Of all the world’s foods, haggis has one of the worst reputations. In the modern age, minced sheep’s organs, fat, and oatmeal, cooked together in the stomach, are a hard sell. It’s a dish born out of harder times. Traditionally, Scottish farmers often found it more productive to raise cattle and sheep than to grow grain, and oats tolerate the cool, damp climate better than wheat. Almost from the arrival of agriculture, residents of Scotland had everything they needed to make haggis.
Today, it’s Scotland’s national dish. Traditionally, it’s heavily peppered and served with neeps and tatties. Neeps are mashed “turnips,” which are actually rutabagas. Tatties are potatoes. Aside from the potatoes, this would all be recognizable to ancient peoples.
In Edinburgh, you can even get it battered, fried, and enhanced with Indian-style spices at fish and chips shops. One such shop was within easy walking distance from the hostel where our group was staying, so was the perfect stop for a quick lunch between morning and afternoon activities. In addition to fish and chips, which were delicious, they served chicken, vegetable, and haggis pakoras, which are a sort of Indian fritter. In this case, a traditional Scottish staple was cooked Indian-style, and served by Kurdish proprietors. Talk about international cuisine.
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I was a little unsure about the haggis, but it was actually delicious. Since everything was ground up, it tasted like a peppery, crumbly sausage, enhanced by a spicy coating. There were no “weird” flavors at all.
That evening, we went to a restaurant and tried a more refined version, served with neeps, tatties, and gravy. It was sort of like sticky meatloaf, probably from the ground oats in the mix, and rather pleasant. Overall, I still preferred the pakoras, but both were good. The trick with “variety meats” must be to grind them up, add a lot of spices, and possibly fry them. Almost anything tastes good that way.
LunchDinnerand Dessert
Apparently, Scottish cuisine has a reputation for deep-frying anything, including candy bars. Mars bars are sort of like American Milky Way bars, with a nougat and caramel center. When battered and fried, they become sticky, melty, and crispy, a delightful mix of textures. It’s clear why both haggis and deep-fried Mars bars are foods to eat at some point in your life. (For more information, reference 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, by Mimi Sheraton, pages 38, 40 – 41.)
For many people, the days leading up to Christmas are cookie-baking season, and they finish eating them around New Year’s. Crunchy butter cookies are especially great. Not only are the delicious, but they can be kept longer than most cookies without getting stale. This enables a cook with sufficient willpower to make a variety over the course of a few weeks to a month. When I worked at a bakery for a year right after graduating college, we made and assembled the boxes of assorted butter cookies before Thanksgiving, and they held up fine. This year, I decided to make my own selection to give as gifts.
Marzipan is another popular Christmas treat, especially in Europe. At its simplest, it’s just a mixture of blanched almonds, sugar, and enough water to form a paste. Many homemade versions add egg white as a binder. Historically, a few bitter almonds were used to add the distinctive aromatic almond flavor, since the more common sweet almonds have a pleasant but very mild taste, but it was hard to get the ratio right. Bitter almonds contain a small amount of cyanide, dangerous in the hands of an inept or unscrupulous cook, so almond extract is typically used today. Rosewater is a traditional flavoring, though perhaps not as common today.
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Almonds, sugar, and rosewater were elite, prestigious ingredients in the Middle Ages, especially in Northern Europe where there were more middlemen between the source and final destination. Exactly when and where marzipan came from is unclear, though the Middle East is a likely candidate. Sweet dishes with nuts and rosewater can be found from Morocco to India. Through a combination of trade and warfare, Europeans discovered and adapted these specialties.
In Sicily, shops sell stunningly realistic-looking marzipan fruit. English Christmas cake and Swedish princess torte are covered with a layer of rolled marzipan. All over Europe, marzipan is covered in chocolate, stuffed into festive breads and cakes, and made into figurines, including the pigs that are supposedly good luck for the New Year. Germans seem to be particularly fond of it, and specialize in two main kinds, both originating in trading ports on the Baltic Sea. Lubeck-style is soft and typically lower in sugar, while Konigsberg-style is browned under a broiler for a caramelized flavor. (For more information, see 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, pg. 304)
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Homemade marzipan is easier to make than you might expect, and has a much better flavor than most store-bought varieties. The only somewhat tricky part is blanching the almonds, but it’s more time-consuming than difficult. Just put the almonds in a bowl, cover with boiling water and stir, let stand a minute, pour off most of the boiling water, and add cool water until you reach a comfortable working temperature. The skins slip right off when squeezed, especially if the almonds are kept in the warm water until ready. Individually squeezing each almond takes a while, but it’s a satisfying process, especially with something to listen to. If you can rope in your spouse, child, guest, or any combination, it will go even faster.
Lubeck-Style, molded around an almond, covered in chocolate
There’s one thing to note before beginning. Rosewater is a common flavoring in marzipan and goes very well with almond, but be careful with it. Depending on the brand and how fresh it is, rosewater varies in strength. Generally, brands with an alcohol base are stronger and keep their flavor better after being opened than those distilled with just water, but this is far from an absolute rule. Add it slowly, a teaspoon at a time, tasting as you go, until desired flavor is reached. You want a light floral taste, not edible perfume.
Konigsberg-Style cutouts, with assorted cookies
Ingredients:
1 pound almonds, blanched
1 cup powdered sugar
1 – 2 teaspoons almond extract (use more if not also using rosewater)
1 teaspoon or more rosewater
2 – 4 tablespoons water
Sugar for rolling out dough
Parchment paper (essential for getting baked marzipan off cookie sheet)
Directions:
Coarsely grind almonds in a food processor, add sugar and flavorings, and grind again to reach a sandy texture.
Add 2 tablespoons water, process again, and taste for rosewater. Add more if you think it needs it.
Pinch some of the mix together to see if it comes together as a sticky dough. If not, add more water, a tablespoon at a time, until it does. The texture won’t be as fine as store-bought marzipan.
For Lubeck-style marzipan, the mixture is ready to form into shapes, coat in chocolate, mold around whole almonds, and so on.
For Konigsberg-style marzipan, lightly sugar a flat surface, pat the marzipan into a disk, sugar the top, roll out about a quarter-inch thick, and cut out shapes with cookie cutters. Since the dough has no flour, it can be rerolled without toughening.
Bake on parchment paper-lined baking sheets at 350 for 12 – 15 minutes, just until set.
To brown the marzipan, place each cookie sheet under the broiler for two minutes, with the oven door cracked (which keeps the broiler from overheating). Then, watching constantly, broil for another minute or two, until the tops are golden brown.
As an added bonus, eggless marzipan such as this is gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan, pareve, and Passover-friendly. Assuming the parchment paper is clean, that is, and not previously used for several batches of butter-and-flour-based cookies.
At first, it might seem strange to have apples in a dish for a spring holiday. Passover, the most important holiday on the Hebrew calendar, celebrates the Israelites’ Exodus from Egypt. It always occurs in the spring (in the Northern Hemisphere), while apples are a symbol of fall. On further reflection, the use of apples actually does make sense.
Charoset is a blend of chopped fruit and nuts, representing the mortar enslaved Israelites used in Egypt, and is an essential element on the Passover Seder plate. Historically, most Ashkenazi Jews lived in Central and especially Eastern Europe. Not many fruits are in season there in March or April, but apples could be stored in a cold cellar over the winter. The only other option might be rhubarb, at least when there is plenty of sugar to counter the acid. Holiday food traditions seem to change more slowly than what people eat every day, so even with modern shipping and preservation, apples remain the base fruit.
There are many recipes out there, typically including walnuts, sugar, spices, and an acidic liquid to keep the apples from oxidizing and turning brown. Most common is sweet, kosher red wine. Not all kosher wines are sweet, but Manischewitz, the most common brand (for all sorts of kosher products, in fact), is. With at least 51% concord grapes and a bit of extra sweetener, it tastes exactly like the classic non-fermented grape juice, with the alcohol flavor only coming in at the end. Naturally, grape juice would be the perfect non-alcoholic substitute.
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If you’re wondering why wine isn’t all kosher (as I was), it’s because ancient pagan people often used it in their rituals. To ensure their wine hadn’t previously been used in these rituals, the production from picking to transportation to serving had to be done by kosher-observant Jews. Unless, if I understand things correctly, it gets heated, which renders it unsuitable for pagan rituals. Once that’s done, anyone can handle it.
Ashkenazi charoset is delicious, regardless of faith or season. It’s sweet, tart, two different kinds of crunchy, juicy, and especially tasty during the fall, when apples are freshest. Walnuts make the mix more substantial, and spices like cinnamon and ginger make it taste like crustless apple pie.
Ingredients:
4 medium sweet-tart apples (I used 2 cortlands and 2 zestars)
½ cup walnut pieces
A few drops of lemon juice, if desired
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
¼ cup (4 tablespoons) sweet kosher red wine or red concord grape juice
Sugar to taste
Directions:
Core the apples, slice, and mince as finely as you can with a knife. (One of those devices that cores an apple and cuts it into 8 or 10 slices works perfectly for the first part, and I don’t bother peeling. If using a food processor for the second part, be careful not to overprocess.) Place in a large bowl. Toss with a few drops of lemon juice if desired.
Mince the walnuts and stir in, distributing evenly. Add the spices and wine and stir again.
Taste for sweetness. Depending on the apples, you may or may not need sugar. If the mix needs it, add sugar a tablespoon at a time, tasting as you go.
Let rest in the refrigerator for 24 hours for the best flavor.
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Valentine’s Day was a few weeks ago, which meant chocolate was on sale everywhere. With Swiss Lindt chocolate half-price at the grocery store, I couldn’t resist getting a selection. According to Mimi Sheraton on pages 331 – 332 in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, only the plain dark chocolate bars and those with sea salt are worth buying, as are the liquor-filled batons the company makes. Flavored bars and especially milk chocolate are not, apparently. But for the ultimate chocolate experience, the super-dark 90 or 95 percent cocoa bars are the most complex, if you can get past the bitterness.
Personally, I disagree. No matter how complex and interesting, barely-sweetened chocolate doesn’t taste good. The bitter flavor is unbalanced on its own. It needs enough sugar to counteract it. The idea isn’t to overwhelm the chocolate, but to create a sweet-bitter harmony. Milk chocolate adds another layer of complexity, being sweet, bitter, and creamy. It is no better or worse than dark chocolate, just different.
I also disagree about the flavored bars and confections. The Lindt dark chocolate with sea salt does taste good, but so does the dark chocolate orange and dark chocolate chili. The milk chocolate is delicious with chopped hazelnuts. And the chocolate truffles are spectacular, with a crunchy shell and smooth, creamy filling. My personal favorite are the dark chocolate ones (in the dark blue bags), but the milk chocolate and a few of the flavored varieties are also worth trying. A bowl full of Lindt truffles, color-coded in brightly-colored wrappers, would be great fun at a holiday party.
Adults might also enjoy the batons. As far as I can tell, current varieties are filled with kirsch, plum brandy, or orange liqueur. The fruit flavors sound like they would work with the chocolate, but I worry about the alcohol overwhelming the taste. Since they’re only available online in the US and are quite pricey, I didn’t bother. Not when Lindt truffles are easy-to-find.
During the 19th Century, Swiss confectioners were among the first to produce solid chocolate, and they are still among the best. I would hold off on the chocolate sandwich, though. Supposedly, alpine skiers sometimes snack on a piece of chocolate between two pieces of sourdough bread. If it was a baguette or ciabatta, sure, but not sourdough. And between trips down the bunny hill, not world-class slopes.
Rating: 10/10 for the truffles, 9.5/10 for the various chocolate bars
Apples have been associated with fall and the harvest for thousands of years. Many varieties can be kept in a cool cellar over the winter, but they are at their best when fresh and crisp. In a historical fiction book I’m in the process of writing, Marguerite of France enjoys a variety of apple dishes when she arrives at the English court to marry King Edward I in September 1299. Apple pies already existed, but the pastry crust was not meant to be eaten. It was used as a vessel to cook and store the filling.
With that in mind, I opted to recreate the recipe in a covered ceramic dish. The apples steam just like they would in a pastry crust, with a lot less effort. Medieval cooks baked apples with cinnamon just like cooks do today, but it wasn’t the only spice. The 14th Century cookbook The Forme of Cury features a recipe seasoned with cinnamon, sugar, ginger, and dates. Presumably the dates balanced the flavor at a time when apples were not as sweet and less sugar was used.
As strange as ginger and dates sound with baked apples, they’re actually delicious. Minced candied ginger is especially good, creating little bits of aromatic heat. It can be found in many grocery stores with the little bags of bulk spices.
Like with a pie, the apples take a while to bake, at least 45 minutes, but are worth the wait. They taste a lot like apple pie without the crust. And with only 1.5 teaspoons of sugar per apple, plus a little bit in the ginger, they are pretty healthy too. As far as peeling the apples, I prefer not to. The pectin in the peel helps thicken the syrup as the compote stands.
Ingredients:
4 large apples (I like Cortlands, but any relatively firm, not-too-sweet apple will do)
6 pitted dates, halved and chopped
2 tablespoons cinnamon sugar
4 pieces candied ginger, minced
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Peel the apples if desired, and cut into large cubes, about ¾ inch to 1 inch. If you have one of the tools that cores an apple and cuts it into wedges, that’s perfect. Cut each wedge into 3 or 4 pieces.
Place the chopped apples into an oven-proof ceramic dish. Sprinkle with the cinnamon sugar, dates, and ginger, and stir to combine.
Cover the dish with a glass cover or aluminum foil and bake for 45 minutes to an hour. For semi-authenticity, do not stir while baking.
When the apple mixture is soft and aromatic, remove from the oven. Carefully remove the lid. Stir to distribute the liquid collected at the bottom of the dish.
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1000 Foods (pgs. 507 – 508), recipe is in the text
If you’re wondering why I made a Christmas pudding in the middle of summer, it’s because I had all the ingredients in the pantry and wanted to use up what I could. The mix of wheat berries, dried apricots and golden raisins, nuts, and honey sounded like a healthy, tasty alternative to heavy desserts while still satisfying the craving for something sweet and starchy.
Particularly popular at Christmas, anoush aboor is eaten year-round in both Armenia and Turkey. With the exception of the sugar and cinnamon, all the ingredients have been grown in the region for thousands of years. Situated in eastern Anatolia, near the headwaters of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, this area was home to some of the earliest farmers. They grew wheat, barley, peas, and beans, raised sheep, goats, and cattle, and soon began selectively breeding and cultivating a variety of fruits, vegetables, and nuts.
Apricots, an essential part of the dish, were originally domesticated somewhere in Turkey or Armenia. When the fruit was introduced to Rome, the Romans called it prunus armeniacus, meaning roughly “Armenian plum,” or praecox for early, since they ripen before most other stone fruits. Fresh apricots are delicious in the early summer, but are highly perishable and rarely available out of season. To have apricots year-round, people have been sun-drying them for millennia. In the Middle East’s hot dry summers, this was easy and didn’t require the use of often-scarce fuel. Even today, Turkey produces much of the world’s supply.
Literally, the name anoush aboor translates to “sweet soup,” probably because of its porridge-like consistency. The wheat berries are cooked until they “pop” and release their starch into the water, thickening it. Despite being cooked in just water, the pudding had an almost creamy texture and even taste, sweetened with a mix of sugar, honey, and dried fruit. Chopped almonds and walnuts (I skipped the pine nuts and added extra of the others) gave it a nice crunch, and a sprinkle of cinnamon was a nice finishing touch.
I had one problem with the recipe. It called for a teaspoon of salt. Since I made a half batch, I used half a teaspoon, which didn’t sound like much. Unfortunately, even that amount made the pudding taste distinctly briny and a bit unpleasant. The pudding was much better stirred into unsalted hot wheat cereal to cut the salt while adding texture, but to be honest, I don’t think I would make this again. Back before modern cakes, cookies, and brownies it might have been a nice treat. Today, it’s pretty lackluster.
1000 Foods (pgs. 31 – 32) for information, recipe is my own creation
While British cuisine doesn’t have a great reputation abroad, desserts are an exception to this rule. Drool-worthy examples abound on the Great British Baking Show (which you should never watch while hungry), and one of the classics is trifle. Trifles also appear multiple times in the Harry Potter series, typically at celebrations, and in the second book, Harry even ends up wearing one.
The specifics vary by recipe, but they always include cake or ladyfinger biscuits, custard and/or whipped cream, and fruit and/or jam. Basically something starchy, something creamy, and something fruity. British versions usually include sherry or another fortified wine. Originally, this was to help revive stale cake. With modern recipes this is unnecessary, but a lot of people like the taste. I omit this for a family-friendly version and clearer fruit flavor, bursting with berries and vanilla.
Wine and liquor were once extremely common dessert flavorings. Since the 19th Century, perhaps because of the temperance movement, vanilla has largely taken their place. Despite its boring reputation, vanilla blends extremely well with fruit, chocolate, caramel, cream, and pretty much anything else you might put in a dessert. For a beautiful, fresh, and surprisingly easy centerpiece, the essentials are a good pound cake, seasonal or frozen fruit, vanilla pudding, and homemade whipped cream.
Strawberries make a particularly good trifle, because as the trifle sits in the refrigerator, the lightly sugared berries release lots of flavorful juice that soaks into the cake. If they aren’t in season, it’s better to use frozen, which tend to have a better flavor (and price) than the out-of-season fresh berries, which are usually picked underripe so they ship better and last longer on the shelf. This applies for any fruit, not just strawberries.
Pound cake is another crucial ingredient, and you don’t have to make your own for success. The frozen Sara Lee pound cakes are excellent quality. I like to make my own vanilla pudding, but an instant mix still produces a special dessert if you’re crunched for time. Just avoid the sugar-free kind, and don’t make it with skim milk. And make your own whipped cream. It makes a huge difference, and with the cost of the spray bottles, it’s actually cheaper when you need a lot.
For a full red, white, and blue effect, blueberries can be sprinkled over the top of the trifle or added between the layers. Since they don’t produce much juice, I usually stick with a strictly strawberry trifle, but I added them this time because they were in season and it was for the 4th of July. Just make sure to layer the trifle in a glass bowl if at all possible, to show it off to full effect.
To impress your guests, decorate the top with fruit.
Note that the quantities in the recipe are not always specified. This is because different serving bowls have varying capacity, and everyone has their own preference for how much of each ingredient to add.
Ingredients:
1 pound cake, homemade or Sara Lee
Strawberries
2 tablespoons sugar per quart of strawberries
Vanilla pudding, homemade or from a mix
Blueberries, optional
1 cup whipping cream
1 tablespoon powdered sugar per cup whipping cream
½ teaspoon vanilla per cup whipping cream
Directions:
Hull and halve the strawberries, cutting any larger berries into quarters. Toss with the sugar and let stand while you prepare the other ingredients.
Cut enough of the pound cake into cubes to cover the bottom of the serving bowl.
Whip the cream with the powdered sugar and vanilla until soft peaks form.
Layer the cake cubes in the bottom of the serving dish. Top with the strawberries and drizzle any liquid over all.
Add the pudding over the strawberries, and top with the blueberries if using.
Finish the trifle with the whipped cream, decorating the top with fruit if desired.
If strawberry season is over but you have fresh peaches or raspberries, I’m sure they would also make an excellent trifle. And as always, don’t forget to subscribe to get posts sent to your inbox for free.
Not bad dates, if you’ll pardon the Indiana Jones reference.
1000 Foods (pg. 514) for information, recipe is my own creation
For a unique dessert, we have dates in clove syrup. Date palms are more tolerant of heat and drought than most other plants, making them essential in the hot deserts of the Middle East and North Africa. The fruit is sweet, high in nutrients, and calorie-dense, a useful feature in the past. Before sugar, dates were the main sweetener in the region, added to a variety of breads, porridges, and sweet cakes in Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia. Usually, they were preserved by drying in the hot sun, a method still widely used.
People have been stuffing dates for at least two thousand years, and probably for even longer. Once the pit is removed, the fruit has a hollow center. Dates were a popular luxury in the Roman Empire. Since the trees don’t produce fruit in Italy, they had to be imported from the Middle East and North Africa. Almonds, which fit into the centers almost perfectly, were a favorite filling, either on their own or in a more complex mixture. Murabba El Balah, a Lebanese specialty, also uses almonds for a nice contrast in flavor and texture.
Normally the dish uses fresh dates. Since those are extremely hard to find, I developed a recipe using the dried variety. After soaking in hot water the dates can be peeled, and the pits removed with a nut pick or knitting needle. I put two almonds in each date, toasted for extra flavor. After steeping for several days, the fruit is chewy and extremely sweet. To avoid being overwhelming, I’ve included a recipe for lightly sweetened rice pudding. The syrupy dates are a popular garnish for puddings of all sorts.
They have a great flavor and nice crunch, but are a bit of a sugar bomb, for lack of a better term. Dates are already very sweet, and a sugar syrup only increases it. Because of this, they go even better with pancakes, oatmeal, cream of wheat, and the like, which aren’t usually pre-sweetened. Plain yogurt would be another excellent choice.
Note that the dates need to soak in the clove syrup for at least four days, so plan ahead. The rice pudding is very thick, because that’s the way I prefer it, but you can thin it with a bit more milk once it’s cooled. No vanilla or cinnamon is included because the clove syrup would overpower it, but if you want to add some, by all means go ahead.
Ingredients:
20 – 24 dates (about 1 pound dried with pits, less if pitted)
40 – 48 toasted unsalted almonds (2 per date)
24 whole cloves
1 ½ cups sugar
For rice pudding (if desired)
4 cups (1 quart) whole or 2% milk
6 tablespoons white rice, long or short grain (short grain makes a thicker pudding)
1 tablespoon sugar
Directions:
Place dates in a medium saucepan with just enough water to cover, about 2 cups. Bring water to a boil, shaking pan occasionally. Remove from heat, cover, and let stand for at least an hour, or until cool.
Peel dates, starting from areas where the peel has bubbled up. Remove pits with nut pick or knitting needle if necessary. Set fruit aside, discarding peels and pits. Strain cooking liquid and return to pan.
Add the cloves to the cooking liquid and bring it back to a boil. When boiling, add the 1 ½ cups sugar and boil, stirring, for two or three minutes, or until the sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat.
While the syrup partially cools, stuff two whole almonds into each date. Pour the warm syrup over the stuffed dates and gently stir. Let cool to room temperature, then marinate in the refrigerator for at least four days. Due to the sugar content, these will stay good for a few weeks.
Remove the cloves and serve with rice pudding, ice cream, or yogurt.
For the pudding, heat the milk, rice, and tablespoon sugar in a saucepan over medium heat, stirring frequently, until mixture simmers. Turn down heat to medium low, then cook for about 15 minutes until thickened, stirring frequently to prevent scorching. Chill before serving if desired.
Don’t worry if you accidentally eat a clove. It might dull your sense of taste a for a few minutes, but that’s as far as side effects go. As usual, make sure to subscribe to get free posts and recipes sent right to your inbox. If you’re feeling extra generous and want to donate a few bucks to support my work, you can do that too.
Feasting Through Time 