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Because October Has Five Fridays

Thank you for subscribing to Dishtillery! Our issues for paid subscribers, “TILL We Meet Again,” “Tidbit,” and “The Maker’s Mark,” generally go out the first, second, and third Fridays, respectively, and our free garden-to-table issue goes out the fourth Friday of the month. This issue is a free snack because October has five Fridays (!) and because the Nobel Prizes put us in the mood to offer some global perspectives for your lunch and dinner tables. Thanks again for your support. Without you, we wouldn’t be able to bring you recipes and recommendations from restaurateurs, chefs, artisans, winemakers, mixologists, and, of course, us! Consider sharing with a friend who also likes food, drink, gardens, and goodness. And if you don’t already, please do follow us on Instagram / Twitter / Facebook.

DISH: Noble Goods

The Nobel Prizes have made me think about food. In part, naturally, this is because the 2020 Nobel Peace Prize was awarded this morning to the United Nation’s World Food Programme (UN WFP) for its monumental “efforts to combat hunger, for its contribution to bettering conditions for peace in conflict-affected areas and for acting as a driving force in efforts to prevent the use of hunger as a weapon of war and conflict,” as the Nobel Foundation noted.

In regular times, not having food insecurity is a privilege. But during a global pandemic? Masks and social distancing aside, good nutrition is just about the only protection the immune system has got. I can’t think of an international organization more deserving than UN WFP of being honored for fulfilling its mission of feeding the hungry and educating others about food waste day after day.

But I confess that I associate the Nobel Prizes with food for another reason entirely. Every December 10, the Laureates, the Foundation members, the Swedish royals, and more honored guests – an average of 1,318 annually – partake in a four-hour banquet at Stockholm City Hall. Unfortunately, that won’t happen this year. The banquet was canceled this past July. It’s the first time it won’t occur since 1956 when it was voided in protest after the Soviet Union invaded Hungary. (It also was scratched during both World Wars.)

For those who are curious, though, about what a Nobel banquet is like, I can lend some insight. In regular times, you can go to the City Hall’s cellar establishment, Restaurant Stadshuskällaren, and dine on the most current Nobel banquet dinner if you reserve in advance. If you have a large party, you can even request a Nobel banquet meal from any particular year that appeals to you. I was lucky enough to do this when I went to Stockholm one year on a press trip. The menu below documents the dishes, the wines, the year of the banquet dinner that I enjoyed, and how many times it had been served upon landing in front of me: 2,518.

The detail that goes into preparing the banquet is stunning. While the numbers change a bit every year, here are a few statistics I kept: It takes about 28 people eight hours to lay the tables, done the day before. During the banquet, the 230 or so service people each walk the equivalent of a 5K. At least 5 people are dedicated to opening Champagne and wine, and if you look at, say, numbers from the 2001 Nobel dinner, you can see why: Then the three courses required 1,126 bottles.

The menu, created by Sweden’s star chefs each year, is whittled down from three potential ones. It has to embrace classic Scandinavian flavors yet also be progressive and sustainable. At the same time, it must avoid controversial and culturally sensitive ingredients, ranging from pork to offal.

Given the level of white-tie extravagance, it’s no doubt appropriate that the banquet won’t take place this year when so many are sick and struggling around the world. But should you find yourself in a different position, feel ambitious, or simply miss the inspiring flavors that traveling brings to both your imagination and your palate, know that you can recreate these meals for yourself by cooking from The Nobel Banquets: Modern Recipes from Classic Menus.

A combination of history, pictorial pomp and circumstance, and gastronomy, this cookbook guarantees a brief holiday, even if it’s only in your mind and on your table.
JK

DISH: Recipe

WFH Lunch Redux

Thanks to little talent but regular watering, the garden gods have gifted a non-stop supply of parsley this year. Cutting tough stalks with emerging flowers also seems to have increased production. Now my parsley is in the use-it-or-lose-it phase ahead of Ohio’s wet and dreary winter.

Lebanese-inspired tabbouleh does a couple of things to help. It’s quick, versatile, and uses up an excess of the herb. It’s also the ideal work-from-home lunch, especially when you’re pressing against deadlines that you’re more vigilant about than sustenance. It pairs well with leftover chicken, chickpeas, or some feta from the fridge.

Below is a guideline. I almost always freshen it with extra lemon juice, especially when it’s been in the refrigerator for a day or two. Some people add garlic. I don’t, but a wide variety of the onion family works. It can be more or less “herby” according to your preferences.

1/2 cup Whole Foods or another brand quick-cooking bulgur (cooked according to package)
Juice from 1/2 lemon or more, according to taste
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium or 2-3 smaller tomatoes, chopped and drained
1 pickling cucumber, chopped
1 small handful of parsley leaves chopped (try to use less stem but you don’t have to  be too picky)
1-2 tablespoons of chopped mint, optional
2-3 scallions chopped (substitute red onion)
Salt and pepper to taste

In a bowl, mix all the ingredients together.
BK

DISH: Poetry

It’s almost too convenient to acknowledge. But I actually have written a poem about the Nobel Prizes, Stockholm City Hall, and the Blue Room where the banquets are held. The staircase that leads down to the Blue Room was designed, as was all of City Hall, by Swedish architect Ragnar Östberg. One of the myths that arose after its construction, which took 12 years, is that Östberg insisted his wife Elsa continually walk up and down the staircase in long skirts to measure the distance between steps. Colloquially, it is indeed called Elsa’s Staircase.

Elsa’s Staircase

Some muses can appreciate the gestures
of a man who details coldest marble
into increments so gradual and sure
a skirt should never cause one to tumble

when descending to toast the Nobels
(even without gripping the banister)
into the Blue Hall, where I end each trial.
Some muses can appreciate the gestures—

the considering nod, that frown of censure—
happy to knot up calves and blister heels
in the service of the architecture
of a man who details coldest marble

like just another subservient tool.
For seven days that the gods can measure,
my toes worship steps like a bible
into increments so gradual and sure.

But I was not born to be this humble.
Recall the staircase after my labor.
A skirt should never cause one to tumble,
yet some muses can.

You can find this poem in my newest collection, The Burning Where Breath Used to Be (David Robert Books, September 2020).
JK