Steamdrunks: The Drunken Earl

Trust this man to feed you drinks.
He won't tie you to train tracks. I promise.

I present to you today a post written by my good friend Oz, who you may remember from the Halcyon days of the State Dinner at the Dolmabaçe. He's been in exile for a while, toiling out of state, and so while we haven't been able to cook together for a while (the last time was in December...) we have conversed extensively about many things. Drinks, of course, are one of our many shared enthusiasms, and so this man–this wonderful man—has provided us with the following:

“We simply contend that a relish for 'social drinks’ is universal;... and that he, therefore, who proposes to impart to these drinks not only the most palatable but the most wholesome characteristics of which they may be made susceptible, is a genuine public benefactor.”
~Jerry Thomas, Bartenders Guide: How to Mix Drinks: Receipts for Mixing All Kinds of Punch, Egg Nog, Juleps, Smashs, Cobblers, Cocktails, Sangarees, Mulls, Toddies, Slings, Sours, Flips, and 200 other Fancy Drinks (1862)

This story starts, as so many often do, with a lady.
“What if you made a cocktail with tea-infused simple syrups?” the lady asked, innocently.
“Ooh... wouldn’t be that hard to do... but what would you make?” I pondered.
And like that I had been nerdsniped into the fascinating concept of Steampunk Cocktails.

The Bread Guy Presents: Matzah

Hello again.

It's The Bread Guy.

Aaron asked me to put in another appearance, so I thought I'd tell you about my latest foray into the world of dough. As some of you may know, it's Passover, which gave us the opportunity to get together with the family to celebrate the Seder. This ritual has many symbolic components, recounting the history of the liberation of the Israelites from slavery in ancient Egypt. So, how does this relate to The Bread Guy? Well, there's special bread, which is part of the Passover meal—matzah. The biblical narrative tells of the haste of the flight of the Israelites, such that they could not even wait for their bread to rise, resulting in an unleavened flatbread or cracker that we know as matza. It symbolizes freedom and redemption, but as the "poor man's bread," it is also a reminder of the humility of servitude.

So why does this interest The Bread Guy? Well, my recent bread baking efforts have explored the enrichment of flavor that various methods of pre-fermentation add to breads. (You remember the 12 to 16 hour poolish used in the Pain Rustique.) And in particular, how these techniques can be applied to whole grain loaves. Well, matzoh is the complete antithesis. The religious elders determined that the time it takes for wild yeast to start its fermentation action is 18 minutes. During Passover, eating chametz (any food which is leavened) is forbidden. So, for matse to be kosher for Passover, it needs to be prepared in less than these 18 minutes. That is from the time the water is mixed in with the flour until the dough is baked in the oven.

Well, I considered this a challenge and decided I'd try my hand at preparing the matso for the family, and I have to say, I was able to modify the recipe that I used and meet the time limit. Actually, it worked quite well, the matzho that was baking was done just as the next batch was ready to put in.

Guest Cook: Pain Rustique

Hi! I'm Aaron's bread guy. He asked me to share a recipe with you all, and suggested this bread. It's one I made for him, and he liked its crispy crust and light crumb. The recipe incorporates a couple of techniques which may be unfamiliar to those of you who don't bake on a regular basis, so let me review those first. (For those of you who are seasoned bakers, bear with me.)

It's worth developing an understanding of these techniques as they can be incorporated into other bread recipes, (I've adapted some to a 100% whole wheat recipe with wonderfully flavorful results) and their benefits justify the extra effort.

Baklava and Turkish Coffee

Baklava in front and to the right, gingerbread to the left.

Our dessert for the State Dinner at the Dolmabahçe was Baklava—layers of phyllo dough surrounding a filling made of chopped nuts and rose water. It's popular in the area formerly controlled by the Ottoman Empire—of course, Turkey being the center of this region—and has a long, rich, and murky history.

Wikipedia says, "The history of baklava is not well-documented. It has been claimed by many ethnic groups, but there is strong evidence that it is of Central Asian Turkic origin, with its current form being developed in the imperial kitchens of the Topkapı Palace." (The Topkapı Palace was the palace used by sultans until the construction of the Dolmabahçe.) Beyond this certainty, there are many theories about the origins of Baklava, crediting it to a vast number of places ranging from ancient Mesopotamia to Greece to China—few of these can be properly substantiated, and indeed Baklava as we know it came about sometime between 150 and 450 years ago.

Oz and Blue (right) with Phyllo.

The cook for the dessert course was not, in fact, our good friend Oz. It was our other good friend Blue, who puts together desserts as though it were part of her nature to do so. She is also one of the most stalwart of kitchen helpers, usually eschewing dinner to help plate food and wash dishes. It's a pleasure to let her take over the kitchen, and a pleasure to work with her.

She made two versions of Baklava, and has provided me with both of the recipes, which I shall now pass on to you. I have preserved the two recipes separately—though they are very similar—as they were provided to me. The procedure is somewhat tedious, but the results are well worth the effort.

At the dinner, we served the baklava with a cup of Turkish Coffee. The term refers to the method of preparation, and not to a specific blend or style of bean; it is the foundation of a strong coffee-house culture in Turkey, and a delightfully different way of enjoying your coffee fix. A link to a good recipe is included at the bottom.

Döner Kebab-Döner Kebap

Döner Kebap Porsiyon—A main dish serving

Our guide to Turkey, Oz, says, "The complexities and scale involved in making this dish generally drive the home cook away. I was first exposed to it in a restaurant in Izmit, Turkey, outside of Istanbul. A gyro-like combination of Ground lamb, beef, and sirloin is cooked on a vertical spit and shaved as needed."

Döner Kebap, literally meaning "Rotating Roast," is a common dish found across much of the Middle East, now popular in Europe—sold by street vendors as Döner Kebab and in Middle Eastern restaurants—, and is best known in the United States as Shawarma or Gyros. All of these preparations come from the same origin; to quote Wikipedia:

In his...family Biography, İskender Efendi from...19^th century Bursa claims that "he and his grandfather had the idea of roasting the lamb vertically rather than horizontally, and invented for that purpose a vertical mangal". With time, the meat took a different marinade, got leaner, and eventually took its modern shape.

Traditionally, the concoction is usually made from many solid pieces of meat, pounded thin, marinated, and placed in layers on a skewer; often, a mixture of ground trimmings from the meat, spices, and an egg (to act as a binder) is spread between the layers; the stack then is topped with fat, and sometimes an onion or tomato to add more flavor. The skewer is then placed vertically in a rotisserie and cooked until it's done, with portions shaved off as needed with a knife (or sometimes some kind of electric trimmer device.)

Tomato-Rice Pilaf-Domates Pirinci Pilav

Ozzy says: "My family doesn't usually make anything like this, but I've encountered it before in Turkey." Our version is "made with a sauteed mixture of roma tomatoes and onion, mixed with white rice, and garnished with fresh cucumber." It's somewhat stickier than the traditional rice pilaf, but the texture and flavor are smooth and satisfying.

In our dinner, the pilaf served a similar purpose to a salad in a classical French meal—it helps cleanse the palate between flavorful first courses and the flavorful main dish; the cucumber is an unexpected but delightful addition to this palate-cleansing power, cooling the tongue and allowing for careful, considered enjoyment of the dish.

Simple and delicious—and, to tell you a secret: you could serve the entrée on top of this pilaf if you wanted to.

Red Lentil Soup-Mercimek Çorbası

Go to any Middle Eastern restaurant and you'll find, most likely, some kind of lentil soup. It might be puréed, it might have crushed lentils, or they might be whole. It might be red with tomatoes and spices, it might be green, it might be yellow—but odds are, it'll be delicious.

The lentil is one of the oldest foodstuffs, originating in the Near East, with evidence of culinary usages reaching back to the times before humans produced pottery. Quite simply put, they're an excellent source of nutrition and have been used as such for a long time, in many traditions the world over.

About the soup served at the State Dinner at the Dolmabahçe, Oz has this to say: "A fan-favorite when the grandparents come to town, this pureed soup is made with red lentils, rice, onion, carrot, and garnished with the hot paprika butter, paprika, and fresh mint."

Turkish Beef and Cheese Böreks

We've encountered Böreks before, though by a different name. As was discussed then, they are found across the Middle East, and for the State Dinner at the Dolmabahçe, Oz decided to serve a Turkish style of Böreks, known as Sigara böreği, literally translating to "Cigarette Böreks." It's a descriptive name, coming from their construction: unlike the Israeli style seen at the Hanukkah Dinner,  these böreks are made with phyllo dough (or, traditionally, yufka) and rolled up like a cigarette, then fried—we chose to shallow-fry them in vegetable oil.

Oz says, "Phyllo dough is not ideal for this recipe—you should probably use yufka instead, or make kofte." Kofte is the meat mixture, lightly sautéed in olive oil and served. "It wouldn't be unheard-of to add an egg to the mixture, either," he adds.

For our dinner, we made two versions of these böreks, a cheese- and a meat-filled version, and we served them with zchug, as with the bourekas.

Paprika Butter

Paprika! The only spice you'll ever need...

The condiment we used most during the State Dinner at the Dolmabahçe was a Paprika-Butter mixture. It's simple to make, flavorful, and adds that certain je ne sais quoi to the service of many dishes. Although we only served it on our soup and our main dish, it would be equally delicious on the pilaf or the börek appetizers. Perhaps the only place it doesn't belong is on the baklava... unless you like a slightly spicy dessert.

The recipe for Paprika Butter is delightfully simple. Begin by clarifying one pound of butter...

State Dinner at the Dolmabahçe

The Dolmabahçe is a beautiful palace in Istanbul (formerly Constantinople), Turkey. Home to sultans from its construction until the abolition of the Caliphate, the Dolmabahçe is an excellent example of in-period cultural fusion. From Wikipedia:

The Dolmabahçe Palace

The Dolmabahçe Palace was ordered by the Empire's 31st Sultan, Abdülmecid I, and built between the years 1843 and 1856. [...] The construction works cost five million Ottoman mecidiye gold coins, the equivalent of 35 tonnes of gold. Fourteen tonnes of gold in the form of gold leaf were used to gild the ceilings of the [...] palace.
The design contains eclectic elements from the Baroque, Rococo and Neoclassical styles, blended with traditional Ottoman architecture to create a new synthesis. The palace layout and décor reflect the increasing influence of European styles and standards on Ottoman culture and art during the Tanzimat period. Functionally, on the other hand, it retains elements of traditional Ottoman palace life, and also features of traditional Turkish homes.