Gravy & Meatballs with Gorgonzola Polenta

Oh, this is so good! 

 

For those unaware, Gorgonzola is a blue cheese from the north of Italy, and it is a protected product in Italy, and within the European Union; which means, that to be called "Gorgonzola," it has to be produced within certain geographic areas in northern Italy, and only with specific ingredients. I tend to use "Gorgonzola piccante," which is aged longer and has a sharper flavor; although, "Gorgonzola dulce" has somewhat less sharpness, but it is still very good. While Gorgonzola is likely sold in just about all supermarkets and cheese shops, if you can't find it, you can try Roquefort, a blue cheese from France, or really any blue cheese you like.

 

Ingredients:

 

1 pound ground beef (80/20 meat to fat ratio)

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 teaspoon seasoned salt

1/4 cup breadcrumbs

1 egg

1/4 cup finely chopped or grated onion

2 cloves minced garlic

2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon thyme, crushed in the palm of your hand

In a bowl, add all of the ingredients and mix them together well by hand. Form the mixture into meatballs the size of golf balls, and no fair trying to substitute real golf balls (I've tried that, and no matter how long I cooked the golf balls, they were too tough). You should get 9 or 10 meatballs by using the amounts above.

 

Gravy:

 

2 1/2 cups beef broth

1/3 cup chopped carrot (smaller chop)

2 tablespoons butter + 1 tablespoon oil (olive or sunflower)

3 tablespoons flour

1/4 cup finely chopped onion

1 clove minced garlic

1 teaspoon Gravy Master

1/2 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce

 

Add the butter and oil to a skillet over medium heat, when the butter is melted, add the finely chopped onion and carrot and saute for 1 to 2 minutes before adding the minced garlic and saute another minute. Sprinkle the flour over the mixture and stir everything; then, gradually add the beef broth, stirring constantly. When the gravy thickens, stir in the Gravy Master and Worcestershire sauce and let cook another 2 to 3 minutes.

Polenta:

 

1 cup polenta

3 1/2 cups chicken broth

1 cup milk 

3 tablespoons butter

salt (the butter and broth should supply enough salt)

1/3 cup crumbled gorgonzola piccante 

In a heavy bottom sauce pan over medium heat, heat the milk and broth until it just starts to boil, then stir in the polenta little by little (initially using a whisk is recommended; it will help to prevent lumps), then continue stirring (I usually change to a spoon) until the polenta is nice and thick (4 to 6 minutes?). Stir in the butter until it is completely melted and well mixed in. I don't mix the cheese into the polenta (see below).

Serving:

I use shallow bowls for this, because they will allow you to add a good bit of gravy to top the meatballs and polenta. In each shallow bowl, add some of the crumbled Gorgonzola, then add the polenta and smooth it over, then add 2 or 3 meatballs and cover with gravy. If you prefer, you can add the polenta, then sprinkle the crumbled Gorgonzola on top and proceed from there.

                                             

 

WORD HISTORY:

Fawn (Fain)-This "fawn" is the verb form, which is unrelated to the noun (baby deer).^ It is closely related to 'fain,' which was once spelled with a 'g' in the middle. The origin of the verb "fawn" is uncertain, although the Indo European root "pek," meaning "to make pretty," has been supported by some, with that meaning then extending to a meaning of "glad, happy, pleased," with the Indo European 'p' rendered as 'f' in Old Germanic, which had "faganaz," an adjective with the same meanings. This gave Old English the (dialectal?) verb forms "fægnian/fagnian," meaning "to celebrate, to be glad, to be happy with." The "fagnian" form then became "faunen," and then "fawnen," before the modern form, and it was often used in the Middle Ages in regard to dogs "wagging their tails as a display of happiness." This became the basis of the modern more negative meaning of "showing a groveling and flattering devotion to someone in order to gain or retain favor with them." The Old Germanic form produced the Old English adjective "fægen," meaning "glad, joyful, cheerful," which then became "fain," where it has remained for hundreds of years, although it is not a terribly common word in more modern times; at least, not in American English, but I'm not certain about in the UK and elsewhere. Many of the related forms in the other Germanic languages have died out, but there are a few that have survived into modern times: Icelandic has the adjective "feginn," Norwegian has the adjective "fegen" and Swedish has the adjective "fägen," all meaning "happy, merry." Old Saxon,^^ the Saxon that remained in what is now northern Germany after some of their kinsmen sailed to Briton, once had "fagan" and Old High German had "faginon" meaning, "to be merry."

^ For the noun's history, here's the link:  https://pontificating-randy.blogspot.com/2023/10/scrambled-eggs-smoked-salmon-wrap.html?m=1

 

^^ Old Saxon became part of the dialects of Low German. 

Scallops & Polenta with Herbs

Like many types of seafood, scallops are pretty expensive, with sea scallops being larger and more expensive than bay scallops. Sea scallops are able to stand up to the hot oil and cooking process better than the small, more tender and sweeter tasting bay scallops. The cooking process is done to sear the sea scallops a bit, but without overdoing it, and the amount of ground red pepper should not leave your mouth smoking like a furnace; rather, the red pepper and the paprika should just provide a tad of seasoning, later topped by a sprinkle of fresh lemon juice. If you prefer, you can replace the red pepper with ground black pepper.

 

Ingredients (4 servings):

 

24 large sea scallops

4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1/2 to 1 teaspoon ground red pepper (like cayenne) to dust the scallops (or ground black pepper)

1/2 teaspoon sweet Spanish paprika (smoked)

4  tablespoons butter

3 tablespoons lemon juice

For the polenta:

1 cup quick cooking polenta (also called instant)

2 1/2 cups milk

1 1/3 cup water (more if needed)

2 tablespoons butter

3  tablespoons heavy cream

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves

1 heaping tablespoon fresh sage leaves, chopped

1 heaping tablespoon parsley or cilantro, chopped

 

Heat the extra virgin olive oil in a nonstick skillet over medium heat. Spread the scallops out on a plate or platter. (If the scallops are particularly moist, dab them lightly with a paper towel to remove any heavy amount of moisture). Lightly sprinkle the scallops with ground red pepper (or ground black pepper) and sweet paprika, then place the scallops in the skillet, seasoned side down. Now add the butter and let it melt as you season the top side of the scallops (you may have to do all of this in two batches). Turn the scallops over (after about 2 1/2 minutes, and they and the red pepper/paprika should be lightly browned) and cook them on the other side for about another two minutes, but allow whatever time is needed to cook the scallops through. When the scallops are cooked through, remove the skillet from the heat and sprinkle on the lemon juice.

 

Meanwhile, in a heavy bottom sauce pan over medium heat, heat the milk and water until it just starts to boil, then stir in the polenta little by little (initially using a whisk is recommended; it will help to prevent lumps), then continue stirring (I usually change to a spoon) until the polenta is nice and thick (4 to 6 minutes?). Stir in the butter and cream, then add the thyme, sage and parsley/cilantro. Mix together well. 

To serve: add some polenta to a shallow bowl or to a plate, then top with some scallops and a little of the butter/oil from the pan, along with a little chopped parsley or cilantro. Add a lemon wedge for those who want more lemony flavor.

 

WORD HISTORY:

Scallop-This word is related to "shell," "scale" (patches of skin), "scale" (weighing device), all from Germanic, but only "shell" is an original English word from its Germanic roots, as "scale" (patches of skin) was borrowed from French, which had it from Germanic Frankish, the word "scale" meaning "weighing device" is really simply from the Old Norse form of "shell," but this specific meaning came to English from Old Norse. "Scallop" goes back to Indo European "skel," which had the notion "to cut, to split, to chip." This gave Old Germanic the root "skal/skel," with the meaning, "to split, to divide," which gave Frankish, a Germanic dialect/language, "skala," with the meaning, "husk, shell," and this was absorbed into Old French as "escale, meaning, "shell," which then produced "escalope," meaning, "the shell of a nut." English borrowed the word in the later 1300s or very early 1400s, initially as "scalop," but the second 'l' was added not long thereafter. Originally it meant "shell of the sea creature (a scallop)," but that designation quickly transferred to the sea creature itself, and thus, to the creature's interior flesh (abductor muscle). The larger shells of the scallops were used as baking dishes, and the bright colored wavy shells were also used to pattern decorative designs. These brought about the verb usage beginning in the late 1600s for the idea of "designing something to look like the curves of a scallop shell," and then a few decades later to mean "to cook in a scallop-shaped dish." English had borrowed French "escalope" (see above) circa 1500, meaning, "the edge of something shaped like a scallop shell." The French word had developed the meaning, "the way to cut veal into pieces" in circa 1690, perhaps from the idea of cutting the veal into pieces resembling scallop pieces, then later, "to cut meat or fish into thin slices," but why this meaning developed is uncertain (perhaps just a further development of cutting the meat?). "Escalope" is not a terribly common word in the United States, where you are more likely to see it on a menu in an upscale restaurant, but the average American is likely not all that familiar with the word, although they might well connect it with "scallop." How commonly it is used in England or in other English speaking countries or regions, I don't know.     

Creamy Brazilian Cornmeal Cake: Bolo de Fubá

Brazil is the largest Portuguese speaking country or region in the world. The basic recipe for this cake was given to me by my friend Gustavo of Brazil, whom you can just call "G." Over the years I have helped him with his language, which has left him as one of the few people to speak "Klingon." The problem is, I was helping him with English! Hahahaha  The Brazilian name for the cake is "Bolo de Fubá," in Portuguese, and it is common throughout Brazil, although with many recipe variations, some of which do not include cheese. Those without cheese are very much like American cornbread, although the Brazilian form tends to have more liquid and more sweetener (some use sweetened condensed milk). I read some articles about the cake, including one from a Brazilian cookbook I have, and most note that this cake is often served at breakfast or later in the day, on both occasions with a cup or two of coffee. I also found different pans/dishes used for the cake, and I chose a round pie/cake dish (10 inches x 2 inches), and G uses a round cake pan (Hm, I wonder what 'cake pan' is in Klingon?). I used Pecorino Romano cheese, although Parmesan cheese is traditional. G used a blender/food processor to mix his cake batter, but I just used a hand mixer. The thing is, the batter will be runny, but that is okay; it's supposed to be that way. When poured into the baking pan and put into the oven, the milk and the melting cheese will form a layer of creaminess on the cake (see top 2 photos, below). You do need to keep track of the time or set a timer for this cake, as you can't insert a toothpick to see if it's done, because of the creamy layer. Preheat the oven to 350 F and bake the cake for about 50 to 55 minutes. Since this was the first time I made this cake, I baked it 55 minutes, although slightly less would likely have been fine. The top should be nice and golden brown (see photos, below). I would have just put G's recipe here, but I figured none of you know Klingon. Hahaha  Actually, his English is very good, no thanks to me! But if anybody wants to pretend to learn English while actually learning Klingon, I'm your guy! 

Ingredients:
3 eggs
1/4 cup butter
2 1/2 cups of milk
1 1/2 cups of sugar
1 cup of yellow cornmeal
3 tablespoons flour
3/4 cup grated Parmesan or Romano cheese (I LOVE Pecorino Romano)
1 1/2 tablespoon baking powder

In a blender or a bowl, add all the ingredients (except the baking powder). Mix in the blender or use a hand mixer to mix the ingredients together very well. Add the baking powder and mix it in with a spoon. The batter will have a pretty liquid consistency. Preheat your oven to 350 F and let your cake bake for 45 to 50 minutes or until the cake has a "golden" surface. Let the cake cool down about 30 minutes before slicing.

WORD HISTORY:
Jaguar-This word for "a large cat of prey of the Americas, especially in parts of South America." It goes back to Tupi, also called Tupian, a language family of some of the indigenous peoples of South America, particularly in Brazil. The early 1500s saw the Portuguese colonize Brazil and they took the transliterated Tupi word "yaguara/jaguara," which seemingly meant "a large meat eating animal," and therefore also used for the big cat, which was rendered as "jaguar" in Portuguese (also as yaguareté and jaguareté). English borrowed the word from Portuguese as "jaguar" around 1600. It was used as the name for a British automotive company and their line of luxury and sports cars beginning in 1935, later often shortened by the public to the trendy sounding "Jag."    

Tyrolean Style Liver (Tiroler Leber)

There are many variations to recipes of this name, "Leber nach Tiroler Art;" that is, "Liver, Tirol Style" (literally, "Liver after (or, according to) Tirol Type"), or sometimes it is called, "Tiroler Leber." It is made in Austria and Bavaria.* This is really a stew, and a very good one, at that. Some fix it with cream instead of sour cream, but others use no cream or sour cream at all, while some add lemon juice, but no wine, and there are other variations too. Some serve it with polenta, which Austro-German culture got from the Italians.** To me, the great sauce of this dish requires mashed potatoes, but I'm a lover of mashed potatoes; so to me, chocolate ice cream requires mashed potatoes. Well, that's not true... actually, strawberry ice cream. 

Ingredients (for 4 to 6 servings):

1 1/2 pounds liver (calves, beef or pork) cut into bite sized pieces
flour for coating the liver
3 tablespoons butter + 3 tablespoons olive oil
5 thick cut slices smoked bacon, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
1 large onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups beef stock
2/3 cup white wine
1 heaping teaspoon dried marjoram leaves (or you can use oregano)
3 tablespoons (drained) capers, whole or chopped
1/2 teaspoon salt (or you can omit this, if the beef stock is salty)
1 teaspoon black pepper
flour and water for thickener, if desired
1/2 cup sour cream (reduced fat type is fine)

Coat the cut liver pieces with flour, set aside. In a skillet over medium heat, add the oil and butter. Add the bacon and the onion, cook, stirring the mixture around fairly often, until the onion is softened. Add the liver and cook for a few minutes before adding the beef stock, the wine and the marjoram. Stir well to mix. Reduce heat to simmer the stew. When the liver is cooked through, add the capers, the pepper and the salt (if using), stir well. (If you want the sauce to be thickened, as I like, mix some flour and water and gradually stir it into the stew. Let the stew simmer for a minute or two.) Remove the stew from the heat and stir in the sour cream until it is fully mixed in.

* Tyrol/Tirol is a region in the Alps divided between Austria and Italy since the end of World War One. Long a part of the Old German Empire, then of the Austrian Empire, and then of Austria-Hungary, the southern part of the region, the South Tirol (German: Südtirol, Italian: Alto Adige) was given to Italy after World War One, which caused bitter feelings by the majority German population for decades (it should be noted, parts of the region had substantial Italian minorities or even local majorities).  

** Of course, the Italians live just south of the German speaking areas. "Polenta," known to most Americans as simply, "cornmeal," is ground corn/maize, a food taken to Europe from the New World, along with some other new food products for those times, like potatoes and tomatoes, for instance. In German the word "Polenta" is used as the standard word, but there is also "Plentn" in dialect, as well as "Sterz" in some southern dialect (more for the cooked type, either as a kind of solidly cooked "bread/cake," or as a kind of porridge). German also uses "Maismehl" (maize meal) for the uncooked ground meal.   

Tyrolean Style Liver with mashed potatoes and salad....

WORD HISTORY: 
Brook-There is more than one word of this spelling in English (the noun is unrelated and is from a totally different source), and this is the verb "brook," with the modern meaning of "to tolerate, bear something unpleasant." It is distantly related to "fruit," a word of Latin derivation borrowed by English, which originally meant "an enjoyment," which then progressed to the modern meaning, "produce of trees or bushes" (from the notion, "a food that is enjoyed"). It goes back to Indo European "bhrug," with the notion of, "to enjoy, to make use of for enjoyment." This gave Old Germanic "brukanan," with the same meanings. This gave Old English (Anglo-Saxon) "brucan," meaning, "to enjoy, to use, to eat and to enjoy food;" which led to the meanings, "to digest," and for the food, "to be digestible;" thus, "to tolerate (stomach wise);" thus, to the later more general sense of "tolerate, bear something," the meaning that survived into modern English. In more modern times, at least in the U.S., it is often used in the negative sense, "I can't brook his drinking and gambling." Other Germanic relatives: German has "gebrauchen" (to use) and "brauchen," (to have need of, to have the need to use something), Low German Saxon has "bruken" (to need for use, to use), West Frisian "brûke" (to use), Dutch "bruiken" (to use, to make use of). Apparently a form did not survive in North Germanic, but the word was not just in West Germanic, as Gothic, which was East Germanic, had "brukjan" (to enjoy). Danish "bruge" (to use), Norwegian "bruke" (to use) and Swedish "bruka" (to become accustomed to, to till land; that is, make land ready for use, but the word's former general meaning was, "make use of"), all came by borrowing from Low German.