Hungarian

February 12, 2012 By Molly In eat me, sweets

A few years ago, a very dear friend gave me a Hungarian cookbook that had once belonged to her grandmother. My gram was Hungarian, but never met a recipe she wanted to follow or write down, so this book has been my next best reference whenever I get homesick for the meals she used to make.

That goes some way towards explaining how I found myself paging though it on a recent 25 degree day, sick and cold and thinking of nothing but the comfort of soup with dumplings. However, a yellowing bookmark was still tucked into its pages marking off the recipe for Hungarian Love Letters and, what can I say? The antihistamines had me lulled into a sentimental mood, and with Valentine’s Day just around the corner, the next thing I knew I was baking.

Though the idea of rolling out dough into very thin sheets initially filled me with serious dread, I have to say that this dough was fascinatingly easy to work with. It doesn’t stick (as long as the counter is floured) while rolling or even hint at breaking when picked up. I was not moved to foul language even once during the assembly process. So bake with confidence! If I can do it, I suspect most will have no issue.

Why, yes, that *is* a lot of butter; it will be worth it.

I also used my food processor a lot. I’m sure you can make this with a pastry cutter and a box grater just like grandma used to do in the old country but (see above about the foul language) I’m glad I had mechanical assistance.

In the golden light of the late afternoon, when all that flaky goodness was served with hot tea, it felt like a love letter indeed.

Hungarian Love Letters/Szerelmes Level
adapted from Flavors of Hungary : Recipes and Memoirs by Charlotte Biro (1973)

For the pastry

2 2/3 cups AP flour
1 1/4 cups butter, cubed
1 egg plus 1 egg yolk
1/2 cup cold milk

For the filling

3.5 oz walnuts, finely chopped
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup graham cracker crumbs
1 tsp cinnamon
3/4 cup raisins
2 lbs green apples

1 egg, beaten, for wash

Place flour and butter cubes in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until butter is broken down into coarse bits. Beat egg and yolk into the milk and, with the processor running, add this mixture to the flour and butter. Turn dough out onto the counter and work any remaining dry bits in with your hands until a smooth dough is formed. Divide into three equal pieces, flatten each into inch-thick ovals, and wrap with plastic. Refrigerate for three hours.

In a medium bowl, mix walnuts, sugar, graham cracker crumbs, and cinnamon. Peel, core, and shred apples. Preheat over to 350F.

Line a baking sheet with parchment. Remove chilled dough one piece at a time and roll out into a thin sheet (mine was 11×14). Place dough on baking sheet and top it with two-thirds of the nut and crumb mixture. Sprinkle raisins evenly over top. Roll out and top with second layer of dough. Squeeze excess juice from shredded apples and distribute over the top of the second dough sheet, then sprinkle remaining nut mixture evenly over the fruit. Roll out the final piece of dough and lay it over top.

Using a bench knife or similar, square up the edges of the dough and discard excess. Generously brush pastry with egg wash. Using a fork, punch lines into the top of the pastry. I divided mine into 12 squares and punched out the lines along those division, to vent the pastry and aide in cutting them through after baking.

Bake for 35 minutes or until evenly browned. Place on a wire rack and cool completely. Serving this with a bit of freshly whipped cream would not be a bad idea.

Haluski (The Hazards of History)

January 15, 2012 By Molly In eat me, mains

There is perhaps nothing in my cooking repertoire more contrary to presentation here than the shapeless and nearly monochrome combination of cooked cabbage, onion, butter, and noodles that make up haluski. Even with a bit of black pepper and Hungarian paprika, no dressing up for the camera will really make this dish shine (or, frankly, make it appetizing if you don’t already love the tastes you’re anticipating). However, particularly if your grandma used to make it for you, there is really no protection from the winter cold more secure than this supper.

To keep the oven and stove top cranking while I steamed and sauteed my pot of cabbage and onion, I paired the cooking of this noodle dish with the creation of a loaf of soda bread and a buttermilk broccoli soup (to use up the rest of the buttermilk, though I recommend treading carefully with this recipe if nutmeg is not your thing).

It occurred to me halfway through the cooking that perhaps there were “better” ways to make haluski and that maybe I should have done a bit of Googling before I began cooking. Pretty much every post I turned up after the fact, however, was exactly the dish I had made. (Aside from the one that also included Crisco–yikes! Though if you grew up with a lard version, this may help get you there.)

So fill your kitchen with the aroma of cooking cabbage and think of grandma with love. You’ll be all the warmer for it.

Guessing Game: The hazards of family recipes

Helen’s Haluski
based on the “um, maybe?” instructions of gram, via my mom

1 medium head of white cabbage, cored and shredded with a knife
1 medium white onion, roughly chopped or thinly sliced in half moons (cook’s preference)
1/2 cup water, plus more as needed
1/2 cup butter
3/4-1 lbs. wide egg noodles
salt, pepper, and paprika to taste

Place cabbage, onion, and water in a large pot. Cover almost completely with lid and heat to steam vegetables for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally and adding more water as needed. Add butter and continue cooking to brown vegetables, about 30 minutes more. Cabbage and onion should be soft and tasty. Remove from heat.

About 15 minutes before vegetables are done, cook noodles according to package directions. Add noodles to cooked vegetables and toss well to combine, seasoning with salt, pepper, and paprika. A dollop of sour cream or some cottage cheese might not be amiss either. (Don’t give me that look.)

Serve with crusty bread, vegetable soup, and pickled beets (or sausages, if you swing that way).