Tag Archives: Recipes

Kovászos Uborka {Recipe}

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{Fermented Cucumbers}

In Hungary, this hot stretch of summer in which the city empties and not much happens is known as cucumber season. The markets, of course, are also full of small, bumpy gherkins. With the gherkins, bunches of half-dried dill are sold, much stronger than the standard variety, with thick stalks and flowers. Many of cucumbers will get stuffed into three-liter jars with the dill (and sometimes garlic), covered with salty water, and topped with a piece of stale bread. The jars will be set in the sun on window sills or terraces in the city, or in the grass of a countryside garden. The yeast in the bread helps preserve the cucumbers through the process of lactic acid fermentation (the same process used for creating kimchi and sauerkraut).

It takes about three days, and the pickles should still be slightly crunchy with a pleasant sour taste. They are often served with meat dishes, or just eaten on their own. I love them sliced and eaten with bread and good házi butter. Some people like to drink the juice, and in the old days, it was added to wine to make a sort of spritzer. As you can see in the photo, I made just a half batch as they don’t keep as long as regular pickles.

See also my recipe for cucumber salad.

Kovászos Uborka
{Fermented Cucumbers}

Gherkins, cleaned, enough to fill whatever size jar you are using
Dill, a few stalks, preferably the strong kind
Salt
Pinch of sugar
Garlic, optional
1 slice of bread (stale is fine)

In a clean jar, arrange the gherkins upright, fairly tightly-packed, in the jar. Add the dill stalks and garlic, if using. Meanwhile, add the salt and sugar to a pot of lukewarm water, using two tablespoons of salt for every one liter (approximately one quart) of water. Pour the water over the cucumbers, ensuring that all of them are covered. Place the bread on top, and cover with a plate or a loosely-secured lid (some air should be allowed in). Place the jar in a warm spot, but not under strong direct sun. After the second day test to see how the pickles are doing. They should be ready after three or four days when you should transfer them to smaller jars and store in the refrigerator.

Tips: Be sure the cucumbers are fresh (one bitter one could ruin the batch). If the cucumbers are thick, slit them length-wise a few times so the liquid can make better contact with the interior. I was also advised to bring the jar inside during the night in case it gets chilly out, which could slow the fermentation process.

–Carolyn

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Meggyes Lepény {Recipe}

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{Sour Cherry Cake}

On my first visit to Hungary, shortly after Gábor and I met, we spent nearly two months eating, drinking, and traveling around the country. I loved being immersed in this new country, and taking in all of the new flavors and sights. I especially loved the cherries. On a short trip to Balaton we stayed at a panzió with a cherry tree in the yard, and we must have spent hours under (and in) that tree eating the cherries as fast as we could pick them. We somehow even managed to gather enough to fill a bag to eat on the train ride home. Ever since, when I think of summer in Hungary, I think cherries. And when I think cherries, I crave this cherry cake that Gábor’s mother bakes throughout the summer (and with home-canned cherries during the rest of the year).

These days, the offerings at the market change so quickly. From one day to the next, it seems, the flats full of strawberries disappeared, and gave way to cherries—sweet cherries (cseresznye), sour cherries (meggy), and black cherries (fekete cseresznye), from all over the country. I haven’t yet seen any white cherries—which little old ladies often sell bags of on the street. I’ve been buying a kilo of cherries nearly every day since they’ve arrived. Finally, yesterday, I was able to pit them faster than the kids could eat them so I could make this cake. The recipe is courtesy of my anyós, Kati néni. For another version of sour cherry cake, see Sarah’s recipe (which she also learned from her Hungarian mother-in-law).

Meggyes Leppény
{Sour Cherry Cake}

200 grams (slightly more than ¾ cup) plus 2 tablespoons sugar
100 grams (7 tablespoons) butter, plus extra for greasing the pan
4 eggs
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 heaping teaspoons cinnamon
150 ml (1/2 cup) milk
600 grams (21 ounces) walnuts, ground
Grated zest of one lemon
5 tablespoons apricot jam
½ teaspoon vanilla
250 grams (1 2/3 cups) plus two tablespoons flour
1 kilogram (a little over 2 pounds) fresh sour cherries, pitted

Preheat oven to 200° C (400° F). Grease a 22 x 30 cm (13” x 9”) baking pan (or a shallower one, if you prefer) with butter and sprinkle with flour.

In a small bowl, mix two tablespoons flour, two tablespoons sugar, and one teaspoon cinnamon. Sprinkle over the cherries and stir gently to cover the cherries. Set aside.

In a large bowl, beat the butter with the remaining sugar with a hand mixer until it is fluffy and pale yellow, about five minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, and beat until well incorporated. Add all other ingredients (except for cherries), and mix until everything is just incorporated (don’t over mix).

Transfer the batter to the baking pan and spread evenly. Evenly sprinkle the cherries on top. Bake until cake is browned, about 60 minutes.

–Carolyn

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Eperleves {Recipe}

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{Strawberry Soup}


Cold fruit soups (hideg gyümölcslevesek) are a staple of summertime eating in Hungary. The best-known version is made from cherries (either sour or sweet), but fruit soup can be made from nearly any type of fruit. During the summer, restaurant menus in Hungary hold soups made from whatever is available in the market at the time—cantaloupe, watermelon, gooseberry, apricot, apple, peach, plum…you get the picture. There are a variety of ways to make the soup, depending on what type of fruit you use. Sometimes the fruit is cooked (in water or wine with some spices and perhaps lemon zest). Sometimes the soup is thickened with flour. Sometimes wine, cream, or milk is used.

It is strawberry season now in Hungary, and strawberry soup is one of my favorites. It is also one of easiest to make since it requires no cooking. But the thing about cold fruit soup is that I usually would rather have it for dessert than as an appetizer. And I could even imagine having this soup, which is almost like a strawberry smoothie, for breakfast. We ate this soup with a few crumbled lemon balm leaves on top, but I was wishing that I would have had a handful of basil on hand to throw into the blender with the soup. Just to make it feel less like a breakfast smoothie and more like dinner, the adults at the table added a secret ingredient to their soup: a hefty splash of white wine .

Eperleves
{Strawberry Soup}

800 grams (1 ¾ pounds) strawberries, cleaned and hulled
½ cup honey
1 ½ cups milk
½ cup sour cream, plus extra to garnish
2 tablespoons sugar
Pinch of salt
Squeeze of lemon juice

Slice one-third of the strawberries and reserve. In a blender, puree the remaining strawberries with all of the other ingredients. In a serving bowl, add the sliced strawberries to the puree. Garnish with a dollop of sour cream and some mint, basil, or lemon balm.

–Carolyn

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Zöldborsó Főzelék {Recipe}

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{Creamed Green Peas}

I wish I could tell you that I shelled these peas myself, but I didn’t. Now that peas (cukorborsó or zöldborsó) are in season in Hungary, most market vendors shell peas when they have a few minutes of free time, so they can sell them at a premium. I don’t know how I got inspired to make főzelék, a common vegetable dish in Hungary, when I saw these gorgeous freshly shelled peas (especially since I have never been much of a fan of the dish). Főzelék has no real translation (I usually translate it as “creamed vegetables” or “stewed vegetables”). I usually find the vegetables too overcooked and mushy for my taste, and the sauce to plentiful and bland. But my kids come home raving about the főzelék that they eat nearly every day at school, and there are a few different fast-food chains in Hungary specializing in the dish. So it clearly has many fans.

It is quick and easy to make, and there are a few different ways to do it. The dish can be made of any type of vegetable, and essentially just involves cooking the vegetables in a bit of fat and water and then making a sauce by adding the cooked vegetables to roux or adding sour cream mixed with a little flour at the end (called habarás, a common method of thickening soups and other dishes in Hungarian cooking). Some dishes also call for milk in the sauce. If you have any fresh herbs on hand, feel free to stir those in near the end.

Főzelék is usually served with a piece of fried or roasted meat on top, or an egg. These days tökfőzelék, made from thinly grated strips of pale green summer squash and dill, is available on menus throughout the city. But there is something about the sweet crunch of fresh peas that made them the perfect vegetable on this rare occasion when I had the urge to cook főzelék. I’ve been trying unsuccessfully to get the kids to eat asparagus splashed with lemon juice and olive oil for the past few weeks. But this pea főzelék very quickly disappeared, and the experts—the kids—gave it high marks. Maybe sour cream and bacon are all it takes to get kids to eat their vegetables?

Zöldborsó Főzelék
{Creamed Green Peas}

A few slices of smoked bacon, diced
450 grams (1 pound) peas, shelled
1 teaspoon sugar
Salt
1 Tablespoon flour
150-200 grams (5-7 ounces) sour cream

In a skillet or pot, over low heat, slowly sauté the bacon until it is a little crispy and most of the fat has been melted. Add the peas, sugar, a pinch of salt, and half cup of water (more if needed). Cook for about 15 minutes (or until taste), until the peas turn lighter green. Meanwhile, mix the flour and the sour cream (use more sour cream if you like your főzelék with lots of sauce). Thin the sour cream mixture with a few spoonfuls of the liquid from the peas. When the peas are cooked, add the sour cream mixture and cook, while stirring constantly, for about three more minutes.

–Carolyn

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Bodzalé {Recipe}

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{Elderflower Juice}

Elderflowers (bodzavirág), with their intoxicatingly sweet scent, bloom throughout the Hungarian countryside during the late spring. Like most Hungarian dishes, the first time I tasted elderflower juice was at my mother-in-law’s house in northwestern Hungary. When they are in season, she keeps a few batches of the juice constantly steeping in big bowls and jars, scooping it out with a ladle to serve all of the children (and adults) who love it. It disappears quickly. We picked a bag full of elderflowers last weekend in her yard before heading back to Budapest, where the fragrance perfumed the whole apartment for days.

You don’t need many flowers to make a big batch of elderflower juice. When I have extra, I spread them on a baking sheet (preferably with a bunch of mint, if it’s around) to dry them. Keep the dried elderflower and mint mix in a tin, and it makes a wonderful tea (either hot or iced). Also, a sugar syrup made with elderflowers is great as a cocktail mixer.

Bodzalé
{Elderflower Juice}

5 liters (5 ¼ quarts) water
400 grams (2 cups) sugar
3 lemons, 2 juiced and one sliced
8 elderflower flowerheads

In a small saucepan, bring sugar and about one quarter of the water to a boil. Simmer until sugar is dissolved, about 3 minutes. Put the rest of the water in a jar large enough to hold everything. Add the sugar syrup, the lemon juice and slices, and the elderflowers. Let the mixture steep for at least a few hours before serving.

–Carolyn

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Körözött {Recipe}

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{Liptauer or Liptó Cheese Spread}

This happened to be one of the first Hungarian recipes that I ever made, long before I met my Hungarian husband. When I came across the recipe in a cookbook (I can’t remember which), it just seemed like a good way to start a meal. In Hungary, where the túró (curd cheese) is so fresh and abundant, it turns out way better than it did the fist time I made it in the US. Served throughout Hungary, as well as in Slovakia, Austria, and Northern Italy, this quick and easy spiced-cheese dip makes a fantastic hors d’oeuvre. The secret is not to add too much of any ingredient, but do tweak the recipe to your own taste. Serve as an appetizer with chunks of bread or spread on slices of pepper. Add some sliced sausage and a mix of fresh, raw vegetables, and it could make for a light meal. In Hungary, körözött is often spread on bread to make a open-faced sandwiches.

Körözött
{Liptauer or Liptó Cheese Spread}

250 grams (8.5 ounces) quark/farmer’s cheese (sheep milk or cow milk) (júh túró or tehén túró)
½ Small onion, minced
60 grams (2 ounces) Butter, softened and chopped
½ teaspoon Caraway Seeds
1 heaping teaspoon Sweet Paprika
½ teaspoon Mustard
Secret Ingredient: a splash of házi pálinka or beer!
Optional: chopped capers, chopped parsley, or chopped anchovies

Mix all ingredients thoroughly until evenly mixed (especially the butter and the paprika). If you are using cow cheese, add salt to taste. Refrigerate.

–Carolyn

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Wild Duck Móra Módra

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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

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Pumpkin Seed Oil and Bread

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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
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Szilvás Gombóc {Recipe}

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{Plum Dumplings}

As I’ve already mentioned, plum dumplings are one of my favorite Hungarian foods. Plums are now flooding the markets, and I’ll be taking full advantage of them until they’re gone. Hungarians are passionate about these dumplings, and it’s easy to see why after you try one (or many). They combine salty and sweet, juicy plums and creamy butter. It doesn’t seem possible to eat just one or two of these things. They’re addicting and they always quickly disappear—if not the night they’re made, but for breakfast the next morning.

These dumplings belong in the pasta (or tészta) category of Hungarian desserts, which means that they can be eaten as a meal in themselves or as a dessert following a light meal (but from what I’ve seen, they’re usually served as a meal, rather than a dessert). This recipe can also be made with apricots instead of plums, in which case they would be called barack gombóc. Apricots aren’t as juicy, however, which may be why plum dumplings are more common. Another possibility for when fruit isn’t in season is to stuff the dough with plum or apricot jam instead of the fresh fruit. These plum dumplings are especially good if you’re like me and have no problems with eating sweets for dinner.

Plum Dumplings
{Szilvás Gombóc}

Dough:
1 kilogram (2 ¼ pounds) russet or baking potatoes
1 egg
50 grams (3 1/2 tablespoons) butter, softened
250 grams (2 cups) flour
Pinch of salt

Stuffing:
16 plums, pitted
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon

Coating:
150 grams (1 stick, plus 3 tablespoons) butter
150 grams (1 1/2 cups) dry (unseasoned) bread crumbs
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
Pinch of salt

powdered sugar for dusting

Boil the potatoes in their skins in salted water until they’re cooked through. When they’re cool enough to handle, peel them and push them through a ricer (if you don’t have a ricer, use a potato masher, but be sure that no lumps remain). Cool. Meanwhile, halve the plums and sprinkle the insides with the sugar and cinnamon (if plums aren’t very sweet, add an extra tablespoon of sugar).

In a mixing bowl, add the egg and butter to the riced potatoes and combine. Add the flour and salt, and knead until all ingredients are well combined. Form the mixture into a ball.

On a large floured surface, roll the dough out roughly into a square shape, with 1/3 inch thickness. Cut into 16 even pieces.

To form the dumplings, place two plum halves in the center of a dough square and bring the four corners together to cover the plum. Pinch the dough, and be sure to completely cover the plum (otherwise all of the good juices will spill out).

Bring a pot of salted water to boil. Add dumplings, but don’t overcrowd the pot (you may need to do it in two batches). Gently stir occasionally to prevent dumplings from sticking to the bottom. Cook for about 12 minutes. Meanwhile, heat butter in a medium skillet over medium heat and add bread crumbs, powdered sugar, and salt. Stir until well combined, and keep cooking until bread crumbs are lightly browned, stirring so the mixture cooks evenly.

To serve, roll the dumplings in the bread crumb mixture until well coated. Place in a serving dish and sprinkle extra bread crumbs (if there are any) on top. Dust powdered sugar on top, and serve with extra powdered sugar for sprinkling.

Tip: If your kitchen is very hot, keep the dough in the refrigerator when you’re not working with it. It becomes difficult to handle when it’s too warm.

This recipe makes 16 dumplings and serves four as a light dinner, or eight as a dessert.

–Carolyn

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Túrós csusza with lecsó {Recipe}

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{Pasta with Curd Cheese and Stewed Peppers and Tomatoes}

What can be better than pasta smothered with curd cheese (túrós csusza) topped with paprika-tinted pepper and tomato stew (lecsó)? It only requires simple ingredients, and I could eat it night after night (which I sometimes do when there’s a big batch of lecsó around). Recently, we made our most successful meal of túrós csusza with lecsó ever by upping the quality of all of the ingredients. Rather than using store bought pasta, we used rich, homemade, egg pasta that we bought at the market. Rather than using curd cheese from the grocery store, we also bought freshly made curd cheese at the market (which tastes nothing like the grocery store variety). Finally, we made the lecsó with just-picked peppers and tomatoes from the garden.

Make lecsó now, while there are still lots of fresh peppers and tomatoes at the markets. And if you get so inspired, do as Hungarians do, and make an extra big batch of it for freezing or canning so you can enjoy it even when the fresh tomatoes are long gone.

In Hungary curd cheese (túró) is common, and sold at every grocery store and tiny food shop. In America, it’s not as easy to find (and it’s not the same). The best equivalent would be farmer’s cheese.If the bacon fat in these recipes scares you off, substitute with oil. Hungarians tend to think that everything tastes better with a little bacon (and I have to agree).

Túrós Csusza
500 grams (1 pound) pasta, kocka tészta (small, flat, square shaped pasta) is often used in Hungary
500 grams (1 pound) curd cheese (either cow or sheep milk)
Szalonna (bacon), use as much or as little as you’d like

Boil pasta in salted water. While the pasta is boiling, finely chop the bacon (szalonna) and render over low heat. Pour the fat into a glass pan and reserve the leftover chunks of bacon. Heat the glass pan over a low burner. When it’s done (and still a tiny bit firm), drain the pasta and add to the glass pan. Add the cheese to the pasta, and mix a little, just enough so it’s evenly distributed. Don’t stir the pasta and cheese mixture, but use a spatula to scrape the bottom and flip every few minutes. The idea is to let it get a bit brown and crispy. To serve, add the extra bacon and add sour cream if you’d like. Preferably serve with lecsó.

Lecsó
40 grams (1 1/2 ounces) szalonna (bacon), finely diced
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 tablespoon sweet Hungarian paprika
1 kilogram (2 pounds) sweet peppers, cored, seeded, and cut into 2cm (¾ inch) pieces **
500 grams (1 pound) tomatoes, roughly chopped
½ tablespoon salt

Add the bacon to a pot and cook over low heat until the bacon is rendered. Add the onions, cook over low heat until they are translucent (not browned), about five minutes. Stir in the paprika and then add the peppers. Cook for ten minutes or so, and add tomatoes. Lecsó is often cooked until the peppers are mushy, but I prefer to stop the cooking before they get too soft.

** You can increase or decrease the ratio of peppers to tomatoes if you’d like, with no real effect. This is a loose recipe, and I’ve seen it written with all sorts of quantities.

–Carolyn

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