Eat a lot: old fashioned Dutch pepernoten

Today's the day I heard the first Christmas song on the radio here in Berlin. It's also the day I baked pepernoten. In Holland, the two are mutually exclusive. Until it's 5 december, all signs of Santa, dressed up pine trees, mulled wine and candy canes are hidden so as not to offend that other beardy old man, Sinterklaas, and his believers.

For it's today that Dutch children get their mountain of gifts. (On Christmas Day, the Dutch do the overeating bit just like everyone else, only without the presents.) Today, it's 'present night'! And it comes with its own food, as every good tradition does.

The most quintessential of all Sinterklaas food is the pepernoot (peppernut, or spiced nut if you like). It's a cookie type snack the size of a nut, made with rye flour and spiced with cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves and nutmeg. A few days ago, I made the dough to make the old fashioned variety of pepernoten, the Chewy Ones.

(The newfangled Crunchy Ones are soooo over, even the ones dipped in chocolate (or, shock horror, cappuccino flavoured stuff) and no way near artisan and purist enough. Didn't you know?)

So old skool chewy pepernoten is what I made, and although people say you can never get them as tasty as the ones from a proper bakery, they came pretty close, flavour wise. Texture is another matter entirely. My chewy peppernuts are not chewy enough! I think it's a matter of bagging them in plastic when still hot from the oven. I left them out to cool instead, and ended up with fairly crunchy outsides and a chewy texture within. Best of both worlds, perhaps. I may let them sit for another few days. All crunchy biscuits go chewy in the end, right? 

Old fashioned pepernoten

Makes about 50

200 g rye flour

175 g plain flour

salt

3 tsp ground cinnamon

1½ tsp ground ginger

½ tsp ground cardamom

½ tsp ground cloves

½ tsp ground nutmeg 

1 tbsp aniseed

200 g mild honey

75 g golden syrup

1 tsp baking powder

The day before

Sift the flours, salt and spices over a bowl. Grind the aniseed in a pestle and mortar until you have a fine dust, then add to the bowl. Carefully heat the honey and golden syrup with 80 ml water until it's gone runny. Pour into the bowl and knead into a dough (you can use a hand mixer with dough attachment for this). Pat into a ball and leave to cool. Once cool, wrap in clingfilm and leave to rest in the fridge for at least a day (I left it for two days).

On the day

Take the dough from the fridge and leave it to come up to room temperature. Preheat the oven to 180C. Line a baking sheet with baking paper. Spread out the dough on a worktop and sprinkle over the baking powder. Knead the dough with wet hands, adding a few drops of water if the dough is too dry or stiff, until the baking powder is well distributed.

Roll out the dough to a thickness of about ½-¾ inch (1½-2 cm) and cut into ½ inch (1½ cm) strips. Cut each strip into cubes and place onto the baking paper. Bake them in the oven for 20-25 minutes until browned. Leave them to cool a little, then place in a plastic bag, tie to seal and leave to cool completely. (Perhaps covering them with a tea towel would work as well. I wouldn't take the chance though, these really need to be as chewy as they can be.)

This recipe was adapted from a Volkskrant recipe.

The fancy banner on the picture was practice for my Photoshop 101 course at the wonderful Nicole's Classes.

Walk a lot: I heart Neukölln

Don't tell anyone, but contrary to what I have been telling people, I am a little bit in love with my neighbourhood, Neukölln. The reason I haven't been shouting it off the rooftops, is that Neukölln is hipsta land, and I don't want it to be run over by tourists…

You see, the word Neukölln invariably renders the response: isn't that really cool (or similar) to which I say: not where I live. Which is sort of true. When people talk about Neukölln, they mean Weserstraße, as opposed to the vast area that is the rest of our Kiez. 

Where I live there are no cocktail bars or wine bars, no chi chi bakeries or cute children's stores (or any cute stores for that matter). Instead there is dog poo, there are kebab shops, smelly corner pubs and, for some reason, a lot of Änderungsschneidereien (clothes repair shops). 

But lately I have been walking around the Kiez a lot, trying to get the twins to sleep, and I have to admit: Neukölln really is cool, even the bit where I live. Here are some of the reasons why:

There is a village oven! Right down my street. On Wednesdays everyone can come to Richardstraße 97 to bake their bread, cakes and pizza. I have my own oven (who doesn't?) but will just HAVE to go and bake a cake at the Dorfsbackofen soonish.

Not cats, but grey one-armed sock elephants go missing here:

(Ooh, there's a reward, I wonder what it'll be.)

Neuköllners are full of bright ideas:

The street art is of outstanding quality:

Neuköllners don't like Nazis:

We may not have much, shop wise, but have a figure skating shop!

So there we are. Next time someone asks, I'll be confirming it: Neukölln rocks.


Dorfsbackofen, Garten der Ev. reformierten Bethlehemsgemeinde Berlin Rixdorf, Richardst. 97, Berlin, website
Eisprinzessinshop, Richardstraße 76, Berlin, website

PS I tinkered with the images as part of my Photoshop 101 class, organised by the lovely peeps at Nicole's Classes. This is their Facebook page.

Foodie Goodie: Dine-Ink pen caps

I was emptying a cupboard earlier this week when I came across this little gift from two colleagues at ladies magazine Margriet. I hadn't realised at the time because I was too busy moving countries, but it is actually the perfect gift for me: cutlery shaped pen caps.

Instead of a normal cap, these Din-Ink ballpoint pens have actual cutlery ends on them. Including a knife that really cuts things. Brilliant. They're meant for having lunch at your desk, but really, they are the perfect tool for restaurant reviewers. From now on, when on the go, I can eat without using my fingers and write notes all at the same time. The set even comes with its own zip up pouch so you won't get food inside your bag. You may get ink in your food though. Hmmm. Better hope the ink is non-toxic just like the plastic.

Dine-Ink by Zo-loft, available here.

A wall of apples

It's a typically Dutch phenomenon, mentioned on nearly every 'things to do when you're in Amsterdam' list: draw a sticky, lukewarm snack from a snack wall. The wall consists of little tilting windows with coin slots next to them and a (usually fairly unappealing) meaty snack, made with plenty of offcuts and flour, displayed behind it. No wonder it hardly registers with foodies. They'd probably rather die than be seen eating from a wall...

The snack wall, however, has its moments. They usually involve a river of alcohol, though. It seems like just the right thing to turn to when (and only when) the world is spinning and you get a serious attack of the munchies.

So, when I drove across the tiny country roads of the Betuwe, the Dutch fruit growing region, I was shocked to find a wall there. Dodgily (but accurately) called a 'fruit machine', after stopping this indeed turned out to a machine dispensing fruit. An apple wall, if you like.

The Elstar apples that were on sale were freshly picked, crunchy and stone cold. They were by far the best apples I have eaten so far this season. I'll definitely be driving past it again next time I'm in the area. Somehow I fear it won't make the Amsterdam tourist guides though.

De Fruitautomaat, Rooijsestraat, Dreumel