Chicken Paprikash

From Gizi
Serves 4

Over a weekend upstate, my friend Walter’s mother, Gizi, taught me how to make her chicken paprikash. Her version includes more tomato than most—I assume because she had to adapt her cooking after immigrating to the U.S. in the late 1930s. But she never compromised on the paprika, which was always from Hungary—not Hungarian-style paprika. I order mine from Kalustyan’s.

While perusing Culinaria Hungary (Könemann, 1999), I realized there are two popular Hungarian chicken dishes made with sweet paprika and tomato: chicken pörkölt (pörkölt csirke) and chicken paprikash (paprikás csirke). They’re nearly identical—except one has sour cream added, and one does not.

I make Gizi’s recipe with one small change: instead of stirring sour cream into the sauce, I serve it on the side. That means it’s technically chicken pörkölt—but to me, it will always be paprikash.

8 chicken thighs, skin and fat removed (I call them “naked.”)
About 3 tablespoons neutral oil (I use grapeseed.)
2 green bell peppers, cut into strips
Lots of diced onion—depending on size, I use 1 to 1½ large onions
1 14-ounce can tomato sauce
1 cup broth, chicken or Better Than Bouillon vegetable base (I use this)
2 tablespoons sweet Hungarian paprika
Salt to taste
Sour cream

Sauté the diced onion in the oil until it starts to turn golden; do not let it brown. Add the paprika and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute to allow it to bloom—but make sure it does not burn.

To avoid splattering, turn off the heat and add the tomato sauce. To get all the sauce out of the can, pour the broth into the can, swirl it around, and add that to the pot as well.

Turn the heat back on, bring the sauce just to a boil, then lower to a simmer. Taste for salt—you may not need any, depending on the saltiness of your tomato sauce and broth.

Slip the “naked” chicken pieces into the pan, then strew the strips of green pepper over the top. Do not stir them in at this point. Cover the pan slightly askew and simmer, stirring after the first 20 minutes to make sure nothing is sticking to the bottom. If your heat is low enough, it shouldn’t be.

Check it again after 10 more minutes—at the 30-minute mark. If the sauce isn’t thickening, remove the lid completely, turn the heat up a little, and keep an eye on it. (You want the sauce to be thick enough to coat a spoon.) If it’s still not the consistency of heavy cream, raise the heat a bit more and continue to reduce it until it is. After a total of 45 minutes (not 45 minutes more), skim off any fat that may have accumulated.

At this point, I serve the chicken in its sauce as is, with sour cream on the side. Technically, this makes it chicken pörkölt rather than paprikash. But if you prefer the more traditional paprikash, turn off the heat, remove the chicken from the sauce, and stir in 2 large tablespoons of sour cream until smooth and incorporated. Return the chicken to the pan, coat it with the sauce, and serve.

This is a good recipe for a dinner party. It can be easily increased—you’re limited only by the size of your pan. I’ve been known to make two pans side by side.

I usually serve it with buttered nokedli (similar to spaetzle), blanched green beans tossed with olive oil and salt, and cucumber salad.

Chicken Paprikash with a Dollop of Sour Cream

Gizi 1937