You might have heard I move quite a bit. And suddenly, here I am in Atlanta. Mark this as move number 10 in the last four years. Thankfully, it looks like I get to stay here a while.
Atlanta is the Chicago of the South. Or maybe the Miami of the North. Or if you’re in Midtown it’s the Southern Greenwich Village. If you’ve only been to the airport, or hate the idea of its legendary traffic conditions and suburban sprawl, you don’t know what you’re missing.
My first few days here were filled with the stress and excitement of the move — filling a whole new apartment from scratch (done without purchasing almost anything new!), orienting myself to the many streets (Piedmont, Ponce, Peachtree, Peachtree, Peachtree, Piedmont, Peachtree, Ponce, Peachtree,…), discovering Piedmont Park, markets, friendly neighbors, lakes, making new friends, avoiding surprise rainstorms, getting ready to start graduate school, cramming in tourist attractions like new baby pandas and the Coke Museum — brain overload!
Luckily, there are two things that keep me sane: the thought that I now live in the only city around with enough urban green space to feed itself if it were gardened, and comfort food shared with great friends.
When I say comfort food, I mean the food my grandfather would feed me. His Hungarian upbringing taught him a simple style of cooking that could feed large families, please a crowd, not break the bank, and impress culinary experts of all kinds (Hungary is apparently the France of Eastern Europe in terms of cuisine–can’t wait to check it out for myself one day soon!). I’m not normally big on meals that involve lots of meat and dairy, but in light of the move, I justified making this dish for friends the other day.
When I was 12 I asked him how to make my personal favorite dish, Chicken Paprikas (pronounced PA-pree-kosh). He responded by writing out the ingredients in order. Without telling me how much to use. It was my first realization that cooking didn’t have to be a science, but just something to do. Luckily, I was able to hold up some measuring cups and ask “Should I use this much of that?” to most things on the list.
“Paprikas” just means “Paprika sauce” in Hungarian. Paprika is the staple of Hungarian food, and the reason so much of it is an orange-y red color. It is essentially chili powder from some excellent peppers that are both sweet and savory. There are many kinds available at the store — splurge on a good one if you want to make Hungarian food; you’ll know the difference right away!
Since learning to make it, I don’t look back at the recipe I constructed that day, but here it is so you can try it yourself:
Dice an onion and brown it in a soup pot on the stove. While it cooks, cut up 3 uncooked chicken breasts.
Add the chicken, a tablespoon of paprika, a teaspoon of salt, and just enough water to cover it all in the pot. Cover and simmer until the chicken is tender (about an hour — use the lowest heat you can. The secret to this dish is to cook it slowly, bringing out each flavor). 
Mix a tablespoon of flour with a quarter cup of milk, then add to about two cups sour cream (try subbing plain yogurt or greek yogurt to cut some fat and add even more protein. You’ll lose some flavor, but if it’s what you have on hand it’ll be ok).
Boil a second pot of water to make shell noodles. Once the noodles go in the pot, add the cream mixture to the chicken and simmer about 10 minutes or until noodles are cooked. I normally wind up adding more paprika at this point as well — flavor it to taste! 
Serve! The shell noodles act as little bowls for the flavorful sauce (traditionally, this is served over rice, but my grandfather and I agree it’s best with the shells). Pair with a light & refreshing drink, and a side salad (I recommend cucumber salad for a more authentic Hungarian experience!). You can feed 4-5 people with the amounts listed above..
Tagged: Atlanta, Comfort Food, cooking, home cooking, Hungarian, paprika, paprikas, paprikash, shell noodles, urban gardens
