Poulet Basquaise

"The extent to which you can walk in someone else's shoes or at least eat their food, it's a plus for everyone." 

-- Anthony Bourdain

Although I have always been fascinated by other countries and other cultures, in many respects, Anthony Bourdain has been the one to introduce me to someone else's food. Whether it was No Reservations or Parts Unknown, I would watch intently as Bourdain traveled around the world and communed with people at a table eating food. It is one of the most basic ways to achieve a mutual understanding. 

One of the many places that Anthony visited was Basque country, a region that straddles both Spain and France. It was a place that returned to again and again. The reason, as he described it, was "my love for the Basque, for Basque culture, for my Basque friends, is absolute." If a region, its people and its culture can strike a feeling like that in Anthony Bourdain, then an exploration is a must. 

I have previously prepared dishes from Basque country, but mostly focusing on that part that lies within Spain. I wanted to cross the border into France, to learn more about the Basque who live in that country. Anthony Bourdain's recipe for Poulet Basquaise provided that opportunity. 

The dish, Poulet Basquaise, is said to have originated from the Soule province of southwestern France, which is deep in the Basque country. The original recipe called for creating a sauce from bread and vegetables; however, it evolved over time to require the use of a piperade, which is base of tomato, onion and bell pepper. The dish also features the espellete, a pepper grown in the region (but which can be hard to find elsewhere). While the use of espellete is a must in Basque cooking, adequate substitutes include paprika or, if you would like a little more heat, Aleppo pepper. The Basque are also known for their wines, which can sometimes be hard to find as well. If you cannot find a Basque white wine, an adequate substitute is Picpoul de Pinet, a wine that comes from the neighboring French region of Languedoc. (I used that wine because it is more available and, as an added bonus, reasonably priced.)

When one prepares a dish like this, it transports them to a kitchen of a house in a small village in Soule. A dish that brings together local produce, a chicken from a nearby farm or market, some wine in the house, and herbs from the garden to produce a dish that would be the centerpiece of the family dinner. Basque cuisine features heavily local ingredients, influenced by French cuisine more than Spanish cuisine. It evolved over time, as evidenced by the tomatoes and peppers in the piperade. But, just as French cuisine has influenced Basque cuisine, the reverse is also true, as this particular dish is not just popular in Basque country, but in other areas of France as well. 

The exploration will continue, both in Basque country and elsewhere. Stay tuned....

POULET BASQUAISE

Recipe from Food & Wine

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 whole chicken, cut into 8 pieces
• Salt
• Pepper
• Pinch of cayenne pepper or piment d'Espelette
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 1 tablespoon butter
• 2 red bell peppers, thinly sliced
• 2 green bell peppers, thinly slice
• 1 onion, thinly sliced
• 1 can (16 ounces) Italian plum tomatoes
• 1/2 cup white wine
• 1 cup water
• 1/2 cub chicken bouillon or 1/2 cup light chicken broth or stock
• 3 sprigs of flat parsley, finely chopped
• Rice pilaf, for serving

Directions:

1. Prepare the chicken. Season the chicken all over with salt, pepper and the cayenne pepper. Heat the oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium high heat, about 2 minutes. When the oil is hot, add the butter. When the butter has melted and the foam has subsided, add the chickens, skin side down and brown on that side only, about 5 minutes. Remove the chicken and set aside on the plate. 

2. Saute the vegetables. Add the peppers and onion to the pot and reduce the heat to medium low. Cook for about 10 minutes, then add the tomatoes and cook until the liquid is reduced by half. Stir in the wine, scraping to get up the good stuff. Cook until the wine is reduced by half, then add the water and bouillon cube or broth. Return the chicken to the pot, making sure to add all the juices on the plate. Cover the pot and simmer on low heat for about 25 minutes. 

3. Finish the dish. Transfer the chicken to a platter. Crank up the heat to high and boil the sauce until it has thickened and reduced, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and add the parsley. Pour the sauce over the chicken and serve with rice pilaf. 

PEACE.

Chile Verde Guacamole

If one looks at a guacamole recipe, they will most likely see an ingredient list that includes avocados, as well as perhaps tomatoes, onions, and cilantro. Almost all of those recipes have lime juice as an ingredient. But, as it turns out and I soon learned, that not all guacamole is prepared with lime juice. 

That happens to be the case in the Mexican State of Sonora. Chefs and cooks prepare their guacamole with out the added juice. Instead, they use other ingredients to provide additional layers of flavor, such as roasted anaheim chiles, to to enhance the "heat" of the dish, such as serrano chiles. 

A preparation of guacamole without lime juice may seem out of the ordinary (at least it did to me). However, I like to think that the Sonorans may be holding onto something that reflects a more traditional method. Something that goes back centuries. 

Allow me to explain.  The domestication of avocados in Mexico can be dated back at least 5,000 B.C.E. The dish that we know as "guacamole" is not as old, with its history going back to 14th to 16th centuries. At this time, the Aztec empire controlled much of central Mexico. History has accounts of Aztecs preparing a spread consisting of mashed avocados, along with added tomatoes, onions and chiles. That spread pretty much sums up guacamole. The name of that spread, ahuacatl  (avocado) and molli (sauce), gives us the term "guacamole." The Aztecs did not use lime juice, even though they did use that ingredient in other dishes. So, in a sense, the Sonoran way of preparing guacamole tracks the traditional and historical method of the Aztecs, at least with regard to the absence of lime juice. 

One final note: this particular Sonoran guacamole recipe adds two types of chiles - a roasted Anaheim chile and a serrano chile. The latter chile obviously provides heat to the dish and, if a serrano is too much heat for you, then you can substitute a jalapeno pepper. But, don't use a green pepper, you need to have some kick in the guacamole. The former chile chile provides some smoky and even sweet elements.  If you cannot find Anaheim chiles, you can substitute a poblano pepper. 

CHILE VERDE GUACAMOLE

Recipe from NYT Cooking

Yields 3 cups

Ingredients:

• 1 fresh Anaheim chile
• 1 serrano chile, finely chopped
• 3 tablespoons finely chopped white onion
• 2 tavblespoons coarsely chopped cilantro leaves and tender stems
• 1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt, plus more to taste
• 3 ripe avacados, haved and pitted, diced and mashed

Directions: 

1. Prepare the Anaheim chile. Place the Anaheim chile on a small baking sheet covred with aluminum foil. Roast it under the broiler, flipping a couple of times, until the chile is wilted and its skin is completely charred and wrinkly. (Alternatively, you can char the chile direclty on a hot comal or a cast-rion pan set over medium heat, or a grill set to high.)

2. Continue to prepare the Anaheim chile. Place the charred Anaheim chile in a plastic bag and close it well. Let it steam and sweat for 5 to 10 minutes. 

3. Prepare the rest of the ingredients. As the Anaheim chile steams, add the serrano chile, onion, cilantro and salt in a bowl or molcajete, and mash until combined. add the avacado and continue to mix and mash until you have formed a chunky puree.

4. Finish the dish. Once the Anaheim chile is cool to handle, remove fromthe bag, slip off the charred skin adn make a slit down the side and remove the seeds and stem. You could rinse the chile under a thin stream of water to help remove the seeds or rinse it off by dipping it into a bowl of water. Finely chop the Anaheim chile. Add to the avocado mixture and stir to combine. Season to taste with salt. 

PEACE.

Edith Dyson's Crab Cakes

"The government killed my grandmother and grandfather when they took that land from them." 

-- Edith Dyson

Almost every recipe comes with a story. Sometimes that story involves the dish itself, or its ingredients. However, every once in a while the story may be part of a larger history lesson. That history will often fade, like the printing on a page, unless there are people who are able and willing to tell it. Recently, I came across the work of someone - Kara Mae Harris - who strives to tell not just the history of recipes in Maryland, but about the people who make them. I came across her blog, Old Line Plate, during a search for historic Maryland crab cake recipes. That is when I was introduced to crabcake recipe of Edith Dyson, which was originally printed in 300 Years of Black Cooking in St. Mary's County Maryland. The recipe was also reproduced by Harris on her blog, with the story, and history, of Edith Dyson and her family.  

John and Louise Dyson
(Source: Library of Congress)

The story actually begins with John Dyson, who was born into slavery in approximately 1860. (Maryland abolished slavery in 1864.) That fact comes from notes that accompany photos of Mr. Dyson taken in 1940. The notes read, "he was born into slavery over 80 years ago." By the time the photos were taken, Dyson was at least 80 years old and married to his wife, Louise Dyson. According to census records, the Dysons also had at least two children, although the records have inconsistencies. 

The photos were taken by John Vachon, a photographer who  worked for the Farm Security Administration ("FSA") from 1940 until 1942. The FSA was an agency born from the New Deal in 1937 (as a successor to the Resettlement Agency). The FSA had a mission to help poor farmers, sharecroppers, tenant farmers and migrant workers by providing loans for land, equipment and livestock. The FSA also provided training and health insurance.

From the documentary evidence, John Dyson had a home and property; and, he also participated in the FSA's loan program. It is unclear what loan he received and how he used it. However, this is where John Vachon and the FSA may shed some more light. The timeless legacy of the FSA is not its loans, but the photography project that Vachon was a part of. The FSA employed Vachon and others for their photography skills, seeking to document the lives of poor rural farmers and sharecroppers. 

Vachon took numerous other pictures of John and Louise Dyson. Many of those pictures appear to involve John Dyson surrounded by pear trees, picking their fruit. For example:

John Dyson picking pears (Source: Library of Congress)

By his 80s, Mr. Dyson was living with his wife in a house in what was known as Fordtown. Perhaps by that time, he may have been a farmer cultivating pears from trees around his house. 

Edith Dyson in the kitchen
(Source: Library of Congress)

However, according to his granddaughter, Edith Dyson, Mr. Dyson originally made his living from the water, not the land. As she recounted, "my grandfather worked the water. There were hotels and families that bought fish from him. These fish were caught on a hook and line; they they were not caught on rod and reels." Having worked the water in St. Mary's County, John Dyson would have been familiar with more than fish. He would have also known about blue crabs. And, while there is much less known about Louise Dyson, John Vachon does provide some visual history in the form of a picture of Louise in the kitchen of her home. 

I would like to think that, at some point, that either Mr. Dyson or Mrs. Dyson prepared crabs in some fashion in the kitchen. It would provide a narrative that could explain why  their grand-child, Edith Dyson, offered up a crab cake recipe nearly thirty years later for a cookbook about African American cooking in St. Mary's County.  This part of the story will most likely be left to conjecture. While Edith gave an oral history about her grandfather and his farm, which is noted in Kara Mae's research, I have been unable to located that audio.

But, I was able to determine what happened to Mr. Dyson's farm. The community of Fordtown, along with Pearson and Jonestown, were seized by the Federal government through eminent domain in 1942. As one homeowner, Webster Bell recounted, "It was in March, a cold, windy day. My wife heard this banging outside and she went to the door and looked out and here was this man, driving a great big 20-penny nail through this stack of papers that looked like a Sears Roebuck catalog." That stack of papers was an eviction notice. The residents -- including the Dysons -- who lived in these small African-American towns, in an area that was then called Cedar Point, were forcibly evicted from their homes. They received money for their land, but, for many (and most likely for Mr. Dyson), it was not a lot. They lost their land and their communities. What was Cedar Point would become known as Naval Air Station Patuxent River. And that all happened roughly two years after the pictures above were taken.

Not every story has a happy ending. Many stories about our country lack that happily-ever-after. We should never delude ourselves into thinking that our past was great. It alway makes me think about the Woody Guthrie quote, "I don't care how good the good old days were for you. They were not good enough for me." Or for those African Americans who lived in Fordtown, Jonestown or Pearson. This crab cake recipe offers a history lesson about entire communities that no longer exist. 

EDITH DYSON'S CRAB CAKES

Recipe (and much of the research) from Kara Mae Harris at Old Line Plate

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• Onion, finely chopped
• Green pepper, finely chopped
• Peanut oil
• Prepared mustard
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup mayonnaise or an additional egg
• Cracker meal
• 1 pound of crab meat
• Breadcrumbs
• Worcestershire sauce
• Salt
• Cayenne Pepper
• Black pepper
• Seafood seasoning

Directions:

Use the above ingredietns according to your tastes and needs. Saute the oinion, green pepper, red pepper (cayenne), salt and seafood seasoning in oil. Do not brown. Beat the eggs and/or maynnaise. Add the sauteed ingredients, worchestershire, salt, pepper and mustard. Gently fold in breadcrumbs and crab meat to mix. Make into cakes or patties. Roll in cracker meal and fry in vegetable or peanut oil until browned.

*     *     *

A post-script to this post, provided by the research of Kara Mae Harris. Edith Dyson recounted a visit with her grandparents after they were forced to relocate to New Jersey. As she recounted, "my grandfather was sitting on the porch and I will never forget it: he was playing his accordion, he was playing 'Look Down that Lonesome Road.' and that is a very sad song. I said, 'Grandfather, don't play that song, don't play that song. You know, play something, say something, let's dance it off. But there was no pleasure in him, everything was gone. There was nothing you could bring up to him that wouldn't bring back St. Mary's County. And we never, we never wanted to remind him of St. Mary's County." 

John Dyson playing his accordion for Louise Dyson (Source: Library of Congress)

PEACE.

Javaher Polow (Persian Jeweled Rice)

Few dishes leave me in awe, and Javaher Polow or Persian Jeweled Rice is one of them. My awe manifests itself in a couple of different ways. On the one hand, I marvel at the visual impact of seeing the dish. Studded with fruits and nuts, it truly looks as if jewels are embedded throughout the dish. On the other hand, I am struck by the complexity of preparing the dish: to create this be-jeweled masterpiece requires time, skill and patience. Many times I feel like I lack all three, and, hence, the dish has been an aspiration of mine for quite some time. 

Yet, the dish has been around much longer than any aspiration. Javaher Polow, also known as Morasa Polow, dates back -- at least -- to the 16th or 17th century, when it graced the royal tables at Qazvin, the capital where the Safavid dynasty ruled an empire stretching from the Caucasus mountains to the Persian gulf, and from Hoveyzeh to Qandahar (which is in modern day Afghanistan). The Safavid empire was one of the longest lasting Persian empires, from 1501 C.E. to 1736 C.E.

Many consider the Safavid empire to be the period of time when Persian cuisine truly developed. It may also be due to the fact that much of the history of Persian cuisine traces back to the Safavids, with sources become more scarce prior to that time. Nevertheless, it is beyond dispute that the Safavid court gave rise to many dining traditions and many dishes that remain a fundamental part of Persian cuisine to this day. Maybe someday I will have the time to truly explore that history, which can be found in manuscripts from the chefs of the royal kitchens, like the Matatolhayat, which recounts the lived experience and recipes of Nurollah, the chef to Shah Abbas I. 

Back to Javaher Polow, this dish involves a process that, depending upon the recipe, can take a lot of time and skill. Fortunately, I found a simplified version of the recipe on Milk Street, which is the website for Christopher Kimball's Milk Street cooking school and magazine. This simplified recipe provided a way for me to try to tackle this recipe without having to master the layering of rice, avoiding the over-cooking or under-cooking of the rice, and to focus on the basics. The simplified recipe enabled me to produce a delicious rice dish that probably ranks in the top 5 of most beautiful dishes that I have ever prepared. 

Having prepared a "simplified" version of Javaher Polow, I have begun to build up the confidence to try recipes from Persian chefs. The goal is to produce an authentic version. While I have more of the skill, and while I work on my patience, I still need to find the time.

JAVAHR POLOW (PERSIAN JEWELED RICE)

Recipe adapted from Milk Street

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 teaspoon saffron threads
• 4 tablespoons salted butter
• 2 medium yellow onions, halved and thinly sliced
• Kosher salt
• Freshly ground black pepper
• 2 cups basmati rice, rinsed and drained
• 2 teaspoons ground cumin
• 1 3/4 teaspoons ground cardamom
• 2 medium carrots, peeled and shredded on the large holes of a box grater (about 1 cup)
• 1 cup dried cranberries
• 1 teaspoon finely grated orange zest
• 1/2 cup shelled pistachios, chopped, divided

Directions:

1. Prepare the saffron water. In a small microwave bowl, combine the saffron with 3 2/3 cups of water. Microwave on high until the water has taken on a yellow hue, about 1 minute. Set aside. 

2. Prepare the rice. In a 12-inch skillet over medium, metl the butter. Add the onions and 1 teaspoons salt, then cook, tstirring occasionally until softened and light golden brown, about 10 to 12 minutes. Stir int eh rice, cumin, cardamom 1/2 teaspoons salt and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Cook, stirring frequently until the grains are light browned and no longer transluscenet, about 4 to 7 minutes. Stir in the saffron water, the carrots and cranberries. Bring to a boil over medium high, then cover, reduce to lw and cook until the rice has absorbed the liquid and the carrots aee tender, 25 to 30 minutes. 

3. Finish the dish. Fluff the rice with a fork, then stir int he orange zest and 1/4 cup of postachios. Taste and season with salt and pepper. transfer to a shallow bowl and sprinkle with the remaining 1/4 cup pistachios. 

PEACE.