Paprika Butter

Paprika! The only spice you'll ever need...

The condiment we used most during the State Dinner at the Dolmabahçe was a Paprika-Butter mixture. It's simple to make, flavorful, and adds that certain je ne sais quoi to the service of many dishes. Although we only served it on our soup and our main dish, it would be equally delicious on the pilaf or the börek appetizers. Perhaps the only place it doesn't belong is on the baklava... unless you like a slightly spicy dessert.

The recipe for Paprika Butter is delightfully simple. Begin by clarifying one pound of butter...

Latkes and Applesauce

Latke, Bourek, Applesauce (on plate.)

As mentioned before, Hanukkah is a holiday about Oil, and so one of the most well-known and traditional of Hanukkah dishes is the latke, also known as the potato pancake. There's many different styles of latke, but in general, they all contain potatoes, onions, matzo meal, and are all shallow-fried in oil of some variety, usually a neutral- or lightly-flavored oil like rapeseed, vegetable, or corn oil. Developing after the age of exploration, our modern potato latkes are a very Germanic/Eastern European—and therefore Ashkenazic—Jewish concept.

Modern Sufganiyot

In the Israeli Jewish tradition, doughnuts called sufganiyot—very similar to paczki—are served. Elsewhere, deep- or shallow-fried cheese is served. (Thus, breaded and fried mozzarella sticks could be considered hanukkah food, if you wished...) The common denominator is frying in oil, of course, and it's quite possible that prior to the introduction of the potato, other starchy vegetables, or indeed other non-starchy vegetables, could have been used in the same fashion, to create similar items. Perhaps this merits some exploration and experimentation when there's more time at hand.

In my family, latkes usually get served with sour cream and applesauce on the side, which encompass the two ways that potato pancakes seem to be served wherever they appear—that is to say, sweet and savory.

My friend Red, who hosted the Hanukkah dinner, made our latkes, and will be shortly putting up a post over at Miss Kagashi's blog, and that is at this very location.

Chicken Schnitzel with Zigeuner Sauce

Radetzky, maybe responsible for Schnitzel.

Perhaps, as a young English-speaking child, you snickered at the name "Wiener Schnitzel." I probably did too, but now I've come to appreciate this dish. What is Schnitzel? The story goes that Schnitzel, as a concept, was introduced to Austria sometime between 1500 and 1900 by someone. (Awful vague, right? It's hard to answer questions like this, honestly.) Most likely, it came from Italy, where you find veal and chicken scaloppini served on a regular basis—these are cutlets of the meat, pounded thin to cook quickly. Schnitzel bears a strong resemblance to the preparation for the classic Chicken (or Veal) Parmesan dish, where a piece of meat is breaded and cooked under marinara, mozzarella, and Parmesan cheese. I like (mostly because I love the music named after him) the theory that credits Marshal Radetzky with bringing the dish to Vienna in 1857 or so, upon his return from fighting in Italy. Other theories include Italian or German soldiers bringing it over to Austria during the 17th century. Regardless, it's become a classic dish in Austria and the world over, to the point that Austria protects the identity of Wiener Schnitzel by legislation. Now that's dedication.

Veal has typically been a somewhat expensive meat, and one with equal amounts of cachet and controversy. I won't touch on that here, because that's not my purview; the point is, however, that nowadays it's common to find schnitzel made from pork and chicken alongside the traditional veal. For many Jews in Europe during the Victorian era, veal was an unattainable luxury, something eaten very rarely, and so chicken schnitzel became a popular replacement. My grandmother, a Viennese woman, made chicken schnitzel often when I was a child.

Schnitzel is a dish that begs for a sauce. Traditionally, it is served with nothing more than a wedge of lemon (and this is how my mother eats it to this day,) but I crave more moisture and flavor on my plate. For this presentation, I will use a German sauce called Zigeunersauce, which is a sauce made with bell peppers, mushrooms, paprika, and tomatoes. (Thanks to a commenter for prompting me to add this:) Zigeuner is a German word referring to the Romani. I'm not certain if this sauce originated with the Romani people, if it is merely named after them for its colorful look, or if it is so called as a nod to its Eastern European origins (where the Romani clearly came from, or settled, or belonged—depending on who you asked in the Victorian era.) I'm going to make my version of Zigeunersauce a little more refined than the traditional version, with smaller cut items, but otherwise will stick to the recipes that I've found.

The finished plate—braised red cabbage, Chicken Schnitzel, and Zigeunersauce

(Please, to any of my German readers, if you have a different recipe than me, feel free to post it in the comments. Hopefully what I've found approximates what you know. I wish I'd been able to get the recipes from my grandmother when she was still alive.)