Tibetan Flatbread

Normally, a hot summer is not sufficient incentive for me to give up baking bread.  But for some unknown reason, I found myself one day this summer in desperate need of bread, but completely unwilling to turn on my oven.  To top it off, I was too exhausted to want to spend the time it would take to make tortillas.

"There's got to be some kind of flatbread aside from tortillas I can bake on the stovetop!" I exclaimed and turned to the Internet.

Sure enough, I found several different recipes for stovetop breads, but the one which intrigued me enough to get me out of my chair and into the kitchen was a recipe for Tibetan flatbread.

Ingredients:

1 cup whole wheat flour
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon olive oil (I've had even better results with 2 Tablespoons!)
1 cup + 2 Tablespoons water (This is divided.)

There are a few things I should note about the ingredients.  First, the olive oil should be pure olive oil, rather than extra virgin, as it can withstand high heat better without burning.  Also, this flour mixture is not set in stone.  If you only have all-purpose flour at home, feel free to use 1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour.  I have found my family enjoys this recipe best when I use 1/2 cup whole wheat flour, 1/2 cup all-purpose flour, and 1/2 cup flour ground from oat groats.  I'm curious what would happen if I tried this recipe with even more oat flour and less all-purpose flour:  how much of a role does gluten really play in this recipe?  But that's a question to be answered another day.

First, combine the dry ingredients--flours, baking powder, and salt--in a mixing bowl.  Add the 1 cup of water.  With more whole wheat flour, a little more water may be desired:  you want the result to look like more like a batter than a dough, nice and gooey.

Next, take a COLD 12-inch frying or saute pan (one which has a lid) and add the olive oil, spreading it around to ensure it covers the entire pan.

Pour the batter/dough into the pan and spread it around more or less evenly.  Then take the 2 Tablespoons of water and pour them in around the sides of the dough.  (I know you were wondering where they fit in!)

You may be looking at this and thinking, "Wow, that's a lot of oil and water just sitting around my cold dough.  Do I really want all this stuff in there?"

Yes, yes you do.  You see, as the bread cooks, all this stuff is going to be used to create steam and be absorbed into the bread, which gives it an absolutely luscious taste far beyond anything you thought you could create with flour, baking powder, and salt.

Put the lid on your pan and cook it over medium high heat for 10 minutes.  Then flip the bread over, cover it again, and cook it for 5 more minutes.

This is what it looks like after it's been flipped.

You can let it cool some in the skillet, which I think produces better results, but if you are really in a hurry, you can pull it out on a cutting board and let it cool there.

Cut it and serve!

The olive oil makes it so tasty that no butter is needed, in my opinion, but it does taste good with either honey or jam.

This has actually become a staple in our house this summer, as a fast bread I can make to serve with our summer garden vegetable soups or as a quick breakfast bread.  There are never any leftovers.

One day I hit upon something which we decided was sheer genius:  we call it Tibetan Flatbread, Pizza Style, although it is probably closer to focaccia style.  After the bread had cooked the first 10 minutes and was flipped, I sprinkled on some grated mozzarella cheese, some Parmesan cheese, and some Italian herbs before covering the pan and cooking for the last 5 minutes.  After it finished, I slightly tilted the lid to allow for some heat to escape and waited for 15 minutes or possibly even longer.  (I was waiting for people to come back in after morning chores.)  It was an instant hit--so much so that I made it twice in the same day!  I'm sure this could be expanded to make actual pizza, with sauce, etc.

I'm not sure making bread gets any simpler than this!

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.

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.

Aloo Paratha

I have cilantro!!

This is only significant because every single recipe I have found for any paratha whatsoever seems to require cilantro.  Unfortunately, it is one herb I do not have growing on my windowsill.  (I'm not sure it could be grown on a windowsill, as it tends to get very large.)  And as our nearest decent grocery store is about 70 miles away, I can't just drive around the corner and pick it up anytime I want it.

But after last week's excursion to . . . well, I'm not going to say where I went, but it was on business . . . I was able to stop by a store on the way home and pick some up.

The first time I heard of paratha was through the showmethecurry.com ladies, while browsing potential Indian bread recipes.  But I ran into a problem when I started seriously thinking about making paratha:  they wanted chaat masala in their fillings.  I don't have chaat masala, and while I recognize I could order it on the Internet, and probably will, eventually, I wanted to stick with ingredients I could easily pick up locally.  (Yes, around here, 70 miles is considered local shopping.)  I finally stumbled on vahrehvah.com, after discovering this video on YouTube.  In this chef's recipe, garam masala is used instead of chaat masala. And garam masala was in my cupboard, purchased some time ago as a "just in case" spice.

But Vahrehvah.com's recipe is a little ambiguous on the quantity of ingredients for the dough or how it is to be made.  (I think he depends on his videos.)  So I turned back to showmethecurry.com for the dough.  In their aloo paratha recipe, they refer readers to their chapatti recipe for the dough.  (Wow, the effort it takes, sometimes, to get a recipe put together . . .)

After a little juggling, I finally had my working recipe, consisting of the dough from showmethecurry.com and the filling from Vahrehvah.com.  I ended up reducing some of the spices because my kids aren't used to something quite that full-flavored.  (And, sadly enough, my tongue won't handle extra-spicy things anymore.)

Ingredients:

Dough:
1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour (good thing I just ground some)
3 teaspoons oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup + 2 Tablespoons warm water (In case anyone is interested, this makes 5/8 cup of water.)
1/2 cup whole wheat flour in which to dip the dough while rolling
Oil for pan frying

Filling:
3 Tablespoons fresh coriander leaves (This is cilantro.)
3/4 teaspoon garam masala (I used 1/2 teaspoon.)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 Tablespoon cumin/coriander powder (This can be either/or or blended to taste. I ended up with a touch over a 1/2 Tablespoon cumin.)
Hot red pepper powder to taste (I put about 1/16 teaspoon.)
3 cups large potatoes, boiled and grated or mashed (Grated is recommended.  I wonder if riced would be even better.)
3/4 cup onion

First, the dough!

In a large bowl, mix the flour and the salt.  Add the oil and mix again.  Slowly add warm water and knead to form a dough.  (You might not need all the water.)

Shape the dough into a ball and rub a little oil on it to coat the outside.  Then cover it and let it stand for at least 15 minutes.

While the dough rests, it is time for the filling.

I learned something about grating potatoes right after cooking them . . . After boiling the potatoes, I put them into some cold water to cool them to the point where I could handle them.  This happened surprisingly quickly, or so I thought.  As I grated the potatoes, I realized that while the exterior was cool enough to touch, the interior was still very hot.  It was kind of amusing to see the grated potato steaming beneath my grater, but it was not so amusing when the potato became small enough I kept accidentally touching the hot part.  Note to self:  next time, prepare the potatoes a little earlier.
 

The recipes I had read emphasized that everything in the filling needed to be chopped very fine, or minced.  If you have a chopper similar to this, finely chopping onions becomes a snap.

In his video, the chef at Vahrehvah.com states the ingredients can be either mixed uncooked or cooked.  But, he said, the cooked version "always turns out tastier."  So I decided mine would be cooked.

As the potatoes were already cooked, the only things which really needed to be cooked were the onions and spices.  First, I added just enough oil to the pan to prevent sticking, then added the onions.  I cooked for a minute or two over medium heat, then added the spices, stirring to make sure they were evenly cooked.

Once everything was nicely cooked, it was time to add the potatoes, just to mix them in.  Since they did not need to be cooked, I took an alterate tack, adding the cooked ingredients to the bowl where I had the potatoes waiting, then mixing.

The filling definitely does not look like it is rocket science.  The chef even said you could add pretty much whatever spices--or even green chilis--you want to the filling.  This is reassuring, as it seems it will be difficult to completely mess it up by any method except, perhaps, over-spicing it.

Divide the filling into 8 equal size parts.  You will be rolling/smushing these parts into balls.

Now that the filling is ready, back to the dough!

Knead the dough and divide it into 8 parts, rolling each part into a ball.  Keep a bowl with some whole wheat flour handy for dipping the dough if it should start to stick.  Slightly flatten the dough a little and dip it briefly in the flour.

 

Using a rolling pin, roll out the ball to about 4 inches diameter.  Take one of the balls of filling and place it on the dough.

Gather the dough around the ball to cover it, pinching at the top to hold the dough closed.

Slightly flatten the stuffed ball and dip it into the whole wheat flour on both sides.

 

 Using a rolling pin, roll out the stuffed ball into a disk.  Don't make it too thin.  (You still want your potato filling to be surrounded by bread dough.)

See?  You can see the cilantro through the dough.  (Isn't that cool?)  The hope is to be able to roll this out without any potato sticking out.  I did not completely succeed in this:  every one of the 8 parathas I rolled ended up with a tiny bit of potato sticking out somewhere, usually along the edge or at the pinched seam.  I may be able to prevent this by putting in less filling, but I'd rather not do that.  I suspect that a little practice will go a long way.

I found this rolling out process worked better if I did not attack the paratha as I would have attacked a tortilla or a pie crust.  (Seriously, I get violent with tortillas.)  Rolling by gently rocking back and forth, changing directions as I went, seemed to be more effective than trying to pick up my rolling pin, place it in the center, and roll out each time.  (I think people who are really good at tortillas actually roll back and forth, too . . .)

Place the paratha on a skillet preheated to medium or medium high.  When bubbles start to appear, it is time to turn it over.

Hard to see, but it is puffing up in some places around the edges.

I actually didn't follow the directions here, because I forgot to reread them as I was working.  Instead of spraying it lightly with cooking oil after turning it over, then turning and spraying with oil again every 30 seconds, I just turned it over and let it cook.  It would probably have had more crispy results if it had been sprayed with oil, but as it was, it still cooked and browned nicely.  (See the little golden/brown spots?)

Nicely puffed!

I did remember to roll out the next paratha as the previous one was cooking, just to save time.

And here they are!

I had some daughters who were very dubious about this whole "potato-filled unleavened bread" thing.  At least, they were dubious until I started tearing one into pieces for tasting . . .

In the end, all four of the daughters at home ended up loving it.  The reduction in the spices seemed to be about the perfect blend for us, although the heat built up over time to the point where the two youngest weren't sure they wanted to finish their halves of aloo paratha.  (Now we know why the Indians would most likely eat this with chutney or yogurt . . . I gave the girls pineapple rings, as I was out of yogurt.)  I've been told these freeze well, when separated by waxed paper, so the three I had left over after dinner will find their way there until the Senior Master Kitchen Helper is ready to have some in her lunchbox, as she requested.

I'm looking forward to trying paratha stuffed with other fillings.

Simple Wheat Crackers

One evening not too long ago, feeling rather bored, I decided to open a can of ravioli to feed the four kids I had home.  They asked me if I would be having any, and I told them I'd just look in the refrigerator for some leftovers.

I lied.

I knew I didn't have any leftovers, but I am so little fond of canned ravioli, I was willing to work a little harder to get something to eat.  Cheese and crackers sounded about right, but unfortunately, I had no cheese to speak of, and I had no crackers.  What's a girl to do?

Make them!!  I made a quick and easy cheese called paneer in India and queso fresco in Mexico, and while it was draining, mixed up some wheat crackers.  (I really was rather active that night.  I had milk heating for yogurt in the crock pot and wheat grinding in my Kitchenaid grain mill attachment while I was stirring milk on the stove for paneer.)

I found my cracker recipe some time ago on Allrecipes.com.  It's a very simple and easily adaptable base, good "as is" or with some flavoring additions.  This time, I added some garlic powder and Italian herb blend, and instead of sprinkling them with plain salt, we used a grinder with garlic and sea salt.


The Master Kitchen Helper is hiding behind a kitchen towel . . .



Ingredients:

1 3/4 cups whole wheat flour

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup vegetable oil

1 cup water

Salt for sprinkling

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Start by putting the dry ingredients into a mixing bowl.  (Medium-size will do, but I only had large available because my medium one was in use catching whey from the paneer-making process.)  Add any spices or dried herbs you will be using at this time, as well.

Pour in the vegetable oil and water and mix until just blended.

Take a portion of the dough and on a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough as thinly as possible.  (Less than 1/8 inch thick.)  If you do not have a baking stone, place the rolled dough on an ungreased baking sheet at this point.

Mark cracker edges by scoring the dough with a knife, without cutting completely through the dough.  Prick each cracker with a fork a few times.  (This part is not "rocket science", so let your Master Kitchen Helper go to town here.)  If you are using a baking sheet, go ahead and sprinkle the crackers with salt.

If you are using a baking stone, roll the scored and pricked dough onto your rolling pin to lift it.

Then roll it back out on the baking stone and sprinkle with salt.  If you are using a baking sheet, place it in the oven.

Bake the crackers for 15-20 minutes, or until crisp and light brown.  With the baking stone, I found 15-18 minutes worked well.  The time will vary, depending on how thinly that particular bit of cracker dough was rolled.

Now THAT's crispy!

When the crackers are cool (or at least, cool enough to touch without burning fingers), separate the crackers.

Not sure why the color in this picture didn't work out.  They look cheesy.

My daughters would tell you the best part about cracker-making is eating the edges, because they are the only parts I will let them munch with abandon while the crackers are being produced.  The younger ones have been known to stare in the oven window, waiting for the next cracker to finish baking, so they can mooch the edges as soon as possible.

I finally sat down around 8:00 that evening, paperback book held open by a convenient potholder, hands occupied with cutting salted paneer to put on fresh crackers.  Simple bliss.

Aebleskiver!!

My husband and I first encountered aebleskiver in the tiny tourist trap of Solvang, California.  We had gone to California on a business trip for my husband to San Diego and LA, and stayed a little longer for the fun of it, riding a motorcycle along the scenic coastal or mountain highways.  Originally, we had thought to go a little farther north, but when we rolled into Solvang, we knew that was as far as we were getting.

It was cute to the point of adorable, aimed at bringing a little bit of Denmark into the United States.  The motels had character, with names like "The Viking Motel" or doorways sporting quaint tole-painted flowers.  Between my Danish ancestry and my husband's Norwegian ancestry, we felt we somehow belonged, and we knew we would have an absolutely wonderful time exploring the shops and the food.

And explore we did.  We ate a wonderful Scandinavian-style supper that night in a small restaurant in the middle of the tourist trap.  It was there, for dessert, we first tasted the roughly spherical, apple-filled, powdered-sugar-covered pancakes of Danish origin called aebleskiver.  (Raspberry jam on the side.)

Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Yum.

As soon as we got home, I did some research.  I had seen an aebleskiver pan hanging on the wall of the restaurant, so I knew they were made in pans with about 7 half-sphere indentations, or "wells".  But I had no idea there were so many kinds.  There were cast iron ones, aluminum ones, ones with solid bottoms, ones supposed to be more ideal for glass-top ranges, etc.  There was even an electric one you could put on your table and make aebleskiver as a spectator sport.  Unfortunately, the ones recommended for electric stove tops ran somewhere between $35-40, and I just couldn't see the sense in spending that much money on a pan for a single dish.

About a year later, my husband and I visited a more local (100 miles away) cooking supply store.  The stock was rather sparse, and I commented, "What are the odds they have an aebleskiver pan?"  We laughed, figuring there was no way.  As we were about to leave, we passed on the other side of one of the shelves we had passed before, and lo and behold, there was an aebleskiver pan, staring at us.  It still set us back about $35, but we figured it was money better spent, because it was helping the local economy, instead of just ordering something on the Internet.  (The things we do to justify buying things we want, hm?)

When I showed my daughters the aebleskiver pan, they had an unexpected reaction.  "Ooooh!" they cried.  "Pancake puff!"

Apparently Billy Mays used to market a pan billed as the Pancake Puff pan or something like that--an aebleskiver pan in disguise.  What followed was rather predictable.  My daughters insisted it was a "Pancake Puff" pan, while I, determined to have my daughters embrace their Danish heritage, insisted they repeat after me, "Ae . . . ble . . . skiv . . . er."  (Yes, I finally won, but throughout the evening, if they wanted to see me cringe, they would say, "Pancake puff!"  It's kind of like my reaction when people have no idea how to pronounce "karaoke", which is what usually happens in the United States . . . How someone came up with "carry-oky" is beyond me.)

So one fine fall evening, armed with my aebleskiver pan, Granny Smith apples grown on my in-laws' tree, and a wooden shish-ka-bob skewer in lieu of a steel knitting needle (which might scratch the surface), I set out to learn the fine art of making aebleskiver.

I found an aebleskiver recipe to try at the About.com section on Scandinavian Foods and gathered my ingredients.

2 apples, peeled, cored, and chopped into 1/2-inch pieces
2 Tablespoons butter, plus extra to grease the pan
2 teaspoons cinnamon
2 eggs
1 Tablespoon sugar
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/2 cups buttermilk  (I use a standard substitution called "soured milk":  for each cup, 1 T. vinegar, plus milk to make up one cup.  Let stand 5 minutes before using.)

Preheat the aebleskiver pan over a medium-high burner until it is hot enough for butter to sizzle on the surface.

In a separate pan, lightly saute the apple pieces in the 2 Tablespoons butter until they are softened, but still firm.  Sprinkle them with cinnamon.  (By the time you're done, it's more than a sprinkle, but you really do want that much.  Next time, we might add some cinnamon to the batter recipe, too, just for giggles.)

Separate the eggs, then beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks.

In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs yolks with the sugar until they are creamy.  The directions say to sift together the flour and baking soda, but I find that cumbersome.  Instead, I take the trace item--baking soda--sprinkle it evenly and mix it in.  Then I proceed as normal.  Gradually stir flour and buttermilk (or the soured milk substitution above), alternating with each 1/2-cup addition, into the egg mixture.

Gently fold the beaten egg whites into the batter.

Yes, it will be evenly distributed, more or less, by the time it is done.

Reduce the heat under the aebleskiver pan to medium, and place about 1/8 teaspoon butter in each well.  Use a pastry brush to make sure the wells are coated evenly.

After watching me put the butter in the wells, my husband leaned over my shoulder.  "Remember what Julia Child said in that movie," he said. "'More butter!'"  I put in more butter.  It was a good choice.

Spoon batter into each well, filling half-way (about one teaspoon, not kidding).  Place an apple chunk on the batter.

Spoon enough additional batter over the apple to cover it and fill the well to the top.  (About another teaspoon, maybe a little more.)

Allow to cook until the edges of each aebleskiver begin to brown and pull away from the sides of the wells.  You may not be able to see this happening very well, actually, but if you take your knitting needle, skewer, or whatever, you can check it out to see if it has reached this point.  Don't let it cook too long, however, or you won't end up with terribly round aebleskiver.  (Because all the batter on the inside will set, and nothing will move down into the well when you turn it over.)

The directions told me to run the knitting needle (ok, skewer), around the edge of each aebleskiver, then flip it over.  Unfortunately, the directions neglected to tell me exactly how this flipping was to be accomplished.  After a lot of trial and error (mostly error), I discovered what worked best for me.

I ran the skewer around the edge of the aebleskiver, just to make sure it wasn't sticking, then ran the skewer down along the inside curve of the well, straight across the middle of the half-sphere.  (Basically, I traced a half-circle through the middle of the well, my skewer following the interior edge.)  This flipped the aebleskiver over just fine.  Sure, a little bit of the batter got on my skewer, but nowhere in the directions did it say my skewer would remain batter-free.  After flipping all the aebleskiver, I quickly rinsed and dried my skewer, and all was well.

I'll get better with more practice.  ;)

Remove the aebleskiver to a plate and sprinkle them with powdered sugar to serve.  None of these lasted very long on the plate, as they were snatched up quickly by various members of the family and munched, usually with fingers.  Although I've usually seen people eating them with a fork, it was all right in this case; I was making them as a treat to go along with a movie.  (And how can you argue with such enthusiasm?)

After tasting these fun little treats, the girls no longer try to call my pan a "pancake puff" pan.

If I had stayed in Solvang any longer, I might have started begging the ladies at the Danish bakeries for secrets.  Instead, I guess I'll just have to do a little more research before I start on more Danish bread adventures.

I just had a sudden brainstorm . . . I wonder if this technique is somewhat similar to how the Japanese make takoyaki, much smaller batter-made spheres with a bit of octopus in them.  The street vendors used to flip them with toothpicks, and I absolutely loved them whenever I could get them.  Hmmmmmm.  Wonder if I can find a takoyaki pan (and some octopus . . . and the right sauce . . . figure the odds . . .)  A dream for another day.