Borrowing influences from Spain and France, chicken, chorizo, bell peppers, tomatoes, aromatics and spices create a robust, one-pot meal. Recipe below.
TO SAY THAT BASQUE COUNTRY STRADDLES THE BORDER BETWEEN SPAIN AND FRANCE isn’t entirely accurate. The Basque people inhabited the region before those nations existed. In fact, according to the American Journal of Human Genetics, the Basque predate the arrival of agriculture in the area some 7,000 years ago. Still, Spain and France did come to exist and, along with them, their regional cuisines. This robust dish of chicken, chorizo, peppers, onion and spices borrows from both.
The chorizo in question is Spanish chorizo—small, dense, hard sausages made from coarsely chopped fatty pork and seasoned with mild Spanish paprika, salt and garlic. Spicier versions also include small dried hot chiles. This is completely different from ground pork Mexican chorizo; the two are not interchangeable.
Now ubiquitous bell peppers are also a Spanish-inflected ingredient. Native to Mexico and Central and South America, they were brought to Spain in 1493. From there, they made their way throughout Europe and to Asia.
The French contribution to this recipe particularly intrigued me: piment d’Espelette, or Espelette pepper. This new-to-me pepper is grown in a handful of townships or communes in southwestern France, the northern territory of the Basque. It has become a staple of their traditional cuisine. The flavor profile of piment d’Espilette is essentially sweet, slightly smoky paprika with some heat.
Someday, I will track this spice down, out of sheer Francophile curiosity. For now, I settled on a substitute, starting with sweet paprika, then heating it up with a little cayenne pepper.
Basque Chicken and Chorizo
Serves 4 to 6
2 teaspoons sweet paprika (do not use smoked)
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
4 whole chicken legs, cut into thighs and drumsticks
salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil
4 ounces Spanish chorizo, sliced into thin coins
1 red bell pepper, 1 yellow bell pepper, thinly sliced (or 2 red)
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
3 large cloves garlic, chopped
2 teaspoons fresh thyme leaves (or 1 teaspoon dried)
3/4 cup dry sherry (or white wine)
1 14-ounce can diced tomatoes
3 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
A crusty bread or cooked rice
Mix paprika and cayenne pepper in a small bowl. Season chicken pieces on both sides with salt, pepper and 1 teaspoon of the paprika mixture. Set aside.
Heat oil in a large, lidded sauté pan or skillet over medium-high flame. Add chorizo and sauté, stirring occasionally, for about 3 minutes. Transfer to a bowl with a slotted spoon.
Add chicken to pan skin side down and sauté until nicely browned, about 5 minutes for the first side, 3 minutes for the second. Transfer to a plate.
Add bell peppers, onion and garlic to pan, tossing to coat with oil. Stir in remaining paprika mix. Cook, stirring occasionally, until peppers start to soften, 5 to 7 minutes. If onion starts to brown, reduce heat—you just want to sweat everything. Add thyme to skillet and stir to combine. Add sherry, scraping up any browned bits. Stir in tomatoes with their juices.
Stir in chorizo. Nestle chicken pieces into the pan and add any accumulated juices. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer. Cover pan and cook until chicken is just cooked through, 20 to 25 minutes. Keep an eye on the liquids—if they seem to cook down too much, add a little water, a couple of tablespoons at a time (I didn’t need to do this).
Taste and adjust seasonings with salt and pepper, as needed. Remove from heat. Sprinkle chopped parsley over the chicken and serve, with a crusty bread or with rice.
Spanish and Mexican chorizo share a name, and both are made of pork, but otherwise you’re right: Very different. Basque cuisine, the little I know of it, is good stuff. I’ve mainly eaten the Basque-American version in Nevada Basque restaurants (in Reno, where I’ve been for business several times). Anyway, this looks really good — thanks.
Very nice recipe! That special pepper is intriguing.
Mark Kurlansky’s book “The Basque History of the World” has lots more about the fascinating people your post describes. I’ve had Basque food in Paris and in San Francisco, but haven’t been to that area of Europe. Tempting!
Our gardener is Basque and he and I have been planting piment d’espelette this week. According to him, it is grown only in 6 communes in Spanish Basque country, just south of Hendaye. Everything else is simply called piment Basque and is not “authentic.” Good, but not the “real” thing. Paprika and cayenne are a decent substitute, but once you’ve had the real thing, you’d notice the difference. You could probably order it online from Basco or Donostia Foods (Donostia is the Basque name for San Sebastián).
“The Basque History of the World” is a wonderful book.
We have spent several wonderful weeks in both French and Spanish Basque country in the past 3 years, as it is not far from us. The food is beyond wonderful, especially the pinxtos in and around San Sebastián and Bilbao. Piperade is another classic and simple Basque dish, but it’s all goooooood! I have a wonderful Basque cookbook somewhere around here I can recommend if you can read recipes in French (and use metric measurements). I’ll dig it up if anyone wants it.
John, this recipe makes me want to explore more Basque cuisine.
Mae, you’ve inspired me to find this book. Thanks!
Mellen, we can always count on you to bring South of France authenticity to our posts. And if you’d like to discuss cooking up a Basque dish and doing a guest post here, we would love it!
There are many options on Google, but I ran across this at a fancy grocery store (drawn to the fact that it’s Basque and I’m Basque) and it is an amazing secret ingredient in any savory dish: https://www.markethallfoods.com/collections/featured-forager-kl-keller-foodways/products/piment-d-espelette
And yes, Basque History of the World is a great read.
Thanks so much, Kati! I think I’ll be ordering this.