LBE DIY: Blintzes

"Good Bliny must be very very thin. The thinner Bliny are the perfect your skill is."
- Russianfoods.com



It was lunchtime in my Jewish day camp and everyone was yelling. At my table, Harris Goodman dug his fists into the apple sauce, and David Silver investigated what could be done with the right combination of sour cream, apple sauce and a drinking straw; he was quickly warming to the idea of edible snot rockets. Two soggy logs the color of a manila folder sat on my plate. I poked at one with my fork and lukewarm cottage cheese gurgled out like spittle from a burping baby. I looked over at Mikey Edelstein, who seemed to be enjoying his. What are these? I asked him. Blintzes, he said, my Bubby makes them.
The origins of the Blintz are unclear, but it is certain that the half-frozen disaster I encountered that day, were not (as I'd imagined at the time) the thing that Mikey Edelstien's Bubby served him. The origin of the Blintz, both linguistically and gastronomically, seems to be the Russian Blini. Named from the Slavic word mlin, meaning "to mill", the thin buckwheat pancake was used in Pre-Christian Russia as a religious symbol for the sun. Today, blini are still served with sour cream and caviar, or smoked salmon. Blini evolved into the Blinchiki, a similar crepe filled with meat or cheese, which became the Yiddish Blins or Blintz, a staple in the Jewish cookbook going back to the first Eastern-European shtetles. As with most folk foods, there are endless varieties of blintzes. Many homes use the blintz crepe as a way to extend the shelf-life of leftover food, filling it with cooked meats or pickled vegetables. Most people, however, associate the blintz with a soft, sweet cheese filling. At their best, cheese blintzes are crispy on the outside, and dusted generously with confectioners' sugar. The inside is gooey, and the taste, though not the consistency, is almost like a warm cheesecake wrapped in a paper-thin souffle. Blintzes are usually served with sour cream or applesauce, and the end result is somewhere between a pierogi, a funnel cake, and a French crepe.


Blintzes
Mario Batali is always reaching for a bowl of perfectly golden, homemade Italian breadcrumbs and suggests that they're "something you might have on the windowsill, or in a mason jar in the pantry" – but when was the last time you found Molto Mario-quality breadcrumbs in your pantry? In the case of blintzes, the important thing is not to stress out about finding the right ingredients; this is food that's meant to be around the house already - really. Feel free to make substitutions and play around with your recipe. Blintzes are forgiving, and can be made in an infinite number of ways. Water can stand in place of milk, and some recipes I've seen call for fewer eggs and more flour, and yield a more cake-like pastry. When it comes to filling, it's a question of availability and your own taste.

Filling
15 oz. (two packages) farmer cheese
4 oz. (about half a package) cream cheese
2 egg yolks
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp lemon zest
1/4 tsp vanilla extract.

Crepes
1 cup milk
4 eggs (yolk and white)
1 egg white (from filling)
2 tbsp melted butter
1 cup flour
1 tsp white sugar
1/4 tsp cinnamon
dash of salt
butter (for frying)

Cream the farmer cheese and cream cheese together. Separate the 2 yolks, and set aside 1 of the whites to be used in the crepe. Add the sugar, vanilla and zest, and mix together until smooth. It should be the consistency of whipped cream cheese, though because of the farmers cheese it will be considerably lumpier. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside.

For the crepes, whisk together the milk, 4 eggs, and salt, and set aside. In a separate bowl, mix together the remaining dry ingredients until they seem homogenized, and the flour is no longer lumpy. If you are using a food processor or standing mixer, mix the dry and wet ingredients for about 1 minute on HIGH. If you are working by hand, slowly add the contents of the dry bowl to the milk/egg/salt mix and beat with a whisk. The resulting batter should be smooth and thin, with a consistency between whole milk and a smoothie. If you notice any lumps, run the batter through a mesh strainer. Chill for 30 minutes in the refrigerator.

Set your skillet on a medium-high heat and place a small amount of butter (about a tablespoon) in the pan. When the pan is hot enough for the butter to bubble but not burn, place around a tablespoon of batter in the pan. Depending on the size of your skillet, this amount may vary; just make sure to cover the bottom of the pan with a very thin layer of batter by tilting the pan to spread the batter, as you would with melting butter. Cook the crepe until brown on its underside (about a minute) then remove from heat and place on a plate, brown side up. Repeat this process, stacking the crepes one on top of the other until the batter is finished. Again depending on the size of the pan, this recipe should yield 12 big to 16 small crepes.

To fill the crepes, place flat, brown side up and place a generous tablespoon of the filling in the center. Spread the filling across the full area of the circle, fold in opposite sides, and roll across, like a burrito.



To cook, place cooking oil and a small amount of butter in your skillet on a very high heat, and cook the rolled blintzes until browned and crispy on all sides. Dust with confectioner's sugar. Serve with sour cream, applesauce or jam.

Beefed Up!

Christie's Jamaican Patties
334 Flatbush Ave (at Sterling Pl) [map]
Brooklyn, NY 11238
718.636.9746

For forty years, Christie's has been selling the greatest beef patties imaginable, flakey yellow pockets stuffed fat with meat and wrapped in butter-drenched coco bread, out of a little triangular storefront on Flatbush Avenue. They have jerk chicken, meat loaf, and vegetable patties too, and they all cost less than $2. It's $2.50 if you want the coco bread. Then a few weeks ago, I heard Christie's was closing. My instinct was to panic, but when I investigated it turned out that Christie's was just moving across the street, a whole half-block closer to my apartment. I breathed a sigh of relief and ate six beef patties.
As the celebratory patties digested, however, I was left with an unpleasant feeling that had nothing to do with eating too much. Christie's has to move because the new Crunch gym next door is forcing them out. If Christie's hadn't gotten lucky and found a new location on the same street, those amazing patties would have disappeared forever. This near-disaster didn't just remind me to eat more Jamaican food; it reminded me that no matter how much you might enjoy keeping your favorite hidden place a secret, don't. Tell everyone you know. Paul Haye agrees. He's a big Jamaican guy with a sweet salt and pepper mustache, and his family has owned Christie's since 1965. I sat down to talk with him about Brooklyn, the new store, and secret recipes.

How are your beef patties so good?

PH: We've been making beef patties for forty years. When we first opened the store, we were literally the only business on the block. A gentleman by the name of Mr. Brown made the recipe for us. We wanted a variation of the traditional patties, and through experimentation we came up with this one.
Patties keep warm in the current Christie's window.
Is it a secret recipe?

PH: It's a zealously guarded trade secret. But the main reason for the patties' success is that we've restrained from mass production. You know, in forty years we had a number of opportunities to take it really big, but we decided not to. Because once you go beyond a certain volume, you have to get into preservatives. We make everything fresh here every morning. Nothing is ever frozen. Every day we get sixty-five pounds of beef and sixty-five pounds of chicken. That's all we make, and we go through all of it every day.

How do you feel about the move to the new store?

PH: It's not by choice, but we plan to make the best of a bad situation. We plan on experimenting with some new patties. We're going to make a callaloo patty, which is type of Jamaican spinach. We're thinking about soy patties.

Soy patties?

PH: Soy patties and steamed vegetables. People are trying to eat healthy, and we're going to give it to them with a Jamaican flair. We're experimenting with a lot of exciting stuff. We're going to have Jamaican style fried chicken, wings, and a whole line of fresh homemade juices.

Besides having to move, what do you think about the way the neighborhood is changing?

PH: Greater economic activity is good, but what has always made Brooklyn unique is this rich flavor. There's all kind of people in this neighborhood, and it's an open-minded group of people. If there's something new, people will try it, and if they like it, they will support it fiercely. I love this neighborhood and this community, but it's already begun that the big bland corporations are coming in, displacing the mom and pop stores, and replacing them with the same kind of stores New Yorkers are accustomed to. I don't think it's a plus if Brooklyn becomes another Manhattan.

Have you ever thought about raising prices on the patties?

PH: We had to raise it by fifty cents a few months ago, but it was very reluctantly. We don't want this to be a gourmet kind of a place. We want it to be an informal place where people can come and talk and have a good time.

What's your favorite patty?

PH: My favorite has always been the jerk chicken, to be honest with you.

Yeah.

Free Coffee, 2-4pm!

From the good people shamelessly promoting The Devil Wears Prada. I love how they cleverly toy with our self-esteem: "It's time for the nation's beleaguered workforce" - awww - "to catch a break on their own special day!" Yayyyy! And then, like a good matriarch, The Devil Wears Prada declares a national holiday!

'CATCH A BREAK' THIS TUESDAY WITH THE DEVIL WEARS PRADA NATIONAL COFFEE BREAK DAY Overworked Java-Lovers Invited to Take a Much-Deserved Break June 27!LOS ANGELES, June 23, 2006…It’s time for the nation’s beleaguered workforce to catch a break - on their own special day. On June 27, the new motion picture The Devil Wears Prada invites office employees across the country to enjoy a free coffee beverage, between 2:00-4:00pm, at a specially selected cafe or market in their area. In recognition of overworked assistants everywhere, The Devil Wears Prada declares it National Coffee Break Day.

Cafe Duke 1450 Broadway Ground Floor
The Grand Cafe 230 Park Ave
Cafe Express 348 7th Ave
Toasties at Union Square 25 Union Square West
Headline News 250 Broadway
Headline News 770 Broadway
Headline News 111 8th Ave
Benvenuto Caffe 950 Broadway
Klatch 9-11 Maiden Lane
Kudo Beans 49 1st Ave

Tang Tang Noodle

1328 Third Avenue [map]
New York, NY 10021
212) 249-2102

FACTS

Cuisine: Chinese, Dim Sum, Noodles

5 words: Fluorescent-lit neighborhood noodle house.

Hours: 7 days; 11:30am-11pm

Delivery: Yes - $7 min ($15 min over 10 blocks)

PICKS

Enjoy: Cantonese wonton soup with roast pork, turnip Cake, BBQ spare ribs, roast pork bun

Avoid: Steamed short rib in black bean sauce

In a neighborhood where Chinese food options can be limited and disappointing, Tang Tang Noodle's menu hides authentic Chinatown dim sum in an uptown General Tso disguise. Look past the standard approximations of Chinese grub - the orange beefs and chow funs in the paradoxically-titled "Specials" section - to the more authentic dim sum and BBQ items. And, of course, the noodles.

Tang Tang serves what is referred to on US menus as "Hong Kong style" food; dishes typical to the southern Chinese Canton region, where ingredients and spices are diverse, and dim sum, slow-cooked broths, and roasted meats are popular. On the dim sum end, Tang Tang offers an impressive roster of fried or steamed buns and dumplings filled with shrimp, seafood, vegetables, or pork. Steamed little juicy buns with pork ($4.75) are savory and juicy, though the shell was slightly overcooked one night, which made it gummy. Vegetable dumplings ($3.75, pictured below), on the other hand, were consistently succulent and tender.

Tang Tang's roast pork buns ($1.25) are softball-sized pillows stuffed with sweet, slow-cooked pork chunks, and turnip cake (two for $2.50) is a mild, pan-fried patty with a similar texture to polenta, served here with thick sweet plum sauce. The real stars of this menu, though, are the barbecued meats. BBQ spare ribs (small $6.50, large $9.50) are served alone, with a traditional sweet red braise, while the same roast meat is amazingly tender in wonton soup ($4.95, below), where it is allowed a long, slow boil after roasting, and accompanies egg noodles, slippery wontons and crisp flash-boiled greens. The title dish, Tang Tang noodles ($4.75), is pretty much a nest of noodles in a big tub of tasty broth with a couple of spring onions and mushrooms thrown in. Nothing earth-shattering, but there's something to be said for a five-dollar dish that easily serves three.

The dining room is a tiled, fluorescent-lit square with a brightly uninteresting view of Third Avenue, and servers are sort of charmingly inconsistant - one night, for instance, we got juicy pork buns instead of vegetable, and our server attempted to deny the presence of vegetable buns on the menu. Tang Tang is an awesomely unpretentious and satisfying Low Brow haven in the cheap food wasteland of the Upper East Side.