Ashkenazi Jews have been hiding a terrible secret from the culinary world. Withholding this secret from the general public is the reason why many people believe that the traditional food of their Eastern European Jewish friends is boring and flavorless. The secret, my gastronomic friends, is gribenes, which, translated roughly from Yiddish, means "unholy deliciousness."* Gribenes (pronounced GRI-bih-niss) is essentially chicken skin fried with onions. It's the bacon of kosher eats, the magic fairy dust of the shtetl. Sprinkle it on anything and there is a 100-percent chance that it will taste better.
I totally understand why gribenes hasn't soared in popularity the way, say, macaroni and cheese has in recent years. There is a certain "yuck factor" to the idea of chicken skin, which on its own may evoke images of sad, pale arm flab with goose bumps. Yet I believe that Americans have the capacity to get over their crippling neophobia and try some foods that sound kind of weird and ethnic.
Take, for example, sweetbreads (aka offal, aka animal organs). Formerly discarded parts unvalued by the Western dining scene are now seen on the menus of high-end restaurants and have become an essential part of nose-to-tail eating, an effort to celebrate and consume all parts of the animals we eat. These days you can even get cow tongue in your burrito at Anna's Taqueria. Ask for lengua! This sort of reverse-whitewashing of food in America can be viewed as both a way to waste less and a way to revisit the foods our ancestors ate in times when waste simply was not an option.
The laws of kashrut that govern the diets of those who keep kosher forbid the use of dairy products, like butter, for cooking with meat. Lard, a pig product, is also forbidden. Because Eastern European Jews did not have access to plant-based cooking oils, schmaltz — or rendered chicken fat — was used instead.
Gribenes began as a byproduct of schmaltz extraction. Some babushka probably discovered how delicious it was and began putting it on items that gribenes is traditionally served with, like kugel and latkes, because those both definitely needed to be more fattening.
The addition of onions is simple, elegant and inspired. They flavor the gribenes but also caramelize and crisp around the edges in the bubbling golden ambrosia that is schmaltz. The combination is otherworldly. The chicken skin itself, cut into pieces, becomes light and crunchy. A sprinkling of salt is really all it needs to become the snack or garnish of dreams.
How can these precious little nuggets be used to elevate your meals? The options are nearly limitless, though I'd probably stop before dessert. Delicious plain, I'd also recommend them on sandwiches, in salads, mixed into mashed potatoes — heck, they'd even be great in soup. I say reach for your statins and give gribenes a chance. Here's how to make it:
Ingredients:
- About 4 cups (or whatever you have) of chicken skin** cut into small pieces (1/2 inch or smaller)
- 1 onion, chopped
- Salt
Place chicken skin and onion in a heavy pan and cook over low heat, stirring every so often, until the fat has rendered and the chicken skin and onions are golden to dark brown. Strain the onions and chicken skin onto a paper towel to drain. If you know what's good for you, save the schmaltz and cook with it. Season the gribenes with salt to taste. Avoid eye contact with your cardiologist.
*Actually, "gribines seems to be related to Griebe (plural Grieben) in various German dialects (from Old High German griobo via Middle High German griebe) where Griebenschmalz is lard from which the cracklings have not been removed" (Wikipedia).
**Chicken skin can be procured from raw chicken from the grocery store. Just buy with skin on, duh.
