Chicken Paprikás

Walter’s mother, Gizi, taught me how to make her chicken paprikás. Her version includes more tomato than most, which I assume reflects how she adapted her cooking after immigrating to the United States in the late 1930s. She never compromised on the paprika, which was always from Hungary—not Hungarian-style paprika. She got hers from Paprikás Weiss; I order mine from Kalustyan’s.

Traditionally, sour cream is stirred into the sauce at the end. I don’t do this because I usually have leftovers, and reheating the dish with sour cream added can make the sauce grainy. Instead, I serve the chicken napped in sauce and pass sour cream at the table for each person to add as they like.

If you prefer the more traditional paprikás, when the chicken is done, turn off the heat, remove the chicken from the sauce, and stir in 2 large tablespoons of sour cream until smooth and incorporated. Do not apply heat. Return the chicken to the pan, coat it with the sauce, and serve.

4 chicken thighs, skin removed (use a paper towel to pull it off)
About 3 tablespoons neutral oil (I use grapeseed)
2 green bell peppers, cut into strips (red or yellow can be used)
1 large onion, diced
1 14-ounce can tomato sauce*
1 cup broth (chicken or Better Than Bouillon vegetable base)
2 tablespoons sweet Hungarian paprika
Salt to taste
Sour cream (see headnote)

*I use a 400g can of Italian tomatoes put through a food mill.

Sauté the onion in the oil until it begins to turn golden; do not let it brown. Add the paprika and cook, stirring, for about 1 minute to bloom it, taking care that it does not burn.

Turn off the heat and add the tomato sauce to avoid splattering. Pour the broth into the empty can, swirl it around, and add that to the pot as well.

Return the heat to medium, bring the sauce just to a boil, then lower to a simmer. Taste for salt; depending on your tomato sauce and broth, you may not need any.

Slip the chicken into the pan, then scatter the peppers over the top. Do not stir them in at this point. Cover the pan slightly askew and simmer. After 20 minutes, stir gently to make sure nothing is sticking. If the heat is low enough, it shouldn’t be.

Check again after 10 more minutes. If the sauce is not thickening, remove the lid completely, raise the heat slightly, and continue to cook, watching closely, until the sauce is thick enough to coat a spoon. It should have the consistency of heavy cream. After about 45 minutes total cooking time, skim off any accumulated fat.

Serve the chicken napped with the sauce and pass sour cream at the table.

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

Note: When perusing Culinaria Hungary (Könemann, 1999), I realized there are two popular Hungarian chicken dishes made with sweet paprika and tomato: chicken pörkölt and chicken paprikás. They are nearly identical, except that paprikás includes sour cream stirred into the sauce. Since I make Gizi’s recipe with one small change—serving the sour cream on the side rather than incorporating it into the sauce—it is technically closer to pörkölt. But to me, it will always be paprikás.

Gizi 1937