Krivoruchko took on a classic Ukrainian comfort food for her first cooking adventure. Pictured are the beginning, middle and end of the process.
My first official cooking attempt turned out way too salty. But that’s only because of the tears that streamed down my face and into the mixing bowl.
OK, that never really happened. But the point is, I was really sad. My first call for recipes was unsuccessful ““ not one submission in my in-box by Sunday night, when I had to force myself to brave the kitchen. I hoped that it was just a slow start and set out to make some comfort food to make myself feel better.
To me, one thing said “comfort” more than mac and cheese, mashed potatoes or Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. That one thing was syrniki.
Allow me to explain ““ syrniki (pronounced SIHR-nee-kee) are basically Ukrainian pancakes made primarily of a thick cottage cheese, fried up and served with jam, honey or sour cream.
According to David MacFadyen, a professor in the Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures, who is planning to teach a Fiat Lux course on Eastern European cuisine, syrniki are currently sold everywhere on Russian streets. The little delights, alternatively called tvorozhniki (from the word tvorog ““ that super thick cottage cheese) are packaged in foil and found in quick eateries and street vendors’ boxes of hot and cold foods.
The cooking time is pretty minimal ““ you could hypothetically make a huge batch of these in a half hour. For me, it took a little longer (like 45 minutes), and I only ended up with at most a half dozen of decent syrniki.
For starters, my mixture was way too soggy ““ the low-fat cottage cheese from Trader Joe’s was not nearly thick enough, but there are no Russian or Armenian stores in the area that sell the tvorog you’re supposed to use, according to the post-Stalin era cookbook “Kniga o Vkusnoi i Zdorovoi Pishche” (which is roughly translated to “Book of Tasty and Healthy Food”). Also, according to the cookbook, MacFadyen, every recipe I found online and my mother, I was supposed to use a cheesecloth to squeeze out the moisture. I, however, judged this to really be above-and-beyond and added some extra flour just to keep the little guys together, which helped … to a point.
I really underestimated the power of our new oven too, overheating the first batch and burning the food to a crisp. (I told you I’m going to tell you the truth about these things.) Having regrouped for the second round, I turned the heat down too low, which resulted in the syrniki not being browned enough. At this point I channeled my inner Aaliyah and told myself, “If at first you don’t succeed, dust yourself off and try (yet) again.”
The third time was finally the charm in terms of heat level.
The syrniki were also difficult to flip because the mixture wasn’t thick enough, so not all of them retained the shape. But besides their slightly grumpy final appearance, they actually tasted quite delightful with some honey and a cup of tea. I offered one to my apartment mate, who tends to be reluctant about new foods, and she downed it. I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought. In fact, it wasn’t bad at all. I ate the ones not quite cute enough to photograph for breakfast the next morning.
So did my comfort food comfort me? Yes, it did. Will I invest in a cheesecloth for next time? Probably ““ you live and you learn.
My positive thinking about the fact that I didn’t burn anything down (and a wonderful reader, who will be mentioned next week) also finally brought a recipe to my in-box ““ Greek orzo, which I will be attempting next.
Please continue to send in your favorite recipes, whatever they may be ““ I can’t stop the learning experience now.
_If you don’t want Krivoruchko to cry in her mixing bowl anymore, e-mail her a recipe to attempt at
mkrivoruchko@media.ucla.edu._