Манная каша
Mannaya kasha
Manka, a milk semolina porridge cooked by raining the grain into moving liquid so that it thickens without lumps.
Named from the ingredients as written, including those carried in from sub-recipes. This is not a guarantee — check the labels on what you actually buy, and note that a product’s recipe can change.
Rinse a heavy-based pan with cold water and tip it out, leaving the inside wet. The film of water slows the milk proteins catching and scorching on the base.
Pour in the milk and the 100ml of water. The water gives a looser porridge and makes the pan less prone to catching than milk alone.
Add the sugar and salt.
Bring to a bare simmer over medium-low heat, stirring now and then, until small bubbles break around the edge of the pan and no more than that.
Take a whisk in one hand and keep the liquid turning in a steady circle.
Rain the semolina in through the fingers of your other hand in a thin, continuous stream, taking 30-40 seconds over it.
This is the whole technique. Tip the semolina in as a spoonful and the outside of it gelatinises on contact, sealing dry grain inside, and that lump will not whisk out however long you work at it.
If you would rather not judge the stream, hold back the 100ml of water at the start instead, whisk the semolina into it cold, and stir that slurry into the simmering milk. Every grain is wetted before it meets heat.
Keep whisking for a minute after the last of the grain has gone in.
Simmer very gently for 5-7 minutes, switching to a spatula and working into the corners of the pan, until the porridge holds a brief trail behind the spoon before closing over.
Stop while it is looser than you want it. It will thicken again in the pan and again in the bowl.
Off the heat, stir in half the butter.
Cover and stand for 3 minutes.
Spoon into warm bowls and set the remaining butter on top to melt, which also stops a skin forming as it cools.
Serve with the jam, stirred through or left in a pool.
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Milk, mostly, and that is the point — this is a dish about dairy with a thickener in it rather than a dish about grain. Whole milk cooked for ten minutes tastes distinctly sweeter and more concentrated than raw milk, because some of its lactose caramelises very slightly and its proteins change. The semolina itself is bland, faintly wheaty and slightly sweet. Sugar is modest and salt is doing more than the sugar is: two grams in a bowl of milk porridge is the difference between something that tastes of dairy and something that tastes of nothing at all. Butter melted on top is the richest thing in the bowl. And the jam is the acid and the sharpness, which is why it is not a decoration — a bowl of manka without something sour on it is very flat.
Warm milk, and very little else, which is a large part of why this dish is so strongly associated with childhood for people who grew up on it. Butter melting on top at the end. If you smell anything scorched, the base has caught and the whole pan will taste of it.
This is what the dish is judged on, entirely. It should be completely smooth and just pourable — thick enough to hold a spoon briefly, loose enough to level itself in the bowl. Lumps are the failure and grittiness is the second failure, meaning it was undercooked. A skin forms within a minute or two of standing uncovered, which some people consider the best part and others find intolerable; the butter on top is there to prevent it.
Very quiet. The main audible cue is negative: a bare simmer makes almost no noise, and if the pan is bubbling audibly it is too hot. The whisk against the base is the only real sound, and it changes as the porridge thickens — from a thin slosh to a heavier drag, which is a reasonable indication of progress.
Butter and warm milk first. Then the mild sweetness of the grain across the middle. Then the jam, which arrives sharp and fruity and is the only thing in the bowl with any edge to it. The finish is milky and clean and short. It is a gentle bowl of food from beginning to end, which is exactly what it is for.
Hot, in warm bowls. It cools fast and thickens as it does, so the window is short. Cold set semolina is a different food.
Jam, above all — sour cherry, blackcurrant, raspberry, or the Russian varenye, which is fruit in a loose syrup rather than a set preserve. Honey. Fresh berries. Tea. It wants nothing savoury alongside it and it is not a dish that pairs with anything so much as a dish that is a whole small meal.
Easy, with one genuine skill in it — judging when to stop. The recipe's instruction to stop while it is looser than you want is the most important sentence in it, because semolina keeps thickening in the pan and again in the bowl.
Very low. Milk, a handful of semolina, sugar and butter.
A heavy-based pan, a whisk and a spatula. The spatula matters because a whisk cannot reach the corner where the base meets the side, which is exactly where porridge catches.
Breakfast, cold mornings.
None.
The porridge holds a brief trail behind the spoon before closing over. That is the target and it is deliberately short of thick — if the trail stays open, it has gone too far and will be stiff in the bowl.
Smooth and pourable, thickening to spoonable in the bowl. Any grittiness means it needs another minute; any lumps mean the grain went in too fast.
Nothing to manage. Milk scorched on the base is a flavour problem rather than a safety one, but it flavours the whole pan and cannot be stirred away.
Tipping the semolina in as a spoonful, which produces lumps that will not come out. Boiling rather than simmering, which catches the base and boils the milk over. Cooking it until it is the thickness you want, which means it will be far too thick by the time it is eaten. Skipping the salt. And leaving it uncovered while it stands, which gives it a skin.
Lumps: they will not whisk out. A stick blender will save the bowl if you have one, and the slurry method will prevent it next time. Too thick: milk, stirred in over a low heat, and more than you expect. Too thin: another two minutes, and remember it thickens on standing. Scorched: the base caught — pour the top off into a clean pan without scraping, and the rest is lost. Bland: salt, then more butter.
It does not make ahead well, and it takes fifteen minutes, so there is little reason to try. The exception is the fried-square use for leftovers, which is worth deliberately making extra for.
It sets solid in the fridge and keeps a day. Loosen it with milk over a low heat.
With extra milk, stirred, over a low heat. It will need more liquid than seems reasonable.
No.
Cold set semolina can be cut into squares and fried in butter, which is a real dish in central and eastern Europe and is very good.
Freely, keeping the ten-to-one liquid-to-grain ratio. A larger pan takes longer to come up and catches more readily, so keep the heat low.
Any milk works, including plant milks — oat and soya both behave well, almond is thin and gives a looser result. Fine semolina is the ingredient; coarse semolina makes a completely different, grittier porridge and takes far longer. Couscous is semolina in another form and will not work here.
Vegetarian. Vegan with a plant milk and oil or vegan butter, and it works genuinely well. Not gluten-free — semolina is durum wheat and there is no substitute that behaves the same way. Contains cereals containing gluten and milk, both declared.
Fine semolina, sold in most supermarkets and in every eastern European or Italian grocer, where it will be cheaper. Whole milk rather than skimmed, which makes a thin and disappointing porridge. Good sour jam — cherry or blackcurrant rather than strawberry, which is too sweet against an already sweet bowl.
It is already among the cheapest things here — a bag of semolina costs very little and lasts months. Homemade jam or frozen berries cooked down with a spoon of sugar are cheaper than shop jam and better.
Low impact — a shelf-stable grain and a small amount of dairy. The plant-milk version is lower still and works well.
Around 420 calories a bowl with butter and jam. It is largely carbohydrate and dairy — a bowl carries a useful amount of calcium and about 14g of protein from the milk, and semolina is higher in protein than most refined grains. The sugar in the jam is the largest variable.
Worth it, and it is the fastest hot breakfast in the collection that is not toast. The one thing standing between anybody and a good bowl of it is the lump problem, and this recipe gives two ways round it — use the cold slurry the first time, and learn the hand technique afterwards if you want to. Stop cooking it before it looks ready.
Russia and the wider Slavic world.
Mannaya kasha — манная каша — or simply manka. The semolina itself is manka or mannaya krupa.
MAHN-na-ya KAH-sha. Manka is MAHN-ka.
Here is the false friend, and it is a good one. In English, kasha means buckwheat groats specifically — that usage came into English via Yiddish and is fixed in American food writing. In Russian, kasha means porridge of any grain at all: buckwheat, semolina, millet, oats, rice, barley. So a Russian asking for kasha is asking for porridge, and the English word covers about a seventh of what the Russian one does.
Grain porridge is arguably the foundational dish of Russian cooking. The proverb shchi da kasha — pishcha nasha, roughly 'cabbage soup and porridge are our food', is genuinely old and genuinely descriptive of what most people ate for most of Russian history. Semolina is the modern member of the family: fine milled durum wheat is an industrial product, and manka became widespread in the Soviet period as a canteen, hospital and nursery staple. That institutional history is why it carries such strong and mixed associations for people who grew up in the Soviet Union — it is comfort food and school food at the same time, and the lumps in the school version are a shared national memory.
It is childhood food across an enormous area, and the emotional weight it carries is out of all proportion to a bowl of semolina. It is also the standard thing given to someone unwell.
Breakfast, every day, and for children in particular.
Raining the grain in through the fingers into moving liquid. It is a genuine hand skill and it is what separates cooks who make this without thinking from everyone else. The cold-slurry alternative achieves the same result and requires no practice.
It has not changed. What has changed is that it is now optional — for most of its history there was very little else for breakfast.
Every grain has its own kasha and each is a different dish. Buckwheat kasha, grechka, is the most characteristically Russian and is savoury rather than sweet. Guryev kasha is the aristocratic version of semolina porridge — layered with nuts, fruit and skimmed milk crusts and baked — and is one of the more remarkable things in Russian cooking.
It cuts the milk with water, which not every recipe does and which makes the pan less prone to catching and the porridge looser. It also gives the slurry method as an equal alternative rather than treating the hand technique as the only way.
None. Traditional and unauthored.