Thursday's Child: Lunch in St. Petersburg

This summer, I had the joy of visiting one of the cities I’ve always dreamed of seeing – St. Petersburg, Russia.  Since I returned, everyone has asked what my favourite memory was.  The Hermitage museum, the Church on the Spilled Blood, and Peterhof were all amazing, and hopefully someday I’ll write about them all.  But without a doubt, the most special experience in St. Petersburg was our borscht lunch.

We visited St. Petersburg as part of a Baltic cruise.  In most of the ports, we toured independently.  But it’s not that easy in St. Petersburg.  Legal restrictions make it difficult to even get off the ship without having a prearranged guide who has organized a tourist visa for your stay. 

We had hired a guide and driver through SPb Tours, but I must admit I was still nervous about disembarking.  I had given my family precise and lengthy instructions about how to behave while passing through Russian customs.  (For Seinfeld fans, think of the Soup Nazi with legal control of your passport.)  Then there was the fear of what we’d do if our guide didn’t show up, since we weren’t legally permitted in the country without her.

Our lovely guide Elena, did show up, though.  Since the cost of a private tour was only incrementally more expensive than taking a group tour, we had her to ourselves.  Elena also works as an English teacher, and her facility with the English language was only surpassed by her knowledge and love of the city.  Surprisingly, our driver Max also spoke perfect English.  (We found out later that they’re a couple.)

 After a full morning of sightseeing, they took us to an out-of-the way café for lunch.  We knew the food had to be good, based on the amount of Russian we heard spoken there.  And it was good – sandwiches and the best borscht I’ve ever eaten. (Okay, the only borscht I’ve ever eaten.  I can’t believe I’ve spent my whole life thinking I don’t like borscht.  It was fantastic!)

But what made this the highlight of our time in St. Petersburg was the chance to sit down and talk to two locals.  The six of us crowded around a table meant for four, and we listened as they painted a picture of life in Russia today.  I didn’t know, for example, that if you smile a lot, the Russians will think you’re an idiot.  (I later realized that as I flitted around the city, beaming my perma travel-grin, I was probably close to being hospitalized.)  

As a driver, Max had driven a number of Russian hockey players who previously or currently played in the NHL.  This was big currency with Andrew, who knows every player who’s ever played professional hockey and most of their statistics.

We talked about ladas, and the health care system, and the arts.  We listened quietly as Elena told us about her father’s failing health.  The borscht was great, but it was the company that made our lunch in St. Petersburg unforgettable.

Elena and Max

Raisins

Here’s a formula for perfect cookies: take a Dorie Greenspan recipe for cookies based on the ingredients in carrot cake, and top it with a luscious cream cheese frosting.  Who in the world could possibly resist such perfect cookies?

For starters, both of my daughters.

I love raisins, both on their own and in nearly any kind of cake, muffin or cookie.  I don’t know how it’s possible for me to have raised two children who don’t care for raisins in baked goods.  And, in this case, “don’t care for” is a euphemism for “loathe”.  I’ve seen them pick raisins out of hot cross buns, cinnamon rolls and oatmeal cookies.  Not to mention carrot cake.

So I save this recipe – and others like it – for times when I’m baking for someone else.  This week, I volunteered to take baked goods to my writers’ association meeting.  Only after checking the fine print did I realize that would entail about ten dozen cookies.  So among other treats, I whipped up a batch of these wonderful cookies, iced them and saved a few for Andrew and me.  (Yes, he likes raisins too.  How can this odd recessive gene have been passed on to both of our kids?)

I will say this.  My oldest daughter may leave her hot-cross buns looking like a moth-eaten blanket, but she decorated some of the cookies with little icing carrots before photographing them for me.

In the end, I guess we can’t easily influence the taste buds of our loved ones.  I’m just grateful that we passed on our dominant genes for loving chocolate chip cookies.

Gingered Carrot Cookies

(adapted from Dorie Greenspan's Baking From My Home to Yours)

For cookies:

1 1/3 cups all-purpose flour

2/3 cups whole wheat flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1 tsp ground ginger

1 1/2 sticks (3/4 cup) unsalted butter at room temperature

2/3 cup sugar

1/3 cup packed dark brown sugar

1 large egg

1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

1 cup shredded carrots (about 3, peeled and trimmed)

1 cup sweetened shredded coconut

1 cup raisins

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

Whisk together the flours, baking powder, salt and ginger.  

Beat the butter on medium speed until smooth.  Add white and brown sugar and beat for 2 minutes or so, then add the egg and vanilla and beat for another minute.

Add the dry ingredients and stir until mixed.  (Dough will be thick.)  Mix in the carrots, coconuts and raisins.

Spoon the dough onto the baking sheets in heaping tablespoonfuls leaving an inch between them.  Bake for 16 to 18 minutes.  Carefully transfer the cookies to racks to cool to room temperature.

For frosting:

8 ounces cream cheese

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature

3 1/2 to 4 cups icing sugar

1/2 cup shredded coconut

Beat the cream cheese and butter together until creamy.  Gradually add icing sugar and continue to beat until smooth.  Spread on cookies and sprinkle the coconut on top.

Thursday's Child: Dinner at Taverna San Trovaso

Venice is one of the most beautiful cities in the world.  It's one of the most visually stunning, and romantic, places on earth.

Also, in the middle of August, it is one of the hottest.

We visited Venice two years ago in a summertime heat wave.  Generally on holidays, I carry on despite the weather.  If it’s raining or snowing, if it’s hot or cold, I know I’m still unbelievably blessed to be travelling.  I’m not interested in hearing complaints from myself or from others about the weather. 

But this was the kind of day that could make you forget that notion.  The heat was overbearing, and we had spent a long time that afternoon shopping at the Rialto Bridge.  My oldest daughter wanted to buy a mask, and the final decision was a while in coming.  The Patient Mother in me battled it out with the Prickly Non-Shopper, and barely held on to win.  By the time the purchase was finally made and we were plodding back to the hotel, both sides were soundly defeated by the Sweltering Globetrotter.  The heat of the sun struck like a hammer and every step I took seemed like a scientific experiment in inertia. 

By the time we reached our hotel, I never wanted to leave again.  But, as usual, the rest of my family was hungry.  I knew that the Taverna San Trovaso was a half-minute walk from our hotel, and had been well-reviewed.  Frankly, I’d have eaten in a silo if it was a half-minute walk from the hotel, so we decided to give it a try.

I was so hot that I literally didn’t care what I ate.  (Note: That hardly ever happens.)  I asked the waiter what he recommended, and he urged me to try the beef with arugula and parmesan.  Roast beef when my overheated body could barely sit up at the table?  It didn’t sound promising, but I didn’t see an alternative that interested me.  Roast beef it was.

I nearly wept with joy when he brought me a plate with a cool roast beef salad, served in the way that only the Italians could.  Three simple ingredients of the highest quality made this salad perfectly refreshing.  Suddenly I could eat again.  In fact, I was so restored that I had a bite of the meringue my youngest daughter later ordered, and actually considered ordering a second one for myself.

We returned to Taverna San Trovaso three times on that trip, and I ordered the same meal every time.  I’ve tried to duplicate this salad at home and, although I’ve had great results, nothing has ever been as perfect as the roast beef salad served in a Venetian tavern in a heat wave.

Canadian Thanksgiving

We’re enjoying a picture-perfect long weekend in southwestern Ontario.  I know my American friends celebrate Thanksgiving in late November, but our early-October celebration allows us to enjoy harvest weather and the beauty of leaves as they change colour.

It’s hard to believe that just last weekend I posted a recipe for hot chocolate cookies because the weather was so cold.  Yesterday, Andrew and the girls had a spirited game of football.  (I'm not sure how three people play football, although I'm told that my oldest daughter quarterbacked both teams.)  Today it was warm enough to sit out on my mom’s back deck in our short sleeves.  My sister and her family visited too, and we all enjoyed a fabulous meal of turkey and the trimmings.  I’m pretty sure we won’t need to eat again until Tuesday. 

At least, all of us except my youngest. After our enormous noon meal and a few hours of chatting, my mother specially prepared her some leftovers before we drove home.  On the way back, my daughter asked what we were going to have for dinner.  When I said that none of us really needed more food, she asked in alarm, “You’re going to send me to bed without dinner?”  For the record, I made my famished 14-year-old a bacon and cheese sandwich when we got back.  I trust that will tide her over until breakfast.

So, among many other things, I’m thankful for the love of good food.  I’m also thankful that my husband was able to photograph my butternut squash salad while I was helping my mom put a turkey dinner on the table. 

Warm Butternut and Chickpea Salad with Tahini Dressing

(from smitten kitchen)

For salad:

1 medium butternut squash (about 2 to 2 1/2 pounds), peeled, seeded and cut into 1 1/2 inch pieces

1 medium garlic clove, minced

1/2 tsp ground allspice

2 Tbsp olive oil

salt

one 15-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed (1 1/2 cups)

1/4 of a medium red onion, finely chopped

For tahini dressing:

1 medium garlic clove, finely minced with a pinch of salt

1/4 cup lemon juice

3 – 4 Tbsp well-stirred tahini

2 Tbsp water

2 Tbsp olive oil

Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  In a large bowl, combine the butternut squash, garlic, allspice, olive oil and a few pinches of salt.  Toss until squash pieces are evenly coated.  Roast them on a baking sheet for 25 minues, or until soft.  Remove from the oven and cool slightly.

Meanwhile, make the tahini dressing.  In a small bowl, whisk together the garlic and lemon juice.  Add the tahini and whisk to blend.  Add the water and olive oil, whisk well and taste for seasoning.  The sauce should have plenty of nutty tahini flavour,  but also a little kick of lemon.  Add more tahini to taste, or more water to thin out.

To assemble the salad, combine the squash, chickpeas and onion in a mixing bowl.  Either add the tahini dressing to taste and toss carefully, or you could serve the salad with the dressing on the side.  (Note:  I used the dressing sparingly and had quite a lot left over.  Next time I’d either cut the dressing recipe in half or save the remainder for another salad!)

I prepared everything ahead, because I knew the turkey would be dominating my mom’s oven this morning.  I simply reheated the squash mixture for 15-20 minutes at 325 degrees right before the meal, added the dressing and served.

Thursday's Child: Breakfast at the Fox and Anchor

Photo used courtesy of Philip Wilkinson

One of the pleasures of travelling is enjoying the food of our destination.  Visiting France as a poor, young student,  I picnicked on bread and cheese every day.  I remember thinking I couldn't possibly be eating better, and I was right.  Regardless of my budget, I remember the meals I've eaten on trips as much as any of the sights I've seen.  This month I'm going to share some of my favourite trip memories as they relate to food.

A contender for my most memorable meal was breakfast at the Fox and Anchor pub in London, England.  We had arrived in London the night before and were predictably jet-lagged.  Andrew’s relatives graciously served us an elegant gourmet meal with a different wine at every course.  The meal went well into the night.

All of it was fine, except for this: Andrew’s cousin had made us breakfast reservations at the Fox and Anchor the next morning.  When the alarm went off at 6:30, I thought there was some kind of mistake.  Yes, judging by the glimmer I spied through the window, the sun had risen and logically it must be daytime.  Logic aside, there was no reason to believe I was even living. 

At a time like that, this is what I might enjoy for breakfast.  Two slices of toast, lightly buttered.  Half a grapefruit.  A pair of sunglasses to keep out the extra light.

Here is what I received: a generous plate of fried eggs, two slices of toast covered in baked beans.  And a side dish of black pudding.  (If you’re not sure what that is, know that it’s a near relative of the aptly-named blood pudding.  And weep.)

I am nothing but a good sport.  I scraped the baked beans off my lightly buttered toast and ate the toast as cheerfully as possibly.  This left a plate that still appeared completely full.   I remember looking at that plate, and the black pudding looking back at me.  I stared it down; I was not admitting defeat. I managed to pick away at my fried eggs and baked beans.  The black pudding remained untouched.  (My victory lay in staring it down.  You didn’t expect me to eat it, did you?)

The Fox and Anchor is one of London's iconic pubs.  It serves a range of British food from scotch eggs to game pie, from mince and tatties to goose fry chips.  I'm thrilled to have eaten there and if I ever go back to London, I'd love to visit the Fox and Anchor again.  For lunch.

Hot Chocolate

I was all set to post a salad recipe, but that will have to wait for another week.  In Toronto today, it’s 6 degrees Celsius (that’s 42 degrees Fahrenheit for my American friends) and it’s teeming with rain.  We're all wearing our winter coats – and it’s only the second of October!  The salad will have to wait; I need to post something that makes me feel warm, just looking at it.

I need to post Hot Chocolate Cookies.

That’s not what they were originally called, but with all the important ingredients of hot chocolate (chocolate, marshmallows, best served on a miserable day), I can’t think of anything better to call them.  And they are comfort cookies at their best.  So even if you’re reading this in sunny Texas (currently 29 degrees Celsuis, 84 Fahrenheit), you’ll enjoy them as much in shorts and a T-shirt as we do in our winter coats.

Hot Chocolate cookies

(aka Martha Stewart’s Surprise Cookies)

For the cookies:

1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 cup cocoa powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp kosher salt

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar

1 large egg

1/2 cup skim milk

1 tsp pure vanilla extract

About 15 marshmallows, halved crosswise

For the frosting:

3 cups confectioners’ (icing) sugar

6 Tbsp unsalted butter, at room temperature

1/4 cup plus 1 1/2 tsp cocoa powder

1/4 cup plus 2 Tbsp skim milk

3/4 tsp pure vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

To make cookies, sift together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt into a bowl.

Beat butter and sugar with an electric mixer on medium-high speed for about 2 minutes.  Reduce speed to medium-low; mix in egg, milk and vanilla.  Mix in flour mixture, 1/2 cup at a time, until combined.

Drop dough onto baking sheets (either non-stick or lined with parchment paper), about 2 inches apart.  You should have about 30 cookies.  Bake until firm, 8 to 10 minutes.  Immediately press a marshmallow half on top of each cookie, then bake until marshmallows begin to melt, 2 minutes more.  Let cool completely.

To make frosting, put icing sugar in a medium bowl.  Melt butter with the cocoa powder in a saucepan over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally.  Add butter mixture to the icing sugar.  Whisk in milk and vanilla.

Spread about 1 Tbsp of frosting on top of each cooked cookies to cover marshmallow.  Let stand until set, about 10 minutes.

Soccer

We’ve had kids in soccer for years.  My oldest started playing thirteen years ago when she was four, and just hung up the cleats a couple of years ago.  And my youngest has been playing for ten years.  With all those collective soccer teams, all the hours spent on the playing field (them) and the sidelines (us), our family had never brought home a trophy.

Until yesterday.

The soccer teams are named by country, and this year my youngest daughter was playing for Team Spain.  Following a rocky start in the early season, the team slowly strengthened with great coaching and hard play.  Two weeks ago, they took on the challenging Brazil team and won with a goal in the last ten minutes for a nailbiting 1 – 0 win.  Last week they bested the dynamic Italy team, making an early goal count as they played through a rainstorm that would have made Noah seek cover. The result was a nailbiting 1 – 0 win.

Note the trend.

Yesterday’s game was played on a sunny, warm day against Team America.  Athletic and obviously well-drilled, USA took control of the ball early.  They were a force to be reckoned with, having one of the best goalies in the division as well as a forward whose prowess made us gasp.  (Fortunately, our defense, including my daughter, shut her down brilliantly.)

But Team Spain hung in bravely until halftime.  I don’t know if our coaches brought Knute Rockne in for an inspiring halftime speech, but the tides turned in the second half and suddenly we were in control of the play.  But one potential goal after another was turned away by their goalie, and we watched the clock tick down, knowing that we were within minutes of having the final go to a shootout. 

With thirty seconds to go, a sudden flurry around their net brought all the parents to our feet.  And remarkably, this time the ball went in.  Joy on the field, joy on the sidelines!  And the Pollock family brought home their first soccer trophy.

Whether or not you’ve had a recent win in your family, if you make Dorie Greenspan’s Snickery Squares everyone will feel like a champion.  They’re a little bit of work, from caramelizing the nuts to making the dulce de leche (if you choose to use homemade rather than store bought).  But they are fabulously decadent and well worth the extra time.  Just cut them into small squares, and promise yourself you won’t eat the whole pan. 

Snickery Squares

(adapted from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From my home to yours)

For the Crust

1 stick (8 Tbsp) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 cup sugar

2 Tbsp confectioners’ sugar (icing sugar)

1/4 tsp salt

1 large egg yolk, lightly beaten

For the Filling

1/3 cup sugar

3 Tbsp water

1 1/4 cup peanuts

1 cup dulce de leche (either store-bought or using the directions posted here)

For the topping

3 ounces semi sweet chocolate, coarsely chopped

4 ounces bittersweet chocolate coarsely chopped

1/2 stick (4 Tbsp) unsalted butter, at room temperature

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter an 8-inch square pan or line with parchment paper, and put it on a baking sheet.

To make the crust, beat the butter until smooth.  Add the flour, sugar, confectioners’ sugar and salt, and beat or stir just until smooth.  Add the yolk and beat just until mixed.  Turn the dough into prepared pan and press it evenly across the bottom.  Prick the dough about a dozen times with a fork.  Bake for 15 to 20 minutes, then remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature before filling.

To make the filling, have a parchment-lined baking sheet beside the stove.  Put the sugar and water into a medium saucepan and cook over medium-high heat, stirring with a wooden spoon, until the sugar dissolves.  Keeping the heat fairly high, continue to cook the sugar, without stirring, until it just starts to deepen in colour.  Throw in the peanuts and immediately start stirring.  Keep stirring, to coat the peanuts with the sugar.  Within a few minutes, they will be covered with sugar and turn white.  Keep stirring until the sugar turns back into a caramel colour.  Remove the pan from the heat and turn the nuts out onto the baking sheet, using the wooden spoon to spread them out as best you can.  Cool to room temperature.  When they are cool enough to handle, separate into small pieces.  Pour the dulce de leche over the baked crust, then sprinkle about 2/3 of the nuts over the dulce de leche.

To make the topping, melt the chocolate in a heatproof bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water.  Remove the chocolate from the heat and gently stir in the butter.  Pour the chocolate over the dulce de leche.  Finely chop the remaining nuts then sprinkle them over the chocolate.  Refrigerate for at least an hour before serving.