Debriefings

Near Misses

This past week I served the family two stew-like dishes. Both were dishes I've prepared in the distant past. Both were well-received (Girltzik declared both dinners delicious). Both, frankly, disappointed me. Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm never satisfied. Maybe I'm having Prince flashbacks.

I go through this all the time with new or re-visited dishes. The girls will be enjoying the meal and I'll start with open questions ("What do you think?" "Anything you'd change?") and move to leading questions if I don't hear anything that answers my own inner critic's concerns. Princess V calls it the debriefing.

Khoresh-e Fasenjan

The dish I was attempting to revise is called khoresh-e fesenjan, and I have no idea how that translates, but what little I know of Persian foods tells me that (1) khoresh literally means "eating," (2) all Persian stews are called khoresh-something, and (3) khoresh-e fesenjan is always made with (at the very least) pomegranate molasses, walnut meal, onions, and poultry. I think the name essentially means "pomegranate stew," but I wouldn't bet a paycheck on it. This khoresh is unique in that the inclusion of pomegranate sweetens the stew; most Persian stews are decidedly savory, containing no sweetener of any kind.

If you google khoresh-e fasenjan, you'll find numerous recipes, including dozens of redactions of Maideh Mazda's recipe from In a Persian Kitchen. Mazda's goal appears to have been making Persian cooking possible without access to authentic Persian ingredients. For this reason, her version is far from iconic, relying as it does on shortening, poultry seasoning, and pomegranate juice instead of pomegranate molasses.

One of my objections to most versions of this dish is the walnut meal, which in addition to providing a bit of flavor, thickens the stew. I like walnuts, but in this particular application, they give the dish a gritty texture. In the past, I've tried substituting ground cashews, which is smoother than the walnuts, but the cashew flavor is pretty assertive and radically changes the flavor. I decided, for this latest revision of khoresh-e fasenjan, that I would eschew the walnut meal thickener entirely. Instead, once the vegetables and chicken were fully cooked, I simply removed them to a bowl and reduced the liquid. I think this worked quite well, but it was a wee bit sweet for my taste. No surprise. The pomegranate molasses makes khoresh-e fasenjan tart and sweet, and it can easily become cloying. Princess V commented on this, noting that my khoresh fell just short of being too sweet. Some recipes I've seen actually add sugar, and that would be entirely too much.

Khoresh-e fasenjaan is usually quite spicy and will typically contain cayenne, turmeric, and cinammon. I decided to replace the traditional spice selection with ras al hanout and turmeric. The ras al hanout I used on the chicken pieces as a spice rub prior to searing them. I used the turmeric because I like the way it works with pomegranate. Searing on the ras al hanout worked well, imparting a warm, smoky spice to the dish.

A khoresh usually includes onions and will often include zucchini, eggplant, or artichokes. For vegetables, in addition to the onion, I elected to use artichoke hearts and pistachios. Both are meaty and rich, and pistachios match well with pomegranate. Besides, Girltzik and I are big artichoke fans.

The sauce for khoresh-e fasenjan is often made even tarter by the addition of lime juice, tomatoes, or tomato sauce. I don't care for tomato with pomegranate but I did include a little lime juice.

The poultry component of khoresh-e fasenjan is often a whole chicken or duck or just chicken legs. I decided to use thighs and breasts. The girls don't care for dark meat, but it does a better job of flavoring stews. Breast meat is problematic in acidic stews: it dries out and takes on a slightly astringent quality. That turned out to be the case in this instance. My biggest objection to our meal was the dryness of the breast meat. Next time, I think I'm going to try chicken meatballs or possibly chicken meatballs fortified with duck fat.

Bouillabaise

Bouillabaise is a dangerous dish. To be more precise, it's major food snob fodder. Like Pad Thai, lasagne Bolognese, gazpacho, and teriyaki, if you don't follow a strict traditional recipe and technique, purists will pooh-pooh the dish and accuse you of being a poser. The traditional bouillabaise of Marseille, according to the Michelin Guide, must be made with rascasse (a Mediterranean scorpionfish), fish caught that day, fine olive oil, and quality saffron. Others will tell you that three specific fish must be used and no more than seven.

In practice, bouillabaise was the Provençal version catch-of-the-day stew enjoyed by fishermen. These stews are found all round the Mediterranean. Bouillabaise, like most such stews, was originally made with lesser quality fish. The good stuff was their livelihood, so the fishermen used the bony, gelatinous they wouldn't be able to sell. Because rascasse, grondin (sea robin), and conger were common on local reefs, they were an ubiquitous set of components in the fishermen's stews of Marseille. Crabs, octopus, and various shellfish were often included. Saffron was a must as was aioli.

So here's what the real hardcore food snobs will tell you (yes, many of these points are in conflict):

- An authentic bouillabaise is impossible outside of Marseille because you have to have the three (and only three) authentic fish, and they have to be fresh. Anything else is just a fish stew.

- An authentic bouillabaise can include no sea creatures but lotte (monkfish), hake, turbot, sea bream, mussels, octopus, sea urchin, and crab.

- Bouillabaise does not contain lobster or shrimp.

- Bouillabaise can include tomatoes, leeks, celery, and potatoes.

- Bouillabaise must include fennel, garlic, onion, bay leaf, thyme, orange peel, saffron. Any other vegetables make it not a bouillabaise.

- The fish and shellfish for bouillabaise are served separately from the broth.

- In authentic bouillabaise, the broth is poured over the fish just before serving.

- In authentic bouillabaise, the fish is lightly grilled or pan seared and finished in the fumet.

- In authentic bouillabaise, the stock is heavier than a fumet and is made by straining the racks with a foodmill or bu crushing them in a chinois.

- Authentic bouillabaise is served with aioli and baguette.

- Authentic bouillabaise is served with toasted slices of baguette and rouille (aioli with saffron and cayenne).

So, here's what this food snob says: bouillabaise is a fruit de mer stew with saffron and vegetables that should be served with a crunchy baguette and aioli or rouille (both are good). In my experience, the very best bouillabaise is made with a variety of the freshest available fish. Lobster and squid in bouillabaise may not be traditional, but anyone who refuses a bouillabaise because it contains these is robbing himself of a divine dining experience.

I would also place one other limitation on the fish in a bouillabaise: no oily fish. As delicious as tuna, salmon, and Chilean sea bass may be, their fat overwhelms the the subtler flavors in the dish.

Everyone enjoyed this most recent bouillabaise I prepared, but I only found two types of suitable fish, and I returned them to the fumet too early. They disintegrated. Clams always take longer to open than I expect (more about that when I write about my pasta alla puttanesca). So, next time I'm doing bouillabaise, I'll alter a few of these aspects and throw in a lobster tail. Then I'll write about it.