Around the World – Page 2

Beef Stroganoff, or should I say, Stroganov?

The weather is atrocious, we’re on vacation, I cooked up some extra beef last night, and it’s time for serious comfort food – We did up Hungarian Gulyás recently, so why not cover its Russian Cousin?

Beef Stroganoff, or should I say, Stroganov, is what I’ve got in mind, and I’m willing to bet that merely reading those words has already gone to work on you, too. I’m talking authentic beef stroganoff here, which raises an important question – What exactly is authentic, in this regard? Let’s find out.

If you’re a student of food history you’ve heard some version of the origin story for beef stroganoff. Count Alexander Grigorievich Stroganov was the Minister of Internal Affairs of Russia under Czar Alexander III, in the early 19th century. He was also the president of the historical society, a famous and wealthy man, and a bit of a gourmand.

The rest of the story goes that he collaborated with his French Chef to invent Beef Stroganov, which took Russia by storm, winning awards throughout the country, and is still with us today. While the modern dish is surely named Stroganoff, the origin story is frankly bollocks.

first off, the dish attributed to the Stroganov family is an age old Russian favorite – sautéed beef in sour cream sauce. Secondly, the upper crust during Czarist times loved all things French – Many spoke French at home and sent their kids to French schools, and French cuisine was considered especially à la mode – families who could afford to hire a genuine French Chef would do so in a heartbeat. Third, many Russian cooks were also French trained

There is evidence to support the belief that at least one Stroganov Count had a French Chef, though I’ve yet to read anything definitive as to which one. While most popular versions tap Count Alexander Grigorievich Stroganov as the creator, there are rival claims for Counts Pavel Alexandrovich and Sergei Grigorievich as well. The first published recipe that specifically called the dish Beef Stroganov I’m aware of appeared in a cookbook written by Elena Molokovhets in 1861, (A Gift For Young Housewives).

It’s also true that, thirty years later, in Saint Petersburg, a French Chef named Charles Briere was awarded a blue ribbon for a dish he called Beef Stroganov. But at that point, Alexander Grigorievich Stroganov had been dead for almost 75 years, and the youngest candidate, Sergei, had died in 1882. Nothing I read definitively tied Briere to the Stroganovs either – Clear as mud, right?

In any case, it’s certainly plausible that a French Chef might tweak either a rustic Russian favorite, (or for that matter, a French fricassee de boeuf), making it more suitable for refined Russian palates. And it’s still most likely, for my mind, that the dish came to fame with Count Alexander, who reportedly was a serious party hound. Certainly the French-Russian twist is evident in the truest version of the dish – sautéing beef, and then whipping up a pan sauce flavored with mustard is absolutely French, while beef in sour cream defines Russian fare to a T.

When the Communist Revolution engulfed Russia and buried the last of the Czars, many who were able fled their home country. Naturally, they took their favorite dishes with them. Beef Stroganov migrated first to China, where Shanghai was known as The Paris of the East – There is where it likely was first pared with rice, and where soy or fish sauce of some kind would have been introduced as well. The dish also worked its way through what would become the soviet block countries, and eventually to America – There, in New York City in 1927, the Russian Tea Room opened, with Beef Stroganoff on the menu. It was around this time and through these gyrations and upheavals that the name apparently changed from Stroganov to Stroganoff.

Enough of the history – Onward to the stuff commonly associated with beef Stroganov that, frankly, shouldn’t be – Please note, I’m not saying you can’t do these things – I’m merely pointing out that, if authentic is important, this stuff won’t be in the mix. Pretty much the entire no-no list came from American ‘improvements’ to the dish.

Mushrooms – Russian purists say unequivocally that mushrooms in beef stroganoff is not authentic. You can do it if you dig it, but try it at least once without. Mushrooms are potent – They add a number of elements of taste and texture that can easily overwhelm what should be a delicate balance of flavors. So if you do add them, make them good ones, and pay attention to proportion – half to a loose full cup is plenty – And for the record? Yeah, I add them – Shiitakes from our tribe in Minnesota, along with a half cup of steeping liquid.

Served on Noodles – Never done in Russia. Served over mashed or roasted potatoes, or accompanied by fried potatoes are the ways it was done, and later, over rice as well. Don’t get me wrong, freshly made egg noodles are great with Stroganoff, but you owe it to yourself to try the more authentic accompaniments – And doing so gives you a built in excuse to make several batches…

Adding canned cream of mushroom soup. Please, just don’t, ever. That stuff is just so wrong, I shouldn’t need to elaborate further. I don’t care if your mom and aunt Sally used it – Just don’t.

Adding ketchup/catsup. While I found, (and endorse), the use of tomato paste and honey in the seasoning mix, ketchup ain’t the way to get there. The balance is way off, and frankly, even good store bought ketchup doesn’t taste much like tomatoes. The idea is to get a little sweet note and a little msg umami feel into the recipe, and there’s much better, more balanced ways to do that, as you’ll see shortly.

Ground beef, or cheap stew cuts. Remember what I said last week about choosing beef? You certainly can make Stroganoff with these cuts and grinds, but to do it right, what you need is a nice quality, lean cut. Top sirloin, eye of the round, tenderloin will all do a great job. Stroganoff, done right, is fork tender, almost melt in your mouth, and it doesn’t require long stewing or braising time, so a good quality cut is mission critical to achieving that end. Again, you can use that other stuff in a pinch, but if you want to make the version fit for a Count, you need pretty good beef.

What you certainly can do is use a protein other than beef. While some hard cores claim only kow is korrect, plenty of genuine Russian history and recipes I chased down indicated that pork, lamb, and chicken all were used from time to time in the old country, and you can too. And for that matter, tofu sautéed to a nice crispy crust, with a soft, cream interior, is also pretty spectacular, if I do say so myself.

This recipe is an amalgam of several authentic versions. Those recipes varied from absolutely simple to quite complex. I took the common ground from all of them, as well as a couple of my favorite tweaks from the dish’s travels, to arrive where I did. I encourage you to dig in deeper and come up with one of your own – But try mine first. That said, whatever version you make, pay attention to the technique I’m showing here. I guarantee you it’ll make the most incredible Stroganov you’ve ever tasted, or your money back!

Beef Stroganov a la UrbanMonique

1 Pound Beef Sirloin or Tenderloin
1 small Sweet Onion
1 Cup Sour Cream
1/2 Cup Beef Stock
1 Tablespoon Wondra Flour
1 Tablespoon Unsalted Butter
1 Tablespoon Avocado Oil (Olive Oil is fine)
1 Tablespoon Dijon Mustard
1 Tablespoon Tomato Paste
2 teaspoons Honey
1 teaspoon Soy Sauce
2 drops Fish Sauce
Sea Salt
Ground Pepper

Trim all fat and connective tissue from beef, and reserve that stuff.

In a cast iron skillet over low heat, add a pinch of salt and all the trimmed fat, etc. cook on low, stirring occasionally, until the fat is rendered out of the trimmings, about 15 minutes.

Peel, trim, and slice onion into thin 1/8″ thick rings, then cut those into quarters.

Remove the trimmings from the skillet, and bring heat up to medium. If your beef trimmings didn’t render enough fat to coat the pan, add a little oil.

Add onions to the skillet, stir to coat with the rendered fat, and season lightly with salt and pepper.

Reduce heat to medium low and sweat the onions – This is done with the heat initially fairly high, then reduced – Its a quick process, 2 or 3 minutes, with steady stirring. The onions will look glossy and wet, but do not brown them.

Add the beef stock and butter to the skillet and stir, add another pinch of salt and a twist or two of Pepper. If you’ve been good and made demi glacé, pull a cube or two from the freezer and add it to the pan as well. Stir to incorporate, and reduce heat to low.

With a meat hammer, pound the trimmed beef lightly to tenderize. If you have a decent meat hammer, then the trick is to let the tool’s weight do the work – Don’t add muscle to the pounding, just guide the tool – You want your beef to end up about 1/2″ thick.

Cut the beef into strips about 1 1/2″ long and 1/2″ thick. Transfer to a non-reactive bowl.

Check your onions and stock. Give them a stir, and keep the heat low enough that they do not simmer.

Add flour, mustard, tomato paste, soy sauce, honey, and fish sauce to the beef and mix by hand until thoroughly and evenly coated.

Transfer onions and stock to a mixing bowl.

Increase heat to medium high and add a tablespoon of avocado oil to the skillet. When the pan is nice and hot, add the beef and sauté quickly, turning constantly. Cook for about 2 minutes until the beef is lightly browned.

Turn the heat under the skillet off, and add the onions and stock to the beef. Stir to incorporate. Cover the pan and allow the dish to sit for at least 30 minutes, and an hour is better yet.

When you’re about ready to eat, uncover the skillet and turn the heat to medium low. Allow the Stroganov to heat through, stirring occasionally. Do not allow the dish to boil or simmer vigorously – Nice and easy does it on the reheat. This will take about 15 minutes to heat the dish through.

When your Stroganov has 5 minutes of reheating left, add the sour cream, taste and adjust salt and pepper as desired. Stir gently to incorporate, and every minute or so thereafter – Again, do not allow the dish to boil, or you’ll break the delicate sauce.

Serve over rice, or mashed potatoes, with a salad or green vegetable. Garnish with parsley, cilantro, or basil, and chopped tomato if you like.

Na Zdorovie!

Hungarian Gulyás with Csipetke

Here in the northwest corner of Washington State, winter has set in – temperatures in the 30s and 40s, heavy wind, raining sideways. It’s the time to deploy all the goodies we grew and preserved last summer – stocks, sauces, root veggies and such – time for soups and stews.

One of our favorites is what you probably call Goulash, but Gulyás would be more accurate – either way, it’s Hungary’s answer to winter storms.

Gulyás is a National dish of Hungary, (albeit it’s popular throughout Central Europe in various iterations.) Gulyás has shown up in recorded history as far back as the 9th century. Like chili in northern Mexico, it started as a dried meat preparation carried by shepherds – just add water and you’d have a hearty meal ready for days end.

Hungarians take their Chiles very seriously

The version we enjoy now is a bit different from the original. For about the last 500 years, Gulyás has been powered by powdered chiles – those originated in the Americas, but took the world by storm when introduced across Europe and Asia by the Spaniards back in the 1500s.

The Hungarian version of dried, powdered capsicum annuum, AKA paprika, goes damn near that far back – to the 1600s, when the Turks grew it in Buda, now known as Budapest – Ever since, Gulyás has been paprika powered.

Gulyás is a perfect vehicle to celebrate fall harvest root vegetables with. Other variants contain dry pinto or cranberry beans (Babgulyás), sauerkraut (Szekelygulyás), or haricot vert (Palocgulyás). Versatile stuff, indeed.

For us at home, this is a godsend – like many legendary dishes, there is no one authentic version – there are many. Everyone’s mom makes Golyás, as does any restaurant worth their stuff, and all of them can be (and usually are) glorious – yours will be too.

The paprika in Gulyás affords significant room to play. There are three major varieties you’ll find – sweet, hot, and smoked. Use one, or mix, and you’ll find myriad differences in your final dish. For a real treat, chase down genuine Hungarian paprika – of that, Rubin Szeged Sweet is arguably the best there is – though other famous makers certainly have fine stuff as well.

Paprika isn’t the only unique note to this stew, there’s a great minor note of caraway, the earthy-herby influence of parsnip, and the brightness of celery leaf or parsley. The beef you choose should be a lean roast cut. Onions can be yellow, sweet, red – whatever you prefer. Fresh varietal potatoes will shine here as well.

You’ll notice some leeway in several ingredients – feel free to tweak as you see fit. Any stock you like will work fine, but water will deliver a great dish, too.

In addition to the ingredients, method is important – if you don’t follow the steps, you’ll get a nice soup or stew, but it won’t reach its full potential.

Finally, you don’t need to make or add csipetke, but they’re surprising delicious, authentic, and better yet – they maintain their firmness for next day leftovers.

Urban’s Reasonably Authentic Hungarian Gulyás

4-6 Cups Stock or Water

1 1/2 Pounds Beef

2 medium Onions

2 large Roma Tomatoes

2 fresh Green Bell Peppers

2-3 small Potatoes (any variety you like)

1-2 fresh Carrots

1 Fat Parsnip

2-3 fat cloves fresh Garlic

2-3 fresh Celery Leaves (dry will work, as will parsley)

2-4 Tablespoons Hungarian Paprika

2 teaspoons ground Caraway Seed

2 Bay Leaves

2 Tablespoons Avocado Oil

Sea Salt

Fresh ground Pepper

End trim, peel, and rough dice onion.

End trim, peel and mince garlic.

Trim the top and white membranes from the green peppers and rough dice.

End trim and rough dice carrots and parsnip.

End trim and dice tomatoes.

Rough dice potatoes.

Combine carrot, parsnip, peppers, and potatoes in a mixing bowl and cover veggies with cold water.

Roll up celery leaf (or parsley) and chiffonade cut.

Grind caraway seed in a mortal and pestle (or spice grinder) until you develop a rough powder.

Cut beef into roughly 1/2” cubes.

Measure and portion out bay leaves, oil, salt, and pepper.

In a cast iron dutch oven over medium high heat, add the oil and heat through.

Add the onion, a pinch of salt and a couple twists of pepper – sauté until lightly browned, about 10 minutes.

Add the paprika to the onions and stir in well to thoroughly coat.

Add the cubed beef to the hot dutch oven, and sauté until lightly browned on all sides, about 10-12 minutes.

Add the minced garlic, a 3 finger pinch of salt, 10-12 twists of pepper, the ground caraway seed, and bay leaves, and stir everything in well to incorporate.

Cover the mix with stock or water to about an inch above the goodies.
When the meat blend starts to boil, reduce the heat to maintain a low simmer.

Simmer for 90 minutes, adding water or stock as needed to maintain a full cover.

After 90 minutes, add the diced veggie blend, including the soaking water, and stir well to incorporate.

Simmer for another 90-120 minutes, until everything is nice and tender.

Taste the broth and adjust salt and pepper balance as needed. You may add more paprika at this point too, if you wish.

Serve with csipetke, or crusty bread, sour cream, and a nice glass of rustic red.

This is a signature Hungarian pasta – they have a delightful, firm chew and they carry flavors like nobody’s business. Derived from the Hungarian word csípni (pinch), the name speaks to the technique of making the pasta – little pinky nail sized chunks are slightly flattened and pinched off a thin rope of dough, then cooked in water or the gulyás, as you prefer.

Hungarian Csipetke

Hungarian Csipetke

1/2 Cup All Purpose Flour

1 large Egg

2 finger pinch Sea Salt

1 teaspoon cold Water

On a clean work surface, place the flour and make a well in the middle.

Crack the egg into the well and whisk with a fork until well beaten.

Add a pinch of salt to the egg mix and whisk in.

Slowly add flour to the egg to form a dough.

Add the water if needed.

Knead for about 5 minutes until you have a firm, smooth dough.

Cover with a clean, damp towel and allow to rest for 15 minutes.

Roll the dough into a cigar shape, spinning it between floured palms, stretching and reducing the diameter until you’ve got a rope roughly 1/4” in diameter.

Pull/pinch a piece off the end of the rope and continue until all your csipetke are formed.

Boil in well salted water until the csipetke float to the surface, about 3-5 minutes.

Alternatively, you can toss the csipetke into your simmering gulyás for about 10 minutes before serving.

Tajine – A dish and pot from North Africa

I admit it, I’m obsessed with clay cookers. That’s not a bad thing, by the way. It’s not a stretch in any way to say that cooking in clay has been going on since deep into prehistory. By 400 B. C., earthenware was being mass produced in several places around the world. The advantages were obvious, and in this age of renewed interest in slow food, they are again. Clay cooking adds a certain je ne sais quoi to a dish – a subtle, earthy note and a distinct juicy tenderness. Today, we’ll take a look at the tajine, a dish and pot from North Africa.

You’ve seen a tajine, even if you didn’t know what it was called. It’s that elegant, conical pot you see on food porn shows and sites – and they’re truly magical. As noted above, tajine refers both to the cooking vessel and the dishes that are cooked and served therein. Now, first question answered – No, you don’t have to buy the pot to make the dish, but yes – it will taste that much better if you do.

A tajine, (or Tagine, Maraq, or Qidra, depending on where you are), consists of two parts, a shallow, round pan, and a tall conical top that fits snuggly inside the rim of the pan. The pan and top are rather thick on a tajine made for cooking, around 1/2” to 3/4” – This implies that there are tajines not made to cook in, and indeed, there are – Many of the shiny glazed, highly decorated versions you’ll find are in fact not cookware, but meant to present and serve a dish. From a reputable seller, they’ll be clearly marked as a serving tajine, (And woe betide the cook who doesn’t do their due diligence). Serving tajines are thinner, and will fail in a spectacularly catastrophic manner if you attempt to cook in them – Don’t be that cook. If you’re interested in buying, get an unglazed, hefty, genuine cooking tajine, made in Morocco. You’ll find tajines made of numerous other things – aluminum, cast iron, steel, and enameled metal among them. If you want the real deal, it’s gotta be unglazed clay – More on that shortly.

The magic that a tajine imparts to a dish stems from that conical top. It’s hollow and sports a small hole placed very near the apex. On the outside, there’s what looks like an egg cup set atop the cone. Every aspect of this device is intentional and adds to the voodoo the tajine do do. The cover is designed to collect and condense moisture from the cooking food and return it to the pan. The little hole in the top regulates steam pressure within the vessel. As such, when working with a clay cooker, very little water or stock is generally added to the dish, because it’ll generate its own. The little egg cup at the very top of the pot is filled with cold water and serves to improve condensation while cooking. Magic, I tells ya.

The pot is truly ancient, dating all the way back to the 800’s in Arabic literature, which certainly implies it was around well before then. This was during the reign of the Abbasid Empire, which sprawled from southern Spain to Northern Africa and most of the Middle East. These days, the pot and the dish see heaviest use in North Africa, with the Middle East a close second, and France a surprising third – They’re popular enough there that legendary French cookware maker Le Creuset makes an enameled, cast iron version.

Naturally, my magic claims beg the question – Is there reputable science behind that? Some say yes and some say no. The most common claim is that unglazed clay adds flavor to a dish – I’ve got quite a few clay cookers, and I swear it’s true, as do a whole bunch of cooks and chefs around the world. As a clay cooker acquires a history, the more pronounced that ‘certain something’ it imparts becomes. It’s subtle, but it’s there, just as cast iron does. Scientists, including Harold McGee, poo poo this claim, but nonetheless, I swear it’s there – Oh, and yes, curve balls do curve.

Taste claims aside, there are thermodynamic reasons clay cookers do what they do. Clay is a good insulator, the exact polar opposite of the claim most cookware makers like to tout – that is, how well their stuff conducts heat. Naturally, this begs the question, why would we want an insulator to cook in? The answer is relatively simple – Because if you truly want to cook something low and slow, an insulator will do a far better job than a conductor. Conductive materials absorb and pass heat to a dish relatively quickly, while insulators do both on a much slower time line – Low and slow. This is especially important when cooking proteins like meat and poultry – Fast and hot makes meat tough, especially the cheaper, tougher cuts, while low and slow makes them fork tender and delicious – Every bowl of beef stew or plate of pot roast attests to this.

Furthermore, thermodynamic laws dictate that the property of a good insulator holds true regardless of temperature. Doubt that fact? Take our Romertopf cooker as an example then. These folks tell you to crank the heat up 100° F above your normal roasting temperature – 450° F for a whole chicken. The Romertopf will cook that bird perfectly. With nothing more than a little salt and pepper onboard, it’ll be one of the best chicken you’ve ever tasted. Think about it – Clay cooker are ancient and yet they’re still around, all over the world – Thousands of years of culinary experience cannot to be denied. The fact is, all the modern cookware versions of low and slow cooking are okay, but they pale before the real thing.

Traditional tajine is cooked over coals, the African answer to a Dutch oven. Here in the West, you can get it done that way, on a stove top, or in the oven. They key here is to avoid thermal shock, a thing that can and will lead to a cracked tajine. A gas cook top works great, while electric or flat top is a bit trickier – Their tendency to cycle the heat can play havoc with the cooker, so a diffuser is needed to even things out – That’s just a chunk of steel or aluminum that sits between burner and tajine, (they cost about ten bucks). You can cook with a tajine on your gas or charcoal grill, so long as you don’t ramp things up too high. Medium low heat is the rule, regardless of the method. That means that dishes cooked this way aren’t gonna go fast, so one must plan accordingly. And by the way, those metal bottomed tajines are specifically designed for stove top cooking.

As with virtually every clay cooker, there are seasoning steps that must be done to properly prep your cooker for a long, useful working life. Unglazed tajines must be immersed in water for a minimum of 2 hours, (and overnight isn’t a bad idea at all). Once they’re soaked, they’re patted dry and left to air dry for an hour, then lightly rubbed with olive oil. Seasoning is done by placing the tajine in a cold oven, then cranking the heat to 300° F for two hours. Turn the oven off, leave the tajine in there to cool completely. Once cooled, give it another light coating of olive oil, and you’re good to go.

So, what about the dish that shares the pot’s name? They’re predominantly Moroccan, but they’re popular throughout the Maghreb, (that includes Tunisia and Algeria). The roots stem from the collision between hometown Berbers and invading Muslim Arabs, back in the 900s – That’s when middle eastern spices met Berber stews, and a beautiful thing was born. The result is the spice blend known as Ras el Hanout, the Head of the Shop.

Ras el Hanout, as the name implies, is the best a spice shop has to offer. Like certain molés, it’s a very complex mix indeed, and like so many regional favorites, everybody has a different version, and their’s is best, no doubt about it. It’s used for everything from tajines, to a rub for meat or fish, to an adjunct for rice and couscous dishes. It’s hefty, complex, and heady, and it’s what really gives tajines their kick. Purists will claim a proper Ras el Hanout must have exactly so many ingredients, and again, whatever theirs are would be the only proper mix. The list for potential contributors is long – allspice, aniseed, ash berry, cardamom, chiles, chufa, cinnamon, clove, coriander, cubeb, cumin, fennel, fenugreek, galangal, ginger, grains of paradise, mace, nutmeg, long pepper, and dried rosebuds are just a start.

Those ingredients and blends will change radically in countries other than Morocco. Truth be told, a day to day tajine won’t have the full monty ras el hanout on board – They’ll use a few favorite spices, just as we would with a casserole or stew – The full Ras is for special occasions. Tunisian tajine is very different from this – A stew base is seasoned with the Berber mix Baharat, (a close but distinct cousin to ras el hanout.) that is thickened with bread or flour, and then has egg and cheese added – The end result is more like a frittata than what we’d think of as a North African stew. A quick internet search will yield you a bunch of options for any or all of these.

Here’s a fine chicken tajine to get you started. If you don’t have a tajine, don’t sweat it – a braiser or Dutch oven will do OK in a pinch. Same goes for the spice blend – Use what you’ve got and don’t sweat the rest, it’ll still be very tasty. If you catch the bug, you can branch out and go wild. The one thing worth chasing down here is nigella seed – You can find those at a speciality grocer or online. They have a unique, nutty, shallot-like flavor that’s a signature note to this dish. You’ll note that the tajine shown herein has more veggies than what’s noted in the recipe – That’s intentional – Folks will put in what they’ve got, and what they like when they make one – I did, and you should too, yeah?

Moroccan Chicken Tajine

1 whole Chicken
2 medium Onions
1/2 Cup pitted Olives (red or purple)
1/3 Cup Water
1/4 cup Avocado Oil
3-4 cloves fresh Garlic
1/2 Preserved Lemon (1/2 Fresh is fine)
6-8 sprigs Cilantro
2 Tablespoons Nigella Seed
1 Tablespoon Butter
1 teaspoon Sea Salt
1 teaspoon ground Turmeric
3/4 teaspoon ground Ginger
3/4 teaspoon Grains of Paradise (Pepper is just fine)
1/2 teaspoon ground Cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon Saffron threads, crushed

Cut chicken into pieces, (you can butterfly it and then cut pieces if you wish)

Tie cilantro sprigs into a bouquet.

Cut lemon into quarters.

Peel, trim and chop garlic.

Peel, trim and chop one onion, and cut the other into roughly 1/4”thick rings.

In a heavy sauté pan, toast nigella seeds until fragrant. Grind half and leave half whole.

Spice blend for tajine - Smells as good as it looks

Pour olive oil into the bottom of your cooking pot. Cut the butter into small cubes and distribute evenly. Evenly arrange the onion rounds over the oil.

In a large mixing bowl, combine chicken, chopped onion, garlic, all nigella seeds, and all spices. When the ingredients are well mixed, arrange the chicken pieces evenly around the cooking pot, bone side down.

Pour the water into the mixing bowl, and swish things around to get all the left over spice and veggie bits. Pour that into the cooking pot as well.

A big part of the fun with tajine is arranging things

Distribute olives around the pot. Squeeze the lemon quarters over the chicken and toss them in too. Add the cilantro bouquet.

If you’re cooking in a tajine, put the cover on and put the pot on a diffuser over a burner on medium low heat. Cook for 11/2 to 2 hours, checking at the one hour mark to make sure there is sufficient liquid in the mix. If it seems a bit dry, add a quarter cup of water and re-cover. When done, the chicken should be fork tender, and the sauce thick enough to coat a spoon. If you prefer to use the oven, put the loaded tajine into a cold oven on a lower center rack. Bake at 350° F for 45 minutes, then check liquid level and adjust as needed. Cook for another 30 to 45 minutes until chicken is fork tender.

If you’re cooking in a Dutch oven or casserole, cover and heat over medium high until the stew begins to simmer. Reduce heat to just maintain a simmer. Check at thirty minutes for liquid level and adjust as per above. When the chicken is tender, pour off the sauce and thicken in a sauté pan if it needs it.

Serve with flatbread, and maybe a cool cucumber salad, or a cold rice or couscous dish.

Perfect accompaniment to a lovely tajine

Fabulous Furikake

Seasoning blends are the lifeblood of many a cuisine, and the love of chefs and cooks all around our world. From adobo to zatar and everything in between, they’re the signature flavors of our cooking lives. One of my favorites will hopefully be yours too – it’s Japanese Furikake, and it’s a delightful thing indeed.

So, what is this heavenly stuff? It’s a crumbly, bright dry seasoning blend meant to accompany rice, but it’s fantastic with everything from tofu and chicken to scrambled eggs and potatoes.

Furikake means ‘to sprinkle over,’ and there’s not much it isn’t delightful in concert with. In Japan, a bowl of plain rice – good rice, properly prepped and cooked, is enjoyed everywhere, every day – More often than not, there’s some version of furikake topping things off.

As one would expect, there are a lot of choices when it comes to Furikake brand and ingredients. From super simple to wildly creative, there’s a blend for just about every palate. Check out the options and you’ll find seaweed (Nori), shiso, egg yolk (Tamagotchi), bonito flakes (Okaka), salmon roe, eel, scallops, wasabi, ginger, various veggies, tea, miso, and sake – and that’s not an exhaustive list by any means.

Buying a blend or two is a great way to find out what you like best, but in the end run you’ll want to make your own. Many commercial furikake blends contain fillers, anti-caking agents, and preservatives that do nothing for genuine flavors, or your health for that matter. MSG is also a popular additive, and not everyone likes that stuff. With fresh ingredients you choose making up your personal blends, you’ll know exactly what you’re eating.

Furikake is great on proteins – tofu, fish, poultry, pork and beef. It shines on veggies, and just about any grain, pulse, pasta, or legume. It’s marvelous in salad dressings, soups, stews, and bakes. In other words, it’s as versatile as salt and pepper – All the more reason to explore and create your own signature blend.

At its core level, Furikake is salt and toasted sesame seeds, a combination enjoyed in Japan for thousands of years. Called Gomashio Furikake, it’s often used today as an lower sodium alternative to straight salt. Blended at anywhere from 15:1 to 5:1 sesame seeds to salt, this simple mix offers a wonderful array of options in and of itself – use different mineral salts, from Himalayan pink to Hawaiian black, and you’ll get a subtle range of flavors. Switch white sesame for black, and you’ve got more variants yet. For the record, the difference between white and black sesame is the hull – Black seeds got ‘em and white seeds don’t.

Gomashio Furikake

3 Tablespoons White or Black Sesame Seeds

1 teaspoon Mineral Salt

In a heavy sauté pan over medium heat, toast the sesame seeds for 2-3 minutes, shaking gently and more or less constantly – when the seeds are golden brown and/or fragrant, you’re there.

Combine with salt and store in a clean, airtight glass spice jar.

The next step is Nori Komi Furikake, which adds seaweed to the mix. There are a bunch of popular varieties, and these days you can find quite a few at your local Asian grocer, or online. Nori, Kombu, Wakame, Hijiki, and Dulce are all delicious and unique, so here again, changing nothing more than the seaweed you add provides ample opportunities for discovery. This recipe includes sugar, which deserves a note – what you really want is the ethereal Japanese Wasanbon, a legendary golden brown, fine grained sugar with notes of butter and honey – but be forewarned, it’s not cheap, or all that easy to find. Good substitutes include light muscovado or demarara.

Nori Komi Furikake

3 Tablespoons toasted Sesame Seeds

1-2 sheets Sushi Nori

1 teaspoon Sugar (see note above)

2 teaspoons Mineral Salt

Cut the nori into roughly 1/4” by 1/2” strips – I use kitchen scissors, which may sound goofy, but they work great.

Combine all ingredients and store in a clean, airtight glass spice jar.

The next step up adds egg yolk and bonito flakes to the mix. While you can do the egg via a hard boiled yolk, a homemade salt cured yolk will deliver a much deeper, more complex umami note, and the blend will last far longer than using the former option. This one is called

Noritama Furikake.

3 Tablespoons toasted Sesame Seeds

1/2 – 1 sheets Sushi Nori

1 salt cured Egg Yolk (or hard boiled)

1 teaspoon Bonito Flakes

1 1/2 teaspoons Mineral Salt

1 teaspoon Sugar (see sugar notes above)

1/4 teaspoon Sake

1/4 teaspoon Tamari

In a small, non-reactive mixing bowl, combine tamari, sake, sugar, and salt, and whisk with a fork to thoroughly incorporate.

Cut the nori into roughly 1/4” by 1/2” strips, and combine with all other ingredients.

Fine grate preserved egg yolk, or smash hard boiled to fine grain.

Add bonito flakes, sesame seeds, and egg yolk to the mix and fork whisk to thoroughly incorporate.

Next up is Shiso Furikake, made with it’s namesake leaf, the shiso, or beefsteak, or perilla – this plant is from the mint family, and is widely used in several Asian cuisines. Edible cultivars come in red, green, and bi-color varieties.

Shiso has a strong minty flavor, with basil-like undertones. Dried leaf doesn’t keep its potency well at all, but you should be able to find fresh leaves at Asian grocers – As far as I’m concerned, shiso furikake is worth making only when you can get fresh leaves.

Shiso Furikake

1 1/2 Tablespoons toasted White Sesame Seeds

1 1/2 Tablespoons toasted Black Sesame Seeds

1/2 to 1 sheets Sushi Nori

6-10 Shiso Leaves

1 1/2 teaspoons Mineral Salt

1 teaspoon Sugar1 teaspoon Bonito Flakes

1/2 teaspoon Tamari

Tightly roll and chiffenade cut shiso leaves

Cut nori into 1/4” by 1/2” strips

Combine salt, sugar, and Tamari in a non-reactive mixing bowl and whisk with a fork to thoroughly combine.

Add bonito flakes and whisk.

Add sesame seeds, nori, and shiso – whisk to thoroughly combine.

Then there’s Yasai Fumi, or vegetable flavored Furikake. The incorporation of vegetables, and maybe even some fruit affords a lot of room for experimentation. Most mixes use ‘vegetable chips’ and/or powder, but to me, this is a place for home grown and dried produce, and the opportunity to add a little zing and brightness. I built this one, inspired by the treat of fresh shishito chiles grilled with sesame oil and lemon juice, sprinkled with furikake.

Yasai Fumi Furikake

1 1/2 Tablespoons toasted White Sesame Seeds

1 1/2 Tablespoons toasted Black Sesame Seeds

1 1/2 Tablespoons coarsely ground dried Shishito Chiles (dried bells or jalapeños will work fine too)

1 teaspoon fine grated Orange or Lemon Zest (you can use dried too)

1/2 Sheet Sushi Nori1 teaspoon Mineral Salt

Cut the nori into roughly 1/4” by 1/2” strips.

Combine all ingredients and fork whisk to thoroughly incorporate.

Chicken Paprikash

It’s January, and it’s snowing lightly here. I was going to do a simple picnic for dinner, but that didn’t sound that comforting, frankly. Suddenly, the little dim bulb above my head glowed, and the perfect dish came to mind – Chicken Paprikash, a hearty answer to a cold winter night.

Like many great winter dinners, chicken paprikash, (Paprikás Csirke in Hungarian, and pronounced paprikash cheerke), is a farm meal at heart, and the heartbeat is Hungarian paprika. Way back in the 1500s, when new world food began to make its way to Europe, Hungarians were one of the earliest folk to embrace and cultivate chiles.

The paprika chile is relatively mild, anywhere from 250-1000 HSU on the Scoville scale – of course there are hotter variants out there – a chile head is a chile head, world around. Dried and powdered, it rightfully becomes the stuff of legendary flavors.

Here in the states, you’re commonly a bit hard pressed to find more than a couple Hungarian paprika variants, namely hot and sweet. Over there, there are seven recognized versions. Starting from the mildest and ending with the wildest, they are – Special Quality, Exquisite Delicate, Pungent Exquisite Delicate, Rose, Noble Sweet, Half-Sweet, Strong. Should you ever come upon those, snap them up – you’ve found a great source indeed.

What you want, when you can find it, is paprika from the Kalocsa region, which comes in bags like the one you see in the image below. This is extraordinarily good stuff, pungent and piquant. If you’re going to make a signature dish, it deserves great ingredients, and one simply cannot skimp on the paprika in paprikash. If you’ve got old paprika hanging around your pantry, please – don’t bother with it – toss it and get fresh. It’s that important.

Paprikash is, in fact, a variety of dishes made with meat, onions, lots of paprika, and sour cream, stewed low and slow. Many paprikash variants hail from south-central Hungary, the rich agricultural region where most of the paprika chiles are grown, including the legendary ones from Kalocsa and Szeged. The meat might be chicken, pork, lamb, or veal. While the original dish likely didn’t have tomato or sweet pepper included, some Hungarian cooks do. Like all great farm dishes, each cook puts their own stamp on things, just as you’ll do.

What are the non-negotiables for the dish? Some form of protein, generous portions of onion, garlic, and paprika, sour or heavy cream, salt, pepper, and stock or water – that’s it for ingredients. There are also some steps to the cooking that are must do’s, if you’re to fully appreciate all paprikash has to offer.

There are three important tips to great paprikash.

1 – You need far more paprika than most recipes call for – usually, it’s around a two or three tablespoons, tops. What you need is a quarter cup. It’s called paprikash, so paprika has to indisputably lead the parade.

2 – The paprika needs to be introduced and integrated in a specific step – early, in hot fat, and sautéed for a bit until it’s pungent. Doing that generates some nuances you won’t get otherwise, and assures that paprika is fully dispersed through the dish.

3 – Most recipes call for two or more cups of water or stock. If you cook this dish right, you won’t need that much much – it’ll generate its own. I have an ingenious clay cooker called a Yunnan steam pot. You load whatever you want in there, with no liquid – a low and slow, covered simmer generates all the stock you could want or need – that concept is what you’ll employ here, too. Chicken has a lot of bound liquid in it, (especially if you use legs and thighs) – cooking as we will do releases all that and makes a glorious dish.

Here stateside, you’ll find paprikash served over egg noodles probably 90% of the time, but over yonder, nokedli, a dumpling very similar to German spaetzle, would likely get the call. Nokedli is easy enough to make, so I’ll include a recipe in case you’re feeling especially frisky. Bottom line is that you can and should use what you’ve got and prefer – there’s no wrong choice in your kitchen.

This dish is perfect for using what you’ve got, so don’t guilt out if everything isn’t spot on – you’ll see I used chicken breast here, ‘cause that’s what I had – no harm, no foul.

A covered cast iron dutch oven or deep skillet is the cat’s meow for this dish, but any heavy stock or stew pot with a tight fitting lid will do just fine.

So here’s Urban Paprikash. Feel free to make it yours, but do follow the cooking steps closely.

Urban Chicken Paprikash

2 1/2 – 3 Pounds Chicken, (bone in, skin on Chicken legs and thighs preferred)

1 large Yellow Onion

3 fat cloves fresh Garlic

1 Red Bell Pepper

2-3 Tomatoes (about 1 1/2 Cups)

3/4 Cup Sour Cream (plus more for garnish)

1/2 Cup stock or water (whatever you’ve got is fine)

1/4 Cup Sweet Hungarian Paprika

2 Tablespoons Leaf Lard

1 slice dense white Bread

1 1/2 teaspoons sea salt

1 teaspoon ground black pepper

Fresh Parsley for garnish

Trim, peel and dice onion and sweet pepper.

Trim, peel and mince garlic.

Purée tomatoes with a stick blender.

Remove crusts from the slice of bread and put it in a shallow dish. Cover completely with stock, (whatever you’ve got is fine, and water will do if, gods forbid, you don’t have stock on hand). Let it sit and absorb while you do your thing.

In a dutch oven or deep cast iron skillet over medium heat, add lard and allow to melt and heat through.

Add onions and peppers, and a pinch of salt to the hot fat. Sauté, stirring steadily, until the onion starts to brown at the edges, about 6-8 minutes.

Add the garlic and the paprika and stir well to incorporate. The mix will thicken appreciably as a result.

Add chicken to the Pan and drag each piece through the fat/veggie/paprika blend to thoroughly coat.

Place chicken in a solid, single layer across the bottom of the Pan.

Add tomatoes, stock, a teaspoon of salt, and the pepper – stir to incorporate, but don’t displace the chicken.

Cover the pan and turn the heat down to low. Allow the dish to stew covered for 45 minutes.

Prep whatever you’re putting your stew on – pasta, nokedli, or spuds. They can be cooked off and held warm.

Uncover and check chicken for doneness – it should be fork tender and pull easily away from the bones. If it’s not there, re-cover and stew another 15 minutes.

Carefully transfer chicken to a platter.

You should have about 1 1/2 to 2 cups of liquid in the sauce at this point – If you don’t, add stock or water to get there.

Add the sour cream to the paprikash and whisk to incorporate.

Taste and adjust salt, pepper, and paprika as desired.

Add the stock soaked bread, (which should be pretty much be falling apart at this point), and whisk to incorporate – This is your thickener, by the way.

Add the chicken back into the paprikash, thoroughly coating each piece.

If you’re doing noodles or nokedli, add enough sauce to whichever you chose to thoroughly coat them.

Arrange in a bowl, with chicken on top, a dollop of sour cream, and a sprig of parsely.

Serve with fresh crusty bread, because there’s no way your leaving and sauce in that bowl.

Hungarian Nokedli

A potato ricer or noodle grater is great for these. If you don’t have one, you can push ‘em through the holes in a colander or cooks spoon.

2 Cups All Purpose Flour

4 large Eggs

1 Tablespoon Vegetable Oil

2 teaspoons Sea Salt

Have all ingredients at room temperature.

Fill a stock pot with at least 6” of water, add the 1 teaspoon salt and the oil.

Place the pot on a burner over high heat.

In a large mixing bowl, combine flour and 1 teaspoon salt.

Add eggs and 1/2 cup water to the dry mix.

Mix with a wooden spoon – you’re after a wet dough that will pour easily – add more water, up to another 1/2 cup, as needed to get to the right consistency

Stir the dough with the spoon until you get an even texture throughout.

Let the dough rest for about 10 minutes.

You’ll cook the nokedli in batches.

Position your colander of cooks spoon over the boiling water and place a blob of dough in the middle of your utensil.

Use the back of a soup spoon to squash the dough through the holes of your utensil and into the boiling water.

Keep loading the boiling vessel but don’t over crowd it – a third of the total is good for a single batch.

Gently stir the dumplings to keep them from sticking.

When the nokedli bob to the surface, give them another minute of cooking, then test one – they should be springy in texture, not rubbery.

When done, transfer with a slotted spoon to a lightly oiled bowl.

Keep after it until you’ve done all your dough.

These can be made ahead, and refrigerated or frozen.

Greek Thanksgiving Turkey Bake

I wanted to do something different with post-Thanksgiving turkey. We’d had the glorious main meal, and fantastic sandwiches the next day. I was making stock for soup, thinking that’d be round three, when a Greek theme intruded on my traditional progression.

It began with feta cheese and great Greek olive oil, both of which I have on hand. We’d also just received some lovely Brussels sprouts from our CSA that didn’t make it into the Big Dinner. I’d cooked some Rancho Gordo Alubia Blanca beans for soup. Of course we have onions, garlic, lemons, and Greek oregano, along with a raft of other fresh herbs out in the garden. My next thought was along the line of, would Greek people in Greece really eat this? Turns out the answer is, probably so.

The Greeks call turkey ‘gallopoula,’ and that or pork is quite popular on a holiday table – quite a few people raise their own birds, and you can’t get better than that. Beans have been a traditional staple in Greece for a long time and are widely cultivated there. And yes, Brussels sprouts are enjoyed in Greece as well – Good to go, all around.

I decided on a baked dish, to transform the feta into a creamy, tangy delight, with everything bound by kalamata olive oil and lemon juice – And that just demands some freshly baked pita, right? Right!

As for herbs, there really is no ‘go to’ blend. If I had to pick must have herbs, I’d go with Greek oregano, dill, flat leaf parsley, mint, rosemary, sage, thyme, basil, and fennel. Christy Hohman, my Guru of Greek, makes a blend I love, with Greek oregano, garlic salt, dried grated lemon peel, marjoram, sumac, thyme, and black pepper. She added that, ‘the essentials for the Greek flavor in a mix would be good Greek oregano, lemon, and marjoram or thyme.’ And that is what I will use here.

Pita Bread

3 1/2 Cups All Purpose Flour

1 1/4 Cups Water

1/4 Oz. active Dry Yeast, (1 package, if you have those)

2 teaspoons Sea Salt

Heat water to @ 115° F

In a large mixing bowl, combine water and yeast and stir gently to dissolve.

Add 3 cups of flour and the salt, then use a spoon or spatula to form a loose dough.

Spread the last 1/2 cup of flour on a working surface and turn the dough out onto that.

Knead the dough for 4-5 minutes, working the last half cup into the mix as needed when things get too sticky.

When the dough is nice and smooth and springy, cut it into 6 more or less equal portions, and roll those into balls.

Roll the balls out to about 6” circles.

Lightly grease a baking pan, and place the rolled out rounds onto that.

Allow to rise for about 50 minutes, until roughly doubled in height.

Preheat oven to 475° F and place a rack in the middle position.

Flip raised pitas over gently, and bake for 6-9 minutes, until they’re light golden brown

Remove from oven and place on a wire rack to cool.

Urban’s Greek Thanksgiving Bake

1/2 Pound Turkey Breast

1/4 Pound Feta

2 Cups Brussels Sprouts

1 Cup Turkey Stock

2 Cups cooked White Beans

2 Cups Cherry Tomatoes

1 medium Yellow Onion

5-7 cloves fresh Garlic

2 fresh Lemons

1 bulb fresh Fennel

4-6 Ounces Extra Virgin Greek Olive Oil

1/2 Cup Kalamata Olives

1 Tablespoon Greek Oregano

1 Tablespoon Lemon Thyme

Sea Salt

Black Pepper

Preheat oven to 425° F with a rack in the middle slot.

Chop turkey breast.

Trim and halve Brussels sprouts.

Peel, trim, and chop onion.

Peel, trim, and fine dice garlic.

Slice olives into rounds.

Cut 1 lemon in half and zest. Cut the other into roughly 1/8ths.

Trim fennel and cut into roughly 1/4” thick rounds.

In a large casserole, baking pan, or whatever you’ve got, begin assembly.

Spread a layer of beans, then add Brussels sprouts.

Add onion, tomatoes, garlic, olives, fennel, and turkey.

Crumble feta evenly over all that.

Pour stock into the mix.

Squeeze lemon chunks and place evenly, then squeeze second lemon’s juice and spread zest.

Add olive oil evenly over all.

Sprinkle oregano and thyme evenly over all.

Add a three finger pinch of salt over all, then liberal twists of ground pepper.

Bake at 425° F for 30-40 minutes, until the tomatoes burst and the sprouts are fork tender.

Serve with fresh pita bread, which you darn well better make yourself – See above.