“Operation Use-It-Up” has lost some momentum these last three weeks – weeks in which more food made it into my freezer than came out of it. Sigh… However, I will persevere. In the meantime, let’s check out this fun thing I did at a cooking class two weeks ago.

AN OLIVE OIL TASTE TEST! I cracked open six different bottles of extra-virgin olive oil and conducted a taste test extraordinaire. We tasted each oil raw, with small bites of baguette in between to cleanse our palates. I’ve often done olive oil tastings in cooking classes, but this taste test was special for me. It included two of my favourite olive oils, two that had been brought back from Europe, and two new ones that I had never tried before (bought in Victoria at Ottavio’s) and all together, the oils respresented 5 different olive-growing regions. The oils were:

ABEA, from Crete – sold in Victoria at Ottavio, Lifestyle Markets, Blair Mart, and various other locations ($40 for 3 litres)

Basilippo, from Spain – sold in Victoria at Ottavio ($27 for 500 ml)

Castillo de Canena from Spain (Andalusia) – sold in Victoria at Ottavio ($36 for 500 ml)

Safra Vintage from Cooperative de Casa Branca, Portugal (a gift from my parents, who came back from Portugal last summer)

Enotria, which I purchased in Cortona, Umbria, Italy (6 Euros for 500 ml)

Desert Miracle, from Morocco – sold in Victoria at Ottavio ($23.50 for 500 ml)
(aside: I was told, while in Morocco, that Moroccan olive oil never leaves the country, so I was very excited to be able to buy this)

If you have never been been to an olive oil tasting before, you may be surprised to learn how very different the oils taste. Some olive oils are peppery and sharp, some are mellow and buttery, some are grassy and herbaceous, and some “sting your mouth”, as my 10-year-old likes to say. From the various oil tastings that I have attended and hosted, I have learned that it is definitely worthwhile to spend money on good olive oil, but only if it is an oil that you love. For example, the most expensive oil I have ever tasted cost $100 for 300 ml and was bitter and disgusting (in my opinion). But at the same tasting, I fell absolutely in love with Basilippo from Spain and since then have made sure to have some always on hand.

If you want to try a variety of olive oils, Ottavio Deli in Oak Bay offers an Estate olive oil tasting at least once a year. I also sample usually three olive oils in two of my cooking classes: Mediterranean Vegetarian and Delights of Spain & Morocco. Or you can cut to the chase and read the rest of this blog post.

Results:
Interestingly, the most expensive oil (Castillo de Canena) was the lest favourite – it was grassy and sharp with quite a bit of bitterness mixed in with its fruity flavours. The favourite oil was definitely Desert Miracle from Morocco – it was buttery, smooth, mellow, almost caramely.
To tell the truth, these results say quite a bit about the limits of a raw oil tasting. Olive oils that taste delicious on their own might not stand up so well to the more agressive flavours of a vinaigrette, for instance. So take the following flavour breakdowns with a grain of salt and try to imagine how each would play out in a recipe, or on your taste buds. A smooth buttery oil could be delicious drizzled on simple grilled veggies, or soaked up with rustic bread. A sharper, fruitier oil might play well with vinegar or drizzled on top of pasta just before serving. A bitter oil might taste fabulous drizzled on beans or greens. Or not.

Desert Miracle – smooth, mellow, buttery, hints of caramel, sharp at the back of your throat
Basilippo – mellow but very fruity with a fresh-olive kind of taste
Enotria – very fruity and full-bodied, nice green colour
Safra Vintage – buttery and thick, grassy flavour with a hint of wine
Abea – fruity and slightly smoky with a mild peppery aftertaste
Castillo de Canena – grassy, sharp, bitter, slightly fruity

After the tasting I can say that I will continue to buy ABEA as my all-purpose cooking/eating oil (it tastes good and is much cheaper than the rest), I will make sure to keep both Basilippo and Desert Miracle always on hand. I wish my parents had brought me more than one bottle of that Portuguese oil. And I wish I had brought more oil back from Italy!

I guess this shows how much of a fat tooth I have :)

PS I just need to get this off my chest. I have been wanting to say this publicly for years: Rachel Ray did not invent the term EVOO for Extra Virgin Olive Oil. We were using EVOO at ReBar for years before anyone had ever heard of RR, as I am sure were many other chefs and cooks in many other places. Phew, ok, thanks for listening.

This recipe is definitely part of Operation Use-It-Up, but I got tired of using that term in all my post titles. It’s kind of off-putting, don’t you find? Posts about the struggle to use things from my pantry and freezer(s) will now be found under the category “Operation Use-It-Up” down there on the sidebar. In the meantime, assume that everything I post about from now to eternity are part of the process, because it’s going to take a very, very long time to use up all the food I have been hoarding. Ahem.

The soup I made this week, which has the delicious descriptor “with Parmesan,” is actually flavoured with parmesan rinds. Parmesan rinds are an amazing bit of kitchen magic. They can turn ordinary soups and sauces into Yow-Za! soups and sauces. The may look old and sad, but they add a deliciously rich, yummy, almost meaty flavour to all kinds of soups. Especially for vegetarians, parm rinds are a godsend! And, best thing ever, parm rinds are something that you were just going to throw away, anyway.

Instead of throwing those dry, hard parmesan rinds away, pop them into a ziplock bag and keep them in the freezer for a rainy day. Pull a rind or three out whenever you want to make a soup but have no broth handy. The flavourful parmesan rinds will make a broth for you as your are cooking your soup. Or even if you have some broth, parm rinds can only make it better.

Now the only problem here is that you will one day open your freezer to find that your ziplock bag of parm rinds is busting at the seams because you keep forgetting to use them up (ahhahaha… haha… ha… ha… ahh). This recipe is for those times when you want to use up a lot of cheese rinds. And also use up a lot of old beans. And sausages that have been in your freezer for too long. And actually turn it all into some amazing dinner. You know, the Best of Operation Use-It-Up, Week Three.

(Actually, not totally the best. Kudos goes to the homemade peanut buster parfaits I made for family movie night, but that is for another post. And by the way, there was no Worst this week!)

Bean and Sausage Soup with Parmesan Rinds
Serves 10
This soup is largely flavoured with the heels of parmesan cheese, which give an incomparably rich and tasty flavour to the broth. Try it – you will love it.
For a vegetarian version, leave out the sausage, and add a couple of garlic cloves (if you like) when sauteing the leek and carrots. You may also need to add more salt to the vegetarian version

ingredients
bean part 
1 lb dry beans (2-1/2 cups dry)
2 tsp salt
lots of water
three rinds of parmesan, cut up
4 to 8 cloves garlic, chopped
4 bay leaves, broken
1 tsp dry sage leaves, crumbled

soup
3 – 4 Tb extra virgin olive oil
1 onion, diced
1 large leek, cleaned and sliced
3 to 4 carrots, peeled and diced
3 stalks celery, diced
1/2 tsp salt, or more, to taste
1 parm rind, chopped
6 to 8 cups water
cooked beans from above
4 smoked sausages, (e.g. mennonite sausage from Choux Choux) or other sausage of your choice, sliced thin
1 bunch kale, stemmed and chopped small
2 Tb tomato paste
1/2 bunch parsely, minced

garnish
freshly grated parmesan cheese
cracked black pepper

instructions
1. Cook the beans: pick out any discoloured or otherwise lame-looking beans. Also pick out any rocks or clods of dirt you may find. Rinse the beans well. Place them in a large pot with ample water to cover (about 10 cups) and the salt. Bring to a boil, skimming off any foam that you see rise to the surface (a very important step to help with digestion). Add the parmesan rinds, the garlic, the bay leaves, and the sage. Reduce the heat to low, and let simmer very gently, partially covered, for 45 minutes to 2-1/2 hours, depending on the age, size and variety of your beans. Beans should not split open – that means they are over-cooked. Turn off the heat and let the beans cool in their own cooking liquid. DO NOT drain. Also DO NOT soak the beans beforehand, in case you were wondering about that.
Take my New Ways with Beans class if you want to know more :)

Note: I was using up old beans from my cupboard and did not have 1 pound of any one kind. I used 1 cup pinto beans, 1 cup cannellini beans, and 1/2 cup brown lentils. Because these beans all have differing cooking times, I cooked them in three separate little pots. A bit OCD, I know, but totally worth it – the beans all arrived at that perfect toothsome texture without over- or under-cooking. The pinto beans took about 1 hr 15 minutes, the cannellini beans took almost 3 hours, and the lentils took about 30 minutes. I divided up the garlic and other flavourings evenly between the pots.

2. Once the beans are done, get out a large soup pot. (If you only have one large pot and the beans are already in it, dump the beans and all their cooking liquid into a large bowl and use the bean pot as your soup pot.) Heat the pot over medium-high heat. Add the olive oil and swirl to coat the bottom. Add the onions and saute until softened, about 10 minutes. Add the leeks, carrots and celery and saute for several minutes more.

3. Add the water, salt, sliced sausage, and parmesan cheese rinds and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, cover, and simmer 5 minutes.

4. Add the beans and all their cooking liquid to the pot. Bring to a boil again, reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 20 to 25 minutes.

5. Add the kale and tomato paste, stir well, and simmer 5 to 10 minutes, until kale is tender. Stir in parsley and taste to adjust seasonings. You may want to add more salt. Also, if the soup is too thick for you, add more stock or water. (I admit that I didn’t really keep track of how much water I really used.)

6. Serve the soup immediately, topped with cracked black pepper and freshly grated parmesan cheese, if you so desire. Soup keeps for up to 6 days in the fridge and tastes even better the next day.

This has been a red-letter week in Operation Freezer. I managed to use up freezer items for at least three delicious meals, and to dispose of one sad lonely pork loin chop that has been making me feel guilty every time I open Freezer One.

However. I have been thinking. I’ve decided that my Freezer Issue isn’t as bad as I made it out to be last week. In my big delve through the freezers, I did not find very many things in there labeled earlier than 2011. Ok, SOME, but I’m not joining FreezeHoarders Anonymous quite yet.

What I really need to do is use up stuff from my pantry. Like the faded split peas I noticed in there, and the 3-year-old dried cranberries, and the organic coconut sugar. To be honest, you can’t even get into my pantry without advanced yoga teacher training certification. Which is why I usually shut the door and go grocery shopping.

So, ok, how about both? How about this becomes Operation Pantry-Freezer? or maybe Operation Use-It-Up? Right now I am tempted to call it Operation Give-It-Up, but I will persevere.

In the meantime, the best and worst from Operation Freezer, week two:

Worst – Jan 12th, organic pork loin chop finally meets its maker. I didn’t even try to eat it, so freezer-burned was it. I’ve been keeping this chop (because it was organic) with the plan of using a soy-brown sugar-garlic marinade to revive it and then turn it into a stir-fry. But I surrendered to the inevitable. May it feed lots of flower beds in the city compost.

Best – Jan 13th and 14th, two different roasted chicken dinners! Friday saw us eating chicken thighs roasted to crisp perfection over a bed of thinly-sliced Yukon gold potatoes (recipe coming soon), and Saturday I made my family’s favourite Roasted Chicken Dinner in a clay roaster - and used up some guilt-inducing parsnips, leeks, and squash while I was at it! That was one of those satifying times when I got to feel all smug about the organic pasture-raised chickens in my freezers and the variety of veggies in my crisper. YES.

Honourary Mention – Jan 15th, frozen raspberries in syrup on our Sunday morning pancakes. Last summer, I raved about this method of freezing berries. It pays off especially during these dreary days of January when we would kill for a taste of summer. Funny thing, though – I had forgotten that I had any berries in syrup because the jars were all buried at the bottom of Freezer Three! Anyway, during my Dig, I found this lovely jar of raspberries and this is what I did with it:

How to Use Your Frozen Berries in Syrup
You don’t necessarily want to use the berries as-is because the syrup is too thin and watery and that will make your pancakes or shortcake all soggy. That doesn’t mean you can’t use the berries and syrup as-is, but if you want to intensify the berry flavour and sweetness, you will do the following:

1. Thaw the berries at room temperature for about 6 to 8 hours.

2. Drain berries , reserving the syrup. Place berries in a bowl while they are waiting for the syrup to be boiled. 

3. Pour the syrup into a pot. Bring to a boil and boil for about 10 minutes, until syrup is a mass of thick bubbles, like so:

4. Remove thickened syrup from the heat (still in the pot, though) and let it cool for a few minutes.

5. Pour the syrup back over drained fruit and stir gently. Voila! Super fruity-syrupy goodness, ready for your pancake or shortcake enjoyment. Also tastes good in smoothies, on yogurt, in parfaits and trifles, on scones, or just in your mouth. Yum. Try this on kefir pancakes:

I have a problem that I like to call my Freezer Issue - I put food in my freezer but almost never take it out again. So, trips to my freezer are more archaeological expedition than simple food-grab. Like New Year’s day when I found a bag of blackberries, circa 2009, on top of a pile of other things I’m too embarrassed to mention.
Ouch.

So I made a resolution to stop treating my freezer as a vault (“not to be used until the need is dire”) and to start using up the food that has been so lovingly stored in there. New Year’s Day 2012 was the start of Operation Freezer: use it or lose it – to freezer burn or worse, to the Land of Unidentified Frozen Objects.

Step one: prepare for a Dig-with-a-capital-D to the bottom of the freezer.
Step two: bring the oldest stuff to the top.
Steps three through one thousand: use it up!

I am hoping that, by this time next year, a trip to the freezer will be a simple matter of grabbing the chicken or berries or stock or what-have-you.

What makes all this harder is that I actually have three freezers. I know, right? I just might have a food-overstocking problem as well as freezer issues, but one thing at a time, please.

Since I know I am not alone in my freezer issues I thought you all might be interested in my travails. If I can, I will write a Best and Worst post for each week of Operation Freezer. This may or may not morph into a Best and Worst meal of the Week in general. But I had good ones to share from week one of Operation Freezer, so here they are:

Worst: New Years Day, squash soup of indeterminate age
We are having a lazy day around the house, grubbing for leftovers and snacks rather than cooking a meal. I decide to implement my Operation Freezer resolution right away by using up a container of squash soup that I found in Freezer One during my Dig. The kids settled with a grilled ham and cheese, I’m feeling smug as I heat my squash soup (“Look at me! Homemade soup for dinner!”), although I start to worry as the soup gets warm because it doesn’t smell right. (“But that’s just a freezer thing, right?”) I pour it into my bowl and sit down to eat. Yuck! One bite later and I am pouring it down the toilet. Somehow, the soup has gone off! I know from my FoodSafe courses that bacterial activity is only slowed and not stopped altogether in the freezer but still… a soup would have to be in the freezer an awfully long time to go off.
Question: How long has that soup been in there?!
Dinner: I settle for a PB+J with a side of self-pity.

Best: Jan 4th, freezer-burned blackberries, circa 2009
Any self-respecting person would have thrown them away, but I had torn myself to shreds on a hot August day in order to get these blackberries and I was NOT going to waste them. So I decided to waste even more time by making a galette (rustic pie) to use them up.  Thank the heavens the galette turned out so fabulously delicious that I couldn’t believe those were the same berries! What great things butter and sugar and French cuisine can do for freezer-burned fruit, n’est-ce pas?

The galette was so good and so easy and such a great way to use up old frozen fruit that I thought I would share.

BLACKBERRY-HAZELNUT GALETTE
Makes 1 galette, to serve 6 people.
A galette is a French open-topped fruit pie, made without a pie plate. This is delicious, rustic, peasant food. Feel free to change up the nuts and fruit as you see fit.
The mixture of toasted ground nuts, flour and sugar forms a protective barrier over the bottom crust, preventing it from getting soggy with absorbed juices. The nut mixture also helps to thicken and flavour the pie.

Note about the photos: I whipped off the galette with no thought of my blog, so I have no pictures other than the two I took after I realized it was delicious. The other photos in the recipe are from a rhubarb-strawberry galette I made in the spring.

Preheat oven to 425°F

Pastry
In a medium bowl, combine the flour, sugar, and salt. Whisk to combine. Add the cold butter pieces and use your finger, two butter knives, or a pastry blender to cut the butter into the flour. Rub the butter pieces gently between your fingers, coating them in flour, until they are cut in. The pieces should range in size from large peas to small beads, with a generous amount of the larger pieces.

Slowly sprinkle in the water, one tablespoon at a time, using a fork or rubber spatula to mix the dough. Stop after four tablespoons of water and use your hands to gently mix the dough a bit more.  The dough will be a bit crumbly at this point, but it should almost form a ball by itself. If not, add another tablespoon of water and mix gently with a spatula. Use your hands to gently gather the dough into a ball, using gentle pressure to make it hold together. If the dough is still too dry, sprinkle on a tablespoon more water and mix the dough with your hands again, until you can form it into a ball.

Form the dough into a disk. This dough can be used immediately, or wrapped in plastic wrap and refrigerated or frozen for later use. (Although, don’t freeze it unless you plan to use it!) I set my dough in the fridge for a few 20 minutes or so while I made with nut layer and filling.

Nut Layer
In the work bowl of a food processor or mini-chopper, combine the toasted hazelnuts, the 4 tsp of flour and the 2 tablespoons of sugar. Process until finely ground. Set aside.

Fruit filling
In a large bowl, mix together the fruit and 1/2 cup sugar.

To finish galette
Remove dough from refrigerator and roll it out on a lightly-floured countertop out until it forms a 12- to 14-inch rough circle. Don’t worry if the edges are ragged. Place the rolled-out dough on a parchment-lined cookie sheet with sides.  It’s ok if the pastry overhangs right now. Place the nut mixture in the dead centre of  the rolled out pastry and spread it to a thin, even layer over the bottom, leaving a 3-inch border of pastry all around. See below

Give the fruit filling a stir and carefully pile the fruit mixture only over the nut mixture, not on the pastry overhang. Make sure the filling is level.

Gently lift the overhanging border dough and fold it over the filling, making nice folded scallops as you go. The centre of the pie will be open. Brush top of pastry with a bit of cold water and sprinkle with sugar.

Place cookie sheet on the bottom rack of your oven. Bake for about 20 minutes. Reduce heat to 375°F, rotate tray and and bake for 35 to 45 minutes more, until pastry is deep golden and filling in centre is thickened and bubbling.

Let cool 2 hours before serving.

Check out that crisp bottom crust on that juicy berry pie – all due to te protective and delicious nut layer.

Before the year is out, I want to round up the chronicles of my European trip. I had imagined that I would have luxurious amounts of time while I was travelling to blog about the trip, but I didn’t. I’ve had even less time since I’ve been back home. But it would not feel right to let 2011 pass away without at least one blog devoted to the Italian part of my European vacation.

First of all, I had very, very high expectations of the food. Based on the general travel lore, I expected my two weeks in Italy to be one foodgasm after another. As such, I was bitterly disappointed. This brings me to my first food memory of the trip, and the only one that was bad enough to remember for its awfulness.

Assisi (Umbria), October 25th, 7:30 pm: I am served a ”tomato salad” consisting of one tasteless and raggedly-sliced hothouse tomato and nothing else, to the tune of  4 Euros (about $7 CDN). This was followed by grilled lamb chops so overcooked that, but for the slight smell of dog food, I would have thought they were pork.

This horrible meal aside, and several mediocre ones that I will brush under the carpet, most of the food I ate in Italy was very good, some of it was incredible, and I enjoyed enough amazing eats to fill several blog posts with drool-worthy food chronicles.

I will stick to the food memories that left an impression – either because of the situation or the people I was with, or because I was not expecting something so good in that moment. And this brings me to my most enduring memory of the food in Itlay - that when I let go of my expectations I had the best food experiences. I thought I had learned that life lesson already, but I guess not.

Loro Ciuffenna (Tuscany), October 23rd, 1:00 pm: Our first (and best) pizza in Italy. It was an exciting moment, let me tell you! Pretty much the only place to grab a meal in Loro, A Tutta Pizzaserved the best pizza we have had. Crisp, flavourful crust, various delicious and fresh toppings, perfect amount of cheese. Your choice of white pizza and red pizza. And cheap! All the other pizza we had in Italy was pretty bad, but this place (which we ate at several times) made up for it.

Loro Ciuffenna (Tuscany), October 24th, 1:00 pm: the kids and their friends have gathered chestnuts from down by the river and the surrounding hardwood forests and have brought them in to roast in the oven (or maybe we used the microwave) of our condo. So I am sitting with family and friends eating spur-of-the-moment wild harvested chestnuts that, you know, we just went and picked up. Off the forest floor. In Tuscany! The chestnuts were really good, the kids were vibrating with excitement, and I was having a Pinch-Me moment.

Near Cortona (Umbria), October 25th, 1:00 pm: This meal stands out for two reasons: it was amazing, and it happened earlier on the same day as the awful Assisi meal (above). On our way to Assisi, driving aimlessly through the Tuscan and Umbrian countryside in our little fuel-efficient rental car, I was determined to eat at one of the locally-famous Agriturismo restaurants. I had it all planned out: an out-of-the way spot, just stumbled upon, with food and wine fresh from the farm, unpretentious, simple, delicious.  But as each Agritourismo we stumbled upon appeared to be closed on Tuesdays, or closed for the season, or impossible to find in the labrythine maze of farm roads, and as the children got hungrier and crankier, I gave in with bad grace and pulled up to the first roadside restaurant I saw. From the outside, it looked suspiciously like Umbria’s answer to ‘Denny’s’. I was not amused. We were the only ones there, “no doubt because the food is so awful,” I told myself. But of course I was wrong. When the food arrived, it was unbelievable. Juicy homemade sausages, perfectly spiced and cooked. Succulent grilled vegetables, drizzled with fragrant oil and sprinkled with coarse salt and oregano. Silky pasta with fresh artichoke and sharp cheese. Oh my god. The kids ate all of our sausages, so we had to order more. I want one of the sausages right now.

Loro Ciuffenna (Tuscany), multiple times: grape focaccia. Two thin layers of focaccia dough, two layers of concord-type purple grapes, cooked together in perfect harmony. Simplest and one of the best things we ate in Italy.

Azzano Decimo (Friuli-Venezia Giulia), October 29th, 8:00 pm: In the town square during a Hallowe’en party, my friend Daria hands me something meaty and tells me to eat. “What IS this?!” I gasp as I chew on a delightfully rich and sticky slice of sausage yumminess. She tells me it is the local answer to cotechino.  The slice I ate had so much collagen and gelatin that it coated my mouth, but in a really, really good way, in a way that said, “Please give me more.” But this was memorable also for the surreal-ness of the moment: I was dressed in a garbage bag costume, watching the strange Italian interpretation of Hallowe’en swirl around me, drinking mulled wine, eating roasted chestnuts (“Where’s the candy?” my kids ask), listening to ‘Monster Mash’ on repeat, and suddenly being handed something so unexpectedly delicious.  Oh, it was so good!

Azzano Decimo (Friuli-Venezia Giulia) and various other locations, around 8:00 am: grapes for breakfast. The table grapes in Italy are way better than the grapes here. They look like globes of captured sunlight and taste like nectar of the gods. When I wasn’t having olive oil and Chianti for breakfast (see below), or cookies with caffe latte, I was eating a big bowl of delicious green grapes topped with creamy yogurt and chopped buttery walnuts. Sigh…

Tiberio Vineyard, near Loro (Tuscany), October 28th, 9:30 am: freshly pressed and unfiltered olive oil drizzled thick like honey on slices of Tuscan bread, dry slices of salty prosciutto handed to us by a sweetly smiling farm Mama, fresh crisp fennel, and a glass of their Chianti for breakfast. This was definitly in my Top Three Italian moments – a moment I had come half way around the world to experience. The boys and I had stayed behind in Tuscany for an extra couple of days so that we could sleep in an Agriturismo and get closer to the vines and olive groves and salt-of-the-earth people. We were well rewarded by our lovely stay at Tiberio and by the warm friendly welcome of Enzo and his mother, Giulietta. It was all very postcard-like – sunset walks through olive groves, lemons picked off the tree outside our door, morning mists hanging scarf-like on the hills of slowly bronzing hardwoods and grape vines, tall thin cypress trees in the distance, Enzo driving us to the train station even after a night spent pressing his olives in the nearby mill. And the oil! We were very lucky that Enzo was pressing his oil so early. I did not expect to be able to try any fresh olive oil, but I am so very glad I did. The oil was fluorescent green, thick and cloudy, and tasted like the most delicious olive-vitamins going down. My kids LOVED this experience and each ate more raw oil that I would have believed possible. Please make sure you go to Italy in the late fall so that you, too, can do this.

PS – extra honours go to Tiberio for extending my pleasant memories of Italy to the holiday season back in Canada, when we enjoyed several different types of excellent wine I brought home from their vineyard.

Pordenone (Friuli-Venezia Giulia), October 30th, 2:00 pm: the BEST gelato in all of Italy. The boys and I had made a vow to eat gelato every day of our stay in Italy and we fulfilled our vow, no doubt, even when we had to eat gummy-textured chocolate-mint gelato in touristy places. Thankfully, no tourists come to the bustling northern town of Pordenone, in the heart of what my friend Daria refers to as “the Austria of Italy”. Therefore, the gelaterias there will only survive if they sell actual, real, smooth, creamy, GOOD gelato. And they do. Definitely the best gelato I tasted was in the northern towns of Azzano Decimo and Pordenone, with top honours going to the gelateria in the old part of Pordenone because they sold a pear gelato with local walnuts and milk chocolate chunks. Yeah, you heard that right – are you drooling yet?

Loro Ciuffenna (Tuscany), Oct 22nd, 8:00 pm: tiramisu at Ristorante La Ferriera. Too bad I was so exhausted from my red-eye flight from Morocco and 7-hour overland journey to Tuscany to properly appreciate how good the food was at this restaurant. The memories of that meal are vague, but that tiramisu made an impression on even my fogged-out brain. The best tiramisu I have ever had – the coffee soaking the cake was the best, the luscious mascarpone cheese filling was the silkiest and creamiest, the dusting of cocoa was the perfect finishing touch. And I still slept like a log that night.

Loro Ciuffenna (Tuscany), October 26th, 8:00 pm: Bistecca alla Fiorentina at La Ferriera. I had this twice, but this time I was able to appreciate it (see above). This was my all-around favourite meal in Italy. At La Ferriera, Bistecca alla Fiorentina was made with free-ranging Tuscan veal steak, sliced, and dressed with shaved Grana Podano cheese, wild arugula and cherry toms, as well as the standard olive oil, salt and pepper. This was hands-down the bext steak I have had in my life. And it tasted even better the next day eaten cold on the train.

Loro Ciuffenna (Tuscany), October 26th, 8:30 pm: Crema Catalana at La Ferriera. It was like a creme brule with orange-scented zabaglione under the crackling burnt-sugar crust. And this is what the Crema Catalana looked like 30 seconds after it arrived at our table:

somewhere near the foothills of the Alps, north of Pordenone, October 30th, 7:00 pm: My memory of this meal is a tribute to friends in far places – I thank them for inviting us out to this outdoor party of mushroom enthusiasts. After a sunny afternoon of playing frisbee and walking in the woods, we came back to the picnic grounds where a special meal was said to be waiting for us. We were bundled up against the chilly evening, sitting at rustic lamp-lit tables, nursing our Aperols, nibbling on soft prociutto sandwiches and roasted chestnuts. Suddenly, a small styrofoam plate filled with a brown-flecked porridge was placed in front of me. It did not look appetizing, and I am not a fan of mushrooms at the best of times. My kids refused to touch it at first. But again, our expectations were upset at the first bite. The BEST RISOTTO EVER! So woodsy and fresh-porcini-mushroomy that I could not stop eating it. Actual fresh local porcinis, too, not the dried stuff we usually make do with in Canada. So heavenly!

Azzano Decimo (Friuli-Venezia Giulia), October 29th, 9:00 am: Pomegranates that I picked myself off my friend’s tree!!!!!!!

Firenze (Tuscany), October 26th, 1:00 pm: what a find! A cheap, fresh, and delicious lunch place in such a tourist trap as Florence! We feasted on perfect pasta topped with robust ragu, fantastic tomato-bocconcini salad, ribollita, and wine for next to nothing. I went there a second time a few days later and enjoyed the Italian version of beef dip. This lunch place was tucked away in the covered market in central Florence, it was crowded, busy and loud, you had to share tables with all the other supplicants, but we enjoyed every bite.

Azzano Decimo (Friuli-Venezia Giulia), Oct 21st and Oct 29th, 1:00 to 3:30 pm: the first of these meals I did not experience first-hand, but my children talked so much about “the lasagne-thing” they ate at Matteo’s grandma’s house that it has become part of our important memories of the trip. While I was spending my last few days in Morocco, my kids were already in Italy with family friends and they enjoyed a traditional Italian lunch at Nonna’s house complete with a lasagne-style dish she calls ‘pasticcio’. Lucky me, Nonna repeated the perfomance over a week later, when I got to enjoy bruschetta, simple pasta, salad, breaded chicken cutlets with lemon, and biscotti with caffe latte, all after a nice bike ride through the counrtyside. Definitely in my Top Three, this leisurely traditional Italian midday meal with friends could not have been purchased for any price at a restaurant.

Variuos places in Italy, almost every morning of our stay: my kids asked me to include this one – coffee and cookies for breakfast! The traditional light Italian morning meal of a very milky bowl of coffee used to dip a few dry, but tasty, cookies. We bought all kinds of assorted cookies, but the favourites were square with pictures imprinted on them and dissolved to creamy perfection in the mouth. I ate this a lot, and I’m not even a coffee drinker.

my first food in Italy
Mestre (Venice, Veneto), October 22nd, 12:00 pm: As I sat with my piles of luggage on the train station platform, feeling sorry for myself and unwrapping my lunch, I contemplated how I never expected that my first meal on Italian soil would be a McDonald’s hambuger! Yeah, I KNOW! It’s been over 15 years since I have even eaten at a McDonald’s, but I was starving, looking ahead to a 4-hour journey by train, and the only place to eat at the Mestre train station was a McDonald’s. Enter the Italian panini burger, which, after the first bite, and at that moment, seemed liked one of the best things I had eaten. Crusty bread, juicy meat, fresh crisp lettuce and tomato, secret sauce of exceeding yumminess – I take my hat off to the Italian version of McD.
Or maybe I was just really hungry.

And finally, all the places that I did not visit for its food: Assisi, Firenze (Florence), Siena, Venice. Venice stands out for the unrelenting high expense paid for its horrible food (after day one, I brought sandwiches cobbled together from the hotel breakfast buffet). The food in Siena was neither bad nor good enough to remember fondly. Firenze and Assisi you have already read about (above). BUT, in these beautiful historic places, I was able to forget about my stomach for once. And that’s saying something.

On Christmas Eve, I have a personal tradition of staying up after everyone else has gone to bed and watching It’s a Wonderful Life by the light of the Christmas tree. In recent years, I have added to my Chistmas Eve ritual a cold glass of homemade eggnog on ice, cut with a shot of dark rum.

It’s divine. Yes, the movie and the quiet evening after a hectic few weeks, but what I really mean is the homemade eggnog. Dee-vine.

Speaking as someone who has always hated eggnog, trust me when I say that the homemade version is an entirely different beverage than the store-bought. Smooth and creamy, delicately sweetened, a nice hit of nutmeg – well, it pretty much tastes like melted nutmeg ice cream. Last time I checked, the stuff in the carton does not taste like melted ice cream.

Traditional eggnog is made by beating raw egg yolks with lots rum and sugar, adding heavy cream, whipped egg whites and a dusting of nutmeg. My mom makes this every year and it’s very very good. But I have kids who want eggnog without rum, and raw-eggnog made without rum tastes pretty, well, raw-eggy. Enter my non-traditional eggnog:  made by gently cooking egg yolks with milk, sugar and nutmeg, chilling the mixture, then adding whipped cream and rum (or vanilla). I think I might like it better than the traditional stuff, anyway.

As we approach Christmas Eve, I thought I would pass along my kid- and adult-friendly non-traditional homemade eggnog recipe with all my best wishes for a lovely holiday season. Enjoy!

HOMEMADE EGGNOG (NON-TRADITIONAL)
Makes 4 to 5 cups.
Recipe doubles or triples easily. Store in the fridge in a large mason jar for up to 5 days.
UPDATE:  a few of you have emailed me to let me know that you found this very rich. The recipe is meant to be cut with rum or with melting crushed ice for drinking. If you want to drink the eggnog neat but have it less rich, you can cut the nog with a splash of milk when you serve it (up to 1 part milk for 2 parts nog). 

4 egg yolks
6 Tb sugar
Pinch salt
1 -1/3 cups whole milk
½ tsp freshly grated nutmeg
½ tsp vanilla extract
2/3 cup whipping cream

In a medium pot, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar, salt and milk. I like to use my flat whisk for this job. Place pot over medium-low heat and cook, stirring or whisking constantly until mixture thickens slightly to the texture of heavy cream (this takes about 10 minutes – have patience – don’t turn up the heat or stop stirring).

Strain the mixture through a sieve into a shallow metal bowl and let cool, stirring occasionally. Add the vanilla extract and pour the mixture into a jar or container with a lid. Place in the refrigerator to chill thoroughly.

(The other night, for a party, I made the eggnog mix and left it in its metal bowl out on the porch, and went out to stir it from time to time. It was so cold outside that the mixture cooled off very quickly and I was able to skip the fridge step.)

Using electric beaters or a balloon whisk, whip the cream until soft peaks form. Stir this into the chilled egg mixture.

Pour over ice to serve. For grown-ups, add rum to taste and stir. I like a small splash of rum for a 1/2 cup of eggnog, but my husband likes his much more potent – about 1 part rum to 2 parts nog.

Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night.

One notable thing about my European trip has been the lack of consistent internet connection anywhere. It’s freed up a bit more time for eating and enjoying myself but left me feeling guilty about my blog followers back home who have been waiting for the latest update. I keep telling myself you don’t want to hear it anyway – all that travel taunting – but I know that is not really true. I think.

Today I am staying at a friend’s place in northern Italy and she has rigged up some kind of amazing internet connection through her cell phone, for now, and I am hoping to at least write about The Day of The Moroccan Cooking Classes.

cardoons and other vegetables at the souk (market)

On our last day in Marrakech, a week ago, a lifetime ago, we were treated to two separate cooking classes. One, an impromptu and intimate lesson in making msemen (pan-fried breakfast bread) from the morning baker at our hotel, and two, an amazing market tour and hands-on cooking class guided by Chef Hafid of the classy Riad El Fenn. For a travel tour that had involved so much good food, we hadn’t had as many detailed cooking classes as we expected, so this day was a highlight for me.

Malika, our morning baker, making msemen

Cooking Class One: Msemen
I had been eating msemen every day in Morocco (and even a couple of times in southern Spain) and I wanted to learn how to make it very badly. Msemen tastes like a cross between soft buttery Indian paratha and flakey phyllo pastry. (Yes, I know, now you want to learn how to make it, too. I will be testing out the recipe after I get home, don’t you worry.) Now, just imagine how good they taste fresh off the griddle and topped with perfect creamy French butter and local apricot jam!

Msemen on the griddle

At our hotel in Marrakech, the msemen was made in full view of the dining room, fresh to order, by a lovely baker named Malika. Several of us die-hard foodies from the tour group approached her with smiles and cameras to ask all about the process of making msemen. Instead of telling us to flake off cause she was obviously busy, Malika patiently explained the process, and demonstrated the technique of rolling out and folding the dough to achieve the appropriate flakiness. Between my French and hers, we were able to decipher the correct amounts of semolina flour, oil, and water to make a batch of msemen for 300. All before breakfast – which was, of course, a fresh, crispy-tender, flaky msemen, pulled off the griddle for us by a smiling Malika.

Cooking Class Two: market tour, tagine, and pastilla
I don’t know what possessed us to ask for a lesson in pastilla from Chef Hafid. Probably because the few pastillas we had tried in Morocco were delicious and exotic in a way unmatched by even the beef-cinnamon-prune tagines. The pastry was so resilient yet so shatteringly flaky, the fillings were so sweet yet so savoury.

Pastilla

Eating pastilla (a round pastry filled with sweet spiced chicken and eggs) is like taking a trip back to the Middle Ages and we wanted to know how it was done. But by the time Chef had taken us on a market tour and then taught us to make lamb tagine, fish tagine, and quail pastilla, our cooking class had run overtime by at least two hours. I didn’t hear any complaints, though, as we sat up on the shaded terrace with a view of the walled city on all sides, and tucked into the best meal we ate in Morocco.

the food souk

But first, the market tour. We went into the souks (a very cool-sounding term for markets). The souks are divided into themes, i.e., cloth, tannery, spices, etc. The food souk was noisy, smelly, and a feast for the eyes: it smelled richly of spices, animals, olives, fruits;  it was hung with fresh meat and piled with gorgeous vegetables and fruits; a man chased some loose chickens through the stands; preserved lemons and green olives for the asking were sitting in big bowls; in other words, the food souk was completely awesome. I wanted to stay there all day, haggling for spices, looking at enormous quince, and watching the process for making pastilla pastry.

making pastilla pastry

The pastry dough (flour and water only, I guessed) was mixed in a big drum. Two young men worked in tandem over three big round griddles to make the thin sheets of pastry. One man grabbed a lump of the (very wet) dough and rubbed it around on one of the griddles until a film of dough covered the surface. When it was judged to be cooked (about one minute later) the second man would peel it off and flip it onto the counter, where it was brushed liberally with oil. The process continued and the pastilla sheets were stacked one on top of the other.

stacks of pastilla pastry

Chef Hafid bought about a dozen sheets and had them packed in a plastic bag. The pastry looks very much like a pliable phyllo, only I know from tasting it that pastilla pastry is more resilient, almost like a very very thin sheet of pasta or spring roll pastry. I am not sure that pastilla pastry can be replicated at home and I have to say that I was relieved to see that even a professional chef in Morocco relied on ready-made pastilla pastry.

After our market tour, we went back to the Riad to make our meal. Chef Hafid dressed many of us in chef jackets and set us up chopping red onions and smashing garlic. He worked like a dervish himself, thawing out quail, peeling and slicing vegetables, browning lamb, measuring spices, all the while explaining what he was up to. My favourite was his description of the amounts used: “too much paprika” and “too much coriander [cilantro]” he would say with a wide smile, as he practically shoveled brilliant red fragrant paprika into the fish marinade. He was also busy making the staff lunch on a back burner: a whole calf head simmering in a spiced broth to make a rich soup. I confess to peeping in the pot more than once. I can figure out how to make a tagine, but calf-head soup…!

making tagines

The tagines he made were superb – the best we had eaten. The fish tagine, in particular, was spectacular and not something we had tried before. Rich with garlic, lemon, paprika, and fresh cilantro, layered with vegetables… all of the fish-eaters were thrilled. But the best was the pastilla.

He made a “de-constructed” pastilla which looked a lot more fancy schmancy than the regular pastillas, but which Chef Hafid assured us were in fact much easier. He used poached and spiced quail meat and browned vegetables with a Fanta reduction sauce (yes, Fanta!). And he added sauteed quince!!! I will have to do a whole post about quince one of these days. Quince is one of my favourite fruits, but not many people have eaten them back home. The quince that is available in Canada is small and very hard – they can only be eaten cooked. The quince in Morocco is huge and soft enough to eat raw. I munched on raw quince and passed some around while Chef finished the pastilla. People were hungry enough by then that they would have taken anything I had offered, but I will continue to pretend that they were all as thrilled about the quince as I was.

cooking with Chef Hafid

So in a single day I learned the secrets of many Moroccan delights: msemen, pastilla pastry, real tagine, and how to haggle for spices in a smelly awesome food souk. This last served me well when I went out to buy spices later in the souks. Trivia question not entirely unrelated to cooking classes: how much money did I spend on spices on my trip to Morocco?

How can I describe my first 24 hours in Madrid without taking up enormous amounts of bandwidth? So much has happened already that it boggles the pen.

As many of you know, I am part of a culinary tour of Spain and Morocco, organized by the Women’s Travel Connection. I am, in fact, the host, a role which sounds a lot more important than it really is.  We have Spanish and Moroccan tour guides here to arrange everything about the tour. My main job is to help make sure that everyone has a good time and no one feels left out. Which means that I really get to enjoy the food (cue happy dance).

So far we have only been in Madrid for 24 hours, and already we have been out for tapas twice. Last night, not long after we arrived, our guide took us out to what he called a “typical” tapas place – the kind of place that only Spanish people frequent. The night air was warm, the city was hopping, and we sat out at a long table in the open air, beside a courtyard very near to the famous Plaza Mayor. Vino Tinto was flowing and a simple but delicious assortment of tapas was covering the table. It was a “Pinch-Me!” kind of moment, waking us all up after the daze of travel-induced exhaustion. I vaguely remember saying, “Can you believe we are in MADRID?!” an annoying number of times. I’m sure that was totally part of my job description.

Out of those tapas, the most memorable was probably the plate of pork: Jamon Iberico and two different types of chorizo, all oozing a delicious paprika oil. (Unfortunately, the picture was blurry, but please enjoy this nice one of tiny whole fried fish.) The chorizo tasted extra delicious on a piece of crusty bread and topped with the pickled onions from the ceviche-like seafood salad that came earlier. Also, there were some seriously yummy pork balls happening and I am ashamed to admit how many of them I ate.

Even after such a late meal we amazingly all found ourselves with an appetite for the superb hotel buffet breakfast the next morning. I have never seen anything like it. A dizzying array of delicious things to eat, but nothing too fancy. I really enjoyed the fragrant pieces of white melon, the little crusty buns which I topped with chorizo and queso fresco (so so creamy and good), and killer coffee.

We had a bit of a confusing, late start to our morning tour. Unfortunately, due to the Columbus Day holiday today, the Prado was closed. I just want to say here for the record that this is the second time I have been in Madrid, and both times the Prado has been closed. Honestly, what gives? I must be destined to come back to Madrid another time.

Despite the late start, we had a glorious day today. We started with a historical walking tour of the old city under vibrant blue skies and dazzling sunshine and continued on after lunch. But the highlight of my day, and of my first 24 hours in Madrid, was our fabulous tapas lunch and paella demonstration at La Mar del Alabardero. This is one of a group of high-end Spanish restaurants that we were all very excited to learn had locations in Seattle and Washington DC. The food was that good! Oh, my.

Imagine eating super fresh seafood tapas and sipping the most amazing crisp white wine while a Spanish chef demonstrates how to make paella right in front of you.  Yeah, it was fabulous. Sigh…

This restaurant is famous for its paella. As far as I am concerned, it did not disappoint. I had paella the last time I was in Madrid; it paled in comparison to the rich, flavourful, balanced, seafood-full paella we enjoyed today.

But most of us couldn’t finish our plates because we had filled ourselves with the amazing tapas beforehand: the freshest, sweetest seafood salad I have ever had; hot crispy croquettes of fish and milk-soaked bread; battered and deep-fried squid (don’t even call it calamari because it was way better); whole fried sardines with rock salt and lemon; and, the favourite, roasted pimiento peppers stuffed with a cheese that was so creamy and light that we had to know what it was. Imagine our surprise when we were told that it was not cheese at all, but bacalao (cod) roe whipped with olive oil to make a creamy, ethereal foam that melted in our mouths. Heaven.

That’s all for today. I’m too busy digesting still to contemplate what I might do for dinner. In the meantime, I will enjoy a Spanish siesta. Maybe we’ll head out in the cool of the evening for some more tapas. Or even better, dessert – I saw about one hundred pastry shops today and it would be a shame to leave Madrid without trying one of them, right?

Clafouti is the kind of word, I swear, that chefs love to use to cast a veil of mystery over the simplest of recipes. Actually, I’m only saying this because I made two delicious clafoutis this week and everyone who tasted them said pretty much the same thing:

“A… Cla-footie? I have never heard of a clafouti before.”

And here I thought clafouti was a household word! If it isn’t, it should be. Clafouti is a French country dessert, something bewteen a custard and a cake, with lots of fruit thrown in. It is made with pantry staples and takes about five minutes to throw together, one hour to bake. The recipe is easy and flexible – throw in any fruit you like, and serve the clafouti warm or at room temperature.

But mainly, clafouti is really, unbelievably good.

Clafoutis are most famously made with sweet cherries. However, my coronation grape version seriously rivals the cherry one for Deliciousness Supremacy, if I do say so myself. Coronation grapes (very similar to concord grapes, except without the seeds) are at the peak of local bounty right now. And, oh my! They are so good when they are cooked! You know that yummy purple grape juice taste? Yeah, but these coronation grapes taste the way grape juice only hopes to taste.

Imagine bursts of delicious purple grape in a lightly sweetened flan-like custard. That’s a Clafouti. No wonder it needs a fancy name.

Coronation Grape Clafouti
Serves 8.

ingredients
1 Tb butter
3 cups seedless coronation grapes (or concord grapes)
3 large eggs
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1- 1/2 cups light cream (10%)
pinch salt
1 tsp vanilla extract

instuctions
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Make sure your oven rack is in the middle-lower position. Place a baking sheet on the rack. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9-inch glass pie plate and set aside.

2. Gently pull the grapes off their stems and place them in a large measuring cup. Once you have three cups, cover the grapes with cold water and swish around to gently clean the grapes. Drain off the water. Pour the grapes into the prepared pie pan.

3. In a blender, combine the eggs (without their shells, obviously :)), the flour, sugar, salt, vanilla and cream. Blend until smooth. Alternatively, you can whisk the eggs, sugar and flour until smooth, then add the salt, vanilla and cream and whisk until smooth.

4. Pour the batter over the grapes in the pie plate. Place the filled pie plate in the oven on the preheated baking sheet. Bake for 1 hour, rotating the pan about half-way through baking. Clafouti is done when it is puffed and golden around the egdes and the centre only jiggles very slightly. Let cool for at least 20 minutes before serving.

5. Clafoutis can be served warm or at room temperature.

One thing I have been quietly excited about all summer is that I have been able to buy Methi, FRESH, by the bunch, whenever I feel like it. At the grocery store!

You have to understand that, until this year, methi (aka fresh fenugreek) was the Indian ingredient I was most unlikely to find, ever. I expected to find it (maybe) at an Indian specialty store in Vancouver, or if I manifested really hard, once in a blue moon at the same kind of store in Victoria. But right next to the cilantro at the local Thrifty Foods? Ha.

Fenugreek is my very favourite Indian spice and herb. Fresh fenugreek is so so good. Rich, pungent, curry-ish, fenugreek leaves give incomparable flavour to Indian recipes of all kinds. One of my favourite EVER Indian dishes is methi murgh, chicken cooked in a divine caramelized onion-fresh fenugreek sauce. Another big favourite is methi roti, tender flatbreads made with pureed fenugreek greens as almost the only liquid.

After ten years of having to resort to dried fenugreek leaves, I have been in a positive glut of fresh-methi-buying this year. Every week of the summer has seen me with a bunch or two in my shopping cart. Does it matter that I hold up the grocery line while the clerk looks for the code (always un-findable, no matter how many times I helpfully give them the exact spelling and micro-manage their search through the produce manual) and then calls for a price check (either $0.99 or $1.29, but they never listen to me)? Does it matter that I often let the greens rot in my fridge while I try to find the time to use them? Not at all! The idea that I have the delectable and divine methi murgh, methi roti, or aloo methi at my fingertips at all times has been too much to resist. So I have had temporary methi-buying insanity.

But I worry that I am the only one. Buying methi, I mean. I really want to encourage the grocery stores to keep bringing it in. So that was my pitch, almost two months over due, to go out and buy some of that delicious fresh B.C.-grown methi. Oh, and here is a recipe for methi roti (fenugreek flatbread) – both very good and pretty easy.

Methi is available in season at the Root Cellar and at Thrifty Foods locations.

Methi Roti (Fenugreek Flatbread)
Serves 4 to 6.
This delicious bread is great on its own, slathered in butter, or served with chutney or lentils. Feel free to substitute spinach, cilantro, or dill (or a mixture) for the fenugreek leaves.
This dough can be made up to three days in advance and cooked as needed. Bring dough to room temperature before cooking. The cooked flatbreads keep in the freezer for up to 6 months.

ingredients
1 cup packed fresh fenugreek leaves (no stems)
1/4 cup water
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded
3 Tb plain yogurt
2 Tb ghee or vegetable oil
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp garam masala
1/4 tsp turmeric

instructions
1. Combine the fenugreek leaves and the water in a small pot and bring to a gentle boil. Remove from heat and let cool.

2. Pour the lightly cooked and cooled fenugreek greens along with all its cooking water into a blender. Add the yogurt, ghee or vegetable oil and the jalapeno. Cover and blend until you have a fine green puree.

3. In a medium-large bowl, whisk together the whole wheat flour, the white flour, the salt, coriander, turmeric, and garam masala. Pour in the green puree and use a spoon to mix well, until a stiff dough forms. You may need to use your hands to get it to mix properly. Add a bit more water, as necessary, to help the dough stick together. It should be a firm dough, but not too too stiff.

4. Turn the dough out onto the counter and knead with lightly oiled hands for about 5 minutes, until dough is smooth and pliable. Set dough aside, covered, to rest at least 30 minutes and up to 3 days. (if leaving the dough longer than 3 hours, place in a zipperlock bag in the fridge until ready to use.)

5. Divide the dough into 8 to 12 evenly-sized pieces (depending on how large you want the final breads to be). Roll each into a ball. Cover and let rest for about 20 minutes.

6. On a lightly floured counter, roll each dough ball out into an even circle. If you have divided the dough into 8 balls, they will roll out into circles of about 16 to 18 cm (6 to 7 inches). If you made 12 balls, they will roll into smaller circles, about 10 to 12 cm (4 to 5 inches). While you are rolling, please try to roll out on one side only (without flipping), if possible. Rolling on one side makes it easier to get the breads to puff up later. I usually roll out 4 balls at a time and get those cooking while I roll out the others. But if you are new at this, it might be better to roll out all the dough, stacking them with a layer of parchment paper bewteen each one.

7. Heat a heavy skillet over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Be perpared to turn down or otherwise adjust the heat while you are cooking. I like to use my cast iron pans, and I like to have two of them going at the same time. Also, set a cooling rack over a 3rd burner (prop it up with little jar lids so that it is not touching the burner) and turn that burner to medium high as well (if you have a gas burner, you don’t need to pre-heat the one with the rack over it).

8. Place a rolled out dough on the skillet. Let cook for about 1 minutes, until it looks opaque. Flip and cook on the other side about 30 to 45 seconds. Have a pair of tongs and a clean plate at the ready. Now transfer to the flatbread to the burner with the rack over it. (if you have gas, turn this burner on now). The direct heat from this burner will cause the flatbread to puff up like an inflated pita. This will only take a couple of seconds. Using tongs, quickly remove the bread from the rack to the clean plate. The bread will deflate, but that is as it should be. Cover with a clean kitchen towel while you make the other breads in the same way.

9. Once the breads are cooked, bring to the table and serve. Feel free to bring butter or ghee with you, for brushing on the breads.

10. Alternate method of making the flatbreads puff up: the gas barbecue! Cook all the breads as described in step 8 in the cast iron pan, but don’t put them over a hot burner to puff. Keep breads warm and turn on one burner of your gas barbeque to medium-high. Place 6 breads on the grill rack and watch them puff up (they will take longer to puff here than on a burner). Use tongs to remove them. Repeat with remaining breads and serve immdeiately.