Ragú Bianco, Italian “White” Meat Sauce for Pasta

 

I used to think Italian meat sauce for pasta was just what gets called “Bolognese,” more correctly “Ragú alla Bolognese,” after the northern Italian city of Bologna. It’s hearty and red and can be quite satisfying. (A recipe for that dish has long been in this blog.) But when I was in northern Italy several years ago, Cortona, in Tuscany, more specifically, I learned of another hearty meat sauce made with cream or milk rather than tomatoes. It is also called “ragú” (the Italian spelling of the French word for stew, ragoût), but is Ragú Bianco, or white ragú.

Ragú Bianco traditionally contains light-colored ground meat, particularly veal or pork. Here, good veal is hard to find and has ethical complexities plus expense. Pork is my favorite. But ground turkey or chicken can be used instead. The sauce often has a little cured pork cooked into it, like pancetta, bacon or even sausage.

 

A spice that is common, though used sparingly, in both the better-known red Bolognese meat sauce (Ragú Rosso) and white ragú is fennel. It gives a subtle, warm, faintly licorice-like essence. Both red and white ragú typically have wine cooked into them.

 

In Italy, the pasta for this ragú is generally an egg-containing flat pasta like taliatelle or fettucine or, wider yet, pappardelle. But, here, an easy-to-get short pasta that the sauce will cling to, like rigatoni or penne rigate, can also work.

 

With pasta in general I like the hearty sheep’s milk cheese, Pecorino Romano, no doubt due to my culinary exposure to Southern Italians when I was growing up. However, for northern Italian dishes, like ragú, the lighter and more elegant cow’s milk cheese Parmesan (Parmigiano-Reggiano) is preferred.

 

The recipe makes enough sauce for a pound of pasta, to serve six or more. But leftovers make a great snack.

1 medium-small carrot, finely diced
1 medium stick celery, finely diced
2 shallots or 1 small onion, finely diced
1 strip of bacon or 2 thin slices of pancetta, finely diced
4 tablespoons olive oil (5 if not using bacon or pancetta)

1 pound ground pork, turkey or chicken

1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper or cayenne
1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

1/8 teaspoon whole fennel seeds or ground fennel

1/8 teaspoon dry thyme
1/2 cup white wine
1/2 cup chicken broth, unsalted preferred
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste

3/4 cup sour cream or heavy cream

1/4 cup milk

1 pound pasta (such as rigatoni or penne rigate)
1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese for topping

In a heavy pan, gently fry the diced vegetables and bacon or pancetta in the olive oil, stirring occasionally, until carrot is tender but not browning. 

 

Raise heat and stir in ground meat, breaking it up as it heats. Add herbs and spices, but not the salt When the raw meat color has fully changed, add wine and simmer several minutes. Then add chicken broth and salt and simmer 10 minutes, covered. Add sour cream or cream plus the milk. Simmer 10 more minutes, stirring occasionally.

 

Taste and add salt if needed (this will depend on whether the bacon and/or the chicken broth were salty). Keep (or reheat) the sauce hot when cooking the pasta.

When sauce is done, cook pasta in a large amount of boiling lightly salted water, stirring frequently at the beginning, so pasta does not stick together. When just tender to the bite, drain pasta well in a colander, but do not rinse.

 

In large serving bowl, toss most of the heated sauce with the freshly cooked, drained pasta. Top with remaining sauce. Sprinkle generously with grated cheese.

 

 

Texas Enchiladas -- Pat’s Easy Specialty

 

I learned this Texas-Anglo enchilada dish during my Atlanta days from a friend who had grown up in Dallas. Pat, a professional woman and avid soccer player, professed to dislike cooking. She certainly disliked being fussy or spending unnecessary time in the kitchen. But her “go-to” guest dish, a Mexican-influenced, family favorite from her childhood, made Pat seem quite the chef.

 

Enchiladas, traditional in Mexico and the American Southwest, and a mainstay at Mexican-American restaurants, are basically tortillas wrapped around a filling and baked covered with a chile-containing sauce and cheese. Mexican enchiladas are typically made with corn tortillas. Pat’s use flour ones. And enchiladas would generally be baked covered with cheese plus a red or green chile sauce. Pat’s are covered with a dairy and cream soup mixture. In Mexico, white enchiladas, though infrequent, are made, though with corn tortillas. They are sometimes called  “Suizas” (meaning “Swiss-style”), indicating milk and cheese rather than red or green salsa.

 

Pat’s time-saving ingredients include prepared foods: canned soup, canned green chilies, packaged shredded cheese. And if it were available back then, she probably would have used a rotisserie chicken. The mildly spicy chicken enchiladas below are based on Pat’s recipe, but I modified it somewhat.

 

Beer would be the drink for a dish like this in either Texas or Mexico, a lager type of beer, not a hoppy IPA. But a Chardonnay will work too.

 

The recipe serves a crowd, at least six people, generously. Leftovers are nice. A colorful vegetable, some avocado, and maybe a simple lettuce and tomato salad would be attractive accompaniments.

 

1 rotisserie chicken

1-1/2 teaspoons salt for chicken

3/4 teaspoon black pepper

2 (4-ounce) cans jalapeño peppers, diced or sliced

8 (8-9-inch – fajita size) flour tortillas

1 (10-1/2-ounce) can Campbell’s condensed cream of chicken soup (if unsalted, add extra 1/2 teaspoon salt)

1 soup-can’s volumn of water

1 soup-can’s volumn of milk

1/2 teaspoon salt for the sauce

12 ounces shredded Mexican-style cheese or mixed mozzarella and cheddar cheese

Sour cream for serving

 

Cut meat off chicken. (Reserve skin and bones for broth for other uses.) Pull meat apart into long pieces. Sprinkle chicken evenly with the salt and pepper. Toss to mix.

 

Drain jalapeños. If slices, chop them coarsley.

 

Lightly oil a 9 by 13-inch casserole dish or pan. Set oven for 375 degrees.

 

Lay tortillas out on flat surface. Place chicken down the middle of each. Sprinkle evenly with canned chilies. Sprinkle with half the cheese. Roll up tortillas and arrange in a single layer in the pan, seam side down.

 

In bowl, whisk together condensed soup, water and milk, plus 1/2 teaspoon salt. Spoon mixture evenly over the enchiladas. Sprinkle with the remaining cheese. (If desired, the casserole can be refrigerated at this point and baked closer to dinner time.)

 

Bake until thoroughly heated, bubbling and beginning to turn golden on top, 35-45  minutes.

 

Serve, accompanied with sour cream.

 

 

Chicken Alfredo Pasta

 

One of my grandkids’ favorite meals is “Chicken Alfredo,” a pasta dish that has evolved far from its origins. As a style, “alfredo” is an elastic, and much-abused, term in Italian-American cooking. And I am as happily guilty as anyone, making Pasta Alfredo with highlights as varied as lemon zest, sun-dried tomatoes, peas, asparagus or even smoked salmon.

 

The original dish, a combination of fresh egg pasta, butter and cheese, dates to 1914, when ALFREDO di Lelio served what he called “Fettuccine ALFREDO” at his restaurant in Rome, “ALFREDO alla Scrofa.” Obviously he liked his name.

 

Cream, not part of the original, is now typical in the dish. Many chefs cook heavy cream down to make the sauce even richer. I use part half-and-half for a lighter version.

 

The recipe serves six. With both chicken and cream, the classic pairing wine would be a chardonnay.

2 cups 1/4-inch-cubed roasted chicken (can use freshly herb-roasted chicken breast)
1 large clove garlic, minced
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup white wine

1 cup (1/2 pint) half-and-half cream

1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon black pepper
1/8 teaspoon grated nutmeg                                                                                    

3/4 pound fettucini, or a short pasta like penne rigate
6 tablespoons grated Romano or Parmesan cheese, plus more for serving                                                                                                                                                                                          

Boil four quarts of water in large pot. Add 1 teaspoon of salt. Keep hot. Prepare meat and other ingredients before cooking pasta. Have a large serving bowl ready for mixing the past and sauce as well as serving it.

 

In medium-sized pan over gentle heat, fry garlic in butter until softened but not browned. Add wine, half-and-half, cream, salt, pepper, and nutmeg. Bring to simmer (not a boil), and simmer 4 minutes. Add chicken and heat just until it’s are hot. Remove from stove. Taste and add salt, if needed.

 

Meanwhile raise heat under pasta water. When it boils rapidly, add pasta and stir well for half a minute so it does not stick together. Boil, stirring occasionally, until pasta is just tender when you bite a piece. Drain in colander but do not shake out water. Transfer to large serving bowl.

 

Add sauce and cheese and toss everything together with two spoons. Taste, and add salt if necessary.

 

Chickpea Salad for Maria – Insalata di Ceci Maria

 

 

With my daughter Maria and her family coming over this evening for a Mediterranean dinner, I had to come up with one more dish to complement the others I had. Those other dishes included marinated roasted chicken kebabs, of Turkish origin, Ratatouille, the Provençal medley of summer vegetables, and rice. Still having fresh herbs in my garden, I opened a can of chickpeas and highlighted them, salad style, with olive oil, wine vinegar, fresh parsley and basil, black olives, tomato, garlic and sea salt.

Bowl by Maria Dondero, Southern Star Studio

 

All of those ingredients are common in Italy, where Maria often teaches ceramics both through the University of Georgia art program in Cortona, in Tuscany, and as part of a women’s cooperative clay studio in the same city. Chickpeas as a major food item go back to at least Etruscan times in central Italy, well before the Romans took over. Chickpea salads are made in various parts of the Mediterranean, including Italy. So this convenient, easy to make, dish seemed to fit geographically and historically, as well as culinarily, into what I needed to balance tonight’s meal. I’ll serve it from a ceramic bowl Maria made.

 

The recipe serves four to six as a side dish.

 

1 (14-ounce) can chickpeas, drained and rinsed twice

1 small tomato, cored and cut in narrow wedges

12 pitted black olives (such as Kalamata), halved crosswise

1 medium large clove garlic, finely minced

3 sprigs fresh parsley, leaves coarsely chopped

8 medium-large leaves fresh basil, coarsely chopped (or 1/2 tsp dry oregano)

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons wine vinegar, white or red

1/2 teaspoon sea salt, plus more to taste

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

 

In a mixing bowl, combine the chickpeas with the remaining ingredients. Stir well. Allow the mixture to sit for at least half an hour, mixing it occasionally. Taste and add salt and/or a little more vinegar to your taste.

 

Serve in a shallow bowl.

 

Deviled Ham Spread

 

 

I fondly remember Underwood Deviled Ham from my childhood, from the small round can with the iconic perky little red devil on the label. It’s still available, but the Underwood Company, founded as an innovative food canning company by William Underwood in Boston in 1822, was bought by a series of other big food companies beginning in 1982. Underwood’s Deviled Ham was created in 1868 as a mixture of ground ham, mustard powder, and various other spices. The culinary term “deviled” typically connotes seasoned with mustard, hot and black pepper.

I’ve made my own deviled ham spread occasionally as a buffet appetizer, but most recently at a family gathering where my daughter Anna and I prepared a number of spreadable salads – chicken, tuna, egg, as well as deviled ham – for a luncheon served with artisanal breads and crackers. It reminded me of how easy this version of deviled ham is to make from ingredients available at the supermarket.

 

Here’s my recipe. It will serve six to eight or more people as part of a buffet meal, or can be made into sandwiches with or without lettuce. The recipe is easily multiplied to serve more people at a gathering. The spread should be made ahead, maybe the day before serving, and allowed to mellow and blend its flavors.

 

1/2 pound smoked ham  thinly sliced at the deli counter

4 teaspoons Dijon or spicy brown mustard (not yellow hot dog style)

3 teaspoons mayonnaise

1/4 teaspoon vinegar

1/4 teaspoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

1/8 teaspoon cayenne

 

Finely mince the sliced ham, either on a cutting board with a chef’s knife or in a food processor (keep it a little coarse, not turned into a paste).

 

Combine the minced ham with the remaining ingredients in a bowl, mixing well. Cover and store the mixture in the refrigerator for a few hours, or preferably overnight. Mix well before serving in a shallow bowl.

 

Serve with interesting bread or low-salt crackers.

 

Basil-braised Baby Potatoes

 

 

I was sort of aware of baby golden potatoes, but hadn’t really cooked with them. That is, until one of our daughters this summer gave us half bag of them, along with other perishable loose ends, to use up as she and her family headed off on vacation. Now I’m trying to figure which preparation with them is my favorite.

 

While Italian-type basil still flourishes in my garden, braised baby potatoes with basil is my new go-to easy side dish. It nicely accompanies grilled meat or salmon and doesn’t need any gravy or sauce. Maybe in winter some other version will emerge, since these potatoes are so simple to prepare and so delightful.

 

The recipe serves 4-6 as part of a dinner meal. The potatoes can be cooked fresh before dinner or prepared ahead and quickly re-fried to serve.

 

3/4 pound (12 ounces) baby golden potatoes

1 small shallot or 1/4 of an onion

3 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons water

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

Small pinch nutmeg

Small pinch cayenne

10 medium-sized fresh basil leaves, sliced

 

Rinse but do not peel potatoes, rubbing the outsides well. Cut potatoes into halves then each halt across into half. Peel and finely chop the shallot or onion. Have the other ingredients ready.

 

Heat to medium hot a heavy frying pan or sauce pan that has a lid. Add the olive oil and potatoes. Stirring very frequently and scraping the bottom of the pan with metal spatula, fry for 2 minutes.

 

Add water, shallot or onion, salt, spices and sliced basil leaves. Stir then fry 2 minutes, covered, then stir and scrape again. Cover and fry another 2 minutes. Continue the alternating frying and stirring until the potato is tender when tested with a toothpick. If potatoes are drying add a tablespoon of water as needed. Taste and if needed add a little salt.

 

Keep warm if to be eaten soon, or cool, refrigerate, then re-fry to heat for serving.

 

Gourmet (“Best Damn”) Sloppy Joes, to Feed a Crowd on the Cheap

 

With prices on beef rapidly rising, maybe it’s time to crank back out the casual dish that used to feed a lot of people for limited money. Its a fun dish I always liked, whether at the high school cafeteria or at home feeding a crowd.

 

“Sloppy Joes” emerged, obscurely, from Depression-era America as a way to season and stretch ground beef. It’s a sort of cheeseburger with all the fixings thrown together while cooking. Spooned onto a bun, the savory mixture is irregular and can drip a little as you eat it. Thus, I guess, the “sloppy.”

 

Decades ago, when my wife graduated from college and we had little money, Christina’s rich relation, the substantial Aunt Babby, came to the graduation and to our celebratory picnic after it. I served Sloppy Joes. Having grown up with Old Money in New York City, fed sumptuously by family servants and at classy restaurants, Babby announced gamely, “Well, I don’t believe I’ve ever had a Sloppy Joe before!” Returning vigorously for seconds, she declared, “Well, that’s the best damn Sloppy Joe I ever ate!”

 

Sloppy Joes combine hamburger (or ground turkey nowadays) with onions, ketchup, mustard, cheese and seasonings. I stretch it even further with bulgar wheat. They’re are served on hamburger buns or Kaiser rolls. Pickles, coleslaw or salad accompany the dish well. Sloppy Joes cry out for beer, especially at a picnic or tailgaiting. But hearty, not too pricey, red wines also do fine.

 

The recipe serves 6 people. Leftovers keep and reheat well.

 

1/3 cup bulgur wheat (available at whole food and health food stores)

1 pound ground beef (80 % lean or more) or ground turkey

1 large onion, finely chopped

1 small or 1/2 large carrot, grated

1 large bay leaf

1 medium-large clove garlic, minced or put through garlic press

5 teaspoons chili powder

1 teaspoon paprika

1 teaspoon oregano

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground allspice

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

1 tablespoon tomato paste or 2 tablespoons ketchup

1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

1 1/4 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

5 teaspoons sugar

7 teaspoons cider vinegar

3 ounces cheddar cheese, cut in small cubes or grated

 

Soak the bulgur wheat in about 3 cups of hot water for 30 minutes. Drain in a sieve. Meanwhile, fry the meat in a heavy, non corrosive pot, breaking up the meat and stirring frequently. When the juices start to dry down, set the pot off the heat, make a cavity in the meat, and spoon out and discard the majority of grease. Return the meat to the heat and add the chopped onions. Stir frequently, cook until the onions are translucent. Add the grated carrot, bay leaf, and garlic. Cook over medium heat, covered, stirring from time to time, until the carrot bits are tender. Lower the heat, add the dry seasonings, and cook, stirring, for a minute. Add the tomato paste (or ketchup) and mustard. Simmer, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Add the drained bulgur, and cook, stirring occasionally (the bulgur makes the mixture stick to the bottom a little), for 5-10 minutes, until the bulgur is tender when you bite it. Do not add water unless the mixture is very dry. Stir in the salt toward the end of this cooking. 

 

Add the sugar and vinegar, and let simmer, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Taste and add salt if needed. Stir in the cheese, and heat, stirring frequently, until the cheese is melted and no longer is stringy. Remove the bay leaf. Taste a final time and add salt if necessary. You can also add a little sugar or vinegar, to taste.

 

It’s best to make the Sloppy Joes a few hours or up to several days ahead of time, refrigerate, then reheat to serve. Check the salt before serving.

 

Serve on Kaiser rolls or burger buns, A little grated cheese can be served on top of the mixture, if desired. Accompany by coleslaw (or salad) and/or pickles.

 

 

 

Chopped Pork braised with Peaches, for Georgia

 

 

Prices are getting higher as we appear headed into inflation at the grocery store. It’s feeling once again like the recession we experienced in the early 2000s. That’s when I started my first recipe blog. I named it “Gourmetfauche,” which is French slang for the broke, or impoverished, gourmet. In it I used virtually no nice cuts of beef or lamb and no shrimp or salmon, except around St. Patrick’s Day (despite my Italian surname, I’m mostly Irish). There was plenty of ground meat and chicken thigh.

 

Right now I’m feeling like I did back then. And I created an inexpensive dinner dish with my adopted home state of Georgia in mind: braised chopped pork with peaches. It goes well with seasoned (“dinner”) grits and a green vegetable. It’s a little reminiscent of “Breakfast for Dinner,” since the pork is flavored like breakfast sausage.

 

I initially tried a barbecue-flavored pork with the peaches, but without the long moist smoking it wasn’t very successful or convincing with the chopped pork. So I switched the seasonings to resemble breakfast sausage. With grits, such as dinner grits (described elsewhere in this blog, July 30, 2023) or simply white breakfast grits, and a green vegetable, it makes an economical but tasty evening dinner. And it suggests, if not celebrates, Georgia.

 

The recipe serves four to six people. Accompany with seasoned grits plus a green vegetable. Salad would also accompany it well.

 

1 pound ground pork, not too fatty

1 large peach, peeled and stoned, finely chopped

1/4 small onion or a small shallot, finely chopped

1 hot pepper, finely chopped or 3/4 teaspoon crushed dry pepper

1 teaspoon paprika

3/4 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon dry thyme

1/2 teaspoon dry marjoram or savory

1 teaspoon salt

Parsley for garnish, minced or in small pieces

 

In a heavy pan, place pork, peach, onion or shallot, and all seasonings except salt. Heat and stir very frequently until the pork’s color fully changes. Add salt, and cook over low heat for 15 minutes or until tender. If the meat dries, add a little water. Taste and add salt if needed.

 

The dish can be served now, or refrigerated and reheated (microwave or stove top). Either sprinkle with minced parsley or place a few small pieces of parsley on top. Accompany with grits (fancier dinner grits or simpler breakfast grits) plus a green vegetable.

 

Figs with Prosciutto – Prosciutto e Fichi

 

At peak season right now in northeast Georgia, figs are luscious. We have two very productive trees at the restaurant. Most of the harvest (that survives eating right off the tree) is destined for fig chutney, which stores well and is used in some of our baked goods and appetizers. But for several weeks fresh figs lend themselves to a special treat from northeastern Italy, served cut into halves (quarters if larger than ours) and topped with a small curl of dry-cured Italian Prosciutto ham. 

 

Figs are one of the earliest fruits domesticated by humans, dating back about 6500 years in the Near East. Prosciutto is pretty ancient too, dating back to at least early Roman times, with several written descriptions from that era. The city of Parma was noted in 200 BC to be a center of the production. Prosciutto di Parma, is still one of the most valued of the dry-cured hams from Italy.

 

Making prosciutto is simple in concept, though complex in practice. Hind legs from specially reared pigs are skinned and deboned then cured in salt for one to two months to extract all liquid and to prevent spoilage or harmful organisms. The hams are then rinsed off and hung to dry for many months, up to three years..

 

Prosciutto is typically sliced and sold paper-thin. It’s fairly expensive, given the long curing process. But it is used in small quantities as charcuterie and to highlight pasta dishes, fresh mozzarella and other cheeses, and fruits like melon, peaches and figs.

 

Other than finding fresh tasty figs, and the sometimes painful price on prosciutto, making Prosciutto e Fichi is simple. The dish serves as a starter course or an antipasto.

 

The recipe is based per person, but the quantity is easily multiplied according how many people are eating.

 

For each person:

4-5 small figs or 2-3 larger ones

1 thin slice prosciutto

 

Cut stems off figs. If using smaller figs, split them in half lengthwise. For larger ones cut them lengthwise into quarters. Lay them out on an attractive plate or platter.

 

Cut 1 slice of prosciutto per person crosswise into the number of pieces needed to cover the fig pieces for 1 person. Either drape a piece of prosciutto over fig piece, or roll or fold the prosciutto piece and place on top of the piece of fig, whichever method looks better for the figs used.

 

Allow to sit at least ten minutes for flavors to blend a little. Serve at room temperature.

 

 

French Cucumber Salad with Sour Cream and Dill

 

 

I first had this dish many years ago in Lyons, France. It was prepared by an excellent cook who was also a medical researcher I was visiting. The salad was the cooling starter course for dinner on a warm summer evening. It’s easy to make, particularly if you use a vegetable slicer for slicing the cucumber. Although the salad was originally finished with crème fraiche (French cultured heavy cream), American sour cream or plain Greek-style yogurt do almost as well.

 

The recipe serves six as an appetizer course or side dish for dinner.

 

2 large regular cucumbers or one long (plastic sleeved) cucumber

8 ice cubes

1/2 teaspoon salt for preparing cucumber plus 3/4 teaspoon for seasoning the salad

1 small shallot or 1 large scallion (green onion)

1 tablespoon white vinegar (wine or distilled)

1 teaspoon sugar

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

2 tablespoons freshly minced dill (reserving 1 teaspoon of it for garnish)

1/4 cup crème fraiche, sour cream, or Greek yogurt

 

Peel cucumbers thinly, leaving some green color. Quarter them lengthwise. If the seeds are large, cut off and discard seed section. Slice cucumbers very thinly (a vegetable slicer makes this easier). 20 minutes before serving time, mix sliced cucumbers with ice cubes, enough water to reach the surface of the cucumbers, plus 1/2 teaspoon salt. Mix together gently and allow the mixture to sit for 5 minutes. Drain well.

 

Slice shallot or scallion (green part also) very thinly and add to the cucumber. Add vinegar, sugar, pepper, most of the dill, and 3/4 teaspoon salt. Stir well. Allow to sit at least 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt and add a little if necessary.

 

Just before serving, drain away the juices. Add crème fraiche, sour cream or yogurt and mix in well. Taste and adjust salt, if necessary. Spoon into a shallow, attractive dish and dust with the reserved dill.

 

Chicken Sautéed with Fresh Herbs – Pollo alle Erbe

 

 

With fresh herbs lush in my garden right now, I was reminded of a delightful dish I first had many years ago in Tuscany outside Florence at the home of a college friend of my wife who had moved to Italy and married an Italian. Nancy cooked the dish while we talked and nibbled homegrown olives and oiled, garlic-rubbed bread. I remember that she sautéed the chicken in their own olive oil and deglazed the pan with local white wine. I can’t recall for sure if she finished the dish with cream, but I now do that. She probably didn’t use cream, which is not as common in Tuscan cooking as it is further north in Italy. More likely she finished the dish with grated Parmesan. But I’m sticking with cream.

 

She served the sautéed chicken with some sort of pasta. I also recall that she, her husband and I drank a light-bodied Chianti with dinner, that was made by a friend in their town.

 

For the chicken as I make it, a good accompaniment is a pasta or rice dish, or polenta or seasoned grits. A colorful vegetable like broccoli or asparagus goes well, as does a simple salad. At a fancy Italian dinner the salad would be served after the main course, but for a simpler meal, especially at home, the salad can be served with the main course. Italians would include bread freshly cut or torn off  the loaf to sop up the sauce.

 

A light-bodied red wine like Chianti or Pinot Noir or a fuller-bodied white wine like a Chardonnay or Viognier, in my opinion, pair nicely with this. Italians, especially at home, traditionally drink their wine from small tumblers rather than stem glasses.

 

The recipe serves six people, but leftovers are enjoyable.

 

1 1/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken breast (2 large or 3 medium breast halves)

1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon black pepper plus 1/2 teaspoon cornstarch for the chicken

3 tablespoons (loosely packed) chopped fresh herbs (at least three of the following: chives, sage, marjoram, rosemary, thyme, oregano, basil, mint)

4 tablespoons thinly sliced shallot or onion

1 medium clove garlic, minced

2 teaspoons minced parsley for garnish

3 tablespoons olive oil

1/4 cup white wine

1/2 teaspoon salt for the sauce, plus more to taste

1/4 cup sour cream

1/4 cup water

 

Trim off fatty or tough parts from the chicken. Cut each breast piece lengthwise down the middle. Then slice each piece crosswise into 1/8-inch thick slices. Mix sliced chicken well with the salt, pepper, and cornstarch. Set aside.

 

Coarsely chop an assortment of at least three fresh herbs to make a total of 3 tablespoons. If using heavier-flavored herbs like rosemary, marjoram or thyme, use a little less of them and more of the lighter-bodied herbs. Set aside.

 

Prepare the shallot or onion and the garlic. Set them aside. Mince parsley leaves and set aside 2 teaspoons of them for eventual garnish.

 

Heat a large frying pan to medium hot. Add olive oil, and as soon as it’s hot, add the marinated chicken and stir and fry it until the color has fully changed. Add the prepared herbs, shallot or onion,  garlic, and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Stir the chicken well and cook one more minute while stirring. Add wine and stir and fry for another minute to dry down a little.

 

Add the sour cream and water, stir well while continuing to fry until boiling and sour cream is well mixed in. Remove from heat. Taste the sauce and add a little salt if needed.

 

Serve with pasta, rice, polenta or grits. Sprinkle with minced parsley. 

 

Roasted Butternut Soup

 

I’ve loved butternut squash since I first encountered it as a kid growing up in southern New England. My father, skilled at farming, tried the then new vegetable in our family garden, where I used to tag along and “help.” Butternut seed had just become available about 1950 (please don’t do the math), and butternut quickly replaced the traditional Hubbard as the favorite winter squash. Butternut is now grown throughout the world because of its excellent eating and storing qualities.

 

As its name indicates, the squash is both buttery and nutty in flavor. These features are most pronounced when the fruits are fully mature, with the skin thick and uniformly tan and the stem hard and dry. The flesh is then rich orange and sweet. Its luscious intensity is further enhanced by baking.

 

Where I grew up, we ate most winter squash boiled, mashed and slathered with butter, or occasionally baked with brown sugar or maple syrup, butter and spices. My mother, a skilled cook but who with four kids didn’t spend time on complex dishes (“if it takes more than one bowl or one pot it’s too fussy”), kept it simple. By contrast, I’ve made soups with butternut, as well as curries, gratins, ravioli filling, other pasta and rice dishes, and even a roasted butternut salad.

 

Here is an evocative favorite for the fall season, roasted butternut soup. It is not too difficult and shows the squash off to advantage.

 

The recipe serves six, but extra soup stores well and seems even better after a day or two. While typically served hot, butternut soup can also be eaten cold like its non-relative, gazpacho.

 

1 large or 2 medium butternut squash (about 2 pounds), ideally ripe and hard

1 small onion, finely diced

A 6-inch piece of celery, finely diced

6 tablespoons butter

5 cups chicken broth (low salt) or vegetable broth

1 1/2 teaspoons salt plus more to taste

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/4 teaspoon oregano

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

A small pinch of ground cloves

(3 tablespoons cashew butter or ground cashews, optional)

Minced parsley or tiny sprouts (leafy parts) for garnish

 

Set oven for 350 degrees.

 

Cut butternut in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Place squash, cut side up, on a baking sheet and roast it until tender when pierced with a toothpick. Let cool.

 

Meanwhile prepare the onion and celery and fry them gently in the butter using the pot in which you will make the soup. Stir frequently and fry until the vegetables are tender but not browned. Remove from the heat.

 

When the baked butternut is cooled somewhat, scoop all the flesh out from the skin. Place it, along with the fried onion-celery mixture and its butter in a food processor or blender (this may need to be in two batches), adding a little of the chicken or vegetable broth. Puree the mixture. Transfer it back into the pot. Add the remainder of the broth, the salt and spices (and cashew butter if used). Simmer for 4-5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Taste for salt, and add a little, if needed, to taste.

 

The soup can be served now, or refrigerated and served hot – or cold – later. Garnish with a little finely minced parsley or tiny leaves from baby sprouts.

 

Borscht – The beautiful beet soup

 

 

The classical “Russian” beet soup, borscht, is not actually Russian. Borscht was created in Ukraine in the 16th century, probably by Ukrainian Cossacks. It’s the beet variant of an earlier peasant soup of wild “hogweed,” from which the Ukrainian, and subsequently Russian, and our, name derives. In other words, that archetypal “Russian” soup actually came from the tough little country Russia is trying to take over. 

 

Borscht is widely loved throughout eastern Europe, particularly in Ukraine, Russia, Belarus, Lithuania, and Poland. While the carmine-red beet version is the best known, there are also white and green borschts. The beet soup typically contains other flavorful vegetables and often meat or poultry. Celery root, “celeriac,” would have been the source of  the celery flavor, since borscht is a winter soup and few cooks in the old days had access to fresh celery in winter. The soup is usually made sweet-sour with lemon juice, citric acid (“sour salt”), or vinegar, and is typically enjoyed with sour cream -- “smetana” -- in both Ukraine and Russia.

 

The Jewish version of borscht (Eastern European Jewry closely overlapped areas where the beet soup is made) usually omits meat. Mosaic Law forbids combining dairy – like borscht’s essential sour cream – and meat. Borscht was introduced to the US by Yiddish-speaking Ashkenazi Jews who migrated in large numbers from Ukraine, Belarus and Russia in the early 20th century. Thus borscht here is usually thought of as a fairly clear, simple vegetarian beet soup, even though in its native Ukraine the soup is substantially chunky and meaty.

 

Here, in support of  the beleaguered country where the soup originated, is a meaty Ukrainian-style borscht. I also suggest  how to prepare a non-meat version. Whichever way you make it, serve borscht with a generous dollop of sour cream, and maybe some fresh dill, to stir in as you savor the soup.

 

There is a culinary trick for making the soup as red as possible. The beets are cooked in the soup broth whole and unpeeled. Some color will leach into the broth, but cooking lightens it. When tender, the beets are removed, cooled, peeled and diced or grated to be re-added to the soup at the end. 

 

The recipe serves six to eight, but leftovers are great later. Serve hot in individual soup bowls, with a dollop of sour cream for diners stir in.

 

Ukrainian-Style Borscht, with Meat

 

1 to 1-1/2 pounds pork with bones, such as shoulder steak or shoulder “chops”

2 quarts water

1-1/2 pounds red beets

1/2 pound celery root (“celeriac”)

2 large carrots

1 medium-large onion

1/4 head red cabbage (green can be substituted)

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

1/4 teaspoon dry thyme

3 1/2 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

5 tablespoons white or cider vinegar (5% acidity)

3 tablespoons sugar

Sour cream for serving

Sprigs of fresh dill (optional) for garnish

 

Cut the pork into large chunks and keep the bones. Bring meat and bones to a boil with the water in a soup pot, then allow to simmer.

 

Rinse the beets, then without peeling them, add them to the simmering meat. Saving both the peels and roots, peel the celeriac and cut off the entangled root sections. Rinse the peels and roots in a bowl of water, allowing any sand to settle to the bottom. Add the peels and roots to the simmering meat and beets to flavor the broth. Allow the pot to simmer, covered, for half an hour or more, depending on the size of the beets. With a toothpick pierce several beets to test for tenderness. When they are tender, remove them with a slotted spoon to a bowl.

 

Remove and save the meat and bones. Strain the broth into a bowl, and discard the celeriac peels and roots. Measure the broth and return it to the soup pot, and add enough water to make 2 quarts.

 

Cut the meat off the bones and cut it into 1/4-inch pieces. Add the cut-up meat to the broth. Discard the bones.

 

Cut the peeled celeriac into 1/4-inch cubes. Peel the carrots and cut then into 1/4-inch pieces. Peel the onion. Halve it then slice it 1/4-inch wide then cut the slices into 1/4-inch pieces. Add these three vegetables to the broth and bring it back to a boil. Reduce the heat so that the soup simmers. Skim off any foam that forms.  Add the pepper and thyme but not the salt. Simmer, stirring occasionally until the vegetables are tender, 10-12 minutes. 

 

Meanwhile, cut out the core of the cabbage, and cut cabbage first into 1/4-inch slices then crosswise into 1/4-inch pieces. Set aide. Peel the cooked beets and cut the beets into 1/4-inch cubes. Set aside separate from the cabbage.

 

When the simmering vegetables are tender, add the cut-up cabbage. Simmer it until it is becoming tender, 10 minutes or so. Add the salt, and simmer a few more minutes, until the cabbage is fully tender. Add the reserved, diced cooked beets plus the vinegar and sugar. Bring to a boil and simmer one minute. Remove from the heat.

 

Skim off any foam from the surface. Taste the broth and several pieces of vegetable. Add a little salt if needed. Add a little more vinegar and/or sugar if needed to make it sweet-sour to your taste. The soup can be served now or, when cool, refrigerated and reheated later.

 

Serve hot in wide soup dishes. Place several tablespoons of sour cream in the center of each bowl of soup. If desired, place a sprig of dill on top of the sour cream.

 

Vegetarian Borscht

 

This version of the soup can be eaten hot or chilled. It is made without meat, but the “umami” quality is replaced by simmering in some mushrooms. Mushrooms, freshly gathered in the woods in summer, and dried mushrooms during the rest of the year, are common cooking ingredients in Eastern Europe.

 

Check the head notes at the start of the meat version of the soup, above. Follow that recipe, but omit the meat. Simmer the beets plus the celeriac peels and roots as above. Handle the beets as above, and strain out the celeriac peels and roots as above.

 

Add 1/2 pound of fresh mushrooms, either regular white or “Baby Bella,” cut into 1/4 inch dice to the other cubed vegetables in the recipe above.

 

Whether served hot or cold, add the sour cream to the soup bowls for diners to stir in.