Monday, February 06, 2006

An ode to wild mushrooms

I have posted quite a few recipes and stories about various mushrooms since I started this blog, so it's probably not surprising to anyone when I say that I'm quite fond of my mushrooms. I like the musky and earthy smell of proper mushrooms that evoke childhood forest adventures; their slightly meaty, yet smooth, texture that gives a nice bite under your teeth; the way how they happily absorb any flavours of the dish, if you're looking for something to bulk up your dish without lots of extra calories. Unfortunately it's a fondness that is quite difficult to satisfy here in Scotland. Yes, I've spotted chantarelles in some of the upmarket delis in Edinburgh, but until I remain working in academia, their price is prohibitive. And although dried porcini is a brilliant standby and meaty shiitake mushrooms irreplacable when I'm making my staple blue cheese and mushroom sauce to douse into my pasta, the choice here is generally meagre.

Back home the situation is luckily still a bit better. I've mentioned going forageing for mushrooms with my grandparents when I was younger, and although I sadly haven't done that for years now, my relatives still provide us with a choice of varied forest mushrooms. In late summer and early autumn you'd be able to pick up wild mushrooms from elderly - mostly Russian, whose love for mushrooms is quite wellknown - women at any of the marketplaces in Tallinn. And if you fail that, then you can just pick some pickled or salted mushrooms in most supermarkets. So you can leave those handy, but disappointingly bland cultivated mushrooms on the supermarket shelf instead..

I brought back 3 packets of mushrooms during my last trip home - pickled chantarelles (kukeseened), salted woolly milkcaps (kaseriisikad) and salted rufous milkcaps (männiriisikad). I've been lovingly looking at them in my fridge for weeks now, and last weekend devoured the wooly milkcaps. The didn't need any cooking - only soaking in water to get rid of the excess salt. I made a simplest of salads, where the earthy mushroom flavour could deservedly dominate.

Mushroom salad
(Soolaseene ja kodujuustu salat)



300-400 ml salted mushrooms, soaked, rinsed and chopped
2-3 salted cucumbers, chopped
1 red onion, minced
1-2 garlic cloves, minced
300 grams cottage cheese
fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped
green onions, chopped
crushed black pepper

Just mix all the ingredients, season to taste. I had the salad with toasted rye bread, but you can use it as a filling for jacked potatoes.

I had a handful of mushrooms left over, which I pan-fried later with some boiled potatoes and sprinkled with herbs. Also delicious, with intense mushroom flavour..

That is if you can get hold of some flavoursome salted wild mushrooms then..

Friday, February 03, 2006

On rosy cheeks

Yesterday was Candlemas alias küünlapäev. For the old Estonians, küünlapäev marked the midpoint of cold harsh winter, the day when winter's backbone was broken, its heart was crushed. Candlemas was also considered to be a good day for making candles - apparently these would burn extra brightly then.. Substinence wise, half of the human and animal food was supposed to be left on this day, as it was still a long time before the fields would yield any food again.

Well, winters are considerably milder these days (although it was minus 30˚C in Estonia just a few weeks ago, but this is increasingly rare). And there is no need to ration your food so that at least half of the meat and grain would still be in storage on February 2nd - you can always pop into the supermarket. But this doesn't mean that you can't eat the traditional foods on that day - pork hocks, head or side, barley porridge, red beer and liqueurs. During the 20th century, red berries and fruit were added to the list of required foods of the day. I decided to skip the pork hocks and head, but made the other traditional dish of the day - barley porridge.

Most importantly, küünlapäev was a festive day for the women. This was the day when the rough Estonian peasant men were stuck in the kitchen and farm, doing the women's work. The women went to visit each other and then for a drink in a pub - kõrts. Not exactly a full-blown emancipation of women, but heading on that direction. You see, it was important to consume some red wine or liqueur on that day, so the women would have lovely - and healthy - rosy cheeks for the rest of the year.

A very simple barley porridge
(Sõmer kruubipuder)



200 grams pearl barley
25-30 grams of butter
600 ml meat or chicken stock
salt

Wash the barley groats with hot water, drain thoroughly.
Heat the butter in a heavy saucepan, add pearl barley and sauté for a few minutes.
Add the hot stock, season with salt and stir gently.
Cover the pan with a lid and simmer on a medium low heat for about 30-40 minutes, until barley has swollen and is 'al dente' or almost soft, with a bit of bite. You can also bake the porridge in the oven.

To serve
75 grams cubed pancetta
2-3 small shallots

Slice the onion very thinly. Heat a non-stick pan on a medium heat and dry-fry the pancetta cubes until golden. Remove with a slotted spoon, add a splash of oil to the pan, if necessary, and reduce the heat to minimum.
Add sliced onion and fry very slowly until golden and caramelised (about 20-30 minutes).

There was also a small bowl of sliced salted cucumbers on the table, as well as some sour cream.

If you're brave and adventurous enough, then the porridge is best served with some soured milk, like kefir or buttermilk. We had the latter, courtesy of the recently opened Polish deli nearby.

Although extremely humble and cheap, the barley porridge is actually very nice. The groats have a nice crunchy bite to them, and the fried pancetta and caramelised onions add slight sophistication.

A simple cherry and chocolate tart
(Lihtne kirsitort)

As for the red berries, I served these in the form of cherries:) I tried a simple version of the Black Forest Cake, recipe courtesy of Jamie Oliver. But as the Estonian forests would have all still be covered in snow in early February, I made a white forest cake instead*.



A small loaf cake, sliced lenghtwise into 2 or 3
A tub of whipping or double cream
A dash of kirsch
A can of pitted cherries
A zest of one orange
Grated chocolate

Slice the loaf cake lengthwise into 2 or 3 layers, depending on the size. Lay onto a serving tray.
Drain the cherries slightly, add the kirsch and let the flavours mingle for a few minutes.
Whip the double cream until soft peaks form, add most of the orange zest.
Drizzle the boozy liquid from the cherries onto the cake base.
Cover with orange zest flavoured whipped cream. Cover with cherries, sprinkle with some orange zest and grated chocolate.
Serve.

And to drink - a bottle of red wine. We don't usually drink much alcohol, but there were three Estonian girls around the table last night and we were just trying to follow old Estonian customs:)

* The 'black forest' cake was replaced with a 'white forest' cake mainly because I couldn't find a chocolate loaf cake in any of the shops on the way from work to home. Yes, I know that a true foodie would bake their own loaf cakes - and usually I would - but I had about an hour to prepare the porridge and the cake, so couldn't make it last night.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

And again: a creamy mocca apple pie

I know I said the Canadian apple cake is my very favourite apple cake, but this doesn't mean it's the only apple cake I ever make. I also have a simple weekday apple cake and few other recipes up my sleeve. And this creamy mocca-flavoured one is one of these.

A creamy mocca-flavoured apple pie
(Kohvimaitseline õunakook)
Source: "100 kooki Pereköögist"



Batter:
200 grams butter, softened
200 ml sugar
1 egg
100 ml potato starch
250 ml plain flour
1 tsp baking powder

Filling:
200 ml strong coffee
1 Tbsp dark muscovado sugar
3 large apples, cored and sliced

Mocca topping:
100 ml sour cream/creme fraiche
1 egg
50 ml strong coffee
75 ml dark muscovado sugar
1 tsp vanilla sugar

Start with the filling: mix coffee with sugar, add apple slices and set aside to infuse a little.
For the base, cream softened butter and sugar, mix in the egg. Sift flour, potato starch and baking powder into the batter and mix. Smear (that's the best word, as it's too soft to press and too thick to pour) the batter, using your hands, into a buttered 24 cm pie dish.
Cover with coffee-infused apple slices and bake at 200˚C for about 20 minutes, until the batter isn't wet anymore and the cake looks just slightly golden.
Mix the topping ingredients (you can use the same coffee you soaked the apple slices in) and pour evenly over the cake.
Bake for another 10-15 minutes, until the cake is lovely golden brown.
Let it cool and serve.