Belarussian Bruschetta

I once read a line in a story about a sink that was filled with "summer dishes" — the detritus of 90+ degree days that is free of pots and pans and spatulas. Instead, it's the clink of water glass and iced tea glass, the puddle of melted ice cubes, and the drippy-sticky knives and boards and bowls left over from preparing fruit and salad.

That's pretty much what my sink looks like in these spate of summer days. And I have no regrets. It's been cold yogurt and jam for breakfast, and "meal" means salads full of butter lettuces and basil leaves and raw corn and peaches picked from over the office door. Sometimes there's a handful of chips of spoonful of ice cream, but that's pretty much it. Oh, and these Belarussian bruschetta.

I know, Russian food isn't most people's idea of summer dining. But, as I've argued before, it really should be. Yes, Russia is cold. But it also has hot, sticky summers. And people know how to make the best of them, with summer cabins and juicy-sour pickles and fresh sour cream. This tartine is my homage to that, an iteration of an open-faced sandwich that may never have been eaten in the motherland, but captures some of the best of its spirit.

My Brooklyn-Belarussian grandfather relished summertime meals, usually involving the tomatoes grown in his backyard buckets (after he ate the last one of the season, he would proclaim that he would not touch another tomato until the next harvest, which was a rather radical seasonal-dining manifesto in the 1980s). And on the hottest days, he would chop up a smattering of fresh herbs, mix them in with cottage cheese, and spread the mixture on some dark rye or pumpernickel bread. What more do you need?

As a good granddaughter, I've followed his example. I grabbed some farmer cheese instead of cottage cheese, though either would do fine. Instead of mixing everything together, I just lay a swipe of the cold cheese on toasted bread, then top with a few tomatoes, and sprinkle on the chopped herbs right before enjoying. The end result is a perfect Ruskie tartine, all sour bread and punchy herbs and mild cheese, tasting fresh and summery, but refreshing as a juicy dill pickle. It doesn't dirty much more than your cutting board, and it's just about perfect for a hot summer night.

Belarussian Bruschetta

makes as many as you'd like

sliced bread, preferably a nice dense rye or brown bread
farmer cheese
fresh tomatoes (halved, quartered or sliced, depending upon the size)
fresh scallions, thinly sliced
fresh dill, finely chopped
coarse salt and black pepper

Toast or (even better) grill your bread (if grilling, you can brush first with oil or melted butter). Spread with a generous swipe of farmer cheese, then pave with fresh tomatoes. Sprinkle on a generous dusting of fresh herbs, then season with salt and pepper. Enjoy.

Purslane Salad with Cherries and Feta

My small backyard has fences cordoning off the south and west sides. But the third side is open, separated from the neighbor's house only by our shared driveway. Although his off-leash time was initially highly supervised, these days my dog is generally allowed to backyard trips on his own recognizance. He's a fairly quiet older dog, and unless the next-door barbecue is in use, or a cat wanders by, he'll just do his business, then nose his way back inside. And in the summer, he'll sprawl out on the porch, yard or driveway (depending upon the sun's angle), tanning until he needs to come inside, panting, and collapse on the cool floor in a dramatic clatter of elbows. For the most part, this works out fine. Except in cherry season.

The yard next door features a dramatically large cherry tree, and in the summer it's absolutely dripping. They are the favorite of loud-yelling crows, and the occasional raccoon. And, it turns out, my dog.

After giving a nominal check that the coast is clear, the dog pads across the driveway and begins chowing down. He eats the fresh bright red ones, and the raisined shriveled ones. If you catch him in the act, he'll slink back home with tail-tucked contrition. But then he'll be right back. Even when the resulting gas literally drives him from his own bed later that day (with a wide-eyed ohmygod what just bit my butt? look of horror), he cannot be stopped.

And I understand. Cherries are delicious. Although the next-door tree is a bit too high up for regular harvest (given that I don't share the same fresh-from-the-ground tastes as my dog), I've been picking up helping after helping at the stores and farmers' markets. Huge yellow-red Raniers, and Bings that stain everything (myself included) with rich wine-dark juice. For the most part, I'm happy to just eat them out of hand. But recently I discovered they're delicious in salad.

I happened upon this particular combination when I was looking for something to do with purslane. This succulent green is not that common, but I've seen it show up the last several summers and highly recommend it — in addition to being a healthy omega-packed powerhouse, it's got a refreshing lemony taste and water-filled pop. I've turned it into a sort of Greek salad before, but our tomatoes were still a few weeks away. And it was too hot to try the cooked Mexican and Mediterranean preparations I've bookmarked. So instead, I tried a salad.

The recipe originally comes from The New York Times, inspired by the author's Greek vacation. I omitted the olives to keep things simple (and, um, because I didn't have any), and instead just tossed the punchy purslane with briny, creamy feta, and these drippy-sweet cherries. I dressed everything with a light touch of olive oil and lemon, and sprinkled on a bit of sumac I happened to find for another touch of sour (and color). The combination is simple, summery, well-balanced and perfect. Just ask my dog.

Purslane Salad with Cherries and Feta

adapted, heavily from The New York Times
serves ~4 as a small first course

Dressing:

juice of 1/2 lemon

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1 clove garlic, thwacked with a knife

dollop of honey

salt and pepper to taste

Salad:

1 generous bunch purslane, thick stems cut away (about 4 cups)

a few leaves fresh mint, roughly torn (I was too hot/lazy to walk out and harvest/steal these, but I think they'd make a lovely addition)

a few handfuls cherries, pitted and halved

1 to 2 ounces feta, crumbled

 a few pinches sumac (optional)

Place all of the dressing ingredients together in a jar with a leak-proof lid, and shake-shake-shake to emulsify. Taste, and adjust seasonings as needed. Set aside.

Tumble together the purslane and mint on a serving platter or individual plates. Scatter the cherries and feta on top, and scatter on a few pinches sumac (if desired). Give the dressing another shake, and lightly dress the salad. Serve.

Russian Yeasted Blini

Oh, Russian yeasted blini. Why are you so, so much better than the standard American pancake? Let me count the ways:

1. With both an overnight fermentation and a healthy helping of half-and-half, these blini manage to be both rich and tangy. I heartily approve of this combination.

2. Unlike their chain-you-to-the-griddle brethren, blini are just as delicious a few hours — or even a full day — later, which means they're easily made in advance (even, say, the night or morning before, while you can still bear to turn on the stove, allowing you a cool meal later in the hot day).

3. Although the term is often used for those chunky little silver dollar-sized canape vehicles, a true blini is the a delicate whisper size of a dinner plate, all the better to wrap up the fillings (and you can set up a full smorgasboard of fillings, letting you play around from blini to blini).

I'm sure there are a few dozen other reasons as well. But basically: blini! So, so delicious! The impetus, again, was book club. We were reading Bulgakov, so it seemed only natural I take this as an excuse for a thematic snack. So I went to the Russian market, picked up some sour cream and frighteningly cheap caviar, and set to work.

The blini themselves, as with any pancake, start out as total straight-to-the-dog failures. And you think this is a terrible recipe and why did I ever come up with this idea and oh crap book club is in a few hours and what can I bring instead? But, amazingly, by the third blini or so, it all comes together. Your pan gets hot enough, and you figure out how much you need to thin out your batter (in my case: a lot), and then you're turning out blini after blini like the best Russian babushka.

And then, once you've got a nice butter-brushed stack, you get to fill them! I put out a spread including the sour cream and caviar, and a smattering of other non-traditional-yet-delicious additions — some cubes of cold-smoked salmon belly, minced onion, fresh dill, and whole lemons chopped into tiny wedges for a bracing (and addictive) sour pop. It's perfect for book club, it's perfect for a hot summer night, and it's perfect for reminding you just how crazy good Russian food can be.

Russian Yeasted Blini

adapted from Anya von Bremzen's recipe in Food & Wine
yields ~12-14 blini (I doubled it this — it takes some time to make a double batch, but they keep and they're delicious so you might as well)

1/2 cup warm water 
1 1/8 teaspoons active dry yeast
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon sugar 
1 1/4 cups plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour 
1 1/4 cups half-and-half, at room temperature
 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled, plus several more tablespoons for brushing 
1 large egg, separated 
1 1/4 teaspoons coarse salt
neutral oil, such as grapeseed or canola, for the pan

For serving: sour cream, fresh dill fronds, chopped lemon, caviar, smoked salmon, diced onion, etc etc etc

In a small bowl, whisk the water with the yeast and 1 teaspoon of the sugar and let stand at room temperature until foamy, about 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, whisk the yeast mixture with ¼ cup of the flour until smooth. Cover and let stand in a warm place until the batter has doubled in bulk, about 1 hour. 

After the batter has risen, add the remaining 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of flour, along with the half-and-half, 2 tablespoons of melted butter, egg yolk, salt and remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar. Whisk until smooth. Cover and refrigerate the batter overnight, stirring once or twice. 

When you're ready to fry, bring the batter to room temperature. In a medium bowl, beat the egg white until soft peaks form. Fold the beaten white into the batter just until no streaks remain. Let the batter stand for 10 minutes. If the batter is too thick, whisk in water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until you have a thinner-than-pancake-batter mixture (I needed to add A LOT more water — maybe a half cup or so for the double batch — so don't be afraid if you need it).

Meanwhile, line a plate with parchment or waxed paper. Heat an 8-inch skillet over moderate heat and lightly brush with oil. For each blini, add ~1/4 cup of batter to the skillet and quickly swirl to coat the bottom with a thin layer of batter. Cook over moderate heat until small bubbles form on the surface and the underside is golden, about 2 minutes. Flip the blini and cook for 1 minute longer. Transfer the blini to the prepared plate and brush with melted butter. Don't be dismayed if your first few blini tear apart or don't spread out in time or what-have-you — just add more water as needed, let the pan fully heat up, and all will be well.

Repeat with the remaining batter, brushing the skillet with oil as needed. You should have 12 to 14 blini. Serve at room temperature, top with whatever you desire, then roll up and enjoy.

Chocolate-Fromage Blanc Brownies

Why don't I make brownies more often? They are one-bowl easy, require no special last-minute ingredient runs, and satisfy that craving for chocolate like nothing else. When they're good — by which I mean fudgy, toothsome, and full-flavored — I want to eat them all. Oh, perhaps that's why.

This particular variation came about when I had some fromage blanc left from an over-stocked cheese plate. This fresh cheese often has a soft cream cheese-like texture, but is cultured to more of a chevre-like tang. And here, a small portion is mixed up into a sweet cheesecake-like mixture, then dolloped into a pan of brownies.

While I was smitten with the basic idea of this combination, the pictures showed a big cakey brownie, with only a bit of the cheesy topping. So I ditched the double-wide version, and went with a fudgier, slimmer brownie, a better match for the fromage. The end result is pretty much all you could want in a dessert. And as much as you could probably inhale a whole batch, just a single small square, chilled to chewiness from the refrigerator, is surprisingly satisfying.

And if you're looking for more stories of dairy, you can check out my recent story about raw milk certification (and its discontents) over at NPR. And, in full food safety disclosure, I did eat more than a few swipes of brownie batter before it made it into the oven.

Chocolate-Fromage Blanc Brownies

fromage topping and idea riffed from Sunset magazine, brownie portion halved/tweaked
yields 1 8x8-inch pan

Brownies:
3 ounces unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 stick (8 tablespoons, aka 4 ounces) unsalted butter
1 1/4 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon coarse  salt 
1/2 cup all-purpose flour

Fromage Blanc Filling:
8 ounces fromage blanc
1/4 cup sugar
1 egg

Heat the oven to 325° degrees Fahrenheit. Butter and flour an 8-inch square baking dish. Set aside.

Over a double boiler (or in short, well-watched bursts in the microwave), melt the chopped chocolate and butter. When just about melted, remove from heat, and let melt fully in the residual heat (and let cool slightly). Whisk in the sugar, further cooling things down, then the eggs, vanilla, and salt. Blend until smooth, then, with a spoon or spatula, gently/barely stir in the flour.

In a small bowl, whisk together the fromage blanc, 1/4 cup sugar, and egg until smooth. Note that fromage blancs vary: if yours is smooth, this may be simple, but if yours is firmer, you may need to whisk more aggressively or pass through a strainer to yield a smooth mixture.

Spread 2/3 the brownie batter evenly over the prepared pan, then pour the fromage blanc mixture over that. Dollop the remaining brownie batter across the top, and gently smooth to partially (not completely) cover the fromage blanc mixture (a few swirls are nice).

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out with just a moist crumbs. As with all brownies, under-baking is better than over-baking. Over-baking is sad. Place the pan on a rack to cool completely, then cut into squares (I favor small squares — 5x5). Chill if desired (and, since we've got dairy, best to refrigerate leftovers). Enjoy.

1 stick (113 grams) unsalted butter
2 ounces (55 grams) unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 cup minus 2 tablespoons (175 grams) granulated sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ cup (35 grams) all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon fine sea salt

Heat the oven to 325 degrees. Lightly butter an 8-inch square baking dish and line the bottom with a rectangle of parchment paper long enough to hang a couple of inches over two of the sides. (You’ll use the parchment to lift the brownies from the pan.) Lightly butter the paper.

Melt the butter and chopped chocolate in a 2½-3 quart saucepan over low heat, stirring occasionally. Remove the pan from the heat. Stir in the sugar, then add the eggs and vanilla and blend until smooth. Stir in the flour and the salt. Pour into the prepared pan, then lift the pan and drop it down onto the countertop a couple of times to release any air bubbles.

Bake for 25-30 minutes (in my oven, they’re done at 28), until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out clean. Cool completely in the pan on a wire rack, run a sharp knife around the edges between the brownies and the pan, then refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. Pull the parchment paper to lift the brownies from the pan. Slice into 16 squares.  - See more at: http://www.sweetamandine.com/#sthash.7Ba96V8R.dpuf

1 stick (113 grams) unsalted butter
2 ounces (55 grams) unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
1 cup minus 2 tablespoons (175 grams) granulated sugar
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ cup (35 grams) all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon fine sea salt

Heat the oven to 325 degrees. Lightly butter an 8-inch square baking dish and line the bottom with a rectangle of parchment paper long enough to hang a couple of inches over two of the sides. (You’ll use the parchment to lift the brownies from the pan.) Lightly butter the paper.

Melt the butter and chopped chocolate in a 2½-3 quart saucepan over low heat, stirring occasionally. Remove the pan from the heat. Stir in the sugar, then add the eggs and vanilla and blend until smooth. Stir in the flour and the salt. Pour into the prepared pan, then lift the pan and drop it down onto the countertop a couple of times to release any air bubbles.

Bake for 25-30 minutes (in my oven, they’re done at 28), until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out clean. Cool completely in the pan on a wire rack, run a sharp knife around the edges between the brownies and the pan, then refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. Pull the parchment paper to lift the brownies from the pan. Slice into 16 squares.  - See more at: http://www.sweetamandine.com/#sthash.7Ba96V8R.dpuf