Mlinci Magic, Direct from the Ljubljana Farmers' Market!

I was in an odd state when we returned home to California after three weeks in Europe.

I felt suspended between two worlds. I kept dreaming of faraway landscapes. The beautiful Adriatic coast. Remote settlements in the Dolenjska hills where my Slovenian ancestors once lived. Limestone caves in the karst. Castles and bridges in Ljubljana, Slovenia's capital. The jagged vitality of Kosovo.  Steeples and minarets. The harsh and mysterious mountains of Northern Albania. And all the welcoming people we met along the way.

The food and wine were also memorable, but they were a backdrop to the deeper journey.

Still, I was glad to have brought back a few edible souvenirs. Sea salt from Piran. Domači prijatelj (Slovenian biscotti) from the big modern Maxi Market a blocks from our studio apartment in Ljubljana, where we spent a week. From the apartment, it was just a few more blocks to the daily farmers' market near Ljubljana's old town. We consumed most of our purchases, but I did end up with two market mementos to bring home: a half-eaten bag of honey cookies and a big package of mlinci.

Mlinci (m'LEEN-tse) is an unusual food, at least by American standards, although it is a staple in Slovenia and northern Croatia. It is a sort of  egg noodle/cracker hybrid: first baked into a large flatbread and later reconstituted by soaking. I had made it from scratch exactly two years earlier, in July of 2012, as a foundation for a stuffing-like side dish to accompany roast duck.  At that time, I had to rely on photos and recipes as a guide, so I was excited to spot a package of the real thing at one of the stalls at the Ljubljana farmers' market.

A closer look (and a taste) showed me where I had gone astray. The genuine Ljubljana mlinci was far more thin and delicate than the sturdy rounds I had created in my Berkeley kitchen.  According to the directions that came with my purchase, only a very short soak was needed. Suggestions for a variety of sweet and savory preparations were included.

A few days after we returned home, I decided it was time to break out the mlinci, with my husband doing the honors.  I suggested that he roast a chicken and explained how to soak the mlinci and then toss them in the pan juices.  He added a few twists of his own, onions and mushrooms, and created a tasty side dish that was even better than my own first attempt.

I had also read that unsoftened mlinci could be broken up and (in the words of the cooking site) "crashed into the soup." So, a few days later, I made soup from the leftover chicken carcass and added a garnish of mlinci. It was an easy and tasty addition.

I kept thinking about a sweet mlinci dish. The instructions had suggested a few possible additions, along with sugar.  Curd cheese and marmalade. Poppy seeds and nuts. Fruits. It sounded like a promising breakfast dish.  

This week, I finally gave it a try. The first time, just for myself, I layered soaked and drained mlinci bits with orange marmalade, fresh strawberries and farmer cheese.  Not bad.  It tasted like a sweet Jewish noodle kugel.  Or--a closer parallel--sweet matzo kugel. 

On the weekend, feeling more confident, I decided to make a breakfast dish to share with my husband.  This time around, I used blueberry preserves along with the farmer cheese and strawberries, and I popped the finished mixture into the microwave for a quick warming.  With a little Greek yogurt on the side, it was a lovely and elegant weekend brunch dish that reminded me of deconstructed blintzes.

At this rate,  I will soon face a new challenge: replenishing the mlinci when the current supply runs out! 

Sweet Mlinci

mlinci, purchased or homemade
curd cheese or farmer cheese
marmalade or preserves
strawberries or other fresh fruit, cut up and sweetened if desired
Greek yogurt or sour cream for serving

Break mlinci into bite-sized pieces and soak in very hot water until softened. With thin mlinci, this may take just a few minutes. Drain in a colander or sieve. Prepare berries or other fruit and sweeten with a little sugar, syrup, or preserves if desired. In a serving bowl, make several layers of  mlinci, cheese, marmalade or preserves, and fruit. Tastes especially good (like blintzes!) if warmed up before serving.  Garnish with yogurt or sour cream.

Roast Duck: A Fine Partner for Mlinci

Roast duck was the entree for my Week 20 dinner.   But to my mind, it was mostly a vehicle for the mlinci, those intriguing baked noodles that turned out so much better than I imagined.

I decided on duck rather than chicken because it seemed more exotic.  I had never actually roasted a duck before.  In case you are in the same boat, here is how I did it.

There is nothing especially Slovenian about this way of roasting a duck.  I consulted a few standard American cookbooks to come up with this.  The main issue, as I understand it, is getting rid of some of the fat without letting the meat dry out.



A 5 lb duckling, fresh and organic
salt and pepper
other seasoning of choice

To prepare: Remove giblets.  Rinse, dry, and cut off excess fat.  Cut slits in the skin, at regular intervals, all over the duck.  Use a small sharp knife blade held just under the surface of the skin, and parallel to it. Coat the duck inside and out with a mixture of salt, pepper, and any other seasoning you desire.  (I used a Mediterranean seasoning mix prepared by our local spice shop.)

Put the duck, breast side down, on a rack in a rectangular roasting pan. Pour 1 inch of hot water in the bottom of the pan.  Bake at 400 degrees for 30 minutes. Lower the heat to 350 degrees, turn over, and bake for another 30 minutes or until done.   During baking, watch the water level and add more liquid if needed by pouring over the top of the duck.  If skin gets too brown, cover with foil.  Internal temperature should reach 175 degrees.

Remove to a cutting board and let cool before carving.

Save the drippings to coat your lovely homemade mlinci.

The verdict:  This turned out pretty well.  My husband pointed out that the breast and legs require different baking times, so roasting a whole bird isn't the most practical approach.

But my feeling is that a whole roast duck is much more festive.  And it's a better partner to the mlinci.

Slovenian Dinner Week 20: Roast Duck and Mlinci

Menu
Mlinci (Baked Noodles)
Roast Duck
Red Cabbage with Apples
Red Pepper and Tomato Salad

This was another dinner where the side dish became the main event.

Mlinci (m'LEEN-tsee), also known as baked noodles, seemed like an intriguing but improbable dish.  I had to give it a try.

I first heard about mlinci when The Professor, a Facebook friend who lives in Slovenia, posted a photo of a festive St. Martin's Day dinner he'd just prepared: A roast duck, accompanied by a strange sort of dumpling or noodle called mlinci.

Months later, I came across a recipe for mlinci/baked noodles in the Progressive Slovene Women's cookbook.  I found a few other recipes through an Internet search.  It's a simple dish.  A noodle dough, rolled into thin rounds and baked, then cooled and broken into bits.

To serve, the bits are moistened with boiling water or dropped into soup. Presto! Instant noodles.  Or dumplings.  Or something.  Often mixed or fried with the drippings from roast poultry or meat.  I couldn't quite picture it.  An unleavened flatbread or cracker, soaked in liquid.  What was the point?

Suddenly, I realized this wasn't so odd.  It reminded me of the way they serve matzo for breakfast in my husband's family.  Moistened and salted, then wrapped in a napkin, to make it a little more bread-like. Or like matzo farfel, nothing more than bits of broken matzo, another staple in Jewish cooking, especially for Passover.  Or, for that matter, those little oyster crackers we used to drop into soup when I was a child.

Some recipes, like the Progressive Slovene Women's, use yeast.  But most don't.  So I followed the unleavened approach:

Mlinci

2 eggs
1/2 t. salt
1 c. flour
Milk, if needed (but I didn't need any)


Mix the above ingredients, as though making standard egg noodles.  (With my finger still in a splint, I used a food processor.)   Since the eggs were extra large, I didn't need any milk.  In fact, I had to add some extra flour.

Let dough rest 30 minutes, covered.  Divide into four pieces.  Roll each one into a thin disk. (Note: thinner than what photos here suggest!  See update at the end of this post.) Prick.  Bake on ungreased baking sheet at 350 degrees.  Turn over when dough begins to brown.  The finished product should look brown and blistered, like a giant cracker.  It will be much firmer that matzo. Remove from oven and cool on rack.

Meanwhile, I had roasted a nice duck.  Nothing fancy, but I've posted the recipe here.

To prepare the mlinci:

Break rounds into pieces.  (I used two rounds.)   Put in glass or ceramic bowl.  Cover with boiling salted water.  Let sit until soft, 5-15 minutes, depending on thickness of mlinci. Drain. Add to drippings left in pan from the roast duck and stir to mix. Put back in bowl. You can put bowl back in oven to keep warm, while someone carves the duck.

The verdict?  This unlikely dish was luscious!  Sinfully rich, of course, with the duck fat and crackly bits mixed in.  Something like stuffing, something like Yorkshire pudding.  But better.  A perfect special occasion accompaniment to roast fowl or meat.

Oh, and those unused rounds of mlinci kept well.  They made a nice replacement for croutons in salad and served as a crunchy bread substitute in next week's dinner.


Update:  In July of 2014, I purchased ready-made mlinci at the source: a vendor in the Ljubljana Farmers' Market!  Having seen (and cooked with) the real thing, I now know that mlinci should be much thinner than my photos here suggest.  I have also developed a delicious sweet mlinci dish for breakfast or brunch.  To read about it, go here.