German Onion Tart: Zwiebelkuchen

"Zwiebelkuchen" literally means, "onion cake," but in reality it is more of an "onion tart," or an "onion pie." The standard German word for the dish is the compound word "Zwiebelkuchen," and the dish is known as part of several regional cuisines in German speaking areas; and therefore, it is known by a number of dialect names: "Zwiwwelkuche" in Pfälzisch,* "Zwiwwlwähe" and "Zwiebelwäje" in the Alemannic German dialects of Switzerland,** but "Zwiwwelkuech" in the Alemannic German  dialect of Alsace, "Zwiwlwähe" in Swabian Alemannic dialect (very generally the Stuttgart area), and in the Frankish dialect of the Nuremberg area it is known as "Zwiebelplootz," and there are likely more regional names. Just as there are a number of names for this dish, so are there some variations in recipes, with some people using yeast risen dough, like bread or pizza dough, and others using a "short crust" pie dough (in German: Mürbeteig), and still others using store bought puff pastry. I have used both pie dough and bread dough when I've made this, and for this article I used pie dough. I've seen it mentioned by some that originally bread dough was used. Some bake the dish on square baking sheets, while others use round cake or pie pans. Some people add some shredded Swiss cheese ("Emmentaler") or Gruyère to the top.

"Zwiebelkuchen," a type of quiche (see Word History, below), has long been associated with the fall (autumn) time of the year, when "new wine" (German: "neuer Wein"); that is, not totally fermented wine, is sold in many wine bars and restaurants in wine producing areas. As with so many food products and recipes in German areas, there are a number of regional names for "new wine;" hey, you didn't think the Germans would make this easy, did you? One of the common names is "Federweißer," literally, "feather white," but why this term is used is not really understood; although perhaps because of young birds having white or off white feathers? The wine is murky; thus, not really the clear light color of white wine after it matures. Believe me though, there are several other terms used for new wine. Now you don't have to just make this tart in the fall of the year, although you may be penalized by Germans for breaking with tradition by being forced to repeatedly attempt to pronounce  the word "Streichholzschächtelchen" until you get it right. ***

To save yourself time and work, use store bought pie crust, frozen puff pastry or pizza dough. In times now "generally" past, lard was often used in the preparation of "Zwiebelkuchen," in both the dough and in the filling, but many now replace the lard with butter or oil. The recipe here is just a sort of guideline, as the quantity of ingredients will depend upon the dish you use to make "Zwiebelkuchen." I used a 10 inch pie dish (Pyrex/glass). 

Ingredients:

pie dough or puff pastry
2 tablespoons butter (divided use, or you can substitute olive oil) 
2 baseball size onions, chopped
1/2 pound thick sliced bacon, chopped or diced)
1 teaspoon caraway seeds
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 cup heavy cream (or you can substitute reduced fat sour cream)
1/2 cup evaporated milk (canned milk)
1/4 cup dry white wine
3 eggs
2/3 teaspoon black pepper
(optional) 1/2 teaspoon salt 
(optional for garnish) chopped green onions (scallions)

Heat oven to 400 F. Use 1 tablespoon butter (or olive oil) to grease the pan or baking sheet you will use. Then line the pan with dough. In a skillet over medium heat, melt the butter (or you can use 1 tablespoon oil) and add the bacon. Cook the bacon until much of the fat is rendered, but remember, the bacon will be baked, so you don't want to cook it too much in the skillet. Remove the bacon to some paper towels, then pour off all but about 2 tablespoons of the melted bacon fat from the skillet. Add the onions and cook over low heat until the mass of onions starts to cook down, then add the wine, caraway seed and nutmeg, and stir to mix well. Cook until the onions are softened and remove from the heat. Then if using pie dough, let the onions cool down just a little. Put the onions into the dough lined dish and spread them out evenly. Sprinkle the bacon pieces over the onions. Put the dish into the oven and let it bake until the edge of the dough "begins" to set. While that is going on, mix together the cream, milk, eggs, black pepper and salt too, if using (mix well). Remove the dish from the oven and pour the cream mixture over the onions and bacon. Try to get it over all parts of the dish. Put dish back into the oven and bake until the top is well set and a little browned (the one I made for this article took about 25 minutes). Remove from the oven and let cool for just a little time before slicing. Serve it warm, or it can also be served chilled. I like it with some fresh chopped scallions on top and many Germans serve it that way, too. 

* "Pfälzisch" (=Palatinate dialect, spoken in the Palatinate and in the Rhineland-Palatinate) is a dialect of German derived from Frankish, as are the nearby German dialects Hessisch (Hessian), Lothringisch (Lorraine German) and "Lëtzebuergesch" (Luxembourgish). Other German dialects are also derived from forms of Frankish, as is Dutch, the language of the Netherlands, and the Dutch dialect of Flemish, spoken by about 60% of the population of Belgium.

** The Alemannic German dialects are spoken in southwestern Germany, Switzerland, Alsace, Liechtenstein and far western Austria.   

*** While all languages have compound words, German is famous (infamous?) for compounding compounds into gigantic words that send fear into the hearts of those seeing or hearing them. They really are not as fearsome as they appear, as you just need to break them down. "Streichholzschächtelchen" means, "little matchbox," from the verb "streichen" (close relative of the  English verb "(to) strike," and with the same meaning in German), the noun "Holz" (close relative of generally now antiquated English "holt," meaning "forest, woods, timberland," which in German simply came to mean "wood," the material from trees), the noun "Schachtel," a word borrowed by German from Italian with alterations in Austro-Bavarian German dialect, and meaning "box," and the suffix "-chen," a diminutive, which means it makes a word's meaning seem "smaller" or "endearing" (a close relative of English forms -kin, -ken, -chen). So if Germans try to penalize you by making you try to pronounce "Streichholzschächtelchen," you needn't panic, it's like, "strike-hills-shuttle-chin"... ah, "stripe-held-snipple-chen" ... ah, "stray-help-shacktel-chun," ah... oh the hell with it! You're in trouble!

WORD HISTORY:
Quiche-This word is related to "cake." It goes back to Indo European "ghag/ghog," which simply had the notion of "a spherical object, a clump." Its Old Germanic offspring was "kokon," which by then meant "clump, or small round loaf of bread." It was not until the 1400s and 1500s that "cake" was more commonly used for the sweetened form of bread we think of today. The Germanic form gave Old High German "kuohho," which seems to have meant, "round bread loaf, clump of cooked mush." This then became "kuoche," before the modern German form "Kuchen" (meaning "cake") which was "Küeche/Küche" in "Lothringisch" dialect (Lorraine Frankish German dialect). This was borrowed by French in about 1800 (?) as "quiche," and English borrowed the word in the mid 1900s.^

^ For "cake," the English relative of "quiche" and of German "Kuchen," this is the link to the article with that "Word History": http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2012/09/its-none-of-your-pancake-business.html 

Cornmeal Soup

Cornmeal is a food of dried and ground maize. Maize is more commonly called "corn" in North America. Native Americans often used ground or mashed maize in various ways, and the European settlers picked up on this handy product, that when dried, was easy to keep and easy to use to make porridge, soup, "pudding"* or bread. European explorers and traders took the durable product back to Europe, where its ground version joined other ground grains and established a foothold in Italy, where it is called "polenta." Italian immigrants took their recipes for polenta to their new homes in other lands, including to the New World, where they supplemented the existing use of cornmeal by the addition of cheese.

The basic soup recipe was given to me by my friend Gustavo, who is from Brazil. He is an "FOF;" that is, "a friend of Fernando" (private joke). His mother makes the soup, and I put my own touches to it. If you don't like "spicy heat," you can leave out the chili peppers, or remove the seeds and just use the flesh of one chili; one seeded chili in 6 cups of broth is not likely to add very much kick, at all. Also, using bouillon, soup base or store bought broth usually means a high salt content, so that will be the salt for the soup, and you will not need to add more salt. There are some chicken soup bases without salt, so you can always consider one of those, if you watch your salt intake. The thing is, you want to use some kind of broth, as plain water will make the soup bland. I make this soup often, and recently as I made the soup, I was also following an important show on television and I inadvertently left out the soup base. I merrily continued on my way and when I sat down to eat, I said, "Hm, damn this is bland!" I promptly sprinkled on some more cheese, but that didn't really help. Then I realized I had forgotten the soup base. DUH! I added a little base and all was well. Just in time to see Bugs Bunny escape from Elmer Fudd! Hey, I told you I was watching an important show.         

Ingredients (for about 4 servings):

6 cups water or chicken broth or water with chicken bouillon or chicken soup base
4 cloves garlic, chopped
4 green onions, chopped
2/3 cup kale (no large stems)
(optional) 1 to 3 jalapeño or serrano chili peppers
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
2/3 cup cornmeal
4 eggs
grated or shaved Parmesan or Romano cheese for topping each serving
extra virgin olive oil for drizzling on each serving

Put the broth, garlic, onion, kale and chili peppers (if using) into a nonstick large skillet over medium heat and bring it to a simmer; simmer for 2 to 3 minutes. Using a skillet makes it easier to add and cook the eggs, as a sauce pan may be too narrow to maneuver, unless you're fixing just 1 or 2  servings, but use your own judgment. GRADUALLY add the cornmeal, whisking or stirring constantly to avoid lumps (otherwise you'll have little cornmeal dumplings). Stir in the black pepper. The soup should have some body to it, but it should still be very fluid; this is not porridge. Carefully add one egg at a time to the hot soup (I use a spatula to prevent the eggs from sticking to the bottom). After about a minute, you can turn off the heat and let the eggs finish poaching in the soup. If you like fully cooked yolks, you don't have to be so careful about the eggs, but I like runny yolks. Carefully ladle the eggs and soup into individual serving bowls. Sprinkle a little grated cheese or cheese shavings onto the top of each serving, then drizzle on some extra virgin olive oil.

* The term "pudding" may confuse many Americans, as we typically think of pudding as a milk-based kind of custard, or cornstarch thickened flavored milk dessert, often flavored with chocolate or vanilla, but with other flavors, too. In England and other parts of Britain, puddings can mean a dish of meat, spices and fruit boiled or steamed until solidified into a loaf or sausage.

Before I added the cheese and olive oil. You can see the egg yolk and part of the egg white.

I used a mix of Parmesan, Romano and Asiago cheeses

WORD HISTORY:
Palace-The ultimate origins of this word are uncertain, with one suggestion being that it goes back to Latin "palus," the ancestor of English "pale;" that is, as in "fence pale, stake." ^ The idea is that "pales" connect to make a fence; thus, an enclosure, but whether this is the basis of the word "palace" is more than a little uncertain, in my opinion. One of the seven hills of Rome was called "Mons Palatinus," but why that name was used is not really known, although the suggestion that it was based on an existing Etruscan word, "falad," which meant "sky," makes some sense.^^ Anyway, "Mons Palatinus" was part of the original settlement of what became Rome, and later Emperor Augustus had his residence there, and other wealthy Romans also lived there, thus giving the idea to such residences as "palaces." "Palatinus" later became "Palatium," still meaning the hill in Rome, but later it became "palatium," with the meaning, "residence of an emperor or high official." This later became "palacium," and it passed into Latin-based Old French as "palais," and English borrowed the word in the first part of the 1200s as, "palice/palesse."     

^ The noun "pale" is a Latin-derived word borrowed by English from French. It is not related to "pale" meaning, "light in color," another word borrowed by English and coincidentally of the same spelling. 

^^  Etruscan is a mystery language, but it was "possibly" related to some languages of the Aegean Sea area, including "Minoan." Etruscan was spoken in a fairly large part of what is now Italy, but it eventually died out when Latin came to the area, although some of its words were borrowed into Latin.  

Beef & French Onion Sauce

The key to this dish is to get the onions nicely browned and caramelized, as this will give the sauce a great taste. You can cook the steaks as rare, or as well done, as you'd like.

Serve with toasted slices of French baguette 

Ingredients:

4 beef tenderloin steaks, 4 ounces each
2 large onions, thinly sliced
1 bay leaf
2 cups sliced cremini mushrooms 
1 cup beef stock
1/3 cup white wine
1 heaping teaspoon dried thyme
2 tablespoons butter (divided use)
2 tablespoons oil (olive, vegetable or canola)
1 to 2 tablespoons flour
1 1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper (divided use)
1/2 to 1 teaspoon salt, to taste (if the beef stock is salty, you can certainly cut down of the amount of salt)
1/3 cup shredded Swiss cheese

Heat a large heavy bottomed skillet or pan over medium heat. Add 2 tablespoons oil, then add the sliced onions. Toss the onions in the oil and let them cook until they soften and begin to brown. Sprinkle the sugar over the onions, stir and continue to cook the onions until they are browned and sweetened by caramelization. Add one tablespoon of butter and the mushrooms. Add the thyme and sprinkle the flour over the onion and mushroom mixture, then stir to mix. Add the bay leaf and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Gradually stir in the beef stock and then the white wine. Turn the heat to low and let the mixture simmer and thicken a little. Meanwhile, in a large skillet, melt 1 tablespoon butter over medium heat (you can always add more butter or even oil, if needed). Season the steaks on both sides with salt and pepper. Add steaks to the skillet and cook about 3 to 6 minutes per side, depending on how well done you want each steak, then add each steak to the simmering sauce, and turn off the heat (remove the bay leaf). Toast some slices of good bread (baguettes are good for this) and place a steak and some sauce on serving plates, followed with a piece of toast on top of each steak, and sprinkle a little shredded cheese over the toast, followed by a little of the sauce on the cheese.  

WORD HISTORY:
Loin-This word is related to "lumbar" and to "lumbago," both of which are Latin-derived words borrowed by English. "Loin" goes back to Indo European "lendh," which meant, "area of the waist, loin, kidney." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "lendi," with the same meanings. This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "lenden," meaning, "loin" ("lendenu"=plural, "loins"), and this then became "lende." Latin had "lumbus" (loin, hip), but it is unclear if this came from a form of Latin's immediate ancestor "Italic," with that form presumed to have been "londwos," or whether Latin may have rendered their own form from another language group, with Germanic being a prime possibility. Old French, a Latin-based language, had the word passed on as "loigne/lombes," ("loin, hip, lower back, lower torso/loins"). English borrowed the word, initially as "loyne/loine," and it overtook the native word, "lende," as the main word, although "lende" became "lend" (nothing to do with the more common word of that spelling), and it remains as a dialect word in parts of England and Scotland. Its Germanic relatives are German "Lende/Lenden" (loin/loins), Low German "Lenn/Lennen" (body area around the hip/hips), Dutch "lende/lenden" (loin, lower back/loins), Swedish "länd/länder" (lower back/loins), Icelandic "lendir" (loins), Danish "lænd(e)/lænder" (loin/loins), Norwegian "lend" (loins).       

A Tenant Named Bill

Recently I again watched the 1939 movie, "Of Mice and Men." * For those unfamiliar with any of the movie versions or with the book, one of the characters is a big man named "Lennie Small," who is often termed as "feeble-minded." Lennie wants to be happy and be nice and he loves to pet little animals, but he doesn't realize his own strength. His friend is named "George," and George has great difficulty keeping Lennie out of trouble. Well, my thoughts went back to the 1980s and to a tenant in one building who only vaguely reminded me of the Lennie character, but the connection was strong enough to me, that this tenant, named "Bill," came to my mind while I watched the movie.

Bill was a military veteran in his 30s back then, but at some point he had some mental problem. I believe the Veteran's Administration** had determined that Bill was unable to manage his own financial affairs, and they had commissioned an attorney to take care of Bill's money and necessities, which is how Bill came to live in the building I managed; it was only a few blocks from his attorney's office, as I recall. Bill wasn't a totally huge guy, but he was bigger than I was, which wasn't any miraculous event, as I'm not all that tall. One of his problems was, he couldn't remember things, including his apartment key, which was a constant problem, as we had to continuously unlock the door for him (the doors automatically locked upon closing). I must admit, it was aggravating, as at just about any time, Bill could come looking for one of us to unlock his door, and myself and two other employees lived on the premises, so after regular office hours didn't spare us from Bill's knocking. I would "give him hell," but not in a nasty way, and he knew it, because he'd sometimes smile a little when I lectured him. We put the key on a chain to go around his neck, but it didn't help, he would forget to put the chain on. One of the things about him was, when he would talk with me, or if I lectured him, he would stand and sort of march in place. He was clean, but he wouldn't have won a clothing award. He was always respectful to us, and it was a great shock when his lawyer called me and told me he had signed papers to have Bill picked up by the police or sheriff's deputies, I forget which, and that he would be taken to the mental ward of the VA, if I remember correctly, because he had gone to visit his father and his sister and then "beaten the hell out of them" (the words used by the attorney).

I had never met any of Bill's family, but Bill was in his 30s, so his father wasn't 41. I certainly don't condone Bill's violence toward his family members, who lived about 10 miles from the apartment building, but it was kind of funny when the police came that night. It's been so long, I don't remember the time, but Bill was in bed. The police wanted me with them, so I went and I knocked on Bill's door, in sort of a reverse of him knocking on my door at any hour to let him into his apartment, but this wasn't like midnight or anything like that. So he came and opened the door and the police took over and showed him the legal papers. I'll never forget it, because Bill said to them, "Can this wait until morning, I was sleeping?" We all chuckled, but it was sad for the violence Bill had committed and for Bill's mind, as he seemed like a little child, unaware of how serious matters were. His lawyer, whose name I can no longer remember, told me that Bill had been a top notch radio operator in the military (I can't remember what branch of the military he had been in either), and there was some special commendation or some such thing he had received. As the lawyer said, however, somewhere thereafter Bill's mind "blew a fuse" (I believe that was how the lawyer termed it). Well, if I remember right, the doctor(s) at the VA recommended to the attorney that he move Bill to a facility about 50 to 60 miles away, in the Youngstown, Ohio area, and I never saw Bill as a tenant again after that night. 

I would guess that about 8 years went by, and I saw this guy one day. I knew him, but I couldn't place why I knew him. He disappeared, and then it came to me.... BILL! He looked well, but whether the VA had been able to help his mind, I don't know. Just a few years ago, I was looking through the local obituaries, and there was Bill's name. I know Bill did wrong about his father and sister, but I've got to admit, seeing his obituary hurt. I've been unlucky to know a few really bad people, but I've been lucky to know lots and lots of other people in my life, all with various flaws, just as I have, and when I see or hear that one of them has passed on, a part of me dies too.            


* For my article on this movie, here is the link:  http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2013/02/steinbecks-of-mice-and-men-great-book.html

** Commonly called the Veteran's Administration, but more commonly simply referred to as the "VA."

WORD HISTORY:
Tenant-This word is distantly related to "tendon," a word English borrowed from Latin, which had gotten it from Greek, and to "tense" (the verb and the adjective^), a Latin-derived word borrowed by English. It goes back to Indo European "ten," which had the idea of "to stretch, to stretch or reach out." This gave Latin "tenere," meaning, "to grasp, to hold," which passed to Latin-based Old French as "tenir," which meant, "to hold, to possess," and the participle form of which was "tenant." This was used as a noun for, "a holder of land," and, "a holder of land by agreement in feudal society." This was carried by the Normans to England, but became "tenaunt" by the second half of the 1200s. This was borrowed into English in the first quarter of the 1300s as "tenaunt," but the spelling later was altered to "tenant" (perhaps by influence of the original French spelling?). Its modern meaning has settled on "some agreement, written or spoken, where occupancy to some property is granted to a person, to people, or to an entity, usually in exchange for some regular payment; that is, rent."       

^ It is NOT related to the grammatical noun "tense," used in "present tense," "past tense," etc, as this word is from a totally different source.   

Creamy Zurich Veal Pieces: Zürcher Geschnetzeltes

 Totally new "Word History" 8-24-22

Known in German as "Zürcher Geschnetzeltes,"* this dish is Swiss German, but it is far from uncommon in other German areas, including, of course, Austria and Germany. It is traditionally made with veal (usually from a hind leg), but boneless, skinless chicken breast or turkey breast and boneless pork are often used nowadays. Veal is an expensive meat, and the leg meat is commonly $15 to $20 a pound. There are some recipe variations, as for instance, some people do not use mushrooms, and others do not use paprika. "Geschnetzeltes" is traditionally served with "Rösti," Swiss fried potatoes, which Americans know as "hash browns," ** but "Spätzle" (English: "spaetzle"), common German little dumplings/pasta bits, are also a good choice.***  NOTE ON COOKING: If you use a cheaper cut of veal, you may need to cook it longer to get it tender. Making sure to cut it into thin strips certainly helps, but you can also simmer the veal separately in a pan with some oil or butter and with the chicken broth, with a lid, over low heat. Just keep checking it for tenderness. When tender, add the veal to the skillet, and reserve the cooking broth until called for in the instructions. I've done this before myself when I've used veal stew meat. Chicken breast, turkey breast or boneless pork should not pose any such similar problem.

Ingredients:

1 to 1 1/4 pound boneless veal cut into strips (or use chicken, turkey or pork)
3 tablespoons butter
3/4 cup chopped onion
2 teaspoons flour
1/3 cup white wine
1/3 cup chicken broth 
2/3 cup heavy cream
1 cup sliced mushrooms, crimini or button 
1/2 teaspoon pepper
pinch to 1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon sweet paprika (use Hungarian paprika for authenticity)
lemon juice/lemon slices

In a skillet, melt the butter over low heat (or you can certainly use a mixture of butter and olive oil or canola oil). Add the onion and cook for about two minutes, then add the veal. Add the mushrooms, paprika, pepper, and sprinkle the flour over the skillet ingredients and stir to mix. Cook for another couple of minutes, then gradually add the white wine and chicken broth, stirring to mix everything, which should thicken somewhat. Add the salt and stir to mix. Gradually stir in the cream until it is all mixed in. You can let everything gently simmer to cook down, if you'd like. The sauce should be somewhat thickened (if too thick, add a little more broth or wine). Serve with lemon slices on the side. 

* In the German dialect of Zurich it is "Züri Gschnätzlets."

** In the United States the potato dish is called "hash browns," and it is typically served as a "fried block of shredded potato," whereas in Switzerland, the dish is usually a round portion, from the shape of the pan. The Swiss have variations on the basic potato dish, like the addition of cheese, or onion, or other items. I often ordered Rösti at a restaurant in Wiesbaden, Germany years ago. Rösti is usually a side dish. By the way the word "Rösti" (noun) is simply a dialect form of standard German "rösten" (verb); and it is, therefore, related to English "roast." 

*** Spaetzle are also called "Knöpfle" in some German regions. To make your own "spaetzle," this article has the recipe:  http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2017/02/spatzle-in-sour-sauce-sauer-spatzle.html
 
I made a nice big serving of "Rösti," and a kale and tomato salad for my "Zürcher Geschnetzeltes"

WORD HISTORY:   

Otter-This name for a sleek weasel-like animal that lives in or near water is related to "wet," "water" and "wash," all words from the Germanic roots of English, and it is distantly related to "vodka," a word English borrowed from Russian, and to "hydro," a word English borrowed from Greek. "Otter" goes back to Indo European "wed," meaning "water," which spawned the adjective "udros," which meant "of or relating to water," and from this came the noun "udra/udro" meaning "water animal, water creature." This gave its Old Germanic offspring "utraz" (then "otraz" in the West Germanic branch?), meaning "otter," and this gave Old English "otr/otor," which then became "otir/oter," before the modern form. The other Germanic languages have: German and Low German "Otter," West Frisian and Dutch "otter," Danish "odder," Icelandic "otur," Norwegian "oter," Swedish "utter."  

White Chocolate Terrine

White chocolate does not have the cocoa solids that give the varying shades of color to "brown" chocolate. So is it really chocolate? The answer is easy for me... who the hell cares? I bought a chunk of Belgian white chocolate that was a little over 1 pound, but by the time I made the recipe, it was down to exactly 1 pound... hm, must have been mice. I used a 5 x 9 inch, 1.5 quart baking dish for this, but use what you have.

Ingredients:

about 1 pound white chocolate, chopped
1/2 stick unsalted butter, in pats
1/2 pint (8 ounces) heavy cream
3/4 cup dried cherries
1 cup walnuts, halves or chopped, but not into small pieces
mint leaves for garnish
fresh or dried cherries for garnish
some vegetable oil to coat dish

Add half of the chopped white chocolate and all of the heavy cream to a double boiler set up (a pan or bowl over a pan of barely simmering water). Stir often to keep the mixture smooth (a spatula is good to use). When the chocolate has melted, add half of the remaining white chocolate and melt it and blend it in, then do the same with the rest of the chocolate. When the chocolate is totally melted and smooth, add the butter, one piece at a time, until it is melted and mixed in. Lightly coat the dish you will use with some vegetable oil. Add a layer of a third of the chocolate to the bottom of the dish. Put the dish into the freezer for just a few minutes. Remove the dish from the freezer and now add a third of the dried cherries and the walnut pieces over the surface of the chocolate (as evenly as you can). Push the cherries and walnuts down into the chocolate (I used half of a walnut to push the cherries and walnuts into the chocolate). Place the dish into the freezer for another minute or two, then remove the dish from the freezer and add another third of the chocolate and a third of the cherries and walnuts, and repeat the process used above. Place the dish back into the freezer for another couple of minutes and repeat the same process for the final third of the chocolate and the cherries and walnuts. Place the dish back into the freezer for about 30 minutes (you don't want ice in this). Take the terrine from the freezer and run some warm water over a knife blade. Be sure to completely dry the knife blade, then run the blade around the perimeter of the dish. Also run a shallow pan of "warm," NOT HOT, water, and let the terrine dish sit in the warm water for a few minutes (I first tried to unmold the terrine after only about 2 minutes, and it wasn't enough time in the warm water, so I put the dish back into the warm water for about 3 more minutes, which worked). Turn the dish over onto a platter or plate, and give it a minute to loosen and come out of the dish. You can smooth it over, if it is a little rough looking from the unmolding, then put the terrine back into the freezer to solidify it completely again (10 to 15 minutes should be fine). You will need some warm water again to keep your knife warm enough to slice the terrine. Remember, this is a rich, sweet desert (You: "Ahh, Randy... that's 'dessert.' " R: "Well then how come we don't write, 'Don't dessert me now, when I need help?'  You: "Because we don't; now, get your damned fingers back to typing and finish this, I'm hungry!") Anyway, this is a rich, sweet dessert, so you don't need 2 inch slices for a serving, but rather about 1/4 to 1/3 inch slices. You can always reshape the slices a little if they don't come out exactly as you would like. Ideally you could leave the terrine in the refrigerator for several hours to make it easier to slice. I happened to have some fresh cherries on hand, so I included a couple on the plate with the white chocolate terrine, as well as some mint leaves, but you can just use a few dried cherries, or some thawed frozen cherries.

Click on the photo to enlarge...

WORD HISTORY:
Spatula-This word is distantly related to "spade" and to "spoon," both words are from the Germanic roots of English. It goes back to the Indo European root "speh" (flat piece of wood) and an elongated form "speh-deh," which had the notion of "flat piece of wood for doing work." This gave Ancient Greek transliterated "spathe," meaning, "flat wooden blade used in a weaver's loom." This later expanded to include "metal blade" and the word was borrowed by Latin as "spatha," meaning, "blade of a sword, blade used as a tool." Its diminutive form in Latin was "spatula," meaning, "shoulder blade," but also, "kitchen tool/utensil for turning, scraping or stirring." The word was borrowed into English circa 1500 with the kitchen utensil meaning, but also with the limited meaning "type of medical scalpel." 

Croque Monsieur/Croque Madame

Apparently invented in Paris in the years before World War One, the original sandwich was the "Croque Monsieur." "Croque" is from the French verb "croquer," which has several meanings to do with eating, like: to munch, to bite, to crunch." The idea seems to have been a "man's," or "gentleman's," crunchy bite, as the toasted sandwich is crunchy. Decades later an egg was added to make the female version, "Croque Madame," supposedly because the egg was like a lady's hat topping off the sandwich. While these are sandwiches, they are not the kind of sandwiches you make while there are commercial breaks during your favorite television show. You need to make the sauce, you then need to make the basic sandwiches, then you need to fry (toast) those sandwiches, then you need to add the sauce, then you need to brown the top under the broiler, then you need to fry or poach the eggs and to add them, if you choose to use them. Nothing here is terribly difficult to do, although it does take a little time, but the result is well worth it, as the sandwiches are great.  

Ingredients (4 sandwiches):

Bechamel Sauce (actually a Mornay Sauce):

2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 cup milk, with a pinch of thyme and a bay leaf, well heated, but not boiled/scalded
1/2 cup shredded Swiss or Gruyère cheese
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon salt

8 slices of white bread
ham, thinly sliced, but not paper thin
4 slices Swiss cheese (Emmentaler or Gruyère cheese) + about 1/3 to 1/2 cup shredded  
"about" 3 to 4 teaspoons Dijon mustard
butter for frying the sandwiches (+ more if frying eggs)
4 eggs (if using) 

Heat the milk, pinch of thyme and the bay leaf over low heat. Remove the milk from the heat if it is heated before you finish making the roux (butter and flour). Melt the 2 tablespoons butter in a heavy bottomed pan over medium heat (do not brown the butter). Stir in the flour to form a paste and cook just about 90 seconds (do not let the roux brown), and turn down the heat if need be. Remove the bay leaf from the milk. Gradually whisk the heated milk into the roux, and let the milk come to a bare simmer, whisking constantly as the mix thickens. Season with salt and pepper and stir/whisk well again, turn off the heat. Heat a griddle or large skillet (cast iron is good for this) over medium heat. While the skillet or griddle is heating, on four slices of the bread, spread a thin layer of Dijon mustard. Top this with some thin ham slices and then some thinly sliced or shredded Swiss or Gruyère cheese. Butter one side of the other slices of bread and place them on top of the sandwiches. Place the sandwiches, buttered side down, onto to the skillet/griddle. Now lightly butter the top slice of the bread in the skillet (on the griddle). When the bottom of the sandwiches are nicely browned, turn the sandwiches over to brown the other side. Turn on your broiler, spread about 2 to 3 tablespoons of the bechamel sauce on top of each sandwich (the bechamel sauce should be nice and thick, but still fluid). Put the sandwiches on a baking sheet (bechamel side up) and let the sauce brown a bit under the broiler. Do not put the sandwiches too close to the broiler (I put my sandwiches about 10 inches below the broiler) and keep a close watch, as the bechamel sauce will likely brown pretty quickly. If you are making the "Madame" version, fry the eggs lightly in butter (they should not have crisp edges), or poach the eggs, if you'd like, and the yolks should be runny. Serve the sandwiches with the eggs on top and bon appétit! Or, as Charles Boyer would have said, "Bon appétit!" Ah... something wrong there?  

 A Croque Monsieur

A Croque Madame

WORD HISTORY: 
Bechamel-This word for the famous French white sauce comes from the Marquis Louis de Béchamel, an aide to King Louis XIV of France. While the sauce is very much associated with French cuisine, it actually "seems" to have been taken to France from Italy in the 1530s by the cooking staff of Catherine de Medici of Florence, who married Henry, who later became King Henry II of France. It was only later in the 1600s, during Louis XIV's rule, that the sauce was popularized with the Béchamel name. The term was borrowed into English circa 1770.

Aussie & New Zealander Meat Pies

These meat pies are common in Australia and New Zealand, where they are frequently sold at sports events and as a lunch or snack food item. I have several 5 inch pie pans and I got 4 pies from this amount of filling. Also good while watching a "Crocodile Dundee" movie, no matter where you are in the world.  

Ingredients:

1 pound ground chuck
1 medium onion, chopped rather finely
1 to 2 tablespoons olive oil (only use 2 tablespoons if the meat is super lean, to prevent sticking)
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
3/4 cup beef stock
2/3 cup ketchup
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt (if the beef stock has a high level of salt, you can leave this out)
1 beaten egg (for brushing the crust) 
ketchup for top
store bought pie crust for bottom
store bought puff pastry for the top crust

Heat the oil in a skillet, over medium heat. Add the onion and cook for a couple of minutes, then add the ground chuck, breaking up the meat into ever smaller pieces as it cooks. Cook until the onion softens and the beef is browning. Sprinkle the cornstarch over the meat/onion mixture, then stir in the beef stock and Worcestershire sauce. Stir in the ketchup and salt, reduce heat to low and let the mixture simmer until it thickens, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. The time on this will vary, but I cooked the mixture on low for about 20 minutes. The mixture needs to be pretty thick. Line each small pie pan with pie crust. Add enough of the meat mixture to fill each pan nearly to the top. Then press the puff pasty onto the upper edges of the pie crust to form the tops of the meat pies (you can brush some of the beaten egg around the edges of the pie crust to help seal the top when you place the puff pastry on). You might want to use a fork to press the pasty into the pie crust edges. Take a knife and make a small opening in the center of each pie for a vent for the steam. Brush some beaten egg onto the tops of each pie to help it brown. It's best to place the pies onto a baking sheet (line it with foil or parchment paper for easy clean up, if the filling spills over onto the tray). Put the pies into a preheated 425 F oven. Bake until the tops are nice and browned, approximately 25 to 35 minutes. (NOTE: You can piece together the pie crust and even the puff pastry topping, if need be. What I mean is, you can put your pie pan on the pie crust as a pattern and then cut around it, but once you fit the dough into the pans, if it needs a little more for a good edge, don't be afraid to use the inevitable pie crust scraps to make the edges. The same can be done with the puff pastry, but all of this will naturally depend upon the size pans you use.) 

A filled pie before I put on the puff pastry top. The yellow around the edge is some beaten egg for sealing 

The beaten egg on the puff pastry top

A finished pie with ketchup surrounding the vent opening... you can use less ketchup, but hey, I'm a ketchup fan...

WORD HISTORY:
Kangaroo-This word for the famous Australian marsupial was borrowed from "ganurru" or "gangurru," from Guugu Yimidhirr, a language of one of the Aboriginal peoples of northeastern Australia. This language is from the Pama-Nyungan language family of Australia. "Kangaroo" began its use in English in 1770, when English explorer Captain James Cook led an expedition, which included scientist/botanist Joseph Banks, that sailed to Tahiti, New Zealand, Australia and Hawaii (where Cook was killed several years later during a return trip), among other places, and where both men made notes, including the use of the word "kangaroo," "seemingly" initially spelled, "kanguru." 

The High Chaparral: Excellent Western With a Large Latino Cast

Back when I was a kid in the 1950s and 1960s, westerns were common on television. I could never begin to name all of the western shows, but some of my favorites were: "Mackenzie's Raiders" (Richard Carlson), "The Cisco Kid" (Duncan Renaldo, Leo Carrillo), "Have Gun-Will Travel" (Richard Boone), "Yancy Derringer" (Jock Mahoney), "Rawhide" (Eric Fleming, Clint Eastwood), "Tombstone Territory" (Pat Conway), "Wagon Train" (Ward Bond, then John McIntire), "Gunsmoke" (James Arness), "The Virginian" (James Drury, Lee J. Cobb, then others, including Charles Bickford), "Bonanza" (Lorne Green, Pernell Roberts,* Dan Blocker, Michael Landon). Bonanza was a highly rated NBC western that began in 1959, when black and white shows were the rule, because, while color television sets had been invented, their size and cost made the production of shows in color a major risk and color film was considerably more expensive than black and white film. NBC's decision to film Bonanza in color, and the network's decision to stick with the show to see if it could get Americans interested in color television enough to make them want to buy a color set, eventually worked out for NBC, as Bonanza moved up in the ratings after its first couple of seasons to a position as one of the top rated shows, and in some seasons, it was indeed number one in the ratings.

Then from 1967 to 1971, "The High Chaparral," a great western started by the creator of "Bonanza," David Dortort, had its own run. When "The High Chaparral" began in 1967 color was THE way regular television shows were aired, although many Americans still did NOT own color television sets, but the price spread between color and black and white televisions had shrunk somewhat.** With the show set in Arizona,*** "The High Chaparral" realistically used a number of performers of Latino heritage as regulars on the show: Linda Crystal, Henry Darrow, Frank Silvera, Roberto Contreras, Rudolfo Acosta, and in the final season, Rudy Ramos. Besides these performers, Latino actors like Ricardo Montalban and Ned Romero made guest appearances.**** This was a significant development in the casting of television programs, and a good one, and the reality of America's Latino population was finally acknowledged, although Desi Arnaz (born in Cuba) had been a mainstay as a television actor and producer in the 1950s. For those unaware, Arnaz and his wife, Lucille Ball, starred in the popular "I Love Lucy" on CBS, and the oft quarreling couple founded and owned Desilu Productions, a major producer and developer of television shows.

Main Cast of "The High Chaparral":

Leif Erickson as John Cannon, known as "Big John"
Cameron Mitchell as Buck Cannon, John's brother
Mark Slade as Billy Blue Cannon (also Blue Boy), John's son by his first wife
Henry Darrow (real name: Enrique Delgado) as Manolito Montoya, brother of Victoria
Linda Cristal (born in Argentina) as Victoria Montoya Cannon, John Cannon's second wife

John Cannon, Annalee (John's wife & Billy Blue's mother), Buck and Billy Blue travel to the southern part of the Arizona Territory after John buys a large piece of land there, later called the High Chaparral, after a common bush in the territory. The land is hot and dry, and Apaches are fighting to preserve their land and lifestyle as more settlers arrive. Annalee is killed by the Apaches, but the new ranchers find they have another problem: a wealthy Mexican landowner named Don Sebastian Montoya (played by Frank Silvera) has already claimed the land of the High Chaparral, and he works out a deal for his daughter, Victoria, to marry John in exchange for peace. Don Sebastian also sends his son Manolito along to be sure Victoria is safe. The Cannons hire several ranch hands, with Sam Butler (played by Don Collier) as the ranch foreman, and together with Victoria and Manolito, the stage is set for their struggles to build the High Chaparral into a successful ranch. 

A number of episodes featured one or two cast members at the center of that story, but it was not uncommon for the entire main cast to be heavily involved in some episodes. In a tragic accident, Frank Silvera, who played Don Sebastian, was electrocuted at his home during the show's final season. Mark Slade left the show after the third season and he was replaced; at least in part, by Rudy Ramos in the part of Wind, a man of Indian and white ancestry, and a true element of what the United States was, and is, a mixture of people of various ancestries.        

* Pernell Roberts left the "Bonanza" cast after filming his last episode in the spring of 1965. 

** I did a very quick check and I found black and white televisions (17 inch screen) for about $250, while a color set was about $500 (21 inch screen). The thing to also remember is, the value of the money compared to today, as $250 in 1960 now has the value of about $2100; so, a small color set would have cost you the equivalent of $4200! I found the median American income in 1960 was $5600 a year (Census Bureau figures). You can see, the price of either a black and white or a color television in those times was quite an expense for an average family. By the late 1960s, a black and white (22 inch screen) was about $240 to $260, while a color set (23 inch screen) was about $475. Median American income was $7700 in 1968 (Census Bureau figures).

*** This was actually the Arizona Territory in the time frame of "The High Chaparral," as Arizona did not become a state until 1912.

**** Ned Romero was born in Louisiana of Native American, Spanish and French descent. 

 Photo is from the 2018 Shout Factory Season One (Region 1) DVD release... 

WORD HISTORY:
Don-English has a couple of words of this spelling, but this is the noun meaning, "a term or title of respect for a man of wealth and power," and later, "a leader of the underworld." It is related to "domestic," and distantly related to "danger," both words of Latin derivation, borrowed by English from Latin-based French. It goes back to Indo European "dem," and the derived "domo/domu," which meant, "house, abode, household." The underlying notion may have been, "established tamed or settled place." This gave Latin "domus," meaning, "home, house," and then this produced the broadened "dominium," which meant, "property," and then "dominus," meaning, "lord of the property or estate." This gave Church Latin the shortened form, "dom," a term of honor and respect for monks. This passed into Latin-based Spanish as "don," and the word was used as one of respect for men, usually of great wealth. This was carried to the New World by the Spanish (and also the Portuguese?), and it was often used for men with large estates. English borrowed the word, likely from many Spanish or Portuguese sources during the course of the mid to late 1500s. The "underworld leader" meaning came from the Italian form "don" (from the same Latin source), which came into increasing use in the 1940s among Italian-Americans.  

Icelandic Fish Stew: Plokkfiskur

Iceland is an island nation in the North Atlantic where the language is Icelandic, a Germanic language from the North Germanic branch, which still has many similarities to its ancestor, Old Norse. English too is a Germanic language, and it came from what developed as the West Germanic branch, although it was later influenced by its relative, Old Norse.

Iceland "Plokkfiskur" (pronounced pretty much like it's spelled), literally means "plucked fish," and indeed, the "plokk" part of the name is related to English "pluck" (see Word History, below), and the "fiskur" part is related to "fish." It is a simple stew, more on the order of a hash or paste, traditionally served with well buttered dark rye bread (Icelandic: (rúgbrauð").* Traditionally, cod or haddock is used, but you can use the less pricey pollock. 

Ingredients:

1 1/4 pound cod fillets (or haddock, or pollock), rinsed and cut into pieces
1 1/4 pound potatoes, peeled and cut into pieces 
2/3 cup diced onion
3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons flour
1/4 cup water from the cooked fish
1 cup milk 
2/3 teaspoon salt  (or to your taste)
2/3 teaspoon white pepper

Cook the potatoes in some water until they are softened. Also, cook the fish in some salted water until cooked through (it doesn't really take very long). While these things are ongoing, melt the butter in a skillet over "low heat," and saute the onion, taking care not to brown the onion, but to soften it well. Stir in the flour, a little at a time, until it is all mixed with the butter and onion. Let this cook briefly, on low heat, to take out the raw flour taste. Add about a quarter cup of the milk (doesn't have to be an exact measurement), stirring constantly to mix it into the flour mixture. Gradually add more of the milk, stirring constantly, until the milk is all added. Drain the fish and the potatoes well, saving about a quarter cup of the hot fish liquid. As you did with the milk, gradually add the hot fish broth, stirring constantly to incorporate it into the stew base. Now add the fish and, using a fork, break it up into the desired sized pieces. Add the potatoes and do the same, leaving the potato pieces as large or small as you like. The mixture should be thick, but if you'd like it thinner, add a little more milk. Stir in the salt and white pepper and get ready to eat. I had some chives, so I chopped them and used them as a garnish for the stew, but you could certainly use some parsley, or just leave it plain. Traditionally this dish is served with well buttered Icelandic dark rye bread. Let's face it, unless we live in Iceland, we don't just walk into a bakery or store and say, "Give me some dark Icelandic rye bread;" so, pumpernickel bread is a decent substitute, with the "softer" style pumpernickel, as opposed to the "crumbly" style, being closer to the Icelandic bread texture. The softer style is the most common style of pumpernickel in the U.S., and it is not uncommon to see it used with part of the inside removed so it can hold spinach dip.

* Like the name for the stew, the bread, "rúgbrauð," is also related to English: "rúg"=rye, and rye also once had a "g" in it, but the sound died out. And Icelandic "brauð" is simply their form for English "bread." The "ð" symbol is called an "eth," and represents "th." For the history of the word "rye," here is the link to the article: http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2012/09/its-about-coalitions-not-purity-part_13.html 

WORD HISTORY:
Pluck-The ancient history of this word is in question, but after a good deal of research, I think it was a borrowing by Germanic dialects from Latin, although it was so long ago, it is quite understandable that some believe it to be an original Germanic word. It is distantly related to "plush" and to "pile" (the word meaning "hairs or fibers"), both words of Latin derivation borrowed by English from French. It goes back to Indo European "piloh," which had the notion, "covering;" thus also, "hair" or "feathers/down." This gave Latin "pilus," which meant "hair," which produced Latin "pilare," which meant, "to pull out hair." This spawned "piluccare," meaning, "to pull feathers or hair." This was borrowed into West Germanic from Latin in ancient times, "seemingly" from the Roman grape cultivation they established around the region of the Moselle and Rhine Rivers, and the "plucking (picking) of grapes." This gave West Germanic "plukkonan," which gave Anglo-Saxon (Old English)^  "pluccian," meaning, "to pluck, to pick, to tear off, tear away from." This later became "plukken," then "plucken," before the modern form. Forms in the other Germanic languages: German has "pflücken," Low German Saxon "plücken," Frisian "plukje/plokje (?), Dutch "plukken." Old Norse, the North Germanic ancestor of the modern North Germanic languages, seems to have borrowed a form somewhat later, as "plokka," from Old English or Old Saxon (the Saxon that remained in what is now northern Germany after some Saxons emigrated to Briton). This gave Danish and Norwegian "plukke," Icelandic "plokka," Swedish "plocka."   

^ It seems the Germanic borrowing from Latin took place before the Germanic tribal elements, often collectively called, "Anglo-Saxons," left the North Sea region of the European mainland for Briton, where they founded England. "Briton" is often used, instead of "Britain," when the reference is to the Celtic-Roman lands that existed before the invasion by elements of several Germanic tribes, led by the Anglo-Saxons.   

Kale Salad With an Asian Touch

Within the last couple of months, I've seen some Asian salads and I decided to do a recipe for one, although it isn't entirely "Asian," but close. To be totally up front, if you do not like teriyaki sauce, you very likely will not like this salad. Teriyaki sauce has a salty, somewhat sweet kind of taste. *   

Ingredients:

10 to 15 fresh kale leaves, stems and large veins removed, then roughly chopped
6 green onions, including much of the green, chopped
2 tablespoons teriyaki sauce 
3 tablespoons peanut oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil 
1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds 
1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper 
(optional, if you like "heat") 1 to 2 teaspoons red chili flakes 
2 to 3 slices bread, cut into cubes for croutons
 
In a cup mix together the teriyaki sauce, the peanut oil, the sesame oil, the chili flakes (if using). Put the chopped kale and chopped green onion into a bowl. Mix in the teriyaki dressing, then sprinkle on the black pepper. Add some nicely browned croutons to each serving.

* For a recipe to make your own teriyaki sauce, here is the link: http://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2016/07/homemade-teriyaki-sauce.html

WORD HISTORY:
Toast-This word, very distantly related to "thirst(y)," a word from the Germanic roots of English, and to "torrid," a Latin derived word borrowed by English, goes back to Indo European "ters," which meant, "dry." This gave Latin the verb "torrere," which meant, "to char, to parch, to scorch, to roast." The participle form, used adjectivally, was "tostus" ("roasted, parched, charred"), which then produced the Latin/Italian verb "tostare," meaning, "to roast, to toast." which gave French "toster," meaning, "to roast, to grill, to toast." This was borrowed by English in the second half of the 1300s, initially as "tosten," before the modern form. By the first half of the 1400s, the verb had produced a noun "toast," meaning, "roasted or grilled bread with spices added to it, then added to wines and ales for flavoring," which by the 1700s came to be applied to a "call to drink such a beverage to the honor of someone." Also by about this time, the "roasted or grilled bread" meaning came to be used for such bread eaten as a serving on its own, without the spices, wine or ale. The latter two meanings were borrowed from English by German, and at least the "drink toast" meaning was borrowed by a number of languages, including Italian and French.