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.

 

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. 

 

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.