Pumpkin and tahini honey dressing

Pumpkin is not really well known in Crete. It's commonly turned into sweet and savoury pies in other parts of Greece (particularly the North), but here, it's still considered an oddity by the rural community, used mainly as animal feed. My uncles' animals got their fair share of it recently, and I asked them if I could take away just one of the pumpkins lying around their farm, to turn it into something suitable for human consumption.

First, I roasted some thick large pumpkin chunks. Before they went into the oven, they sprinkled with minced garlic, seasoned with salt, pepper and cumin, and finally they were drizzled with olive oil and some water in the baking pan. When they were ready (about 30-40 minutes in a moderate oven), I doused them in a tanini and honey dressing.



The next day, I turned the leftover roast pumpkin and dressing into a tasty mash, which went well as a side dish with sausages, which I often cook when our main meal consists of mainly leftover vegetables.



In the evening, the leftovers of the leftover roast pumpkin and dressing mash was used to make a soup, thinned out by adding a few tablespoons of water and olive oil.



The following two recipes make the three dishes described above.

Apart from the roasted pumpkin pieces, all you need is some tahini dressing, which can be made in various ways. My inspiration for this dressing came from a recipe used on broccoli. Since then, I've found that this dressing can be used over cauliflower, potatoes and pumpkin.

The amount of dressing you make depends on the amount of pumpkin you roasted. For 250g pumpkin, you need:
40g tahini  (about 2-3 tablespoons)
1 tbsp honey
1 tbsp wine vinegar
1 fat clove of garlic, minced
salt and pepper

Mix the ingredients together in a small sauce pan, stirring constantly over low heat, to avoid the tahini forming lumps. The mixture will be quite thick. Add some water, 1 tablespoon at a time, to make the mixture as runny as you like. The thicker, the more intense the flavour of the tahini.Serve immediately, as the tahini tends to dry out if let unused too long. It can be added all at once, or gradually as required. If any dressing is left over in the saucepan, it will need to be reheated (with some water to make it smooth.

©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.

Pumpkin bougatsa and pumpkin galaktoboureko (Κολοκυθομπουγάτσα και κολοκυθογαλακτομπούρεκο)

Pumpkin has never been hugely popular in Crete. It doesn't have the fame here that it does in Northern Greece, or the American continent, where cooking with pumpkin is a common feature of the respective cuisines found in each area. I'm often lucky to be given one, but this year, that hasn't happened. I think it's related to the reason why we didn't find any quince on our trees, while all the bitter oranges that I usually make into a spoon sweet have also disappeared. Times are hard, and pumpkin now tastes good...

I still like to cook with at least one pumpkin every autumn because it's part of the seasonal nature of my cooking regime. Pumpkin is also very versatile, meaning that you can make it into any kind of meal you like, both sweet and savoury, both pie and soup. The one I bought wasn't too expensive - 2 kilos for 2.50 euro. My friend Demetra recommended a recipe that her sister had given her. She called it a pumpkin bougatsa, and told me it was one of the most amazing pies she had ever had. Bougatsa is a kind of cheesy/milky pastry pie, served all over Northern Greece; in Crete, it has its own variant, notably, bougatsa Iordanis.

OK, I told her, I'm interested in giving it a try. She then insisted once again that it was the best pumpkin pie that she had ever made or tasted. Interestingly, when she passed on the recipe to me, there was no photo showing the cooked dish. Most people look at food photos on the internet or in a book and cook from the accompanying recipes, using the photos as a gauge to what they should expect.

Sometimes, though, you chance on a recipe that you know will be good from the way the recipe is written. It isn't often the case at all, but I was convinced that this pumpkin bougatsa would turn out to be a good one, despite its simple ingredients, from some of Demetra's instructions:  

"... keep aside ¾ cup of your cooked pumpkin. It will be a gorgeous orange color. Enjoy that... Keep on low heat to thicken. Stir here and there... don’t let it stick on the bottom of the pan.....stir... clean your kitchen.....stir occasionally....stir.....enjoy the gorgeous color and aroma....and once it becomes thick, take it off the burner..."

You can tell the writer actually made this recipe, and enjoyed the whole process, not just the food. I asked Demetra about the origin of the recipe: her sister came across it at a women's monastery near Montreal in Canada. Apparently, the nuns serve it to guests in the afternoon on a regular basis. The recipe has made its way from Canada to Boston to NYC to Athens, and now to Crete!

When Demetra visited her sister recently, they cooked a lot together. Just before Demetra was due to leave, her sister "absolutely insisted" that she could not go away without having tasted the pumpkin bougatsa recipe that she had gotten from the monastery: "She managed to fit this one in at the end. It was so last-minute that I nearly missed my train. But I didn't and all's well that ends well, AND I had HOT PUMPKIN BOUGATSA on my Amtrack ride from Boston to NYC. I opened the container on the train and the smell literally wafted through the entire train car. I understood why my sister had insisted." So now, you will understand why it's a good idea for you to make this pita soon...

As I was making the bougatsa myself (with home-made filo pastry of course!), I realised that the same pastry and filling, layered in a slightly different manner, could easily make two different kinds of Greek pita: bougatsa, and galaktoboureko. Each pita is served in its own unique way. And you don't have to choose which one to make before it goes into the oven - you can do that while it's cooking!!! I halved the recipe because the original made a very large pie. Even then, I was still able to make both kinds of pita in the same cooking session.

 

 I had to juggle between the stove and making my own filo pastry. To prevent it from drying out, I dustead each sheet with cornstarch, then folded it in half, and then in half again. I put the sheets aside until the filling was ready.

To make Demetra's sister's basic Greek-based pumpkin pita, you need:
2-3 cups cooked mashed pumpkin
2 cups milk (or 1 cup cream mixed with 1 cup water, which is what I used)
1/2-3/4 cup sugar
3 eggs
5 tablespoons of flour
some vanilla flavouring (I use vanilla essence in liquid form; there are many different ways that vanilla flavouring is sold, including vials and sachets of vanilla-flavoured sugar)
1 tablespoon of butter (I always use olive oil these days)
a packet of filo pastry (these days, I make my own filo - no, it's NOT that difficult!)

The recipe above is enough to make both pies. I layered the larger pie (which I turned into a galaktoboureko), by lining the ceramic dish with three sheets of pastry, then a thin layer of filling, then another two sheets of pastry and some more filling, and finally another three sheets of pastry on the top. For the smaller pie (which became bougatsa), I laid two sheets of pastry on the bottom of the tin, the remaining filling, and another two sheets of filo on the top, oiling all the filo.

 

Put aside 1/2 cup of pumpkin and heat the remaining with the milk and sugar. (As Demetra says, it will be a gorgeous orange colour - enjoy it.) In a bowl, mix the eggs, flour and vanilla, then add the remaining pumpkin, and mix well. Pour the egg mixture into the milk mixture and mix quickly. Don't worry if the mixture curdles (make sure the milk mixture isn't too warm and the egg mixture isn't too cold).

Now listen to Demetra: "Keep on low heat to thicken. Stir...stir here and there... don’t let it stick on the bottom of the pan.....stir... clean your kitchen.....stir occasionally....stir.....enjoy gorgeous color and aroma....and once it becomes thick, take it off the burner and add the butter. (You will not have to stir non-stop if the heat is correct; just stir from time to time, keeping an eye on the heat so the mixture doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan.)" At this point, taste a little of the mixture (watch out - it may burn): you could easily eat it before it becomes a pie...

Grease a pyrex dish or baking tin and lay half the filo pastry sheets on the bottom, greasing in between each layer. Then pour in the filling, which may look runny, but don't worry about that because it will eventually cook like a custard. Then layer the remaining filo sheets on top - don't forget to grease each one! Fold the overhanging pastry, greasing them too. Score the pita with a knife, making cuts for each serving (it will make it easier to cut the filo pastry afterwards when the pie comes out of the oven). Bake at 180C for about 1/2 hour, until the filo turns golden. When taking the pie out of the oven, let it rest for a quarter of an hour before cutting, to allow the custard to solidify.

Pumpkin bougatsa

If you turn your pita into a pumpkin bougatsa, you only need some sugar and/or cinamon for sprinkling over it (or none at all, depending on how sweet you like your pita to be). Bougatsa is served warm, and can be re-heated the next day. It makes an especially delicious breakfast meal.

 Pumpkin galaktoboureko

If you plan to make a pumpkin galaktoboureko instead, you need to make a syrup, by boiling a cup (or more) of sugar and 2 cups of water, together with half a lemon (and/or a cinmamon stick for flavour). Make the syrup while the pita is cooking. As soon as the pita comes out of the oven, pour the slightly cooled syrup over the hot pita (or the other way around - if the pie has cooled down, the syrup must be hot).

I'm posting this recipe in time for American Thanksgiving for a pumpkin pie idea. If you're celebrating Thanksgiving in Greece, this is the pita that will make this year's feast a memorable one. If you're celebrating Thanksgiving in America, this pita marries Greek cuisine with the American feast. Even though I don't celebrate Thanksgiving here in Greece, I have plenty to be thankful for, not least of which includes the availability of high quality cheap food. If you make your own filo, both the above pies will cost you less than 5 euro to make in total.

©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.

Thanksgiving Day (Ημέρα των Ευχαριστιών)

Thanksgiving is a celebration of thanks, as its name implies. Although there is no such formal occasion celebrated with this same name in Greece, the idea of giving thanks is a common element binding all people in the world. Even if it isn't celebrated in some formal way, it probably forms a part of everyone's lives in some way.

The closest celebration that comes to my mind in the life of the Greek Orthodox is the Eucharist, a religious rite performed in the church involving food: consecrated bread (the body of Christ) and wine (the blood of Christ). The word 'eucharist' comes the word εὐχαριστῶ (efharisto) ), which continues to mean 'thank you' in modern Greek: "The Greek noun eukharistia (εὐχαριστία) derives from eu- 'well' + kharis 'favor, grace'. Eukharisteo (εὐχαριστῶ) is the usual verb for "to thank" in the New Testament" (from Wikipedia). During the Eucharist, people partake in a Holy Communion with the Lord, by eating the bread and drinking the wine.

There is always a time to give thanks to friends and family, as well as to the superior force that governs each person's fate. It isn't the purpose of this post to propound a theory about who or what that force is, or whether it should be personified as God or Allah or Yehwah. All people probably feel that they have been wronged at some point in their life, but I think, on the most par,t I see people leading greater misery than what I have been through. I believe that there comes a moment when we should all be thankful for many reasons, but are too selfish to admit that we are thankful.

I could talk about being very thankful that the economic crisis has had little immediate effect in my life, but that's probably got to do with the kind of lifestyle I live. I honestly feel it has very little to do with my immediate life, apart from price increases products and services. I'd rather be thankful for more meaningful things in life, such as always being employed no matter how low the pay is, never spending beyond my means, and having a roof over my head, plus the fact that I live in a climate that is tolerable.

Above all, I am thankful for the good health of my family. Having given birth to children who were not at all healthy in the most commonly understood sense (my son wasn't able to produce his own blood for the first 9 months of his life, while my daughter spent the first month of her life in hospital as a preemie), coupled with my parents' deaths (both from cancer), I think I am living in a dream world now, where my whole family is very healthy. If only we could be thankful for the meaningful things in life.

In the spirit of the origins of Thanksgiving, and given that, according to my site statistics, most of my readers are from North America, here is my culinary creation: not a traditional turkey dinner (you may be put off turkey after seeing what happened to them in Alaska, which reminds me of another reason to be thankful), but chewy chocolate pumpkin drop cookies, created on a whim, in my constant endeavour to feed my children healthy food. The idea of adding cornflakes to biscuits is part of Kiwi ingenuity.

CHOCOLATE PUMPKIN DROP COOKIES
1 cup of pumpkin puree (made by roasting the pumpkin till it is soft)
2/3 cup of sugar
¼ cup of honey
½ cup of olive oil
2 cups of flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
3 tablespoons of cocoa powder (or more)
1 teaspoon of cinnamon
a pinch of salt
a cup of cornflakes

Mix together the pumpkin, sugar, honey, oil, baking powder, cocoa, cinammon and salt, so that everything is combined well. Sift the flour into the mixture and mix it in well. Then add the cornflakes and mix them in so that they are evenly distributed without breaking up.

Drop spoonfuls of mixture onto a well-oiled baking sheet. (I didn’t use parchment paper, but I noticed that they will stick to the tin if it isn’t well oiled.) Bake for about 12-15 minutes, depending on your oven, until they are firm – they will not harden like a crisp biscuit. Cool on a wire rack to avoid condensation.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

PS: Thanks for stopping by to read my musings!

©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.

Pumpkin (Κολοκύθα)

One huge pumpkin can go a very long way, without a bit of it going to waste.

I was recently given a pumpkin by my uncles, tenderly raised by their green fingers, in the midst of an olive grove, overlooking the Mediterranean sea. This pumpkin was about the size of a long oval summer watermelon. It didn't weigh as much as a watermelon (which would have weighed at least ten kilos), because of its hollow interior. When I first brought it home, everyone wondered what I would end up doing with it, including myself.
"You're not feeding us pumpkin every day, Maria," lamented my husband.
"What can you cook with pumpkin, Mum?" asked my adventurous daughter.
"I don't like it, Mum," my white-food-only-please son declared.

Pumpkin is not a popular vegetable in Crete. It is sold in greengrocers', but it is not often asked for by customers. Pumpkin is usually cooked by those who have pumpkins growing in their gardens, or people given pumpkins by local farmers. In Crete, they are usually turned into savoury pies. Some farmers use pumpkin as animal feed. Just lately, pumpkins have taken on a decorative nature, due to the rise in popularity of American culture and their association with Halloween. Decorated pumpkins are sometimes seen in ex-pat American-Cretans' homes.

An American friend of mine told me how delicious pumpkin is when you fry it. Fried food may be unhealthy for you, but at least we fry our food using only olive oil. My mother-in-law loved this fried pumpkin; in fact, we all did.

Pumpkin chips, by Dimitra Sergakis: dredge the pumpkin chips in seasoned flour, then dip in ice-cold water and shake off excess water, then dredge again in the flour, and cook in very hot olive oil till crispy, then drain on kitchen paper. Cook in small batches to keep the oil hot...

Despite smelling like heaven as it was cooking in the oven, Susan's cake wasn't very popular in my house. Where did I go wrong? I didn't; my Cretan family is simply not used to ginger, cinnamon and clove aromas in their cakes and sweets. These spices are very reminiscent of autumn and cold weather; they are not overly used in the local cuisine, hence my family simply wasn't accustomed to them. Some argue that it is all in the genes; either you have a predisposition for certain foods, or you don't want to go near them, an explanation often given for lactose intolerance in certain cultural groups, eg Asians and Native Americans.

Despite my Greek genes, I was brought up in a gingerbread and gingernut culture, and all those Northern European recipes that were popular in the New Zealand climate, with cool summers and cold winters. In Crete, cinnamon and cloves are mainly used in honey-dipped sweets like melomakarona (Christmas biscuits) and baklava. But my pumpkin cake did not go to waste. Half was shared among my colleagues at work (it was a big hit), while the other half was eaten by the children during their morning break at school - sliced, with chocolate spread on one side. They loved it.

Susan's pumpkin bread: she has a very good technique for softening the pumpkin...

Pumpkin soup is always welcome in the winter. It goes well with curry spices, some more heavy aromas that are not common in the Cretan kitchen; another recipe enjoyed principally by myself (which is why I didn't make it with this pumpkin this time round - I'm waiting for the next pumpkin to arrive).

The famous Gordon Ramsay pumpkin soup that I've been making long before I found out who he was...

The pumpkin cookies made an excellent bento school lunchbox filler. To make sure that the children would eat them, I added cocoa and cornflakes. The pumpkin pulp went by unnoticed. But it was there, making these biscuits extra healthy.

My very own pumpkin cookies, specially created for Thanksgiving (recipe will be posted on 27 November), based on the idea of using cornflakes in a New Zealand biscuit, the afghan.

I originally made the pumpkin gnocchi as a way to use up the pumpkin excess in my kitchen, after seeing a Sunday newspaper supplement featuring Aglaia Kremezi's pumpkin recipes. She tells us that the Spanish conquistadors mistook the pumpkin for a new variety of melon. As I was making the pumpkin gnocchi, I suddenly had another idea for making pasta with the same dough...

Aglaia Kremezis' pumpkin gnocchi, oil and seasonings added ...

... pumpkin fettuccine, using my late mother's pasta machine. This was an absolute hit in the house. The children were most intrigued that they could make their own spaghetti; they now want to make it every week...

Fettuccine a la puttanesca using pumpkin gnocchi dough...

But the most spectacular pumpkin recipe of all was Susan's pumpkin honey pie. One taste of this, and you're sure to think you've gone to heaven. It warmed up the kitchen and sent a delicious smell through the air. I called the pie μελόπιτα - melopita: 'honey pie' - which is kind of true: it contained honey, eggs and spices, and pumpkin of course, but I preferred not to admit that part, just in case everyone got frightened into thinking that everything they ate would be turned into a pumpkin, like Cinderella's story. Half of it was enjoyed by my colleagues, while the other half was eaten by my family.

If I could make this pie a second time around, I'd have it with some ice-cream, garnished with some whipped cream and topped with a spoonful of syrupy Greek grape dessert. If my family were a little more open-minded concerning international cuisine, I'd make this pie a staple part of a Christmas dinner.

Last but not least, not even the pumpkin seeds went to waste!

Roasted pumpkin seeds: as Elise says, don't bother opening them to eat only the seed; they taste good whole.

None of this pumpkin was binned, except for a very thin layer of outer skin. The whole pumpkin was treated with the respect it deserves as a food item and a commodity. It constituted a substantial part of our meals, was eaten in a variety of different forms, and was enjoyed by a lot of people. In these hard economic times, it doesn't make sense to shirk at the thought of cooking the same food when you can cook it differently using the same ingredients in a different combination. We cannot afford to waste food any longer.

This is my entry for this week's Weekend herb Blogging, hosted by Siri from Siri's Corner.

©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.