1,000 Foods To Eat Before You Die: A Food Lover's Life List (98 page)

Green beans in and of themselves may offer few if any taste thrills, but they make wonderful vehicles for many an intriguing sauce or dressing. (Perhaps that is what nature had in mind for them in the first place.) No sauce adds more distinction or interest than the one favored in the Caucasian Republic of Georgia: a crunchy walnut dressing enlivened with garlic, onion, sweet and hot paprika, cilantro, and parsley. In fact, it might well make a perfect, sophisticated garnish for beans served as a side to southern fried chicken or barbecued beef and pork in the
other
Georgia.

Serves about 6 as a side dish

1 pound young, tender green beans, preferably haricots verts, trimmed

⅔ cup very finely ground walnuts

1 large clove garlic, crushed in a press

2 tablespoons finely minced sweet onion, such as red, Vidalia, or Bermuda onion

2 to 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar

3 to 4 tablespoons light vegetable oil, such as sunflower or walnut oil

1½ teaspoons sweet paprika

¼ teaspoon hot paprika

2 tablespoons finely minced fresh cilantro

1 tablespoon finely minced fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

Salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1.
If the beans are large, cut them into 2-inch pieces. If the beans are small haricots verts, leave them whole.

2.
Place the green beans and 2 quarts of lightly salted water in a saucepan and cook them over medium heat until they are just tender but still firm, 8 to 10 minutes. Drain the beans thoroughly on paper towels and set them aside to come to room temperature.

3.
Combine the walnuts, garlic, and onion in a large, nonreactive serving bowl made of glass, enamel, or ceramic, add 2 tablespoons of the wine vinegar, 3 tablespoons of the oil, and the sweet and hot paprikas, and toss to mix. Add the cilantro and parsley to the dressing and toss again. Taste for seasoning, adding salt and pepper and more vinegar and/or oil as necessary.

4.
Add the green beans to the bowl with the dressing and toss until well coated. The beans can be served at once but will develop more flavor and become mellower if left to sit, lightly covered, at room temperature for 2 to 3 hours. The beans can also be refrigerated, covered, for 5 or 6 hours; let them return to room temperature before serving.

Where:
In New York
, Oda House, tel 212-353-3838,
odahouse.com
;
in Brooklyn
, Primorski Restaurant, tel 718-891-3111,
primorskiny.com
.
Further information and additional recipes:
Please to the Table
by Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman (1990);
The Georgian Feast
by Darra Goldstein (1999).
Tip:
Look for green beans that are young and tender, avoiding any on which you can see the outlines of the inner beans—a sign that they are overgrown and will be tough and fibrous.

The national sauce of the Republic of Georgia.

Newcomers to the savory cuisine of the mountainous Republic of Georgia are frequently amazed—and then beguiled—by the delicate counterpoints of spices and herbs, pepper, chiles, and garlic that lend earthy energy to so many of its dishes. Noted for its healthfulness and for the longevity it seems to promote, it’s a cuisine based on fruits, vegetables, and herbs, many for aged in the wild, with lots of yogurt in between.

All of these aromatic attributes are combined in the national sauce called
tkemali
(tek-MAHLY), named for the winey dark plums that make up its purply red, fruity, somewhat sour base. Added to the cooked and pureed plums are crushed coriander and fennel seeds, garlic, a good belt of cayenne (Georgians like things hot), and mincings of fresh spearmint and cilantro.

The finished sauce is perhaps most delectably used to grace cooked green beans in the satisfying, intriguing salad known as
lobio
(the name for beans), which also features enhancements of ground walnuts, cinnamon, cloves, and pomegranate juice (see
listing
).

Tkemali lends color, aroma, and flavor to soups and stews, and it’s almost always a garnish for grilled lamb kebabs and flattened, fried chicken
tabaka
(see
listing
). It plays well with barbecue and even makes for a delightful spread on hearty toasted breads. Virtually ubiquitous as a complement to many of the country’s grilled meats, fish, and vegetables, the sauce is always kept on hand in the refrigerator, a sort of Georgian ketchup; often made at home, it is also sold commercially.

Where:
In New York
, Oda House, tel 212-353-3838,
odahouse.com
; Old Tbilisi Garden, tel 212-470-6064;
in Glendale, CA
, Old Village Restaurant, tel 818-551-2000,
oldvillrestaurant.com
;
in Portland, OR
, Kargi Gogo food cart, tel 503-489-8432,
kargigogo.com
;
in Toronto
, Suliko, tel 905-760-1989,
suliko.ca
.
Mail order:
RussianTable, tel 800-761-2460,
russiantable.com
.
Further information and recipes:
The New York Times Grilling Cookbook
, edited by Peter Kaminsky (2014);
Please to the Table
by Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman (1990);
nytimes.com
(search tkemali);
georgianrecipes.net
(search green tkemali; red tkemali).

Flattening seems to be an especially effective way to achieve both golden crunchiness and mellow juiciness at once in small chickens. There’s an Italian version,
pollo al mattone
(see
listing
) and there’s a French version,
pigeons en crapaudine
(see
listing
). And then there’s this lusty specialty of the Caucasian Republic of Georgia, an eloquent showcase for all of the subtle complexities this cooking method makes possible. In chicken tabaka, the same sort of flattened, pan-fried chicken takes on far more vibrant, pungent overtones of garlic and fiery paprika to become a true adventure for the palate.

Small chickens, squabs, or poussins (or, in a pinch or for economy’s sake, Cornish hens), each weighing about 1¼ pounds, are split down the back. With spines removed, each gets a firm pounding with a mallet, meat tenderizer, or heavy skillet, until the breast bone is flattened and the tiny bones are cracked. Drumstick ends are pulled through slits in the top skin and wings are folded back under the breasts.

That may be the signature move, but now comes the important part: Each bird is generously rubbed with salt, ground black pepper, crushed garlic, and paprika, preferably the fiery kind (though for milder tastes, a mix of the sweet and hot will do). A brushing of beaten sour cream on the skin side readies the bird to fry skin side down, in clarified butter in a heavy skillet. Pressed down under a slightly smaller but still quite heavy skillet called a
tapa
, and further weighted with cans of food or a brick, the chicken is left to its own devices for about ten minutes, until the skin develops a light golden glow. Once flipped, its other side receives the same treatment, and the meat emerges cooked but still dewy within.

The mellowing, supple finishing touch is either the plummy, garlic-and chile-zapped
tkemali
sauce (see
listing
), or a thick, verdant mix of minced parsley, cilantro, and garlic with a light
moistening of vegetable oil or melted butter. A refreshing side-dish salad would be
lobio satsivi
(see
listing
), green beans in a walnut sauce fragrant with garlic and cilantro.

Where:
In Brooklyn
, Primorski Restaurant, tel 718-891-3111,
primorskiny.com
;
in Glendale, CA
, Old Village Restaurant, tel 818-551-2000,
oldvillrestaurant.com
;
in Toronto
, Suliko, tel 905-760-1989,
suliko.ca
.
Further information and recipes:
The Art of Russian Cuisine
by Anne Volokh with Mavis Manus (1989);
Please to the Table
by Anya von Bremzen and John Welchman (1990);
food.com
(search chicken tabaka);
whats4eats.com
(search tabaka).

The stews originated with shepherds.

Synonymous with Hungarian cuisine the world over, and for the best of reasons,
gulyás
, or goulash, actually refers to a variety of rich, meaty stews. Spice-laden and aromatic with sweet and/or hot paprika (an essential ingredient), the hearty stews can be made with pork, beef, or a combination of several meats.

Goulash has been around a long time. The rustic stew originated with the shepherds from whom it takes its name—in Hungarian,
gulyás
means shepherd. As early as the ninth century, shepherds carried cuts of dried meat with them on the road; it could easily be reconstituted with water to create a kind of instant soup. Refinements were eventually added to those humble beginnings, most notably the native paprika, the spice most closely associated with Hungarian cooking after Columbus took the special chile peppers back from the New World to Europe.

The most highly prized paprika comes from the southern Hungarian city of Szeged, where the spice became the signature of the local gulyás, with caraway and sage adding subtlety. Pork is usually the meat in Szeged gulyás—browned in its own fat and then stewed for hours with onions, tomatoes, sauerkraut, potatoes, and sometimes grated apple. The resulting dish is at once sour, sweet, hot, and mellow, and incredibly fragrant. In a more liquid form, sans sauerkraut, goulash is the basis of a favorite German antidote to a night of hard partying (see
Gulyassuppe
). No matter what the occasion, it’s hearty, warming fare for shepherds and city dwellers alike.

Where:
In Budapest
, Gundel, tel 36/1-889-8100,
gundel.hu/en
; Firkász, tel 36/1-450-1118,
firkasz-etterem.hu
; Bagolyvár, tel 36/1-468-3110,
bagolyvar.com
;
in New York
, Andre’s Café, tel 212-327-1105,
andrescafeny.com
.
Further information and recipes:
George Lang’s Cuisine of Hungary
by George Lang (1994);
cookstr.com
(search hungarian goulash);
foodandwine.com
(search goulash with sausage and sauerkraut).

A clear and subtle fish soup-stew,
halászlé
(HAHL-ash-zlee) deserves its place among the bouillabaisses, bourrides,
brodetti
, and
zuppe de pesce
of the world. Based on the freshwater fish that abound in the lakes of Hungary and other eastern European countries, the soup exudes a milder, more delicate essence than those made with lustier saltwater fish.

The most essential player here is the golden carp, its opulently fatty, meaty texture bolstered by a stock made with its skin, head, and bones, and plenty of sweet onions. Walleye pike, white-fish, sturgeon, perch, and wide-mouth bass also join the fray, and a mix of sweet and hot paprikas sets the heady broth aglow with color and savory flavor.

The fish for this soup is purchased whole—to be gutted by either the fishmonger or the cook—which means that the coral roe of females and the white milt of males may be included as well. These prized additions add hefty overtones to a broth that often contains no vegetables save for a finishing touch of lightly cooked green pepper strips; cooks in some regions do simmer the stock with some sweet and earthy root vegetables such as parsnips, parsley root, carrots, celery root, and a few cloves of unpeeled garlic. In either cases, the strained, clear, paprika-blushed broth is sprinkled with minced dill and served as a first course, while chunks of the fish make up a second course, garnished with boiled potatoes for substance.