Boiled Cranberry Raisin Cake

 So I haven't updated in a long time. I have not attempted to write in as long but have continued to cook, explore and battle with my mood swings, myself. I shot the first season of a grilling show for a local cooking channel with my husband and it has aired. People every so often stop to ask us for quick recipes, for tips. They smile broadly and we smile back. We pose for pictures we'll never see after being asked if we're really married to ensure that they're not falling for some television stunt. It is awkward and while I am thankful I'm excited to be back in my space, where I can sit in mismatched clothes and eat food that will not be judged.

Today's recipe is a boiled cranberry and raisin cake - a coffee cake that doesn't take long to throw together and doesn't need much effort. You can freeze this, take it to a gathering or eat it all alone dripping excess caramel on your chin between bites. It's difficult to muck this one up. Next time I'm adding walnuts. 

Boiled Cranberry Raisin Cake
(Adapted from Allrecipes.com)
You'll need:
1 cup of dried cranberries
1 cup of raisins
2 cups of warm water + 1 cup of cold water
50 grams of butter
2 tablespoons of maple syrup
1/2 cup of vegetable oil
2 cups of white sugar
4 cups of all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon of ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon of nutmeg
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1 egg, beaten
1/2 teaspoon of salt

Preheat your oven to 175 degrees Celsius.
Boil raisins and cranberries in 2 cups of warm water along with the butter and maple syrup for 15 minutes then remove from the heat.
Add 1 cup of cold water and the vegetable oil to the boiled raisins.
In a large bowl, mix together the sugar, flour, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, salt and baking
soda.
Add the raisin mixture to the flour mixture then add the beaten egg. Stir until mixed.
Pour into a large rectangular baking pan and bake for around 1 hour. Serve with homemade caramel sauce.

Cakes & Careers

As featured in The Egypt Monocle

There is usually that one thing you wished you were when it comes to your career: bolder, smarter, luckier. I have none of those desires but feel that it might have been easier to climb that ladder in the male-dominated food industry if I was born a man.

“So, what’s next? Knitting?” asked a friend, a previous colleague who could not wrap his head around the idea that I had left a well-paid job in advertising, in selling fantasies to people, for a career in, according to him, frosted cupcakes. The fact that I did not have a single published cupcake recipe mattered little. If I was an Egyptian woman who chose a career in food, it must be cupcakes, cookies or both. In his mind, I had unexpectedly transformed from Destiny’s Child’s independent woman in 2000 to a 2012 cross between Betty Draper and Martha Stewart, a meek and modified version of me that wears a pink polka dot apron tied neatly around her waist.

Upon receiving news that I had started a food blog early in 2010, my mother urged me through phone calls from Cairo to Kuala Lumpur to start looking for a job in my field, advertising that is, so as “not to let it go to waste.” My friends encouraged me through a sympathetic click on Facebook’s like button to cheer on their friend who had recently become domesticated.

A little while later, my family and friends embraced this new identity of mine but only when I got a job to write a weekly column about food, to share my recipes in a reputable printed newspaper, ink stained fingers and all. After returning to Cairo, I was contacted to develop recipes for a new product line at a popular local chain. Being a lady, I was graciously allowed to work in my own home until the time came to train the staff — chefs that had been in the business for years, who had worked in the kitchens of restaurants like the ever popular La Bodega.

Entering the factory where I would be teaching, I was asked what I wanted to drink then was offered the only seat in the room. These guys had never worked with a woman in a professional kitchen and in reality, didn’t like it much now that they were. The knife was pulled out of my hand several times. I was asked how I wanted the lettuce chopped in their lingo, them wholeheartedly believing that I wouldn’t understand their fancy badly pronounced French terms. It was also decided that I would have the owner accompany me throughout the day to make sure that I, the lady, would not be bothered much.

Weeks later, I attended a private dessert tasting at a crowd-pleasing Zamalek restaurant. Getting to know the chefs afterwards, I asked what I would need to do to study at the Egyptian Chefs Association, previously having completed a few short courses with the French Culinary School in Malaysia. One of them eagerly suggested that I register for the “housewife diploma.” I didn’t know there was such a thing and quickly changed the subject trying to shake off the thought that I was still perceived as a housewife.

It seemed that I didn’t fit into many Egyptian restaurant kitchens because even if there were women in those kitchens, they were always underprivileged, seen as workhorses with no creativity. There was no space for me, except as an intern at a cupcake shop.

I could say that it is much easier today to break into the Egyptian restaurant industry as a woman, especially with the right connections, but it almost always revolves around catering, becoming a pseudo-celebrity and getting your photo taken at every gig, becoming a television persona that cooks to teach people who don’t know much about food or becoming a food writer who works to bring a unique voice to the scene. For a city packed with places to eat, a female chef isn’t a common sight in Cairo. What’s also disappointing is that when a female cook gets the recognition it is usually for being a woman, for contradicting the norm and not at all for the food she’s plating up.

By all means, be enthusiastic about finding yourself in the Egyptian culinary field as a woman but prepare for the awkward answers you’ll receive, the challenges you’ll be presented with. Understand that you might be seen as a pretentious socialite who has nothing better to do with her time or that your profession may be considered menial and that it is unnecessary for you to place your hands in the cavity of a chicken if someone can do it for you. It takes much effort and a lot of time to get anywhere in Cairo regardless of the traffic.

Walnut Caramel Cake

Adapted from Gourmet Magazine, January 2008
You’ll need
2 cups + 2 tablespoons sifted cake flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 stick unsalted butter
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 cup buttermilk

Caramel glaze
1 cup cream
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1 tablespoon light corn syrup
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Candied walnuts
¼ cup of sugar
¾ cup of walnuts
A pinch of salt

Heat oven to 175°C. Butter a medium cake pan. Line with baking paper. Sift the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Beat butter and sugar in a large bowl at medium speed until pale and fluffy, then add the vanilla. Add the eggs, beating well after each addition. Beat in buttermilk until just combined (mixture may look curdled). Add flour mixture in 3 batches until each addition is incorporated.

Spread batter in pan then rap pan on counter to eliminate air bubbles. Bake until golden and a wooden pick inserted in the center comes out clean — 40 minutes. Cool for 10 minutes, then run a knife around edge of pan. Invert on a wire rack then cool completely for one hour.

Bring cream, brown sugar, corn syrup, and a pinch of salt to a boil in a heavy saucepan over medium heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved. Boil for 7-10 minutes depending on how thick you want it then stir in vanilla. Put rack with cake in a shallow baking pan. Pour glaze over top of cake. Cool until glaze is set — 30 minutes.

In a pan toast the walnuts then set aside. Pour sugar into the pan and cook on medium heat. Stir when the sugar begins to melt and continue until it turns a medium amber. Add the walnuts to the caramel to coat each one. Once done, spread onto a baking sheet lined with baking paper and separate the walnuts using two forks. Sprinkle with salt, cool then arrange on the cake.

A blueberry cake and flashes of color

As featured in The Daily News Egypt

I grew up wearing shades of watermelon, tangerine and aqua; colors I was taught by my mother. In our home, there was never use of the unadorned word blue, only baby blue, navy blue, royal blue and petrol. This is how she saw the world and what drove us, my sister and I, to look out for new colors and to use them regularly; compelling color names like vermillion and viridian were the winners where I was concerned.

Only later did I notice that the everyday brown never made an appearance in our house. The closest we had gotten to finding something “brown” in our closets or rooms was in fact a cross between terra cotta and rust. When winter would come and the city’s people would shed their summer spirit to shroud themselves in tones of wet sand and dusty leaves, my mother would be the lady crossing the street in the scarlet coat.     

 

On a clear day in Abu Dhabi, she took me, her newly turned eleven year old, shopping. Enthusiastically, I picked up a brown button-down dress and asked her what she thought, hoping that she would agree that it was the dress for me. “I don’t like brown,” she said as she walked a few steps ahead to lift up a dusty rose blouse, delicate and demure.

Soon after my university years, I took a trip alone to Abu Dhabi to reconnect with friends and the city I had seen solely through the biased eyes of my childhood. There, I bought a fitted brown t-shirt and several other brown garments that surprised my mother upon my return and me for breaking away if only a little from my love of standard black.

In my mid-twenties, I started taking fewer photos of muted faces in black and white and more photos of food, dipped in gloss and drenched in color. It was apparent through time that brown did not hold well in still life and could rarely come alive aside from molding itself into the egotist of brown food, chocolate. For the simplest and most delicious of brown foods, sauces included, I would have to learn to make them shine; to garnish with parsley, with julienned shallots, with cheese tuiles.   

But brown dishes are not the only thing I learned to eat voraciously while shielding my mess of a plate from my scrutinizing camera lens.

I am yet to photograph a bone-in shank that looks appetizing and a while back, I struggled with coconut milk mussels before getting a shot that would flatter them with their quivering soft insides, a tell-tale sign that we may not all be beautiful on the inside.

Some foods shine on their own and excel under a macro lens while others struggle, pleading with you to place them on a layered table setting with a few star props in natural light. When photographing your food for others, it is imperative to do some organization for it is never a picture-perfect snapshot moment, even when it’s the most vibrant of red velvet cakes.

Find your grandmother’s detailed silver spoons and old cookbooks to place in the background, even tattered pages and parchment paper work to give your photo some depth. Consider your surroundings and learn to work with them. You will find that you need not an awe-inspiring place to work in; just some stable sunlight, a reliable camera, a simple dish and your imagination.

Chosen as Gourmet Live's Image of the Week May 9, 2012

Double Blueberry Cake
You’ll need:
1 cup of self-raising flour
100 grams of butter
2 eggs + 1 egg yolk
1/2 cup of sugar (You can reduce this to 1/4 cup)
1/2 cup of fresh blueberries
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

For the blueberry sauce:
2 cups of frozen blueberries
½ cup of water
½ cup of sugar
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
The zest of one large lemon
2 tablespoons of cornstarch + 2 tablespoons of water
½ teaspoon of vanilla extract

Begin by creaming the butter and the sugar in a stand mixer until completely blended and fluffy. Add the eggs and egg yolk and mix again for 30 seconds. Add the flour gradually, allowing every ¼ cup to incorporate into the batter before adding the next ¼ cup. Scrape the sides of your bowl every now and then to make sure everything goes in. Pour in the vanilla essence. In a separate bowl, toss the blueberries in some extra flour until coated then add to the batter. This will allow the blueberries to hold their place avoiding having them pool at the bottom of your cake tin. Add to a small greased loaf tin. This is not a big cake and is meant to finish quickly in both prep work and eating time. Pop your cake into the oven at 170 degrees Celsius. There is no need to preheat. Allow the cake to bake for approximately 45-50 minutes (until a knife comes out clean). When done, remove from the oven and allow to cool for 10 minutes before extracting from the tin.

Blueberry sauce: In a medium-sized saucepan, combine the blueberries, water, sugar and lemon juice on medium heat. Stir often until it comes to a low boil. In a separate bowl, stir the cornstarch into 2 tablespoons of cold water until dissolved. Gradually stir the cornstarch into the blueberry mixture. Simmer on medium-low heat and stir every so often until the sauce has reduced and is thick enough to coat the back of a metal spoon. This should take around 7 minutes. Take the sauce off the heat when read and stir in the freshly grated lemon zest and vanilla extract. If you’re using vanillin, stir it in when adding the cornstarch. Feel free to add more sugar; some blueberries are not as sweet as others. To thin out your sauce, add in a few drops of hot water at a time and stir until you reach your desired consistency.

Coconut milk mussels & unlikely flavors

My latest for The Daily News Egypt
There's an odd story recanted to me that goes like this: A four year old girl, upon returning to Cairo and being invited along with her parents to her relative's house for dinner, glared intensely at the thing presented at the table then slowly moved her head sideways to blankly stare at her mother. “Mommy, it's fish with eyes.”

I had never seen fish with eyes at a dinner table before, only boneless fish fillets and fish fingers coated in breadcrumbs before delicately frying up to crispy tenderness. Fish with eyes belonged in gleaming fish tanks, also in the big blue sea. They ate the bread you would throw at them, similar to the ducks at the Giza Zoo that I too used to love feeding; and if you were feeding something, it would be unthinkable to fish it out and consume the thing, eyes and all. I bet I was thinking, “Why are people eating fish with eyes and not the fish fingers that are so much more humane?”
That sensitive being that was me was repulsed by the fresh oysters her parents loved and didn't like much other than pizza. Of course, I still have a penchant for pizza but have thankfully moved beyond thinking that shells belong solely on a beach to be collected by little girls in frilly swimsuits.

Getting a little older, I would sit at the table with my feet dangling off the chair and eat bone marrow from the mutton curry I'd share with my father. Since the dish didn't have eyes or a face, it didn't strike me as strange or disgusting. It was just a bone; nothing there to give it personality.

Today, vegans would hate me. I prefer to cook my fish with eyes and happily whistle as I look down at the dead body staring up at me. Without a second thought, I stick my fingers under a chicken's skin to butter it up before it's placed in the rotisserie. I try to coax as much flavor as possible out of all that I've bought. I make shrimp stock out of the heads and peeled shells and leave the tails on for presentation. My childhood empathy is lost when I try to maximize flavors. Am I so wrong?

If I'm not going to become a vegetarian or even a vegan overnight purely because of my selfish love for meat, then I would think it the honorable thing to do — to cook not only quality cuts but also those neglected cuts of meat and join the nose to tail eating movement. Fergus Henderson, an English chef and father of nose to tail eating, explained his philosophy in an interview with the Daily Telegraph newspaper some years ago: “It seems common sense and even polite to the animal to use all of it. Rather than being testosterone-fuelled blood-lust, it actually seems to be a gentle approach to meat eating.”
It seems today that inviting people for dinner comes along with beautiful beef fillets from a moist tenderloin but lacking at the table are slow-cooked briskets and seared livers, chicken and beef, spiced up and served right off the stove. Elegant guests shudder at putting their lips to a bone and most unstylishly drawing in the insides as they would the contents of their sparkling drinks.

If you too aren't planning on becoming a vegetarian anytime soon, open your mind up to the countless cuts presented to you on a daily basis and create something new. Introduce your young children or narrow-minded friends to seafood besides fish and teach them to appreciate fish still attached to the bone. You'll end up with copious ideas for meals and will probably, at times, spend a little less on the cuts of meat that most people aren't buying.

This recipe bathes the mussels in coconut milk and doesn't need much more than good bread and a cool night that holds the promise of winter.

Coconut Milk Mussels
You'll need
4 tablespoons of vegetable oil
1 medium onion, finely diced
1 tablespoon ginger, minced
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
2 bird's eye chilis, sliced
1/2 teaspoon chili powder
2 cups coconut milk
1 cup of water
salt and pepper to taste
1 kg of mussels, scrubbed and debearded
1 tablespoon of lemon juice
Handful fresh coriander, chopped

Pour the oil into a large pot over medium high heat. Add the onions to the pot and cook, stirring often, until lightly browned. Add the minced ginger and sliced chili and cook for a minute, stirring constantly. Add the coriander, turmeric and chili powder and cook for another minute, again stirring often.

Pour in the coconut milk with one cup of water. Bring to a boil and then add the mussels. Add some salt and pepper and stir until the mussels are well coated. Cover the pot, reduce the heat and cook for about 7 minutes. Turn off your heat. Add the lemon juice and coriander and spoon into bowls. Serve.

Taste Junction & a Koshari-inspired Spaghetti

I was recently asked to guest post for Anamika of TasteJunction, which got me a little more excited than I should be seeing as it was the first time for me to guest post. Thank you, Anamika, for giving me this opportunity and for sharing your fabulous blog with me. For the recipe of the koshari-inspired spaghetti along with what it means for an Egyptian to go without koshary, please visit her blog here.

Revolution Koshari

What's been happening on the streets of Egypt has had me glued to the news for almost a month and a half now. My column in the newspaper has been resumed and I'm finally back to the kitchen after detaching myself from the television and taking part in a workshop held by a French chef here in Malaysia. I'll probably blog about that soon. Until then, here's the link to the latest column with a recipe. It's based on a traditional Egyptian dish comprising of rice, vermicelli, pasta, lentils, chickpeas and fried onions topped with a tomato-garlic-vinegar sauce. 

Koshari-inspired Spaghetti
By eliminating the rice in koshary, you ultimately end up with an interesting pasta dish


You'll need:
500 gm of spaghetti, cooked al dente
2 small onions, chopped
2 tablespoons of ghee
400 grams of chickpeas, cooked
150 grams of brown lentils, cooked


For the sauce:
1/3 cup of olive oil
5 heaped tablespoons of tomato paste
2 leveled tablespoons of all-purpose flour
5-7 cloves of garlic, sliced, depending on the strength
1.5 teaspoons of chili powder
3 tablespoons of vinegar
1 tablespoon of brown sugar
5-6 cups of water, depending on your preferred sauce thickness
Salt and pepper, to taste


Begin with the sauce. Heat your oil in a pot on medium heat. Add the flour and tomato paste. Constantly whisk until all is combined into a smooth paste. Cook on low heat for a minute until it begins to sweat. Add the sliced garlic, chili and vinegar and incorporate into the roux. Add the water, stir then boil once and reduce heat to a low simmer. Simmer until it has thickened and the sauce coats the back of a spoon. Mix the cooked pasta with the chickpeas and lentils and set aside. Fry the chopped onions in the ghee until they reach a deep brown color. Serve the sauce over the pasta and garnish with fried onions.

Tomato Aubergine Pasta: The Encapsulation of Flavor

Dear Senses of Smell and Taste,

This is your master, Captain Sensational, speaking.  

You are being reprimanded on the Internet because people need to know that your friends in other bodies can also turn on their masters. I know I take you all for granted sometimes. I appreciate whatever it is that I'm tasting, touching, smelling, hearing or seeing but I never actually bother giving notice to those things that allow me to taste, touch, smell, hear or see. You, Senses, are never to be taken for granted again. But you. YOU got your revenge. You left me when I had a bad cold. When I needed you the most. When I needed food to taste good to get my strength back. I needed you really badly but you decided to throw a hissy fit and escaped with Sneeze. Shame on you. Really. I didn't know I could lose my sense of smell or taste completely for over a week. But then again, I realized a few things when you left on your booger-infested vacation. I realized that the way cappuccino feels in my mouth is the same way the sea feels, with the bubbles and the heaviness. I realized that spicy food made me feel better because I could at least feel the tingling, if not the taste. I realize now that I'm too tired to think of more realizations. So, please behave from now on, Senses. And I'm sorry again for taking you for granted. 
Love and Resentment,
Captain Sensational 


Today, we need something with flavor. Strong flavor. Bursting flavor. Intense flavor. Unmistakable flavor. Developed flavor. Yummy flavor. Commanding flavor. Flavor that doesn't allow people to say, "Ewwww. Egggplaaant." Play the adjectives game with me?

Aubergine Tomato Pasta

Serves: 6 sides (I bothered to see how many servings it covers today! Hooray!)
You'll need:
500 grams of pasta
1 large aubergine, cubed
2 tablespoons of olive oil (You could also use any kind of vegetable oil. I used a garlic chili  olive oil this time but usually use EVOO.)
2 cans of diced tomatoes (You could also use whole. I want mine cubey.)
1 tablespoon of tomato paste
3 tablespoons of hot water
1 medium onion, diced
1 tablespoon of white vinegar
4 to 5 cloves of garlic, chopped
1/2-1 tablespoon of sugar (depending on how acidic your sauce turns out to be.)
1 teaspoon of chili flakes
2 tablespoons of grated Parmesan
Salt and pepper to taste


You can make this in a pan or a pot. Your choice. Heat your olive oil over medium heat. Add your diced onions and let them sweat for a couple of minutes. Don't let it burn. 

Now, add HALF of your aubergine (or if you'd like to call it eggplant, go ahead; but my momma taught me fancy words). Let it sauté for 8-10 minutes until it gets a little tender. Fry the other half of the aubergine separately until it browns up. Take it out of the oil, drain the excess oil and leave it on the side to cool. 

Add the diced tomatoes and let it simmer for 2 minutes. Dump in the vinegar, chopped garlic, tomato paste and hot water. Mix it all in and sprinkle the sugar all over the top and let it seep in. Add the chili flakes, the fried aubergine, grated Parmesan then add your salt and pepper to taste. I won't tell you how much to add. My salt intake is not to be taken lightly. Sigh. Leave it to simmer for 10 to 20 minutes. The time yours takes depends on whether your aubergine is tender enough and if your sauce has thickened. If your sauce becomes too thick, thin it out with hot water or, even better, hot pasta water. You should boil your pasta in salted water once you've left the sauce to simmer.  

Notes:
Garnish with Parmesan or fresh parsley. The parsley just works. I didn't have any on hand though so Parmesan it is. 
You don't have to fry half of the aubergine. It works wonderfully both ways. I just prefer the mix of both for extra FLAVOR (word of the day).    

This heats up really well too. Saucy times! :D

  

Cubist Brisket. Fear me, Pablo!

Hello. I've got two little monkeys in the house that I'm constantly feeding but for some reason, I'm not posting at all. The "for some reason" is really because I was lazy and cooking unblogworthy things. I really need to snap out of this blogfunk. This time around, I'm posting something that my sister thinks can never look good in photos: Beef! Or as she calls it "food food", because to my sister "food food" is anything that isn't sugary. So here I am trying to make her believe that "food food" might not look all that bad in photos. Okay, maybe a little. For those of you who are curious, blogworthy things are beautiful things that come out of our kitchen that are so fun in your mouth that you want to create a mini-you who isn't grossed out by chewed food to go in there and party. So today, I took out the mediocre meat hanging out in our freezer, the carrots everyone is too bored to eat and the mushrooms we'll forget about and made something wonderful out of them.  

On another note, we went to the amusement park today and I didn't find any fried ice cream. My heart died a little. Anyone crazy enough to have a good recipe? 

Cubist Brisket
You'll need:

1 kg of beef, cubed. [You could go ahead with a not so fancy kind. It won't make that much of a difference to have a good cut over a tougher cut.]

2 tablespoons of all-purpose flour

2 onions, finely minced

1 cup of hot water + 1/2 cup just in case

1 tablespoon of sugar

1.5 teaspoons of salt (Use less if you want. Or a lot more like me. Ha!)

1.5 teaspoons of garlic powder + 1 pinch
1/2 teaspoon of onion powder

1/2 teaspoon of black pepper

1/2 teaspoon of white pepper

1 bay leaf

1/2 teaspoon of paprika

1 tablespoon of olive oil
1/4 teaspoon of cayenne pepper

1/4 teaspoon oregano
1/4 teaspoon dried thyme

2.5 heaped tablespoons of tomato paste, dissolved in 1 cup of hot water

1 cube of beef bouillon, dissolved in 1 cup of hot water

200 grams of white button mushrooms

3 medium sized carrots, roughly diced

Start by combining all your spices in a small bowl to create a seasoning mix. Begin searing your meat. Wait until the pan really, really, really hot then add your tablespoon of olive oil and sear the meat on all sides until nice and brown. Don't be lazy with the searing, it really adds to the color of your sauce as well. Remove from the heat and get a stock pot or dutch oven ready. Place the meat in the stock pot along with the flour. On low heat, toss the beef cubes in the flour for a minute. Add the carrots and minced onions and toss for another two-three minutes until it basically starts to look a little unpleasant. Haha. Add your total 3 cups of water including the bouillon and tomato paste. Add all your spices. Begin preheating your oven to 180 degrees Celsius after 20 minutes. Stir for a few seconds until it's all mixed together. Leave on high heat until the broth boils then turn down your heat to the lowest possible and leave to simmer gently for 40 minutes.

While it simmers, quarter your mushrooms and sautee them in a pan with a drop of oil and a pinch of garlic powder. Here's a photo of the mushrooms in black and white to prettify the photo because prettifying is fun. 

 

Take your dutch oven and place it in the oven or transfer the contents from your stock pot to an ovenproof casserole dish with a lid. If you want a thinner sauce, add the extra half cup of water. 

Leave to simmer in your covered dish for half an hour then add the mushrooms and leave to simmer again for another hour. Serve with something that sops up the sauce. Our pick was mashed potatoes and Lord of the Rings. This is a really good dish to make a day early. It heats really well in the oven and it only makes the sauce richer. Until next time, ole! 

Happy Time Pizza Dough

Dear Pizza,

You make me pudgy. You make me doughy. You make me all sorts of things I don't want to be. You make me happy. You make me silly. You make me really, really me. (Loser-rhyme inspired by my friend, Ms. Amirapeanutkarsamishmishcakes. Send her kittehs.) 

Love you lots,
Pizzaslave

I wish I could put this in a simpler way: I love pizza. Not the kind of love that you have for pizza. No, it's an even bigger love. A better love. A monogamous brain-heart love. I order pizza if it's available in the middle of proper "Grown Up Dinners" [because I'm not really a grown up at heart] to everyone's amazement and inner disgust. I order pizza every time at this great Italian restaurant that boasts many other spectacularly creative works of food art. I even ordered pizza once at a German restaurant. It's their fault anyway. They shouldn't have put it there on their menu if they wanted me to order something more German. 


Am I ashamed? No. What I am ashamed of though is that I have yet to find the perfect pizza dough recipe. Perfect-restaurant-material pizza dough. A few months ago, I came close to finding it but... Alas! Woe is me! I lost the recipe! So we're back to square one. Today, I decided to try out a recipe from KitchenSimplicity and was thoroughly impressed with how easy this dough was to manipulate. You were right, Cheri. Pliable? Check. Freezes like a dream? Check. Easy peasy? Check. Husband in love with pizza more than me at that given moment? Check. Ended my search? Not quite yet, but I'll be using this a lot and it's definitely freezer storage material. It's still not the answer to my dreams but it'll work GREAT for evil pizza cravings. It's so light and airy and will work GREAT with kids. I love, love, love, love how thin you can spread it out without it tearing. Did I say love?

Thin Crust Pizza Dough from KitchenSimplicity's Cheri with minor edits

One cup of warm water

1.5 teaspoons of yeast

1 tablespoon of sugar

2.5 teaspsoons of olive oil

1.5 teaspoons of salt

1/4 cup of apple cider vinegar

4 cups of flour

Don't fear the vinegar or the vinegary smell! It goes away and makes it great. Stir together your water and sugar and sprinkle the yeast over the top. Leave it for 10 minutes until it's all bubbly. Add the oil, salt, vinegar and 2 cups of flour until well incorporated. Add additional flour and knead until pliable, stretchy and barely sticky. It shouldn't make you go "Ew!" when you touch it. Move your dough to a greased bowl and cover. Let your dough rise for an hour or until it has doubled in size. Once it has doubled, punch it down and divide it into the portions you need. I personally made a few smaller pizzas with this as opposed to 2 super large ones. 

Roll and stretch each piece of dough until it reaches your desired thickness and size. I personally have a pizza stone (which is a great invention but not neccessary). You can easily use a regular ungreased baking sheet. 

Coat your dough with pizza sauce and toppings of your choice. Bake at 250 degrees Celsius for 10-12 minutes or until browned and bubbly. It all depends on your oven. 

You can also use the amount of dough you need and freeze the rest of the dough. Grease the inside of a freezer bag, put the rest of your dough in and make sure it's sealed. Next time you come to use it, take it out in the morning or allow it to thaw at room temperature before attempting to roll it out.

For a super simple pizza sauce, combine one can of whole peeled tomatoes with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, half a teaspoon of oregano, half a teaspoon of dry basil, 1 teaspoon of salt and a pinch of sugar if you don't like the tomatoes' acidity. I always add fresh ground black pepper so if you'd like, do that too! You could puree it for a smoother sauce but I prefer a chunkier sauce. Leave it to simmer for 15-20 minutes. Annnnd you've got simple pizza sauce. I have a thing for tomato sauces so I'll be uploading quite a few as time goes by. If you try this out, share your photos. 

The Easy Way Out

Around a year ago, I visited a Croatian restaurant with some friends (one of which was Croatian). It felt nice to go with someone who had knowledge of the food and after faring well with some interesting (for lack of a better word) Chinese dishes, I was ready once again to try something new. Soon enough, I realized that Croatian food was a toned down version of Middle Eastern food and I suddenly felt a little more comfortable in my seat. But seriously, let's get to the point. What really stood out was called Strukli, a cottage cheese like dumpling thing coated with bread crumbs and pan fried to golden ooziness. So on a gloomy day like today, I decided that I was far too lazy to make the cheese from scratch (after Googling the Strukli recipe) and chose to make mozzarella sticks instead. And no, I'm not lazy enough to get them store-bought! Ha! But I know you're too lazy to get up and make this so don't judge me for picking the easy way out.    

Mozzarella Sticks

You'll need:

1 pack low moisture mozzarella

1 egg, beaten

1 cup and a half of bread crumbs

1/2 a teaspoon of dried oregano

1/2 a teaspoon of dried parsley

1/2 teaspoon of dried basil

1/2 teaspoon garlic powder

Salt and pepper to taste

Oil for frying

** You can add or remove any of the herbs. You could also mix half a cup of Parmesan with 1 cup of bread crumbs instead of a full cup and a half of bread crumbs.

Cut your mozzarella block into "sticks". Dip each stick into the bread crumbs until fully coated and then dip it into the beaten egg and then into the bread crumbs again. Place your doubled breaded mozzarella sticks on a plate and cover in cling film. Freeze for an hour or two or until they get firm and the bread crumb doesn't... crumble. Heat your oil and fry for up to a minute, turning once. Drain your sticks on a paper towel lined plate. Serve.

Marinara Dipping Sauce:

1 can of whole peeled tomatoes

1/2 onion, minced

1 clove of garlic, minced

1 tablespoon of mixed herbs (Your pick. I picked dried basil, oregano and thyme.)

1 tablespoon of fresh parsley, minced

2 tablespoons of olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Heat the olive oil and saute your onion until translucent.  Add your garlic, tomatoes and everything else and cook for 25-35 minutes on low heat.