Happy Summer!
Join me over at Team Yogurt today to celebrate with these simple, luscious, and elegant Harissa Stuffed Dates.
Tag / Yogurt
She wrote this song about John Mayer. You whisper conspiratorially into his ear.
There was a time when this easy lean into his shoulder, followed by hushed murmurs, carried with it information of a different nature.
But today it’s all about Taylor Swift.
Such is the evolution of a marriage.
He – your husband – looks back at you slightly intrigued but mostly bewildered.
You – his wife – raise your eyebrows as you often do to emphasize your foolproof knowledge of a fact, and nod simultaneously to really drive home the point.
Exactly when and how you came upon this very important piece of information is unclear.
Exactly when and how Taylor Swift entered your realm of existence is also unclear. But it was bound to happen. You had heard of this sort of thing happening to other families. Families with slightly older children than yours.
The young girl,15 maybe 16 years old, croons sweetly as she strums her guitar. Her father respectfully stands a few steps behind her. Making sure she has the full spotlight. Making sure she shines. As he and his electric guitar provide backing – guidance – unconditional support.
Family Recital Night.
I first met Cheryl Sternman Rule at The Saveur 2014 Food Blog Awards in Las Vegas. Cheryl’s 5 second rule was one of the first food blogs I discovered early on, well before our meeting, and return to time and time again. Not only for the tempting recipes but also for her beautiful and distinctive writing style. Her wit and humor casually guiding your way to a muffin tin and a few wholesome and tasty ingredients. Her laser sharp precision and unsentimental economy with words lodging a lump deep in your throat before you are even aware it’s happening.
And so it only made sense to meet for the first time and discuss our mutual love and respect for all things yogurt at the art gallery in The Bellagio Hotel as the sommelier gave us all a private tour of the collections while pairing individual wines to each painting. A wine and art pairing. Yes. Such jobs do exist.
A few months ago Cheryl reached out to me to see if I would be interested in contributing to her new site Team Yogurt. Friends, if there was ever a team I was destined to be a part of it would be Team Yogurt. A delicious and informative site devoted entirely to all things yogurt. And as if that was not enticing enough a couple of weeks ago Cheryl’s beautiful new book Yogurt Culture (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2015) landed on my doorstep and was instantly whisked off to the kitchen.
Next up is a family of four. Older daughter on piano, father on guitar, mother and younger daughter harmonizing a Pete Seeger classic.
Mother with her eyes closed.
The parents must have picked this song, you think to yourself.
Young daughter with her eyes wide open.
When will they ever learn? You sing to yourself.
When will we ever learn? You think to yourself.
Yogurt Culture is everything that I look for in a cookbook. Besides the fact that it is pretty much about the one food item that I can not live without. Cheryl’s well-researched book takes a global look at yogurt and the many ways it is incorporated into the cuisines of so many varying cultures. Stories, history, facts and accessible recipes weave cohesively with Cheryl’s knowledgeable and friendly voice guiding your way. The photography is beautiful and simple, allowing the food to shine. But what is most important is that Yogurt Culture makes you want to get in the kitchen and get cooking. And what better way to start than with these elegant and decadent milk chocolate yogurt pots.
She takes her place at the piano and pushes her side-swept bangs behind her ear. As she always does.
He takes his place a few steps behind her. He straps on his bass guitar and turns on the amp.
She gives him a quick glance and he nods his head four times. They set off on a 45 second duet of Classical Dance. Left hand and right hand play together. As he picks at his electric bass as gently as possible. He is there to back her up, to provide support, to let her shine. Unconditional.
She – your daughter – takes her bow with pride and beams as she introduces her father, her accompanist – your husband – also beaming with pride.
She floats off the stage and into your arms. She declares she’s ravenous. Post-show hunger pangs. You remember the sensation well.
You remind her of the milk chocolate yogurt pots waiting for her at home. The ones setting in the fridge. You remind her of the chocolate you gently melted. She reminds you of the thick, creamy yogurt you slowly stirred into the luscious warm chocolate.
The chocolate and the yogurt melding into each other, shining as one. The sweetness of the milk chocolate backing up the tang of the yogurt.
A well-orchestrated duet. Deliciously played, Cheryl.
MILK CHOCOLATE YOGURT POTS
Very slightly adapted from Yogurt Culture by Cheryl Sternman Rule with permission from Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.
These milk chocolate yogurt pots make for a perfect elegant dessert that you can prepare ahead of time. They are decadent, rich and mousse-like in texture. The ingredients are few and the preparation very simple. Please don’t skimp on the lusciousness of these yogurt pots. Use the best quality chocolate you can find and whole milk yogurt if possible.
Cheryl tops the yogurt pots with salted roasted peanuts, which sounds delicious. I didn’t have any peanuts on hand so I used crushed pistachios and a sprinkling of crunchy sea salt. I also added a small pinch of cardamom to the mixture.
Ingredients:
Serves 6
8 ounces high quality milk chocolate, finely chopped (do not use chocolate chips)
2 cups plain Greek yogurt, preferably whole milk
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon cardamom (optional)
Pinch of kosher salt
Confectioner’s or granulated sugar, to taste (optional)
2 tablespoons salted roasted peanuts or raw pistachios
Sea salt flakes, as garnish (optional)
1- Melt the chocolate by slowly stirring the chocolate in a double boiler over barely simmering water. (If you don’t have a double boiler use a large, heat proof bowl over a smaller saucepan filled with about 2 inches of barely simmering water. Keep the heat as low as possible) Turn off the heat, but leave the double boiler in place over the still-warm burner so that the residual heat keeps the chocolate warm.
2- Slowly whisk the yogurt into the chocolate, stirring with a spoon at first and then switching to a whisk. You are looking to warm the yogurt slightly so it marries completely with the chocolate and to prevent the chocolate from seizing back up and becoming gritty. Once you’ve got a completely smooth texture, whisk in the vanilla, salt and cardamom (if using). Taste, and if it’s not sweet enough for you add a bit of sugar (I added 2 scant teaspoons of maple syrup). Pour the mixture into six 4 ounce ramekins or serving jar of choice.
3- Refrigerate for at least 1 hour to set (this is imperative). Garnish with salted peanuts or pistachios and flaky salt before serving.
The chocolate pots can be refrigerated, covered with plastic wrap, for up to 8 hours.
Grab your gardening shears. Grab a basket, a bag, a sack, anything with handles. Feel the weight and the cool metal of the shears rest against the warm embrace of your palm. Make the most of this auspicious occasion. You don’t garden. You’d like to. But you don’t.
Call out to your shadows. Announce you are off to forage. You don’t forage either. But you hear it’s the thing to do, the word du jour to throw around. So you try it out. It makes you feel current, in the know, in the now.
You steal.
From your neighbors.
With your children in tow.
You have been given permission to do so. So your conscience sleeps easy.
Most nights.
Make the marinade. Combine the yogurt, shio koji or salt, and honey. Yogurt tenderizes, shio koji for umami, and a drizzle of honey to balance out the acids but more importantly to sweeten your taste buds and your life. Marvel at the instant color transformation as the saffron water drip-drops into the yogurt mix. It just never gets old. The beauty of saffron. Refrain from dipping your finger in for a taste. There’s more goodness to come.
Take your children by the hand and walk them across the street. Show them how to look left – right and then left – right again before crossing. Such a simple gesture holding such weight. Will they ever get it? Have you repeated yourself enough? Will your heart ever grant you permission to let them go?
Across the street.
Across town.
Across the ocean.
What if they look left but then get distracted by the rolly polly bug they have entrapped in the fold of their skirt and forget to look right?
Let go.
Watch them run towards the overflowing, bountiful rosemary bush standing guard at your neighbor’s front yard.
Put the neglected shears to work and snip away as the girls run their hands along the spindly branches and stick their noses in as far as they can and take a long, deep inhale. Mmmm’s and ahhhs abound. Mostly for their own pleasure but also to please you. To let you know that they’re old enough, sophisticated enough to appreciate the sharp, woodsy aroma that permeates the air as they brush against each and every branch. The scent that carries with it a promise. A promise of something good and tasty to come. They want you to know that they get it. They’re in the know, in the now.
Cut a lemon in half and squeeze with one hand as the other hand catches the seeds before they hit the yogurt mixture. Inevitably a couple always sneak through. Fish them out with a spoon, a fork, your fingers. Balance the microplane over the bowl and zest an orange, rhythmically tapping on the side of the bowl as you release all the brilliant flecks. Magical fairy dust your girls would proclaim. Flip the microplane over and run your finger along the back of the cool grates. Inevitably some of the magic gets stuck back there. Refrain from dipping your finger in for a taste. There’s more goodness to come.
Move on to your next heist. The next house. The next yard. The lemon tree. The very same one that serves as the official ambassador for the girls’ lemonade stands. The very same one that brightens up every stew, sauce, dip, and dressing with a burst of flavor. If it needs fixing squeeze a little lemon on it (a little more salt wouldn’t hurt either).
Fill the basket, the bag, the sack with as much citrus as you and your shadows can carry back. Haul your loot back home.
Take the top off the orange blossom water. Bahar narenj – spring orange. Bring it close and take a long deep inhale. You do this every time. Even though by now you are fully versed with its mesmerizing scent. The scent of spring, of love, of poetry. Mmmm and ahhhh to no one in particular. Mostly for your own pleasure but also to please your sense of memory. Memory of a land, a time, a childhood that you can now only recall in fragments, in splinters and in the alchemy of bahar narenj. Carefully, very carefully add a few drops to the yogurt mixture. You don’t want to go overboard with orange blossom water.
Spread your loot out on the backyard table.
Lay down a few rosemary sprigs on a small roasting pan. Set the chicken on top. Gently run your fingers under the skin of the breast, creating some space without tearing the skin. Work your way around the bird as much as you can. Lifting the skin off the meat. Gently. Gently.
Take a moment and look up. Look up and beyond. That’s where true beauty reveals itself. Up and beyond your shared fence. Up and beyond where your next door neighbor’s orange tree weeps down over your fence. It’s not oranges that you spot but orange blossoms. Uncapped. Un-bottled. Fragments and splinters of memory permeate the air and swirl all around you at a dizzying speed.
Spoon half the the marinade under skin of the chicken. Get in there with your hands. Rub it all around. Gently. Gently. Try not to tear that skin. Pour the rest of the marinade on top of the chicken, and inside the chicken. Front and back.
Grab a stool.
Stuff the cavity with lemon, orange, a shallot, a sprig of rosemary.
Grab your shears.
Place the chicken in the oven.
Climb on top of the stool. Reach your arm out and grab a branch.
While the chicken roasts prepare the barberries and caramelized onion.
Ignore the concerned calls from your shadows.
Scatter the barberries over the orange blossom chicken and serve.
It’s a quick clean cut. A single click of the shears and there you stand with an orange blossom branch in your hands.
Set aside a plate. Place a few chicken pieces on the plate and spoon the fragrant juices all over.
Walk over to your next door neighbor’s house. With your shadows in tow and a plate of chicken in hand.
Make sure you have some crusty bread to dip into the pan juices.
Ease your conscience and tell the neighbors about the shears, the orange blossom, the thieving. Hand over the chicken plate.
Mea culpa.
AN ORANGE BLOSSOM, YOGURT, SAFFRON, SHIO KOJI ROAST CHICKEN
Notes:
- If I’m going to roast chicken I usually roast 2 chickens. I use the bones for chicken stock and any remaining meat can be used in sandwiches, soups, stews. This recipe can easily be doubled.
- If you use only one chicken make sure you don’t use a large roasting pan. You don’t want the juices to disperse and burn.
- Orange blossom water and barberries can be found online and at Middle Eastern grocery stores. Check here for a more detailed post on how to clean barberries.
- Shio Koji adds a great depth of flavor and helps in tenderizing the chicken but you can easily use sea salt instead. Amounts for both given in the recipe below.
- You can also use a small onion wedge to stuff the cavity if you don’t have any shallots on hand.
Ingredients:
Serves 4-6
1 4-lb. chicken
1 cup plain yogurt
1/3 cup shio koji OR 1 heaping tablespoon sea salt
1 tablespoon honey
1 large lemon, half of it juiced, the other half quartered
zest of one orange, save 1/4 wedge for stuffing cavity
1/4 teaspoon ground saffron steeped in 1 tbs hot water
1 1/4 teaspoon orange blossom water
3 large rosemary sprigs
1 shallot
olive oil, for drizzling
caramelized onion with barberries (recipe below)
1- Combine the yogurt, shio koji or salt, honey, lemon juice, orange zest, saffron water, and orange blossom water in a small bowl.
2- Place 2 rosemary sprigs on a small roasting pan. Place chicken on top. Starting at the neck of the chicken, very gently lift the skin off the breast. Run your fingers down the chicken gently lifting the skin off the meat as far as you can. Try not to tear the skin. Spoon half of the marinade under the skin of the chicken. Rub the rest of the marinade all over the outside of the chicken and inside the cavity. Marinade in the fridge for at least 2 hours or preferably overnight.
3- Preheat the oven to 350F. Take the chicken out of the fridge and allow to come to room temperature for 30 mins. Stuff the cavity with 1 shallot, 1 rosemary sprig, 1/4 wedge of a lemon, and 1/4 wedge of an orange. If you have any citrus left over you can slice into rounds and place on top of the chicken. Drizzle the top of the chicken with olive oil, about 1 tablespoon.
4- Roast chicken for 1 1/2 – 2 1/2 hours. Basting with pan juices every 20 minutes. You want the skin to get crisp and golden but if it starts burning loosely cover. Roast until a thermometer inserted in the thickest part of the thigh reads at 165F degrees.
5- Allow the chicken to rest for 15 minutes. Spoon the pan juices and the barberries over the chicken and serve with plenty of crusty bread to dip into the pan juices.
CARAMELIZED ONION AND BARBERRIES
Ingredients:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
salt
1/2 cup barberries, picked through and soaked
1- In a small pan heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the onion, sprinkle with a little salt and cook, stirring frequently until gently caramelized, about 20 minutes. Turn down the heat if necessary. Add the barberries and cook for about 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Remove from heat and set aside until needed.
Raw honey.
Like the jar from Trader Joe’s.
Dripping in gold, warmth, and sweetness.
My daughter’s eyes, Soleil’s eyes, the sun’s eyes, shimmer like raw honey.
Dripping in gold.
Showering us with warmth, sweetness, and unyielding love.
And occasionally stubbornness, and intense, deeply felt, unyielding five-year-old emotions.
Pure and raw.
These are the very same – stop you in your tracks, take hold of your heart and soul – eyes that stare back at me.
Piercing right through me with passion, vehemence, and absolute indignation at 4pm on New Year’s Eve.
We are both splayed out on the kitchen floor with me holding a spoon of blueberry sauce inches from her face.
The concoction slowly but purposefully working its way down the wooden spoon, onto my hand, circling my wrist, trailing my well-pronounced bluish purple veins, down my arm and delicately drip, drip, dripping on to the wood floor.
The blueberry sauce has brought us to our knees.
Literally.
Well, actually, even lower than our knees.
Onto our bellies.
I have quite a fondness for all things bitter. The bitter-sour in combination agree with my taste buds the most. Especially bitter greens. Arugula, frisee, escarole, radicchio, rapini, endive, dandelion greens, mustard greens…Maybe my exposure to Italian food as a child (bitter greens) and Persian food (all things sour) has had a hand in shaping and nurturing my taste buds.
But for the longest time there has been one bitter green that I just couldn’t come to embrace. Collard greens. Not that I would ever turn away collards, unless they’ve been boiled down to mush. That goes for any vegetable boiled to oblivion. But collards wouldn’t be my first choice of greens. Again, perhaps my lack of exposure to these beloved greens of American Southern cuisine has something to do with it.
It also just so happens that this time of year our farm box and the farmer’s markets explode with such greens. And so inevitably I can expect a bunch of collards in our farm box every week. Normally, I treat collards as I do other greens. Simply. Saute in olive oil, sprinkle with salt, pepper, hit it with some sort of acid, add a little water (if needed), put a lid on it and give the rather tough leaves time to soften and tenderize. But, recently I decided to treat my collards and my taste buds to a special treat.
To a most trusted and loyal friend.
“…my late night confidante, my consigliere…”
Yogurt.
A borani.
Her blood courses through mine.
As does mine through hers.
Her passion matches mine.
As does her flair for drama.
And much can be said about the paralyzing stubbornness that occasionally takes hold of our bodies and selfishly refuses to let go.
She stands her ground. (Well, more like the wood floor she is splayed across)
Unwavering and proud.
As do I.
Unwavering.
And proud.
But, Mama I don’t like blueberry sauce!
Soleil, I added maple syrup to it this time. Just taste it. It’s sweet!
Mama, you always tell me to listen to my body. And my body is telling me I DON’T LIKE BLUEBERRY SAUCE!!!
Well, your body doesn’t know what it’s talking about right now. I put MAPLE SYRUP in it!!!
Borani is a side dish or dip made with thick, creamy yogurt and an array of vegetables or herbs. It really speaks to the Persian (and my) love affair with yogurt. My favorite borani as a child and perhaps the most well-known one is borani-e esfenaj. In our house we simply call it mast o esfenaj – yogurt and spinach. Also, a great way to get the little ones to eat their spinach. Keeping with my theory that everything just tastes better with yogurt added to it, I decided to put this to the test with my troublesome greens – collard greens. And the results are fantastic. I first saute the greens with onion, garlic and turmeric. Then add a splash of water to the pan and put the lid on it and give the greens time to slowly soften. I cook the greens just long enough to tenderize but still maintain their rich color. I have also added plump raisins to this dish for extra texture and a little something sweet to chew on. Once the collards cool slightly I mix in the yogurt and a splash of vinegar (you could also use lemon juice). You can’t have bitter without sour. The vinegar also helps to balance out the sweetness of the raisins. The borani can be served as it is at this point, you could even sprinkle the top with some walnuts. But what makes this dish really sing is the caramelized red onion with sumac. You need these onions in your life. Be it topping this borani, or gracing a salad, burgers, meats. Make a big batch and have on hand in the fridge – to use at all times.
This collard greens borani is great served as a dip with some warm flat bread to scoop up all the creamy goodness. It also makes a great side dish alongside a roasted chicken or grilled fish. Or, my occasional favorite 10 pm cuddle on the couch with the borani bowl nestled snugly in my lap and a bag of crunchy chips at my side (Trader Joe’s organic yellow corn tortilla chip rounds, if you care to know). A meditative and quiet time (save for the crunching of the chips). A time for self-reflection. Where I get to acknowledge that sometimes my body doesn’t know what it’s talking about either when it comes to collard greens. All I needed to do is give them another try with a dollop of yogurt. And then just taste and marvel at the goodness of it all.
They stand above us – my husband and my first-born.
Luna. My moon girl.
Representatives of peace, truth, justice and all things fair.
Embodying all that we wish the UN could really be.
They look down at us and the blueberry spoon with kindness and curiosity.
Ok you two – time to separate you.
Says my husband as he scoops up our second born off the floor and gently cradles her in his arms and carries her off for a game of Pretty, Pretty, Princess.
Luna bends her body just so, to get a better look at me and my situation.
I lift my head slightly and come face to face with those heart melting almond shaped, chestnut brown eyes.
Warm, deep and all encompassing.
Mama? Can I lick that spoon?
A COLLARD GREENS BORANI – COLLARD GREENS WITH YOGURT & CARAMELIZED RED ONION SUMAC
Ingredients:
Serves 6-8 as a dip or side dish
3 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 yellow onion, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 bunch collard greens, off the stem and cut into ribbons
1/4 tsp turmeric
salt
pepper
1/4 cup water
2 heaping tablespoons raisins
1/2 cup strained Greek style yogurt, plus more if needed
1 tablespoon red wine vinegar
caramelized red onion sumac, as topping (recipe below)
1- Heat the oil in a large pan over medium heat. Add the onions, sprinkle with a little salt and saute until soft and translucent, about 8-10minutes. Add the garlic and saute for about 3 minutes, stirring often making sure the garlic doesn’t burn. Add the collards, in batches if necessary, turmeric, raisins, 1/4 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Stir to combine. Add 1/4 cup water and cover immediately. Turn down heat to medium-low or low. Allow to cook until the collards soften and tenderize, about 20 minutes. Check occasionally and add more water 1 tablespoon at a time if necessary. Uncover and take off heat when done and allow to cool.
2- In a medium sized bowl combine the yogurt and vinegar. Add the collards and combine. Add more yogurt if you like it creamier. Season well with salt and pepper to taste. Top with caramelized red onion sumac.
Serve with warm flat bread as a dip or as a side dish. Will keep in the fridge for 1 or 2 days.
CARAMELIZED RED ONION SUMAC
Ingredients:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon sumac
salt
pepper
1- Heat the oil in a medium sized pan over medium heat. Add the onion, gently season with salt and pepper. Turn down the heat and saute for about 20 minutes. Until the onion nicely caramelizes. Stir often and turn down the heat if necessary. Add the sumac to the onion in the last 5 minutes of cooking.
Mama, how about Dada and Soleil go to Spain or somewhere.
How come, Luna?
Then you and I can go to Paris. You know, Soleil will be all tired and grumpy and whiny and everything else a 3 and a 1/2 year old is like.
It’s supposed to rain the first time you visit Paris.
I read that somewhere – or someone said that – at some point – somewhere.
It was raining – well, more like a very light summer sprinkle – as my train pulled into Gare de Lyon. The last two weeks of the obligatory European backpacking trip to be spent in the city of light. My first time in Paris – but a return of sorts back to Europe. My first two weeks were spent in a dream, walking the streets of Rome – as only a nineteen year old can. A few more Italian and French cities and towns thrown in between. With a backpack far too big and heavy for my not so large frame (possible culprit to the chronic lower back pain that has plagued me all these years?!) – the bright red Canadian maple leaf sewn nice and tight onto its blue nylon – lest us quiet Canadians be mistaken for our slightly louder neighbors to the south. With no ticket back home – having lost it somewhere between Venice and Nice – back in the days when you traveled with a paper ticket. And without a care in the world. I was in Paris – it was raining – and Billie Holiday was crooning on my walkman – welcoming me to this city we all dream of visiting one day. All was right in this teenager’s world.
Cut to a few days ago – leaning one hip into the stove – giving that lower back a rest – absentmindedly stirring the milk for our weekly batch of homemade yogurt – when this voice came crashing through the speakers, and instantly transported me back to that rainy afternoon in Paris.
I wasn’t planning on writing about homemade yogurt – but after declaring my love and devotion to yogurt here – many friends have asked how they too could make their own yogurt. We are a household that consumes a lot of yogurt on a weekly basis – so it only seemed like the next natural step for us to start making our own. It is more economical (those Greek Style yogurts don’t come cheap) – we are doing our little bit to cut back on making more waste by not purchasing new plastic yogurt containers every week to only hope that the city will actually recycle them – we can be in control of exactly what we are consuming by choosing the highest quality milk we want to use – it is a step in the right direction of revisiting our cooking roots, as Michael Pollan is so convincingly urging us to do in his new book Cooked – and well – it is really easy to make homemade yogurt.
Only 2 ingredients are needed to make great homemade yogurt. 1- Good quality organic whole milk yogurt (you cannot use fat free or 1% – it won’t work!) I use Straus Family Creamery milk. Besides being of great quality, we like that you can return their glass milk bottles for a deposit back, AND they will re-use those bottles. 2- Culture – a small container of store bought yogurt, good quality organic whole milk. That’s it. Then you just allow the natural biology of fermentation do its thing.
No special equipment necessary either – except for a non-reactive CLEAN (we’re fermenting here) heavy-bottomed stainless steel pot, CLEAN glass jars to store the yogurt, and a candy thermometer. To this day my mom refuses to use a thermometer. Instead relying on the time-tested pinky finger temperature control method: “bring the milk to just under a boil, cool milk down, you’ll know it’s at the right temperature by sticking your pinky finger in the milk and be able to hold it there for about 20 seconds.” To spare you from scalding your pinky we will rely on the other trustworthy temperature reader: an actual thermometer.
Sometimes an ordinary moment is transformed into an extraordinary one when you least expect it. Like a typical afternoon spent making yogurt, and the next thing you know a single voice/song reaches so deep within you, grabs you by the waist and hurls you back to a rainy train station. But this time as you relish the sweet memories of the past you don’t linger there too long. You are busy planning your next Parisian trip. And this time you can’t wait to experience the city of light through the eyes of your 6 and a 1/2 year old AND your 3 and a 1/2 year old.
Unless said 3 and a 1/2 year old really wants to go to Spain instead.
Was it raining the first time you visited Paris?
HOMEMADE YOGURT
Note: I use 1 gallon of milk which makes about 10-12 cups of yogurt – roughly about 2 to 3 32oz containers. We use a lot of yogurt in our house. Feel free to use as much milk as you like depending on your family’s needs. Also, the consistency of homemade yogurt is slightly different from store bought yogurt. It might be a little thinner. There are many variables when making yogurt (fermenting) so every batch is a little different.
Ingredients:
Makes about 6 cups of yogurt
1/2 gallon good quality organic whole milk yogurt
about 4 dollops (tablespoons) of good quality organic store bought whole milk yogurt (this will be your culture)
1- Turn on your oven light. DO NOT TURN ON THE OVEN ITSELF.
2- Pour milk in a large stainless steel pot, place thermometer in pot. Heat milk over medium heat stirring occasionally so you don’t have any milk sticking to the bottom of the pot. Heat milk to 180F degrees.
3- Turn off the heat and allow milk to cool down to 115F degrees. It usually takes my batch about 45 minutes to cool down. Don’t forget about your milk! Keep checking that thermometer. Or give the pinky finger method a try. Just remember how your yogurt turns out is temperature sensitive.
4- Once milk has cooled down to 115F degrees drop in about 4 dollops of store bought yogurt in different corners of the pot. You don’t need to stir. Cover pot with a tight fitting lid. Place pot in the oven with the oven light on. Close oven door. Leave pot in the oven (with oven light on) overnight or about 12 hours.
5- In the morning remove pot from the oven. You should have delicious homemade yogurt. Pour off excess yellowish liquid (whey). Allow yogurt to come to room temperature. Transfer to glass containers and place in fridge. Will keep in fridge for up to 10 days.
STRAINED (GREEK STYLE) YOGURT
1- Place a fine mesh strainer over a tall container to catch liquid from the yogurt. The bottom of the strainer should not come into contact with collected liquid (whey).
2- Line 2 overlapping paper towels or a cheese cloth over strainer. Pour yogurt over paper towels or cheese cloth. Fold over the corners of the paper towels or cheesecloth to completely cover the yogurt. Place a small plate over the yogurt and put a heavy can over the plate for weight.
3- Place everything in the fridge and let stand any where between 1 hour to several hours depending on how thick you like your yogurt. Allow liquid (whey) from the yogurt to drip into the bowl.
4- Place strained yogurt in a glass container. Will keep in the fridge for up to 10 days.
You may discard the whey that collects in the bowl. But we like to keep it in a glass jar in the fridge. We use a couple of spoonfuls of whey in smoothies, soups, sauces, or to soak our grains and oatmeal in overnight. Whey is extremely beneficial and nutritious.
If we were playing that silly “what if you were stranded on a deserted island, what is the one food item you would take with you” game – my answer without hesitation would be yogurt.
Plain, un-adulterated – nothing added – yogurt.
If I were a poet I would compose volumes of love sonnets declaring my eternal love and devotion to yogurt. I would weave my words together with golden thread – describing it’s creamy, silky, smooth and nutritious goodness.
Yogurt is a staple in Persian homes – and in our home growing up the container of yogurt was always present at the table. As it still is – a constant companion to pretty much any meal – rice, stews, soups, salads…
As a child, if I showed little interest in a particular dish, some yogurt would be added to side of my plate. And miraculously, by adding a little yogurt to each bite the food was somehow transformed and made more enjoyable. And since I had no taste for milk, yogurt provided most of my calcium. Cereal was not part of our breakfast routine, but for a time there was the Corn Flakes craze. My five year old self could not think of anything less appetizing. Cold milk poured over dry flakes – which then turned to mush – first thing in the morning. But it had to be good; after all, that’s what everyone ate in America. Was there something I was missing? My solution: skip the milk and cover every single rooster-crowing flake with yogurt. Still not great, but at least palatable.
I suppose it was only inevitable that I would start making my own yogurt. I am just surprised it took me so long to do so. Strained (what’s referred to as Greek yogurt) or not – a lot of yogurt is consumed in our house on a daily basis. The girls have also inherited my love for yogurt. It’s one of those foods referred to only in Farsi – mast (sounds like cost). A typical after school snack: mast and honey. And if it’s not the container of plain yogurt making itself right at home at the dinner table, then it’s mast o khiar.
Mast o khiar literally means yogurt and cucumber. Typically it is considered a dip or a side dish. In our house it is consumed by the bowlful. Drew routinely commits the cardinal sin of smothering his rice and stew dishes with it (but since over the years he has so lovingly and enthusiastically embraced so many of our idiosyncrasies, he gets a pass for this), Soleil and Luna like it on the side of their dish. A little bit of rice, a little bit of stew and a little bit of mast o khiar – creating the perfect bite. Or it can be found right next to the hummus, and other similar dips, perfect for crudites, a cracker, warm bread or my favorite (and weakness) – a chip. You will never find any left over either. Just like it used to be in my childhood home – my brother Ramin and I keeping a close eye on the mast o khiar bowl, waiting to pounce, to see who would be the lucky person to get to eat the last remaining spoonfuls right out of the serving bowl. And when no one was looking lick clean the inside of the bowl. Nothing more comforting.
Mast o khiar comes in many different variations. But its simplest preparation – and what you will find on most nights at our table: good quality organic plain yogurt, cucumber, and a pinch of salt. From there, I build on this canvas depending on what’s in my fridge, spice cupboard, or just delivered in my farm box (like fresh dill or fresh mint!). You can chop up your cucumber, or grate it. If you grate your cucumber don’t get rid of the excess cucumber juice. All the flavor is in that juice. I am rather reluctant to give actual measurements of ingredients here. This really is one of those dishes you can make to suit your taste. Work with what you have. Even if you don’t have a cucumber – the real hero here is the mast.
Yogurt – my late night confidant, my consigliere, always there to share in my triumphs and heartbreaks, in the mundane and the extraordinary, over three continents, consistent and unconditional.
MAST O KHIAR
Ingredients:
Serves 4
2 cups yogurt , strained (Greek) or regular, or a combination of
1 1/4 cups cucumber, chopped or grated, approximately 1/2 english cucumber or 3-4 Persian cucumbers *
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon dried or fresh mint or fresh or dried dill and more for garnish
small pinch of black pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground dried rose petals and more for garnish (optional)
1- Mix all ingredients in a bowl.
2- Garnish top with ground dried rose petals, mint and/or dill. Adjust all ingredients to taste and serve.
*I usually peel the cucumber except when using Persian cucumber. In which case it is best to use organic.
Will keep in the fridge for up to 2 days.
