Caraway Meatballs: A Healthy Update

I first made these simple but flavorful meatballs in June of 2012, during my inaugural year of weekly Slovenian dinners. The foundation was a recipe I'd spotted in Woman's Glory: The Kitchen, my first vintage cookbook. Meatballs flavored with caraway, cheese, and bacon sounded like an intriguing Slovenian alternative to the more familiar Italian version of the dish.

My first version of caraway meatballs turned out well. It soon became a favorite.

Two years later, I decided to create a healthier version, with no added salt and fewer carbohydrates.

In some respects, I followed Woman's Glory more closely: chopped fresh pepper instead of celery, and no matzo meal or bread crumbs in the meat balls. Since I skipped the salt, I compensated by increasing the black pepper and adding some garlic. I used turkey bacon instead of regular bacon in the sauce. Finally, I served the meatballs over spaghetti squash instead of pasta or polenta.

The result was delicious. Full of Central European flavor and guilt-free. And by skipping the bread crumbs and the pasta, it also becomes gluten-free!

Enjoy!

Caraway Meatballs with Sauce (low salt, low carb)


Meatballs:

1 lb. ground beef (or beef/pork mix)

1/4 c. grated sharp cheese

1 t. caraway seeds

1/4 c. green or red pepper, chopped

1 T. fresh parsley

pepper, black and cayenne

1 egg

1 clove garlic

Sauce:

1/2 c. chopped onion

3 strips turkey bacon, diced

24 oz. jar strained tomatoes

pepper and garlic to taste

parsley to taste

1/4 t. sugar

Mix all the ingredients for meatballs. Form into balls and set aside.  For sauce, brown the bacon and onions, then add meatballs and brown.  Add tomatoes and seasonings.  Simmer an hour, or longer if you like, adding water as needed.

Serve over spaghetti squash (to make it low carb and gluten free), polenta, or spaghetti.  Sprinkle with grated parmesan cheese, if desired.

Djuveč Revisited: Chicken, Low Sodium, and Accident-Free!

.Djuveč, a versatile meat/vegetable casserole, is another one of those Turkish-origin dishes that is popular in Slovenia and throughout the Balkans.

The first time I made it, I used a traditional pork and lamb mix.  It was delicious--despite an unfortunate finger injury from too much multi-tasking!

A few months ago, I decided to revisit the dish. I'd discovered a chicken version in one of my vintage Slovenian cookbooks and I wanted to give that a try. I also wondered whether this fairly mild dish could be made without added salt.  So I substituted an "herbes de provence" seasoning mix and added some garlic and white wine. For a further flavor boost, I used both parmesan and feta cheese on top. One more little change: I added some yellow and green squash to go along with the eggplant.

The result: Very tasty--and much easier to enjoy without my finger in a splint!

Recipe follows.

Chicken Djuveč

1 lb skinless boneless chicken breast, cut into large cubes

1 medium eggplant, cubed

4 small yellow and green squashes, sliced

1 large onion, sliced

6 cloves of garlic, minced

1 green pepper, cut in strips

1 red pepper, cut in strips

olive oil

2 potatoes, sliced

1/3 cup rice, uncooked

small bunch parsley

black pepper 

herbes de provence (or other salt-free seasoning mixture)

2 medium tomatoes, sliced

panko or other bread crumbs

white wine

parmesan and feta cheese, for top

Cube and salt the eggplant and set aside in colander to drain. Rinse and pat dry.

Cube chicken and season as desired. 

Brown onion and garlic in olive oil. Add eggplant, squash, peppers, seasonings, and a little wine or water. Cover and cook until vegetables are slightly softened. Push vegetables to the side, add more oil if needed, and brown the chicken cubes, adding a little more wine as needed.

Oil a large rectangular glass casserole.  Layer half the chicken-vegetable mixture, half the sliced raw potatoes, seasonings, half the rice, and half the parsley. Repeat layers.

Top with sliced tomatoes and bread crumbs. Drizzle with olive oil.  Add some wine or other liquid. Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour or until rice is tender.  Cover for part of the time. Add liquid if mixture gets too dry.  In last 10 minutes, sprinkle with parmesan and crumbled feta. Garnish with more parsley before serving. 

Murray's Kreplach, The New Old-Fashioned Way

I posted the recipe for Murray's Famous Chicken-Beef Kreplach almost two years ago. Although I incorporated some of my father-in-law's seasoning suggestions when I made žlikrofi, the Slovenian version of the dish, I had never actually followed his complete recipe.

Murray's recipe is labor intensive. It begins with poaching the chicken and stewing the beef. No shortcuts in this recipe, so I would have to devote an entire day to making kreplach.

I needed something else: a hand-cranked meat grinder, to replace the one my mother had passed along to me. She had used it to prepare the meat filling for her own version of kreplach, which was probably based on the Slovenian žlikrofi my grandmother made. Sadly, I had lost track of that old treasure. So I was on the lookout for a new one. I did find one old meat grinder at a fancy antique store, but I balked at the thirty-five dollar price tag.

Finally, about a month ago, I wandered into a yard sale down the block. And there it was: A hand-cranked meat grinder. Old, a little rusty, but with all the parts. A bargain at six dollars.

The time for Murray's Kreplach had arrived.

I made just a few changes in Murray's recipe. The biggest one? No added salt. To compensate, I increased the other seasonings. I also used oil instead of chicken fat. Since the original recipe is quite large, I cut the quantities in half.

The detailed recipe follows, along with step-by-step photos.

But first, let's cut to the chase:  Was it worth it?

The answer: Yes, without question. I had no idea how good this would be. Even without the salt, the meat filling was rich and full of flavor.  It had the deep, earthy tang of chopped liver. I could swear someone had slipped in some schmaltz (chicken fat) when I wasn't looking.

The secret is in the step that Murray calls "making potted beef." Plenty of well-browned onion and a generous hand with the flour and fat leaves you with a rich, flavorful gravy that gets added to the meat filling at the end. Do not skip this step!

Despite some healthy changes (no salt, oil instead of chicken fat) this is not diet food.  But kreplach are meant to be a ceremonial dish, filled with love and family and memories of the past.  Murray's mother Rose Tabak (who was born in Poland) made them every Rosh Hashanah and distributed them to her children and grandchildren as a New Year's gift.  Once or twice a year, I figure we can follow her example and do it up right.

Murray's Chicken-Beef Kreplach

Ingredients

Filling:

4 oz. boneless chicken breasts, poached

1 lb.  boneless beef chuck or beef stew meat

1-2 T. flour to coat the beef

1-1/4 c. chopped onions
1-2 T. oil to brown onions (or use the traditional choice: chicken fat!)

1-2 cloves garlic

1/4 t. paprika, with more added to taste

2 T. fresh parsley, with more added to taste

black pepper to taste
salt-free seasoning mix to taste (or use salt)

Dough:

1- 3/4 c. all purpose flour

2 eggs, beaten

1  T. oil
water, as needed 

Instructions for filling:

Poach chicken breasts in water seasoned with pepper and a little minced garlic. I added some onion and a bay leaf. Drain and chill. (Save the liquid for soup!)

Murray refers to this next step as "making potted beef." Cut beef in cubes, coat with flour, and brown on all sides in oil or chicken fat. Remove beef from pan. Using the same pan, brown the onion, adding more oil or fat if needed. When onions are well browned, add beef back to pan. Add 1/2 inch of water, along with pepper, paprika, parsley, garlic and salt-free seasoning mix or (if desired) salt.  Cover and simmer on low heat, adding more liquid if needed, for about an hour, or until beef is tender. Remove from pan and chill. Be sure to save the onion-sauce mix that remains in the pan.

Cut the chilled chicken into chunks. Use a meat grinder (or, if you must, a food processor) to chop the chicken finely. Set aside in a bowl.

Place the chilled beef cubes into meat grinder (or food processor) and chop or grind finely.

Combine chopped beef, chopped chicken and the onion-sauce mixture that is left over from potting the beef. If filling doesn't hold together, you can add additional oil or breadcrumbs, but I didn't need either of those. The filling should be strongly flavored, with a texture that is something like a raw meatball mixture, according to Murray. I found to be more like a firm spread that reminded me of chopped liver, in both the texture and the rich, deep flavor. Since the meat is already cooked, you are free to taste and adjust the seasonings.  Because my version was salt-free, I increased the other seasonings.

Instructions for dough, shaping, and final preparation:

The original recipe suggests using a food processor to mix the dough and a pasta machine for rolling it out.  But I opted for the old-fashioned approach: mixing and rolling by hand. 

For a reminder on how to make egg noodle dough, go here.

Roll the dough into a thin square that is roughly 18 x 18 inches. Cut into three-inch squares. Put a heaping teaspoon of filling in the center of each square. To shape, I used the simple, traditional approach I learned from my mother:  Fold the square into a triangle and crimp the edges with a fork. (Murray's original recipe, as well as many Slovenian recipes, involve a more complex tortellini shape.)

I ended up with 32 kreplach. Bring a large pot of water to boil and drop in kreplach. When they rise to the top, reduce heat and simmer for about 20 minutes. Drain. Coat with a little oil and keep warm.

There are many ways to serve kreplach. In chicken broth. Plain, topped with a little parsley and browned onions. Garnished with ajvar and Greek yogurt.  Even fried.

With Murray's kreplach, you can't go wrong!

Murray

 

Making Potted Beef

Grinding Chicken

Ground Beef and Chicken

Shaping the Kreplach

Finished Kreplach

Nut Crescent Cookies, A Childhood Memory Revisited

Nut crescent cookies, heavily coated with confectioners' sugar, were a Christmas mainstay during my childhood. My mother made them, but so did everyone else in Cleveland, so I assumed these rich, delicate treats must be an American standard.

I used to follow a tasting ritual. First, a bite of plain cookie, butter-rich but barely sweet and not at all appealing to my child's palate. Then, a bite of a sugar-dredged crescent, with the aching sweetness on the outside that turned the bland interior into something delectable.  The contrast, and that moment of transformation, always fascinated me.

Eventually, I discovered that this style of cookie or pastry is common to many cultures in Europe, Latin America, and the Middle East. The foundation is a mild shortbread dough, enriched by ground nuts and shaped into crescents or small balls.  In the United States, the cookies are often referred to as Viennese Walnut Crescents, which suggests Central European origins.

I discovered that my vintage Slovenian American cookbooks all had multiple recipes for these cookies, under a variety of names:  Crescents. Kipfel. Kiffel. Kipferlin. Piskoti. Contemporary Slovenian recipes generally use the name rogljički, which tranlates as croissants.

Now I was convinced:  I had discovered one more Slovenian dish my mother had made for us, without revealing its ethnic origins.

I found a likely-looking recipe from my favorite vintage source, The Progressive Slovene Women of America. The type of nut was not specified, although the name, orehovi piskoti, suggests walnuts as the preferred choice.  My mother used either walnuts or pecans. But I decided to use the freshly ground almond meal I already had in the fridge.

For the recipe and the results, read on.

Nut Crescents (Rogljički)

1 c. butter
6 T. sugar
1 t. vanilla or almond extract
2 c. flour
1 c. ground nuts (I used almond meal)
dash of salt (optional; I skipped it)


Cream buttter and sugar.  Add extract.  Mix in flour and then nuts.  Use spoon (or hands) to make a dense and somewhat crumbly dough.  Form into a smooth ball or, for ease of handling, shape into two long rolls.  Cover and chill dough for an hour. Form into walnut sized balls, then roll into 2-1/2 inch strips.  Shape strips into crescents.  Place on parchment-lined baking sheet.  Bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes or until lightly browned.  Let cool on sheet before moving, because these cookies are very fragile. Sprinkle with confectioners sugar. Store carefully.

Makes 30-35.

When I removed the cookies from the baking sheet, they were delicate and fragile. I used a light hand with the sugar: a generous dusting rather than the heavy dredging my mother used to favor.  The snowy crescents looked beautiful.

I repeated the before-and-after tasting ritual from my childhood. No doubt about it:  Nut crescents are much tastier with a sugar coating, even to a more sophisticated adult palate. Although I am a fan of almonds, I suspect that walnuts or pecans might result in a slightly less dry and more flavorful cookie.  That will be my choice the next time I make this easy but sophisticated recipe.

When I gave my mother some of the cookies, I asked her where she had first learned to make them.  From my Slovenian America grandma, perhaps?

No, my mother said.  It was from a magazine she bought, a collection called One Hundred Cookie Recipes. She wasn't sure what had happened to it.

I had an immediate image of that well-used magazine. It must have dated from the early 1950s, since the pages were yellow and brittle when she had passed it along to me, probably thirty years ago. I had no idea what had become of it.

The origin of the cookies?  My mother thought they had become popular because of a recipe that was distributed by the makers of Crisco. I had a disconcerting memory:  the big blue can of pale hydrogenated vegetable fat that used to sit in our kitchen for months on end.  It was the "modern" shortening choice for cooks in the 1950s (and even later) because it didn't need refrigeration, thanks to all that chemical alternation.  These days, Crisco has fallen into disrepute.

So much for my visions of a treasured family recipe.  But I still like to believe these delicate cookies from my childhood carried the hidden flavor of our Slovenian roots.

Buckwheat Ravioli update

I love holiday cooking. But this Christmas, I faced some new challenges.  One visiting son has been vegetarian for the last decade. The other is now following the new "vegan before 6" regimen.  And for the past year, my husband (and I) have been trying to eat a low-salt diet.

For Christmas Eve dinner, I proposed a traditional Slovenian treat I had made more than a year earlier: buckwheat ravioli with cheese-millet filling, otherwise known as ajdovi krapi. Everyone approved.

My husband and I had enjoyed my first version of ajdovi krapi.  There was one small drawback: the all-buckwheat dough hadn't been as pliable and tender as the typical noodle dough.  I had to cut the dough into rough circles and tamp them together.  The end product, although tasty, was what I would call "rustic."   My mother was more blunt: Too dry, she said.

This time, I decided to make a more refined version.  So I used the the same dough that I used to make  buckwheat struklji, here, which combines buckwheat and white wheat flour.

For the filling, I followed my original recipe, here, with two small changes. Instead of salt, I used a salt-free seasoning mix.  And for an added flavor boost, I browned the millet before cooking.

I doubled the filling, to match the larger quantity of pasta dough in that struklji recipe.  (So I did end up with leftover filling.)

It worked beautifully!   Since the dough was more pliable, I was able to shape into folded and crimped triangles, instead of putting two circles of dough together. The end product looked like the zlikrofi or wontons I recalled from childhood.

This may become a regular addition to our holiday table!

To see the original version, with more photos, go here.

Buckwheat Ravioli, updated

Dough:

1 ½ c. white flour
½ c. buckwheat flour
1 t. salt
2 T olive oil
1 egg
½ cup hot water, plus 2 T more if needed


Filling:

1 cup millet (dry measure), cooked* and cooled
3 cups farmer cheese or ricotta
1-2 eggs, beaten
salt-free seasoning mix, to taste (or regular salt, if preferred)
fresh parsley to taste, minced

*Tastiest way: brown millet in dry skillet, add 2 cups water, cover and cook until water is absorbed.
(Easiest: add millet to large pot of boiling water, simmer uncovered for 20 minutes, drain.)


First, make the filling: Mix cooked millet, cheese, egg, salt substitute and parsley. Refrigerate.

For the dough:  Sift the flours and salt into a bowl.  Beat the egg and oil together and stir into the flour.  Add enough hot water to make a stiff dough.  Knead dough until smooth and elastic, adding a little more flour if necessary.  Form into a ball and let rest, covered, for 30 minutes.

Roll out the dough on a floured board, thinly, as for noodles. Cut into 3 x 3 inch squares. Place a spoon of filling on one side of rectangle, fold over, and seal edges with the tines of a fork. (Note: This makes a lot of filling, so you will probably have extra. Alternatively, you can cut into large circles and fold over, or you can sandwich 2 smaller circles together.

Drop the ravioli into a large pot of boiling salted water, a few at a time, and cook until done.  Drain and served with buttered breadcrumbs or (our favorite) ajvar and Greek yogurt.

Cevapcici Meatloaf, a Balkan-inspired Original

One night in mid-December, I had an urge for cevapcici, but I was pressed for time.  I didn't want the fuss of shaping and grilling a bunch of little sausages.  I had a brainstorm: Why not turn it into meatloaf?

So I mixed up a double recipe of my salt-free cevapcici. This time, I used a beef-turkey mix instead of lamb.  I also added an egg and a teaspoon of salt-free seasoning mix.

The result?  Instant slice-and-serve cevapcici!  It was an easy shortcut that had the characteristic taste and texture of cevapcici, especially with the traditional garnishes of ajvar (red pepper relish) and Greek yogurt.  It's hard to believe that no one else has thought of this before.

The cevapcici meatloaf made a perfect dinner with some tasty leftovers: two kinds of slaw (kale and cabbage) and my husband's vegi-millet soup.   For an even more traditional dinner, serve with pita or the Serbian flatbread known as lepinja.  (My salt-free version is here.)

The recipe follows.  Feel free to use your own favorite cevapcici mix.  I would recommend that you add an egg and liquid smoke, as I did, to provide some moisture and simulate that "just-grilled" flavor.

Dober tek!

Cevapcici Meatloaf (low sodium)

1 lb ground beef
1 lb ground turkey
6 large cloves garlic, minced
4-6  T. parsley, minced
1  t. cayenne
1 T. smoked paprika
1 T. hot paprika
 1 t.  black pepper
4 T. seltzer water mixed with 1 t. liquid smoke
1 t. no sodium seasoning mix (or 1 t. salt)
1 egg

Mix all all ingredients together.  Form into 1 large loaf or 2 small loaves.  Line rectangular baking pan with foil or parchment paper.  Bake at 350 for 45-60 minutes, depending on size of loaves.  Slice and serve with ajvar and Greek yogurt.

Cheese Dumplings, Slovenian Style

I fell in love with Russian cheese pancakes at a farmers' market and later made a decent version of my own at home.

I was disappointed that Slovenians didn't seem to have their own version of this tasty dish.  The closest approximation was a boiled cheese dumpling, usually served with a topping of buttered breadcrumbs and a little sugar.  So I decided to give Slovenian cheese dumplings a try, to see how they compared.

I found three recipes in my vintage cookbooks.  They showed up under different names (cheese balls, cheese dumplings, sirovi knedeljni, skutovi cmoki) but used the same basic ingredients, in varying proportions. One recipe called for separating the eggs.  Two involved shaping the dough into individual pieces before boiling; one just used a spoon.

One element was common to all three recipes: dry curd cottage cheese. I figured my usual substitute, Russian-style farmer cheese, would do just fine.

I picked the easiest recipe, one from the Progressive Slovene Women.  It was a simple batter dropped from a spoon.  I cut their recipe in half and made one other adaptation: a little nutmeg instead of salt, for a LoSloSo dish.  (It turns out to be virtually the same as my recipe for Russian curd cheese pancakes.)

For the result, read on.

Cheese dumplings (Skutovi Cmoki)

1/2 lb. Russian-style farmer cheese (or dry curd cottage cheese, if you can find it)
4 heaping T. flour (or more if needed)
2 eggs, beaten
1 T. melted butter
2 pinches nutmeg (or 1/4 t. salt, like the original recipe)

Stir or crumble the cheese.  Add eggs, melted butter, and nutmeg or salt.  Mix well.  Add flour, a tablespoon at a time, to make a thick batter/soft dough.

Bring large pot of water to boil.  Drop in batter by spoonfuls.  Cook for 20 minutes. Remove with slotted spoon.   The traditional topping is buttered bread crumbs, along with some sugar for a sweeter dish.  Dumplings can also be left plain, as I did, to accompany a savory main dish.

The result?  Well, it was mixed.  The batter was almost too loose to hold together in the boiling water.  The finished dumplings seemed puffy and a little waterlogged.  The flavor was definitely bland without the salt.  The next day, the chilled dumplings had deflated and had a better texture, similar to cheese pancakes.

There is no getting around it: I prefer the pancake version, although I do see the advantages of making a fat-free version by boiling.  On the other hand, a non-stick skillet can be used to make the pancakes.

The problem, I suspect, was my substitution of Russian-style farmer cheese for the dry curd cottage cheese.  There are two solutions: drain the cheese first and/or add a little more flour.  That's what I'll do if I try this again.

Meanwhile, I'm sticking to pancakes!


   

Chicken Stew, Slovenian-Style and Salt-Free

"Obara?"  Mia's eyes twinkled. "That means you can put anything in it!"

I was in my favorite spot at San Francisco's Slovenian Hall: the small upstairs library, hanging out with Mia, who is originally from Slovenia.  She is a warm, charming woman who retired a few years ago from her position as a university librarian.  Mia always seems amused by my ethnic cooking adventures.  She even recalled my disaster with žganci and had brought back some buckwheat flour from her most recent trip to Slovenia, just in case that was the source of my problem.

So now I had it on good authority:  The Slovenian stew known as obrara or ajmoht really is an "everything-but-the-kitchen-sink" dish.  That was a good description of my most recent version.  It had to be salt-free, so I tried to boost the flavor with as many additions as possible, without departing too much from tradition.

Obara or ajmoht can vary, depending on the meat used and the assortment of vegetables added.  The distinctive element, at least to the American palate, is a certain Slovenian tang, thanks to a brown roux and sometimes a tart addition like lemon zest, wine, or vinegar.

It all started with my mother's recollection of a childhood dish she called "aye-macht," a sort of roux-thickened veal soup.  For my first attempt at recreating the dish, Chicken Ajmoht I, I used a simple recipe from the Progressive Slovene Women of America.  I also tried to make žganci as an accompaniment, but the little dumplings ended up as buckwheat polenta.

For my next attempt, Chicken Ajmoht II, I consulted a couple of additional sources, The Food and Cooking of Eastern Europe and Slovenian Cookery.  That's when I started adding wine.

This time around, I had my newest cookbook to consider, Janez Bogataj's The Food and Cooking of Slovenia.  I also had a sous-chef, since my husband volunteered to do the actual cooking.

For the result, read on.

Chicken Stew, Slovenian-Style and Salt-Free (chicken ajmoht or obara)

2 whole boneless chicken breasts (skin on), cut up
olive oil to brown chicken
1 onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 T. butter
2 T. olive oil
2 T. flour
1 c. white wine
2  ribs celery, chopped
1 leek, bulb and a bit of green, soaked well and sliced
2 carrots, peeled and  sliced
1/2 c. cauliflower florets
2 potatoes, peeled and cut up
water to  cover
peel of 1 lemon, grated
1 T. fresh marjoram, minced
1 T. fresh thyme, minced
1 cup peas, fresh or frozen
4 T. fresh parsley, minced
pepper to taste
optional: no-salt seasoning (or salt) to taste

Heat oil in a Dutch oven or large deep skillet. Brown chicken and set aside.  Add onion and garlic and brown.  Now make a roux: Add 1 T. butter, 2 T. olive oil, and 2 T. flour and cook until brown.  Add wine and celery, leek and carrots.  Add water to cover.  Add lemon and seasonings. Cover and simmer for 30 minutes.  Add potatoes and simmer until tender.  Taste and adjust seasonings.  Sprinkle with additional parsley and serve.

The verdict?  The mixture of flavors was delicious. My husband had a generous hand with the wine, which gave the dish a particular zest.  He did leave the chicken in larger chunks than I might have, and there seemed to be less liquid than in my previous versions.  But you can easily adjust for a saucier dish.  All in all, another LoSoSlo winner!

Bograč, Spicy and Salt-Free Goulash Soup

Bograč, Slovenia's spicy goulash soup, seemed like a good candidate for a low-sodium makeover.  I had made it twice before, with slightly different seasoning variations each time.

To compensate for the lack of salt, I figured I'd better season to the max, this time around. I used the complete array of vegetables and flavorings from the two previous versions, but increased the quantities.  I did this the easy way: by cutting down on the meat and keeping everything else constant.

For the recipe and the verdict, read on.


                                                                       

Bograč, Spicy and Salt-Free Goulash Soup

1/2 lb. beef stew meat, cubed
1/2 lb. pork stew meat, cubed

1 large onion, sliced

2 large cloves garlic, chopped
1 oz. dried porcini mushrooms, soaked and prepared as directed

1 green pepper, sliced
1 red pepper, sliced

1 t. caraway seed

1 T. paprika (half hot, half smoked)

2 t. fresh marjoram

black pepper to taste
small hot pepper, a few slices, minced (optional)
(salt-optional)
1/4 c. fresh parsley, minced

½ c. crushed tomatoes

1 lb. potatoes, cut in chunks

water to cover
1/4 c. red wine

olive oil

Before beginning, prepare dried mushrooms as instructed on package, or use these directions: Soak in warm water until softened. Drain, cover with fresh water, and simmer until tender.    

Brown onion in olive oil, using a large pot or Dutch oven. Add garlic and continue to brown. Remove to another bowl. Add meats to oil left in pot and brown. Add the peppers and spices and continue to brown. Return onion and garlic to the pot. Add re-hydrated dried mushrooms (with or without cooking liquid), crushed tomatoes and enough water to cover. Simmer until meat is tender and almost done. Add potatoes and wine and simmer another hour. Taste and adjust seasonings. Serve garnished with additional parsley.

The verdict:  Delicious!  The first night, we served the bograč with cooked greens alongside.  The second night, my husband also made some cooked kasha.  The earthy flavor went particularly well with the spicy goulash.

This version did come out more like a thick stew than a soup.  That can be adjusted easily by adding more water, or even some extra wine!

Curd Cheese Pancakes, Russian-style

My obsession with curd cheese and farmer cheese was still going strong.

The latest twist: We had just picked up some authentic tvarog at a Russian grocery in San Francisco.  It turned out to be very much like the version made by Belfiore, a small cheese-making company based in Berkeley, my home town.

I knew the perfect way to use that cheese. Pancakes.

A few months earlier, my Cajun band had a gig at a local farmers' market. During the break, I discovered a Russian Jewish vendor with a variety of traditional homemade delicacies for sale. My favorites were the cheese pancakes, or syrniki in Russian. They were unlike any cottage cheese pancakes I had tried before: sweet, thick and substantial. More like cheese patties.

There are many recipes available for pancakes made with cottage cheese or sometimes ricotta. These pancakes have long been a popular high-protein dish for dieters, since they are typically heavy on the cheese and egg, with just a little flour.

But the Russian take on the dish was new to me.  I searched out a number of recipes for cheese pancakes and discovered that many Eastern and Central European groups make them. But not the Slovenians. The closest I could find were boiled cheese dumplings. (Slovenian "cheese pancakes" turned out to be blintzes.)

So I decided to stick to recipes for Russian cheese pancakes.  I ended up with a variation of a recipe I found on an NPR site, which they had adapted from a Russian chef.  I worked out a single serving adaptation.

The NPR recipe is here.

For my version, along with the verdict, read on.

Curd Cheese Pancakes, Russian-Style

To make one generous serving:

1/2 cup farmer cheese (Russian-style is best), curd cheese, or ricotta

1 egg

1 T. sugar

1-2 T. flour

a few drops of vanilla

squeeze of lemon juice

(optional: pinch of baking soda, regular or low sodium)

Mix all the ingredients together.   Heat oil or butter in a skillet.   Drop batter by rounded tablespoons into skillet.  When brown on one side, turn.  Serve with honey or syrup, yogurt, and fresh fruit.

The verdict?  Very tasty.   The recipe made a generous serving, which I managed to finish with no leftovers. I didn't miss the salt at all.

It was not quite what I remembered from the Russian vendor at the farmers' market. I suspect the Russian man used a larger proportion of cheese relative to the egg and flour.

The next time, I'll make a larger recipe and experiment with the proportions.   I may also try my hand at making homemade farmer cheese that duplicates that Russian tang!

Update: A year-and-a-half later, I finally perfected this dish--and I discovered a recipe for syrniki in one of my vintage Slovenian cookbooks! To read about it, go here.

Buckwheat Cheesecake for the Fourth of July Pie Contest

It was time for the annual neighborhood Fourth of July potluck.  For the second time, there would be a pie-baking contest.

Last year's entry, prekmurska gibanica, had been a success.  I came in third out of eight, a modest but respectable showing, especially since the fabled Slovenian dessert wasn't exactly a pie by American standards.  The elaborate layered "strudel pie" had aroused plenty of interest and it did taste wonderful.

For an encore, I had in mind another unusual dish that was not quite a pie.  Buckwheat cheesecake. I'd had my eye on the recipe for the past year and had been waiting for the right occasion.  It looked simple and it fit right in with my recent curd cheese/farmer cheese obsession.   And it was already salt-free.

The original recipe, called ajdova zlevanka, appears in The Food and Cooking of Slovenia (2008) by master chef Janez Bogataj.  (It is reprinted here, in a Milwaukee newspaper.)

I made just a few additions to the original recipe: sugar and ginger in the pastry crust and a grating of lemon rind in the filling.  The foundation of the dish was a Russian-style farmer cheese I can buy locally. Its wonderful tang probably comes from a "culturing" step that is omitted in  my simple homemade curd cheese.  In the spirit of the holiday, I devised a  red-white-and-blue fruit topping: blueberries and strawberries mixed with a simple glaze.

For the results (of the recipe and the competition) read on!

Buckwheat Cheesecake   (adapted from Janez Bogataj's Ajdova Zlevanka)

1 c. (scant) buckwheat flour
1 c. (scant) white flour
2 T. sugar
pinch of ginger
1/2 c. butter
1 egg yolk, beaten
cold water to bind, about 1-2 T.

1-1/4 lb. or 500 g. farmer cheese or curd cheese
2/3 c. superfine sugar
3 eggs, lightly beaten
1 t. grated lemon rind
2/3 c. sour cream, divided
2 T. plain flour

For topping:  Fresh fruit, plain or mixed with a simple glaze (see below)



Grease an 8 inch tart pan with a removable bottom or a springform pan.

For the crust:  Sift flours, sugar and ginger into bowl. Cut in butter.  Stir in egg yolk and enough water to bind the mixture. Blend lightly and form into a ball.  Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 20 minutes.

Roll out dough and line the pan.   Line pastry with parchment or foil and fill with rice or beans to blind-bake.  (I used whole buckwheat!)  Bake for 10 minutes at 375 degrees. Let cool.

For the filling: Mix cheese and sugar.  Add eggs, lemon rind, and two-thirds of the sour cream and beat together.  Sift flour over surface and fold in.

Pour filling into crust-lined pan.  Spread remaining sour cream over the top in a thin layer.

Bake for 40 minutes at 375 degrees until lightly set.  Let cool and top with fresh fruit or glaze before cutting.

I baked the cheesecake in the late morning and set it out to cool.  I hadn't been successful in spreading that thick sour cream, so the top was covered with little white dabs.  And the buckwheat crust looked more rustic than elegant.  Not a beautiful dish.

No matter.  I would cover it with a simple fruit topping I improvised.

Simple Fruit Topping

fresh strawberries and blueberries

strawberry preserves and orange marmalade, equal parts

splash of lemon juice

spash of kirsch or other liqueur

Wash and dry fresh strawberries and blueberries and set aside.  In a small saucepan, mix the preserves. Warm slowly over low heat until mixture melts.  Add lemon juice and kirsch to taste.  Gently mix fresh fruit with glaze and arrange on top of cheesecake.

Now my pie entry looked more than presentable.  On to the contest.

When I arrived at our neighbor's house,  I realized the competition would be stiff.  The field was a little larger this year.  And everyone else seemed to have gone creative with the toppings and decorations.  My red-white-and-blue brainstorm wasn't exactly unique.

But the proof would be in the eating.

When I cut into that buckwheat cheesecake, my heart sank.  The filling was soft, especially in the middle.  Those thin slices looked more like pudding!  And the crust was hard to cut.

I bit in and was disappointed.  The buckwheat crust was tough and dry.  The filling was pleasant but bland.

I came in second-to-the-last in the pie ranking.  No prize for me this year. Of course, I had refrained from voting for myself this time. Not out of modesty but simply as an honest assessment. This dish was not a winner.

But guess what?  The next day, after thorough chilling, the filling had firmed up perfectly. And it tasted delicious, with the tart Russian-style farmer cheese and the touch of lemon.

The crust wasn't great.  My mistake, I think, was that I didn't pay enough attention to the "scant" part of the directions. Because the dough had been too dry at first, I had added more water and probably overworked the pastry.

Next time, I will probably use just 3/4 cup of each flour for a more tender crust.  On top, I might use more sour cream and thin it with a little milk for ease of spreading.

The original recipe indicates that the cheesecake can be served warm.  But I still recommend thorough chilling, to bring out the flavor of the filling.

There is also a savory alternative, with salt and pepper rather than sugar in the filling. Interesting, but probably tough to do without the salt.   I'll probably concentrate on perfecting this unusual and promising dessert version.

Update from November 2014: The savory version, with a much-improved crust, was a success!

Farmer Cheese, Honey-Tahini and Blueberry Breakfast Toast

Our house is undergoing renovations.  For the past month, the kitchen has been dismantled. Refrigerator is in the dining room.  Stove is disconnected.  To cook, we have to rely on the microwave, toaster oven, and outdoor grill.  To shower, we have to go around to the attached studio out back. It feels like camping.

This morning, I was tired of cereal.  I wanted something fast, tasty, salt free and (if possible) Slovenian in spirit.

I am not sure if this tasty breakfast toast qualifies as Slovenian-inspired.  At least it is Eastern Euro-inspired, with honey-tahini spread from Kosovo and Russian-style farmer cheese (made by the Belfiore Company, right here in Berkeley.)    It also qualifies as low-sodium, with salt-free bread and farmer cheese and (I assume) tahini-honey spread without any salt.

Farmer cheese, Honey-Tahini, and Blueberry Breakfast Toast

1 slice whole grain bread (low sodium preferred!)
curd cheese or farmer cheese
honey-tahini spread
fresh blueberries

Toast bread.  Spread with a thin layer of honey-tahini spread.  Add a layer of cheese. Top with a sprinkle of fresh blueberries.  Finish with a drizzle of honey-tahini spread.

The verdict:  Easy, healthy and so delicious it tastes like dessert!

Enjoy!