Zester Daily

5.23.13 -

Long before I cooked Asian snakehead, or channa, I had heard all the tales about this notorious fish. Dubbed “Fishzilla” and “Frankenfish,” the predatory, freshwater creature consumes not only plankton and insects but also other fish, amphibians and small mammals. Hence the snappy monikers.

As an air breather, it can survive out of water for several days. It also can migrate over land, wreaking havoc on wildlife in its path. With a large, protruding mouth that contains canine-like teeth and a predilection for using them, it is, by all accounts, one tough fish.

In America, the snakehead has become a cause for concern. A non-indigenous predator lacking any natural enemies, it could decimate native fish species and permanently alter our aquatic ecosystems. Because of this concern, most states have outlawed the sale of it. Even so, thanks to live fish markets and anglers surreptitiously stocking their local waters, snakehead keeps turning up in U.S. lakes, ponds, canals and reservoirs.

Frankenfish key source of protein in Cambodia

While it may be viewed as an invasive menace in the U.S., in Southeast Asian countries such as Thailand, Vietnam and Cambodia, snakehead is considered an essential part of everyday diets. 

In fact, Cambodians rely upon this fish as a primary source of protein.

In Southeast Asia, the snakehead’s toughness serves as a selling point. Because it lives in shallow, murky waters, eats virtually anything and grows quickly, it is a boon to struggling fish farmers looking for a hardy, low-cost, fast-yield crop.

The fact that it can get by for several days outside of water is gift to both farmers and consumers. Because of this unique feature, snakehead maintains its freshness in the worst of transportation and market conditions. While visiting outdoor markets in Siem Reap, Cambodia, and Ho Cho Minh City, Vietnam, I was stunned to see 1- to 2-foot-long live snakeheads sitting out in crates and on unrefrigerated metal trays. In spite of the less-than-ideal storage conditions, they looked as healthy as if they’d been pottering about in water-filled tanks.

What do cooks in Southeast Asia do with all these rugged fish? They feature them in soups and stews as well as in poached, sautéed, grilled and fried dishes. The snakehead’s moderately high oil content means it also responds well to smoking and drying.

In Cambodia, snakehead stars in a traditional curry dish known as amok trey. Amok refers to the technique of steaming fish, chicken or tofu in woven banana leaf baskets. In amok trey, the fish is steamed alongside a mixture of coconut milk, fish sauce, eggs and the Khmer flavor paste known as kroeung. Served inside a hollowed-out coconut, the final dish is juicy, fragrant and flavorful.

I got a chance to prepare amok trey with snakehead at the Tara Angkor Hotel in Siem Reap. The fish with which I worked had originated in the nearby Tonle Sap Lake. The largest freshwater lake in Southeast Asia, Tonle Sap contains roughly 200 fish species and accounts for 75% of the country’s inland fish production. Snakehead is one of the most popular and economically important species in this lake.

Because I was starting my amok trey with a whole snakehead, I had to clean and then fillet the fish first. To accomplish this, I followed the same technique I would use with any round fish. After a minimal amount of effort, I ended up with two beautiful, white, firm-fleshed fillets.

Although I would slice the fish into thin strips for amok trey, the snakehead fillets could just as easily be pan-seared or grilled. I could then serve them with a grind of black pepper, dab of salted butter or splash of lemon juice. While mild in flavor, this fish needs little adornment to shine.

Back in New York City, I can continue cook with snakehead fish. In spite of a 2002 federal prohibition on the transportation and sale of live snakehead, Asian seafood markets around the city continue to carry this fish. Plus, if recent reports prove true, snakehead has moved into a neighborhood near mine, into the urban fisherman’s oasis of Central Park’s Harlem Meer. Anglers there have been instructed not to release this fish back into the lake.

In spite of snakehead’s growing presence in the U.S., I substitute striped bass or another firm, white-fleshed fish when making amok trey at home. However, should a snakehead happen to slither onto my doorstep, it would star in one tasty and authentic Cambodian meal.

Angkor-Style Striped Bass (Amok Trey)

Taken from my first cookbook, “Fish Market” (Running Press, 2013), this recipe features striped bass instead of the traditional snakehead fish. My version of amok trey does, however, use the distinctly Cambodia flavoring kroeung. You’ll find galangal root and morinda or noni leaves in the produce section of Asian markets and jars of galangal root in the Asian section of most supermarkets.

Serves 4

Ingredients

For the kroeung:

2 garlic cloves, chopped

1 tablespoon chopped lemongrass

1 tablespoon minced galangal root

1 (1-inch) piece fresh ginger, peeled and roughly chopped (about 2 tablespoons)

1 teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon ground turmeric

For the fish:

¾ cup well-shaken canned coconut milk, plus more for serving

1 morinda or noni leaf, chopped

2 tablespoons fish sauce

2 teaspoons sugar

2 large eggs, whisked

½ teaspoon sea salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

12 ounces striped bass fillets, skinned and thinly sliced

½ small red bell pepper, thinly sliced

3 to 4 cups steamed rice, for serving

Directions

1. Fill a large, wide pot with 1½ inches of water. Place a steamer basket in the pot and bring the water to a boil.

2. Using a mortar and pestle, pulverize the garlic, lemongrass, galangal root, ginger, salt and turmeric until you have a thick paste. You’ll have about ⅓ cup. Spoon 2½ tablespoons of kroeung into a large bowl. Cover and refrigerate the rest for future use.

3. Add the coconut milk, morinda leaf, fish sauce, sugar, eggs, salt and black pepper to the 2½ tablespoons of kroueng. Mix the ingredients together until well combined. Add the fish and stir gently to coat.

4. Spoon the mixture into 6 to 8 small, oven-safe ramekins, filling each about two-thirds full. Place them in the steamer basket, cover and allow the fish to steam for roughly 15 minutes. When finished, the fish will feel firm and appear white and cooked through.

5. Carefully remove the ramekins from the steamer. Garnish the top of each with slices of red pepper and a drizzle of coconut milk. Serve hot with steamed rice.

Top photo: Amok trey. Credit: Kathy Hunt

4.19.13 -

Like most cooks and food lovers, I’ve been eagerly anticipating spring’s bounty. Asparagus, morel mushrooms, ramps and rhubarb all return to markets and my dinner table. So, too, does the East Coast’s favorite sport fish, striped bass.

Found in ocean, rivers and estuaries from Canada to Louisiana, this long, silver, horizontally striped fish has been an American favorite since colonial times. In those days the fish could grow as long as 6 feet and weigh more than 100 pounds. In addition to being a big catch, it was a plentiful one. So great were its numbers that early settlers used striped bass for fertilizer as well as for food.

Unfortunately, popularity does not always translate into prosperity. By enriching their crops with striped bass, the colonists seriously depleted the striped bass population. In 1639, the Massachusetts Bay Colony had to ban this mulching practice to preserve the dwindling fish supply.

Centuries later, in the 1980s, overfishing brought another severe decline. Today, though, thanks to severe fishing restrictions and their strict management, this fish has largely rebounded. Although you won’t see those 100 pounders in markets — they primarily carry small, farmed striped bass — you can enjoy this fish from the wild once again.

Also called striper, greenhead and, in the Chesapeake Bay area, rockfish, striped bass is renowned for its spunky nature. In fact, its scrappiness and the resulting challenge of the catch are part of its great allure.

“This is not a fish for beginners or the faint of heart. It’s a very fast, hard fighting fish, a worthy opponent and delicious,” retired vintner and avid angler Frank Wilmer says. A native of southeastern Pennsylvania, Wilmer reels in striped bass off the surf on Long Beach Island, New Jersey.

With a feisty spirit comes a voracious appetite. This fish consumes plankton, shrimp, clams, crabs, eels and medium-sized fish such as menhaden. Its diverse diet undoubtedly contributes to its unique, sweet flavor and firm, moderately fat, moist flesh.

Its appealing texture and taste have earned striped bass many fans. Valley Forge Audubon naturalist Vince Smith considers it one of the best tasting fish. “I think of it as a cross between bluefish and weakfish. It has a dark, fat layer like bluefish, but not the heavy taste,” Smith says.

Striped bass any way you like it

What makes striped bass such a boon to fishermen and cooks is its versatility. After catching and cleaning it, you can prepare it in myriad ways.

For Smith, grilling is the best method. “I love to cook it on the grill with just a little salt. Leave it skin side down, then flip to finish,” he says.

Frank Wilmer concurs. “My buddies and I prepare striped bass by scaling them, slicing them laterally about 4-5 times on each side, sprinkling them with jerk seasoning and grilling them whole until well done. Never had fish done any better,” he says.

In addition to being grilled, its firm, oily flesh responds beautifully to baking, braising, broiling, deep- and pan-frying, poaching, roasting, sautéing, searing and steaming. The luscious, juicy meat goes well with ingredients such as artichoke, garlic, parsley, potatoes, scallions, shallots, thyme, tomatoes, white wine vinegar and port wine.

Because this fish possesses such a rich, lovely flavor, I tend to keep the preparations simple and the extra ingredients to a minimum. If I’m fortunate enough to have a whole striper, I stuff it with shallots or pearl onions, slices of lemon or orange and fresh thyme. I then roast it for 20 minutes or until done. Fillets I usually grill, sauté, sear or pan-fry. I then splash lemon juice, Tabasco or soy sauce on top and serve them alongside fresh cauliflower, corn, beets or greens.

Along with its vivaciousness, taste and versatility, striped bass has sustainability on its side. Hook-and-line caught striped bass from the U.S. Atlantic is considered a “best choice” by Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch. The milder, smaller, farmed striped bass also receives this coveted rating.

Among my angler friends optimism remains high for a good striped bass season. I hope they’re correct. For cooks like me who love the full-bodied flavor of the wild fish but rely upon others to catch it, it would be quite disappointing if their predictions turn out to be just another fish tale.

Pan-Seared Striped Bass with Lime-Basil Butter

Serves 4

Ingredients

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature

Juice of ½ lime

Grated zest of 1 lime

1½ tablespoons fresh basil, minced

2 tablespoons olive oil

4 (4- to 6-ounce) striped bass fillets

Sea salt

Ground black pepper

Directions

1. In a small bowl, mix together the butter, juice, zest and basil. Set aside.

2. In a large, nonstick pan, heat the olive oil on medium-high heat. Season the striped bass fillets with salt and black pepper to taste.

3. Once the oil has heated, place the fillets in the pan and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until the flesh has browned slightly. Turn the fillets over and cook for another 2 to 3 minutes, until the other side has browned and the center has turned opaque. During the last 30 seconds of cooking, dot the tops of the fillets with equal amounts of lime-basil butter. Remove the fillets from the pan and serve immediately.

Top photo: Pan-seared striped bass with lime-basil butter Credit: Kathy Hunt

4.5.13 -

One of the many things that I love about travel is the chance to eat a renowned dish in its country of origin. In India, I went straight for the curries. In Vietnam, I fell for bánh mì. In Switzerland, I gobbled up fondu, raclette and rösti. You can’t get much more authentic than that.

Of these, it is the Swiss potato pancake, rösti, that I make on a regular basis. Derived from the German word rösten, which means to roast or grill, rösti consists of fried, shredded potatoes. That’s it. That’s the main and often sole ingredient of this easy Swiss specialty. Crisp on the outside yet soft and velvety on the inside, the simple rösti possesses a rich, complex flavor and competing textures that make it a sheer delight to eat.

Originally, rösti served as a filling breakfast for 19th-century Bernese farmers. A shared offering, it was placed on a platter in the center of the breakfast table. Using their spoons, people would cut off a piece of the patty and dunk it into a cup of weak, milky coffee. It may seem like an unusual custom, but it was one that soon caught on in other parts of Switzerland.

Rösti a versatile dish for any meal

Rösti quickly usurped the traditional Swiss farm breakfast of soup or mash, which had fed the hungry since medieval times.

Eventually it became common to eat this golden potato cake at dinner as either a hearty main or side dish. In the evening, cooks would dress up their rösti with a sprinkling of sliced spring onions, grated cheese, ham or cubed bacon. The garnish made the meal fancier, zestier and even more nourishing.

Today’s Swiss cooks continue to deck out their potato pancakes with a diverse range of ingredients. At Geneva’s Auberge de Savièse, rösti is decorated with strips of red bell peppers and onions. Meanwhile, the Eiger Guesthouse in the Alpine village of Mürren adds a touch of Italy to its offering, adorning it with sliced, fresh tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella and a drizzle of pesto sauce.

Some prefer pairing a simple rösti with a savory entrée. This is the case for Geneva resident and United Nations worker Chris Morh. “On a chilly day there is nothing better than to have rösti with Zuericher Geschnetzteltes, veal with cream sauce,” Morh says.

Just as the serving styles vary, so too do the ways that rösti is prepared. The differences start with the potatoes, which can either be cooked and then shredded, or shredded when raw. This is also the case with a relative of rösti, the American hash brown.

Then there is the question of how to cook the potatoes. Although I prefer to boil them in their skins, others opt for steaming. With the latter method, no salt is added to the potatoes and fewer nutrients leach into the cooking water.

In what the shredded potatoes are fried also differs from cook to cook. Some folks swear by vegetable oil while others endorse butter or bacon fat as the best.

Many claim you should fry your potatoes in oil and then add butter in small dabs at the very end of the cooking time. You spread the butter around the rösti’s edges so it melts, drips down into the hot pan and flavors your dish. I’ve found that this step also stops my potatoes from sticking to the skillet.

In spite of the variations, there are some agreements on rösti. You should use firm, cooking potatoes such as yellow or golden. You should also sauté the potatoes first before shaping them into a plump pancake and frying the cake on both sides.

Whether you make it to Switzerland or just to the corner store, pick up a pound of firm, yellow potatoes and treat yourself to an easy, delicious dinner of rösti.

Rösti Thyme

Serves 2

Ingredients

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided

1 tablespoon olive oil

1½ pounds yellow/golden potatoes, boiled in salted water until just tender, peeled and grated

¾ teaspoon dried thyme

½ teaspoon salt

⅛ teaspoon ground white pepper

⅓ cup grated Gruyère cheese

2 spring onions, whites and 1 inch of greens sliced

Directions

1. In a large, nonstick frying pan, heat 1 tablespoon butter and the olive oil over medium-high heat. As the butter is melting, toss together the shredded potatoes, thyme, salt and pepper.

2. Spoon the potatoes into the frying pan and sauté for 1 to 2 minutes, making sure that all the potatoes have been coated with the oil.

3. Shape the potatoes into a pancake and fry on one side until golden brown, 10 to 15 minutes.

4. Place a flat plate over the top of the pan and invert the pan onto the plate. Return the pan to the heat, add a dab of butter if needed and then slide the rösti back into the pan, uncooked side down. Allow the potato pancake to cook for another 10 to 15 minutes, until that side has also browned.

5. A few minutes before removing the rösti, break off small pieces from the remaining butter and spread it around the edge of the potatoes.

6. To remove the rösti, place a serving platter over the top of the pan and invert it onto the platter. Spread the Gruyère cheese and spring onions over the top of the rösti. Serve immediately.

Top photo: Rösti. Credit: Kathy Hunt

3.1.13 -

Every now and then I come across a new culinary trend that leaves me wondering, “Why mess with something that’s already a success?” Such was the scenario with aging cocktails. Then I tried a barrel-aged Manhattan at the Driftwood Room in Portland, Ore. After sipping that smooth, velvety libation, I stopped asking why and started considering whether I, too, could produce such richly complex drinks.

I’d been in the right town to talk aged cocktails. Portland was where it all began, in 2010, when Clyde Common bartender Jeffrey Morgenthaler introduced his Madeira wine cask-aged Manhattan to the public.

Morgenthaler’s inspiration for this drink came in the fall of 2009 in London. There he tried Manhattans that had been aged in glass bottles. Created by 69 Colebrooke Rowe bartender Tony Conigliaro, these subtly matured drinks prompted Morgenthaler to wonder how pre-mixed, single-spirit cocktails would fare in a different vessel, such as a small, used oak keg.

The thought behind aging a cocktail is that, left inside a wooden cask for six to eight weeks, the drink would absorb some of the flavors and color of whatever was previously housed there. The resulting libation would be more developed and multifaceted than the original. The question, though, is how would it taste.

The answer is quite good. In Morgenthaler’s case, his Manhattan took on the flavors of both the oak cask and the liquid — in this case, Madeira wine — that it had previously contained. Mellow and sweet, his beverage flew off the shelf.

Today, along with aged Manhattans, Clyde Common does a brisk trade in bourbon barrel-aged Negronis and Tridents matured in single-malt whiskey kegs.

Morgenthaler’s offerings have motivated others to age their own drinks.

Without leaving Portland, I sampled an array of aged cocktails, including Negronis, Tridents and Glass Feathers. In some bars, such as Liberty, which ages spirits and bitters along with cocktails, I could even make requests.

Aged cocktails as a DIY project

Inspired by these innovators, I decided to try aging at home. For $23, plus shipping, I purchased a new, pre-charred, 1-liter oak barrel. As a byproduct of the caramelized sugars in the wood, a charred keg gives off a mild caramel flavor. Liquids placed there will pick up this pleasant taste. Thus why I chose charred.

After unpacking my little cask, I filled it with warm water, placed it on my kitchen counter and let it rest for a day. During this time the wood expanded, decreasing the likelihood that the barrel would leak and unleash my cocktail everywhere.

With my cask primed and set to go, I mixed together my first drink. Although an avid home mixologist, I’m completely green when it comes to aging spirits. With this in mind, I opted for the tried-and-true classic, a rye-based Manhattan.

When mixing my batch of Manhattans, I withheld the ice so it wouldn’t dilute my concoction. I also left out the cherry garnish. Leaving out the cherries was a wise move. Fruit and fruit juices will spoil in the cask. The same applies to dairy. I’d also avoid adding club soda and any other effervescent, for they will lose their carbonation in the barrel.

Once I had filled and sealed the cask, I stored it at room temperature in my pantry. That’s where my liter of Manhattans remains, waiting until it hits the right state for me to enjoy.

Professionals advise aging cocktails anywhere from five weeks to three months. Drinks stored in smaller barrels, such as mine, will mature more quickly than those in larger ones. The key is to sample the batch each week to see how it’s progressing. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Once I find a flavor profile I like, I’ll just strain the cocktail through a fine mesh sieve or cheesecloth to remove any sediment that’s collected. Then I will transfer the Manhattans to glass bottles, where they’ll stay until I’m ready to serve them.

Needless to say, I no longer scoff at cask aging cocktails. One small but luxurious drink made not only a believer but also a practitioner out of me.

Photo: A barrel at the Driftwood Room in Portland, Ore. Credit: Kathy Hunt

2.8.13 -

On a recent trip through the Pacific Northwest, I spent a lot of time drinking wine. Not a huge surprise. After all, the area ranks as one of the nation’s top wine-producing regions. Plus, I’m all about sampling outstanding, regional wines. What intrigued me was how the drink was invariably poured — just like draft beer, the wine came straight from a tap.

Back in New York, I started noticing uptown restaurants such as Marcus Samuelsson’s Red Rooster Harlem and downtown gastropubs such as Spitzer’s Corner featuring tap wines on their menus. Was this a gimmick or the new norm? Just what was the impetus behind wine served from a tap?

The concept, I learned, isn’t new. By the third century, much of Western Europe dispensed its wine from wooden barrels. The Gauls supposedly used casks as early as the first century B.C. These vessels replaced two-handled jars known as amphorae, which the Ancient Greeks had created for storing, transporting and serving wine. Lighter yet sturdier than the Grecian ceramic jugs, a wooden keg could also hold more alcohol than its predecessor.

The evolution to draft wines

Over the centuries, as vintners and consumers developed a taste for aged, bottled wines, kegs became as passé as amphorae. That archaic status changed, in part, in the 1970s, when Australian producers began packaging some of their younger wines in collapsible bags and cardboard boxes.

Because the bag and box minimized the wine’s exposure to oxygen, these cask wines, as they were dubbed, kept longer than bottled. With them people could enjoy a glass of wine over a period of time without concerns about the flavor and quality diminishing within a day.

Cask wines also cost less and held more than bottled. For these reasons ­and more, I, and other wine fans, see more and more glasses coming not from a bottle but from a tap.

Similar to draft beers, today’s commercial cask wines run off tap systems. Reusable, 5-gallon, stainless-steel kegs known as Cornelius tanks house the beverages at controlled temperatures.

Dispensed through airtight systems using either nitrogen or argon, the alcohol maintains its freshness long after the first pour. In the case of sparkling wines, they also hold onto their bubbles. After being tapped, these wines may keep for up to three months.

At Dive Bar on Manhattan’s Upper West Side, owner Lee Seinfeld offers five artisanal, New York wines on tap. “This works much better for me than bottled.  What I like is that I have fresh, good-quality wine all the time,” says Seinfeld, who installed his red and white wine taps last July and anticipates adding another line for Prosecco.

Presently, Dive Bar goes through eight kegs, about 40 gallons, of wine each month. That amounts to roughly 200 heavy, glass bottles that don’t need to be transported, stored, opened or recycled.

Kegs also eliminate the need for corks, labels and cardboard shipping containers. Minimal packaging results in less waste, lower fuel costs and a greener, cheaper beverage delivery. In the end, this means savings for both restaurant owners and their customers.

As an environmentally conscious consumer, I appreciate the green aspects of tap wines. I also welcome the lower cost on restaurant wine lists. Likewise, I love that I’m guaranteed a fresh beverage and not the dregs from yesterday’s bottle.

What continues to surprise me, though, is the caliber of local wines cascading from New York taps. Noted wineries such as Hermann J. Wiemer Vineyard in the Finger Lakes, Brooklyn’s Red Hook Winery and Channing Daughters Winery in Bridgehampton all offer high-quality wines on tap.

Beyond those that require bottle aging, most wines do nicely in kegs. “In theory they should all perform well. The keg is really just a mini-version of a stainless steel tank,” says James Christopher Tracy, head winemaker and partner at Channing Daughters. “But we tend to put wines that are poured by the glass and go through large volumes so fresh, often unoaked or lightly oaked white, pink and red wines …” Tracy says.

Although tap wines may seem novel or odd to the casual imbiber, their positive attributes should win over the skeptics. Good libations at a lower cost with a reduced environmental impact: What’s not to love about wine on tap?

Top photo: The wine region of Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Credit: Kathy Hunt

12.13.12 -

Peek into my kitchen this holiday season and you’ll likely find me elbows high in pillowy bread dough. In my family, nothing says Christmas more than the warm scent of baking bread. From Belgian cougnou to Italian panettone and sundry treats in between, we bake, give and eat not iced sugar cookies or gingerbread men but aromatic loaves of fruit- and nut-filled yeast breads.

If you’ve ever shopped in a European-style bakery or holiday market, you know that my tradition is not unique. Across Europe people bake sweet, sumptuous yeast breads. Many of them have religious significance. Such is the case with the Christmas specialties of Belgium and Germany.

Yeast breads vary from nation to nation

In the French-speaking region of Belgium known as Wallonia, people consume cougnou or “the bread of Jesus.” To make cougnou, bakers join together three balls of sugar- , egg- and raisin-enriched dough; these pieces are said to represent the head, body and legs of the Christ child. Glazed with egg yolks and milk and then baked, the resulting bread resembles a swaddled baby.

In Belgium, cougnou is often given as a holiday or hostess gift. You’ll find this festive bread at bakeries and Christmas markets throughout the season.

I grew up eating a similar treat from Dresden, Germany. With its oblong shape, tapered ends, folded center and liberal dusting of confectioner’s sugar, stollen, like cougnou, resembles baby Jesus wrapped in swaddling clothing. No doubt this is why it’s sometimes referred to as Christstollen.

A favorite at German Advent markets, stollen includes plump raisins, currants, candied citron and chopped almonds. Bakers there usually add a splash of dark rum, brandy or lemon juice.

At Calico Restaurant and Patisserie in Rhinebeck, N.Y., pastry chef/owner Leslie Heinsohn-Balassone includes a few special steps for making moist, flavorful stollen. Along with soaking her raisins overnight, she runs a strip of marzipan down her bread, imbuing it with a luscious almond taste. She also uses both cream cheese and butter in her dough, giving it an even more velvety texture.

For those first-time stollen bakers, the pastry chef offers some professional guidance. “Use a lot of flour on your surface — preferably wooden — and keep trying until you find the perfect recipe,” says Heinsohn-Balassone, whom Zagat rated as the “best pastry chef of the Hudson Valley.” Sage advice when it comes to making holiday breads.

Dark and pear-flecked hutzelbrot lacks the spiritual tie-in that stollen and cougnou possess. Favored in southern Germany, this dense bread has a standard loaf shape and a top crust that may be scored in the shape of a leaf. Beneath its dark crust lies an abundance of dried pears as well as dried apricots and figs, prunes, currants and almonds or hazelnuts. Spiced with cinnamon, cloves, ginger and cardamom or aniseed, it’s redolent with the scents of the season.

Custom dictates that you save your hutzelbrot until Dec.  24. You then slice it and consume it with a glass of wine or punch. That’s one tradition that I invariably break. With bread that bold, fruity and delicious in my house, you can bet that I’m cutting into it long before Christmas Eve.

The temptation likewise exists with panettone. A specialty of Milan, Italy, the rich, high-rising bread varies in size from a convenient, individual serving to a loaf large enough to feed a dozen. Shaped like an oversized mushroom, this Italian treat usually contains raisins, candied citron and orange peels, lemon and orange zests, and generous amounts of butter, eggs and sugar.

Unlike the other breads, panettone shows up not only at Christmastime but also at Easter and other festive events. How it came to be associated with the holidays remains a mystery. So, too, does its origin. Some speculate that a nobleman fell in love with and invented this bread for a poor baker’s daughter. Depending upon the source, the nobleman dubbed it panettone, “Toni’s bread,” in honor of himself, the poor baker or the object of his affections.

In the Netherlands krentenbrood, or currant bread, is likewise consumed at Christmas and Easter. In a land where dark rye bread was once the norm, this white, spiced and fruit-studded bread was historically considered a luxury item saved for special occasions. In Finland, however, families opt for rye bread at their holiday tables. Their rich, rye joululimppu also contains molasses, orange zest and fennel, anise or caraway seeds.

Whether made with white or rye flour or baked in the shape of a swaddled infant, plump mushroom or an oblong loaf, these fragrant breads evoke the holiday season. They’ll bring a taste of Christmas to your kitchen every year.

Cherry-Almond-White Chocolate Panettone

Makes 1 loaf

Ingredients

½ cup plus 1 tablespoon dried cherries

¼ cup cranberry juice, warmed

1 package dry active yeast

½ cup milk, warmed

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon sugar

2 large eggs

4 egg yolks

1 teaspoon vanilla

⅓ cup sugar

½ teaspoon salt

2 cups all-purpose flour plus a little extra for dusting the work surface

3 tablespoons butter, softened and cut into chunks

½ cup blanched almonds, toasted and chopped

⅔ cup white chocolate chips

Directions

1. In a small bowl, mix together the dried cherries and cranberry juice.

2. In another bowl add the milk to the yeast. Once the yeast has dissolved, add the flour and sugar. Stir together until well combined. Cover the starter with a sheet of plastic wrap and, placing it in a warm spot, allow it to rise until it doubles in size, about two hours.

3. Grease a large mixing bowl as well as a panettone mold or 24-ounce coffee can. (If you do not have either a mold or an empty coffee can, line a small, round, buttered baker with buttered parchment paper — the paper should be roughly 6 inches high.)

4. Whisk together the eggs, yolks, vanilla and sugar.

5. Add the starter, flour and salt to the liquids and mix together. Once the ingredients are incorporated, place the dough on a floured work surface and knead for five minutes. Add chunks of the butter to the dough and knead it to incorporate. Continue to knead the dough until the butter is well combined.

6. Form the dough into a ball.

7. Drain and pat the cherries dry.

8. Flatten the dough, then add a third of the cherries, almonds and white chocolate chips. Fold the dough over and knead the ingredients into the dough. Repeat the process until all the cherries, nuts and chips have been added.

9. Form the dough into a ball. Place it in the greased bowl, cover with plastic wrap and allow it to rise for 1½ hours.

10. Punch down the dough, place it in the buttered panettone mold or buttered coffee can and cover it with plastic wrap. Allow one final rise, about 1 hour.

11. Preheat the oven to 350 F.

12. Remove the plastic wrap and insert the panettone into the preheated oven. Bake for 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool on a wire rack.

Top photo: Cherry-Almond-White Chocolate Panettone. Credit: Kathy Hunt