Pumpkin Stuffed with Jeweled Rice -- Uzbekistan

When my daughter went to Uzbekistan last year, she brought me back barberries to try, because she is a good daughter who knows how to shop for me.

She also received, as a gift, a book on Uzbek recipes, titled Samarkand, Recipes and Stories from Central Asia & the Caucasus, by Caroline Eden and Eleanor Ford.

One recipe that sounded so inviting has been on my mind to try for a long time.  The only issue was getting a pie pumpkin instead of a jack-o-lantern pumpkin.  The former are edible and the latter are bitter and tasteless.  My persistence and patience paid off recently as I found a little side-of-the-road produce stand that had what I've been looking for.

So now I can make the

Pumpkin Stuffed with Jeweled Rice

1 pumpkin (about 2 1/4 pounds)
olive oil
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 scant teaspoon ground cardamom
1 teaspoon dried chile flakes
1/2 cup dried barberries or unsweetened dried cranberries
2 tablespoons orange blossom water
generous pinch of saffron strands
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup pistachios, chopped
1 orange
2 tablespoons sugar
2/3 cup dried sour cherries
1/2 cup basmati rice, rinsed
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
4 tablespoons butter

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.  Cut a lid off the pumpkin and reserve it.  Scrape out the seeds and straggly strands and discard.  Continue scooping out more of the flesh, leaving the shell about 1-inch thick (save the flesh for soup).  Rub the inside of the pumpkin with a little olive oil and the cinnamon, cardamom, and dried chile.  Season with salt and pepper.  Roast for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, put the barberries into a bowl of cold water and let soak for about 15 minutes, then drain.  Put the orange blossom water into a small bowl and crumble in the saffron.  Set aside.  Toast the almonds and pistachios in a dry pan.  Set aside.

Use a peeler to remove half the orange zest in strips.  Slice these crosswise into thin slivers.  Bring a small pan of water to a boil, drop in the orange zest, boil for 1 minute, then drain and refresh under cold running water (this removes the bitterness.)  Return the pan to the heat and add the sugar and a generous splash of water.  Heat to dissolve the sugar, then add the orange zest and cook the liquid down to a syrup.  Remove from the heat and stir in the toasted nuts, barberries, and sour cherries.  Set aside.

Partially cook the rice in fast-boiling water for 6 minutes.  Drain.  Stir the fruity nut mixture through the rice, then drizzle with orange blossom water.  Season well.  Spoon the jeweled rice into the pumpkin, top with the butter, and place the lid back on top.

Tear off a piece of aluminum foil large enough to double wrap the pumpkin and lay out on a baking sheet.  Sit the pumpkin on top, rub the skin with a little olive oil, and wrap the foil around it.  Roast for another 30 to 60 minutes until the flesh is tender and a knife goes in easily (allow more roasting time if there is resistance to the knife).  Let sit for 10 minutes before serving.

My Notes

I used barberries, of course!  My sour cherries were whole, seeded, and frozen, not dried, so I used about 1/2 cup.  The pistachios were already dry roasted and salted, so when I toasted them, I just barely got some of them browned.  I used regular rice, not basmati, and about 1 tablespoon of butter instead of 4.

My pumpkin weighed about 4 1/2 pounds before cleaning, and the shell was less than 1 inch thick, so I didn't scoop out any of the flesh.  I mixed the cinnamon, cardamom, and chile flakes in a bowl then added some salt and pepper.  It was this I spread on the inside of the pumpkin before roasting.  The spice mixture was surprisingly thick.

Post-first-roasting.

Here are the barberries soaking and the saffron infusing the orange blossom water:

I forgot to crumble the saffron.

My orange was very small so I used the whole zest.  Plan the zest cooking steps carefully so you can do them easily:  To "refresh" the boiled zest, I first drained them in a small sieve, rinsed them under the faucet, and then left them in the sieve to continue draining while I returned to the pan and added the sugar and water.  Once the sugar was completely dissolved, I put in the zest and boiled the mix until it was reduced to looking just slightly syrupy.

While boiling down to syrup

I added the nuts and fruit right into this pan and stirred well.

The fruity nut mixture before the rice was added.

Once the rice was boiled, I drained it and put it into the pan with the fruit and nuts and mixed well.  After drizzling on the saffron and orange water, I added some pepper (not salt because the pistachios were already salted) and stirred well.

The quantity of jeweled rice fit the inside of the pumpkin perfectly!

Nicely portioned.

Important:  The pumpkin was still pretty hot from its first roasting when it was time to rub the skin with olive oil before wrapping in foil.  Be careful!  I had to rub quickly to avoid burning my fingers.

After 30 minutes of the second roasting, the pumpkin was cooked to tender.  I tested it by stabbing it with a knife through the foil.  : )   The pumpkin rested its ten minutes while I finalized the accompanying meat dish.

The Verdict

I served it as a side dish to the Pork Roasted in Milk, and accompanied by a tossed green salad.  I first served it with the lid on but that made it hard to serve, so I removed the lid, which looked pretty good.

The text suggested cutting the pumpkin in wedges for serving, which I did.

A lot of the rice mixture fell out during the "transfer from the pumpkin to the plate" but it was easy enough to scoop it back up and pile it on the wedge and on the plate around the wedge.

It was an attractive presentation -- we all agreed that the jeweled rice was dramatic and the pumpkin wedge with it intriguing.  I will describe the flavors of the two separately.

The rice stuffing was very tasty:  The fruits (cherry and barberry) were tart and kept the filling from being too much like a dessert, but still added a sweetness that kept it from being too tart.  The nuts and the barberry seeds added a lovely crunch to offset the softness of the rice and fruits.  The orange zest and orange blossom water flavors were very muted but, I think, added a dimension of flavor that rounded out the overall taste experience.

The spices on the inside surface of the pumpkin contributed to the flavor blend, although I was not pleased with the occasional bite of the chile flakes.  My guest tasters liked it, though, and I know I am a "flavor, not fire" person, so I decided I could live with it for their sake.  I thought it was interesting that those spices were there and not mixed into the stuffing at all.  It seemed to be an interface that brought the two parts, pumpkin and stuffing, together.

The pumpkin itself was not exciting.  I think it added something flavorwise to the rice mixture but I think it would be better to stuff a squash that had more flavor of its own.  We discussed the idea of fixing the stuffing without the pumpkin and thought, while it might be good, it would be missing something.  I suspect the pumpkin provided moisture to help finish cooking the rice, too.

So, success!  It paired well with the pork and the salad.  The leftovers await my attention for another day and I look forward to having them.

I think it would make a good stuffing for a turkey or a chicken, too.  The meat juices would add a lovely, savory dimension.  Perhaps I will give it a try.

Oh, the drama!

A Quaking Pudding

I was wandering through a little bookstore in Los Angeles one day.  The cookbook section was small but had some interesting books, including the one I decided to buy.

ISBN 0 907325 653

Such a simple title!  I was intrigued to open it and was not disappointed.  From page 7:

John Evelyn (1620 - 1706), virtuoso, diarist and author, was the second son of a prosperous gentry family of Wotton in Surrey, whose wealth was founded on the manufacture of gunpowder in Queen Elizabeth's reign.

The description goes on to tell us that, among other things, he was a founder of the Royal Society, and "the first gardener-cook for whom meat was incomplete without a salad."  He was particularly interested in gardening, architecture, and city planning.

The editor of this volume, Christopher Driver, tells us that he first saw the manuscripts of John Evelyn some time in the 1950s:

... I saw exhibited there a large volume bound in decorated calf gilt, with Evelyn's arms on the cover and his woodcut bookplate inside.  It was titled, Receipts Medicinal, and proved on inspected to contain not only prescriptions for sick cattle and humans, but receipts for the still-room, formulas for preserves and perfumery (many of these in Portuguese), and culinary recipes.  (page 8)

He later went back and typed up the receipts of cookery.  "Evelyn's neat - but faint - hand always gives me a frisson, as though a friend had planted a great walnut tree three centuries ago."

The story of John Evelyn's life, as far as the editor could determine, is a good read.  Mr. Evelyn lived during a time of change in England, and his manuscripts reflect that.  I recommend it.

There are 343 receipts listed, some of which have a title only and no text.  There are many repeats.  Mr. Driver has reproduced them faithfully, including the spelling of the time and making notes about words that were crossed out or added in after the original words were written.  He also tried to determine the relationships that are mentioned in the receipts, tying the name or title to a person known at the time, and how Mr. Evelyn or his family might have known them.

Especially useful is the Glossary, starting page 179, that defines so many of the words used in the receipts.  I think I would use this when reading other old recipes, too.  Did you know a "kilderkin" was 16 gallons of beer?

The first recipe that caught my attention was #76, on page 69:

A quaking pudding

Take eight egges a pinte of creame, 4 spoonefulls of flower, a nutmeg a little rosewater, a quantity of sugar you thinke fitt, wett the cloath you intend to boile it in, then floure it and let it boile two houres.

I have made boiled puddings before and usually enjoy them, so I wanted to try this one.  The idea of it "quaking" made me think it might be more delicate than the puddings I've tried that used a lot of flour or had a base of bread crumbs.

My Redaction

8 eggs
1 pint heavy cream
4 tablespoons flour
1/2 tablespoon freshly ground nutmeg
1 tablespoon rosewater
1/2 cup sugar

See the nutmeg bits?  I grated them then pounded the rest in a mortar.

First I filled a large pan up halfway with water and also filled the kettle, and began heating the water in both.

I broke the eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork.  Then I poured in the cream and stirred it well.

The flour was spooned into the mixture.  First I stirred it to break up the clumps of flour, then beat it more vigorously to distribute the grains well.

The nutmeg and rosewater were stirred in next.

Finally, I added the sugar and stirred until all the sugar was dissolved.

The mixture looked a lot like pancake batter, but was very thin.

Yes, just like pancake batter.

I rinsed the pudding cloth well (this gets rid of any residual soap from the last washing), then draped it over a bowl that was deep enough to hold all the mixture.

I sprinkled flour over the cloth.  It shouldn't be thick but it should be spread around well.

The picture doesn't show it well, but the cloth is at least lightly sprinkled.

At this point the water in the large pan was simmering and the kettle was steaming.

So I poured the mixture into the cloth, pulled the edges up and gathered them into a bundle to contain the mixture.  I tied the edges together with a sturdy cotton string, not too snugly because you need to leave room for the pudding to swell.



Some of the mixture was seeping out so I worked quickly to get the cloth put into the large pan of hot water.  As soon as it touched the water, the parts seeping out cooked and stopped the leak.

I poured in enough hot water from the kettle to nearly fill the pan, putting the water level an inch or so below the top edge of the pan.

Finally, I gathered the excess cloth into a bundle and rested it on one of the handles of the pan.  This keeps it from falling over the edge and possibly catching on fire.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble!

I adjusted the flame under the pan until the water was just simmering without boiling over or bouncing the cloth around.  I noticed the water was circulating around the whole thing, and I liked that.

I set the timer for 2 hours.

After two hours of gently boiling it, I pulled the pudding cloth from the hot water, let it drain back into the pan for a minute or so, and then placed the whole thing in a bowl.  I removed the string and opened the cloth -- it is hot so be careful when touching it.

The top, as it came out of the cloth.

I could see the pudding was, indeed, quaking!  It looked delicate so I carefully put my serving bowl over the pudding's bowl and inverted it.  This allowed the pudding to transfer without breaking or having to pull the cloth off.

The underside.  I removed that bit of eggshell before serving.  The brown specks are nutmeg.

I sprinkled a little ground mace over the top to decorate it before serving.

It needed something decorative around the edges but that didn't happen.

The Verdict

The pudding was served still warm as a side dish to some pork confit on a bed of apples and onions, and a tossed green salad.  (Remember, John Evelyn thought meat was incomplete without a salad!)

It was easy to remove pieces with a spoon.  It was soft but firm enough to hold its shape.

Cut away view, from the side.

The texture was mostly smooth, meaning it felt smooth on the tongue but looked a little lumpy. 

The flavor was very delicate:  the rosewater and nutmeg combination suggested that some fruit had been added.  My guest taster thought there might be vanilla in it.  The sweetness was a little too much for me for it to be a side dish -- I think next time I would add only 1/3 cup sugar.  But it wasn't bad, and seemed to emphasize the sensation that fruit had been added.

My guest taster wondered if there was cheese in it, which I attribute to the heavy cream and the texture.

The ground mace was warmed by the pudding and provided a lovely scent to entice our taste buds.

It was, as I suspected, a delicate custard.  The little flour in it probably acted as a binder to allow me to turn it out into a dish without it breaking.  But that also allowed it to quake, or wiggle when the bowl was moved. 

A success, for certain!  We both enjoyed it as a side dish and I look forward to having the leftovers for breakfast or lunch.