When There Is Nyet Storebought In Belgrade and Budapest, it’s scratch or nothing

About 15 years ago, when I was still living in Seattle, my sister Pam gave me a cookbook filled with scratch recipes for foods you can find ready-made in any American grocery store, common products like ricotta cheese, catsup, pancake syrup and peanut butter.

“Who has time to make things you can buy?” I thought to myself as I thumbed through my Christmas present, feigning delight.

Being more appreciative of the “meals in minutes” and “too busy to cook” line of guidance, I thought I would never again crack the cover.

But after 13 years in Central and Eastern Europe, “Better Than Store-Bought,” by Helen Witty and Elizabeth Schneider Colchie (Harper, 1979) is one of the most dogeared and splattered volumes among the more than 100 books in my kitchen collection. It’s even bailed me out when making Eggs Benedict for a birthday breakfast on a continent where there is no suitable substitute for English muffins. Before being forced into a relationship with this cookbook, I’d never known gingerbread for Christmas doesn’t have to come from a box.

Thanksgiving dinner is probably the toughest holiday meal to replicate overseas, because the traditional dishes are so specific to America and many of the ingredients so hard to find elsewhere, at least in the convenient form we take for granted at home.

Canned pumpkin scarcely exists in Europe, so making this must-have dessert is a time-consuming effort, unless you remember to stock up during a stateside visit. But somehow, pumpkin never comes to mind in July or August.

Cranberries are grown in many areas of Russia and Eastern Europe, but the stewed and jellied compote we consider essential beside the turkey is alien to the food culture of the region. I was aghast when I realized I would have to make it from raw berries but, once again, Witty and Colchie came to the rescue.

Turkeys are also raised across the region, but butchers sell them cut up for stewing, rather than as whole turkeys for roasting. Big birds are almost impossible to find anywhere in the former Communist world, probably because poultry in general is held in low regard by people who still associate prosperity with red meat.

In these new times of budding capitalism, it is now possible to special order a whole bird and to have it plucked and beheaded before you take it home. Some of the bigger grocery stores have also become savvy about holiday fetishes among Moscow’s tens of thousands of foreigners and now bring in a stock of frozen turkeys in mid-November.

Back in the bad old days of Communist shortages, we would order frozen turkeys from a Helsinki supermarket that made weekly deliveries here by train (at staggering prices)--on the gutsy gamble that we could spring it from the capricious customs authorities before it defrosted. My first Finnish turkey cost $94 in 1984 and was preserved in its solid state by the subzero weather, but the fresh vegetables ordered with it suffered the opposite fate. The only green at our table that year was a bowl of Brussels sprouts from a Polish frozen-food store.

Do-it-yourself seems to be the moral of most of our holiday horror stories. Take the time we tried to get a hotel staff in rural Hungary to prepare our 1990 Thanksgiving dinner.

My friend Celestine’s Hungarian office manager, Olga, had lived in the United States as a child and spent hours on the phone with the hotel kitchen staff, explaining in intricate detail in her native language how the whole turkey should be dressed, stuffed and baked breast-side up. She even translated my stuffing recipe and converted the roasting chart from pounds to kilograms to guide them in the timing. But she looked skeptical as we set off for the castle hotel two hours from Budapest--with good reason, it turned out.

We giggled over the first course: cranberries and corn arrayed around the goose-liver pa^te that can never be avoided in that country. Beer was the only beverage offered, and the waitress delivered a platter of dumplings in place of the expected stuffing. And we will always remember that holiday meal’s centerpiece--strips of turkey breast wrapped around sticks of paprika sausage, breaded and deep-fried. It looked like a plate of crullers.

I’ve endeavored to make my own Thanksgiving dinners ever since, and the results have been satisfying despite the need to start early and allow for a postponement option in case news breaks. Some years, there have been Thanksgiving dinners on the road during breaking stories.

Thanksgiving dinner in 1991 was spent with fellow journalists in Belgrade during a respite from the horror of a war that was raging two hours away in Serb-occupied Croatia. There was no nationalist sentiment among the multicultural gathering--except over the dishes.

“Watch,” said my friend Candace as we warmed things up in the kitchen. “None of the Yugoslavs will touch my stuffing or the pumpkin pie. They hate anything that mixes sweet and savory.”

She knew her Yugoslavs, being married to one. Sure enough, the sage stuffing brought by another American ex-pat, Laura, was consumed in no time, while Candace’s excellent apple-and-sausage offering would have gone untouched if not for the small Yankee contingent.

My contribution to that meal accidentally became a personal specialty: raw pumpkin. Every pie recipe I have ever encountered calls for canned pumpkin. None of my cookbooks provides any guidance for making it from scratch. Even “Better Than Store-Bought” let me down on this one.

“Where did you find the canned pumpkin?” my Thanksgiving guests in Vienna in 1994 wondered aloud and almost in unison, astounded that you can actually make it and convinced it was a terribly complicated procedure. I never set them straight.

Where there are pumpkins, there can easily be puree. More experienced cooks probably have fathomed a better method, but this is the nearest I can figure to make it.

FRESH PUMPKIN PUREE

1 (4- to 5-pound) pumpkin

Water

This was adapted from a recipe in “Better Than Store-Bought.”

Cut pumpkin into wedges. Remove seeds and scrape flesh to remove strings.

Place wedges in roasting pan, rind-side up, with about 1/2 inch water. Cover roaster tightly with lid or foil and bake at 300 degrees until fork will go through to rind without resistance, between 1 and 2 hours depending on thickness of wedges. Check periodically to make sure steam isn’t escaping and pumpkin is not sticking to pan. Replenish water if needed.

Remove wedges from oven. When cool, scrape pulp from rind. Strain excess water from pulp, then process pulp in blender or food processor until smooth. 1 (5-pound) pumpkin will yield about 3 cups puree. Can be frozen for later use. Strain again before using, because puree tends to separate in defrosting.

Makes about 3 cups puree, enough for 2 pies.

Each 1/2-cup serving contains about:

88 calories; 3 mg sodium; 0 cholesterol; 0 grams fat; 22 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams protein; 3.24 gram fiber.

SOUR CREAM PUMPKIN PIE

Basic dough for 2-crust pie (homemade or ready-made)

3 cups Fresh Pumpkin Puree (or canned pumpkin)

1 cup sour cream

1/2 cup whipping cream

1/2 cup granulated sugar

2/3 cup brown sugar

3 large eggs

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon salt

This recipe was adapted from a recipe printed in the November 1995 Bon Appetit. It was modified for Fresh Pumpkin Puree and a larger plate. Serve the pie with sweetened whipped cream.

Line 10-inch pie plate with 1/2 of dough. Save trimmings and add to remaining dough. Line pie shell with aluminum foil, fill pie with dried beans or uncooked rice and bake at 350 degrees until golden but not brown, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, roll out reserved dough and cut into leaf shapes. Bake separately on aluminum foil.

Whisk 2 1/2 cups Fresh Pumpkin Puree, sour cream, whipping cream, granulated and brown sugars, eggs, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cloves and salt in large bowl until thoroughly blended. Pour into baked crust.

Cover edge of crust with strips of aluminum foil to prevent over-browning and bake at 350 degrees until edge of filling is puffy and center is set, about 1 hour 10 minutes. Remove foil about 10 minutes before end of baking.

Remove pie from oven and cool completely before serving at room temperature or slightly chilled. Can be made 1 day ahead. Decorate with baked leaf cutouts just before serving.

Makes 8 to 10 servings.

Each of 10 servings contains about:

473 calories; 218 mg sodium; 91 mg cholesterol; 26 grams fat; 54 grams carbohydrates; 8 grams protein; 1.97 grams fiber.

Williams is the Times bureau chief in Moscow.