Speaking of 660 Curries (I never seem to shut up about it, do I), I recently tried a recipe from the back of the book, where he puts the curry accompaniments. It was a basic chapati, or roti, recipe, but with the addition of fenugreek leaves. These are one of those specialty items that we bought some time ago but then seldom used, so I was thrilled to find something new to do with them. And I was startled at how good it was – the leaves perfume the chapatis with a fresh green scent, and also seem to make the dough softer and better to eat. Amazing. I make chapatis all the time, but this variation is going to become part of the regular rotation.

I don’t measure too carefully when I make chapati. To make breads for the two of us (about 6 small chapati) I generally use about a half cup of whole wheat flour, a half cup of all-purpose, a pinch of salt, and maybe half a cup of warm water, then adjust with more flour or water as necessary to make a smooth dough. For the fenugreek breads, I added 1/4 cup of dried fenugreek leaves, soaked in cold water for 15 minutes then drained before mixing into the dough. If I had fresh or frozen leaves (which I’ve never seen anywhere), then it would have been half a cup of chopped leaves. I kneaded the dough for a bit, rolled it into a ball and let it rest about half an hour under its mixing bowl.

When the rest of the dinner was ready, I cut the dough into six pieces, rolled them out into thin circles, plopped them onto a hot griddle, turning once, then put them directly onto a gas flame to poof them up. We usually just cook them entirely on the griddle, but since I had a spare burner available I thought I’d try the direct-on-flame approach, and it worked really well. So often when we cook Indian food, though, every burner is in use, so this may not happen again soon.

The breads rested in a basket lined with a clean dishtowel while we set the table, and were perfectly soft and chewy. It was difficult not to overeat. Plus the house smelled wonderfully of fenugreek all evening.

I first heard of matzoh brei a few years ago, while reading something by Ruth Reichl – I don’t remember what it was any more, but it made an impression on me. A sort of Jewish French toast, a simple mixture of matzoh and egg, fried in butter and topped with syrup, it sounded just like something I would like – but I had never had it or seen it anywhere. My husband, who grew up eating vast quantities of matzoh, didn’t remember ever having it either. And for some reason we never seem to have matzoh on hand.

Then last week I saw the Passover clearance display at the co-op and, on the spur of the moment, decided to grab a cheap box of matzoh. We ate half of it straight with Saint Nectaire cheese (yum), but set aside several pieces for a weekend breakfast. I went looking for recipes and actually had some trouble finding any – none of my Jewish cookbooks included it, but I did find a version in a book called The Good Egg, so I used that – although I upped the egg quantity so there would be a one-to-one egg/matzoh ratio.

Later, I checked online and found Ruth Reichl’s version here. It’s just a bit different from the one I used – in hers you run water over broken matzohs, then scramble them with the egg in the pan, whereas in mine you soak the entire matzoh and then break it up, then fry as a solid cake. When Jon asked his mother, it turned out that she did used to make this occasionally, but her version apparently involves milk. Obviously there’s a certain amount of permitted variation. I think it would also be good as a savory, with herbs and hot sauce. We may need to experiment further.

If you grew up with matzoh brei, how did your family make it?

Matzoh Brei

Adapted from The Good Egg by Marie Simmons. Serves two.

• 3 sheets matzoh
• 3 eggs
• pinch salt
• 2 Tbsp butter

Place the matzoh in a pan, pour cold water over to cover and let sit 5 minutes. Lift the matzoh out and lay on a clean towel to drain, then carefully transfer to a mixing bowl and break it up loosely. Beat together the eggs and salt and pour them over the matzoh. Stir together.

In a large nonstick skillet over medium low heat, melt the butter. When it bubbles, scrape in the matzoh and egg and flatten into a pancake. Allow to cook several minutes, until the bottom becomes golden and a bit crusty. Break the pancake into sections with a spatula and flip the sections. When cooked on the second side, put the pieces on plates and top with maple syrup.

If you’re not worried about keeping kosher, I recommend pork sausage with this. Or bacon.

Every year or two we try making injera bread, and are usually crushed by disappointment when it sticks to the pan, tastes weird and is just generally unsuccessful. This time it actually sort of worked.

Injera is a traditional Ethiopian flatbread made by souring a batter made of teff flour for several days, then cooking it like a large pancake to produce a stretchy, spongy sour bread which is perfect for mopping up spicy stews and is also used as a plate. Many cookbooks assume that you can’t get teff flour in the United States, and so suggest a blend of wheat flours. However, that adds gluten, and doesn’t really have the right flavor – teff is easier to find now that gluten-free baking is more popular, so I strongly suggest seeking it out. I also don’t recommend “quick” injera recipes that use baking soda instead of a slow yeast rise or sourdough starter. It’s not just supposed to be bubbly, you want it sour. Plan ahead!

After trying various recipes over the years, I decided to go back to the one really traditional version that I’ve found, from Flatbreads & Flavors. When I first made it years ago, we had so much trouble cooking it there was barely any worth eating. But I had no complaints about the batter this time, it behaved perfectly and tasted just right. The cooking…was a learning experience.

The first pancake is always the worst, right? We decided to try using our big enamelled Copco pan. I buttered it, poured in the batter, covered it to steam, then tried to get the bread out. It didn’t want to come, I suspect because I hadn’t let it cook long enough.

The resulting pile of partially-cooked sourdough teff goo was not attractive. We tried again.

Jon took over the cooking, as the resident pancake expert. Still, it didn’t work quite right – the bottom crisped up while the middle stayed raw. We dumped it out and nibbled on the crisp edges while we pondered our options.

We switched to a non-stick pan. This worked better, and didn’t seem to need the butter. Plus the lid fit better on this one.

The breads gradually improved. Jon experimented with different lids and heat settings.

Eventually, they started to look pretty good! We were afraid they would end up brittle as we’ve had happen before, but after they sat out on a towel for a few minutes they gained that soft, stretchy texture that injera is supposed to have. We scooped up our spicy chicken stew with no problems at all, and it tasted exactly like a good Ethiopian restaurant should. Now we just need to make it again before we forget everything we learned this time!

Teff Injera

• 2 cups teff flour
• 3 cups lukewarm water
• 1 tsp dry yeast
• 1 cup water

Begin three days before you plan to make the breads.

Combine the flour with 2 1/2 cups of the warm water in a bowl, stirring with your fingers to break up lumps.

Dissolve the yeast in the remaining 1/2 cup of warm water, then add it to the batter. Stir, cover and set aside for 2-3 days. Don’t bother it. It will smell funky and look worse – don’t worry.

An hour or so before you’re ready to cook the injera, pour off the water that has gathered on top of the batter. Heat a cup of fresh water in a small saucepan. When it boils, add 1/2 cup of the batter, lower the heat to medium, and stir until it becomes thick and smooth. Take it off the heat and let cool. When it’s just warm to the touch, add it back to the batter bowl and stir smooth. Let rise 30 minutes to an hour, until frothy.

To cook the injera: this has definitely taken some trial and error on our part to find which pan and lid work best. Ideally you want a 10-12 inch skillet that has a tight-fitting lid. Heat the skillet over medium-high heat. You may or may not want to butter the pan – it doesn’t seem necessary with non-stick cookware. Give the batter a stir, and pour about 1/2 cup’s worth into the skillet in a spiral, starting at the outside, then shake the pan to get the batter to flow into any remaining empty areas. Cover the pan and let cook for two minutes. Check for doneness and wipe the lid dry before continuing to cook for another minute or two. When the edges are curling and the surface is dry, remove the injera from the pan (if the bread is done this should be fairly easy) and lay it on a dry towel. Continue cooking breads until the batter is gone.

Lay the breads out on plates and ladle the food on top (you could make doro wat, or kitfo, or just dal – anything saucy and spiced). Serve with more breads alongside and use the injera to scoop up bites by hand.

Like the regular, cheese-filled khachapuri that I usually make, this bean-filled variation is from the book Flatbreads & Flavors by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid (I’ve only recently discovered Naomi’s evocative personal blog - check it out, it’s wonderful).

I’ve raved about this cookbook repeatedly on this blog (do you have a copy yet? If not, why not?) The only thing I wish is that the first edition had been bound more effectively, because my copy is completely shot. You can tell it’s been well-loved. It’s the only place I’ve found recipes for Georgian food, which is a wonderful savory cuisine full of walnuts, cheese, pomegranates and herbs.

I love cheese-filled khachapuri so much that it was hard to make myself try something new, but I’m glad I made the effort. What I really like about the bean filling is that it really highlights the flavor of the bread, which is very tender and tart. Full of protein from both beans and yogurt, it makes a great vegetarian meal. I made a quick pureed spinach soup to dip the breads in, but a sharp green salad would also be good alongside.

The dough (I give the recipe and technique in this post) is very quick to make, like a biscuit dough. It’s soft enough that it can be a little tricky to work with, so have plenty of flour on hand while you’re rolling out the individual breads.

The basic filling is just cooked red beans (I used canned azuki beans, but any would do), seasoned with salt, a little garlic and some chopped fresh cilantro. I added in a small sweet onion, sauteed until it began to turn golden. I’ve also seen a recommendation of some grated carrot, but I haven’t tried it yet.

By the way, these are really good rewarmed for breakfast. You can even break them in half and stuff fried or scrambled eggs inside, like a pita pocket.

Hmm…what else would be good inside a khachapuri? I’m thinking sausage…

The chives in my garden aren’t quite in bloom yet, but they’ve become tall and lush and have been begging to be made into Chinese scallion-chive flatbreads. I felt it was only fair to oblige.

These breads are so delicious, I can’t begin to tell you. Sometimes you can get them in Chinese restaurants, but I’ve never had one to compare with homemade, fresh out of the pan. They are addictive: crunchy on the outside, soft, salty and fragrant on the inside.

The rolling-out method creates thin layers of salted, sesame oil-flavored dough with large pockets of fresh scallions and chives. They’re wonderful by themselves, dipped into chile sauce, or eaten alongside a soup or stirfry. We ate this particular batch with a spicy Thai-style stirfry of local bison meat, which was mindblowingly good.

I base my recipe for these on Barbara Tropp’s version in her beautiful and inspirational China Moon cookbook. She also includes a version in her first book, The Modern Art of Chinese Cooking, which calls for making two different doughs and combining them; seems like a lot of extra trouble to me. The China Moon dough is quite simple to put together. She does gussy hers up a bit with flavored oils, which you can certainly do as well (I recommend trying her chile-lemon oil), but plain sesame oil gives a nice warm flavor – it’s what I usually use.

Scallion Chive Breads

Makes 4 breads. Adapted from China Moon by Barbara Tropp.

• 2 cups all purpose flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1/3 cup hot tap water
• 1/3 cup cold water
• 1 1/2 tsp kosher salt
• 2 Tbsp sesame oil (or as needed)
• 2 bunches scallions, thinly sliced
• 1/2 cup finely chopped chives
• 1/2 cup chopped cilantro (optional)

Combine flour and baking powder in a bowl or a mixer. Then, stirring briskly, add the hot water, then the cold water. Turn it out onto a board and knead briefly – it should be slightly soft and giving, but not gooey. Cover with plastic and let rest at least 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, finely chop your scallions, chives and cilantro (if using). Pour the oil into a little bowl and get a pastry brush ready, and put the salt in another little bowl – you want the fillings all ready to go as soon as you start rolling out the dough.

Divide the dough into four parts. Take the first piece (cover the others with plastic wrap) and roll it out into a seven inch disk. Brush it with the oil, then sprinkle evenly with salt. Pile one-fourth of the greens onto it (it will look like too much). Spread them evenly over the bread.

Now roll it up:

You want a fairly firm tube. Try not to let any greens escape.

Now roll this tube around itself into a spiral:

Tuck in the end and flatten the spiral with your hand (I sometimes use a dab of water to help the end attach). Now (carefully) roll the bread back out into a six-inch disk.

The greens will poke out here and there, but try not to tear the dough too much. You can use a little extra flour to keep it from sticking. Set the bread aside on a floured surface and shape the rest of the breads.

To pan fry them, heat a heavy skillet over a high flame. Add oil to a depth of 1/8 inch. When it’s hot, add a bread. You want it to sizzle but not burn. Let it cook 3-4 minutes, until golden brown, then flip it and cook another couple of minutes. Drain on paper towels and cut into wedges. Repeat until all the breads are cooked.

Eat while hot. Don’t count on leftovers.

A while back I mentioned a batch of khachapuri that I had made, but I didn’t go into detail about them because I was seriously distracted by the gougères I was making at the same time. Last week I made them again, though, so I thought I’d do some fuller coverage.

Khachapuri are cheese-and-egg filled flatbreads from the Republic of Georgia. The bread itself is a yogurt and white flour dough which is very simple to make and very tasty as well. The variety I always make are the “emeruli khachapuri” out of Flatbreads and Flavors; the book has some variations stuffed with red beans or potatoes, but I haven’t really branched out yet – these are too good.

emeruli khachapuri

from Flatbreads & Flavors by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid

The full recipe makes 8 flatbreads. The breads are very filling, so I usually just make a half batch, which works fine. Leftovers are tasty for breakfast, too.

for the dough:

• 3 to 4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 cups plain yogurt

for the filling:

• 4 oz cheddar or mozzarella cheese, finely grated
• 2 oz feta cheese, crumbled
• 2 Tbsp plain yogurt
• 1 egg

Preheat the oven to 450°. Have two baking sheets lined with parchment and standing by (I always forget to use parchment, and the filling leaks out and sticks impressively). 

Combine the flour, baking powder and salt, then add the yogurt and stir it up well. Keep adding flour until the dough firms up enough to knead. Turn it out onto the counter and knead for a few minutes. The dough should be soft and springy.

Mix up your filling in a small bowl. I find that you can get away with a lot of different proportions and types of cheese, so don’t worry about exact measurements. You could add fresh herbs as well, especially parsley or cilantro…

Cut your dough into 8 equal pieces. Roll out a piece into a thin circle, leaving a little bit of thicker dough in the middle (helps keep the bread from splitting during baking). Drop a dollop of filling on (a tablespoon’s worth or a bit more). Pleat up the edges of the dough over the filling, twist them together and press them down. You are trying to seal the dough and spread the filling around inside so there is cheese and egg throughout the bread. Try to get it as thin as possible, too – the book says to aim for 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick, but I have trouble getting it that thin without gooshing egg all over the place.

Flip the bread and set it on a baking sheet so that the pleated part is underneath. You should have a smooth, flat, round bread.

Shape and fill three more breads and get the pan in the oven. You can shape the rest of the breads while they bake. They only take 5-10 minutes to cook; keep an eye on the breads in the oven and take them out when they are lightly golden with a few brown spots. Don’t worry if they leak a bit, it makes them a little messier to eat but still delicious.

Toss the breads in a basket with a towel to keep them warm while you finish baking. Serve with sharply flavored food – the yogurt dough is very comfortingly bland against spicy or acidic flavors. We had these with a batch of lamb meatballs with sour cherry sauce, which was a perfect match. And be careful when eating - the filling is blazingly hot and will take the skin right off the roof of your mouth.