Baked samosas

A few nights ago I was sitting around, perusing my roommate's Cooking with All Things Trader Joe's cookbook and came upon this interesting recipe for Indian-style baked samosas. While I wasn't sure about the book--a lot of the "recipes" seem to involve emptying the contents of one TJ's item, like hummus, onto a plate and serving with TJ's organic baby carrots--this recipe caught my eye. It's essentially a rip-off of the Moosewood cookbook's vegetarian samosa recipe, but they've adapted it to involve those pre-washed/peeled/cut sweet potatoes and frozen TJ peas. I was inspired by the simple crust recipe, involving nothing more than flour and buttermilk, and adapted the already-adapted recipe into my own version. I made samosas with the sweet potato/pea filling and a second version of my own creation, a sort of curried ground turkey meat filling with onions and raisins. This raisins balance the spice and saltiness of the curried meat perfectly. Once you make the crust, whose buttermilk lends a gentle tang to the dough, you are free to create just about any filling you wish. Both of these are winners though, in case you're tempted to try them!

Baked Samosas, adapted from Cooking with All Things Trader Joe's, by Deana Gunn and Wona Miniati, Brown Bag Publishers, 2007.

Buttermilk crust

2 1/2 c white flour

1 c buttermilk (or plain yogurt--not fat-free)

1/2 tsp salt

Sweet potato filling

1 large sweet potato, or 2 smaller ones

1/2 c frozen peas

dash of coriander (dried)

dash of cumin

fresh chopped cilantro (can omit if unavailable)

Curried ground turkey filling

1/2 cup raw ground turkey

1/4 c minced onion

2 tbsp raisins

pinch salt

1 tbsp curry powder

*pepper, coriander, cumin should be added to taste

oil

To make the crust:

Mix flour and salt in a medium bowl and then create a well in the middle. Pour in buttermilk and stir the mixture until the dough forms a ball. Add a little flour if dough is too sticky, but remember that dough should be soft. Cover with plastic and set aside in fridge for 30 minutes to an hour while preparing the filling(s).

To prepare the sweet potato filling:

Wash sweet potatoes and place in a pyrex or microwave-safe dish. Use a knife to make cuts in the raw potatoes. Then cover the dish tightly with plastic wrap. Place in microwave and cook on high. This may take from 6 to 11 minutes. When cooked/soft throughout, remove sweet potato, and peel when cool enough to handle. In a small bowl, mash the cooked sweet potato with a fork, and stir in the frozen peas and spices. Set aside--in fridge if samosa assembly will be further delayed.

To prepare turkey filling:

Heat a tablespoon of cooking oil in a frying pan on the stove. Add minced onion and let cook for a minute over medium heat. Add turkey meat and break up with spatula to avoid large clumps of meat from forming. Once meat loses its pinkish hue throughout, add curry powder and additional spices. Once mixture is thoroughly combined, add raisins. Remove from heat and let cool.

To assemble and bake the samosas:

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Remove dough from fridge. Break the dough evenly into about 10 small balls. Roll (or flatten with your hands) each one out to be about 6 inches in diameter. Smaller balls will work too; the dough will just be thicker and you can fit less filling in each one. Place about a heaping tablespoon of your filling of choice into each samosa. Fold the dough over the filling to create mini crescents, and press the edges of the dough firmly together to close off. Place samosas on a greased or floured baking sheet and bake for 20-25 minutes, until slightly golden brown. Remove from oven and let cool 5-10 minutes before serving. Best served with mango chutney!

*Note on the cookbook: Bizarrely, the authors of this Trader Joe's book have nothing to do with the company, and merely set out to create as many recipes as they could with the products that Trader Joe's carries. A nice idea, (think "stuff white people like") but one problem with trying to follow all the recipes is the lack of consistency in TJ's store-to-store stock. The authors have a nice-looking recipe for Green Garbanzo Salad, but I was only able to purchase frozen green garbanzos at TJ's for one week at the Geary/Masonic San Francisco location in 2007. They were great, but unfortunately, one bag was all I got. This book could just as easily be called "easy weeknight dinners;" you can buy the same products at a different grocer and probably get the same results from the recipes.

Faux Coussins de Lyon

I am a glutton, a gourmande, a golosa. In any language, the fact is, I love sweets and will not pass up an opportunity to eat sugar spun into a fancy confection. When I traveled with my parents to Lyon in 2002 or 2003, we discovered the city's historical sweet: the coussin de Lyon (or pillow of Lyon). This marvelous treat does look like a miniature pillow fit for royalty. The center is a rich ganache with a splash of curaçao or other liqueur (the recipe for the coussin is under lock and key, and noone except the confectionery who produces it know the exact recipe. There are coussin knock-offs as well, and I don't think their recipes are well-known either.). The ganache is surrounded by a layer of almond paste that is finely candied on the top. The pillow is distinguished with its pale aqua-green color and a fine stripe of darker green running down the length. It's an intense bite. It'll cost you, too. I figure that with the dollar so low right now, I'll end up paying more than three dollars per square inch coussin (when I go to France and hunt down a bag of these later in May). But those are the lengths I like to go to for sweets.

According to Wikipedia (and my loose translation), in 1643, the mayors of Lyon decided to plead to the Virgin Mary to spare the town from the plague epidemic. In so doing, they lit a 7 pound wax candle and put a gold piece on a silk pillow (is it just me, or does something here not make sense?). Jump forward over 300 years to 1960, where the Lyonnais chocolatier Voisin decided to make a candy in the shape of very same pillow. Well, that's one theory, anyway.

The exterior is hard, with its crystallized sugar coating. Take a bite and the candy softens into ganache, with the flavors of almond, orange, and chocolate coming through.

I ran out of my last bag of these candies shortly following a trip to Nice in 2006, where I've actually found some of the best coussins de Lyon. It's been over two years, and with the European trip looming, I'm looking forward to more of them, at any cost, as I mentioned. But there's a blip in my waiting period for coussins. Last weekend I went to the Fillmore Street's Patisserie Delanghe, a French bakery that is less well-known than the neighboring French rival/giant Bay Bread/Boulangerie. (The pastries looked less glamorous at Delanghe, the croissants forming a less-than-perfect crescent, providing less reason to spend $2.75 for just one.) But then I turned to the second pastry case where the fancy cakes and pastry puffs with hardened caramel sit. Underneath those I saw a platter of the little chocolate logs, one of which is pictured above. As far as I know, these have no official name. The cashier called them marzipans, which they are. But they're more, and they're perhaps the closest thing I've tasted to a coussin lyonnais.

One of these rouleaux (rolls, as I've taken to calling them) was not enough for me, so I went back the next day for another. This time, M Delanghe was working alone. He didn't notice me when I entered the shop, and was in fact reading a magazine. Lazy Sunday! I took a minute to admire the French authenticity of it all--the patissier relaxing, paying no notice to a customer. Who am I to trouble him, after all? Finally, he took his notice of me and walked over to greet me with a pleasant smile.

"Could I get two of those--those rouleaux?" I stammered, eager to impress with my French accent.

He gazed over the countertop at the other pastry case to see what I was talking about, but I was met only with his blank stare.

"Those rouleaux, the little logs." Silence. "The marzipan." I finally said, remembering the cashier's name for them. "They remind me of the coussins de Lyon," I went on, trying to get something out of him, a sign of recognition, or acknowledgment that I was in on the secret--he was creating his own version of the coussins. How many people know about the coussins outside of France? I thought. I've even met French people who don't know what they are. I was futilely looking for a connection to this French baker.

"Ah, they remind you of the coussins de Lyon," he repeated with a playful smile, and pulled two of the freshest looking marzipans off the plate and put them into a pastry bag for me.

"Three-Ninety." He asked for the cash.

That's $1.95 each, much less than the actual coussin will cost me in France, and twice its size. I didn't figure out what the patissier meant that day, if he knew what the coussins are (I am fairly certain that he did, if he's an expert in his craft) or if he thought I was trying to say something in French but had no clue. "She thinks my candy tastes like the pillows in Lyon?! Stupid girl!" Perhaps he thought the less of me. But I don't care. I'll go back again for these--probably a couple of times--before my trip to France.

Actual coussins de Lyon in a fancy "pillow" case.

Crab Cakes

Good evening friends! I regret to inform you that I forgot to take a picture of this evening's crab cakes. Let that be a testament to their mouth-watering, pan-fried and crispy golden glow coming off the pan. They offered no choice but to be eaten immediately. In lieu of a picture, I have a recipe. I began by following a recipe from this month's Olive magazine (a BBC publication), throwing in my own touches and changing the recipe along the way. You can pretty much get away with whatever you want where crab cakes are concerned. Use fresh chopped onion if you have it, or dried, and throw in dried or fresh herbs as desired.

Crab Cakes for Two
2 tins crab meat (120 grams each)
1 heaping tbsp mayonnaise
1 tsp dijon mustard
1/2 egg, beaten
1 tsp sweet smoky paprika
1 dash dried onion pieces
1/2-3/4 c bread crumbs (I used matzoh meal)
pepper
cayenne
1 lemon, cut into wedges

Drain crab meat, then add to a bowl along with all the ingredients and mix thoroughly with spoon or hands. Make sure mixture clings together in one large clump. Then divide into 6 individual "cakes." Place cakes onto a plate or baking sheet and press down slightly to flatten. Refrigerate for at least 20 minutes to firm.

Heat olive oil in a large cast iron skillet (or frying pan). When hot, add crab cakes and cook over medium high heat, adjusting if cakes seem to brown too quickly on the bottom. (Add more oil upon flipping cakes; this will help prevent them from sticking to pan.) Cook for 3-4 minutes on each side. Remove from stove and serve warm, with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

Suggested accompaniment: Baked sweet potatoes.

Angel Food Cake

Last weekend I couldn't stop thinking about lemons. I decided to just go all out and use a bag of lemons for dessert. I opted for a fat-free angel food cake with lemon rind. Fourteen whipped egg whites later, I didn't have the heart to throw out the isolated egg yolks. Thus, the lemon curd. I guess the dessert balances itself out--I removed the fat from the cake, only to pair it with some of the delicious egg and butter-rich lemon curd. I have no regrets, however. Here's to delicious springtime baking!

Lemon Angel Food Cake

adapted from Lori Longbotham's Luscious Lemon Desserts, Chronicle Books, 2001.

1 c sifted cake flour

3/4 c confectioner's sugar

14 large egg whites (at room temp)

1 1/2 tsp cream of tartar

pinch salt

3/4 c granulated sugar

1 tbsp vanilla extract

2 tbsp lemon zest (from 2 lemons)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a 10" tube pan (or leave ungreased). Sift flour and confectioner's sugar together in medium bowl. In a separate large metal bowl, beat the egg whites with an electric mixer at medium speed until foamy. Increase speed to medium-high, add cream of tartar and salt, and beat just until the egg whites form soft peaks. Add the granulated sugar, about 1 tbsp at a time, beating well after each addition, and beat just until the whites form stiff peaks. Add vanilla and lemon zest and beat until just combined.

Sift one quarter of flour mixture over the egg whites and fold in with a spatula. Continue gently folding, one quarter at a time, until all the flour mixture has been added. (Work slowly, carefully to mix in all flour--but don't overmix.) Spoon batter into the pan and use a knife to cut through the batter, removing air pockets. Smooth top with a spatula. Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden and cake pulls away from sides of pan. Allow to cool on wire rack until room temperature, then flip onto serving platter.

Make a lemon glaze and or curd to serve with cake.

Lemon glaze:

1 c confectioner's sugar

2 tbsp fresh lemon juice

2 tsp grated lemon zest

Whisk ingredients together in small bowl and pour glaze over cake.

Lemon curd:

1 c (2 sticks) unsalted butter

12 egg yolks

1 1/2 c granulated sugar

1 c fresh lemon juice
1/4 c lemon zest

pinch salt

Melt butter in microwave or saucepan over medium heat. Remove from pan when melted and add sugar, lemon juice, zest and salt. Whisk until well-mixed. Add in yolks and mix until smooth. Cook the mixture, whisking constantly, until it thickens over medium-low heat (this can take up to 10 or 15 minutes). Don't let it come to a boil. Once thickened, remove from heat and let cool until it's at room temperature. Refrigerate up to one month.