Stew

Thanks to a wonderful blend of spices and dried fruit, ordinary chicken gets a Moroccan makeover in this meal-in-one dish. Don’t be put off by the long list of ingredients—this dish is simple to put together.

Richly colored with paprika, this traditional Hungarian entrée is full bodied and satisfying. It goes well with Balsamic-Marinated Vegetables (page 78).

Serve this spicy lamb over whole-wheat couscous with small bowls of raisins and sliced green onions to sprinkle on top.

Unlike many other stews, this one is quick enough for a weeknight. By the time instant brown rice finishes cooking, the stew is just about ready, too.

Cassoulet is a stew typically made with beans and several kinds of meat, including sausage. In this version, however, extra vegetables stand in for the meat. The thick, herb-infused broth adds flavor, and fresh, crisp bread crumbs provide a little crunch in every bite.

A blend of lentils, brown rice, winter squash, and aromatic vegetables, this dish is easy to prepare on the stovetop or in a slow cooker.

When it’s time to put logs in the fireplace, it’s also time to fire up a big pot of this chili, flavored with lots of cumin and brightened with lemon juice.

Bruce Aidells is a big fan of wood-fired cooking. Because a wood-burning oven has the ability to hold heat for long periods, it’s ideal for long, slow cooking overnight. Chili has become such a popular American classic that there are chili cookoffs and festivals held all over the country. Chili con carne has its origins in the slow-cooked stews from Mexico. One such stew, chili colorado, was no doubt made in clay pots and cooked overnight in the village baker’s oven. In this recipe the ingredients are just combined and cooked slowly over a long period of time.

This is a braised version of a traditional Turkish kebab dish. It’s adapted from one of my favorite cookbooks, Classical Turkish Cooking: Traditional Turkish Food for the American Kitchen by Ayla Algar. The meat is marinated in yogurt and lemon juice overnight to ensure tenderness. A separate yogurt sauce is used to braise the lamb. The result is very tender meat in a rich, flavorful sauce. Cooking in a wood-fired oven adds a slight smokiness and depth to the onions and tomatoes. Serve this with couscous or rice pilaf.

Cassoulet is a traditional French dish of white beans and various meats, cooked slowly for the flavors to blend. This fragrant vegetarian version uses Indian spices and lentils rather than white beans. It’s wonderful as a main course or as a side dish with roasted chicken or fish.

I love the Southwest of the United States and the foods of that region. This recipe features three ingredients borrowed from its Native American culture: corn, beans, and peppers. Here, the stew is made with vegetable stock, but you can also use chicken stock. Wood-roasted pork shoulder or chicken can be shredded and added to the dish for an even heartier meal. The heirloom beans come from my friend Steve Sando’s company, Rancho Gordo. You can substitute other dried beans, but the flavor will be best if you use Rancho Gordo beans (see Resources). The stew can be made a day ahead and reheated just before serving. Any leftovers are terrific as a filling for tamales or enchiladas.

The traditional seafood stew of Provence is typically made with tomatoes, shellfish, local fish, and herbs, but this version is made without tomatoes, allowing the fish and saffron to be prominent. Cooking it over a wood fire adds a bit of smoke to the beautiful fish. Serve with a crusty baguette to soak up the flavorful broth.

My mother often cooked this dish when my family camped out. If you have leftover cooked chicken, use that instead of the smoked chicken, though the smoky taste is great in this dish.

(Note that this is always called a stew but it is actually a braise, because the meat is browned.)

This stovetop stew is a loose interpretation of the three-day beachside fest known as the New England clambake, that picture-perfect steaming seaweed pit immortalized each August by every shiny food magazine. How do all those beautiful people stay so crisp and clean after digging a sand pit and hauling rocks? One summer, on the beach in Charlestown, Rhode Island, we were actually asked by the crew of a popular food television program to stay out of camera range until they finished a shoot. Our cluttered site didn’t convey casual flawlessness. Rhode Island Clambake in a Bowl is not only less work, it’s a much cheaper cheater because we’re skipping the lobster. Instead of a plate of steamed seafood with a little piece of corn on the cob, a sausage link, and a stray potato, this stew is meant to be served in bowls, with bread for sopping up the clam broth.

Min’s uncle Mike and aunt Mary of Belen, New Mexico, spend their free time on the banks of the Rio Grande in the little resort town of Truth or Consequences. The town’s name change from Hot Springs occurred back in 1950 when Ralph Edwards, host of the popular radio show, announced that, to celebrate the show’s tenth anniversary, Truth or Consequences would broadcast from the first town to rename itself after the show. Forward-thinking civic leaders jumped at the opportunity for free publicity and to instantly differentiate their town from the hundreds of other Hot Springs across the country. The name change vote passed and Ralph Edwards became a town hero. Now, everybody just calls it T or C for short. After a day relaxing with high-speed toys on the nearby Elephant Butte Reservoir, Mike and Mary regularly welcome a brood of sunburnt kids and friends with a patio barbecue. Elaborate cooking is the last thing on anyone’s mind. This throw-it-all-in-the-slow-cooker chili pork barbecue (or try it with beef chuck roast) lets Mary have as much fun as the rest of the gang. Serve the meat with warm tortillas, guacamole, shredded lettuce, onions, and plenty of Pecos Pintos (page 147).

The swineherd, like the shepherd, conducts his life significantly all’ aria aperta—out-of-doors. It is there that he naps and forages, tends to his fires, capriciously bathing himself and one part or another of his clothing in an often swift and single maneuver. He might also cook up some wonderfully scented stew of wild mushrooms or one of dried beans and just-gathered grasses and herbs, as supplement to his staples of cheese, honey, bread, and wine. More than once, though, we took note of purposeful midday couriers visiting a swineherd in the pasture, carrying a basket full of components for him to cook a fine feast of a lunch midst his charges and under the sun. We learned, too, that, once in a while, the swineherd cooks for his family, his friends. Here follows a version of a dish as it is prepared by a young Sard herdsman when he slaughters a pig for market. Staging a torchlit supper in his meadow, he braises a haunch of the animal for his neighbors. Its formula was told to us by his wife, she having cooked it for us on the farm where we stayed near Sassari.

A dish old as the ages, one that pungently depicts the Sards’ seminal appetite for the long bathing of fish or game in some puckerish sauce is burrida. Traditionally prepared with gattucci di mare—sea catfish—the sauce is enriched with the pounded raw livers of the fish. Here follows a version using orata—red snapper—or coda di rospo—monkfish—though river catfish can also be called upon with fine result. Present the burrida as an antipasto or a main course to savvy, unshy palates.