Pasha is a traditional Finnish Easter dish, especially in the eastern parts of the country. It was brought here by the Russian Orthodox church hundreds of years ago, and is eaten to celebrate the end of the lent. You may know pasha with a little different name – pascha, pashka, or something similar. Pasha or ????? is a Russian word for Easter, originally from a Hebrew word pesah. The transliteration from Cyrillic alphabets explains the small variations in the name.

Pasha is really energy rich food – its main ingredients are quark (milk curd), cream, butter, eggs and sugar. Dairy animals produce milk fats whether you use them or not, so after the lent you had a surplus of cream. It was then used to make pasha. I’m referring to the days when agriculture was the predominating livelihood :)

Traditionally pasha is made in wooden, pyramid-shaped molds. Since Easter is the biggest holy day of the Russian Orthodox church, the molds are often carved with religious symbols such as XB, short for Hristos voskrese (???????? ????????) – Christ is Risen. The pyramid shape reminds of the Jews’ slavery in Egypt.

Pasha

250 g quark / curd cheese (in US, look for tvorog in Russian stores)
50 g butter
3 tbsp sugar
1 dl raisins
1/2 dl candied lemon zest (sukaatti, suckat)
1/2 dl crushed almonds
3 tbsp orange marmalade
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp lemon juice (about 1/2 lemon)
2 dl whipping cream

Unless you use Russian tvorog, put the quark or curd cheese in a coffee filter for 12 hours. During that time the liquid will separate which makes for a denser Pasha.

Mix sugar and butter until airy and smooth. In a separate bowl whip the cream. Add all the rest ingredients to the sugar and butter mixture, mix until smooth, and finally carefully add the whipped cream.

Pour the mixture in a double-layered coffee filter, and let stand in a fridge for 24 hours.

When 1-2 dl of liquid has dripped from the pasha in the fridge, tip it over on a plate and decorate with candied lemon zest and raisins.

Kulitsa is also a Russian Easter dish, which is often eaten with pasha. It is a sweet, buttery, and incredibly tasty loaf, which is sliced like bread and and topped with heaps of pasha.

I urge you to try this, it is absolutely delicious!

Kulitsa

(1 huge loaf or 2 smaller)

2 dl milk
25 g fresh yeast or equivalent amount of dry yeast
1/8 g saffron
1 tbsp cardamom
1/2 tsp salt
1 egg
1 dl sugar
2 tbsp candied lemon zest (sukaatti)
1 dl raisins
1/2 dl crushed almonds
7 dl all purpose flour
125 g butter

Make a dough (as you would for any bread/roll), and let it rise for 30 minutes. Make one or two round loaves on a baking sheet covered with parchment paper. Decorate with dough strips, candied lemon and raisins (make e.g. letters XB).

Heat the oven to 180 C (355 F), but don’t let the loaves rise for longer than it takes for the oven to heat, otherwise they will loose their shape.

Bake for 30 minutes.

Update

This is Anna’s version of the same recipe – the kulitsa is on the background but it’s really the star attraction here. Perfect for an artery-clogging Easter breakfast!

Pasha

250 g maitorahkaa
50 g voita
3 rkl sokeria
1 kananmuna
1 dl rusinoita
1/2dl sukaatteja
1/2 dl mantelirouhetta
3 rkl appelsiinimarmeladia
1 tl vaniljasokeria
puolen sitruunan mehu (1 rkl)
2 dl kuohukermaa vaahtona

Jos et käytä venäläistä maitorahkaa, valuta rahkaa suodatinpaperilla vuoratussa kahvinsuodattimessa noin 12 h jääkaapissa.

Vaahdota voi ja sokeri. Lisää kaikki muut ainekset, lopuksi vaahdotettu kerma, ja sekoita huolella.

Painele massa kahdella suodatinpussilla verhottuun kahvinsuodattimeen, jätä keskeltä vähän koholle sillä pasha painaa valuessaan. Anna valua jääkaapissa vuorokauden verran.

Kumoa tarjoilulautaselle, koristele rusinoin ja sukaatein.

Kulitsa

(1 valtavan iso tai 2 pienehköä)

2 dl maitoa
25 g (1/2 palaa) hiivaa
1/8 g sahramia
1 rkl kardemummaa
1/2 tl suolaa
1 muna
1 dl sokeria
2 rkl sukaattia
1 dl rusinoita
1/2 dl mantelirouhetta
n. 7 dl vehnäjauhoja
125 g voita tai margariinia

Tee hiivataikina, anna sen kohota 30 minuuttia. Leivo nousseesta taikinasta pyöreä leipä tai kaksi leivinpaperilla, koristele taikinasuikeroin ja -kirjaimin sekä rusinoin ja sukaatein. Älä kohota enää pitempään kuin mitä uunin esilämmitys 180 asteeseen kestää, muuten leipä menettää muotonsa. Paista 180 asteessa 30 minuuttia. Tarjoa viipaleina, sivele paksulti pashaa päälle.

Jaloviina or Jallu is a legendary Finnish cut brandy, which is made by blending cognac with grain liquor. Its production began in 1932 as a cheaper alternative for cognac, and originally this three star grade Jallu had 3/4 of cognac. The Second World War cut luxury item supplies, and in 1940 Jallu had to be replaced by a one star grade, which had a mere 1/4 of cognac in it. During the difficult years the popularity of the drink grew, and has remained relatively high in demand ever since.

Ville Valo, the lead singer of a Finnish rock band HIM, has made meatballs served with Jallu sauce popular by announcing them his favorites. The recipe was developed a few years ago in his local hangout, Restaurant Tori in Helsinki.

I first tried the recipe a year ago, and both S and I instantly fell in love with the smooth, hearty taste of the sauce. The meatballs are also fine, but its the Jallu sauce that makes this dish so special. It was only a few weeks ago when we went to Tori to try out the original. Their portion is huge: five enormous meatballs with a mountain of mashed potatoes and plenty of sauce. Surely a trucker’s meal, but not surprisingly S didn’t seem to have any trouble finishing the plate. However, Tori’s meatballs were tough and plain, albeit the sauce and the mash were perfectly fine. After our second and third visit to Tori we had to conclude that tastewise there isn’t really a reason to leave home. The following recipe is really that good.

Finnish Meatballs in Cognac Sauce, i.e., Jallupullat

Serves four

For the meatballs:
450 g (1 lbs) ground pork and beef
1 dl (0.4 cups) crème fraîche
½ dl (0.2 cups) onion soup mix
½ dl (0.2 cups) dried fried onion
a pinch of allspice

For the sauce:
50 g (1/2 stick) butter
1 dl (0.4 cups) all purpose flour
2 dl (0.4 cups) demi-glace
3 dl (1.25 cups) water
2 tbsp beef fond or two beef stock cubes
1 dl (0.4 cups) cooking cream
0,5 dl (0.2 cups) cut brandy (1/4 VSOP cognac, 3/4 plain vodka)
a pinch of crushed black peppercorns

Preheat the oven to 175°C (350°F).

Mix the meatball ingredients, and roll into 12-16 balls. Bake for about 30 minutes or until just done.

Heat the butter and add the flour stirring constantly until nicely browned. Don’t let the flour burn. Add the demi-glace and water stirring vigorously, trying to avoid lumps. Add the beef fond, and let simmer for 30 minutes stirring occasionally.

After the 30 minutes add liquor and cream, and let settle for a couple of minutes. You can either add the meatballs directly in the sauce (tastier), or if appearances are more important (boring), serve the meatballs and the sauce separately.

Serve with hot mashed potatoes and crushed and sugared lingonberries. Garnish with fresh parsley.

The November issue of Saveur had a tasty and interesting looking recipe titled “Coffee-Crusted Beef Tenderloin”. Because I’m dieting again and need to cook daily in order to know what I eat, a lean tenderloin recipe suited my needs perfectly. The ingredients called for coffee which I love, but also three kinds of chillies – guajillo, ancho and chipotle. In Finland it’s quite difficult to find anything else but Dutch/Israeli grown “green chillies” or “red chillies”. The packages never mention the exact type of the chilli(es) in question. For most people this is ok, as they only want to spice up their dishes a little bit, but a foodie like me could use the species name.

Anyhow, the quest for correct chillies gave me an excuse to spend my lunch hour wandering around the specialty food stores in Helsinki. After a frustrating search I had to settle for those dang “Dutch red chillies” which were the closest thing to mirasol (fresh version of guajillo). Anchos are made by drying poblanos, which are round, green chillies about the size of a golf ball. They are not very hot, but used to add mild heat. The closest thing to poblanos I was able to find was a basket full of habaneros. As many of you know, they are really, really hot. Since I was also lacking chipotles (I only have Chipotle Tabasco), I decided to go for the habaneros as well. This ended up being a good decision for the dish, but not so much for S :D

Because of the lack of proper chillies I had to modify the recipe to use the ingredients I was able to find. I used four stemmed seeded red chillies, half a habanero and a lot of chipotle tabasco for the sauce. During the whole preparation I used disposable gloves, and when the sauce was boiling on the stove the fumes actually made my lungs feel weird. This is why I found it really odd when S came home and tasted the sauce. She didn’t find it hot at all, and ended up eating it by the spoonful. By then I felt stupid for wearing the gloves while handling those “hot” habaneros, and decided to cook the other 1.5 habaneros with the tenderloin in the oven. We even took a tiny bite of the habaneros before cooking, and they didn’t taste that hot. When everything was ready, I kindly offered S one of the cooked habaneros, and she happily accepted – you know, baked bell peppers are super good too… Well, 30 seconds later she came back to the kitchen, desperately looking for milk. And then the uncontrollable drooling started. I was too afraid to take pictures, but you can get a pretty good idea by taking a look at this guy :D

Without further ado, the original recipe from Saveur (the beef itself wasn’t hot at all!):

Coffee-Crusted Beef Tenderloin

Serves 6

1 beef tenderloin, about 1.5 kg (3 lbs)
4 guajillo chillies, stemmed and seeded
2 ancho chillies, stemmed and seeded
4 cloves of garlic, chopped
2.5 dl (1 cup) water
2 chipotle chillies in adobo
1/2 small white onion
2 tbsp light brown sugar
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
3/4 tsp pepper
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 1/2 tsp coarse sea salt
3 tbsp finely ground coffee
1 tbsp cocoa powder
1/8 tsp ground cinnamon

Toast 4 the guajillo and ancho chillies over medium heat for 4-5 minutes. Soak in 2.5 dl (1 cup) of warm water until soft, about 30 minutes.

Purée chillies, the soaking water, garlic, chipotles in adobo and the onion until smooth. Heat the olive oil in a small sauce pan and simmer until thickened, about 30 minutes. Add sugar, vinegar, 1 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper. Simmer for another 15 minutes or until thickened. Let cool.

Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F).

Rub the tenderloin with olive oil, salt and pepper. Brush all over with the sauce saving the remainder for another use. Mix the coffee, cocoa powder and ground cinnamon together, and roll the tenderloin in the mixture until completely covered. Let the tenderloin sit for 30 minutes in room temperature.

Roast the tenderloin for 10 minutes, then lover the temperature to 105°C (225°F), and continue roasting until the internal temperature from the thickest part reaches 58°C (135°F).

Let rest for 15 minutes. Slice and serve.

St. Martin’s day is celebrated in the evening of November 11 in Flanders, parts of the Netherlands and the Catholic areas of Germany and Austria. Children go by the doors with paper lanterns and candles, and sing songs about St. Martin and about their lantern in return for a treat, very similar to the American tradition of Halloween.

When I started school at the age of six, our family lived in Germany. Until I read the previous chapter in Wikipedia, I thought the evening lantern parade I participated with my schoolmates in 1982 was indeed Halloween celebration. Live and learn :)

Some time ago my aunt told me about goose roast which is the food traditionally eaten on the St. Martin’s day. According to legend, Martin (316 – 397 AD) was reluctant to become bishop, which is why he hid in a stable filled with geese. The noise made by the geese betrayed his location to the people who were looking for him. Unforgiving to the poor geese he ordered them to be slaughtered every year on that day.

I wanted to cook something nice for the Father’s Day, and then remembered the goose roast, which sounded really yummy to me. I found a fresh one from my favorite butcher shop, Reinin Liha, albeit at €14.99 / kg ($8.70 / lbs) it definitely isn’t something I’m planning to cook regularly.

The bird looks like a longish, small turkey, but its meat is dark like duck. There is also a really thick layer of fat under the skin which fortunately melts in the oven. Just like with whole turkeys, the giblets were left inside the body cavity in a small plastic bag. I roasted the neck, heart and gizzards, but reserver the big liver for further use. Mmm, fried goose liver!

The tips of the wings and the extra, fatty flaps of the skin are cut away before stuffing and roasting.

It’s said there are as many recipes for the St. Martin’s day goose as there are cooks. I checked a few trusty books for reference – Joy of Cooking, and Nigella’s How to Eat: The Pleasures and Principles of Good Food – but after some googling found a tasty-looking recipe by Jeffrey Steingarten, originally from his book It Must’ve Been Something I Ate: The Return of the Man Who Ate Everything.

The recipe is super long, so instead of rewriting it I decided to simply copy it here.

My family really enjoyed the bird, and especially the pears and apples also described in the recipe. My roasting pan wasn’t big enough to hold the pears and the goose, so I baked the pears separately in their own baking dish. I simply divided the chicken broth and wine in two equal parts, and used the other half to baste the bird.

In addition to the pears, apples and the veggies, I served the roast with mashed potatoes and gravy made from the drippings.

Alsatian Goose Roast With Cardamom & Orange Pears

Serves 6-8

4.5 kg (10 lbs) young fresh goose
1 kg (2 lbs) sweet apples, peeled & cubed
2.5 dl (1 cup) carrots, chopped
2.5 dl (1 cup) celery, chopped
2.5 dl (1 cup) celery root, chopped
6-8 pears (one per person), peeled but with stems left intact
zest of 2 organic oranges
0.5 tsp ground cardamom
7 dl (3 cups) chicken stock
1 bottle white Alsatian wine, e.g. Gewürztraminer
all purpose flour to thicken the gravy
salt, pepper

At least one day in advance, wash the goose inside and out. With a cleaver, chop off the first joint of both wings and reserve them along with the neck, the heart, and the gizzards.

Save the liver for another use. Pull all the excess white fat from the goose’s cavity and reserve. Cut off the neck skin flap, leaving only a few inches of it.

Brine and pierce the goose.

Preheat the oven to 220°C (425°F).

Choose a heavy roasting pan just large enough to hold the goose comfortably on the diagonal. Cut half the reserved fat into small pieces and melt it in the roasting pan over medium high heat on the stove top.

Rub a little fresh black pepper and salt into the cavity and the skin of the goose. Add the cubed apples but do not crowd them. Pull together the 2 skin flaps at the opening, push short skewers or even toothpicks through them, and secure the skin by lacing with string. Wrap and tie 2 separate lengths of string around the goose’s body, 1 around the breast to keep the wing joints close to the body, the other around the fattest part of the drumsticks.

Remove the solids from the melted fat and brown the goose on all sides, regulating the heat to avoid burning the fat. This will take between 20 minutes and 1/2 hour. Balance the goose on the sides of the roasting pan or hold it by the drumsticks to get at irregular surfaces. Meanwhile, chop the reserved neck, wingtips, and innards into 1-inch pieces.

When the goose is nicely browned, remove from the heat, set the goose on its back, and scatter the pieces of neck and wing around it. Slide the roasting pan into the preheated oven and roast for 1/2 hour, basting after 10 and 20 minutes. Pour and spoon off the fat into a bowl. Scatter the vegetables and pears around the goose. Moisten them with a little of the goose fat you have just removed and roast for 15 minutes. Using a bulb baster or a spoon, remove as much of the fat from the pan as you can.

Sprinkle the orange zest and ground cardamom over the pears, pour half the stock and half the wine over them, and return to the oven for 15 minutes. Lower the heat to 175°C (300°F), pour the rest of the wine and stock over the goose, and roast for about an hour longer (removing the pears to a baking dish after a half hour), until the thighs reach 75°C (170°F) on an instant-read thermometer thrust into the thickest part of the meat.

Remove the roasting pan from the oven. Turn the heat up to 200°C (400°F) again. Lift the goose to a plate and immediately remove the apple stuffing to the baking dish holding the pears. Strain the roasting liquid into a saucepan, skim off most of the fat, and reduce to about 1 cup on the stovetop. Wipe out the roasting pan and put the goose back into the oven for 15 minutes to crisp its skin. Spoon a little goose fat and some of the half-reduced roasting liquid over the pears and the apple stuffing and put them in the oven with the goose to rewarm and brown slightly.

Let the goose rest for 20 minutes and serve on a large platter, surrounded by the little roast pears and the apple stuffing.

S and I returned from our US road trip last Monday, and somewhere in Indiana S ordered chili with her pulled chicken sandwich. I had completely forgotten that chili even existed. Yesterday I wanted to have something hearty and warming waiting for us when we’d return from our walk by the waterfront. I basically had three options in my mind – a potato, pasta or beans based casserole…

When we crossed the border from Georgia to South Carolina on our way from Savannah to Charleston, we saw a small roadside shack selling Carolina Cider Company’s products. One of the food souvenirs I bought there was a jar of Sweet Fire Bread & Butter Pickles And Peppers. These – albeit by my guess rebadged and manufactured for CCC in TX – are to die for. From the second I opened the jar, I’ve had a huge craving for anything jalapeños.

After this going for a beans based recipe was a no-brainer. The tricky part was to find a recipe – there are literally thousands of them in the net. The following one is based on one I found from the rezipezaar, but modified to my taste. I actually misread the instructions and used coconut instead of cocoa, but I found this chili to be lovely, and S can’t keep her hands off the left overs, so I guess I did pretty good :)

Antti’s Mean Jalapeño Chili

Serves 6-8

3.5 dl (1.5 cups) diluted veal fond
1 can crushed tomatoes
200 g (0.5 lbs) sliced jalapenos
2 tsp coconut powder
2 tsp crushed cumin seeds
1.5 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp crushed fennel seeds
1 tsp ground black pepper
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp granulated sugar
4 cans kidney beans in chili tomato sauce
1 whole single-clove garlic, sliced
2-3 onions
500 g (1 lbs) ground beef
1 dl (6 tbsp) Maizena

Chop the onions and garlic, and fry together with the ground beef until golden brown. Stir in the Maizena and mix well.

Meanwhile combine all other ingredients in a 4 liter (1 quarts / 1 gal) pot. Cook until the chili starts to boil, add the meat and let simmer in low setting for 1-2 hours. If the chili is not hot enough, add some chili / cayenne powder.

Serve as is with ground cheese, with tortillas, or sneak cold straight from the fridge :)

Long time, no post. I’ve been busy with work, and had a broken arm for some time, plus my apartment was under renovation, so apologies for long posting intervals :) I’m on a short business trip to Mariehamn, Ã…land, and having some extra time before my flight departs back home, so I figured this is as good time to blog as I’ll ever get :)

I’ve been using my trusty chinese bamboo steamer on weekly basis to cook salmon, as with steam the texture and taste gets close to perfection. My new salmon staple has become a soy sauce – wasabi marinated butterflied fillet, and I really, really love the sharpness of wasabi with warm, fatty fish. After months of raving I managed to get Anna try this dish, and albeit she liked it, apparently her steamed teriyaki salmon was even better ;) Sucker to new recipes, I tried hers, and surely it was super yummylicious!

This posting is not about steaming or fish. Enough of those already :) Since teriyaki salmon was so good, and the teriyaki sauce sooo easy to make from scratch, I decided to play around and make someting else. First I thought making chicken teriyaki, but I didn’t have chicken, but instead a pound of fat free super high grade ground beef left over from a steak tartar I made the day before.

S loves meatballs, so making them instead of some potentially fancier dish was an easy decision. Since teriyaki sauce can be done in a flash, the whole dish will be ready in 45 minutes, from fridge to the table. Basically teriyaki sauce is just mirin (japanese cooking wine), soy sauce and sugar mixed together. Simply dilute one table spoon of granulated sugar to 1/2 dl of mirin and soy sauce each and you’re done. 30 seconds in a microwave oven does the trick. I strongly suggest using low sodium soy sauce unless you have a serious death wish :D In this recipe I used 1 dl of regular soy sauce, and after all that salt I still feel the bloat :P

Teriyaki Meatballs

2-4 Servings (950 cal total)

Teriyaki Sauce

1 dl low sodium soy sauce
1 dl mirin
2 tbsp granulated sugar
2 tbsp Brown Maizena or similar corn starch
Meatballs

400 g (1 lb) fat free ground beef
2-3 shallots
3 small potatoes
2 cloves of garlic
black pepper to taste
Mix soy sauce, mirin and sugar, and quickly warm in the microwave oven. Stir until sugar has dissolved.

Mix shallots, raw potatoes, garlic and black pepper in a food processor until fine. Knead the mix together with the ground beef and 1/4 or slightly more of the teriyaki sauce. Make small meatballs, and place them onto a pan.

Cook the rest of the teriyaki sauce with corn starch until quite thick, and pour over the meatballs. Bake for 30 minutes in 200 degrees celcius until nice and brown.

I’ve always loved grilling, smoking, and barbequing – generally spekaing anything which involves playing with fire :) In Boston I was devastated as I didn’t have a place for a grill. Every time I went to a Home Depot and walked by the long lines of gas and charcoal grills my heart was bleeding. One of the very last things I did in the States before moving back to Finland was buying a couple of Weber grills. They’re horrendously expensive here in Finland, but very reasonably priced in the US. The movers had already packed all my belongings into an ocean container when I drove to the moving company’s warehouse with two huge cardboard boxes and asked them to ship them too. Interestingly I’m not apparently the only crazy European hauling grills from one continent to another. The sales assistant at The Backyard Barbeque in Framingham (where I bought my Weber Q gas grill) told that quite a few people tell them they’re taking the grills to Europe – even as a flight luggage!

But long story short РI have now two nice grills at my disposal, and since the weather was nice, my tummy grumbling and my inner vegetarian squelch by my inner carnivore, I called my brother and asked if he fancied some BBQ. Not surprisingly the answer was affirmative, so I headed to a trusty butcher shop in a nearby mall. I was supposed to buy half a kilo or so of tenderloin (fillet mignon), but then saw Argentinian Beef Angus prime rib roast (entrec̫te) on sale. In the States prime rib had been my ultimate pleasure, so I basically impulse bought a 2.5 kg (5.5 lbs) slab of the prime rib roast. This decision would inevitably affect our lunch schedule, effectively turining it to a dinner instead.

While my brother was preparing the fire, I made a dry rub for the roast. I ground the dry spices in a mortar to a coarse powder, which I patted and rubbed all over the roast. The spices stick better if you moisten the meat with water first. The first picture shows the roast with the dry rub applied.

The roast may look small in this picture, but that’s only because the grill is huge – its diameter is 22.5″ (57 cm). I wanted to smoke the roast, which calls for an indirect cooking method. The coals are on the other side of the grill, and the roast on the other on top of a water-filled drip pan. When cooking with a Weber kettle, it’s important to keep the lid on at all times, as it reflects the heat back like a convection oven.

When grilling steaks, quick and hot is ok. When smoking, the temperature is kept low and the meat is cooked for a long period of time. My 2.5 kg roast took 2 hours 45 minutes in the grill, plus an additional 15 minutes in an oven, after which I kept it wrapped in a foil for another 30 minutes to post-cook and keep the jus.

A rough 120 C (250 F) is a desired lid temperature when smoking, albeit some prefer higher, some lower temperatures. I’ve found this to be an ok temp. In a Weber kettle, keep the top vents open, and control the temperature with the lower vents. And don’t let the coals burn out! Keep adding them every now and then during the cooking, but don’t keep the lid open for too long.

When the internal temperature of the roast has reached 46 C (115 F), remove it from the grill, and put in a preheated 200 C (400 F) oven for 15 minutes. After that, wrap in a foil for 30 minutes before carving.

If you have tended the fire properly, and not overcooked the meat, you should find someting like this under the dark, spicy crust:

Stockyard, my favorite steak house in Boston often served horseradish sauce on the side of the prime rib, so that’s what I use at home too. Heat the sauce in a microwave for a little while before serving. Don’t throw the jus away, but bring also to the table with the horseradish sauce. Mashed or baked potatoes or sweet potatoes make a perfect side dish for the roast.

Dry Rub

1/4 cup black pepper
2 tbsp cinnamon
2 tbsp salt
2 tbsp white pepper
1.5 tsp ground thyme
1.5 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder

Ground everything into a coarse – semi fine powder, and rub all over the roast. Wet the meat beforehand slightly with water to help the rub to stick.

This year we spent the week around Reyes (Epiphany) in Central Mexico. Of all the marvellous sights, tastes, and smells, those of Puebla are lodged deepest in my limbic system. The city is terribly pretty, full of Spanish colonial buildings, but somehow more ornate and painted even brighter than others in similar colonial cities you can find across Latin America.

I’m not sure why Puebla felt so captivating. Perhaps it was that after a very hectic and stressful end of the year, we were at complete leisure: free to spend hours taking in the mild winter sunshine sitting on the Zócalo, lazily leafing through books in the dappled shadow, watching lovers meet, argue, cuddle, and part. The central square is a maze of trees, hedges and benches, filled with the friendly murmur of conversation. Children chased a baby pigeon who finally took refuge in a bronze miniature model of the city, and a bum alternated between a nap and contented slugs from his bottle. We were completely mesmerized by a city-employed shoeshiner who restored a pair of badly scuffed shoes to their former glory. Ancient indigenous women carried ziplocs full of freshly hewn willow whistles: their twitter formed the soundtrack of the city, along with the drizzle of fountains and the blare of car horns.

We slept in a pleasantly situated former monastery where the staff celebrated Reyes by smashing pi̱atas. Our room was huge but so cold during the high-altitude midwinter that we had to wear extra layers of clothes to bed Рit never gets this cold indoors in Finland ;) Even this feels somewhat satisfying in retrospect: one of the many surprising contrasts Mexico had in store for us.

The biggest surprise of the trip was Mexican food. Somehow, the stuff that goes by that name in US restaurants is frequently bland, Anglicized, and of inferior quality: limp nachos, rock-hard taco shells, and dubious dishes smothered with sour cream and shredded lettuce. (I ate much more of this than I really care to remember while travelling in Texas.) What I encontered during my brief stay in Mexico bore little resemblance to my preconceived idea of Mexican food. I encountered an ancient, complex, and original cuisine, completely on a par with France or Italy, but much harder to fathom. Do I understand beurre manié, soufflés, and risotti? Yes, to some degree. But can I confidently balance three different types of chiles in a dish? Or can I soak, grind, knead, and shape corn into a perfect tortilla?

Right now I’m taking my first baby steps into understanding Mexican kitchen a bit better, to recreate some of my favorite antojitos, but also to re-experience the smoky, deep stews and hearty, flavor-packed soups that so surprised me. A decent basic cookbook should be in the mail: while waiting for it to be delivered, I’m toying with chipotles (in this I’ve unexpectedly been inspired by a Swedish fellow food blogger).

Paraphrasing an article on chowbaby.com that gives every novice the basics about chipotles:

Dried or canned, chipotles — ripened, smoke-dried jalapeno peppers — have the magical capacity to turn an ordinary cook into a talented chef. Chipotles pack a sharp burn, but their subtle, complex flavor becomes apparent once you’ve adapted to the heat.

Most supermarkets and corner groceries now stock canned chipotles — usually in a rich, dark, spicy garlic-tomato sauce called adobo. Canned chipotles are dark reddish-brown and high in sodium. The peppers slice very nicely with a knife, or you can dump the entire contents of a can into your blender or food processor and puree for a delicious sauce.

Specialty stores sell dried chipotles, which are lighter in color and give an aroma faintly reminiscent of cigarettes. Before using them, remove the seeds and de-vein them. Then toast them gently in a hot dry skillet to release their volatile oils. Cover them with hot water for a few minutes until the soften and plump up. Throw away the steeping liquid which can become bitter. Either way, you’ll usually want to balance chipotle’s diabolical heat with a hint of something sweet — honey, sugar, fruit juice or the like.”

My Spanish skills are very rudimentary, based on a long-forgotten intensive period of learning during high school. New York is a highly bilingual city, however: at work, the secretarial staff is completely Spanish-speaking, so I can hone my verbal comprehension skills by listening into the local gossip. The Spanish TV channels are still almost too challenging for me. However, the game show “100 Mexicanos Dijeron” where families compete to capture the most widely used words, expressions, and colloquialisms of their local dialect, taught me a while back the world “albóndiga”, a concept that’s very near to the heart of all Finns and Swedes – a meatball. So, tonight it’s going to be

Albóndigas en Salsa de Chipotle

makes about 20 small meatballs

For the meatballs

1 tomato, pan-roasted until blistered, deeply browned, and soft, then chopped

1 onion, finely chopped
2 cloves of garlic, minced
0.5 tsp ground cinnamon
0.5 tsp dried oregano
0.25 tsp freshly ground black pepper
0.25 tsp ground allspice
2 tbsp chopped green olives
2 tbsp golden raisins
1 tbsp drained capers, chopped
1 tbsp olive or canola oil
250g ground beef
250g ground pork
1-3 slices of white bread, crumbled
1 egg
0.75 tsp salt

For the salsa

2 tomatillos or tomatoes, pan-roasted until blistered, deeply browned, and soft, then chopped very finely
2 chipotles in adobe, de-seeded, or dry chipotles, de-seeded, de-veined, toasted, and soaked in hot water
2 roasted cloves of garlic (either oven-roasted or roasted on a skilled turning frequently for about 15 mins)
0.5 tsp salt

Roast the tomatoes, turning them over and over for about 10 minutes until they are softened and blistered all over. Set the tomatoes for the salsa aside; chop the one for the meatballs. Mix with chopped onion, all the spices, olives, raisins, and capers, and saute for about eight minutes or until softened. Let cool, combine with the ground meat (do not use sirloin ground beef for meatballs, higher-fat types of ground beef and pork make much better meatballs, a 75-25 or 50-50 beef-pork ratio is ideal), crumbled pieces of white bread, salt, and egg. If the meatball dough is too soft for rolling, add a bit of crumbled white bread, mix thoroughly. Cover a cutting board with finely ground breadcrumbs (even coarsely ground cornmeal or ordinary all-purpose flour work), roll small 2.5 cm (1″) meatballs. Fry them in two batches on a very llghtly oiled non-stick pan for about 10 minutes, shaking or turning frequently.

In the meantime, either put all the ingredients for the salsa in a blender or use an immersion blender. I don’t have either one here in New York, but I found that just chopping the tomatoes or tomatillos, chipotles and garlic very finely with a sharp knife makes a pleasantly chunky salsa. Remove the seeds from the chipotles first: for me, it makes all the difference between pleasurably fiery and intolerably painful. You can always add the seeds back if you wish to pack some extra heat. Depending on what type of chipotles you use, you may end up using more or less salt than I did.

The meatballs turned out light and crispy; but the real star was the chipotle salsa, which I used as a dipping sauce. I’ve never cooked before with tomatillos, the sour, green, sticky, tomato-like fruits that have husks around them. The fieriness and tartness of the salsa was just right.

I could find tomatillos in the first supermarket I checked out here in Northern Manhattan – any area that has any Mexican presence is a pretty sure bet. However, the bored-looking Puerto Rican checkout girl at Met Foods acted like she’d never seen the fruit before either – “Wha’s that” she intoned and drew a blank on my reply.

In Puebla, this salsa is commonly prepared with ordinary tomatoes, so don’t hesitate to make the substitution if you can’t find tomatillos. The meatballs would work well as party food. If served as a main course, I’d prepare either a green salad or grill a few slices of polenta on the side (fusion-y, but serving anything corn-based is hardly wrong with Mexican food).

I’m sure many of you fellow foodies get occassional nagging cravings that can’t be cured by any other means than a proper cooking session with the right ingredients. In my case the problem often is that I don’t exactly know what I want. A few days ago I was once again unsatisfied with my planned meal – can’t even remember what I was supposed to cook that day – until I realized I had to have meatballs. Preferably simmered in a thick, hearty, Italian tomato sauce. Trivial, you may think, but not exactly for me. I’ve never been that big on pasta, and thus rarely have it ex the omnipresent bolognese (can you spell cafeteria food…)

I started a fierce googling session with search terms such as “best italian pasta”, “marinara sauce”, “italian meatballs” etc. I read through heaps of recipes, many of them very tempting. Unfortunately all of them called for some ingredient or two I didn’t have, and I definitely wasn’t on a mood for a shopping trip. Luckily one of the joys of cooking is improvising. I decided to use whatever I happened to have in hand… The result?

*drum roll*

Antti’s Fusion Meatballs With Sepia Colored Spaghetti

Serves 5 (540 kcal / serving)

For the meatballs:

750 g lean ground lamb
200 g Greek Feta, crumbled
a bunch of fresh parsley, chopped
2 cm fresh ginger, shredded
1/2 pkg Shan Tikka Seekh Kabab BBQ Mix

For the sauce:

1 big yellow onion
4+ cloves of garlic
4 fresh caffir lime leaves, chopped (double if dried)
1 can (any) pasta sauce with olives
1 kg crushed tomatoes
some oregano
some basil
a pinch of sugar
a bunch of fresh cilantro, chopped
a chunk of dried tamarind
some olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 175 C (350 F). Mix all the meatball ingredients well; make sure the spice mix is evenly distributed in the ground meat. Thanks again, Meena, for introducing me to the wonderful world of Shan spice mixes! Roll the meat into small balls with your hands, and set aside. Makes 30-40 meat balls.

Heat a little bit of olive oil in a pan, and sauté the onions and garlic until golden brown, about 3 minutes. Add the rest of the listed ingredients, and simmer over medium heat for 20-30 minutes.

When the sauce is ready, pour a little bit in a 10-15 cm deep baking dish. Add the meatballs and the sauce in layers until everything is in the pot covered in sauce. Cook for 45-60 minutes.

Serve on top of pasta with grated parmesan reggiano. I really liked the contrast of the black sepia colored pasta, definitely worth trying! I love everything lamb (and goat), so the meat balls were good, IMO. The pasta sauce was nice too; I especially liked the aroma of the kaffir lime leaves and the tamarind paste.

This recipe was influenced by various recipes I saw while looking for the ultimate meat ball & sauce combo. I’d be foolish to compare my resulting dish with those tried and true Italian recipes many of you know, but I enjoyed eating mine with its many tastes from around the world.

We have cooked *a lot* of fish lately. More will follow, but tonight I have serious red meat cravings and will just make a sirloin steak.

Last year when we travelled in Argentina, I came across the best bife de lomo I have ever eaten. Argentine beef is tasty and tender beyond belief. It was almost always accompanied by chimichurri, a spicy and herby condiment that packs an extra punch. Chimichurri is really easy to prepare at home, preferably a few days in advance to fully develop the flavor.

My dinner will be accompanied by a glass of Malbec, the perfect complement to red meat. This grape cultivated in the Mendoza area of Argentina produces red wines that range from rotgut to thoroughbred collector’s items. Thanks to globalization, Malbecs are available pretty much everywhere these days – even in the dusty Spanish-speaking neighborhood liquor store on Broadway that is just steps from our front door. (Oddly enough, they carry 25 different varieties of port and more a dozen different Puerto-Rican rums, but their wine selection is nothing to write home about).

Chimichurri

(enough for 2-4 steaks)

1/2 dl olive oil
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
the juice of one lime or 1/2 lemon
1 dl finely chopped parsley
2-3 crushed cloves of garlic
1 leaf of basil or a pinch of oregano
3/4 tsp crushed dried chile de árbol (or 3-4 tiny peperoncini)
1/4 tsp black pepper
salt to taste
Chop all of the ingredients very finely. It seems to be a point of pride in Argentina not to use a food processor, but decide for yourself. Mix with olive oil and vinegar. Let draw in the fridge for a couple of days until the flavors meld. Serve with steaks. You can marinate the steak in chimichurri, but I prefer to ladle copious amounts of it on top of my steak at the table.

Ruokailijan Argentiina for Dummies pitää sisällään kolme avainkäsitettä: Malbecin, pihvit ja chimichurrin. Malbec-punaviiniä saa kaikkialta, jopa pölyisestä nurkkaviinakaupastamme, kiitos globalisaation. Oikein juotavia halpoja merkkejä ovat esimerkiksi San Telmo, Rincón famoso ja Trapiche, mutta jos omaa investointipankkiirin kukkaron, hinta- ja laatuskaala on laaja.

Argentiinalainen pihvikarja on uskomatonta ja maistuu parhaiten paikan päällä. Pihvin päälle syömävaiheessa levitettävää chimichurri -yrttikastiketta kannattaa silti kokeilla seuraavan kerran kun intoutuu kotioloissa paistamaan kunnon pihvin – se tarjoaa eksotiikkapläjäyksen huomattavasti mukavammin kuin sardiiniahtautuminen turistiluokkapaikoilla maapallon toiselle puolelle. Kuten kaikki hyvät asiat, tämäkin kastike vaatii aikaa (Doughboy on slow food -blogi!). Chimichurri kannattaa siis panna vireille pari päivää ennen kuin lihanhimo iskee.

Chimichurri

1/2 dl oliiviöljyä
1 rkl valkoviinietikkaa
1 rkl balsamiviinietikkaa
1 limetin tai 1/2 sitruunan mehu
1 dl hienoksi hakattua persiljaa
2-3 murskattua valkosipulin kynttä
1 basilikan lehti pieneksi hakattuna tai hiukan kuivattua oreganoa
3/4 tl kuivattua chiliä (3-4 peperoncinoa)
1/4 tl mustapippuria
suolaa
Hakkaa kaikki kiinteät ainekset ja yrtit hyvin hienoksi veitsellä tai morttelilla. Sekoita nesteisiin ja kaada lasipulloon. Anna maustua viileässä pari päivää. Tarjoa pihvin seuralaisena, kastiketta lusikoidaan kypsän pihvin mausteeksi. Jotkut marinoivat raa’an pihvinkin tässä kastikkeessa, mutta mielestäni se ei ole tarpeen.

When it comes to my new love – steaming – Marge’s wisdom of avoiding the unknown doesn’t quite apply: Why don’t you try to steam something you haven’t before! Besides, frying pretty much destroys any and all flavor of the ingredients :)

I bought my Chinese bamboo steamer years ago when I was strolling the kitchen supply isles of my local Target in Boston. I had recently returned from Hong Kong, and the ubiquitous bamboo steamers there caught my eye. It was less than $20, so I bought it on a whim. Back at home I realized the steamer was too big to fit in any of my pots or pans. Too lazy to return it, I showed the box on top of my kitchen cupboards where it has been ever since. Until last week.

I happened to buy heaps of bok choy and green beans from a nearby Asian market, and at the same time Anna was telling about her steaming experiments in New York. I remembered my ill-fated steamer, dug it out from a closet, re-read the instruction pamphlet, and had an epiphany: Steam is hot. Heat goes up. Ha! I finally realized that I could simply place the steamer on top of a big pot instead of trying to fit it inside one. Works like a charm! (And no worries about setting the steamer on fire, sis ;)

Chinese buns, dumplings, dim sum – whatever the name – are often steamed. When people think about Chinese food in Finland, it’s most likely that stir-frying comes first to mind. Before I started traveling in South East Asia, I also associated Chinese cooking with fat-dripping and really unhealthy-looking woks. Now I realize there are tons of literally fat free steamed dishes (i.e. no added fat).

The buns pictured above are filled with lotus paste, and many varieties of similar ready-to-be steamed buns can be bought in an Asian market near you. Frozen buns make a tasty side dish for any Asian meal. 10-15 minutes in a steamer and voilà:

The beauty of steaming is it’s speed and versatility: While heating a few buns, you can also cook the main course in the same bamboo tower. Steaming is also a very quick way to prepare food, almost comparable to a microwave oven! A hearty fillet of fish is ready in six minutes, veggies included.

Lets have a look at this big fella I bought yesterday. (I asked for a half salmon and that’s exactly what I got…)

Earlier I’ve always either pan fried fish or baked it in the oven. After filleting the poor salmon I butterflied some of it, whipped up a quick thai marinade, rinsed a heap of bok choy and placed everything in the bamboo steamer. It’s a good idea to put fish and other potentially smelly stuff on a plate to protect the steamer.

For those who haven’t seen or used bamboo steamers before, the baskets can be piled in a tower, so you only need one source of steam. Six minutes on top of a pot of boiling water, and the meal is ready. That’s what I call fast food :)

Salmon in Thai Sauce

Serves 2 (480 kcal / serving)

1 bunch cilantro with stems and roots
12 mint leaves
1 tsp chopped fresh ginger
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp salt
1 large red chilli, finely chopped (or dried chilli)
2 limes
1 tbsp nam pla (fish sauce)
2 x 200 g (7 oz) Norwegian salmon fillets
plenty of bok choy

Mix cilantro, mint, ginger, garlic, salt, chilli, juice of the limes and nam pla in a food processor until a smooth paste.

Use 2/3 of the sauce to marinate the fish for 20-30 minutes. Place bok choy and salmon fillets on a plate in a steamer and steam for six minutes.

Pour the reserved sauce over the fish and serve immediately.

Argentiinalaiset ovat täysin jumissa dulce de lecheen, ruskeaan pehmeään tahmaan joka on kirjaimellisesti karamellisoitunutta maitoa, jonkinlainen kinuskin isoveli. Se on erityisen hyvää jäätelön kastikkeena ja jälkiruoissa. Tavara on kuin crackia, psyykkinen riippuvuus syntyy kertamaistamisesta.

New Yorkissa dulce de lecheä saa melkein kaikkialta, kulmabodegastammekin. Mutta kun etsin selvityksiä siitä kuinka maito karamellisoidaan, törmäsin urbaaneilta legendoilta vaikuttaviin juttuihin umpinaisten säilyketölkkien keittämisestä painekattilassa. Fysiikan lakien sanelemana lämmön ja paineen kasvu suljetussa tilassa enteilee räjähdysvaaraa. Netissä riitti juttua ympäri keittiötä sinkoilevista kuumista tölkeistä, palaneista jäsenistä ja silmänsä menettäneistä kokeista. Yleinen viesti oli ÄLÄ KOKEILE TÄTÄ KOTONA.

Ruokabloggaaminen on keskimäärin aika kesyä puuhaa. Tässä oli nyt ainutkertainen mahdollisuus toteuttaa kotona kolmen minuutin harkinta-ajalla ja $1.79:n investoinnilla Improvised Explosive Device, joista yleensä kuulee vain Bagdadin uutisissa.

Dulce de leche – älä kokeile tätä kotona
(recipe in English)

1 tlk makeutettua säilykemaitoa (“sweetened condensed milk” – saa Suomestakin ainakin etnisistä kaupoista)

Kaivoin esiin syvimmän mahdollisen kaapista löytyvän 10 litran kattilan. Maitosäilyketölkin etiketissä luki CAUTION – NEVER HEAT UNOPENED CAN. Heitin etiketin pois. Laitoin avaamattoman tölkin kattilaan ja täytin kattilan liki piripintaan vedellä. Kriittistä on että säilyketölkki pysyy koko keittoprosessin ajan kunnolla upoksissa, vähintään tuuman verran veden alla – Arkhimedes osaisi varmaan tilittää tästä jotain sellaista mitä minä en.

Tölkin kiehuessa kuuluu jatkuva kop-kop-kop -ääni. Jos liekki oli hitusenkin liian vahva, ääni yltyi pelottavan synkopoiduksi KLONK-UTI KLONKK KLONKKKKK KLONKKKKKKKK -ääneksi , jossa voi omasta paranoian asteesta riippuen kuulla kiskoiltaan syöksyvää junaa tai välitöntä räjähdysvaaraa. Velipoika ehdotti ystävällisesti käyttämään kattilankantta kilpenä, poistumaan asunnosta ja palaamaan sopivasti moppaamaan karamellin asunnon katosta.

Kestin odotuksen hermojännitystä kolme tuntia. Tänä aikana tölkkiin ehti jo ilmaantua ruostepilkkuja. Kahdessa tunnissa olisi syntynyt karamellikastiketta, kolmessa tunnissa kehittyi semisolidi vanukas, ja neljässä tunnissa pitäisi päästä jo jollakin lailla itsenäisesti pystyssä pysyvään jälkiruokaan. Annoin kattilan jäähtyä huoneenlämpöön edelleen veden alla. Kun lopulta avasin sen uunihanskat kädessä kuin olisin käsitellyt Loviisan polttoainesauvaa, tölkinavaajan tekemästä reiästä purskahti ilmoille lämmintä ruskeaa massaa huomattavalla pakonopeudella. Refleksit toimivat. Väistin sopivasti: näkö on vielä tallella.

Lämmin dulce de leche oli käsittämättömän hyvää – kuin luotu jäätelön tai omenapalojen kastikkeeksi. Sitä voi myös levittää paahtoleivän päälle.

Karamellisoidun maidon voi toki tehdä aivan lähtöaineistaankin, maidosta, sokerista ja vaniljasta (ohje en español ja in English). Niihin ei liity mitään räjähdysvaaraa, ainoastaan pitkäveteistä keittämistä, joten ihan vapaasti kokeilemaan…

Penne alla Vodka on italialainen keksintö, joskin Italiasta sitä on nykyisin melko vaikea löytää. Ruokalajin historia juontaa 1970-luvulle, jolloin vodka oli vielä tuntematonta Italiassa, ja maahantuojat tekivät kaikkensa saadakseen sen tunnetuksi. Yksi markkinointikikka oli reseptikilpailun järjestäminen, ja lopputuloksena oli tämä votkakastike. 70-luvun puolivälissä se oli varsinainen trendipasta, mutta nykyisin Penne alla Vodkaa löytää parhaiten Amerikasta, jossa se on erittäin suosittua.

Bostonissa lempi-italialaisravintolani oli Brooklinessa sijaitseva Vinny Testa’s, ja siellä herkullisin annos oli heidän Penne alla Vodka makealla italialaisella fenkolimakkaralla ja Asiago-juustolla höystettynä. Mmm! Annos oli edullinen, vain kymmenen euroa, mutta niin iso, että siitä riitti syötävää kahdelle tai toinen ateria vielä kotiin viemiseksi. Söinkin monesti jääkaappikylmää pastaa yöpalaksi. Herkkua!

Tämä Rachael Rayn resepti ei sisällä lihaa, mutta jauheliha tai italialainen tuoremakkara sopii sekaan oivallisesti. Kastike on todella helppo ja nopea valmistaa – se on oikeastaan aivan tavallinen tomaatti-kermakastike, johon on lisätty votkaa. Aromi on kuitenkin uniikki, joten ei muuta kuin kokeilemaan.

Penne alla Vodka

kahdelle (600 kcal / annos)

1/2 rkl öljyä
1/2 rkl voita
2 shalottisipulia
2-4 valkosipulin kynttä
6 cl maustamatonta votkaa
1,25 dl kanalientä (kuutiosta tehty ok)
400 g tölkki karkeaa tomaattimurskaa
225 g penne rigateja
0,6 dl kermaa (Valion 10% 3 juuston ruokakerma sopi kivasti)
tummaa Maizenaa suurustamiseen
suolaa, pippuria
10 tuoretta basilikan lehteä

Hienonna shalotit ja valkosipulin kynnet. Kuumenna voi ja öljy kasarissa, ja kuullota shalotteja ja valkosipuleita 3-5 minuuttia, kunnes kauniin ruskettunutta. Lisää kanaliemi ja tomaattimurska sekä mausta suolalla ja pippurilla. Jätä porisemaan hiljakseen.

Kiehauta iso kattilallinen vettä, lisää reilusti suolaa ja keitä pennejä valmistajan ohjeen mukaan (noin 10-15 min), kunnes al dente.

Lisää kerma ja votka kastikkeeseen, ja poista liedeltä, kun se alkaa kuplia uudelleen. Jos kastike vaikuttaa liian juoksevalta, suurusta kourallisella tummaa Maizenaa. Valuta pasta ja sekoita kastikkeeseen silputun basilikan kanssa. Tarjoile heti raastetun parmesanin kanssa.

Rachael Ray (yllä) ei ole vielä tunnettu ainakaan Suomessa, mutta Yhdysvalloissa (ja viime kuulemani mukaan Australiassa) hän on supersuosittu TV-kokki Food Networkilla. Rachael on kirjoittanut myös lukuisia keittokirjoja (joista yhden sain Annalta joululahjaksi, Thanks!). The New York Timesissä ollut artikkeli viime syksyltä summaa Rachaelin saavutukset:

Though the nation’s food elite might cringe, Ms. Ray, 37, is one of the most influential people cooking today. Let the big-name chefs fuss with foams and sous vide. She’ll stick with hot dog nachos and “jambalika,” a dish that is kind of like jambalaya. With more than 4 million books in print and four shows on the Food Network, Ms. Ray has shown America the way back to the kitchen.

En ole myöskään ainoa, jonka mielestä Rachael on söpö-Rachael:

Her mother answers her daughter’s fan mail, which can range from children’s drawings to marriage proposals to letters from recently widowed senior citizens.

“She’s big with the guys, let me tell you,” her mother said.

Lopuksi vielä hieman silmäniloa ainakin miespuolisille Taikinapojan lukijoille. Amerikan FHM (For Him Magazine) julkaisi artikkelin Rachaelista vuonna 2003, josta The New York Times kirjoitti seuraavasti:

“The shots feature Ms. Ray in short-shorts with an exposed midriff, licking chocolate off a big wooden spoon, eating a strawberry and sitting in a sink, laughing as suds cascade down her curvaceous thighs.”

Mitäpä tuohon lisäämään muuta kuin itse kuvat :)

Reissun edellä jääkaappia eriasteisista mikrobiviljelmistä tyhjentäessä käteen osui kauhea virheostos, pari kuukautta vanha guacamole-purkki. Töhnän maku oli alkujaankin laimea ja teollinen, mutta amerikkalaiseen tyyliin lisäaineita oli sen verran että mönjä näytti edelleen kammottavan syömäkelpoiselta ja lensi siksi roskiin.

Pastanjauhajatkin puhuivat hiljan guacamolesta, joten tässä tölkkiversiota oleellisesti parempi resepti, joka on peräisin muutaman vuoden takaiselta joulunalusreissultani Santa Fe’hen. Ah! Sievän pikkukaupungin punertavat savitalot lepäilivät lumen alla – ja jokaikinen talo oli koristeltu punaisia chili-ristroja imitoivilla jouluvaloilla. Chiliä oli jopa joulunekuissa… ja jälkiruokana unelmankeveitä hunajaan dipattavia sopaipillaseja.

Tiedän että Taikinapoika ja minä olemme vahvasti eri mieltä siitä mikä on ideaali guacamolen koostumus – veljen versio on hyvin erilainen, silti herkullinen. Itse vastustan tomaattia tässä ruoassa. Uudessa Meksikossa on tapana sotkea guacamoleen tomaatteja vain kesäisin kun tomaatit ovat oikeasti herkullisia – lisää paikallisista perinteistä Huntley Dentin mainiossa kirjassa Feast of Santa Fe. Toisinaan suosimassamme Mama Mexico -ravintolassa Manhattanin Upper West Sidella (“go early or go deaf” – paikka on yleensä tupaten täynnä ja siellä raivoaa äärimmäisen meluisa mariachibändi) tämä sama guacamole valmistetaan pyynnöstä näytösluontoisesti asiakkaan pöydässä.

Talviguacamole

1 kypsä avocado
1/4-1 limetin mehu, hädässä saman verran sitruunamehua
1 pieni murskattu valkosipulin kynsi, keskellä oleva vihreä itu poistettuna
1/2 – 1 rkl oliiviöljyä
ripaus suolaa ja mustapippuria
(tuoretta korianteria)
(hiukan vihreää chiliä)

Halkaise alligaattoripäärynä, kaiva siitä lusikalla kivi ulos, ja hakkaa hedelmäliha kermamaiseksi tahnaksi kulhossa yhdellä tai kahdella lusikalla. Jos tarvitset yleiskonetta, hedelmä on liian raaka ja ruoka pilalla – sori. Lisää muut ainekset. Säädä happamuus mieleiseksesi annostelemalla limetin mehua asteittain ja maistelemalla välillä. Tarjoa tortilla chips -maissilastujen kanssa tai tacojen päällä.

Pari teknistä juttua avocadoista. Suosin tavanomaista tummanvihreää ja ryppyistä tyyppiä. Joskus kaupoista löytyvä jalkapallonkokoinen vaaleanvihreä avocado on parilla pistokokeella maistunut vain vetiseltä. Painan avocadoa varovasti: kypsä antaa vähän periksi. Raa’asta avocadosta ei kannata guacamolea tehdä – rakenne on väärä ja maku kauhea. Avocadon pitää olla niin pehmeä, että sisuksen voi muhentaa lusikalla sitä vääntämättä ;) Koska usein saatavilla on vain raakoja avocadoja, pistän hedelmän muovipussiin kypsymään päiväksi pariksi tomaatin kanssa (tomaatti seurustelee avocadon kanssa etyleenin välityksellä, joka on käsittääkseni kaasumuotoinen kasvua signaloiva hormoni…) Jos avocadossa puolestaan halkaistaessa on ruskeita viiruja tai laikkuja, se on jo liiankin kypsä ja kolhiintunut. Koska avocadon ostaminen on venäläistä rulettia pienin panoksin, kannattaa ostaa ja kypsyttää pari hedelmää kerralla.

Avocado muuttuu hapettuessaan ruman mudanväriseksi. Oletan että askorbiinihappo estää tämän prosessin, eli siksi guacamole kylvetetään yleensä sitrusmehuissa. Jos teet tahnan etukäteen, lisää sitrus heti, ja varmuuden vuoksi painele vielä guacamolen pintaan tiiviisti elmukelmu hapetusta vähetämään. Meillä tätä ongelmaa ei ole, koska guacamole syödään hartaasti ja heti, viimeisistä nokareista taistellen.

En ole ikinä tajunnut suomalaisten innostusta valmismarinoituun lihaan. Teollinen neonoranssi mönjä hämää kuluttajan uskomaan että parhaat päivänsä ohittaneesta raadonpalasta kannattaa vielä maksaa täysi hinta. En juuri koskaan osta mitään valmiiksi marinoitua – ellei mukaan lasketa satunnaisia sydänkesän kanaa brutale -grillaushetkiä (pallogrilli esiin auton takakontista ja ateria pystyyn minimaalisin välinein tienposkeen). Tekemättä aiheesta fMRI-tutkimusta pystyn nimittäin sanomaan että marinadien sekoittelu vetoaa samoihin primitiivisiin mielihyväkeskuksiin kuin mutavellin sotkeminen pienenä.

Työtoverini häipyi talvisen apeasta New Yorkista Jamaikalle sukuloimaan. Kun työnteon sosiaalinen kontrolli on poissa, löytyy kummasti aikaa ruoanlaittoon ja bloggaukseen. Kaivelin siis kaapeistani esiin kaikki piparimausteet ja kaikenlaista muutakin: sorruin nettireseptiin ja ryhdyin läträämään kaikkien marinadien kuningatarta, jamaikalaista jerk saucea. (Pyörittelin pari päivää sitten käsissäni parin taalan hintaista jerk-marinadipulloa lähimarketissamme. Kiusaus oli voimakas mutta voitettavissa: päätin sittenkin nauttia halvasta aromaterapiasta ja rentouttavasta läträämisestä tekemällä marinadin itse.)

Jamaican Jerk Chicken

1 rkl maustepippuria
1 rkl timjamia
1 rkl sokeria
1 1/2 tl cayenne-pippuria
1 1/2 tl mustapippuria
1 1/2 tl salviaa
3/4 tl muskottia
3/4 tl kanelia
6-8 valkosipulin kynttä viipaleina
1/2 dl oliivi- tai rypsiöljyä
1/2 dl soijakastiketta
1 dl viinietikkaa + 3/4 dl vettä
1 dl appelsiinimehua
1 limetin mehu
3 kevätsipulia tai 1 purjo ohuina viipaleina
1 tuore tulinen chilipippuri tai pari peperoncinoa tai 1-2 kuivattua thaichiliä
iso sipuli silppuna
suunnilleen yhden linnun verran marinoimatonta broileria
(itse käytin 8 reisipalaa, mutta 4 nahatonta rintaleikettä olisi käynyt yhtä hyvin)

Sekoita kaikki marinadin ainekset eli reseptilista sipulisilppuun asti isossa (3 l tai suurempi) kulhossa. Nauti huumaavista maustehöyryistä, koeta olla aivastamatta, ja tarkista että viinietikkaa on riittävästi ennen kun aloitat – muuten homma keskeytyy harmillisesti kauppareissuun. Itse olin vahingossa ostanut koreamarketista vihreäksi jalapeñoksi luulemani tuoreen chilipalon, joka auki leikatessa osoittautui miedon paprikan vahvuiseksi. Improvisoin heittämällä sekaan kaapista pari kuivattua chiliä. Plumpsauttele nahattomat kananpalat upoksiin marinadiin. Anna maustua useamman tunnin ajan tai yön yli.

Jos Taikinapoika olisi täällä, olisin pyytänyt häntä kippaamaan kanapalat marinadista grilliin. Tyylipuhdas jerk chicken on nimittäin nuotioruokaa; optimaalisen maustumisen takaamiseksi kana käsittääkseni sohitaan marinadivaiheessa terävillä kepeillä täyteen reikiä jotta herkullinen maku tunkeutuisi mahdollisimman syvälle. Koska jopa naapurin latinot luopuvat grillikesteistä jalkakäytävällä tähän vuodenaikaan, tyydyin mietolämpöiseen kaasu-uuniin (150 astetta) ja pitkään haudutusaikaan folion alla (90 minuuttia). Kiehauta kunnolla jäännösmarinadi kastikkeeksi. Tämän ruoan kanssa kannattaa tarjota hyvää riisiä ja kuutioita tuoreesta mangosta (jonka päälle ripottaisin ihan vähän suolaa ja mahdollisesti Tabasco-tyyppistä hot saucea).

Aikaa tämän ruoan parissa vierähti ihan kunnolla, vaikkakin suurin osa siitä oli passiivista odottelua, kun ruoka maustui liemessään tai muhi uunissa. Tulos oli maukas ja pikantti kanaruoka, johon olisin ollut supertyytyväinen jos en tietäisi millainen yliaistillinen parin taalan nautinto irtoaisi 145. kadun ja Amsterdam Avenuen tienoilla olevasta jerk hutista tai alakertamme ravintolasta, jonka monet kokit ovat karibialaisia. Tämän keitoksen maku ei ollut yhtä monivivahteinen. Kaipasin myös rapean nahan ja pehmeän sisuksen kontrastia. Tällaista tämä kapitalismin arki on: ruoanlaitto kannattaisi ulkoistaa. Tai sitten seuraavan kerran kokeilen kaupan marinadia…

Cumberland-kastike keksittiin Hannoverissa 1800-luvun lopulla, ja se nimettiin saksalaisten kanssa Ranskaa vastaan tapelleen englantilaisen sotapäällikön ja kuningas Yrjö II:n pojan, Cumberlandin herttuan mukaan. Hannoverin aatelilla ja Englannin kuningashuoneella on hyvin vahvat siteet: Englannin kuninkaista seitsemällä on hannoverilaiset sukujuuret alkaen 1714 syntyneesä Yrjö ensimmäisestä 1901 kuolleeseen kuningatar Victoriaan.

Historia sikseen ja enemmän asiaa itse kastikkeesta! Cumberlandia on perinteisesti käytetty tumman lihan, kuten peuran, hirven, lampaan ja kinkun kanssa. Kastikkeelle ei ole olemassa mitään tarkkaa reseptiä, mutta useimmiten siihen käytetään punaisia viinimarjoja, portviiniä, sinappia, sitruksia ja inkivääriä. Saksalaisesta alkuperästään huolimatta cumberland-kastike on nykyisin suosittu ja hyvin yleinen Briteissä.

Cumberlandin kastike

neljälle-kahdeksalle

1 appelsiini
1/2 sitruunaa
2 shalottisipulia
4 rkl punaviinimarjahilloa
5 cl portviiniä
1 tl Dijon-sinappia
ripaus jauhettua inkivääriä

Kuori värillinen osa appelsiinin ja sitruunan kuoresta välttäen valkoista osaa, ja suikaloi marmeladimaisiksi hyvin ohuiksi siivuiksi. Kiehauta hieman vettä ja poista kuorien kitkeryys liottamalla niitä neljä minuuttia kuumassa vedessä. Laita kuorisuikaleet valumaan siivilään tai kolanteriin. Leikkaa shalotit hienoksi silpuksi ja peitä minuutiksi kiehuvalla vedellä. Valuta vedestä ja sekoita sitruksen kuorien kanssa. Kiehauta punaviinimarjahillo pienessä kattilassa, sekoita kuori-sipuliseos ja keitä minuutti-pari samalla sekoittaen. Lisää inkivääri, sitrusten mehu, sinappi ja portviini. Sekoita ja tarjoile kylmänä tai kuumana.

Itse kiireessä kastiketta tehdessäni sain aikaiseksi aika ulkonäkörajoitteisen satsin; juhlapöytää varten harkitsisin kastikkeen jatkamista hieman vedellä ja suurustamista ruskealla Maizenalla, jolloin se saa kauniin ruskean sävyn hailakan pinkin sijaan. Varaa lisäksi hieman ylimääräistä appelsiininkuorta kastikkeen päälle koristeeksi.

Inspitaation tähän ruokalajiin sain maanmainion (ei ehkä niinkään reseptiensä vaan visuaalisuutensa ansiosta) What’s Cooking -sarjan Thai-osasta. Varsinainen thairesepti tämä ei ole, chili, lime ja soija vain tuovat häivähdyksen aasialaisesta keittiöstä. Tämä sopii siis hyvin myös niille, jotka eivät thairuuasta muuten pidä.

Lisukkeeksi tälle ruokalajille sopii mainiosti myös jasmiiniriisi, mutta halusin pitää kalorit kurissa joten riisi sai tehdä tilaa mehukkaille uunisipuleille.

Ankanrintaa ja uunisipuleita luumukastikkeella

kahdelle

Marinadi:
1-2 valkosipulin kynttä, murskattuna
2 tl palmusokeria tai tummaa ruokosokeria
1 1/2 rkl limen mehua
1/2 rkl soijakastiketta
1/2-1 tl chilikastiketta tai vastaava määrä tuoretta chiliä

Kastike:
1 rkl luumuhilloa
1/2-1 dl kanalientä, aitoa tai kuutioista
suolaa ja pippuria

Uunisipulit:
1-2 isoa sipulia per henki
1 lihaliemikuutio sipulia kohti
voita
balsamicoa
yrttejä (timjamia, rakuunaa, rosmariinia, meiramia etc.)

Leikkaa terävällä veitsellä ankan nahkaan ristikkäisiä viiltoja reilun sentin välein siten, että syntyy kaunis timanttikuvio. Viiltojen tulee ulottua reilusti rasvaan asti, mutta varo vaurioittamasta itse lihaa.

Sekoita murskatut valkosipulinkynnet, palmusokeri, limen mehu, soija ja chili keskenään. Laita ankanrinnat pakastepussiin, kaada marinadi niiden päälle ja sekoita huolellisesti. Jätä jääkaappiin marinoitumaan vähintään kolmeksi tunniksi, mieluiten yön yli.

Laita uuni lämpiämään 175 asteeseen noin tuntia ennen suunniteltua ruoka-aikaa. Kuori sipulit ja leikkaa siivu niiden ylä- ja alapäästä, jotta ne pysyisivät pystyssä uunissa ja lautasella. Koverra yläpintaan peukalonmentävä kolo vaikka teelusikalla. Painele haarukalla reikiä kolon pohjalle auttamaan sipulin maustumista uunissa. Varo kuitenkin puhkaisemasta ulommaisinta kuorta. Paina lihaliemikuutio jokaisen kuopan pohjalle, sipaise sen päälle nokare voita, lorauta hieman balsamicoa ja ripottele mieleisiäsi yrttejä. Peitä lopuksi kolo kaivertaessa syntyneellä “hatulla”. Kiedo sipulit yksitellen folioon ja paista 45 minuuttia tai kunnes täysin pehmenneitä.

Ankanrinnat eivät kaipaa ylimääräistä rasvaa paistamiseen, siinä ne ovat täysin omavaraisia. Vaikka et söisikään nahkaa, kannattaa rintafileet paistaa sen kanssa. Ota fileet jääkaapista lämpenemään hyvissä ajoin ennen paistamista.

Kuumenna pannu tulikuumaksi ja tällä aikaa kuivaa ankanrinnat marinadista. Säästä marinadi. Paista ensin nahkapuoli alaspäin 4-5 minuuttia. Tarkkaile pannun lämpötilaa ja alenna tarvittaessa, nahka ei saa palaa karrelle. Kaada pannulle sulanut rasva pois ja käännä fileet. Paista 2-3 minuuttia kunnes pinta on kauniisti ruskettunut. Lisää pannulle säästetty marinadi, luumuhillo ja kanaliemi. Anna muhia vielä pari minuuttia. Nosta ankanrinnat leikkuulaudalle ja anna jälkikypsyä kymmenisen minuuttia. Jos kastike on liian juoksevaa, jatka sen keittämistä kasaan kunnes sopivaa.

Poista sipulit varovasti foliosta, ne ovat nyt hyvin pehmeitä ja mehukkaita. Isosta lusikasta on apua nostelussa. Leikkaa ankanrinnat viistosti ohuiksi viipaleiksi, asettele lautaselle sipulien viereen ja pirskottele luumukastikkeella.

Vaikka ankan nahka onkin suurta herkkuani, olen viime aikoina sydän verta vuotaen leikannut sen irti paistamisen jälkeen ennen viipalointia. Ankan liha itsessään on vährasvaista, mutta paksu nahan alainen rasvakerros tuplaa helposti annoksen energiamäärän.