Recipes

puffincove

Recipes

Simple, hearty Newfoundland recipes from the kitchen side of the cove.

Enjoy your time here

Back to the Front Door
Come back. The kettle is always on.

Salt Cod with Scrunchions

Old Newfoundland supper, rich with memory.


Salt cod with scrunchions is not a quiet meal.

It has smell. It has history. It has the old table in it.

This is the kind of supper that reminds you how much people could make from what they had.

You’ll need:

  • Salt cod, soaked overnight and rinsed well
  • Potatoes
  • Salt pork or fatback, diced for scrunchions
  • Optional: onion, turnip, carrot, or cabbage
  • Pepper to taste

How to make it:

Soak the salt cod overnight, changing the water if needed to remove some of the salt.

Place the fish in a pot with fresh water and bring it to a gentle boil. Cook until the fish flakes apart easily.

Boil potatoes and any vegetables you’re serving with it.

In a frying pan, cook diced salt pork slowly until the pieces turn golden and crisp. These are the scrunchions.

Serve the salt cod with potatoes and pour the scrunchions and fat over the top.

Keep some fish aside for tomorrow’s fish cakes.

Salt cod and scrunchions is the kind of supper that doesn’t just feed you. It reminds you where you came from.

Day 1 at the Puffincove Table

A full day of old Newfoundland comfort food

Some days do not need fancy meals.

They just need food that feels like home.

Start the morning with toutons in the pan, butter melting before the plate ever reaches the table. Let the kettle take over by midday with raisin tea buns cooling on the counter.

By supper, put a shipwreck dinner in the oven — potatoes, onions, carrots, rice, ground beef, tomato soup, and all those simple layers doing their own work.

And before bed, a little warm custard to settle the day.

Nothing fancy.

Nothing rushed.

Just a full day of food with memory in it.

From the puffincove kitchen — where even supper has a story.

All roads lead to puffincove.

Toutons

Some recipes do not need much explaining. They just need a bit of dough, a warm pan, and someone nearby waiting for the first one to come off.

Toutons are one of those simple Newfoundland foods that carry a lot of memory with them. Fried dough, golden on the outside, soft in the middle, often served with butter, molasses, or syrup.

For some, they bring back a kitchen table. For others, a woodstove, a frying pan, and the smell of morning in the house.

They were never fancy. They did not have to be.

They were warm, filling,
and made with what was already there.

And sometimes that is what home tastes like.


Ingredients

  • 1 loaf worth of bread dough, risen once (or about 1 lb homemade or store-bought bread dough)
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons butter
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons cooking oil
  • Extra flour for shaping

Optional for Serving

  • Butter
  • Molasses
  • Syrup
  • Jam

Instructions

1. Prepare the dough
If using fresh bread dough, let it rise once first. Once risen, punch it down lightly and pull off pieces about the size of a small biscuit or slightly larger. Shape each piece gently into a round or oval patty about 1/2 to 3/4 inch thick.

Do not make them too thin, or they may cook too fast on the outside before the middle is done.

2. Rest the dough pieces
Place the shaped dough pieces on a lightly floured surface or board. Cover them with a clean tea towel and let them rest for 10 to 15 minutes. This helps them puff a little and keeps them soft.

3. Heat the pan
Use a frying pan or cast-iron pan over medium-low to medium heat.

Add:

  • 2 to 3 tablespoons butter
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons cooking oil

Using both works well. The butter gives flavour, and the oil helps keep the butter from burning too quickly.

You want the pan hot enough to sizzle gently when the dough goes in, but not so hot that the outside browns before the inside cooks.

If the butter starts turning dark brown right away, the pan is too hot. Lower the heat a little.

4. Fry the toutons
Place the dough pieces into the pan, leaving a little room between them.

Fry for about 3 to 5 minutes on the first side, depending on thickness, until golden brown.

Turn carefully and fry the second side another 3 to 5 minutes.

They should be nicely browned on both sides and feel cooked through. If they are thick, lower the heat slightly and give them an extra minute or two per side so the middle finishes cooking.

Do not rush them.
A slower pan gives a better touton.

5. Drain and serve
Lift the toutons from the pan and place them on a plate lined with paper towel for a moment.

Serve warm with butter, molasses, or syrup.

A lot of people have their own way. Some like them with fancy molasses. Some with table syrup. Some split open with butter melting into the middle.

However they are served, they are best while still warm.


Some foods fill your stomach.
Some fill the room with a feeling.

Toutons do both.

Not a lecture.
Not a cookbook from away.
Just a little taste of home from puffincove.

Newfoundland Raisin Tea Buns

A warm kitchen recipe from the puffincove table

Some recipes do not need a big introduction.

Raisin tea buns are one of them.

If you grew up around a Newfoundland kitchen, there is a good chance you remember them. A pan cooling on the counter. A kettle starting to sing. Butter sitting nearby, waiting for its turn.

They were made for company, for lunch, for a stormy day, for a Sunday afternoon, or just because someone had the oven on and a few raisins in the cupboard.

Around here, a raisin tea bun is more than a bun.

It is a warm kitchen.

It is flour on the counter.

It is Nan knowing the feel of the dough before the recipe ever did.

And it is that first bite when the butter melts in and everything slows down for a minute.


Old-Fashioned Raisin Tea Buns

You’ll need:

  • 3 cups all-purpose flour
  • 4 teaspoons baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup cold butter
  • 1 cup raisins
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1 egg
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla, optional

Oven: 400°F

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or lightly grease it.

In a large bowl, mix together the flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar.

Cut in the cold butter until the mixture looks crumbly. You can use your fingers, a pastry cutter, or two knives. Do not overwork it. Little bits of butter are fine.

Stir in the raisins.

In a separate bowl or measuring cup, beat the egg with the milk. Add the vanilla if using.

Pour the wet mixture into the dry mixture and stir gently until a soft dough forms. The dough should be soft, but not wet. If it feels too sticky, add a small dusting of flour.

Turn the dough onto a floured surface and pat it down gently to about 3/4 inch thick.

Cut with a biscuit cutter, glass, or just shape by hand if that is how you learned it.

Place the buns on the baking sheet and bake for about 12 to 15 minutes, or until the tops are lightly golden.

Serve warm with butter, jam, molasses, or nothing at all.

They do not need much.

Good tea buns never did.

First shared from the puffincove kitchen — where the kettle is always close by.

All roads lead to puffincove.

Newfoundland Shipwreck Dinner

Also known around many kitchens as 7 Layer Dinner

Some meals came from recipe books.

Some came from what was left in the cupboard.

Shipwreck Dinner was one of those meals that did not need much explaining. A few potatoes, a bit of onion, some carrots, rice, ground beef, and tomato soup — layered in a dish and baked until the whole kitchen smelled like supper.

Some families called it Shipwreck Dinner.

Some called it 7 Layer Dinner.

Some never called it anything at all. It was just what showed up on the table when something warm and filling was needed.

That is the beauty of old Newfoundland cooking. It did not always ask what was perfect. It asked what was there.

And somehow, with a covered dish, a hot oven, and a bit of patience, what was there became enough.


Old-Fashioned Shipwreck Dinner / 7 Layer Dinner

You’ll need:

  • 3 to 4 medium potatoes, thinly sliced
  • 1 large onion, sliced or chopped
  • 2 carrots, sliced
  • 1/2 cup uncooked rice
  • 1 pound ground beef
  • 1 can tomato soup
  • 1 soup can of water
  • Salt and pepper
  • Optional: a little Worcestershire sauce, garlic powder, or mixed vegetables

Oven: 350°F

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Lightly grease a casserole dish or roasting pan.

Layer the sliced potatoes on the bottom of the dish. Sprinkle with a little salt and pepper.

Add the onions over the potatoes.

Add the sliced carrots.

Sprinkle the uncooked rice evenly over the vegetables.

Crumble the raw ground beef over the top. Season again with salt and pepper.

In a bowl, mix the tomato soup with one soup can of water. Add a splash of Worcestershire sauce if using.

Pour the soup mixture over the whole dish.

Cover tightly with foil or a lid and bake for about 1 1/2 to 2 hours, until the potatoes, carrots, and rice are tender.

Remove the cover for the last 10 to 15 minutes if you want the top to brown a little.

Let it sit for a few minutes before serving.

Like a lot of old suppers, it tastes even better after it rests.

Serve it with bread, rolls, pickles, or just a fork and a quiet table.

Nothing fancy.

Just supper.

First shared from the puffincove kitchen — where old suppers still have a place.

All roads lead to puffincove.

Quick Warm Custard

A soft little finish to a full puffincove day

After a day of toutons, tea buns, and shipwreck dinner, there is not much room left for anything fancy.

But a little warm custard before bed?

That fits.

Custard is one of those quiet old kitchen comforts. Milk, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and a little patience. Nothing loud. Nothing rushed. Just something warm in a bowl to settle the day.


Simple Stovetop Custard

You’ll need:

  • 2 cups milk
  • 2 eggs
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1 tablespoon cornstarch
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla
  • A small pinch of salt
  • Optional: a little nutmeg on top

In a saucepan, warm the milk over medium-low heat until it is hot, but not boiling.

In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar, cornstarch, and salt until smooth.

Slowly add a little of the hot milk into the egg mixture while whisking. This helps warm the eggs gently so they do not scramble.

Pour the mixture back into the saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until it thickens enough to coat the back of a spoon.

Remove from the heat and stir in the vanilla.

Serve warm in small bowls with a little nutmeg on top if you like.

Not fancy.

Just soft, warm, and good.

From the puffincove kitchen — a little comfort before the light goes out.

All roads lead to puffincove.

From One Kitchen Day to the Next

Day One got the stove warm.

Day Two keeps it going with partridgeberries, toutons, salt cod, scrunchions, and tomorrow’s fish cakes already in mind.

Around here, one meal often leaves a little memory for the next.

Tomorrow’s Fish Cakes

Made from what was left, and often better for it.


Fish cakes are one of those meals that prove the old way was smart.

Supper didn’t end when the plates were cleared.

If there was salt cod left, tomorrow’s lunch was already halfway made.

You’ll need:

  • Leftover cooked salt cod, flaked
  • Leftover boiled potatoes, mashed
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped, optional
  • 1 egg, optional
  • Pepper to taste
  • Butter or oil for frying
  • Flour for dusting, optional

How to make them:

Flake the leftover salt cod and remove any bones.

Mix with mashed potatoes. Add chopped onion if using. Add pepper to taste.

If the mixture needs help holding together, add an egg.

Shape into small patties. Dust lightly with flour if you like a crisp outside.

Fry in butter or oil over medium heat until golden brown on both sides.

Serve hot with mustard pickles, chow, molasses, or just as they are.

Fish cakes were never leftovers trying to be something else. They were tomorrow’s meal waiting its turn.

Day Two in the puffincove Kitchen

Partridgeberries, toutons, salt cod, scrunchions, and tomorrow’s fish cakes.


Some days in a Newfoundland kitchen don’t belong to just one recipe.

They start with breakfast, carry on through the stove, and somehow already have tomorrow’s lunch planned before supper is even finished.

Today in the puffincove kitchen, it’s partridgeberries over toutons, partridgeberry jam bubbling away, a couple of pies or tarts depending on where you’re from, and salt cod with scrunchions for supper.

And because the old way never wasted a thing, there’ll be enough salt cod left for fish cakes tomorrow.

That’s not just cooking.

That’s memory on the table.

Cook today. Save a bit for tomorrow. Waste nothing. Feed the heart as much as the table.

Partridgeberries Over Toutons

Hot fried dough, butter, and a spoonful of sharp red berry.


There’s not much that feels more Newfoundland than a hot touton with something good over the top.

Molasses has its place. Syrup does too. But partridgeberries over toutons brings a different kind of taste.

Tart, warm, buttery, and old-fashioned.

You’ll need:

  • Bread dough, homemade or store-bought
  • Butter
  • A little cooking oil for the pan
  • Partridgeberry jam or stewed partridgeberries

How to make them:

Heat a frying pan over medium heat with a little oil and butter.

Tear off pieces of bread dough and flatten them gently with your hands.

Fry until golden brown on one side, then turn and cook the other side. The outside should be crisp and golden, while the inside stays soft and warm.

Serve hot with butter and a spoonful of partridgeberries or partridgeberry jam over the top.

A touton doesn’t need to be fancy. It just needs to be hot, buttery, and eaten before someone else reaches for it.

Old-Fashioned Partridgeberry Jam

A little tart, a little sweet, and full of Newfoundland memory.


Partridgeberry jam has a smell that can bring a person right back to an old kitchen.

A pot on the stove. Bottles waiting on the counter. Someone stirring slow, watching it come together.

It’s simple food, but it carries a lot.

You’ll need:

  • 4 cups partridgeberries
  • 2 to 3 cups sugar, depending on taste
  • 1/2 cup water
  • A small squeeze of lemon juice, optional

How to make it:

Rinse the berries and remove any leaves or stems.

Place the berries and water in a pot over medium heat. Let them simmer until the berries soften and begin to break down.

Add the sugar and stir well.

Bring to a gentle boil, then lower the heat and let it cook until thickened. Stir often so it doesn’t stick.

Spoon into clean jars while hot and let cool.

Partridgeberry jam is sharp enough to wake up a meal and sweet enough to feel like home.

Old-Fashioned Partridgeberry Jam

A little tart, a little sweet, and full of Newfoundland memory.


Partridgeberry jam has a smell that can bring a person right back to an old kitchen.

A pot on the stove. Bottles waiting on the counter. Someone stirring slow, watching it come together.

It’s simple food, but it carries a lot.

You’ll need:

  • 4 cups partridgeberries
  • 2 to 3 cups sugar, depending on taste
  • 1/2 cup water
  • A small squeeze of lemon juice, optional

How to make it:

Rinse the berries and remove any leaves or stems.

Place the berries and water in a pot over medium heat. Let them simmer until the berries soften and begin to break down.

Add the sugar and stir well.

Bring to a gentle boil, then lower the heat and let it cook until thickened. Stir often so it doesn’t stick.

Spoon into clean jars while hot and let cool.

Partridgeberry jam is sharp enough to wake up a meal and sweet enough to feel like home.

Partridgeberry Pie or Tart

Pie in one kitchen, tart in another. Good in both.


In Newfoundland, the name can depend on where you’re from.

Some will call it partridgeberry pie. Some will call it tart. Some won’t care what it’s called once it’s cut and on the plate.

That’s usually the best kind of recipe.

You’ll need:

  • Pastry for a top and bottom crust
  • 4 cups partridgeberries
  • 3/4 to 1 cup sugar
  • 2 tablespoons flour or cornstarch
  • 1 tablespoon butter
  • A little milk or egg wash for the crust, optional

How to make it:

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Mix the partridgeberries, sugar, and flour or cornstarch in a bowl.

Place the bottom pastry in a pie plate. Add the berry mixture and dot the top with butter.

Cover with the top crust. Seal the edges and cut a few small slits in the top to let steam escape.

Brush with milk or egg wash if you like a golden crust.

Bake for about 40 to 50 minutes, until the crust is golden and the filling is bubbling.

Let it cool a little before cutting.

Pie or tart, it still tastes like someone picked the berries with winter in mind.

Day three

Day 3 Breakfast: Egg in the Hole

Some calls it egg in the hole. Some calls it bird in a nest. Around the table, it just means breakfast is on.


There are some breakfasts that don’t need much explaining.

A slice of bread. A hole cut in the middle. An egg cracked right in. Butter in the pan. And the smell of breakfast starting the day proper.

Around Newfoundland kitchens, this is the kind of simple food that shows up when someone wants something warm, quick, and filling.

Some people call it egg in the hole. Some call it bird in a nest. Some just point at the pan and say, “I’ll have one of them.”

Simple food has a way of sticking around because it works.

You’ll need:

  • 1 slice of bread per serving
  • 1 egg per slice of bread
  • Butter or margarine
  • Salt and pepper
  • A little cooking oil, optional

How to make it:

Cut a hole out of the centre of the bread. A cup, biscuit cutter, or a knife will do the job.

Heat a frying pan on medium heat and add butter. You can add a little oil too if you don’t want the butter to brown too fast.

Place the bread in the pan and let it toast lightly on one side.

Crack the egg into the hole in the middle of the bread.

Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

Cook until the egg starts to set, then carefully flip the bread over and cook the other side.

Fry the little round piece from the middle too. Around here, we don’t waste the good bit.

Serve hot, with tea or coffee nearby.

A little bread, a little egg, and the day starts off right.

Day 3 Supper: Stuffed Squid

Now this one will get a few laughs and a few memories.


Stuffed squid is one of those old-style meals that makes some people smile, some people run, and some people say, “Now you’re talking.”

Around Newfoundland, squid was never just bait. In the right kitchen, with the right hands, it could become supper.

This is not fancy food.

It is kitchen-table food. Harbour food. Food from a time when people used what was there and made something good from it.

Some meals feed you. Some meals start a conversation before the plate even hits the table.

You’ll need:

  • Fresh cleaned squid tubes
  • 1 to 2 cups bread crumbs or torn stale bread
  • 1 small onion, finely chopped
  • 2 tablespoons butter
  • 1/2 teaspoon savoury
  • Salt and pepper
  • A little chopped parsley, optional
  • Toothpicks or kitchen string
  • A little oil or butter for frying

How to make it:

Clean the squid well and keep the tubes whole for stuffing.

In a pan, melt butter and cook the onion until soft.

Mix the onion and butter with bread crumbs, savoury, salt, pepper, and parsley if using.

Add just enough moisture to hold the stuffing together. A little melted butter or a splash of warm water will do.

Stuff the squid tubes gently. Don’t pack them too tight, because they can shrink as they cook.

Close the ends with toothpicks or tie them with kitchen string.

Heat a pan with a little butter or oil. Brown the stuffed squid on all sides.

Lower the heat and cook gently until the squid is tender and the stuffing is heated through.

Serve with potatoes, vegetables, or whatever was already on the go in the kitchen.

It might not be everyone’s supper, but it is certainly Newfoundland supper.

Day 3 in the puffincove kitchen starts simple, gets sweet by lunch, and ends with a proper old Newfoundland supper that might make a few people laugh before it brings back a memory.