Retro Recipes and Traditional Fare

When I think of casseroles, I imagine layers and layers of meats and vegetables slowly cooking together until fork tender. Baeckeoffe is that casserole; it beats all other casseroles. Beef, lamb, and pork are combined with onions, leeks, and carrots, then drowned in wine, and slowly braised for hours in the oven until just perfect. Baeckeoffe, which translates to baker's oven, originates from Alsace, France, a region that has changed hands many times between France and Germany. In many ways, especially gastronomically, it maintains a German identity. Here you will find beer, sausages, sauerkraut, and vineyards growing typical German grapes like Riesling and Gewürztraminer. Many dishes are specific to this region, Baeckeoffe being one of its most famous traditional foods.

The most appealing features of the dish are its minimum supervision to make and ability to feed a large, busy family—of particular interest in olden times. As the story goes, Alsatian women would drop off their casseroles with the local baker on Monday, which was the day set aside for doing laundry. The baker, who may have had many casseroles in his oven at one time, used a rope of dough between the rim and lid of each casserole to form a tight seal and keep in moisture. The low, steady temperature of the baker's oven was the ideal environment for cooking the Baeckeoffe.

Chilies, soups, stews have been on my plate and on all those, too, who have supped with me this season. I love making a big pot or pan of something that will feed me for days as well as my staff, family and friends – when you make this dish, all three will surely be in tow!

This dish is also a memory bank of flavors for me. First off, the creamy chicken stew bit is a reminder of a Middle Georgia institution – The New Perry Hotel. They served a cream of turkey soup with hard tack biscuits that was a staple of Middle Georgia cuisine. It never fails, when folks find out where I’m from, they always have a memory or story about The New Perry Hotel. It was always the stop of all stops for those en route to Florida or Georgia’s Golden Isles and many a family has dined at the white linen clad tables, eaten this very soup, adored the camellia prints on the walls and the live specimens in the garden, and smiled at the bud vases filled with the latter blossoms or whatever may be in season.

Mrs. Mary makes THE BEST biscuits. I cannot duplicate, recreate or copy hers. They are small but not tack-like. Butter browned tops with gauzy innards, these divinities are my favorite thing she makes. She will even make them and freeze them for me. But since I cannot have Mrs. Mary’s biscuits, Mary B’s brand of frozen biscuits is a close second. I love the tea biscuit size and the larger size too. This line has won this Farmer over to store-bought biscuits. I use them for this dish and conserve my Mrs. Mary’s for selfish indulgence and very, VERY special occasions. I did learn to share in kindergarten but since Mrs. Mary cannot come cook that often, her biscuits are a treasure I hoard!

When a wine is described as "jammy" I always think of blackberries. Rich, ripe, fruity flavors so intense they almost taste more cooked than fresh. Blackberries, when fully ripe and sweet, not sour, taste like jam to me. Jammy also means "lucky" according to an Australian English dictionary I recently consulted. I think one slice of this cake will make you feel very lucky indeed! I certainly feel lucky to have gotten the berries from my friend Alton who brought them back from his mountain cabin hideaway, Shadow Woods.

I'm assuming since you are visiting this site, that you probably use the internet to find recipes. I sure do. One thing I particularly find useful are the reader comments. For example the recipes on Epicurious often have suggestions from readers on changes and improvements they have made to the posted recipes. Sometimes their suggestions make sense, though not always.

This recipe started out as one I found online, but based on reader comments, a little experimenting, and ultimately my own experience I made it my own. How different is it from the original?

It’s funny what you think you know. For the last thirty-five years I’ve been cooking chicken scarpariello – or shoemakers’ chicken — for my family. It’s one of my kids’ favorite dishes out of my humble repertoire – cut up pieces of chicken, still on the bone, flash-fried with garlic, white wine and rosemary. The best way to eat this dish is with your fingers, mopping up the sauce with a piece of good Italian bread. It’s heaven on a plate. I first came across the recipe in Alfredo Viazzi’s cookbook. Alfredo had a restaurant – he had a few of them, actually – in Greenwich Village where we lived in 1972. We ate at Trattoria d’Alfredo a couple times a week, often spotting James Beard at a table by himself, packing away Alfredo’s fabulous food.

Imagine my shock when I researched the recipe on the Internet and found that it’s not Italian at all. I typed in “pollo allo scarpariello – ricette” on Google, so that I could pull up the recipes in the original Italian and I came up empty. They don’t have that dish in Italy or, if they do, they call it something else.