Keeping it Real: Do you care if it's "authentic"?

Google search: authentic cuisine

Insert "...'s" in front of each web site's Google link:

• Authentic Recipes, Food, Drinks and Travel
• Natural Authentic Indian Cuisine
• Authentic Mexican Food
• Authentic Russian Recipes, Cuisine and Cooking
• Authentic Thai Cuisine
• Authentic Italian Cuisine
• Authentic Greek Cuisine

...and on and on, for about 50,000 pages (just an estimate) of restaurants, recipes and articles.

What is "authentic cuisine" once you have left the country of origin? Hell, once you have left the region in the country of origin, the neighborhood in the region of the country of origin, or the grandmother's house in the neighborhood of the region of the country of origin you're totally out of the context of "authentic". Not to mention points in history. Or "terrior". It's not just the ingredients but where they were grown that counts towards "authentic".

"Escoffier didn't add it." Alex Guarnaschelli (here) doesn't render an opinion, but in this context, her sauce speaks for itself.

Michael Bauer (here) believes the "not authentic" card is played is when the dish when, "...the one we deem as “authentic” is the one that is most familiar or appeals to us."

Recently I read a blog entry about Vichyssoise which included the statement that it was an American invention. I hadn't thought about Vichyssoise as not being a French dish (and I'm definitely not a food history scholar). It's named after a city, but then again so is a Niçoise salad and about a million other dishes. Zipping immediately to  Wikipedia, (...where I am reminded of the day I told my much younger-than-now nephew that information found on the internet was not necessarily factual and he looked at me like I was a complete idiot) and looked it up. According to Wikipedia (and a couple of other sources), Louis Diat, in 1917, presented Vichyssoise on the menu at the Ritz Carlton in New York. He is quoted as saying, "In the summer of 1917, when I had been at the Ritz seven years, I reflected upon the potato and leek soup of my childhood which my mother and grandmother used to make. I recalled how during the summer my older brother and I used to cool it off by pouring in cold milk and how delicious it was. I resolved to make something of the sort for the patrons of the Ritz." He called it, "Crème Vichyssoise Glacée".

It also notes that Jules Gouffe published a similar soup (although served hot) in a cookbook in 1869. Antoine-Augustin Parmentier (1737-1806) personally presented a potato to Louis XVI as an example (in a contest, yet) of "vegetables that can replace those currently used" based on his time as a prisoner of war in Dresden. Louis made him wait 14 years before he was granted permission to grow potatoes (longer than Parmentier was a prisoner of war). Parmentier worked hard to prove to the powers that be that potatoes were a great way to feed large numbers of people (as well as a source of nourishment to cure dysenteric patients) when many in France believed that the potato caused leprosy or was suitable only as hog food. He also started soup kitchens to feed the poor. Interesting guy - he has a Facebook page (natch) here that links to his Wikipedia page.

Did hot potato leek soup become authentic when the recipe was published? If you don't find and follow Jules Gouffe's recipe to the letter, are you an unworthy sham?

I have no problem with fusion cuisine (although the phrase makes me shudder a little), deconstructed classics, ethnically-eclectic menus, high-tech preparations and I don't care if you include the word "authentic" in the name or description of your restaurant. It's so ubiquitous as to be pretty meaningless anyway unless you have the balls to back it up with documentation down to the nonna, γιαγιά, abuela or grand-mère's name who made it - and even then, what if nonna was a crappy cook? If I am looking for the origins or a recipe, I won't take yours at face value, I'll do some research and if I think my modifications will taste better, I'll make them.

Even if Escoffier came back from the dead to personally tattoo "Authentic" on your ass, your food has to be honest and good. That is all that matters.

Saturday Breakfast: Potato and Sausage Hash Topped with an Egg

...or "Put a Bird (Egg) on It"

Really, there's no egg theme here, nothing to look at, eh? - even though this is my second post in a row with an egg-topped dish. There will be more egg-topped food upcoming (Uovo in Purgatorio) but not right away.

Last Friday night we made chicken breasts stuffed with pancetta/tarragon chicken sausage, mushrooms, leeks, garlic and thyme. With some of the mixture left over it seemed like a good time to revisit breakfast hash on Saturday.

Yeah, the rolled-up stuffed chicken breasts were delicious, but we were cooking up a storm with no time for pictures. I'm not holding out on you. I wouldn't do that to the few people I know who read this plus the two people I don't know. Next time we'll document it.

Recipe: Potato and Sausage Hash Topped with an Egg

Olive Oil-Fried Egg with a Balsamic Glaze on Arugula

I saw a picture of this dish along with a reference that it was on the brunch menu at Foreign Cinema restaurant in San Francisco. The dish looked delicious! I've never eaten brunch there but have had a few very good and (one in particular) very memorable dinners there. Shortly after I saw the picture, I made the egg, sans arugula (delicious!) and declared it a winner preparation but wanted to see what it tasted like with delicate, bitter greens. I really love the taste of the greens combined with the egg yolk and the (very) slight sweetness of the balsamic glaze. You can use arugula, endive, cress or young dandelion greens or something less bitter like butter lettuce or mache torn in small pieces if you're not a fan, as I am, of the aforementioned greens.

This can be served solo, on top of the greens or on a piece of grilled or toasted bread - or on a slice of grilled toasted bread topped with the greens... I've seen variations that include mushrooms as well. How runny I like my eggs depends somewhat on what accompanies them. For this dish I like them just barely over. It works best when the yolk is somewhere between completely runny and somewhat runny - it's up to you.

Like any quick-cooked egg dish, it should be served immediately so it's good to have the greens ready (not too far in advance) and on the plate when the egg is ready. Reducing the balsamic vinegar takes just seconds. Make sure you wipe out the skillet thoroughly to mitigate the splatter - there will likely be some balsamic splatter no matter how careful you are.

If you're using delicate greens here are a couple of tips that apply to this - or any other similar preparation. To clean them, after picking off the thicker stems, submerge the greens in very cold water and VERY gently swish them around. Dry them thoroughly in a salad spinner.

One of the best ways to dress them is a 'broken' (not emulsified) vinaigrette where the greens are tossed with the oil before the vinegar is added. In this case, right before you start cooking the eggs,  wash and dry your hands thoroughly and then place the greens in a large enough bowl so that they are not crowded.

Pour 1/2 to a scant 1 teaspoon of olive oil in the palm of one (impeccably clean) hand, rub your hands together and then use them to gently toss the greens and distribute the oil on the leaves. Add a little more at a time if you think you need it. Season with a pinch of salt.

Note - it took me far too long to learn - and remember - the difference between a skillet and a sauté pan, and if you don't know you can find out here. 

Recipe: Olive Oil-Fried Egg with a Balsamic Glaze on Arugula

Sautéed Summer Squash Julienne with Garlic, Hot Pepper Flakes, Lemon and Shaved Parmagiana

Summer squash season makes me sad. Mostly because there are mounds and mounds of BEAUTIFUL shapes and colors of summer squash all over the place. Why am I sad amidst such a bounty?

Because I mostly hate summer squash. I don't mind it raw, diced up in a salad, diced small and sautéed in a smoking hot pan for a blink of an eye or (duh!) zucchini bread. It's when it is in chunks and cooked until it's soft and watery (I blame the seeds) that I start to hate it. A lot. I loved "Ratatouille" but do not like the dish. [Note: based on this recipe, the previous sentence is no longer true.]

A few weeks ago I saw Jacques Pépin make a yellow and green zucchini 'spaghetti'. He cut off each side - down to but not including the seed cores, julienned the planks and sautéed those fast, in a hot pan. I would trust Jacques Pépin with my very life so I thought I'd give it a shot. Now, I don't like wasting food. I use my produce scraps for stock that I will either use immediately or freeze and the only time the scraps go into the compost bin is when the freezer door becomes difficult to close. I save the heels of hard cheese to thrown into soups and stews. I use the water in which I cooked the chickpeas to cook the barley, and then I throw my onion/leek, carrot and celery produce scraps in that to make a broth.

Throwing the seedy cores of a couple of zucchinis into the compost bin? Zero guilt.

I didn't cut my own julienne, I used a Messermeister julienne-ing thingy. Worked like a charm. There are other small tools out there that are advertised as doing the same but this is the only one I've used and I'm happy with it and yes, my mandoline still scares me a little which is why I didn't use that. The Messermeister cut really beautiful, delicate julienne - and it's easier to clean up than the mandoline.

The ones I cut by hand were a little more like linguine but I think would have been just fine. Thinking after the fact, if I had hand-cut them, I might have cut thin slices, down to the core on each side, stacked those and then cut the strips - resulting in a more consistent julienne. The process using the peeler was very, very fast.

Messermeister julienne-ing thingy (left) and hand-cut julienne (right)

 Will I make it again? Absolutely. Next time I'll pan-roast some cherry tomatoes too. I think it would taste great hot or at room temperature. Top with shrimp? Tofu? Yes and yes. This has possibilities.

Recipe: Sautéed Summer Squash Julienne with Garlic, Pepper Flakes, Lemon and Shaved Parmagiana

Saturday Breakfast: A Tasty (Dutch) Baby - the Seattle Treat

Why did so many Seattle breakfast places serve Dutch Babies (do they still?) and why did I cook them so regularly when I lived there? I really didn't know until I looked it up for this post. A couple of  weeks ago I suggested that my CPIC Lynn (cooking partner in -delicious- crime) and I make one for Saturday breakfast. Well, yesterday Lynn did the cooking using a recipe from Gourmet  that I found on the Epicurious site, and we garnished our servings with the boysenberries and tayberries that I'd purchased earlier that morning at the market.

Back in the late 1800's Victor Manca, a restauranteur from Utah, moved to Seattle and opened a family-run restaurant (Manca's Cafe) that was in business until 1952. He introduced the Dutch Baby dish within a few years of its opening and it was even trademarked in 1942. Victor Manca's great granddaughter recounts the history of the cafe here.

2nd Avenue & Cherry Street (Seattle, WA) c. 1902-1903. Manca's Cafe is shown at the far left. Door sign (to the left) reads, "Ladies Private Dining Room" and the sign next to the cafe name on the top reads, "Oysters, Steaks & Chops". The original image is here. The current view of 2nd Avenue & Cherry Street (via Google Maps/Street View) is here.

I don't think the original recipe exists but it's more or less a sweet version of Yorkshire pudding and similar to the German Apfelpfannkuchen. Dutch Babies are a delicious, crispy and custard-y delivery system for fresh fruit but a dash of maple or fruit syrup is certainly called for if you don't have fruit.

Recipe: Dutch Baby with Powdered Sugar, Lemon Juice and Berries