Post by TasunkaWitko on Feb 9, 2011 15:13:37 GMT -5
From Time/Life's Foods of the World - The Eastern Heartland - 1971:
When I first saw this recipe, I immediately fell in love with it as I recognized simple, farmer's fare that could very well have been served by my own hard-working Lutheran ancestors in rural North Dakota, which was heavily settled by German and Scandinavian Protestants. The monikor "Pennsylvania Dutch," may be confusing to some, but Time/Life explains:
The incredible work ethic and simplicty of the Pennsylvania Dutch are directly reflected in their food, which is simple without pretense, yet simply good, nourishing and bountiful; solid food for hard-working people. This approach to life and to food brings back every good memory from my rural background and speaks to the incredible labour and love for the land that brought "the Heartland" into prosperity, whether in rural Pennsylvania or rural North Dakota. Such attitudes toward land and life built rock-hard values in the generations who live there. As Time/Life says, "These are people who love to eat, in their own expressive phrase, feinschmeckers, which, roughly translated, means those who know how good food should taste and who eat plenty of it."
So, without further introduction, here is the recipe provided by Time/Life:
*WHAT??? Saffron (widely known in Middle Eastern and Mediterranean cuisine) in a Pennsylvania Dutch (decended from south Germany) dish? What's this all about???
Patience, dear reader - all will be made clear in a couple of paragraphs.
For the potpie noodle recipe, I used one provided by a friend who grew up and still lives in Pennsylvania Dutch Country:
Pictures of the potpie noodle process can be seen at:
foodsoftheworld.activeboards.net/pennsylvania-dutch-chicken-potpie_topic1102.html
Here's the story on how saffron came to be in Pennsylvania Dutch recipes, provided by Time/Life:
A few notes on preparation when I recently made this: I added a few extra potatoes, since we have a big family. Also, rather than save some extra stock for later, I simply reduced it down to the required two quarts and de-fatted it.
Results were wonderful, to use one single and simple word. This was an excellent and satisfying meal that, as I predicted, reminded me so much of the meals I ate in my grandparents' home, even though they had never prepared this specific dish.
The only thing I would say is that the extra potatos were not necessary, but they didn't hurt, either. The entire family loved it, including the beautiful Mrs. Tas, and their only complaint was that some of the potpies (noodles) were a little thick and therefore doughy/chewy. Other than that, it was a smash success.
The next time i make this, I might add an onion and a couple of diced carrots, but to be honest, these would not be necessary. This dish was perfectly suited for chicken as prepared and I strongly urge anyone looking for hearty winter fare to try this.
In Pennsylvania Dutch cooking, potpies are pieces of noodle or baking powder dough. They are boiled with meat and often potatoes to make rib-sticking potpie stews that are named for the kind of meat used. Thus, the following recipe made with chicken is called "chicken potpie," though it bears no resemblance to the pastry-encased potpies typical of other parts of the United States.
When I first saw this recipe, I immediately fell in love with it as I recognized simple, farmer's fare that could very well have been served by my own hard-working Lutheran ancestors in rural North Dakota, which was heavily settled by German and Scandinavian Protestants. The monikor "Pennsylvania Dutch," may be confusing to some, but Time/Life explains:
[T]he Pennsylvania Dutch [are] descendants of the German religious radicals who began emigrating to America at the end of the 17th Century to join William Penn's thriving young colony for "schismatical, factious people," his "Holy Experiment" in religious tolerance.... [Pennsylvania Dutch] is a corruption of Deutsch, meaning German, and has nothing to do witih Holland.... [T]this region became a sanctuary for thousands of German Protestants of many diverse sects whose homeland in the Rhine Valley had been ravaged first by the Thirty Years' War and then by the armies of Louis XIV. The mennonites, members of a sect founded by Menno Simons in 1561, were the first and most important group of Deutsch to arrive in Pennsylvania, followed by a multitude of others - Crefelders, Amish, Dunkards, Schwenkfelders, Seventh-Day Adventists, Moravians and strange minor cults with names like New Born, Mountain Men and the Society of the Woman in the Wilderness. Under the sheltering wing of William Penn, who offered them land at 10 cents an acre, they settled down, increased and prospered. In 1763 there were approximately 280,000 Germans in the state, and their neighbors were highly impressed with their industry. Wrote Benjamin Rush, an influential Philadelphian of the day: "A German farm may be distinguished from the farms of other citizens by the superior size of their barns, the plain but compact form of their houses, the height of their enclosures, the extent of their orchards, the fertility of their fields, the luxuriance of their meadows, and a general appearance of plenty and neatness in everything that belongs to them."
The incredible work ethic and simplicty of the Pennsylvania Dutch are directly reflected in their food, which is simple without pretense, yet simply good, nourishing and bountiful; solid food for hard-working people. This approach to life and to food brings back every good memory from my rural background and speaks to the incredible labour and love for the land that brought "the Heartland" into prosperity, whether in rural Pennsylvania or rural North Dakota. Such attitudes toward land and life built rock-hard values in the generations who live there. As Time/Life says, "These are people who love to eat, in their own expressive phrase, feinschmeckers, which, roughly translated, means those who know how good food should taste and who eat plenty of it."
So, without further introduction, here is the recipe provided by Time/Life:
Chicken Potpie
To serve 6 to 8:
A 5- to 6-pound roasting chicken, cut into 6 or 8 pieces
4 quarts water
2 medium-sized celery stalks, including the green leaves, cut into 3-inch pieces
1/4 teaspoon crumbled, dried saffron threads or 1/4 teaspoon ground saffron*
1 Tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons salt
6 whole black peppercorns
1/2 cup coarsely-chopped celery
2 medium-sized boiling potatoes, peeled and coarsely chopped
1/2 pound potpie squares (using Dave's recipe here)
2 Tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
freshly ground black pepper
Combine the chicken and water in a heavy 6- to 8-quart casserole and bring to a boil over high heat, skimming off the foam and scum as they rise to the surface, Add the pieces of celery, saffron, 1 tablespoon of salt and the peppercorns, and reduce the heat to low. Simmer partially covered for about 1 hour, or until the chicken shows now resistance when a thigh is pierced deeply with a sharp knife.
With a slotted spoon, transfer the chicken to a plate. Strain the stock through a fine sieve and return 2 quarts to the casserole. (Reserve the remaining stock for another use.) With a small, sharp knife, remove the skin from the chicken and cut the meat from the bones, discard the skin and bones, slice the meat into 1-inch pieces and set aside.
Add the chopped celery, potatoes and the remaining two teaspoons of salt to the casserole and bring to a boil over high heat. Drop in the potpie squares and stir briefly, then cook briskly, uncovered, for about 15 minutes, until the noodles are tender. Stir in the reserved chicken and parsley and cook for a minute or so to heat them through. Taste and season with more salt if desired and a few grindings of pepper.
To serve, ladle the chicken potpie into preheated individual bowls.
To serve 6 to 8:
A 5- to 6-pound roasting chicken, cut into 6 or 8 pieces
4 quarts water
2 medium-sized celery stalks, including the green leaves, cut into 3-inch pieces
1/4 teaspoon crumbled, dried saffron threads or 1/4 teaspoon ground saffron*
1 Tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons salt
6 whole black peppercorns
1/2 cup coarsely-chopped celery
2 medium-sized boiling potatoes, peeled and coarsely chopped
1/2 pound potpie squares (using Dave's recipe here)
2 Tablespoons finely chopped fresh parsley
freshly ground black pepper
Combine the chicken and water in a heavy 6- to 8-quart casserole and bring to a boil over high heat, skimming off the foam and scum as they rise to the surface, Add the pieces of celery, saffron, 1 tablespoon of salt and the peppercorns, and reduce the heat to low. Simmer partially covered for about 1 hour, or until the chicken shows now resistance when a thigh is pierced deeply with a sharp knife.
With a slotted spoon, transfer the chicken to a plate. Strain the stock through a fine sieve and return 2 quarts to the casserole. (Reserve the remaining stock for another use.) With a small, sharp knife, remove the skin from the chicken and cut the meat from the bones, discard the skin and bones, slice the meat into 1-inch pieces and set aside.
Add the chopped celery, potatoes and the remaining two teaspoons of salt to the casserole and bring to a boil over high heat. Drop in the potpie squares and stir briefly, then cook briskly, uncovered, for about 15 minutes, until the noodles are tender. Stir in the reserved chicken and parsley and cook for a minute or so to heat them through. Taste and season with more salt if desired and a few grindings of pepper.
To serve, ladle the chicken potpie into preheated individual bowls.
*WHAT??? Saffron (widely known in Middle Eastern and Mediterranean cuisine) in a Pennsylvania Dutch (decended from south Germany) dish? What's this all about???
Patience, dear reader - all will be made clear in a couple of paragraphs.
For the potpie noodle recipe, I used one provided by a friend who grew up and still lives in Pennsylvania Dutch Country:
3 cups flour
2 eggs
2 tsp shortening
1 1/4 cups cold water
Mix the egg, flour and shortening together. Slowly mix in the cold water until you get a thick dough. Flour the dough and roll until it is approximately ⅛ inch thick. The flour on the dough will help to thicken the broth. Cut the dough into noodles that are approximately 2-3 inches square. Gently, place the noodles into the broth. Some people like the noodles to be balled up so they are a little doughy.
2 eggs
2 tsp shortening
1 1/4 cups cold water
Mix the egg, flour and shortening together. Slowly mix in the cold water until you get a thick dough. Flour the dough and roll until it is approximately ⅛ inch thick. The flour on the dough will help to thicken the broth. Cut the dough into noodles that are approximately 2-3 inches square. Gently, place the noodles into the broth. Some people like the noodles to be balled up so they are a little doughy.
Pictures of the potpie noodle process can be seen at:
foodsoftheworld.activeboards.net/pennsylvania-dutch-chicken-potpie_topic1102.html
Here's the story on how saffron came to be in Pennsylvania Dutch recipes, provided by Time/Life:
[T]he thrifty farm folks of Lancaster and Lebanon counties buy a great deal of the world's most costly spice in their markets to use in their chicken and noodle dishes, soups and gravies. They employ many spices of the usual sort for pickling and baking, but their use of so exotic a spice as saffron was something of a puzzlement. Made from dried stigmas of a fall-blooming crocus native to southern Europe - it takes 75,000 blossoms to make one pound of the spice - saffron has a long history un Europe as a flavoring, dye and medicinal herb. But nowadays you find it mainly in the dishes of countries bordering the Mediterranean - the paella and arroz con polloof Spain, Italy's risotto alla Milanese, the oignons monégasques of southern France, and the many rice dishes of Iran and India. How did it get to Lancaster County?
I was told that the Pennsylvania Dutch once grew their own saffron, and a little historical research confirmed this. Not only were their ancestors of the Rhineland familiar with the spice - cultivation of the crocus had spread to Germany from Italy - but it was so highly prized in mid-15th Century Nuremberg that men were sent to the stake for adulterating it. The precious stuff probably got to Pennsylvania with a group of Silesians known as Schwenkfelders who came to America in 1734. A prominent Schwenkfelder family had owned a saffron warehouse and the immigrants probably brought a supply with them - as well as the recipe for the saffron-flavored yeast cake that was their traditional wedding cake. This still appears in Pennsylvanian Dutch cookbooks as Schwenkfelder or Schwingfelder cake.
In such strange fashions do foods migrate, but strangest and most miraculous of all is how and why they survive. Probably this can happen only in regions like the Pennsylvania Dutch country that have kept their cultures and character and cooking virtually intact despite the creeping conformism of the 20th Century.
I was told that the Pennsylvania Dutch once grew their own saffron, and a little historical research confirmed this. Not only were their ancestors of the Rhineland familiar with the spice - cultivation of the crocus had spread to Germany from Italy - but it was so highly prized in mid-15th Century Nuremberg that men were sent to the stake for adulterating it. The precious stuff probably got to Pennsylvania with a group of Silesians known as Schwenkfelders who came to America in 1734. A prominent Schwenkfelder family had owned a saffron warehouse and the immigrants probably brought a supply with them - as well as the recipe for the saffron-flavored yeast cake that was their traditional wedding cake. This still appears in Pennsylvanian Dutch cookbooks as Schwenkfelder or Schwingfelder cake.
In such strange fashions do foods migrate, but strangest and most miraculous of all is how and why they survive. Probably this can happen only in regions like the Pennsylvania Dutch country that have kept their cultures and character and cooking virtually intact despite the creeping conformism of the 20th Century.
A few notes on preparation when I recently made this: I added a few extra potatoes, since we have a big family. Also, rather than save some extra stock for later, I simply reduced it down to the required two quarts and de-fatted it.
Results were wonderful, to use one single and simple word. This was an excellent and satisfying meal that, as I predicted, reminded me so much of the meals I ate in my grandparents' home, even though they had never prepared this specific dish.
The only thing I would say is that the extra potatos were not necessary, but they didn't hurt, either. The entire family loved it, including the beautiful Mrs. Tas, and their only complaint was that some of the potpies (noodles) were a little thick and therefore doughy/chewy. Other than that, it was a smash success.
The next time i make this, I might add an onion and a couple of diced carrots, but to be honest, these would not be necessary. This dish was perfectly suited for chicken as prepared and I strongly urge anyone looking for hearty winter fare to try this.
