Appelepap

Every now and then, I get down these rabbit trails that lead me to new and amazing discoveries. Today was one of those days, and I found not one, but two gems! Lately, I've been scouring books and magazines for additional apple recipes. My trees really put out a great crop this year, and I hate seeing food to go waste. 

While I was browsing the online inventory of the DBNL, the Digital Library for Dutch Literature, I ended up stumbling across a book called "Karel Knal en de wonderschoenen" from 1943, written by C.H. Geudeker and Herman Looman, and delicously illustrated by Uschi.  I got lost a little bit in the story about this young man, Carl, who wants to become an athlete while donning an interesting choice of footwear. In the story, he tells his coach that he wants to participate in every single race, to which his coach responds: "Je hebt bovendien nog nooit een 100 meter gelopen en een race over 10 kilometer evenmin. Ik kan je verzekeren, dat het geen van beide appelepap is!" ("Moreover, you have never run a 100 meters nor a 10 kilometer race. I can assure you that neither of them is apple porridge!")

Hold on a second! Appelepap? Apple porridge? What is this appelepap? I did some more digging, so let me tell you. Appelepap is/are two things: one, it's an expression used to describe something that is easy to do. Secondly, and far more interesting for all of us, it's an old-fashioned traditional Dutch dish, specifically from the province of Gelderland, eaten either as a hearty breakfast, or a dessert. Who knew? It appears to have been, or may still be, particularly popular in rural areas, where simple, hearty dishes were commonly made from ingredients readily available, like apples and dairy.

This particular version is made with apples, buttermilk, and a pinch of cinnamon, which creates a tasty combination of sweet and (slightly) sour - delicious! There are other versions that use milk (or you could use a nut milk), a handful of raisins, and flavored with a dusting of ground anise. I tried several combinations and, although a fan of anise, I liked the apple-buttermilk-cinnamon one the best. If you don't like or can eat apples, try it with pears (perepap) or cherries (kersepap). If you don't have buttermilk, make your own with one cup of regular milk and a tablespoon of vinegar: just stir and let it sit for five minutes until it starts to coagulate. And if you don't have fresh apples, just use canned apple sauce - it's all good! 

Appelepap

2 medium size apples (about 400 grams), peeled and cored

4 cups (1 liter) buttermilk

3/4 cup (100 gram) flour

1 Tablespoon sugar/honey/sugar substitute (optional)

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Dice the apples, set two tablespoons of chopped apple aside, and add the rest to a saucepan with a little water. Bring up to a boil and cook into a chunky applesauce. In the meantime, mix the flour and the buttermilk together until there are no lumps. Stir in the buttermilk mixture with the warm applesauce in the pan and continue to stir, bringing it to a simmer. Don't let the buttermilk boil as it will curdle, so just keep stirring on low to medium heat for a good five minutes, or until the flour has thickened the porridge. When it's hot, take it off the stove and divide the porridge over four bowls. Split the remaining chopped apple over the porridge, and dust a little cinnamon over each bowl. Eat warm or cold. 

Drie-in-de-pan (met appel en rozijnen)

Drie-in-de-pan, three-in-the-pan, is a traditional Dutch dessert dish but to my shame I have to admit that I don't remember ever eating it. At first glance, they just looked like small pancakes, so in my overly practical mind I figured if I was making pancakes, I might as well make the big, cartwheel ones, and not mess around with making three little ones. Am I alone in this? 

Last night, looking through my cookbooks for apple recipes, I came across them again, tucked in between pannekoeken en wentelteefjes. It wasn't necessarily the recipe itself that drew me in, but a handwritten comment scribbled in the sideline by a former owner that said: "platte oliebol". Wait, what? Flat oliebol? Now you have my attention! I looked at the recipe again, and realized that the commenter was right: the batter had all the ingredients for oliebollen: flour, yeast, milk, and eggs. Well, fair enough, so do many other foods - so I decided to find out. 

Of course, I can't just follow instructions so I added chopped apple, raisins, and cinnamon to the recipe, but I think I'm sold. Although they are not as fluffy as oliebollen are on the inside, they are also much less greasy, which I guess is a good thing. 

These pancakes are thicker and heartier than regular Dutch pancakes and have a crispy exterior with a soft, fluffy inside. Drie-in-de-pan, so called because you make three at a time in the same pan, can be enjoyed as a sweet treat, usually served with powdered sugar, syrup, or even jam, but it can also be made with savory fillings (think ham and cheese, or bacon and cheese, or roasted vegetables, for example) for a hearty lunch or brunch. 

Now...don't get hung up on the number 3. If your pan is bigger and you can fit five, go for it. Call it Vijf-in-de-pan! Don't like apples and/or raisins? Try bananas instead, or just leave the fruit out altogether. There's no judgment here, just adjust the recipe to your liking. And if you don't eat them all, they freeze well and can be heated in the toaster. 

For portioning out the batter, I use an ice cream scoop about 2.5 inches (about 6 cm-ish) across that holds approx. 80 ml or 1/3 cup. I don't peel the apple because I like the red skin to shine through, but feel free to peel if you prefer. 

Makes approx. 8-9 little pancakes.

Drie-in-de-pan

1 3/4 cup (250 grams) flour

1/2 tsp salt

2 tsp (5 grams) active dry yeast

1 cup (250 ml) milk, warm 

Pinch of cinnamon

1 Tablespoon sugar, optional

2 eggs

1/2 cup (50 grams) raisins

1 medium (5 oz/150 grams) apple

Butter for frying

Powdered sugar for dusting, optional

Mix the flour, salt, yeast, milk, and cinnamon in a bowl. Add sugar if using. Stir in the eggs and the raisins. Core the apple and chop into small pieces, and stir it into the batter, then cover the bowl and let it rest for 30 minutes so that the yeast can do its work. 

Heat the butter in the pan and scoop the batter in equal amounts into the pan. Fry one side for about 3 to 4 minutes, or until it's golden brown, then flip over with a spatula and fry the other side. Keep them warm on a side plate under a towel or pan lid while you fry the others. 

Dust with powdered sugar just before serving (optional), and eat warm. These are also great topped with jam. 

 

Brusselse Appeltjes

It's apple season! I've already been dehydrating apple slices, and have just about finished canning my yearly stash of appelmoes. I've also baked and frozen 5 Dutch appeltaarten, made an apple cake, and took appelflappen over to my sweet neighbors.  To say I'm about "appled" out, is not an exaggeration, but I know better than to complain. This winter, when I add a heaping spoon of appelmoes to my dinner plate, or enjoy a slice of apple pie with my Sunday coffee, I will be grateful and happy that I did the work. 

Nevertheless, when a freak rain storm last night knocked more apples off the tree, I slightly despaired. Now what? Time is in short demand during the week, but these apples needed something doing with. I dug through my old cookbooks and my eye fell on a recipe name I had not seen before: Brusselse Appeltjes, apples from Brussels, or made the Brussels way.  

Now, I know Brusselse wafels, and I know Brussels sprouts (spruitjes) and Brussels lof (witlof), but Brussels apples were new to me. After digging around the internet (and going down a myriad of rabbit holes, goodbye time!) I found out that the recipe has been around in the Netherlands since approximately around the middle of last century, but that it does not have a Belgian origin, or is even known in Brussels or surroundings. 

Never mind, let's try it out! Brusselse appeltjes are fresh apples, cored and filled with jam, and baked under a blanket of choux pastry....what's not to like? And the good thing is that, since it's not a traditional recipe in that sense, you can experiment all you want. Don't like jam? Fill the apples with boerenjongens, or a walnut/brown sugar/cinnamon filling, or go for almond paste. You can then rename the dish and replace Brusselse with your own name and make it a new family favorite! 

Not particularly fond of choux pastry, or can't be bothered to make it? Then try your hand at these custard covered apples, appeltjes onder de deken, instead. 

For this recipe, I chose not to peel the apples, but that's because I wasn't sure if these apples were good for baking and I didn't dare go back on the internet to check. I believe they're Winesap (the squirrels took off with the tag, so it's a bit of a guess) but Braeburns, Jonathan, Fuji, Gala, and Granny Smith are all baking apples and can do with peeling, if you're not fond of peels.

Brusselse Appeltjes 

4 medium size baking apples

2 Tablespoons lemon juice (optional, if peeling the apples)

2 Tablespoons jam* (strawberry, cherry, apricot...you pick)

4 Tablespoons (50 grams) butter and a bit more for greasing the pan 

1/2 cup (120 ml) milk or water

1/2 heaping cup (60 grams) powdered sugar

Pinch of salt, if butter is unsalted

1/3 cup (50 grams) all-purpose flour

2 medium eggs

Optional: 1 Tablespoon powdered sugar and a pinch of cinnamon to dust the dish with right before serving

Peel the apples and sprinkle with lemon juice to prevent browning, or leave unpeeled. Core. Butter the

oven dish. Place apples in the dish and divide the jam* over the four holes.

Heat the oven to 400F/200C.

To a saucepan, add the butter, milk or water, the sugar and the salt if using. Bring to a simmer, and stir until the butter is melted. Lower the heat, dump all the flour in at once, and stir until it becomes a ball of flour that lets go of the sides of the pan. Take the pan off the heat, and stir in one egg, until it's absorbed into the dough. Add the second egg, keep stirring until it all comes together. 

Pour the dough over the apples, and place the dish in the oven. Depending on how shallow your dish is, you may want to place it on a baking sheet in case something bubbles over. Bake for 35 - 40 minutes, then check to see if the dough is golden. If yes, remove from the oven. If not, give it a few more minutes. 

Sprinkle powdered sugar with a pinch of cinnamon over the top. Serve warm. Great with a scoop of ice cream! 

*if you don't have or like jam, try boerenjongens, or a mixture of walnuts/brown sugar/cinnamon, or almond paste.

Rozijnenbroodschoteltje met appel

Several weeks ago, I made a batch of raisin bread, rozijnenbrood, to enjoy, give away, and store for later use. Raisins and currants have the tendency to absorb moisture from the bread, so after a few days the bread tends to get a little dry. Fortunately, it toasts well, and there is a certain bliss in having a warm, toasted slice of raisin or currant bread, with a little bit of "good" butter, spread across the top, and if so desired, a slice or two of aged cheese. There is little less that comforts the soul on a blistery, cold day like today! 

There are also other ways of using up old bread, like in today's dish: a bread pudding, or broodschoteltje (bread dish), made with raisin bread, apple, eggs, milk and sugar. In my search of traditional recipes, I frequently come across dishes that use up "restjes", leftovers, from the previous day. Any meat left from the Sunday dinner will be served as a cold cut, in a huzarensalade, or turned into croquettes the next day. Vegetables are repurposed into salads or soups, and bread is turned into wentelteefjes (French toast) or broodschoteltjes. From having lived in other countries and among other cultures, I know that this is not unique to the Dutch, but I do think that we take a particular pride in being thrifty, or zuinig. 

And we have plenty of sayings to support being thrifty: in Limburg they say "dae twieë zwegelkes noeëdig heet um zien piêp aan te staeke, weurtj noeëts riêk" (he who needs two matches to light his pipe, will never be rich), in de Achterhoek it's said that "dunne plekskes sniën, is ' t behold van de wörste" (cutting thin slices preserves the sausages), and in Zeeland, "oans bin zunig" (we are thrifty). This last one even inspired various margarine commercials in the 80s.

Well, I'm not from Zeeland, but I do like to be zuinig or deliberate in my spending, so this morning I am using up the rest of the rozijnenbrood to make a bread pudding. If you don't have rozijnenbrood, just use regular old bread and add a handful of raisins. Don't have an apple? See if you can scrounge up a pear, or use dried fruits like apricots. Even dollops of the last of the strawberry jam will make a great addition: just have fun with it! As they say in de Achterhoek: "Wa’j ow spaort veur de mond, is vake veur de katte of de hond" - what you save for your mouth, often ends up being for the cat or the dog. A great encouragement to look through the cupboards and fridge to see what can get used up, in true Dutch fashion.

Rozijnenbroodschoteltje met appel

8 thick slices raisin or regular bread (about 500 grams)

1 apple, cored and cubed

1 tablespoon (15 grams) butter

2 cups (500 ml) milk

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla 

1/3 cup (65 grams) sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon (optional)

Pinch of salt

Cut the bread into cubes and mix with the apple. Butter a casserole and add the bread and apple. In a bowl, add the milk and the eggs and beat them until all of the egg has been incorporated. Mix in the rest of the ingredients. Heat the oven to 350F/175C. In the meantime, on medium heat on the stove, warm up the milk and stir until it starts to thicken a little bit, about eight to ten minutes. Do not let the milk get to a boil, as the egg will curdle.

Pour the hot milk over the bread and apple mix. If you want a bread pudding with a crispy top, do not mix, otherwise give it a stir or two so that all the bread is covered. When the oven is up to temp, place the casserole on the middle rack, and bake it for 40-45 minutes or until golden.

Serve hot. I like to add a pat of butter or a splash of heavy cream, but it doesn't need it (then again, neither do I, but there you have it :-).

Gestoofde prei

This is going to sound so foreign to anybody who lives in Europe, but for the longest time I was unable to find prei, leeks, in the grocery store here in the US. Granted, I live in a rural area and am nowhere near a large city, but even when shopping in the capital of the state, I was not able to find any. It's only since a few years that they make an appearance, and at that still a spendy one: three stalks will near $4 easily. 

How different it is in the Netherlands! I am probably exaggerating a tiny bit, but just about anybody has a stalk or two of prei in their cart, sticking out of their shopping bag, or tucked underneath the snelbinders, those rubber straps on the rear rack of the bicycle. I did a quick search on the main Dutch grocery store website, and 2 stalks of leeks are 1 euro. One euro!!! Oh, the envy.... :-)

Prei features prominently in our cuisine: it's a key ingredient for many soups, casseroles, or as a main vegetable, like today's dish. They are considered a tasty vegetable that's valued for their fiber, nutritional content, and low-calorie profile. Not surprisingly then, leek agriculture in the Netherlands is a significant part of the country's vegetable trade, with the Netherlands being one of the key players in international leek trade alongside Belgium. 

The Netherlands produces between 90,000 and 100,000 tons of leeks per season, starting from late February or early March until the end of July or early August, ensuring a year-round availability that includes both summer and winter varieties. The main areas for leek growing is primarily in the North Brabant and Limburg regions, with more than half of this production destined for export. Well, I don't know where they're exporting it to, but it certainly isn't to my little corner of the world! 

One of the main reasons why I am so utterly pleased to finally have leeks within reach is because I absolutely love, love, love braised leeks. Because we grew up in Limburg, leeks were just about everywhere, and my grandma used to make these delicious leeks, braised in butter, with white wine and capers. It's such a simple dish, but so very satisfying! Leeks can also be served in a cream sauce, with béchamel, a cheese sauce, or sautéed with bacon. This is just one of the many ways. 

Makes four servings.

Gestoofde prei

3 large leek stalks

4 tablespoons (55 grams) butter

1 bay leaf

1 heaping tablespoon capers

1/2 cup (125 ml white wine)

1/2 cup (125 ml vegetable stock)

Cut the root ends off the leeks, and the darkest of the dark leaves at the top. (Don't discard them, but wash and slice them thin, and use them for soups, omelets or in casseroles). Cut the stalks into 3 inch pieces. Rinse under running water (if they're very sandy, cut in half lengthwise). Melt the butter in the pan, and add the leek stalks. Don't let them brown, but turn them over every two to three minutes until they start to soften a little bit. Add the bay leaf, capers, wine, and stock, bring to a simmer, turn down, cover with a fitting lid, and let them braise for about fifteen minutes. Check with a fork to make sure the leeks are tender and soft. Taste the sauce and see if you need to adjust the salt level.