A more traditional southern "piftie" |
“Racituri”
must have the root of “rece,” “cold,” meaning portions of something
cold with small cuts of meat mixed inside gelatin derived from slow-boiling
specific cuts of meat and bones, and served with any meal, including breakfast.
The best “racitura”
or “piftie” as it was known in southern Romania where I am from, is made
from the feet, tongue, and the head of a pig, raw meat deboned and the bone
itself. Some cooks recommend that ingredients can be substituted with bones
from turkey, rooster, or beef. The bone marrow extracted from boiling larger
bones was also highly prized for its nutritional value and taste.
My parents
were poor like most Romanians and could not afford many specialties that
adorned the tables of the well-to-do communists, but mom made “piftie”
at Christmas time and for the New Year’s Eve meal. It was cheap and easy to
make.
“Piftie”
had to be salted properly and contained lots of freshly chopped garlic, enough
to send Count Dracula and other vampires into a tizzy. The resulting dish was
served as an appetizer or a meal, with “sarmale” (ground pork wrapped in
pickled cabbage or grape leaves) and “mamaliga” (a mushy grits-like
polenta made from specially ground corn meal, salt, water, and butter).
“Piftie”
was made by slow-boiling meat, bones, and cartilage for hours. When it cooled,
it turned into a gelatinous mass containing pieces of meat. While hot, it could
be poured into a beautifully shaped dish, giving it a certain aesthetic flare
when it cooled.
It certainly
worked wonders for one’s nails, which hardened nicely. I am not sure about the
nutritional content, but it was a way to pacify the masses when large pieces of
meat were not available to provide the family with necessary protein.
There was
one advantage to having such a dearth of food and necessities – nothing needed
preservatives because it never stayed any length of time on grocery shelves.
Not having to ingest chemical preservatives in food was beneficial.
I am not
sure how the phrase “sa faci pe cineva piftie” emerged. It means to beat
someone hard, into a gelatinous pulp, resulting in shaking like quivering,
colorless Jell-O.
The “pfitie”
dish supported skin, hair, and nail growth during shortage times when vitamins
and mineral supplements were not available for purchase because the communists
were not good at planning or running an economy at all and everything was in truly
short supply all the time. It was a constant daily struggle to find food and
necessities that we take for granted under capitalism.
Mom also
made soup from chicken feet which had no edible meat, it was just skin and
tendons. But declawed feet could be boiled into a broth, could be ingredient in
a stew, and, if cooked properly, could be chewed.
Chicken feet
are natural sources of glucosamine and chondroitin that support joint health
and mobility. We did not know this at the time or that 100 g of boiled chicken
feet contained 19 g of protein and the broth contained traces of hyaluronic acid
which promotes eye health.
As an
American, I have never fixed “piftie” or boiled chicken feet because the
memory of having to eat such dishes brings back feelings I would rather leave
alone. It was not a treat to me and would never be a Christmas tradition. “Piftie”
was a dish served cold by the necessity of avoiding starvation under the communist
rule and their inability or desire to supply people with proper food. And the
smell of boiled chicken feet turned my stomach.
I did eat worse things such as nettles soup. It was rich in certain vitamins but mom had raw, burning, and itching skin from the nettles. She cooked it because my dad loved it.
ReplyDeleteEating chicken feet could result in athlete's mouth :-)
ReplyDeletePaul,
DeleteYou are hilarious!
It is amusing to look back at what impoverished large families cooked up and ate. (and I'm sure families around the world are still having to scratch to survive.)
ReplyDeleteMy mother seemed to like scrambled cow brains with eggs. The eggs never disguised the mush brains. The kidney stew wasn't too bad. Our uncles would bring home cans of corn beef sometimes. Most often we ate oatmeal. Red beans were flavored with any ham bone the butcher might set aside. One uncle had a grocery store and that helped us all. My grandmothers made their own pasta.
I believe we survived and thrived because none of our food sources were GMO or inoculated. My red head grandpa (who said he was raised by the gypsies) made his own wine and even the youngest had sampled it. I remember the ration coupon book for sugar and butter and such. My other grandfather was a baker, and we had our fair share of stale Italian bread that we sprinkled with water and toasted it in the oven with a little olive oil and salt and pepper.
We children learned to "trade" food when mother wasn't looking. I couldn't stand eggplant.
Hope this new year is better than last. We started out with no mail delivery for 3 days because the post office in Poplarville had a problem. Part of their roof caved in.
Carmel
Oh Boy...
ReplyDeleteGreeks have something similar called “Pektee”
Yuck !
Dolly G.