Back by popular demand, we've added two new classes this fall at the Seasoned Chef. Hope to see you there! The classes are intimate, hands-on, and a fun way to learn how to cook something new while you meet new people. Details are below!
Back by popular demand, we've added two new classes this fall at the Seasoned Chef. Hope to see you there! The classes are intimate, hands-on, and a fun way to learn how to cook something new while you meet new people. Details are below!
Posted at 02:24 PM in Classes (Clases), Empanadas, Events (Eventos), Holiday Recipes (Recetas de Dias Festivas) | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)
I first discovered tarta de ricota at Dün Ken, one of our favorite bakeries in Mendoza. Since then, I've been working on perfecting my own version at home, and I think I've just about got it down.
Tarta de Ricota is just what it sounds like--a tart made from ricotta cheese. It's the Italian cousin of our beloved cheesecake, only without the cream cheese tang. Like so many recipes, the original has morphed into something unique--different but still delicious, developed by homesick Italian women missing the flavors of the old country. But that old home fell away with the diaspora--a new home was being built in Argentina.
Argentina's version of the ricotta tart is delicately sweet and mild, smooth and creamy with just a hint of lemon. (See the recipe notes for possible flavor variations.) It can be served any time of year, but is most often seen on the Easter table. Ricotta, made from they whey used in cheese-making, was traditionally made in the spring, hence the springtime connection. (At least in the northern hemisphere.)
The origins of this simple pie are ancient--it's been made since pre-Christian times in Italy, during the reign of Constantine the Great. It's rumored that priestesses of Roman goddess Ceres, goddess of fertility and motherhood, mixed ricotta with eggs to celebrate Spring. Swedes enjoy a treat called Ostkaka, an almond-y egg and cheese cake--perhaps a recipe exchange during the time of the Visgoth invasion? Nuns in a convent in Naples infused their springtime version of ricotta pie with orange blossoms from their garden, and the recipe was later adapted by local bakeries.
From pagan offering to a convent confection symbolizing the Resurrection, from the Easter tables of Naples' rich and famous to modern-day bakeries on the other side of the planet, Tarta de Ricota has had quite a journey, wouldn't you say? Take a bite of history when you make this pie, which is sure to become a tradition of your own!
You may also enjoy Ricotta Pie recipes from Cooking Lessons (a wonderful step-by-step tutorial), Serious Eats, and Foodblogga
Tarta de Ricota
Ricotta Tart
This is a basic recipe for ricotta tart that can easily be adapted. It can be flavored with rum or another liqueur, like Grand Marnier, or you can stir in 1/2 cup of golden raisins or golden raisins soaked in liqueur--especially delicious during the holiday season. There are also versions that include finely chopped preserved peaches in syrup, and it would be simple to swap out the lemon zest and juice for orange, or the vanilla for almond extract. That version would be delicious covered in confectioner's sugar and sliced almonds for a fancy afternoon tea. I've chosen a traditional short-pastry type crust here, the shortbread-style crunch adds a nice texture to the pie.
For the tart shell:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup sugar
pinch of salt (or more to taste)
1/2 teaspoon lemon zest
1 stick unsalted butter
1 egg, separated
2 tablespoons milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Generously butter and flour a tart pan with a removeable bottom.
In a food processor, combine the flour, sugar, salt, lemon zest, and butter and process until well combined and the mix resembles a coarse sand. Add in the egg yolk, reserving the white. Add in the vanilla and the milk, and process until combined and there is a coarse dough. To make the dough by hand, combine the ingredients as described below using a hand-held pastry blender.
Dump the dough into the prepared pan, and using your fingers, press around the edges and bottom of the pan. Then using the bottom of a cup, press the bottom into an even layer. Bake for 15 minutes. Remove, and then brush with the reserved egg white. Return to the oven for another 15 minutes.
Meanwhile, prepare the filling.
For the filling:
1 1/2 cups fresh whole milk ricotta cheese
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg
1 tablespoon rum
1/2 teaspooon vanilla
1/4 cup heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon lemon juice
zest from 1 lemon
confectioner's sugar, as needed, to decorate the top
In a large bowl, combine all the ingredients and using a hand-held mixer, blend at medium speed until smooth.
Remove the crust from the oven. Pour the ricotta mixture into the tart pan until 2/3 of the way full, and then carefully place in the oven. Bake for 45-60 minutes, or until the center is set and the filling is light golden, but not brown.
Let cool completely, then refrigerate until cold. Sift confectioner's sugar over the top, using a stencil design if desired.
Transfer to a cake plate and serve, cut in wedges.
Recently, I read an article entitled 'Helpful Hints for Successful Parenting'. Among the suggestions: "Share the things you love with your children...Teach him that his environment is filled with things that have meaning to you. As he grows, give him a part in family traditions."
I think this happens naturally, in some ways, as we go about our daily routine. But sometimes, it takes a little effort. Guillermo and I try to give importance to honoring both our cultures, and especially remembering Argentina's special traditions. We want our kids to be proud of both sides of their heritage. But honestly, sometimes it feels like a huge effort even to get dinner on the table. With a new little one in the mix, we are busier than ever. There's always someplace to be and an excuse to skip the special stuff.
This post was supposed to be part of a group post on the wonderful tradition of eating gnocchi in Argentina on the 29th of every month. To be posted yesterday. Alas, spread thin as I am, I was ready to pitch the whole thing and order a pizza. But I also felt obligated to participate, so I started making the gnocchi.
The group that made regional alfajores was about to tackle another ubiquitous Argentinean dish. And post all the lucious photos to Flickr. Alas, again. Five pm, lousy kitchen lighting and 70s goldenrod countertop--with one adorable kid rolling out gnocchi. It may not be food-photography worthy, but it's my life right now.
Right away I had my 'sous chef' jump in, insisting, this time, in his ever-growing desire for independence, that he cut the gnocchi and also be allowed to drop them into the boiling water. Carefully supervised, he got to do both. But as I felt the deadline of this group blog event looming, I tried to shoo him to the table to eat. Newly five, he is small but mighty and he refused.
I mean, he REALLY wanted to make the gnocchi, and took great pleasure in rolling them out. So I gave up. I knew this was a battle I could stand to lose, so I let go of my stress, my need to control the situation and 'get it done'--and enjoyed the moment so much more. I let myself have fun--something I've been a little short on lately. It was a great lesson in being present, in going with the flow, and also in realizing that we have done something to carry on traditions that are important to us. Maybe he doesn't quite understand the meaning behind 'gnocchi day' yet, but he will, in time.
Finally, as the gnocchi were on plates, I found myself upstairs at the changing table instead of the dinner table. I overheard something that made my heart melt. Esteban, said, "Aren't these gnocchi the best things in the WORLD?" And to him, with his ownership of making dinner, they absolutely were. And they really were!
Photos: Top--Esteban rolling the gnocchi at age five. Center--In Argentina with 'Bula' making gnocchi at age four. Bottom two--first gnocchi, at around fifteen months, and rolling them out, in 2008.
The other ladies that joined this group blog post made some sumptuous gnocchi indeed. Many talked about the reason behind the tradition of serving gnocchi on this day. And so around the world, the gnocchi day tradition is being carried on, in all its delectable forms:
Aledys of From Argentina to the Netherlands for Love posted Gnocchi a la Romana
Katie of Seashells and Sunflowers posted Butternut Squash Gnocchi with Walnut Cream Sauce
Ana of Ana Travels posted Arugula Gnocchi with Tomato and Tarragon Vinagrette
Paula of Bee My Chef posted Spinach Gnocchi
Meag of A Domestic Disturbance posted Roasted Beet Malfatti with Creamy Roquefort Sauce
and Mine, which of course is Plain Old Potato Gnocchi, Prepared by a Five Year Old
But seriously,wouldn't you love to sit down to dinner at their tables?
Without further ado, though, here is a tried and true recipe for a simple, traditional potato gnocchi. Even the kids like it.
Receta de Ñoquis del 29
Recipe for 29th-of-the-month Gnocchi
2 lbs. baking potatoes (about 6)
salt
2 eggs
1 cup fresh, good quality ricotta cheese
2-3 cups flour, plus more for dusting
Peel and quarter the potatoes, putting them in a medium stock pot with enough water to cover the potatoes with one inch of water. Add a scant handful of salt. Put the potatoes to boil until they are tender when pierced with a fork , but not mushy. Drain the potatoes.
Put the potatoes through a food mill or potato ricer. In a large bowl, combine the potatoes, eggs, and ricotta, and mix well using your hands or a fork until a consistent dough is formed. Be careful not to overmix.
Add the flour a half cup at a time, mixing each time by hand until there is a soft, pliable dough. The dough should not be sticky, and it should not be hard. If it's too sticky or soft, the gnocchi will be mushy, but if there's too much flour, the gnocchi will be chewy and tough. (This is the challenging part!)
Knead the dough a few times until uniform, and divide the dough in half . Flour a work area, and roll the dough out into a long thin roll about 3/4 inch thick. Cut these tubes of dough into sections about 1 inch long. Meanwhile, bring a stock pot of water to a boil.
There are a variety of ways to 'mark' the gnocchi-all just a style choice, since at this point, they are more or less done. Here are some suggestions: Mark an indentation in the center of each gnocchi with your index finger; or roll over the side of a cheese grater to make patterned indentations; or roll over the backside of a fork, or roll over the center of a wooden gnocchi tool.
At this point, the gnocchi can be frozen laid out on a baking sheet lined with wax paper. After they are frozen, they can be stored in a freezer bag. Frozen gnocchi are just put into the boiling water like the unfrozen ones.
Drop the gnocchi one at a time into the boiling water. They are cooked when they rise to the top. Collect with a slotted spoon and transfer to a plate. Serve with the sauce of your choice. (Some nice choices are walnut Gorgonzola, tomato or white sauce.)
Valentine's Day--you can love it or hate it. We've all gone through Valentine's Days alone or heart-broken, Valentine's Day days head-over-heels, Valentine's Days spent with girlfriends on the couch watching a weeper or out to dinner ignoring the holiday. Even earlier, most of us suffered the unforgettable heady yet awkward exchange of Valentines in class. (The one when you're hoping that your crush returns your feelings as you slip your Strawberry Shortcake/StarWars card into the paper bag decorated in class).
In our household, Valentine's Day is always a mixed bag. One year it was celebrated with a heart-shaped diamond necklace (before marriage and kids), the next it was forgotten altogether. It's been quasi-celebrated with a quick dinner out while leaving the (then) baby with a sitter, and spent apart while one of us was on a business trip. And it has also been celebrated with kids--not an over-done, romantic dinner, mind you, but a fun, family celebration, demonstrating as we do in a thousand small ways daily, our love for each other. We light candles and use little Valentine's napkins, and eat these for dessert. Esteban loves any occasion to celebrate!
This heart-shaped alfajor is just perfect for that type of casual dinner, whether your sweetheart is 4 or 40 (or 4 months old, as it were).
I made these to share this weekend with friends for dinner (actually, in a romantic and uncharacteristic moment, the men did the assembly. It was made with a jar of homemade dulce de leche from our hosts, another American/Argentinean couple, the van Halls.) Esteban's pre-school teachers are also getting a couple, in a decorative bag tied with a red bow.
So whether you are celebrating the day of 'Amor y Amistad' in grand style, or at home with the family, we wish you the best the day can bring!
Alfajores
This recipe for alfajores is adapted from the book, Argentina Cooks! by Shirley Lomax Brooks
1 3/4 cups flour
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 pound butter (1 stick) at room temperature
1 teaspoon lemon zest (optional)
4 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 recipe for dulce de leche (or one jar of it)
1 cup grated and sweetened coconut (optional)
Combine flour, salt, sugar and baking soda in a bowl. Cut the butter in with two knives, then mix by hand until well incorporated. Work in the lemon zest and then mix in the egg yolks, egg and vanilla. (Alternatively, you can do this in a food processor, fitted with the dough blade.) The dough will be soft and slightly sticky. Shape the dough into 2 balls, wrap in plastic, and chill for 2 hours.
Preheat the oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit. On a floured work surface, roll out each ball of dough to a thickness of 1/4 inch. ( I used lots of extra flour to get the dough to be pliable, not too sticky, and easy to cut.) Cut into 2-inch rounds (or use a heart-shaped cutter) and transfer to a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Bake for 12-15 minutes or until done. The cookies will be dry but not brown.
When the cookies are cool, spread a generous spoonful of dulce de leche in one cookie and top it with another. Press together gently and smooth any squished-out dulce de leche with a pastry knife, or add a bit of extra so the coconut will have a good smooth surface to adhere to. Roll the seam of each sandwiched cookie in shredded coconut. (I used Bob's Red Mill shredded unsweetened coconut, purchased from Whole Foods.)
Every family has its own special holiday traditions. Those rituals that bind us together during this festive season, whether trimming the tree with a collection of special ornaments gathered over the years, reading holiday stories while nestled in flannel sheets, or cooking cherished family specialties to share with family and friends. Maybe it's the excitement children feel putting out their shoes for Los Reyes, or the family 'asador' putting on an unbeatable grill-fest.
Whether in the sizzling heat of the southern hemisphere's summer or the bone cold frost of the northern winter, the season brings us closer together, and wherever and whenever we gather, we are bound to break bread.
This is the first holiday season that our son, Esteban, almost five, is really 'into' Christmas. So as we get into the rhythm of having a new addition to the family, I've been trying to solidify those favorite traditions from last year, to create the holiday memories that will be with them a lifetime.
Eating Pan Dulce (aka Panettone) is one of the traditions we most enjoy and hope to pass on--nothing says holiday to me like the smell of fresh pan dulce in the oven, its yeasty, sweet smell mingling with the orange and lemon peel studding the bread. Cutting into one on Christmas morning is a special treat, a gift of its own. The first piece is eaten with a cup of coffee, as we sit bleary-eyed, around the tree opening gifts.
This year, I decided to make my own candied orange and lemon peel for the pan dulce--a simple recipe that can be made up to two months in advance if you're one of those uber-organized folks, or the day before you make the pan dulce if you're not. The flavor is much better in the DIY peel than the store-bought version, plus free of the preservatives and what have you that we would rather avoid.
Candied peel makes a wonderful homemade holiday gift, and can be dipped in dark chocolate, too. It would be a great hostess gift, along with a tag attached with the recipe for pan dulce on it. Pan Dulce is sure to become one of your family's treasured holiday favorites, and even more so with the addition of your own handmade candied peel!
Candied Orange and Lemon Peel
Cáscara de Naranja y Limón Azucarada
This recipe makes enough for 2 panettone, about a cup each of orange and lemon rind, but this recipe is easily doubled or halved as needed. I combined lemon and orange for convenience sake, but they can be made separately if that is your preference. The peel can be made up to 2 months in advance and stored in the freezer, or can be made one week in advance and stored in the refrigerator. For the pan dulce, simply chop the strips of candied rind into small pieces.
5 lemons
5 oranges
3 cups water
4 cups sugar
Using a sharp knife, cut off the ends of each lemon and orange. Score the rind of the fruit in quarters, slicing just through the rind and not into the fruit. Peel off the quarters of rind carefully, then slice into strips about 1/4 inch wide. Put all the peel into a medium sized saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, and boil for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Drain the water and replace it with fresh water, and bring to a boil again. Repeat this blanching process two more times to remove any bitterness from the peel. (A total of 3 times.) Drain the water and reserve the peel.
In the same saucepan, combine the water and 3 cups of the sugar and heat over medium heat, stirring until the sugar has dissolved. Add in the rind into the sugar and water mixture and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and let simmer until the rind is translucent, about 45 minutes. Drain the rind, reserving the simple syrup, if desired, as a citrus simple syrup for cocktails and such.
Remove the rind and spread out evenly on baking sheets lined with parchment paper. Sprinkle with 1/2 cup of the remaining sugar. Turn the rind over and sprinkle with the other 1/2 cup of sugar. To dry, either leave the rind in a cool, dry place in the kitchen overnight or bake for one to two hours in a 200 degree oven (checking frequently to be sure that the rind is not cooking, but just drying out).