Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Jokai Bableves

One of my favorite places to visit in Hungary is the town of Eger, which has a lovely basilica, a big ruined castle and terrific wines, which you can sample by the glass by going cellar-to-cellar in the part of town known as the Valley of the Beautiful Women (Szépasszonyvöl in Hungarian). Eger also has some terrific restaurants, including a pancake (palacsinta) restaurant called simply Palacsintavar and the charming, friendly HBH Bavarian Beer House. On my most recent visit, HBH had taken goulash off the menu and replaced it with a soup just as addictive: jokai bableves. (I should note that true Hungarian goulash is not the beef-stew type dish we're used to in the States; it's more of a beef and vegetable soup.)
Jokai bablevesh (pronounced "YO-ky BOB-le-vesh), or Bean Soup a la Jokai, was named after the 19th century novelist and politician Mor Jokai. I'm still not sure why, exactly, but I'm sure if he ate the version at HBH, he'd love it. It has beans, root veggies, ham and sausage in a spicy, onion-flour-vinegar broth, and I've recently tried to make it at home.
I've been using a cookbook called Culinaria Hungary that was a going-away gift from my co-workers when I left for Budapest. It's a wonderful primer on Hungarian cooking, and while some of its recipes, like for chicken paprikas, are spot-on, the one for this soup was confusing, so I found an adaptation of it online that I, in turn, fiddled with to get that HBH flavor.
The soup gets its thickening by adding a roux of butter, flour and onion towards the end, which reminds me of Cajun cooking. If you're concerned about adding even more fat to the ham-and-sausage-and-stock dish, you can use margarine instead.
I used ham that I bought at the market, which wound up being super-salty (and with lots of fat, and on the bone, to boot!). I should have soaked the ham for at least a few hours to reduce the salinity; as it was, I didn't need to add any salt to the recipe.
Another salty ingredient was the sausage I used. It's a smoky, spicy, dried link sausage from the wine town of Szekszárd. Next time I will try using Csabai kolbász, which is from the town of Békéscsaba. Whatever the sausage, this recipe's an easy way to get my Jokai bableves fix between visits to Eger.

Jokai Bableves
(serves 4)
1 15-ounce can of kidney beans
8 to 10 ounced of cooked ham, cubed
2 bay leaves
1 large carrot, chopped
1 medium parsley root, chopped
1 medium celeriac, chopped
6 to 8 ounces sausage, chopped
4 teaspoons butter
4 tablespoons Flour
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove of garlic, chopped
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
2 to 3 teaspoons white vinegar
1/4 to 1/2 cup sour cream
1 bunch of parsley, chopped
3 cups chicken stock
3 cups water

1. Put beans, ham, bay leaves, carrots, parsley root, sausage and celeriac in a pot with the stock and water. Bring to a boil and simmer for 20 minutes.
2. In a separate pan, melt the butter, then add the flour and onion and stir to mix the roux. Saute until the flour turns golden brown. Add garlic and paprika, and saute for 1 minute.
3. Add this to the stock pot along with vinegar. Bring to a boil, then remove from heat.
4. Stir in sour cream and parsley. Serve with crusty bread, and maybe some hot paprika on the side.

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Jokai Bableves

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Boti Kebab

While lamb's rather scarce here in Budapest (hence the lack of photos), I ate lots of it in Washington, both cooked at home - thanks to frozen chops at Trader Joe's as well as fresh cuts at local butchers - and at restaurants (mostly Indian). While I'm always happy to order lamb curry or lamb biryani when I'm at an Indian restaurant, last summer I discovered boti kebab at a place called Tiffin in Langley Park. And it was love at first bite.

You know when you eat something so delicious you actually get sad when it's all gone? Well, I felt that way for hours after that first taste. So I went online to find a boti kebab recipe, and after a few tries, I came up with my own version.

This is basically a spice and yogurt marinade. I mostly use it for lamb, but I've also tried it with goat and chicken. Just remember that goat is much tougher than lamb, so I recommend oven-baking goat instead of cooking it on the grill.

BOTI KEBAB MARINADE
Ingredients:
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
2 teaspoons salt
1/4 cup yogurt
1/4 cup onion
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
2 tablespoons diced fresh ginger
1 clove of garlic
1/2 teaspoon garam masala

Instructions:
1. Combine all the ingredients in a food processor and blend until smooth.
2. Marinate 2 pounds of lamb for six to 24 hours.
3. Grill the lamb on skewers on the BBQ, or cook in an oven at 350 degrees for 20 to 30 minutes until meat is tender.
Note: I like to make a bunch of this marinade and freeze it in an ice cube tray, then pop the cubes in a baggie for later use. That way, I'm never more than a day away from my own slice of boti kebab heaven.

Lamb is one of the roundtable features of the month at A Kitchen in Brooklyn. Other entries include Sasha's braised lamb ancho chile tacos and roast rack of lamb with fresh herbs; Cindy's lamb & Pinot Noir wine pairing and Eric's lamb steak.

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Boti Kebab

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Coq Au Vin

Hungary is a cook's paradise, with fresh produce from around the European Union and delectable meats available at markets and grocers everywhere. Also, while most Hungarian wines taste delicious and are well-priced (eat your heart out, Charles Shaw), there are also so-so table wines that work perfectly as guilt-free cooking wines, priced as low as $1 a liter.

My first week here, I was beside myself when I discovered the holy grail of budget cooking at my local supermarket: A whole chicken for the equivalent of $3. See, back home in Washington, D.C., I tried to buy farm-raised, cage-free birds, and the only place I could find one for under $2 a pound (at the Farm Womens Market in Bethesda) would regularly sell out by noon, so I'd settle for more expensive ones at Trader Joe's or Whole Foods, savoring every last shred of back-meat and crunchy bone.

So to find a whole hen - even a scrawny one, probably no more than 3 pounds - for 600 Hungarian forints, I thought I'd found nirvana.

Then I cooked it, making a spicy curry with tomatoes, onions and diced potatoes, and the bird wouldn't get tender. So I cooked it some more, letting the potatoes turn to mash and the sauce reduce to paste, and still the meat was rubbery, hard and dry. I was terribly disappointed, even though my tolerant beau ate it enthusiastically and even took leftovers to work the next day.

I turned to the experts, posting a question on the Washington Post Food section's Free Range chat, hoping that one of my former colleagues might offer some suggestions. And they did: Editor Joe Yonan wrote, "Indeed, if you're stuck with a tough old bird, you need to be stewing or braising instead of roasting... Remember, coq au vin was originally/traditionally made with coq -- cock, or rooster -- for that very reason."

I did a little research online, coming up with some great explanations of coq au vin (including one cook who suggested sourcing actual roosters in order to find the toughest bird). I tried out a few different recipes and was rewarded on my first try with a delectable stew that left me scrounging for the cheapest, scrawniest chicken every time I go to the store, just to have an excuse to make another coq au vin.

Here's my version of the dish. The recipe's utterly flexible, so you can add or subtract veggies, mushrooms, bacon and wine to taste. Best of all, for a purple-food lover like Sasha, a cheap-o red wine tends to turn the entire dish into a violet masterpiece, right down to the bones.

Ingredients:
One whole chicken, skinned and quartered (roughly 2 to 4 pounds)
Three to six carrots, peeled and chopped in 1/2 inch disks
Three to six celery stalks chopped in 1/2 inch crescents
Two to three onions, quartered
One to three garlic cloves, smashed
One or two bay leaves
One sprig each of parsley and thyme
One bottle of cheap red wine (it doesn't matter how bad it is - it's said that the quality doesn't affect the stew, as long as you cook it long enough)
One quarter to one half pound of bacon, cut in 1-inch pieces
One cup of mushrooms, in 1/2 inch slices

Directions:
1. Put the chicken, carrots, celery, onions, garlic and herbs in a big bowl, then pour in enough wine to cover it all. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and marinate in the fridge overnight or all day (give it at least 6 hours to let the wine work its tenderizing magic).
2. When you're ready to start cooking, remove the chicken, veggies and herbs from the bowl, and set aside the liquid. Pat the chicken pieces dry.
3. In a large skillet or pot, crisp the bacon pieces, then remove them from the pan and drain them on paper towels. Brown the chicken in the bacon fat. Work in batches to avoid crowding the meat.
4. Return all the chicken, carrots, celery and herbs to the pan, and pour in the reserved wine. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat, cover and let the mixture simmer for an hour or more, until the chicken is cooked. Add water, chicken broth or more wine if the sauce reduces too much.
5. After an hour, while the chicken is still cooking, use another skillet to brown the mushrooms, onions and garlic with a little butter. Add them to the chicken, then toss in the bacon pieces.
6. Sprinkle in some salt and pepper to taste and serve your coq au vin over rice or pasta, or just with some crusty bread.

(Photo by Jay Dater)



budapest
washingtonpost

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Coq Au Vin

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Chicken Paprikas

Before I moved to Budapest, I knew very little about Hungarian food. Goulash? Had it once. Chicken paprikas? Wasn't that from a scene in "When Harry Met Sally"?
I did a little research before coming here to join my boyfriend on his Fulbright Teacher Exchange, and what I'd learned was 1) I might be eating a lot of paprika 2) I'd definitely being eating a lot of pastries. Not sure what to expect, I arrived open-minded, but still I packed a gallon-sized baggie full of my favorite spices (garam masala, anise seed, cardamom pods) just in case.
I needn't have worried. For my first dinner in Hungary, my boyfriend cooked me chicken paprikas, and I loved it. It's the first Hungarian dish either of us has learned to make, and we've been making it every week or two ever since. The recipe we use for our chicken paprikas (pronounced "POP-ree-kosh") was adapted from this one on the BBC Web site.
(BTW, "paprika" in Hungarian refers to any kind of pepper, hot or bell.)
While you can serve chicken paprikas alone or over rice or noodles, it's traditially (and deliciously) served here in Hungary over nokedli, which are small noodles or dumplings sometimes referred to as spaetzle. It's easy to find nokedli in the supermarket here, but making them is easy, too, especially if you have a spaetzle maker. It doesn't get much simpler than this nokedli recipe, which I've also included below.

For the chicken paprikas:
1 chicken, skinned and jointed, or about two pounds of skinless, boneless chicken breast or thighs
salt
oil and/or butter for the pan
1 onion, chopped
2-3 cloves garlic, chopped
1-2 tablespoons sweet powdered paprika
1 tablespoon hot powdered paprika (you can substitute this with a finely-chopped fresh hot pepper, using the seeds depending on how much heat you like)
1 tablespoon flour
1 cup chicken stock
3 tablespoons chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
2 red or yellow peppers, de-seeded and cut into 1/2 inch strips
4 large ripe tomatoes, roughly chopped
1/2 to 1 cup sour cream, to taste

1. Salt the chicken pieces, heat the oil in a large frying pan and brown the chicken pieces, then set the chicken aside.
2. Using the same pan, add the onions and garlic and stir on medium heat about 5 minutes.
3. Then, stirring frequently, mix in the powdered paprika and flour, then the stock, chicken, half the parsley and the fresh peppers. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer about 10 minutes.
4. Now, add the tomatoes and simmer for about an hour. You can add another tablespoon of sweet paprika about 15 minutes before the hour is up if you like a lot of pepper flavor; otherwise, just simmer for sixty minutes or until the chicken is nice and tender.
5. In the meantime, prepare the nokedli (recipe below).
6. When the chicken is done, remove the pan from the heat and stir in the sour cream and remaining parsley. You can either add the nokedli to the pan and stir to combine it with the chicken paprikas, or you can pour the chicken and sauce over nokedli in bowls or plates.

For the nokedli:
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
3/4 cup water
2 cups flour

1. Whisk together the eggs, salt and water.
2. Gradually add the flour until you have a sticky dough.
3. Let the mixture sit 10 minutes, and boil a pot of salted water.
4. Beat the mixture again, then form the nokedli: If you have a spaetzle maker, use it to form small pieces of dough and drop them directly in the water. Otherwise, use a teaspoon to form tiny balls of dough, or push the dough through a coarse cheese grater, colander or slotted spoon and drop them in the boiling water. When the nokedli rise to the surface of the water, they're cooked. You'll probably want to work in batches.
5. Scoop the nokedli out of the pot and rinse in a colander under cold water, then serve with the paprikas.

If you make enough for leftovers, and you give the flavors a chance to mingle overnight in the fridge, a little reheated chicken paprikas topped with a fried egg makes a spicy, satisfying breakfast.

(Bottom photo by Jay Dater)

Christina's Kitchen in Budapest: Chicken Paprikas