Tamás Bereznay’s Greek Lemon Cake

Görög Citromos Süti

{Greek Lemon Cake}

I have a pretty big collection of old Hungarian and Transylvanian cookbooks—both in English and Hungarian—which I love for the insight into the periods when they were written and the many recipes which are hardly prepared anymore. Most of the books, I have to say, are just decorations on my bookshelf since I have not had the patience to actually cook from them. I’ll compare several recipes from different cookbooks, but the recipes are brief to the point of being unusable. There are no cooking times or temperatures, and practically no description. The recipes are basically lists of ingredients, written for housewives who learned to cook from their mothers and grandmothers, lived at their stoves, and knew from the sight, smell, and feel when something was done. Even though I am a pretty good cook with a culinary school degree, I like my recipes to hold my hand more, especially when I’m preparing something I’ve never tasted or seen before.

Recently I got two contemporary Hungarian cookbooks (which were lacking in my collection) which I couldn’t wait to get home and start cooking from. Author Tamás Bereznay is the chef at Budapest’s Karpatia Étterem as well as the chef for the Hungarian President. The books—Mai Magyar Konyha (Today’s Hungarian Kitchen) and Süteményeskönyv (Book of Desserts)—are both beautifully photographed and present Hungarian cuisine in a contemporary and casual way, the way that I like to cook my Hungarian dishes at home. But Bereznay doesn’t do anything crazy with the food to make it “modern”—you won’t find anything like deconstructed pörkölt or radical Dobos torta. He presents his recipes the way Hungarians eat and cook now, making sure that he don’t forget the many strong traditions of the past. He counts his grandmother as his greatest culinary influence.

A few months ago I sat down with Bereznay to talk about modern Hungarian cuisine (more on that topic later), which may restaurants nowadays in Budapest tout on their menus. “I hope that in a few years we will have more modern Hungarian cuisine to talk about,” he said. “We’ve made a few starts.” There are some dishes, he noted, that just shouldn’t be messed with, such as töltött kaposzta (stuffed cabbage) and gulyás (goulash). “These dishes have proven to the world that Hungarian gastronomy is good in itself.”

I’ve cooked several recipes from the books so far. Since I have such a sweet tooth, I’ll start with an adaptation of Bereznay’s Görög Citromos Süti (Greek Lemon Cake) from Süteményeskönyv. I used significantly less sugar (both for the cake and the syrup) than the recipe called for, and it turned out sweet enough for everyone. This moist lemony cake is perfect for summertime. It is even better the day after it’s prepared, once the syrup has fully been absorbed.

Görög Citromos Süti
{Greek Lemon Cake}

This recipe is adapted from Tamás Bereznay’s Süteményeskönyv (Boook Kiadó)

For the Cake:
1 lemon, with the rind grated (reserve the juice for the syrup)
3 eggs
300 ml (10 ounces) plain yogurt
200 grams (slightly less than 1 cup) sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
120 grams (1 cup) semolina
200 grams (1 1/2 cups) flour
Pinch of salt

For the Syrup:
100 ml (1/2 cup) water
100 grams (1/2 cup) sugar
3 lemons, with the rinds grated

For the Cake:
Preheat the oven to 160°C (320°F). In a small bowl, combine the eggs, yogurt, and grated lemon rind. In a large mixing bowl, combine the baking powder, flour, semolina, sugar, and the salt. Stir the yogurt mixture into the flour mixture until just combined. Pour into a greased loaf pan and bake for about 50 minutes, until golden brown.

For the Syrup:
Add the water, grated lemon rinds, lemon juice, and sugar to a small saucepan. Cook on a low flame, stirring occasionally, for about ten minutes.

To assemble the Cake:
Prick the cake all over with a fork. Pour the warmed syrup evenly all over the cake. Let the cake fully absorb all of the syrup before serving.

–Carolyn

Share

Where Everything is Made From Scratch

It has been such an adventure exploring the food of Hungary over the past ten years. Still, after all of the restaurants and homes I’ve eaten in, some of my most memorable meals have been at the table at Gábor’s mother’s house. Undoubtedly, Kati néni has been the biggest influence to me in my quest to learn (and taste) all there is in Hungary. She is a perfectionist in the kitchen, and it was at her house that I learned how every Hungarian dish is truly supposed to taste when done right. I picked up lots from her by osmosis, just by hanging out in the kitchen, asking questions, and tasting. The best part: she takes special requests—something that four-year-old Anna is also learning—and asks us what we are in the mood for a few days before we go for a visit. And she always sends us home with a bag or two of home-cooked goodness. Read what I wrote about her cooking this week for Culinate. Also included with the article are my recipes for csirke paprikás and its traditional accompaniments, galuska and cucumber salad.

–Carolyn

Share

Wild Duck Móra Módra

A few weeks ago while everyone else was eating turkey we ate wild duck. And as you can see in the photo on the left it was truly a wild duck, which someone had actually hunted and shot. The poor thing was even missing a leg. The duck weighed in at just under a kilo and we bought it on the lower level of the Central Market for astonishingly cheap (around 1,400 HUF). We didn’t plan on buying wild duck that day, and although we’ve cooked plenty of duck, neither of us had ever cooked wild duck before so we didn’t know where to start. After unwrapping the duck and seeing the pellet hole, I wasn’t feeling very prepared for cooking this duck, especially after reading this in one Internet recipe

Most wild ducks are apt to have the flavor of fish and when on hands of unexperienced cooks are sometimes unpalatable on this account. Before roasting them, parboil them with a small peeled carrot put within each duck. This absorbs the unpleasant taste.

I didn’t like the idea of parboiling it, but I also didn’t want a duck that tasted like fish. But as usual, Hungarian cooks aren’t as fussy when it comes to recipes, so I checked one of my Hungarian cookbooks, Szakácskönyve (Cookbook) by Móra Ferencné and found a perfectly easy recipe. Unlike regular ducks which drip with fat when you roast them, wild ducks are lean and easily dry out, so don’t be stingy with the bacon fat.

Published in 1949, the Szakácskönyve is a great basic Hungarian cookbook (if you can understand enough Hungarian to use it). It has recipes for any Hungarian dish or preparation that you’d possibly need. It also includes entertaining illustrations on how to set the tables for the different meals which comes in handy of you want to make sure you’re putting the sugar bowl and the butter container on exactly the right part of the breakfast table. Life in Móra’s house must have been nice, with a lunch table that included six separate glasses.

But like most books from that time it doesn’t include cooking temperatures or times, so you’ve got to have some idea what you’re doing. The recipes are always short, but often too short. Back then, it seems, readers did not have to have cooking techniques explained to them. Everyone knew how to make a roux and a butter cream without step-by-step instructions. Móra Ferencné (or Mrs. Frank Móra) was the wife of a famous Hungarian writer, known for his children’s books. Móra néni was such a perfectionist, according to her granddaughter who happens to live in the village where my husband grew up, that she’d throw any dish that didn’t turn out well onto the kitchen floor. Marta néni, the grand daughter, sweetly wanted to sign our copy of the book after finding out that we use it.

Our duck turned out great–we didn’t have to throw it on the floor–and it tasted nothing like fish. If you try this recipe yourself, remember to watch out for the pellet while you’re eating, especially if you’re feeding it to small children.

Roasted Wild Duck (adapted from Móra Ferencné)

Wash the duck and sprinkle it with salt. Place in a roasting pan and cover with thin slices of szalonna (fatty bacon). Sprinkle thyme and pepper in the cavity of the duck and stuff with an onion half and an apple half. Slice the other half of the onion and add with a half cup of water to the pan. Roast at 350 F (180 C) for about an hour and fifteen minutes (depending on the size of your duck), adding more water as needed.

I also made an orange sauce in the pan after the duck was finished cooking by deglazing the pan with the juice of one orange and then adding another chopped orange to the mix.

–Carolyn

Share

Verjus from Weninger

I’m always on the lookout for new local products and Bortársasag* is often a good source for interesting products made by local wine makers (I’ve also been meaning to try their wine-stuffed chocolates for awhile). Recently they released verjus—which is the pressed, unfermented juice of unripe grapes—made by Austrian winemaker Franz Weninger. It’s a condiment that was commonly used in the 16th century, fell out of style, and then began reappearing in dishes in American high-end restaurants in recent years. Now, Weninger (who has wineries in Sopron and Villány as well as Austria) has begun producing it in Hungary for the first time this year.

This picture doesn’t do justice to the pretty bright yellow color of the stuff (it’s hard to take decent photos when it gets dark at 4pm), which can be used as a meat tenderizer, in vinaigrettes, in sauces, or as a marinade. It’s sour and acidic, and can often be used for cooking in place of lemon juice. I had good intentions of researching some old recipes to find unique ways of using this little bottle of verjus, but it just ended up sitting around in my kitchen for weeks until I finally just dumped a few big splashes on two whole trouts which were sauteing in my cast iron skillet at the last minute, just before they were ready. It turned out to be some of the best trout that I’ve had in awhile, and I’ve chugged verjus on fish several times since then with equally difficult results. Maybe someday I’ll get around to figuring out something more creative to do with it, although at just 200 ml, this tiny bottle is going fast. It’s surprising that more wine makers don’t release simple products like this. How hard would it be for someone to make some good wine vinegar in Hungary?

* Bortársasag is one of Hungary’s top wine shops with locations around the country. The verjus is 990 HUF a bottle.

–Carolyn

Share

Pumpkin Seed Oil and Bread

This was a hot summer in Budapest and when we didn’t feel like cooking, our standard meal was a big tomato salad drenched in this deliciously nutty tasting pumpkin seed oil. The oil has a strong, distinctive taste which is probably acquired. I actually didn’t like it the first time I tried it several years ago, and since then I’ve tried a few other types of lower quality stuff that tasted nothing like this concentrated, dark green oil that we bought from a husband-wife team that makes the stuff near Lake Balaton*. They also produce walnut oil, honey and a few other artisanal products which they can be found hawking at various festivals in Hungary. Although a little of this pumpkin seed oil goes a long way, we managed to somehow finish an entire bottle of it (fortunately it’s supposed to be pretty healthy due to its high amount of polyunsaturated fatty acids).

When the oil was gone, I was left with two bags of pumpkin seed flour that I had bought at the same time and decided to turn into bread because I couldn’t think of anything else to do with it. When I was in culinary school, my “baking 101″ class was one of my favorites. I became pretty good at turning flour and yeast into beautifully shaped, perfectly risen loaves (I even briefly thought that a baking career might be nice, until I remembered that I am definitely not a morning person). But, in the kitchen classrooms we had big mixers, proofing boxes, and convection ovens with steam. Since then, I’ve rarely been inspired to attempt to bake bread at home, where I don’t even have enough mixing bowls, let alone a proofing box to ensure that my bread rises properly.

But then I discovered this recipe for no-knead bread in the New York Times last November (which was written by Mark Bittman, and adapted from Jim Lahey at the Sullivan Street Bakery). The recipe sounded astoundingly easily, reliable, and good. It turned out to be possibly the easiest thing in the world to bake, and one of the most satisfying. Since then, probably ever food blogger has written about it. I adapted this recipe for no-knead bread in order to find a use for some of my pumpkin seed flour, and it turned out wonderfully. Rather than using the three cups of bread flour that Lahey used, I used one cup of pumpkin seed flour and two cups of bread flour (just like the oil, just a little of the stuff gives off an intense pumpkin seed flavor). If this is your first time baking this bread, don’t be alarmed at the appearance of the dough…just keep waiting (and follow all of Lahey’s instructions). The results are worth 18 hours that the bread takes to rise. Since the pumpkin seed bread has such a nutty flavor, it’s not the kind of bread to eat with jam. Instead, eat it with something that will stand up to it, like some good cheese.

* If you’re in Hungary, you can get the pumpkin seed oil and flour from:

Zsolt Nemeth
8924 Alsónemesapáti
Petőfi Sándor utca 53
Tel: (+36) 30-247-5660
www.nemethmeheszet.hu
–Carolyn
Share