Colored Sugar - a sophisticated palette for a childhood favorite

The lack of artificial anything is usually one of the things I like most about life in Greece. But around the holidays I miss the technicolor sparkle. Cookies cut into shapes and strewn with bright sugars may not be the most sophisticated holiday offering, but they are our favorite. We used to put some dough aside for the girls to knead and roll until it was a gray mass of filth and delight all the bright green sugar in the world couldn't hide. 

Our stock reduced to only bright yellow and baby blue, I looked on the internet to see how ridiculously easy it is to make your own sugars. All we needed were simple food colorings now available at the supermarket, plain white sugar, and coarse demerara sugar.

1.Round up a few jars with tight fitting lids

2. Start with about about a 1/4 of a cup of sugar, and add a drop or to of the color you want, and shake madly. If you are using paste colors, you may need to mash them in with a spoon.

3. The colored sugar will be like damp sand- spread it out in a dish. It will crisp up and stick to the dish after about a half an hour. Loosen it with your fingers and break up the lumps and put it in a jar.

That's the basics. But we came up with fabulous colors! The golden color of the demarara sugar makes for muted, sophisticated shades. 

"Green" became Moss- That was 5 drops of green in 1/2 C demerara. For true green, to 1/2 C demarara add 5 drops green and one of blue to counteract the natural gold of the sugar.

"Red" became a deep Salmon- 4 drops red in 1/2 C demarara. Adding 1 drop of blue made not a true red but a chic bordeaux.

For a deep Aqua do the reverse- 4 blue and a green.

The pure white granulated sugars produce clear jewel tones- candy cotton pink, blue like a tiffany's box (again, with a whisper of green)

For sanding sugars with some depth, we blended shades, mixing the finer crystals with the coarser.

Sprinkle them right onto the cookies before they go into the oven, or onto white icing while it is still just sticky enough for the sugar to cling to it (too damp, and the colors will bleed).

A half hour of play and a couple of Euros have never had a more sparkling result. 

More Holiday color:

Rainbow stripe cookies taste like Little Italy

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Melomacarona- Holiday Cookie of Greece

Christmas is not Christmas without Melomacarona in Greece- these are crumbly syrup drenched cookies with orange and cinnamon and honey (the "Melo" in the name comes from "Μέλι" = honey). I made these once in 1990 and they were perfect. the recipe was written on a scrap of paper I lost, and I never ate one I liked as well, so I never bothered making them again until now. This is a hybrid of several recipes- taking what I liked of each, to make a cake like moist cookie sweet with cinnamon, filled with minced walnuts, and scented with orange and a little liquor. 

This is a project, but not a difficult one, and it makes a mountain of cookies, and the house smells fantastic for days afterwards. A nice plus- in a season of butter and eggs, this is a cookie vegans will love.

Syrup-

Boil together for 4-5 minutes, untilsugar is disolved:

3 C sugar

3 C water

half of an orange with its peel

4 whole cloves

3 cinnamon sticks

pinch salt

then add:

2/3 C honey

Let cool completely.

In a your largest bowl, blend-

1/3 C sugar

zest of 2 oranges

- until the oils are released and the sugar is like bright orange wet sand

then add:

1 C fine semolina

8 C all purpose flour

1 1/2 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

2 T cinnamon (if you just opened it and it's sweet and fresh. Otherwise 3)

nice pinch ground cloves

a few grinds of fresh nutmeg

In another bowl, blend:

1 2/3 C fresh orange juice

1 C vegetable oil

1 C good olive oil

3-4 tablespoons brandy or whiskey or whatever you like

Pour into the dry mixture and blend quickly and very lightly with your hands. If you over-mix or kneed it, the oil will seep out if the dough. Be quick, decisive, casual.

Chop well:

2 C walnuts

and add:

a little cinnamon, a spoon full of sugar, a little booze to moisten

Now take a piece the size of a walnut, flatten it into a disc, and put a little nut mixture int he middle. Seal the dough around it into an oval, and mark with a cake cutter or fork or anything to make decorative indentations to catch the syrup.

Bake at 180 C/375 F for 22-25 minutes, until deep golden. They will lighten first, then darken again. Hot from the oven, put them into the syrup- bottom side down, then after a minute turn them over and leave them ten minutes. (Most recipes say ten seconds). Then let them drain on a rack.

They will be wet and sticky but still crispy at first, but the syrup will gradually seep into every crumb.

More on holidays:

Kourabiedes are butter rich and light as a snowflake

Christmas in Greece

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Last-Minute Easter Desserts

Happy Easter! It has taken me by surprise entirely. Orthodox Easter is usually later, but rarely five weeks later- we are just barely into Lent. If the Holiday has also come up sooner than you had planned for, there's still no reason to go without dessert, and a very glamorous, festive one.

Austro-Greque Pavlova-

Pavlova dazzles- lofty, creamy and light. Rustic meringue shaped with the back of a spoon, some poached fruit, and Baroque heaps of whipped cream. 4 ingredients (plus a little whiskey or rum?)

Toulouse-Lautrec Chocolate Cake-

Can a cake be a turning point in your life? This one was for me- I have been making it since I was 13 and got a cookbook by Maida Heatter, thereafter my mentor and guardian angel in all things sweet. Toulouse-Lautrec cake is so simple that you can make it on a tv show, mess it up by forgetting 2 of the 5 ingredients, and it will still come out perfect (I did- that's what the photo is from). 

Meringue Mushrooms-

We make these very simple meringue mushrooms to decorate our Bûche de Noël. On their own, they are full of whimsy, perfect for the Holiday, and a delight for children and everyone else. If you have no block chocolate, melt a couple of chocolate eggs to glue them together.

Lenten Chocolate Cake-

Perhaps you've already boiled and dyed all the eggs in the house? Borrow this delicious, moist chocolate sheet cake with a fluffy light texture from lent. Mix dry ingredients straight in the baking pan- no bowl needed. Add water, oil, and vinegar, stir with fork, put the cake in the oven, and the fork in the sink when you're done. And you're done. 

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New Year's in Greece- More Family, More Feasting, More Everything.

Pressure to have a good time makes true enjoyment elusive. New Year's Eve as I knew it centers on a countdown, and don't even get started on who to kiss. Here in Greece, New Year's is a fat two day holiday (and you kiss everyone). Like many things on the charmingly relaxed Greek time table, the jovial Saint bearing gifts is later than everywhere else- it is St. Vassilis, not Claus or Nick, who slips down the chimneys of Greece, and he celebrates on January first (along with everyone named Vassilis or Vassiliki).

Like Christmas Eve Day, New Year's Eve day starts early- more little carolers, this time with a a different song. Same as before, save up your change. And if you had hoped to sleep in a little, set some earplugs out on your night table the evening before. But don't sleep too late- you'll miss them altogether. The door bell used to ring all day, not just a few groups in the morning.

When you go downtown to shop (and you should definitely go downtown- this holiday in particular, and Greece in general, is not about convenience), bring more change-carolers are everywhere- also very practiced students with instruments and varied repetoires. And like before, bring chocolates.

Go early so you can finish up in enough time to join your friends for an ouzo- everyone is out today and with even more "kefi" (Greece's boisterous, infectious joie de vivre). 

The best part of New Year's here is that there is a family dinner. There is all the glitter of soires as abroad, but they start after midnight. Before midnight, the streets are quiet and the bars and clubs are dark- everyone is home enjoying a large family dinner. Like elsewhere, someone turns on the tv a few minutes before midnight strikes to get an accurate time. The first person to step into the house after the New Year strikes who was not in the house when it did, is said to bring the luck of the year. For this reason, a few strokes before the hour, the halls of apartment buildings are filled with festively dressed children waiting to step in, right foot first, bringing with them good fortune. Everyone kisses everyone on both cheeks with good wishes for health and joy.

To ensure that good fortune may be as abundant as the garnet seeds of a pomegranate, a whole one is smashed against the wall to burst.  Like the glass at a Jewish wedding it is wrapped, although less festively in plastic. Still, the walls of our hallway are splattered deep purple towards the bottom- no plastic bag can contain the enthusiasm of children hurling good fortune- and it needs to split open for the luck to be released. This all happens quickly, because we then all spill out onto our balconies, to see the fireworks and greet our neighbors from across the streets and alleyways.

And the cold quickly chases us back in again, to cut the Vasilopita- the New Year's pie. 

The window of every neighborhood bakery-
this one in Ano Poli,
across from the church of Agiou Nikolaou Orphanou-
display the festive Vasilopita for 2016.

The pie is actually a cake, either a sweet yeast-risen butter-rich bread like a tsoureki (a challah or babka type of bread), or a simple orange and yogurt cake. A coin signifying luck has been baked into it. The cake is simply decorated with the New Year, often stencilled in powdered sugar. If this is the case, the pieces are identified by making in the sugar. Otherwise, we use a paper graph. The first piece is for the Savior, the second for the home, then there are pieces for each family member and guests, To even up the count, we often fill in with things that matter to us- our club, our pets (this is not strictly traditional- but surely there are many slices named for favorite teams....). This ritual is repeated throughout the month of January- in school classrooms, offices, and clubs of every kind.

You would think you would be tired by now. But after the children are tucked in, the streets jam with traffic. By one o'clock everyone is out in their way to celebrate. There are special holiday programs of live music, and celebrations of all the Vasillis and Vassilikis, private parties, and festivities at every bar and many restaurants. 

The morning of the New Year starts early if you have children- just like Christmas morning elsewhere, they want to see what is under the tree. We nibble on slices of vasilopita (and drink coffee), and relax with out families, If the sun is out, as it so often is on the first day of the year, we dress up and go for a walk- the promenade at the seafront is full of neighbors exchanging good wishes. We return home for another festive meal, grateful for the good fortune that brings us together.

And some us may take a swim.

Wishing you Health and Joy- καλη χρονια!

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Torte of Good Fortune for the New Year- Sparkle and Simplicity

The classic New Year's Eve dessert in Greece is called a Vassilopita- named for St. Vassilis (bearer of gifts), celebrated on the first day of the New Year. It's usually a tsoureki (challah)-like sweet raised cake. I love tradition, but a bread, no matter how buttery or delicious, is not a festive dessert in our household. We use the ocassion to make anything grand- usually an experiment- as long as it is round, and has a coin. Last year we did a Swedish Princesstorte with homemade marzipan (green!) blanketing a pillow of whipped cream on top of spongecakes sandwiched together with raspberry jam and brushed with rum syrup. Beautiful. Messy to cut.

This year's Vasilopita is also messy to cut. You won't mind- it is delicious. We made a trial so I could share it with you here. We sometimes have disagreements about tradition- this beautiful cake is showered with pomegranate seeds- bearers of good luck. The fruit is a symbol of good fortune for the New Year, and so this untraditional nod towards tradition makes a delicious and stunningly beautiful compromise. It is also very very simple.

We made a meringue shell. Then from the egg yolks left over- a classic creme patisserie, to be lightened later with whipped cream (this makes something called a creme chibouste- light and rich and a fine in everything and also fine in a goblet all by itself. If quality had a flavor, it would be this.) The top is heaped with the dazzling ruby seeds of good-luck pomegranates. It is several steps, but they are each simple, and can be done whenever it suits you best.

First the meringue- We will need:

4 egg whites

200 g/ 1 C sugar

a dash of vinegar

a pinch of salt

non-stick baking paper

Separate the eggs and set the yolks aside (putting them in a jar, covering them with milk, and storing in the refrigerator).

Beat the whites with an electric mixer until foamy, add the salt and vinegar, and continue beating, adding the sugar spoonful by spoonful, until the meringue s glossy and dense.

Line a baking sheet with the non-stick parchment. Mound the meringue into the middle, and, using your serving tray as a guide, spread it into as large a circle as the tray will accommodate, leaving a well in the middle and deep thick sides to hold in the cream and the fruit. We did not use a pastry bag for formal perfection but rather just a spoon, touching the surface and pulling u sharply to make spikes like a sea anemone- a fanciful Chihuly-inspired form to hold the glassy rubies that will fill the center. This took about 30 seconds, and was quite fun. if it for New Years, slipped a clean and foil-wrapped coin into the thick side and cover any trace it it.

A meringue does not bake so much as simply dry. Put it in the oven at a mere 90 C/ 200 F, or even lower of you have a dry day and plenty of patience. Leave it there until is is entirely dry on the surface and most importantly on the bottom, so it can be safely removed from the paper. This will take more than an hour, and maybe two. use the removable bottom of a tart pan to lift it safely and place it on a tray out of harm's way.

Make a creme patisserie of the yolks, Let chill, then lighten with 200 ml/ C heavy cream, whipped stiff, to make a creme chibouste.

Now we are ready to assemble and need only the pomegranate seeds- probably from two large fruits. They are an intricate fruit- thousands of ruby seeds in in clusters, separated by webs of membranes. 

This easy trick frees them:

Fill a large bowl half full of water. Make a cut in a pomegranate, put it under the water and pull it apart:

Loosen the seeds from the white part with your fingertips; they will sink to the bottom and the membranes and outer shell will float- skim them off, fill the bowl with fresh water, and run your hands gently through the seeds to loosen the rest of the membrane. Skim these from the water's surface also, and drain the seeds in a wire strainer until completely dry.

A few hours before serving, assemble the dessert by piling the creme chibouste into the center, and covering the top thoroughly with a thick layer of the glittering seeds.

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Visions of Sugarplums- Easy Last Minute Extras for a Little Holiday Shimmer.

Once you're cutting things up and candying them and tossing them in a shimmer of sugar, it's hard to stop. It couldn't be easier (or less expensive). Sweet translucent frost-kissed anything is festive. And ridiculously impressive - get used to hearing a little gasp and "you made those?" 

Here are some things we have lying around we decided to candy:

Very little work and a half hour of gentle and fragrant simmering, and they are ready to decorate desserts, trays, or just have a bite of of something sweet and flavorful with a coffee or tea.

(Although perhaps it is as cocktail garnishes that they shine the very brightest.)

What we need:

Anything that might hold its shape in a slow boil in sugar water, such as- ginger matchsticks, thick slices of sweet potato, slices of citrus like lemon, lime, orange, or pommelo. 

sugar

water

For citrus:

That white pith is intruigingly bitter- so much so that even three blanchings will not get all of it out. Cover the slices with cold water, bring to a boil, drain, and repeat another two times.There will still be plenty of flavor and character left.

For ginger:

Peel the roots, slice thin, stack slices, and cut into matchsticks. If  the ginger is very tender, you can slice it into coins instead.

For sweet potatoes-

Just peel and slice thickly. But they need something to pick up their flavor- cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, hole peppercorn, some ginger- any or all  of these things, plus some salt.

1. Make a generous bath of 1 part sugar to 1 part water by volume. Try this- pour the sugar into the middle of a saucepan, and the water around it- so that no sugar crystals are touching the sides of the pan.

2. Let it come to the boil and add your citrus, ginger, or potato (with the aromatics and a good pinch of salt).

3. Boil slowly until tender, and the syrup- now rich with flavor- has cooked down and thickened to a sheen.

4. Strain in a fine mesh strainer, letting the syrup drain back into the pot.

5. Put on a rack to dry out a little.

6. Toss in sugar- or not. The first have sparkle, and the second a beautiful sheen. Citrus slices will not loose all their stickiness, but the sweet potatoes will take on a matte frost over time. They are a lovely surprise- meaty and sweet and kind of like chestnuts.

7. Save the syrups to play with cocktails- the citrus in particular has a sophisticated bitter edge, and the ginger is full of heat.

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Hot Me a Toddy Please.

No one's complaining about a November where we ate lunch outside several times and didn't turn the heat on once. But a cold snap before the holidays is just what everyone wants- an excuse to light the fireplace (every night!), and warm up- inside and out- with hot cocktails. They're just the thing to sooth a chill, sweeten the voice, and huddle around a fire. Our three house favorites now? One from our new world (Crete), one from our old world (my grandparent's house, and one we just made up that we can't get enough of.

Rakomelo (from "raki"- distilled spirit of grapes, and "meli" = honey)-

With a the classic holiday cookie- Kourabie.

This widely available in the winter at cafe/bars and casual mezze places throughout Greece.

2 shot glasses full of honey, and 4 of raki/tsicoudia

3 or 4 whole cloves or a cinnamon stick

Gently warm together and serve in a small clear glasses.

Hot Buttered Rum-

My grandfather George- of meticulous and refined hand and tastes- made hot buttered rum batter in ample supply for holiday entertaining.

125 g/ 1 stick butter

225 g/ generous 1 C brown sugar

1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg

whisper of ground cloves

tiny pinch of salt (to be honest, this appears in no recipe I have ever seen, but he may have used salted butter, and this almost undetectable amount of salt enhances the butter's presence tremendously)

For each cocktail, use two tablespoons of batter, 2 shots of dark rum, and 125 ml/ 1/2 C boiling water.

This is classically served in a mug. I do not like mugs, and use these handle-less Japanese tea cups instead.

Tea-time-

Like the using tomato juice or fresh orange juice makes it somehow ok to have a drink at 11 am (the bloody mary, the mimosa- brunch's civilized companions), using tea makes it perfectly ok to enjoy this before dark (it's winter; the sun sets at 5- the start of any civilized cocktail hour.) 

You will need to have made a batch of crystallized ginger to enjoy this drink- a spectacular result for a very simple activity.

Brew strong black tea. To each cup, add a shot of bourbon and a shot of the thick spicy syrup left over from making the candied ginger. 

This goes straight to your lungs and makes your voice sound, and feel, great. Serving in a fancy tea cup underscores the drink's respectability.

(I know this supposed to be all about entertaining and pleasure, but I'd swear any one of these keeps a chill from turning onto a cold. Wishing you health and joy.)

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Greek Farmer's Market Squash Meets Classic American Dessert

Part- sometimes most- of the pleasure of living abroad is the food. But there is no reason to forget a traditional dish from home. Nostalgia made with fresh things in your new world hits just the right note, like this pie- a holiday standard in our old country, usually with canned pumpkin, and perfectly fine. But it can be better- imagine silky flan enriched with roasted squash, baked in a flaky butter shell. We have fabulous winter squash in Greece- abundance is the mother of invention.

A squash always sits ready on the terrace-
a tiny Botero to catch the afternoon light.

The recipe takes a little planning, as we first need to roast the squash. There will be lots of squash- use the rest to make these gnocchi, or freeze for later.

We will need:

500 g/ 2 generous cups squash puree

450 ml/ 2 C canned milk

1 1/2 to 2 C sugar (depending on the sweetness of the squash)

6 eggs
2 or 3 tablespoons rum or whiskey 

1 tsp. salt

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. ginger

a pinch of ground cloves

a few gratings of nutmeg

one pie crust (this recipe will be more than enough for a very generous pie dish), rolled out.

Line your largest, deepest pie dish (we used the classic Emile Henry 25 cm/10") with the dough, trim evenly all around with kitchen shears, and crimp however you wish.

Using a stick blender or electric mixer, blend the filling ingredients, using the lower amount of sugar. Taste, add more sugar if you need it, and maybe some more spice. Be gentle- the squash has a rich, delicate flavor that would be a shame to hide. 

Bake on the oven's lowest rack at 170 C/ 350 F for 45 minutes to an hour- it will jiggle, but a knife put into the center should just come out clean. The puffed filling will settle down and firm as it cools. When cold, it slices beautifully, and this crust will be flaky and crisp- quite a trick with a flan filling. 

Feeling a little lazy? Make only the filling and bake it in one large dish or several cups in a bain marie. 

Serve either with whipped cream- freshly beaten and just barely sweet if you want some sophistication, or sprayed from a can if you want to lighten things up.

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Greece's Classic Holiday Cookie- Rich with Butter, Light as a Snowflake.

Many cultures lay claim to Kourabiedes- Mexican wedding cakes, Russian tea cakes, Swedish tea balls, Viennese crescents. The reason there are so many versions of this cookie is because it is divine. This barely sweet shortbread, rolled while hot and buttery in powdered sugar to make a layer of creamy icing, then dusted with more sugar after cooling so it's white like snow, is everywhere during the holidays here in Greece (along with the moist, syrup-kissed, walnut filled melomakarona). It has just 3 ingredients, so it is also divinely tricky- we are not relying on showy spices or splashy chocolate for impact, but texture. A little care and three simple steps and your buttery Kourabiedes will be rich, crumbly, and ethereal as a snowflake. 

We will need:

250 g/ generous 1 C butter

1/4 tsp/ salt

60 g/ generous 1/2 C powdered sugar

a little vanilla 

300 g/ 2 1/2 C flour

then-

lots more powdered sugar for rolling, at least 400 g/3 1/2 C

The first step to a light texture is beating the butter (together with the salt) to make it as airy as possible. Use an electric mixer, and scrape the sides often (turning off the mixer before you do so). After 5 to 7 minutes, it will be nearly twice the original volume, and have lightened from pale gold to nearly white:

Beat in the powdered sugar and vanilla. The second step to keeping them light is to add the flour gently by hand (beating the flour in could toughen and deflate the batter), stopping just as soon as it is smooth.

These are good plain, but most Greek versions have almonds:

Toasting them deepens their flavor- just put them in the oven for about ten minutes as you are heating it up, and chop them roughly with a serrated bread knife. A teacup's worth will be generous enough.

A difference between the Greek version and the many other international versions of this cookie is that Kourabiedes are quite large. This generous batch will yield just 20 - 24 cookies. The advantage of size (apart from the obvious)- they are less likely to dry out, and you can best appreciate the melting crumb of them when you can take a good bite.

Typical shapes are flattened ovals, and crescents:

In this batch, the ovals are plain, the crescents with toasted almond, and the balls with walnuts and cinnamon- a departure altogether (Polverones).

The third step to a light and crumbling kourabie is watchful baking- Bake at 170 C/ 350 F for about 20 minutes- they will have puffed slightly and the surfaces will be entirely dry. But they will have taken on nearly no color at all except for the bottoms, which will be gold. They will yield slightly when you press them, then firm up as they  cool. If you wait until they are firm to come out of the oven, their texture will be dry rather than melting.

Have ready a large bowl of powdered sugar for rolling, and a tray where they can all fit without touching one another. Roll them generously in the sugar one by one while still hot from the oven and place them on the tray- if they touch they will stick together. The powdered sugar draws the warm butter to the surface, clings to it, and forms a layer of icing. You will see them go from white and dry to yellow and moist as the sugar absorbs the butter. Once cool, roll them again generously- the dry sugar will stick to the icing, and look like snow.

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