Before posting this particular recipe, I thought I would recount my tales of woe from earlier this week. This recipe was actually the result of three days' worth of strife over the dough, and many unfortunate mishaps.
Let's take a flash to the past, shall we?
Day One: First Recipe
Source: Old Russian Cookbook
So, first day is chugging along, and I think that everything is going great. I've got the pot near somewhere that I think is warm, everything's going well....
Suffice it to say, that was not the case. I will skip the drama and heartbreak (why isn't the dough rising? Why is there so little dough? Why is there so much filling?) and say that if you aren't with someone, the Russian cookbooks can kind of suck. With fantastically specific directions such as, "Put the pirozhki in when the oven is warm" (because warm is obviously a very specific temperature), missing ingredients (oh, let's just make bread without eggs) and missing steps (did you know you're supposed to let yeast RISE before you dump it into dough?), this recipe was a huge flop. However, at the time, I thought the fault was mine for not putting it on something hot; so I decided to go on and make it again the next day.
Day Two: When Things Get Anticlimactic
Same recipe as Day One
After having learned the secret of yeast (let it rise with some sugar, and THEN put it in dough), I begin my attempt once more, microwaving some milk until it's lukewarm and then dumping in a packet of yeast before setting it on the radiator to rise. (Turns out that Russian radiators are specifically meant for heating things other than the room; who knew?) In my excitement/nervousness, I check the pot to make sure that the yeast is rising. And it is!
... and then the moment I put the pot back to let the yeast finish rising, the pot flips off of the radiator and dumps its entire contents (including my beautifully rising yeast) onto the floor.
I almost cried.
Day Three: When Things Get Frustrating
Still same recipe as Day One
At this point, the pirozhki were no longer a task for fun, but a quest. I would not let my honor be defiled by these pesky pastries; and thus filled with determination, I followed every cursed step of that recipe, save one.
I had no choice, mind you; I needed to let this dough rise, but at the same time, I had class. So, when I frantically returned home to find that the dough had died (the top was hard, and lifeless), and the dough was tough to work with, I finally decided that it was time to take things to the next level.
Day Four: Retribution
New and flashier recipe
That night, disheartened and disillusioned when I found I had created monstrosities as hard as hockey pucks, I turned to my dear friend, the internet, for answers. And boy, did the internet deliver.
Here is the illuminating shot of all the pirozhki that I made, side by side:
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| Don't let that speck of brown in the middle fool you; that's an apple pirozhok prepared from store-bought dough. The weird one that looks like a flying saucer directly behind it is try one, and all the dry, brittle ones that look like they can break your teeth are try #3. (Try #2 is invisible.) |
I found this recipe off of slopal.ru, which is a very nifty website. I haven't gotten any other recipes off of it, but still, put the recipe through google translate, and, if you have a basic understanding of Russian, it's quite easy to piece together what you're supposed to do. (I, however, will translate for you, and explain what I myself did when making these delicious, delicious pies.)
For this recipe, you will need:
At least 1.5 kg flour (or around 6 cups);
.5 liters of milk (or 2 1/8 cups);
5 eggs, plus one to glaze the pirozhki;
300 g sugar (or 1 1/4 cups);
50 g. butter (or 3.5 tbsp);
200 g margarine (or 1 3/4 sticks-- 14 tbsp);
Enough dry yeast for 1.5 kg flour (I just used 1 1/2 packets, or about 5 1/2 tsp)
*Update: I would recommend putting in 2 whole packets of yeast, because what I realized is that even though the recipe is meant for 2 kg of flour, the amount you end up putting in is much, much more. Thus, it's better to put in more yeast; the results are much more epic, I promise.
So, the first step is letting the yeast rise. This is very important, because otherwise, you bake a hockey puck your host mom is afraid to eat for fear of hurting her teeth. (Not that I know this from personal experience... Moving on.)
What I did, because neither the recipe nor the yeast had directions for letting the yeast rise, was to add enough water-- about a cup or so-- that I could put all the yeast in the water, and have it spread out relatively evenly. Then I added a spoonful of sugar, covered the entire thing with a towel, and let the yeast rise for about fifteen minutes, the results of which looked something like this:
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| Impressive, isn't it? |
Meanwhile, I melted the butter and margarine together, so that they were smooth:
After melting in the butter, I added in the milk. Here's the first part where the recipe and I differ: the recipe specifies that the milk must be warm before adding it to the butter, otherwise when you add in the eggs, the eggs will curdle and ruin everything. However, I had the entire mixture boiling the entire time I was completing the next step (not on purpose, mind you) and by whisking continuously, I managed to mix everything together with no harm done.
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| But I'm getting ahead of myself. |
Next, I took the five eggs, put them in a bowl, and whisked them with the sugar. The result was not white or frothy, but somewhat foamy and integrated.
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| I also thought I'd point out that Russian eggs have brighter yolks than American ones do. That is all. |
Next, making sure to stir/whisk continuously, pour the egg/sugar mixture back into the butter/milk mixture:
Once you've added the eggs (and made sure they didn't curdle), add in the yeast to the entire mixture.
Here's where things get a little bit tedious: sift all the flour into the mixture, kneading the rest of the flour in once the dour is solid enough:
*A note about sifting flour: I discovered that there is a smart way, and a dumb way to sift flour.
Dumb way: tapping the side of the sifter, hoping desperately that the flour isn't going to go absolutely everywhere at once.
Smart way: take a spoon, run it against the bottom of the sifter, and thus have better control of the flour while getting everything sifted faster. Technology is amazing.
*Update: Additionally, smartest thing to do, pretty much ever: Take a separate bowl and sift all of your flour at once, so that when you're adding the flour into the dough during this next step, life is much, much easier. (This may be common sense, but it's something I only discovered after my second try.)
After adding the 1.5 kg of flour, keep adding flour until the dough isn't too terribly sticky; it will still be stickier than you'd like it, but you'll add in more flour farther along. Let the dough rise for a while (I let it rise for about an hour just because after try #3, I was paranoid; but an hour and a half would probably be safer), and then knead it back down, adding flour to adjust for stickiness. Then, sit back, relax, and let it rise again.
Now, here is a little caveat:
On the first night, a.k.a. Try #1, I created a rice filling. I couldn't tell what exactly the recipe wanted; it had something about needing 10-12 cups of water, but then at the end, it said "for every 1 1/2 cups of rice, add 3-4 boiled eggs". Did the recipe mean cooked rice? Or dry? And after deciding it meant dry, I went on and baked the recipe.
Worst. Idea. Ever.
All three actual attempts were made from the rice and egg mix of try #1; and considering it was a total experiment that went horribly wrong and created monstrous amounts of filling, I am not putting up that recipe here. The important thing about pirozhki, after all, is the dough; you can fill them with just about anything, including apples, cherries, meat, mashed potatoes, scrambled eggs... The options are limitless. So rather than try to create the filling that never ends (seriously, I had to throw some of it away after try #4, because there was STILL SOME LEFT), I'm going to happily move on to what to do with whatever filling you choose.
During the time that you're rolling out your dough, preheat the oven to around 175 degrees Celsius (or 345 degrees Fahrenheit). The oven has to already be heated when you put in the pirozhki; otherwise, apparently, it summons the four horsemen of the Apocalypse (which ride terrible pirozhki steeds, I suppose). Also, rather than greasing the pan, I just used parchment paper; and it made life so much easier.
Now, is there a proper way to roll out pirozhki? Probably. Did I do it? Not a chance. I personally was grabbing handfuls of dough, spreading them out to a moderately thin consistency, dumping filling in the middle, and then molding everything shut so that it was a nice, closed bun.
The dough was super elastic, and easy to handle; and that made making the pirozhki that much easier.
So, after you make the actual pirozhki, you let them sit for about ten minutes, during which time they rise and settle.
Then, using that one last egg from before, you put a glaze on the buns, and pop them in the oven. I found that every single batch that I baked were done at exactly 35 minutes; but keep an eye on the oven, and watch for when then turn brown.
And now you have delicious Russian cuisine, hopefully without the tears and near-breakdowns that I had to endure in order to find this recipe. Russian food is absolutely delicious and filling, and no matter what you put on these pirozhki, they're sure to be fantastic. After all, the goal is to never have to eat a hockey puck.
