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Showing posts with label APRICOT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label APRICOT. Show all posts

Friday, 8 July 2011

Our apricot tree (Η βερυκοκιά μας)

While I'm preparing my contribution for the First Symposium of Greek Gastronomy on Cretan Cuisine, here's an idea of what I have also been preparing food-wise at home.

apricot treeapricot treeOver the years, we've had many fruit trees in our garden. We used to have peach and nectarine, which both did well, but attracted too many pests, orange (we got tired of it, since we also own orange orchards), loquat (which didn't really do well) and plum, which dried up and died after serving us well for a number of years. Now we have a young lemon, a budding pomegranate and a shrubby lychee tree, while in the same position as the plum tree, there is now an apricot tree.

Most years, the apricot tree produced a very abundant crop, but about a third of the fruit was often lost to infestations of various pests, mainly little white worms. This year's crop - magically - managed to avoid such infestations, so the crop from that one tree was enormous.

 apricot harvest
This represents about a third of this year's harvest, from just one tree...

Apart from eating the fruit just as it was or giving it away, I found (through readers' suggestions on my facebook page) a range of delicious transformations for it. Some of the recipes are for eating right away, while other were for preserving; what's more, they don't need refrigeration, which means I'm saving on energy too.

JUST ONE TREE...

apricot jam
Apricot jam: Fruit jam, made when the fruit is ripe and full of seasonal flavour, never fails to remind you of summer and the more bountiful seasons.

apricot upside down cake
Apricot cake: I love fruit-filled desserts, and they go very well with ice-cream in the summer season. This upside-down apricot cake can also be made with fresh pears (which will be in season soon after the apricot season ends). Apricot crumble also comes to mind, as I remember making with plums, as does apricot clafoutis.

drying apricots drying apricots
Dried apricots: Drying fruit and vegetables was once very common in rural Crete. It's still popular for tomatoes, figs and raisins. This is going to make a nice addition to breakfast cereal. I dipped these apricot halves in orange juice, then let them dry partially in the oven and in the sun. These didn't last till winter - they were too tasty: 'Mmmm, they taste like jelly fruit, don't they Mum?!'

apricot ice cream sorbet
Apricot ice-cream sorbet: This idea was born from a series of kitchen mistakes that came about from my kids: my daughter wanted to make a creme caramel dessert, but when I poured the hot caramel onto a beautiful ceramic dish - the only one in my house that wasn't chipped - it cracked!; I had already made the custard, so I made another batch of caramel and poured it onto another tin with a removable base (but the mixture leaked out of the dish!; then I decided to make a pavlova with the egg whites that had remained from the custard making (but the day was hot and the pavlova meringue fell flat!; I had bought some cream to whip up and give the pavlova more body (but the cream, being 'lite', didn't whip thick enough! Having been instructed on making ice-cream by another blog reader, I had some idea of how to make ice-cream!

apricot chutney apricot chutney
Apricot chutney: Chutney is like a sweet-and-sour jam, something that comes between making marmalade and tomato sauce. the original recipe used peaches; I also changed some of the spices to suit Cretan tastes (I added some dried bay leaves). Chutney is generally not well-known in Cretan cooking - and I don't really know how it's going to be received when I begin to serve it; I'm looking forward to having it with pork steak and roast chicken.

'canned' apricots
And last, but not least, my daughter's invention, fruit salad: Apricots, like peaches, are often sold canned in syrup. This is the beast way to preserve peaches, because peach is bruise-prone and highly susceptible to post-harvest damage. After trying some peaches in syrup as a store-bought treat, my daughter 'recreated' the recipe at home, using apricots (which she thought looked like peaches), chopped and placed in a cup of orange juice. Processed food makes a great impression on all of us, because it's often very tasty!

JUST ONE TREE!

Some of these recipes are very new for my family, and it will no doubt take a little while to get used to eating in new ways. But I look forward to eating the preserves during the less fruitful colder months to come, when the garden won't be so productive, and Greece will find herself in the midst of a difficult period of austerity. The preserving looks like a lot of work, but don't be afraid of it. You just need to plan ahead; I prepared all this food in the space of one week, while I was taking part of my annual leave from work, necessitated partly by Greek unionised state sector strike action, and partly by the very long school Greek summer holiday period, primary schools close in mid-June and re-open in mid-September, which simply creates havoc for most working mothers.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

Saturday, 21 June 2008

Apricot clafoutis (Επιδόρπιο βερύκοκο)

I'm the zucchini goddess, or so thinks Alexandra:

"Thank you so much for helping us get rid of this year's excessive (as it always is) zuchinni crop from our garden. The chocolate-zucchini cake is in the oven as we speak, and smells wonderful. We've also been knee-deep in apricots. Jam, yes, and apricot upside-down cake which I think our village neighbours genuinely liked, though I don't think they were so keen on the apricot clafoutis; is it something to do with the passionate authoritative egalitarian interest which Cretans take in good food, like the French do?"

Having made the jam and eaten the fresh fruit from our tree, I am still looking for ways to get rid of the apricots left in the fridge. The reason of course is obvious: if we have our own fresh fruit available, it is highly unsustainable to buy other fresh fruit if we have our own. This philosophy is reasonable: apart from eating seasonally as often as possible, it is also more likely that we are imbibing fewer pesticides and more vitamins, hence healthier food. As I can't wait to taste our first watermelon for the season, I have to get rid of those apricots creatively. I'd rather not try juicing them - now that our orange trees are in full production, we make orange juice every day.

Clafoutis? What on earth is that? And why didn't the Greek peasant neighbours like it? After all, the French peasants love it. Is it genetic? With the help of the internet, I found out all I could about clafouti (as it's also written). I chose Martha Schulman's recipe because it sounded the least complicated and didn't use any overly exotic ingredients.

apricot clafoutis

You need
:
10-15 apricots, halved and stoned (the less ripe, the firmer they will stand in the pudding)
2 tablespoons of brandy (cognac)
1 tablespoon of lemon juice
7 tablespoons of sugar (my first reaction is: only?)
3/4 cup milk
1/2 cup yoghurt (I used some lemon flavoured yoghurt 'given away for free' by a milk company with every carton of its expensive, well over-1-euro per litre milk - I have joined in the boycott against expensive milk in my country)
2 eggs (the recipe said three; I reduced the number, given what I know about how Cretans like their desserts, not too eggy: now I know why the neighbours weren't too keen)
1 vial vanilla powder (pods and essence are not widely available in Crete)
pinch of salt
2/3 cup of sifted all-purpose flour
icing sugar for dusting (optional)
Place the apricots in a bowl with the brandy, lemon juice and half the sugar to become syrupy (this needs about half an hour). Oil a 10- or 10-1/2-inch ceramic quiche or tart dish. Drain the liquid from the apricots into a bowl, and place the apricots rounded side up in the dish. Using an electric mixer, beat together the syrup, sugar, milk, yoghurt, eggs, vanilla and salt till the mixture is creamy. Slowly beat in the flour. Mix together well. Pour the batter over the fruit. Bake in a moderate oven for 35 to 45 minutes, until the top is browned and the clafoutis is firm. Press gently on the top in the middle to see if it's firm. I omitted the icing sugar bit.

Clafoutis sounds like my kind of dessert - fruit (usually cherries) in a spongy batter, something like a furity custard. It reminds me of all those fruity puddings that my Kiwi friends' mothers made at their homes. I never got to eat a pudding made by any of them, having to be satisfied with the photos I saw of them in Women's Weekly, and dreaming about what it would be like to eat a dessert that looked like it had been born in a royal kitchen and served to some king or queen, who nodded his or her head to show contentment, while the cook sighed with relief that his head wouldn't be chopped off if since it met with the royals' approval. Last year, I made a spectacular plum crumble but that's the only time I've cooked fruit in this house. Not that it won't get eaten - it does, but not by anyone else, unfortunately.

apricot clafoutis

Possibly, this dessert might not be too popular with Cretan locals if it's served warm (it hit 37 degrees Celsius yesterday); it will look and feel like baby food, which is probably why my friends' neighbours didn't like it - 'krema' they might've said; 'clafouti yia ton fafouti' (clafoutis for the toothless). Fruity cakes have also never been very popular with some members of my own family. My husband's logic in this is that sweet and savoury never mix, and fruit is served after sweet, which comes after savoury, to clear the palate, so to speak. One way I have successfully helped to encourage the eating of fruity-vegetable cakes (apple cake, banana cake, carrot cake, walnut cake, zucchini cake) is to serve these desserts at room temperature with ice-cream. Till he met me, with the exception of walnut cake, he had never had such cakes. Cooked fruit is usually served in Greece as a pie (in phyllo pastry).

Serving ice-cream with cake is not as decadent as it may sound - fruit desserts usually don't contain a lot of sugar (hey presto, another reason why they didn't like it, being used to galaktoboureko and baklava), as the fruit compensates for its lack of sweetness. This is however another way to bastardise a local dish: cream (including ice-cream) is a definite no-no with clafoutis. When Alexandra was in France and asked for cream to go with her clafoutis, the homely waitress rasied an eyebrow and replied: "Of course if Madame wishes for cream she shall have cream, but one would normally not take cream with a clafoutis."

I'm not much of an experienced cook
in the sense that I haven't a clue about foreign food - anything that's out of the Cretan environment is what the English say (it's all Greek to me). I'm a good eater, but the chance to cook foreign doesn't crop up often enough in my life at the moment, and it's not just to do with sourcing foreign ingredients. I feel I must clarify my position because I don't think I'd make clafoutis again. The apricots in the custard batter were delicious, but maybe this dessert tastes better when made in the traditional manner using cherries. The recipe stated that it should be served warm, but this is a definite no-no in the Greek climate, as is the idea of cooking fruit. Clafoutis should indeed be served warm (preferably in a cooler climate), as it goes quite thick, like a cold custard, when it cools down. A glass of cold water is a must when eating apricot clafoutis, as it leaves a syrupy residue in the mouth, a little like the traditional Greek sweets my friend's neighbours are used to.

If I had to give this dessert a Greek name, I'd call it the French version of galaktoboureko served with fruit. But next time, I think I'll stick to apricot upside down cake.

This post is dedicated to all former urbanites who suddenly realised their call in life and became Cretan peasants, before it was too late.

And here is Alexandra's recipe for comparison purposes, in imperial measures:

350 – 450 grams fruit, stoned.

3 eggs

85 grams sugar

75 grams all-purpose flour

Half tsp powdered cinnamon

Half pint milk (560 mill) (you can replace 2 tbsp of it with brandy for a treat)

2 tablespoons melted butter

Little icing sugar to finish

Heat oven to 375F, 190C, Gas mark 5. Butter a big shallow dish (I use a 12 inch flan dish which would be about 30cm, scatter the halved stoned fruit on the base and sprinkle with a tablespoon of the sugar. Beat the rest of the sugar with the eggs, stiur in flour and cinnamon mixed, continue whisking till smooth. Gradually beat in the milk and finally the cool melted butter. Pour batter over the fruit and bake for about 45 mins until puffed up and lightly browned. Best served warm, dusted with icing sugar (and no cream!)


©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.

Thursday, 19 June 2008

Apricot jam (Μαρμελάδα βερύκοκο)

The house is inundated with fresh produce at the moment - apart from zucchini which always seems to outdo itself every year, there are aubergines (I need to start making moussaka), vlita (I have given away two bagfuls so far and collected half a dozen myself)) and onions (they'll last till the end of summer). The peppers are also doing well, while the tomatoes are starting to ripen (ftou ftou ftou, to avoid the plants becoming cursed).



The apricot tree (on the right) also gave us about five kilos of apricots all in one go. Apricots are delicious, but you can't get through five kilos very quickly. If you've been eating a lot of vegetables, apricots don't go down very well. I've just picked out the softer ones and turned them into jam for breakfast in the autumn. Delia Smith includes an all-purpose jam recipe for plums in her Complete Cookery Course, which can be replaced by similar soft stone fruit like peaches and apricots. I've used Delia's recipe for orange and lemon marmalade, with great success, and this one is no different. Delia may call it preserve, but I prefer the more common name - jam.

apricots for jamapricot jam
You need:
1 kilo of stoned fruit, halved or cut into smaller pieces if you don't prefer whole fruit in your jam
750g sugar
the juice of a lemon

If the fruit is very soft (and therefore not so tasty as fresh fruit), let it stew uncovered on the lowest heat to let out all the juices. The fruit doesn't have to be in perfect condition - it will not affect the taste, texture or colour. If the fruit is hard, you may need to add some water to the pot. Once the fruit is soft and mushy, add the sugar and stir it into the fruit thoroughly so that it leaves no granules. Once this is done, stir in the lemon juice and let the jam cook on low heat for another half an hour.

She also uses the kernels extracted from the stones of the fruit, but that's just for decoration. Another nice addition in this jam is shavings of lemon peel added in the final stage of cooking. It's nice, but not if you have young children, who want to eat plain jam, not gourmet preserve!

apricot jam setapricot jam
Delia has a wonderful way to check when jam or marmalade is ready to set once the sugar has boiled with the fruit. Place a saucer in the deep freeze. When you are ready to check the set of the jam, take out the frozen plate, and place a teaspoonful of the jam on it. "Allow it to cool for a few seconds, then push it with your finger: if a crinkly skin has formed on the jam, then it has set. If it hasn't set, boil it again for another 5 minutes and do another test." This really works!



When the jam is ready, let it settle before pouring it into warmed sterilised jars. I seal mine with a piece of plastic wrap while the jam is still hot, then secure the jars with the lid. When I'm ready to open the jar for use, I hear a little popping sound, the same kind you hear when opening a store-bought jar of preserved fruit or vegetables, and I know that I've sealed the jar correctly.

©All Rights Reserved/Organically cooked. No part of this blog may be reproduced and/or copied by any means without prior consent from Maria Verivaki.