My family is not Greek, but one of my favorite dishes my mom made when I was  growing up was moussaka — I’m not sure where or why she got the recipe. The version she made was roughly the Greek one, layered and and served warm (but there are many different versions). I wasn’t striving for authenticity with my own version, just trying to satisfy a craving. It’s a great dish for a lazy day of cooking; roasting the vegetables separately might seem picky and is certainly not traditional, but it gives the dish deep flavor.

Zucchini and Eggplant

Part of the reason for my making this dish was to use up the zucchini and eggplant that were lingering from last week’s trip to the farmers market. I would have preferred to use more eggplant, but I just used what I had: about two pounds of zucchini and one pound of eggplant. I sliced the vegetables about a quarter inch thick on the mandoline, tossed them with about a teaspoon of salt each and set them in separate colanders to exude some moisture. After about an hour, I wrapped the veggies in a thin towel and squeezed even more moisture out. I then tossed the sliced vegetables with olive oil and pepper (already plenty of salt on them) arranged them in a single layer on sheet pans (keep the vegetables separate throughout this process) and roasted them for about 30 minutes at 400ºF, flipping them halfway through, until they were deep brown in spots, almost starting to burn. I spread the zucchini evenly across the bottom of an eight inch square baking dish and set the eggplant aside.

These will form layers one and three of the assembled dish.

Tomato-Lamb Sauce

While the vegetables were roasting I sauteed a diced medium onion in olive oil until it softened, then stirred in a pound of ground lamb, a teaspoon of salt, and a dash each of ground cinnamon, allspice and cumin. I let that cook until the lamb was no longer pink, stirring frequently to break up the chunks of lamb, then added about a fourteen ounce can’s worth of tomato sauce (I actually used tomatoes I canned last year mixed with tomato juice left over from a canning project this morning). I let this reduce until little loose liquid remained, then poured it on top of the zucchini in the baking dish.

This is layer two; arrange the roasted eggplant slices atop the tomato sauce for layer three.

Béchamel

The last layer is simply a béchamel sauce; I sauteed two minced shallots in four tablespoons of butter until the shallots were translucent, then stirred in four tablespoons of flour and cooked it long enough for the roux to acquire some color, stirring all the time. I then slowly whisked in two cups of skim milk and added a teaspoon of salt and a dash of nutmeg. I let it boil a few minutes to thicken, and then poured it over the top of the baking dish to form the fourth and final layer.

I baked at 400ºF for thirty minutes, until the béchamel starts to brown. Allow the pan to cool for 10-15 minutes before cutting it so it can set up. Cut into squares and serve warm.

When it comes to Spanish bar food, I don’t need much more than a plate full of jamón serrano to accompany a few cañas of beer. But for Martha, there is no better tapa than the croqueta: a deep fried little log of gooey delight (beer doesn’t hurt here either). Always looking for ways to please, and not exactly hating croquetas either, I recently fried up a couple of batches using two different recipes for Martha’s and my own enjoyment.

I made my first batch of croquetas using the classic technique (my base recipe came from Penelope Casa’s Delicioso: The Regional Cooking of Spain). The first step is to make a very thick bechamel: my roux consisted of 6 tablespoons of olive oil and ¾ cup of flour to which I added 2 cups of milk over medium heat. In preparing the bechamel I learned that a lumpy roux that just won’t break up can be remedied with the magic of a food processor, a most satisfying action after 5 minutes of uselessly hunting lumps with a whisk.

Lots of fillings can go in croquetas, but salt cod and cheese are two very popular options. Since we were fresh out of salt cod, I decided to go the cheese route. Obviously, a Spanish cheese  would have been appropriate, but I was not interested in going to the store, so instead I folded a handful of cheap provolone into my cooked sauce with salt and pepper for good measure.

As I mentioned earlier, croquetas are shaped like small logs. But how to give shape to liquid bechamel sauce? The answer is to chill it. Most recipes seem to recommend chilling the bechamel overnight before proceeding. Crunched for time, I got away with just an hour and a half of chilling.

After the bechamel was cold enough to work, I formed pinches of it into cylinders and placed them on a plate. Then, it was time to bread: separate dishes of flour, eggs, and bread crumbs and a fanatical observance of “wet hand, dry hand” rule make this a clean and efficient process. As the croquetas were breaded I placed them on a sheet pan to wait for their date with destiny—a pot full of 350°F oil.

Croquetas don’t take long to fry, just a few minutes until the breading is golden. If they sit in the oil too long, there’s a risk of the filling exploding out of the breading. They are best eaten very hot, washed down with the aforementioned beer.

We also enjoyed a few other Spanish standards: tortilla española, jamón (ok, prosciutto, but what can you do?) and aged goat cheese.

Making these must have given me the croqueta bug, because just over a week later I was hauling out the oil again for another round. This time, though, I used a recipe from the New York Times that was less traditional: rather than a bechamel, these croquetas were based on leftover mashed potatoes (the recipe was originally published in anticipation of Thanksgiving leftovers). It happened that I had a large amount of mashed potatoes left over from Martha’s birthday and this recipe sitting on my desktop for the past year and a half; it was a croqueta perfect storm, really. I made the recipe as described in the Times, again substituting prosciutto for jamón (but really, there is no substitute).

If using leftover mashed potatoes seems too convenient and not a little questionable to you, your suspicions are well-warranted. These croquetas had good flavors and were a good way to use up leftovers, but the heavy mashed potatoes just can’t compete with gooey, creamy fried béchamel. All considerations of time and convenience aside, I’d take traditional croquetas every time. But in any case, there’s plenty of room in our lives for all kinds of croquetas.

And therein lies the real joy of making croquetas at home: if you order them in a restaurant, you can expect three to five to a plate accompanied by a crazy urge to order more. Too much of this can break the bank. At home, relatively cheap ingredients are transformed into enough fried goodness to satiate anybody’s croqueta cravings.