Fearless Kitchen

Recipe: Khushknanaj

Recipe Source: al-Baghdādī, Muhammad ibn al-Hasan ibn Muhammad ibn al-Karīm al-Kātib. Kitāb al-Tabīkh, also known as A Baghdad Cookery Book. A. J. Arberry, trans. 1939 edition, re-published in Medieval Arab Cookery. Prospect Books, Devon, 2001 p. 86.

I've tried to make a treat called khushknānaj before, but I didn't post it. I was obviously missing something in that recipe, because the "confection" I got could have been used to replace cobblestones down by Faneuil Hall. When I was planning the menu for the big feast up in Maine I needed desserts, and I tend to prefer medieval Middle Eastern desserts to medieval European desserts. I decided to give it another try, this time using a different recipe. For those of you keeping track, this one dates to the thirteenth century AD. I was kind of nervous about it – I really didn't have enough of the other two desserts to get by. Something in this one caught my eye, though, and suggested a way to avoid making something that could be used to pave downtown streets. The recipe for the dough, not unlike the other one, called for flour and oil. However, there was another instruction: "Leave to rise."

Wait a minute. Rise? There's got to be something missing here. I'm not sure how, but maybe it's one of those things where part of the recipe was understood. You know, the way some chefs write "muffin method" instead of listing instructions. If the dough was supposed to rise, there needed to be something else besides flour and oil. Now, I don't personally know enough about bread chemistry to develop my own risen bread recipe, so I turned to my usual source: King Arthur Flour. What I did was probably akin to bibliomancy: I opened the King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion to a random page. My intent was to then flip through the book until I found something suitable. However, the page I opened to was page 232, which presented a recipe called "Beautiful Burger Buns." Interesting, I thought to myself. Furthermore, the introductory notes to the recipe were, "Soft, vaguely sweet and golden yellow…" I decided that this was the recipe I would use as a dough for my khushknānaj. I had to make some small changes here to make the recipe work. I quadrupled the recipe, and I used the sesame oil called for by al-Baghdādī instead of the butter called for in the burger buns. I used active dry yeast instead of instant, which I proofed before using. I omitted the optional onion and onion powder for reasons that are probably quite obvious to you.

This may seem a little strange to you, and the true historical purist may be a little put off by my little leap based on three words. However, the recipe worked. It was the most popular dessert that night. The little almond-filled rolls transported well, kept well at room temperature and delighted most of the people who ate them.

Khushknānaj (makes 32; approx. $0.38/ea.)

4 cups water

4 ounces sesame oil

4 eggs

55 ounces flour

40 ounces sugar, divided

4 teaspoons salt

4 tablespoons active dry yeast

1 pound almonds

2 ounces rosewater (you can probably get away with more, but not everyone loves rosewater as much as I do so I toned it down for polite company.)

Equipment:

• Stand mixer
• At least 2 large bowls, one of which can certainly be the one from your stand mixer
• Food processor
• Baking sheets

1. Combine the yeast with 1 cup sugar and the water. Set aside until very frothy.
2. Divide the flour between 2 large bowls, one of which can be your food processor bowl.
3. Add 2 ounces sesame oil to each bowl along with 2 eggs each and 2 teaspoons salt each. Mix well.
4. Add ½ the yeasted water mixture to each bowl (i.e., 2 cups per bowl.) Mix well and knead until the dough is soft and smooth. Cover and set aside in a warmish place (my kitchen in July certainly counted) for at least an hour, or until visibly risen.
5. Meanwhile, combine the remaining 32 ounces sugar with the almonds and rosewater in the food processor. Process until finely ground and well combined.
6. Divide the dough into 32 pieces, roughly equal.
7. Stuff some of the almond mixture into the middle of a piece of the dough, then cover the hole with the dough. Repeat with all of the dough and set aside another 30 minutes or so.
8. Preheat your oven to 375 ̊.
9. Bake your little cookies 12- 15 minutes, or until golden and delicious. Cool completely before serving.

Recipe: Alexandrian Sauce

Recipe Source: Anonymous.  The Treasure of Useful Advice for the Composition of a Varied Table.  Thirteenth century AD, probably Egyptian.  Published by Lilia Zaouali in Medieval Cuisine of the Islamic World, M. B. DeBevoise trans., University of California Press, Berkeley, 2007 p. 130

Just to make it clear, this recipe is for a sauce whose origins are in Alexandria, not a sauce made from Alexandrians, okay? That would be a very different website and probably would involve law enforcement in some way.

So, the main course for the big medieval feast we prepared up in Maine was roast beef with two sauces. This is not the way it was intended. I intended to serve three sauces. Unfortunately for me, I left one at home: the Alexandrian sauce. The two sauces I brought were certainly adequate and delicious, so I don't know that we needed this sauce, but I was kind of looking forward to it. I said a lot of bad words in the privacy of my tent that night.

So this recipe didn't get tasted that night, but I did sample a little of this in my kitchen before packing it up and putting it in the wrong place. This is a really simple sauce – really, really simple. I made the first version of the recipe. For the hot spices I used ground ginger and pepper. I probably could have included something else here too, but my brain was pretty fried by this point. In flavor it kind of reminded me of my husband's Lemon Sunshine Sauce. It would have been fine on roast beef, but I definitely think that this would go better on chicken or possibly even some kind of vegetable. It would probably make a decent salad dressing if you were so inclined. If you're not trying to be historically accurate, some kind of crushed red pepper would go really nicely here.

Alexandrian Sauce (makes about 1 cup; approx. $0.22/ounce)

4 ounces olive oil

8 ounces lemon juice

1 tablespoon black pepper

1 tablespoon ground ginger

Equipment:

• Whisk
• Small bowl

1. Combine all of the ingredients in a small bowl.
2. Whisk well to emulsify.
3. Re-whisk just before serving to ensure that the liquid and the oil have not separated.

Recipe: Almond Pound Cake with Whipped Cream – Nectarine Filling

I was kind of struggling to think of a dessert one Sunday. I had put it off far too long and was feeling no inspiration whatsoever. Almond pound cakes have always gone over well when I've made them in the past, why not do one again? I knew I had to do something to make this a little more interesting than just the same pound cake I keep making. I decided that whipped cream was a good option. When in doubt, add whipped cream. I also had a jar of my semi-failed nectarine in amaretto jam on hand. I decided to slice the pound cake in half like a sandwich, fill it with whipped cream and the nectarine-amaretto filling, and put it back together.

For something that came together in such a lazy way, I think this went over pretty well. People who'd already decided to not eat dessert that day changed their minds. I liked it too – it was tasty, and moist, and had just enough fruit to make it colorful.

Almond Pound Cake with Whipped Cream and Nectarine Filling (serves 8; approx. cost per serving not available)

1 Almond Pound Cake

1 jar Nectarines in Amaretto Syrup

2 cups whipped cream

Equipment:

• Nothing special

1. When you've made your pound cake, allow it to cool completely.
2. Slice the pound cake in half horizontally.
3. Spread the cut side of both halves with the whipped cream.
4. Carefully pour the nectarines in amaretto syrup onto the bottom half.
5. Carefully put the top half back onto the bottom half.
6. Wrap tightly in plastic wrap (optional), then refrigerate until ready to serve.

Recipe: Melons with Vinegar

Recipe Source: Anthimus. On The Observance of Foods. Mark Grant, trans. Prospect Books, Devon, 1996 p. 71

Planning meals for camping can be tough. All right, it doesn't have to be. You can just eat baked beans or beef stew from a can, heated over a tiki torch, if that's what you have to do. I myself have consumed hot dogs cooked on sticks over a fire. We've been going to this one camp in Maine every summer since we started dating, and I can assure you that we don't eat that way there. (For one thing, the site doesn't allow fire pits.) The dinner has gotten a bit bigger every year and I'd say we feed between thirty and fifty people at this shindig – and it's almost all with stuff we can fit into two coolers. Other people contribute, of course, which makes it even more fun. Since we're camping with a bunch of medieval history enthusiasts, I've tried for the past couple of years to make as many of the dishes documentably medieval as I can.

Medieval food, contrary to what I certainly believed in my youth, did not consist entirely of gruel. People had taste buds then just as they have taste buds now, and a look at any of the medieval cookbooks available in translation will show you a treasure trove of delicious delicacies from centuries long gone by. The problem I have lies in finding recipes that a) can be made ahead and brought into camp, b) can be re-heated in primitive facilities, c) can tolerate life in an overstuffed cooler rather than in a proper refrigerator, and d) are interesting enough to be worth the effort. That's a little more challenging… And that's why this recipe appealed to me so much.

Anthimus was a Byzantine physician exiled to the court of the Ostrogoths in the beginning of the 6^th century AD. He was sent from there to be the ambassador to the Frankish court, which seemed (to him, at least) to be even more barbaric than the Ostrogothic court. This book, which is really just a really long letter, is intended to show the Frankish king which foods are healthy and how to prepare them (sometimes.) I've seen this described (including on the back of my copy) as the first French cookery book. I'm not sure about that – after all, the author was Greek and picked up quite a bit in Italy – but it was at least written for people who became French.

So what about this recipe appealed to me, besides it being a very early-period dish? Well, it has three ingredients. That's a good start. If I left the melons whole until I got there, it would be very easy to transport and wouldn't need refrigeration. It was colorful and it was easy. Really, it doesn't get much better than that, whether you're re-creating a medieval recipe or pulling something together for the family trip to the Adirondacks.

I'm not sure when watermelons made it up to Western Europe, but I strongly suspect that they were not the "melons" intended by Dr. Anthimus. In all honesty, I did purchase cantaloupes and Tuscan melons. Unfortunately transportation was less kind to them than I would have hoped, and some of them went spectacularly bad before the party. Someone else had brought some watermelon, and to stretch the dish out to its original proportions I added it to the mix. It did make the dish prettier, didn't it?

Melons with Vinegar (serves about 50; approx. cost per serving not available)

1 mini-watermelon, cut into chunks

3 cantaloupes, cut into chunks

½ cup white wine vinegar

½ cup water

Equipment:

• Small bowl

1. Arrange the melon chunks in an attractive way on the platter. (I had help in this from Nikki and Andrew.)
2. Combine the vinegar and water in the small bowl. Mix very well to ensure that the vinegar is well diluted.
3. Sprinkle the diluted vinegar over the melons.
4. Serve.

Recipe: Horseradish Sauce

Recipe Source: de Nola, Ruperto.  Libro de Cozina.  1529 edition, translated by Vincent F. Cuenca.  Self-published by the translator in 2001, pp. 58-9

I promised you a while ago that I would post this recipe. It's from the same recipe as the sage sauce I posted a little while ago. Both recipes are recommended variations on a parsley sauce, and all three are vastly different sauces. The thing is, horseradish isn't something I really grew up with. It made an appearance once a year with the Easter ham and only the men in the family showed any interest in eating it. I don't remember it even being offered to us kids. This sauce, though, has got me craving horseradish in the worst way. And if you have friends who think that medieval food lacked heat, make them this sauce.

I made this in exactly the same way as I made the sage sauce, so I'm not going to re-post my thought processes behind the redaction. If you missed the previous post, please click the link above – I don't want to bore everyone by posting the exact same thing again. I'm serious, though. I thought the sage sauce would be my favorite of the two, and I loved it, but the horseradish sauce is really the way to go here!

Horseradish Sauce (makes about enough sauce for 15 servings; approx. $0.20/serving)

Approx. 1 ½ ounces grated fresh horseradish root

4 ounces fresh breadcrumbs

2/3 cup white wine vinegar

2 ounces honey

¼ teaspoon black pepper

Equipment:

• Small bowl
• Mini-prep food processor

1. Combine the breadcrumbs and the vinegar in the small bowl and let soak at least 10 minutes.
2. Combine all ingredients in the mini-prep and grind to a liquid consistency.
3. Serve with meat. I served this alongside beef, but if you like ham this would be a great accompaniment.

Recipe: Uncooked Khabis

Recipe Source: al-Warrāq, Ibn Sayyār. Annals of the Caliphs' Kitchens. Nawal Nasrallah, trans. Brill, Leiden, 2007 p. 391

This was another dessert that I made for that gathering of medieval enthusiasts up in Maine in July. I was a little leery of using coconut here. I'm not usually a big fan of coconut, but I'm getting better about that thanks to the cuisine of southern India. (Coconut doesn't have to be unpleasant and overpowering, and I'm learning to accept that.) I left it in because it's a redaction of a medieval recipe, and I have to say that I'm glad I did. It definitely added something to the dish and was in no way overpowering. I will admit that I used grated coconut from the store rather than grating my own coconut; I do not own a coconut grater, I have no desire to own a coconut grater, and don't think that I use enough coconut to make purchasing a coconut grater worthwhile. I didn't have time to skin the almonds, which certainly affects the color of the finished dish. I did color the almonds for the decoration called for in the recipe, using the official colors of our local group. The yellow didn't show up so great in the dim light I served under and the blue looked kind of black, but I knew it was there. This went over very well, and I have to say that anything that kept me from heating up my kitchen that week was most welcome!

Uncooked Khabīs (serves about 45; approx. $0.59/serving)

1 pound almonds

8 ounces grated coconut (unsweetened, of course)

3 pounds sugar

1 ½ grams saffron

1 cup almond oil

Yellow and blue food coloring

45 whole almonds

Equipment:

• Food processor
• Large bowl
• 2 small bowls
• Long roasting pan or tray

1. Divide the 45 almonds roughly in half between the two small bowls.
2. Soak one bowl of almonds in blue food coloring and one in yellow while you continue the recipe, or even longer.
3. Combine the almonds, coconut and saffron in the food processor and process until very fine.
4. Set aside ¼ pound of sugar. Pour the rest into a large bowl with the almond-coconut mixture.
5. Mix very well.
6. Add the almond oil and keep mixing. Mix until everything is "moist enough to gather in one mass." This will take a long time, and I did wind up adding a little more almond oil, but it will come out right in the end.
7. Spread the mixture evenly into the long tray and sprinkle with the reserved ¼ pound sugar.
8. Space the almonds in alternating colors evenly across the surface of the tray.
9. Serve.

Recipe: Medieval Baba Ghannouj

Recipe Source: Recipe Source: Anonymous.  The Treasure of Useful Advice for the Composition of a Varied Table.  Thirteenth century AD, probably Egyptian.  Published by Lilia Zaouali in Medieval Cuisine of the Islamic World, M. B. DeBevoise trans., University of California Press, Berkeley, 2007 p. 66.

Okay, calling this "baba ghannouj" is probably a bit of a misnomer, because it's kind of different from a modern baba ghannouj. I think it's something to do with the sourness. I'm usually not the biggest fan of baba ghannouj, but this I liked. I made it to test a recipe before my class on bawārid, although I didn't wind up including this dip in the discussion that day. I did however serve it for our Fourth of July party, and no one realized that this was a medieval recipe.

As is usually the case with my medieval recipe redactions, I did not make many changes. (More garlic would have been welcome to my modern palate, but I digress.) I did have to make one change out of necessity. The original called for "sesame oil and oil of good quality." I had run out of regular sesame oil, and toasted sesame oil would have been all wrong. I decided to stick with all olive oil for this.

Medieval Baba Ghannouj (Makes about 16 ounces; approx. $0.28/ounce.)

1 large eggplant, cut into small pieces

3 small onions, peeled but left whole

½ cup olive oil

¼ cup water

1 garlic clove, crushed

¾ cup Greek yogurt (I used fat-free because that's what I have on hand, but full-fat would be more authentic)

About ¼ bunch parsley, finely chopped

1 pinch kosher salt

Equipment:

• Deep saucepan
• Immersion blender

1. Combine the onions, eggplant, olive oil, salt and water in the saucepan.
2. Cook over low heat until the eggplant is tender and cooked. You may need to add a little more water here and there; the measurement above is intended as more of a starting point since the original said "a little water."
3. Add the remaining ingredients and remove from heat.
4. Use the immersion blender to thoroughly puree the mixture.
5. Chill thoroughly before serving.

Recipe: Sage Sauce

Recipe Source: de Nola, Ruperto.  Libro de Cozina.  1529 edition, translated by Vincent F. Cuenca.  Self-published by the translator in 2001, pp. 58-9

My husband and I recently attended a gathering of medieval history enthusiasts. We go to this event every year. It is up in Maine and is a favorite summer tradition. It's one of very few dog-friendly events, so we bring the dog and everyone has a good time. We also cook a huge meal for this event, and all are usually welcome. We bring our Big Green Egg and my husband makes something nice and meaty. This year he made a huge amount of roasted beef and I served two sauces alongside, among other things. This was one of the sauces.

Both of the sauces we made were great – not at all heavy, very flavorful even in small quantities, and unusual enough that people were excited to try them. They were also both from the same source – the same recipe, really, just with one change. I'll post the second sauce at a later date because it was different enough to merit its own post. I interpreted "white vinegar" to mean "white wine vinegar" because regular distilled white vinegar – the kind you get in the giant industrial-sized tub – isn't very good. I omitted the part where you put two hot rocks into the mix as well – I wasn't entirely certain what the point of that was. I guess that it would cook the stuff just enough, but I thought it was just fine without cooking it.

Sage Sauce (makes enough sauce for about 15 servings; approx. $0.29/serving)

1 1/3 bunches fresh sage, minced

4 ounces fresh breadcrumbs

2/3 cup white wine vinegar

2 ounces honey

¼ teaspoon black pepper

Equipment:

• Small bowl
• Mini-prep food processor

1. Combine the breadcrumbs and the vinegar in the small bowl and let soak at least 10 minutes.
2. Combine all ingredients in the mini-prep and grind to a liquid consistency.
3. Serve with meat. I served this alongside beef, but this would work particularly well with poultry.

Recipe: Mango and Fennel Slaw

My husband was looking at his favorite website (the Green Egg forum) one day and gave a mighty sigh. "I want ribs," he groused.

"So make some," I told him.

He gave another sigh. "You can't eat them and ribs for one are a waste," he mourned.

"Well," I said after a moment's thought, "your birthday is next week. Why not invite some people over to share your ribs with you?"

And this is what happened. I made this dish as a side dish. Slaw is a traditional barbeque side dish, but I have a deep-seated loathing for cabbage. I know I've seen non-cabbage slaw in a few restaurants recently; what would be the harm in trying a non-cabbage slaw of my own? I decided on fennel and mango with red onion and I used the same dressing as I used for the Celery Root Slaw I posted in January 2009. The slaw went over quite well, if I do say so. People really seemed to enjoy it and there were no complaints about it being slightly non-traditional.

Mango and Fennel Slaw (serves 10; approx. $1.18/serving)

2 mangoes, peeled and sliced into matchsticks

3 fennel bulbs, very thinly sliced

1 red onion, very thinly sliced

2 ounces cider vinegar

½ ounce sugar

¼ teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon kosher salt

½ teaspoon ground cubeb

2/3 cup olive oil

¼ cup fat-free Greek yogurt

¼ cup buttermilk

Equipment:

• Large bowl
• Small bowl

1. Combine the vegetables in the large bowl.
2. Combine the remaining ingredients in the small bowl and whisk well.
3. Pour the dressing over the vegetables, cover and refrigerate at least 4 hours.
4. Serve.

Recipe: Carrot Puree

Recipe Source: The Book of Sent Sovi. Joan Santanach, ed. Robin Vogelzang, trans. Barcino-Tamesis, Barcelona, 2008 p. 141

You may be asking yourself, "Has the world gone mad? This is two things Fearless cannot abide: carrots and vegetable puree! How is this possible? Has she received a nasty head wound?" Well, the world has not gone mad. I have not received a nasty head wound, not that I remember anyway. And I continue to despise carrots and vegetable purees. However, I needed to make a vegetable side dish for a large gathering of medieval history enthusiasts. I knew I wanted to use Sent Sovi because I've been dying to use it for a while. I decided on this puree because it was easy to transport, brightly colored, and relatively cheap to make. Besides, I am in a distinct minority when it comes to carrots. I will admit that I did not like this. I tasted a small sample when I finished it and said, "Ick! Carrots!" However, there was nothing left over at the end of the night, and that says something.

The original did not specify goat cheese for this recipe. I decided to use goat cheese because I had it on hand and the original recipe (from the 13^th century!) recommended using goat milk. The original author also recommended using "mutton and salt pork broth, or whatever kind of broth you want." Since I was making this for a camping event, had no mutton broth anyway and cannot consume anything with salt pork, I saw this as license to use Lemony Vegetable Broth. This worked out well.

Carrot Puree (serves about 30; approx. $0.20/serving)

5 pounds carrots, peeled and chopped

2 cups Lemony Vegetable Broth

4 ounces goat cheese, crumbled

1 cup goat milk

Equipment:

• Large saucepan
• Immersion blender

1. Put the carrots in the saucepan with water to cover and bring to a boil. Boil until the carrots are reasonably tender.
2. Remove from heat, drain, and return the carrots to the pan.
3. Add the Lemony Vegetable Broth and use the immersion blender to puree to a paste.
4. Add the goat milk and cheese. Reheat thoroughly.
5. Serve. This recipe can be made ahead of time and reheated.