Hunting for the Best Chicken Cacciatore

08 Sunday Mar 2015

Posted by Roger H. Boulet in food, recipe, Uncategorized

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Over the many years I have been shuffling around in a kitchen, I have taken considerable delight in perfecting recipes. Many recipes, do not require this treatment, but in my experience in preparing one recipe following different instructions, I inevitably spend an afternoon doing a bit of research, and compiling my own recipe from several sources. It must be the academic in me. I am not good at improvising a recipe… nor am I good at memorizing one either. So it will come as no surprise that I collect recipes on my computer, from my cookbook library and from online sources. I admit that even today when just about everything is available on line, I still like to buy cookbooks.

Take Chicken Cacciatore for instance (or its French derivative Poulet Chasseur). I doubt that hunters in Italy or anywhere else for that matter make sport of shooting chickens in the barnyard, so the Cacciatore recipes were probably intended for rabbit or hare. No doubt the intrepid hunter (think Elmer Fudd) would often come back empty-handed, so a chicken had to do in a pinch.

Of course, you can shoot birds too, and I did find a Renaissance recipe for pigeons. It is in Lorenza de’Medici’s Florentines, a lovely little book I previously mentioned (see Food, Music and Silence – 18 January 2015). Given the recipe, I am inclined to see it as a precursor to Chicken Cacciatore. Read on, and you will see why.

Palombe alla Ghiotta (Wild Pigeons Stewed in Red Wine)

3 wild pigeons or squab
1 litre (1 quart) red wine
3½ fl. oz vinegar
4 garlic cloves
1 sprig of fresh rosemary
1 small bunch of fresh sage, tied together
1 small onion, quartered
100 gr prosciutto
4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
4 anchovy fillets in oil
1 tbsp capers in vinegar, rinsed
1 lemon wedge
1 thin slice of bread
salt and pepper

Clean the pigeons, leaving heads and feet on, if still attached. Place in a flameproof casserole with all the other ingredients and cook over low heat for about 1½ hours. Take the pigeons from the casserole and discards heads and feet, if necessary. Halve the pigeons lengthwise and reserve. Continue to heat the sauce for about another hour until it thickens. Remove the rosemary and sage and purée the sauce in a food mill or food processor. Return the pigeon halves to the casserole with the sauce, reheat for 10 minutes and serve.

I assume this would serve 2 or 3 people partial to pigeon. I also assume Signora de’Medici can get pigeons at the market where she lives. Unfortunately, I have never seen a pigeon at the local supermarket, let alone one with its head and feet still attached. Squab (which she suggests as a substitute) is just as difficult to find. In Canada, I suspect grouse could be used. You would have to know how to cook wild meat (it usually has to cook much longer than domestic meat!) as it is very lean, and might be inclined to be a bit tough if the bird is an older one. The recipe she proposes cooks them for 1½ hours, so that should do for any old bird. Apparently the meat should be falling off the bone.

Back to Chicken Cacciatore. Everyone assumes tomatoes are an essential part of the dish, but since tomatoes (from the Americas) were not commonly used in Italian cooking until the late 18th century, any old and authentic recipe for the dish would not use tomatoes. Knowing this, most sources seem to suggest that the dish is really a hunter’s stew, probably made with hare or rabbit, or some kind of feathered game, using wine or vinegar for a sauce, and herbs one can find in the Italian countryside, such as rosemary, sage and thyme.

In my cookbook collection, there are two notable recipes for Chicken Cacciatore which (almost) eschew tomatoes. The first one, closest in intent is the one provided by Giuliano Bugialli. We have made this one often, and I can vouch that it is delicious. Here it is.

Pollo alla Cacciatore (Tuscan)

1 chicken (3 lbs)
1 Tbs fresh rosemary leaves
10 leaves sage, fresh
2 large cloves of garlic, peeled
½ cup olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
pinch hot pepper flakes
½ cup dry red wine
1 bay leaf
2 Tbs tomato paste (doppo concentrato)
1 ½ cups hot water

1. Cut the chicken into 16 pieces (spezzatini); coarsely chop rosemary, sage and garlic.

2. Heat the olive oil in a large casserole, preferably terra-cotta, and when it is hot, add the chopped ingredients and sauté gently until lightly golden (10 to 12 minutes). Add the chicken pieces and sauté them over moderately high heat until golden all over (about 15 minutes) then add salt, pepper, and hot pepper flakes.

3. Lower the heat and pour in the wine. Let it evaporate very slowly (about 10 minutes), then add the bay leaf, tomato paste, and ½ cup of hot water. Cover and let simmer very slowly for 20 minutes, adding more hot water if needed.

4. At this point, the chicken should be cooked, and there should be a small quantity of thick sauce. Remove the bay leaf and transfer the chicken pieces and sauce to a serving dish. Serve hot. Serves 4.

(It tastes even better reheated!)

Servings: 4

Nutrition Facts
Nutrition (per serving): 2322 calories, 1718 calories from fat, 193.7g total fat, 679.5mg cholesterol, 6063.4mg sodium, 137.8mg potassium, 16.9g carbohydrates, <1g fiber, <1g sugar, 130.5g protein.

Source
Source: Buggiali, The Fine Art of Italian Cooking

The second recipe is from the venerable Time-Life Foods of the World series, The Cooking of Italy. This particular book was authored by Waverley Root (1903-1982). In it, his recipe for Polla alla Cacciatore is from the south of Italy, and surprisingly still has no tomatoes in it. I have been making this at least once of month for decades now, and it is still very satisfying.

Pollo alla Cacciatore

2½ lbs. chicken, cut up
salt
Freshly ground pepper
2 Tbs olive oil
1/4 cup finely chopped onions
1 tsp finely chopped garlic
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 Tbs wine vinegar, preferably white
1/2 cup chicken stock, fresh or canned
1/2 tsp dried oregano, crumbled
1 bay leaf
1 Tbs slivered black olives, preferably Mediterranean style
3 flat anchovy fillets, rinsed in cold water, dried and chopped

1. Wash the chicken quickly under cold running water and pat the pieces dry with paper towels. Season the pieces with salt and a few grindings of pepper.

2. In a heavy 10 – 12 inch skillet, heat the olive oil until a haze forms over it. Brown the chicken a few pieces at a time, starting them skin side down and turning them with tongs. Transfer the browned pieces to a plate.

3. Pour off almost all of the fat from the skillet, leaving just a thin film on the bottom. Add the onions and garlic and cook them over moderate heat, stirring constantly, for 8 to 10 minutes, or until they are lightly coloured.

4. Add the wine and vinegar and boil briskly until the liquid is reduced to about 1/4 cup. Pour in the chicken stock and boil for 1 or 2 minutes, stirring constantly and scraping in any browned bits that cling to the pan. Return the browned chicken to the skillet, add the oregano and bay leaf, and bring to a boil. Cover the skillet, reduce the heat and simmer, basting occasionally. In about 30 minutes, the chicken should be done; its juice will run clear when a thigh is pierced with the tip of a sharp knife.

5. To serve, arrange the pieces of chicken on a heated platter. Discard the bay leaf and boil the stock left in the skillet until it thickens slightly and has the intensity of flavour desired. Stir in the black olives and anchovies and cook the sauce for a minute or so longer. Pour the sauce over the chicken.

Servings: 4

Nutrition Facts
Nutrition (per serving): 147 calories, 78 calories from fat, 8.8g total fat, <1mg cholesterol, 912.7mg sodium, 323.8mg potassium, 4.7g carbohydrates, <1g fibre, 2g sugar, 6.7g protein.

The fact that it uses white wine suggests a northern origin, but then I will not question Mr. Root’s knowledge or authority here. Anchovies and black olives do suggest southern Italian cooking.

I can imagine that even before tomatoes were finally part of everyday cooking in Italy, someone thought of adding that to a Cacciatore dish as well, especially the chicken one. I have tried many, many variations and one day, I just took about half a dozen of the recipes I had tried and concocted a synthesis of them all. It is terrific! Just make sure you have all the ingredients indicated and make no substitutions. Certainly best done in late summer when fresh tomatoes are plentiful, such as Romas or San Marzano.

Pollo alla Cacciatore

1 3 lb chicken, cut up, or chicken pieces
salt and pepper
1/4 cup butter
2 Tbs olive oil
2 slices pancetta (or bacon), cut in squares
2 medium onions, chopped
1 clove garlic, chopped
2 tsp flour
4 to 5 tomatoes, peeled and chopped
3 Tbs tomato purée (doppo concentrato)
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 Tbs brandy
1/2 cup chicken stock
1/2 tsp sugar
1/2 lb mushrooms, whole if small
2 Tbs chopped fresh parsley
2 Tbs chopped fresh basil

1. Season the chicken with salt and pepper. Melt the butter and olive oil in a casserole, and brown the chicken over medium heat. Removed when browned on all sides.

2. Add the bacon to the casserole and cook for a minute or two, then add the onions and garlic, and sauté them for 5 minutes. Scrape the bottom for any browned bits. Add the flour and cook for a couple of minutes, stirring constantly. Add the tomatoes, tomato puree, wine and brandy, chicken stock, bringing to a boil. Simmer covered for 10 minutes. Season with salt, pepper and sugar. Return the chicken to the casserole, and simmer for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally. After 20 minutes or so, add the mushrooms.

3. Remove the chicken to a heated platter, check the sauce for seasoning, bring to a vigorous boil and reduce it to a thick consistency.

4. Off the heat, mix half the parsley and basil into the sauce. Pour the sauce over the chicken and sprinkle the remaining parsley and basil over that.

Servings: 4

Nutrition Facts
Nutrition (per serving): 424 calories, 253 calories from fat, 28.6g total fat, 43.4mg cholesterol, 1247mg sodium, 1397.5mg potassium, 30.5g carbohydrates, 7.2g fibre, 16.1g sugar, 11.9g protein.

Some folks who prefer a more authentic chicken cacciatore suggest that the resulting dish (with tomatoes) is best suited as a pasta sauce. The dish is certainly delicious with pasta, especially large noodles like fettuccine or tagliatelle. A green vegetable, like steamed green beans, add even more colour to the dish.

I am sure I will always read new variations for Chicken Cacciatore with great interest, and they will surely keep coming, many arguing it is the authentic one, but what IS authentic with a dish like this? In the end, it is about flavour, and probably, just as important, good friends to share the meal.

Pea Soup Deconstructed

06 Friday Mar 2015

Posted by Roger H. Boulet in food, recipe

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comfort food, cooking, French Canadian pea soup, Swedish pea soup

I remember not liking pea soup very much as a child. Maybe it was a texture thing. Maybe it was because we often had it during Lent. I guess for every French Canadian kid growing up in Manitoba, pea soup was almost a weekly thing, so it was very ordinary. But I know my mother made good pea soup because I tried it later in life and it was delicious. She had not changed the way she prepared it. And this was her recipe:

Mom’s Yellow Pea Soup

1 ham bone with a little meat left on it
2 cups yellow whole (or split) peas
3 bay leaves
2 carrots, shredded
salt and pepper to taste
1 large onion, chopped
2 stalks celery with leaves if possible, chopped
1 cup pearl barley

1. Place the hambone in a pot, fill pot about 3/4 full with water. Add peas and onion and barley. Bring to a boil and add bay leaves. Add carrot and celery and simmer until peas and barley are well cooked, about 2 hours.

I must admit I don’t quite get the addition of 1 cup pot barley. It does not add to the flavour, nor is it necessary as a thickening agent. Maybe she preferred the resulting texture. I would be inclined to omit it as I have never seen a recipe for pea soup with barley in it. But I suspect every French Canadian mother had her own way. Some even add a cup of diced potatoes to the recipe.

Madame Jéhane Benoît (1904-1987) is one good authority to consult in matters of French Canadian cuisine. Her La nouvelle encyclopédie de la cuisine contains traditional dishes as well as dishes from elsewhere. One of the recipes in her book is called Soupe aux pois classique, and here is her recipe.

Soupe aux pois classique

1 lb. dried yellow peas
½ lb. salt pork
2 ¾ quarts water
3 medium onions, chopped
2 carrots, diced
2 or 3 bay leaves
a handful of celery leaves
a few sprigs of parsley, chopped
1 tsp savory

1. Wash and drain the peas. Put them in a large casserole with all the ingredients. Bring to a boil and boil for 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and let it rest for 1 hour.

2. Return the casserole to heat and return to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer, covered, for one hour or until the peas are cooked. Season with salt and pepper.

3. Serve as is, or purée in a blender before serving.

She then goes on to provide some variations, such as making a meatless soup for fasting days. Another variation has the addition of sliced sausages and cooked corn. Yet another adds cheese and crisp bacon. She also suggests that a tbsp of sour cream can be added to each bowl when serving. Finally, she writes that the American version of the classic pea soup uses a ham bone instead of the salt pork.

Mom always used a ham bone for her soup, and I have always done the same. I slowly simmer the ham bone and any meat on it for at least an hour, then refrigerate it until I need it. It will keep like this for about a week or so. Another option is to simmer a smoked pork hock in several cups of water. The intensity of the stock increases as it simmers down. The idea of adding a handful of celery leaves is one I heartily subscribe to. Bay leaves are good. Savory is optional. Simmering a ham bone also flavours the stock with whatever spices were used to cook the ham.

Apparently the Pea Soup served on Canadian Pacific Railway passenger trains was really good. I have that recipe too. It is very similar to Madame Benoit’s, with the little flourish of crisping up some of the salt pork (leaner bits) and adding them at the very end. Here is that recipe.

Yellow Pea Soup (Canadian Pacific)

½ lb whole yellow peas
¼ lb salt pork, thickly sliced
1 large carrot, peeled and sliced
1 medium onion, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
2 quarts hot water

1. Wash peas well in cold water. In a pot over medium heat, render some fat from the salt pork and sauté the carrot, onion, and celery until tender. Add hot water, slowly at first, the peas, bring all to a boil, and boil for 1 hour.

2. Remove pork and vegetables and continue boiling until peas are thoroughly cooked, adding water, if necessary, to bring to required consistency.

3. Wash salt pork, allow to cool, then dice small. In a small skillet over medium heat, slowly fry until crisp, drain all fat off, and serve in soup like croutons.

This is a very good recipe, actually. I highly recommend it.

The texture of a good pea soup is a matter of taste. I have never liked it too thick, so don’t always blend them. If it is too thick after cooking, you can add some more stock. Taste it frequently. Be sparing with the salt. Pepper is optional too.

When I traveled to Sweden in 1989, I was surprised to learn that Pea Soup is a traditional Thursday night supper in Sweden. Their version certainly reminded me of the French Canadian version, and I can only explain that by the fact that most French Canadians are descended from the Normans, who were Vikings from the Scandinavian countries. Then again, pea soup is such a universal thing, and such an ancient recipe, that the French Canadian version might have come from anywhere.

Pea soup is a very common food in northern countries. German armed forces started eating it during the Franco-Prussian War. It is also a common dish in the Netherlands. It is regular fare for Finnish and Scandinavian armed forces. Naturally, I sought out recipes for the Swedish pea soup and here is one recipe I found at: (http://scandinavianfood.about.com/od/souprecipes/r/peasouprecipe.htm)

Dried Pea Soup (Ärtsoppa, in Swedish)

This is an immensely gratifying, warming soup traditionally made from dried yellow peas and served on Thursdays in Sweden, followed by crêpe-like pancakes with whipped cream and preserves (Pannkakkor) for dessert. Try swirling a teaspoon of grainy brown mustard on top of each serving to enhance both the presentation and the rich combination of flavors.

1 lb dried yellow or green peas (whole if you can get them, but split ones work just as well)
8 cups water
2 finely chopped onions (2 cups)
1 peeled whole onion studded with 2 cloves
1 large chopped carrot (1/2 cup)
1 meaty ham bone -or- 2 to 3 ham hocks
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp salt
1/8 tsp pepper
1 tsp grainy brown mustard

1. Rinse and pick through 1 lb. dried yellow or green peas. If using whole peas, soak the peas overnight in their soup water (this isn’t necessary if using split peas so long as you can let the soup simmer for 2 to 3 hours).

2. Fill a large pot with 8 cups of water (or 6 if you like a thicker soup. You can always thin it with water as you go along if it looks too dense). Add the peas, 2 finely chopped onions, 1 peeled whole onion studded with two whole cloves, 1 large chopped carrot, and a meaty ham bone (-or- 2 to 3 ham hocks). Bring to a boil, then cover pot and reduce to a simmer over low heat for 90 minutes.

3. If using whole peas, skim off any pea skins that have risen to the surface. Remove 2 to 3 cups of the soup, puree in a blender or food processor, and return puree to the pot (this helps to thicken the soup). Continue to simmer for at least 30 more minutes; another hour or more won’t hurt it.

4. Minutes before serving, remove the studded onion and the meat. Chop the meat (it should amount to about 1 cup) and return to pot. Season the soup with 1 tsp. dried thyme, 1 tsp. ground ginger, 1 tsp. salt, and 1/8 tsp. pepper. Simmer 15 more minutes. Serve, passing around grainy brown mustard to stir into soup to taste.

Servings: 4

Cooking Times:
Preparation Time: 15 minutes
Cooking Time: 17 minutes

Nutrition Facts
Nutrition (per serving): 34 calories, 1 calories from fat, <1g total fat, 0mg cholesterol, 612.3mg sodium, 164.6mg potassium, 8g carbohydrates, 1.8g fiber, 3.6g sugar, <1g protein.

Many variations can be found for that recipe too. Sometimes the pork (or sausage) is served on the side with mustard, and a hearty rye bread. Herbs may vary too. In my cookbook library I have a number of Scandinavian cookbooks, and each one offers a variation. Apparently, in Sweden and Denmark, you can buy pea soup in a tube. I cannot vouch for its flavour.

Curiously, in France, you are more likely to be served Potage Saint-Germain, which is made with fresh green peas. It is quite different, but delicious. I make this one at the time of the year when we can get fresh peas at market. In Italy, they have a Minestra di Piselli. These are very fine soups, and in a very different league than the split-pea soup variations discussed here.

This is a very brief essay on my experience with pea soup. There are thousands of variations, but one thing is for sure, this is comfort food of the highest order, tempered perhaps by memories of boarding school and other cafeteria-like offerings which pale in comparison to the real thing.

Candlemas (2 February)

08 Sunday Feb 2015

Posted by Roger H. Boulet in celebrations, food, seasons

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2 February, Candlemas, crêpes, Groundhog Day, pancake day, pancakes

I still like to look at old calendars where life was regulated by seasons and traditional festivals and labours. The seasons were marked by Solstices and Equinoxes, which are easier to remember today. But in earlier times, when such days were marked by feast days or religious holidays, the celebrations and days had more poetic associations, often based on the Christian calendar, which superimposed itself on pagan festivals. For instance, the festivals which marked the beginning of the seasons were known as “quarter days.” These were “Lady Day” (25 March) the feast day of the Annunciation, then Midsummer Day (or St. John’s day) on 24 June, then Michaelmas Day, or the feast day of St. Michael (29 September) and finally Christmas Day on the 25th of December.

The pagan calendar was often represented by the Wheel of the Year, and it identified these special times or days. (I found this particular one online with no source or credit noted.)

The “cross-quarter days” were the days at the mid-point between the quarter days. So one celebrated Candlemas on 2 February, May Day on 1st May, Lammas on the 1st of August and Hallowmas on 1st November. There were other days, such as Martinmas celebrated on the 11th of November, as well as others, too numerous to mention. These festivals punctuated human activities throughout the year. Many of these old festivals have been superseded by secular observances. For instance, the obscure Candlemas is also known as Ground Hog Day, and much of the lore associated with weather predictions on Candlemas are now attributed to the ground hog and whether or not he sees his shadow. Curiously, Candlemas was also the last day to clean out the greenery of Christmas decorations and anything associated with Christmas. They must have been pretty dry by then!

Candlemas, refers to candles, of course. It was also the feast day of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple and the Purification of Mary. A marvelous woodcut (1503-05) by Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528) illustrates the event.

According to Hebraic tradition, a woman who had given birth to a son would present herself and the child at the temple forty days after the birth for purification. This was accompanied with the sacrifice of a lamb, but for poorer folk, such as Mary and Joseph, a pair or turtledoves stood in for the lamb. In Dürer’s print, the holy man Simeon receives the child, recognizes him as the Messiah, and sings a marvelous canticle, usually referred to as the Nunc Dimittis (Luke 2: 29-32). The traditional Gregorian chant is presented here preceded by the Antiphon, Salva Nos.

So what about the candles? Well, there is more to Candlemas than one could write about in a short blog. It seems that the day’s association with fire goes back to pre-Christian days, and is also associated with the coming of spring, even if the equinox occurs a month and a half later. It might have to do with the recognition of light as the advent of Jesus. But it seems the old pagan festival also featured fire, and the return of warmth to the earth. Candles were blessed at church on Candlemas day. I remember we brought the blessed candles home. They were lit during fierce summer thunderstorms to protect the house. In some cultures, it was also traditional to clean the hearth and light a new fire in it. It seems that rituals associated with St. Bridgid’s day (1st February) became conflated with Candlemas.

“Crepes dsc07085” by David Monniaux – Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Now for the pancakes. These are also associated with Candlemas, and may have to do with the golden disc representing the sun, or with the bread left for St. Bridgid on her feast day. At any rate, pancakes or crêpes have long been associated with the day. Folklore held that the woman would hold a coin in her left hand while handling the griddle for the crêpes in the right hand. When she flipped the crêpe successfully with that one hand, good fortune would come to her.

So here is the Basic Recipe for Crêpes that I use. (Source: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/basic-crepes/) A recipe for crêpes using buckwheat flour (equally delicious) can be found here.

Basic Crêpes

Here is a simple but delicious crepe batter which can be made in minutes. It’s made from ingredients that everyone has on hand

1 cup all-purpose flour
2 eggs
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 tsp salt
2 Tbsp butter, melted

1. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour and the eggs. Gradually add in the milk and water, stirring to combine. Add the salt and butter; beat until smooth.

2. Heat a lightly oiled griddle or frying pan over medium high heat. Pour or scoop the batter onto the griddle, using approximately 1/4 cup for each crepe. Tilt the pan with a circular motion so that the batter coats the surface evenly.

3. Cook the crepe for about 2 minutes, until the bottom is light brown. Loosen with a spatula, turn and cook the other side. Serve hot.

Yield: 8 crepes

The crêpes can either be stuffed with fruit, or with a savoury mixture of some kind. The buckwheat crêpes go beautifully with ham or mushrooms, or something like that. In Canada, maple syrup is de rigueur, especially if you are French Canadian.

I remember my grandmother made a kind of crêpe that was cooked in about half an inch of sizzling lard. No doubt she had learned this method from her mother. It is this kind of crêpe that was traditionally cooked in sugar shacks, although another version uses rendered salt pork.

My mother compiled a book of the (extended) Boulet family recipes in about 1983-84, and my aunt Claire provided grandmother’s crêpe recipe. The recipe does not specify the amount of lard used. I remember there was always a container of it on the back of the wooden stoves they used back then. Because the lard was at a high temperature, the crêpe absorbed very little of it. Here is that recipe (translated by me).

Crêpes

8 eggs, lightly beaten
½ tsp salt
4 cups of milk
2 cups of flour

Sift the flour and salt into a mixing bowl. Make a well in the middle. Put the slightly beaten eggs in that well. Add the liquid and whisk everything together. Use lard for frying.

Put ¼ cup of the batter in a the preheated skillet with the sizzling lard, spreading it evenly and quickly.

Serves 8.

Note: During the course of the day, the leftover crêpes were left to cool. When we got hungry, we still went for the crêpes. We would take a crêpe, and we would spread white or brown sugar on it, and rolled it up. This was a delicious snack for us! When I think of that today, I admire the great patience my mother had to make piles of crêpes for our breakfasts on certain days.

We don’t eat like that anymore, but there was no crêpe quite like it! My mother preferred to make regular pancakes, but grandmother’s crêpes are still fondly remembered.

On the Colours of Vegetables and Fruit…

24 Saturday Jan 2015

Posted by Roger H. Boulet in food, produce, recipe, Uncategorized

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salads, spriral slicer, vegetables

Sometimes, especially in the grey winter, I love to go to produce stores and supermarkets just to look at the colours of vegetables of various kinds. Even an interest in textures is rewarded, and the offerings can vary from season to season. As I live in an area of orchards and vineyards, different seasons bring fruits of different colours, from the dark red of the cherries, to the peaches, pears and plums. All of them delight me, as do the light brown walnuts at the end harvest season. Then everything goes dormant, the foliage falls to the earth and we can rest too… The landscape is a bit dreary during these months, and that is why I like to visit stores to see bright colours, and I get a bit of exercise while doing that too.

For various reasons, now retired, we have probably cut down our meat consumption by at least 60%… It helps to live in an area where produce is so abundant, thanks also to local greenhouses that keep us nourished in the winter. While the 100 mile (or 160 km) diet is quiet impractical in Canada, I do try to source things as close to home as I can. Just the other day, I saw at a supermarket some summer fruit or vegetable imported from New Zealand, and it was not a kiwi. I wasn’t even tempted. To the extent that I can, I do like fruits and vegetables in season, and am prepared to wait (with a few exceptions)… When spring is at hand, it is hard to resist those reasonably-priced imported bunches of of asparagus, but when the local asparagus finally arrives, it is so much more flavourful!

At this time of the year as we increase the number of vegetables we eat, winter vegetables take pride of place. Lots of root vegetables are in that category, such as carrots, beets, not to mention potatoes, some turnips, squash, etc.

This passion for the look of vegetables and fruit has made me explore different ways of preparing them, beyond steaming and stir-frying. Preserving that colour is important. By some chance, I happened to come across a marvelous blog called Inspiralized created by Ali Maffucci. This led me to a kitchen gadget called a spiralizer or Spriral Slicer. I’m a sucker for kitchen gadgets, but I tend to be cautious now. Many of them have been relegated to storage. Two weeks of exploring and researching, including reading the recipes on Ms. Malffucci’s blog, and I decided to order a Paderno Spiral Slicer. It arrived yesterday, and I tried it last night for the first time, a simple recipe of spiralized zucchini noodles with garlic and parmesan. Simple and terrific!!

My research has also led me to the idea that I could convert a number of my recipes to incorporate the spiralizing method of cutting vegetables. It means they are more lightly cooked, and presumably retain more of their nutrients. As we tend to have a vegetarian meal in the evening (stir-fry, soup or salad) and the main meal at mid-day, the spiralizer provides lots of new possibilities. I admit that once I picked up my spiralizer from the Post Office, I went shopping and purchased just about every vegetable that can be spiralized. We are now happily eating through the contents of the vegetable crisper.

Tonight, feeling a little ambitious, I decided to convert a wonderful recipe for Roasted Beet Salad with Oranges and Gorgonzola with Truffle Honey Vinaigrette. Now I did not invent this one, but the gift some years ago of a small jar of truffle honey had me searching for recipes calling for it. So I came upon this recipe by Robyn Webb. I have enjoyed it a couple of times, and I still have some truffle honey, so I decided to amend the recipe to take advantage of my new gadget. So I spiralized one yellow beet and one red beet! Visually, that was quite stunning!

The full recipe, as amended, is as follows:

Salad with Greens, Spiralized Beets, Walnuts and Honey Truffle Dressing
Serves 2

2 beets, peeled and spiralized with blade C (smallest)
2 small oranges, peeled, sliced to remove all the pith
steamed green beans (a generous handful)
blue cheese
½ cup walnuts

Dressing:
2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
1 tbsp truffle honey
¼ tsp Dijon mustard
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground pepper

1. Prepare the dressing by combining all the ingredients in a small container. Stir well.
2. Put the spiralized beets on a cooking sheet sprayed with olive oil cooking spray.
2. Cook beets in a 400° oven for 5 minutes. Let cool.
3. In a bowl combine the beets, greens, orange slices. Pour the dressing over the salad and top with crumbled blue cheese and walnuts on top of the salad. Serve.

This was the result. A few comments are in order. First, I had two large oranges. One would have sufficed, but two small navel oranges would also be fine. I substituted steamed green beans, still crunchy, for the mixed greens in Robyn Webb’s original recipe. Very good. If I made this in the summer time, I would use peaches or pears instead of the oranges. And rather than ordinary Danish blue cheese, which I had on hand, Gorgonzola would be my first choice. If using peaches or pears, I would use a milder cheese, such as goat cheese or brie, both of which are great with truffle honey. The dressing recipe above is exactly that suggested by Robyn Webb.

The salad could also be individually plated and the ingredients kept separate, no doubt providing a better aesthetic. There is much to be said for individual flavours linked by a common vinaigrette… I think I will try that next time.

Agliata, (…or more on garlic sauces…)

23 Friday Jan 2015

Posted by Roger H. Boulet in food, painting, recipe, visual art

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agliata, garlic sauce, Italian food, still-life painting, Turkish food

In my last post, I mentioned a garlic sauce that was served with cucumbers in Cetrioli alle Noci. This sauce is very similar to Agliata which Giacomo Castelvetro describes in his The Fruits, Herbs and Vegetables of Italy (1614).

Dried walnuts are used in a garlic sauce called agliata, and this is how you make it: first take the best and whitest walnut kernels [the thin brown skin removed], in the quantity you need, a ladleful should be enough for eight people, and pound them in a really clean stone mortar (not a metal one) in which you have first crushed two or three cloves of garlic. When they are all well mixed, take three slices of stale white bread, well soaked in a good meat broth that is not too fatty, and pound them with the nuts. When everything is well mixed thin the sauce out with some of the same warm meat broth until you have a liquid like the pap they give to little babies, and send it to the table tepid, with a little crushed pepper. Prudent folk eat this sauce with fresh pork as an antidote to its harmful qualities, or with boiled goose, an equally unhealthy food. Serious pasta eaters even enjoy agliata with macaroni and lasagne. It is also good with boletus mushrooms…

Modern cookbooks still provide very similar instructions for this sauce to be served with pasta. This one from BigOven seems to be very close to Castelvetro’s original instructions. The BigOven author mentions eating this sauce on spinach artichoke ravioli, but I think it could also be served on a good quality tagliatelle or fettuccine as well.

Agliata Per Pasta (Garlic and Walnut Sauce For Pasta)

Ingredients

1 cup walnuts, toasted
1/2 tsp salt
1/8 tsp black pepper
2 tbsp stock; warmed
1/2 cup parsley; stems trimmed
6 tbsp olive oil
2 slices bread; stale, crusts removed
3 medium cloves garlic; chopped

Preparation

Soak the bread in the stock and then squeeze out any excess moisture. Combine the bread with the walnuts, parsley, garlic, salt and pepper in a food processor. Process, adding the olive oil in a very slow stream until you have a thick paste. Toss with your favourite pasta & serve hot.

Another recipe substitutes a half cup of basil instead of the parsley, and adds half a cup of grated parmesan cheese, with a flourish of shaved parmesan when served. (That is pesto, isn’! it?) Elizabeth David, in her Italian Cooking (Penguin Books, 1969) has an interesting recipe for Pasta Shells with Cream Cheese and Walnuts or Chiocciole al Mascherpone e Noce, but is without garlic. while her Salsa di Noci is yet another variation on walnuts and garlic. I reproduce it here as it also gives the directions are sample of Ms. David’s wonderful prose.

Salsa di Noci (Walnut Sauce)

2 oz. of shelled walnuts
1 coffee cupful of oil
2 tbsp breadcrumbs
1 ½ oz. of butter
1 large bunch of parsley
salt and pepper
2 tbsp of cream or milk

Take the skins off the shelled walnuts after pouring boiling water over them. Pound them in a mortar. Add the parsley, after having picked off all the large and coarse stalks. Put a little coarse salt with the parsley in the mortar – this will make it easier to pound. While reducing the parsley and the walnuts to a paste add from time to time some of the butter, softened or just melted by the side of the fire. Stir in the breadcrumbs, and, gradually, the oil. The result should be a thick paste, very green; it need not be absolutely smooth, but it must be well amalgamated. Stir in the cream or milk. Season with a little more salt and ground black pepper. A bizarre sauce, but excellent with tagliatelle, or with fish, or as a filling for sandwiches.

Carla Capalbo in The Ultimate Italian Cookbook (ISBN 1-85967-013-X), uses butter instead of oil, as well as some cream, for a rich sauce, but my preference would be for the more basic Agliata recipe above.

Quite possibly, the origin of these sauces combining garlic and walnuts could be the Turkish recipe called Tarator. The one given below is in Ghillie Basan’s The Complete Book of Turkish Cooking (ISBN 978-1846811760). The sauce is apparently served in Turkey with deep fried fish and steamed vegetables. Tarator is a name given to a number of concoctions in the Middle East (see Wikipedia article) formerly all part of the Ottoman Empire. What they all have in common is garlic, and usually nuts. Interestingly enough, Tarator also describes a soup in Bulgaria which combines yoghurt, walnuts and cucumbers as well as garlic, which would relate it to the Cetrioli alle Noci mentioned at the beginning of this post. In Turkey and Syria, the yoghurt would be substituted with tahini paste. It seems to be a relative of the Greek Tzatziki and Skordalia sauces. Modern cookbooks suggest using a food processor rather than a mortar and pestle. The wonderful Turkish dish called Circassian Chicken and its sauce seem to be part of this large family.

Garlic and Walnut Sauce (Tarator)

6 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
salt
50 gr walnuts, roughly chopped
2-3 slices day-0od bread, soaked in water and squeezed dry
3-4 tbsp olive oil
juice of half a lemon
ground black pepper

1. Using a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic to a paste with a little salt. Add the walnuts and pound them to a coarse paste.

2. Add the soaked bread and slowly pour in the olive oil, beating all the time to form a thick pulpy mixture. Beat in the lemon juice and season with salt and pepper. Serves 4-6

Even more basic is the Ailade aux Noix (Garlic-Walnut Sauce) to be found in Jean-Luc Toussaint’s The Walnut Cookbook (ISBN 0-89815-948-2). This is a terrific cookbook entirely devoted to the walnut as a culinary ingredient in French country cooking.

Aillade de Noix (Garlic-Walnut Sauce)

½ cup walnut pieces
6 garlic cloves, peeled
¼ cup walnut oil
salt and freshly ground pepper

Place the walnuts and peeled garlic in a food processor and mix to a paste, Little by little, add the walnut oil to the mixture in the food processor, pulsing to mix until you have a smooth mayonnaise-like sauce. (Purists would not use the food processor for this last step but would whip the mixture with a fork.) Add salt and pepper to taste.

Yield: : 2/3 to 3/4 cup

And, of course, many recipes for pesto use walnuts and garlic combined with various herbs. Here is one with walnuts, garlic and sage, courtesy of Not Without Salt.

Sage Walnut Pesto

¼ cup Italian parsley
¼ cup tablespoons mint
1 cup (2 ½ oz.) sage, packed
2 garlic cloves
½ cup (2 oz.) walnuts, toasted
½ cup (1/2 oz.) grated Parmesan
½ cup (3 ¾ oz.) extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon lemon zest
2 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
salt

Combine first six ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and blend to a rough purée. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. With the machine running stream in the olive oil. Add the zest, lemon juice, then taste and add salt to taste. Adjust seasonings to your preference.

I mentioned the wonderful still-life paintings of Giovanna Garzoni (1600-1670) in a previous post. About a century later, in France, the painter Jean-Baptiste Chardin (1699-1779) created a number of still-life paintings which were highly praised in their day, and are revered today. Here is his Pears, Walnuts and a Glass of Wine, ca. 1768 (oil on canvas, 33 x 41 cm, Musée du Louvre). Pears, walnuts and a glass of wine are worthy of a simple meal in themselves. We are blessed to have a couple of pear trees and a walnut tree in our yard.

About Chardin’s work in his review of the 1763 Salon, Diderot would exclaim: “O Chardin! You no longer grind white, red or black pigments on your palette, but the very substance of the objects themselves, it is air and light that you capture on the tip of your brush and that you set on your canvas.” [my translation]

The humility of this simple fare, exemplified in the recipes I have copied above, are within reach of most folks I know, while the blue cheese is an option, as is a good piece of home-made bread.

Food, Music and Silence

18 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by Roger H. Boulet in food, painting, recipe

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Giovanna Garzoni, Italian cuisine, Renaissance cuisine

I was reading an article by Peter Hellman on Snooth this morning in which he suggests that a quiet environment, away from all distractions, especially related to connectivity, allows for a greater appreciation of wine. I believe that, and while snow covers the ground here in Summerland, one’s tendency is to cocoon a bit, and concentrate on some of life’s simple pleasures.

Many years ago, I bought a little cookbook entitled Florentines, by Lorenza de Medici. It has always been a delight, especially because of the reproductions of paintings by Giovanna Garzoni (1600-1670). In her preface, Lorenza de’Medici also makes reference to a manuscript by Giacomo Castelvetro (1546-1616) titled (in translation) as The Fruits, Herbs and Vegetables of Italy (1614). Castelvetro wrote the manuscript as an exile in Great Britain and was lamenting the preponderance of meat in the British diet, and remembering nostalgically the marvelous produce of his native country.

Some of the recipes in the book may seem a bit odd to us today, but I did try one out a few days ago and the result was terrific. This was a salad of cucumbers with a walnut dressing. Here is the recipe, as appears in the book:

Cucumber with Walnuts (Cetrioli alle Noci)

6 cucumbers
a handful of fresh white breadcrumbs
2 garlic cloves
½ cup shelled walnuts
2 tsp wine vinegar
3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper

1. Peel the cucumber and slice it thinly. Place in a salad bowl.

2. Soak the breadcrumbs in water; then squeeze them dry and place in a mortar or food processor, together with the garlic and walnuts. Pound or blend until smooth, if necessary adding a little water to make a homogenous cream. Dilute with the vinegar and oil and add salt and pepper to taste.

3. Pour the sauce over the cucumber and serve.

Servings: 4

Nutrition Facts
Nutrition (per serving): 152 calories, 86 calories from fat, 10.3g total fat, 0mg cholesterol, 9.8mg sodium, 698.6mg potassium, 12.1g carbohydrates, 4.2g fiber, 6.8g sugar, 5g protein.

Source
Source: Florentines – A Tuscan Feast, by Lorenza de Medici ISBN: 0-679-41850-4

A few comments are in order. I used a single long English cucumber in this recipe with excellent results. One could use small field cucumbers, seeds removed, or even the mini cucumbers that are now available. The recipe would probably be quite good with an Armenian cucumber was well.

Cucumbers today may be quite different from what was available during the Renaissance. Castelvetro says about cucumbers that

“because of their coldness, we eat them with onions and pepper, or serve them with gooseberries or verjuice. We never use the large yellow ones in salads, as the English do, but only the small completely green cucumbers. We make another dish with the big ones, which is very good; we cut them in half lengthwise and hollow out the soft part inside. Then fill them with a stuffing of finely chopped herbs, breadcrumbs, an egg, grated cheese and oil or butter, all mixed together, then roast them on a grid, or cook them gently in an earthenware pot or a tinned copper dish with a lid. You could add pepper or strong spices.”

Of walnuts, he writes:

“We also have walnuts , which are common everywhere. The green ones start to be good about the feast of San Lorenzo [10 August], and are highly esteemed and eaten by the gentry, who consider the dry ones to be on the whole more coarse than genteel.”

He goes on to say that in Lombardy, the coarser walnuts are made into an oil which the poor folk use for lighting.

As for Giovanna Garzoni, here is her Bowl of Peaches with a Cucumber, a watercolour.

There is quiet simplicity in most of Garzoni’s little paintings. The one above celebrates summer fruits and vegetable, while the one on the cover of Florentines – a Tuscan Feast is her Bowl of Plums and Walnuts with Jasmine Flowers. I will discuss Giovanna Garzoni’s paintings in a future post, and deal more generally with the subject of still-life.

Image

Holiday Cooking

31 Wednesday Dec 2014

The Christmas season and the Winter Solstice are in many cultures a time for feasting and conviviality. In French Canada, this was called “Le temps des Fêtes” and covered what is commonly known as the Twelve Days of Christmas, that is to say Christmas Day to Epiphany.

The celebrations started with the traditional Réveillon, after Midnight Mass, and lasted until January 6th. My childhood memories of this time are wonderful food (and wonderful leftovers). The highlights were the traditional Tourtière, the roasted turkey, the Ragoût de Pattes and the Ragoût de Boulettes. During those 12 days there was also roast ham and roast beef too. The meals were usually festive occasions with relatives coming to visit. This was just about the only time of the year that my father would buy liquor: port, sherry (usually South African) some brandy, a bottle ofrye and a case of beer. Wine was only in the form of port or sherry and usually consumed as an apéritif. I was in my late teens, I think, when table wine, both red and white, became part of these meals.

While tourtière traces its origins to ancient Mesopotamia, in Québec it evolved from European variants, but used “tourtes” a passenger pigeon once abundant but now extinct. As a result other meats came to be used, most notably pork, veal or beef, and often some wild game… hare, venison, moose, etc. The game was not the dominant ingredient (usually pork) but enhanced the flavour and perhaps subtly honoured the memory of the tourte. My partner Merv learned to make tourtières from my mother, and tourtières are obligatory at this time of the year.

The traditional ragoût was made from pork trotters although my mother preferred to make hers with pork hocks, to which she would add a couple of token trotters. The spices used in the ragoût were similar to those used in tourtière… allspice, cloves, cinnamon maybe, and some dried sage and dried savory. A ragoût of meatballs was similarly flavoured, although meatballs were sometimes simply added to the Ragoût de pattes. I vaguely remember the addition of dumplings to these ragoûts… bigger ones called “grand-pères” and smaller ones called “grand-mères,” but these were generally omitted by my mother.

There were ordinary fruit pies too, especially raisin pies, maybe some apple pies, fruit cake, date squares, fancy cookies. We freely adopted other traditions of cranberry sauce, and mincemeat pies.

Nowadays, however, we still have a couple of tourtières, but I make the ragoûts every two or three years because they are so rich, and we just don’t eat like that anymore. This year for Christmas we made a turkey gallantine, stuffed with layered vegetables. Today, in preparation for the New Year’s Day dinner, I am making Carbonnades de Boeuf (Julia Child’s recipe) always better the next day. But the memory of the feasts of Christmas-past are savoured with a grateful smile.

Posted by Roger H. Boulet | Filed under Christmas food, food, tourtière

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Vissi d'arte

~ Living retired, and nourished by the arts

Category Archives: food

Hunting for the Best Chicken Cacciatore

Pea Soup Deconstructed

Candlemas (2 February)

On the Colours of Vegetables and Fruit…

Agliata, (…or more on garlic sauces…)

Food, Music and Silence

Holiday Cooking