Lets start with the simple fact that this dish is taken straight from an episode of Jamie Oliver’s ‘At Home’ series. We recorded the episode just because of this dish, and we generally re-watch the section on goulash every time before we make it. Its not so much that we need to see how to do it – the dish basically makes itself – but because it looks so damned delicious. It rivals the voluptuous siren Nigella by way of food-porn. I am genuinely salivating right now just thinking of it.
So why is it worth blogging about someone else’ recipe? What is the big deal?
The cheap cut of pork – shoulder or belly - yields the most delightfully flavoursome savoury-piggy-goodness. The tang of tomatoes and splash of vinegar cut through the fat, and accentuate the sweetness of the sweated onions and peppers. But the fun is only just beginning!
Into the mix we also find the supporting role of other herbs and spices. There is bayleaf in there – that is for the pork – there is oregano in there – that is for the tomato – and there is caraway. This last is a curious spice – we use it only occasionally and so it taints each dish with a unique eccentricity, bringing something not dissimilar to a fennel seed or liquorice note, with a perfumed edge lightening a dish that runs the danger of being too heavy. Sarah, in her most ludicrously Master Chef homage describes the anis-like aromatic element of the caraway as a mid-note, above which are striking sharps of vinegar and lemon, and beneath which is the smokey magma-esque base-note of the paprika. It may be a base-note, but the volume is turned up to eleven, and there is an immense and potent paprika reverb going on.
Without a doubt this is the star of the show, and, to continue the musical analogies, the paprika feedback is perhaps best described with reference to Pete Townsend’s loving relationship with his amplifiers. There is not just a party going on in ones mouth and nose, but a massive stadium rock concert whose pyrotechnics illuminate the grinning visage of a massive inflatable devil hovering above the stage. Yes the analogy does go that far – maybe further, for this dish is devilishly good.
The whole dish is an exhibition platform for the alchemy of the paprika– infact it is the defining element – its not goulash if don’t got paprika.
Whilst it is quite a popular spice, it does not go with everything. I once made a grated carrot apple and beetroot ‘power-salad’ (recipe will have to wait for another time) and decided that a dash of paprika might just transform the salad into something alluring and exotic. Certainly it transformed the salad, but into something unbearably inedible, which I took to work and forced myself to eat – like rubbing a dog’s nose in its own deposits of naughtiness. I learned something important of spices that afternoon. Paprika needs to be cooked… and my-oh-my when it is, and particularly slow cooked over hours it becomes this unique flavour not dissimilar to chilli, but without the brazen ferocity – there is heat, but for every iota of fire there is more and more flavour.
This is the dish – and I start eating it before it leaves the pan, and, yes, I burn my mouth every single time. Eventually when I pause for breath – or sarah enters the kitchen – the dish is served with a passing gesture of nutty rice.
Finally, and to literally top it off, a massive dollop of crème fraiche laced with finely chopped parsley (or coriander as I mistakenly bought), lemon zest and juice. (I say a massive dollop because you know in advance that you are going to over eat with this dish – perhaps put on some jogging bottoms in preparation.)
This accompanying creme cuts through the heat of the paprika, cooling the fires, but not extinguishing them, and soothing the various burns that line my mouth. But wait, there’s more, this zesty balm cuts through the fattiness of the pork whilst also lightening the whole dish, and as the photograph hopefully demonstrates, it offers the intense reds and oranges of the dish a snow white canvas on which to delicately curdle in the most salivatory satisfying way. And let us not overlook the delight of a good-looking dish – if it makes you salivate your mouth becomes alive with the pre-digestive enzymes that are going to intensify all of the flavours.
I hate to say it, but thanks Jamie, this one is a show-stopper.
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