Basque Chicken With Peas (from NYTimes, found this YEARS ago, from FOOD; Basque In It Nov. 26, 1989)
Article preceded it. I visited Winnemucca, NV, on business years ago, so particularly enjoyed the recipe. ALSO visited Basque part of France/Spain with family, and had a pleasant lunch @ a small 'truck stop.'
'AS I WAS DRIVING THROUGH Nevada recently, a highway billboard proclaimed ''Winnemucca -If You Don't Visit, Who Will?'' That pessimistic plea did not prepare us for the extraordinary Basque meal we had in a restaurant tucked off the main street of this small town in the northern part of the state.
Finding a Basque restaurant in such a lonely spot wasn't as surprising as it seems. There are Basques from California to Idaho, and they've created rich enclaves of their culture. The California gold rush enticed the Basques to the West, where they spread throughout neighboring states, eventually becoming sheepherders. They proved to be so skilled and dependable that when, in 1951, there was a shortage of shepherds, Congress passed an act allowing Basques to enter this country and claim permanent-resident status.
Few Basques herd sheep now. They've prospered, going on to other work. But the older generation of Basque males in the West got their start herding sheep. Most of them learned to cook during long summers in grazing lands. They prepared food they knew from home, rich in garlic, peppers, leeks and onions, olive oil, herbs and plenty of succulent lamb.
In Winnemucca, we followed our noses to the Martin Hotel, a weathered clapboard restaurant across from the railroad tracks. The aroma of garlic, onions and roasting lamb billowed out across the porch through screened windows. Years ago, the hotel was run by a Basque for shepherds who descended for the winter. They handed their paychecks to the innkeeper, who lodged and fed them until the money was gone.
At the family-style dinner, we passed bowls of chunky beef soup, crisp-roasted lamb, rib eye and several carafes of grapey red wine. It was easy to imagine the room, now filled with families, ranchers and the town volleyball team, crowded instead with the Basque shepherds digging into a meal that reminded them of home.
Many stories of the Basques in Idaho revolve around their dancing and food: lively soups and stews, a Basque pepper called chorizero, dried, slow-cooked lamb dishes and rustic desserts.
In Boise, Juanita Y. Hormaechea ushered us into her dining room, where the walls were covered with photographs of her family in the Basque country and maps of their villages. Juanita's husband, Rufino, was on the patio, assiduously watering rows of leeks and chorizero peppers. Mr. Hormaechea brought his pepper seeds from the Basque country to supply his friends and relatives.
Mrs. Hormaechea, a former teacher of Basque dances, is the self-appointed historian and cultural expert of the Boise Basque community. She and her husband are big promoters of Basque food. Mr. Hormaechea ran to the kitchen to pull out pepper sauce, a homemade roll, a bowl of last night's stew. He is especially passionate about a beef stew made with potatoes, dusky red pepper sauce and leeks, which, according to Basque legend, are so revered that they should be dug from the earth with a silver trowel. His wife prefers a potato and green bean soup wildly flavored with toasted garlic, and a chicken dish brightened with sweet peas. She insisted that I take her recipe for gypsy's arm cake, which is filled with cinnamon-scented pastry cream.
Mrs. Hormaechea led us to Pete T. Cenarrusa, Idaho's secretary of state, a sheep rancher and a tireless fan of what he considers the incomparable Basque character. Perhaps the best-known Cenarrusa specialty is prepared by his nephew, Mike Cenarrusa, who manages a sheep ranch. Several times a year this portly man with porkchop sideburns cooks a leg of lamb with a shot of olive oil, onions and garlic for 14 hours, until the meat is so moist and tender that it falls from the bone. ''He makes it for the cowboys,'' says Pete Cenarrusa. ''And I'm convinced that it's the only reson we never have trouble finding a crew.'' Mrs. Cenarrusa's lamb shanks are a version of the 14-hour lamb. They cook long and slowly with onions and garlic to achieve juicy results.
FREDA CENARRUSA'S BRAISED LAMB SHANKS 4 lamb shanks, weighing 16 to 18 ounces each, trimmed of excess fat Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste 1 large onion, diced 3 cloves garlic, minced 1/2 cup hearty red wine 1 pound dry egg noodles 1 cup loosely packed parsley leaves for garnish 1 garlic clove for garnish.
1. Brown the lamb shanks in a Dutch oven or a large skillet over medium-high heat. Season generously with salt and pepper.
2. When the lamb shanks are browned, reduce the heat to medium. Add the onion and the garlic and work them down among the lamb shanks so they are on the bottom of the skillet. Cook, stirring as best you can by moving the lamb shanks around in the skillet, until the onions and garlic begin to turn golden, about five minutes. Pour in the wine and stir. When it begins to boil, reduce the heat to low, cover and cook until the cooking juices have thickened somewhat and the lamb shanks are tender enough to fall from the bone. Depending on the size and quality of the lamb shanks, this will take from three to four hours. If the cooking juices are browning too rapidly, add a half cup of water and continue cooking.
3. When the shanks are done, remove them from the cooking juices. Remove any meat from the bone and cut away any gristle you don't want to eat. If there are very large pieces of meat, cut them into bite-sized pieces. Keep them warm. Increase the heat under the pan to medium and reduce the cooking juices, stirring up any brown bits, until they are thickened, about five minutes. Season to taste and keep warm.
4. While the sauce is reducing, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the egg noodles, stir and cook until they are al dente, about 10 minutes. Drain.
5. Mince the fresh parsley and the garlic clove together.
6. To serve, divide the noodles among six warmed dinner plates or shallow soup bowls. Place equal amounts of lamb atop the noodles and pour the sauce over all. Garnish with the parsley and garlic and serve immediately.
recipe from article:
Yield:
Four servings
3tablespoons olive oil
3½pounds chicken pieces
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
2large bell peppers, cored and sliced into ¼-inch pieces
1large onion, thinly sliced
4ounces lean slab bacon, rind removed and cut into ¼-inch dice
1leafy sprig of parsley, coarsely chopped
3cloves of garlic, minced
2pounds fresh or frozen sweet green peas
Step 1
Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan or skillet over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, brown the chicken on both sides, seasoning generously with salt and pepper.
Step 2
Remove the chicken from the pan and reserve. Reduce the heat to medium and add the peppers, onion, bacon, parsley and garlic to the pan. Cook, stirring constantly, until the garlic and onion become translucent, about five minutes.
Step 3
Return the chicken to the pan, cover and cook over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the chicken is nearly cooked through and the vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes.
Step 4
Add the peas, stir gently, cover and cook just until they are heated through, three to five minutes. (If using frozen peas, increase the cooking time slightly.) Season to tase.
Step 5
To serve, transfer the chicken and vegetables to a warmed serving platter and pour the cooking juices over all.
= new reply since forum marked as read
I can't eat bacon, so will likely make some lunguini & toss in some lemon pepper & plastic (low fat) butter.
Would also be really really good with scallops!
Ty for sharing!
