Saturday, June 26, 2021

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

 

On the road again! Off to Ronda for lunch.


We drove to Ronda to meet some friends for lunch. It’s the first time I’ve been out of my own municipality since the beginning of the pandemic. Without thinking twice, I hugged the friend, shook hands with another. All of us vaccinated, hooray! 


We lunched at Restaurante Pedro Romero, right across from the Ronda bull ring. We sat at tables inside, with table cloths and proper napkins. Although QR symbols were posted for consulting the digital menu, we happily made our selections from real menus. We took off our masks when the bottle of wine was opened (Los Cipreses, a Garnacha rosado from Ronda bodega, Huerto de la Condesa). We ate very well and sat talking over coffee until late in the day. Life seems almost normal.

Ronda is an inland mountain town, once known for its smugglers and bandoleros  The road from the coast winds up through the steep hills of the newly proclaimed Parque Nacional Sierra de las Nieves, home to the Pinsapo fir tree, a remnant of the Pleistocene Age.

Rabo de toro at Pedro Romero restaurant.

Ronda is close enough to the sea to have fresh fish on the restaurant menu, but it’s especially known for its sierra cuisine—sturdy potages—some with wild greens such as tagarninas, thistles; small game such as partridge and rabbit; ibérico ham and fresh pork, and, in this town famous for its bullfighting (Antonio Ordoñez, et al.), rabo de toro, braised bull’s tail. 

We started with ajo blanco, Málaga’s emblematic white gazpacho made with almonds and garlic and here served with smoked sardines instead of the usual grapes; morcilla, blood sausage, a Ronda specialty, accompanied by roasted red peppers, and a carpaccio of thinly sliced beef. Best of all was a plate of magnificent sliced tomatoes of the heirloom Castellano variety. They were sweet and juicy. 

Here’s my rendition of the Cazuela de Conejo that I sampled in Ronda.

Pieces of rabbit are cooked in a sauce with wine. Spanish style, the rabbit is accompanied by fries and the first of the season's sliced tomatoes.



Aromatic rosemary, thyme, bay and cumin add flavor. I added a few small carrots for color (the rabbit cooked in less time than the carrots).


Rabbit is white meat, but the sauce is rich. Serve with a light, unoaked red or a crisp, cold rosado.




Rabbit in Cazuela
Cazuela de Conejo Estilo de Ronda

The rabbit’s liver thickens the sauce and deepens its flavor (chicken liver can be substituted). If you do not have liver or prefer not to use it, Use a slice of fried bread to thicken the sauce. Blend it with the fried garlic. Thin the sauce with additional water if it seems too thick. After cooking the rabbit, the sauce can be sieved or pureed in a blender, if desired. (I didn't; I like the texture of chopped onions, carrots and peppers in the sauce.)

In Ronda, the rabbit with its rich sauce is typically served with patatas fritas, fries, but rice goes nicely with it as well.

Cut rabbit in large pieces to avoid splintery bones.
1 rabbit, cut in serving pieces (2- 2 ½ pounds)
Salt 
Freshly ground black pepper
1/3 cup olive oil
1 rabbit liver (2 ounces) or slice of bread
3 cloves garlic, peeled
Sprig of rosemary
1 cup chopped onion
¼ cup finely chopped green pepper
¼ cup diced carrot
2 medium tomatoes (1 cup grated pulp)
1 tablespoon pimentón (paprika, not smoked)
¼ teaspoon cumin
¼ teaspoon coarsely cracked black pepper
½ cup white wine
1 ½ cups water
1 bay leaf
Sprig of thyme

Sprinkle the rabbit with salt and pepper and allow it to come to room temperature.

Heat half of the oil in a cazuela or heavy pan. Cut the liver into 4 pieces and fry it with the garlic cloves, turning, until they are browned on all sides. (If using bread instead of liver, fry it until golden on both sides.) Skim out the liver and garlics and place them in a blender.

Brown rabbit in oil.

Add the pieces of rabbit to the cazuela with the sprig of rosemary. Fry them on moderate heat, turning, until rabbit is browned on both sides. Remove the pieces of rabbit. Discard the rosemary.

Add remaining oil to the pan. Sauté the onion, green pepper and carrot until softened and beginning to brown, 5 minutes. 

Grate tomatoes.

Meanwhile, grate the tomatoes and discard the skins. Stir the pimentón into the onion sofrito. Add the tomato pulp, cumin, cracked black pepper, ½ teaspoon salt and wine. Bring to a boil and simmer until the alcohol is cooked away.

Add 1 cup of water to the liver and garlic in the blender. Blend until smooth. Pour this mixture into the pan. Return the pieces of rabbit and their juices to the pan with the bay leaf and thyme. Add enough additional water to partially cover the rabbit.

Liquid partially covers the pieces of rabbit.


Bring to a boil, then lower heat so the liquid bubbles gently. Cook, uncovered, 15 minutes. Turn the pieces of rabbit in the sauce. Cook another 15 minutes or until the rabbit is tender when pierced with a fork. If sauce is very thick, add additional water.

Remove from heat and allow to set 5 minutes. Serve the rabbit and sauce in the cazuela or plate it. 


More rabbit recipes:






Notes from another visit to Ronda here.

Restaurante Pedro Romero, where we lunched in Ronda.

Lunch in Ronda with old friend, Gerry Dawes (left) and new friend, Tom Perry.


Gerry Dawes leads individually-designed wine, food, culture and photography tours of Spain. He is working on a book about his travels on the food and wine beat:  Sunset in a Glass: Adventures of a Food and Wine Road Warrior in Spain. Some of his stories have been published here.

Tom Perry is a marketing consultant for the Spanish wine trade and a wine educator. He writes about wine, La Rioja and travels in Spain at Inside Rioja.


Gerry Dawes, getting the shot, Ronda overlook.


Thanks to my driver,  my son, Ben Searl, here saying hello to Orson Welles, whose ashes are buried in Ronda.



Toro bravo sculpture, outside the bull ring in Ronda.




Saturday, June 19, 2021

THE CHILDREN’S MENU: FISH PATTIES

 

Fish patties, mayonnaise to go with them, coleslaw and corn-on-the-cob--a summer meal that will please the kids.


Fish was on the menu at least once a week when my kids were growing up. Not that they were crazy about fish, but that any food served with plenty of mayonnaise was acceptable. Simply baked and served with boiled potatoes and mayo straight from the jar, fish was consumed with gusto.


I especially liked such fish as pez de San Pedro (John Dory), pez de limón (amberjack) and lubina (sea bass). But, I often bought a cheap fish called lisa, grey mullet, that the vendor tried to pass off as lubina. Until one dinner, we took a bite of the fish and spat it out. It reeked of sewage and diesel fuel. We never again ate grey mullet. The coastal waters where they are fished had become so polluted that the fish were inedible. 

Whichever the fish, after dinner I picked the flesh off the bones and refrigerated it with the leftover potatoes. The next day I mashed it all up together, fish and potatoes, shaped it into patties and fried them crisp. More mayonnaise. Fish patties were as popular as burgers.

Since then, I have experimented with classier recipes for “fish cakes,” with bread crumbs, mayonnaise, Old Bay seasoning, etc. You know what? They have never been as good as the simple fish patties with potatoes. So, whether it’s the children’s menu or for grownups, give them a try.

Fish patties are easy to make with leftover cooked fish and mashed potatoes.


Fish patties are crisp on the outside, soft in the middle.


Crunchy coleslaw--perfect side with fish patties.


For kids: keep it simple.


For grownups: add capers or another piquant garnish.


Fish-Potato Patties 
Tortitas de Pescado y Patatas

Use any cooked fish to make these patties. Today I’ve got salmon, but it could just as well be mackerel, bass, bream, hake or cod. 

Pieces of salmon have been poached, ready to be flaked.


Leftover pan-grilled salmon is fine for fish patties.


I used about two-thirds fish to one-third potatoes for these patties, but you can use any proportion of fish to potatoes. If you’re starting with cooked fish (baked, grilled, poached), you will need about 16 ounces of boned and skinned fish to make 2 ½ cups of flaked fish. If you’ve roasted a whole fish and have leftovers, try to pick the flesh from the bones while the fish is still warm. Once chilled, it’s harder to separate fine bones.  

If you are starting with uncooked fish, use a little more than 1 pound of fillets, to allow for any skin and bones that will be removed. Poach the fish in 3 cups of water that has been boiled 2 minutes with salt, bay leaf, piece of celery and slice of leek or onion. Poach the fish at a simmer until it just flakes when prodded with a knife tip, about 5 minutes. Skim the fish out of the liquid. When it is cool enough to handle, flake it, discarding any skin and spines. (Mince the cooked celery to add to the patty mixture.)

I say, serve the fish patties with mayonnaise. Straight out of the jar is fine for most kids. Or whip up olive oil mayo. Add smashed garlic for alioli. If there are no fussy kids to cater for, flavor the mayonnaise with capers, with wasabi, with chile. Put the patties on buns, if you like, and add a spoonful of crunchy coleslaw. 

Makes 12 (3-inch) patties.

2 ½ cups cooked, flaked fish
2 cooked potatoes (10 ounces)
1 egg, beaten
1 teaspoon minced celery
1 tablespoon grated onion
2 tablespoons finely chopped parsley
Grated lemon zest
1 teaspoon salt
Spices and herbs, to taste
1 cup fine dry bread crumbs
Olive oil for frying

Mash cooked potatoes.

Peel and chop the potatoes into a bowl. Use a potato masher or fork to mash them. They don’t need to be completely smooth. Mix in the beaten egg. Add the celery, onion, parsley, zest and salt and combine well.

Mix flaked fish and potatoes.

Add the flaked fish and mix to combine the fish and potatoes very well. Season with additional spices or herbs, if desired.

Chill the fish-potato mixture 1 hour. Chilling will make it easier to shape the patties.

Place patties in shallow pan with bread crumbs.

Spread half of the crumbs in a shallow pan. Divide the fish mixture into 12 equal-sized balls. Pat the balls into 3-inch disks and place them in a single layer in the crumbs. Sprinkle enough additional crumbs on top to coat the patties. 

Cover and chill the tray of patties until ready to fry them.

Heat enough oil to cover the bottom of a heavy skillet. Fry 4 or 5 patties at a time on moderately high heat until golden on one side. Turn and fry reverse sides until browned. Remove and place on paper towels to absorb excess oil. Serve the fish patties immediately. (The fish patties, if made in advance, can be reheated in a 400ºF oven.)




Recipes for mayonnaise and variations:




Saturday, June 12, 2021

SALAD WITH AN "EXOTIC" TOUCH


 I came in from the garden with a basket of small carrots, a handful of mint and one lovely rose. And, I had just the recipe to use all three—carrot salad, from Sabores de Sefarad, by Javier Zafra, a book I reviewed in last week’s blog.


Fresh mint.


The book actually has two recipes for carrot salad, both very enticing. One, for raw, grated carrots, calls for mint; the other, for cooked and sliced carrots, is finished with rose petals. No way was I going to grate the tiny carrots culled from my garden, so I chose to combine the recipes, using some of the flavors from both.

The recipes in Sabores de Sefarad are adaptations of foods that might have been prepared in Sephardic homes in medieval Spain. Some of the flavorings  are “exotic” by present-day Spanish standards—fresh ginger, cilantro, orange blossom water, while mint and cumin are very common.

Carrot salad with medieval flavors, garnished with rose petals.




Carrot Salad
Ensalada de Zanahorias

I just happened to have orange blossom water (agua de azahar) left from another recipe, but no rose water. If you don’t have orange blossom water, add a little grated orange zest. 

Pomegranate molasses (jarabe de granadas) is not used in Spanish cooking, but can be bought in Middle Eastern shops. If not available, use honey in its place. Although the recipe does not call for vinegar, to my taste the dressing was too sweet, so I added just a little. The garnish of rose petals is so pretty, but if you don’t have unsprayed roses, just omit the garnish. If pine nuts aren't available, use toasted almonds or pistachios.

If available, use purple carrots for this recipe or a combination of purple and orange carrots. 


Sweet and sour vinaigrette for carrots.
Serves 6.

1 pound carrots
Salt
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon toasted cumin seeds
1 tablespoon raisins
½ tablespoon orange blossom water
½ tablespoon rose water
1 tablespoon pomegranate molasses or honey
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper
1 teaspoon Sherry vinegar (optional)
3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint or cilantro
1 tablespoon toasted pine nuts
Rose petals, to garnish

Cook the carrots in boiling salted water until they are easily pierced with the tip of a knife. Drain and refresh them in cold water. When cool enough to handle, peel the carrots. If using full-size carrots, slice them crosswise. If using small carrots, cut them into 1 ½-inch lengths.

In a small bowl combine the ginger, cumin, raisins, orange blossom and rose water, honey or pomengranate syrup and pepper. Whisk in the oil and vinegar until the dressing is emulsified. 

Mix the dressing with the carrots. Allow to stand for 2 hours (or up to 24 hours). 

Stir in the chopped mint or cilantro immediately before serving. Spread the carrots on a platter. Garnish with the pine nuts and a few rose petals.




More recipes for carrot salad:




SABORES DE SEFARAD--Los Secretos de la Gastronomía Judeoespañola by Javier Zafra is available to order from  https://redjuderias.org/producto/sabores-de-sefarad/



Saturday, June 5, 2021

A TASTE OF SEPHARDIC SPAIN

Most Spaniards probably never imagined that some of their favorite home-cooked meals come from the ancient Jewish tradition. The famous cocido, for one; Christmas roscos, for another; Holy Week puddings and festive sponge cake.


A recently published cookbook, Sabores de Sefarad, “Flavors of Sephardic Spain,” by Javier Zafra (Red de Juderías de España; 2020; Spanish language), delves into the rich history of the Jewish people in Spain and their contribution to Spanish cuisine. The book’s subtitle is Los Secretos de la Gastronomía Judeoespañola, or “the secrets of Judeo-Spanish cooking.”

Sabores de Sefarad--Flavors of Sephardic Spain--by Javier Zafra.

Sepharad was the name that the Jews gave to the Iberian peninsula, where the first Jews arrived as early as 586 BCE. For more than 13 centuries Jews lived alongside Romans, Visigoths, Muslims and Christians in communities throughout the country. The Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492 by the same Catholic monarchs, Ferdinand and Isabella, who, having defeated the last of the Moors in the kingdom of Granada, funded Columbus’s wild scheme to sail west to look for the Spice Islands.

Cookbook author, Javier Zafra.

Javier Zafra is not Jewish. But, his last name, Zafra, appears on the list in the book’s appendices of Sephardic surnames. I asked him why he decided to concentrate on Sephardic food and not, for example, Moorish. “Perhaps it was a strong pull of Jewish blood,” he replied. “I feel a responsibility to dig deeper into a history and culture that is our own, but that has been, not forgotten, but hidden, down through the ages”

Javier has found many convergences in the cooking of his own family. For example, his grandmother who ran a guest house in Jaén used to make filetillos de huerta, breaded and fried slices of eggplant, a very Sephardic dish, masquerading as breaded meat cutlets. Turrón (almond nougat) and mantecados de aceite de olivo (cookies made with olive oil), both Sephardic/Moorish, were Christmas treats.  He remembers fondly the fried papajotes or bermuelitos and perillas al azafrán, pears in saffron syrup, made by his aunts, recipes that he includes in the book.

The object of the book, he writes, is to recapture the flavors and aromas of the Jewish cooking that once impregnated the narrow streets of Spain’s aljamas, Jewish quarters; recipes that passed from mothers to daughters, secrets of an oral tradition of a cuisine that, in that epoch, did not include the exotic products of the New World. Nevertheless, our Sephardic ancestors used some 200 ingredients that later fell into disuse for fear of being accused of being marranos, secret Jews.

Is this the origin of Spanish cocido? It is Olleta de Adafina de Toledo. (Foto by Javier Zafra from the book, Sabores de Sefarad.)
 

When Javier began researching for the book, he found almost no resources about Sephardic food, pre-1492. Sephardic cookbooks are the cooking of the diaspora, of the Jews after they moved on from Spain and gradually acquired influences of other countries and the addition of New World ingredients. The best resources were those about Sephardic food’s “twin,” la cocina andalusí, the Moorish cuisine that was contemporaneous and which, he says, is quite well documented. 
 
The record of crypto-Judaism, he says, was fundamental in tracing the foods of a normal family in Sepharad. Here he credits the late Professor David Gitlitz, author with Linda Kay Davidson of A Drizzle of Honey—The Lives and Recipes of Spain’s Secret Jews, which draws on records of the Inquisition to track what Jews who had converted to Christianity were eating.

Javier told me that most surprising is that all of traditional Spanish cooking has been influenced by the fear of being accused by the Inquisition of Judaizing. So, who ate pork (prohibited by Jewish dietary laws) and who avoided pork became two distinguishing factors in figuring if someone was or was not crypto-Jewish. 

Another way that Sephardic influences have been passed along to Spanish cuisine is through the religious orders. Following forced conversions and the fear of being accused of crypto-Judaism, converts sent their daughters to the convents. The newly-minted Christian nuns took along with them their family recipes passed from mother to daughter for Sephardic stews and sweets. Thus, flourless almendrados (almond cookies) or yemas (egg yolk confections), both popular convent sweets, may have been originally Passover sweets. 

Javier developed his interest in history growing up playing in the ruins of an ancient Iberian settlement (Jaén) and exploring caves in search of prehistoric drawings. Following a love of cooking, he attended the Escuela de Hostelería de Jaén (professional cooking academy). He also studied computer sciences, teaching and photography. 

What started as a simple project—to write about Sephardic cooking—soon developed into major research and questioning of how to proceed. “I felt the responsibility to portray it accurately.” The project led him to recovering lost kitchen molds, commissioning reproductions of Jewish ceramics and researching everything from archeo-botany to perfumes and medicinal herbs.

What´s in Sabores de Sefarad

Sabores de Sefarad begins with a Forward by Luis Bassat, a well-known Spanish publicist, author and TV personality, who is of a Sephardic Jewish family. 

Kosher dietary laws are summarized. All the recipes follow the norms, although there is mention of how the current-day versions have been altered

In his introduction to the book, Javier notes that many traditional recipes from before 1492  are preserved intact in modern-day Sephardic communities of North Africa, the Balkans, Turkey, Greece and Israel as well as in the Xueta community of the Balearic Islands, where crypto-Jews—converts—kept many old dishes.

Six pages, illustrated with haunting photos from Sephardic sites throughout Spain that have been preserved through the ages, summarize the history and culture of the Jews in Spain. 

The table of contents at the front of the book lists the recipes by their Sephardic names. Regrettably, there is no index at the back of the book to cross-reference ingredients and other names for recipes.

The book finishes with useful appendices: bibliography and web links; list of surnames of Sephardic origin; glossary; calendar of Jewish holidays; a map showing sites in Spain of recovered Jewish quarters and of migration routes of Sephardim who left Spain after 1492;

The recipes 

Recipes are divided into nine chapters: Entrantes (Starters and Snacks), Bebidas (beverages), Panes (breads), Verduras (vegetables), Pescados (fish), Guisados (stews), Carnes (meats), Dulcería (sweets) and Indispensables (essentials). 

I admire Javier’s decision to adhere to pre-1492 foods—no New World potatoes, tomatoes, peppers or chocolate! Of course, these ingredients have been adapted to Sephardic cooking in the subsequent centuries. I’m less interested in the recipes that have no real connection to Spain, except that they were created by Sephardic cooks after they migrated to other countries. (Example; stuffed grape leaves—yaprakitos de oja—from Turkey or the Ottoman Empire, where Jews landed when fleeing Spain. 

All of the recipes in the book (in Spanish, with metric measures) have extensive headnotes, telling the origin of the dish and putting it in historical perspective. Ingredients and cooking methods are explained and modified, as needed.  Every recipe is illustrated with full color photographs by Javier Zafra.

The chapter on Dulcería—sweets and desserts—is outstanding, as it reveals how many of today’s pastries and desserts, often with saints’ names, are Sephardic in origin. Even the famous Menorcan ensaimada, a spiral sweet roll made with lard, can be traced to a type of challah or bread roll, made then with butter or olive oil. Here also are recipes for festival day sweets such as buñuelos, fried puffs, and rosquillas, fried rings, sweets hardly changed from when they were confected in medieval Toledo zocos. 

Some recipes I like
Roasted eggplant puree with olives, pomegranate and yogurt. (Berenjenas or Jandrayo).
Empanadillas filled with eggplant (Burekitas de Berenjenas).
Almond.garlic spread, to serve with matzoh. (Hechura de Almendras con Ajo).
Chard with garlic (Pazí Kon Ajo)
Carrot salad with mint, pomegranates and fresh figs (Salata de safanorias).
Fish balls with lemon sauce (Albondaquillos de pescado con Limón).
Vegetable stew with eggplant, leeks, carrots and chick peas (Alboronía).
Slow-cooked lamb with pomegranate, sour orange, prunes and honey (Hamín de ternasco enmelado
Sweet and sour meatballs of lamb and beef (Albondaquillos agridulces).
Almond cookies (mostachudos or almendrados). 
Sponge cake (bizcocho, known as pan d’Espanya).
Almond tartlets, a version of the Christianized torta Santiago (Torta de los reyes). 
Cheese tarts (flaons de Menorca). 

I chose a stuffed chicken recipe, Picantón al Horno Asado en Barro, from Sabores de Sefarad to try. Stuffed with a mixture of nuts and dried fruits and seasoned with spices, the birds are slow-roasted in a covered clay pot. The recipe reminds me very much of a present day recipe, Catalán stuffed capon or turkey. The Sephardic version would make a lovely dish for a family Shabos (Sabbath) or holiday dinner. 

Small chickens are stuffed with a mixture of fruits and nuts and slow-roasted in a clay pot, then browned in a hot oven. (This photo is from my kitchen in Spain, ©Janet Mendel)
 


Slow-roasted chicken served with the stuffing.


Stuffed Chickens Roasted in a Clay Pot
Picantón al Horno Asado en Barro
(Translated and adapted from Sabores de Sefarad.)


In the intro to this recipe, Javier writes that an anonymous manuscript from the 13th century Almohade dynasty, describes a recipe for Perdiz Judía (Jewish-style Partridge). The birds are stuffed with a mixture of the giblets mashed with almonds, pine nuts, almorí spices, oil, cilantro juice, pepper, cinnamon, lavender and cooked eggs and cooked in an earthenware pot with olive oil, vinegar and sugar and more spices. Almorí was a paste of flour and spices and herbs, sun-dried and fermented. It was used extensively in the Moorish cuisine at the time as both thickener and aroma. It was probably used in Sephardic cooking as well, as the two cultures existed side-by-side in medieval times. 

He has adapted the almorí spices to today’s kitchen. The spice rub of saffron, pepper, fennel and caraway is terrific.

The birds are cooked in a covered clay pot. In medieval times, the pot may have set in the hearth. Javier suggests cooking the small chickens in the oven at a very low temperature. Javier suggests using a Moroccan clay tagine. (A slow-cooker or Crock Pot would probably work well.) 

Javier’s recipe calls for two picantones, which are very small chickens, weighing each under one pound. The closest equivalent would be Cornish game hens (each about 1 ¼ pounds). I was unable to find the picantones (only during the Christmas season), so I substituted two whole broilers, each weighing just under two pounds—or about twice the size of the picantones. I necessarily had to adjust cooking times. The quantity of stuffing would work for three or four Cornish game hens.

Spices, herbs, fruits and nuts.

Serves 4.

2 small broilers (1 ¾ pounds each) or 3-4 Cornish game hens  
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

½ teaspoon coarse salt
¼ teaspoon saffron threads
½ teaspoon black peppercorns
¼ teaspoon fennel seeds
¼ teaspoon caraway seeds

Olive oil
1 cup diced carrots
1 cup finely chopped leeks or sweet onions
½ cup fresh breadcrumbs
½ cup black olives, pitted
¼ cup seeded raisins and/or chopped figs
¼ cup chopped prunes
¼ cup chopped dried apricots
3 tablespoons toasted pine nuts
¼ cup toasted almonds, chopped
1 cup diced apple

½ cup chicken broth
1 apple, quartered
Carrots (optional)
2 teaspoons honey
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon
Fresh figs (optional)
Chopped cilantro or parsley

Clean the cavity of the chickens. Wash and dry the chickens, making sure the cavity is clean. Pat them dry inside and out. Sprinkle with salt and pepper and allow the chickens to come to room temperature.

In a mortar crush the coarse salt, saffron, peppercorns, fennel and caraway seeds. Reserve 1/8 teaspoon of the spice mix. Spread the remaining spices on the two chickens. 

Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a skillet. Sauté the diced carrots and onions on moderate heat until the onions are soft, 8 minutes. Stir in the breadcrumbs and remove the skillet from the heat. 

In a bowl, combine half of the olives (reserve the rest), the raisins and/or figs, the prunes, apricots, 2 tablespoons of the pine nuts (reserve the remaining pine nuts) and the almonds. Add the sautéed carrot-onions and the reserved 1/8 teaspoon of mixed spices.  Add the diced apple and mix well.

Stuff the cavities of the chickens with the fruit-nut mixture. Use short skewers to close the cavity openings. Tie the legs together with kitchen twine.

Place 1 tablespoon of oil in the bottom of a lidded earthenware pot large enough to hold the two chickens. Place the chickens in the pot and pour the stock around them. Add the reserved olives, quartered apple and carrots, if using. Put the lid on the pot.

Clay pot for roasting chickens.

Place the pot in a cold oven and set the temperature to 350ºF. When the oven reaches temperature, leave the pot, without opening, for 1 hour.

Remove the pot from the oven and check the chickens for doneness (they should register 155ºF in the thickest part of the thigh). If they are not done, return the pot to the oven. Add additional stock or water if the liquid has cooked away.

When the chickens are done, set the broiler to 450ºF. Remove the lid from the pot or place the chickens in another oven pan so they fit side by side. Dribble a teaspoon of honey over each and sprinkle with cinnamon. Sprinkle the reserved pine nuts on the chickens. Cut figs, if using, in half and place around the chickens. Place the pot under the broiler until the chickens are nicely browned, about 10 minutes.

Allow the chickens to rest 10 minutes before cutting the chickens in halves. Place olives, quartered apple and figs around the chicken on a platter or plates. Garnish with a little chopped cilantro. Skim excess fat from the cooking juices. Pour the juices into a saucepan and reheat. Serve alongside the chickens and their stuffing.






You can order SABORES DE SEFARAD  at https://redjuderias.org/producto/sabores-de-sefarad/


More Sephardic recipes that have appeared on my blog: