How to Make Palaschintas (Hungarian Crepes)

All cultures and nationalities have their own version of the crepe, or dessert pancake—and for Hungarians, it’s the palaschinta! As a child at home we always ate our palaschintas as a main course, even though it’s more of a dessert (you can make savoury versions, but we always ate sweetened palaschintas). Sometimes we’d start with homemade vegetable soup as an excuse to put something of nutritional substance in our stomachs first, but the soup was always just a reason to get to the main course: palaschintas.

Start by beating eggs in a mixer over medium; add the flour, sugar and salt and continue beating on low—you’ll get clumps if you add the milk too soon, so stick with the eggs and four first. Also, I always use 2% milk—I would not recommend trying to save calories by using skim milk (in fact, I sometimes add a bit of cream to richen it up even more). Once you have a well-mixed consistency, add the milk a bit at a time, then the vanilla at the end. I like to leave the batter sitting, covered, on a counter for at least an hour before flying, so it will also thicken up a bit over time. The final batter should be velvety, but not too thick.

For the frying, I’ve always used Crisco—some may want to use butter, but be forewarned: butter burns much more rapidly and Crisco actually adds really nice flavour. Add about half a teaspoon of Crisco to a crepe pan over medium heat, then a large ladle of the batter as soon as the pan starts to heat. Quickly tip the pan in all directions to spread evenly. Within about 20 seconds, flip the palaschinta or use a metal knife to gently lift and flip, careful not to tear. Add a bit more Crisco and continue frying, no more than 20 or so more seconds. Slide the palaschinta out of the pan and onto a plate. Continue until all the batter is used.

Spreading jam in the finished palaschinta before rolling up is already mouth watering enough (I’d recommend apricot, strawberry or raspberry jams, but any flavour, I’m sure, will please), maybe even with a tablespoon of ground walnuts, but the typical Hungarian filling is made with cottage cheese. For those who already like or even love cottage cheese—I’d say they’ll go nuts over this filling; for all those who may not even like cottage cheese, I’d recommend to just, please, give it a chance: it may change your life.

Separate one egg; beat the white until light and frothy, and set aside. In a separate bowl, beat the yolk and sugar until thick and lemony. Add the cottage cheese to the yolk mixture and continue mixing on low, then add the raisons and enough grated lemon rind to brighten and flavour. Fold in the egg white at end.

Since the filling has raw egg it should be eaten within a few days. Fill, roll up and refrigerate any leftovers, although I doubt they’ll last the night.


Palaschintas

6 eggs (organic, if possible)
6 to 8 heaping tablespoons of flour
Milk (I use 2%)
1 tsp salt
1 Tbl white sugar
1 tsp vanilla
(makes about 15)

Cottage Cheese Filling

1 egg, separated
500 gram-container cottage cheese (2% is best, organic if possible)
2 Tbl white sugar
Half-cup raisons (I always use black raisons)
Rind of 1 large lemon

How to Make Hungarian Goulash

In times of crisis, I say Cook!

Everyone has their favourite or most comforting childhood dish, and for me it's Hungarian goulash.

Stewing beef is the best to use; resist the temptation to buy more expensive cuts of meat, thinking that the more money you spend the better the result. Not true! Stick to stewing beef, which is typically already cubed when you buy it in your grocery store or butcher (you may need to cut each piece in half, as they are usually a bit too big, though). Chop your onions and sauté in extra virgin olive oil (EVOO) over a medium heat for at least 20 to 30 minutes, or until golden and well caramelized. Do not burn, which may mean adding a bit more EVOO as the onions reduce in volume. Just before the onions are ready, add the chopped garlic, roasting for about one more minute. At this point I usually remove most of the onions so the meat can have direct contact with the oil. Add more EVOO and the paprika; roast for a moment, then add the beef and sear on all sides, turning every minute. Add back all the onions, then the vegetables. When I made goulash like this in Europe, my 80-year old aunt said that Hungarian goulash never had vegetables "in the old world." I don't care; eventually they all cook down and add tons of flavour. Add the caraway, beef broth, soya, Worcestershire, a shot of ketchup. Bring to a boil. Turn down and simmer. The trick is to cook the goulash slow and long. If you like, near the end you can add a peeled potato to thicken.

A bowl on goulash on its own is perfect, maybe with some fresh crusty rye bread. Growing up, we always ate our goulash over roasted macaroni. Caramelizing the pasta, as opposed to straight out boiling it, adds a richness to the flavour that you just can't beat. 

Melt butter in a large pot over a medium heat. Add the macaroni and at least one teaspoon of salt. Turn the pasta in the melted butter for about 5 to 8 minutes, slowly roasting, until golden in colour. Add just enough boiling water to barely cover the pasta; cover and reduce to minimum for about 15 minutes. When done, fluff the macaroni and serve with the goulash.

3 - 4 large onions, chopped
Stewing beef, chopped in bite-sized chunks
3 - 4 heaping tablespoons of Hungarian paprika
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
3 - 4 red peppers, washed, cored and quartered
2 large carrots, peeled and quartered
2 celery stalks, quartered
1 parsnip, peeled and quartered
1 tomato, quartered
Several cloves of garlic, minced
Beef broth
Caraway seeds (optional)
Worcestershire sauce
Soya sauce
Ketchup
Salt and pepper to taste

Prune Pockets

“Prune pockets,” a traditional Austro-Hungarian recipe, was one of my family’s favorite comfort foods when I was a child, growing up in the late 1960’s and 1970’s. My mother, a native German who was born and raised in the former Yugoslavia, told us that her mother, as well as her mother’s mother, made prune pockets “in the old country,” and I know my father, born in Budapest, Hungary, also ate them as a child. Basically, the dough is a potato gnocchi formed into pockets and stuffed with sweetened prunes, then boiled in salted water and finally browned in breadcrumbs and butter. Does anything sound more delicious or comforting? When I just can’t deal with life, or my next writing project, there are always prune pockets. Just be forewarned: one is never enough.

Prune Pockets

1 russet potato
1 whole egg
1 - 2 cups all purpose flour
25 - 30 prunes
Sugar
Salt
½ to ¾ cup bread crumbs
Butter

Boil prunes in sugared water, roughly 20 minutes. Remove from heat and cool; drain and remove pits. Separately, boil potato in the skin, roughly 15 minutes; peel. In same bowl, mash potato, then add egg, flour and a pinch of salt. Knead into dough, and roll out on floured board and cut into squares. In center of each, add 2 - 3 prunes and a teaspoon of sugar. Pinch opposite sides of square up to seal in prune and create pocket. Place all pockets on a floured surface to prevent sticking. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil. Drop each pocket in water; stir gently, to prevent sticking. Return water to boil, cooking another 2 - 3 minutes. Remove pockets from water with slotted spoon. In a large frying pan, brown bread crumbs in butter until slightly golden. Add pockets to bread crumb mixture and fry evenly, turning to prevent burning, until crispy and browned. Serve by sprinkling sugar over each pocket before eating. Makes roughly 8 prune pockets.

The potato dough can also be rolled out and cut into “fingers,” then boiled as above and fried in bread crumbs and butter until browned. Serve as a side dish instead of potato.