial to the liver and the gallbladder, and contains large amounts of potassium and vitamins B and C. Nowadays, full grown witlof is produced in less than twenty days by forcing one year old roots in an area with a controlled temperature of about 50F. The harvest consisted of crops of white, creamy, slightly bitter tasting witlof. A perfect winter vegetable to chase away the winter blues!

 

Witlof can be served raw or cooked. As a salad vegetable it barely needs much more than a splash of vinaigrette and maybe some citrus, as in a witlofsalade. Cooked, its tender nature benefits from robuster flavors.

 

Belgian endive will hold well, provided it is kept in a cool and dark location. Purchase smaller ones for eating whole. Larger endive will need to be cut in half and have the core removed as it tends to be rather hard and bitter.

 

Witlofschotel

4 Belgian endives
4 slices of ham
4 slices of cheese
1/2 cup shredded cheese
6 large potatoes
1 tablespoon butter
1/4 cup milk
2 teaspoons coarse ground mustard

 

Remove the outer leaves if damaged, remove the stem end. Cut in half and core the endive if it's fairly large. Bring a small pot of water to a boil and quickly blanch the vegetables, then let them drain. Set aside.

 

Peel and quarter the potatoes and bring them to a boil. Cook until done. Pour off the remaining water, and mash the potatoes with the butter and the milk. Fold in the mustard. Taste and adjust with salt and pepper if needed.

 

Butter an oven dish and spread the mashed potatoes on the bottom. Wrap each endive with a slice of cheese, then a slice of ham. Tuck in the ends. Place the witlof on top of the mashed potatoes and cover with the shredded cheese.

 

Place in a 350F oven for twenty to thirty minutes, until the cheese is melted and the vegetables are cooked.

 

 

 

 

 

Friese Dumkes

If you're in The Netherlands during the wintertime, and the temperature holds below zero for several nights in a row, you'll notice people starting to get a little nervous. Their eyes will dart from the sky back to the water (virtually impossible to be anywhere in the country and not be near a canal, a lake, a river, a stream or any other body of water) and then back up again. They'll consult newspapers, listen endlessly to the weather updates (even more than usual) and, while wringing their hands, whisper conspiratorially to each other: "Giet it oan?". (Frisian for "Is it going to happen?")

I'm probably exaggerating a little bit, but as soon as the temperature drops, the nation prepares itself for a possible exhilarating event: the Elfstedentocht. The Eleven Cities Tour is a physically challenging skating tour through the province of Friesland: it's 200km (124 miles) of skating on frozen canals, channels and lakes through eleven Frisian cities, starting and ending in the city of Leeuwarden, the province's capital.

The route takes the skater through Sneek, Ulst, Sloten, Stavoren, Hindelopen, Workum, Bolsward, Harlingen, Franeker en Dokkum. Although the cities are always the same, the route will depend on the quality and the thickness of the ice. As a maximum of 15,000 skaters are allowed to participate (and unfortunately, many miss out on the opportunity to join), the thickness of the ice has to be guaranteed all along the route. Often, a last minute break in the ice or a warm night will suspend the whole event until further notice. And that notice can sometimes be ten years later.....Only fifteen tours have been ridden in total. The first one was in 1909, and the last one in 1997.

The toughest of all tours was the one in 1963. On January 18th, fifty years ago today, the thermometer registered  -18C (-1F) with strong winds. From the 15,000 skaters that started that morning only 69 made it to the finishing line, many in deplorable conditions with broken bones and suffering from snow blindess and hypothermia. The tour was won by Reinier Paping, presumably on the nourishment of a bowl of  Brinta he ate for breakfast. The tour became so legendary that a movie was made, called "The Hell of 63".

This year, whispers of "Giet it oan?" are starting to surface again. We'll keep our fingers crossed!!

In the meantime, we're baking a Frisian cookie to get in the spirit. Fryske Dúmkes (Frisian Thumbs) are made with hazelnuts, aniseed, ginger and cinnamon, and receive their name either because their size is initially the size of a children's thumb or because the baker pushes his thumb print into the cookie when it comes out of the oven and is still soft. I chose to bake a slightly larger cookie instead and omitted the thumb print part: those cookies are very hot when they come out of the oven!

Fryske Dúmkes
1 stick butter, room temperature
3/4 cup brown sugar, packed
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger, ground
1 teaspoon aniseed, ground
1 heaping tablespoon whole aniseed
1/2 cup chopped hazelnuts*, chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon milk
1 cup and 2 heaping tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 egg, beaten

Cream the butter with the sugar. Add in the spices, the nuts, the salt, the baking powder and the milk, and lastly the flour. Knead into a pliable dough (use a little bit more milk if too dry, add a tiny bit of flour if too wet), wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate. The longer it sits, the better the flavors meld together, but no longer than 4 hours.

Heat the oven to 325F. Roll the dough out and cut into 1 x 2 inch rectangles (or use an oblong cookie cutter, if you wish). Brush with the beaten egg and bake, on a parchment lined baking sheet, lightbrown in 20 to 25 minutes. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet for a moment (if you want to press your thumb print in the hot cookie, this is a good time as any), then move them with the help of a spatula to a cooling rack.

Makes 20 as in the picture, 40 to 50 if you stay with 1 x 2 rectangles.

* If you can only find whole hazelnuts with skin, do the following: bring 2 cups of water and 1 tablespoon of baking soda to a boil. Add 1 cup of whole hazelnuts and bring back up to a boil. Simmer for three minutes. Pour off the water, and rub the skin off the nuts with a paper towel. Carefully roast the nuts in a dry skillet on the stove, then chop into small pieces.

 

Kersenvlaai

Vlaai, vlaai. Sókker oppe vlaai, Ik wool det ik der ein stökske van had, En al waas det stökske nog zoo klein Dao mot waal sókker op zeen.

(Vlaai, vlaai. Sugar on the vlaai. I wish I had a little piece of it. And even if that piece was very small, it does have to have sugar on top.)

Ofcourse it rhymes in Limburgs, but you get the gist. It is an old traditional children's song from the region, and it showcases how much they like their vlaai (and quite honestly, what a sweet tooth they have!). Vlaaien are century old delicacies, created or at least first recorded by the Germanic tribes that roamed the area. They used to bake flatbreads with an elevated rim and top those breads with fruits, honey or fruit juices: I guess all that Germanic tribe-ing they did all day made them hungry!

The fruit vlaaien that are baked nowadays in Limburg still follow pretty much the same format: a yeast or bread dough is used to line a shallow baking pan, fruit purée or chopped up fruit is packed in between the sides and the vlaai is either baked with a lattice top, streusel or no top at all.

During the winter times, fresh fruit was not available. Fortunately, the thrifty Limburg housewife had plenty of canned fruits in her food pantry so the production and availability of vlaaien never stopped. Which was just as well, because vlaaien are, or used to be, a mainstay in the Limburg household. Sunday coffee dates, birthdays, funerals, weddings, county fairs.....you name it, any reason was good enough to bring out the large pie plates (there was often more than one vlaai to choose from) and share a piece, or two. Even better, nowadays you can purchase single serving vlaaien: a whole small vlaai all to yourself!!

The kersenvlaai was a pie that would often appear during winter times: it is a fruit that benefits from being canned and stored for a little while so it can release all its beautiful sweetness and juices. The cherries used here are canned, dark, sweet cherries. Use an 11 inch/28 cm tart pan for a large pie, or four 4 inch /10 cm small ones.

Kersenvlaai

1/3 cup milk and 2 Tbsp (100 ml), lukewarm
1 1/2 teaspoons (5 grams) active dry yeast

1 3/4 cup (250 gr) all-purpose flour
2 Tablespoons (30 grams) sugar
1/2 teaspoon (4 grams) salt

1 egg

1/2 stick butter (55 gr), soft at room temperature

2 tablespoons breadcrumbs or panko

For the filling:

2 cans dark sweet cherries (16 oz/453 grams each)
1 heaping tablespoon (10 grams) cornstarch
1 tablespoon (15 grams) sugar
3 tablespoons panko or breadcrumbs
2 tablespoons coarse sugar for decorating

Knead the flour, yeast, milk, butter, sugar, salt and half of the beaten egg into a soft dough. Grease a bowl, add the dough, cover and let it rise in a warm area for about 45 minutes.

In the meantime, drain the cherries and roughly chop them once or twice. Make sure you look for possible cherry pits that may have sneaked their way into the can! Add the juice (you should have about a cup and a half) and the sugar to a saucepan, remove two tablespoons, and bring it up to a simmer. Stir the two tablespoons of juice with the cornstarch into a slurry and add that to the juice. Bring to a boil while stirring: when the sauce thickens and changes color, fold in the cherries. Let cool.

Preheat the oven to 400F/200C. Divide the dough into six pieces (or leave it in one piece if you want to make one big pie). Roll the dough out, line each buttered form with the dough. Roll the other two pieces to cut strips of dough. Cover and let rise for about 15-20 minutes until the dough is puffy. Prick holes in the dough with the tines of a fork. Sprinkle a little bit of breadcrumbs in each form, and divide the cherries over them. Cover with the lattice. Brush the rim and the lattice with the remaining egg and sprinkle some coarse sugar over the top. Bake for about 18 - 20 minutes for small pies, or 25 - 30 minutes for a large one. Keep an eye on the lattice: if it starts to brown prematurely, cover it with some aluminum foil.

Cool on a rack. 

Siepeltjespot

With a new year, come new opportunities. Ever year, butchers, bakers and candlestick makers (well...maybe not these last ones) sign up to participate in the many professional competitions that the country is rich. Best sausage, best roll, best anything-you-can-think of....throughout the year we do our fair share of tasting, eating, testing and some more taste-testing. Hey, we love good food!

The Netherlands loves to showcase the amazing skills their artisan food makers possess, and is proud of its many producers. Today's recipe is based on an award-winning dish from Butcher Gerard Koekman of Nieuwegein, who won the competition for best oven casserole several years ago. It pairs ground beef with bacon, sauerkraut, mashed potatoes and Dutch cranberries. Now, wait a minute! Dutch cranberries? Yup. Read on.

A looooong time ago, around 1845, vats of cranberries reached the shores of the island of Terschelling, presumably all the way from America. Excited, the beach combers ran out to gather the wooden barrels, thinking it contained wine. Imagine their disappointment when they found only hard, sour red berries in the barrel. Disgusted, they threw the berries in the sand dunes and went on with their day. At least, so the story goes.

Several of those berries caught on and soon the island of Terschelling, on the northern Dutch coast, was growing cranberries. The tart fruit never made it much further than jam, sauce or beverage material, but nevertheless it's something to be proud of.

Fast forward to right around now. Butcher Koekman found an old recipe from the Cranberry barn on Terschelling, adjusted it to his liking and hey presto! won the national casserole competition and eternal fame. The dish is called "siepeltjespot" and is presumably an old-fashioned dish from the Terschelling island. It's quick to make, and is a very comforting dish: the smokyness of the bacon, the sauerkraut and the sweetness of the cranberry compote go beautifully with the creamy mashed potatoes. We did a bit of adjusting of our own, and it's a winner alright!!

Siepeltjespot
5 slices smoky bacon
1 lb (450 grams) ground beef
1 small onion, chopped
10 oz (275 grams) sauerkraut
1 cup (280 grams) cranberry compote*
6 medium (1 kg) potatoes
4 tablespoons (60 grams) butter, divided

1/2 cup (125 ml) milk
Pinch of salt

Dice the bacon and slowly render it in a skillet. Remove but one tablespoon of fat. Add the ground beef and the small onion to the bacon in the skillet and brown the beef. Season to your liking. In the meantime, peel, quarter and boil the potatoes. When done, pour off the water, and mash the taters with two tablespoons of butter and the milk. Add a pinch of salt. Adjust the amount of milk if needed.

Add a thin layer of mashed potatoes to the bottom of a casserole dish. Put the ground beef on top (drain any fat previously!). Squeeze any juice from the sauerkraut and distribute it evenly on top. Spread the cranberry compote over the sauerkraut and top with the rest of the mashed potatoes.

Bake the casserole in a 350F/175C oven for thirty minutes. After twenty minutes, dot the potatoes with little flecks of the remaining butter and bake the casserole until the top is golden brown. You may broil it for some extra golden goodness!

Serve warm.

* This is a great opportunity to use up your leftover cranberry sauce from Thanksgiving or Christmas. If you are caught without, boil three cups of cranberries in a cup of water, three tablespoons of sugar, a sprig of rosemary, two garlic cloves, a bay leaf and a splash of balsamic vinegar, until the berries pop. Purée, taste and adjust the flavors. A can of cranberry sauce will do in a bind, but don't use cranberry jam or preserves: they are too sweet.

Gelukkig Nieuwjaar!!

Wishing you a very happy 2013! May you have much love, good friends and great food!

 

Thank you for making this a great year!

 

Brinta

The month of December is one of our sweetest and richest months, food-wise. We kick off the festivities with Sinterklaas and all his goodies, then move onto Christmas where we eat and indulge in more sweets, baked goods and candies, and we wrap up the year with Oudjaarsavond, New Year's Eve, where oliebollen and appelbeignets will be a mandatory part of the celebrations. In between eating, cooking, baking, and shopping, I sometimes crave just a simple bowl of good old-fashioned porridge. If it's later in the evening, I might indulge in some bierpap, but for a solid start of the day I often get a bowl of homemade Brinta.

Growing up in the Netherlands, a child's palate is subjected to a vast array of pap, or porridges. It usually starts out with Bambix, a creamy, sweet porridge of mixed grains that is mixed with milk and given to toddlers and preschoolers. It is comforting, velvety and has a tender and sweet taste.

When you're a little older and have been graced with teeth, regardless of whether you're sporting a "fietsenrek" or a full set of pearly whites, you traditionally "graduate" to a grown-up version of Bambix, a so-called porridge called Brinta.

Made only with whole wheat flour, Brinta could either make or break your day. If you were at the breakfast table the moment the hot milk was mixed in with the powdery flakes, life was good. If you were but five minutes late, to where the porridge had cooled considerably and the fibers had had an opportunity to soak up all the liquid, your lovely, warm, early morning breakfast was now fit for slicing. It had turned into a cold, lumpy, mushy bowl of wet concrete. Ewww!

Permission granted Brinta

Brinta, short for Breakfast Instant Tarwe (wheat), was created in the province of Groningen in 1944. The partially English name was given to the product as a tender (or commercially sound) gesture to the English and American armed forces who were stationed in our country during that time, and who were much more familiar with robuster breakfast grains. In 1963, the year of the coldest Elfstedentocht yet, the winner of this long-distance skating event happened to mention that all he had had for breakfast was "een bordje Brinta" (a serving of Brinta porridge). The connection between sports and Brinta was made, and it continues to this day.

Since then, Brinta has expanded their product line with breakfast beverages, a variety of porridges or mush and even loaves of bread, all made with the goodness of whole wheat flour. It is apparently available in Canada but not in the United States, unless you purchase it from a Dutch food importer. A similar product is possible to make at home. 

Makes 1 serving.

Brinta(-ish)
3 heaping tablespoons (40 grams) whole wheat unbleached flour
3 tablespoons (45 ml) milk
1 cup (250 ml) milk
1 tablespoon (8 grams) whole wheat bran (optional, not in original product)
Pinch of salt

Mix the flour with the tablespoons of milk in a bowl and make it into a paste. Bring the cup of milk to a simmer. Pour half of the warm milk on the flour paste in the bowl and stir to dissolve, add in the (optional) wheat bran and the pinch of salt, and pour everything back into the pan. Bring everything to a low boil and continue to stir while the porridge thickens, for about five minutes. Depending on how thick or thin you like your pap, adjust the amount of bran/milk accordingly!

Serve with brown or white sugar, and eat hot!

Merry Christmas!

 

Wishing you peace, love and good food.

 

The Dutch Table

Kersttulband

It's Christmas time, and this special time of year is celebrated in the Netherlands with good food, family visits and well....more good food. Old favorites are dusted off, new exciting dishes are being prepared and people look forward to spending some quality time together, and enjoying some good homecooking. During this time, an old-fashioned, traditional cake in the shape of a turban, or tulband is often baked. Usually, the tulband is a simple pound cake, but for Christmas it becomes a special treat.

Rich with butter, sugar and dried fruits, generous slices of this kersttulband are often served when enjoying the visit of a friend or family member. It is good by itself and will hold, because of its richness, for several days. Dress it up with a beautiful red bow and give it as a gift, or keep it for yourself and enjoy it during these holiday times! Red and green candied cherries give it a festive, Christmas-sy feel.

Tulband
2 sticks butter, softened (225 gr.)
1 cup sugar (200 gr.)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
4 eggs
2 cups self-rising flour (300 gr.)
1/2 cup golden raisins (75 gr.)
1/2 cup dark raisins (75 gr.)
1/4 cup candied citron peel or chopped apricots (50 gr.)

Cream the butter and the sugars until they're fluffy. Add the eggs one at a time, and allow each one to incorporate before adding the next one. Sift the flour and carefully fold it into the buttery mix, but hold back one large tablespoon. Toss the dried fruits with that flour, then carefully fold everything into the batter.

Butter and flour a baking pan, either a turban one, or a Bundt pan. Spread the batter into the pan, and bake the cake for an hour in a 350F oven. When a toothpick comes out clean, the cake is done.

Drizzle the cake, when it has cooled down, with your favorite glazed frosting, or make one by mixing a cup of powdered sugar with a tablespoon of milk, and decorate with red and green candied cherries.

* If you don't have vanilla sugar, or can't find any, add a teaspoon of vanilla extract to the batter.



 

Mosterdsoep

This recipe first appeared in Dutch, Issue 8 November/December 2012                              

It is so cold outside! It's snowing and these dark days before Christmas sure makes me just want to curl up on the couch, grab a good book and hide from the elements. But no such luck! I need to head out in this weather to get some last-minute groceries, the Sunday  newspaper and maybe a stocking stuffer or two. Sinterklaas has come and gone, now it's time for the Kerstman!

With all the eating, baking, sampling and tasting that is going on these days in this household, there is very little need for a full meal. But a quick pick-me-up cup of soup during this time really hits the spot.

Today, I made a quick mosterdsoep, a mustard soup. A variety of regions in The Netherlands produce coarse grain mustards, like Doesburg, Groningen and the Zaanstreek area, all with a slight variation on flavor, coarseness and ingredients. It is a traditional item served with many of our foods: it's hard to imagine bitterballen or kroketten without mustard, or a gehaktbal on bread, without a generous lick of the creamy, dark yellow condiment.

Mosterdsoep is a velvety, creamy soup that tastes like, well, mustard. Select a coarse grain mustard if you can find it, preferably a Doesburgse or Zaanse Mosterd. If not, try something like Grey Poupon Harvest Coarse Ground mustard for a valid substitute. It is best with some crispy bacon garnish, and a slice of rustic bread.

Mosterdsoep
1 small leek
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
4 tablespoons of coarse grain mustard

Wash and thinly slice the leek, white part only. Melt the butter in a pan and slowly sweat the vegetable. When it starts to release its lovely fragrance, stir in the flour to make a roux. Carefully continue to stir the butter and flour until it's come together, much like a paste, until it’s slightly golden. Now add the broth little by little, all the while stirring, making sure the roux incorporates all the liquid. Make sure there are no lumps. Bring to a boil, and boil for a good five minutes, until the soup thickens slightly. Turn down the heat to simmer, stir in the mustard and stir slowly until it dissolves. Taste. Adjust the flavor with some more mustard or a bit of salt if needed. 

Mosterdsoep can be served as is, or with some crispy bacon as a garnish.

Duivekater

The Christmas season is one of many gezellige evenings together. We take the time to visit with friends and family over coffee and a slice of banketletter or a piece of speculaas. Or we spend some needed alone time, going through the many recipe magazines available, to plan our Christmas menu while nibbling on some leftover kruidnoten from Sinterklaas.

This season has some of the richest baked goods: they're heavy on sugar, dried fruits and nuts. Many of these traditional recipes stem from the times that families would bring out their best items out of food storage to share with each other. The best sausages, hams and dried meats would appear on the table, together with specialty items such as oranges and other exotic luxuries. This was a serious time to celebrate!

It is also a time of rich, luxurious breads. Kerststol, a rich buttery bread studded with dried fruits and almond paste, is found in stores and bakeries during this time of year. Many a breakfast or morning coffee will include a slice of buttered stol, just to set the mood. Christmas is celebrated during two days, the 25th and 26th of December, and is a great way to showcase your cooking and baking skills by inviting friends and family to come and celebrate with you!

A regional, rich bread that used to appear during these festive days but is now available year-round, is the duivekater. Predominantly present in the province of North-Holland, in the Amsterdam area and the Zaanstreek, the duivekater is a rich, sweet white bread, flavored with lemon zest and is lovely by itself or toasted and served with a lick of butter. The real interesting part about the bread is the shape: it is thought that the duivekater was a sacrificial offering, from Germanic origen, a bread that replaced an actual, physical sacrifice to the gods. If the gods were pleased, the devil would stay away. As the bread is shaped like a bone, a shinbone perhaps, it is assumed that the bread replaced an animal offering (kater = tomcat) . The richly decorated body of the bread represents the shaft, and both ends are shaped like medials, or the lumpy bits at the end of a bone.

But let's not dwell on that too much! The bread is represented throughout history on several paintings by Jan Steen and Pieter Aerts, and although it has lost some of its popularity, it can still be found in the Zaanstreek, albeit less decorated. It's a heavy, sweet, dense white bread, with a wonderful hint of lemon.

Duivekater
3 cups cake flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
1 tablespoon and 2 teaspoons active dry yeast
3/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons powdered milk
2 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons butter, softened
Zest of one lemon
1 egg

Mix the two flours. Warm the milk, add the yeast and a pinch of sugar, set aside to proof. In the meantime, mix in the rest of the sugar, the powdered milk and the salt with the flours. When the yeast is bubbly, mix it in with the flours. Depending on whether you're a light or heavy scooper, you may need to add a little bit of milk to make it a pliable, workable dough. Add the butter and lemon zest, and knead the dough until it's pillowy and soft, but not sticky. Oil a bowl, add the dough and cover for its first rise.

Knead the dough a second time and shape it into a log. Cover and let it rest for five minutes. Now cut about 2 inches on each side and curl the dough inwards (like on the picture) or outward, whichever you prefer, you are trying to achieve something that vaguely looks like a bone.

Cover the bread and let it rise a second time, for about thirty minutes. Make decorative slashings in the rest of the bread and brush the whole bread with egg.

Heat the oven to 400F. Bake the loaf for 25 minutes or until done inside (190F and rising!). If the bread browns too quickly, tent it with aluminum foil until you reach the desired internal temperature.

Cool the bread, slice, slather with butter, sit back and relax. Best enjoyed with a cup of coffee and a couple of good friends.

 

Zuurkool

Some foods don't sound very appetizing. Take for instance today's ingredient, zuurkool. Sour or soured cabbage just doesn't quite do it for the ol' appetite now, does it?

Nevertheless, the fermented white cabbage is a staple in the Dutch kitchen. Especially during colder winter days this vegetable can really brighten your day in a zuurkoolschotel with mashed potatoes and a smoked rope sausage, or in an island dish called siepeltjespot, made with potatoes, ground beef, sauerkraut and cranberries. And not just in the winter: sauerkraut lends a crisp, slightly tangy side to summery salads, or a surprising flavor to soups.

Zuurkool is said to have originated with the Tartars, a roaming group of Mongols, who formed part of Genghis Khan's army in the early 13th century. Whole cabbages don't travel well in saddle bags for obvious reasons, so they would cut them up in strips and transport them that way. The salt of the horse's perspiration would soak through the bags and trigger the cabbage to start fermenting and hey presto! zuurkool was invented. These culinary conquistadors are also presumably responsible for the invention of the steak tartare.

From China, where pickled cabbage became a big hit, it traveled to the Romans and Greek cultures, who fermented the zuurkool in wooden barrels, and on to the rest of the European cultures. Zuurkool, because of its high amount of vitamin C, would also travel well on ships and seafaring expeditions and help avoid scurvy.

The Netherlands produces on average about 45 million pounds of the sour cabbage: it's a very popular item! In the old days, many Dutch households would have a stone crock in the basement and make their own zuurkool, nowadays it's bought fresh from the produce market or in the grocery store. Here is a quick video from 1948 where you can see how it was made in factories back then. But we're spread out all over the world, and sometimes zuurkool is hard to come by, so we're going to make our own!

It is an easy item to make, although it does require patience and some light monitoring.  And you'll be pleased to know that no sweaty horses are needed! Some cuisines add juniper berries, herbs or white wine, but the Dutch prefer theirs just made plain, with only salt, but you are welcome to experiment!

Zuurkool
5 lbs (approx. 2.5 kg) white cabbage (about 2 large heads)
10 teaspoons (approx. 100 grams) pickling salt, kosher or sea salt*

Remove a few outer leaves on each head. Cut the cabbages in half, remove the core and slice the cabbage very thin. You can do this on a mandolin (be careful!!) or with a chef's knife.

Take a clean container: I use a pickle jar as you can see in the picture, but a stone crock or any other jar will work just fine. Wash and rinse it so that it's clean and dry. Place one or two whole leaves on the bottom of the jar. Weigh out 8 ounces of sliced cabbage and add it to the jar. Use a sauerkraut tamper or a potato masher or other blunt instrument to push down the cabbage. Sprinkle a teaspoon of salt on top. Layer with another 8 ounces of sliced cabbage, push down well, sprinkle salt. Repeat until the jar is packed, and finish with another two or three whole leaves. 

The salt will start pulling liquid from the bruised cabbage and soon (although this could take up to 24 hours), the cabbage will be sitting in its own, salty, juice. Perfect!

Push the cabbage down as it will be wanting to float. Use a clean, inverted dish with a rock on top like they did in the old days or join the 21st century. I use a large foodsafe zipped bag that I fill with water. It weighs down the cabbage, flexible enough to cover every nook and cranny but is light enough to let any gases escape. The key is to have the cabbage submerged!

If there is not enough water to cover all the cabbage after 24 hours, carefully salt a cup of water with 2 teaspoons pickling or kosher salt, stir it until it's dissolved and add to the pot.

Let the crock sit on the counter for two days. Then move it out to a cooler part of the house, maybe the basement or the pantry. Make sure no pests, dirt or debris can get into the pot. As you're fermenting cabbage, gases will appear and create a slightly sour smell: that's a good sign!

After about three to four weeks, the zuurkool should be done. We'll make a traditional Terschelling dish, siepeltjespot, with it!

 * Do not use iodized or table salt as it is usually laced with other ingredients: use only sea, kosher or pickling salt.

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Champignonsoep

These are busy times. Sint Maarten hasn't even left the building, figuratively speaking, and the next Saint is already eager to step forward and take his place. Set aside the wafels of Sint Maarten, because now it's time for Sint Nicolaas kruidnoten, speculaas and borstplaat!

But all that sweetness sometimes leaves you wanting for something else. Not a full meal, not a sit-down affair, but a quick pick-me-up. A hot, savory something to gulp down, before you get back on your bike and rush out to get some more Sinterklaas gifts, ingredients to make gevulde speculaas or some of those horrible-but-can't-stop-eating-them "kikkers en muizen", sugar-filled chocolatey candy in the shape of frogs and mice, wrapped in aluminum foil overalls. (Yes, you read that right, they are wearing bright-colored overalls. Why? I have no clue, but I'll try and find out!)

How about a savoury, steaming cup of mushroom soup instead?

The fact that mushroom soup is one of Holland's traditional soups is hardly surprising. Since the start of the first mushroom production in 1825, the country has become the third largest mushroom grower in the world. The fields of northern Limburg, Noord-Brabant and Gelderland proved to contain the perfect growing conditions and these provinces produce almost 94% of its national total. Nowadays, mushrooms are grown in very controlled and covered environments.

Creamy mushroom soup is therefore, next to tomato soup and split pea soup, one of the favorite choices for a cold, winter day!


Champignonsoep
1 lb mushrooms
5 cups chicken or vegetable broth
½ cup onion, diced
1/3 cup celery, sliced
2 tablespoons flour
2 tablespoons butter
4 parsley sprigs, stems and leaves separated
Pinch of freshly chopped thyme
2 cloves
1 bay leaf
½ cup heavy cream


Wash and slice the mushrooms, keeping one mushroom whole. Melt the butter in a pan, and slowly sweat the onions and the celery in the fat, until the vegetables are soft. Add the mushrooms and the thyme, stir several times while they slowly release their juices and gain flavor.

When the mushrooms are soft, remove about half a cup for garnish and set this aside. Sprinkle the flour over the vegetables in the pan and stir several times, so that they’re coated and slowly add in the stock. Keep stirring to make sure all the flour is dissolved. Bring to a boil, then turn to a slow simmer.  Take the whole mushroom and stick the bay leaf to it with the help of the two cloves. Add it to the soup, as well as the parsley stems. Simmer for twenty minutes.

Take out the whole mushroom, remove the bay leaf and the cloves and chop the mushroom in pieces, and return it to the soup. Use a stick blender to purée the soup to a fine consistency. Taste. Stir in the heavy cream and warm the soup, but do no longer boil. Taste again. Adjust seasonings to your liking. If you have it, a drop of sherry will do this soup good.  Add in the remaining mushroom slices, garnish with some chopped parsley leaves and serve hot.

 

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Sint Maarten Wafels

November 11th is an important date in Holland. For children, it marks St. Maarten's day, the day kids venture out in the evening carrying small candles in paper lanterns to sing songs at neighbors' doors and get candy or fruit in return. For the grownups, "the eleventh of the eleventh" at 11:11am initiates the beginning of the famous Carnaval season. It is the day that the new Prince Carnaval is elected, who in turn announces his "adjudant" or helper, and the "Raad van Elf", the eleven organizers who will be tasked with setting up parties, parades and ofcourse, determine the theme of this year's carnaval. The number 11 has, since old times, been the number for fools and simpletons.

But back to St. Maarten, one of the most recognizable saints in Catholicism. For him November 11 wasn't such a good day, as that is the day he was buried. On his way to somewhere, St Maarten saw a poor beggar by the side of the road who needed protection from the cold. St. Maarten cut his coat in two and gave the man one half. That night, in his dreams, he had a vision of Jesus wearing half of his cape. The next day, the cape was miraculously restored.

The beginnings of this ritual were originally pagan (carrying lit candles or "holy" fire around the neighborhood at dark was part of a fertility ritual that was a widespread custom in Western Europe at the time) or traditionally religious in nature (on November 11, the reading of the Bible is verse 11:33 of the book of Luke, ""No one lights a lamp and puts it in a place where it will be hidden, or under a bowl. Instead he puts it on its stand, so that those who come in may see the light.").

Either way, it was a begging fest, much needed during the lacking winter months, and definitely a festivity for the poor, as one song indicates:

Hier woont een rijk man,

Here lives a rich man
Die ons wat geven kan.
Give us something sure he can
Geef een appel of een peer:
Give an apple or a pear
We komen ’t hele jaar niet meer.
We won't come around for another year

As with many things, these festivities usually find place in the southern, mostly Catholic, region of the country. The kids in the northern regions, however, have caught on to this free candy thing and now, too, stroll the dark nights. After having collected enough candy the kids gather with their parents at the town square where a huge bonfire is lit to celebrate the end of the evening. Most paper lanterns end up in the bonfire, and children are handed hot chocolate and waffles to warm up.

Whether you're out and about this evening, or staying home, these yeast waffles are tasty and, because of the egg whites, surprisingly light.


St Maarten Wafels
2 cups flour
2 cups milk, warm
2 teaspoon dry yeast
3 tablespoons sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/2 stick (60 gr.) butter
2 teaspoons brandy (optional)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or 1 sachet vanilla sugar)



Mix the flour and the milk into a batter, and fold in the yeast. (Alternatively, you can also sprinkle the yeast on the milk and let it proof, then mix it in with the flour). Let proof for ten minutes, then stir the batter once or twice, and add the sugar and salt. Stir again. Split the two eggs. Beat the egg yolks and stir them into the batter. Cover and let the batter sit for thirty minutes in a warm spot. In the meantime, beat the egg whites to stiff peaks, and melt the butter. Let the butter cool, but do not let it solidify.

When the batter is showing signs of yeast activity (the batter will show bubbles, like in the picture above), carefully stir in the melted butter, holding one tablespoon back for the waffle iron. Add the vanilla extract and the brandy to the batter. Fold in the egg whites carefully, to lighten and thin the batter. You are now ready to bake!

Heat the waffle iron, lightly grease it if necessary and bake waffles golden. Sprinkle with some powdered sugar and serve warm. Makes about 12 waffles.

Happy St. Maarten!

St. Hubertusbroodjes

I love old traditions, especially ones that involve food. As luck has it, the month of November leads into a whole Saint-related food fest, with Saint Nicholas as a culmination in early December.

Today, November 3rd, is St. Hubertus day. St. Hubertus was born in and around the early 650s and was an avid hunter. On Good Friday, when he chose to go hunting instead of attending church, he came across a huge deer in the woods. The animal displayed a burning cross between its antlers and the voice of God spoke: "Hubert, turn your life around or else!" Or something to that extent.

Long story short, Hubert listened, moved to Maastricht, eventually was elected bishop and became the patron saint of archers, huntsmen, mathematician and a myriad of others. He's probably most famous for being invoked to combat rabies, as he presumedly once healed a dog from rabies by performing the sign of the cross over the animal's head.

It also inspired the tradition of applying a heated key called St. Hubertus key to the animal's forehead, after which it had to stay in confinement for nine days and only be fed dry bread. This is presumably where the St. Hubertus rolls tradition started: a soft, white roll, sometimes with raisins or anise, but most often plain, with a cross cut in the top was baked by hundreds of bakers during this time, blessed by the church on November 3rd and consumed by both dog and owner.

Bakeries in a variety of locations in the Brabant province will sell thousands of St. Hubertus rolls (also known as hupkes, huipkes or hubkes) today, rolls that earlier that morning have been blessed by the local Catholic clergy. People of all ages will enjoy a huupke today, and are sure to give a piece to their dogs as well. Better a roll in the mouth than a key on the forehead, I say!

If you don't have dogs or don't believe in tradition, this recipe is also good for just a plain, soft white roll. Increase the weight on the roll to 2 1/2 oz.

St. Hubertusbroodjes
4 cups all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons active dry yeast
1/2 teaspoon salt
2  1/2 cups milk, warm
4 oz butter
1 egg

Proof the yeast in the warm milk. Mix the flour with the salt, add the milk and knead together, adding in the butter and the egg as you go. Knead it all together into a soft dough, let it rise to double its size,  punch it down and cut into 1.5 oz portions.

Roll each piece of dough into a tight ball, place them side by side in a buttered baking pan. Cover and let rise. Preheat an oven to 400F.

Right before baking the rolls, cut the top of the dough from left to right, and top to bottom. Bake for 10-15 minutes until done, then brush with some butter when the rolls come hot out of the oven.

Optional: some Hubertusbroodjes have raisins or currants in them, which you can add after having kneaded the butter and the egg into the dough. Others have a slight anise flavor: add two tablespoons of gestampte muisjes to the flour before you mix in the rest.