It’s 1993, folks…I am in Poland for the first time, and there’s lots to get used to, including snow on the ground for the first 6 weeks of our time there…and this strange green stuff they put on the potatoes. What’s that? Ah. Dill.
Dill began for me in Poland. I’d never come across it before then. Sure, I know it’s good with fish – I think I’d learned that, or at least about fennel for fish – but I just didn’t know how good it was. Is.
Dill is an unsung hero in the kitchen, and was (I think) the first thing that went on my ingredients list when I started planning this month’s posts. There’s proof for you.
So. Classic Polish lunch: soup for starters (always soup, all the year round – obviously the soup type can change). Second course: thin, breaded panfried chicken – think Wiener Schnitzel, which may be the inspiration, though I generally only had chicken rather than the classic veal.
What goes with chicken? Potatoes, of course. So you peel your potatoes, you boil then, you add some butter, and then…sprinkle over some dill. And if you’re lucky, you serve it with mizeria – literally, ‘misery’, though it’s anything but. Think tsatsiki, or cacik in Turkey – we’re talking cucumber, yoghurt, and more dill.
You don’t have to have the double whammy dill fest, but boy is it worth it. This is why people talk about dill pickles, because dill and cucumber are a tremendous combination. There’s a freshness, a grassiness, a little sweetness too. Add cucumber, with its crunch and clean taste, and they work so well together.
Talking of pickles, during that first time in Poland, I had only just got into pickles of that kind. I’d been put off by the knobbliness of the little pickling cucumbers. Luckily, someone in my German penfriend’s family pressed the point, that pickles are good – and very soon I was agreeing.
Part of the fun of pickles is all the ‘stuff’ in the jar: mustard seeds, and those fronds of dill. This intro stood me in good stead for Poland where pretty much any and every vegetable can (must!) be pickled. Blame the sandy soil, the colder winters – you want to grow all you can and preserve all you can.
So I grew accustomed to pickled vegetables, even at breakfast time (as part of ‘kanapki’ or little sandwiches, e.g. with cheese or ham), and cucumber pickles, bathed in dill, were part of these.
I clearly picked up the Polish vinegar preference at the same time – we’re currently working through some supermarket own cornichons and they’re Just Too Sweet.
Back to the pickles – although I don’t make proper pickled cucumber, I do a version of it with chopped large cucumbers and similar spices. It can be found in various cookbooks as Bread and Butter Pickles – the recipe I follow comes from Rose Elliott, ever-reliable vegetarian cook.
I have a deal with a friend of mine that I pass on a jar every now and then. And, while we’re on the subject of pickles, do think of adding these to potato salad (as advised by my former German flatmate).
Make the potato salad the day before, and serve with frankfurters (hot or cold, up to you). It’s the dill again, working with the potato – and the potato salad is SOO good the next day. Great Hogmanay dish, even if it’s not a particularly traditional one.
My Italian flatmate taught me how to make pasta al tonno – pasta, tuna and single cream. Wonderous dish, made so many times. Although it’s not in keeping, I’ve taken it in a Polish direction sometimes, with sour cream and a little dill.
The speckles of the dill on the creamy expanse of the sauce are lovely. And yes, it eats well too. You can add some mushrooms too, if you fancy – they rather like dill too. In fact, mushrooms, sour cream, dill – you can eat it on its own really. (I used to, too.)
Fairly recently, on my continued Chicken Quest (ie not just roasts, but different stews and so on), I tried a Nigella recipe for Coq au Riesling. Think chicken, bacon, white wine – and dill. In fact, having bought fresh dill for it, I then forgot it at the last moment.
Dan suggested it was generally good, but, mm, pepper? Pepper duly acquired, I remembered the dill, and in it went. Suddenly all the flavours went up a notch. Other ingredients – good, but the dill made the dish.
Then I dried the rest by hanging it up in the airing cupboard (feeling terribly houseproud and all that), and gained myself a potful of goodness: dried dill, to make another dish.
I’ll stop, I promise. Just go and buy some, and do yourself, and whoever else you cook with/for, a favour.