Parliament Big Ben
british cuisine, food history

Tastes of the British Isles: More Interesting Than People Think

Parliament Big Ben
Fun fact: Big Ben is technically not the name of the tower itself, but the bell inside it.

            British cuisine gets a bad rap. Jokes abound about it being bland, heavy, and sometimes bizarre. Even the island’s inhabitants make fun of it, and often don’t eat “traditional” British dishes on a daily basis. Partly due to immigration from the Indian Subcontinent, Brits love curry and other Indian dishes. You can find falafel, Italian, and Chinese food everywhere. Still, some local dishes are worth trying. Read through the Harry Potter series for some good examples.

            Last month, I went on a trip to Great Britain and Ireland. The history was fascinating and the scenery was lovely. There were just two surprising things. First, people don’t just drive on the left. They also keep to the left on sidewalks, staircases, and anywhere else people might be passing each other in opposite directions. It felt completely backwards and I couldn’t quite get used to it. Luckily we had a bus for long distances and didn’t have to drive.

Tower Bridge London
The Tower Bridge in London

            I was also surprised by how difficult some of the local accents were to understand. Despite having a fraction of the landmass and only about a fifth of the population, the British Isles have a greater number of distinct accents than the US. This makes sense, since people have been speaking some form of English there for around 1600 years instead of 400, giving the language a lot longer to develop various dialects.

            American English certainly has its diversity, but for the most part, a speaker of one dialect can understand another. This isn’t the case in Britain and Ireland, particularly in more rural areas. On several occasions, I could only get a rough idea of what someone was saying. If asking them to repeat themselves didn’t work, I would just say ok, nod, and hope for the best.

Swans in Avon River, Stratford
Swans in the Avon River in Stratford. They were a popular Medieval feast dish, but apparently don’t taste very good.

            The food was easier to understand. Most of the ingredients are familiar and easy to find. Fish and chips are just fried fish and French fries. Beef and Guinness stew is straightforward and delicious, even if you don’t usually like Guinness. Pasties are meat and vegetables in a pie crust. Think of them as cousins of empanadas. Cheeses like cheddar are imitated all over the world. There’s bangers and mash (sausages with mashed potatoes), shepherd’s pie, roast beef and what are essentially popovers, cheese sauce with toast, and a variety of jams and marmalades.

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            Then there’s the desserts, which is where British cuisines excel. The best introduction can be found by watching the Great British Baking Show. The Victoria sponges, loaf cakes, shortbread, sticky toffee pudding, and cream-filled fruit tartlets look and sound delicious. There have definitely been some odd flavor combinations (like miso caramel and black sesame ice cream), but sometimes they turn out to be inspired. Other times, the classics done well are what impress the judges.

            That contrast seems to sum up British cuisine as a whole: willing to try new ingredients and dishes, but not forgetting the classics.

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Aubergine en caton
appetizers, french cuisine, recipes, summer, vegetarian

French Baba Ghanoush: Aubergine en Caton

Aubergine en caton

            By European standards, France is a large country. As with any nation with varied terrain and climate, it has a number of regional specialties. There are the dairy-heavy cuisines of Normandy and Brittany, Germanic-inspired dishes of Alsace in the northeast, and wine-based sauces and stews from the wine-growing regions of Burgundy and Bordeaux. And in the south, along the Mediterranean, is Provence, where many dishes resemble those from neighboring Liguria in Italy.

            Provence is one of the few French regions where olive trees can produce fruit. The oil is ubiquitous, including in a sauce for roasted eggplant. Other Mediterranean flavors come from lemon juice, capers, and a bit of anchovy. Before you get grossed out, it’s just a small amount of paste used as a flavor booster, not enough to make it taste “fishy.” All these other flavors, which are rather strong on their own, plus garlic and plenty of fresh parsley, balance it out.

            Aubergine is the French word for eggplant. Here it is cooked and pureed just like in baba ghanoush, except in the oven instead of over a wood fire, producing a lighter color and mild, slightly sweet flavor. Rather than mixed into the puree, the sauce is served over the top, for a greater contrast.

            As Mimi Sheraton suggested in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die on page 54, a simple description is sufficient to compose a recipe, at least for the sauce. It was the eggplant itself that gave me trouble. When cooking whole, which is necessary to keep the pulp a greenish color instead of browning, it takes a surprisingly long time to soften. At 400 degrees Fahrenheit (or just under 205 degrees Celsius), it took nearly an hour. Since it was a cool day that was fine, but on a hot summer day that would never be an option. Plus, using the oven for that long for one fairly small item doesn’t seem energy efficient.

            I considered ways to “pre-cook” the eggplant before finishing it off in the oven. After poking holes all over (to release steam and avoid an explosion), boiling or steaming would probably introduce too much water. But what about the microwave? They work by making water molecules move faster, creating friction and raising the temperature. And since the rays pass through the food, the center warms up much faster than with other cooking methods.

            For a vegetable like eggplant, which has a high water content, this worked like a charm. To avoid an explosion and mess, I poked the holes all the way through with the pointy end of a meat thermometer, giving plenty of openings for steam to escape. Just heat on a microwave safe plate, turn every two minutes, and be careful when handling. The eggplant steams inside the skin, creating the perfect silky texture with just the right amount of moisture.

            As it turned out, the oven wasn’t even required, making this interesting dish perfect for a hot day. When the eggplant is cool enough to handle, just cut in half, scoop out the pulp, puree it, and serve warm or at room temperature with the sauce. Accompany with bread, crackers, or crunchy vegetables.

            The sauce recipe is easy to double and can be kept in the refrigerator for several days. Don’t worry if the oil solidifies; it will turn liquid again as it warms up. This is common for vinaigrette-type dressings and sauces. Just get them out of the fridge half an hour to an hour or so before using, and they’ll be fine.

Ingredients:

  • 1 large eggplant, about 2 pounds
  • 3 tablespoons olive oil
  • Juice from ½ lemon
  • 1 clove garlic, minced
  • 2 tablespoons capers, minced
  • ¼ teaspoon anchovy paste
  • ½ bunch parsley, minced
  • Salt to taste

Directions:

  1. Combine all ingredients except eggplant, parsley, and salt in a bowl and whisk to dissolve anchovy paste and combine.
  2. Whisk in the parsley and taste for salt. The anchovy paste and capers are both salty, so you might not need it.
  3. Set sauce aside at room temperature, or refrigerate overnight. Bring to room temperature before serving.
  4. Poke holes all over the eggplant, all the way through. Place on a microwave-safe plate and cover with a paper towel. Microwave on high for 8 to 10 minutes, turning every 2 minutes, until a skewer slides easily into the flesh. Let rest until cool enough to handle.
  5. Cut eggplant in half and scoop flesh into bowl of a food processor. Process until smooth.
  6. Scoop eggplant puree onto a plate, spoon sauce over, and serve with bread, raw vegetables, and/or crackers.

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Risotto verde
food history, italian cuisine, recipes, rice, spring, vegetarian

Risotto Verde: The Taste of Spring

Risotto verde

            Among the numerous varieties of risotto, there are a few classics, as detailed in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die on pages 233 – 234. Risotto bianco is the basic kind, made simply with rice, butter, a little onion or shallot, white wine, broth, parmesan cheese, and maybe some pancetta or bacon. Milanese is colored a bright golden yellow with saffron. Nero is colored black with squid ink. Piedmontese is enhanced with white truffles. Other varieties might include seafood, mushrooms, or vegetables.

            As you can probably guess, risotto verde is meant to be green. Frequently a spring specialty, it gets its color from parsley and either sweet green peas or asparagus. It’s very fresh-tasting and, when made with frozen peas, surprisingly quick and easy to prepare. To keep everything bright and fresh, I didn’t use any pancetta for my own recipe.

            Technically, you’re not “supposed” to reheat risotto, because it thickens upon standing and can become “gluey.” I’ve never had this problem, or maybe the texture upon reheating just doesn’t bother me. Just add a few drops of water before putting it in the microwave. It will still be a great accompaniment to your chicken sandwich for lunch, and it’s way healthier than chips.

Ingredients:

  • 4 tablespoons (or ¼ cup) butter, or 2 tablespoons each butter and olive oil
  • 1 shallot or ¼ onion, minced
  • 1 ½ cups arborio or other short-grain rice
  • 4 tablespoons (or ¼ cup) dry white wine (something light like pinot grigio), or replace with extra broth
  • 4 – 5 cups chicken or vegetable broth (broth made from poaching chicken works great here)
  • 1 10-ounce bag frozen peas
  • Half bunch parsley, large stems removed, minced
  • 1 cup grated parmesan cheese

Directions:

  1. Combine the broth and peas in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn off heat, but leave on the stove.
  2. Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. When bubbling, add shallot or onion and sauté for about 2 minutes, until softened.
  3. Add the rice and cook, stirring constantly, until coated and translucent, about 2 minutes.
  4. Stir in the wine and cook, stirring constantly, until evaporated, another 2 or 3 minutes.
  5. Add the broth and peas, a ladleful at a time, stirring constantly, waiting for each to absorb before adding the next. Stir in the parsley about halfway through, saving a little to sprinkle on top at serving time.
  6. After adding 4 cups of broth, the risotto should be slightly liquid. If it seems too thick, add a little more broth.
  7. Remove from the heat, stir in the parmesan, sprinkle with remaining parsley, and serve immediately.

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Poached chicken sandwich
american cuisine, lunch, sandwiches, summer

Poached Chicken Sandwich: An Interesting Change of Pace

Poached chicken sandwich

            Not all of the foods in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die are complicated. A basic chicken sandwich (description on pages 543 – 544) is quite simple and easy to make. All you need are roasted or poached chicken breast, good-quality bread, butter, and maybe some greens. It isn’t particularly exciting, but it does make a great lunch and is a nice change of pace from lunch meat and peanut butter. The only trick is making sure the chicken is tender.

            At a recent cooking demonstration, I learned a new trick for poaching chicken. For a whole chicken, you just boil in enough water to cover for fifteen minutes, turn off the heat, and let the pot sit, covered, for three hours. During that time, the residual heat will cook the meat all the way through without making it tough. Chicken pieces only need to be boiled for five minutes. To be on the safe side, I did ten.

            To poach about 3 pounds of chicken pieces (I did half boneless skinless breasts and half boneless skinless thighs), place them in a large pot with half a teaspoon salt. Add enough water to cover, about 6 to 8 cups. Bring to a soft boil, boil for 10 minutes, then turn off the heat and cover the pot. Let stand for 3 hours. Then the chicken is ready to enjoy, hot or cold. Save the broth for another use (like risotto).

            For each sandwich, spread two slices of bakery white or whole grain bread with softened butter. Add chicken, either sliced across the grain or pulled into chunks (slicing only seems to work well for the chicken breasts). If desired, add a sprinkle of sea or kosher salt, and/or some greens. Arugula has a nice peppery flavor. Then enjoy!

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hungarian cuisine, recipes, stew

Hungary’s National Dish: Goulash

            If asked to name a Hungarian dish, goulash is probably what most people would come up with first. And that isn’t a bad thing. It’s flavorful, soothing, and endlessly customizable. Plus, like most stews, it reheats extremely well. For Sunday dinner with leftovers for lunches, it’s perfect.

            According to Mimi Sheraton in 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die, goulash was originally a cowboys’ stew. Beef is the most common meat, but pork is also widely used. Since pork is typically half the cost of beef or less, and makes excellent goulash, that is what I use in the recipe, though beef cubes will also work.

            The critical ingredient is paprika, which is actually a relative newcomer to Hungarian cuisine. It is made of dried and ground peppers, which originally came from the Americas. Most likely, peppers arrived in Hungary during the reign of Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, whose empire included Spain, the Low Countries, parts of Italy, Austria, Bohemia, and Hungary, though it took a few centuries for Europeans to accept them.

            By the 19th Century, paprika was a central flavor in Hungarian cuisine, and indispensable in goulash. Besides the meat (or occasionally beans) and paprika, other ingredients might include onions, garlic, potatoes, carrots, tomatoes, or green peppers. In other words, the usual suspects in stew. Some versions include caraway seeds, sage, sauerkraut, or even grated apple.

            For my version, I settled on all the usual suspects except green pepper, for the simple reason that it was the only one I didn’t have on hand, needing to be used up. That’s one of the nice things about goulash. The ingredients are affordable, easy to find, and often already in the kitchen. Caraway and sage add a nice extra flavor, and a bit of apple cider vinegar brightens everything up. If using fresh tomatoes, don’t worry about peeling or seeding them. With the long cooking time, they break down into the broth, leaving just their flavor, vitamins, and lovely red color.

Ingredients:

  • 4 pounds pork butt, shoulder, or assorted bone-in chops
  • 2 onions, chopped
  • 2 garlic cloves, minced
  • 8 ounces carrots, sliced
  • 4 tablespoons (¼ cup) unsmoked sweet paprika (This is not a typo. It sounds like a lot, but goulash is supposed to be very paprika-forward, not subtle.)
  • 1 tablespoon caraway seeds, lightly crushed
  • Dash cayenne pepper
  • 2 pounds fresh chopped tomatoes (about 7 – 8 Roma tomatoes), or 1 15-ounce can crushed tomatoes and 1 can of water
  • 6 small red or gold potatoes, unpeeled, cut into roughly ¾ inch cubes
  • 8 sage leaves, thinly sliced
  • 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar

Directions:

  1. Trim the extra fat from the pork, mince it, and cook over medium heat until it’s mostly melted and rendered.
  2. Cut as much meat from the bones as you can, cut into roughly ¾ inch cubes, and set aside the meaty bones.
  3. Add the pork cubes and bones to the fat and cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until most of the pink is gone and the remaining fat has begun to render, about 10 minutes.
  4. Add the onions, garlic, carrots, paprika, and caraway, with salt and a dash of cayenne pepper. Cook roughly 10 more minutes, until the onions start to cook down.
  5. Add the tomatoes (and water if using canned) and cook for another 10 minutes.
  6. Reduce heat to simmer. Add the potatoes and sage leaves, cover the pot, and cook until everything is tender, ½ hour to an hour.
  7. Remove the bones, pull any pork from them, and return the meat to the pot. Discard the bones.
  8. Immediately before serving, stir in the vinegar. Serve alone or with mashed potatoes, egg noodles, dumplings, or bread.

Rating: 9/10

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Chicken Marbella
american cuisine, food history

Medieval Meets the 80s: Chicken Marbella

Chicken Marbella

            I’ll admit, I was a little skeptical when I first read about chicken Marbella. Prunes, olives, capers, vinegar, and brown sugar seemed like an odd combination with chicken. The dish was originally developed by the Silver Palette catering company in New York in the late 1970s/early 1980s. It’s very much in the 80s style, vaguely Italian or Mediterranean, and sophisticated for the time. Since the ingredients are fairly inexpensive, I decided to give it a try. Omit the olives (which aren’t generally my favorite) and it’s essentially sweet-and-sour chicken.

            There’s actually a long history of serving meat with sweet, sour, and fruity sauces, that goes beyond turkey with cranberry sauce or duck with orange sauce. Ancient Romans loved complex sauces with any combination of honey, vinegar, wine, fruit, herbs, spices, and the fermented fish sauce garum. Medieval cooks ditched the garum but added sugar, verjuice (pressed from unripe grapes), and citrus juices. If their sauces contained broth or meat juices, they would be combined with these other, strongly-flavored ingredients. Add a few spices and possibly some breadcrumbs to thicken, and the sauce for chicken Marbella sounds positively medieval. And it bears more than a passing resemblance to the agrodolce sauce still popular in Sicily today.

            The recipe on pages 542 – 543 of 1000 Foods to Eat Before You Die by Mimi Sheraton, originally from the Silver Palette Cookbook, was delicious and smelled amazing. The only changes I made were to skip the olives and use chicken leg quarters instead of quartered whole chickens, but I would tweak it a little further. Between the amount of marinade and the amount of liquid released by the chicken while cooking, the serving platter was swimming in sauce. The flavor was great, and the sugar gave the chicken a nice crunchy “crust,” but the mix was extremely sweet. That was despite the dramatic reduction in the quantity of prunes, for the simple reason that the bag, which I had bought for and used in another recipe, wasn’t as full as I thought.

            For a second attempt, I made a few changes. Because I only used about half the amount of chicken, I cut the other quantities in half, producing a pool of sauce instead of a lake. Reducing the amount of sugar from one half to one third cup created a better balance with the vinegar, capers, garlic, and oregano. And pretty much any dried fruit will work. I used a mix of dried apricots, golden raisins, and Zante currants (because that was what I had on hand), to successful results. Turns out the 80s culinary experimenters had some good ideas. I still don’t understand the pasta salads with bottled dressing, though. Or nouvelle cuisine.

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Eggplant Timbale
food history, italian cuisine, pasta, vegetarian

Cook’s Tour of Italy Menu 84 (Pgs. 264 – 265): Timbale of Eggplant and Pasta

Eggplant Timbale

Region: South Mainland/Islands (Sicily)

            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.

            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.

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Black-Eyed Susan Cocktail
american cuisine, beverages, food history, recipes

Preakness Stakes Mocktail: The Black-Eyed Susan

Black-Eyed Susan Cocktail

            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.

Photo from Pexels.com

            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-Eyed Susan Cocktail
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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Pork Chop Marengo
food history, french cuisine, italian cuisine, recipes

Napoleonic Entree: Chicken or “Veal” (Pork) Marengo

Pork Chop Marengo
Pork Chop Marengo

            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.

Here’s how to make it:

Ingredients:

  • 1 chicken, cut up, or roughly 3 pounds bone-in pork (or veal) chops
  • 2 tablespoons olive oil
  • 4 tablespoons butter, plus more to brown toasts
  • 1 medium onion, quartered and thinly sliced
  • 2 shallots, halved and thinly sliced
  • 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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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).
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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.
  6. 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).
  7. 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.
  8. 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).
  9. Toast the bread pieces in a buttered skillet over medium low heat until browned.
  10. Sprinkle the stew with the parsley leaves and serve, toasts on the side.

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Chicken Waterzooi - Belgian chicken stew with egg, lemon, and cream
belgian cuisine, food history, soup, stew

Belgian Chicken Stew: Waterzooi a la Gantoise

Chicken Waterzooi - Belgian chicken stew with egg, lemon, and cream

            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.

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