Sweet Cheese Pancakes (Sirniki)

Posted: September 25, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Breakfast, Snacks | Tags: , , , | 15 Comments

I’ve been trying to get this recipe right for a while. It’s my favourite Russian breakfast, and actually really easy to make once you know the technique. But my batter was often too wet, and my sirniki (literally, “little cheese bites.” Russian is so cute.) fell apart in the pan. Sometimes they weren’t sweet enough, or were too floury and dry. I had been getting my fix at Кофе Хаус instead, putting off another attempt. But this time, success!  As my clever Russian friend suggested, one of the most important things is choosing your tvorog (or farmer’s/curd cheese for those not in Russia).  It’s really important to get the high-fat, low-water kind that’s in the solid, flat packs. I like the Blagoda (Благода) traditional 18% variety. Essentially, sirniki are low-maintenance pancakes. You can mash away with a fork to your heart’s content, as fluffiness is not important here. Just heat up the remainders later on, and you’ll have another fabulous breakfast.

Sirniki (Adapted from here. There’s a really good video, too)

  • 400g tvorog (or farmer’s cheese. I bet goat cheese would be nice as well.)
  • 1 egg or two yolks (I used the whole egg)
  • 1 tsp vanilla sugar (or 1/2 tsp vanilla extract)
  • 4 tbsp sugar
  • pinch of salt
  • 50g plain flour, plus extra for rolling your sirniki
  • vegetable oil or butter, for frying (I used butter)

Throw your tvorog into a large bowl and mash it down with a fork. With the same fork, stir in your egg, vanilla sugar, sugar and salt until it’s uniform. Sift the flour if you like (I definitely did not) and put about half of it into the bowl with your wet ingredients. Stir well. Sift in the other half of the flour.

Preheat your frying pan on medium-low. On a large plate, dust a fair amount of flour. Take around a quarter-cup of batter and shape it into a ball. As you stick it in the flour, pat it down until it resembles a thick, round pancake. (Seriously, watch the video!) Then put it on a plate and repeat with the rest of the batter. When all the batter is used up, get frying; put a small pat of butter or 1 tbsp oil on the hot frying pan, and place your sirniki in gently. Cover with a lid and let them cook for around 2 minutes. Flip the sirniki and cook for another minute. Repeat with the remaining pancakes, and you’re done.

The classic way is to eat these with sour cream (or sour cream AND condensed milk), but I like them with butter and honey. I have a brand new pot of honey straight from the Moscow honey fair that I’m putting on everything. “Czarski” honey, in fact. And what a treat it is.

Paris so Sweet: An Edible Guide

Posted: June 17, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Paris | Tags: , , , , , | 1 Comment

If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.

-Ernest Hemingway

Nearly everyone has a story about Paris. My ex-boyfriend, for instance, said that Paris is where he first fell in love with food. When he went there for the first time in his early 20s, it was his first time out of Canada. In Paris, he said, he experienced the best he’d ever had—the best cheese, the best wine, and the best pastries. By the time I got to France, some two years ago, I was decidedly more jaded, but the city was still a lovely surprise. You see, I never used to want to go to France. It seemed typical, obvious, as if everything had been discovered and all the beauty sucked out of it by swarms of tourists and unfriendly Parisiens. But, despite myself, I was excited to go. Even on my first trip to Paris for New Year’s 2010, I was excited to finally see the shingled roofs, cobbled streets, and grey skies. And this year, at the beginning of May, there was even more anticipation. I had five days in Paris, and I was going to prepare; I had my train tickets from Nice, and I booked myself a sweet studio with Air BnB. I knew my area, Les Gobelins in the 13th arrondissement, and I had a few expectations (but not too many—a trip killer, in my opinion). I watched films set in Paris to get me into the mood—Caché, Les 400 Coups, and Midnight in Paris.

In Midnight in Paris, Owen Wilson’s Gil is obsessed with the City of Lights. Paris in the rain. I’m no fan of rainy days, really, but he’s right—no grey skies are more beautiful than Paris’s. It’s especially nice if you can just stay inside your little studio while it’s blustering outside. Then you can eat a bit of baguette and Roquefort from Biocoop as I did my very first night. Or you can go old school, as I did my second day, with a chilly mint julep at Bar du Central. Extremely nice to put one’s feet up after a day of sightseeing at the Centre Pompidou. At Bar du Central I met up with an old friend (and current Sorbonne scholar), as well as a Russian niece-of-a-friend to discuss life, London, and her translations of Teffi.

Nadezhda Teffi, a Russian émigré writer, lived much of her life in Paris. In fact, when we met, my friend above was trying to arrange a meeting with some of Teffi’s old literary contacts. There’s so much nostalgia in Paris, and a lot of literary history. In that same Midnight in Paris, Gil is tired of being a Hollywood screenwriter; instead, he’s eager to imitate the Paris-based writers he so admires: Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Stein. Paris seems the natural place to be a writer, with plenty bookstores to keep your reading current, and cafes to keep your writing sharp and caffeinated. Indeed, I was mad keen to check out fabled Shakespeare and Co., which was lovely, homey, and full of good stuff for the reader of English.

Another landmark, though not one related to book browsing, is Angelina, famous for their ultra-dense hot chocolate. I skipped the inside and got a hot chocolate pour emporter, taking it out to les Tuileries across the street. And it’s Paris after all, so you can also also buy box after box of chocolates on every corner. It is my souvenir of choice (to give and receive). My personal favourite is La Maison du Chocolat. Lucky for me, you can get their chocolates far beyond France these days.

Aside from chocolate, what dessert could be more sweetly French than the macaron? On my second-to-last day I went to L’Atelier des Chefs, where me and several other ladies (along with master chef Cédric) whipped up four batches of macarons—lemon, raspberry, strawberry and pistachio. Even though I like macarons only so-so, I was determined to take a cooking class in the most important food city in the world. I’m only sorry I couldn’t bring these sweets back with me (too squishy). I had to opt for a taste of Pierre Hermé instead. Equally delicious, I tell you.

Raspberry Macarons

French food goes beyond the sweets, and beyond the classic coq au vin and beef bourguignon; France’s food takes its influence from the Caribbean, Africa, and the long-standing Jewish population. The food is diverse, as are the people. And all food is celebrated, it seems, from the spiciest tagine to the creamiest Béchamel sauce. That’s all well and good, but what really warms my heart is Paris’s pastry. I love a city where pastry is king. It had been a while since I’d eaten a kosher pastry, but this one hit the spot; I highly recommend the fig strudel at Florence Kahn in Le Marais.

Spicy food, spicy politics–don’t forget what else was happening while I was in Paris: the election. I’m only sorry to admit that I didn’t realize what was happening until it was over. I went out to dinner with friends and they, kindly, explained to me that the socialists had won. To give you a taste of what a big deal this was, this is what every newsagent looked like the day after:

After elections drama, I was pleased with my quiet last day, which involved a morning stroll through Père-Lachaise, cemetery to the famously deceased: Jim Morrison, Colette, Isadora Duncan and, apparently, the mythical Heloise and Abelard. The grave below, perhaps not a famous man, is the most interesting one I saw. A little bit creepy, but definitely distinctive. That’s good, of course. If it were boring, it wouldn’t be Paris. Bien sûr.

Khachapuri, Cheese Bread of My Dreams

Posted: February 14, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Pastry, Snacks | Tags: , , | 4 Comments

And thus I begin my series of food to hibernate with. The weather hasn’t let up in weeks, so when I’m not teaching I tend to hole up in my apartment, watch movies (Chasing Amy and Hannah and her Sisters have been on the recent rotation), and cook. (I’m glad to be working again because it means that I can pass the extra baked goods on to my colleagues, saving me from inevitable sugar rushes.) In my time off I’ve also tried to take in as much of Moscow as possible, seeing museums (Winzavod and Garazh are next), planning parties, shopping and having adventures in even the simplest of exchanges. The cultural differences sometimes run so deep that I don’t even know when I’ve committed a faux-pas. For instance, the other day I broke the zipper on my boot and took it to the shop to get it repaired, while at the same time asking the shop-keeper if he could clean my boots up; it wasn’t until I told my colleague about the exchange that she mentioned it was a definite no-go to ask employees to clean your boots. It’s a bit of an insult here–shoe-shining is done in train stations, not in shops. Ruh-roh! Every day is a lesson here, linguistically or otherwise. In any case, there are two words we can all agree on: cheese bread.

Khachapuri is a Georgian pastry I came into contact with a year and a half ago on my last trip to Moscow. I forget which restaurant I first got it from, but I definitely came to love it, and took that love with me to Estonia. Georgian food was unlike anything I’d ever eaten, with unique spices, plentiful use of walnuts, and green herbs. I was hooked and wanted more–roasted eggplants, plates of fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, mint tea, turkish coffee and this bread, which is lovely and different every place you go. In the end, khachapuri is basically a cheese-filled pie–the Pizza Hut stuffed crust that never was. It’s perfect winter food, ideal for cutting into big slices and sharing with friends. I sliced it up too quickly to photograph it whole, which gives me all the more reason to make it again.

Khachapuri (adapted from Nami-Nami). Serves four generously

Dough:

  • 250g sour cream
  • 150g unsalted butter
  • 1 beaten egg
  • Around 300g flour
  • A pinch of salt
  • 1/2 tsp baking soda
  • 1 tsp sugar

Filling:

  • 200g Suluguni cheese (mozzarella will do in a pinch), grated
  • 1 beaten egg (alternatively, beat just one egg and use it in the filling and the dough)
  • 2 tbsp sour cream
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced finally (this is optional; I didn’t have any and my khachapuri turned out just fine)

Preheat the oven to 200°C (390°F)

Melt the butter on the stove and then slowly whisk in the sour cream. Whisk in the salt, baking soda and sugar, then slowly mix in the flour. I didn’t measure this but just added it slowly until the dough became uniform and only a little sticky. Knead the dough for a minute or so to bring it all together, then divide it in two and roll each piece out flat into two circles.

Mix together the grated cheese, egg, sour cream and garlic (if using).

Place one dough circle on a parchment-covered baking sheet, then spread with the cheese mixture, leaving a couple of centimetres on the sides bare. Cover with the other dough circle and press the edges together firmly. Brush the top with beaten egg yolk or leftover sour cream and poke the top with the prongs of a fork. Put it in the oven and bake for around 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown. Let it sit around 5 minutes, then slice.

Enjoy (and keep warm)!

Provisions for a Russian Winter

Posted: February 4, 2012 | Author: | Filed under: Moscow | Tags: , , , , | 6 Comments

Привет из Москвы, Друзья! It feels good to be back in a land of ice and snow, where -15 degree days have been the norm for weeks. Not much to be done about that except layer like a crazy person. My colleagues see my wool coat and are incredulous; most women here wear enormous down coats or fur шубы, which are super elegant and warm-looking. Anyway, I’m trying to take the cold as an excuse to stay indoors and read, drink coffee, go to the cinema, and cook. I’m getting much better at boiling pasta, and have already made several loaves of banana bread, but I’m trying to revisit lovely Russian edibles, which are ideal for winter. As happens, Russian food is a mix of indigenous ingredients, as well as ideas that flowed back and forth from Eastern Europe and Asia, including Estonia (whose cuisine I discussed here) and parts of the Caucasus like Georgia and Armenia. I feel it should be better known. The following is an update on a post I wrote a few years ago the first time I went to Russia. As my knowledge of Russian cuisine grows, it’s time to revisit the idea.

Russian food gets a bad rap for being bland and heavy, but it’s really just a combination of different tastes–there are more bitter and sour flavours, I find, than in North American food. (Oh, there’s also the flavour of dill. Get used to it.) My friend even told me that zakuski, the snacks you drink with vodka–including black bread, caviar, and mayonaisey salads–are all perfectly balanced by what you’re drinking. It’s science.

  • Black Rye Bread (Ржаной хлеб): While I generally prefer fluffier, softer bread, this dense, nutritious bread is perfect with fish or caviar, and for open-faced sandwiches. I’ve been thinking about making my own, but the sheer number of ingredients makes me pretty hesitant.
  • Blini (Блины): Throughout my time in Russia, I must have eaten millions of these pancakes, as they’re sold everywhere and are terrific. Several Russian fast-food chains seem to have been created on the strength of the blini appeal. They’re usually buckwheat crȇpes, filled with cheese, mushrooms, meat, or caviar. You can also buy sweet ones filled with honey or jam.
  • Borsch (Борш): This is the famous beef-broth-based beet stew of Ukrainian origin often topped with smetana (sour cream). Note that in Russia you’re not just limited to 2% dairy fat sour cream, oh no–20% fat is very common and, obviously, way better than any low-fat variety.
  • Caviar (Икра): You should be careful about which kind of caviar you buy as Beluga caviar, for instance, is quite rare and potentially harmful to the Beluga sturgeons. But in general, with a bit of sour cream on some blinchiki, the caviar here is beautiful. Besides, what better place to buy caviar than in a place like Russia, where there’s so much selection?
  • Chai (Чай): I tried to ask my Russian friends what a chai latte would be here–a chai chai? Masala chai? Or maybe it’s just not a thing at all. Must find the answer! Regardless, regular black tea is usually served with lemon and maybe sugar, but definitely not milk. When I was in Saint Petersburg I found that getting good tea was extremely easy, while finding a good cup of coffee could be a challenge. In Moscow it’s a lot easier, what with Coffee House on every corner, not to mention Coffee Company, Double Coffee, Coffee Mania, and Starbucks. But still, tea is my saviour halfway through a long day at work.
  • Champagne (Русское Шампанское): This “champagne” is so sweet and so festive, it instantly makes me feel the Russian spirit. I used to drink it sometimes in Estonia, and was always happy that I did.
  • Ice Cream (Мороженое): Somehow there’s just something beautiful about Russian ice cream–it’s rich, filling, available everywhere and beloved by all. I mean, in what other country would you be able to spot businessmen walking down to the street, ice creams in hand? Or see people carrying cones on a -15 degree day. Nowhere else, I believe. Eskimo is my favourite, and has been around for about a thousand years.
  • Kasha (Каша): Kasha’s a hot breakfast cereal, usually made of millet or buckwheat, sold everywhere by the kilo for the equivalent of $1. Teremok, a paragon of Russian fast food, serves up my favourite sweet kasha with honey and cream.
  • Kefir (Кефир): A tangy, lassi-like yogurt beverage that I pour over my kasha or drink straight. It reminds me of the YOP drinkable yogurts of my youth, although the flavour is “plain” instead of “Razzle Raspberry” or whatever.
  • Kvass (Квас): A fermented rye drink (the Estonian Kali) that’s mildly alcoholic and far less sweet than regular soda. I won’t ever need to buy a two-litre version, thanks, but getting a glass from the vendors on Arbat street in the summer would be very welcome. It may have alcohol in it, but it’s given to children like juice.
  • Medovukho (Медовуха): This is another slightly alcoholic drink, a sort of honey-mead. Мëд is also the word for honey, another food that Russians love, and with good reason. In the markets, honey is sold from giant containers, freshly scraped off the comb. Vendors will shout out “Devushka! Devushka!” as you pass, plying you with enormous samples. But don’t make my mistake and pay an embarrassing sum for honey. Haggle for all you’re worth!
  • Pelmeni (Пельмени): The Russian pierogi/ravioli. The first time I came to Russia I purchased some at the supermarket, but got home and realized that I wasn’t going to be eating them; if I had been paying attention, I would have seen the huge letters on the package which read: “С много много мясом!”, meaning, “With lots and lots of meat!” Oy.
  • Russian Salad/Olivier Salad (Оливье салат): A delightful mayonaise-based salad with potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, peas and vegetables. It sometimes has some meat in it and definitely has some dill sprinkled over the top. A столовая (cafeteria) favourite.
  • Tvorog (Творог): Similar to cottage cheese, with much less whey, tvorog is actually more akin to cheese curds, being quite dry in consistency. So many delicious things are made with tvorog here: plenty of pastries, as well as those glazed sirok bars and sirniki, the wonderful curd-cheese pancakes in the top photo that I’ve been making for breakfast this week.
  • Ukha (Уха): A broth-based fish soup that can be found everywhere, though it is best when homemade, served straight from a delightful babushka’s own stone pot. Also, what other soup could serve as a film plot point? This one certainly does, in 2009’s I am Love. See it to believe it.
  • Vareniki (Вареники): My understanding is that Vareniki differs from Pelmeni in the way the dough is made: vareniki dough is a bit thicker, and vareniki are usually filled with potatoes or a sweet cherry filling instead of meat. They both seem to be served the same way, however, with sour cream and–what’s that?–dill.
  • Vodka (Водка): Duh. This list wouldn’t be complete without at least a mention of vodka. It’s cheap and it’s part of the language: the root of водка is вода—water. I won’t be treating it like water, as some local gents do, but I certainly hope to have some ice cold shots with my zakuski. На здоровье!

This is what I’ve tried so far–I can’t wait to see what other treats this beautiful country has in store for me!

Photo Credits: Nami-Nami, Smitten Kitchen, Zamok, Pasecnik, Live