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!
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.
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.
This dish’s name, Cerkez tavugu, literally translates to “Circassian chicken.” Supposedly, the combination of shredded chicken in a creamy walnut sauce originated in Circassia, a region east of the Black Sea and just north of the Caucasus Mountains. Now part of Russia, Circassia was controlled by the Ottoman Empire for much of the Early Modern Era. During those centuries, the recipe was carried around the empire, hence the Turkish name and similarities to Greek skordalia and Balkan scordolea.
The primary difference between the sauce for Circassian chicken and walnut scordolea is in the flavoring. Both use garlic, but the Turkish version replaces some of it with onion and seasons the dish with paprika. Traditionally, hot paprika is used, but I use sweet paprika and cayenne pepper to better control the heat. That ensures plenty of paprika flavor, with exactly as much bite as desired.
Paprika, a blend of dried ground peppers, may have reached Turkey in two ways. From 1519 to 1556, Spain, much of the Low Countries, Naples, Sicily, part of Germany, Austria, Bohemia, and Hungary were all part of the empire of Charles V. Sweet and hot peppers might have been brought to Europe by the Spanish, who spread them across the Habsburg Empire. On their eastern frontier, Charles V, his brother Ferdinand I, and their descendants fought the Ottomans off and on for centuries. As the frontier shifted back and forth, peppers and paprika may have entered the Ottoman Empire via Hungary.
Another possibility is that the Portuguese acquired peppers on their own voyages of exploration or from the Spanish. From there, peppers could be introduced across their vast trade network around the coasts of Africa, India, and into Indonesia and Malaysia. Unlike Europeans, who looked at hot peppers and mostly shrugged, Africans and Asians went crazy for them. Once chili peppers were introduced to Africa, they could have reached the Ottoman Empire through their holdings in Egypt and the North African coast.
Regardless of how it got to Turkey, paprika and cayenne pepper make for an amazing sauce with an evolving flavor. When you first take a bite, it tastes slightly sweet. Then it’s sour and creamy, followed by a spicy finish.
Ingredients:
2 chicken breasts, ideally bone-in skin-on
A few pieces onion, carrot, and celery
1 cup walnuts
2 slices good-quality bakery white bread, crusts removed
¼ cup milk
1 garlic clove, peeled, crushed with the side of a knife, and coarsely chopped
¼ cup chopped onion
Juice of ½ lemon
¼ cup olive oil
1 tbsp sweet paprika (make sure it’s fresh), plus extra to garnish
½ to 1 tsp cayenne pepper
Chopped parsley, for garnish
Directions:
Slow cook the chicken with the onion, carrot, celery, a pinch of salt, and just enough water to cover. In a slow cooker, it typically takes about 4 hours on high or 6 on low.
Remove the skin and bones from cooked chicken and shred the meat, either with two forks or clean hands. Cool completely.
Place bread in a bowl, drizzle with milk, and let rest while you toast the walnuts.
Heat the walnuts over medium heat in a skillet, shaking pan occasionally, until they smell toasty. Watch carefully, this only takes a few minutes.
Place the toasted nuts into a food processor and pulse a few times. Add the bread and any extra milk, the garlic, onion, and a little salt. Process until smooth and blended.
Add the lemon juice, paprika, and ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper and process again. Taste for salt and cayenne, adding more if desired. This usually has a kick but is not overly spicy.
With the motor running, slowly add the oil through the processor’s feed tube.
Slowly add ½ cup water, mixing until incorporated. The sauce should have a thick, creamy texture.
Transfer the sauce to a bowl, add the shredded chicken, and toss to combine. Garnish with additional paprika and chopped parsley.
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Menu: Chicken Tabaka with Tkemali (plum sauce), Lobio Satsivi (green beans with walnut sauce)
Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 389 – 392)
In this case, the word Georgian does not refer to the British historical period of the 18th and early 19th Centuries. Nor does it refer to the state in the Southeastern United States known for its peaches. Rather, we are referring to the country of Georgia, located in the Caucasus on the eastern edge of the Black Sea, between Russia, Turkey, Armenia, and Azerbaijan. The terrain is mountainous, but the climate is moderated by proximity to the sea, creating a favorable environment for growing vegetables, fruits, and nuts.
Sour plums are the base of Georgia’s most popular sauce, tkemali. Ms. Sheraton refers to it as a sort of “Georgian ketchup” that can be used with pretty much anything. The sweet-tart plums are cooked and combined with garlic, fresh herbs, spices, and chili pepper for a fascinating mix of sweet, savory, and aromatic. Based on the recipes I looked at, it is not a major issue if the usual sour plums are not available. The sauce didn’t taste overly sweet, probably because the plums are cooked with the skin, where most of the sour flavor is. Another benefit of cooking plums with the skin is to release the red and purple pigments found there.
An interesting thing about the tkemali was how its flavor evolved over a few days in the fridge. At first the garlic and cilantro were the strongest flavors, but gradually it became fruitier and more minty. I’m not sure why this happened, but at all points the sauce was a flavorful accompaniment to the chicken. While adding a fruity sauce to vegetables is uncommon in the US, it is often added to green beans in Georgian cuisine (text, pg. 390). They already had walnut sauce here, but the idea sounds good. It even worked well with baked potatoes.
The chicken was less successful, but improved on the second day. A flattened whole chicken is rubbed with salt, garlic, hot paprika, and sour cream, placed in a skillet to fry, and another skillet is placed on top, weighted down with something heavy. Since I didn’t feel comfortable trying to flatten a whole chicken, I used thigh/drumstick quarters and weighted them down with a heavy pot half full of water.
For some reason, after the given amount of time plus a little extra, the chicken was nowhere near done. At first I was confused, since the quarters are smaller than whole chickens, but I think there is a scientific explanation. Water has a very high specific heat, meaning that it can absorb (or release) a lot of energy without its temperature changing much. That makes it a great industrial coolant, but probably not the best choice for weighting down chicken being cooked. Most likely, some of the heat that was supposed to be going into the chicken went into the water instead. This process might have worked if the water was heated first, but after some time in the oven to reheat the texture and flavor were much better.
My favorite dish here was the green beans. After being lightly cooked, they are tossed with a sauce that resembles pesto without the basil. These types of sauces, where ingredients are chopped or ground together with a small amount of liquid, have a long history. Ancient Romans combined things like herbs, spices, dried fruit, vinegar, oil, and the fish sauce garum with a mortar and pestle to make thick, strongly-flavored sauces. Medieval cooks did much the same, but ditched the garum and often added almonds, walnuts, or bread crumbs as thickeners. At a time when people ate with their fingers, this all made perfect sense. Thinner sauces would be a lot messier.
Not cat food
The walnuts are dominant in the sauce, enhanced by garlic, cilantro, and paprika, which seem to be core flavors in Georgian cuisine. Vinegar and oil add another layer of flavor, and bits of chopped red onion and parsley add extra crunch and color. The sauce was amazing on fresh seasonal beans, and would probably make out-of-season frozen beans a lot more interesting. Ms. Sheraton suggests serving them with “southern fried chicken or barbecued beef and pork in the other Georgia.” (Pg. 389) This good idea becomes even better when compared to salads coated in the bacterial breeding ground known as mayonnaise.
Feasting Through Time 