Kesh-Gaggle

There’s a whole lot of gagging going on these days. Gaggles. Gag orders. In celebration of the Year of the Chicken, I made a different kind of “gag”—a chicken and wheat porridge known as keshkeg in Armenian cuisine. I’ve made it twice this winter while reflecting on scientists silenced, journalists excluded, and so many others oppressed. Mix it all together, and you get my homemade post, Kesh-Gaggle. Old-Country comfort food mixed with reflections and a wooden spoon.

Keshkeg is traditionally prepared with a whole chicken, onion, broth, and dzedzads (that’s Armenian for peeled wheat kernels), cooked down until every part of the chicken has fully integrated with the bloated wheat. Just five ingredients (counting the salt), yield something really hearty and tasty.

Now, I will admit that I didn’t always see keshkeg in such a favorable light. As a child, I remember seeing my dad gag at the mere sight of the dark-meat chicken parts. My brothers and I came to emphasize the “gag” aspect after watching his valiant attempts not to invoke the name as he finished his bowl, a courtesy to our Auntie Zara, the cook. (He likes it better now that I use boneless chicken breasts.)

I’ve seen Armenian food bloggers’ slow cooker versions of its preparation, but I prefer making it the old-fashioned way because the cooking technique involves beating it with a wooden spoon, which is remarkably therapeutic when standing in one’s kitchen reflecting on the news, frustration mounting to an involuntary reflex: reflux!

Beating the keshkeg doesn’t just feel good; it’s efficacious. The protein breaks down, marries the starch, and births a creaminess that would take all day in the slow cooker. Wooden spoon in hand, I imagine this dish being prepared over an open fire, many generations back. Is it any wonder that women developed this cooking technique? What caused these cooks to hit their food in the first place? Was it an inherent understanding of food chemistry, or was it sheer frustration inadvertently rendered useful?  Either way, something really delicious and nourishing comes of it. Metabolizing pain to make art.

When it’s all done and served into bowls, the steaming hot keshkeg is dressed in a pat of butter, giving it a really decadent finish. Definitely a dish I’ve come to love, despite the childhood jokes.

I even enjoy it for breakfast. It seems to fit with the savory, ethnic bowl-breakfast recipes I’ve been seeing lately, and what’s not to like about an old-fashioned dish being trendy? Plus, the chicken and grain combo is great for anyone who needs morning protein but gags on eggs.