Nuestra comida: Reflexiones acerca del seco de cordero

The story of our Seco de Cordero

One of Andinaʼs most popular dishes is the Seco de Cordero a la Norteña, a criollo dish (see Nina Lary’s article below) of braised lamb, white beans and rice, with origins in the north of Peru. The Northern cities of Cajamarca (my native town in the Andes) and Trujillo (the coastal city where I attended university) both claim to have the best seco. Both cities are close to my heart, and in fairness to each, I can say that Cajamarca has the best lamb seco and Trujillo has the best goat seco. Of course, of all seco recipes, I feel my grandmotherʼs is for sure the best.

Before describing the qualities that comprise a good seco, there is an important anecdote that explains how this dish—like the story of the ugly duckling—became one of the most well-liked dishes on our menu:

Six years ago, Andina first opened with our talented and gifted Peruvian chef, Emanuel Piqueras. He impressed all at Andina as well as the Portland community with a sophisticated menu that embellished traditional Peruvian dishes and created new dishes altogether, using native and often ancient Peruvian ingredients. Among these dishes some of the most eye-catching and savory were the arroz con calamares en su propia tinta (rice with calamari in its own ink), the beautiful causa morada (a causa of purple potato) and cebiche de mango verde. The distinct flavors and artistic presentations were and still are a delight to the eye and to the mouth of our guests, and pay homage to Emanuelʼs great artistic talent. Some months after opening, I approached Emanuel with the idea to complement our Novo-Peruvian menu with very traditional regional dishes, the most important to me being seco de cordero.

“Dishes like the seco truly represent what our people eat, and what the home-cooks (i.e., mothers) love to prepare,” I said.

After pausing for thought, he earnestly replied, “I am afraid that dishes like our seco will fare poorly on the menu weʼve created. Our most traditional dishes unfortunately lack beauty and sophistication.”

“I know that,” I said, “but they have plenty of flavor, which not only draws attention away from a lack of beauty, but surprises and fulfills as well.”

“We will try it,” he said, still with some reservation. “We will put it in our menu and see if people respond.”

To tell you the truth, during the first months, there were few orders of the seco de cordero. I began to think it must be true, that “our guests prefer sophistication.” Gradually, though, we observed that while few guests ordered the seco, those who did would order it every time they came to Andina. Little by little, others were caught by the same enthusiasm of the first brave guests, and started to order seco just as religiously. Today, it is “vox populi” that our Seco a la Norteña is a rustic, extremely flavorful dish that countless numbers of our guests, Peruvian or not, love to eat. It is now one of the highest-selling dishes at Andina.

Its popularity is not from its beauty, but instead is a direct result of the care and patience the preparation of the dish requires. At home, the cook (always the matron of the home) dedicates great time and attention in preparing seco for special family gatherings, birthdays, anniversaries, and days of festivity. At Andina, our seco requires literally a team of cooks who patiently take the lamb through its many stages throughout the day, faithfully following the recipe I inherited from my mother and grandmother.

The recipe requires a very tender and flavorful lamb, a good guiso de frijoles (white bean stew), and well-cooked Peruvian rice. To tenderize the lamb, we marinate it overnight in a special sauce of peppers, garlic, onions and vinegar. I remember how my mother would massage each piece of lamb in the sauce before soaking all of them in the marinade. Early the following morning, she would slow-cook the marinated lamb in a second sauce of onions, garlic, peppers and a blend of cilantro and dark beer. The lamb would cook for hours, filling the kitchen with a delicious smell that also signaled when it was ready.

Meanwhile, during the hours of its slow cooking, my mother would take advantage of the time: once she had put the lid on the pot of lamb, she completed her other duties without worries: taking her children to school, going to the market, returning home, sweeping and dusting the rooms until… the smell emerging from the pot indicated that the seco was ready. Our guiso de frijoles, also a criollo dish, is very simple, by contrast. We first soak the beans in cold water, then cook them slowly to avoid overcooking. We prepare a sauce with fresh flavorful olive oil, garlic, onions and herbs. Mixed with the cooked beans, the stew is brought to a boil again in order to maintain the flavor.

Our Peruvian rice also requires fresh olive oil, garlic, and salt, and the exact ratio of rice to water to obtain the best flavor. The rice must be cooked slowly over a low heat.

It is care, patience and love that makes our seco de cordero tasty and well-appreciated. These are conditions that are a necessity for the best Peruvian food. Just as my mother did at home, at Andina we serve our seco with salsa criolla, a combination of chilled onions, peppers, lemon juice and salt. Come to Andina and order our Seco a la Norteña. It will speak deliciously to your mouth and to your heart.

See you there.

Mama Doris.

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Zinfandel and Petite Sirah

Investigating the details and process of winemaking

KEN COLLURA, WINE DIRECTOR

One of the first things I look for in any wine is typicity. Does the wine look, smell and taste like the place it comes from? In other words, a pinot noir from Burgundy shouldn’t be black in color and carry over 15 percent alcohol, nor should syrah from Paso Robles be pale and light, and ready to pair up with cucumber sandwiches. When I think of California reds, I want some boldness in the bottle. Nothing fills the bill for me more than Zinfandel and Petite Sirah, our country’s unique varietals.

Some of our most compelling wines are made from these grapes, especially when labeled “old vines.” As a grapevine ages, it starts to produce fruit that tastes more serious, if less precocious. These vines yield fewer bunches, but what’s left tends toward the serious. Wines made from old vines (usually 40 years of age or more, sometimes over 100) are concentrated, yet elegant. It’s kind of difficult to describe. There seems to be an added element of intensity.

ZINFANDEL
Napa Zins look and taste quite different from their Sonoma counterparts, more often than not taking on a “cab”-like nose and texture. Those from Sonoma and other prominent regions such as Paso Robles, Mendocino and Amador seem more full-blown and richer, and can be packed with a distinct alcoholic punch. I like to pair rich Zins with grilled pork dishes, and I also find they work surprisingly well with breaded German veal schnitzel and spatzle or potato salad. Some favorites (always listed alphabetically): Bucklin (Old Hill bottling), Cline, Elyse (Morisoli Vineyard), Murphy-Goode (Liar’s Dice bottling), Newlan, Peachy Canyon, Renwood (especially the Grandpere bottling), Ravenswood Old Vines, Ridge, St. Francis and Seghesio.

PETITE SIRAH
Like its compatriot above, Petite Sirah was first planted in California in the 1880s. It was long thought to be a lesser Rhone varietal, Durif. Genetic tests have proved that it is not, without proving what it actually is. Inky in color and scented with black pepper, Petite Sirah has been the backbone for California generic reds since the 1960s. It has performed most consistently in the Russian River and Alexander Valleys in Sonoma, and in Mendocino’s interior valleys. Napa versions can be harder and less supple, taking 10+ years to lose their rough tannins. Favorites include Concannon, David Bruce, Fife, Guenoc, Lava Cap Reserve, Parducci, Rosenbloom, Stag’s Leap Winery and Trinitas.

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What is comida criolla?

Focus on the food

NINA LARY

Pick up a menu at most any Peruvian restaurant and youʼll see an entire section devoted to comida criolla. Andinaʼs interpretation of criollo cuisine includes anticucho de corazón, papas a la huancaína, and a variety of causas on the tapas menu, and a selection of rustic entrées such as seco a la norteña, arroz con pato, lomo saltado, locro serrano and ají de gallina. Understanding comida criolla as a culinary distinction requires a deeper look at the meaning of its root word criollo, which is Spanish for ʻcreole.ʼ

A quick on-line search of ʻcreoleʼ reveals endless and varying definitions, because the term is used around the world. From Peru to the Philippines, from Louisiana to Sierra Leone: its connotation changes regionally. Simply put, ʻcreoleʼ signifies a racial or ethnic distinction arising from a synthesis of heritage, language, lifestyle and food. Due to the diverse politics surrounding its origin, natives of some countries wear the label proudly, while others consider it a nasty racial slur.

In colonial Peru the label criollo originally was used to distinguish Peruvians born of a Spanish parent. In The Letter From Jamaica, Simón Bolívar says, “We creoles are neither Indian nor European, but a species in-between the legitimate owners of the country and the Spanish usurpers: in short, because we are Americans by birth and have inherited the rights of Europe, we have to dispute these with the countryʼs original inhabitants, while standing against the invasion of the usurpers; thus we find ourselves in a most extraordinary and complicated situation.”

As a culinary byproduct of Spanish colonization, Peruʼs native populations were forced—or sometimes took the opportunity—to integrate different food crops and techniques into their cooking. A natural adaptation followed, blurring the lines between native and foreign cultures by way of cuisine. Influences included not only Spanish conquerors (who brought with them the culinary traditions of the Moorish culture), but their African slaves; waves of Chinese and Japanese immigrants that came to work on the railroad and coastal plantations; and a post-independence influx of Western Europeans. Today this mix of indigenous and foreign foods is known as comida criolla and is concentrated on the coastal and in the central regions of Peru, where the majority of the early immigrants had settled.

Tracing the origin of Peruʼs criollo dishes is like following a trail of historical breadcrumbs. Before the Spanish conqueror Francisco Pizarro entered Peru in the 1520s, indigenous (and mainly highland) Peruvians existed mostly on squash, ají peppers, beans, avocados, maize and a wide variety of tubers, which included potatoes, yucca, yacón, and olluco, and the grain-like seed called quinoa. The Spaniards introduced modern European staples such wheat and barley, dairy products, citrus fruits, olives, oils and new meat like chicken, pork and lamb.

The Spanish conquerors brought their African slaves. Often put to task in the kitchens of Limaʼs Spanish elite, the slaves introduced new flavors and styles into the Peruvian cuisine, drawing on their own deep traditions. With peanuts and yams, they created cau cau and tacu tacu—two now-popular throw-all-the-scraps-in dishes. Cau cau includes chopped tripe, potato, rice, ají, onion and spices, while tacu tacu can be as simple as a plate of seasoned beans and rice, sometimes topped with grilled steak or fried eggs and bananas. The African-Peruvians are also said to be the originators of anticucho de corazón, grilled beef heart kebobs, prepared with an inexpensive, delicious cut of meat, unwanted by the ruling class, but used to great effect by resourceful minds and hands. It is among the most popular of Peruvian street foods today.

Peruvians continued to integrate as waves of Chinese and Japanese immigrants arrived. The Chinese-Peruvian fusion resulted in ʻchifa,ʼ a unique canon of Cantonese- based dishes that can be found in practically every bus station and at every street corner in Peru. Soy sauce and ginger were deeply infused into the national cuisine, which eventually bore one of Peruʼs most delicious and iconic dishes—lomo saltado. The strong Japanese contribution, as touched on in my May 2009 column, “Peruʼs Japanese,” was more conceptual and technical, influencing everything from fish preparation techniques to the popularization of cevicherias.

By embracing the fusion of flavors and ingredients that poured into their country from around the world, Peruvians have made comida criolla their own. Hearty, flavorful, and light on frills, comida criolla has been refined over centuries of interpretation by Peruvians throughout the country and abroad, and is now considered Peruʼs traditional cuisine, its everyday food.