It’s fairly safe to say that no group, with the exception of the enigmatic gaucho, played as significant a role in defining Argentine national character as the Italians. Primarily (and principally, numerically-speaking) from Liguria (particularly Genoa), Piemonte and Tuscany, but latterly also from Naples and other areas of southern Italy, these Italian immigrants, literally by the million, descended on Argentine soil during the last decades of the 19th century and the inter-war period of the 20th century having a profound effect on the social, cultural, linguistic and gastronomic life of their adopted home. (bear with me, this is going somewhere)

And nowhere in Argentina was this impact greater than in the southern barrios of Buenos Aires, La Boca and San Telmo, the neighborhoods where these Italians began their new lives. A (then) new local slang, lunfardo - which not only features a highly confusing form of wordplay known as vesre that reverses words so tango becomes gotan (as in The Gotan Project) and cafe con leche becomes feca con chele, but which is also littered liberally with words taken from various Italian dialects (for example, laburar (to work) instead of trabajar, manyar (to eat) instead of comer) – grew out of this linguistic melting-pot. And it had a similar effect of Italicizing the Porteño diet with such Italian staples as pizza, pasta, gnocchi, and a variety of Genoese chickpea flatbread known locally as faína (similar to the famous farinata of Genoa we wrote about a while back) accompanying the ubiquitous steak and offal on restaurant menus.

Of course, (and paraphrasing Karl Marx) the Argetin-izing of these Italian staples was also just as much of a historical inevitability, and while we’ll revisit our experiences with Argentine pasta in a later post, the focus here is Argentine pizza, and in particular the Buenos Aires classic dish that is the fugazzetta.

More or less three “types” of pizza are available in Buenos Aires: thin crust (a la piedra), a thicker, more risen (1 inch/2cm thick) doughy kind known as de molde, and media masa which is a half-baked version sold in supermarkets to be finished off in the oven at home. An informal and in no way scientific survey by yours truly indicates that a la piedra places slightly outnumber those selling thicker pies, but many of the most traditional Argentine pizzerias we read about, served pizzas in the latter camp, so it was one of the most famous of these that we endured a sweaty, grimy, two-hour walk across town to visit.

El Cuartito is decorated like the bedroom of an aging (and single) sports fan with faded posters for Las Vegas boxing showdowns cheek-by-jowl with team photos of 1980s Argentine soccer champions sporting the shiny, shortie-shorts popular at the time, and is split into two sections: standing and seated. Claiming a table in the seated section, the gruff, white-jacketed waiter – a dead-ringer for Fredo Corleone from The Godfather – plonked down two menus on our formica-topped table and scurried off.

Glancing at our fellow diners it quickly became apparent that Argentine de molde-style pizza is very different from any pizza we had ever eaten. Laden with masses of yellowy-white melted cheese, dotted sparingly with other toppings (like whole green olives and big slices of tomato) and served on circular wooden boards, it didn’t resemble either the pizza we’ve eaten in Italy or in New York or Chicago. Excited at having entered a new realm of pizza-dom, we ordered a pizza mixta (half cheese, half anchovy (no cheese, only red sauce on anchovy side), a fugazzetta, and an order of faína, along with two foamy mugs of Quilmes Chopp (ubiquitous draft Argentine beer).

The first to arrive, the mixta, was about the diameter of a large dinner plate and a shade less than an inch in depth. Half-covered with molten cheese (that tasted like somewhere between a mozzarella and a mild provolone) with the opposing half smothered in a crimson tomato sauce and laced with some giant salted anchovies, it would have been a good lunch by itself, and we were happy, when the fugazzetta hove into view, that “Fredo” our waiter ended up forgetting about the faína. 

Now, remember the seemingly dull linguistic and ethnographic details in the second paragraph? Good, because the word fugazetta is derived from “fugassa” meaning “focaccia” in Genoese dialect, and is the name given in Argentina to an onion focaccia with grated cheese gratiné-ed on top. First created by Genoese immigrant baker Agustin Banchero in La Boca around the turn of the 20th-century, the fugazza has since become famous enough that the family have not only opened a series of Banchero Pizzerias (first one in 1932), but the recipe was so valuable it was patented in the 1950s.

So, then, if a fugazza is a thick onion pizza, a fugazzetta – purportedly invented by Agustin’s son, Juan – is a fugazza stuffed with mozzarella cheese. And, when one arrives on your table with a solid thunk, you realize that this is a serious deal and rightly famous. Our faces were a mixture of surprise, delight and fear when we were presented with ours. Puffed up like a yeasty Michelin man, our fugazzetta was probably three inches thick, oozing with melted cheese and bristling with crispy sweet onions.

Deciding that we should take a brief rest before hurting ourselves on the fugazzetta, we searched for inspiration in the boxing posters on the walls and began humming the Rocky theme tune quietly to ourselves. Immediately to our left, was a framed Argentina soccer jersey, with the phrase “a mi favorito El Cuartito, siempre a mi cariño” (to my favorite “El Cuartito”, always in my heart), signed by one of, if not the, greatest soccer (futbol) players of all time, Argentine icon, Diego Armando Maradona, aka “El Pibe de Oro” (the golden kid).

Now, this was significant not just because a shirt signed by the great man loomed above us like Rio’s Christ the Redeemer statue, but also because, in the context of the giant fugazzetta slumping threateningly before us and our knowledge of recent Argentine history, it appeared more like the Argentine shroud of Turin. You see, (it’s not clear when Maradona signed this jersey), but in early 2005 Diego had to be admitted to hospital to have his stomach-pumped after eating an estimated 25 pizzas during a food and cocaine binge that nearly killed him. If the jersey was inked after this misadventure, one can only deduce that the pizza at El Cuartito is so good it’s impossible to bear a grudge against.

So, chastened by this story of gluttonous daring, but undeterred, we managed to get about halfway through the cheesy, crispy, doughy fugazzetta before conceding a weary, yet happy, defeat. To our right, two Porteños sporting significant bellies, were noisily tucking in to a fugazzetta of their own but, amazingly, were topping it with thick slabs of faína. As we waddled towards the door, it suddenly hit us that we had a lot to learn about the lore of Argentine pizza-eating if we were ever going to be able to compete with the locals, let alone the legends.

Special thanks to La Cocina de Myri for her excellent history of the Fugazzetta I cribbed from liberally above.

When you think of Brazil what do you think of? Is it the lazy sway of coconut palms, golden beaches, beautiful, bronzed people, a back-drop of Sugar Loaf Mountain, and soundtrack of relaxing bossa nova? Is it a throbbing samba rhythm, huge, garish paper-mache heads, and crowds of people dancing at carnival? Is it the magnificent graceful style of Brazilian soccer players, shimmying around in their famous yellow jerseys? Is it swampy, vibrant, old-growth rainforest echoing with bird and monkey calls, and the slow, muddy peregrinations of the worlds’ longest river? Or is it, perhaps, scenes of horrific murders and kidnappings, grinding poverty and deprivation?

It could well be all of the above. Brazil is the world’s fifth largest country in geographical area and in population, and has staggering diversity in environment, culture, ethnicity, and geography, as well as staggering economic disparity. In fact, some would argue that perhaps the only things that all Brazilians can agree on are the national soccer team and cachaça (pronounced, more or less, Ka-shass-a).

The former represents the country more famously than perhaps any thing else, as Brazil has won the World Cup 5 times - more than any other nation. But, even more famous than their success is their style of play. The free-flowing, wonderfully skillful, attacking game has endeared a Seleçåo not just to their own people but to millions around the world too. The latter, cachaça, the national drink of Brazil, is less widely known to non-Brazilians, but it’s fame too, is increasing through the successful export of the most popular drink made with it, the caipirinha.

And, for me, it’s the style of the drink that I find so attractive. The rawness of the cachaça, the sharp tang of lime, the sweetness of the sugar, the muddling it all together – all these different flavors and textures speak to me of a vibrant, diverse culture that retains a sharp bite. Meaning (literally) “little hillbilly” (the diminutive form of caipira, or redneck), the caipirinha is Brazil’s most popular cocktail, and is drunk on virtually every occasion in bars, restaurants, and in the home. Of course, there are several other ways to enjoy cachaça, which we’ll get on to shortly.

A Little History

But, before that, let’s learn more about cachaça itself. Basically, it’s a spirit distilled from the cane sugar for which “The Brazils” were primary producers of during Portuguese colonialism, being first produced in the town of Sao Vicente in the state of Minas Gerais (north-west of Rio de Janeiro) in the mid-1500s. The name is derived from the word cagaça, a kind of sour ‘beer’ made from fermented cane juice, first brewed by African slaves brought to work on Brazil’s plantations.

By the seventeenth century, its popularity had grown so much and there were so many distilleries in Brazil, that cachaça was officially banned in order that it not compete with imported Portuguese bagaceira, or grappa. However, in 1755, following the earthquake and tsunami that devastated Lisbon, the Portuguese decided to legalise it and tax it, and in fact, much of Lisbon was rebuilt with this cachaça tax.

While cachaça was widely popular, it was not considered to be refined enough for consumption by any but the lowest classes, including slaves, peasants and urban working class. However, these days that has changed dramatically and all classes of Brazilian society consume cachaça with a passion some might call reckless abandon. Indeed, the average annual consumption in Brazil is around 8 liters. That’s 8 liters of forty head-splitting percent alcohol. Of course, there are different grades of cachaca, in the same way that there are better or worse cognacs or whiskeys, and while there are several large producers (Pitu, Cachaça 51) there are many hundreds of artisanal producers also making all kinds of interesting versions that are either mixed with flavorful botanics or aged in barrels made from exotic tropical woods. Much of the former kind is drunk as a caipirinha or one of several other mixed drinks, whereas the artisanal versions are sipped in the same was as scotch or cognac.

Heady Concoctions

Other than the hugely popular caipirinha, other liver-busting cocktails can also be made with cachaça, including: the bombeirinho combining it with red gooseberry syrup in a popular beverage; the caipifruta mixes cachaça with muddled fresh fruits, condensed milk and crushed ice into a refreshing milkshake-type cocktail; and the capeta or capetåo, meaning “devil”, which is a mix of cachaça, vodka, grape or strawberry juice, cinnamon, red wine and sugar, and is usually served hot. The fumes coming of this latter drink must be intense. The name tells you everything you need to know, I guess.

What does cachaça taste like?

Well, since it’s more or less a colorless rum, it tastes like what it is, and even then it doesn’t really have a massive amount of it’s own flavor. Like vodka in that respect really, although perhaps a little sweeter. However, the aged varieties are allegedly as good as a fine brandy and can be enjoyed as a great digestivo after a meal. That said, artisanal cachaça is hard to find in the United States so you’re much more likely to only be able to find the mass-produced brands mentioned above. Do not despair, as these are pretty good in their own right, and given that they are best drunk diluted with lots of lime juice, sugar and, occasionally, soda water, you don’t need to worry about the taste too much. And, if you’re not looking for a drink that’s as cocktail-ish as a caipirinha, then I would also encourage you to try the confusingly-named rabo de galo, (literally tail of cock), which despite its name is just a mixture or equal parts of cachaça and sweet vermouth. This feels like more of an aperitivo and a little less “hectic”.  

Even the name cachaça is exotic and cool-sounding – just rolling it around in your mouth, like most words in Brazilian Portuguese - it sounds soothing and somehow sexy.  Drinking a caipirinha is a similar experience, and they are as much fun to make and pronounce as they are to drink! Saude!

I think the title of this post says it all about my feelings (and others) about the famous Romans dish of pasta, traditionally spaghetti, with pecorino cheese and a good amount of freshly ground pepper.  The name says is all – cacio, meaning cheese, and pepe meaning pepper.  We’re not breaking any new ground here because I’m sure there’s about 50 other food blogs that have made this dish.  I’m just here hoping that if anyone does make it, they try to make it the freshest and best way they can. 

I’m going to get my food snob on here – please do not make this dish soley with parmigiano reggiano and that crappy, old shaker filled with pepper that you may only bust out when laying out your fine china on one or two holidays a year.  The pepper most likely has zero flavor anymore – if you do, please name the dish whatever you want.  I personally think “Pasta with Parmigiano Reggiano and Crappy Old, Non-Spicy Pepper from the Depths of My Cupboard” works great!  If you go to the store and spend $4 you can get some black peppercorns.  Just put them into a pepper grinder or, if you don’t have one, throw the peppercorns in a plastic baggie and grab a meat mallet or a hammer and get out your aggressions.  Keep hammering until you’ve produced some nice, ground pepper.  Make a lot if you’d prefer to not have to go through this exercise again and freeze the extras to prevent the pepper from going bad (ie: flavorless).

The reason I’m so passionate about this is because you can not recreate the amazing flavor of this old, traditional dish if you do not have good pepper.  When freshly ground, pepper is very spicy and full of flavor.  It is not supposed to just produce a nice contrast of color to a boring meal – although the beauty of it is it does that too!  Research taught me that in ancient Rome pepper was extremely popular and was used for medicinal reasons by the ancient Greeks.  It was revered as a very valuable spice.  As for the cheese, I’ll go a bit easier on you if you don’t use the Pecorino cheese, but I’ll give you a light tap on the bum so you’ll remember to try it with that cheese next time.  Pecorino would only be used in this dish in Rome because, well, that’s the regional cheese in that area.  If you look close at the label, it’s really called Pecorino Romano, right?  Parmigiano and pecorino are two very different tasting cheeses.  In fact, there are many varieties of pecorino in Italy ranging from soft to hard versions of the cheese.  For this discussion, we are generally talking solely about Pecorino Romano – the hard cheese that is able to be grated. If you do a comparison, I’d imagine you’d notice that pecorino is much sharper in taste where parmigiano is more nutty and mellow in flavor.  Both are pretty nice and salty, which is why you should not have to salt this dish.  Some people feel very strongly about choosing one of these cheeses over the other.  Because of this, we have chosen to use a mixture of the cheeses for this version of cacio e pepe.  This way you get a blend of the cheese.  But in Rome, you will most likely find the dish made only with pecorino. 

When made correctly, you will not believe how unbelievably creamy and spicy this dish is.  I felt like we were back in Rome (of course only if I closed my eyes VERY hard and did not open them to reveal a very closet-like, dirty Brooklyn apartment).  This dish is so quick and easy, I’m sure Rachel Ray couldn’t even make it because she’d only fill 1/8 of a show.  Give it a try – you won’t be disappointed.

Also, months ago we wrote a post on a great NYC restaurant with the same name as this dish.  If you’re ever in New York, I’d advise you to give this awesome restaurant a try… and order their signature dish made in a hollowed out wheel of pecorino!

Alessandra Spisni’s Ragu w/ Red Wine (w/ Homemade Garganelli)

We spent two separate short trips to Bologna in the Emilia Romagna region of Northern Italy – the first in late 2006 and the second last summer (2007). Within the first few minutes of arriving in the city, I instantly fell in love. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love Rome, but I fell in deep, passionate love with Bologna. Besides being one of the most influential culinary cities in Italy (and the world), it is also beautiful, rich in culture and very livable – plus, they know how awesome they are without having ego. To make us fall in love even harder, my husband’s favorite author, Umberto Eco, is a professor of semiotics at University of Bologna. And even though we recently received a $322 ticket from the City of Bologna for supposedly driving in a ‘locals only’ zone last July (oh, we’re fighting this one HARD), I still have much love for the place.

There are probably two things that come to mind when one thinks about Bologna, whether or not you have visited it – Pasta Bolognese (or Ragu alla Bolognese) and bologna (sing it with me if you know it, my bologna has a first name it’s O-S-C-A-R), sometimes written “baloney” in American-speak (which gives me a shiver up and down my spine). We could write a whole post (which, come to think about it would be a good idea… I’ll add it to the list) on REAL, AUTHENTIC bologna, called mortadella, not the crap that’s sold with the O-S-C-A-R/ M-E-Y-E-R label on it. But we’ll save that lesson for another day. This post is going to be an ode to the hearty, fabulous and traditional sauce – the Ragu alla Bolognese.

Ragu w/ Chicken Livers and Milk (with Homemade Tagliatelle)

Many people may mistake a Ragu alla Bolognese sauce for a ‘meat sauce’ which is right to a certain extent. But most Bolognese people would die if they heard it described as just a meat sauce because it is so much more to them. The problem is, like many other authentic Italian dishes, Pasta con Ragu alla Bolognese has been reinvented into an over simplified meal (read: finding faster, cheaper and grosser ways to cook it) by other countries (ie: “Spag Bol” in England or “Ragu – It’s IN There!” jarred American red sauces) and has also become a sort of tourist-trap meal. I remember even while in Spain seeing Spaghetti Bolognese on a tourist menu – in SPAIN. You know what I’m talking about – those gross tourist restaurants that have the large sign in the front begging you to come eat there with pictures of each menu item they serve. People, if you don’t know how to translate Spaghetti Bolognese into English and you need a picture to show you what it is, PLEASE, do yourself a favor, keep walking! Not to mention that the picture usually resembles a bit of overcooked noodles with a can of red dog food plopped on top. Narsty.

What is important for you, dear-readers-on-the-search-for-the-authentic-and-traditional, to know and understand is if you are ever in Bologna/Northern Italy and they try to serve you Spaghetti alla Bolognese do not, I repeat, do not order it and immediately leave that restaurant. The Bolognese would never pair their traditional ragu with spaghetti since it is not a local type of pasta – it is local to the south, specifically Napoli. Tagliatelle would be a very traditional pairing, even tortellini, two types of egg pasta created in Bologna. Although I jest, you can choose to eat Bolognese with Spaghetti in Bologna if you so choose, I’m just trying to help you ‘spot the tourist trap’. It’s very important when traveling (wink, wink).

Today we’re going to talk about making the real, the traditional and the authentic Ragu alla Bolognese sauce. It’s a regional specialty that has many different ways to make it depending on family recipes and methods. All the recipes include soffritto (carrots, onion and celery), meat and wine. Some include a few other ingredients including some sort of cured meat like pancetta and others add sausage. Other recipes are a bit bolder and more complicated, adding milk or cream (a source of controversy with the Bolognese), some add nutmeg and white wine, while others use a mixture of meats. But, the one thing all Ragu recipes have in common is that they are all to be made with love and patience because it should always simmer away for hours for the flavors to build. This ain’t no 30-minute meal.

Back when the sauce was created, old cuts of beef were used which were very tough – long simmering was necessary and was known to create flavor. Oh, and you know what else is often missing from a traditional Bolognese sauce? TOMATO. Yup, that’s right folks, I know you don’t want to believe it but it’s true. At best, most authentic Ragu alla Bolognese recipes will only have a bit of tomato paste or some whole, peeled tomatoes. But, then again, that may depend on which Bolognese ‘mama’ you talk to. As Anna Nonni, owner of a restaurant outside of Bologna, says in the latest issue of Saveur, “[Ask] ten women, you’ll get ten different recipes, all of them traditional.” I like the idea that each recipe has been passed down through the years by family members. In fact, this is still a hotly debated issue in the area – will the real Ragu please stand up, please stand up?

On a lazy Saturday, Jonny and I were inspired by the latest issue of the wonderful Saveur (#110) magazine to create two different types of Ragu alla Bolognese. That issue of Saveur contained six different recipes for ragu. We had the time to spare and we were curious to do side-by-side comparisons of two very different, but traditional recipes. I chose the most simple recipe (Alessandra Spisni’s Ragu alla Bolognese) and a more complicated and richer recipe containing chicken livers and milk (Ragu Enriched with Chicken Livers). If we had time and stovetop space to cook all six, we would’ve! Bottom line, both sauces were absolutely, ridiculously delicious and I would recommend anyone who wants to impress family and friends to choose to make either. There was something so unbelievably satisfying about the Spisni’s Ragu. It was so simple to make, I felt like I barely cooked. I just let the gas stove do the work. To me, it was the quintessential Italian meal – simple and hearty with flavors coming together with time to blend perfectly. It tasted like the Bolognese I ate in Bologna. Spisni’s Ragu is almost exactly the same as the Ragu recipe that is in the “La Cucina Bolognese della Tradizione” (Traditional Bolognese Cooking) cookbook I bought at the famous Tamburini food store (Via Caprarie 1, Bologna, TEL: 051234726), so I feel like I tested three Ragu recipes!

On the other hand, the Ragu Enriched with Chicken Livers recipe blew my socks off, probably because it had those other elements of flavor that just made it stand apart from the Spisni’s Ragu. For instance, this recipe used milk, cloves, nutmeg and white wine. There were also more steps involved than Spisni’s (ie: making a tomato-paste broth and simmering milk with cloves) and the use of three types of meat, pork, beef and chicken livers, was slightly flavor-changing. I’ve always been a big fan of cloves and nutmeg in cooking and these spices, combined with the use of milk, created a beautiful ragu.

Because of the hotly debated topic of ‘what is authentic ragu’ in Bologna, in 1982, the Bologna chapter of the Accademia Italiana della Cucina researched and investigated what should be the official recipe of Ragu. This academic society whose aim is to preserve Italian food and techniques created the “Classic Ragu alla Bolognese”. We didn’t choose to test this one because it was more similar to the Ragu with Chicken Livers recipe and we wanted to distinct and different flavors to compare. But check out the recipe here.

I am copying these recipes virtually word for word from Saveur magazine because I followed this recipe word for word (except I added just a touch more tomato paste in both). I really hope you will trade in your store-bought meat sauce for one of these recipes. At least, I hope you give a big F-You to people like Sandra Lee and Rachel Ray by screwing the ‘semi-homemade’ or ’30-minute meal’ rule and taking the time to try these long-simmering sauces just once. I promise, you won’t be disappointed. Better yet, make a huge batch, then ‘Rachel Ray’ your little heart out by grabbing some leftovers from the freezer for a delicious and authentic 30-minute meal! If you can’t go to Bologna, bring Bologna to you!

ALESSANDRA SPISNI’S RAGU ALLA BOLOGNESE (makes alot – about 8 cups)

Ingredients:

• 1/2 cup lard (butter works)
• 3 small yellow onions, finely chopped
• 2 medium carrots, finely chopped
• 2 ribs of celery, finely chopped
• 2 lbs. ground beef chuck
• 1/2 cup dry red wine
• 2 3/4 cups canned tomato puree
• water
• Salt and fresh ground pepper

What to do:

1. Heat lard in heavy-bottomed pot over medium heat. Add onions, carrots and celery and cook, stirring frequently, until vegetables are somewhat softened, about 8 minutes.
2. Raise heat to medium-high, add beef, and cook, stirring constantly, until meat is broken up and just cooked through, 6-8 minutes. Add the wine and cook, stirring occasionally until evaporated, about 4 minutes.
3. Stir in tomato puree and 1 1/2 cups water and bring to a boil over high heat.
4. Reduce the heat to low and simmer, partially covered, stirring occasionally until the sauce is thick – about 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Season with salt and pepper and serve over pasta.

RAGU DI FEGATO DI POLLO (Ragu with Chicken Livers) – makes 4 cups – double recipe to match one above

Ingredients:

• 4 cups beef broth
• 2 tbsp. tomato paste (I added a bit more, maybe one more tablespoon)
• 1 cup milk
• 3 whole cloves
• 1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
• 2 tbsp. unsalted butter
• 1 2-oz. piece of pancetta, finely chopped (I went to my deli and asked for a 2 inch round that I cut up)
• 2 medium carrots, finely chopped
• 2 ribs celery, finely chopped
• 1 medium size yellow onion, finely chopped
• 3/4 lb. ground beef chuck
• 1/4 lb. ground pork shoulder (I used regular ground pork)
• 1 cup dry white wine
• 1/8 tsp. freshly ground nutmeg
• 2 chicken livers (about 2 oz.)

What to do:

1. In a small saucepan, bring broth to a simmer over medium heat. Put tomato paste into a small bowl and pour in 1 cup broth; stir to dissolve. Set tomato-infused broth aside (Keep remaining broth hot.)
2. In another saucepan, bring milk to a simmer over medium heat. Add cloves, remove from heat and let steep, covered, for one hour.
3. Meanwhile, heat olive oil and butter in a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-low heat. Add pancetta and cook until fat has rendered, stirring occasionally. Add carrots, celery and onions and cook, stirring occasionally until soft and caramelized (about 30 minutes). Stir in beef and pork, cook, breaking meat apart with wooden spoon, until browned. Season with salt and pepper. Increase heat to medium-high and add wine and cook until wine is evaporated.
4. Lower heat to mediu, stir in nutmeg, and reserved tomato broth and cook, stirring occasionally until liquid is absorbed, about 5 minutes.
5. Lower heat to medium, low and add 1/2 cup reserved hot broth and cook until liquid is absorbed, stirring occasionally. Repeat 1/2 cup at a time until all broth has been used (kind of like risotto) – this can take some time. ***NOTE: Although this may seem very time consuming, don’t take it too seriously. You can walk away and do other things during this ‘liquid absorbing’ part. Don’t go stir crazy – this does not have to be perfect!
6. Add chicken livers to the sauce and cook for 8 minutes until soft. Using a fork, mash livers on the side of the pot (or remove and do it on a plate) with a tablespoon into the sauce. Add the milk and simmer until thick and velvety – another 15 to 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and serve with pasta.

Check out some other posts you may enjoy:

• LIDIA’S LAMB CHOPS (Lamb Chops with A Mustard Anchovy Sauce)
• GNOCCHI DI PATATE WITH A BROWN BUTTER, SAGE, BREADCRUMB SAUCE
• ORECCHIETTE WITH SAUSAGE AND KALE
• ITALIAN-STYLE SLOW ROASTED PORK SHOULDER WITH SALSA VERDE
• LIVORNESE FISH STEW
• PAPPA AL POMODORO (Tuscan Tomato and Bread Soup)
• SWEET ANISE-FLAVORED SALMON IN A POUCH (SALMON EN PAPILLOTE)
• SPATCHCOCK CHICKEN (A TUTORIAL)

Since we’re always on the search for the traditional and authentic, we really wanted to do the steak taco justice. In Mexico street food is rampant, fresh and delicious. You won’t see Old El Paso pre-made, fried taco shells, pre-packaged “taco seasoning” or over-salted ground beef plopped in the middle of the tortilla. The meat, veggies or fish and toppings are fresh and the food is cheap. Carne asada (grilled steak) is one of the most popular dishes of many parts of Northern Mexico. It’s synonymous with barbecue – the verb, not the noun version as is often used in America to describe the sweet sauce brushed on various bits of meat and poultry. Even more interesting is that “a carne asada” or “una carne asada” in Mexico also refers to the party/social gathering/event surrounding the making of the actual meal. I think that’s pretty kick-ass. I feel like Mexicans always find a good reason to party! They’ve got tequila AND ‘una carne asada’!

You may also be interested to know that tacos have been around for a long time. No, I mean a really long time. Like, longer than a Britney Spears marriage (cheap shot and bad joke, I know). A Spanish soldier named Bernal Diaz del Castillo wrote about the taco in the 1500′s but he’s not the inventor of the delicious, utensil-less, portable meal. Anthropologists discovered evidence that those who lived in the lake region of the Valley of Mexico made tacos filled with fish (hey, they lived by a lake). In other parts of Mexico, tacos were filled with live insects, locusts and/or snails. Fillings were determined by what was local and available, same as many other culture’s meals, except America, of course. Today, this still holds true. Although you may not find many taco stands selling insect or locust tacos, fillings will be different depending on the geographical region you are eating them in.

The first taco recipe found in America comes from a California cookbook published in 1914 called “California-Mexican Spanish Cook Book“. The recipe went as follows:

The tacos are made by putting chopped cooked beef and chili sauce in tortilla made of meal and flour; folded, edges sealed together with egg; fried in deep fat, chile sauce served over it.

Very different from what the Mexicans and Americans look at as tacos today. The above quote seems more like a tortilla empanada or chimichanga? A real, traditional carne asada taco will always be pretty bland and never spicy. The meat, usually finely cut flank or skirt steak, should be seasoned only with some salt because the delicious flavor of the beef is what is to be tasted. No cumin, no chili powder – nothing but salt. The spiciness and other flavor comes from the various toppings you can put on your carne asada. Salsas, chopped white onion and cilantro are just a few traditional toppings. This dish is also traditionally made with corn tortillas, although we (ok, I) forgot to pick some up on my grocery trip and I couldn’t be arsed going back to the store.

For our toppings we decided to make another popular Mexican condiment, rajas. As the great Rick Bayless puts it, rajas is “a true-blooded Mexican classic”. The word rajas is spanish for strips and in Mexico that means strips of chile. In parts of central and northen Mexico poblanos grow everywhere, so rajas will feature the poblano chile. Again, just like with the fillings of tacos being determined by the geographic location, so is the rajas topping. Poblano peppers are dark green in color and don’t have much of a spiciness to them. In parts of California these peppers are called “passillas” and in Mexico, “chile verde”. You may have heard of ancho chiles, well these are poblano’s in their dried form. The rajas are basically made of onion, roasted poblano, some garlic and herbs. Ok, now on to the recipe!

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STEAK TACOS WITH RAJAS AND SALSA VERDE (Tomatillo Salsa) – serves 3-4

Ingredients for Steak

• 3 pounds steak (preferably skirt or flank
• Salt
• Corn or flour tortillas (corn preferable)
• Optional toppings: avocado slices, lime juice, crema/sour cream, thinly sliced cabbage, diced onion, jalapenos, scallions etc

Ingredients for Rajas:

• 2 poblano peppers, roasted, skin removed and thinly sliced
• Optional and not traditional: yellow or orange pepper, thinly sliced
• 1 onion, thinly sliced
• oil
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• pinch of oregano ,thyme (optional)
• salt

Ingredients for Salsa Verde (Tomatillo Salsa)

• 3 – 4 tomatillos, husk removed, washed and roasted in oven
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 scallion, sliced
  
• Handful of fresh cilantro
• Lime juice
• Pinch of salt
• Optional: Roasted spicy pepper like habenero or Serrano, minced

What to do:

1. Heat oven to 475. When oven comes up to temperature, add your tomatillos and allow to roast whole for 10-15 minutes until soft and slightly browned.
2. Salt your steak on both sides. Roast your poblano pepper by placing pepper directly on the open flame of your gas stove turning frequently. You will do this until the skin is blistered and blackened all over the chile. Remove and place a towel over it until it cools.
3. Remove tomatillos from oven and make salsa verde by placing all the ingredients in a food processor or blender and blend until smooth. Taste for seasoning by adding salt and extra lime juice if necessary.
4. Now, make the rajas by heating up a skillet till red hot. Add some oil and first saute your onions and yellow pepper (if using). Allow to sauté for 4 to 5 minutes and then add the garlic. Allow to sauté for another minute or two. Finally, add the roasted poblano pepper and sauté for 30 seconds. Remove all to a plate.
5. In the same skillet, not adding any extra oil, add your steak. This process should be QUICK. We like our steak really pink inside – medium rare. For a thin piece of steak, this will mean cooking each side for about 3 to 4 minutes per side. If worse comes to worse, UNDERCOOK it and then make a little slice in it. You can always cook it a bit more, but never take back the cooking time on an overcooked piece of steak.
6. Remove steak and allow to rest for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, heat up your tortillas. If using flour, heat in dry skillet for a few moments on each side and wrap in a towel. Or, microwave for 20 seconds wrapped in a towel. If using corn tortillas, you should fry them a bit in some oil in the skillet. You don’t want them crispy, just pliable and cooked.
7. Cut your steak on the bias against the lines of the steak so you get a clean cut. Assemble your tacos by putting all the various toppings you’d like on each! ENJOY.

CHECK OUT SOME OF THESE OTHER RECIPES YOU MAY ENJOY:

• SPATCHCOCK CHICKEN (A TUTORIAL)
• SHREDDED CHICKEN SOPES WITH TOMATILLO AVOCADO SAUCE
• BREAD-CRUSTED FISH WITH LEMON-BUTTER SAUCE
• PROVENCAL RABBIT WITH OLIVES AND CAPERS
• GROUND LAMB KABOBS (Lamb Kubideh)
• HORNAZO (Spanish Sausage-Stuffed Easter Bread)
• PAPPA AL POMODORO (Tuscan Tomato and Bread Soup)

Well, fear not, kind readers, for we are definitely not in the business of recommending high-end wine pairings, in fact, our wine recommendations, such as they are, tend to be in the $8-$12 range, where you’ll find plenty of very drinkable, but mostly forgettable, plonk, that even when corked or tasting like a wet dog, is a financial loss that most of us can live with. No, instead of suggesting wine pairings, we’re beginning a new monthly feature today that focuses on beverages that you might not be that familiar with in the hope that you’ll try them, enjoy them, perhaps even come to love them given enough time and support from your family and friends.

The first recommendation then, is the delicious, but relatively unknown, Korean beverage soju. Almost everyone knows of sake – the “wine” (properly, sake is a beer, not a wine, because it is produced through brewing) made from rice that can be found in nearly every sushi restaurant, and that many of you have tried in several forms – hot, cold, clear, and unfiltered, but just across the Sea of Japan, the Koreans have been making a different kind of clear, rice-based beverage for about 700 years.

A Little History
Around A.D 1300, the Mongols introduced the technique of distilling liquor from grain to Korea, a nifty trick they had learned from the Persians, who had taught them it some 70 years earlier. All of which was very magnanimous considering the Persians had just been slaughtered mercilessly by the Mongol hordes as they rampaged across the steppes of central Asia. The Koreans then, seeing that distillation was indeed a meritorius concept began setting up distilleries around the city of Kaesong immediately, a tradition of distilling that is still maintained in that city to this day. And the trend spread. Today, soju is produced throughout the Korean peninsular, both in the north and south, by a great number of different companies.

Traditionally, soju is distilled from rice, but from 1965 to the early 1990s the (south) Korean government forbade the use of fermented grain for soju production due to its scarcity. Because of this, many soju manufacturers began using pure ethanol derived from a variety of sources including potato, barley and tapioca mixed with water and various flavorings to make the drink, though some have since returned to more traditional methods.

Drunk in the West
Typically, soju’s alcohol content is around the 20% ABV mark, though there is a considerable range with some soju’s being as strong as a vodka, at around 40% alcohol. In terms of taste, some compare soju to vodka because of its clear color and relatively neutral taste, but to my mind, soju is considerably sweeter than vodka (often because sugar or corn syrup is added to it), though I should stress it is far from a sweet or sugary beverage. Some soju we’ve drunk has had a slightly appley kind of flavor, though most of them have barely perceptible flavors that are crisp on the tongue but without the fumes that characterize vodkas. And, it is this neutral/slightly sweet flavor, clarity and reasonably high-alcohol content that has made soju the new sake in designer cocktails. For example, in upscale Manhattan bars the sake-tini (a martini with sake instead of vodka or gin) is now the soju-tini, and the sake-rinha (a caipirinha with the cachaca replaced by sake) is now the soju-rinha.

A Traditional & Popular Tipple
Of course, this is a far cry from how soju is served in Korea. Usually taken at large social gatherings, soju is always taken unmixed and out of shot-sized glasses, and often knocked back in one go. Etiquette forbids the filling of one’s own glass as this promotes selfishness and greed. Instead, it must be filled by someone else, promoting camaraderie and thoughtfulness for others. The traditional way of pouring soju is quite a complicated ritual that requires the pourer to hold the bottle in their right hand while touching their right forearm or elbow with their left hand. The recipient of the soju should then hold out their glass in the palm of their left hand and steady it with their right hand while bowing their head towards the pourer as a sign of thanks.

In spite of this ritual and the availability of western alcoholic drinks like whiskey and vodka, soju remains one of the most popular drinks in Korea with around 3 billion bottles consumed annually, or 90 bottles per adult per year. Containing around 7 shots per 350 ml bottle, this means that every Korean adult drinks a bottle of soju themselves every four days. Fair play to them for really enjoying their national drink!

Soju in America
So, now that you’re clued-up on what soju is, I suspect you’ll be wanting to know where you can get your hands on some. Well, your local Korean restaurant is the best place to start, of course, and it’s quite likely that they will have several different kinds – some better, some worse – on their menu for you to sample. Korean-owned grocery stores are also likely spots because, perhaps curiously, in California and New York, soju is classed under the same liquor licensing laws as beer.

We definitely encourage you to give soju a try. Don’t be scared. It’s not going to blow your head off, unless you’ve never had a drink before, that is, but just because it’s classed the same as beer at the store, doesn’t mean that you can have a bottle of it to yourself and then get in your car and drive home. Not only is drinking and driving dangerous and illegal, but you’d also be behaving selfishly and greedily, and that is not in the spirit of drinking soju!

The film was shot in the dry, scrubby hills surrounding Zaragoza and a lot of the landscape shots include a large metal bull (the Osborne sherry insignia) sitting among a forest of radio and TV antennae – a view that is quite common in Spain. In one scene, Cruz’s other suitor, a wannabe bullfighter swings from the bulls cojones and accidentally pulls them off, castrating the beast. The sexual meaning of this is, of course, implicit in the movie, but being someone who marvels more at the wonder of pork products than at the chemistry of on-screen lovers, I find the dual motifs of ham and bulls very interesting.

You see, bull bumper stickers are found throughout Spain and the meaning is linked to Spanish culturalism (yes, including, bullfighting) and, in a country with several semi-independent regions, centralism under Madrid. In Catalunya, you often see donkey bumper stickers, as a statement of Catalan identity — the humble donkey being the symbol of that region. Anyway, if the bull is the “official” emblem of Spain, then the unofficial emblem should be the ham, for nowhere else I have ever been holds that cut of meat in higher esteem. I mean, quite apart from naming an award-winning movie after it, the Spanish are quite literally mad for their ham. In Madrid, for example, there are several Museos de Jamon, which aren’t exactly museums — they’re shops — but the idea is that ham is of such great importance to the people that such a store name isn’t overblown in the slightest.

As far as I am concerned, they are right to love it so. For me, there are very few things in life as delicious as a racione of cured Iberian ham (jamon iberico) split between as few people as possible. The taste is almost indescribably good. It is unquestionably porky, but in an intense, almost gamey way, and the fat, oh the fat, is well, like acorn flavored pork butter, if that even conveys anything. If not, rest assured that jamon iberico (or the lower grade, but still exceedingly delicious, jamon serrano) tastes absolutely nothing like the boiled, sugar-coated, artificially-preserved, ready circle-cut ham legs sold in the US. Whereas US hogs are factory farmed in the backwaters of Tennessee in giant filthy sheds and the run-off from the pig-sties pollutes local rivers, the Spanish hogs are a noble, almost-wild breed of pig that are nearly as famous for their intelligence as their tasty limbs.

Fed primarily (though not exclusively, depending on the producer) on acorns, Iberian black-footed pigs (yes, they leave the trotter on the leg so you tell) come from the region of Extremadura bordering Portugal in the central west of Spain, and are allowed to roam freely around under the same cork oaks that have for centuries produced the stoppers for European wine-bottles. It would not be wrong, I don’t think, to compare jamon iberico to other world-famous delicacies like kobe beef (waygu) or beluga caviar or the famed blue-footed chickens of Bresse, France, because it is simply beyond compare. And yes, I ate plenty of prosciutto di Parma and prosciutto San Daniele last year in Italy, and while they are very, very good, jamon iberico is just a richer, more intense, less salty experience. For more on the pigs that produce this delicacy, click here. If you understand Spanish, then you should check out this YouTube video, which demonstrates the correct way to prepare a platter of delicious jamon.

And, by clicking the first link, you’ll be heading to La Tienda who now import bone-in legs of jamon to the US for your delectation. We’re saving our pennies hard right now for a whole leg.

P.S. – just to add one final note to how deeply ingrained Spanish culture is with jamon, there is a childrens’ word game — a tongue-twister — in which the word jamon is repeated quickly over and over. Before long the player starts to say the word monja instead of jamon, which means nun, although you might have to be a Spanish kid to understand why that’s funny…

To read more of our posts about Spain, check out:

• Fabada: A Mortal and Corporal Sin – But Worth It!
• The REAL Cocido of Spain
• Pictures of Madrid
• ENSALADA DE CABRALES (Thin Sliced Apple with Cabrales Salad)
• HORNAZO (Spanish Sausage-Stuffed Easter Bread)
• Unusual Tapas We Ate in Madrid
• Tame Tapas We Ate in Madrid
• Cabrales Cheese: It’s a Bit of an Animal
• Vermut (Vermouth): Rediscovering an Old Classic
• CHORIZO, CHICKPEA AND POTATO SOUP

Anywho’s, we may not have had 7 Fishes this Christmas Eve, but we did 5 fishes and did two of the 2 different ways. In my mind, that’s like doing seven, right? I now bring to you our first fish course – Fritto Misto di Mare (Mixed Fried Seafood). It was absolutely delicious, but pacing the cooking correctly was a bit frustrating. I would advise have 3-4 pots of scalding hot oil going at the same time as to hasten the cooking time – especially if you are going to be cooking for 10 or more people at the same time. Remember to separate all the seafood from the vegetables if you are doing both. The oil can often take on the fish taste and you don’t want your crunchy asparagus tasting like smelts – or do you? Whatever floats your boat! I highly recommend making this for a group of friends – it’s fun, bite-sized and delicious. We served ours with a homemade Roasted Garlic Lemon Aioli as a dipping sauce. It is lighter than you think, even though it’s all fried! Come on, the Italians are not the ones with a nationwide obesity epidemic!

The recipe below fed 11 people as a starter, albeit a pretty good-sized starter. You can add/take away stuff as you’d like.

FRITTO MISTO DI MARE WITH ROASTED GARLIC LEMON AIOLI (Fried Mixed Seafood with Fried Mixed Veggies)

Ingredients:

• 1/2 lb shrimp
• 1/2 lb. squid (bodies and tentacles), cut into rings
• 1 fillet of whitefish (sole, flounder, etc.), cut into 1 inch pieces
• 6 large smelts (heads removed), cut into 1 inch pieces and soaked in milk for 1 hour prior to frying (takes some of the fishy smell away) OR whole sardines
• 1/4 head of cauliflower, blanched, sliced into bite-sized pieces
• 8 asparagus stalks, woody bottom removed, blanched and the rest cut into 1 inch pieces
• 6-8 large button mushrooms, quartered
• 1 whole zucchini, sliced in 1/4-inch rounds
• 1 small eggplant, sliced in 1/4-inch rounds
• Peanut Oil for frying (has a high smoke point and burns less easily – traditionally this should be fried in olive oil)
• (Optional but preferred) Cast Iron Skillet for frying
• paper towels or brown paper bag for draining
• Kosher Salt
• Lemon Wedges

For the Fritto Misto Batter:

• 1/2 cup white flour
• 1 tablespoon cornstarch + 1/4 cup cornstarch
• 1/2 teaspoon salt (seasalt or kosher salt preferably)
• soda water or sparkling water

For the Roasted Garlic Lemon Aioli

• 1/2 head garlic oven-roasted in foil
• 1 tablespoon dijon mustard
• 1 tablespoon horseradish
• juice from 1 fresh lemon
• 2 egg yolks
• extra virgin olive oil
• salt
• sugar

What to do:

1. Make your Lemon Garlic Aioli as early as 1 or 2 days ahead. Roast garlic in a 350 degree oven for about 30 minutes. Allow to cool. In a glass mixing bowl, add your roasted garlic (squeeze it out of the skin), 1 tablespoon dijon mustard, 1 tablespoon horseradish, 2 egg yolks, pinch of salt and the juice of 1 lemon. Mix with a whisk. After that is mixed up, slowly add olive oil and continue to whisk feverishly until it starts to get thick. Eventually you’ll have added enough oil to make a mayonnaise. Taste and add some more salt if you would like and add about 1/2 teaspoon of sugar. Always taste to make sure the seasonings are to your liking!
2. Make sure you prep your hard veggies (asparagus and cauliflower) by boiling them for 1 to 2 minutes and shocking them in an ice water bath to stop the cooking.
3. Make your batter by combining all your dry ingredients first, mixing and then adding enough sparkling water for it to be slightly thin. You want it to coat your veggies and fish, but you do not want it so thick that it resembles spackle. Make it like a thin pancake batter. Add more flour if you mess up. Let it sit for 15 to 20 minutes.
4. After all your veggies are prepped, pour enough peanut oil into your skillets or pots (you should have one for frying veggies and one for frying the seafood) to almost cover your ingredients – about 2 1/2 to 3 inches deep. Whack your heat up to high. When you stick the end of a wooden spoon in and there are bubbles all around it, your oil is probably ready.
5. Start with your blanched asparagus. Put pieces in the batter and allow some of the batter to drip off before placing each piece in the oil. Do this with each piece and allow to fry until golden brown. After all the asparagus is done, remove from oil using a slotted spoon and allow it drain on some paper towels and immediately sprinkle with a good amount of kosher salt. Next, do your cauliflower, then mushroom quarters, etc. till you have fried all of your veggies.
6. Repeat with all your fish. The ONLY exception to the “cook till golden brown” rule should be for the squid/calamari. They really should not be cooked more than 2 minutes or else they’ll be chewy. Allow them all to drain on paper towels and sprinkle with kosher salt as well.
7. Serve mixed up on a big platter with your lemon/garlic aioli in a serving dish on the side. Serve with lemon wedges and some nice wine!

CHECK OUT THESE OTHER RECIPES YOU MAY ENJOY:

• PASTA (BUCATINI) WITH PISTACHIO SAUCE
• PASTA WITH TUNA (Pasta Con Tonno)
• PERFECT BROCCOLI DI RAPE WITH SWEET SAUSAGE
• LIDIA’S LAMB CHOPS (Lamb Chops with A Mustard Anchovy Sauce)
• Pigs Must Dream of Ending Up Here
• Remaking a Tuscan Restaurant Meal (From Florence)
  
• San Gennaro Festival, Little Italy, NYC – A Letdown (Boy’s Version)

The reason I put the word ‘kabob’ in quotation marks is because these technicaly are not kabobs. Most people associate the word kabob with grilled meat on a skewer. Well, that is partially right. Kabobs are cubed, marinated pieces of meat. Because we are using ground meat it kind of loses the ‘kabob’ title and becomes a Kubideh/Kafta in Lebanon or a Kūbide in Iran. The word Kubideh is the Persian word for “chopped” or “mashed”. Altough not traditional, free to substitute ground lamb for ground pork or beef but technicaly Kubideh should be a mix of ground lamb and beef. Also, traditionally the onion you mix with your ground meat should be almost pureed in a food processor before it is mixed in. I didn’t do this, but feel free to go traditional!

Also, do not fret if you don’t have any skewers, you could just roll the ground meat into the oval-ish shape and just cook that way. Another non-traditional element I added to our kubideh is tzatziki sauce which is traditionally a Greek dip or sauce which tops souvlaki and gyros. I think the tzatziki sauce really brings this meal together and gives keeps it moist. I highly recommend making it to go with the kabobs.

GROUND LAMB ‘KABOBS’ (LAMB KUBIDEH)

Ingredients:

For the ground meat:

• 1 lb. of ground lamb (use more ground lamb if you’re really hungry!)
• 1/2 onion, finely minced
• 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon of salt
• some ground pepper
• 1 teaspoon minced parsley (fresh, preferably)
• 1 teaspoon finely chopped mint (fresh, preferably)
• 2 tablespoons of feta cheese, crumbled
• some lemon zest
• 1 egg, beaten

For the tzatziki:

• 2 small containers of low-fat or fat-free plain yogurt (if you can get greek yogurt, go for it!)
• 1/2 of cucumber, seeds taken out, peeled and cut into small pieces
• the zest and juice of one lemon
• 1 big clove of garlic, smashed and minced finely
• 2-3 tablespoons of fresh mint, chopped
• pinch of salt

Other ingredients:

• White or whole wheat pitas
• 1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
• lettuce, thinly sliced
• feta cheese, crumbled
• hot sauce (optional)

What to do:

1. Line a sieve with cheesecloth or 2 paper towels. Put yogurt in this and allow to drain for 1/2 hour. This will create a thicker tzatziki sauce.
2. Combine all the ground meat ingredients except egg. Whisk egg and add to ground meat. Use those hands to mix it up – get in there! Heat up your griddle pan and turn on your overhead fan – this creates lots of smoke.
3. Shape the meat into thick, oval shapes. Poke a skewer into the middle of the meat. Once griddle pan is hot, cook meat. Make sure to turn so every side gets cooked (about 45 seconds per side). You want it to be kind of crispy on the outside.
4. Meanwhile, slice up your garnish – red onion and lettuce and crumble some more feta.
5. When tzatziki is drained, transfer to a bowl. Mix in other ingredients and allow to sit while you assemble the kubideh’s/kabobs.
6. Toast one side of your pita on the griddle pan. If there’s still some ground meat fat on there, allow the pita to soak some of it up while it’s grilling – about 1 minute.
7. Layer the ground meat first, topped with some crumbled feta, a squeeze of lemon, lettuce, red onion and a squeeze of hot sauce. On one side of the pita, put 1-2 tablespoons of tzatziki, roll up and ENJOY!!

CHECK OUT THESE OTHER SUPER EASY AND QUICK MEALS:

• POTATO AND LEEK SOUP
• TORTILLA SOUP
• CHORIZO, CHICKPEA AND POTATO SOUP
• PASTA WITH LEEKS, ASPARAGUS, MUSHROOMS AND GRUYERE, TOPPED WITH A FRIED EGG
• ORECCHIETTE WITH SAUSAGE AND KALE
• GROUND LAMB KABOBS (Lamb Kubideh)
• SWEET ANISE-FLAVORED SALMON IN A POUCH (SALMON EN PAPILLOTE)

The owners, the Abi-Najm family, had a really cute ‘coming-to-America/America the land of opportunity’ story that is often unheard of these days. They fled Lebanon on a cargo ship during the civil war with only a few belongings. In 1976, they settled in Arlington and by 1979 they bought a small pizza place called Athenian Taverna and had only enough money to replace half the sign, and the first Lebanese Taverna was born.

Warms your heart, right? Maybe makes you reconsider your opinions on the current immigration policy, huh? Maybe it’s just me?

Anyways, that night I ate the most delicious and different meal. The dish was called Fatteh Djaje – seasoned, shredded chicken with crispy pita bread, smothered in a yogurt sauce and (my favorite part) sprinkled with pomegranate seeds. Every time I visited Shannon, I asked if we could go to Lebanese Taverna so I could satisfy my craving.

After the second time dining there, I knew I had to try to find a recipe to recreate the dish. This was 1999 and the internet was shockingly different than it is today. After much searching, I found something that slightly resembled it, but I knew I would have to get creative and figure it out based on my memory of the dish at the restaurant.

To this day, the Lebanese Taverna’s menu includes Fatteh Djaje (with chicken) and Fatteh Blahmeh (with lamb). Here is how the Fatteh Blahmeh is described on their menu:

Pretty great description for a pretty amazing meal. I know many of you may be scared of this recipe, but if you try it once, I guarantee you’ll be hooked. Since 1999 (and one marriage to an Englishman later), I’ve grown to love lamb and eat a decent amount of it, so this recipe will be the lamb version. Feel free to substitute the lamb for chicken if you’re not a lamb eater. If you like the taste of Moroccan spices (nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, etc.), you’ll love this meal.

LEBANESE SPICED LAMB OVER CRISPY PITA SMOTHERED WITH A GARLIC-YOGURT POMEGRANATE SAUCE (FATTEH BLAHMEH)

For the Lamb

• 3 lbs lamb for stew (small bits still on the bone)
• 1 onion, diced
• 1 clove garlic, minced
• 1 two to three inch stick of cinnamon
• 5 cloves
• 1/2 of nutmeg (or about 1 teaspoon ground nutmeg if you must)
• 2-3 cups of chicken stock
• pinch of salt
• 1 can of chickpeas

For the Yogurt Sauce

• 1 1/2 cups of plain yogurt, strained
• 2 cloves of garlic, mashed into a paste
• some mint leaves, roughly chopped
• a squeeze of lemon (Optional: zest of half of lemon)

Garnish and Bottom Layer:

• 3-4 pita bread, sliced through the middle (so they are thin), cut into triangles and toasted till crispy
• 1/4 cup of toasted pine-nuts
• 1/4 cup pomegranate seeds (if seasonally available)
• some roughly chopped mint

What to do:

1. Season your lamb with some kosher salt, a bit of nutmeg and cinnamon. Heat up a small bit of olive oil in your pressure cooker. Over medium heat, sear your lamb until brown – about 1 1/2 minutes per side. ***NOTE: You could also slow cook the lamb in your slow cooker for 5-6 hours during the work day and still get that wonderful, falling-off-the-bone thing.
2. Add your onions and garlic to the pressure cooker and using the leftover oil, saute briefly, stirring around the meat to make some room for the onions/garlic to cook.
3. Make a bouquet garni (if you have cheesecloth or do what I did in a bind tonight – get a misfit (CLEAN!!) sock, cut it, wrap your spices in it and tie with kitchen twine) with the cinnamon stick, nutmeg half and cloves.
4. After another 30 seconds or so, add your stock. Throw in your bouquet garni. Bring to a boil and follow your pressure cooker directions. Cook in pressure for 30-35 minutes.
5. While that’s cooking, mix your strained yogurt with the garlic paste, chopped mint, squeeze of lemon and lemon zest. Stir and let sit so the flavors meld.
6. Slice your pita and toast in the oven for about 4-5 minutes at 385 degrees till crispy. (OPTIONAL: Traditionally, the pita should be fried in butter for a more intense taste).
7. If you have a pomegranate, slice in half and remove seeds. It’s easier to submerge it in water and take seeds out that way – the little bits of sinew will separate from the seeds more easily. Strain so you just have the seeds.
8. When lamb is finished cooking in the pressure cooker/slowcooker, using tongs, remove lamb only out of the sauce and put in bowl. Allow to cool for a few moments.
9. Meanwhile, turn heat on medium to reduce the sauce just a bit more – about 5 minutes. After 5 minutes, add the drained chickpeas and let simmer for another 3-4 minutes.
10. With two forks (or your fingers!), remove the bones from the lamb meat and shred the lamb meat. It should be super tender and fall off the bone easily.
11. Assemble your dish. Put 4-5 toasted/fried pita triangles on the bottom of your dish. Using a large spoon, spoon some chickpeas with sauce over the crispy pita bread. You want a decent layer of chickpeas. Next, top the chickpeas with some shredded lamb. Finally, add a layer of yogurt and top with a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds, toasted pine nuts and chopped mint. Dig in!

CHECK OUT SOME OTHER PRESSURE COOKER RECIPES:

• WINE-BRAISED LAMB SHANKS WITH ROSEMARY AND THYME IN PRESSURE COOKER
• LEMONGRASS BEEF SHORTRIBS
• KOREAN-STYLE PORK RIBS IN PRESSURE COOKER