Articles of Mastication

Hungary?

Hungary’s capital city of Budapest is a glorious dark fairytale, a home to royalty, thieves, gypsies and fusions of all three. It is a city of castles, cathedrals and labyrinthine underground tunnels, a place where things are seldom what they seem. Once welcoming doors can suddenly open to stone walls, and Gothic wrought iron gates recall the arabesque gesticulations of a creeping ivy under the malformed grin of a gargoyle. In Budapest you’ll do best with a quick tongue, a silent gait and eyes in the back of  your head. But one could even speculate as to whether the sinister aspect of the place is illusion, for when the sun shines in Budapest, there is a florid sweetness in the air that hides the fetid dampness of the crawling shadows from memory. It is a place of truly complex character whose imposing splendor remains etched in my own memory like a dark, backward nursery rhyme.

There is Hungary’s magnificent fortified capital, and then there is her food. It would be well worth your time to snatch up airline tickets or hop a train to Hungary, just to experience the food in its natural state. What began as the meat-heavy cauldron cuisine of the early Magyars drew influence over the centuries from the Saxons, Italians, Armenians, Russian Jews, Serbs, Ottoman Turks and Austrians who invaded or settled in the region. Quite simply, it is a melting pot cuisine of Ancient Asian simplicity embellished with Germanic, Latin and Slavic influence. Hungarian food is a vibrant tapestry of history woven in dark crimsons and burgundies, accented with pure gold thread.

As densely woven as that tapestry may be, Hungarian food is far more dense and rich. Stewed meat, potatoes, dumplings, grilled meat, noodles, roasted meat, buckwheat, piquant paprika sauces, stews, soups, stuffed meat, sour cream and decadent cakes and pastries. It is at once the gastronomy of pampered nobility and that of a robust agrarian peasantry. For the latter, every calorie is either put to work in the fields or layered under the skin as insulation from the bone rattling chill of winter on the Pannonian plain. If it says anything of the constitution of these people, a Hungarian will slather his bread with rendered pork fat before reaching for butter. But of all the goulash and goose liver, pálinka and patisserie I encountered in Budapest, it was the sausage that received the lion’s share of my attention. One could say that the soul of a nation is revealed in its lexicon of sausagery, and in Eastern Europe this is especially so. Hungarians make excellent sausage  (kolbász in the Hungarian language), such as the assortment seen here at the Pálinka Festival.

And you can buy excellent sausages and charcuterie from roving butchers in little trucks. This one stops at the farmer’s market outside Kaiser’s in the 7th District, on Blaha Lujza tér.

When I began making sausage for friends and clients here in Portland, the first formulation I shared was that of the spicy smoked gyulai kolbász, so named for the town of Gyula from which it hails. A few of my more handsome links are pictured here.

Gyulai kolbász is a robust, semi-dry smoked link of coarsely ground pork shoulder and belly, seasoned with hot paprika, black pepper, garlic, onion and caraway seed. It can be sliced and eaten alone, grilled or pan fried lightly, or incorporated into soups and stews, such as the deliciously simple lecsó (pronounced “LEH-tcho”), a Hungarian bell pepper and tomato ratatouille introduced to Hungary by Slavonian Croats as sataraš (sah-tah-rahsh). There are endless variations of lecsó; the addition of eggs, rice, meat, dumplings and noodles are all within the realm of possibility, and it is often topped with a dollop of sour cream. It is extremely versatile as an addition to other dishes. Hungarians will make enormous batches of lecsó at the peak of pepper and tomato season in summer, then preserve it in jars for use year round. It can be eaten hot or cold, which makes for a lovely small plate in summer time. Last week I made a batch of lecsó with my own gyulai kolbász and enjoyed it as a cold light lunch. Exquisite.

To make your own as seen above, you’ll need:

1/2 cup smoked bacon, sliced into one-inch strips or diced
2 links of gyulai kolbasz or other smoked sausage, sliced
2 medium onions, sliced
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 lb. of sweet bell peppers, seeded and sliced. (Red peppers are practically mandatory, yellow and green are entirely acceptable, hot banana peppers can definitely be added to the mix )
3 large ripe tomatoes, peeled and diced (Well-drained canned tomatoes are fine to substitute)
1/2 Tbs. sugar
1/2 Tbs. salt
1 Tbs. or more of your favorite hot or sweet paprika (I recommend Szeged paprika)

Fry the bacon over medium heat until the fat is well rendered. Add the onions, garlic and kolbasz, stirring over low heat until you a nice caramelization is achieved. Reduce the heat and add the peppers. Simmer for about fifteen minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the tomato, paprika, salt and sugar, then simmer until peppers are tender and liquid is reduced. When it reaches the consistency of chunky salsa, it’s finished. Adjust salt and sugar to taste.

If you’re in Portland, you can order gyulai kolbász and smoked bacon for home delivery from me. I make them fresh to order, entirely from scratch, just like in the old country.