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I Dream of Falafel

Iconic street food from the Levant

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

Do you know what North Carolina and North Africa have in common? We’re on the same latitude. Consider that for a moment! If you’re looking out onto the Atlantic Ocean in North Carolina you’re on par with Morocco. When inquisitive friends and family from overseas ask about the climate in our part of the world, I typically tell them that we may as well be in Casablanca. You know, if Casablanca was muggy.

I was so fortunate to visit North Africa and parts of the Levant in my younger years. I had just turned 18 and set up shop at the Costa del Sol in Spain for the summer. I vividly remember the day I was lounging at the beach in sunny Marbella; it was a particularly clear day, not a cloud in sight and the morning haze had just dissipated. As I gazed across the azure tinted Mediterranean sea, I saw her. I saw Africa and she was calling my name. Within less than 24 hours, I was on a ferry crossing over from Gibraltar, Spain to Tangier, Morocco. I was unaccompanied with little more than a small backpack, clutching on to my passport, ready to set foot on African soil.

North Africa is hands-down one of the most exotic and colorful places I have visited. While I have many rich memories of this trip, traversing the northern tip of Africa all the way from Morocco to transcontinental Egypt, what stands out the most is the allure of the Arab and Mediterranean cuisine, particularly the many different renditions of falafel I tried. No, I didn’t make it to Israel, the alleged home of the falafel where, rumor has it, you cannot turn around without ending up in the queue of a falafel shop. However, despite its popularity in Israel, most agree that falafel probably originated in Egypt. In fact, if you happen to go to a McDonald’s in Cairo, you’ll find McFalafel on the menu, bizarre as it may seem.

There are many reasons to love falafel. The most obvious is that these golden-baked, crispy balls drizzled with tahini sauce and stuffed into a fluffy pita or served as part of a meze are bursting with flavor. Falafel are also a fabulous gateway to a more plant-based life-style; with their meatball-esque texture, they leave little to be desired. June 12 marks the annual international falafel day, but why wait; there is no wrong time to enjoy the world’s oldest (and perhaps healthiest) fast food. 

Falafel

(Makes about 20 balls)

Ingredients:

1 1/4 cups dried chickpeas, soaked overnight

1/2 cup onion, finely chopped

4 garlic cloves, crushed

1/2 cup flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

1/2 cup cilantro, finely chopped

1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon cardamom

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

2 tablespoons chickpea flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

Avocado oil for frying (optional)

Drain the chickpeas and add them to a food processor along with the onions, garlic, parsley and cilantro. If you have a small food processor, mix in batches; pulse each batch for about 30 seconds until the ingredients are finely chopped and hold together well. Once processed, add the spices, chickpea flour and baking soda and mix by hand; if the mixture feels too dry, add 1-2 tablespoons of water. Cover and refrigerate the mixture for at least 1 hour before processing.

Using your hands or an ice cream scoop, form balls or patties (about 1 tablespoon of mixture per ball).

You can now deep-fry or bake your falafels. To deep-fry, add about 4 inches of oil to a heavy-bottomed pot and heat the oil to 350°F. Cook falafels in batches, for about 3-4 minutes until they are golden brown. Transfer to a paper-towel lined plate and serve immediately.

To bake the falafel, pre-heat the oven to 425°F. Place the falafel on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper, brush the top of your falafel with oil and bake for 25 minutes. Flip falafel halfway through baking. Serve right away.  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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Mama Don’t Bake

A simple cheese-less cheesecake

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

I talk about diet and nutrition as much as I talk about politics and the weather. Practically never.

To be honest, diet-talk is a regular snoozefest, in my book. But aside from lacking entertainment value, arguing diet- and nutrition-related issues is a no-win undertaking. Having self-studied nutrition for over a decade, I have come to understand that opinions, as well as science, vary tremendously on the subject and — as anybody who survived the great margarine craze knows — change fundamentally from time to time. Throw in body image and weight loss issues, and you’re in for some potentially awkward discussions. No thanks.

Still, despite all the controversies, can we agree that nutrient-dense foods are an excellent choice? I wouldn’t do this cheesecake any justice if I didn’t touch on the fabulously valuable ingredients this recipe calls for. I am talking about chia seeds, dates, almonds and cashew yogurt, as well as blackberries and even agar. For most health-minded chefs, particularly in the plant-based kitchen, there is something incredibly satisfying about adapting and healthifying conventional recipes. Substituting less nutritious ingredients with nutrient-rich, minimally processed foods to create a dish that looks, tastes and feels like the original is uniquely rewarding.

Take cheesecake, for example. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with regular cheesecake. I’ll be the first to grab a slice off the dessert buffet, but if I can have something of equal quality made with more wholesome ingredients, I will choose the more nourishing version every time.

So, does this cheese-less cheesecake taste like, well, cheesecake? It does. The yogurt gives it that tangy flavor, the texture is creamy and lush but firm enough to maintain its shape beautifully. On a scale of New York-style cheesecake to thick custard, this falls somewhere in the middle. And the proverbial cherry on top? This is a no-bake cake.

 

 

No-Bake Blackberry Chia Cheesecake

Crust

90 grams (8-10) dates, pitted

100 grams  (1 cup) ground almonds, blanched

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Pinch of salt

Cake

340 grams (12 ounces) yogurt — I used store-bought cashew yogurt

55 grams (5 tablespoons) chia seeds

70 grams (about 1/4 cup) maple syrup, or more, to taste

1 can (400 milliliters) unsweetened, full fat coconut milk

3 tablespoons agar flakes (not powder)

300 grams (2 cups) blackberries, fresh or defrosted

Soak dates in boiling water for 10-15 minutes. Line the bottom of a 6-inch springform pan with parchment paper. Drain dates and squeeze out any excess water. Place all ingredients for the crust into a food processor and blend. Scrape down sides frequently while blending until you have a sticky, slightly coarse paste. Press the crust evenly into the bottom of the springform and set aside.

Mix yogurt with chia seeds and maple syrup and refrigerate. Stir the mixture occasionally to maintain an even texture. Pour coconut milk into a small saucepan, add agar flakes and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 6-8 minutes (or according to package instructions), stirring frequently. Meanwhile, add berries to a high speed blender and puree. Transfer berries to a large bowl and add coconut agar mixture, whisk to combine, then quickly incorporate the chia yogurt. Taste for sweetness; you may want to add more maple syrup if you like sweeter cakes, and promptly pour cheesecake mixture into the springform. Transfer cheesecake to the refrigerator and allow to set and chill for at least 3 hours, ideally overnight. Serve with fresh fruit or coconut cream.  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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Mademoiselle Brioche

A sweet bread for Easter

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

If “brioche” conjures up images of burger buns, and little else, have you even lived yet?

Sure, brioche can be a party girl. She makes fabulous burger and sandwich bread, no doubt, but that’s just scratching the surface of what brioche is capable of. Yes, she can be your flip-flop-wearing, tank top-sporting drinking buddy, but if you ever had chocolate-glazed diplomats, you know she can also be your sophisticated wedding date in a lacy dress with kitten heels.

Or, as I am about to show you, brioche can effortlessly turn into your folksy, linen-trousered best friend with dangling earrings, one that is always full of surprises. Brioche is truly multifaceted but rarely ordinary.

For those of you who don’t geek out over baked goods, allow me to explain: Brioche is a delicate, buttery yeast bread (technically, it is a Viennoiserie), similar to everyday yeast breads, but picture a downy cloud made of fine-spun cotton and you have yourself some epic brioche. It also happens to be one of the easier bread recipes to make — if you own some sort of kneading gadget, which I do not.

I stubbornly hand-knead my dough. Nothing is quite as meditative and grounding as using your bare hands to make bread; feeling the texture transform between your fingers from powdery, gooey and slippery to a satisfyingly malleable shape. Making dough is the grown-up equivalent of a toddler’s sensory bin, if ever I have seen one. Bonus points if your dough later doubles in size, which it hopefully will, and you have passed the halfway mark to a feathery brioche, whichever shape or form you decide to process it into.

With Easter, or Ostara, on the horizon — you know, that time of the year that marks the awakening of the earth and colors the land in lovely shades of pastel — many cultures celebrate with the tradition of braided yeast bread. The interpretation of its symbolism is wide-ranging and differs significantly, depending on the Kulturkreis. For me, it’s simply a family tradition that brings back memories of my grandma’s kitchen; the sweet perfume of freshly scraped vanilla beans, the earthy scent of fermenting yeast and us kids sticking our fingers into the sugar-lemon glaze bowl, which ultimately got us banished from the room. We didn’t call it brioche then; I didn’t connect the dots until later on, when I went on my own baking journey, and of all the things brioche can be, the Easter braid will forever be my favorite.

 

Mocha Hazelnut Brioche Braid

(Makes 1 braided loaf)

(Basic dough recipe adapted from
Bouchon Bakery)

For the dough:

270 grams all-purpose flour

6 grams instant yeast

30 grams granulated sugar

7 grams salt

130 grams eggs (roughly 3 medium sized eggs)

45 grams milk

120 grams unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

For the filling:

150 grams finely ground hazelnuts

30 grams sugar

30 grams chocolate spread

5 grams cinnamon

50 grams grated apple

60 grams brewed coffee

8 grams freshly squeezed lemon juice

Place flour and yeast in a large mixing bowl and whisk to combine. Add remaining ingredients except for the butter and mix for 5 minutes by hand, or with the help of a stand mixer with dough hook. Continue kneading for 30 minutes while slowly adding in small chunks of butter. Fully incorporate each chunk of butter before you add the next. The dough will be slightly sticky at this point; remove it from the bowl (use a scraper if needed) and place it on a lightly floured surface. Pat, stretch and fold the dough, then place it back in the bowl, cover and allow to rest for 1 hour at room temperature. Repeat the pat, stretch and fold before moving the dough to the refrigerator and chilling overnight.

Combine all ingredients for the mocha hazelnut filling and set aside. Take the dough out of the fridge and set on a lightly floured surface. Roll out the dough to form a rectangle (about 30×45 centimeters) and cover evenly with the mocha hazelnut filling. Roll up the dough tightly lengthwise, then cut it in half lengthwise and entwine both strings to form a braid. Move your braid to a baking sheet and allow to rest at room temperature for 30-45 minutes. Preheat oven to 325F, apply egg wash, if desired, and bake for 30-35 minutes or until braid turns a light golden color. .  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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The Best of Both Worlds

Poke takes the mainland

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

If you are on the periphery of pop culture, you will likely miss a number of trends, hypes and hashtags. I am fine with the general concept of it. In fact, I am quite comfortable in my state of pop-apathy, unruffled by much of the noise and excitement of mainstream culture. However, it also means I occasionally miss out on something of value. In terms of food, I wish I had paid attention about five years ago when poke bowls rose to fame and conquered the mainland.

Not only was I snoozing on this tasty development but, without giving it much thought, I assumed that poke bowls were of Japanese origin. In my defense, as a native to Central Europe, far removed from any island living, what was I to think of a dish served with sushi rice, raw fish, chopsticks and pickled ginger? (Unsurprisingly, the mainland rendition of poke differs significantly from authentic island poke, but I’ll get to that in a minute). If you, like myself, were off by about 4,000 miles and didn’t know poke is a traditional Hawaiian dish, you’re in good company. I have since learned that, unless you are greeted at the door by aloha signs and grass skirt-wearing waiters, not many people seem to know (or care) where poke comes from as long as it tastes good. And I can get on board with this.

A purist at heart, I’m torn when it comes to straying from tradition; talk about (con)fusion cooking. If the heart of the matter is preserved — which is highly subjective, of course — I’m generally in favor of mixing things up, but please make it an homage to the original, or call it something else. Original Hawaiian poke’s roots go back to when the first Polynesians came to the island. Supposedly, Captain James Cook was served poke during a visit to Hawaii in the late 18th century. Poke literally means “to slice, cut crosswise into pieces.” What is typically served as a simple snack on the island morphed into a wholesome meal on the continent.

To honor tradition as well as to indulge in the playful bowl-culture of our time, making octopus “tako” poke gets you the best of both worlds, without too much of a compromise. Unless you drown your poke in spicy mayo, then you cannot be helped. Octopus, alongside tuna, is one of the classically used poke ingredients; you can do as the islanders do and eat it raw, without sides, or serve it hipsterville-style on a bed of rice with seaweed and avocado. Either way is scrumptious and definitely picture-worthy.

 

Tako Poke Bowl  (Serves 2)

For the bowl

12-16 ounces baby octopus, cooked

3 cups sushi rice, cooked

For the relish

1 medium-size tomato, diced

3 tablespoons shoyu (can substitute soy sauce or tamari)

1 tablespoon sesame oil

1 teaspoon grated ginger

1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

1/4 cup chopped green onions

1 tablespoon rice vinegar

1 teaspoon honey

Additional optional toppings: sliced avocado, cucumbers and radishes, sprouts, toasted sesame seeds, julienned carrots, roe, pickled ginger, seaweed flakes or salad.

Cut octopus into bite-sized pieces. In a small bowl, combine ingredients for the relish and mix well. Add octopus, stir once more to combine, cover and chill before serving. To serve, add sushi rice to a bowl, top with tako (octopus) poke and add additional ingredients of your choice.  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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Cutting Corners

A quicker way to homemade croissants

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

The ink on my freshly issued driver’s license hadn’t dried yet when four of my friends and I piled into my newly acquired VW Polo to pop across the border for a casual breakfast in France. A swift hour-and-a-half later, we sat in the courtyard of a little boulangerie in Wissembourg, France, sipping café au lait while enjoying freshly baked, oven-warm butter croissants.

Ah, such sweet memories. These trips were a weekend ritual for many years with an ever-changing cast of friends, and while I no longer drink milk coffees (espresso macchiato all the way), I am still, some 25 years later, utterly obsessed with flaky, buttery croissants.

Fortunately, the Sandhills have ramped up their offering of artisan croissants, I’m happy to report. But not all croissants are created equal, and truly authentically crafted ones sell out faster than you can get out of your pajamas to drive across town to snag a few. So, what’s a girl with a passion for properly laminated butter croissants to do? Make your own, of course. But therein lies the rub.

If you read any recipe for traditional butter croissants, you could easily be led to believe that making these pastries is simple. Time consuming, perhaps, but simple. Make a dough, fold in butter, refrigerate, bake, done. Well, I am here to tell you that a decent amount of practice goes into making croissants (for the casual baker, that is), and every single mistake will affect the end result. Many years back (when cupcakes were the height of sophistication for me), my first batch leaked copious amounts of butter in the oven, and the croissants came out oily and sad looking.

While I have dramatically improved my baking skills, why invest two or even three days of your life when you can have the same delicate, honeycomb-structured butter croissants in just a few hours with a simplified method?

Necessity is the mother of invention. With a toddler taking up most of my time, I searched, tried and failed, and searched some more until I found the perfect shortcut to making perfect croissants. In a nutshell, you can make delicious croissants with one easy alteration: Instead of laminating repeatedly (folding butter into the dough), you spread butter in between layers of dough, which miraculously gives you the same flaky, pull-apart texture of the time-honored but decidedly more tedious method. The best part is, nobody will know you cut corners. Unless you tell.

 

Easy Butter Croissants  

(Yields 10 croissants / Imperial measures are approximate)

Basic Dough

500 grams (4 cups) all-purpose flour or T65 (preferred)

50 grams (1/4 cup) sugar

1 egg

5 grams (1.8 teaspoons) active dry yeast

20 grams (1.5 tablespoons) butter

10 grams (1.75 teaspoons) salt

210 milliliters (0.8 cups) water 

Butter Layers

225 grams (8 ounces) butter

 

Place all ingredients for the dough into a large bowl and knead until a ball forms and no longer sticks to the side of the bowl. Allow the dough to rest in a warm place until it doubles in size; about 1-2 hours.

Place dough on a lightly floured surface, shape into a log and cut into 10 pieces. Roll out the first piece to a rectangle, approximately 8×10 inches, and cover with a generous amount of butter. Roll out another piece of dough, set on top of your first dough-butter layer and repeat, alternating dough and butter to create a dough stack, ending with a layer of dough. Refrigerate the dough stack until fully chilled, about 2 hours.

Roll out dough into a large rectangle, about 10×20 inches. Cut dough in a zig-zag pattern to create 10 triangles and, starting with the base of the triangle, roll into croissant. Tuck the tip under so the croissants won’t come undone while baking. Refrigerate once more for at least 1-2 hours (or overnight), then allow to rise at room temperature for 1-2 additional hours before baking.

Preheat oven to 400F, apply egg wash if desired and bake for 20-22 minutes.  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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You, Me, Après-Ski

The art of smørrebrød

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

From St. Moritz to Sugar Mountain, after-ski traditions are as varied as the topography of the mountains themselves. You might find yourself in a tavern with sticky floors, communal tables and craft brews on tap, or you might lounge on a secluded sun deck draped in a wool blanket, overlooking picturesque hillsides. Whatever your situation, one thing is for sure: After a day’s vigorous outdoor activity in the frosty cold, you will be in the market for some serious chow. Move over, moringa smoothies and açaí bowls, this is a job for pickled herring, Alpine fries, potato rösti, cheese fondue and goulash soup.

Or, for the culinary adventurous and fellow Scandiphiles, wander off the beaten path and explore the rich and colorful world of smørrebrød. The possibilities are endless, but let’s start with the basics: Take a slice of freshly baked rye bread, spread butter on it and layer with smoked, pickled or fresh meat or fish, then balance out flavors and textures with spreads, cheese, herbs, veggies or fruit.

Smørrebrød literally translates from Danish to “butter bread.” It is always open-faced and iconic in all of Scandinavia and many parts of Europe, and for good reason. While other European countries have similar traditions (Germans love their “Brotzeit”), there is something rather intriguing about the Danish version of it.

There are some rules to observe (or deliberately ignore), but hands-down, the most important one is: Smørrebrød needs to be appealing to the eye, even sexy. It’s an art form and, at its best, it draws you in with appetizing compositions of fresh (or freshly preserved) ingredients, a mixture of colors and carefully curated garnishes. In Denmark, entire restaurants have dedicated themselves to creating the most enticing open-faced sandwiches with artisan ingredients. For an authentic experience, eat with a fork and a knife and never, under the penalty of public ridicule, fold your smørrebrød to eat as a sandwich.

Bizarre, but true: In Denmark, you can become a “smørrebrødsjomfru” — literally, a “butter bread maiden,” which is a recognized three-year apprenticeship and qualifies you to work in respected restaurants as a smørrebrød chef. While this culinary heritage became less popular sometime during the second half of the 20th century, it is now experiencing a renaissance, and not just in Denmark. More often these days, you will find smørrebrød on the menu of après-ski locations around Europe as a nourishing, wholesome meal option. While this delicacy is a year-round offering, it has special appeal during the winter months, particularly to those who like to eat in-season as it is an excellent reason to raid your root cellar for all things smoked and pickled.

 

Rollmops, Egg and Beet Smørrebrød   (Serves 2)

3/4 cup pickled red beets, drained

1/2 cup sour cream

1-2 tablespoons prepared horseradish, or to taste

2 slices rye bread

A handful leafy greens (e.g., arugula)

2 rollmops (pickled or salted herring)

2 boiled eggs, halved or sliced

1 small apple, sliced

2 tablespoons capers

Red onion, thinly sliced

Chives or sprouts for garnish

Combine red beets, sour cream and horseradish in a food processor and blend until you have a smooth cream. Spread a generous layer of red beet cream on the slices of bread, add leafy greens, rollmops, eggs, apple slices, capers and onions and arrange to your liking. Sprinkle with chives and serve right away.   PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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Aw, Shucks!

Oysters for breakfast

Story and Photographs by Rose Shewey

If you think oysters are for people in pink polo shirts with designer haircuts, chances are you have not attended an oyster roast in the South. Not only were these mollusks considered poor man’s food at varying times throughout history, oyster roasts have been a celebrated low country tradition in many Southern states for folks of all walks of life.

Which begs the question: Raw or cooked? How do you prefer your oysters? According to M.F.K. Fisher, one of the original food writers of our time, oyster-eaters can be divided into three camps: There are the oyster enthusiasts who will eat oysters any which way as long as mollusks are on the menu; there are the purists who will eat oysters raw and raw only; and lastly, there are those who will eat oysters cooked and no other way.

As for me, I like my bivalves raw as much as I like them cooked but will happily pass on oysters altogether if it’s summertime. As far as I am concerned, oysters are classic cold-weather fare even though the old adage that warns against eating oysters in months without an “r” no longer holds true. Despite good arguments that support safe and tasty oyster feasts year-round, I stand with tradition on this one.

“Oysters are the usual opening to a winter breakfast . . . indeed they are indispensable,” wrote Grimod de la Reynière in the Almanach des Gourmands in 1803. OK, oysters for breakfast might be pushing it a little, but I believe Reynière had it right nonetheless.

Consider this: Oysters are incredibly nutritious with unbelievable amounts of zinc — a trace mineral that will help your body fend off cold season maladies. Winter really does seem to be the perfect time to indulge in oysters.

As a “northern light” who grew up on the same latitude as Montreal, Canada (just a few thousand miles to the east), I cannot in good conscience say that North Carolina is cold during the month of November. However, having attended several Thanksgiving oyster roasts, I am definitely in favor of busting out the old oyster knife and doing some shucking this time of year. Besides, millions of French cannot be wrong — France boasts record sales of fresh oysters from late fall until the new year, every year. So, enjoy plump, briny and succulent oysters whenever you want, but celebrate them during the chilly holiday season.

Raw Oysters with Orange Fig Mignonette      (Makes 4-6 appetizers)

1/4 cup freshly squeezed orange juice

1/4 cup red wine vinegar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon ground pepper

2-3 fresh, ripe figs, peeled and minced

2 shallots, minced

2 teaspoon minced chives

1 teaspoon dried red chili flakes

24 freshly shucked oysters

Add orange juice, vinegar, salt and pepper in a small bowl and whisk to combine. Stir in figs, shallots, chives and chili flakes, and drizzle mignonette over oysters.   PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website at suessholz.com.

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Peter, Peter, Waffle Eater

Everything doesn’t need to be orange

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

My husband cheekily calls me “the adopted daughter of the South” for no other reason than my fascination with big, loud pickup trucks. I will admit that my favorite vehicle is our old, mud-splattered, lifted four-wheel drive truck with 35-inch tires and rumbling pipes you can hear miles down the road. (I may or may not have taken this truck, just for kicks, through the porte-cochère at the Carolina Hotel. I mean, Sunday afternoons tend to be a bit slow.)

While I am a fan of robust vehicles, I typically prefer more delicate things in life. Take waffles, for instance. The ever-present Belgium waffle — the thick, fluffy, square (or round) waffle with deep, soggy pockets that hold ungodly amounts of maple syrup — is the waffle of choice for most. I, on the other hand, am a devotee of the thin and crisp Scandinavian waffle. The lacy, ornate, heart-shaped Nordic-style waffle with a light dusting of powdered sugar makes my heart sing.

The same way I adore delicate shapes, I have an appreciation for delicate flavors. So, despite it being October, the month of all things orange-tinted, pumpkins rank low on my harvest list. Yes, I love pumpkins as much as the next Boho-knit-cardigan-wearing, scented-candle-hoarding girl but excuse me while I mark this page safe from the annual pumpkin craze. Iconoclast? Not at all. Pumpkins are delightful in many ways, but when it comes to flavor, they aren’t much to write home about. What truly makes anything pumpkin-infused stand out is the supporting cast: a warm, comforting spice mix that is added to virtually all things pumpkin-related.

It’s hard to imagine October without stumbling over chubby gourds at every turn, but autumn has many beautiful heralds — juicy apples, chestnuts, mushrooms, pears or, for instance, hazelnuts. I learned quickly that Americans don’t share my enthusiasm for hazelnuts, a symbol of health and strength, and was recently told by a chef that it’s a Euro thing. Maybe, but I’m also here to tell you that you are missing out if you do not incorporate hazelnuts into your fall cuisine. Whether you enjoy them raw, roasted, covered in chocolate or ground up into flour, hazelnuts are exquisite and should not be missing from your autumn harvest spread.

Norwegian Hazelnut Cardamom Waffles   (Serves 2)

1/2 cup finely ground blanched hazelnuts

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom (or 1 teaspoon cinnamon)

2 eggs

1/2 cup milk (or any non-dairy milk)

3 tablespoons maple syrup

3 tablespoons coconut oil, melted

Preheat your waffle iron. Combine all dry ingredients in a bowl and mix well. In a separate bowl, whisk eggs and add remaining ingredients. Add the dry ingredients to the egg mix and stir to combine. Pour batter into the preheated waffle iron and cook until golden brown and steam is no longer rising. Serve with toppings of your choice — berries, figs, chopped nuts, yogurt or simply dust with powdered sugar.   PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

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Truffle Treasure

Getting a kick from Champagne

Story and Photograph By Rose Shewey

If I were to change my path in life and choose a different craft, I’d become a truffle hunter. I would train a Lagotto, a curly-coated dog famous for its truffle hunting qualities, and move to the Piedmont region in Italy where I would happily spend my days roaming the outdoors, looking for subterranean treasures.

If you have ever tasted a fully ripened, wild truffle — not the second-rate, cultivated stuff — you’re likely on board. The musky, sweet and gamey aroma of truffles is intoxicating and has you scheming for ways to get your hands on more.

In fact, I would happily hunt for any wild edible fungi for the rest of my days even though, truthfully, I have never dared to go mushroom picking without an expert guide. I have it on good authority that even in the U.S. Army’s own SERE (Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape) school, students are instructed to avoid mushrooms at all costs as the chance of, well, survival is greatly diminished if you accidentally ingest the wrong kind.

Wild mushrooms are as mysterious and elusive as they are feverishly sought. Neither plant nor animal, mushrooms are a fascinating world of their own. With their velvety caps, tender gills and whimsical, almost otherworldly appearance, mushrooms have always held a special place in my heart.

When it comes to preparing mushrooms I take a page out of the Alsatian playbook. To some, it may seem decadent, but in the cuisine d`Alsace folks have known for centuries that modest, earthy crops shine like a star once infused with Champagne, as the pearly acidity rounds out their natural flavors. I have quasi-celebrity backup on this: Goethe, Bismarck and Voltaire, all staunch Champagne enthusiasts, would have given us the thumbs-up, no doubt about it.

 

Mushroom Champagne Tagliatelle with Truffle Oil   (Generously serves 2)

16 ounces mushrooms (wild if available or a gourmet mix), sliced or quartered

2 tablespoons oil

1 shallot, diced

Several sprigs fresh thyme

3-5 cloves fresh garlic, minced

1 tablespoon arrowroot flour or all-purpose flour

1 cup Champagne or sparkling wine (demi-sec for sweetness, otherwise brut)

1 cup chicken or vegetable stock

1/2 cup heavy cream or full-fat coconut cream

Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

1/2 pound tagliatelle pasta, cooked to taste

Truffle oil or Parmesan cheese for serving

Mushrooms are best dry-sautéed: Heat a heavy skillet over medium to high heat, add mushrooms and stir frequently until they release their juices. Add oil, shallot and fresh thyme. Sauté until mushrooms are brown and tender, stirring occasionally. Add garlic and cook for an additional minute, then add flour and slowly pour in wine and stock, stirring to scrape browned bits from the pan. Simmer until liquid is reduced by half. Turn down the heat, stir in heavy cream and season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve over cooked pasta with grated Parmesan cheese or truffle oil.  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.

Focus on Food

Chocolate Ice Pops?

Black Forest cake anything!

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

Oh, how much I wanted to taste my mom’s homemade Black Forest layer cake when I was a child. “Why not?” I would ask indignantly, my arms crossed over my fuzzy polyester sweater. (It was the 1980s after all.)

“Because,” my mom would respond with a heavy sigh and the patience of a Catalan pack mule, “it has alcohol in it and you wouldn’t like it.”

The temptation was real. The silky, hand whipped cream; the spongy, rich chocolate layers; and the luscious, lip-staining sour cherries spiked with fragrant cherry brandy, “Kirschwasser.” Any time Black Forest cake made an appearance on the buffet, I would ask for a slice, but my mom’s response was typically a resounding “no,” and I’d be rushed off to the kid’s table with a piece of marble cake.

To be clear, most European parents aren’t terribly worried about their children ingesting a little bit of alcohol — to the contrary, the stereotype holds true. My mom simply assumed that my palate wasn’t refined enough to appreciate such grown-up treats. So, why let a precious slice of cake go to waste on immature taste buds?

To this day, I adore Black Forest cake. Aside from the fact that this dessert is the epitome of divine yet sinfully decadent pleasures, I am hopelessly nostalgic. “Schwarzälder Kirschtorte” was, and is, a festive staple in my German homeland during times of celebration.

As baroque in nature as Black Forest cake may be, at its core it is a simple, yet epic, combination of flavors. You don’t have to make the prototypical layer cake to enjoy it — you can make Black Forest cake anything. The essential components of chocolate, cream and boozy cherries are incredibly versatile. My go-to quick fix over the years has been creamy Black Forest chocolate ice pops. With only five ingredients, this frozen treat tops any other ice cream-type dessert and adds a touch of glamour to the otherwise rather ordinary lineup of frozen pops.

By the way, my mom was wrong. When I finally laid my tiny, greedy hands on my first slice of Black Forest cake, it was love at first bite, and I scarfed it all down. Well, I ate all the parts that didn’t taste like cherry brandy. So what if I just licked the cream off the top? My mom was still wrong.

Black Forest Chocolate Ice Pops          

(Makes 6)

You’ll need six ice pop molds and sticks for this recipe.

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups yogurt, coconut cream or heavy cream

2 1/2 tablespoon raw honey (or more, to taste)

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1/4 cup cacao powder

3/4 cup cherries, fresh or frozen, pitted

2 teaspoon Kirschwasser (optional)

In a bowl, combine yogurt (or cream), honey and vanilla extract and whisk until smooth. Divide into two equal parts; set aside one part and stir cacao powder into the other part. In a food processor, blend cherries to your desired texture; anywhere from coarse to puréed will work (or skip this step and continue with whole or halved cherries). Add Kirschwasser if desired. Add a couple of tablespoons of yogurt mixture to each mold, then add a couple of tablespoons chocolate mix and about one tablespoon of cherries; continue layering until the molds are full. Add sticks, then freeze.  PS

German native Rose Shewey is a food stylist and food photographer. To see more of her work visit her website, suessholz.com.