Murri and the Original Merguez (Mirkås) Sausage (Before the Discovery of the New World!)

Byzantine mosaic

When I think Byzantine, I think of sad-faced saints, their heads always circled by a hovering nimbus –– many, many mosaics –– 

and gold, lots and lots of gold.

Hagia Sophia

Interior Hagia Sophia

I also think of the great domed Hagia Sophia in Constantinople (now Istanbul) –– it’s the alpha and omega (τὸ Α καὶ τὸ Ω) of Byzantine culture –– and full of, yes, you guessed it –– gold and mosaics and sad faced saints.

Constantine, Mosaic from 1000

The Byzantine Empire covered a remarkable 1000 years from the 4^th century to 1453.  It was a continuation of the Roman Empire since Byzantium was conquered by Roman Emperor, Constantine the Great (the first emperor who converted to Christianity) in 334 and was built on 7 hills like Rome (although Constantine first called it New Rome). The seat of power was centered in Constantinople (formerly called Byzantium) rather than Rome,  and it was a Christian rather than a pagan empire. It was most powerful before the 1^st millennium but its stretch was considerable in the arts, architecture and politics (and is still stretching in a popular video game set in 16th c. Constantinople, Assassin's Creed!).  It was known as the Empire of the Greeks.

Emperor Justinian, San Vitale, Ravenna 

My favorite Byzantine character was The Emperor Justinian, son of a Illerian peasant (in what was formerly Yugoslavia). 

12^th Century Manasses Chronicle, depicting construction of Hagia Sophia (between 1533-37)

He was the man behind the building of the Hagia Sophia  (meaning Holy Wisdom in Greek) –– one of the most magnificent structures of the Middle Ages (and the largest cathedral in the world until the 16^th century) that he had designed by a physicist and a mathematician –– a stroke of genius that may account for its extraordinary curves and angles and the play of light from the windows.  The fortress-like exterior doesn’t prepare you for the surprise of the wonders within.

Constantinople, 1576 

Justinian also re-wrote Roman law (Codex Iustinianus or Corpus Juris Civilis) and had the plague that wiped out a quarter of Europe named after him (The Plague of Justinian).  The plague also took out 40% of the population of Constantinople leaving his seat of power battered (it was thought the plague came over with Egyptian grain that was needed to feed the enormous city).

Theodora from the Basilica di San Vitale, Ravenna 

Justinian was an original leader for his times. Since he wasn’t an insider, he assembled a court of worthy men of talent and vision.  Some say he rewarded men for their gifts, not their pedigree (his wife Theodora was a former courtesan –– brilliant in her own right, and brave… she faced down a rebellion when Justinian was going to throw in the towel, but also very very vengeful). Justinian was also involved in a lot of fighting –– that was one of his many downsides (that and clawing taxes from a populous devastated by the plague to pay for his wars –– not nice).  

Procopius, a contemporary of Justinian, thought he was an inept rapacious mess and his wife a monster, and wrote a book about it, Secret History of the Court of Justinian. Decide for yourself, history is all about interpretation (was Procopius a disgruntled fellow who was getting back at Justinian for imagined slights or a beacon of truth?).  Justinian did have that church built to replace one that had been destroyed in ferocious battle (there’s a great book on this called  Byzantium by Robin Cormack full of AMAZING pictures) and for that alone he should be lauded.

Constantinople

How did they eat? 

Byzantine cuisine was a merger of Greek and Roman traditions but because of the size of the empire, it absorbed others as well and was richer for it.  The upper classes ate a healthy diet of salads and grains and eggs and were famous for ‘sphoungata’ –– a kind of spongy omelette.  They ate a lot of chicken and fish, a little pork and very little lamb and beef.  The first mention of caviar comes from Byzantium. It seems they did boil things … a lot. Wikipedia quoted a pejorative Byzantine expression: “the lazy cook prepares everything by boiling”, well at least the bad cooks did.  Judging by food descriptions of the day, the rich had a varied and delicious diet.  If the recipes of Anthimus (the Byzantine physician exiled to the court of King Theodoric and compiler of the what has become known as the 1^st French Cookbook, De Observatione Ciborum) are any indicator of his native cuisine ––  the court of Justinian ate well indeed.

Pompeiian Mosaic of a “flower of garum”

They used Garum as a major condiment (the ubiquitous Roman fish sauce).  But there was another that came up, influenced by middle-eastern and Spainish cuisine… Murri.

I began Lostpastremembered 2 years ago but before that I was a serious food history nerd (ok, I’ve always been a bit of a nerd).  I love looking things up, following quirky paths and making discoveries about what most people would consider weird ingredients.  It was and is great fun for me.

Murri from Old Roman Bottle

A few years ago, I read an article about this sauce called murri.  I can’t remember the article that brought me to it but the idea of an ancient salt sauce that was neither soy nor fish appealed to me in a big way and the ingredients were a compelling combination of grains, spices and even fruit, I found and saved the recipe.  I made my first batch nearly a year and a half ago and it keeps getting better with age (I keep it in the fridge, fyi).  Then I tried a more ancient version from 13^th century Baghdad that involved rotting barley –– that became an interesting science experiment full of molds and fungus.  I found that by heating it I had done wrong (killed all the happy bugs, said Charles Perry) but the result is still delicious a year later (it also has a wonderful complex flavor).

happy mold, with grape leaves instead of fig….

With my stock getting low, I made the 2011 batch.  The Byzantine murri came out a little lighter this time around since I didn’t brown the toast as much as I had before.  My efforts at the rotting barley this summer (2011) failed and turned into a gluey pink rotten mess (it should smell like a forest floor, not like the reek oozing from a NYC garbage truck).  The 2^nd batch turned black and had a bit of bitterness to it… completely different from the 2010 version… the jury is still out on that one. 

 I guess what I’m telling you is, Byzantine Murri is a sure thing and the safest thing to make.  The rotted barley version is wonderful if it works but it could be a dangerous proposition.  All of the murris are extremely salty so use them sparingly and don’t add additional salt before tasting your dish... it’s like liquid salt.

What you will end up with is just splendid.  It has a magical quality that adds an amazing depth to all meat dishes that I’ve added it to… what remarkable results.  It’s not that it tastes great by itself, but alchemy happens when it joins other flavors. I'd like to share it (and the wonderful Byzantine art) as a Christmas present to you... it is a gift to your cooking for sure.

Kitab al-Tabikh, The Bagdad Cookbook by 

Muhammad ibn al-Hasan ibn Muhammad ibn al-Karim al-Katib al-Baghdadi (d. 1240)

I originally found the Byzantine Murri recipe on the site Coquinaria , but it and the other versions came from Charles Perry, former LA Times restaurant critic and expert on the ancient cuisines of the middle east and North Africa among others.   He translated Kitab al Tibakhah from the 13^th century (a great book to own, titled A Baghdad Cookery Book).  I have made a few wonderful things from the book.

It was he who spurred me on to make the rotted barley murri after I met him at the Oxford Food Symposium   last year. He patiently endured my sending him photos of the progress to check the quality of the mold (it should have what looks like spider webs, sign of the existence of aspergillus mold that’s also used in making sake) and even tasted one of my concoctions!  For that I will be eternally grateful.

Once you’ve made your murri, you need to take it out for a test drive, don’t you?  I found this recipe for merguez (or Mirkâs) from Al Andalus Cookbook of the 13th Century , translated by Charles Perry.  It is completely different from the spicy and positively red with chilis merguez we think of today because the recipe pre-dates the discovery of the new world!  It started out as a warmly spiced and fragrant mix, served with a greened, vinegared sauce. I’ve always used pomegranate molasses with my merguez so my recipe includes it, the original does not.  It’s really good and the murri works its magic on the lamb.
May I say these are great for hors d'oeuvres served sliced and sauced on bits of pita or alone.

To begin at the beginning, here is the first recipe for murri that I made, the safe one, beginning with the translation:

Description of Byzantine murri [made] right away: There is taken, upon the name of God the Most High, of honey scorched in a nuqrah [perhaps this word means 'a silver vessel'], three ratls; pounded scorched oven bread, ten loaves; starch, half a ratl; roasted anise, fennel and nigella, two uqiyahs of each; byzantine saffron, an uqiya; celery seed, an uqiyah; syrian carob, half a ratl; fifty peeled walnuts, as much as half a ratl; split quinces, five; salt, half a makkuk dissolved in honey; thirty ratls water; and the rest of the ingredients are thrown on it, and it is boiled on a slow flame until a third of the water is absorbed. Then it is strained well in a clean nosebag of hair. It is taken up in a greased glass or pottery vessel with a narrow top. A little lemon from Takranjiya (? Sina'ah 51 has Bakr Fahr) is thrown on it, and if it suits that a little water is thrown on the dough and it is boiled upon it and strained, it would be a second (infusion). The weights and measurements that are given are Antiochan and Zahiri [as] in Mayyafariqin.

Marble from my friends at Statewide Granite and Marble in Jersey City

Byzantine Murri from Coquinaria

3 T honey

1 1/2 oz bread

1 T wheat starch

2/3 t anise

2/3 t fennel

2/3 t nigella

1/4 t saffron

1/3 t celery seed

1/4 oz carob

1/4 oz walnut

1 1/2 oz quince (if you can’t get quince, you might try quince jam and then cut some of the honey)

1/2 c salt in 3 T honey

1 pint water

lemon (1/4 of one)

Cook the honey in a small frying pan on medium heat, bringing it to a

boil then turning off the heat and repeat several times till it tastes scorched. I used my homemade wheat/rye bread and toasted it till it was nearly burnt then mashed it. The anise and fennel were toasted in a frying pan then ground in a mortar with celery seed and walnuts. The quince was quartered and cored and cubed. After it was all boiled together for about 2 hours they recommend that you put in a potato ricer, to squeeze out the liquid and then add lemon juice. The recipe makes about 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 c of liquid. Add another 1/2 c of water to the residue, simmer 1/2 hr -1 hr, and squeeze out that liquid for the second infusion, which yields about 1/3 c. A third infusion using 1/3 c yields another 1/4 c or so."

Here is a translation of the recipe for Mirkâs (Merguez Sausage) from Al Andalus:

It is as nutritious as meatballs (banâdiq) and quick to digest, since the pounding ripens it and makes it quick to digest, and it is good nutrition. First get some meat from the leg or shoulder of a lamb and pound it until it becomes like meatballs. Knead it in a bowl, mixing in some oil and some murri naqî', pepper, coriander seed, lavender, and cinnamon. Then add three quarters as much of fat, which should not be pounded, as it would melt while frying, but chopped up with a knife or beaten on a cutting board. Using the instrument made for stuffing, stuff it in the washed gut, tied with thread to make sausages, small or large. Then fry them with some fresh oil, and when it is done and browned, make a sauce of vinegar and oil and use it while hot. Some people make the sauce with the juice of cilantro and mint and some pounded onion. Some cook it in a pot with oil and vinegar, some make it râhibi with onion and lots of oil until it is fried and browned. It is good whichever of these methods you use.

Here is my version:

 Mirkâs (merguez sausage) based on the recipe from Al Andalus Cookbook of the 13th Century  

1 pound ground lamb (if you have a meat grinder make this leg or shoulder of lamb)

¼ lb chopped lamb fat, ground or chopped finely (you don’t need this if you are not stuffing casings)

1 T olive or sesame oil (not Chinese toasted sesame oil but the light and clear variety)

3 T murri ( if you don't make it... use soy sauce... a close alternative)

½ t ground black pepper

½ t ground coriander

½ t lavender

¼ t cinnamon

2 ½ ’ of sausage casings (these freeze beautifully, I cut them in lengths, wind them and freeze them so I always have them on hand when I want to make sausage.

Sauce

1 m onion, chopped small

1 T olive oil to fry plus 2 for the sauce

½ c chopped cilantro and mint

2 T vinegar

2 T pomegranate molasses

1 T  homemade grenadine (recipe HERE) or pomegranate juice w a tiny bit of orange flower water

Put the mixture together and fry some to taste for seasonings (I like adding a little more lavender, pepper and cinnamon myself), it’s really important to do this before you invest in stuffing the sausage. When you like what you taste, stuff the sausages and dry in the fridge for a few hours uncovered (this helps them brown better, your casings will have been soaking in water so this will dehydrate them).  If you don’t want to go the stuffing route, this is just fine sautéed in patties.

Fry the onions till browned and add the vinegar and pomegranate molasses and granadine or pomegranate juice.  Stir to blend and then pour over the sausages, serve with chopped cilantro and mint sprinkled about or stir the herbs into the sauce and wilt them... not as bright in color or flavor if done that way.  This is fabulous on a bed of whole wheat couscous.

Cooks in the kitchen, relief from Ashurbanipal’s Palace, Ninevah 7th c BCE

Here are some more versions of murri to play with, I'm doing #4 next!:

Murri 2

Take 5 ratls each of barley and flour. Make the flour into a good dough without leaven or salt, bake, and leave until dry. Then grind up fine with the barley, knead into a green trough with a third the quantity of salt, and put out into the sun for 40 days in the heat of the summer, kneading every day at dawn and evening, and sprinkling with water. When black, put into conserving jars, cover with an equal quantity of water, stirring morning and evening: then strain it into the first murri. Add cinnamon, saffron and some aromatic herbs.

Murri 3

Take barley and wheaten or barley flour, make into a dry dough with hot water, using no leaven or salt, and bake into a loaf with a hole in the middle. Wrap in fig leaves, stuff into a preserving-jar, and leave in the shade until fetid. Then remove and dry.

Persepolis Horse

Murri 4  from Kitab Wasf al-At'ima al-Mu'tada:

How to make al-Murri al-Naqî‘ lil-Maghâriba (the infused soy sauce of the North Africans). Knead barley, unleavened and without salt, exceedingly well and make it into loaves, each one half an Egyptian pound. Then wrap them in male fig leaves and insert fig tree ¹ twigs into them as far as the leaves will permit. Spread them out on barley bran and arrange them side by side in a house which sunlight does not enter, or not much. ² Then leave it 20 days. Turn it over, top to bottom, and leave it another 20 days.

Then you gather them with their rot and leaves and pile them up and leave them 20 days. Then you break off a piece of it, and if you find red veins inside, it is quite ripe. If not, leave it another 20 days.

Then take it in any case and clean off the decay with a knife. Gather it and pound it in the mortar or grind in the mill. Then weigh it, and add one fifth of its weight in table salt ³ and as much dry thyme as salt, and as much milled dry coriander as thyme, and as much as the coriander of these spices: caraway, nigella, fenugreek, anise, fennel, each of these the measure of a fifth; and let the fennel be more. ⁴

Then you put it in a new vessel, or (one) with a trace of oil, and it should be wide-mouthed. And you put it on the rooftop so that the sun falls on it most of the day, and you put water on it until its consistency becomes like flowing date molasses. You throw into it broken-up carob, fennel stalks, citron leaves and the pith of (bitter) orange branches, of each as much as is abundant, and two or three pine cones, as much as is done; let their seeds have been removed. You stir it with a stick of fig wood with branches, putting its end to the bottom and its root on top and stirring it with the strength of violent heat. And you cover it with a sieve woven of bast and esparto and put a cloth on it to prevent wasps ⁵ and flies from falling in, for they often love it ardently. Leave it in the sun 40 days.

Then you clarify it with a filter and put it up in a clay pot ⁶ for the sun, shielded with oil. Then, for every 10 Egyptian pounds, you throw in a third of a pound of flour of groats, kneaded leavened and baked in the bread oven but not completely done. Then break it into crumbs while hot into this raised ⁷ (sc. murri) and leave it in the sun for ten days.

Strain it and put up in glass vessels sealed with oil. This is the first extraction, ⁸ and it is the excellent one. If you want to extract another from it, take that which you left before and add water to it and leave it another 40 days. Then, after straining it, throw in hot bread as you did before, and you leave it 10 days and strain it, and it is the second water. And if you want a third and a fourth, do so. Then keep the dregs and dry them in the shade as loaves, for they enter into some dishes.


Thanks to Gollum for hosting Foodie Friday!


Thanks to Statewide Granite and Marble in Jersey City for the wonderful stone piece!!

One of my favorite ingredients in the world is Madeira, and Rare Wine Co. is doing a fabulous box for the holidays filled with a selection of 4 gorgeous wines for a song... ranging from sweet to dry for all your needs... this is a perfect gift for you or your friends who love to cook!  Go HERE to get it.

Goose –– Wicked, Delicious – Smoked in Garbure (a French Stew) & Roasted with a Holiday Drink

 Attack goose

I really don’t like geese. 

My beloved German grandmother’s family had a picture-book farm in Wisconsin. The gigantic dining table was a wonder –– placed in front of a huge fireplace –– I think it sat 20!  The kitchen smelled like the best bakery in the world since there was always something cooking there.  My great aunt Amelia, who towered over her tiny, but well-turned-out husband Fred (who still had his old-fashioned lace-up shoes custom made for him 60 years after they had gone out of fashion) was the matriarch of the family and a formidable woman. Legend has it when Fred died, she picked up the phone and called the funeral home, “Fred’s dead, pick him up” and went back to her work. For some reason I remember her hair so clearly, pulled astoundingly tightly, forming a tiny braided bun on top of her head.  I realized why she always went on about my gram’s, thick, still auburn hair (at 75) when I saw the bun down one day –– it was down past her waist but thin as a pencil –– it was hair envy!  She was a tyrant around the farm, and everyone quivered at the sight of her.  Her kitchen was so clean you could perform surgery there without hesitation –– everything gleamed from continual polishing and scrubbing.

The house was really extraordinary and I marveled at its 3-foot thick stone walls like some medieval castle.  Every doorframe had 2 doors, every window had 2 inner and outer windows.  It was always the perfect temperature, winter or summer because of this massive construction.  The house was built to last until the end of time.  Its boon and its curse was that it stood right by Lake Michigan, a fact that made it very valuable (the lake formed one edge of the property).  Her dim children, who didn’t feel any love for the place, when approached by developers sold it for a pile.  I never had the heart to find out if the magical house was torn down.  My small consolation (schadenfreude?) was that it would have been a hellish job.

It was at this farm that I learned about farm animals, drank milk warm from the cow (it was like drinking warm cream and insanely rich), and eating home-smoked sausages and hams and eggs fresh from the chickens.  I didn’t know how lucky I was. 

It was on one of these visits that I had my first encounter with anser anser domesticus and it wasn’t pretty.  I was young, 7 or 8, and having a grand time running about the land.

Grafton Wisconsin Octagonal Barn

My great uncle Bill had an octagonal barn down the road at his place and my brother and I just had the time of our lives swinging from a rope and dropping into the hay below.  We were Tarzan and Errol Flynn all rolled into one that day… and we got away with it without getting caught, score!

We were back at Amelias’ when the attack happened.    I had visited the lovely cows and laughed at the very charming pigs (having a hard time imagining them as bacon and already having a bit of an issue with killing them for food… especially after meeting them!).   We opened a gate to walk to another barn.  Out of nowhere the squawking started.  A gaggle of geese came around the corner… honking like mad and led by an enormous gander.  We made eye contact and I knew then and there my goose was cooked.   I ran and he ran after me.  My brother made it over the fence clean but I wasn’t so lucky.  The white demon bit my leg brutally hard as I was climbing the fence.  It was a completely unnecessary and vicious thing to do.

When I made it over and looked back he was still honking and looking at me with the most malevolent stare imaginable.  Think Jurassic Park's Velociraptor  … that’s the look (the real velociraptor was only the size of a goose,  and we now know it had even had feathers –– the movie folks went for the larger Deinonychus for a size model and changed the face to make it look more sinister –– they changed the name because, well, Velociraptor sounds sexier than Deinonychus). I swear, he must have been an ancestor of my feathered nemesis –– but I digress...

Juno Moneta 

I discovered that guarding is in the nature of geese.  Wikipedia said that the sacred flock of geese in the temple of Juno Moneta on the Capitoline Hill saved Rome from the marauding Gauls in 300 BCE by alerting them of a stealthy night attack. The epithet Moneta could have come from the Latin word monere –to warn or from the word mon for mountain or hill.  As of 273 BCE, the mint was established in her temple and the word money may have come from that association.  Perhaps that is where golden egg laying geese came from?? As it is, whole books have been written about geese in folklore.

I know, carrying a grudge for a lifetime is really bad –– but, well, I have and it has only recently abated–– somewhat.   My early Bambi dietary laws (don’t eat anything cute) put goose at the top of my meat list for years.  I asked for a Christmas goose for years.

 Looks deceptively cute here, doesn’t it?

Fast forward to adulthood.  I made my first Christmas goose in my new apartment.  After all, goose was the first thing Elizabeth the 1st ate to celebrate the sinking of the Spanish Armada –– she recommended it to her people to celebrate Christmas as a fitting tribute for the accomplishment and the blessing of saving the kingdom. It was delicious and there was a great degree of satisfaction cooking it.  I stopped making it since my ex didn’t care for goose–– many don't after bad experiences with tough, greasy, badly prepared birds.

I hadn’t made goose in many years when a friend delivered a beautiful specimen to my door from an upstate farm last month.  I marinated it in Madeira and was rewarded with a gorgeous bird by reworking a Cook’s Illustrated recipe I found (for the life of me I couldn’t find my old recipe!). 

I thought I’d get the most out of it by making stock with it but the last time I tried it years ago, it was a disaster and tasted just plain nasty.  My friend, Ken, told me my mistake had been cooking it too hot. My next effort was spectacular.  Goose was now back in my virtual pantry.

This brings me to Jim Schiltz. 

I discovered Schiltz Goose Farms in South Dakota (thanks to my friends at D’Artagnan) while researching foie gras and gavage (the method of force feeding to enlarge a bird’s liver) a few months ago (Schiltz doesn't force feed, by the way).

I realized that when I was young I thought all foie gras was from a goose (foie gras d’oie).  Now it is almost always duck (foie gras de canard) … so much so that it no longer labeled as such.  Foie gras is now almost exclusively duck.

But what of the goose?  As I discovered in researching foie gras, the goose was the first bird to be fattened for their livers –– the Egyptians began cultivating foie gras thousands of years ago and began domesticating them even further back.

I asked my friends at D’Artagnan about goose recommendations and they sent me to Schiltz Goose Farms. 

Photograph from Schiltz Goose Farm

Starting with a few Toulouse eggs in 1944, they have become the largest producer of goose products in the US.  What I found on the site was truly amazing. They began by raising weeder geese!  Did you know that geese were the often raised as weeders?  They were released in fields to keep the weeds down  in fields of cotton, strawberries, asparagus and mint.  They were replaced by herbicides in the 1960s, which I now understand was a good thing since the poor bird's weed diet was not good for them.

By that time the Schiltzes had begun raising geese for meat.  They are free-range birds who live their lives mostly outdoors, living on feed and foraging which makes for the most flavorful and nutritious birds.  Jim Schiltz said, "For the whole smoked goose we use geese that have been processed within our USDA (P-242), SQF Certified facility, that came from our farm in South Dakota, where they are raised in an extreme free range setting.  The geese begin their lives indoors for a couple weeks, then are given the choice of being inside or outside.  They have approx 100 sq ft per bird to run around in, in other words 400 to 500 geese per acre.  Once they eat the grasses that are planted for them down, we bring them fresh greens daily.  It is a world apart from the factory farming that rightfully upsets people." 

Although I got the goose liver that had drawn me to Schiltz to begin with ( that I will share with you soon)  I also got a smoked goose from Schiltz after I saw they were available.  When I got the package I was knocked over.  It is the meatiest, juiciest goose I’ve ever seen (it was nominated for the 2012 Taste Awards)!  It was so big that it went to the front of the recipe line because my freezer (already toooo full) couldn't contain it and, well, I couldn't wait to taste it!  It was so good that stripping the bones of the meat, I tasted like mad and each bit was fantastic with different tastes and textures from every part of the bird, WOW (and they are offering great deals on shipping for the holidays!)

But what to do???  I had an idea to use it in a cassoulet or something like. 

So, where to go for the recipes?  Geese, country life, farm-fresh ingredients ­­­­–– my mind started wandering to Baron Roy Andries de Groot.  Ok, you may ask, what does a blind gourmet who lived in Greenwich Village have to do with farms or geese?  Well, he wrote a wonderful book about a tiny hotel run by a pair of French food muses, Vivette Artaud and Ray Girard.  The book was called The Auberge of the Flowering Hearth.  de Groot felt their cooking expressed the unity of their way of life –– a beautiful expression, don't you think?  It was the first book of his that I read… I mean, how could you not with a title like that… it practically oozes poetry, doesn’t it?  de Groot found the inn by chance on a trip to research the famous Chartreuse liqueur and endeared himself to the women who ran it.  He stayed with them for months, coming and going with the seasons and writing down local recipes that had never been written down before.  It was the cuisine of the place and the seasons and de Groot loved the idea of both.  He was an enormous proponent of food in place and of the season and the recipes in the book capture that place perfectly.

It was a cold and rainy day as I went on my goose chase. I took a detour and got lost in the Alpine valley of La Grande Chartreuse near the village of Saint-Pierre-de-Chartreuse and L’Auberge de l’Atre Fleuri.  What these divine ladies do with eggs and cheese is worth the price of the book, and the stories –– well de Groot makes you feel like you are there –– he’s a splendid writer.  I was having too much fun revisiting the book, no matter that there were no goose recipes for me there.

Returning to the task at hand after my virtual visit to Auberge, I reached for another volume of his called Feasts for All Seasons, I just knew he would have what I wanted.  This book actually preceded Auberge by a few years but the same principals are in evidence (don’t worry, I’ll revisit Auberge again and tell you more about de Groot –– he was quite a character). It was written in the 60’s and the recipes have that feeling about them –– caught as they were between the style of classic French cuisine and the soon to be hot international savor our food was to transition to –– with a little 60's supermarket mentality thrown in (although de Groot lived in Manhattan and had unusual ingredients at his fingertips he was writing for the general public and had to make concessions in authenticity for the less adventurous). 

In the chapter, “The Family Meals of the Fall” I found a perfect recipe for my goose, he calls it La Garbure.  It was nestled between New Orleans Jambalaya and Moorish Lamb Couscous.  

Toupin, 1850 French

He says it is a famous peasant dish from the Pyrenees and includes the direction that it should be thick enough that the ladle stands up in the stew –– cooked and served in a toupin (this would have been stuck in the back of the fireplace to cook low and slow - Le Fanion in NYC has them). I have made some changes like using a smoked goose  (but I warmed it in fat so it became like smoked confit).  

It wasn’t a cassoulet in the classic sense since de Groot made it with green beans and not dry beans and it is soupier in a way, but when I did a little research I found the original French version used fresh white beans or dry… so I threw in some cooked dry beans and added cabbage that was as ubiquitous as root vegetables in the many recipes I found.  I think de Groot wouldn’t have minded the changes since he recommends using what you have to make it (he chose the peculiar addition of green peppers which I decided to skip—this was the 60’s after all). When making garbure (and many other things) I agree with my friend Ken Albala … use the recipe as a guide.  You need not adhere to the ingredients like they were written on stone… use what you want.  I do recommend those chestnuts.  They give it a soft, warm je ne se quoi.

This has always been a soup of the country… of Gascony and the Basque region… the name Garbure probably came from the Spanish garbias meaning stew.  The most famous version is from Béarn (yes, as in Bearnais, although the sauce didn’t come from there!) in the Pyrenees Mountains and was served in 2 courses with the soup coming first –– spooned over the bread slices, and the meat as the main course with served with cornichons and salad and sometimes with pickled hot pepper. 

I could imagine it working in great Aunt Amelia’s kitchen superbly… and it’s a great way to avenge my white-feathered nemesis’ attack so long ago… lots of cooked goose!!!

La Garbure (serves an army… 10 easily)

2 legs and 1- ½ breast, 1-½ thigh from a smoked goose from Schiltz Goose Farms (save the rest for later… or use it all if you would like… this baby has a lot of meat

4 cups goose or duck fat  OR use 6 pieces of homemade duck or goose confit.

2 slices bacon or a bit of pork belly or Ventreche (it needn’t be smoked because the goose is)

salt (won’t be necessary if you are using smoked goose which is salted) and pepper

1 dry chili pepper

3 cloves of garlic

2 m carrots

A solid chunk of roast meat OR remains of pork butt OR ham hock OR Toulouse sausage* OR Keilbasa OR smoked pork chops  –– OR a mixture of any or all of them, whatever you have around or are in the mood for… I read that this soup would sit at the back of the fire for weeks or months in its toupin and that things would be continually tossed into it so that it was constantly evolving… a nice idea.

1 lb green beans, tipped and trimmed (or fresh limas or the traditional fresh, shelled white beans) and/or

1 cup white beans, soaked and cooked till softened (I would do more, perhaps double at least 1 ½)

1 lb baked and shelled chestnuts (I used a jar of cooked French chestnuts)

2 large Leeks or 4 small (white part) in 1” lengths (use one for the stock and one for the soup)

1 lb small boiling potatoes

1 small Savoy cabbage, shredded

2 m white turnips, peeled and cubed (about 2 pounds)

1 bottle Beaujolais

2 T chopped marjoram and thyme

1 bunch parsley, chopped

Slices of toasted bread… with garlic herb butter, even better.

If serving in 2 courses, serve the meat with cornichons and salad with a light vinaigrette.

Cut the goose into breast pieces, legs and thighs and remove the meat from the bone. Reserve the bones… break them into smaller pieces. Reserve the skin for cracklings –– they are sooo good!   Melt the fat in a deep skillet.  You can add any fat from the goose to the pot and render it as you go, then remove what remains.  Add 1 breast and the legs and thigh and cook over a very low heat for 1 hour (reserve the rest, or use it all if you would like –– this goose had a lot of meat).  Skip this step if you are using your own confit.

Remove from the fat when cooled somewhat –– leave fat clinging to the meat. If you want a rich broth… use the fat that will pool on the goose meat… otherwise leave it on the plate when you put the meat in the soup. Adding it will make it very rich (you can save it and add it later if you are worried about the fat).

Sauté the bacon in a large pot (around 10qt) until it is brown and has rendered a good coating of fat.  Sauté the leeks and garlic.

Add 2 c of the red wine and bring to a boil for a few minutes.  Add enough water to come halfway up the pot and bring to a boil (I used the whole carcass so used about 3 QT that gave me 2 Qt of stock).

Add the bones and the ham hock and hot pepper and simmer for 3 to 5 hours until you have a good stock (I usually do it till the meat falls off the bones to get what I like and that took 5 hours). Remove the ham hock and the goose bones. Discard the bones and remove the meat from the ham hock and reserve.

Skim the fat (I did this the day before and let it cool and then removed the fat and brought the stock up to a simmer).

Add the turnips, bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer and cook for 20 minutes.

Add the potatoes, halved, the leek split and careful washed and cut into 1-inch pieces.  Add the scraped carrots, cut into chunks. Bring this to a boil and then reduce to a bare simmer for 30 minutes. Then add the salt (with the smoked goose you don't need it) and pepper.

Fry the sausages if they are raw. Prick them and brown them to loose some of the fat.  Leave the meat in big chunks if you are using it and add it and/or the sausages to the pot. 

Put the green beans and chestnuts and cabbage into the pot and add the confit and meat you have harvested from the ham hock and cooked dry beans and cook another 30 minutes at a bare simmer.  Sprinkle with fresh herbs.

Remove the large pieces of meat and sausage.  You can either serve these separately on a platter as it is traditionally done, and place mostly vegetables in your individual soup bowls and ladle the broth over them or slice into bite-size pieces and return them to the tureen and ladle them out together.  Either way, put 2 T of red wine into each bowl before ladling the soup and serve with toasts.

Toulouse Sausage

1 pound ground pork

1/8 lb pork belly, finely chopped (a processor works well for this)

1/8 c white wine
1 T Madeira ( Boston Bual from the Rare Wine Co.)

1 t salt

1 t sugar

½ t pepper

small clove garlic, minced

¼ t nutmeg

pinch of sage and thyme

1 2’ length of sausage casing

Combine all the ingredients and let sit in the fridge for an hour.  If you don’t have a sausage stuffer, use a pastry bag and fill the casings with the mixture but it takes a strong hand.  Tie the sausages off at 6 or 8” lengths and put in the fridge, uncovered to dry for a few hours.

 

 Roast Goose

1 goose(you can order one from Schiltz Goose Farm)

1-2 T madeira (Boston Bual from Rare Wine Co. is perfect

3 T hazelnut oil, frozen

1 T heather honey

2 T chopped fresh herbs

s&p

1 cup red wine

3 T Madeira

½ c demi-glace

Put the goose in boiling water for one minute and remove, Turn it upside down and do it again.  Remove, pat dry and rub with madeira put in the fridge on a rack, uncovered overight.

Heat the oven to 325º 

Remove, salt and pepper the bird.  Stuff the frozen hazelnut oil, honey and herbs under the skin of the breast. Place the bird on the rack, breast side down.  Roast it for 1 1/2 hour. Remove from the oven and remove the accumulated fat.  Turn it so the breast side is up and cook another 45 min to hour.  Check it to see if it is done…if the drumstick meat feels soft when you push on it,  you are ready.  If it is, turn the oven up to 400º and remove the bird.

Transfer the bird with the rack to a jellyroll pan and let roast for 15 more minutes to crisp the skin.  Remove the liquid/fat from the roasting pan while this is cooking. Separate the fat from the juices.  Deglaze the pan with the red wine and Madeira.  Pour back the lovely juices you have separated from the fat and add the demi-glace.  Adjust the seasoning and serve with the sliced goose (which should have been resting 10 minutes while you do this).  If you would like a thicker sauce, add a few T of flour to the sauce… make a slurry with some red wine and add to the sauce, stir till thickened.

My friend David Solmonson over at 12 Bottle Bar asked me to come up with something that fits the bill for a holiday drink.  I pulled a few books out (real and virtual) and settled on one that David of 12 Bottle Bar had sent my way, the  Café Royal Cocktail Book from 1937.   I was feeling color and went for drinks with red in it. 

When I found the Pink Rose I asked Petunia, my St. Bernard, her opinion (she was hovering since it was past her walk-in-the-park time) and she said “woof”  (which is an expression we use in the film business when we move things to camera… when it’s where you want it, whoever’s looking through the lens says ‘woof’).  I knew I was on the right track.  The picture above is an homage to her good taste. 

Something about pink froth seems right for the holidays.

You see, I love pomegranates and pomegranate juice.  When I found out grenadine was made from them, well I was shocked… it tastes nothing like it.  I found a recipe to make it and decided I was going to give it a go one day… that day has come.

As you see, the recipe couldn’t be easier and it’s so wonderful to look at.  I did change it a little since the grenadine was so delicious…. I had to have a little more of it!

Petunia’s Pink Rose (2 small or 1 large drink)

1 egg white

2 T grenadine (recipe follows, its the best you ever tasted!)

2 T cream

2 t lemon juice

2 T to 4 T gin to your taste

I don’t have a cocktail shaker so I whipped the egg white with a mixer till a loose meringue formed.  Then,  I put the rest in a jar and shook it like mad.  I combined them gently and voilá,  Petunia’s Pink Rose.  I also made a star out of the grenadine in the center.

Enjoy it for the holidays!!

Grenadine (this makes about 1 ½ cups)

1 c pomegranate juice (about 3 pomegranates should do it or buy the juice)

1 c unbleached sugar

1 oz pomegranate molasses

1 or 2 drops Aftelier Petitgrain or 1 t orange blossom water

Heat the juice just enough to melt the sugar… keep it low so you don’t lose the fresh flavor. DO NOT BOIL! Add the molasses and dissolve and then add the petitgrain or orange flower and you are good to go.  Some people advise adding vodka to give it staying power… it is fresh juice after-all.  I say… use it all up for a party… you’ll be glad you did!!!

For the best chef gifts, go visit Aftelier, she has the best essences on the planet and I use them ALL the time from Bergamot to rose to jasmine and fir... they make magic!  This is an unsolicited recommendation... just love to share great things (and she's having a holiday sale!).

Thanks to Gollum for hosting foodie friday!