Liver for Lovers: Bolognese Sauce

Warning!  This blog may not be suitable for all readers.  Please proceed only if you appreciate chicken livers.

Recently back from my ten-week stint in Mexico, I acknowledge that there are other foods in life beyond chilies, tortillas, cheese, and all the fabulous dishes celebrated there.

   

In fact, on my return I had an unexpected craving for chicken livers.  It’s not a complete surprise, and because I get a hankering for them about once a month, I tend to stock-pile a container of them in my freezer to head off this sudden biological urge. 

Yesterday, as I mulled over a nice weekend meal, what glee did I express, when behold!  To the rear of my freezer, I spot a lurking carton of chicken livers amongst my depleted pickings.  Hallelujah sister!  Joy upon joy, I had all the fundamentals for Chicken Livers in Bolognese including three fresh Roma tomatoes and from out in the garden plenty of sage and rosemary.

I make my Bolognese the traditional way:  a meat sauce simmered with tomatoes and milk.   I elected to go with ground pork instead of veal, turkey, or beef because it too, was in my freezer.  I can’t say enough about the addition of the milk to the sauce.  Fear not:  the tomatoes will not curdle the milk; along with a bit of Parmesan cheese, it tends to tenderize the meat and harmonize the sauce.  The combination of herbs and spices, plus the addition of the chicken livers, create a marriage made in heaven. Trust me on this one.

Now, you are doubly forewarned ― because this comes from an unabashed liver lover.

Chicken Livers in Bolognese Sauce

  Ingredients

  3        tbsp. olive oil -- divided

  1         lb. chicken livers

 1/3     cup flour

             salt and pepper    

  1         onion, peeled and chopped

  1         poblano or other green pepper, seeded and chopped

  1         carrot, peeled and chopped

  2         cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

  3/4    lb. ground pork, veal, turkey, or beef

  1         tsp. fresh rosemary, chopped

  1         tsp. fresh sage, chopped

  2        tbsp. red wine

  3        Roma tomatoes, chopped

  2 – 3  tbsp. tomato paste

  ½       tsp. freshly grated nutmeg

  ¼       tsp. cayenne

  ½       tsp. salt and freshly ground pepper

  ½       cup low fat or other milk

  2         tbsp.  Parmesan cheese, crumbled

  12       oz. chicken stock,  or beef

             few dashes Worcestershire sauce

             salt and pepper

  1         tsp. aged balsamic vinegar (optional)

Preparation

Clean the liver, cut into manageable pieces and pat dry; sprinkle lightly with flour, salt, and  pepper.  In a large pot heat 2 tbsp. oil and add livers.  Brown well on all sides and remove.

To the pot, heat remaining oil, add vegetables to soften and remove to separate bowl.  Add pork to the pan, break up and brown lightly adding herbs and spices.  Deglaze with red wine and loosen bits from pan; add tomatoes, tomato paste, reserved vegetables and the stock.  Add the milk, Parmesan, Worcestershire sauce, salt and pepper and stir to combine all. Partially cover pan and simmer about 45 minutes, stirring occasionally until sauce thickens slightly.  It will thicken as it sets.   

Add livers to pan, simmer to finish cooking them and to blend flavors, about 10 minutes; adjust seasoning.  If too tart, add a pinch of sugar or a splash of aged balsamic.  Best if allowed to set overnight to mellow flavors.  Serve over pasta, polenta, or on the side with risotto.  Yield:  4 servings.

  

Chicharrón… more or less

In Mexico, chicharrón can cause strong reactions and it is often the subject of considerable discussion, even debate. 

Stateside we are familiar with the addictive crunchy snack made from deep fried pork skins. Of course, bags of them are everywhere in Mexico, some are sprinkled with chile blends, and others can even include a personal sample of hot sauce.

However, that is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to their possibilities in Querétaro.  For the more adventurous, the skins are not fried.  They can be purchased raw at local markets and made into an array of dishes by home cooks.  Tostadas and tacos often feature this style: skins simmered for various lengths of time in a favorite sauce can result in an end product that ranges from barely cooked and squeaky pink, to well done and meltingly soft.

Part of the traditional gastronomy of Querétaro are gorditas, corn patties filled with a variety of fillings ranging from nopales, chorizo, potatoes, cheese, or of course, chicharrón.  My Sunday breakfast today featured the ever popular migajas gorditas, tortilla dough stuffed with a filling of chicharrón simmered in a savory chile sauce. 

 There are other forms to consider:  there are guacamayas, or small sandwiches called bolillo tortas that are stuffed with chicharrón and avocado, seasoned with lime and red mashed salsa of tomatoes, onions, chili peppers.  Or consider crema conchis, a soup flavored with chicharrón and chile; and of course where we would be without chicharrón sorbet?  

In Mexico City I had my first experience with tostadas de chicharrón. The crisp corn tortilla was spread with refried beans,  sheets of fried chicharrón, and finished with assorted toppings:  cabbage, onion, radish, avocado, crema, cheese, and a boat-load of salsa options. The chicharrón tends to soaks up the toppings and softens it instead of breaking into unwieldy pieces. 

Chicharrones in Salsa Verde is very popular in this area and it really requires no recipe.  The format is similar to the above tostadas.  Begin by heating about 2 cups of your favorite salsa verde; add ½ pound of chicharrón and simmer to soften, but not mushy. 

Serve with warm tortillas or tostadas spread with refried beans if desired; top with shredded cabbage or lettuce, onion, radishes, crumbled cheese, avocado, and favorite sauces. 

Nieve, as in Snow

Nieve.  Even the word rolls off the tongue and curls the lips in pleasure.  

 On a warm day, there’s nothing like it to instantly refresh and sparkle the taste buds.  Nieve, or snow in español, refers to fruit and water based ices and sorbets of a near limitless variety; some vendors even offer a creamy milk version. 

Nieve stands are a way of life in Mexico; their carts and small tiendas dot the street corners and calles. 

It’s hard to believe such a refreshing treat can be had for only few pesos, or less than a dollar.  In Mexico City recently, a guanabana-mamey combination was so stunning, I had return for more.  

Next door to my Queretaro casa, an addictive nieve stand is enthusiastically supported by the locals.   Early every Wednesday a mob begins to form in front of the small space, and it stays that way all day.  

 Anyone who loves nieve knows that today is 2-for-1 day, and it is well worth the wait for a few scoops of heaven. 

 Mango, coconut, or pineapple, are always popular; then there’s frequently queso or cheese, cappuccino, usually some version of chocolate, and often pistachio. The mantecado reminds me of an old-fashioned buttery spumoni with nuts and fruit. 

 
Rick Bayless and his Frontera Grill have done much to promote the foods of Mexico.  In his cookbook, One Plate at  Time, he offers a fascinating Elote Nieve, or Sweet Corn Ice Cream, which I can’t wait to tackle on my return home.  

For now, here is an authentic yet simple alternative from Rick:  Nieve de Tuna or Fresh Prickly Pear Ice.  He even explains how to handle the critters, so if your market offers prickly pears, there are no excuses.  Enjoy!

Nieve de Tuna  Fresh Prickly Pear Ice

From Rick Bayless,  Authentic Mexican

Ingredients

3 1/2 pounds (about 18 medium) fresh prickly pears (tunas)
1 cup sugar, plus a little more if necessary
About 3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lime juice

Directions

Roughly chop the peeled prickly pears.  Place the fruit in a blender or food processor, add 1 cup water, the sugar and lime juice, and blend for several minutes, until the sugar is dissolved. Strain through a medium-mesh sieve; taste for sweetness and tartness, adding more sugar or lime juice as necessary. If time permits, chill thoroughly.
Pour the mixture into the canister of ice cream freezer and freeze according to the manufacturer’s directions. When the ice comes from the machine, it may be rather soft; for a firmer texture, let it "ripen" in your freezer for a couple of hours before serving.  Yield: 5 to 6 cups, 6 to 8 servings

To  prepare the prickly pears:   cut a 1/2-inch slice off both ends of the prickly pears; make a 1/2-inch-deep incision down one side, end to end. Carefully (avoid the little stickers) peel off the rind, starting from  incision: The rind is thick and, if ripe, will easily peel away from the central core of fruit.

Traditional Variations:  for mango, peach, nectarine or cantaloupe, peel, pit and/or seed about 2 pounds (slightly more for cantaloupe) fruit, to yield 2 cups of fruit pulp. Puree with 1 1/2 cups water, 3/4 to 1 cup sugar, and lime juice to taste.

Viva la Fiesta!

In France life may be a cabaret, but  in Mexico life is one big fiesta.

Yes, in Mexico there is always something to celebrate.  Since I started attending language school in Queretaro I have learned that these crazy mexicanos have a few things to teach us gringos about enjoying life.   

While we are breaking our necks chasing after our next dollar, they are just as likely to take a couple of hours off in the afternoon for a quiet siesta.

Today is Día de la Madre, or Mother’s Day, and it is clearly not to be taken lightly.  Here in my Mexican home, music started blaring at 6:30AM this morning.  In the next bedroom over, the senora’s family-in-residence commenced wailing a wake-up serenade, while a traditional feliz-día-del-la-madre version crooned on in the background, replete with full orchestra con horn section.  Joyful voices escalated amidst considerable kissing, hugging, and shouting, all in concert with the looped version. 

At a recent Cupleaños (birthday) celebration I became the brunt of good-natured jesting as I blindly whirled while waving a flimsy stick in search of a candy-packed taco piñata.

Earlier that day, my morning desayuno started out with a traditional plate of fresh fruit ― firmly anchored by a slice of ribbon-festooned cake.  

Later, at pre-piñata festivities, adorable individual gelatin forms were set out in lieu of our traditional frosting-inflicted birthday cake.  

  

Back at the hacienda much later, there was of course ―more cake. 

I am certain that right now all over Mexico, mamas are surrounded by throngs of their loved ones.  Plenty of good food is spread out and music is playing.   Without a doubt, there will be much singing and dancing before the night is over.