Sweet Greek olives come to Portugal

The Good Doctor is widely travelled, and brings back to Portugal many interesting culinary ideas from around the world, using these to complement the traditions of her native land. So when I began to harvest olives from her trees to pickle for the coming year, she looked a little skeptically at the plastic water bottles full of crushed and slit olives and asked me Why don't you make sweet Greek olives?

I had never heard of those before, and she could not tell me much about them except that she had bought some in a shop while driving through Greece some years ago, and they were rather good, so she would prefer that I make some of those instead of the usual spiced pickles all the local farmers do. OK, I said, and began to look for information on the Internet. Nothing useful was found in searches using terms in English, German and Portuguese. I found some pages talking about candied olives made from pickled ones, but nothing useful describing the process starting with fresh olives.

What to do? I asked a Greek colleague for help, and a few minutes later, she sent me a link to a web page in Greek which describes making sweet olives and olive jam.

Since I can't do much more with Greek than sound the words out and search my brain for possible derivates in a language I know, it wasn't clear to me if I needed to work with any particular sort of olives, and I thought the suggested extraction time to remove the bitter elements from the raw olives was optimistic at best, so I took notes and prepared to "transcreate" the recipe for the olives I have available (based on my past experience picking them) and my own preferred approach to scaling recipes. Thus I arrived at the following recipe:

Azeitonas doces de Elvas

1. Gather ripe, dark olives, de-stem and rinse them, then place them in clean one- to two-liter plastic bottles. Fill the bottles with fresh, cold water and cap them.
2. Change the water daily for about two weeks, testing the bitterness of the olives until it is reduced to an acceptable level. The time needed will vary according to the olive variety, the degree of ripeness and your personal taste. The Greek recipe this one is based on suggests four or five days time with daily water changes, but that is simply too little time for my olives and my taste.
3. After the olives are debittered, cut the tops of the plastic bottles to remove the olives. Then use a de-pitter (a descaroçador de cerejas - a cherry pitter - will do the job) to remove the pits from the olives.
4. Weigh the olives and place them in a saucepan or small pot.
5. Add the same weight of water to the pan (so for 600 g of de-pitted olives, add 600 ml water).
6. Add sugar to the pot amounting to 40% of the weight of the olives (which would be 240 g sugar for 600 g olives).
7. Bring to a hard boil on high heat, and let the mixture boil for 20 minutes, with occasional stirring. Then remove from heat and allow to rest overnight.
8. The next day, add more sugar to the pot - 20% of the weight of the olives (so another 120 g of sugar if you are working with 600 g of de-pitted olives). 
9. Boil the mixture hard for another 20 minutes until the syrup thickens. Then remove from heat.
10. Can the sweet olives in sterilized jars following the usual hygenic procedures or serve them fresh, warm or cold.

More cookies for the Portuguese

When life gives you forgotten, brown bananas

try making these cookies:

3 small brown bananas.
1.5 cups (360 ml volume, about 120 grams) of oatmeal
0.5 (120 ml volume, about 65 grams) cups golden raisins
1 egg.
Drop the batter on parchment with a spoon and bake for 12 minutes at 350°F (175°C).

I developed this recipe from a simpler one with just bananas and oatmeal which someone did for a class full of nursery school kids. I thought it needed a little more binder (an egg), and I had a bag of raisins in search of a cause. I'll probably rework the recipe later to use almond meal instead after discovering what a delight that is in a no-flour chocolate cake.

Here's a look at the results:

This was the dessert served last night with my failed attempt at Alentejan gaspacho. The cold soup must have been good, because my noiva ate two bowls of it, but that might also have been because her son wouldn't touch his. It was declared "Spanish" with tones overlaid with disgust, and I was told that I would receive instruction in a proper gaspacho soon. One where the cebola is not left out and probably with a lot more garlic. I thought that tripling the garlic in the recipe might do the trick, but it seems not.

The cookies were a hit at least, also with the neighbors at the casa de ratos ("mouse house" - home to hundreds and the source of the 33 killed here in the War on Mice).

Translation on tap(ioca)

In last autumn's technotwit gathering in Portland, Oregon, TAUS proposed that translation is becoming a utility. In their world I suppose that may be true, perhaps in their world the translation bill will be an addendum to the one for water, electricity or garbage services, because as many of us know, in certain circles, Arbeit macht frei is still common wisdom. For some, that is A Phrase Which Must Not Be Spoken, but I think we all owe it to those who have been involuntarily subject to such freedom in the past to consider its implications in the present. For many of us, translation work can become an obsession, an easy fix for many things which quickly hooks and enslaves us worse than many a coca habit. And the Brave New Future of Translation envisioned by our technocrats is merely a new instance of that opiate religion, used like so many others in the past to win hearts and minds for the habit and exact a terrible tribute from most for the benefit of a few to feed their own ravenous, rapacious habits. There is no honor among thieves. Ye shall reap what ye sow.

It is rumored that the Unholy Alliance of the Common Nonsense Advisory, TAUS, the corporates who control the ATA and ensure that its Code of Ethics does not offend the offenders, thepigturd, and other usual suspects have a secret join venture to develop a revolutionary new line of juicers based on HAMPsTr processes and their proven ability to squeeze more blood from stones.

There is some controversy involving the ganz besonderer Saft which the bleeders of the translation crave from their hamsters. Juice itself is often controversial without MpT promises of drudging survival, and we must, for the sake of our health, take care with our levels of its consumption. As a rule, fruit is a better alternative to the juices made from it; the fiber and other elements lost when the squeeze is applied can help maintain our health in times of tribulation. 

I prefer my fruit with pudding, sweet and smooth, but please, without sugar. Being the Anti-Vegan of Translation, I also try to keep bees enslaved and buzzing for my benefit, so after those amazing, negative calorie Alentejan feasts, I replenish my energies with something good like this perfect tapioca preparation:

1/3 cup small tapioca 
3 cups milk
2 egg yolks
1/2 cup honey
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon lemon zest
Fresh fruit as garnish (strawberries, raspberries, kiwi, whatever)

1. Let tapioca soak overnight in 1 cup milk and the lemon zest in a medium pot in the fridge
2. Then next day, whisk in the rest of the milk, egg yolk, salt, vanilla and honey, and salt. 
3. Bring the pot slowly to a boil on low to medium, stir to avoid scorching.
4. When it boils, put heat on low and simmer for 15 minutes with frequent stirring.
5. Remove from heat, cool for at least 10+ minutes, add fruit garnish and serve hot or chilled.

When life gives you dogs, make lemonade!

Ajax (right) and his bodyguard

For many freelance translators working long hours alone, the companionship of animals is an indispensable part of working life. My two - Csővárberki Jámbor and Ajax vom Bernsteinsee - remind me that it's time to stop working, take breaks and do more important things like search for empty cigarette cartons and beer bottles in the park. Or take a day at the beach as in the photo above when little Jámbor decided to take on the Rhodesian Ridgeback which had just bitten through the steel chain collar of his mentor in a failed assassination attempt. Life is always interesting with those two.

Animals can also assist us in our daily chores. At my home in Portugal, I have trouble cleaning up all the oranges and lemons which fall in my back yard, so the dogs stay alert, and when they hear the sound of fruit dropping it is quickly retrieved and presented to me. This means a lot of breaks. At the moment the oranges are done, but quite a few lemons still fall. And my hunter-pointer-retrievers ensure that they do not simply lie and rot.

At the moment the bag of lemons on my kitchen floor probably weighs 10 kilos (22 US pounds) and I thought "oh God, what am I going to do with all of these???". But on hot Alentejo days and nights when the translation and language lessons require frequent replenishment of fluids and electrolytes, the answer is easy. When life gives you a home and dogs like these, make lemonade. Here's the recipe that has sustained me lately:

1 cup honey
3 cups boiling water
2 cups fresh lemon juice
Ice cubes (preferably lemon or orange juice cubes)
Pour boiling water over the honey in a pot or jug and stir util the solution is complete. Add the lemon juice. Cool (or store chilled in the fridge) and serve over ice. 

If work gets really hard you might need some cookies to go with the lemonade.

Cookies for the Portuguese

It all began with cookies, of course. Snickerdoodles more precisely. Then things became a soft jumble,

and chocolate chip followed with all its kinky variations.

The language lessons that began baking these cookies acquired a greater dimension, and about four days later I could converse ungrammatically but well enough with my neighbors. After a week, as she would respond to her friends who directed a stream of Portuguese at me like a firehose I kept my feet as the language soaked in and I responded in kind to her sometime surprise.

I woke and saw that the language lesson planned to greet the dawn that morning would be late. I walked carefully down the stairs, alert for cockroaches underfoot, and went to the freezer where I kept the latest batch for learning. Then a walk with the dogs and return, the door was slightly ajar and they got out again.

I searched quickly for my shoes, but then I saw that Ajax and Jambor had come back from a quick tour. No harm done.

Then I noticed the two kittens from my Portuguese tutor's litter. They had slipped in behind my dogs to visit the youngest, Jambor.

"Gostaria muito de um cigarro!"

Ajax, the cat killer, noticed then and prepared to attack.

Não!!! I screamed. Bei Fuß!
And reluctantly he came to heel as the kittens danced on the carpet with the other dog. I held the trained hunter, whose breeder and Serbian criminal who had added his Feinschliff in training had used cats to motivate Ajax to learn and obtain the coveted German Härtenachweis. I was suddenly overcome with great weariness. I fought against it, but like a castle's  great, heavy portcullis, they slammed down as I saw the kittens scamper ever closer to the waiting jaws of doom. I held desperately to the leash, but my stress-strained fingers grew numb and I fought harder to hold on, to remain conscious and in control, prevent the tragedy of the CRUNCH I heard in my sleep-dampened ears and the shake of the kill I felt in my numbing arm which held the leash.

Não!!I tried to scream again but if sound escaped my lips I could not hear it and the horror, the horror of the kill gripped like Grendel's claws on my dying heart as it was torn from my chest and I too must die no way to go back undo what was done. (The Dream)

(The Real Kill) I said good night to Sandra or rather bom dia, ate ja as she slipped out the door to fetch meds and return for another intensive Portuguese lesson. I turn at the door and saw the mother of her kittens in my living room behind me I screamed
Não!!! as Ajax noticed Jámbor dancing toward her to play, though an enemy to her always hopeful Jámbor that the cats he loves would come to play more than the occasional game of chase.
Bei Fuß!
I called and Ajax came quickly to heel bom cão and watched with interest as the queen escaped. Out the back. Out of sight. And over the back wall. Into the waiting jaws of three killers who tore her apart.

So as you try these recipes, remember that the cookies have blood on them. I am forgiven, I suppose, because after another week of lessons on a walk with the dogs at the end of a difficult day, my worse day in translation, so bad that I lost it completely, screamed out of control at the client, threw away the month's rent and food, then cut off the call, I thought the day must end otherwise so I asked her to marry she said Yes though I could not understand that single word.

Snickerdoodles (bolos de canela e açúcar)

2 3/4 cups [350 g] all-purpose flour (farinha de trigo)

1 1/2 cups [300 g] sugar (açúcar)

1 cup [250 g] butter, softened (manteiga)

2 eggs (ovos)

2 teaspoons cream of tartar (creme de tártaro / bitartarato de potássio)

1 teaspoon baking soda (bicarbonato de sódio)

1 teaspoon vanilla (baunilha)

1/4 teaspoon salt (sal)

Sugar/Cinnamon Mixture

4 parts granulated sugar one part ground cinnamon (about 5 tablespoons total)

Directions

Heat oven to 400 °F [205 °C]. Combine all cookie ingredients in large bowl. Beat at low speed, scraping bowl often, until well mixed.

Stir together about 4 tablespoons sugar and 1 tablespoon cinnamon in small bowl.

Shape dough into small balls (1"/2.5 cm); roll in sugar mixture. Place 2 inches (5 cm) apart onto ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 8-10 minutes or until edges are lightly browned.

Soft Jumbles
A simple drop batter; the finished cookie has a bit of a sponge cake consistency.

1.5 cups sugar (white, granulated)
3.5 cups white flour (low gluten)
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 cup sour cream
3 eggs
8 tbsp sunflower oil
Flavoring:
2 tsp vanilla extract
1 heaping tsp lemon zest
Beat the eggs, oil, sour cream and flavoring with the sugar, then sift in the flour, baking soda and salt. Mix by hand or on low power. Drop with two spoons on a cookie sheet, sprinkle with a bit of sugar or perhaps a sugar/cinnamon mix or top with a nut or raisin and bake.
In a convection oven these will take about 8 minutes at 300 °F, in a radiant oven 10 to 12 minutes at 325 °F (about 160 °C).
The flavor of the cookies develops best after they have cooled; they really don't taste like much when they are hot.

Chocolate chip cookies
(or in this case, “chipped chocolate cookies”)

100 g brown sugar (açúcar mascavado)
125 g unsalted butter (manteiga sem sal)
1 egg (um ovo)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract (2 colher de chá de extracto de baunilha)
½ teaspoon salt (½ colher de chá de sal)
½ teaspoon baking soda (½ colher de chá de bicarbonato de sódio)
225 g self-rising flour (farinha de trigo com fermento)
200 g chocolate

Cream the sugar and butter together, then add the vanilla and egg.
Sift in the salt, baking soda and flour, mixing at low power.
Chop the chocolate into small pieces, then mix in by hand or with the mixer at low power.

Using two spoons, drop the dough in small clumps onto the baking sheet, pressing the dough down slightly (if it is stiff) to ensure that it will spread and bake properly.

Pre-heat the oven to 350-400 °F (175-200 °C) and bake 7-10 minutes more or less. Watch the first few sheets of cookies carefully, and adjust the temperature and time for the conditions of your oven, avoid burning the bottoms of the cookies.
The cookies taste best when cool and freeze nicely for a long time.

“Double chocolate chip cookies” can be made by replacing 50 g of the flour by 75 g of chocolate powder. The procedure is otherwise the same.

A better fix....

Some time ago I wrote about my addiction to caffèlatte. This is still my mainstay to make it through long days, but how I make it has undergone a significant change. For the past 13 years or so I have been drinking French press coffee most of the time. Lately, however, I've been reading about the single-cup, slow drip methods that were developed by the Japanese and are now popular in the US and UK, and I tried to find a source of the equipment in Germany. No luck. However, I found something else that looked interesting: a special press for strong, well-balanced coffee without sediment. I've been getting a little tired of the dregs at the bottom of my French press, so I thought I would give the Aerobie Aeropress Coffee Maker a try. I ordered one from the German Amazon site (it's also available in the UK and US, probably elsewhere as well). Wow. This is the most interesting coffee I've had since a friend treated me to some from a cold process extractor years ago. It's simple, fast and very, very easy to clean. Beats the heck out of a French press for taste and ease of use and maintenance.

And since Christmas will be upon us once again in less than ten months, I've gone back to an old vice with this wonderful brew: egg nog latte. No commercial egg nog mix available here AFAIK, but several shots of Eierlikör (egg liquor) cut with an equal portion of milk, dosed liberally with ground nutmeg and heated blends wonderfully with the good coffee. Just the thing for a busy day of translation.

For those living in places where egg liquor is unavailable, here's a recipe from my late father-in-law, an old-time pharmacist from the days when they mixed lots of things interesting and alcoholic for the health and delight of their customers:

Herr Urban's Egg Liquor
Shake six egg yolks with 300 g sugar in a bottle (or use a blender). Add 350 ml brandy (the best quality you can afford), add vanilla sugar or tincture to taste as well as 50 ml of 90% grain alcohol. Prost!