Rosie's Paprikas Chicken

"If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world." ~The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

It seems fitting to begin my blog with a post about food, particularly food associated with my childhood. Today, after planting four fruit trees, weeding a flower bed, and staining a patio table and chairs, I prepared Paprikas Chicken for my family. The boys were ecstatic, and it reminded me of the joy I felt as a kid when I knew we were going to visit Great-Grandma Rosie in Dowell, Illinois. That joy was not only about the fact that I was lucky enough to spend time with Rosie, but it was also about the sense memories from her kitchen that would come flooding into my very being. I can still smell that kitchen, see the linoleum on the floor, hear her voice as she asked, "Do you want more noodle soup?"  My passion for cooking comes from many places, but the kitchen of Great-Grandma Rosie is one I always find myself going back to again and again.

Great-Grandma Rosie was Hungarian, as was Great-Grandpa John. John was a mine worker in the Kathleen Mine in Dowell, Illinois. I didn't have the pleasure of knowing him. Rosie raised three boys, one of which was my Grandpa Mike. Rosie had one of the biggest gardens I've ever seen, and she shared it with her identical twin sister, Minnie. Minnie lived across the street in an identical house to Rosie's. Yes, they built identical houses, filled with identical furniture, and they never spent a day away from each other as far as I know. They canned the bounty from the garden, raised chickens for eggs and meat, and sent the great-grandkids along the railroad tracks with butter dishes to gather wild blackberries when fruit was needed. 

Rosie cooked all of her meals on a kerosene stove. She did in fact have a "contemporary" stove, but she insisted that the food did not taste the same when cooked on the "new-fangled" stove.  She only used the new stove for reheating left-overs and making coffee with a percolator.

Rosie's stove looked very similar to this stove.

When I arrived at Rosie's house for a visit, I knew I would more than likely eat the same meals each day.  I didn't care! I really only ate the Hungarian foods she prepared when I was there, and I wanted to get as much as I could. Now, I know for a fact that Rosie was quite capable of preparing other meals, but she knew if any of us came for a visit, all we would want would be her Hungarian staples: homemade chicken noodle soup, paprikas chicken, cabbage rolls, and a Hungarian pastry my entire family thinks is Langos, but when I research the internet for a recipe (unfortunately, this is something I never learned to make from Rosie nor my Grandma Ige), langos is a Hungarian potato pancake. I think what we were in fact eating was a type of Hungarian kalachki, usually filled with cheese and apricots or prunes.

When I woke up at Rosie's, breakfast would be danish with copious amounts of coffee. Yes, all of the great-grandkids were coffee drinkers by age nine! Rosie was a coffee with cream drinker, as was I, and I remember that little red-labeled can of PET evaporated milk on the table for the sole purpose of making the coffee "blonde." By the time breakfast was served, Rosie already had egg noodle dough hung to dry on a clothesline near the kerosene stove; a chicken killed; and homemade chicken broth simmering on the stove. 

For lunch it was always bowl after bowl of chicken noodle soup.  Rosie's noodles were hand cut and some of the skinniest noodles I've ever had.  I can still see the very large, very sharp knife she used to cut the noodles. Rosie never cooked the noodles in the broth. She would boil them separately, place a bowl in front of you, put a helping of noodles in the bowl, and then pour chicken broth over the noodles.  I would put my face over the bowl, close my eyes, and savor the steam and the smell emanating from my bowl. The soup was not laden with vegetables or meat. It was sparse...just noodles and broth...but the taste! The taste was heavenly. The broth was filled with layers of flavors, from chicken and carrot, to paprika and kohlrabi. It was not unusual to scarf down three or four bowls of soup for lunch with a baby bottle of Coca-Cola as a treat. 

Rosie's dinner was always the same when I would visit: Paprikas chicken, boiled new potatoes with the jackets on, and cabbage rolls.  Again, the chicken was fresh, as were all of the other ingredients. I can't smell cabbage cooking nor paprika without instantly being transported back to Rosie's kitchen. A kitchen that seemed to remain in the 1940s. After dinner, I would have a kalachki or a dish of vanilla ice cream covered in wild blackberries picked earlier in the day. Often, my fingers were still stained a deep purple from the day's picking. My Mom has informed me that Rosie used to say, "I can't believe those kids get so excited about all that old Hungarian food." For her, they were staples. Food from and for people who made do with very little. For me, my family, they were pieces of a world that seemed magical, simple, and filled with love. And it has come full circle for my kids. They will never meet Great-Grandma Rosie, but every time I make paprikas chicken or cabbage rolls or homemade noodles, I give them a piece of her...a piece of our heritage. And for that, I'm truly thankful.

Paprikas chicken is easy to prepare, although it is definitely messy. My Grandma Ige, who passed the recipe from Great-Grandma Rosie to me, used to tell me that Rosie said if the stove wasn't messy after making paprikas, then you didn't do it right.

You will need a whole chicken, cut-up, half a stick of butter, two tablespoons thinly sliced onion, two cloves of minced garlic, Hungarian paprika, salt, pepper, and a large can of tomato juice.

To begin, place the chicken in a single layer on a tray and coat one side with paprika.  It's very important to use Hungarian paprika in order to get as close a flavor to Rosie's. You can't use too much paprika when coating the chicken.

In a heavy bottomed frying pan--I use Le Creuset enameled cast iron--melt the butter over medium-high heat. When the butter is frothy and hot, place the chicken in the pan paprika-side down. While the chicken is browning, coat the other side of the chicken with paprika, sprinkle with the garlic and onion.

Continue browning the first side. Once the first side is quite brown, turn the chicken and brown the second side. The heat should remain on medium-high. If the pan is splattering a bit, then the heat is just right.

As soon as the second side of the chicken is browned, salt and pepper the chicken to taste. Now, pour the tomato juice over the chicken. The juice should almost cover the thickest pieces. Usually, the tops of the chicken breasts will be showing above the juice. Keep the heat on medium-high. The pan should be bubbling throughout the rest of the cooking.

Continue to cook the chicken, occasionally turning the pieces.  The sauce needs to reduce, turn from a bright red to a brownish-red and thicken quite a bit. 

Once the sauce is thick, remove the chicken to a casserole or serving platter and cover with the sauce.  Serve with boiled potatoes or noodles. 

The chicken can be placed in the oven at 250 degrees to keep warm until you are ready to serve.

Recipe Card

Rosie's Paprikas Chicken

Ingredients 
Whole chicken, cut into 8 pieces
Half stick of butter
2 tablespoons thinly sliced onion
2 cloves garlic, minced
Hungarian sweet paprika
Salt and Pepper
Large bottle of tomato juice

Directions
1. Place the chicken in a single layer on a tray and coat one side with paprika. You can't use too much paprika when coating the chicken. You want the chicken to look "dark" with paprika.
2.  In a heavy-bottomed frying pan, melt the butter over medium-high heat. When the butter is frothy and hot, place the chicken in the pan paprika-side down. While the chicken is browning, coat the other side of the chicken with paprika, sprinkle with the garlic and onion.
3.  Continue browning the first side. Once the first side is quite brown, turn the chicken and brown the second side. The heat should remain on medium-high. If the pan is splattering a bit, then the heat is just right.
4.  As soon as the second side of the chicken is browned, salt and pepper the chicken to taste. Now, pour the tomato juice over the chicken. The juice should almost cover the thickest pieces. Keep the heat on medium-high. The pan should be bubbling throughout the rest of the cooking.
5.  Continue to cook the chicken, occasionally turning the pieces. The sauce needs to reduce, turn from bright red to a brownish-red and thicken quite a bit.
6.  Once the sauce is thick, remove the chicken to a casserole or serving platter and cover with the sauce. Serve with boiled potatoes or noodles.