Remember the Winter garden post? Neither do I; it backfired. So let me make amends. In the full-summer sun already dawning in early June, basil and mint grows like wild in outdoor gardens. 

“Ingredients”: 1 pack of basil seeds, 1 pack of mint seeds, a daily supply of water, some spare soil.

Directions: Although it may be a bit late, as most sowing should take place in the spring, you may just be lucky if the climate is moderate. Sow the seeds and water regularly, until they start to come out. As they start to grow - remember to “thin them out” by picking out the later ones to eat, in areas where the plants are densely sown, otherwise, they will also stunt each others growth. Continue the process until all is harvested and enjoyed in salads, soups, sauce, sandwiches and other surprises.

Who can culinarily survive without these green darlings?

It is a sundown afternoon. The berry - sweet with its summer temperament and blue from the dark forest. The rose, delicate, swaying, exotic. Imagine that couple in a midnight swirl.

Ingredients (two swirl-breads): 200ml lukewarm milk, 100g of sugar, 15g dry yeast, 500g plain flour, 70g butter, 1 egg, 200g rose jam, 200g blueberry marmalade. (+1 egg for the glaze)

In a large bowl combine the milk, sugar and yeast. When it has dissolved, stir in the flour, soft butter and egg. Kneed together until the dough becomes smooth and elastic, and covered with a kitchen towel, leave it in a warm place to grow for an hour.

Hopefully by now the dough has doubled in size. Divide it into two equal parts, and roll them out separately into two large uniform rectangles. 

Spill out the goodies. Blueberry jam on one rectangle and rose on the other.

 

Another piece to complete the Turkish chronicles. 

Yoghurt is a summer favourite - cucumbers, zucchini, or whatever else you can sink in it will mediately become a desert-survival dish. Remember the dill/mint/parsley leaves to break through the milky comfort with an energizing fresh twist.

Ingredients: 3 medium zucchinis cubed,  2/3 cup thick plain yogurt, 1 1/2 tbsp olive oil, 3 garlic cloves (minced), 1/2 cup crushed walnuts, a few spoons of fresh chopped dill/fresh or dried mint, salt/pepper to taste.

Directions: Squeeze the cubed zucchini by pressing it in a bowl, to drain the excessive juice. Heat the olive oil in a pan and stir fry the vegetable cubes for a few minutes, until tender and lightly browned. Cool. 

When the zucchini cools down, add the chopped walnuts and mix well.

In a seperate bowl, combine the yogurt and minced garlic, and spread on top of the zucchini cubes. Lastly, season the zucchini-yoghurt mixture with the dill/mint, salt, and pepper and stir until well combined. I heard it works just as well on crackers as guacamole does. 

Recipe adapted from: http://almostturkish.blogspot.com

A salad - innocent, fluffy and colouful. It’s just asking for it.

Nar Eksisi - Pomegranate sauce. A sour Turkish garnish, used for salads and meat dishes, but probably available at most foreign shops. 

It’s terribly sour and thick, with a sweet little note at the very end of the mouth-twisting lemon-meets-lime sensation. 

Just pour it over any boring salad, and phew, dinner has been saved by this bad boy.

WESTERN SUSHI - CORAL, PINK AND BLUSH 

How feminine can breakfast get? The sweet lusciousness of strawberries, the refreshing lightness of the watermelon, the wild magenta of spicy radish, all accompany the delicate rose swirls. To make the ham-hummus swirls, or “snail shells”, as we call them at our house, roll out a rectangular piece of ham and equally spread a thin layer of hummus over the surface. We like to also use white cream cheese, but the nutty texture here is more filling. Roll the ham/hummus like sushi, pressing firmly, and cut the roll into small cylinders. Set them out on a plate, and enjoy.

Seems someone is in the pink again. 

From the “Wake up in the morning feelin’ like…” series, comes a new idea to start off the day. In those 20 precious minutes before heading out or to work, much can be done to bring the Paris scene into the kitchen.

Ingredients: 3 large eggs, 200ml full-fat milk, 300ml cream, 1 teaspoon vanilla sugar/extract, 2 teaspoons regular sugar, butter for frying, 8 slices of regular toast bread/ 8 slices of a baguette, or brioche. Any one-day old white pastry will do in essence.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, cream, milk, sugar and vanilla. At this point other spices - like caramel flavouring to substitute for the sugar, or cinnamon may be used. 

Melt a generous knob of butter on the pan, and meanwhile, soak each piece in the eggy mixture by immersing them completely in a bowl for several seconds.

Line up the pieces of toast on a frying pan, and sizzle in the butter - make sure it is bubbling, to give them the brown crispy edges. Make sure to replace the butter if it becomes absorbed too quickly, and continue to fry until golden (about 10-15 minutes).

Despite the sweetness of the egg mixture, the flavour tends to spread over the entire bread piece into a mere suggestion of sugariness. Some topping would be fitting to bring out the dessert nature of the piece.

Though I opted for maple syrup, I’ve heard of cases where the soggy sweet slices were topped with jam, more butter, peanut butter, honey, marmite, molasses, apple sauce, whipped cream, fresh fruit, chocolate, yogurt, ice cream and even cheese or nuts. Don’t let the fear of food poisoning keep you from playing the game, eh - good luck.

Bon-jour is an understatement whit such a start.

It’s been well established, that the French know how to start the morning - so away from the croissant, toast and baguette, here’s one more warm, sweet bun to add to your morning repertoire. 

Ingredients (12 buns): 375g white flour, 50g sugar, 7g dry yeast, 2 tsp salt, 100ml warm milk, 4 eggs, 175g softened butter, optional raisins, oil for greasing. 

Directions: Mix together the flour, sugar, salt and next, add in the wet ingredients: the milk and 3 of the eggs. Knead the dough for 10 minutes, pulling it apart with both hands, and pressing it down firmly. 

Add in all the softened butter - cutting it into small pieces helps when kneading with your hands. Like a massage, be creative and make sure it’s smooth by the time you’re done (another 10 minutes does the trick). Refrigerate the dough in a lightly oiled bowl over night.

In the morning, lightly re-knead the dough, and divide it into 12 equal smooth balls. Best in a muffin baking tin, oil the hollow spaces in the tin, and place one ball in each hole. Leave it to rise for a final 30 minutes, and while you wait, in a small bowl beat an egg for glazing. Glaze the risen brioche just over the surface (by now you can fancily call them “brioche” and not just “dough) and bake for about 15 minutes, or until golden, at 190’C.

The fancy thing is, like me, you can prepare the dough the night before, and in the morning, the hot buns will be ready within an hour of waking up - with the buttery sweet smell tempting everyone in the house away from bed, and towards the breakfast table.

FRENCH ONION SOUP. 

Follow up that tres francais breakfast with a matching lunch? Just an idea. 

The composition of the pickles - a pinch of garlic, a hint of cherry tree leaves and a scatter of mustard seed - to me always seemed like black magic, or rather, green magic. My grandma however, like any respectable Pole, would never dare to omit a single perfecting touch.

Cucumber hunting. A sport for the persevere - these beasts have spikes. I can bet that a great many of you didn’t know how cucumbers are grown, what their leaves look like, and… that they are prickly.

Of course perfectly reasonable winter pickles can be made from store brought cucumbers, they too were once grown in a similar green patch. The smaller the better to ensure that they’ll fit tightly into the jars.

Ingredients: as many small cucumbers as you can get hold of, a few plants of flowering green dill, oak tree leaves, cherry tree leaves, a handful of mustard seeds, horseradish  leaves, 2 heads of garlic, salt, water and large glass jars for storage.

Preparing the cauldron comes as a first step. All jars should be washes throughly to ensure that they are clean enough for food storage. 

Next, boil a kettle/pot of water and rinse out each jar individually to ensure that they are sterile for the long process. Moving the whole process outside is very helpful - not only do the photos look nicer, the work can be messy and wet.

Once the jars are ready, prepare the ingredients. Thoroughly wash the oak, horeseradish and cheery tree leaves and peal the garlic cloves one by one. Cut the larger ones in half, as in the case of broth, the idea is to let the flavour escape into the liquid.

Assemble the cucumbers into jars. Start off necessarily by plugging in the largest cucumbers and then filling in the spaces on the sides tightly with the remaining smaller ones.

Next, divide the mustard seeds, leaves, fresh dill and garlic among the pickle jars so as to ensure that there is about as much in each as on the photograph.

Lastly, boil a few pots/kettles of water and salt generously, like for pasta cooking. Pour the boiling water into each jar up to the rim and close tightly. Now, store the almost-pickles in a less green cellar, and start reading books to kill the time till winter.

Here’s the end effect - take a little bit of that summer countryside magic home.

I’ve had the pleasure of quite an adventure recently. It all started when a coded message addressed “to 007” popped into my mailbox. No, I’m kidding, but it was a night to remember. 

I recently visited an upper shelf restaurant in the heart of Warsaw. The classic Polish culinary suggests that failure is when the guests manages to stand up from the dinner table by his own effort. On International airs, Tamka 43, however, serves delicate teasers of meat, fish, vegetables and fruit, accompanied by an escorting selection of wines for each dish separately - enough to highlight the uniqueness but not to steal the spotlight. 

The main attraction however, is the introduction of molecular gastronomy, where the exact “temperature” of each dish is measured out with mathematical precision to the degree, stranding the food for whimsically various amounts of time in a hot vacuum, to acquire perfect consistency and flavour.

Not to mention that groovy vertical wine rack.

The evening set off with unusual Tomato Gazpacho, as shown on the photograph below. 

Theoretically, the cold tomato-based vegetable soup from southern Spanish Andalucia is a blend of tomatoes, cucumbers, bell peppers, onions and garlic, olive oil, wine vinegar, and salt. All those, as you have probably been suspecting for some time now, are pigmented. Houston, we have a problem.

Why go out with fireworks, when you can start with them. I was utterly surprised with the soup teaser, which as it turned out, had been a fine specimen of molecular gastronomy. The tomato soup had been “deconstructed” so as to deprive the broth of its original colour yet retain the rich taste. Apparently there are a lot of other things you can do to tomato soup, here’s another taster: http://www.moleculargastronomynetwork.com/67-recipes/Reconstructed-Tomato-Soup.html

And for those who are still hungry, here came the second starter. Tender cooked halibut fish with citrus creme and what resembled a four-leaved clover. In our world, finding but one of these Irish charms is a rarity. But in the parallel universe of chic gastronomy, it seemed to be the norm for each guest to be received with a precious touch.

As the first cold starter from the degustation menu, in sailed in portions of golden sauteed girolles mushrooms with young onion, drizzled in gooseberry jelly and adorned with “edible dirt”.

Every dish brought about quite a surprise - the “edible dirt” turned out to be barley malt. The very basic, rough taste, resembling full-grain flour balanced out the smooth and acidic gooseberry flavour. 

The dish was served cold, a wonder to me, but the girolles gained an additional chewy crisp to complete the whimsical salad.

The dish was accompanied by a white wine, Possessioni Bianco, Serego Alghieri.

The warm starter - fried scallops with stewed black currant and a verbena leaf. The dish came with a show. Namely, the sauce which had been intended to give creamy depth to the lean white meat was simultaneously poured by each waited onto each guest’s plate. The “Verbena sauce” broth-based, apparently gaining its essence from fish bone marrow, rather than meat. 

This had been my favourite dish yet - the tenderness of the meat and creamy decadence of the scallop-and-verbena sauce were broken with a sharp accent. Not a typical spice to give the dish distinct taste, the defining touch for me was a play on texture. Specifically, the smooth tones contrasted with the salty coated crispy skin of the scallop, ‘caramelized’ with not sugar, but sea salt.

Served with the white Rieslieng Bodeckel.

Fittingly following a cold and warm starter, came a soup of sorts. With some flexibility, the soup could be found in the halibut fish served in a saffron and citrus broth. The key attraction was the method - prepared “sous-vide” (literally from the French “in vacuum”) in precisely (!) 58’C for 10 minutes.

Served with Sauvignon Blanc, Douithe No’1 - a white wine with a hint of citrus in its bouquet, not to steal the spot light from the dish.

As we moved into the red meat class, the proposed main dish was pork rib coked for 12 hours (!) in 72’C, also “sous vide”. I’ll explain the method at the very end of the post with some undercover detail from the restaurant kitchen. The ribs were shorty fried and served with hennel, a mysterious oriental sauce and apple salad. Once again, the meat was incredibly succulent white the sweet-sour-salty garnish of sauce and sea salt flakes infallible. 

Accordingly, the wine selection now turned red - Gnarly Head Pinot Noir - corresponding to the more hearty nature of the meat.

With three dishes yet to go, an unexpected turn of events - dessert appeared so early? One cannot complain, never too many desserts after all. The intruder has been a passionfruit parfait with Greek yoghurt mousse and imported glucose-enriched chocolate prepared into a thin crusty cylinder. You could sense the passionfruit aroma in a few meter radius from the plate - an explosion of exotic scents, with the equally intense dark chocolate flanking it. The yoghurt mousse, almost savory, served as a backdrop for the wilder side of dessert. Accompanied by Esencia 27.

Apparently you can have too many desserts. This one was worth giving up even chocolate though - the dish of the evening in my eyes. The main dish was a beef loin steak cooked sous vide in 58’C for 15 minutes, followed by a quick fry, served with young cooked vegetables and with porto (sweet wine) sauce.

The phenomenon of the dish was in the mouthwatering softness of the meat, but what more, the vegetables bathed in the leek and porto sauce, as deep in taste as deglazed, became as creamy as the meat itself. A simple dish, but oh-how-so-well-done.

The wine? Finlot Pruntto, Barbera D’Asti.

And last but not least, as a second dessert - seasonal fruits, including red and back currants, strawberries, gooseberries, raspberries and blueberries, served with, again, yoghurt foam and verbena sorbet. As a grand finale, the leitmotif of edible earth - this time sweet - in the form of imported cacao. 

The light and toned down dessert was accented by red dessert wine, porto - Pedro Ximenez, unbelievably dense like the best of liquors. 

Nota Bene: A background on Molecular Gastronomy

By definition, molecular gastronomy is an interdisciplinary area of food science, which investigates the physical and chemical transformations of ingredients while cooking, and manipulates them to social, artistic and technical culinary ends.  

The typical machines include foams-making immersion blender, liquid nitrogen for for flash freezing and shattering, ice cream makers for the most unusual flavours (after all, our verbena sorbet doesn’t appear in every supermarket after all), a food dehydrator, centrifuges to separate layers of the dishes, spherification apparatus for a caviar-like effect, syringes for injecting unexpected filling, edible paper made from soybeans and potato starch, for use with edible fruit inks and an inkjet printer and aromatic accompaniments.  

On the photographs below is the thermal immersion circulator for sous-vide low temperature cooking and vacuum packed meat portions which are directly utilized for the slow process of cooking. The vacuum-pack allows food to retain freshness and be protected from bacteria when heated slowly even up to a few days.

So here’s an account of the trip to the culinary Cook islands, where common mortals have not yet set foot - a lesson in quality over quantity and a much recommended adventure of taste. All this, as you can well predict, has added up to a honourable mention in the 2012 “Main cities of Europe” Michelin restaurant guide, and has secured a Michelin star - an international cornerstone of gastronomical success. 

A FRIEND’S CONTRIBUTION.

So adorably done, with a pinch of 9gag humour, I had to share.

Thank You Munyung.

The trend of summer adventures with the ever present culinary undertone seems to be becoming quite the visiting card of Dash of Vanilla, but what would be more fitting in holiday season? Today, a trip down to the Royal Łazienki Park and palace on water in the Warsaw, where the Korean embassy had organized a cultural fair.

Stands down the alleys with food, of course, drinks, crash courses in Korean for all over ambitious tourists, all pasted against a background of Tae kwon do martial arts, dancing and singing.

Various rice beverages - lemonade, juice, beer, wine, distilled alcohol, vodka, liqueur - all rather vague in taste, slightly sweet and sneakily filling like itself.

The next stand was intended to be reached after a few shots of the high percent rice goodies - once you get your courage up, you encounter a selection of dried fish, eaten like crisps.

Dried anchovies. 

Dried calamari.

Dried pollock fish bits.

And of course, the immortal Kimchi - the proud banner of Korean cooking - in the closest white bowl on the photograph below. Kimchi is a fermented dish made from a selection of different ingredients depending on the region of Korea. Perhaps the most famed, is the spicy cabbage variety, often embellished with  brine, scallions, ginger, radish, garlic shrimp sauce (saeujeot) and fish sauce (aekjeot).

And of course, omnipresent national dress, the colours of the fabric highlighted along with the richness of the food, bearing out the long standing traditions of the 5000 years old culture.

Next for degustation - sweet potatoes, solely boiled and similar to their US counterparts. Apparently, they constitute a large portion of the staple starches in Korea.

And the incredible Ginseng, another of the traditional exports of Korea. Ginseng is a rooty plant used in ritual folk medicine as aphrodisiacs, to aid type II diabetes and cosmetics.

The roots are usually dried and eaten sliced, or more commonly, as below, the plant’s essence is prepared in the form of cold drinks and tea to preserve the unique  flavour and properties.

Dried persimmon fruit - a rather flat, sweet taste that to me always represented a cross between a peach, apricot and tomato.

And lastly, chestnuts, boiled and cut up, like the Autumn street food found in many cities (Turkish ones for sure) - a tender hazelnut flavour and velvety texture.

That would be it for the lovely witnessing of the dishes, below is the challenge - a degustation plate of dried fish and sticky rice bowls. 

A picnic set alongside the Łazienki park lake with friends, however, brings all the charm into the food and makes it yet another adventure of taste. Koreans, after all, are also social eaters. 

When in Poland, visiting Warszawa (Warsaw) and Kraków (Cracow) usually jump to mind, but there is a whole other plain of beauty up north, along our 528 km Baltic coastline. The city is the largest in the Pomerania region of Northern Poland, and holds the status of one of Poland’s economic, political, social and historical centres. During a patriotic holiday around Poland, I’ve taken a few shots of Gdańsk and Sopot. Some may know the city by its former WWII textbook name - Danzig (Ger), but in all of its red-brick beauty, the city is now as Polish as the current name. Gdańsk welcomes you.

The city is situated at the mouth of the Motława River in the delta of Poland’s greatest Vistula River, connecting Gdańsk to the capital - Warsaw. Along with the nearby port of Gdynia, it is no wonder the city became central to the country’s industrial production, shipbuilding and sea trade with other Baltic nations. On the photograph below, at the far left, the bulky brown building is the antique crane used to unload ships brining goods to the city.

Neptune’s Fountain on the shot below is a masterpiece from 1617, by a Dutch architect Abraham van den Blocke, situated in the center of the Long Market. 

We wander down to the “local market” (one of many which are open most weekends in the larger cities to share the classic tastes with visitors) and inevitably stumble upon bread. Bread is very big in Poland (both literally and colloquially). It’s celebrated in roll, bun and loaf forms, with white and dark flour, as well as a selection of additives, for example: sunflower seeds, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, pumpkin seeds and salty crust.

An equal attraction are highland cheeses, which really make their way to the Baltic lowlands too - the so called “oscypek”, which is a salty, smoked sheep milk cheese, hand made and molded into tradition barrel-like shapes and long braids. Great when served warm off the grill with cranberries fried in sugar.

Here’s the baroque Royal Chapel of King Jan III Sobieski, built in 1678–1681 by Tylman Gamersk.

The city has countless other fine architectural and historical specimens, located along 17th century reconstructed pedestrian paradise - Ulica Długa (Long Street) and Długi Targ (Long Market), bound by embellished city gates. 

Waling along the “Royal Way”, named after the touring path for vsiting Kings, we come across: the upland Gate (Brama Wyżynna), Torture House (Katownia), Golden Gate (Złota Brama), Main Town Hall (Ratusz Głównego Miasta), Golden House (Złota kamienica), Green Gate (Zielona Brama) and many churches.

As for romance, in the 16th century, Gdańsk hosted Shakespearean theatre troupes on foreign tours, and is currently reigniting the tradition with the rebuilding of the historical Shakespeare theatre. Till then, above you’ll find a shot of the Bridge of Love, where couples fasten signed locks and throw the keys into the river.

This would not however be a culinary blog without a taste of Gdansk. For lunch, we recommend soup for starters - traditional żurek - sour rye soup cooked with Polish sausage, smoked bacon, carrots, potatoes, spices and served in a crispy edible bread bowl.

For the main course - necessarily fish (freshly fished Baltic cod) with salad (Coleslaw, carrot and leek, or sauerkraut) - the essence of a day by the coast.

I wouldn’t be a true Pole if I didn’t mention that the city is also the birthplace of the Solidarity movement leader, political activist, and first President of the Republic of Poland, Lech Wałęsa, who played a key role in bringing down the European Communist regimes of the XX century.

Still living in the light of the Euro 2012 Football tournament, Gdansk is an all year round   travel stop on the must-see-list.

At one’s own peril, one may choose to celebrate the Queen’s Birthday, the London Olympics or the birthday of a lovely little sibling (who you may wish to poison with such cupcakes at times) in an unorthodox manner.

In my opinion, something of undefined shape, colour and calling for a few chemicals compounds is at least suspicious. Coming from across the ocean, the contribution to global chemical weapon stockpiles, but hey, haven’t you dreamed of decorating a tin of these blue babies?

Here’s a quick link to the previously help cupcake party with a full account of the baking process. Add in a few teaspoons of blue dye for the union jack effect.

As for the sugar icing, ingredients: 1 teaspoon full cream (the thicker the better), 1/2 cup white icing sugar, any food flavouring/aroma if desired (vanilla, lemon and almond go quite nicely)

Directions: You won’t believe how little liquid it takes to reduce half a cup of icing sugar into gooey icing. It’s very easy to give it a few drops too much, and just that will completely change the desired consistency and cause the icing to drip off the cupcake and spill. Make sure you stir well to eliminate all lumps and inequalities.

Spread out the icing with the back off a spoon and knife, or with a special patisserie sleeve if you are a lucky holder of one. The patterns are entirely up to your imagination - the more colour and flare, apparently, the better. Dark chocolate, sprinkles and coloured sugar all make great additions. Just don’t go too much outside of the box (or the cupcake) like these girls here (see link)!

Awkward in taste, looks and theme, but a jolly good show, eh.

It is a sad time of the year when the kitchen starts getting hot, but the colours of food gradually fade out into the raw landscape. This is a comforting closing trip to the local fruit market to witness the richness of the late summer and early autumn goodies, and preserve them over the winter in jars, spice and…jewelry boxes.

There’s fruit punch in season:

Followed by the icons of the season, emblematic in their rich profusion of pink, berries.

Broken up by a tangy twist of citrus, foretelling the autumn season, stepping on our coat tails, as we meander round the market.

And lastly, the vivid palette of devilish spice to sweet bell peppers - the ultimate winter roulette for daredevils, when it comes to popping one into your soup.

Wish you could keep these beauties with you all year round.

Last colours of summer on the horizon, and a beautiful dessert to say goodbye to the greens and pinks of summer, and say hello to the oranges and reds of autumn. 

The fruity-caramel cups are made of three ingredients, or layers, if you will. First comes the crispy buttery cup - preferably not too sweet, as a neutral base to hold the richer filling. Click here for a recipe for the dough, which can be formed into any shape - ranging from mini tartalettes, largers tarts and huge tartosauruses. 

Next, oh how so predictably, comes the dulche de leche cream. For beginners, dulche de leche is a type of caramel sauce, traditionally home made from condensed or fresh milk boiled with sugar until it thickens. I’ve made this before for the blog, so here’s once again a link to the recipe, and mouthwatering photos for the brave.

You could also be as lazy as Nigela, and simply purchase a pre-made caramel/dulche de leche sauce, and combine it with a few spoons of butter, to thicken the cream and give it a smooth velvet finish. 

Place a generous spoon-full of the gooey golden goodness into each pastry cup, to allow a soft peak, yet not for the dulche de leche to overflow down the sides. Wouldn’t want to force the whole party into a frenzy of plate licking. 

And lastly, go imaginative with the fruit. You can use whichever summer, autumn, winter or spring fruits you find. I’ve opted for strabwerries, blue and black berries, as well as plum slices and mint leaves. Every fruit may be chopped up, placed whole, or even pureed and splashed on top.

You’ll find that a crispy green accent of mint or strawberry stalk adds an unbelievable amount of sophistication to the dish. The magic of the mint lays in its transcience - it’s as fragile and quick-to-collapse-or-bend as one of those paper Zara bags. The whole swag of a dish is how fresh it is, and how specially made and preserved for the occassion. Funny how all that’s embodied by a green blade.

Here’s a last idea if you’re aiming for a colour overload - to decorate the plate on which the dish’s set out, a fruit-flower creation. any round fruit may be nicely sliced into 8 equal pieces, keeping them joined at the bottom. Make sure the leaves/fruits you place inside are smalled than the main fruit structure, and play with the colours!

Tis the season for plums again - purple plentifully growing out of the golden Autumn landscape.  I’ve recently been treated to the world’s likely-best plum pie, so without further ado, here’s the spotlight and plum’s the word:

A Polish traditional dish, oh yes, another post from that series. Don’t you just love the colours?

All the ingredients are really arbitrary, so if you add a little more of less, it’ll only affect the final quantity of the dish. For basic ratio guidlines, stick to my photos, and feel free to make any fraction of my dish.

Ingredients: a few thin good-quality beef steaks, a small pack of california dried plums, around 100g of smoked bacon, salt/pepper to taste, and…

Cucumbers pickled in brine too, of course! they can be store bought, but if you’re feeling rather fancy and happen to have a few kg of earth-cucumbers and a collection of glass jars - the link to my family recipe is for you.

Onions, to enhance the flavour of the meat- peeled and chopped.

Directions: Start off by placing a fair share of pickles, plum, onion and bacon on each beef cutlet. Make sure you’ll be able to fold each one easily without the contents spilling out. Pepper each piece to taste.

A key tip - DON’T USE SALT AT THIS STAGE! Salt will make the meat rigid while cooking, rather than allowing it to grow tender. Worry not, salt will be added at the end of the process to the sauce. 

Take special care to close each meat roll with a piece of thin string or a toothpick- these are both easy to remove before or while serving later.

Fry the rolls in butter until the outside is nicely browned - this will allow you to seal in all the juices before cooking, ensure that you won’t end up with soup (where all the good stuff is let out into the broth, leaving the meat insipid at times. 

Transfer the meat rolls to a thick cooking pot in which they will be slowly stewed.

Next, fry a batch of chopped onion in butter, and cover the meat with it.

Pour a few cups of water, just enough to cover the onion and meat, and slowly simmer until a brothy-oniony soup forms, and the meat is thoroughly cooked and juicy. 

Best served with bubkwheat porridge or potatoe dumplings to accomodate the already colourful flavours of the meat  - the deep velvety meat, sweet plum, tangy pickle and salty bacon give you an original twist on a beef cutlet. 

What’s the potato-dumping trade off? Do you have to somehow eliminate one to chose the other, so as to avoid a starchy filling bowl of side dishes for dinner? It appears that in Poland, there is no trade off. Here’s a recipe for potato dumplings - “kopytka”

Ingredients: 1kg boiled in brine potatos, a few spoonfuls of flour (this will depend on the type of potato, but roughly, 1/4 of the total mass of the poatoes should be equaled by the flour), 1 egg, salt to taste.

Directions: Start of by mashing the potatoes (it helps if they have cooled down, as they will stick together less) ensuring that no thick parts remain - it’s crucial that the potatoes are smooth as they will serve as the basic foundation for the dumplings!

Some recipes also call for a spoon or two of potato starch, which absorbs water, so in the case of an excessively sticky dough, P.S. is your man.

Add the flour, egg (and a pinch of salt if desired) to the potato bowl, and stir well until a smooth dough forms. Make sure that there are no grits of flour or potato by passing the dough between your fingers. 

Use a little extra flour for the surface you’ll be working on, to disable to dough from sticking to it. Form the dough into a long log shape (about 4cm thick), but don’t worry, the sides don’t have to be perfectly uniform. 

Next, with a sharp knife, slice the log with diagonal cuts, so that dumplings, somewhat like a rhobmus in shape, are formed. 

Heat a large pot of salty water and throw in the dumplings one by one. Make sure they don’t stick to each other while bouncing on the bubbles, and wait for all of them to surface and bob around for a bit on top. 

Remove them with a skimmer, and place on a wooden board to cool. Essentially, bon appetit, they’re ready for consumption. That’s only theory though.

In practise, they’ll be indescribably better tasting once you wait for them to cool down a bit, and fry them up with some butter on a pan. That gives them a crispy outer buttery layer, while keeping the inside compact and warm. 

Goes perfectly with last weeks zrazy!