KIds Make Salt Cod Fritters

It's a little known fact that people all over the Caribbean love salt cod. And why would that be?

In the not too distant past, the waters of the North Atlantic were swarming with cod. Going back centuries, when the fish were first discovered off Canada, fisherman from Europe and especially the Portuguese would make the long trek in their sailing boats to harvest the cod. Of course they didn't have refrigerators--refrigerators hadn't been invented yet--so they needed a way to preserve the fish for the sail home. They salted and dried the cod, making it almost impervious to spoiling.

Salt cod traveled all over Europe as a valuable source of protein, especially in Portugal, Spain, Southern France and Italy, where eating salt cod is still a cherished tradition. But in the trade of that era, salt cod also went south--to the sugar plantations of the Caribbean--in exchange for sugar, molasses, rum. This week our "food appreciation" classes are in Jamaica as we continue our virtual world food tour. Here a popular finger food is a salt cod fritter popularly known as "Stamp and Go."

Sadly, the great salt cod fisheries of the Atlantic have largely vanished--fished out. And outside ethnic communities, salt cod is not very well known. You can often find it in Latin groceries where it is sold in large, flat fillets that are tough as wood. Have the clerk cut it into pieces. Salt cod is also sold in neat little wooden boxes. And you can buy it with or without bones. I purchased ours at A&H Seafood in Bethesda, Md, which specializes in Portuguese and Spanish products. (They get fresh shipments each Thursday off a plane from Portugal.)

Once the salt cod is cut into manageable pieces, soak it in plenty of water for at least 24 hours, changing the water at least twice. You might be surprised how much the fish looks like an everyday fillet after this soaking. It is even edible as is--just cut off a small piece and try it.

To make the fritters, you will need a heavy pot or tall skillet with at least 1 inch of canola oil at the bottom. (Note: never fill the vessel more than half way for deep frying or it could boil over. If you have a deep-fat fryer, use that). Over moderate heat, bring the oil up to approximately 365 degrees, or a point where a bit of batter dropped into it will bubble vigorously but not burn.

Prepare the fish by bringing it to a boil in a pot of water. Remove the fillets from the pot and set aside to cool. Meanwhile, in a large mixing bowl mix two scallions, finely chopped, 1/3 red bell pepper, finely chopped, and 1/2 habanero pepper, finely chopped. (Habanero or Scotch bonnet peppers are very popular in the Caribbean for their fruity heat. But they are very hot. Consider this optional, or use a less fiery pepper such as jalapeno.) To the vegetables add 2 cups all-purpose flour, 2 teaspoons baking powder, and salt and pepper to taste. Mix everything well.

When the fish is cool enough to handle, flake it with two forks or with your fingers into small pieces, removing any bones, and stir it into the flour mix. Add a scant cup of water (or as much as needed) and mix to a thick batter. By this time the oil should be ready. Carefully drop spoonfuls of batter into the oil to form fritters about the size of golf balls. Turn as necessary until the fritters are golden brown and cooked all the way through. Remove to paper towels to drain.

Serve these warm with your favorite spicy dipping sauce or simply dress them with malt vinegar. Follow with heaping plates of jerk chicken.

Note: Hot oil is extremely dangerous. Be sure to keep it well out of the reach of children, and never leave it unattended. In our classes, we explain to the children why they cannot be near the hot oil. They make everything else up to the point where the batter goes into the oil. And of course they get to eat the finished fritters.

Potted Cheese

When I'm throwing a party and not feeling very rich I often put a potted cheese out for hors d'oeuvres. This is one way to turn an economical slicing cheese into something exotic looking that spreads on a cracker.

Potted cheese is simply cheese grated and marinated in beer, then spiked with dried mustard and Worcestershire sauce and blended fine. Scrape it into a small bowl and guests will think you are an entertaining genius. (You don't have to tell them you're just trying to save a few pennies.) It has the added virtue of keeping almost indefinitely in the refrigerator.

To make this potted cheese, I used two kinds of cheddar, one from Vermont, the other from England, one orange, the other yellow. In general, I prefer a sharp cheddar cheese for flavor. This particular recipe is from Fancy Pantry, by Helen Witty, one of our favorite sources for making tangy dishes out of fresh produce and odd bits.

3/4 pound good quality cheddar cheese (you can combine different kinds if you like)
1 teaspoon dry mustard
2/3 cup excellent beer (I use a dark Belgian ale)
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, slightly softened at room temperature
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
generous pinch white mustard
pinch cayenne
salt to taste

Grate the cheese and combine it at the bottom of a mixing bowl with the mustard and the beer. Press the cheese down until it is covered by the beer, cover the bowl and let it stand for a few hours or overnight.

Place the softened butter in a food processor and process until creamy. Add the cheese mixture, Worcestershire sauce, white pepper and cayenne. Process everything until the mixture is smooth, scraping down the side of the bowl occasionally as needed. Taste and add more seasonings as you desire, as well as some salt if it needs it.

Pack the cheese into a crock or ceramic bowl. Smooth the top and cover with plastic wrap. For longterm storage, cover the cheese with clarified butter to a depth of about 1/4 inch, then cover the container and refrigerate.

Serve at room temperature, but leave the cheese out of the refrigerator long enough to soften. Crackers or toasted baguette are the perfect accompaniment.

Kids Make Hummus By Hand

As much as possible, we focus on the process of preparing food in our "food appreciation" classes. I try to connect our kids with ancient techniques and ancient tools. Working with ingredients by hand--touching, feeling, smelling--makes an immediate connection and gives the kids a better appreciation for how different ingredients work and why food tastes the way it does in the end.

We've been working with whole grains lately. I wanted to try something ethnic, something easily recognizable, something that did not require power tools. Hummus with toasted whole wheat pita chips came to me in a flash.

I have strong feelings about hummus. Everyone has a favorite recipe, it seems. What I don't care for much are most grocery store versions. They taste like they were made in a factory and they have the consistency of baby food: overly processed. Worse, most stores now display huge arrays of hummus with exotic flavors--roasted pepper hummus, avocado hummus, smoked salmon hummus and I don't know what else. I say, until you can make the classic version, don't go improvising.

I confess, I normally make my hummus in a food processor. I also like to start with dried chickpeas that I find in the bulk section at Whole Foods. Somehow dried chickpeas soaked overnight and then cooked on the stovetop come out with a sweeter, more vibrant flavor than canned chickpeas. I also like some texture in my hummus, not baby food.

When I tried to imagine how the first person who ever made hummus actually made it, I conjured a picture of someone pounding the ingrediets with a mortar and pestle. So what I brought for the kids to use was my big, Mexican molcajete and tejolote.

The kids took turns, first grinding garlic and salt into a slush. Then pounding diced onion. Then whacking the chickpeas and gradually incorporating the other ingredients. When we had that under control, we split pita bread into chips, brushing them with olive oil and seasoning with a little salt. These baked in the oven while we read a story (Horton Hears a Who). When the reading was done, each kid got a plate with chips and hummus and dug in.

Mostly, I think they liked it.

Here's the recipe:

1 1/2 medium cloves garlic, peeled
1 teaspoon coarse salt
1/4 medium yellow onion, peeled and diced small
1 3/4 cups cooked chickpeas (or 1 14-ounce can, drained)
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil (preferably a Middle Eastern variety)
1/4 cup sesame tahini
3/4 teaspoon ground cumin
juice from 1/2 lemon

In a large mortar and pestle (or food processor), grind the garlic cloves with salt into a paste. Add onion and mash until slushy. Add chickpeas and mash and grind until pasty. Pour in olive oil and grind some more. Mix in tahini, cumin and lemon juice. Continue grinding (or processing) until hummus is smooth but still textured. If it seems dry, add a little more olive oil or water. Adjust seasoning as needed.

Meanwhile, slice whole wheat pita rounds into eight wedges each, about 1/2 pita per person for a small snack. Beginning from the point of each wedge, peel the wedges into two parts. Lay these flat on a baking sheet, rough side up. Using a pastry brush, dab each wedge with some extra-virgin olive oil. Sprinkle a little coarse salt onto each wedge. Place in a 375-degree oven and bake until the wedges are golden brown, about 15 minutes.

Serve hummus in a bowl, garnished with a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of sumac (available at Middle Eastern groceries) or paprika with toasted pita on the side for dipping.

We're in Martha Stewart Living

And folks, it's certainly not for my photography. But if you turn to page 92 in the just-out December 2007 issue, you will find The Slow Cook's byline atop a holiday story called "Cocktail Companions," about pairing inspired libations with simple hors d'oeuvres.

The challenge was to tell readers how to create a sophisticated cocktail hour without a terrible amount of cooking or bartending--all in 200 words or less.

Longtime readers will notice a different sort of voice--the suave, utterly in-the-know voice--that is seldom heard on The Slow Cook blog. All I can say is, it was a bit of a stretch for yours truly to match the production values at Martha Stewart Omnimedia. Let's just call this a miracle of modern publishing.

In fact, I am a secret fan of Martha's magazine. Does this come under the category of guilty pleasures? The recipes are tight and never too complicated, usually an update of one classic dish or another. People may rib Martha for being too much the busy perfectionist, but you can't say she doesn't have great taste. Too many food magazines are trying too hard to impress with trendy recipes that just fly right over the top. As you all know, we travel pretty much against the latest trends here at the Slow Cook. You might even call us anti-trend.

I can't take any credit for the recipes in this story for Martha. My job was to draw on some of my own experience entertaining and for me that means making the food ahead. Nobody likes to watch the host experience a meltdown while trying to greet guests, prepare food and play bartender simultaneously. In our house we like to keep things simple and, where possible, offer a featured cocktail so there isn't a traffic jam around the liquor cabinet.

The food and drink in this particular spread fit easily within that scheme. I think there just might be something good enough you'll want to give it a try.

Secret Revealed

For years our friend Larry has been serving us these sweet onion tea sandwiches that we always assumed could not possibly be as simple as they turn out to be.

Yesterday I was tasked with making "snacks" for about 20 people so I decided to put these sneaky little delectables on the menu.

I felt truly devious, because I knew exactly what the guests were in for. Originally we were planning on 18 persons for the event. Nearly 30 showed up. Predictably, the sandwiches were devoured in short order. And now I am going to reveal to the rest of the world what Larry has been keeping such a well-guarded (maybe not) secret.

Start with a loaf of thinly sliced brioche. You could also use a hallah bread for this. The point is to make the sandwiches out of a rich, eggy bread, however you chose to do so. But I suppose even a garden variety white bread would do in a pinch.

I got my brioche at Whole Foods by ordering it the day before. There was a brief moment of panic. I went in to retrieve the brioche at the appointed hour yesterday and an unwitting clerk had placed it on the shelf for sale to the general public. I began to imagine the disaster that would ensue without our brioche. Fortunately it was still on the shelf.

We were saved.

Now take one Vidalia onion, peel it and slice it thinly as well.

Make as many sandwiches as the number of brioche slices with allow, laying a thin smear of mayonnaise on two pieces of bread, placing some onion slices on one piece, then covering with the second slice of bread. Using a 2-inch round cookie cutter, cut as many rounds from your assembled sandwiches as you can, avoiding the crust as much as possible.

To finish the sandwiches, finely chop a fistful of flat-leaf parsley. Spread some mayonnaise around the outside edges of the sandwich rounds and roll them in the parsley.

When the onion sandwiches are complete, stack them proudly on a pedestal platter and serve for hors d'oeuvres. They would be delicious with a voluptuous Vouvray wine.

But whatever you do, don't give away the secret.