Parts used: Spareribs, boneless loin

Apologies, first off, for a dish that has no right to even be contemplated during the last sweaty throes of summer. As a pile of wintry white sauerkraut drains over the sink next to fresh blackberries and fragrant peaches that are so beautifully in season, I can't help but feel a little ungrateful. I promise to remember them fondly as the weather turns cold, but right now, Szekely Gulyas comforts me in a way that no ripe fig or juicy melon ever could and I am in need of comfort.

Out of the high cupboard we pull a colorful old tin of sweet paprika and a tiny bottle of caraway seeds smell like rye bread. We carefully measure out pinches of each into a bowl. Next, onions are cut into tiny pieces, and we lift them to our noses, inhaling the green, earthy fragrance. This, I say to my daughter, is what an onion smells like. She wrinkles her nose and tears well up in my eyes.

A hand is held over the hot pan testing its warmth. Butter drops in sizzling, followed by the chopped onions and a smash of garlic. The warm, musky smell of butter and onions circles around our heads, intensifying as the color fades to translucence.

My knife, razor-sharp, slices through flesh once held close to the heart, reducing it to tiny marbled pieces each uniform in shape and size: one inch by one inch. The jiggling cubes are tossed, too, into the pan, releasing animalistic vapors as they cook. Stir, stir, stir, brown, cover. Then we wait as everything comes together-quite literally done when everything falls apart. The irony isn't lost on me.

Forty minutes later, there is liquid where none was before. Juices released, we add the pungent, acidic pickled cabbage into the pot. You learn to love the bite of the vinegar and the smell of meat, bone, garlic, spice and onions bubbling together. Right now, it is a red, angry mess that hasn't yet figured itself out. We cover the pot and wait again, patiently.

Half an hour later, my fork pokes into the meat and it gives without struggle--resigned. Angry red has given way to a calmer orange and the once individual ingredients have become something cohesive and resolved - but not quite finished.

Our last ingredient is added, cooling the heat of the paprika and tempering the bite of sauerkraut - rich sour cream that turns everything a cheerful yellow. Ladling it onto our waiting plates, we've finally found happiness in our steaming pot.

Next up: Pork Rind Salad

Szekely Gulyas

(This is dead-of-winter comfort food that is rich and soul-satisfying. Make it on a cold, dark night - or when you need to feel better.)

1 pound lean pork, cut into 1� cubes (use a thick boneless loin chop)
1 pound spareribs split into 2 large pieces (you may have to ask your butcher for this cut)
2 pounds sauerkraut (canned or bottled is fine)
2 small onions, chopped into �� pieces
2 Tbsp. butter
1 tsp. sweet Hungarian paprika (imported variety)
1 tsp. caraway seeds
1 clove garlic, smashed
12 oz. sour cream
1 Tbsp. all-purpose flour
Salt, pepper, sugar to taste

In a large pot, saute' onion in butter until transparent. Add paprika, garlic and caraway seeds. Don't let burn. Add cubed pork and spareribs and saute' with onion. Brown lightly, but don't let it burn. Cover the pan and let the meat braise for about 40 minutes at low heat. Stir occasionally.

Drain sauerkraut and rinse. Then add to the meat with one cup of water. Let simmer 30 minutes, stirring occasionally. When the kraut and meat are tender, stir in 8oz. of sour cream that has been mixed with 1 Tbsp. flour. Bring to a gentle boil and let bubble for about 5 minutes to cook the flour. Remove from heat and stir in remaining sour cream. Taste for salt. I like to add a couple pinches of sugar to cut some of the bite of the kraut and a little pepper. Serve with boiled potatoes, dumplings or - my favorite - spatzels.

Comments (2) |print-friendly recipe

tell a friend about this recipe