My Lunch / Mon Déjeuner

I don’t recommend lunching on pastries. It’s unhealthy, you feel guilty and bad about yourself. But when the pastries in question come from your parents, all the way from Algeria, then lunching on pastries becomes an obligation to honor your family’s gift and your heritage. Or at least that’s what I’ve been telling myself after my fifth (fifth!) pastry. They were so good!

So thank you papa, mama for all the sweet treats (and mama for being the queen of packaging).

Thanks heaven for loving parents, Algerian pastries and running shoes (and for DHL!)

Wishing you all a sweet weekend.

Sweet and Warm / Douce et Chaleureuse

Less than a year ago, when we moved into our new house, I made a wish. I walked my daughter to the hallway of our house and made a wish: I wished for this house to be warm, to be caring and to always see people lined around the kitchen table. I wanted this house to bring old and new friends together. I wanted this house to be filled with laughter, love, couscous and mint tea. I wanted this house to feed us. To feed people; and to feed our hearts.

Our wishes came true. Our wishes come true every single day. And for that, we are thankful to be looked after and to have a warm shelter above our heads.


Our kitchen brought old friends and new friends together around the table a couple of weeks ago, when celebrating Earth Day with some local bloggers. Blushing cheeks and awkward silence (especially me) quickly faded away with espresso beans stories and some crostinis. The picnic table was set. The sun was out. The couscoussier was steaming its last batch of couscous. Cameras were clicking (thanks again Christine for these lovely photos). Plastic wraps, banana leaves, and paper bags were unwrapped to reveal Uruguayan savory rolls, a refreshing mix of greens with fennel and orange segments, luscious mango and pastry cream tart, and an olive loaf.

The couscous was mixed with steamed raisins and served in my mothers’ wooden “gassaa”, to which I added a lamb and vegetable broth made with green peas, zucchinis, carrots, and a dollop of sweet and deep, spicy and delicious glazed pearl onions. The couscous was good, spicy and sweet, although I would have liked the broth to be thicker. But a mysterious sous-chef turned off the burner without my knowledge and without my permission.

These glazed pearl onions are just what you would expect from any caramelized onions and so much more. The bath of chicken broth, butter and warm spices, like cinnamon, ginger and turmeric, turned these babies into an exotic delicacy that I didn't see possible in an onion. I can olnly imagine how scrumptious they must be with roasted vegetables, winter squashes, stews, rice, pasta, grains, sandwiches, as a side dish to roast chicken, lamb, braised veal shanks, and how they will take mashed potatoes to another level of sophistication.

After lunch, we headed back to the kitchen to share a cup of mint tea, talk about life and family and feast on Christine’s Mango tart. We feasted indeed. Just before my last sip of mint tea, I raised, secretly, my cup and made another wish: I wished for this life to always be as sweet and warm as friends and home sweet home are.

Spicy Glazed Pearl Onions

Recipe: Adapted from here
- 10 ounces pearl onions, peeled
- 2 cups chicken broth
- ½ cup black raisins
- ½ tsp ground turmeric
- ½ tsp ground ginger
- ¼ cup granulated sugar
- 3 tbsp butter
- 1 tsp ground cinnamon
- A pinch of sea salt
- Freshly ground black pepper

Put all the ingredients in a saucepan, and cook over a medium-low heat, covered, 1 hour, then remove cover and continues cooking, stirring from time to time, until liquid thickens to a syrupy consistency and the onions have a glazed appearance, about 30 minutes. Serve hot.

Oignons Grelots Confits aux Epices

In Français Please: adaptée d'ici
- 280g de petits oignons grelots
- 500ml de bouillon de volaille
- 100g de raisins noirs
- ½ c.c de curcuma
- ½ c.c de gingembre en poudre
- 25g de sucre en poudre
- 25g de beurre
- 1 c.c de cannelle en poudre
- Une pincée de sel marin
- Du poivre noir fraichement moulu

Mettre tous les ingredients dans une casserole et faire cuire sur feu doux, couvert, pendant 1 heure, puis découvrir et laisser réduire jusqu’a ce que le jus ait la consistence d’un sirop, en remuant de temps en temps, et que les oignons aient une apparence caramélisé, pendant 30 minutes. Servir chaud.

A Culture to Share / Une Culture à Partager

I was recently engaged with my parents in a discussion about traditional desserts in Algeria and North Africa in general. If you were here, although you wouldn’t understand a word of what we were saying, you would hear my father say, in a very serious manner, that Algerian desserts are very simple and tend to be a basket of seasonal fruits, to which my mother was replying with a sigh at the memory of her parents pomegranate, figs and Loquat trees that her sister-in-law razed to the ground; or a basket of dried fruits, to which my mother was replying with a sigh at the memory of all the little cotton made purses my grandmother would make for us every year to store our dried fruits in; or a platter of sweet pastries with mint tea, to which both my parents were replying with a sigh at the memory of the sweet pastries they won’t be eating since the doctor told them to watch their sugar level.

This is how serious, and nostalgic, the subject of dessert is in our family. And one of the many reasons we don’t get along with my uncle’s wife.

The traditional way to end a meal in Algeria, and in North Africa in general, can be as simple as a basket of fruits or as elaborate as platters of sweet pastries and sweet Tagines, depending on the occasion and whether you’re having a guest over or not. And even so, pastries are not only offered to the guest at the end of the meal but at different times throughout the day as well; where they are always served with mint tea or coffee, or both. Pastries like Kaab el Ghazel, Dziriyette, and almond samsa, just to name a few, are offered to guests as symbols of hospitality, friendship and joy.

But if pastries aren’t available for the unexpected guest, the one who shows up at an awkward time, one’s can never refuse the simple pleasure of a juicy peach, a sweet grape or a bowl of diced watermelons.
Fall will see apples, figs, clementines, pomegranate, quinces, pears and grapes. Winter will bring oranges. Spring will bring berries, apricots, cherries and berries; and summer will see melons, peaches, plums, and nectarines. All of which are good alone, but become lusciously delicious when mixed with orange blossom water or rose water.

For me, fruits salad has always been associated with orange blossom water, and my siblings and I fighting over who gets the most of the fragrant syrup released by the fruits. The recipe doesn’t seem like much, but if you’ve never smelled or tasted orange blossom water before, you may never understand what I mean. Something magic happens when you mix a fruit, especially a berry, (which by the way has a natural affinity for orange and rose water) with orange water and sugar. The sugar will draw out the juice from the fruit to form a fragrant and soothing syrup with the orange water.
When no fruit is left at the bottom of your little bowl, you can either drink the syrup up or make yourself one of these Semolina Ghribias to dip them into the syrup and soak up as much orange flavor as possible.

Ghribia, also known as Montécao in France and Spain, is a lovely crumbly not too sweet cookie most famous in Algeria and Morocco. It is very similar to the Middle Eastern Ghoriba, although this version is somewhat different in that it is made with semolina flour instead of flour, and that Ghribia is always sprinkled with ground cinnamon. Versions of Ghribia include using flour alone, semolina alone, a mixture of flour and ground nuts, and a mixture of semolina and ground nuts. Ground hazelnuts or almonds give an exquisite taste to these cookies.
They also keep very well for days in an airtight container, which makes them perfect for the unexpected guest and the sudden dessert craving. Because as long as there will be fruits and pastries on our table, there will be plenty of memories to create, stories to tell and a culture to share and preserve.

Semolina Ghribia and Orange-Scented Fruit Salad

Recipe: Makes about 2 dozen Ghribia
- Seasonnal fruits (I used Strawberries and Blackberries)
- Cane Sugar (start with 1 tbsp and see, depending on the sweetness of your fruits)
- Orange blossom water (Used about 2 big tablespoons for twenty berries)
- For the Semolina Ghribia:
- ¼ cup canola oil or vegetable oil
- ¼ cup butter
- 2 large eggs
- 5 ounces confectioner’s sugar
- 3 ½ cups semolina flour
- ½ tsp baking powder
- A dash of sea salt
- ½ tsp vanilla extract
- Confectioner’s sugar and ground cinnamon for dusting

For the orange water scented fruit salad, peel where necessary and slice the fruits that you are using in a bowl, and toss them together with the sugar and the orange blossom water. Mix well and leave to macerate for at least one hour before serving, stirring the fruits from time to time. The sugar will draw out their juices to form a fragrant syrup.

To make the Ghribia, Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or silicone liners. Preheat the oven to 350F.

Melt the butter in the oil over a medium heat. Remove from the heat when melted and let it cool down.
In a bowl, stir together the semolina flour, salt, baking powder and set aside.

Beat the eggs with the sugar until fluffy and well mixed. Add the butter mixture and vanilla and mix until well blended. Add the dry ingredients and mix just enough to moisten the dough. The dough will look crumbly and soft.

Wet your hands and shake off the excess water. Wet again as needed. Form the ghribia by pinching off little balls of dough and rolling between your palms until a perfect dome is formed. Flatten the bottom of the cookie, arrange on the prepared baking sheet a little apart from each other, and sprinkle with a little of icing sugar and ground cinnamon.

Bake for 18-20 minutes. They should remain white and have a cracked top. Do not be tempted to overcook them, as the taste is different if they are even slightly brown. Let them cool on a wire rack before trying to move them from the baking sheet.

Ghribia à La Semoule et Salade de Fruits à L’eau de Fleur d’Oranger

In Francais Please: Pour 2 douzaines de Ghribia
- Des fruits de saison (Fraises et mûres)
- Sucre de cane (commencer avec 1 c.s et ajouter selon la maturité des fruits)
- L’eau de fleur d’oranger (J’ai utilisé environ 2 c.s bien remplies pour 20 fruits rouges)
- Pour la Ghribia a La Semoule:
- 56g d’huile végétale
- 56g de beurre
- 2 gros oeufs
- 150g de sucre glace
- 430g de semouline (semoule fine)
- ½ c.c levure chimique
- Une petite pincée de sel marin
- ½ c.c d’extrait de vanille

Pour la salade de fruits, éplucher ce qui doit être épluché et couper les fruits en morceaux. Mélanger dans un bol les fruits avec le sucre et l’eau de fleur d’oranger et laisser macérer au moins une heure avant de servir, en mélangeant les fruits de temps en temps. Le sucre formera avec le jus de fruits et l’eau de fleur d’oranger un sirop succulent et bien parfumé.

Pour la Ghribia, garnir une tole de patisserie de papier sulfurisé ou de papier en silicone. Préchauffer le four à 160C.

Faire fondre le beurre dans l’huile sur feu doux. Retirer du feu et laisser refroidir. Dans un bol, mélanger la semouline, la levure chimique et le sel et mettre de coté.

Battre les oeufs avec le sucre pour obtneir un mélange léger. Ajouter beurre-huile et mélanger quelques secondes jusauq’à ce tout soit bien incorporé. Ajouter la semouline et mélanger juste ce qu’il faut pour obtenir une pâte lisse et friable.

Mouiller vos mains légerement et secouer l’excés d’eau, sans les essuyer avec une serviette. Rincer puis mouiller vos mains à chaque fois qu’elles deviennent collantes. Prendre une boule de pâte de la grosseur d’une grosse noix, et rouler entre vos mains afin d’obtenir un dome lisse. Aplatir le fond légerement et deposer sur la tole en laissant un peu d’espace entre chaque ghribia. Saupoudrer de sucre glace et de canelle en poudre.

Faites cuire au four pendant 18-20 minutes. Ne les faites trop cuire, puisque ils doivent garder cette couleur blanche et qu’en les laissant brunir juste un peu, vous risquerez d’alterer leur gout délicat. Laisser refroidir completement sur une grille à patisserie avant de le démouler.

My Little Black Dress / Ma Petite Robe Noire

There is something books, and even your mother, don’t tell you about motherhood. I am not talking about the sleepless nights that can go on for over a year; or how you will ruin something as simple as mashed potatoes because you are not yourself when she has a runny nose; or how you will nearly cry when she’ll have her first “boo-boo”; or how you will miss her when she takes three hours naps, and then immediately wish she could stop for a second when all she does is dragging you from one room to another.
What I'm talking about is how you don’t go out as much as you used to, and not missing a single second of it. I might even go further and say that you are much happier with a homemade dinner on weekends than being pushed by a tipsy girl or boy at the entrance of a club; or even worse, waiting an hour to have a table at a restaurant while the person next to you is talking loudly on her cell phone.

Sure there was a time when you were like these young people (minus the alcohol and the loud-voice on the cell-phone) You used to spend hours pampering yourself, choosing the right eye shadow, the right lip gloss, trying to match your shoes with your husband’s shirt, having a hard time deciding which black dress to wear, the one with the sleeves or without the sleeves. Yes, your husband and you used to go out every single weekend. Every Friday and Saturday, from 10PM to 2AM. You went to jazz clubs, salsa clubs, and blues clubs. You went to restaurants, to the movies, to see fireworks, wizards and share a cup of ice cream sitting on the sidewalk.

And then you got pregnant. Your belly got bigger by the day. And so did your feet. But that didn’t stop you from Jazz, salsa, ice cream and wizards. Then you had your baby; a little girl. Your family grew bigger. And so did your heart. Eye shadows gave way to soothing night cream. Pointy high heels shoes gave way to ballet flats and snickers. Jazz and salsa clubs gave way to jazz and salsa at home, with your daughter and your husband dancing in the middle of the kitchen. Restaurants, which you really didn’t care about anyway, gave way to homemade, and sometimes, improvised romantic dinners; where you would take out the “only-for-guests-dishes” (You know the ones!), the two tall glasses, the grandmother’s silver flatware, light the small candles, make your secret vinaigrette, your velvety soup, and the succulent and everybody’s favorite: Bourek bil Kefta.

Bourek bil Kefta, which means Bourek with ground meat, is very popular and beloved in both Algeria and Morocco where it is usually served as an appetizer with a soup. I can’t tell you how much I love bourek and how much I fear for myself, and my waist, when I am alone in the kitchen frying these little cigars. Bourek bil Kefta is basically a pastry that is made with a paper-thin pastry called dioul or ouarka, filled with meat and then fried; but not deep-fried. Dioul is thicker than fillo and thinner than Chinese spring rolls. Most books would suggest using fillo instead of dioul, but most books about North African cuisine are wrong. I find Chinese spring rolls to be the best substitute, and the most fitting for a fried Bourek. Fillo just doesn’t stand to be fried. You can use fillo dough in this recipe and bake them, but you won’t have the same result and this sinful crunch that oil gives to spring rolls when they are fried.

The filling can be made with ground beef, lamb or chicken. I prefer beef. The meat is seasoned with fresh herbs and warm spices, and then two eggs lightly beaten join in to form this creamy, moist and the most excellent meat filling you will ever have.
When boureks are fried, a dust of cinnamon and icing sugar are sprinkled on top just before serving to add sweetness and contrast of flavors. And just like your little black dress, these little boureks can turn any casual dinner into an elegant and romantic one.

(And because I am a mother who can’t stop talking about her child, I wanted to add that my daughter spent thirty minutes eating one single Bourek and saying “Mmmnn! Good!” at each bite. And so did her father).

Bourek bil Kefta: Bourek with ground meat

Recipe: Makes about a dozen Boureks
- 9 ounces ground beef (preferably from round)
- 1 tbsp vegetable oil
- 1 medium onion, finely chopped
- ½ tsp all-spice
- Pinch ground cinnamon
- Pinch cayenne pepper
- 2 tbsp fresh parsley, finely chopped
- 1 tbsp cilantro, finely chopped
- Ground black pepper
- ½ tsp Kosher salt
- 2 eggs, lightly beaten
- 1 package of spring rolls
- Canola oil for frying
- Ground cinnamon and icing sugar for dusting

Heat the oil in the pan on medium heat, and add the onions. Cook until soft and transparent, but not browned. Add meat, salt, black pepper, spices and herbs and mix everything using a fork to keep the ground meat “grainy” and separate, stir until the meat is not pink anymore, about 5-7 minutes. Reduce the heat to medium-low, and add the beaten eggs. Stir constantly until the mixture becomes creamy but do not allow the eggs to scramble. Remove the meat mixture from the pan into a plate, and set aside to cool.

Fill each spring roll with 2 teaspoons of the meat mixture and roll into cigars as shown in the photo. At this point, you can put the boureks in the fridge until ready to fry. You can also freeze them in an airtight container for up to two weeks. Just thaw them out of the container before frying.

In a medium pan, heat about ½ inch of oil, and fry the boureks, turning once, until golden brown on each side. Drain on a plate lined with paper towel. Serve hot, dusted with a little bit of ground cinnamon and icing sugar.

Bourek bil Kefta: Bourek De Viande Hachée

In Francais Please: Pour environ 12 Boureks
- 250g de Boeuf Haché (de preference du rond)
- 1 c.s d’huile végétale
- 1 oignon moyen, haché finement
- ½ c.c kubeb
- Une pincée de cannelle en poudre
- Une pincée de cayenne
- 2 c.s de persil haché
- 1 c.s de coriandre hachée
- ½ c.c de sel (pas de sel de table)
- poivre noir
- 2 oeufs, legerement battu
- 1 paquet de dioul/ouarka
- huile végétale pour frire
- cannelle en poudre et sucre glace pour saupoudrer

Faire chauffer l’huile sur feu moyen dans une poele puis ajouter l’oignon. Faites revenir jusqu’a ce qu’il devienne tendre et transparent. Ajouter la viande, le sel, poivre noir, épices et herbes et mélanger a l’aide d’une fourchette pour que la viande hachée reste séparée. Ecraser bien la viande avec la fourchette jusqu’a ce que la viande ne soit plus rose, environ 5-7 minutes. Baisser le feu et ajouter les oeufs battus tout en mélangeant jusqu’a cd que le mélange devienne crémeux, mais pas brouillé. Retirer la viande de la poele et mettre dans une assiette pour refroidir.

Farcir chaque dioul de deux cuillere a café du mélange de viande et rouler comme sur la photo. A ce stade vous pouvez mettre les boureks au frais jusqu’au moment de frire. Vous pouvez aussi les congeler dans une boite hérmétique jusqu’a deux semaines. Décongeler les completement en dehors de leur boite avant de frire.