Ground Beef and Herb Stuffed Eggplant, Tomato, and Zucchini (Etli Karışık Dolma)

Switzerland is too perfect for me. There, I said it. I want to unbutton your shirt, Switzerland, replace your shiny dress shoes with a pair of worn in ankle boots, muss up your hair, and arrange you in a slouchy position with a drink in your hand. I like things a little rough around the edges, and you, with your rules, and your schedules, and your clean, clean living, you’re bringing me down.

Sometimes, on the train, I want to reach through the window and smudge the cows into the clouds, and the grass into the lake, and the churches into the gardens, and then swirl everything all together like a three year old would with some finger paints. You look too good to be true, Switzerland. Like those sad people from online dating sites who substitute a stranger’s anonymous gorgeousness for self-representation, you are ridiculous with your clear mountain peaks and your drinkable mountain streams. We don’t believe you, Switzerland. Put up a real picture. The one with the thinning hair and the wrinkles, and the pot belly. The one with the trams that steal your money, the heroin addicts, the racism. Give me honesty over your polite concealing smile, a late R train over your predictable ones, a messy Pollock over your singing Mannerist angels.

Yes, I know that wide, wide walkway by the river is especially for you and your puffy poodle, Switzerland, but must you wag your finger at me and point to the bike lane when I am nowhere near you? And you, over there, playing catch by the lake with a beach ball: it’s really funny when your aim is off, and your irreverent ball veers off course and hits a man on the head. Laugh! Use your outdoor voices! Go ahead; break out! And do you really need a six foot high hedge around your house? What are you hiding in there?

I think you might just be excellent fling material, Switzerland. Couple of weeks, a month, here and there. Your shoulders are broad; you smell good; and you speak four languages. You’ve got a great car, a manicured lawn, and damn, you know your way around a fondue pot. You call when you’re supposed to, and never get too close. Your flaw, Switzerland, is your outward perfection, and I think we can work around that if we’re not too serious. Anything long-term and you’re just going to have to get a new wardrobe and dress up like Istanbul or New York or something. And be convincing, will you? I’ll know the difference.

Ground Beef and Herb Stuffed Eggplant, Tomato, and Zucchini (Etli Karışık Dolma)

2 medium eggplant, trimmed and cut into half
2 medium zucchini, trimmed and cut into half
4 medium tomatoes, tops cut off
1 medium onion, finely chopped
1 pound of ground beef
1/2 cup dill, finely chopped
1/2 cup parsley, finely chopped
1/4 cup rice (I used brown rice)
salt and pepper, to taste
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 cup of water or stock

Core the eggplant and the zucchini so that only about 1/2 inch edge remains, and the interior of each of the four halves is an empty cavity. I use a knife to cut the edge, and a spoon to scoop the interior. Keep the bottom of the vegetables intact, so that the filling will not fall out.

Remove the seeds and the interior of the tomato so that you have an empty cavity. Keep the seeds and the tomato pulp for addition to the sauce later.

Combine the onion, ground beef, dill, parsley, rice, and salt and pepper in a bowl. Use your clean hands to incorporate all the ingredients.

Place the vegetables in a large pot (it’s ok if they don’t fit in a single layer), and fill the cavities of each with a little of the meat mixture. Be careful not to overfill, as the mixture will expand a little as the rice cooks.

Add the reserved tomato pulp to the bottom of the pan, along with the tomato paste. Pour the water (or stock) over the dolma before placing on the heat.

Place the pan over medium high heat and bring to a bowl. When the liquid begins to boil, lower the heat, cover the pan, and simmer until the vegetables are fork tender, and the rice is cooked, about 30 to 40 minutes.

Serve immediately with garlic yogurt sauce.

Similar recipes from A Hungry Bear Won't Dance: Zucchini Pancakes with Dill and Feta Cheese Recipe (Mucver), Turkish Red Lentil, Bulgur, and Mint Soup (Ezogelin Çorbası), Swiss Chard, Lentils and Bulgur Wheat with Parsley, Garlic Yogurt
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Zucchini Pancakes with Dill and Feta Cheese Recipe (Mucver)

My friend Daniel has wanted cooking lessons for some time. In New York, we started briefly with some knife skills, prepping lots of veggies for two cold noodle salads I would prepare for my 40th birthday party, and now that I’m in Geneva, we decided on a transcontinental lesson, by Skype, no less.

Daniel’s family is Jewish and keeps a Kosher household, so I was told that if we were using dairy there could be no meat, and vice versa. Thinking Jewish, and reminding me of potato latkes, I came up with the idea of making zucchini pancakes with dill and feta cheese. Daniel’s mother had planned to make fish as the evening’s main dish, and, with the promise of an explanation of the Biblical justification for this to follow, I was assured that the cheese in the pancakes would not break with tradition. I emailed Daniel a list of ingredients to purchase, set up a temporary work station on a free end of the desk, and angled my computer’s camera toward my cutting board. Away we went.

I was surprised by how simply this worked. When Daniel had a question about whether he was chopping too much dill, or if his mixture looked too watery, he held the bowl up to the camera, and I was able to help him answer his question. With new technology, we were able to share information, catch up with our personal lives, and create the same dish at the same time, more than three thousand miles away.

Daniel reported later that the notkes, as he called them, were a smash hit, and wondered what we were making next. Hmm...let’s see? Notzo ball soup? Fauxllah bread? I’m all for it, Daniel; let’s do it.

Zucchini Pancakes with Dill and Feta Cheese Recipe (Mucver)

3-4 medium sized zucchini, grated
3-4 scallions, finely chopped, including the green tops
1/2 cup dill, finely chopped
1/2 cup parsley, finely chopped
1/2 to 2/3 cup feta cheese, crumbled into small pieces
2 eggs
1 to 1 1/2 tablespoon flour
pepper, to taste

Place the grated zucchini in a colander in the sink and sprinkle with a little salt. Don’t add too much salt; the zucchini will not be rinsed before forming the pancakes. Let the moisture drain out as you prepare the other ingredients.

Combine the scallion, the dill, the parsley and the feta cheese in a bowl.

Squeeze the moisture out of the zucchini, and add it to the bowl with the dill mixture. Beat the eggs briefly with a fork, and add them to the bowl. Sprinkle in the flour and season with a little pepper. Form the mixture into small, not too thick, 3-4 inch diameter pancakes, and cook them in an oiled skillet over medium heat for a few minutes on each side, making sure the interior of each pancake is cooked before removing it from the heat.

Serve immediately. You may serve these plain, or with a little garlic yogurt sauce.

Similar recipes from A Hungry Bear Won't Dance: Fresh Ricotta and Mint Recipe: a Spread with Purple Garlic and Olive Oil, Wilted Dandelion Greens with Dried Figs and Pine Nuts, Almond and Sun Dried Tomato Basil Pesto
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Grilled Sardines and Anchovies Recipe

To celebrate a recent family birthday, we grilled sardines and anchovies on our new mini balcony grill, and I made a polenta ‘lasagna’ as an accompaniment. I had grilled sardines several times on my own, attempting, usually, to recreate the memory of an amazing simple meal of sardines and french fries I shared with my father once in Slovenia. I have made them at home, in a regular pan on the stovetop, and I have made them, and had them made for me, by my friend Cheryl, outside, on an outdoor grill, like this time. But anchovies on the grill I had never tried.

One summer, four years ago, I was teaching in Rome for a couple of weeks, and needing a little single girl alone time, took the middle weekend, and off I went to Naples, Pompeii, Sorrento, Positano, Amalfi, and back to Naples by boat. Once I saw the sweeping views from the first stop in Positano, I jumped off the bus attempting to find a place to sleep, and viewed, and quickly paid for, a room overlooking the Italian coastline, and the colorful villas dotting the surrounding cliffs. After a refreshing swim in the pool, and washing off all the Pompeiian dust, I headed down the hill for a look at the sea and a bite to eat.

The Italians were often baffled that I was traveling alone, and eating alone was no different. Assuming they felt sorry for me, I got lots of free stuff. My gorgeous meal of Italian flag red cherry tomatoes, twelve butterflied and grilled anchovies from the water my feet could almost touch, and a substantial arugula salad enhanced with olive oil and acidified by a squeeze of the ubiquitous Amalfi lemon, was followed by a gift: a curvy glass of the local liquor with a wild strawberry floating in it. After that meal, the idea of grilling fresh anchovies became as dreamy as memories of my Mediterranean adventure.

I was worried they would stick on the grill if I butterflied them, so I cleaned them and grilled them whole, and left them for just a minute over the heat. These anchovies were an experiment, a little appetizer before the foolproof sardines, fragrant with fresh thyme sprigs, and imbued with smoky flavor. Now that I know I can do it, next time it’s twelve anchovies for each of us, and a small glass of limoncello, perhaps, for the strawberries.




Grilled Sardines and/or Anchovies Recipe

Clean the sardines and/or anchovies by cutting the head off on an angle behind the gills, and then make a small slit in the belly area. Remove the head and then the guts from the slit you just made, and rinse the inside with water. For a prettier presentation, you may leave the head on. Remove any scales on the sardines by running your knife gently the wrong way against them. Rinse again, and set the cleaned fish aside. There’s no need to do this with the anchovies, and there might even be debate about cleaning them at all; they are so small.

I bought my sardines already cleaned by the fish monger, and disappointingly, they removed the tail, too. The tail is my favorite part, not only because it gets nice and crispy on the grill, but also because you can use it to pull all the bones out with one fell swoop once the fish is cooked and on your plate. After you get over a little blood, it’s really easy to clean the fish yourself, and saves money, too!

Dry the sardines and anchovies well, and fill the belly of all the sardines with a thyme sprig. Rub the surface of the fish with plenty of olive oil, and season lightly with salt and pepper.



Make sure your grill is hot, and the coals are well distributed. Put the sardines and anchovies on the grill, being careful not to crowd them. Cook the sardines for a minute and a half to 2 minutes on each side, turning them carefully. Cook the anchovies for barely a minute on each side.

Remove from the grill and serve immediately with fresh lemon, and arugula salad, if you like.

Other recipes from A Hungry Bear Won't Dance: Wilted Dandelion Greens with Dried Figs and Pine Nuts Recipe, Fresh Coriander, Ginger, and Chile Crepês Recipe (Rava Dosa), Turkish Red Lentil, Bulgur, and Mint Soup (Ezogelin Çorbası)

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Turkish Red Lentil, Bulgur, and Mint Soup Recipe (Ezogelin Çorbası)

I have had a lot more cheese, here in Switzerland, than I have even written about. I have shared fondue, and cheese tarts, and for breakfast, I just cannot turn down the earthy gruyère on my toast with a little Swiss alpine butter. It’s great, but I needed a break. This is not my usual diet, and for some grounding, I made a favorite Turkish red lentil soup from my childhood. It is disappointingly chilly here, so instead of sunbathing at the bains de paquis, and then relishing the cooling effects of the clear lake, I bought a pair of shoes that aren’t sandals, and to warm us, I made soup.

One of the few inexpensive places to eat in Geneva are the Turkish and Kurdish kebab houses. While tasty, I’m sad that kebabs have become the quintessential Turkish food outside of Turkey, when there is enormous variety and sophistication to the country’s food left unrepresented. No matter, I’m happy to eat a good döner kebab when I can, so one day, caught without lunch, we stopped in for one. The Swiss are polite and kind, but the Turks are warm, welcoming, and once you’re friends, friends you are for life. In Turkish, there are even two words for the word friend, highlighting the spectrum of possible closeness. At first meeting, one may be referred to as an arkadaş, or usual friend, and if the relationship becomes longer-term, more like family, then one is called a dost, an intimate, or kindred spirit.

After having eaten at this local place, and speaking briefly in my flawed Turkish with the server and with the owner, Turks from all over the neighborhood began to recognize me. Now, if my husband and I enter a different kebab house and ask, in French, for a savory yogurt beverage called ayran, I’ll hear someone sitting at a nearby table alert the owner, saying, “onlar Türkler”, meaning “they’re Turkish”, and they’ll switch from French to Turkish. “They” are Turkish, not “she” is Turkish. My husband, looking clearly western European, welcomed, too, into the warmth of the Turkish culture, even from Switzerland. Thank you, Turks, for helping make chilly Geneva feel more like home.


Turkish Red Lentil, Bulgur, and Mint Soup (Ezogelin Çorbası)
adapted from The Sultan's Kitchen, By Özcan Ozan
Serves 4-6

2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons unsalted clarified butter (I don’t bother clarifying the butter, and you could use only olive oil if you wanted to leave out the dairy)
1 large Spanish onion, finely diced (3/4 cups)
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 medium tomato, peeled,
seeded and finely chopped (1/2 cup) (or you may use 1/2 cup of tomato sauce or diced tomatoes)
2 tablespoons paprika
1/2 teaspoon Turkish red pepper or ground red pepper (you may use cayenne, or leave it out)
1-1/2 cups red lentils
1/4 cup long-grain white rice (I sometimes use brown rice here)
6 cups chicken stock or water
1/4 cup fine-grain bulgur (you may also use regular bulgur. I find the resulting textural contrast nice)
1 tablespoon dried mint
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Plain bread croutons (optional)
Lemon wedges

For the Topping:

2 tablespoons unsalted butter (or olive oil, but butter really makes it here)
1 teaspoon dried mint
1/2 teaspoon paprika (I also add spicy Turkish pepper to this mixture for a little heat)


In a heavy medium-sized saucepan, heat the olive oil and the butter over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook gently for about 2 minutes, or until they're softened but not brown. Stir in the tomato paste, chopped tomato (or tomato sauce or diced tomatoes), the paprika, and Turkish pepper. Add the lentils, rice, and stock. Cover the saucepan and bring the liquid to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer for 30-35 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the rice is cooked and the lentils have blended with the stock. Add the bulgur and mint, and season with salt and pepper. Cook for another 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the soup is too thick, add a little water.

To make the topping, melt the butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Add the mint and paprika, and stir the mixture until it sizzles. Ladle the soup into individual bowls and drizzle the butter mixture over each serving. Top with the croutons, if you're using them. Serve at once with lemon wedges.

Similar recipes from A Hungry Bear Won't Dance: Sorrel and Stinging Nettle Soup Recipe, Oven Baked Börek with Mustard Greens, Feta, and Walnuts Recipe, and Spring Fava Beans with Garlic Yogurt Recipe.
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Fresh Ricotta and Mint Recipe: a Spread with Purple Garlic and Olive Oil

Last week was a busy week: my father in law came to visit, and I was teaching dance every day in Lausanne, waking up early each morning to catch the train from Geneva in time to prepare for my 10 am class. When the weekend came, I slept in, and by the time I groggily padded into the kitchen, the household was hungry immediately for breakfast. I had some fresh ricotta in the fridge that I planned to dress up with the leftover mint from this quiche, and a clove or so from a head of beautiful purple garlic I couldn’t wait to try. I drizzled in a little olive oil, some salt and some pepper, and in five minutes, came up with an easy, inexpensive, and satisfying spread. I’d use this later in the day, too, on toast as an appetizer, but as a fairly mild breakfast spread I received compliments all around. The purple garlic was not as pungent as the garlic I’m used to, so I added one large clove, but if garlic’s not your thing, you may leave it out, or add less of it.


Fresh Ricotta and Mint Recipe: a Spread with Purple Garlic and Olive Oil

About a cup and a half fresh ricotta cheese
One large clove of purple garlic (or regular garlic), minced
About two tablespoons fresh mint, chopped
1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil, or to taste
Salt and pepper, to taste.

Mix everything together in a small bowl. Spread on toast. Enjoy.

Similar recipes from A Hungry Bear Won't Dance: Almond and Sundried Tomato Basil Pesto Recipe and Home with Hummus Recipe.
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Conchiglie Pasta with Gorgonzola and Garden Orache Recipe

The supermarkets in Geneva carry a great deal of local, organic ingredients, and this week I saw a plant I’d never seen before. Marked rare species on the label, arroche des jardins, or garden orache in English, is an unusual plant in the Chenopodium genus, and related to the plant I found at the market in Turkey last summer and used in börek. This orache has deep red, tender leaves, the color of radicchio, an association I made which led my thoughts to Italy, and then, to the Italian part of Switzerland, to Ticino.

A bike trip through Ticino for my 33rd birthday remains one of the highlights of all my travels. We cycled along the Lago Maggiore to Locarno, where, after exploring the old town by foot, we passed leisurely afternoons eating polenta and risotto, and sipping cappuccinos in the Piazza Grande. In the sunny, sub-tropical climate, the mildest in Switzerland, palm trees and magnolias are common, and a strange sight when brisk, generally overcast Geneva is your usual. We took a heart-stopping train ride through the Centovalli and, among the alpine streams waterfalling dramatically to valleys below, we chugged by little stone huts called grottos, restaurants serving typically Ticinese fare. I had fantasies, then, of moving to Locarno, learning Italian, spending my days hiking and biking these gorgeous valleys, stopping over from time to time for a meal in a grotto, or a swim in the lake, the mountainous views occasionally punctuated by the colorful mix of medieval and modernist architecture.

In the store, I ripped off a bit of one of the leaves of the arroche des jardins and tasted it. Lacking the bitterness and textural heft of radicchio, if my eyes had been closed, I would have guessed Swiss chard. How appropriate. The resulting delectable pasta dish can be made classically with that radicchio, but I might also try it with Swiss chard, or another green that won’t wilt dramatically under a little heat. Our primi piatti that evening, it was difficult to stop eating in order to make room for the seared lamb and lemony eggplant I made to break in our new grill. Ticino, on our little balcony.



Conchiglie (Pasta Shells) with Gorgonzola and Garden Orache (or Radicchio) Recipe

1 pound conchiglie pasta (pasta shells)
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 medium cloves of garlic, sliced
1/2 pound gorgonzola cheese
2/3 cup heavy cream
approximately 1 cup milk
salt and pepper, to taste
one bunch garden orache (who knows; perhaps some of you grow it?), radicchio, Swiss chard, or other sturdy green, torn into medium-sized pieces

Heat a large, salted, pot of water until boiling. Add the pasta shells and cook according to package directions, being careful not to over cook.

Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a large saucepan over medium high heat. Add the onion, and cook until translucent. Add the garlic, and stir a couple of times, being careful not to burn it. Lower the heat a bit, add the gorgonzola cheese, and let it melt completely, stirring constantly. When the cheese is melted, you may add the cream and the milk (pour slowly, you don’t want your sauce to be too thick or too thin), and heat the sauce gently, until it reaches the desired consistency. If your sauce is too thick, add a little of the pasta’s cooking water, or more milk. Season the sauce with salt and pepper, add the arroche des jardins, or the Swiss chard, and stir until the leaves are just wilted. Incorporate the pasta with the sauce, and serve immediately.

Note: If you are using radicchio, I might cook it a bit on it's own before adding it to the onion mixture and the cheese and cream. Since it is a bit sturdy, cooking it lightly will soften it just enough.

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