Moussaka is not a character from the Lion King.

I returned home from Winnipeg to find a clean kitchen and an empty fridge, and a sky full of dark clouds ominous with the threat of rain. It felt like an appropriate time for some comfort food, for the both of us. After too many days of fast food, we both craved vegetables and a meal prepared at home.

And while I was in Winnipeg, I thought about moussaka, though I am not sure why. I don’t really care for much of what I’ve tasted of Greek food – maybe it’s because almost every restaurant is identical out here, and I don’t really like oregano or whatever is done to the rice or that particular colour blue.

I fantasize about Greece, however, and imagine that the food there is fantastic – not like every Taverna along Broadway or on every corner in every small town in the world. I imagine lemons and fresh herbs and sea salt and perfectly roasted lamb and big, fat, meaty olives. Everything with the sheen of fresh olive oil.

So we invited over Steve and Sooin, and Paul, who gets me in Nick’s will if Nick dies, and served up a hot pan of moussaka. And it was good. Except that it was a tad too salty, so I’ve tweaked this recipe some. It’s much better now.

Moussaka

  • 1 Japanese eggplant
  • 2 medium zucchini So you can see what size vegetables you'll be working with.

Meaty filling:

  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, chopped (about 1 1/2 cups)
  • 1 lb. ground beef or lamb
  • 3 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 tsp. dried oregano
  • 1 tsp. black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp. dried thyme
  • 1/2 tsp. cinnamon
  • 1 small (5 1/2 oz.) can of tomato paste
  • 1/2 cup dry white wine or chicken stock

White sauce:

  • 2 tbsp. butter
  • 3 tbsp. flour
  • 1 1/2 cup milk
  • 2 cloves garlic, finely minced
  • zest of 1/2 lemon (or about 1 teaspoon)
  • 1/2 tsp. pepper
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
  • 1/3 cup crumbled feta

Topping:

  • 1 cup bread crumbs (preferably panko)
  • 1 cup crumbled feta
  • 1 finely minced clove of garlic
  • 2 tbsp. chopped fresh parsley
  • Juice of 1 lemon
  • 2 tbsp. olive oil

Preheat your oven to 375°F.

Thinly slice your eggplant and zucchini, about 1/4 inch thick. Grease an 9″x13″ pan with olive oil.

In a large skillet, sauté your onions until translucent. Add the ground beef and garlic, and cook until browned. Add your oregano, pepper, thyme, and cinnamon, and tomato paste, and wine or chicken stock, stir until everything’s all mixed together and it smells really good, and then remove from heat.

In a small pot over medium-high heat, melt your butter. Let it get foamy, then add the flour, and stir to blend.

 

This is what the butter and flour should look like before you add the milk.
This is what the butter and flour should look like before you add the milk.

 

Whisk in your milk, and reduce heat to medium. Add your pepper and nutmeg, garlic, lemon zest (not too much!), and stir in the feta. Let this simmer until the feta has melted and the sauce has thickened, three to five minutes. Remove from heat.

Line the bottom of your prepared pan with slices of zucchini and eggplant, not too thick, but until you can’t see the bottom.

Pan with first layer.Drizzle the layer with olive oil, and then add half of the meat mixture over the top, spreading to cover. Drizzle this with about 1/3 of the white sauce. Repeat, adding another layer in this order.

Add the final layer of zucchini and eggplant (there will be three layers of vegetables in total). Drizzle your remaining white sauce over the top layer.

In a small bowl, mix up the panko (or regular bread crumbs), parsley, garlic, and feta. Top the moussaka with the crumb topping, and then drizzle with olive oil, and the juice of the lemon.

Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and you see bubbling along the sides.

Moussaka!Serve with a salad of cucumber and tomato, tossed with parsley and fresh mint, and topped with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper.

Meal!And bask in the joy of vegetables, even if you are wondering where summer went. It’s still raining, so tonight we are going to eat as if we are elsewhere, like India. Or Mexico. Or both?

Winnipeg … you CAN have too much sky. And never enough pancakes.

After my travels, I was pleased to return home and realize that I have learned a few things.

  1. The sky is very large: This is unnerving. If aliens attack, they have a clear shot from anywhere above Manitoba.
  2. Mountains and large concrete structures make me feel safe.
  3. In Winnipeg, they eat pancakes out on the patio.
  4. I have reached the age where I’d rather eat a vegetable than an entire bag of Cheetos.
  5. My digestive system has reached the age where it won’t even try to cope with excess. It is a crotchety old bugger and won’t think twice about screwing me over to make a point.
  6. Winnipeg is the Slurpee capital of the world. More Slurpees are sold in Winnipeg than anywhere else on Earth.

    This dress is completely unflattering but very comfortable.
    This dress is completely unflattering but very comfortable.
  7. A container full of pancake batter will explode if exposed too long to direct sunlight.
  8. A container full of pancake batter will turn into pancakes along the side of a hot car in the middle of the day.
  9. Mini donuts are really just deep-fried pancakes covered in sugar and served hot in a wax paper bag. They can also be called: “Manna from heaven.”

And so my trip to Winnipeg is over, and I am safely at home. Five pounds heavier.

The wedding was lovely, and my friend Sarah was a beautiful bride. See?

I am allowed to exploit her bridely likeness on the Internet because I don't think she reads this.
I am allowed to exploit her bridely likeness on the Internet because I don't think she reads this.

But this is a food blog, so I’d best get down to business. Sarah and her groom, Kev, and their families were fantastic hosts, showing me around and feeding me practically nonstop. And while the first day, I had some concerns …

This is what they eat for breakfast in Winnipeg.
This is what they eat for breakfast in Winnipeg.
Communist bacon.
Communist bacon.

… by dinner time we ate real food. When I was in high school, I ate a Wunderbar and drank a bottle of Coke for breakfast pretty much every day (and I still have all my own teeth!), and Cheetos were pretty much a staple food. I was flattered that they thought my youth was still intact, and that I could still eat like that, and a little sad that I’ve reached an age where something with flax might have been more desirable after a certain point. (I am not looking forward to the blog post thirty years from now where I talk about how thoughtful Sarah and Kev were for feeding me crudités, but all I really wanted was a bowl of spinach purée, and a glass of Metamucil, so I wouldn’t have to chew.)

The next day, we went to a place called George’s. It’s a greasy spoon somewhere off the highway, and it was pretty much AWESOME. Kev said that the restaurant had been built in parts. That is, at first, it was a tiny little place, and then they added wings, and a “patio.” The burger was fantastic, and the burger platter was epic. I can now state, without hesitation, that the best burgers in the world are in Winnipeg.

George's Burgers & Subs.
George's Burgers & Subs.
Oh, this? Yeah. I know. I want to make sweet passionate love to it also.
Oh, this? Yeah. I know. I want to make sweet passionate love to it also.

As you can see, the fries were some sort of miracle, but the burger! Oh, the burger! It was a cheeseburger, but they put all the delicious melty cheese on the bottom, which is preferable because your taste buds are on the bottom, and my tongue always wants to be hit with cheese first, if it has an option. The sauce that comes on everything at George’s is meaty chili, which is pretty much genius. I have never had a better burger. AND THE BUNS ARE ALL HOMEMADE … from the taste of them, every day.

Later that day, we went to The Forks, because I was all whiny that we hadn’t been to a city yet, even though people kept telling me, “This is the city.” Still full from George’s, we thought it would be a good idea to eat mini donuts, because it’s never been a bad idea to eat mini donuts.

Michelle (other bridesmaid/friend) watches mini donut batter being dropped into hot oil.
Michelle (other bridesmaid/friend) watches mini donut batter being dropped into hot oil.

And that’s when I realized that mini donuts are essentially deep-fried pancake batter, and then I realized that I have never loved anything more.

And speaking of pancakes …

The Original Pancake House.
The Original Pancake House.

In Winnipeg, they make a thing called a Giant Apple Pancake. And in Winnipeg, they eat pancakes out on the patio, the way that regular people drink beer.

Proof that there is a patio at a pancake house in Winnipeg.
Proof that there is a patio at a pancake house in Winnipeg.
The Giant Apple Pancake: A close-up.
The Giant Apple Pancake: A close-up.
My share.
My share.

The great thing about this pancake, aside from it being a pancake, was the sugar. The cinnamony, sugary apple part was sticky and sweet, but in addition to that, there was a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar on top, so in addition to the syrupy dissolved sugar, there was the slight crunch of unmelted sugar, but the fantastic thing was, it wasn’t cloying or excessive. It was pancake magic, and I couldn’t stop professing my undying love.

In Winnipeg, I am very annoying.

And Kev bought me a souvenir.

I loved this the way other people love children.
I loved this the way other people love children.

The trouble was, the instructions said to keep the batter chilled. And then we went to the park, and attempted the children’s museum, and then my batter breached. Breached! The hot Manitoba sun caused the baking powder to activate and suddenly there was carbon dioxide bubbling and the batter grew and exploded out the top of the container, and soon it was all over the ground, and my hands, and a picnic table. But I loved my souvenir, and wasn’t prepared to leave it, and we had to go home because the wedding rehearsal was in a few short hours, so Kev said I could keep it but only if I held it out the window of the car in case it kept leaking. And then the lid blew off, whacking Michelle in the face, and the batter began to splatter, coating me and the side of the car in the batter equivalent of a bloodbath. It baked on, and the car smelled like pancakes for the rest of the trip.

At the risk of this post becoming unruly and unreadable for it’s length, I’ll conclude somewhere about here. Winnipeg is a pretty all right place, and I had a good time. There were perogies AND meatballs included in the wedding feast. The cake was all strawberries and whipped cream. And the bar? It was open.

I flew back at 7:00 am the morning after the wedding, dead tired and sick with whatever gross germs were circulating on the plane, so I didn’t feel like writing or cooking yesterday. Tonight though, we will have a vegetable feast, and I will tell you all about it tomorrow. Because it’s been a long time, and I thought of a cool way to riff on moussaka when I was in Winnipeg, fantasizing about vegetables. In the meantime, I’ll sign off with a couple of wedding pictures, because if you can’t exploit your friends on the Internet, then you have to exploit strangers, which isn’t nearly as fun.

Sarah and Kev.

Bridesmaids.

Groomsmen.

Just married!