Arhive etichetă: prajitura cu mar si gris

Prajitura cu mar, gris si biscuiti / Apple, semolina and biscuits cake

 (for English version scroll down the page)

praj.cu.mar-gris

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-Vazut la tine! Hahaha…
Tanti Ani isi ridea bunadispozitia mai ceva ca un copil extaziat in fata vreunei vitrine cu prajituri.
-Ce faci acolo?
Femeia isi zburli zulufii apoi mingiie una dintre mitele care luasera in primire, ca gazda cu drepturi depline, fiocul cu mirodenii.
-Frumos al meu, hai pupe neni…Prajitura cu mar si griz…ai mincat tu, nu? mai zise privindu-ma scurt.
-Nu.
-O sa placa …
Apoi, ca o siderala si diafana aparitie ce era, se intoarse spre Joska-baci zimbindu-i tandru si spunindu-i pe-un ton care nu admitea replica.
-Un kis kosár cu mar, hántolt si ras Josko. Ighen ?!
Barbatul zimbi ghidus apoi disparu din bucataria unde suverani erau haosul(la maniera cea mai veridica), tanti Ani si cele 5 mite de soi si neam bun, cu pedigree in (toata) buna regula. Ce-o fi hantolt? Habar n-aveam dar deschis-am ochii si mintea cit mai larg cu putinta.
Intre timp, femeia mai invirti cu lingura intr-o cratita in care aburea ceva in miroasne de te trazneau cu ale lor arome apoi lua o tava din soba ei Vesta (doamne ce amintiri!), tava pe care-o unse cu unt usor lichefiat. Si stratul fu destul de generos. Apoi, ca o ploaie mocaneasca de toamna cum doar in Apuseni mai poti intilni, tanti Ani cernu din pumnul ei mic un strat la fel de generos de gris amestecat cu biscuiti pisati. Scutura putin tava ca sa se aseze parca mai bine fainoasele apoi o lasa in plata asteptarii. 
La fix aparu barbatu-sau, intr-o mina cu un cosulet plin cu mere rase si-n cealalta cu cojile fructelor. Deci asta era hantolt !
Tanti Ani goli merele intr-un vailing apoi incepu a le stoarce. La final, imi intinse un pahar plin cu suc proaspat de mar apoi, ca zvirluga, de sub mita care-si torcea somnul in fioc, scoase doua plicuri si abia cind incepu a turna peste mere am inteles ca zaharul si scortisoara erau impricinatele. Cantitatea ? Nu ma intrebati pentru ca, reteta asta e printre multele pe care le-am invatat privindu-le facerea, plus ca unguroaica de Ani era mare zgircita la a da amanunte in privinta tocmelilor ei bucataresti. Cert este ca, dupa aprecierea mea, cam 1 l-ra buna de scortisoara pleca peste zaharul care trona falnic mot in virf de mar ras. Gustul propriu cred ca ar trebui sa fie masura in cazul asta.
La fel de diafan si sideral, dete(ca-ntr-o joaca) un virf de botosel in mirtanul care vroia sa sara pe masa apoi ii pupa ochii mirati si lua tava cu gris. Imprastie peste gris merele amestecate cu arome si nu le mai clinti din locul in care le puse. Si iar dete deoparte tava ca sa se apuce apoi sa bata 5 albuse(hehe, am numarat galbenusele puse deoparte pe-o farfurie!) cu un praf de sare. Cind incepura a se spumui, scoase din cuptorul sobei o alta tava in care ceva alb aproape aburea. Zahar !
-De ce l-ai incalzit?
-Nu oparesc mina la mine, csinos lányt …
N-am inteles cam ce-ar fi vrut sa zica insa inspiratia de moment mi-a dat un singur raspuns posibil dar si plauzibil: probabil ca albusele trebuiesc batute pe abur si-atunci a ales un truc la fel de viabil: incingerea zaharului in cuptor. Si la fel de mocaneasca ploaie pleca zaharul peste albusele care in continuare fura batute. Si tot ca o ploaie, insa transformata intr-o veritabila ninsoare, spuma se aseza gros peste merele din tava.
Femeia rise apoi zvirli tava in cuptorul pregatit numai de ea, dupa taine vechi in mesterirea focului din vatra. Apoi, porni radioul, muta scala de cautare cind pe-un post cind pe altul si-ntr-un final se opri la muzica. Veche si ungureasca. Si nostalgiile unei tinereti trecute rasunau acum in micuta bucatarie, ca un proaspat aer de toamna tirzie.
 
Cu un ochi curios privi in cuptor apoi dete deoparte focul de pe vatra sobei lasind prajitura sa se coaca ceva mai bine de 30-40 de minute, la un foc molcom pina cind, aurie culoare prinse spuma deasupra si incepu sa creasca usurel, precum blatul de tort. Cam dupa o ora de asteptare, minunea iesi din Vesta in arome triumfale de mar si scortisoara aburind a placere si bucurie in ochii  albastri ca cerul senin de vara dar inca tineri ai unguroaicei Ani si-n ploaia torentiala pe care mi-au declansat-o mie-n gura.
Sa va mai spun ceva despre gust ? N-ar avea nici un rost pentru ca o simplitate mai simpla ca asta nu o poti descrie decit cu buzele si imaginatia. Si credeti-ma ca prajitura asta am facut-o acum o zi, la o distanta de mai bine de treizeci de ani de cind am vazut-o prima data facuta si gustul i-a fost exact acelasi pe care-l aveam bine asezat intr-unul dintre fioacele dulapului cu amintiri. 
Ca veti vrea sa-i imbunatatiti gustul prin adaugiri ale altor arome ca nu, e problema voastra insa, pentru mine, e perfecta asa cum tanti Ani a croit-o intr-o zi de toamna tirzie, cu grija dusa la extrem pentru un prunc lasat in custodia ei pina cind parintii i se intorc de la serviciu. Si cum poti sa tii in loc o odrasla nabadaioasa decit punindu-l, alaturi de tine, sa faca un dulce care promitea sarea si marea ?
 
 
 praj.cu.mar-gris3
 
 
 
Un fel de traducere a retetei:
A)
cam 2 kg de mere nu prea zemoase, cojite, rase si stoarse 
cam 4-5 l-ri de zahar
aprox. 1 l-ra buna de scortisoara
Se amesteca toate.
 
B)
5 albuse se bat cu
10 l-ri de zahar incins in cuptor
 
C)
3-4 l-ri de gris amestecat cu
10-12 biscuiti simpli, vrac (macinati grosier)
 
Tava(cam 30/20 cm) se unge generos cu unt foarte usor lichefiat. Se presara apoi cu C. Se aseaza A in strat gros fara a le misca din locul in care au fost puse. Peste mere se toarna B.
Se da la cuptorul incalzit la 180 grade si se lasa aprox. 5 minute. Se reduce caldura la aprox. 150 grade lasind prajitura sa-si faca treaba pentru care a fost croita. Dupa aprox. 40-45 de minute, daca deasupra capata o frumoasa culoare aurie, atunci e gata. Se scoate din cuptor si se lasa in tava ca sa se raceasca usor dar nu va rezista probei de rezistenta a privitorilor si a timpului. Va asigur.
 
 
NOTA:
Ca un adaus la materialul asta, tot la unguroaica Ani am mai vazut un lucru pe care, dupa 30 de ani, l-am pus si eu in practica . 
Peste cojile si cotoarele de mar, am turnat apa cit sa le acopere, am mai pus 1-2 linguri de miere, 1 baton de scortisoara, citeva cuisoare si-un anason stelat si-am fiert totul pina cind cojile s-au inmuiat. 
Lasat totul sa se raceasca, strecurat si baut in loc de apa, sucul cu arome de compot. Divin, va spun! 
NU aditivi, nu coloranti, nu indulcitori sintetici si facut parca sa-ti potoleasca setea dupa prima cana. N-o sa va para rau daca veti incerca chiar daca ajustati gusul in functie de dorinta si putinta proprie.
Sa va mai zic ca am mincat chiar si cojile fierte de-au ramas doar semintele si coditele fructelor ?!
Sa va mai zic ca, tot atunci, la unguroaica Ani am mincat o dementiala zupa de chimen de-am rascolit apoi tot familionul cu dorintele si explicatiile nebune, tot asa cum, acum ceva mai bine de zece ani, la o alta unguroaica, Marika-neni(o stiti doar) am mincat cele mai bune sarmale cu pasat  pe care le-as fi putut minca vreodata ?! 
Cit despre bujenita  pe care Miklos-baci a facut-o in vreo doua saptamini de vara, o sa va povestesc alta data pentru ca are cu totul alte(dar exceptionale) amintiri si conotatii …
 
 
 praj.cu.mar-gris1
 
 
Apple, semolina and biscuits cake
 
– Ha, ha, ha! I saw you…you are hungry, aren’t you asked Mrs. Ani and a big laughter came out of her chest while the face was flooded by the same joy as the joy felt by a kid when stepping into a candy store.
– What are you baking there, Mrs. Ani? I asked this question with all the innocence and the honesty a 12 year old kid can ask when enters the kitchen of an excellent cook as Mrs. Ani (our Hungarian neighbor) was.
– Apple, semolina and biscuits pie said the old lady while petting one of the cats that was “helping” her with the cooking. Then while still smiling, she turned to her husband – Joska bacsi – and with a voice that did not accept any sort of opposition asked: “one full basket of apples, peeled and grated! Please!”
The man smiled and disappeared from the kitchen where Mrs. Ani and her five cats soon took over. The cats knew that “something was cooking” as they were circling around and between our legs with their tails raised in a sign of supreme pleasure.
In the meantime, the woman stirred into a steaming pot that was spreading some absolutely enticing scents. Then she pulled a cooking tray from the stove and greased it with soft butter. And the layer was pretty generous!
There was one of those typical fall afternoons when a drizzle specific to the Apuseni Mountains this time of the year had been relentlessly falling for few days. Inside the kitchen was so nice and warm from the wood burning stove and it was smelling so good from all those spices Mrs. Ani mixed up prior to starting the pie making activity!

And the same way the drizzle was falling on the ground, the semolina mixed with crushed biscuits fell through her fingers into the cooking tray previously greased with a lot of butter. She shook the tray so the layer of semolina and biscuits would sit better onto the bottom and set it on the side. Ioska bacsi showed up right in time with a big bowl full of grated apples and in a basket with the apples’ peels. Now this was for me a bit strange…why would you keep the peels?

Mrs, Ani started squeezing the grated apples and after collecting the juice, she gave me a glass full of this wonderful liquid.
Then grabbed a couple of sugar and cinnamon sachets and started pouring over the freshly squished grated apples. What were the quantities? Don’t ask me, because this dish is one of those I learnt how to make just by looking at its making, not by following a written recipe. Also, Mrs. Ani knew very well how to keep its cards as close as possible to her chest! Not too much information was leaking out and whatever I saw with my eyes, is what I am posting here.
Certainly is that after a good judgment, one spoonful of cinnamon sprinkled on top of the powder sugar that was already laying on top of the apples would do the trick. You can use your own judgment and if you want to play around with your own ratio: sugar powder / cinnamon – just go ahead! It will not hurt for sure!
Then she took the semolina cooking tray and sprinkled the grated apples (earlier mixed up with the sugar and the cinnamon) on the top of the semolina and the crushed biscuits.
Once this activity was completed, the cooking tray was placed on the side and 5 whites from 5 eggs were beaten up with a pinch of salt. When they started raising, she pulled another tray out of the oven that had something white sprinkled all over: sugar!
– Why did you warm it up?
– I’m not going to burn my hand!
I did not understand what she said. Probably the egg whites had to be warmed up above a steaming water and this why she chose to better warm up the sugar…

And the same way as the rain outside was falling over the high hills of the Zarand Region, the sugar from the tray kept into the stove, fell onto the white eggs and the beating process started all over.
Finally, the tray was shoved into the stove and I guess she barely waited for the time she had flip the radio stations to an old Hungarian station music that was one of her all time favorites.
And the nostalgias of a passed youth were now resounding in the little kitchen to the rhythms of the old, forgotten Hungarian “Chardash”  music.

With a curious eye, she removed the ashes (that were blocking her access to the tray) and let the tray cook for about 30/40 min at a medium temperature fire until the layer on the top started to slowly raise like the cake dough. Then after another 20 minutes, she deemed the goodie inside the cooking tray as being ready while her blue translucent eyes were showing signs of uncontrollable joy. I cannot describe the aromas generated by the cinnamon and the smells released in the kitchen by the apple pie! How about the taste? You can only describe it by closing your eyes and take bites out of that wonder which just came out of that old wood burning stove. And trust me: this pie I made today (30 years from the time I first saw it being made), tasted exactly the same as it did back then as the memory of those times were well stored into one of the many little shelves of my brain.

If you want to improve it by adding more spices to it, it is purely your call. But for me, the way I am giving it to you, represents the simplicity taken to the perfection. Simplicity tailored by Mrs. Ani while babysitting a kid in one of those rainy, cold fall days when nothing really can be done outside of the house. And how can you keep a kid quiet other way but making her help baking a pie that promised to be a “to die for” indulgence for anyone with a sweet tooth.

A detailed recipe:
A)
about 2 kg of apples(not too juicy) peeled, grated and squeezed
4-5 T. sugar
approx. one good T. of cinnamon powder
Mix all.
 
B)
5 white eggs beaten with
10 T. of girded sugar on a tray in oven
 
C)
3-4 T. semolina mixed with
10-12 bulk biscuits(coarse crushed)
 
Pan (about 30/20 cm) is generously greased with butter, easily liquefied. Then sprinkle all over with C. Put A in a thick layer without moving them from where they were released. Pour over apples the mixture.
Put the pan in heated oven at 180 degrees and leave it for approx. 5 minutes. Reduce heat to approx. 150 degrees leaving the cake to do the job for which it was tailored. After approx. 40-45 minutes if top gets a nice golden color it’s ready. 
Remove the cake from oven and leave it in pan to cool slightly but, it will not pass the resistance test of time and viewers. I assure you !
praj.cu.mar-gris2
 

 Note:

As a bonus to this posting (also from Hungarian Ani) I learned a thing that after 30 years I applied it into practice: on top of the apple peels and cores, I pored water as much as it would cover them, then I put 2 spoons of honey, 1 stick of cinnamon, few cloves and a stared anise and I boiled everything until the peels became soft.
I left everything to cool, I slipped it through a medium strainer and I drunk that juice as I would’ve drunk water. Divine, I can only tell you that!
No additives, no colorants, no sweeteners, made to chill your thirst after first glass. You won’t regret it if you try, even if you adjust the taste based on the your own will.
What can I tell you? The fact that I ate even the peels? Should I tell you that at the same time time I ate at Hungarian Ani a „to die for” cumin soup, same as ten years later I ate at another Hungarian woman (Marika-neni) the best Crushed maize cabbage rolls I could ever eat?
As of  „bujenita” Miklos-baci made, I will tell you the story some other time as it has totally different (exceptional) memories and connotations !
 
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Materiale asemanatoare / Related posts:

Gateala de soi: ardeii umpluti (Stuffed peppers)

ardei-umpluti
(for English version scroll down the page)
Multe amintiri am cu si despre oamenii care au ajuns de-a lungul anilor sa ocupe un loc aparte in sufletul meu insa, acei dragi copilariei mele parca mi-s mai aproape decit toti ceilalti. 
Marika-neni si tante Ani … doua extreme absolute, doua caractere aparte in peisajul uman, doua femeiusti ce aveau doar un singur lucru in comun: aspectul fizic. Mignone, cu corp de zvirluga, amindoua erau niste aprige muieri maritate cu doi asezati bine in cizmele lor militaresti si superlustruite. (Fie vorba-ntre noi, n-am inteles niciodata de ce acestia trebuiau sa-ti rasuceasca mustata iosefiniana in oglinda incaltarilor !)
Doua femei, ardelence prin nascare si asezare in matca casniciei, unguroaice amindoua desi aparute-n lume din uniuni mixte de cuget si simtiri nationaliste, doua ‘entitati’ ciudate care mi-au fascinat mereu intilnirile de grad zero…dupa cum aveam sa le numesc ceva mai tirziu.
Pe tante Ani mi-o amintesc ceva mai greu, insa prajitura ei cu mar si grismi-a ramas forever in sertarasul acela special al memoriei copilariei. Si, daca in casa ei, haosul domnea la modul cel mai realist si veridic cu putinta, cu ale ei  5 mite care patrulau pe masa sau prin fioacele vesnic deschise la dulapurile bucatariei, ei bine, gateala unguroaice Ani era dementiala de-ti sta limba si mintea-n loc…cu arome numai de ea stiut a le potrivi dupa retete vechi al caror secret asa a ramas pina-n clipa cind a trecut la cele nepamintesti. Ceea ce-am invatat insa de la ea, am invatat privind-o in timp ce-si scutura zulufii albiti de ani peste vreo bucatareala apriga ca trupul ei mic „de-l luai la subsuoara”(vorba lu’ barbatu-sau, Joska-baci ).
Marika-neni in schimb, gindesti ca a fost facuta pe tiparul clasic al neamtului care parca si gindurile si le ordona. Casa-i era luna si bec ca sa nu mai pomenesc de rigoarea regulilor impuse poate doar unui poligon militar, cu o harta la milimetru trasata de cel mai ilustru tactician. Ce sa indraznesti sa zmintesti oaresce de la locul lui ?! Fiecare obiect avea un precis si delimitat rol si loc in spatiu si timp iar curatenia era o adevarata psihoza. Si acum imi aduc aminte de una dintre zilele in care, in vizita fiind la ea, a trebuit sa merg si eu in locul unde si regele descaleca. Acces interzis…Daca vroiam trebuia sa merg in fundul curtii, dupa un pom! Si era un ger de-ti crapau toate cele… Execut fara sa cricnesc si ma intorc fericita(si usurata!) in bucataria in care pumnu’ de femeie facea niste ardei umpluti de mi-a smintit toate ascutisurile simturilor. Cu rigoare matematica, Marika masura, taia, cintarea, stergea, adauga, scotea, privea… Acelasi lucru l-am facut si eu cu gindul sa-i spun mamei cum se savirsise minunea. Si reteta ei de ardei umpluti e printre putinele retete pe care le-am invatat, fara creion si hirtie, de la unguroaica. Abia mai tirziu, cu ajutorul familiei am transcris si transformat pumnul, polonicul, praful, masura, ceasca si altele in grame, mililitri sau bucati. Si credeti-ma ca rezultatul final merita toata atentia chiar daca aspectul lasa de dorit !
Ce-as mai putea adauga ? Cred ca totul se spune in momentul in care mincarea abureste in farfurie iar multumirea celui care-si pune-n facerea ei toate talentele si pasiunea zimbeste ghiavoleste la vazul dumicatului de pita care incinge si ultimul strop de sos din tingire.
Cit despre prajitura cu mar si gris…eheiiii…asta-i cu totul si cu totul alta poveste.
………..
 
 
Ingrediente:
10-12 ardei grasi sau capia, nu prea mari
200 gr carne porc, tocata
200 gr carne de vitel tocata
100 gr pastrama de oaie(merge si sunculita de porc sau slaninuta afumata de porc, taiata ceva mai marunt)
100 gr orez
1 ceapa mare, tocata
2 oua
1 kg rosii, macinate
supa de carne, aprox. 1 litru
200 ml vin alb
100 ml bulion gros de rosii sau pasta de rosii
1 cana smintina
zahar dupa gust (si in functie de cit sunt rosiile de dulci)
cimbru, patrunjel, marar( tocate)
sare, piper
1 l-ra untura de gisca sau 2-3 l-ri ulei de masline
 
Ceapa se caleste in grasime. Se amesteca cu carnea, ouale, verdeata, orezul, 50 ml de bulion sau pasta de rosii si condimentele. Se umplu ardeii scobiti de seminte insa pastrind capacul cu codita. Se capacesc cu felii de rosii sau cu capacul propriu. Se aseaza intr-o forma unsa cu grasime (Marika-neni avea cratita ei speciala de lut, cratita la care tinea mai ceva ca la barbata-sau).
Peste ardei se toarna vinul, supa de carne si rosiile macinate, se presara cu sare si piper, se acopera cratita apoi totul merge la cuptor pret de-o ora, poate si mai mult.
Smintina se amesteca cu restul de bulion sau pasta de rosii si zaharul apoi se toarna peste ardeii a caror zeama a scazut. Se mai da la cuptor pina ardeii capata o nuanta de copt.
Cind se scot din cuptor, se garnisesc cu patrunjel tocat grosier.
 
Marika-neni mai facea o chestie care mie nu mi-a reusit niciodata: inainte de-a-i servi, indeparta pielita ardeilor fara a le sminti in vreun fel aspectul. 
Ce-ti mai raminea atunci de facut decit sa-i maninci cu buzele… ca de la atita bolboroseala nu mai raminea intreaga forma de carne, orez sau alte cele…exceptie fiind doar gustul pe care puteai paria o eternitate!
Ca mai venea si Miklos-baci cu un vin rosu, nobil si moldovenesc ca sa ude toata nebunia, asta era asa, un fel de bonus al unei bucatareli care-i asigura Marikai-neni recunostinta vesnica !
 
 
 
 
Ingredients:
10-12 peppers or pimiento, not too big
200 g pork, cubed
200 g minced veal
100g smoked mutton (or smoked bacon or smoked lard cut into small pieces)
100 g rice
1 large onion, chopped
2 eggs
1 kg tomatoes, crushed
broth, approx. 1 liter
200 ml white wine
100 ml thick tomato broth or tomato paste
1 cup sour cream
sugar to taste (and depending on how sweet tomatoes are )
thyme, parsley, dill (chopped )
salt and pepper
2-3 ts goose fat or olive oil
 
Cook the onion in fat then mix it with meat, eggs, greens, rice, 50 ml of broth or tomato paste and seasonings . Stuff the peppers seeded. Cover the mixture with slices of ​​tomatoes . Put all in a greased form.
Pour over peppers wine, broth and crushed tomatoes, sprinkle all over with salt and pepper, cover the pan and then all goes in the oven for an hour, maybe more.
Mix sour cream with the remaining tomato sauce or tomato paste and sugar then pour it over peppers whose juice decreased . Longer bake until peppers turn a shade of baking .
When removed from the oven, garnish with not too small chopped parsley.
A Moldavian red wine or a Riesling from Banat is all that is needed besides a healthy appetite.
Enjoy !
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