Burgoo who?

Burgoo is a traditional Kentucky stew of multiple meats (at least three) and a bounty of veggies simmered down for hours until they break down to a uniform consistency. The standard sentiment is that if you can still make out an okra pod or slice of carrot, keep cooking 'cause it ain't burgoo yet -- but as the dish is usually made in such massive quantities (we're talking GALLONS), most regular utensils will just sink down into the mire.

So - what's a burgoo chef to do? Well, many Kentucky restaurants rely on 2x4 studs, and folks at community cookouts and church festivals often use rakes to stir the stuff while perched above on chairs as they tend giant pots set over open wood fires. The flavor and texture are said to be reminiscent of mulligan stew, and my North Carolina born husband swears it's a kissing cousin to Brunswick stew, but the guests at our yearly Kentucky Derby soiree have taken to calling it "The Liquid Meat." That is, when their mouths aren't crammed full of the 'goo.

Growing up in the Bluegrass State, I often read about burgoo in community cookbooks - often those centered around Owensboro, KY and the Western part of the state, but was never able to find it on a restaurant menu in my Northern KY neck of the woods, nor could I locate a recipe that served fewer than 30 people. Frankly, that's part of the appeal of the dish -- the immense proportions that require and enable community participation in order to execute and enjoy -- so now my husband and I use it as an excuse to invite folks over to our home in Brooklyn. Not many (okay, none) of our friends had gotten the chance to try burgoo before, or Benedictine spread, beer cheese, bourbon balls, mint juleps, bourbon slush and other traditional Kentucky delicacies, so we saddle up to make 'em on the first Saturday of every May, and I get a chance to share a little bit of my home state's cuisine.

What follows is the version that I've adapted over time. The specific meats and veggies and ratios thereof are endlessly adjustable to your own taste and market availability as there's really no set recipe. Common variations include the the use of squirrel, game, mutton rather than lamb and hickory smoked meat, as well as lima beans, cider vinegar, cornmeal and a parsley garnish. Many recipes call for soup bones, but I've found it just as easy and flavorful to use bone-in meats. As for the stirring device -- I just use the longest restaurant-style wooden spoon or paddle I can find and hope for the best.

Kat's Brooklyn Burgoo

Serves 30-40 hungry guests.

2 lbs bone-in pork (shank, neck, etc.)
2 lbs bone-in veal (shank, breast, etc.)
2 lbs bone-in beef (shank, tails, etc.)
2 lbs bone-in lamb (shank, breast, etc)
1 4-pound whole chicken, skin-on
8 quarts cold water
1 1/2 lbs potatoes
1 1/2 lbs onions
1 bunch carrots, diced
2 green peppers, diced
2 cups chopped cabbage
1 quart tomato puree
2 cups whole kernel corn, fresh or canned
2 pods red pepper
2 cups diced fresh or frozen okra
1 cup diced celery
Salt and cayenne pepper, to taste
Tabasco sauce, to taste
Worcestershire sauce, to taste

Place all the meat (no need to chop it up) into a 4 gallon or larger pot and cover it with cold water. Bring it to a boil, and simmer until the bones slide out easily, and the chicken fully collapses. Remove all the meat and bones from the stock, discard the bones and chicken skin, and chop the meat into bite-sized pieces once it's cooled.

Peel and dice the onions and potatoes, and add them to the stock along with the chopped meat and all remaining vegetables. Simmer until thick, stirring often. As it gets thicker, stirring should become more frequent to prevent the bottom from burning. The cooking may 8-10 hours or more to complete, and the objective is to break down the meat and vegetables until the consistency is uniform -- almost like a gravy.

Once it's to this state, pull out the pepper pods (if you can find them -- and if you can't, then please caution guests!), and season with salt, cayenne, Tabasco and Worcestershire to taste. I tend to under-season a little, heat-wise and allow guests to apply hot sauce as liberally as they desire.

Serve in a bowl with a hunk of cornbread, and accept any offers of shoulder and arm massages. You'll need 'em.


Read Keith Waldbauer's Ode to the Mint Julep.