Tropic of Cancer-inspired Russian Mushroom Broth

In Tropic of Cancer we are told that Henry was treated to a bowl of mushroom soup by the Russian émigrés. But I would argue that it was most likely a mushroom broth, probably made with dried ceps.

Russians do not really do pureed soups or veloutés. It’s all about the clear broth with lovely chunky bits in it. I guess it's because Slavic (especially Russian cuisine) has Eastern influences.

Clear broths and dumplings would have all travelled from China to Russia, and probably Italy too with Marco Polo...Anyway, another imperative is it must be served with lots of fresh dill and parsley on top…(never mind the piece of thyme on the lovely pic I've stolen off someone's Flikr page).

And do not forget about fresh crusty bread or lightly toasted rye bread croutons on top. (My mouth is watering). Check out my mum’s recipe and pretend you are in Paris (unless you actually are in Paris) in the 1930s, it’s winter, you are starving, and then some crazy Russian treats you to this in exchange for a couple of English lessons or you know…read Tropic of Cancer or my previous post.

Dried Mushrooms (Ceps or Mixed Forest) - 50 gr
Potato - 1
Carrot - 1
Onion - 2
Orzo (rice shaped pasta) - 30 gr
Bay leaf - 2
Butter - 10 gr
Water - 1 litre
Salt, pepper Fresh dill and parsley

If you've dried the mushrooms yourselves, soak them in cold water for 10 mins and drain the liquid in case there are little insects or grit in there. If they are bought, I usually do not bother with this step.

Simply cover your mushrooms with a litre of cold water and bring to a simmer. Add your bay leaves. After 15 minutes, peel one of the onions and add it (whole) into the broth. Then, cut your potato into small cubes and add it to the broth. Season well with salt and pepper.

Meanwhile, finely chop your 2nd onion and grate the carrot. Heat the butter in a frying pan, add the onion and sweat gently for 2 minutes, allowing to colour slightly. Then add the grated carrot and sweat for another 2 minutes. Then add all this (called zazharka in Russian) to the broth. Finally, add orzo and cook until it's ready.

Serve it with plenty of dill and parsley on top, and rye bread croutons or a big slice of lovely sourdough.

Enjoy! P.S. If you have fresh mushrooms, add those to the broth along with the potatoes. You can also add a bit of crunchy bacon (just dry in the oven and cut into small cubes) and/or celery, and sour cream (smetana). I usually don't, as I just love the aroma and taste of the dried mushroom broth, especially if it's made with the darker ceps, Tête de nègre (Boletus Aereus).

The broth gets almost black and has the richest, earthiest smell, almost like truffles...Sometimes, if I feel I need a "pick-me-up", I add a few flakes of pepperoncino at the very end. Delicious.

A Man Cut in Slices: food and personal decay in Henry Miller's "Tropic of Cancer"

"For the lessons he says he will give me a meal every day, a big Russian meal, or if for any reason the meal is lacking then five francs. It sounds wonderful to me - wonderful" (Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer, Panther, 1971, p.77).

English lessons is the least "Endree" would do for a meal. In fact the whole novel, full of descriptions of raunchy (verging on repulsive) sex scenes adorned by the subtlest of poetics and humour, is also a tale of perpetual hunger. Food becomes the means of temporary physical and spiritual regeneration through (inevitably) further personal degradation.

There are meals to pursue and Henry is willing to do whatever and whoever, provided a feast (in the best case scenario) will follow. The Russian meals in particular must have been especially memorable. The protagonist is even willing to please a deranged Russian baroness to get some more...He comes across a lot of women throughout this novel, but this one is a special case.

Full of snippets of gastronomic descriptions, one paragraph is particularly mouth-watering. The protagonist sees a book in a bookstore window called A Man Cut in Slices! and really likes the title, annoyed he did not think of it himself:

"I wish to Christ I had had brains enough to think of a title like that - instead of Crazy Cock and the other fool things I invented. Well, fuck a duck! I congratulate him just the same. I wish him luck with this fine title. Here's another slice for you - for your next book! Ring me up some day. I'm living at the Villa Borghese. We're all dead, or dying, or about to die. We need good titles. We need meat- slices and slices of meat - juicy tenderloins, porterhouse steaks, kidneys, mountain oysters, sweetbreads. Some day, when I'm standing at the corner of 42nd Street and Broadway, I'm going to remember this title and I'm going to put down everything that goes on in my noodle - caviar, rain drops, axle grease, vermicelli, liverwurst - slices and slices of it. And I'll tell you why, after I had put everything down, I suddenly went home and chopped the baby to pieces. Un acte gratuit pour vous, cher monsieur si bien coupe em tranches! How a man can wander about all day on an empty belly and even get an erection once in awhile, is one of those mysteries which are too easily explained be 'anatomists of the soul'" (p.47).

Drink, sex and food. What more could possibly be better suited to the framework of 30s decadent Paris. The sheets are stained with Calvados, meals of 'grease cakes' made with stale milk and rancid butter are varied with feasts kindly offered by Russian aristocrat emigrés:

"There are eight of us at the table - and three dogs. The dogs eat first. They eat oatmeal. Then we commence. We eat oatmeal too - as an hors d’œuvre. "Chez nou," says Serge, with a twinkle in his eye, "c'est pour les chiens, les Quaker Oats. Ici pour le gentlman. Ca va." After the oatmeal, mushroom soup and vegetables; after that bacon omelet, fruit, red wine, vodka, coffee, cigarettes. Not bad the Russian meal. Everyone talks with his mouth full" (p.77).

[Oatmeal is for dogs in Russia, here it is for the gentlemen, observes one of the Russians. It might well have been the case prior to 1918; in the Soviet Union however, oatmeal became one of the most popular foods. There was just one major brand (quelle surprise) called Hercules with a muscular horse pictured on the box. It was so ubiquitous that even now, 17 years since the break up, people make fun of my newly acquired surname in Ukraine. Yes, oatmeal outdid the demigod in popularity. "So what's your surname?", "Hercules", "Like the oatmeal?" mmmm maybe the next generation will forget the burly horse and rediscover ancient mythology.]

Anyway, back to Tropic of Cancer. Although the descriptions of delicacies and exquisite wines are varied with graphic portrayal of female genitals and tapeworms, do not let it discourage you. Miller's style is so beautiful, that whether he gives a verbal vignette of delicious mushroom soup or describes a disease ridden prostitute, you will come back for more. Literary genius is rarely fed and bred with the help of caviar and chocolate éclairs, there are slices of rancid "grease cake" one must experience to come up with a magnum opus of this kind.

Monolithic Era Sorrel Salsa Verde (a la Grass)

Inspired by The Flounder (see post on Gunter Grass), here is my take on his ancient recipe.

This only works if you are actually somewhere outside in the woods. I went back to Ukraine for a few days and the weather was so lovely, we all went to the nearby pine woods and had a little barbecue.

We used a huge plaice, which we grilled in foil over fire. My family refused to use honey instead of mead, which is fair enough. But I did insist on making the sorrel paste. Shchavel, which everybody grows in abundance in Ukraine, is one of the most common herbs, in fact my mum grows it on her allotment.

Mind you, the etymology of the English word sorrel, comes from the French surelle, from suri - sour. I just love the taste. I am accustomed to it since my early childhood, as we used bunches of the stuff in green borsch.

So here is the recipe. Obviously I did not have a blender in the pine woods, so I just pounded and chopped it very finely, which is probably better as you wouldn't want to have a salsa verde that is too gloopy. I put olive oil in my recipe, but I used unrefined sunflower oil as it felt more appropriate. South of Ukraine is covered in beautiful sunflower fields...

So you will need:

1. A big bunch of sorrel
2. Olive oil
3. Garlic
4. Parsley
5. Lemon zest and juice (a little bit)
6. Basil Leaves
7. Mint Leaves
8. Dill
9. Plenty of Maldon salt and pepper

Blitz, pound or chop everything together and pour over your plaice. The smokiness of the grilled fish over fire and the freshness of the herby green condiment was fantastic. Drink with mead for a full on Stone Age effect. We had some lovely honey and chilli pepper gorilka (Ukrainian vodka), which worked a treat.

Gunter Grass and The Flounder: a voyage into mythical culinary history

“I write about superabundance. About fasting and my gluttons invented it. About crusts from the tables of the rich and their food value. About fat and excrement and salt and penury. In the midst of a mount of millet I will relate instructively How the spirit became bitter as gall An the belly went insane”

Gunter Grass, The Flounder, (Penguin, 1978, p.8)

In this intelligent and hilarious novel, the legendary German writer, Gunter Grass takes us on a bizarre culinary journey across centuries. While his wife is pregnant, the protagonist tells her 9 stories of 9 cooks that he claims "live inside him". He takes us from the Stone Age to the 20th century, guided by the Flounder, a mythical fish whose magic powers and knowledge have been responsible for male predominance. We are told various legends of creation, of sex and food. Grass indulges us with recipes from matriarchal tribes of the Stone Age through to European cuisine of the 1970s.
The narrator, that switches from protagonist to mysterious Flounder, observes: "...the whole flatfish family is tasty. The Neolithic Awa roasted his fellows in moist leaves. Toward the end of the Bronze age, Wigga rubbed them on both sides with white ashes and laid the white underside in ahses strewn over a bed of coals. After turning, she moistened the flatfish either in the Neolithic manner, from her always overflowing breasts, or modern-style, with a dash of fermented mare’s milk. Mestwina, who already cooked in flameproof pots placed on an iron grating, simmered flounder with sorrel or in mead. Just before serving, she sprinkled the white-eyed fish with wild dill.”(p.31)

Apart from the unusual breast milk option, these ancient recipes sound plausible and delicious. Mead, dill and milk are perfectly acceptable ingredients, and delicious zesty sorrel is back on the farmers' markets.

From meals by Awa, a mythical three breasted goddess , we are taken to the present day when “…the sole, the brill, the plaice, will be simmered in white wine, seasoned with capers, framed in jelly, deliciously offset by sauses, and served on Dresden china". The fish "will be braised, glazed, poached, broiled, filleted, ennobled with truffles, flamed in cognac, and named after marshals, dukes, the prince of Wales, and the Hotel Bristol.”(p.31)

These are only two tiny extracts of one of the best literary treatises on food. Even Grass' Medieval recipes sound absolutely scrumptious, bar the breast milk of course. In fact, a real foodie will surely be tempted to check the credibility and authenticity of the given recipes by testing them. Some would even be tempted to look for books on culinary history.

I will be grilling some sole with Monolithic sorrel salsa verde and a dash of honey instead of mead next week. Meanwhile make sure you get your hands on Gunter Grass' The Flounder, a fascinating literary ode to food.

Brazilian "Lovers' Salad" (Valentine's Day Suggestion)

This is a suggestion for the coming Valentine's Day. Personally, I don't particularly like Valentine's...However, it's always nice to have a lovely dinner. For those of you who are doing the same thing, why not try this number from Brazil. It is incredibly simple, so good ingredients play a big role. It is one of the best and most refreshing salads I've ever tried. It's freshness is best appreciated when accompanied by spicy Caribbean jerked chicken or ribs and a bottle of nice zesty Riesling or light beer. Here goes...

Brazilian "Lovers' Salad".
(two portions)

• Yellow pepper (cut into thin strips) - 1
• Fresh vine tomatoes (peeled and finely chopped) - 2
• Mixed Basmati and wild rice (cooked and chilled) - 150gr
• Shallots (finely chopped and kept in ice) - 3
• Garlic (finely chopped) - 1
• Romaine lettuce - 6 leaves
• Olive oil - 2tbs
• Fresh lime juice - 2tbs
• Balsamic vinegar - 2tbs
• Salt
• Pepper (freshly ground)
• Basil (dry)

Dressing:

1. Beat the oil with the lime juice, balsamic vinegar, garlic, salt, pepper and a little dried basil.
2. If you have time, leave to marinate for a couple of hours.

Salad:

1. Mix the cold rice with peppers, tomatoes and shallots in a bowl.
2. Arrange the Romaine lettuce leaves (3 per portion) into a boat. Put the rice inside and pour the dressing over.
3. Enjoy your romantic dinner! (hopefully not on Valentine's Day only)