Monday, May 19, 2014
Remember back in grade school, when you had to do your first class presentation? Visual aids were always a good idea, in case you became tongue-tied or didn't have much to say.
That's exactly how I felt as I prepared to do a short presentation in my Slovenian language class. It was about losing and finding my heritage. A few short sentences in Slovenian. A powerpoint presentation, with some photos and my family tree.
And one more bit of "show-and-tell": some homemade Slovenian cookies. After all, food is an important part of the story. Not to mention the fact that my culinary skills are way ahead of my Slovenian language skills.
I decided to try something old and something new.
The old recipe? Buckwheat thumbprint cookies, or ajdovčki. An unusual cookie and not bad the first time around. I thought they might have been better if I had stuck more closely to the original recipe, from a young woman blogger in Slovenia. Walnuts and rum, instead of almonds and cognac. And maybe a touch more sugar.
So I made those few tweaks to the original recipe, and it did the trick. (Update: The new improved version is here.)
The new recipe is from my latest vintage Slovenian American cookbook: Kuharice iz Willarda, or Cooking from Willard. It was compiled in the 1970s by a Slovenian language class in Willard, Wisconsin. My son found the old cookbook for sale online, assumed it must be written in Slovenian, and ordered it for me as a gift. The book turns out to be mostly in English, with a judicious smattering of Slovenian sayings and recipe titles. That made me smile. I would have fit right in to that Slovenian class.
In that 1970s cookbook, I spotted a recipe called American Slovenian nut horns: little cookie/pastries, with a rich dough wrapped around a nut filling. Very similar to many other Slovenian recipes I had seen before--and also to ruggelach, a Jewish favorite I had made many times. But there was one interesting (and healthy) difference: cottage cheese instead of the more usual cream cheese in the dough. (Update: the nut horn recipe is posted here.)
Recipes will follow soon.
Meanwhile, I have to get back to my Slovenian homework.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
"Why don't you make your father's gedempte chicken?" I said to my husband. "I'll be the scribe."
It was Passover week, a time when traditional Eastern European Jewish dishes appear on many American tables, including ours. I was eager to document another piece of family culinary history.
I had recently written about Murray's Kreplach. Gedempte chicken, another one of my father-in-law's recipes, seemed like the perfect follow-up. He had learned to make both dishes by watching his mother Rose, who emigrated from her village in Poland at around the same time my grandfather left Slovenia.
Murray had introduced us to this rich chicken dish during one of our visits. The second time he made it, my husband watched and made notes. Back home, he reproduced it, using his father's cooking as a model.
Gedempte chicken is an unusual dish with simple ingredients. It is a rich, onion-laden stew or fricassee with a twist: little meatballs simmering along with the pieces of chicken. The seasonings are nothing more than salt, pepper, paprika, with a touch of catsup at the end. The key is to brown the ingredients well and then simmer slowly, so the meats and onion release their juices. In theory, no additional liquid is need to create a thick sauce.
"Why don't you check your notes?" I suggested to my husband, before he started to cook. I wanted to be sure we came as close as possible to his father's original version.
"Notes?" He looked puzzled. He didn't have them. In fact, he didn't recall writing anything down.
Hmm. I could swear we had an old envelope with a rough sort of recipe jotted down. Oh well. I suggested he call the source, Murray himself, for a quick refresher course.
When he got off the phone, my husband gave me an odd look. "There are no meatballs."
"No meatballs? You mean he's changed the recipe and now he leaves out the meatballs?"
"No. He says he never used meatballs. That's not part of the dish."
We were both baffled. Had we imagined those little meatballs, the most distinctive element in the dish? Or perhaps my husband picked up the idea on his own and had completely broken with Jewish tradition.
It was time for some research. My Jewish cookbooks weren't much help, but I discovered plenty of information on the Internet. "Gedempte" is a Yiddish term that means "well-cooked." I found at least a a half dozen recipes for gedempte chicken, some with meatballs and some without.
I was relieved. The meatball variation wasn't some rogue version of gedempte chicken my husband had invented, even if the source remained hazy.
What to do?
My husband had a good solution. He would follow his father's latest directions, with chicken only. Then he would make a separate batch of meatballs, relying on his own memory and intuition.
When it came time to eat, we did a taste test. The first night, we ate the chicken and meatballs separately. By itself, the chicken was tasty. In fact, it reminded us of my own Slovenian-style chicken paprikash, minus the sour cream. (Dairy products in a meat or poultry dish would violate Jewish dietary laws.) The meatballs were just fine. Matzo farfel, another Passover favorite, was the perfect accompaniment. Other good (non-Passover) options to accompany the chicken stew immediately came to mind: buckwheat kasha, homemade egg noodles, or even some nice Slovenian mlinci!
But this was not the gedempte chicken we had come to know and love. So, after dinner, the chicken and meatballs went into the same pot, where they mingled overnight. The next day, the flavor was even better after reheating.
Our verdict: Gedempte chicken is great, however you make it. But mixing in the meatballs takes the dish to a whole other level.
But why take our word for it? Try it yourself!
For the chicken:
1-1/2 lb chicken breasts, bone in
1-3/4 lb chicken thighs
2 large onions, sliced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 T. paprika
2 T. catsup
Sprinkle paprika, pepper and salt on chicken. Brown thighs, skin side down, in Dutch oven. Remove and brown the breasts. The goal is to brown the skin and remove some of the fat. Remove chicken from pot. Saute onions with additional paprika, salt, and pepper until softened. Add chicken. Cover and simmer for several hours. You should not need extra liquid, but if you must, add a little water or broth. Add catsup in last hour. Taste and adjust seasonings before serving.
For the meatball option:
1 lb. ground beef
1/4 c. matzo meal
2 t. paprika
1 large onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 T. catsup at end
Mix beef, matzo meal, egg, and seasonings well. Form meat mixture into small balls the size of a walnut. Brown in vegetable oil in a large saucepan. Drain off fat. Add onion and garlic. Return meatballs to pan. Cover and simmer for several hours. You should not need extra liquid, but if you must, add a little water or broth. Add catsup in last hour. Taste and adjust seasonings before serving.
The chicken and the meatballs can be served separately or combined and simmered together. Serve with matzo farfel, buckwheat kasha, noodles, or mlinci.