Rehashing Croquettes

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

I was one of the few children allowed into The Ranch without a second look, a bar with Western saloon-style swinging doors that slapped me on the way in a few times too many. My friends by then, nighttime, would have left the hotel for their own homes — the hotel that we played at on weekends, a place my father worked at the time as Food and Beverage Manager, a collective country club of sorts.

Recovering from the greeting smack of hard wood against my upper back, I would make my way to the highest ground in the place, the bar, to ask the bartender if he had seen my dad. Pointing in the direction of a corner table this time, I spotted him — his strong green eyes looking over at me from across the room for a moment before turning back to the conversation with an important guest he cared not much for.

Walking over, I was oblivious to the drinking surrounding me but snuck quick glances at tables lining my path to feed my appetite after a long day of swimming in the Abu Dhabi sun. Plopping myself on a chair next to my dad, I smiled as my father introduced me to his guest then focused on why I was really there — to eat. I ordered a t-bone steak with a side of turned root vegetables that would guarantee a deep sleep on the car ride back home then diverted my attention to the Filipino band performing international songs to an audience that barely saw them.

Singing John Denver’s Country Roads, a song I gathered was cool for older intoxicated people from the response it received, the band rattled on together with the aggressive growls of my rumbling stomach. A plate arrived quickly but it was not mine; instead it was to share, along with the mixed nuts and crudités, untouched by the adults entangled in their drinks and discussions. Left unnoticed after our initial hellos, I tuned out of the grown up debates that I couldn’t keep up with and bit into a crisp, fried cylinder, picking it over the raw vegetables drying out in the smoky room.

Scorching smooth centers and crunch from the twice-breaded crust, I had one after the other until there were none. Little space was left for my main but I trudged through the steak, happy to ignore my vegetables if my father was too busy to remind me.

Croquettes, a word coming from the French croquer — “to crunch” with a potato purée filling, a trend that died out  before I was born in the early 80s, were still making me happy in the confused 90s and remain the naughty section of perking up leftover mashed potatoes. This week, they featured in my kitchen with the twang of mustard, a hit of fresh parsley and some soft mozzarella bocconcini. Outdated or not, the croquette is versatile. Mix in flaked fresh salmon, using the potatoes to bind the fish or stick to a vegetarian option with spinach, some Parmesan cheese or even some sharp rocket. You can use Japanese panko for a crackling crust in place of finer bread crumbs more common in Egyptian kitchens that appear more uniform, almost as one when fried. This recipe below, with its oozing center is open to change.

Mustard-Parsley Potato Croquettes

You’ll need
800 grams of potatoes, washed, skin intact
20 grams of butter
1 egg yolk, beaten
4 grams of ground mustard powder
15 grams of parsley, roughly chopped
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
1 ball of mozzarella, approximately 66 grams
2 eggs, beaten
130 grams of finely ground bread crumbs

Wash the skins of your potatoes well then dry. Arrange the potatoes on a baking sheet after pricking each one a few times. Make sure not to crowd them. Bake for 1 to 1½ hours in an oven heated to 200 degrees Celsius until tender. Remove from the oven then slice each potato in half leaving it to cool.

Using a spoon, extract the potato flesh into a medium-sized bowl, season with salt and pepper then mash, eliminating any lumps, until smooth. Add the butter then fold in the chopped parsley and ground mustard. Mix in the yolk of one egg until all is combined then begin to shape the croquettes.

Mould a little at a time, depending on how large you want them, into a cylinder. Make an indentation along the length of the croquette with the opposite end of a teaspoon and add a few thin slices of mozzarella. Pinch the indentation you created to seal the mozzarella into the potato. Adjust the shape by rolling once very lightly, back and forth. Dip each cylinder into the breadcrumbs then the beaten egg then back to the breadcrumbs. Repeat until you’ve finished the potato mixture.

Place your croquettes in a freezer-friendly box lined with baking paper. Between each layer and the next, add a size-appropriate sheet of baking paper to avoid the croquettes from sticking once frozen. Freeze for an hour or until ready to fry. Fry in hot oil (around 7 cm) in batches until the croquettes are crisp and golden. Drain on paper towels. Serve hot. 

Hasselback potatoes and the cloudberry girl

As featured in The Daily News Egypt

When I was in the 6th grade, a beautiful girl, blond and bright-eyed, walked into class midday to unknowingly capture the hearts of boys that we had marked as our own for the future. There was not a girl in class that did not feel the sting, an abrupt glitch in our hearts.

She, with her fair and delicate skin, had come to teach us about jealousy, about lust and most unexpectedly, about Swedish food. Hawk-eyed and sidelined, the rest of us chomped down on simple sandwiches made by our tired moms as she sat alone on cold steps with a gaggle of young men in the making, waiting to make a move.

Slowly, she lifted her carefully packaged sandwich along with a box of sliced tart apples from her red bag, unwrapping it to reveal two layers of white bread shielding the contents unknown to us, the brooding young ladies' corner. My curiosity peaked.

While the little ladies surrounding me continued to rip her apart with their collective hunting strategies, I scrutinized from afar the corners of her sandwich, in part getting acquainted with my supposed enemy and, in reality, because I had always secretly judged people by what they eat.

After days of having given her the cold shoulder, I made my way past the boys and over to the cold steps I never liked sitting on. "Want an apple slice?" I asked.

"I have apples too! What kind, green or red?" she chirped, opening doors for my guilt of trying to hate her to multiply. “I also have a cheese and cloudberry jam sandwich! Maybe we can trade halves?” she urged on, trying like the new girl she was to be my friend, to leave an imprint on me.

Cloudberries! I could not think of a prettier name for food and it was then that my mind switched on to cuisines unknown to me, away from the Middle Eastern-Indian influence dominating my surroundings. Later in my life, I read about cloudberries, made into jams and liqueurs, to discover that they are more tart than sweet; they often over-ripen to become creamy like a sweetened yogurt. I turned pages to envision sticky fruit soups, served hot and cold and of reindeer meat, pickled herring and the famous smorgasbord, the classic Swedish buffet spread.

I can only wish to have a palate so accepting of such foreign flavors.

Since it’s unlikely that I’ll find cloudberries to make jam with in Cairo, I decided to make hasselback potatoes, the baked potato of Sweden, crispy on the outside and fork-tender in the center, served aside a veal roast, as I think back to the short-term friend I had, who moved away before sealing friendships for life, who taught us about the grown-up world of food and men.

Hasselback potatoes

You'll need
4 medium-sized potatoes
2 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
4 tablespoons of olive oil
20 grams of butter, melted
A few strands of saffron
Salt and pepper to season

For the oil:
Heat the olive oil in a pan on medium heat. Add the sliced garlic and saffron then season. Allow to bubble for 2 minutes then turn off the heat and set aside leaving the flavors to come together.

For the potatoes:
Begin by moving your oven rack to the middle and preheating to 190 degrees Celsius. Prepare a large bowl of cold water and set aside. Wash your potatoes well before slicing. One potato at a time, make sure they don't roll over when placed on a flat surface. If they roll, cut a very thin slice lengthwise at the bottom to allow it to remain flat. Begin slicing the potatoes 3 to 4 mm apart never allowing your knife to slice through the potato disconnecting the slices. If necessary, lay down chopsticks or wooden spoons parallel to each other and use them as guides to know where to stop cutting. When you finish one potato, immediately drop it in the reserved bowl of cold water and continue with the rest. This will stop discoloration from occurring and will drain additional starch that may not allow the slices to fan out.

Place the potatoes in a greased shallow baking pan after drying one at a time. Brush the potatoes with the melted butter and 1 tablespoon of olive oil then season with salt and pepper. Cover the dish tightly with foil and bake the potatoes until just tender. This should take 35 minutes. Once tender, remove the foil and bake until tender for 10 more minutes. Turn your grill on after baking and grill for an additional 5 minutes. Once removed from the oven, drizzle with saffron garlic oil and serve.

Warm Potato Salad (minus the mayonnaise)

Below is my column featuring this recipe in The Daily News Egypt dated Saturday, July 16th, 2011.

A dish that puzzles me to no end is potato salad. I've spent many moments questioning why people insist on calling it just that, “potato salad” despite their variations of it being so far apart. In my mind, a few things were certain. Potato salad is generally eaten in the summer. You'll never know what kind of potato salad you're getting until it's plopped in front of you. The inclusion of carbohydrates into a salad doesn't always make it good.

My mother's potato salad is one I enjoy. With her incorporation of fragrant herbs, potatoes that crack under the slight pressure of my fork, and the light drizzle of a zesty vinaigrette, it never fails to startle my taste buds into summery freshness. It has also traveled with us to any city we moved and has been a stable constant in a constantly changing household.

As you grow older, you begin visiting friends' homes and you begin to find out that their mothers, too, have potato salad on offering. Initially, I thought it was just that one friend's mom that adds a gloppy mess of store-bought mayonnaise to a bunch of other ingredients that I could never decipher. It turns out I was wrong and even at the age of 11, I could begin to tell that gloppy mayonnaise was a trend by the sheer abundance of it.

This made me realize then and there that while my mother's approach to cooking was still heavily influenced by the French kitchen, other mothers were well on their way to becoming well-versed in the ways of the Nineties' American kitchen – frying, substituting sauces with melting cheese, and using mayonnaise as a key ingredient in as many salads as possible.

This mayonnaise-laden salad began to make an appearance at barbecues, potlucks and picnics. It was easy to pack and the ladies proudly putting them together could ensure that there would be no wilting greens staring sadly up at them when it came time to serve. While those ladies rejoiced, the people who did not participate in the cooking were served double helpings of a potato salad that fell to pieces at the gentle prodding of their fork - potato salad that would rather be called Mayo-mash.

Usually, the equation of store-bought mayonnaise plus potatoes and not much else leaves me recalling childhood memories from my registry of regret but as I approach my 27th birthday, I realize that this registry cannot take much more salad sadness so I've decided to put a list together of some basic potato salad suggestions.

A good potato salad needs texture so it's best to use a low to medium-starch potato. These are generally known as waxy potatoes and are the sort that hold their shape well so they don't take a beating as easily.

Try to use fresh herbs and spices to bring up the flavor or you'll end up with a bland, avoidable dish. Always add the spices to the potatoes when they are hot as they tend to absorb more flavor that way. If you're feeling more adventurous, you can add almonds for a bit of crunch or green beans to the mix.

If you insist on using mayonnaise, experiment by flavoring it with a dollop of whole-grain or Dijon mustard and a bit of garlic. Know that if you decide to eliminate the mayonnaise or creamy dressing, your potato salad will hold up better for a longer period of time, especially if you're making it for an outdoorsy summer event. That and the fact that it'll be lighter on the stomach.

Using mayonnaise or creamy dressings also means that your potato salad should remain chilled at all times to avoid the dressing spoiling because of the heat.

Look at your potato salad as a dish that should take some attention off the mains instead of being an unnoticeable accompaniment made up of creamy, starchy stuff. You could skip the mayonnaise all together and make a vinaigrette of lemon juice, mustard and olive oil. You could even replace the waxy potatoes with roasted sweet potatoes. The ideas are endless, the way it should be and only after writing this do I understand why people call it Potato Salad. There's not much else you can call it without sounding esoteric. Here's my version that can be served without chilling but works equally as well straight out of the fridge.

Indian-inspired Warm Potato Salad
You'll need:
4 potatoes
2 teaspoons of whole cumin seeds
1 teaspoon of mustard seeds
1 teaspoon cumin powder
1-teaspoon coriander powder
½ teaspoon chili powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
1 fresh whole chili, sliced
2 tablespoons of sunflower oil
The juice of 1 lime
¼ cup of hot water
1 handful of chopped coriander, to garnish
Salt to taste

Par-boil the potatoes for around 15 minutes until slightly tender. Remove from the heat and leave to cool. Peel the potatoes then cut into large cubes. Heat a large frying pan over a high flame then add the oil. Add the cumin and mustard seeds along with the sliced fresh chili.

Leave for about 30 seconds then add the cumin, coriander and chili powders as well as the turmeric. Lower your heat to medium and stir to combine all the spices. Once fragrant, add the potatoes and mix until they are well coated in your spice mixture then add the salt and water.

Allow the water to be absorbed by the potatoes but stir every minute or so for around 5 minutes so that the potatoes don't stick to the bottom of the pan. When the potatoes are almost dry, squeeze the limejuice on top, stir to combine then turn off the heat and allow to cool. Before serving, add a handful of fresh coriander.

Combat Gloom: Sunday Brunch

Dear Malaysian rain,

You are so inappropriate. You're like this manipulative woman I know. She pretends to bring the sun with her and makes everyone giddy for around 10 minutes (I think it has something to do with the jiggle factor and boisterousness). The minute you cozy up to her - BAM! - she rains on your parade. With you, Rain, it's just... literal (except that there's no parade, just long walks in my case). My editor and ex-client are currently babbling on Twitter about sunny breakfasts in Cairo and an Egyptian dish called Sharkasiyya (which I am yet to make - recipe please, Heba) and all I can think of is you and how you ruin all my plans. See, it would be nice to have brunch outdoors or even on the balcony but you keep us locked inside. Unless you live in a desert or in the Hindi movie, Lagaan, I don't know why anyone would ever use the idiom "right as rain". So today, I shall not give in to a prolonged spell of bad spirits. I shall instead pretend that my beloved albeit cancer-giving sun is out and I shall see it in the face of every sunny-side up I make until it comes back and becomes the light of my life again. Until then, stick it where the sun don't shine. :) 

Homeshackled,

Happy is the bride that the sun shines on      

P.S. Another reason why I dislike you is this - When I take a photo in color, I expect it to be in color. You make everything look black and white or just a random shade of gray. You can find a serious column about eggs written by pretentious columnist me if you continue below - published on Saturday, July 9th, 2011. 

For the most part of my life, I ate eggs prepared one way – brown and rubbery. According to my childhood-commandeered specifications, they had to have almost no bounce and should come together so that I could no longer see flecks of singled out egg yolk. I cringed at the thought of seeing them separated and didn't take to the idea that egg yolks could ooze onto the other elements already beautifying my plate.

On the other hand, the thought of green-tinged stiff yolk would have me discarding breakfast all-together and the thought of eating eggs without a side of bread was unacceptable. Naturally, bread was used to mask the eggy flavors and feed my growing carb addiction.

But today, I'd like to make a public apology to eggs; not for eating them because I'm heartless like that, but for underestimating their value in my little world of food. Only after making hollandaise, sabayon, mayonnaise and crème brulée all using egg yolks that I once condemned did I begin to realize that I had done eggs a great injustice. I had shunned them in their simplest, most unscrambled form. Shame on me.

On balmy, wet weekends, I like to work with whatever I have at home to disguise it as “brunch” on that languid morning. The practice usually leaves me scorning my sarcastic self as the meal in creation unfolds into something worthy of being called brunch.

It came to me as I was cracking an egg one Sunday, a thought that many take for granted. I should take the leap and eat, without hesitation, a sunny side up, involving its sinful runny yolk. My husband was doing it. What's standing in my way? Besides, it would come with the added benefit of using one pan. Childhood specifications should be abolished when it comes to food. You're old enough now, I thought, almost aloud. Get over your whiny self.

It was after overcoming this precise trouble that I let loose. Only then did I force away my involuntary “no thank you” that instinctively pops up when trying new things; concerning food that is and not roller coasters.

I can happily say that I can no longer count the number of runny egg yolks I've embraced. Filling cakes, pastries and souffles (both savoury and sweet) with air, lending a worthwhile base to sauces, giving custards their richness and meringues their shells, I don't know how vegans manage.

Besides, I couldn't manage living in Asia without embracing their egg-loving culture. I would be laughed out of the country. No joke. Malaysians add eggs to so many of their dishes that I cannot ever recall going out for one type or another version of local food and not finding at least one egg incorporated into someone's dish, whether cooked or cracked raw onto the dish, disguised or in clear view.

Here you can have sweet and sour eggs for breakfast or you can opt for Thai “Son-in-Law Eggs” with tamarind. I still can't find someone to explain to me why they're called that. There's also stir-fried shrimp omelettes and scorchingly hot egg curries.

You'll find eggs in soups, sweet egg tarts, dumplings, and spicy crab sauce; or openly flaunting themselves in entirety as a salted egg adapting an ancient method of preservation using salted charcoal going hand in hand with its sister, century egg (pi dan), that allows the yolk to reach a dark greenish grey color and the egg whites to turn a translucent jelly-like brown. Now do you understand why I would be laughed out?

While I make sunshine-inspired brunches in the rain, here's an idea for a summery breakfast by the beach that will take you to the closest mini-market for the ingredients, assuming you don't have this stuff lying around already. If you're in a bigger city, try sourcing out some good Egyptian sausage for this. It'll work its magic well but don't skip the chili and don’t use bread. Instead, shock your sleepy taste buds awake and teach your children to accept heat in the morning. They'll need it when they travel later on in life to pursue yoga in India or a party in Bali.

Spicy Brunch for Two
You'll need:
4 eggs
2 handfuls of wild rocket
3 medium potatoes, cubed (any kind will do. No fuss.)
2-3 bird's eye chili, sliced finely (depending on your tolerance for heat)
4 Vienna sausages, split length-wise and sliced (You can use anything else. That's what I had lying around.)
1 small red onion, diced
2 scallions, sliced
1 handful of parsley, chopped
A splash of olive oil
A walnut-sized piece of butter
salt/fleur de sel and freshly cracked pepper to taste 

Set a pan on the stove and allow it to reach medium heat. Drizzle with olive oil and add the onion and potatoes. Leave to cook for around 10 minutes. Add the sliced sausage, scallion and chili and continue to cook for another 10 minutes. Turn up the heat in the last 3 minutes to scorch the edges of the potatoes and sausage. Season with salt and pepper and sprinkle with chopped parsley. In a separate pan, melt the butter over medium heat. Break open eggs into the pan and immediately reduce your heat to low. Cook slowly until the whites are set and the yolks begin to thicken.

Serve up two eggs per person atop the spicy potatoes and sausages with a side of fresh wild rocket. 

I can't believe I spent years of my life not eating eggs like this. Liquid gold.

Done.

Sweet Potato Fries and Two Columns

I've got to start updating more often and I will. For now, last week's column and this week's column for The Daily News Egypt. 

Sweet Potato French Fries
Serves 2

Vegetable oil, for frying
2 large sweet potatoes
Salt and cracked black pepper, to taste

Pour oil to reach halfway up the sides of a heavy saucepan. Heat the oil to 165 degrees Celsius. While the oil is heating, peel the sweet potatoes and cut into uniform sticks. Place the potatoes in a bowl of ice water to release some starch and to keep them from browning. Dry the potato sticks - this will keep the oil from splattering. Fry the potatoes in batches so that the pan isn't crowded and the oil temperature remains stable. Cook for 3 minutes until they are soft but not browned.

Remove the potatoes with a long-handled metal strainer and drain on paper towels. Bring oil temperature up to 190 degrees Celsius. Return the half-fried potatoes to the oil in batches and cook a second time for 4 minutes until golden and crispy. Drain on fresh paper towels then place in a serving bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Serve immediately.

A broken finger deserves a Gratin Dauphinois

So, this is definitely not the best post ever. This is not even close to the best post ever. This post is a post that you might skip. A post that will make you go, "Naah, she's slacking." But trust in me, my children. Believe in me. Have faith. This is a truly miraculous side dish. This is a side dish that got me trying to cook a week after hand surgery. This is a side dish that I craved so deeply from the innermost innards of me that I got off my imaginary throne where I'm spoiled by my husband after surgery, wrapped my hand in latex and delved into the wonderful world we call "Stitched Up Successful Perseverance". P.S. Stitches came out. Hooray! I officially rename myself... SCAR FINGER. Please address me as so for the time being. :)


Gratin Dauphinois. We never actually asked what it was called in our mom's house. We just ate. Happily. And with the hopes and dreams of teenagers who aren't yet afraid of what carbohydrates can do to you. Don't add cheese. Or onions. You'll be cheating and you can just call it "cheesy potatoes" then. You won't have earned the right. No way. You shall not call it a Dauphinois if you add cheese. And yes, I know Julia Child adds cheese to hers, but I trust my mom, dude. Now let's get moving because I've got books to organize in a bit. Sigh.

Gratin Dauphinois 
(6 side servings but you can eat it all and pretend you're 6 people.)
1 clove of garlic, split in half, lengthwise
1 kilogram of potatoes
2 cups of hot milk
An extra full 1/4 cup of heavy cream
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat your oven to 160 degrees Celsius. Peel and slice your potatoes to around 3mm in width. Rub down the sides and bottom of your baking dish with the garlic clove. Discard the garlic clove when you're done. Combine your sliced potatoes, milk and salt and pepper in a saucepan. Simmer for a good 7-8 minutes. You'll find the milk thickening. Transfer half of the potato-milk mixture to your garlic-rubbed baking dish and pour some cream. Add the second half of the potato mixture on top of the cream you just poured, and pour the final spout of cream all over the top. Pop it into your already preheated oven.   

Bake for 35-40 minutes. Open the oven door, once, after 20 minutes, and crack the creamy skin. This will give you a better, thicker crust. Let it stand for at least five minutes before serving. Enjoy and thank my mom. :)

Leftovers of this are always welcome. This never lasts for long anyway. Happy times.