Bakalar: Croatian Cod Stew

December 26, 2007 – 4:05 am

Listen: Bakalar: John J. Goddard podcast 12.25.2007

bakalar, Croatian stewed cod

The Christmas meal in Croatia nearly always includes bakalar, a simple stew of dried cod and potatoes. It’s beyond delectable. The Croatian word bakalar is not only the name of the dish, but also of the fish. It’s a derivation of bacalao, the Spanish word for cod. The highly prized cod fish cannot be gotten from the Adriatic Sea, so it’s imported to Croatia in its durable, salted and dried form from various colder-water locales. It’s assumed that bakalar was introduced to Croatia by Dalmatian sailors who’d been on ships in the North Atlantic, and it’s now a Croatian tradition.

To make stewed bakalar, you will need:

1 lb dried salt cod
2 lbs. peeled and large diced potatoes
8 oz. large diced onion
4 cloves garlic, chopped
4 oz. fresh parsley, roughly chopped
8 oz. olive oil
salt, pepper to taste

Wash the salt cod well and soak overnight in water. Wash again, then cover with fresh water in a large pot and cook on a low flame until tender, but not falling apart (5-6 hours). Remove the cod from the water (which you will reserve), lay it on a clean cutting board and carefully remove the bones, taking care to keep the meat in large pieces. Quickly saute the onion, garlic and parsley in olive oil in the cooking pot, then add the potatoes and stir until coated with oil. Add the reserved cooking water and simmer the potatoes until tender, then return the cod meat to the pot. Simmer slowly for an additional 20-30 minutes without stirring. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Serve with freshly baked crusty bread for soaking up the broth.

You can, as in most cases, adjust aspects of the recipe to suit your tastes. Like much Croatian food, bakalar is a very simple, satisfying and homey dish, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.


Christmas Time is Here

December 25, 2007 – 12:59 am

lavender-cream-chocolate

For me, that means making chocolate truffles, and this year I used all organic ingredients: chocolate, cream, and fresh lavender. Yes, lavender chocolate truffles. I absolutely adore lavender.

For the smooth ganache centers, I used equal parts cream and chocolate (about 16 oz. on a dry scale). I brought the cream to around 130 degrees Fahrenheit, and then added about 2 ounces of roughly chopped fresh lavender leaves (because, unfortunately, you just can’t get fresh lavender blossoms from the wild at this time of year).

lavender cream

I let this simmer gently for about half an hour, strained out the solids, then stirred the cream into the chocolate chunks.

cream and chocolate for ganache

And once this cooled to a solid state, I scooped 1.5 oz. balls and froze them on a sheet pan. Then, of course, I dipped them in melted chocolate and allowed them to come to room temeperature. I would have photographed the finished product if I’d thought of it, but by that time it was five in the morning. So I boxed and wrapped two pounds, then went to bed.

Well, it just wouldn’t be the holidays if a household pet didn’t devour a whole turkey, pie, or box of treats. About six hours later I woke to the sound of my housemate screaming at her Golden Retriever, Keisha. The beast had gotten into the box and eaten every last organic lavender chocolate truffle therein while we slept. Apparently, chocolate is deadly poisonous to dogs, and so there was about an hour and a half of working to inspire Keisha to vomit in the kitchen. Amazement of amazements! The regurgitated ganache looked much the same on the floor as it did in the bowl the night before, except maybe a little creamier. But Keisha apparently got most of the chocolate up. She was fine. No more problems, other than my broken heart.

keisha vomits chocolate

Actually, I did have some extra truffles on hand. I boxed them up and Someone Very Special is now in possession of them. Christmas wasn’t ruined after all.

And that’s my Christmas story.


The Parasol Mushroom

December 19, 2007 – 7:41 am

Listen to the podcast of this post: John J. Goddard - Parasol Mushroom, 12.19.2007

Sunčanica mushroom

Mushroom hunting is so popular in continental Croatia that it’s practically considered a sport. It really is terrific fun, and aside from being a good excuse to spend hours milling about in the forest like an idiot, it can be quite rewarding to the palate. When I went mushroom hunting with friends in the forests outside of Donja Zdenčina last year, we came back with several kilos of the specimen pictured above and grilled the caps with olive oil while our chicken was roasting under the peka at Teta Marija’s. It’s called velika sunčanica (or just sunčanica) in Croatian, the Parasol mushroom in English, and Macrolepiota procera in Latin. Whichever you should decide to call it, it’s a delicious mushroom with a mild flavor and delicate texture, and common in temperate zones with well-drained soil. The Parasol is often confused with the Chlorophyllum molybdites - a.k.a. False Parasol or Green-Spored Parasol - the most commonly consumed poisonous mushroom in North America (it doesn’t occur in Eastern Europe, however). I shouldn’t have to tell you that if you’re foraging yourself, always get the go-ahead to eat wild mushrooms from an expert before digging in.

Incidentally, Velika sunčanica means ‘large parasol’ in Croatian.


Roasting on an Open Fire

December 18, 2007 – 8:31 am

Roasting on an open fire

I had a half kilo of ground beef that needed dispatching, and so I hove it into my backsack before heading to Pete and Mara’s function last evening. It was a warm, intimate gathering of friends and associates, and the fireplace was lit. I seasoned the beef liberally with sea salt, pepper, chopped garlic and olive oil, wrapped it around a duo of sturdy pine twigs I found in the front yard and propped the assembly up to bear audience to the tranquil dirge of the flames.


One-Skillet Snacking

December 8, 2007 – 7:19 am

Squid with Green Beans

I was thinking Mediterranean when I went to town on this one, but it looks pretty Asian. Well, Spaghetti Bolognese is Asian-Mediterranean fusion of a sort, what with the Chinese purportedly inventing the noodle a few days after the Big Bang. So I shouldn’t feel awkward for depicting this little Monday Night at the Improv routine: The Green Bean, Red Cabbage and Squid Tumble-Down. I’ll even reveal how it was done.

You need:

12 oz. cleaned, well-drained squid tubes and tentacles (as dry as possible)
8 oz. fresh green beans or haricots verts, de-stemmed
6 oz. red cabbage, ever so thinly sliced
2 giant cloves of garlic, fileted
1/2 tsp. red chile flakes
4 tbsp. roughly chopped Italian parsley
3 tbsp. your favorite olive oil
1 oz. dry white wine
salt, pepper and additional olive oil to taste

A word on “fileted garlic”: I recently bought a massive head of organic garlic, the cloves of which are roughly the size of a screaming infant’s clenched fist. By fileting, I mean slicing the cloves lengthwise to roughly a millimeter in thickness. When prepared in this fashion, the garlic behaves like another vegetable rather than a smattering of undiscernible vegetal fragments.

Do blanch the green beans in generously salted boiling water for one minute, then drop 3/4 of the sliced cabbage in with them for nearly a minute further. Drain these, then immerse them in a bath of ice water to halt further cooking. Once cooled, drain the cooked vegetables again, please.

Heat the olive oil in a wide skillet over a high flame until it begins to smoke, then add the garlic and red chile flakes. The garlic will begin to brown quite quickly, so add the blanched vegetables to absorb the heat and prevent further browning. Toss it all in the skillet to evenly coat the vegetables with the olive oil. Once the pan and its contents have become quite hot again, add the squid. Toss this all about over high heat for nearly a minute and a half, or until the liquid from the watery squid has reduced. Add the wine. Season with salt and pepper, then add the parsley. After no more than a mere 20 seconds further of tossing over high flame, the contents of the pan are ready to be served. Garnish the plate with the remaining raw cabbage. Drizzling additional olive oil over the melange will cause it go down the hatch that much more easily and leave you with something flavorful for dipping with a nice bread.

The key to success in sauteeing is high heat, constant movement and short cooking time. Remember this always.


Gimme some tongue, baby!

November 17, 2007 – 1:11 am

open

I’ve stayed up late writing the last few nights, and when hunger hits in the middle of the night in a small town like Corvallis, it can be difficult to find something decent to eat. But there is La Conga (formerly known as Rigoberto’s), and I’m absolutely hooked on their burrito con lengua. Yes, it’s a burrito with beef tongue.

burrito con lengua - tongue burrito

Beef tongue is a common ingredient in real Mexican tacos and burritos. It’s a very tender meat, and the flavor is deep, robust and hearty. If you’ve never tried it, I advise you to get some tongue. If you’d like to try cooking it, the procedure is pretty simple. Put a tongue in a pot with chopped onions and garlic, cover it with water, add salt, and simmer for a few hours until tender. Next, remove the skin from the tongue, chop finely (or roughly if you want to enjoy the texture a bit more), and roll the meat into a burrito or taco with refried beans and your favorite fixings.

If you want to jazz it up a bit, you can add a cinnamon stick or other spices to the simmering pot. Cumin. Dried chiles. Peppercorns. And once the tongue is cooked, skinned and chopped, you could even dare to saute it in oil with chiles and spices to give it a little caramelization and zing. I haven’t found a good butcher in this town yet (I’ve actually been too busy cooking to do much exploring), but I’m growing so fond of the tongue burrito at La Conga that I’m considering purchasing a tongue and playing around with it a little.

And then I’ll probably cook it.


Sweet, Naturally

November 2, 2007 – 4:17 am

coffee and thesaurus

Coffee me, please. I’m probably more stimulated by the flavor, body and aroma of coffee than by the caffeine. It’s a grounding beverage, a conduit of profound elemental energies. You can not have coffee without earth, fire, water or mountain air, after all. It is a drink of pondering, a mystical elixir that quickens the synapses. If it had a frequency, coffee would be deep bass. It’s a drink that enables you to give forth a great, booming, “Hell, YES!” from the very bottom of your being.

And, dammit, I’m all out of sugar.

So it’s pure maple syrup in the coffee this morning. As you might imagine, this is better than sugar because I’m also getting earthy stimulation from yon venerable Maple, whose roots sip from deep within untouched places.

After one cup, I got to thinking of all the exquisite ways to serve and enjoy coffee. The Dutch, I’m told, put butter in their coffee. I’ve tried this, and it’s actually pretty nice. Coffee brewed with green cardamom or cinnamon (or both). I acquired the charming habit of eating raw onions in Croatia (it’s really quite good for your blood), and I’ve actually enjoyed coffee and sliced onions together for breakfast. Just muddy Turkish coffee and onions with a little sea salt. Try it and see if your day doesn’t bang to a start. I know someone who mixes tomato juice into his java. I’m not so curious about how that ends up tasting.


Crab+Bacon+Walnut=Ravioli

October 31, 2007 – 3:27 am

crab-ravioli.jpg

First, I got to work on the filling. I had Dungeness crab and bacon, and decided to bind them with potatoes and walnuts. Of course, merely mashing up two potatoes wasn’t enough for me. No, I actually made a micro-batch of fresh shrimp stock from shells, carrot, onion, celery, parsley, apple cider vinegar and white wine. I simmered the peeled, diced potatoes for 45 minutes so they could take up the subtle sweetness of the shrimp and vegetables, then gave them a rough mash in a mixing bowl. I roasted a few handfuls of walnuts in herb-infused olive oil, chopped them finely and added them to the potatoes. Into this I gave the crab meat and bacon (minced and rendered), then a half cup of Fontina cheese. This was all stirred to a stiff, even consistency and seasoned with just a few pinches of sea salt. I went very easy with the salt, as I wanted the soft flavors of the shrimp stock, potato and walnut to take center stage. Besides, I still have flavor coming from the sauce I’ll need to make. The sauce I’m thinking of for these ravioli has a lot of high-end zing to it, so keeping the ravioli on the down-low, subtle side of the spectrum seems wise.

Well, I kneaded flour and eggs, rolled the dough into sheets, scooped balls of filling thereupon, covered the assembly with another sheet of dough, then sealed and cut. Ravioli aren’t such a big deal, they’re just time-consuming and involved. Making them is the kind of task I like to settle into and enjoy with some wine and good company if I’m at home. But if you’re going to make 20, you may as well make 200. The assembly is nothing once you get your rhythm. It’s the prep that’s a pain.


Mussels Buzara

October 12, 2007 – 6:17 am
Dagnje na Buzaru

Samoborska Medovina

September 18, 2007 – 5:57 pm

samoborskamedovina.jpg

It’s honey wine from Samobor.