An Update on the Medieval Lebkuchen

Previously I tried a recipe for Lebkuchen (click here to see the post) that suggested the dough and the cookies get better with time.

So I baked a batch and put them away in a dark cupboard.  I also put away two large containers of dough.

It has been three months, so time to check in on them.  How are they doing?

The cookies looked the same as when they were put away:

Three months old

The dough looked the same, too!

No mold on the surface.

My guest taster and I tried the cookies.  We could not detect anything different from what we had tried before.  Spicy, a little chewy.  (Still almost too spicy for me.)

So I took some of the dough from the top and shaped it into a short log.

I felt that the dough was drier or less tacky than it had been previously.  I could shape it easily with my hands without getting all covered in dough.  

Then, with a greased knife, I cut the log into approximately 1/4 inch-thick slices and prepared to bake them.  Forgive me; I was not trying for beautiful cookies at all, and it shows.

Don't judge!

I baked them at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about 10 minutes.  That is when they looked like they were done.

My guest taster and I both agreed that these cookies were fluffier (less dense) than the previous batch.  We also felt that the spices were less intense, which I appreciated very much.  I liked them!

So we enjoyed a few then put the rest into the container with the first batch, marking them separately so I can track how each batch does over time.  My calendar is marked to check in on them in another 3 months.

So far, so good!

Pumpkin Tian

My friends MS and SS gave me this interesting book they found on a trip:  Simple Cooking by John Thorne, which was published throughout the 1980s.

ISBN 9780865475045

Mr. Thorne has written a book where he gives us his opinions of cookbooks, the people who write them, and ways of cooking during a time of changing goals and techniques due to technology and convenience.  He makes some good observations along the way:

My goal as a cook has always been not so much to attain some specific sense of mastery as to be able to go into the kitchen, take up what I find there, and make a meal of it.

If you're in sympathy with this notion, you'll know from your own experience that such simple cooking isn't easy cooking, or the supermarkets wouldn't be as stuffed as they are with convenience foods.  You may also have discovered that an impromptu, impulsive, and ever-adaptive cooking style is not one that the cookbook - of whatever sort, it seems - is by nature equipped to explain. 

He shares with us the idea that cooking is not so much the following of a recipe but an understanding of the concepts, and even then knowing that it is (and should be) an art:  "opinionated, argumentative, contradictory, with each cook making the exact same 'traditional' dish in his or her own particular way".  From this, we transcend the constricting recipes:

Observing, listening, tasting, we feel inside ourselves a shifting of that complex balance of option, opinion, and taste - the living logic of the dish - as it settles itself into the shape that we will want to make.  And then we find ourselves on the other side - the before side - of the recipe, which is just where, I think, a good cook wants to be.

I know that I have achieved that level of cooking, at least sometimes.  I see the concepts of the recipes in front of me, and I occasionally feel like I can take those concepts and use them with other ingredients not called for on that piece of paper.  I think my experience redacting historical recipes that come with minimal instructions and often no measurements helped pushed me to that level:  you have to use your imagination and your sense of what is right.  When you listen to that, you are more likely to reach success.

Mr. Thorne includes a chapter titled "The Tian", which describes this Provençal dish as

a vegetable casserole, a modest penny-stretcher meant, whether served hot or cold, as the main course or a side dish, to provide the bulk of the meal at the least possible cost. ... The defining characteristic of a tian -- slow cooking in olive oil and seasonings -- brings out the best of taste and texture in a host of vegetables. ...

Originally, the tian was a simple peasant dish of vegetables that took its name from the vast, heavy earthenware terrine it was cooked in -- a tian. 

A look around the internet shows a variety of recipes and the adaptability of the technique.  No pumpkin?  Use whatever vegetables you have on hand, like spinach, Swiss chard, red bell peppers, zucchini, eggplant, mushrooms, or tomatoes -- singly or mixed together. You can include other ingredients like rice, cheese, eggs, chickpeas, or bread crumbs.  For seasoning, pick whatever you think would go well with the vegetables you have, and that includes fresh herbs, wine, milk, cream, and spices.

Mr. Thorne gives us citations for other cookbooks and chefs to explore for more ideas.  Since the concept of a tian is an old one, there are many ways to approach it, and many different outcomes that can be like a gratin or more like a frittata.  Ratatouille can fit into this category (and so I think of the cute and fun movie!).

I chose to make his recipe that focuses on just one vegetable, the pumpkin, and aim to have it "cooked to perfection."  I love pumpkin and this looks just amazing.

Pumpkin Tian (pgs 43-44)

One small pumpkin (3 to 4 pounds)

1/4 cup flour

6 cloves garlic, finely minced

Generous pinch fresh thyme (approx. 1 teaspoon)

2 tablespoons freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Salt and freshly ground pepper

1/3 cup olive oil

Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.  Remove seeds, string, and rind from the pumpkin flesh, then cut flesh into 3/4-inch cubes.  Set the pumpkin cubes in a colander and toss with the flour until the cubes are coated and the excess flour has escaped.  Toss again with garlic, thyme, Parmesan chees, and season with salt and pepper to taste (pumpkin is sweet and bland and requires a fat pinch from the salt box).  Rub the interior of a casserole with a generous amount of the olive oil, pack in the floured and seasoned pumpkin cubes, and dribble the remaining oil evenly over the top.  Set in the preheated oven and bake for 2 to 2 1/2 hours.  The top of the dish will form a dark rich crust; the pumpkin within dissolves in the mouth into molten succulence.

My Notes

The author comments, 

Although pumpkin is quite fine in this dish, the actual squash used for it in Provence is courge rouge, which is similar but more flavorful and less sweet.  It is just now starting to appear in American markets, somewhat pumpkin-shaped but of a deeper, red dish hue.  

I know from experience that the pumpkins in the market are intended to be for jack-o'lanterns and not for eating.  They taste terrible!  It was after Halloween when I went to look for pumpkins for this recipe, so I hoped to find one labeled as a sugar pumpkin or pie pumpkin.  

Alas, no such luck.  All items that looked like a standard pumpkin were missing from the store's produce section.  However, I recalled the author's comments about courge rouge, and I looked for something like that.

What I found was kuri rouge, or red kuri squash.  Also known as the Hokkaido pumpkin, it is supposed to be sweet and the cooked flesh tastes like chestnut.  The skin is edible after cooking.  I decided to give it a try.

I bought three (at nearly 5 pounds total) but found that only two were needed to fill my casserole dish (about 3 1/2 pounds total).  

Even though the skin is edible after cooking, I chose to follow the instructions and peel it.  It was very easy to peel with my veggie peeler; then I trimmed off the ends, cut it in half, and removed the seeds and strings.

Peeled and trimmed.

I'm saving the seeds for eating and possibly planting.  Here are the pumpkin pieces:

Dusted with flour

Seasonings on top

I put in about 3/4 teaspoon of salt.  

Well-mixed, packed into the casserole dish, and oiled.  Ready for baking.

I cooked it for two hours.  Note that the dish is not covered, as the idea is to cook off much of the vegetable's moisture.  I think the oil will keep it from becoming dry.

The Verdict

While it was cooking, my kitchen smelled wonderful!  The garlic came through the most, but it had my mouth watering and I wasn't even hungry.

Mmmmmmm!

The pumpkin cooked down further than I had expected.  I think I could have used the other kuri, overloaded the dish, and still have it fit after cooking.

I thought the crust would be more developed, which it might have been had I cooked it another 1/2 hour as was my option in the recipe.  But this looked fine to me.

My guest taster and I ate it as a light dinner -- just the tian and wine.  It was excellent.

The pumpkin was soft and flavorful, although the parts on top were a bit crunchy, making the whole dish more interesting.  Not a soft dish, but a mixture of soft and not.  The garlic had cooked to a mellow level, and the thyme added a nice understated note.  My guest taster loves salt, and he thought it had just enough.  I could not taste the pepper, but I suspect it added some depth to the mixture.

We also thought the Parmesan cheese added some crunch to the dish.  We weren't sure, but I think the cheese on the surface also got crunchy.  

It was not a spectacular dish.  It was flavorful, and I can see how it would be a good main dish, possibly with bread or buttered noodles and some fruit or a salad.  I can also imagine it as a side dish to some roast meat, like chicken.

My only criticism was that I think I could have used 1/4 cup of oil instead of 1/3 cup.  The oil puddled up on my plate and there was some in the bottom of the casserole dish.  I know we needed at least 1/4 cup to keep it moist, but I think we didn't need 1/3 cup.  I'm not fond of food that seems greasy, and while this wasn't really greasy, I would have liked to reduce the amount of leftover oil.

Not that this stopped us for thoroughly enjoying it.  What started out as "We will taste it to see how it is." turned into "We ate it all because it was so good."  It was a lovely dinner. 

Success!

All gone!

Lengua en adobo, Marinated tongue -- a Pinedo recipe

I wanted to make a Pinedo recipe that used a different ingredient than the recipes I had been choosing.  I know a local store that includes a butcher shop with high-quality items, so this recipe with tongue was a solid possibility.  I was pleased to find tongue for sale in their store.  The recipe is on page 146.

My Translation

Marinated tongue.

(French style.)

         Toast some mulatto chiles that will be ground with garlic and oregano from Castilla [thyme]

         Olive oil, vinegar and butter are put in a saucepan. Then the chile is added, taking care that it does not burn and has some broth left to serve it.

         In this marinade, put the cooked and sliced tongue.

I have not eaten tongue often, but a friend who lived on a cattle ranch would pressure cook one and share it with me occasionally.  And once I had marinated tongue as an appetizer at a Basque restaurant.  Both experiences were positive, so I wanted to try cooking tongue on my own.

My Redaction

3 pound cow's tongue, washed well

2 cups pinot noir wine

2 cups + 1/2 cup apple cider vinegar

6 cups water (or to cover)

2 ounces guajillo chiles, toasted, stemmed, seeded, and ground

5 cloves garlic, chopped

3 tablespoons fresh thyme, finely chopped

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/4 teaspoon salt

Place the tongue, wine, water, and 2 cups vinegar in a large pan.  Bring liquid to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook for 1 1/2 hours.  Turn the tongue over and cook for another 1 1/2 hours.

While the tongue is cooking, toast the chiles, then grind them until mostly powdered.  Finely chop the thyme.  Chop the garlic cloves.

Chiles toasted, stemmed, and seeded

Ground in a small coffee grinder.

I used this much thyme.  Consider using more.

Put the chiles, thyme, and garlic into a sturdy bowl or mortar.  Using a pestle or similar object, pound and mix the ingredients until they form a paste.  Set it aside.

Chiles, garlic, and thyme, ready to be pounded.

Pounded.  The moisture from the garlic eventually made it a paste.

When the tongue is cooked, remove it from the liquid and allow to cool just to the point where it is easy to handle.  Pull the skin off and discard.  (The internet tells me that if the tongue cools too much, it is hard to remove the skin.)

Barely cool enough.

Skinned.

If you need to let the tongue cool more, let it cool now.  Then slice the meat very thin, cutting across the grain whenever you can.

In a saucepan or frying pan, melt the butter, then add the olive oil.  Gently sauté about 2/3 of the chile paste along with the salt.  When the garlic starts smelling very good, add 1/2 cup vinegar.  Simmer for several minutes to blend the flavors, then add the tongue a few pieces at a time.

The sauce.

When the pieces are heated through and coated with the marinade, remove to a platter.  Repeat with the other pieces, however many you want to serve.  (Three pounds is a lot!  You might want to save some for later.)

The Verdict

My guest taster and I had the tongue as the main part of our meal -- we had some sourdough bread along side it and that was about all we ate.  (There was the rest of the pinot noir, of course!)

We tried it "as is" and also on top of small pieces of bread.  We compared its flavor to pieces of tongue that were warmed up without being in the sauce.

We liked it!  The sauce was very strong in flavor -- mostly chiles and garlic, but the thyme did add a layer of flavor that was subtle, more like a background flavor.  I think I would have liked to taste it more for balance, so if I did this again, I would perhaps double the amount of fresh thyme.  

The tongue itself was mildly flavored.  I couldn't really taste the wine and vinegar, but I'm pretty sure they made the meat better.  Some parts of the tongue were chewy and some were more tender.  I liked both, and so did my guest taster.  

The tongue with the sauce was very good.  The sauce added a kick and a depth to make the meat much more interesting.  I thought eating it with a bite of bread was best because the bread added a tang that was different from the vinegar in the sauce.  It also added a different texture that I felt on my tongue (as I was eating the tongue!).

My guest taster and I both felt the spiciness level was just right for us -- spicy from the chiles but not too much so.  Any more and we would be distracted from the flavors of the meat and sauce.  I gave some slices to another guest taster who wished it was spicier.  As I have discovered, everyone has their own preference for the fire of chiles, so adjust your choices accordingly.

Success!  We had more of it later on, reheated in the sauce, which was still good.  Putting a few slices on a sandwich was also enjoyed.  I recommend it heartily.

 I'm not sure why Miss Pinedo called this "French style", as I would consider the use of chiles to be more Mexican in style.  Perhaps it was wine and vinegar liquid for cooking the tongue?  Or the use of garlic and thyme with the chiles.  Still, the flavor combinations were just right.