Folks, this is  seriously ugly bread.

On the other hand, it’s delicious.

Dangerously, decadently delicious.

Having an entire loaf of this around is like having brought a full bag of pastries home from the bakery.

I’d always wondered about prunes and chocolate together. I once bought a cake based on the combination. It was heavy as a lead bomb and I threw it out. But the photograph in Bread, by Eric Treuille and Ursula Ferrigno, was so interesting that I said, What the heck, and baked it.

Oh, my.

Chocolate sweetness and and sweet/tart prune, held together in a sweet dough. Rich – did I say this is rich? And it’s not light. But not cloying at all. And so what if it’s, er, beauty-challenged? Some faces grow on you.

If you still have time to bake for Purim, try this. Cut thick slices, wrap each one up, and put them in your Purim baskets.

Prune and Chocolate Bread

Recipe taken from Bread by Eric Treuille and Ursula Ferrigno

Printable version here

Ingredients:

1/2 cube fresh yeast – 4.5 teaspoons dry active yeast

1-1/2 cups – 12 fl. oz. water

4 1/2 cups  white flour

1-1/2 teaspoon salt

5 tablespoons-  1 oz. margarine or unsalted butter

2 cups -7 oz. -  pitted prunes, chopped

2 cups -  7 oz. chocolate, chopped (I used chocolate chips)

1 beaten egg

Method:

1. Put the yeast in a small bowl and dissolve it with 1/2 cup of the water.

2. Put the flour and salt in a large bowl and mix.

3. Make a well in the flour/salt and pour the yeast water into it.

4. Mix the flour in, adding more water as needed to make a soft dough. It should be sticky.

5. Knead the dough till all the flour and water are incorporated, 5-10 minutes.

6. Put the dough into a floured bowl. Cover it and let it rise for 1 hour or until doubled.

7. Preheat the oven to 350°F – 180° C.

8. Push the risen dough down and knead it a few times. Cover it again and leave it alone for 10 minutes.

9. Add the prunes, chocolate, margarine or butter and the egg. Squish everything in with your hands, it works much better than trying to beat the dough with a spoon.

10. Lightly flour your work surface and knead the dough just a minute or two, till it can hold a shape.

Now you get to decide if you prefer one large round loaf to slice, or 8-10 buns. In the latter case, tear off lumps, shape them roughly, and bake them only 25-30 minutes.

11. Cover the loaf (or buns) and let it rise 30 minutes or until it’s light.

12. Bake for 45 minutes. Cool on a wire rack.

Note: the recipe calls for baking this in a greased 1 kg loaf pan, but I saw that the dough was too big to fit into mine. So I baked it as a boule. Less convenient to slice, but somehow impressive.

Don’t you just love that little punim?

Come and see what all the good kosher cooks are doing to get ready for Purim:

The 51st Kosher Cooking Carnival.

Sarah Melamed of Foodbridge put this recipe on her blog on January 25th, and I’ve cooked it twice since then. Even the Little One, who’s suspicious of vegetables, loved it. But – you know how it is – I adapted it somewhat. I made a double batch using dried herbs and white wine. Sarah’s recipe is the pure goods. My version is this variation.

Meatballs with Swiss Chard

Ingredients:

1 bunch of swiss chard, washed

2. 500 grams – 1 lb. ground turkey or beef

3 cloves of garlic

1 onion, grated

1 egg

2 tablespoons bread crumbs

1 teaspoon salt, or more to taste

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

1 teaspoon dried, crushed herbs: sage, rosemary, oregano, thyme – alone or  in any combination.

Juice of 1 lemon (I used 1/2 preserved lemon instead)

3 cloves garlic

1 cup water or chicken stock

1 cup white wine

1 small bunch scallions

Method:

1. Cut away the hard white stem of the Swiss chard leaves. Reserve them.

2. Put the green leaves in a large pan without any added water. Cook, covered, over low heat till they wilt.

3. Allow the greens to cool and chop them finely.

4. Into a bowl, put the meat, egg, onion, chopped Swiss chard, bread crumbs and spices.

5. Mix, then knead till you have a firm, well-blended mix.

6. Prepare a skillet with a little oil on the bottom. Fry the meatballs for 5 minutes on each side, just enough to make them hold together and to give them  a good brown color.

7. Cut the white part of the beet stems into finger-sized pieces.

8. Fry the garlic in olive oil  for 2 minutes and add the lemon juice.

9. Add the meatballs and beet stems. Cover with water or stock.Add 1 cup of white wine.

10. Cook, covered, 20 minutes or until the meatballs are done.

11. Uncover the pot and cook the liquid down to thicken it.

Note: I made a double batch, requiring a deep pot. To cover the meatballs with liquid, I needed much more than 1 cup. When the meatballs were done, I removed them from the pot and put them aside.

Heating the skillet where the meatballs had fried, I threw in the cup of wine and stirred to loosen up any savory bits. I then dissolved 1 teaspoon cornstarch in a few tablespoons of more wine and stirred it in. I added this liquid to the pot and simmered the liquid, uncovered. When it thickened slightly, I returned the meatballs to the pot until I was ready to serve.

12. Chop the scallions and scatter them over the meatballs just before bringing them to the table.

Really good.

Another note: To accompany this, I made white rice that had 1 peeled, chopped tomato, 1 bay leaf, and 2 cloves of crushed garlic in it.

Chef Moshe Basson, a quiet-spoken middle-aged man with skinny braid falling over his shoulder, took up a bunch of silver-grey leaves leaves and put them in a food processor. I was watching, along with about thirty others, at a Biblical cooking class in Eucalyptus, Basson’s Jerusalem restaurant.

Za’atar pesto. Why not?

Dried za’atar as the main ingredient in an oily dip, yes. Crumbled and sprinkled over pizza or roast chicken  – all the time. But now I know I can make pesto from the fresh leaves with the juice still in them.

This is really a seasonal pesto, because fresh za’atar is available only for a few weeks. That’s now, towards the end of winter in the Middle East.

The next time I was in the shuk, I went from stand to stand looking for za’atar. No vendor had the familiar small round, light-green herb, but one picked a bunch of dark, spiky leaves out of a heap and  bruised a few to release the odor. It smelled strongly of za’atar.

Consulting with chef Basson by phone, I learned that it’s winter savory – in Hebrew, tsatrah. He says that it’s part of the thyme family, as is za’atar. I decided to make the pesto as I’d seen him make it. I didn’t know what else to do with the leaves except hang them up to dry.

My notes from the cooking event weren’t exact, so I improvised the recipe out of the basic procedure I’d scribbled down. It took about 5 minutes to make, including toasting almonds, washing and drying the za’atar leaves, and peeling  garlic. This pesto has the unmistakable taste of the Middle East in it.

Za’atar Pesto

Ingredients:

1 cup blanched almonds

2 cups fresh za’atar or winter savory leaves

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon sumac powder

3 garlic cloves

1 cup olive oil

1/4 cup lemon juice

Method:

1. Quickly toast the almonds in a dry frying pan. This should take only two minutes. Shake the pan a few times to distribute the almonds. Take it off the flame when they release a nutty, toasted aroma.

2. Rinse the za’atar leaves. Path them dry.

3. Into the food processor, put the almonds. Whizz them for half a minute.

4. Add the za’atar leaves. Process again for a minute.

5. Add the remaining ingredients and process till you have a rough sauce.

Recommended: spread some of this chunky, pungent pesto on slices of toasted baguette; top with feta cheese and put the slices into the oven so that the cheese melts.

Ma’amoul is the Arabic word for “filled.” To me, it evokes filling the mouth. It seems to me that people in this part of the world are especially fond of stuffed foods. Kids and grownups alike love vegetables and leaves filled with rice/meat combinations, from artichokes to zucchini - savory turnovers like sambusak with chickpeas (or meat, or potatoes) inside them, and sweets filled with dried fruit or nuts. Even dried fruit stuffed with nuts.

I wasn’t looking for them, but when I found molds for ma’moul cookies in Nazereth, I was a goner.

How could I resist using those hand-held molds to create cookies? How could they not be delicious, being perfumed with rosewater and filled with dates as they are? Or walnuts, or pistachios. In fact, the design on the mold traditionally indicates which filling the cookie has, so you can choose between them without having to take a bite first. Not that biting into a tender, crumbly ma’amoul – in the interests of science – is any great punishment.

I loved making these cookies, handling dough scented with rosewater. It was fun to fill the molds and knock them out onto my baking pan, seeing the beautiful little design imprinted on each cookie as it came out. Making them by hand is easy, though. Here, I’ll show you.

Ma’amoul, Middle-Eastern Stuffed Cookies

Yield: 24 ma’amoul

Preparation time for the dough:

10 minutes  plus 1 hour resting time

Ingredients for the dough:

½ teaspoon active dry yeast

¼ cup warm water

1 tablespoon rosewater or orange flower water

1 large egg

½ cup unsalted butter or margarine, melted and cooled

1-1/2 cups coarse semolina

2 tablespoons sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

1 cup all-purpose flour

1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar for dusting over finished cookies

Method:

1. In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water.

2 Add the rose- or orange flower water.

3. Add the egg and melted, cooled butter or margarine.

4. Add the semolina and mix.

5. Add the sugar and salt; mix.

6. Add the flour, mixing till the dough holds together in a ball.

7. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and set aside for 1 hour.

Ingredients for Date Filling:

¾ cup pitted dates

3 tablespoons sugar

1-1/2 teaspoons orange flower water plus 1-1/2 teaspoons rose water

Or 3 teaspoons either flower water

Method for Date Filling:

Place all the date filling ingredients in a food processor and process to a paste. Put the paste in a small bowl and set aside till you’re ready to stuff and bake the ma’amoul.

Ingredients for Nut Filling:

1-1/2 cups finely chopped walnuts or pistachios

2 tablespoons rose- or orange flower water

¼ cup sugar

¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

Method for Nut Filling:

Simply mix everything up well. Put the filling in a small bowl and set aside.

To Stuff and Bake the Ma’amoul:

1.  Preheat the oven to 350° F -190° C.

2. Prepare a cookie sheet by the method you prefer: line it with parchment, or grease it lightly, or lay a silicon sheet over the surface.

2. Use a tablespoon to take dough out – a level tablespoon each time. Flatten each piece onto the palm of your hand, and push it till it’s about a 3-inch circle.

3. Place 1 ½  teaspoons of the nut filling on top of the dough. Bring the edges of the dough up with your fingertips and press them together to seal the filling. Repeat with remaining dough and filling.

Or, simply hold some dough in the palm of your hand, poke a hole in the middle, and fill. Roll the ball of dough between your palms – lightly – to seal the filling.

Bake for 20-25 minutes until  pale golden. Watch them after 20 minutes and don’t allow them to brown, as they will continue to harden while cooling. Transfer to a wire rack immediately. Dust with confectioner’s sugar.

Sambusak are savory turnovers filled with chickpeas, ground meat, cheese, or potatoes . They’re good as appetizers or to pack into a lunch box, or to have on hand frozen when guests are coming and you need something to offer, in a hurry.

I like this spicy chickpea filling. But it’s easy to vary the filling with cheese and scallions, or ground beef or mashed potatoes mixed with the spiced, fried onion mixture detailed below.

You can either fry or bake sambusak. While it’s healthier to bake them, there’s something about a fried sambusak…particularly a deep-fried one…like the kind you can pick up in the shuk or at shwarma stands…that’s so good. But then, so many dangerous things are.

I fry these yeast-raised ones  in shallow oil. If you prefer to bake your sambusak, use the second dough recipe, which is unleavened.

Chickpea Sambusak

yield: about 20 pastries

Ingredients for Yeasted Dough:

1/4 oz. dry yeast, or 1 cube fresh yeast

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 teaspoons sugar

1 cup water

3 cups all-purpose flour

Method:

In a large bowl, dissolve the yeast in the water.

2. Add the salt, baking powder, and sugar. Stir.

3. Add the flour a cup at a time. Mix, then knead till the dough is firm.

4. Cover the bowl and allow the dough to rise for 2 hours.

Ingredients for Simple, Unleavened Dough

3 cups all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons salt

8 ounces unsalted margarine or butter at room temperature

1/2 cup cold water

1 egg, beaten for glazing baked sambuska

sesame seeds for baked sambuska

Method:

1. In a medium bowl, mix the flour with the salt.

2. In a large bowl, beat the margarine or butter till its creamy. Add the flour, mixing well as you go.

3. Add the water and mix well.

4. Knead the dough till a smooth ball forms. Cover the bowl and put it aside. The dough will ferment slightly while you’re busy making the filling.

Ingredients for the Chickpea Filling:

2 cans of chickpeas

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 medium onions, finely chopped

1 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 teaspoon ground cumin

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/2 teaspoon white pepper – or use 1 teaspoon of either white or black pepper

oil for shallow frying

Method:

1. Put the chickpeas in a strainer. Drain and rinse them.

2. Put them through a food processor till they’re a chunky paste, or blend them.

3. Fry the onions in the olive oil till translucent.

4. Add the dry spices to the onions; stir and cook about 3 minutes.

5. Add the spiced onions to the chickpeas and mix everything up well.

Form the pastries

1. Take pieces out of the dough till you have 20 equal-sized pieces. Pat each piece into a rough circle in the palm of your hand as you work.

2. Flour your work surface and roll each patty into a circle about 3 inches in diameter. Don’t be afraid to roll them out thin, especially with the yeasted dough.

3. Place a tablespoon of stuffing in the middle of each circle. Fold the dough over to make a triangle, hiding the stuffing.

4. Pinch the edges of the sambusak together, or crimp them with a fork, to seal them.

Fry the sambusak in shallow oil over medium heat. Turn them over when the first side is golden, and fry the other side. Drain on paper towels or crumbled newspaper and serve hot.

Or, preheat the oven to 350°F – 180°C.  Lay the sambusak in a baking pan. Glaze the upper sides with beaten egg; sprinkle sesame seeds on top. Bake for 30 minutes or until golden-brown.

Unbaked (or un-fried) sambusak can be frozen in layers, then packed into heavy ziploc bags. Put them straight into hot oil or a preheated oven when you take them out of the freezer, and proceed as above.

Every shuk has entrances and exits, some more open and inviting, some more secret. This entrance to the shuk in Nazareth has a strangely medieval air to me. Even with the electric cables, cars, and plastic objects, not to mention the evenly-cobblestoned street, I can still imagine men in long robes and women with their faces veiled strolling through.

These aluminum cooking pots and the primus cooker made me think of delicious Middle-Eastern home cooking. Women create mouth-watering savory meals out of such simple equipment here.

Chamomile in damp bunches offered by a sidewalk vendor. He was a young man who just set up a few boxes of herbs and greens on the sidewalk.

Jerusalem sage for stuffing.

And, I’m sorry to say, za’atar. I say I’m sorry because I’m fairly sure this was gathered from the wild, where it’s a protected plant.

The vendor weighed out his produce on this little scale, right there on the ground.

We descended through the shuk.

These shoes might be worn by some Oriental princess…or not.

In any case, here is a cobbler to fix your shoes when the soles wear out.

The owner of a metalworks shop contemplating a knotty problem laid out on his table.

A subtle arched corridor leads to a sunny exit. The shuk was closing for the day

A small cemetery tucked away in the middle of the shuk.

And out again, coming up to this decorated door.

Sarah and I visited a coffee shop in the shuk too – another post. Meantime, enjoy these souvenirs.

There must be 1000 ways to cook turkey. I’m sure of it because in Israel, it’s a meat that available all the time, and everybody likes it.

I like to buy breast meat because it’s economical. No bones, hardly any skin, no waste. Since it’s a dry meat with almost no fat, you have to find ways to protect it so that it doesn’t dry out in cooking. One way is to slice it thinly so it’ll cook fast. Another is to pop it into a cooking bag, or an improvised wrap made from tin foil.  And other is to dip it in eggs and crumbs, which is just another way of wrapping it. (A tasty way.)

I thawed out half a turkey breast yesterday and realized it was too much meat for just Husband, the Little One, and me. It weighed about 1 kg. – 2 lbs.  Half of it I sliced thinly for shnitzels, putting it away for today. The other half I cut up for stir-fry. It served the three of us generously, and there were still leftovers.

Stir-Fry of Turkey Breast

printable version here

Yield: 4  servings

Ingredients:

500 grams/1 lb. turkey breast meat

3 garlic cloves, chopped

1/2 tablespoon of chopped fresh ginger root or 1 teaspoon powdered dried ginger

2 green onions, chopped

1 onion

2 slender carrots, peeled

1 large celery stalk, washed

1 green bell pepper, or any color

4 large mushrooms, any kind. I was out of fresh, so I hydrated 5 dried Shiitakes.

2 tablespoons soy sauce and more if wanted

1 teaspoon sugar

2 teaspoons vinegar, any kind

Oil to thinly cover the bottom of your frying pan or wok

1 teaspoon corn starch

salt and pepper to taste

Method:

1. Thinly slice the turkey meat in long horizontal slices.

2. Cut the slices vertically to make thin strips of meat.

3. Put the meat into a bowl. Add the garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and scallions.

4. Cover the bowl and put it in the fridge for 1 hour.

Take the meat out. Give it 15 minutes to lose some of its chill before starting to chop the vegetables.

5. Slice the carrots thinly on the bias. Do the same with the celery stalks. Slice the bell pepper into strips.

6. Slice the mushrooms. Slice the onions into halves, then quarters. Slice the quarters thinly.

7. Heat the oil in the frying pan (or wok). Add the celery and turn the heat up to high. Stir and cook for 2-3 minutes.

8. Push the celery to the sides of the pan and add the onions. Stir and cook for 3 minutes.

9. Push the vegetables aside again, and add the carrots and bell pepper; cook 3 minutes.

10. Add the mushrooms. Stir and cook 2 minutes.

11. Add the soy sauce; stir.

12. Sprinkle the sugar in; stir. Well, it’s not called a stir-fry for nothing…

13. Add the turkey. Stir and fry till you’re sure the meat is cooked through: about 6 minutes, depending on how thinly it was sliced.

14. Add salt and pepper. Stir and taste for seasoning.

Add more soy sauce if desired, or adjust the sweet-sour ratio, which should be mild, not at all strong. The flavor of the meat and vegetables should dominate, not that of sugar and vinegar.

15. Dissolve the cornstarch in a little water. Stir it into the pan, allowing the juices to thicken. Let everything cook 1 or 2 minutes more, then the stir-fry is ready.

Delicioso.

In spite of all the steps, this recipe really is easy and fast to make. Suggestion: start a pot of rice before you start your chopping and stirring: it will be ready just before the stir-fry is ready to serve.

Here are more turkey recipes you’ll enjoy:

• Meat Loaf by Mimi
• Sweet and Sour Meatballs
• Turkey Cholent
• Curried Turkey Salad

That’s what it felt like when Sarah Melamed and I entered the 100-year-old Babour spice store in Nazereth – like stepping into Alladin’s Cave. And if you consider herbs, coffee beans and exotic spices jewels, then everywhere were jewels, packed into sacks. The aroma in the old store was exotic, a mix of aromatic herbs, coffee, sweet dried fruit, and a certain Oriental something that made me feel like I’d truly been transported to a strange new country. But the resident genie didn’t float in the air showering dubious blessings on our heads. He’s a down-to-earth, friendly man called Tony Kanaza and the third-generation owner of the business.

Here he stands in front of a huge cabinet whose shelves bear packaged spices and bottles of distilled oils and perfumes.

Tony let us have free run of the store, which is housed in a stone building surely dating back to the days when the Ottomans ruled the Holy Land. Traces of the noble old building’s arched windows remain for romantic people like me to ponder over.

Tony knows everything about the herbs and spices: what dishes to cook with them, and what ailments they cure. I saw a young Arab woman asking him for something to relieve heartburn: he took her to a big burlap bag containing whispy, strawlike stuff and told her to make tea of it. Another customer wasn’t sure if the deep-yellow dried safflower petals would taste good in the chicken dish she was planning. Tony considered the question with due gravity and recommended using turmeric root instead.

Another thing I noticed was the way he greeted every single customer with a genuine smile and a gentle “Ahalan wa-saalam,” and that when a customer left, he again made sure to dignify him or her with a courteous personal goodbye.

In fact everywhere in Nazareth, which is a Moslem/Christian town, I sensed a slower rhythm in the people, a willingness to take more time, to appreciate life. I also walked without fear in the shuk. Whatever people’s politics might be there, they didn’t visit their views on the shoppers, and if they harbor hostility, I didn’t feel it.

But let me show you some of the treasures we saw.

Cinnamon bark, dried safflowers, hibiscus. Behind on the right is dried lemon grass.

Coffee beans.

Indian barley and senna pods.

Fragrant dried rosebuds.

Cassia bark, a basket full of rolling pins and ma’amoul cookie molds straight from the carpenter, and dried chillies.

There were some ceramic wares. Below are incense burners. I assume they’re for church functions.

Rough-cast cups and jars with slits for coins – they’re either for charity or piggy banks. They’re very cheap, and so they have to be, because to get the money out, you have to smash the jar!

Tony told me that the pear-shaped jars with round openings are meant to be hung on tree branches so birds will nest inside. And do you see the jars with heart-shaped openings on the left, next to the basket of nutmegs? They’re also for hanging on trees, but with candles inside, to create a soft illumination that ’s easier on the spirit than electric light.

Cleaning the herbs involves a lot of work. These well-used sieves help to separate the light, dry herb matter from heavier dirt.

These red and white beans were freshly dried. A revelation in cooking: I’m so used to beans that have sat on store shelves and dried up that I was amazed at how quickly they cooked up, and at how delicious their fresh taste was.

Boxes of chewing gum.

All kinds of dried fruit:

Wonderful, isn’t it? I even love the store’s receipt:

Sarah and I spent a wonderful afternoon traipsing through this store. We also explored the steep alleys and winding stone stairways of the Nazereth shuk. But that’s a story for another day.