Buenos Aires Herald

Cook gently and carry a pink stick

Gatuzo a la Vasco

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

A couple of weeks ago I promised you a gatuzo a la vasca recipe. I try not to make idle promises, so somewhere down below we’re going to get there. But let’s start with gatuzo. It’s a fish that, if you frequent your local seafood market, you’ll see laid out in fillets, often with the spine still attached. It goes by one of two names here, gatuzo which would lead one to think something cat-like, or palo rosado, “pink stick” (and not to be confused with the pez palo, a completely different fish), which is eminently descriptive, because once you trim off the bones and fins and all that, it’s pretty much what you’re left with – a somewhat long rectangle of pink fish flesh.

So what is it? It’s a shark. A small shark belonging to the “smooth-hound”, “ground shark”, or “hound shark” family, Triakidae, just to get all scientific on you. While some species within the family can grow up to 1.5 meters long and weigh in at around 13 kilos, the particular species we see here, Mustelus schmitti, doesn’t surpass about 90 centimeters, and in casual moments in those scientific circles, is known as the narrownose smooth-hound. It was “discovered”, officially – though obviously locals were long familiar with it – in 1938 by one Stewart Springer, a norteamericano shark expert. Mustelus, by the way, means weasel – so now we’ve got local names implying cats (and there is a whole different family of catsharks), and Latin classification implying hounds (which might include the whole family of dogfish) and weasels. One could be forgiven for giving it up as a non-starter and just buying a piece of salmon, you know?

Now wait a minute – what about the whole shark thing? You know, the campaigns against fishing for sharks, the anti-finning movement, all that. It is indeed an issue – but the primary one is that of either by-catch when fishing for other species, or the practice of finning and then tossing the sharks back in the water without their fins, left to die. In fact, the former was a serious issue here in Argentina, enough so that from 2004 until 2008 fishing for gatuzo and the use of certain types of nets was completely banned (which is interesting, because I don’t recall the local shops not having the fish available, so clearly it wasn’t being enforced). Since 2008 an “artisanal fishing” system has been in place that limits the places, methods of fishing, and types of nets used, as well as size of fish allowed to be kept for consumption. This has resulted in the regrowth of a once threatened population, and the some 200 tons of the shark that are caught and sold here and overseas each year now represents a small fraction of the numbers that exist. So, one of the sharks that, at least for now, can be consumed with clear conscience.

Palo Rosado a la Vasca (Basque-style Pink Stick)

4 150-200gm palo rosado filets or other firm-fleshed white fish
1 large red bell pepper, julienned (cut in long thin strips)
1 large onion, finely julienned
2 large potatoes, peeled and diced in 1 cm cubes
2 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
240 ml of white wine
3 tablespoons chopped parsley
2-3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
salt and white pepper

Boil the potato dice until just barely soft, drain. Meanwhile, cut the various vegetables, and make sure you removed the spine from the fish filets – one nice thing about working with sharks, they don’t have bones other than the spine. Saute the onions, garlic, and pepper strips in half the olive oil until limp. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Coat the bottom of a baking pan or cast-iron skillet with the remaining oil. Place the fillets in the pan and sprinkle with half the paprika and parsley, along with a bit of salt and pepper. Cover with the cooked potatoes (you could also go with thinly sliced rather than diced if you prefer). Cover with the onion and pepper mixture. Sprinkle the remaining paprika and parsley over the top and pour the wine over the whole thing. Place in a 180°C oven and cook for 15 minutes until the fish is cooked through and the top of the “casserole” is just lightly browned. Serve and enjoy!

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Red, White and delicious all over

Fagottini di radicchio

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

I’ve mentioned before that I often hear people asking about not just what one unusual vegetable or fruit is, but what to do with it. At my little neighborhood verdulería the proprietor takes great pains to call other customers over and ask me to explain what to do with one or another that he’s gotten in stock. Sometimes I think he goes and looks for something different just to see if he can trip me up – thankfully so far I’ve been able to hold my own in the recipe challenges.

‘Tis the season and all that, he’s recently gotten in all sorts of lovely winter vegetables, particularly things like cabbages and endives and the like. One of my favorites of the genre is radicchio, those glowingly beautiful heads of maroon and white leaves. Now, 99% of the time when I see them used in restaurants, they’re simply used in salads, providing a little bitter note and color in contrast to the sweetness and variegated green-ness of various lettuces. While delicious there, that wouldn’t be much of a recipe.

The interesting thing is, that like many other hearty vegetables of similar sort, that bitterness is tamed and changed by cooking – roasting and grilling are particularly good and bringing out the hidden sweet notes and tamping down the bitterness. Radicchio also pairs beautifully with nuts – walnuts and hazelnuts are personal favorites, and also with fruits in the family of pears, apples and quinces.

Let’s take a quick moment to just note what radicchio is – it’s a member of the chicory family – the same family of vegetables whose roots are dried and ground and added to coffee in many parts of the world to soften the bitterness of the brew. Ironic, no? The family includes radicchios (of which there are several types), chicory itself, endives – and not just the “Belgian” endive or witloof that we think of in its torpedo shape of pale green and white, but also frisée and escarole, which are both endives as well. Radicchio’s two most common varieties are the Chioggia – the globe shaped, cabbage like version that most of us are familiar with and which is the only one found here in BA, and the Treviso, which is shaped like a Belgian endive, but decked out in maroon and white colors.

So, on to the cooking, and my version of a favorite dish from the Veneto to tempt you into trying out a head of this little used vegetable….

Fagottini di Radicchio – Radicchio Pies

8 hojaldre (puff pastry) style empanada rounds
1 small head of radicchio (roughly 150 gm)
1 shallot, finely chopped
200 gm cuartirolo cheese
1 pear, diced small (½ cm)
12-15 hazelnuts, toasted and coarsely chopped
1 egg
2 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper

Rinse and chop the radicchio, removing the hard core, and saute in a pan with oil, shallots, salt and pepper until the radicchio is just wilted. Remove from heat and let cool.

Empanada rounds are typically about 12 cm. You’ll need four of approximately that diameter. Take another four and cut out rounds using a cookie cutter of about 8 cm. Butter 4 ramekins that are 8 cm in diameter (you can adjust here – if you’ve got slightly smaller or larger ramekins, just adjust the dough diameters to fit) and line with the larger dough rounds, covering the bottom and up the sides. Divide the radicchio between the ramekins and then top with the pear dice and chopped hazelnuts. Divide the cheese in four equal parts and mold into a round and press down over the filling. Classically you’d also add a slice or two of white truffle just under the cheese, if you have a good quality white truffle oil, you could add just a drop or two at the most to the pear and hazelnut mix.

Beat the egg with the milk. Cover the filling with the smaller rounds of dough and press down to pack tightly. Fold in the outer edge of the bottom round and pinch together to seal well. Brush the surface with the egg wash and bake in a 200̊C oven for 15 minutes, until the dough is golden brown and puffed.

Remove from oven and tip each fagottino (“bundle”) out carefully (two oven mitts are a good idea here), brush the sides with more of the egg wash and return to the oven on the same baking sheet to brown the sides well. Serve hot or warm as an amazing little dinner party appetizer.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Go fish

Baked whole fish

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

It’s a common refrain to hear that porteños don’t eat or like fish. And there are certainly fewer in the way of seafood restaurants in this city than those serving up the national beef. No question some of that is the long standing gaucho mystique and tradition of the open range and great hunks of meat cooked up over open flame. But part of it is based on decades or longer of a simple lack of supply of good quality fish and shellfish to the capital.

Until not that long ago a fish would find itself caught somewhere off the southern coasts, ranging from Mar del Plata down to Ushuaia. From there it was plopped unceremoniously atop a bed of ice along with a number of its brethren, a crate of iced down fish got shoved into the back of an unrefrigerated truck and a driver drove from hundreds or thousands of kilometers to BA in a manner that would make a local colectivo “pilot” jealous. Still, it could take a day or two to get here, get processed through the Mercado Central, and distributed to retail outlets – by then, the chances of freshness were dimming rapidly.

But recent years have seen the implementation of refrigerated and/or frozen transport in controlled containers and trucks, and even crates of the best of the catch showing up in the belly of aircraft arriving from points south. With that, and a general tendency towards a more varied and perhaps even healthier diet, fish is showing up more and more on menus, and in more and more homes, as a choice for dinner.

Now, you can pick up your typical fillet of one fish or another at any local fish store, and perhaps we’ll get to some interesting ways to prepare one or another of those. In fact, I feel a gatuzo a lo vasco coming on in a future column. But for the moment, I wanted to look at a classic local preparation of pescado al horno relleno – oven-baked stuffed fish. It’s a simple dish, a whole fish is butterflied open, sprinkled with sauteed onions, scallions, salt, pepper and thyme, then it’s closed back up, topped with bread crumbs and lemon juice, and classically, and, to my mind unfortunately, served up with “abundant white sauce”, along with, perhaps, a vegetable pudding of carrots or squash.

Until we get to that heavy bechamel it’s all sounding fairly delicious, but there’s something about a heavy, floury, milk based sauce ladled over a fish that sounds like we’re just trying to cover up the fact that it’s a fish on the table. Even the French are not as enamored of bechamel as the Argentines are. So here’s one of my favorite whole fish preparations – easy to make, fresh and vibrant flavors.

Baked Whole Fish

6 garlic cloves
1½ teaspoons salt
2 fresh red or green long chilies, seeded
1 large tomato, peeled and seeded
3 tablespoons tomato paste
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
—–

¼ cup olive oil
salt and pepper
1 whole sea bass (approx. 6 pounds, or slightly over 2 kilos), scaled, gutted and cleaned
Cilantro for garnish

First the fish – “sea bass”. How do we find one here? There are several options in the bass family that will work well for this dish – corvina, mero or chernia would be my first choices.

Preheat oven to 180°C. In a small dry pan lightly toast the cumin seeds until they start to smell aromatic and pop a little. Remove from the pan and slightly crush them. Make a paste of the first six ingredients in a small food processor, blender, or even a mortar and pestle.

Rinse and pat the fish dry with paper towels. Cut three slits in the skin across the fish on both sides, coat with olive oil, sprinkle with salt and pepper. Lay it in a baking pan and coat well with the paste mixture (on both sides). Bake for one hour, approximately, until done. Serve on a platter with a handful of cilantro leaves scattered across it. This can also be done with the fish filleted and laid side by side in the pan, though the baking time will be considerably less – just bake until the fillets are cooked through but not dried out – roughly 15-20 minutes.

And ditch the white sauce.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Pasted

Caprese salad

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

I’m not going to enter the fray and dispute over pasta here in Buenos Aires. For many of us from overseas, pasta here tends to be cooked to a point of limpness that we find too far gone. And, for many from here, what we call al dente they call tan crudo! It’s not an argument worth having and it’s simply a cultural preference and custom.

I will, however, delve into, as I have in a recent column, the world of pasta sauces – it continues on the theme I’ve embarked on recently of pastas, gnocchis, etc. And the sauce of the moment – pesto. Let’s start with what it is, at it’s heart. It’s a pounded paste. In fact, that’s what the word means – paste. Traditionally it’s made in a mortar and pestle, and made with the freshest ingredients possible, and generally at pretty much the ultimate moment to preserve that freshness.

What it isn’t, is a specific set of flavors. There’s certainly the classic pesto Genovese that comes to mind when the word is spoken – basil, garlic, pinenuts, parmesan – but it’s not just a set of flavors. In the last few years I’ve been subjected to versions of this sauce that have ranged from dried out spaghetti with a sprinkling of dried basil flakes, browned bits of over-cooked garlic, and a dusting of pre-processed grated cheese, to an entire soup bowl filled with olive oil and slices of burnt garlic and chopped spinach with some noodles floating in it. They’ve missed the point.

Just as importantly, Genovese is not the only pesto out there. Truly, if you make a paste to toss with your pasta or spoon on your meat or vegetables, you’ve made a pesto. And getting creative is half the fun – just do it with some respect for the basic ingredients. Can you use a food processor or blender instead of a mortar and pestle? Of course, but it won’t be the same texture nor experience. Here is a trio of my favorites:

Pesto Genovese

1 large bunch of fresh basil
50 gm parmesan, just grated
3-4 cloves of garlic
25 gm pinenuts
50 ml good olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Mash together the first four ingredients to form a coarse paste. Add a teaspoon of water if you need to help it mash. Transfer to a bowl and whisk in the olive oil, a little at time, like making a mayonnaise, in fact, that’s more or less the consistency you’re going for. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Toss with linguini or fettucine, or serve over fresh tomatoes and mozzarella for a refreshing take on a Caprese salad.

Walnut Pesto

250 gm walnuts, ground
50 gm toasted pine nuts
2 cloves garlic
2-3 tablespoons of chopped parsley and/or oregano
100 gm ricotta or mascarpone
100 ml olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

In a mortar or small processor, puree the walnuts, pine nuts, garlic and herb(s). Season the mixture with salt and pound or grind to a smooth paste. Transfer to a bowl, add the cheese and 1 tablespoon of water. Whisk until smooth and then whisk in the olive oil to create a creamy sauce. Excellent served warm (but not cooked) over spinach filled pansoti or ravioli.

Green Olive-Almond Pesto

250 gm fileted almonds
125 gm green olive paste
1 tablespoon hot red pepper flakes
60 ml fresh orange or tangerine juice
60 ml good olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Since the olives are already in a paste, this recipe actually works better in a blender or processor. Simply place all the ingredients in and blend until smooth. Season to taste with salt and pepper. This is delicious over lighter grilled meats – chicken, goat, fish.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

The luck of the gnocchi

Gnocchi with chicken and broccoli

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

Just in time for Gnocchi Day. You do know about El Día de los Ñoquis, don’t you? Surely if you’ve spent time here someone has mentioned that it’s custom to eat these little pillows of potato-y goodness on the 29th of each month. The question is… why? There are several theories.

The most widely accepted one, that most Argentines will tell you, is that, you see, times were tough. And with payday generally being once a month, as the end each approaches the ingredients in the pantry start to run out and there’s no money to buy more. You use the cheapest ingredients – potatoes, flour, eggs – and make your family a big, hearty bowl of gnocchi to dig into and tide you over fora day or two.

Is that the real origin, reaching out to us from the late 1800s? Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s because there have always been patronage jobs, that cadre of folk who get paid by the government but don’t actually work – just show up once a month for a paycheck. They’re called ñoquis too. Some say that a couple of local restaurants around the government offices came up with the “holiday” as a dig.

More cynical folk around claim that one of the big pasta companies here started the tradition as a sales pitch. That one’s not as probable, since back in the 1800s most people probably made their own pastas rather than buying commercial brands. It also doesn’t explain why the custom is widespread in other parts of South America, particularly places with larger Italian populations.

Of course, it could just be because the 29th of each month in the area around Rome is celebrated as San Pantaleon Day and gnocchi are the dish of choice, and has been since long before Argentina was a single nation. It would involve a bit of a reinterpretation, because gnocchi alla romana don’t involve potatoes or rolled pillows of dough, but are generally flat discs of semolina flour, eggs and cheese.

Regardless of the origin, I wanted to prepare you for this month’s Day with my easy way to prepare these little treats, and a simple and healthy alternative to the tomato sauce tinged bechamel that usually is glopped over these. Unless you like that sort of thing.

Gnocchi

1 kg baking potatoes
handful of coarse salt
200 gm flour
1 teaspoon salt
1 egg

Heat your oven to moderate, 180°C. In a baking dish put a layer of coarse salt that just covers the bottom. Set the potatoes on top and stick the pan in the oven and roast them for approximately one hour, until when you stick a knife in it slides in easily. Remove from the oven – we’re going to work with these while they’re hot. Cut the potatoes in half lengthwise and place them, one at a time, cut side down, on a fairly fine sieve and press them through with your hand or a spatula. You should be left with just the skin, which you can toss (or snack on).

Once you have your “riced” potatoes, crack in the egg, the salt, and add the flour. Mix well, it’s best if you do this with your hands as you can feel the mixture. You don’t want to beat this or knead it, just get it all thoroughly mixed together. Break off a handful and roll it on your counter or cutting board into a long rope, about 2 cm in diameter. Using a knife or pastry cutter, cut 1 cm slices on a slight diagonal. Some people like to press the sides with a fork for the distinctive groove pattern – a nice touch if you’re using a sauce because it helps it cling to the gnocchi. I usually just press them in slightly with thumb and forefinger to make a little concave pillow.

You can refrigerate these, lightly covered with a towel, for up to a couple of hours or use them straightaway. When ready to cook them, bring salted water to a boil and then unceremoniously plop the gnocchi in. When they float, they’re ready to remove. Toss with some olive oil and then add your sauce or topping. My pick of the week, chicken breast and broccoli sauteed in olive oil with a little chopped garlic and fresh chilies.

Oh, and don’t forget to stick a one-peso coin under each plate at the table for good luck during the upcoming month! It’s tradition, you know?

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Spag bol, no spag

Pici with chicken bolognese

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

Let’s start with the simple part. Spaghetti alla bolognese isn’t an Italian dish. It’s a British dish that’s been imitated in various other parts of the world, kind of like the American dish of spaghetti and meatballs. It isn’t that spaghetti doesn’t exist in Italy, it does. It isn’t that bolognese sauce doesn’t exist in Italy, it does. But the two together, just not happening. You see, spaghetti is a southern pasta, virtually always a dry pasta that’s then boiled up to an al dente texture. And Bologna, the city to which alla bolognese refers, is the capital of Emilia-Romagna, in the north. Keep in mind that Italy didn’t exist as a unified nation until just a century and a half ago.

Let’s stay with the sauce for a moment. Bolognese is a type of ragú (note the reversed accent from the way most people spell it – spell it ragú and it needs to be capitalized as it’s a commercial sauce brand) which more or less means “sauce”, specifically a meat-based sauce. But, it’s a relatively recent term, as, prior to Napoleon’s invasion in 1796, and the introduction and influence of the French term ragoût, which means “to stimulate the appetite”, there are no historical references to the local meat based sauces under that term. What we think of these days as sauces were not served with pasta, rice, or over any other starches, but were offered up as simple stews.

The first recorded instance of combining the two was in the late 1700s, when Alberto Alvisi, chef to the cardinal of Imola, served a local meat stew over maccheroni (which in the vernacular is simply a generic term for pasta, not the little elbows we’re familiar with as macaroni). By the 1830s meat sauces as pasta toppings were becoming all the rage in Emilia-Romagna, and by the late 1800s, with Italy newly unified, the concept spread to other parts of the country.

In Bologna, to make a point, bolognese is simply referred to as ragú, because why refer to it as the sauce made in the style of the Bolognese in its home town. The sauce is classically served with only two pastas, over tagliatelle or layered with lasagna noodles in that classic baked dish. And in both cases, always fresh pasta, never dried. But spaghetti? Dried spaghetti? A southern staple? Not a chance.

Personally, I like bolognese over an even heartier or thicker pasta, something like pici or strozzapreti, the priest stranglers of Tuscany, and that’s the way I tend to serve it. But the sauce is delicious over virtually any decent pasta, even if you resort to espaguettis. To lighten it up a bit I use ground chicken in place of ground beef and pork, at least when I have requests to lighten it up… (if you want to stick with the original, replace the chicken in this recipe with 200 gm each of ground beef and pork, plus 100 gm of chopped bacon).

Bolognese Sauce

1 onion, finely chopped
2 celery ribs, finely chopped
1 carrot, finely chopped
2-3 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
500 gm ground chicken
250 gm mushrooms, sliced
100 gm tomato paste
2 crushed fresh tomatoes
100 ml whole milk
100 ml dry white wine
100 ml water
½ teaspoon thyme leaves
¾ teaspoons salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper

Cook onion, celery, carrot, and garlic in oil in a heavy pot over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add ground chicken and cook over moderately high heat, stirring and breaking up lumps, until no longer pink, about 6 minutes, then add the mushrooms and cook another 2-3 minutes. Stir in tomato paste, tomatoes, milk, wine, water, and thyme and gently simmer, covered, until sauce is thickened, roughly an hour. Add salt and pepper to taste and remove from heat. Makes enough for four servings over fresh made pasta.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

Wheat, not pink, berry

Wheatberry stew

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

The Turkish have their Bugday Çorbasi, the Saudis their Shorobat Il-Jereesh and the Jordanians their Shourbat Freekeh, and the Yemenis, Shorba Burr. From Cyprus, Tarhana; Algeria, Jary; Zanzibar, Shorba; India, Alisa, Poland, Zur, Armenia, Madzoon Abour, and Iran, or Persia, Aash-e Gandom. I could probably keep going, but by the time I was done, I’d have forgotten what I was writing about, and probably put all the celiacs into anaphylactic shock. Because what do these all have in common? They’re wheat based soups. What brought all this on? Monday.

Why Monday? It’s a day in the northwest of Peru, originally from the mountain region, though in modern day centered around the coastal city of Trujillo, when, week in and week out, local cooks prepare a dish called Shambar. It’s a pork and wheat soup, very thick, very hearty, and the reasons behind the Monday only tradition are pretty much lost to time. It’s generally assumed that, being the first day of the work week, it was a way of providing plenty of nutrition to start the week. But that assumes that back in antiquity, in the indigenous cultures, Sunday was somehow a day of rest, if there even was one, as it became after the arrival of the conquistadors. That’s unlikely, unless the day of rest just happened to coincide, and this tradition is reputed to go back well before the Spaniards arrived.

Here in Argentina (though shambar is available at virtually every Peruvian restaurant at Monday lunch), we have the Guiso de Trigo Candeal – no fancy names for us, just tell it like it is, “Durum Wheat Stew”. It’s not one of the more commonly seen one-pot meals, at least not here in Buenos Aires, but it’s a traditional and hearty winter dish from the mountain regions of the country, where it is, I’ve been assured, recommended to be consumed with “a group of brave friends”. I assume that since the only person telling me that is a porteño, that it’s because the stew contains a couple of hot chilies, which require sallying forth valiantly, spoon in hand.

Not surprisingly, as with, it seems most of the stews here, beef and bacon make an appearance. Far be it for me to eschew bacon, the “gateway meat”, and I generally leave it in the dish, it’s a small amount, but if you prefer, leave it out of the following recipe and just add a teaspoonful of liquid smoke, or use smoked salt in place of regular salt, to give that hint of wood smoke. For those of you who don’t cope well with spicy dishes, substitute a red or yellow bell pepper for the chilies.

Wheatberry Stew

250 grams of wheat berries (trigo pelado)
1 large potato, diced (250-300 grams)
100 grams smoked bacon (optional)
1 liter vegetable or chicken stock
2 hot chilies, chopped
3 garlic cloves, minced
3 green onions, chopped
1 red onion, chopped
1 tablespoon smoked paprika
60 ml whiskey
250-300 grams chicken breast, diced
10-12 sprigs of parsley, chopped, stems and all
4-5 sprigs of oregano, leaves stripped off the stems
240 grams canned, peeled plum tomatoes (1 can)
2 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

Wash the wheat grains well to remove any chaff, and then leave to soak in cold water for 20 minutes. Drain. In a good sized pot, saute the bacon (optional, as noted), onions, garlic, chilies, and paprika in the olive oil until the onions are soft. Add the chicken and cook until lightly browned on the surface. Add the whiskey and deglaze the pan to get up any stuck bits, let the liquid absorb. At this point add the remaining ingredients (wheat, potatoes, herbs, tomatoes, and stock), bring to a boil, reduce the heat to minimum and simmer, covered, until the wheat and potatoes are cooked through, approximately 30 minutes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Note: You can also make this dish with whole, unpeeled wheat grains, just soak them overnight and plan on the cooking time being more like 45 minutes; or, with bulgur wheat, which is a cracked type of wheat and takes less cooking time, 15-20 minutes.

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail

A bowl of chic

Hummus soup

Buenos Aires Herald
On Sunday supplement
Food and Wine

For years I’ve maintained that Argentine cooking is the only cuisine on the planet to eschew soups. Oh, there are stews, big heaping one pot meals – we’ve tackled locro and lentejas in this column – but an actual soup? Most of my Argentine friends and guests assert that they only ate soup as small children, or these days when they’re ill, in which case they resort to chicken bouillon cubes dissolved in hot water.

There is, of course, the Spanish derived puchero, a big boil-up of beef and vegetables, and traditionally served in two courses – first the solids, then the broth. But those same friends and guests tell me that these days, they generally just toss the broth, eat the meat and perhaps a bit of the veg. After all, they’re not poor anymore, they can afford to eat meat, meat and more meat, the rest of it is unnecessary. Shades of my home country post-WWII.

But are there actually soups in the Argentine culinary canon? The answer is, traditionally, yes. In modern life perhaps not so much, but the recipes are still out there. Among my favorite Argentine cookbooks is one that lists not only a dozen different ways to make puchero, but another dozen plus actual soups, most of them surprisingly vegetable based (though all, of course, managing to throw in some meat in some fashion or another – bacon, chorizo, beef, chicken). Another lists a solid five dozen different soups, albeit a few are clearly just foreign imports included for convenience.

At my table, a recent addition to our repertoire has proven to be a consistent hit, and it came about while playing around with several Greek and Middle Eastern dish ideas. It’s based on our old friend cicero, the chickpea. The sopa de garbanzos, or chickpea soup, uses a beef broth base and simmers them away with a mix of vegetables – potato, tomato, carrots and escarole – plus, not surprisingly, a good amount of bacon.

So when it comes down to it, this recipe, other than including chickpeas and potato, has really nothing to do with the Argentine one, but it’s become such a favorite that I can’t not share it with you all. The spicing on it is reminiscent of hummus, which was the intent from the beginning. (Take out the potato and the water and puree the rest with olive oil and you’ve got a killer hummus.)

Hummus Soup

250 grams dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in water
1 large potato
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
100 ml tahini (sesame paste)
peel of 1 lemon
2 teaspoon smoked pepper (ideally something middle eastern like aleppo or urfa biber, but smoked paprika will work)
1 teaspoon cumin, toasted
salt to taste (1-2 teaspoons)
1½ liters water

About as easy as it can get – put all the ingredients into a soup pot (use 1 teaspoon of salt at the start, you can add more later, you can’t take it out once added), bring to a simmer and cook until the potatoes and chickpeas are soft. Puree in a blender or food processor. Add salt if needed. Serves 4-6 as a first course.

Now, I like to add a little something to the soup for texture, and over time we’ve come up with several different options. You can emphasize the chickpeas by adding fried chickpeas to the pureed soup. A personal favorite is to lightly char cauliflower florets in a pan or under the broiler, lightly coated with olive oil and ground sumac. Diced roasted beets. Toasted almonds slivers. Unsweetened plain yogurt, perhaps flavored with some lemon or orange juice. Chives and/or green onions. Spiced olive oil. If you could add it to hummus, you could add it to this soup!

A series of recipes and articles that I started writing for the Buenos Aires Herald Sunday supplement, Food & Wine section, at the beginning of 2012. My original proposal to them was to take local favorite dishes and classics and lighten them up for modern day sensibilities. We’re not talking spa or diet recipes, but at the very least, making them healthier in content, particularly salt, fat and portion size. As time went by, that morphed into a recipe column that, while emphasizing food that is relatively “good for you”, wasn’t necessarily focused on local cuisine. At the beginning of 2013 I decided to stop writing for them over some administrative issues, but it was fun while it lasted.

Facebooktwitterredditpinterestlinkedinmail