As far as I can tell, the plain English definition of timbale is “food, encased in a different type of food, cooked in a mold, then turned out onto a platter to serve.” Timbales, or timballos in Italian, are popular in Sicily, probably originating in the kitchens of wealthy aristocrats. Elaborate versions might include a pastry crust, or rice molded precariously around a complex filling of meats, cheeses, vegetables, and eggs.
The recipe here is much simpler, a mix of pasta, tomato sauce, cheese, and eggs, stuffed into an eggplant “shell.” There are two time-consuming steps, preparing the eggplant (slicing super thin, salting, and broiling) and making the homemade tomato sauce, but both can be done ahead of time. In fact, it isn’t a bad idea to make extra sauce, set aside what’s needed for the timbale, and have the rest with meatballs (and the gnocchi you made to clear the semolina flour out of the pantry). It’s also helpful to grate the cheese a day ahead. (And make the hard-boiled eggs the recipe calls for but I omitted.)
If all of this is done, this fancy-looking timbale is actually feasible for a weeknight. While the water boils and the pasta cooks, you can butter the baking dish, line it with overlapping eggplant slices, and warm the tomato sauce. Then it’s just a matter of mixing the filling, packing it into the mold, covering it with more eggplant slices, and baking.
How the dish is linedReady for the oven
Just look how pretty the end result is. It didn’t fall apart when unmolded, and tasted as good as it looked. The timbale isn’t necessarily for every day, but it was easier than I expected and would no doubt be a great way to show off for guests. Just beware that the slices aren’t as pretty as the whole.
Tomorrow is the Preakness Stakes, the second leg in the Triple Crown. The Preakness is always run on the third Saturday in May at Pimlico in Baltimore. Some trainers say the two-week turnaround time is not enough for the horses to recuperate, and sometimes the Kentucky Derby winner won’t race. Sovereignty will not race tomorrow, meaning there will not be a Triple Crown winner this year. While not as famous as the Derby, the Preakness is still an interesting event, with two associated food traditions. Since Maryland is associated with blue crab from the Chesapeake Bay, it’s no surprise that the Preakness is known for crab cakes.
The Preakness Stakes also has its own signature cocktail, called the black-eyed Susan. Most likely, it was named for the blanket of flowers draped over the winner. The Kentucky Derby has red roses, the Preakness has black-eyed Susans, and the Belmont Stakes has white carnations. Ideally, the cocktail will be about the same yellow-orange color as the flowers. Interestingly, black-eyed Susans are not yet blooming in Maryland.
Unlike the mint julep, the black-eyed Susan never seems to have had an “official” recipe. Invented in the 1970s, ingredients varied over time, even at Pimlico, and according to the drinker’s personal taste. The only constants are orange juice and vodka. Other ingredients might include pineapple juice, grapefruit juice, peach schnapps, rum, or bourbon. Frequently the drink will be finished with a blueberry or blackberry for the characteristic “black eye.” As long as there are at least two fruit flavors, pretty much anything goes.
Black eye demonstrated here. Definitely a resemblance, in an abstract way.
Fruity cocktails lend themselves well to non-alcoholic variations. For my own version, I keep things simple with equal parts orange juice, pineapple juice, and tonic water with a bit of peach syrup. The tonic water is the “secret ingredient” that makes non-alcoholic cocktails more complex, and its bitter edge tastes a bit like grapefruit.
Here’s how to make it:
For each serving, combine 1/3 cup orange juice, 1/3 cup pineapple juice, and 1/3 cup tonic water with a few ice cubes. Stir in a tablespoon of peach syrup (like what’s used in Italian sodas), or more to taste. For a low-alcohol but not completely alcohol-free cocktail, the syrup can be replaced with peach schnapps. If desired, add a blueberry or blackberry. It’s that simple, unlike the system for betting on the race.
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Despite his remarkable career, Napoleon Bonaparte had several close calls on his rise to power. One such case was at the Battle of Marengo in June 1800. Napoleon had seized power in a coup the previous year. To secure his rule, he needed military victories. At the time, he was fighting the Austrians for control of northern Italy. They met in battle near the city of Alessandria, in the Piedmont region.
At first, the battle didn’t go well for the French, but Napoleon managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. His control over Italy was secured, skeptics in France were reassured, and other ambitious generals were discouraged from turning on him. To celebrate, or simply because he was hungry after a long and no doubt stressful battle, Napoleon requested a special dish. Or so the story goes.
Recipes for chicken marengo vary enormously. The only constants seem to be chicken (or occasionally veal) browned in olive oil, onions, and tomatoes, braised together to make a sort of stew. There’s usually garlic, mushrooms, and white wine. Many recipes include shallots and parsley, and a few use brandy instead of wine. Great chef Auguste Escoffier recommended including fried eggs and crayfish. Regardless of specifics, toasts fried in butter traditionally accompany chicken marengo.
To make things even more complicated, there seems to be a debate about whether chicken marengo is French or Italian. In Mimi Sheraton’s 1,000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, it’s in the French section, but I’ve also seen recipes in Italian cookbooks. Since the Piedmont region was historically part of the Duchy of Savoy, a realm straddling the Alps between France and Italy and right on the trade routes between them, it’s hardly surprising that a Piedmontese dish would be adopted into French cuisine, or vice-versa. And it’s fitting that an entrée associated with Napoleon should be considered both French and Italian. After all, he himself was a native of Corsica, then ruled by Genoa, but made his career in France.
For my own recipe, I combined the different strands into one, with no eggs or crayfish. The nice thing about chicken or “veal” marengo is that after browning the meat and making the “sauce,” it can be kept overnight and cooked the following day. Everything can be done in a Dutch oven, but if you don’t have one, a skillet and slow-cooker will also work. If you want to reduce fat and calories, the bread can be toasted dry in the oven or toaster, instead of in the buttered skillet. Or don’t toast it, if you prefer, but whatever you do, don’t skip it. You need bread to soak up the sauce.
4 garlic cloves, crushed with the side of the knife and minced
1 bunch parsley, thick stems separated from leaves and thinner stems, and both parts minced separately (don’t discard the thick stems)
3 tablespoons dry white wine, mixed with 1 tablespoon brandy
2 tablespoons flour
1 (roughly 15 oz) can crushed tomatoes, or about 2 lbs fresh tomatoes, chopped
1 pound mushrooms, cut into thick slices, with larger pieces halved
Baguette or Italian bread, to serve
Directions:
Brown meat in the olive oil and two tablespoons of the butter in the skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Set aside on a plate.
Add onion and shallots and sauté, stirring frequently, for about 5 minutes, or until they start to turn golden. Add the garlic and parsley stems and cook for 2 more minutes (garlic is added later because it cooks faster and burns more easily).
Stir in the wine/brandy mix, making sure to scrape up any browned bits at the bottom of the pan. Cook until the liquid is mostly evaporated, 5 to 10 minutes.
Add the flour and stir until incorporated. Follow with the tomatoes, and water if using canned. Bring sauce mixture to a boil. If using fresh tomatoes, reduce heat and simmer for 10 to 15 minutes, until the tomatoes break down and release their juice. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Place the meat, skin side up if using chicken, in the Dutch oven or slow-cooker, and cover with the sauce. At this point, the chicken/pork/veal marengo can be refrigerated overnight if desired.
Preheat oven to 325 degrees Fahrenheit, if using Dutch oven. Bake for 2 to 3 hours, until the meat is tender (if the stew was chilled overnight, it will probably be at the longer end of the time range).
If using a slow-cooker, cook for about 4 hours on high or 6 – 8 on low. If it’s a little longer, like if you put it on before leaving for work, that’s completely fine.
Half an hour before serving (with either cooking method), melt the remaining butter in a skillet over medium heat. Add the mushrooms and a little salt and cook, stirring frequently, until soft and aromatic, about 10 to 15 minutes. Add to the stew, pressing them down into the sauce, and leave to cook while browning the toasts (or for 15 minutes if you decide to use untoasted bread).
Toast the bread pieces in a buttered skillet over medium low heat until browned.
Sprinkle the stew with the parsley leaves and serve, toasts on the side.
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Variants of chicken soup are eaten all over the world. Flavorings might vary, but the concept seems to be pretty universal for non-vegetarians. Historically, this usually involved a rooster or hen past their mating or egg-laying prime. Tough but flavorful, the chicken would be slow-cooked in liquid to tenderize the meat and produce a rich broth.
One Belgian recipe, called Waterzooi a la Gantoise, involves stewing the chicken with leeks, celery, and parsley root or parsnips, flavoring the mixture with lemon and cream, and thickening it with beaten egg yolks. Odd as this mix might sound, the recipe from 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, pages 151 – 152, had a nice flavor.
Belgium has a long and complicated history. Composed of Dutch-speaking Flanders and French-speaking Wallonia, it was a battleground between France and the Holy Roman Empire for centuries. During the Middle Ages, Flanders in particular grew wealthy from cloth production. Since they needed English wool, attempts by the French kings to shut down the trade during their many conflicts with England predictably let to unrest. So did the kings’ attempts to centralize power in general and levy taxes.
In the late 14th Century, most of the Low Countries came under control of the Dukes of Burgundy, followed by the Habsburgs a hundred years later. Charles V, the most powerful Holy Roman Emperor in centuries, was born in Flanders in 1500. By the time of his retirement in 1556, his empire included Spain, the Low Countries, Austria, Naples, Sicily, Milan, and Spain’s growing New World empire. All except Austria and the imperial title itself went to his son Philip II. Charles V’s brother Ferdinand I, who had been his deputy in Austria for years and gained Bohemia and Hungary through marriage, received these, creating the Habsburgs’ Austrian branch.
Just the Spanish Habsburg territories were a monumental task to control, as Philip II soon found out. He was hardworking but struggled to delegate, which made managing the far-flung provinces difficult. A particular issue was the spread of the Reformation in the Netherlands. Philip was not inclined to compromise on matters of religion, and unlike his father, didn’t spend much time outside of Spain after taking the throne. Feeling alienated by a “foreign” ruler, the Dutch revolted in the 1560s, leading to Eighty Years’ War. They were aided by England, which was part of why Philip sent the Spanish Armada.
When the dust settled, the modern Netherlands became independent, while modern Belgium remained part of the Spanish Empire. It was transferred to the Austrian Habsburgs in 1714, after the War of the Spanish Succession, and became part of the Revolutionary French Empire in the 1790s. After the defeat of Napoleon, Belgium was ruled by the restored Dutch monarchy. A few decades later, Belgium became independent under Leopold I, an uncle of Queen Victoria.
After everything they went through, Belgium tried to remain neutral in the 19th and 20th Centuries. With British support, this worked until 1914. When World War 1 broke out, Belgium had a problem. Specifically, Germany’s war plans. Since German high command knew they would be fighting on two fronts, they sought to defeat France quickly, before Russia managed to mobilize its army. The issue was that the French-German border was heavily fortified. The idea, called the Schlieffen Plan, was to go around these defenses by invading through neutral Belgium.
When Belgium refused military access, Germany declared war on them. Belgian forces put up a tougher fight than expected, giving the French time to reorganize their defense and for British support to land. By December, the Western Front was more or less stabilized, running right through Flanders, where it would remain for roughly three-and-a-half years.
The initial German advance, the years of occupation, and the eventual retreat in 1918 did a number of Belgium, especially Flanders. Attempts to stay neutral during World War 2 also failed, resulting in another multi-year occupation. Afterwards, finally, Belgium has finally enjoyed several decades of peace.
Evidence of prosperity can be seen the soup recipe, which uses chicken, eggs, cream, and vegetables that are not ultimately eaten. Since using vegetables to flavor the stock but then discarding them offends my sensibilities, I ended up returning them to the pot after removing the chicken skin and bones and straining the broth. The celery and leeks were a little overcooked, but still added some nice extra texture to the soup.
Immediately before serving, some of the hot broth is whisked into the egg yolks to temper them, then the mixture is returned to the pot to thoroughly heat but not boil. This is the same technique used in making custard, but for some reason the waterzooi didn’t thicken as much as I anticipated. Maybe I used too much water (the recipe said just enough to cover the chicken, which I thought I did). Maybe I didn’t heat the soup long enough after adding the egg yolks for fear of them curdling. Or maybe the issue was my expectations. Custards thickened with egg alone and not boosted with cornstarch are very thin.
Overall, the soup was very good, but not necessarily worth the trouble of making again as is. Perhaps pureeing the slightly overcooked vegetables into the broth as additional thickening would give it some extra body. (An immersion blender would be great for this.) On a scale of 1 to 10, I would probably give it a 7.
Feasting Through Time 