I’m thrilled to announce the upcoming release of my dear friends’ fascinating book on the food history and ingredients of Brazil titled The Brazilian Table by Yara Castro Roberts and Richard Roberts.  They operate the Academy of Cooking and Other Pleasures in Paraty, Brazil, an incredible experience that will introduce you to Brazilian cuisine via Yara and Richard’s incredible hospitality.  I attended the school a couple years ago and apart from being an amazing trip to one of the most beautiful coastal areas on earth, I sampled some of the delicious recipes included in the book.  Yara and Richard’s enthusiasm for Brazilian food and culture is boundless and this book is in many ways a lifetime in the making.

Yara is the first Brazilian chef to write about its cuisine in English. She graduated from Boston University School of Culinary Arts and holds degrees from the Sorbonne and the Ecole du Louvre.  She was also the host of the PBS Emmy-nominated Cook’s Tour television series.  More importantly, she is one of the best storytellers I know and is the source of endless culinary information and inspiration. Richard is, among many other things, a professional photographer and is responsible for the stunning photographs of Brazilian food, ingredients and landscape throughout The Brazilian Table.

Here’s an excerpt from the cover:

“Brazil—exotic, sensual, mysterious—mingles pleasure with high energy, and its cuisine is ndifferent. Recipes in The Brazilian Table adeptly blend native ingredients, such as manioc, cachaça, pequi, hearts of palm, and dendê palm oil, with traditional foods of Portugal, Africa, Japan, and the Middle East to create complex tastes that define this area of the world. The regions of Minas Gerais, Bahía, the Amazon, and the Cerrado are intimately explored from a food history and ingredient perspective, and a collection of recipes represents each area. A sample of the extraordinary cuisine includes Tucupi Duck Soup, Fish Paupiette with Crabmeat Brazilian-Style, Chicken Xim-Xim, Black Bean Tutu, Mango Galette, Giló Puff Pastry Tart, and Guava Paste Soufflé.”

It is currently available for pre-order. Visit The Brazilian Table at Amazononline casino.

Check out the website for the  book, www.thebraziliantable.com for updates on the book tour, reviews, culinary events and more.

Kumquats

The word kumquat comes from the Cantonese word meaning “golden orange” as this citrus fruit has a dark orange color.  Unlike an orange, however, the rind is tangy and edible.  In addition to being eaten on its own, the kumquat can be candied or made into jam.  While kumquat plants are often used in decoration, the fruit spoils within days, but they can be held longer in the refrigerator.  Interestingly, the kumquat is also bred with other citrus fruits such as lemons and limes, producing the limequat and the orangequat.

Litchis

Considered a good luck charm in China, the litchi comes from a huge evergreen tree and taste like a grape combined with a coconut.  Like the acai berry and other small fruits, litchis don’t travel well so they are most commonly found in cans. However, if you do see the nicely ripened bright-pink fruit fresh, simply peel their thin shells and their white flesh will make a refreshing dessert. And if you decide to cook them as part of a meat or fish dish, be gentle!

Persimmons

The quintessential winter fruit, the persimmon sometimes has the look of an orange tomato and the feel of an apple.  The two most common types of persimmons are fuya and hachiya.  The fuyu persimmons can be eaten like an apple while the hachiya persimmon is a softer fruit that should be consumed when very ripe and the center is almost liquid.  Persimmons can be preserved through canning or drying or made into a puree to accompany desserts. Persimmons are also the national fruit of Japan.

Pomegranates

Picked when fully ripe, the bright red pomegranate can be eaten fresh as-is, its pulp and seeds being tart and quite refreshing.  Pomegranate seeds are often used in Iranian and Middle Eastern cooking. The juice of the pomegranate is the source of the red cocktail syrup grenadine. The pomegranate juice market has also exploded in recent years, due to its high level of potassium, vitamin c and antioxidants. They can be left at room temperature for several days, or refrigerated for up to 3 weeks.  If you’re feeling adventurous, try poking a hole in the flesh of the pomegranate and sipping the juice from a straw.

Quince

Another delightful fruit native to Iran, the yellow, pear-like quince is best known for its use in jams and jellies.  You may have seen quince paste offered as part of a cheese plate, as it provides a sweet compliment to hard, nutty cheeses.  Quince has also been used since ancient times to make perfumes as well as wine, syrups and as an addition to meat and poultry dishes.  It’s not eaten raw, though it can be refrigerated for several weeks or its pulp frozen.  And quince is reportedly good for the gastrointestinal system.

Clam cakes, stuffed quahogs, fried oysters and selecting live lobsters for dinner are culinary high spots from my childhood. At oceanside picnic tables on sandy, weatherbeaten decks, eating fried seafood made me almost forget my sunburn. I got to missing men in tank tops and bibs drowning lobster chunks in butter with their hands. So Saturday evening at sunset, I and the rest of eastern Brooklyn chowed down at Randazzo’s Clam Bar, a Sheepshead Bay institution. Although its Emmons Avenue neighbor Lundy’s, seafood giant and once-rival to the ninety-year old Randazzo’s is no longer, they still receive the summer’s scores with a fluorescent lobster sign and clam bar favorites, deliciously rough around the edges.

Another one from the list of foods-I-didn’t-know-what-they-looked-like-fresh — These green, slightly furry pods each contain between one and three garbanzo beans (aka chick peas), a staple of Middle Eastern and Indian cuisines for thousands of years. Growing on a bushy plant, chick peas are ready to eat straight from the swollen pod – no soaking or cooking required. Younger, smaller peas taste sweet and approximate a regular green pea. The mature, plumped chick peas are a creamy yellow color resembling a tiny 1/2-inch brain, losing some of their sweetness to a nuttier, more complex flavor. Like sitting down with a basket of shelled peanuts, there’s something quite enjoyable in cracking open each chick pea pod for a tasty, fresh surprise inside.

Probably not the most economical or expedient option for making a large batch of hummus, tandoori kebabs, or falafel, you can still enjoy this rite of spring for about $2.99/lb at more far-reaching Brooklyn produce markets.

…and that’s where I’m heading for a week of chillaxation and adventure. I’ll be on the lookout for wonderful food, drinks and cute animals and will share my stories when I get back. Have a great week! -Sara

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For six years, I lived on the same Williamsburg block as the Manhattan Special Soda Bottling Company. Naturally, when I first moved to the area, I tried their signature drink, the Espresso Coffee Soda. It was exactly what I expected and I couldn’t stand the stuff. While this beverage is considered a holy sacrament, firmly engrained in the taste memories of generations of Brooklynites, carbonated coffee is the quintessential love-hate kind of thing. However, I did enjoy hearing the clinkity-clink of glass bottles on the snaking conveyor belt as they were filled with the tar-like drink.

Wandering down the marvelous beverage aisle at Eagle Provisions last weekend, I discovered that Manhattan Special offers more appealing drinks, including a sarsaparilla soda made from actual sarsaparilla root. It’s part of a line of “Olde Time Favorites” that includes Cherry Soda and Gassosa, a “European-style” lemon-lime soda. I tried their Sarsaparilla Soda and while nearly black in color, it was surprisingly light, refreshing and without much nuance – a far cry from its “roots” in herbal medicine.

What is sarsaparilla you ask? A sarsaparilla is a brambly little shrub with a bitter taste once widely used for medicinal purposes, until it was discovered that the type used in sodas didn’t have any health benefits at all. Not to be consumed in a single sitting, Manhattan Special’s 28-ounce glass bottle features the image of a levitating, overflowing mug of foaming soda encircled by sarsaparilla fronds which serve as laurel, lei and halo for the frothy potable. Healthy? Not at all. Holy and sublime? Well, I’d say it’s the best sarsaparilla soda I’ve ever tasted.

Note: If you’re like me, you mix up things like sarsaparilla, and say…sassafras. Sarsaparilla is native to Central America and used for its root, sometimes for “root” beer. Sassafras is a tree in the Eastern U.S whose bark contains an oil once prized by Native Americans, and later by European colonists who made it into tea. Curiously, there are indications that sassafras extract may have been used in illicit sarsaparilla drinks during Prohibition, further contributing to my confusion.

If you haven’t heard me rattle on enough about sassafras…I mean… sarsaparilla, check out my recipe at The Kitchen for a hypercomplex tribute to the classic root beer float.

Manhattan Special

Originally published on Until Monday: Brooklyn

You may know them as elephant ears, pig’s ears, faworki, bow ties, angel wings or twisters, but in Polish cuisine, all refer to an airy cookie called chrusciki.

I hadn’t thought about chrusciki in years, but I wandered into a Polish meat market yesterday and saw something in the window that was deep-fried and covered in sugar and asked about it.

“What is that deep-fried thing over there?” I pointed.

The gentleman behind the counter responded, “It’s chrusciki.”

I honestly didn’t expect to have heard of the item, as this store sells only Polish specialties. However, I suddenly recalled that my childhood friend’s Polish mother would make enormous batches of chrusciki for holidays. I remembered fondly eating one after another at their kitchen table, almost straight from the fryer, the powdered sugar melting into the hot pastry.

“Oh my God,” I said, “I haven’t eaten this since I was 10.”

The man responded, “My grandmother used to make them for me.”

We shared a moment.

“Well, that settles it. I’ll have a box of chrusciki please,” picking up a box of edible memories I wasn’t even looking for.

A labor-intensive cookie, chrusciki are usually made for Christmas, Easter, and special occasions like weddings. They start with a simple, heavily kneaded dough, are cut into strips and formed into the ring-twist shape, which apparently resembles an angel’s wing. They are deep-fried for about a minute until golden brown, then removed from the oil and dusted with powdered sugar. You may think of typical Polish foods like sausages, horseradish or babka as being very heavy, but chrusciki are incredibly light and delicate.

You can pick up chrusciki this week from Jubilat Provisions, but you can’t miss their impressive kielbasa and good selection of homemade cured meats.

Jubilat Provisions
608 Fifth Avenue

Originally published on Until Monday: Brooklyn

Big bagels offend me. I dislike their sponginess, and the difficulty of getting a thorough toasting when each half is two inches thick. I resent that a bagel requires an entire cup of cream cheese, just to create a basecoat that spans the diameter of each half. Yet a fatty topping is sometimes necessary to obscure the tasteless mass of cumbersome, dense bread. All that heft, yet after eating a colossal bagel, I’m unfulfilled.*

At a time when bagels, like so many foods, have tripled in size, I’ve been opting lately for the bialy, a more streamlined, sprightly breakfast option. Originating in the 17th century, a bialy is a simple round roll with a depression in the middle, usually sprinkled with onions. It is named after Bialystock, Poland, a town with a tragic history. Thousands of Jews (including bialy bakers) perished there during World War Two. But the humble bialy survived and is still much-loved throughout the world. (The bagel on the other hand, may come from the German word beugel, meaning stirrup).

The bialy is made from basic ingredients: flour, yeast, salt, sugar and chopped onion. Brooklyn-based Bell’s bialys are made by hand with the signature middle indentation made by thumb. They are sufficiently salty, light as an English muffin, not too filling, and are ready for any topping – sweet or savory. All this, and you can still fit your mouth around it when you sandwich the two sides (hole side up!) back together. But, it’s tough to find a fresh bialy outside of the New York Area. Fortunately, New York City’s top bialy makers, Brooklyn’s Bell’s and Manhattan’s Kossar’s both ship, with Bell’s sending bialys as far as Japan.

But I can’t praise bialys without acknowledging their down sides. Bialys dry out minutes after they are baked, so they are almost always served toasted. So unless you get them freshly made at Kossar’s, you can purchase Bell’s bialys frozen throughout Brooklyn. (I found them recently in a grocery store on Avenue P called “Fine Fare” but they are sold in more desirable delis and supermarkets throughout the borough). Another challenge with the bialy is that an even slice takes more knife agility than slicing a three-inch thick bagel. A poor angle and you’re left with one ripped holey half, and one side that is too thick, making for uneven construction. But don’t let these small details deter you from the bialy next time you’re considering a leaden cinnamon raisin bagel at your local bagel shop.

For a truly engaging bialy read, check out Mimi Sheraton’s heartfelt quest to understand the “simple and runty onion roll” titled The Bialy Eaters: The Story of a Bread and a Lost World.

Bell/B&S Bialy
10013 Foster Avenue

Kossar’s Bialy
367 Grand Street, Manhattan

*H&H and Murray’s Bagels notwithstanding

Originally published on Until Monday: Brooklyn

After the Sephardic Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492, they dispersed to areas throughout the Mediterranean, Balkans, Africa and the Near East bringing with them their bright, elegant, Arab-influenced cuisine. Brooklyn’s Sephardic Jewish neighborhood, located in the vicinity of Ocean Parkway and Avenue P, features many shops specializing in the divine treats of this sumptuous culinary tradition. I stopped by Mansoura’s, a family-owned pastry shop that’s been in Brooklyn for over 50 years. Before that, however, the Mansoura name was a legend in the family’s native Cairo where Isaac Mansoura owned a popular bakery and cafe from the 1930’s to the late 1950’s. After a stay in Paris, the Mansoura family relocated to Brooklyn in 1961 and opened their acclaimed bakery.

I visited Mansoura’s to try some of their Sephardic treats – some familiar, and others less so. I started with a bag of homemade ka’ak, a ring-shaped breadstick that’s common throughout the Middle East. (The word “kahk” means bracelet in Arabic). These handmade crispy snacks come in large (about 2 inches) and small (like tortellini) sizes, with the adorable small ones being more expensive because they are quite time consuming to make. There are many versions of ka’ak, both sweet and savory. The savory recipe features various combinations of anise seeds, caraway, fennel or cumin. A Moroccan version features allspice and chili powder. The Lebanese Christian version of ka’ak is a sweet Easter cookie that includes cinnamon. Mansoura’s ka’ak, like glistening pretzel-crackers sprinkled with sesame seeds, remind me of the Italian snack “tarallini,” round crunchy bread sticks seasoned with salt, pepper or anise. Tarallini are made with olive oil, rather than butter or margarine in the ka’ak. But like tarallini, ka’ak are wonderful served with wine or cocktails.

From Mansoura’s many beautiful cookies, pastries and confections I picked out a few sweets. I tried their tube-shaped almond baklava – a first for me, as I’ve only ever had walnut and pistachio versions. The texture of the phyllo and the sweet syrup were wonderful. I think pistachio nuts make for the best baklava, but it was still a wonderfully sticky and satisfying pastry.

Basbousa, a coconut semolina cake that’s a popular Egyptian dessert, is sometimes served with whipped cream or ushta, a thick cream made from buffalo milk. Mansoura’s basbousa is garnished with blanched, split almonds and is fantastic with rich, dark Turkish coffee or black tea. Basbousa is pleasantly sweet and slightly bitter, with the almond garnish adding a nice texture to this exotic and elegant cake.

I also tried Mansoura’s pistachio-flavored Turkish Delight dipped in dark chocolate. I love pistachios, and this candy allows their nuttiness (and prettiness) to come through. While the gummy gelatinous texture may take a little getting used to, the chewiness is almost like an unsweetened caramel, which adds a tooth-yanking tug to the delicious little cluster.

Mansoura Pastries
515 Kings Highway

Originally published on Until Monday: Brooklyn