Ancient Veggies and Slowly Braised Pork Belly by Eric Ospital. Świerząbek – popie jajka i wolno duszony boczek Erica Ospital.

Sometime I find a recipe which I would like to cook right away, but for some reasons it must “wait”, like a good wine.  More than one year ago, when I was in Paris, my husband was awaiting surgery. We were sitting one Sunday morning in the kitchen and we were listening to the program about cooking “On va deguster” which is broadcasted every Sunday on France Inter, a French public radio station. Chefs, pastry chefs, famous bloggers and food producers are invited to the program. On va deguster reminds me that when I was a small girl, I was often sick. When I was sick, I used to stay home alone. I was reading books, but the radio had to be turned on all the time. You might not know about that, but in the middle of the eighties, in Poland, we had only two TV channels and there were no programs for kids during the day.  There was no video recorder in my family. The radio was the only option to be entertained. 

Coming back to this program which we listened to one year ago: it was about pork meat. The special guest of the program was, inter alia, Eric Ospital, a renowned producer of pork and hams from the south of France - close to the Pyrenees (he produces, inter alia, Jambon Ibaiona, Jambon Pays Basque). Today’s recipe is his recipe for a slowly braised pork belly. Why I decided to cook this? Because the idea of this pork belly is to have two textures – “fondant et croquant” – soft, nearly melting meat – “fondant” and covered by crispy external crust ("croquant").  He advises to braise the pork belly for 12 hours. In my case 8 hours were sufficient (I used a relatively small piece of pork belly).  The finishing in butter gives the crispy texture outside. 

I served it with baked, winter, ancient vegetables: “racine de cerfeuil” (tuberous-rooted chervil, bulbous chervil), yellow – violet rutabaga (swede), yellow turnips, Jerusalem artichokes, potatoes and carrots – baked with fresh bay leaves and fresh rosemary. 

Do you know “racine de cerfeuil”? In latin it is called Chaerophyllum bulbosum, in English “tuberous-rooted chervil”, “bulbous chervil”. It is root vegetable which was popular in the past (allegedly a specie from the carrot family), a native of Europe and Western Asia.  The tuberous-rooted chervil was a popular vegetable in the 19th century. 

This mysterious rooted chervil was also known in Poland and was called “świerząbek”. And you will not believe, but it is mentioned as “popie jajka” (“priest  testicles”) in the first Polish cookbook – the famous Compendium Ferculorum, written and published in the  17th century (described in details in my January post. 

The vegetable can be eaten raw (thinly sliced, sprinkled with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper), it may be boiled, baked or fried. It is starchy, like topinambur and potatoes (especially once baked in the oven), but sweet like parsley root or parsnip. It grows in Poland in fields, as topinambour (Jerusalem artichoke), but I do not believe that it is available in any store in Poland. Now forgotten in Britain and in the United States, allegedly root chervil is still used in French cuisine, in soups or stews. One more thing: after two weeks in Paris, I have an impression that topinambour is as common as potatoes. I have checked: one can buy topinambour in every food market in Paris, in food stores like Monoprix, in stores with bio food (Bio c’bon), Naturalia,and even in food discount stores. The price is between 3 and 4 euro a kilo.

I found the rooted chervil two weeks ago, on the food market boulevard Raspail – the one, where I used to do my shopping every Tuesday and every Friday when we lived rue de Bérite. Almost everything looks the same.  The same “poissonniers” sell fresh seafood, the same man in glasses pushing you to buy vegetables and the same guy selling farmers’ cheeses. One thing was new – Americans selling specialties including burgers straight from “a food truck”. They called themselves “Cantina California”.  It seems that "street food" is trendy in Paris, which is not so obvious, because: a) a typical French person hates to eat with hands – and the burgers the American guys sell are huge and juicy and you HAVE to eat them with your hands b) a typical French person does not eat outside, standing up – he or she MUST sit down; c) a typical French person does not like to eat in a hurry.  The first “food truck” in Paris was “Le camion qui Fume” which appeared in some Parisian streets in November 2011 and it was a huge success. The “Cantina California”, the competitor, which has only been in business for a few months is also successful. Both published their burgers cookbooks which are available in Fnac stores. 

Slowly Braised Pork Belly (by Eric Ospital)

Ingredients:

(serves 2) 

500-600 g raw, nice pork belly (as it does not contain too much meat, you should count around 300 grams per person (which includes abound 120 grams of meat)

2 grains all spice

Few brines fresh thyme

2 bay leaves (most possibly, fresh ones)

2 small carrots, peeled and washed, cut into slices

2 medium onions, cut into halves

1 liter chicken stock

1 medium leek (white part), washed and cut into slices

50 g butter

Black pepper grains

Chives, finely chopped, for garnishing

Salt

Pepper

1.Brown onions on a dry frying pan or over the fire. Place pork belly in a saucepan. Add carrots, onions, thyme, laurel leaves, all spice, pepper grains and cover with the stock (if you do not have enough, add some white wine or water). Bring to a boil and then reduce the heat to a minimum and cook under the cover for 12 hours. You should check the cooking time because my pork belly was “fondant” after 8 hours. 

2. Cool down and refrigerate overnight.

3. On the next day: cut the pork belly into thick slices. Heat the pan, reduce the heat to a minimum, add butter and melt it. Place pieces of belly in the pan, it should caramelize on all sides between 20-30 minutes, until it is brown and crispy. Sprinkle with chives or parsley, serve with vegetables (the recipe below) and also with a green salad (for digestion) as advised by Eric Ospital.

Roasted Ancient Root Vegetables

Serves 2-3

Ingredients:

2 medium Jerusalem artichoke (topinambour) - around 100 g

150 g racine de cerfeuil (tuberous-rooted chervil) around 6 pieces

1 medium rutabaga (around 100 g)

1 medium yellow turnip (“boule d’or) 

1 medium potato  

1 carrot

Fresh rosemary 

Fresh thyme

Olive oil

3-4 bay leaves

Salt

Pepper

Peel and wash vegetables. Dry them out. Cut into strips (French fries type). Pour olive oil and mix. Salt generously, pepper. Place in a pan, add rosemary, thyme and bay leaves. Bake in the oven preheat to 180 degrees for around 30 minutes, occasionally mixing. Serve with braised pork belly.

Smacznego !

Paris Cookbook Fair 2013. Paryski Festiwal Książek Kulinarnych 2013.

I am in Paris and yesterday I visited Paris Cookbook Fair which is the prestigious annual international cookbook and wine book trade meeting, to which I was invited. This year, it took place in the heart of Paris, right under the Pyramid of the Louvre Museum, in the spacious Carrousel du Louvre, famous for the Paris fashion shows. The weather was not appealing - a mixture of snow, rain and wind.

This is an event for professionals, editors, publishing companies rather than for amateurs. Of course everybody may enter if they pay.  The tickets, in my opinion, were far too expensive for the general public – 35 Euros for one day or 65 Euros for 3 days. Additionally, the event is not aimed at selling cookbooks or to promote them to the public. That explains why the event was not very crowded.

The official website presents the event as follows: “the event focuses on the sales of translations and foreign rights, with Asia the leading buyer today, and Europe the major seller”. I am not surprised at all. Asians indeed buy everything, including vineyards in France, chateaux in the Bordeaux region and whole inventories of the best French wines. Did you know that cookbooks and wine books are probably the healthiest segment of publishing today, with a two digit growth in Asia and Latin America? “Dozens of countries are now buying, and make significant contributions to the profitsof the sector”. Non European accents were strong in the crowd (35% guests to the event come from outside Europe).

The Paris Cookbook Fair lasted for 3 days (this year between 22-24 February). The supporting events included panel discussions, presentations, interviews with publishers and national TV stars (cooks, food stylists, writers and food photographers), live cooking shows with professionals and cooks from Le Cordon Bleu.

On Saturday, the Gourmand World Cookbook Awards (which took place yesterday in the 1,400 seats theater of the Carrousel du Louvre) for the best cook books, wine books and publishers have been awarded in quite a lot of categories. This year 171 countries were participating (after 162 in 2011). The full list of the finalists and winners is published in a large booklet which is available on line here, at the official website of the Paris Cookbook Fair.

At the Paris Cookbook Fair, hundreds (if not thousands) of cookbooks from all over the World in every possible language, edited by both renowned publishers but also by small ones, are presented but you can also meet the authors and publishers and you can have a chat with them. In general, they were very helpful, open and talkative. However it was very difficult to buy any books there. On most of the stands, in particular those with books from abroad, it was impossible to buy anything (either because they did not have card terminals, or they did not have enough copies for sale). But that was not the goal of the event.

So, despite I did not buy any book, I was happy because I could have some chats with interesting and open people, like for example the co-authors of the Swedish culinary anti-cancer cookbook, which sells in Sweden like hot cakes. The book includes gourmet anti-cancer recipes (written in co-operation with doctors).  Swedish were well organized - not only they were open to questions, but also they offered a wide range of Swedish specialties and beverages (including specific, bitter – sour lingonberry drink).

My eyes were also caught by a beautifully edited cookbooks about….Greenland cuisine. The luxurious and elegant stand of the Modernist Cuisine was impressive (like the brochure that they edited for the Paris Cookbook Fair), but I was more impressed to have a chat with guys who support (namely, by publishing cook books about Cambodian cuisine), and raise money to help homeless kids on the streets of Phnom Penh or with two guys from Argentina, wine importers, who came not only to promote their wines, about also to promote the cookbook about….Patagonian cuisine. Azerbaijanis not only proposed their cookbooks, but also prepared a food show and savory and sweet snacks.

Polish accents were visible, but not as strong as they should be. There was a stand of the Palace Wilanow Museum, presenting a series of cookbooks about Old Polish cuisine – Monumenta PoloniaeCulinaria. I met professor Jarosław Dumanowski and Elżbieta Grygiel from the Wilanów Palace Museum. We had a long chat about the Old Polish Cuisine and its possible promotion abroad. I’ve got a few heavy gifts (they were cookbooks, as you can guess). I met Grzegorz Trubilowicz from Cooklet - who is the co-founder of Cooklet - Inspiring Culinary Organizer. One should watch Cooklet – they already attacked the U.S. market and are finalists of some important competitions in media applications.

I was searching for the cookbook recently published by BOSZ, “The Fine Polish Cuisine”, the book about Polish cuisine published under the patronage of the wife of the President of Poland (the book was also the finalist of the Gourmet Awards). To no avail. I did not find the book, and I did not check it out, despite my thorough attempts. No other Polish culinary accents were present there, which is a big pity. 

Crunchy-Branchy or Angel Wings ? Chrust.

Here is Magda’s dad, special guest star of today’s blog post. I would like to suggest something very Polish and very tasty – sweet specialty prepared mainly for Carnival season which starts with Christmas and ends on Mardi Gras, Ash Wednesday. This year it falls quite early – February 13 (I am not superstitious but does that mean bad luck or what ?)

Our today’s hero is CHRUST (pron. “khroost”). In Polish it literally means “brushwood”, a bunch of twigs, small and tiny wooden brunches usually collected in the woods to serve as an easy starter of a bonfire. Similarity is obvious: these sweet twisted ribbon-shaped deep fried cookies resemble their natural wooden cousins. As it is in our rich Polish language, there is a plethora of names for these dessert items – “Chrust, chruściki, faworki, jaworki, kreple”. All as easy tongue-twisting as almost everything in my mother’s tongue. But it is much easier to cook. Particular name depends on the region of Poland they are prepared in. My choice comes from my mom who taught me to make CHRUST. My family for generations has been proud citizens of royal city of Krakow, the capital of Małopolska (Lesser Poland) region where CHRUST label dominate overwhelmingly.

How these cookies should be called in English ? Wikipedia and numerous culinary websites and recipes name CHRUST as “angel wings”. Sorry, but it sounds pretentious, a bit kitchy. We (me and Magda) wondered whether a new useful and corresponding name can be invented. Our conclusion (watch out ! Copyright) is Crunchy-Branchy. The cookies, when properly prepared, are quite al dente in a sense of crunchiness and crispiness. And since they are like small pieces of wood, twigs, broken branches, crunchy-branchy should be approved and accepted by all cookies lovers.

And, last but not least for this lengthy introduction to the recipe, I wish to say that dishes, specialties and culinary products strictly tied to a certain time of the year, special season, religious holidays etc. fill the drawer of my dearest recipes and flavors. Can you imagine Thanksgiving Day without a turkey (sorry American friends but you always demonstrate bizarre ability to overcook this bird unless it becomes tasteless…) ? Advent-lent period without gingerbread houses ? Mardi Gras without a fish or shellfish ? Christmas dinner without beloved traditional family dishes ? No way. So CHRUST dominates Poland during Carnival time.

Making CHRUST (CRUNCHY-BRANCHY) is not too complicated. The secret is making proper dough and keeping the rules of ingredients that form it.

We will need (for a big plate to be filled with mound of the cookies):

-   2 cups flour

5 egg yolks (some recipes suggest to add whole eggs but the whites make the cookies tougher)

4 spoons dense sour cream

teaspoon of white vinegar

spoon of white clear vodka (both liquids make the cookies more fluffy)

2 spoons of well-softened butter

salt (sprinkled to the taste, con amore)

oil/fat for deep frying (olive oil excluded – its flavor is too invasive), at least 1 lb or ½ litre but have more to add if necessary

Dough preparation wooden board would not hurt. Btw, it’s one of my favorite kitchen tools and utensils.

Making a dough: make a crater in the mound of dough, add all ingredients and start to mix it. Delicately but with no mercy. The dough may seem too dry but it’s only initial impression. If you make the dough patiently and thoroughly (hard labor, nothing comes for free !) it will reach the end as homogenous, smooth, slightly flexible. It it’s really too dry, add 1 – 2 spoonful of water but frankly speaking the dough need not to drink it. When you judge the dough to be well-worked out, beat it with a roll for several minutes – until it starts to reveal small air bubbles. I usually throw the dough against the wooden board (all sides) but this roars as a thunder and finally I hear neighbors knocking from the above or from the down under. Then I finish torturing the dough with a roll.

OK. Now the dough (cylinder-shaped) must take a rest in the refrigerator. Store it there for about an hour but covered with a linen cloth or kitchen towel.

Get the dough out of the cool place. Cut into three even pieces. Take one, the other two put back In  the fridge. Roll. Roll and roll. Don’t rock, just roll until the dough nears paper-thin. Cut it with a knife into 2,5 cm (1 inch) wide and 12 cm (5 inch) stripes. Make 4 cm (1,5 inch) cut in the middle of each strip. Take one end of each strip and draw it out through the slit in of the stripe. This way you shape it like a ribbon. You will truly see this once it is deep fried !

Now it’s time to warm up the fat/oil. I always use my old wok (bought in 1988 for one dollar(!)  at a garage sale in Boulder, Colorado) but any pan or pot for deep frying will do. The fat temperature is OK when small piece of the dough thrown upon immediately comes out to the surface “boiling”. Now you can softly put the dough ribbons into the hot oil. Not too many at a time, otherwise they will fry unevenly. For the same reason, turn them quickly when frying. Final color should be deep golden towards light brown. Gently (it’s CHRUST, pretty fragile “brushwood”) take the cookies out of the pan. Bring down the heat under the pan otherwise the fat will start burning. Dry the cookies on the paper towel, then move onto the large plate. When the first layer covers the plate, sprinkle it snow-white with the confectioner’s sugar.  It sounds a bit complicated, but believe me, it is not. Especially when you have a helper in the kitchen (no kids ! Boiling oil is a mortal danger and scars from oil burns can be lifelong) who moves the cookies from here to there.

What else ? You repeat the sequence of the activities unless all dough has been rolled out, cut into stripes, ribbon-shaped and fried. What’s crucial for successful frying operation is maintaining proper oil/fat temperature. And adding some fat (cookies absorb it when fried) every now and then. Don’t be frightened: you will get necessary experience after just one session.

The satisfaction of admiring the mountain of fantastic CHRUST cookies on the plate dusted with sugar snow rewards all efforts. And they are so delicious, so unique in texture, taste and flavor ! Writing this I already have my mouth watered all over even if swallowed final pieces of my CRUNCHY-BRANCHY only last Sunday. And don’t leave them for the following day. This is kind of food to be consumed the very same evening.

Cuisines of several nations include making “angel wings” cookies like Polish CHRUST. But believe me, none taste like ours.

The real sweet bonanza in Poland comes on “Tłusty Czwartek”, last “Fat” Thursday before Ash Wednesday. Everybody eats “pączki” (Polish style doughnuts) on this day. But that’s another story, for another post.

Vive le Carnaval à la Polonaise !

WERSJA POLSKA:

Dzisiaj wpis goscinny mojego Taty - specjalisty od chrustu. Ja chrustu nie umiem robić i pobrałam w ubiegłym tygodniu lekcję. Tata pisze:

Chrust, chruściki, faworki, jaworki, kreple. Różnie w różnych częściach Polski nazywane, jak to bywa z wpływem regionalności na kulinarne nazewnictwo. Etymologii tu nie będziemy objaśniać bo od tego mamy guglowanie/guglanie i inne wikipedie. Wyznam tylko, że najbardziej lubię nazwę „chrust” właśnie, nie tylko dlatego, że przejąłem to po krakowsku od Mamy. Chrust to przecież drobne, kruche i łamliwe gałązki. Cóż za piękna analogia z naturą tych podłużnych słodkich ciasteczek-chrupanek-kruchanek.

W ogóle uwielbiam potrawy i kuchenne wykwity związane z jakimś szczególnym okresem roku, ze świętami jednymi czy drugimi, z dorocznymi okazjami, mniej lub bardziej podniosłymi. Uwielbiam za ich wyjątkowość i nieprzystawalność do innego czasu. Boże Narodzenie bez wigilijnego postnego barszczu z uszkami ? Nie sposób. Ostatki przed Popielcem bez śledzika ? Jakże to. Cudowne amerykańskie Święto Dziękczynienia bez indyka (zawsze niedobry) ? No way. Adwent bez domków z piernika ? Unmoeglich. Raz z żoną zrobiliśmy sobie wigilijną kolację w lipcu. Nagotowałem się, a jakże, było wszystko jak trzeba. Pyszne. Tylko kulturowo obce jakieś, czułem przy tym posiłku element bluźnierstwa (Śledzika z tego wyłączam, śledzik jest uniwersalny i ponadczasowy).

No więc chrust (Kongresówko, wybacz, że nie będzie o faworkach). Może być karnawał bez niego ? Nie może. Dlatego zawsze jedną z weekendowych sobót końca stycznia, gdy przyjeżdżam z roboty w Warszawie do krakowskiego domu, poświęcam na wypełnienie sporego półmiska tym niezbieranym w lesie chrustem.

Roboty przy tym trochę, ale nie za dużo, choć ciasto wymaga nieco krzepy. Ważne by trzymac się i proporcji, jak zawsze przy wypiekach czy wysmażkach (to ostatnie pod copyrightem – wynalazłem przed chwilą). Trud będzie wynagrodzony.

Ja to robię tak. Zacznijmy od przepisu (żadna tam oryginalna filozofia, sami znajdziecie mnóstwo w necie):

2 szklanki mąki (uniwersalna czy tortowa, ganz egal)

5 żółtek (niektórzy dają całe jajka, ale białka powodują twardnienie ciasta)

4 łyżki śmietany (daję 22 %, ale 18 % też dobra)

Łyżeczka octu spirytusowego plus łyżka wódki (spirytus lepszy, ale nie zawsze jest w domu, co zresztą nie znaczy, że wódka też; niektórzy daja jeden z tych płynów, ja oba, smak chrustu jest wyrazistszy) – oba płyny spulchniają ciasto, ale z octem nie przesadźcie bo kwaśny chrust to chyba przegięcie

2 łyżki roztopionego masła (ma być letnie)

Trochę soli (niedużo, parę szczypt con amore)

Tłuszcz do głębokiego smażenia (zawsze mam do chrustu kostkę smalcu i kostkę Planty).

No i stolnica oczywiście. Robienie ciasta na gołym blacie stołu, jak w wielu domach, lekko je desakralizuje.

Ciasto: w kopczyku mąki robimy krater i wypełniamy elegancko wszystkimi ingrediencjami (no, tłuszczem do smażenia nie). I teraz trzeba się trochę pomęczyć. Mieszamy delikatnie, ale stanowczo, skladniki mają się rozprowadzić równomiernie. Ciasto wyrobiamy cierpliwie, na początku będzie się wam wydawać, że jest za suche: nic z tych rzeczy, trzeba wyrabiać i wyrabiać. Jeśli istotnie za suche, można się posiłkować 1 – 2 łyżkami wody, ale to wobec ciasta nie jest zbyt fair. Gdy już będzie jednorodne, leciutko rozciągliwe, trzeba je jeszcze skatować tak, by zaczęło wydzielać pęcherzyki powietrza. Na ogół ludzie tłuką ciasto wałkiem, ja wolę rzucać nim ze wszystkich stron o stolnicę (huk straszny) tak długo aż z dołu czy z góry nie usłyszę pukania sąsiada. Jeśli zapuka za wcześnie, przechodzę na ciosy wałkiem. Gdy ciasto uznamy za gotowe, musi powędrować do lodówki, by dojrzeć (do godziny). Tylko przykryjcie (nieśmiertelna lniana ściereczka), bo obeschnie.

Po lodówce formuję  ciasto na kształt dość grubego wałka/cylindra. Przed rozwałkowaniem dziele go na 3 części – w ten sposób całość rozwałkowanego ciasta jak raz zmieści się w trzech partiach na stolnicy.

Rozwałkowuję pierwszy kawałek – jak najcieniej, od tego zależy delikatność chrupkiego „wysmażu”, no i kroję (radełko lub nóż) na paski szerokości 2 – 3 cm (wolę ciastka-patyczki wąskie od szerokich) i długości 12 – 15 cm. W środku przecinam pasek na 1/3 długości. Robi się szczelina, przez którą z łatwością przewleczecie jeden koniec ciastowego paska, formując jakby wstążkę-kokardkę. Wyznam, że tę czynność bardzo lubię bo znamionuje ostatnią, czyli smażenie. No to smażymy. Ja to robię w chińskim woku, który drogą kupna nabyłe w 1988 r. na wyprzedaży garażowej w Colorado za dolara (!). Do dziś go bardzo kocham i jestem mu bezgranicznie wierny.  Jest stalowy, obrośnięty nagarem, jak przystało, żaden tam teflonowy wycirus.

Rozgrzewamy tłuszcz. Pół kostki jednego, pół kostki drugiego. Niektórzy smażą na oleju, ale ja mam jakąś awersję. Tłuszczyk kostkowy ładnie się topi. Temperatura jest smażalna gdy wrzucony do tłuszczu płatek ciasta szybko wypływa na powierzchnię, „gotując się”, czyli szybko wysmażając. Średnica woka plus taka ilość tłuszczu pozwala naraz smażyć ok. 7 chrustowych wstążek. W woku czy rondlu nie może być za ciasno, paski/wstążki muszą wysmażyć się (po obu stronach, w pewnym momencie należy je szybko odwrócić) swobodnie i równomiernie. Kolor wysmażonych – złoto przechodzące w lekki brąz (takie lubię najbardziej). Wyjmujemy delikatnie cedzakiem i osuszamy na papierowym ręczniku. Potem pomagier, o ile takiego mamy pod ręką, ma to przełożyć na półmisek. Delikatnie ! Wszakże to chrust, złamie się pod bardziej grubiańskim palcem. Istotna uwaga: cały czas kontrolujemy temperaturę tłuszczu; nie można go za bardzo schłodzić, ani nie zostawiać na full bo zacznie dymić i przypalać kolejne partie wrzucanych wstążek ciasta. No i tak nam schodzi do końca smażenia pierwszej partii. Pamiętajcie o zgaszeniu gazu lub zdjęciu rondla z płyty. Tłuszcz się przed następną partią wystudzi, ale go przecież podgrzejemy, dodając go nieco z kostki bo przecież każde smażone ciasto coś niecoś go wchłania.

Na półmisku rozprowadzamy usmażony chrust w równomierną i w miarę szczelną warstwę. Pojedynczą. Czas na posypanie cukrem-pudrem. Kiedyś to się sypało mączkę cukrową przez geste sitko. Teraz kupuje się ten puder w ustrojstwie, którym się kręci a puder jak śnieżny pył sam leci ! Jak mawiają Rosjanie, kak w kino ! Obfitość obsypania pudrem zależy od Waszego smaku i dozwolonego pułapu cukru w organiźmie.  Potem nakładamy kolejną warstwę usmażonych faworków (robię tu jedyny raz wyjątek – dla przyjaciół w Saskiej Kępy), i znów cukier puder.

Potem wszystko identico z drugim kawałkiem cylindrycznego ciasta, potem z trzecim. Nim powiem smacznego, jedna przestroga. Przy smażeniu pod żadnym pozorem nie wolno wpuszczać do kuchni dzieci, ani nadmiernej liczby gapiów. Gotowanie z wrzącym tłuszczem to naprawdę niebezpieczna robótka a oparzenia bywają tylko III stopnia i straszliwe.

Po tej sympatycznej uwadze mowię: bon apetit ! Podanymi proporcjami składników się specjalnie nie najecie (ale obsypany na biało kopczyk na półmisku zawsze będzie), lecz po pierwsze – można ilość składników proporcjonalnie zwiększyć, po drugie – chrust nie jest do obżerania się tylko do chrupano-kruchej zabawy na jeden wieczór. Za to jaki pyszny !

Jerusalem Artichoke Velouté with Vegetable Chips. Revisiting Ancient Recipes (part 3)

I promised to my friends that I would publish, tonight, the recipe for the Jerusalem Artichoke soup inspired by the 17^th century recipe from the first Polish cook book, within my series designated to Old Polish cuisine (more details in my previous post).

Nutty, earthy, sweetie Jerusalem artichokes (I prefer to call them “topinambours”) are one of those vegetables that were commonly known and used in cookery in Poland 300 and 200 years ago and they disappeared - not from the country - but from our tables. They were replaced by potatoes, as far as I know. Despite their name (“artichoke”) they rather have nothing to do with those artichokes than we know from French or Italian cuisine. I realize that culinary habits of every nation are different and had to evolve over time. However, to me the most surprising aspect of Old Polish cuisine is not the variety of poultry (capon!) and venison, not the variety of soft water fish, but the spices like ginger (we can call this cuisine as “gingery” cuisine), raisins and limes. I wonder: how was it possible that they were so popular at that time? How did people get them? Every recipe call for spices, sourness and sweetness and exotic ingredients which I did not know when I was a kid!

The season for topinambour lasts from late summer to February (this is not what I know from practice – I have just read it). Anyway, if you get (or buy) these vegetables, keep them in your fridge, otherwise they will quickly get soft. If you make a soup with them, you do not really have to peel the artichokes; it is sufficient to clean them thoroughly.

Today's recipe, taken from Stanisław Czerniecki's book, calls to only use vegetables and spices; the recipe was sent to me by professor Dumanowski who advised that the revisited version of this soup tastes better with cream and ginger. Ok, I decided to follow his instructions and I came to the evidence that he was right. Without any cream, the addition of ginger to the soup would be too bland; and the addition of cream added some nice and smooth taste. I added some sourness by squeezing in - just before serving - some fresh lime juice. The soup is tasty and interesting, but it needs some more changes, maybe more ginger?  The addition of crispy vegetable chips is a must, it changes the character of the soup, as freshly squeezed limes did.

Fortunately I go to France next week. I am dreaming about buying a capon (the most popular meat in Poland 300 years ago and unavailable today) and make some super extra dish for you.

Jerusalem Artichoke Velouté with Vegetable Chips

(Zupa – krem z topinambura z warzywnymi chipsami)

Serves 4 small / medium portions

For the velouté:

350 g Jerusalem artichoke, delicately peeled, washed and diced (if you do this in advance, keep the vegetable in water with some vinegar to prevent it from darkening)

1 large onion, peeled and roughly chopped

1 medium carrot, peeled and sliced

2 cm ginger, peeled and chopped

2 medium garlic cloves, peeled and chopped

1 apple, peeled and chopped

1 small handful of soaked raisins

1 parsley root, peeled and chopped

¼ small celery root, peeled and chopped

300 ml stock (vegetable or chicken)

200 ml milk

100 ml cream

2 pinches nutmeg

2 tablespoons goose grease / butter

Saffron

Salt

Pepper

1 lime, cut into quarters 

Blender

For the vegetable chips:

100 g (possibly large) Jerusalem artichokes, delicately peeled, washed and cut along into very thin slices (if you do this in advance, keep the vegetable in water with some vinegar to prevent it from darkening – remember to dry out slices before placing them in boiling oil);

1 parsley root, peeled and cut along into paper thin, long strips

500 ml vegetable oil for deep frying

Put saffron in 100 ml of warm water and put aside.

Heat some oil or grease in a saucepan, add onions, ginger, garlic and caramelize them a bit over medium heat stirring constantly. Add harder vegetables: carrot, parsley root and celeriac. Fry for around 10 minutes stirring constantly to prevent them from burning. Add Jerusalem artichokes, raisins, stock and cook under the cover, until the Jerusalem artichokes are soft. Do not overcook them, as they may become starchy.

Remove the saucepan from the heat and blend the soup using a blender. Then pass the soup through a fine sieve; discard the leftovers and pour the soup in a clean saucepan. Add milk, cream, saffron with water, and all the spices. Bring to a boil. Adjust the taste if necessary. You can add more ginger if you like a strong ginger flavor.

Make vegetable chips: bring oil to boil over low heat – once it is very hot, put delicately the vegetables into the oil and fry them until gold and crispy. Remove them from oil and put on a paper towel.

Serve hot with chips and quarters of limes.

Revisiting Recipes from 17th Century Part 2. Sweet and Sour Journey to Baroque Poland – Braised Lamb with Capers and Raisins. Topinambour.

Hello, let’s start today with discovering Old Polish cuisine, as announced in my previous long post. You know what I was doing last Saturday and Sunday?  I spent entire Saturday chopping, peeling, slicing, dicing, cooking and trying to understand how to deal with ancient recipes from the 17^th century written in archaic Polish language. I cooked a few dishes. I discovered new food compositions and I will share those recipes with you in upcoming posts, one by one. Have a look at the teaser below:

When I finished my cooking, it was already dark. Because I photograph my meals only using day light, I got up early on Sunday, did the session and shot the pictures in bizarre positions which made my back hurt like hell. 

Below is the reprint of the first Polish cookbook by Stanisław Czerniecki.  It is not an easy “cookbook”. It does not provide for any measurements or proportions so, really, you have to rely on your own imagination, taste and some historical knowledge which fortunately is presented in an interesting and very well written introduction of professor Jarosław Dumanowski. The book, published recently within a series called “Monumenta Poloniae Culinaria”  - is an elegant and very nicely published work of 240 pages done by the Wilanów Museum in Warsaw, the Nicolas Copernicus University in Toruń and Lubomirski Foundation. There are 333 recipes, which are short, even extremely brief (“take an animal, cut it into smaller parts, cook it, and in the middle of cooking add this and that”). Fortunately the book contains a glossary of old Polish culinary terms and quite a lot of reproductions of old paintings and pictures which somehow guide you.

Remember that the recipes presented below reflect my personal attempts to test ancient, Old Polish cuisine rather than an attempt to reconstruct an authentic taste and flavor which – as I wrote in my last post – probably would not be edible according to our present taste. Those cooks of the 17^th century  used to add too much pepper, sugar and acids. I started with the dish which I liked most - braised lamb roll - which I decided to do at the last minute, after I discovered that I had some spare, cheap lamb’s meat, perfect for braising. The combination of acid and salty capers with sweet raisins and vinegar, enhanced by home made veal stock was tasty, in particular with an ancient root vegetable called Jerusalem artichokes fried with goose grease, rosemary and garlic. Jerusalem artichoke was very common in Poland 200 or 300 years ago but disappeared completely from Polish tables and menus. I tried it for the first time two years ago. A week ago, I was given one kilogram of these interesting roots by my friend, who writes an excellent blog about wines. The Jerusalem artichoke arrived in Old Poland, to the best of my knowledge, from America and became popular later on. Nowadays you will not buy it in the groceries. People who have family houses in the countryside say that it grows widely in many locations, it is extremely expansive as a plant, so it is not so difficult to find.

Sweet and Sour Braised Lamb Rolls with Capers and Raisins

(słodko – kwaśna rolada jagnięca z kaparami i czosnkiem)

For this type of dish you can use a cheaper and greasier type of meat like, for example, ribs - once you separate the meat from the bones, you can roll the meat and tight it with a string; such a meat in my opinion is best when braised slowly so it melts into your mouth. However, you can use other meats like poultry, goose, duck or veal. Pork would be fine as well, although don't forget that in 17th and 18th century Old Polish cuisine pork was not popular at all. My addition to the recipe has been homemade veal stock as well as wine, to enhance the taste. It was pretty delicious!

Makes 1 roll, serves 2 small portions

300 g boneless lamb's brisket (or any other type of meat which will be good for rolls – not necessarily lamb)

100 ml veal stock (optional)

200 ml stock (meat or vegetable)

Clarified butter / goose grease for frying

3 tablespoons white wine vinegar

100 ml white wine

12 caper berries or 30 capers

1 garlic clove, chopped

1 handful raisins (soaked in some liquid or stock beforehand)

1 tea spoon brown sugar

½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

Pepper

Salt

String

Rub the meat (at room temperature) with salt and pepper on both sides and with garlic on the inner side. Roll the meat tightly and knot it with string. In a sticky saucepan, warm the grease (clarified butter) and fry the meat on all sides. Don't burn it. Put into a small skillet. Deglaze the pan with white wine and pour the liquid into the skillet. Pour the stock, veal stock and braise until soft (in my case, it took nearly 2 hours – the meat was of a rather poor quality - it needs long,  slow cooking). Occasionally check if the juices did not evaporate, pour some juices with a ladle over the meat. When the meat is nearly soft, add caper berries, raisins with the soaking liquid, cinnamon, vinegar. Play with you taste and adjust accordingly. At the end, add sugar, salt and pepper. My guess that this dish should be sweet and sour. Cut into slices, and serve with sauteed topinambur. If you do not have any, make a pea puree or millet (potatoes were not eaten in Poland in the 17th century).

Jerusalem Artichoke with Rosemary and Garlic

(topinambur z rozmarynem i czosnkiem)

Serves 2 small portions

250 g Jerusalem artichoke (topinambour), delicately peeled and washed and diced (if you do this in advance, keep the vegetable in water with some vinegar to prevent it from  darkening)

1 hipped tablespoon, fresh chopped rosemary

2 small garlic cloves, chopped

100 ml white wine

1-2 tablespoons goose grease or clarified butter

Salt

Pepper

Heat a saucepan. Once hot, add the grease and Jerusalem artichoke (if kept in water before, dry it out with a paper towel). Sauté for one minute over a quite high heat and add garlic, sauté for one more minute being careful -  do not burn the garlic. Add wine and cook over a quite high heat until wine evaporates - approximately 5-10 minutes. In the meantime, add rosemary.  Once the Jerusalem artichoke is quite soft, add salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot as a side dish to your meat.

Bon appétit! 

Capon and Topinambour (1). Preword to the Series Regarding Old Polish Cuisine. Hunter's Stew. Famous Bigos.

Have you ever eaten capon or topinambour? For some time, I have been reading a lot about Old Polish cuisine and I am planning to start reviewing truly old Polish recipes, some of them having origins as early as in the 17^th century. I want to show you how Polish cuisine was evolving and how multicultural it was. Such recipes, quite often, are difficult to recreate because the products that were popular 200 or 300 years ago are hardly available nowadays, like capons or topinambour.

In September, I participated in an event designated to Old Polish 17^th century cuisine and Polish wines, titled “Capon and figatelle – the story about Old Polish cuisine”. It took place in Winoman, a wine bar and restaurant in Kraków. The lecture and the dinner were moderated by professor Jarosław Dumanowski,  historian at the Nicolaus Copernicus University in Toruń. He specializes in the history and culture of nutrition. Do you know anything about Old Polish cuisine and Polish wines? You think that maybe it was “poulet et patates” or “pork and cabbage”? Not exactly. That food had nothing to do with what Poles eat nowadays. In the old recipes, dated from the 17^th and the 18^th centuries, one will rather not find any pork meat or any potatoes. The most popular meat was capons – castrated cocks. Potatoes were popularized much later. The cuisine of old Poland was multicultural and influenced by Ukrainians, Jews, Lithuanians, Czechs, Prussians, Hungarians, Tatars etc. In their authentic 17^th century version, those dishes would be extremely difficult to swallow (at least for us, Poles). Sensitivity of our taste buds changed over hundreds of years… At Winoman, dishes served to us were only inspired by those authentic ones from the 17^th century. Otherwise they would hardly be edible.

The history of food and nutrition means, inter alia, extensive research of historical sources and books. In Poland, we had just a few titles that were discovered and reprinted recently. To say the truth, there is one and only monumental Polish cookbook dating from the period before the partitions of Poland, titled Compendium Ferculorum. The book had been printed out in Kraków, and its author, Stanisław Czerniecki, was a cook of the aristocratic Lubomirscy clan at their castle in Nowy Wiśnicz in southern Poland – I ordered it via internet and once it arrives I will write more about it.

In the baroque era, Old Polish cuisine was based on strong, explicit tastes, like, for example, pepper, saffron, sour and sweet. The flavors should had been mixed and changed – most notably, in such a way that it was hard to recognize what was served at the table (this reminds me times of communism when poor quality of food served in some restaurants made their patrons  unable to recognize what was served to them.

During September dinner we had a chance to taste four dishes inspired by baroque cuisine as well as eight different Polish wines. Forgive me moderate quality of the pictures.

Boneless carp

Carp is probably most popular fish in Poland, especially during Christmas Season and the tradition of its culture on the territories of Poland is centuries long. Some of the species, like “carp zatorski” have been registered in the European Union as regional products. However, despite the fact that the fish is commonly cultured in Poland, my impression is that the mediocrity of communism killed the variety of carp recipes. Carp served to us at Winoman was boneless, previously macerated, then fried in butter with the addition of some grated bread. The flesh of the fish was sour, thanks to the addition of vinegar. The acidity of the flesh was broken by cranberry preserves, sweet onion, raisins and sugar. I could also sense quite strong taste of pepper and cinnamon. The fish was decorated with a wedge of lime (which I squeezed on my fish fillet to make it more sour). The mixture of flavors and aromas was more similar to some of the Asian food than to contemporary Polish cuisine.

Aromatic sturgeon in butter

Sturgeon – one of the most popular fresh water fish – was served with sweet onion, parsley, wine, raisins, cinnamon and muscatel.  The taste of “4 spices” dominated, but despite the fact that I am not an afficionado of cinnamon, the flavors of the fish flex were well balanced. The fish was served with a pea purée and blanched leaves of Brussels sprouts. In the old times Poland potatoes were non-edible. Instead, old fashioned vegetables like topinambour or peas were widespread.

Półgęsek

Besides capons, goose meat was quite popular hence the population of those birds was huge. After the WWII, geese practically disappeared from the stores. (You can find out more about young oat Polish goose - “gęś owsiana” here). Półgęsek – cold-smoked goose breasts has become more and more popular again, but it is still not easy to buy in retail grocery stores; I believe that the majority of its production goes to food festivals and restaurants. We were served thin slices of “półgęsek” with cherry preserves. It was a simple and tasty starter, however the amount of slices was minuscule so I could not delight myself enough with the taste of this excellent regional Polish specialty.

Figatelle

The The Figatelle dish had nothing to do with Italian cooking. In Old Polish cuisine, pork meat was very rare, and meat balls made from the mixture of veal and capon meat with the addition of buffalo grease, pepper, nutmeg, raisins and eggs were common. In the old times they were served as a side dish to the main courses.

At the end, Professor Dumanowski told us a few lines about the most popular meat in Old (three hundred years ago) Poland which was capon. Today, you will not find this meat neither in the restaurant nor in the stores. I had capon meat a few times in my life, but that  was in France as my mother-in-law used to bake it. More about capons in the future posts.

Bigos (contemporary hunters stew)

Bigos is a traditional stew typical for Polish and Lithuanian cuisines. Many consider it to be the Poland's national dish No.1. Indeed, bigos has an extremely long tradition in Poland. Some say that bigos can be traced back to the middle ages. It is said that bigos was introduced in Poland by Jagiełło, a Lithuanian prince who became the king of Poland in the 14^th century and established long lasting union between two states. To make a long story short, nowadays bigos consists of a long-braised mixture of various types of meats and sauerkraut. However two or three hundred years ago cabbage was even not added to it ! Instead, a lot of lime juice, wine and vinegar were put into the dish. When Poland gradually became more and more impoverished in the 18^th Century, lime and expensive spices usage was greatly reduced and, to keep sour taste of bigos, people started to add cheap pickled (fermented with salt) cabbage, today internationally known as sauerkraut. I will cook cabbage-free bigos in a future recipe (when I receive my old Poland cookbook). Today, I propose my mum's version (my dad’s version is slightly different), which is very tasty. I love to eat it in the winter time.

In the old times, bigos was stored in every household’s pantries in big stone or clay pots, ready to be served to unexpected guests or as a provision for long trips. If anyone asks me about the most traditional and yet most pauperized Polish dish during the communism – the answer is instant: bigos. As almost everything in the Polish cooking after the war, this old and rich dish was brutally simplified due to, among others, food shortcomings caused by inefficient economy which instead of free market – was politically driven. I remember it from my school years as a few shredded leaves of poor quality cabbage swimming in an awful dirty sour sauce-like liquid. This had nothing to do with real bigos, which needs many ingredients and the art of patient long and repeatable cooking.  Even today, in many cheap eateries or “milk bars” you can order an ersatz of bigos, meaning cooked cabbage with a bit of sausage added.

There exist many variations of this flagship of the Polish cuisine and the one that I present in my book is what I was taught by my mom. Remember: there is no standard recipe for bigos. It’s just like with paella in Spain or with bouillabaisse in southern France. Recipes vary from region to region and from family to family being the very nucleus of people’s culinary pride and honor. There are, however, certain rules and the set of basic ingredients: hours long, slow cooking, different types of meat and cold cuts, an addition of dried smoked plums (prunes), dried forest mushrooms and spices. The base is always sauerkraut, sometimes some sweet cabbage added is added, various cuts of meats, hams and sausages, tomato paste, honey, sour apples, bay leaves, allspice, cloves, mustard and red wine. In my family bigos is cooked traditionally between Christmas and New Year's when various meats leftovers are available, so it is ready for Sylwester – the New Year’s Eve party and it often crowns it when served at early morning hours to refresh exhausted party guests. And last but not least, Polish style: it tastes great with frozen vodka.

Few tips: bigos must have a dense solid consistence. It should be rich with meat. It is said that the best proportions are: half meat and half cabbage, although this depends on your own preferred taste. It is important that almost all juices slowly evaporate while cooking. When served, you should not have any liquid left on the plate. My father cooks bigos for a few days. Several hours of braising on a very low burner (frequently stirring so the mixture would not stick to the bottom of the pot) and then onto the balcony where it freezes overnight. The following day this procedure repeats. And then again, for a day or two until bigos is fully macerated and all flavors combine into one unique blend. And half a bottle of red wine goes into the pot for the final twenty minutes of warming the dish up before serving.

I do not add tomato concentrate. Some recipes advise to do so, which, in my opinion, is incorrect. You can add types of meat other than those indicated in the recipe like greasy duck, goose, venison, ham and sausages. The wider variety of meats - the better. Bigos should be quite spicy in taste, a bit sour, with an explicit wine aftertaste. The meat should be completely soft, nearly melted like in French rilettes. You can replace prunes with a couple of spoons of plums preserves (powidła). You can make it fifty-fifty of sauerkraut and white cabbage. In such a case, white cabbage should be finely chopped and separately precooked until half-soft.

And bigos is one of those dishes that taste better with the flow of time. It tastes best after 3 days of cooking and refrigerating. Considering long cooking time and plethora of ingredients, it is not worth preparing for 4 people only. Cook the big quantity. Bigos freezes easily and when thawed - – it will still be delicious or even better !

My Mum's Polish Hunter's Stew (Bigos)

Cooking time – 3 days (3 x 1-1,5 hour) 

Serves 10

Ingredients:

1.5 kg sour cabbage (you may use 50/50 sour and regular white cabbage, however I prefer bigos made only with sour cabbage)

400 g raw, smoked bacon cut in strips 3 cm long

650 g pork shoulder, cut in cubes of 1.5 cm

650 g beef, for example shank (prega wolowa – do gotowania), cut in cubes 1.5 cm

2 onions, peeled and washed, finely chopped

120 g dried, smoked plums, without seeds and cut into halves

50 g dried ceps

30 g sultan raisins

3 bay leaves

8 grains allspice

8 grains juniper berries

10 grains black pepper

3-4 cloves

500 ml meat stock

500 ml dry red wine

4 tablespoons goose grease

2 tablespoons flour

salt

pepper

Prepare the cabbage: Chop it finely. Squeeze it in hands and remove any excess of sour juice saving it for later adding it to the dish if necessary. Place the cabbage in a large saucepan, add onions and spices: bay leaves, cloves, juniper, allspice and pepper. Pour half of bullion into the cabbage and onions and mix everything.

Cook for hour and a half, until cabbage and onions are soft, on a small flame and stir often, so the cabbage does not stick to the bottom. Put aside.

Prepare the meat: In the meantime, prepare the meat. Put the pork and veal in two separate bowls. Sprinkle them with a bit of flour and mix. Heat two saucepans or frying pans and melt 2 tablespoons of goose grease in each pan. When the grease is hot, put pork and beef into the pans, sauteé them and cook under the cover over a medium flame until soft for around one hour. If necessary, add some beef or veal stock. Stir frequently. In a hot frying pan, cook the bacon until the grease is fully released. When the bacon and meats are done, place them in the saucepan with cabbage and mix well. Simmer for another hour, stirring often. Remove from the heat, let it cool down completely and put overnight into the fridge or outdoor.

Finish your bigos: On the next day, put mushrooms into 500 ml of water and let them soak overnight. Soak  raisins in 100 ml of water. On the next day, cook mushrooms for 10 minutes. Remove bigos from the cold place. Strain the mushrooms and raisins, reserve the bullion. Cut mushrooms into strips (0.5 cm wide) and add them to bigos. Add raisins and plums, mushroom stock, mix well and cook over a small flame for another hour and a half. Mix often.

When all juices evaporate, add wine and let it cook until wine evaporates completely. Mix often, do not let bigos burn ! Salt and pepper to taste, if too sour add some honey. You can serve it immediately, however it tastes best after at least one more night in the cold place and one more hour of cooking. Serve with good organic bread. Don’t forget about a shot of vodka !

Bon appétit !

And yet something for those who know all meanders of our beautiful Polish language. My father has been cooking for decades but from time to time he also writes funny culinary poems and plans to publish them soon. The hero of one of his pieces is bigos, this icon of our national cuisine. It comes in a form of a classic sonnet:

Sonet bigośny

            Stanąłem dziś przy beczce kiszonej kapusty

            Świątecznej kaczuszki resztek mam ci w domu fest

            Do tego szyneczka, boczuś, co tam jeszcze jest

            Grzybki, śliwki, jałowiec i reszta rozpusty

            Bigos warzę raz w roku, on wszak mrozu łaknie

            Na ogień, na balkon, na ogień, na balkon - tak !

            Gdy zaniedbasz tę rutynę, wyjdzie byle jak

            Niby będzie miał wszystko – lecz mu duszy zbraknie

            Maceruj go, maceruj, aż sczeźnie do imentu

            Przegryzaj go, przegryzaj, kapusty zakłóć woń

            Wszystko to zapisuj, aż braknie atramentu

            A gdy dojdzie już on, winem podchmiel go wreszcie

            Winem się uszlachetni i będzie mógł pójść w świat

            Bigosować ! Naród niech sławi się ! Nareszcie !

Copyright by Krzysztof W. Kasprzyk, 2011