Salami Cheese Ball - Perfect for the Holidays and Other Assorted Parties

This simple party snack can even be easier to prepare.  You don't have to make it into a ball.

It will be just as addictive in a bowl for a spread.

This was a mandatory tradition at Grandma's house for Christmas.  Since she has passed, I have taken over the simple duty.  I've also brought this to parties and had it my own gatherings.  Each time I have served this I have been asked for the recipe.

This is so easy, folks who have never turned on an oven can make this to impress many.  Non-cooks can finally take pride and credit for something they made, instead of bringing something pre-made from a market or deli.

Grandma never wrote down the recipe, so this is my 'eyeball' estimation, on the amount of salami to use.

Ingredients:

Approximately a 1 to 1 1/2 inch chunk of hard salami cut at the deli counter, diced and fills one      measuring cup
One 8 ounce package of cream cheese, room temperature
1/2 stick of (4 tablespoons) butter, room temperature
Crackers or pita chips
* very flaky crackers, like Ritz do not work well - they tend to crumble when spreading.  Crunchier crackers or pita chips tend to hold up better when spreading.

  

Slice and dice the salami the best way you can to get the smallest chunks possible, about a 1/4 of an inch.  When it fills a 1 cup measuring cup, you're done, and may have some slices left over for a sandwich.

Slice the butter and cream cheese on the same cutting board used to slice the salami.  Don't let that extra flavor go to waste.  Mash it in there.

Mash butter and cream cheese with a fork until well blended.

Add salami, a little at a time, until all is used and all is blended well.

(Don't be afraid to turn the mixture over, you may find lots of salami cubes have settled to the bottom.)

You can do one of two things at this point:

Option #1:  Scoop into a bowl, cover and chill overnight, or at least 4 hours for flavors to marry.  Serve with crackers or pita chips.

Option #2: 

It's actually not too hard to form it into a ball, even with a fork.

Form into the best ball you can with the fork, then place on a plate with plastic wrap.

Fold the corners over.  When all wrapped, it's even easier to make into a ball -- like making a snowball.

Chill overnight or at least 4 hours for flavors to marry.  Serve with crackers.

Blueberries Bring Love

This past week has been busy keeping up with the explosion of blueberries from our seven bushes.  Our first home came complete with a blueberry patch off the deck.  That was an added bonus.  I look forward to this time each year when my first duty of the day is picking the largest, juiciest berries at sunrise before the birds get the best.  Since there are plenty to go around, I leave the smaller berries for our feathered friends to enjoy.

I feel so decadent with all the blueberries.  I'm eating them all the time: in yogurt, cereal, oatmeal, salads, pancakes, and just by the bowlful like popcorn.  It's also a great reason to invite family and friends over for berry picking.

Looking forward to my mom, aunt and uncle's visit on Sunday.  We plan on a cookout with ribeye steaks, corn on the cob, my aunt's highly demanded and delicious French onion chip dip (my husband's favorite ever, so he says) and Mom's heavenly creation of baked apples on puffed pastry.  I plan on adding a scoop of vanilla ice cream with a handful of blueberries and calling it a great day.  We will also be doing a traditional Hungarian appetizer on the grill that I can't wait to share.  Hint: it has bacon in it.

I also can't wait for two beloved friends who will both be bringing their adorable toddler daughters over here this week to pick berries and make jam.

What a wonderful season!

The Annual Greek Festival, a Favorite Summer Tradition

I met Maria at auditions for the school play in my Freshman year of high school.  She got a small role and we both volunteered for make-up crew.  The school was doing Dracula so we were excited with the ghoulish creativity we could discover.  We discovered we liked the new wave of British music in the early and mid 80s - Duran Duran, Sting,  New Order, as well as a deep respect for Queen, Pink Floyd, and the 80's U2.  Bod Geldof was our hero; the founder of Band Aid and Live Aid.  We both read his autobiography.  We became good friends quite quickly.

She lived close, so we carpooled for rehearsals.  I'll never forget the first time I was invited into Maria's home.  I knocked on her back door.  Her father opened the door with one hand and held a long, thin, meat carver's knife in the other.  He only had to lean down and over a few inches from where he was in the kitchen to the back door.  He was slicing meat off a large bone which I'd never seen before.

As he opened the door to let me in I said hello.  With a straight, but sincere face, wide eyes and friendly voice, he held out his knife straight to my face with a few chunks of meat, which did smell delicious, and said,

"You like lamb?  Taste.  It's good."

How could I refuse, especially with a knife in front of my face?

Actually, I wasn't that intimidated, with the lamb or Maria's father, especially with his welcoming smile and wide eyes. I  knew I was going to taste something wonderful.  I instantly loved lamb and Greek hospitality.  It reminded me much of the bare-bones sincere hospitality my family gave to long time friends.  Later in high school, her sister and my brother joined the theatre, music and arts crowd as well.  We, with a handful of others backstage became a tight group, often hanging at our house or Maria's house discussing the arts.

Our two high school friends with their kind father, a friend of theirs on Crete, and their beautiful, kind, mother, who makes the best baklava, pastisio and stuffed zucchini blossoms. 2001

Through the years I remember when their mother was making a kitchen full of pans of baklava for the Festival: light, flaky phillo pastry with a walnut and honey filling for the annual festival on Memorial Day Weekend.  I fondly remember helping my friends and their parents pass trunk loads of baklava into the large kitchen packed with volunteers and trays of other Greek delights the night before.

My brother, our group of theatre friends and I enjoyed when Maria and Tina performed their traditional dances they've learned the through their church.  We'd cheer them on, get a juicy grilled souvlaki, sit on the steps of the church and wait until the parents have had their time socializing.  Souvlaki is a skewer  of chunks of pork marinated in lemon, garlic and oregano, grilled to perfection, served on a lightly grilled pita with onions, tomatoes, and tzatziki sauce (yogurt, cucumbers, garlic, lemon and dill).  My husband now looks forward to at least two at the festival and two to take home each year.

Souvlaki: marinated chunks of pork, onions, tomatoes and tzaziki sauce on the side

TheGreek Fests have not been the same without my close high school friends.  The family has since moved back to Crete and are all doing well.  I haven't been able to visit them since October of 2001, so it's been too long.

Greek dancers, like our friends used to do
Click here for a video of the dance!

Until I can see them again someday I make it a point of going to the Greek Fest each year.  I'm happy to say I've shared my tradition with my husband and other friends and family through the years.  I need my Greek food fix, Greek music and dance, and the chance to spend time with family and friends, new and old.

Cousins enjoying gyros

Lots of folks at this Cleveland tradition.  During the festival, everyone is Greek.

The end of one of the indoor food lines

More people!

Not the best photo of the Cleveland Skyline from their parking lot, but you get the idea.

My friends' family's village on Crete.  Accessible only by ferry, as there are no roads or cars in this remote area. 1997

My friend and her grandpa on Crete. 1997

My friend relaxing with a frappe. Crete 1997

Homemade Low-Sugar Strawberry Jam Made with a Bread Machine

Spring is my favorite season; warm, bugless sunny days filled with the potent fragrance and color of early flowers like lilies and lilacs after a long, gray and cold winter.  And, BERRIES!  Lots of berries!

I look forward to berry season each year.  I use them on everything from cereal to salad, yogurt, muffins and now fresh jam!

I never, ever imagined that I'd make my own, especially because I saw how Grandma made jellies and jams.  It is a favored memory but it would be too much labor, time and volume for me.  The family would drive two hours to get to the country for the best pickings.  We gathered wild elderberries in buckets on the roadsides and visited the farmer stands for baskets full of berries, plumbs or grapes later in the summer.  Once and a while if we were lucky, and if Grandpa netted the cherry tree well in their back yard, and kept up his watch shooting enough BBs from his pellet gun into the air to scare the birds, we managed a jar or two of cherry jam.

Making jam or jelly with Mom at Grandma's was fun as a child, but it looked complicated.  There were so many large pots simmering on the stove, strainers, and huge metal cones with holes to mash berries and grapes into juice without all the seeds.  There were thermometers and times where my brother and I had to be quiet for a few minutes as Grandma and Mom behind her shoulder watched them closely.  There were also times where we had to leave the small kitchen quickly as Mom and Grandma poured hot fruit liquid into glass jars and pour hot wax to the top.  Then, sometimes there was some boiling of the jars if I remember correctly, or perhaps that's an overlapped memory of their vegetable canning.

Anyway, there was no way I was ever going to do all this, no matter they were the best jellies and jams I ever had.

Thank goodness for my very dear friend, Elaine.  She bought us an Oster Bread Maker for our wedding.  I had it on our registry because I couldn't wait to make homemade bread, pasta and pizza dough for my first time.  This machine is great for all of these.  It cuts down on time, the physical labor of kneading and mess.  Spreading your counter, floor and ceiling with flour is avoided with most of the recipes.

As you can see by the photos, I like to mark recipes I've tried with a blue postie.

I have tried eight from the Oster user manual  (the green tab is a quick measurement guide).


Surprisingly, there are recipes to make just a jar or two full of jam or marmalade.

I was so excited!  Could I actually make jam as good as Grandma, without making 2 dozen jars with all those contraptions?

Yes, I can!  The bread machine heats the ingredients up to just the right temperature for the right amount of time, so no watching the clock or thermometers.

Plus, this recipe is LOW SUGAR.  Most jam recipes call for double or triple the amount of sugar.  Pectin for low or no sugar recipes MUST be used.

And, don't skimp and use bottled lemon juice.  Most bottled lemon juice is diluted with water.  Only 100% fresh squeezed lemon juice will work with the pectin to make it gel.  You will only need one.

I've only made strawberry and blueberry jam, or a combo of both in the past three years.  Strawberries are my favorite, and our new home has a blueberry patch.  I love blueberries, too, and these two berries are easy to do since there are no large seeds to filter.

I plan on posting a blog entry when my blueberries are ready, and Elaine with her kind, beautiful daughter will help me pick them and make jam as we have done in the past.

For now, here's the recipe for the strawberry jam I just made.  Strawberries are super-cheap in my area now, so I'll be making more.

Copied and adapted from Oster Bread Maker's User Manual received in 2009.

Makes 2-3 cups

1 cup sugar
1 tablespoon powdered low-sugar pectin
1.5 cups fresh strawberries, sliced or diced
(dice smaller if you want more jelly or @ three cups,  keep them in slices or larger chunks if you want a thicker jam with more strawberries, but approx. two cups.)
2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice

Combine all ingredients into bread pan
Select Basic setting

Press "Start/Stop" Allow to mix 5-6 minutes, scraping sides of the pan with rubber spatula.

Press "Start/Stop" to cancel
Select Bake setting
Press "Start/Stop"
When Unit signals and display reads "0:00," press "Start/Stop"

Using hot pads, remove bread pan
Pour jam into glass container(s)

Use old jam or jelly jars, or any smaller glass jar with a lid. 

Cover. Refrigerate to set  (at least overnight or 8 hours)

Hungarian Club Feast

What a food-coma afternoon.  My family went to our Hungarian club's annual lunch at Sterle's Country House, the oldest and one of the last remaining restaurants in the area to serve Hungarian and Slovenian food.  Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is probably the last place in the area of this size where large families and groups of friends can gather at large tables, clank thick beer mugs together and dance the polka.  Our dues help pay for the dinner, so, we got all this for $10.

We had (from bottom, then clockwise) chicken paprikash, roasted pork with gravy, green beans and Weinerschnitzel (vee'-ner-shnit-zell), breaded and fried veal. 

We started with noodle soup.  Since their new ownership, it looks and tastes different.  My brother didn't like it at all, but, my husband (a new member) had four bowls.  It used to look and taste like chicken noodle soup.  This looked and tasted like it was a combination of chicken and beef broth.  I had half a bowl; partly because I was saving room for the heavy-hitters, partly because it was not like I remembered it.  Some things change.

At least it's all still served 'family style,' with kettles of soup and large platters are set in the middle of the table to serve yourself, just like at home.

The club hosts a dinner in October as well at the same place in the private party room.

It wasn't always held here, and there used to be more events.  Actually, before there were 'events,' it was a lifestyle.  The club used to be an integral part of a tight community.

Our group, our heritage is specifically Sathmar.  In short, uncomplicated terms (hopefully), we are displaced Germans (due to Catholic beliefs) from the Black Forest region in the 16th century and settled in the Sathmar Schwab region of Hungary, (until it became part of Romania, near Transylvania after WW2).  And, I guess we weren't too popular with the resident Hungarians.  We were immigrants invading and buying their land, and working for cheap.  Some of the Sathmar Schwabs were too poor to even buy the cheap land that was available; they traveled, took odd jobs, or performed for food.  They became what can be considered gypsies.  My great-grandpa's family were farmers.  The Industrial Age lured many from that region to the US, most to Cleveland, Ohio to work for ACME.  My great-grandfather was one of them.  He was 13, and working in the field.  His parents approached him with a suitcase and a man from the village.  He was told that he was going with the man to the New Country and they had to go at that instant.

My great-grandfather was one of the founding members of the club in 1925.  He helped build the club's own large building close to their neighborhood church.  Sadly, the club sold that building in the '60s, so my brother and I have never been there.  The tight neighborhood scattered to varied suburbs.  Generations have been lost and some didn't carry on the tradition.  Membership has shrunk.  Even today, my mom and uncle savored telling us delightful stories of their time at the club.  I love hearing about it.  My uncle loved helping the ladies in the kitchen and watching the guys play pool, but, he got lots of extra bakery when he helped in the kitchen.  I have photos of he, my mom and their late cousin in traditional costume, waiting to dance on one of the club's two dance floors.  As soon as I find them they will be included in this post.

Back then in the 50s and 60s, they tell us they didn't go to restaurants.  They didn't go 'out' as we now know it.  They can remember the few times they went to McDonald's for 'special' occasions.   If they went 'out,' it was the whole family, and it was just a few blocks away at the club.  Ladies cooked and played cards.  Men played cards and shot pool.  Kids had much space and time to invent their own games and imaginary worlds if they weren't practicing traditional dance.  Some things change.

Now, less than a hundred of us meet twice a year for a meal.  It's sad to see a tradition fade, yet inspiring to be one of the few that are keeping it alive.

Yet, some things don't change.  We listened to fellow member Joe Jeromos play some Hungarian music along with polka and some tunes one would probably hear at a wedding.  Grandma and Grandpa had all of his vinyl records.  You can listen to him HERE.

There's Joe

Here's a few more photos:

Upon entrance

Lobby

Old-school babooshka

My Brother's Easter Feast

Easter was wonderful this year, especially because of my brother's menu.  He is a great talent in the kitchen, and excels when he challenges himself with new recipes, while inventing his own delicious creations.  He studied and lived in Chicago and San Francisco in the 90s and came home anxious to make us all something new he tried.  I ate cactus for the first (and not the last) time, thanks to him.

I say this menu rivals the finest restaurants serving Easter brunch:


Orange and ginger glazed ham

Fall-off-the-bone short ribs

Sausage and mascarpone stuffed mushrooms

I regret not having photos for his homemade macaroni and cheese with goat cheese and rosemary, or Julia Child's Green Beans with Tarragon Cream.  Those were the only two dishes our cousin asked take back to college.  He also served an olive and pepper tray and homemade herbed crostini.

If that wasn't enough for 13 folks to dive into a collective food coma, mom then served her family-famous cheesecakes.

A traditional cheesecake with fresh raspberries and a raspberry glaze, and

a chocolate cheesecake with a cookie crust, chocolate ganache and shavings.

It's a wonder we still had room for all of this tastiness after an afternoon of our favorite appetizers.  Cousins brought a cheese board, a veggie tray and deviled eggs.  I made a version of Buffalo Chicken Dip (post to come soon).  And, my Aunt made a family demanded tradition - her french onion chip dip.  She swears that she follows a basic recipe on a French onion soup package, yet none of us have been able to copy it.  If any Clevelanders remember how good Lawson's chip did was, it's better.  My husband is crazy for it.  He double checks with me each time we get ready for a family holiday if "The Dip" will be there.  Especially since he has joined the family, it has always been there, and always will be.  In fact, my Aunt now makes a double batch.

Thank goodness the weather was nice enough for some of us to walk around the block a few times.  We needed it.

It was delicious and decadent, indeed.

Our Good Friday Dinner - More Than Eggs and Potatoes

It's probably not on anyone's Top 10 lists of favorite meals.  However, this Good Friday Dinner serves me extra flavor.

Potatoes and hard-boiled eggs have been our family's tradition since before I was born.  However, I remember peeled, boiled potatoes when we were younger; we then switched over to baked.  Grandma said that since Good Friday Dinner should be as plain and as simple as possible, baked were acceptable since it took less effort to prepare.

I remember not being too excited about Good Friday when I was very young.  It was as boring and as bland as the food we ate.  My brother and I weren't allowed to play during 12-3pm, and had to stay generally quiet and calm throughout the day. It was a difficult task when we were in the throes of starting a rock band with our Sesame Street figurines on an u-shaped, orange and brown plaid living room chair.  It was the perfect amphitheatre.  When school came around we spent most of the afternoon in Church praying the Stations of the Cross.  Then, we'd come home to boiled potatoes and boiled eggs.  And, at that time, I didn't like boiled eggs.

However, this meal did serve anticipation.  At least when dinner was done we were able to color eggs.  I loved coloring them, just not eating them.  That job was for the grown-ups on Easter, so I loved making the eggs as pretty as possible for them.  I remember being so excited to color them because Mom made such a big deal out of it.   She was so enthusiastic about each egg we made; each were a work of art to be praised, even if our experiments turned it brown or grey.  We felt as if we invented new colors.  Mom has always encouraged our creativity.

It wasn't until I was in jr.high when I started to appreciate this meal's extra ingredients.  My mom, brother and I had the privilege of moving in with my great-grandfather who lived down the street from my grandparents.  Mom was finishing practical nursing school at this time, then taking any shift available when she got hired.  So, there were many times when Grandma cooked for the six of us, especially on Good Friday, as she now took over the coloring and boiling lots of eggs.

I miss those times.  I miss the Good Friday Dinner with all of us.  I miss Grandpa and Great-Grandpa, both hard of hearing, sitting on opposite ends of the table shouting to each other about the Cleveland Indians.  They were usually in agreement with each other, it just sounded like they were arguing due to their shouting and frustration of the team in the 80's.

For the past few years, I've heated a few fish sticks in the oven for my husband, since he doesn't like boiled eggs.

I've kept to the standard - plain baked potato and boiled eggs - with a few dashes of pepper.

Each time I eat this I remember Good Friday.  My family is with me in each simple bite.

Introduction and Intention

I am a lucky soul for having found two passions in my so-called 'later life,'  cooking and true love.

I've always loved good food (who doesn't) and hosted occasional dinner parties in my 20s with a few easy, one-hit wonders I picked up from waiting tables fresh out of college.  I was far too busy in my career and social life to stay home to cook, or to settle down in a serious relationship.

It wasn't until my 30's when passions began to change.  I became my grandmother's live-in caretaker, where I had the opportunity to observe and help her make my childhood favorites - her Hungarian recipes and her version of classic favorites to the tunes of Big Band music on the oldies radio station.  Mom lived down the street from her, so I had the opportunity to appreciate and learn from her more than I did when I was a child, when I thought it was a simple, inherited trait to make food magically tasty by just waving a wand or 'mom' credentials.  Plus, the memories of the three of us rolling stuffed cabbage or making Christmas cookies are some of my most cherished experiences.  Learning the art of creating good food for those you love, with the ones you love had a profound impact on me.  It made me care more about what I was making, and more about those I was making it for.

Soon after Grandma had to go to a nursing facility, I happened to meet the love of my life.  Actually, we had already been friends for three years, and he has given accounts on remembering me in the 80's as a teen sipping a coffee on Coventry, the area in Cleveland Heights where many gather for coffee, music, art and great food.  I did feel like I knew this soul for years.  I felt the warm, connected feeling I did as I was cooking for others I loved.

I became so excited about cooking dinner for my new love.  We made it more fun by shopping together.  Then, I'd cook while he played music or read passages from his favorite books.   It was (and is) a beautiful way to share our love.

In our late 30s, we married.  It's been a fun and tasty journey that I am proud to share.

I look forward to sharing creations I've tried from my treasured cookbooks, ethnic traditions and classic favorites from my family, as well as my husband's.

Thanks for visiting!