Brazilian Pao de Queijo

In my search for bread recipes so far, I've made breads from North America, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East.  While researching breads from South America, I discovered a few recipes for Pao de Queijo, a cheese bread from Brazil.

This bread is not made from wheat flour, but flour from the cassava root, also known as tapioca.  As I had never made any kind of gluten-free bread before, I was curious to see how this would turn out.

After a lot of reading, I decided to start with this recipe from allrecipes.com.  Following recommendations from the comment section and other recipes I had read, I changed some things.  First, I changed the proportions of oil and water.  Next, I omitted the garlic.  And finally, I substituted queso fresco of my own making instead of Parmesan cheese and increased the amount.

Ingredients:

1/3 cup olive oil or butter (I used the olive oil.)
1/2 cup water
1/3 cup milk or soy milk (I used milk.)
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups tapioca flour
1 cup crumbled queso fresco (or freshly grated Parmesan cheese)
2 beaten eggs

Pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit.  Heat oil, water, milk, and salt until just boiling.  (This can be done on the stove or in the microwave.  I used the microwave.)   Mix in the tapioca flour until smooth and allow to sit for 10-15 minutes.

I had read the sitting time was very important, and I had guessed the batter would thicken somewhat, but I had no idea exactly how much it would thicken.  When I first started stirring it after the sitting time, I thought I had put my spoon into a bowl full of very thick and half-hardened glue.

Actually, it made me smile.  There was chemistry going on . . .

Mix the beaten eggs and crumbled cheese into the batter.

Here's where I ran into a problem.  The recipe said it should look like cottage cheese at this point, but mine looked more like pancake batter.  I allowed it to sit again, wondering if it would thicken once more, but at the end of the time, it looked as much like pancake batter as it had beforehand.

I knew at once there was no way this was going to keep any kind of a shape if it was scooped out on a baking sheet.

It was time for drastic measures!

I remembered another recipe I had read in which the batter really ended up looking like, well, batter.  As a matter of fact, this other recipe mixed the batter in a blender, instead of a bowl.  And the batter was "battery" enough that the bread was cooked in a mini-muffin tin, instead of being scooped out on a baking sheet.

Fortunately, among the various pans I own, I have a mini-muffin tin, which I pulled out, greased, and filled with batter.

The baking time indicated in the recipe was 15-20 minutes, so I started with 15.  When the timer beeped, I took a look in the oven and was delighted to see the bread actually rising and baking.  As it was obviously nowhere near done, I went ahead and set the timer for the extra 5 minutes.  I ended up keeping it in for yet another 5 minutes when I found the tops had not yet browned.

Finally, it was ready to be removed!  After a couple of minutes to cool, I removed the bread from the muffin tin.  It was work.  Although the tins had been greased, the bread had to be coaxed to release from the sides and bottom.

These are second batch breads.

If I was looking for a really foreign experience, this was definitely it!  I had read that the texture was rather rubbery, but I was not quite prepared for exactly how rubbery.  One comment stated that while the exterior was nice and crunchy, the interior was a bit similar to Japanese mochi, and I had to agree.  The flavor was also not like anything I was expecting, and I recognized it might take a little time to get used to this combination.

This one is from the second batch.

There are some things which should be noted about this bread.  If muffin tins are used, make sure they are very well greased, as only having them slightly greased may result in bread which does not release easily.  Also, while many breads can be cooked at a slightly cooler temperature without suffering ill effects, this one appears to be a bit more temperature-sensitive.  If the oven is even a little cooler than 375 degrees Fahrenheit, the bread will not turn out as well.  The first batch was cooked with my oven registering 375 degrees, but it did not brown in a timely fashion and the interior was overly rubbery, to the point where it squeaked on my teeth.  (The Kitchen Artiste in Training took one bite and called the texture "awkward".)  The second batch, on the other hand, was cooked with the temperature raised 10 degrees, which meant my oven was actually heating to at least 375.  (Guess I need to get my husband to see if he can calibrate it.)  Even so, it still took 25 minutes to do any browning, instead of the 15-20 stated in the recipe.  The texture did turn out a bit less rubbery in the 2nd batch, which I enjoyed better.

The Japanese Chef (eldest daughter) ate her piece, stating that the interior reminded her of something, but she wasn't sure exactly what--maybe the interior of the Russian Yogurt Pancakes.  The Kitchen Artiste in Training was perfectly happy to munch her piece from the second batch.  I was concerned about the Senior Master Kitchen Helper, as she is sensitive to textures to the point where she gags when eating stuffed pasta shells, but she ate hers without argument or enthusiasm.  And the Master Kitchen Helper just told me it was "good" when I asked her about it.  (Unfortunately, the Junior Taste-Tester was sick with a flu, so she didn't have the chance to taste this one.)

My husband was traveling when I made this, so he missed out, but when I told him about the texture, my face in some odd expression, he just laughed.

"Of course it's like that," he said.  "It's from the cassava root, the basic food staple of many people, which the Angolans use to make funge."

Noting my puzzled expression, he continued.  "When I was traveling in Angola, we saw this a lot, especially on the weekends, when we were invited to eat at people's houses.  They would make the funge, which would end up a bland, gelatinous blob.  It was served with various sauces full of meat and vegetables, which is what made it edible."

I've never been to Angola or eaten funge, so I would have had no idea.

I'm sure I will make it again, but first, I have to make more queso fresco, because I ate the rest of that batch sprinkled on scrambled eggs.  At least this time, I will know more about what to expect.

Paneer or Queso Fresco

I first stumbled on this recipe for paneer from showmethecurry.com when I was looking for recipes from India.  I wondered after first making it and observing its qualities if it could be used as we use queso fresco, down here in the desert southwest.  Although paneer is a cheese made in India, and queso fresco is a cheese from Mexico, it seemed they were practically the same thing.

Both cheeses are what is termed "fresh cheese", meaning they are made, then used immediately or soon afterward, instead of being set aside to cure.  Both are made using milk and an acid, but no "coagulator", such as rennet.  Both can crumble nicely.  Both can be cut, if you want.  And neither one melts when cooked.

A little more research confirmed it:  a recipe for a basic queso fresco turned out to be exactly the same!

As the next bread recipe I want to try requires cheese, and as one commenter said they had the best results using queso fresco, I decided it was time to take pictures and post this adventure, as well, on my way toward the next bread.

Ingredients:

2 quarts milk  (I've used whole milk before with good results.  This time, I used 1 percent.)
1/4 cup lemon juice or white vinegar (I used lemon juice.)
salt to taste

Seriously!!  That's all there is in it!  (I figured for this, I did not need an ingredient picture.)

Now, down to business.  First, put the milk in a heavy cooking pot and bring it gradually to a boil, stirring gradually at first and more consistently later on so the bottom doesn't burn.

 
This will be the one step in the entire process which has the risk of driving you insane.  At least, it drives me insane . . . every single time.  It could be that I'm heating it at too low a temperature, but I find it can take the better part of an hour for my milk to finally reach a boil.  By the end, I find I've been standing over the pot, staring maniacally at the surface, willing bubbles to rise.

After the milk finally reaches a boil, stir in the 1/4 cup lemon juice.  Keep stirring.  After about 10-15 seconds, the milk solids will start to separate from the whey.  Keep stirring until it appears to be completely separated.

Remove from heat and allow the "curds and whey" to sit for a few minutes.

 

Prepare a colander or strainer over a bowl.  Cover it with several layers of cheesecloth.  (I used four.)  A single layer of muslin can be used, instead.

Pour the curds and whey into the cheesecloth.  Pick up the four corners of the cheesecloth and tie the opposite ones together.  Remove this from the bowl.

Don't throw away the whey!  It's good for you and can be used in place of water in your bread recipes.  (You can see I used it in my "normal bread" recipe when I wrote that one up.)  Just store it in the refrigerator for a week or less until you are ready to use it.

Here's an overhead view of my cheesecloth hanging on the wooden spoon inside the 2-gallon beverage dispenser my husband picked up for me, which I never use because it's just too big to have taking up space on my counter . . . Makes a great place in which to drain paneer, though.

This is what you see after about 30 minutes.  Most of the whey has drained out.  (Isn't it amazing how little cheese actually comes out of a half gallon of milk?)

If you want a more firm cheese, you can take it off the cheesecloth at this point and knead in some flour.  I haven't done this, but I do knead in a bit of salt for flavor.  If you want to make your cheese herbed, you can add whatever you want here, as well.

Place the cheese back on the cheesecloth and shape into whatever general shape you want.

Fold the cheesecloth over the paneer neatly.

Place the paneer over something which will drain.  (This is a storage container into which my husband drilled holes to use as a makeshift steamer in our rice cooker.  The things we do, sometimes, to improvise . . . It photographs better than my other method of using my oversized steamer insert, placing an upside-down saucer beneath it to lift it from the plate.)

Add some weight on top of the paneer.  (You don't really need 3 whole pounds, but that was the weight of the can my daughter grabbed when I asked her for a weight.  I shrugged and figured it would do.  It's powdered honey, by the way, in case you were wondering.)

Let the weight sit on the paneer for about 30 minutes.  This time, I confess, it sat longer, because I had someplace I had to be . . .

And that's all there is to it!  You can see from the edges that the texture is crumbly, but the area more toward the center is stuck together well.  As it sat under the weight longer than I usually do, it is more dry than I usually make it, but that will be to my advantage, I think, for my planned bread recipe.

At this point, if you're ready to use it, you can crumble or cut it.  If you want to store it, use a container with a lid, and add some water, according to the Show Me the Curry ladies.  (I've never seen queso fresco stored that way, but it seems to work.)  This is, incidentally, why I tend to form mine in a square, because it fits neatly into one of those cheap "entree-sized" food storage containers.

Now the challenge will be not eating it all before I try out the bread recipe I want to try . . . This is, after all, the cheese I spread on my Simple Wheat Crackers the night I was dying for crackers and cheese . . . So yummy . . .

Afterward:

Live and learn!  One thing I did not understand when I posted this is that the homogenized milk purchased at the store does not make this as well as milk which has not been put through this process.  As I did not have a source of raw cow's milk, I could only use the store-packaged, homogenized milk.  Just recently, I tried this recipe using our own home-produced goat milk, and it came out much differently.  The texture was smoother, the curds stuck together more completely (I could actually slice it better), and the flavor, of course, was richer.  <shrug>   Now I know.

Rieska

My office at work used to be a one-bedroom apartment.  (Yes, the place at which I work is rather unique.)  Some of the apartments have been remodeled  to either connect apartments into larger office areas or to at least remove the kitchen, but my kitchen remains.  While the original range is defunct, I have at my disposal a refrigerator, a sink (with hot water), a microwave oven, and a countertop oven my husband picked up for me at Christmas.  The company is gracious enough to allow us to use these kitchen facilities, within reason.

I figure if the smokers can go outside and spend 10 minutes or something puffing away at tobacco several times a day, I can take a few minutes to do a little baking here and there.  So I have at times mixed up bread dough at home, then brought it down to my office to rise, be quickly shaped into loaves, and bake.  This means my office usually smells absolutely wonderful . . . a fact which has not escaped the notice of the guys who have the office next door.  (One day, after hearing them exclaim over and over about the smell in my office, I shaped cinnamon rolls at home, then brought them to my office for their final rise and baking, specifically so I could share.)

The other morning, I had wanted to make a kind of sweet roll, but as my kids had kept me busy in the morning, I found myself thumbing through my Sunset Cookbook of Breads after they had gone on the bus, looking for a quick bread, instead, sweet or not.  I found one:  Rieska, a barley or rye bread from northern Finland and Lapland.

I was struck by the ease with which I could transport this particular recipe to my office, so I quickly assembled the ingredients.

Ingredients:

2 cups barley flour or rye flour  (I had rye.)
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 cup undiluted evaporated milk or light cream
2 Tablespoons butter, melted

At home, I mixed the dry ingredients and put them in a plastic zipper storage bag for transport.  I then grabbed a couple of 5-ounce evaporated milk cans and a stick of butter, put the whole thing in a plastic bag along with my cookbook, and headed down to my office.

After turning my oven on to 450 degrees Fahrenheit, checking my e-mail and doing the little things which needed to be done right away, I pulled my mixing bowl from my cupboard, grabbed a wooden spoon from the drawer where I keep all my kitchen implements, and emptied the plastic bag into the bowl.

As I do drink hot chocolate in my office, various mugs have found their way to my cupboards, so I measured two Tablespoons of butter into one of them, covered it with a paper towel, and melted the butter in the microwave.  With the remaining butter stick, I buttered the baking pan I keep in my office.

I mixed one of the cans of evaporated milk in with the melted butter and poured it into the bowl, then poured about 3/5 of the other can in, as well.  (I guessed.  I figured if the dough was too stiff, I could always add a little more.)  Mixing with a wooden spoon resulted in a reasonably smooth, but not too sticky and not too stiff dough.

I only had normal white flour in my cupboard, so after turning the dough out onto the baking pan, I floured my hands with that and started pressing it down to about 1/2 inch thick.  The recipe said to make it a 14-inch circle, but this pan would not allow that, so I ended up with a rectangle, more or less.

Time to prick it all over with a fork!

Baking time is supposed to be about 10 minutes or until lightly browned, but I goofed and ended up with closer to 12 or 13 minutes.  Sure smelled good!

When I pulled it out of the oven, my first thought was that it was going to be a brick.  It didn't look like it had risen much, if at all, and with the whole grain flour, I wondered what the texture would be.  (Of course, given that the recipe had directed me to prick the dough all over, it really is no wonder the bread didn't rise a lot.  That's usually the effect desired by pricking the dough.)

I was surprised to find that while the texture was not exactly fluffy, it was soft enough, especially when spread with plenty of butter, as the recipe suggested.  The hearty flavor also partnered well with the honey I coaxed out of my underused honey bear.  I justified eating three pieces by the fact that it was whole grain and therefore good for me . . . (right?) . . .

It actually feels fluffier than it looks.

I will probably make this bread again sometime, as it is very fast and easy to do.  This could even be made first thing in the morning, when I am getting the kids ready for the bus, to eat alongside their hot chocolate as we hold our morning scripture study.

But if not, it is a great addition to my "office cooking" list.

Bunny Buns

This year, I made Bunny Buns for the second time.  Last year, my kids found the recipe in a children's magazine and pleaded so much, I finally decided to try them out, even though they took a little extra work.

The dough is actually a reasonably normal sweet roll dough with orange flavoring, found in my Sunset cookbook, as well as other sources.  But this twist (pun intended) on the recipe makes it a fun Easter treat.

Ingredients:

1 package active dry yeast
1/4 cup warm water (about 110 degrees Fahrenheit)
1 cup milk, warmed not quite to boiling
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup shortening
1 teaspoon salt
2 eggs, beaten
1/4 cup orange juice
2 Tablespoons grated orange peel
5 1/2 cups flour, sifted
Glaze, 2 cups powdered sugar, 1/4 cup hot water, 1 teaspoon butter

I did vary a little bit from this recipe, as written.  For one thing, I used 1 1/4 cup warm water and 1/3 cup of dry milk, instead of the 1/4 cup warm water and the 1 cup milk.  This removes the necessity of staring at the walls while the milk mixture cools enough to add into the bowl without fear of killing the yeast.  I also heated the shortening a little to make it softer and simulate the effect of putting shortening into hot milk.  (It doesn't usually melt completely when you do.)

My Senior Master Kitchen Helper helped me with the oranges, grating the peel and squeezing out the juice.

Yes, that is a Mexican key lime in the background.  We'd just finished a pie.

If you intend to mix this recipe by hand, refer to the link at the very top of this page, as the original recipe is written with this in mind.  (You will notice it really is written for kids, as the first step directs the baker to wash their hands with soap and water . . .)

First, mix the yeast and sugar in with the warm water.  Allow it to sit for at least 5 minutes to proof.

In the stand mixer bowl with a bread hook, add the salt, softened shortening, and powdered milk.  Add the beaten eggs, orange juice, grated orange peel, and the yeast mixture.  Gradually add the flour and mix until the dough starts to pull away from the sides.  Continue mixing, adding flour a little at a time to keep the dough from sticking to the sides of the bowl, allowing it to knead for at least 5 minutes.  (For more complete directions on mixing a yeast dough with a stand mixer, click here.)

When the dough is ready, drizzle a little cooking oil in the bowl and allow the mixer to twirl once to spread it around.  Remove the bread hook and twirl the dough to distribute the oil more completely, then turn it upside down so the oiled side is up.  Cover with paper towels and allow to rise 2 hours or until about doubled in size.

After rising . . .

On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough into a rectangle 1/2 inch thick.  Cut the dough into strips about 1/2 inch wide and 14 inches long.  (A pizza cutter is handy here.)

Roll the strips between your hands to make a rounded snake shape.  (I confess I'm not terribly good at this part.)  Cut one strip into pieces 1/2 inch long and roll those into balls.  (I usually can get these from the ends and edges . . . Why cut up a perfectly good strip?)

Place one long strip on a greased cookie sheet.  The recipe then says to place one end of the strip over the other to make a loop; bring the end that is underneath up and cross it over the other end.  I find it simpler to understand this way:

Place the long strip on the greased cookie sheet as if it were hanging from a nail or something, with the two ends roughly even.

Then take hold of both ends and twist them twice.  They will end up on their original sides.

Place a ball of dough on top of the loop, as if you are filling in the hole there.

Cover the bunnies and let them rise in a warm place for 45-60 minutes, until almost double in size.  Bake at 375 degrees Fahrenheit for 12-15 minutes.

Remove the bunnies when they are lightly browned.  Stir the glaze ingredients together and frost the bunnies while they are still warm.

These bunnies come out a little large, especially if your strips get out of control while rolling and increase their length.  (Never happened to me . . . nope . . .)  After about a dozen, I get tired of shaping them and just roll the rest of the dough into balls.  This serves the dual purpose of getting me off my feet faster and making smaller rolls for people like me, who don't usually want to eat an entire bunny bun.

Regardless of the shape, they all taste delicious!