Changes

| Bigos is one of those Polish dishes that has been romanticized in poetry, discussed in its most minute details in all sorts of literary contexts, and never made in small quantities. Historically, it was served at royal banquets or to guests at meals following a  hunt. It was made invariably from several types of game and served during winter. Bigos has gradually assumed the character of a  Christmas and Easter dish in Poland, and today recipes recipës are as varied and as complex as any Italian recipe recipë for tomato sauce. In fact, some Poles even add tomato sauce to the mixture. (It does not need it.)

I’m sorry to report that etymologists agree: this epitome of Polish cuisine is referred to by a word of foreign, non-Slavic and – what’s even worse – German origin! They are not certain, though, which German word exactly the Polish ''``bigos"“bigos”'' derives from, but they have no doubt that some German word it is. Aleksander Brückner, a famous prewar scholar of Slavic languages, maintained that ''``bigos"“bigos”'' comes from German ''``Bleiguss"“Bleiguss”'', or ``lead mold"“lead mold”. The idea was that if you pour molten lead on water (as many Poles still do with wax for divination on Saint Andrew’s Eve), you’re going to get a shape that resembles ''bigos''. Other linguists are quite unanimous in their view that this etymology makes no God-damned sense.

Suggestions that are somewhat more logical from a&nbsp;culinary point of view include the archaic German verb ''``becken"“becken”'', ``to chop"“to chop”, and the Old German noun ''``bîbôz"“bîbôz”'' (or ''``Beifuss"“Beifuss”'' in modern parlance), which refers to mugwort, a&nbsp;plant once used for seasoning. Others propose the Italian ''``bigutta"“bigutta”'', or ``pot “pot for cooking soup"soup”, which supposedly entered Polish via German. But the etymology thought to be most likely is that ''``bigos"“bigos”'' derives from ''``bîgossen"“bîgossen”'', an archaic form of the participle ''``beigossen"“beigossen”'', from the verb ''``beigießen"“beigießen”'', ``to pour"“to pour”. To make a&nbsp;long story short, ''bigos'' is something to which someone (probably some German) has added some kind of liquid.<ref>More on this topic in: {{Cyt

Now, the problem is that ever since the word ''bigos'' has been used in the Polish language, it had more to do with the action of chopping than with pouring. The earliest known mention is a&nbsp;''bigos'' recipë found in a&nbsp;herbal by Stefan Falimirz published in Cracow in 1534, entitled ''Of Herbs and their Potency''. It was a&nbsp;work on medicine rather than a&nbsp;cookbook, so this oldest known ''bigos'' wasn’t so much a&nbsp;dish as a&nbsp;medicine against ``Saint Valentine's illness"“Saint Valentine’s illness”, or epilepsy.

| You may also douse wolf lungs with pure wine, then chop them up into bigos and cook with pepper, ginger, cloves, saffron; eat this for a &nbsp;few days. This has been tried on one wife.

A 1621 Polish-Latin-Greek dictionary defines ''``bigos"“bigos”'' simply as ''ferculum ex concisis carnibus'', or ``a “a dish of chopped meat" meat” and provides the word ''``siekanka"“siekanka”'' (``something “something chopped up"up”) as a&nbsp;Polish synonym. It also gives ''``minutal"“minutal”'' as the Latin equivalent. As it turns out, Poles were not the first to enjoy sweet-and-sour chopped-meat delicacies; these were already known to ancient Romans. We can find some recipës for minutal in ''De Re Coquinaria'' (''On the Subject of Cooking''), a&nbsp;cookbook that has been traditionally credited to Apicius, but is in fact a&nbsp;collection of formulae from various authors compiled in the 4th–5th centuries CE. What follows is a&nbsp;recipë for ''minutal ex praecoquis'', or chopped pork with apricots.

| Combine olive oil, fish sauce and diluted wine in a &nbsp;pot. Add chopped dried shallots and diced pork shoulder. Cook all this with crushed pepper, cumin, dried mint and dill. Add some honey, fish sauce [again], raisin wine, vinegar and broth. Mix well. Add stoned apricots and bring to boil again. Thicken with crushed flatbread, sprinkle with pepper and serve.

And here’s a&nbsp;Polish recipë for ``Jesuit “Jesuit ''bigos''`` “ from a&nbsp;manuscript cookbook written at the court of princes Radziwiłł at the end of the 17th century:

| Take some good beef, roast it nicely, frequently dousing with butter. Once it roasts nicely, cut into sizeable chunks; chop up a &nbsp;large amount of onion and fry it in butter. Put this bigos and onion into a &nbsp;nice fish pan. Pour in a &nbsp;quart of wine, half a &nbsp;quart of wine vinegar and half a &nbsp;quart of malmsey. Add small and large raisins, a &nbsp;sliced lime, a &nbsp;handful of olives, a &nbsp;handful of sugar; add enough [crushed] pepper to make it well spicy, a &nbsp;few cloves, some peppercorns, diced fresh lemon and two spoons of fresh butter. Let it boil well in the pan, so that only a &nbsp;little sauce remains.

What’s more, not only did Old Polish ''bigos'' contain not even a&nbsp;soupçon of cabbage, but even meat was only optional. As long as ''``bigos"“bigos”'' meant ``something “something chopped up"up”, you could make it out of anything that could be chopped. So apart from veal, capon (castrated cock), wether mutton (castrated ram), rabbit, hazel grouse or beef marrow ''bigos'', we also know recipës for carp, pike, crayfish, oyster or even ''crêpe bigos'' (or ''bigosek'', a&nbsp;diminutive form often used back then).

| Buttery crêpe bigosek: fry some crêpes, cut them into squares, add wine, a &nbsp;little wine vinegar, sugar, small raisins, cinnamon and butter, and fry them in a &nbsp;clay skillet.

Of frost, among bottles, stood ink in a &nbsp;cruet.

In vinegar's vinegar’s stead. Then I gave it a &nbsp;look;The dog wouldn't wouldn’t eat it! So I called for the cook:Bigos in mourning is a &nbsp;novelty, butDon't Don’t you dare make an inkwell out of my butt!</poem>

Apart from ''``bigos"“bigos”'', there’s also the quaint Polish verb ''``bigosować"“bigosować”'', which means ``to chop" “to chop” or ``to hack"“to hack”. And it wasn’t only used in culinary contexts; it also referred to one of the favourite methods of torture and execution used by Polish gentry; to ``“''bigos'' someone up" up” was to hack him to pieces with sabres. ``“''Bigos'' them up!" ” is a&nbsp;call we can find in the 17th-century diaries of Jan Chryzostom Pasek and in the historical novels by Henryk Sienkiewicz that Pasek inspired. Valiant Polish nobility apparently kept abreast of times and even learned to ''bigos'' with the use of firearms, as we can see in another of Wacław Potocki’s poems, where he mentions ``hot “hot ''bigos'' of lead and gunpowder"gunpowder”.

| There used to be three phases of arriving at a &nbsp;political decision in the Polish parliament. The first phase was that of presenting views. Everyone could present any opinion they wanted. Then came the grinding phase. Grinding as in a &nbsp;great mortar, where you grind until you produce a &nbsp;uniform mass. Opinions were ground through a &nbsp;long-term discussion. But if this didn't didn’t help and if at least one person remained unconvinced or opposed, then he could take the floor of the Polish parliament, shout, “liberum veto!” and scurry away – thus dissolving the parliament. So Polish noblemen came up with a &nbsp;third phase: it was the phase of making bigos. Bigos is a &nbsp;peculiar dish: shredded cabbage and chopped meat, stewed for a &nbsp;long time. So the third phase – that of making bigos – meant that the rash nobles would grab their sabres and hack him to pieces, the one who upset the government, who upset the law, before he could get away.

The above translation is mine, but during the actual speech, by the time the president had got to the third phase, the poor interpreter got so lost that she rendered ''``bigosować"“bigosować”'' as ``stewing"“stewing”. Well, ''bigos'' is a&nbsp;kind of stew, but it didn’t make any sense in this context, so I’m not sure whether the American audience ever understood this short lecture on the history of Polish cuisine and Polish parliamentarism.

| Veal bigos for a &nbsp;starter: Take some veal or other butcher's butcher’s meat, or some poultry or game; you may also mix various kinds, if you do not have enough of one kind; chop it up, place in a &nbsp;skillet together with butter, parsley, onion, chopped shallots, put on a &nbsp;fire, add a &nbsp;pinch of flour, pour in half a &nbsp;glass of boullion and as much [meat] juice, salt, pepper, boil for a &nbsp;quarter, add some coulis [thick sauce of puréed vegetables]. Serve with fried croutons.

But if you think that we’re finally going to prove the Polish origin of one of Poland’s most famous dishes, then think again. Wielądko didn’t write about Polish cuisine; his book was a&nbsp;translation of ''La cuisinière bourgeoise'' by Menon. He modified the book’s title to better suit his Polish readers’ expectations (the cook in the original title is an urban woman, but the one in Wielądko’s translation is a&nbsp;man of unspecified origin), but the recipës themselves remained French, even if much abridged. So does it mean that ''bigos'' is originally a&nbsp;French dish then? Yes and no. Wielądko simply used the word ''``bigos"“bigos”'' as the Polish equivalent to what Menon referred to as ''``hachis"“hachis”'' (pronounced ''ahˑ<u>shee</u>'' and derived from the verb ''``hacher"“hacher”'', ``to chop"“to chop”, which is related to the English ``hatchet"“hatchet”). We could probably trace the origins of that dish also back to the ancient Roman ''minutal. Minutal, hachis, salmigondis, hutsepot, hodgepodge, bigos''… they all belong to one big family of chopped dishes, once featured on tables throughout Europe. Which is not surprising, if you think about it: chopping, dicing or mincing was the only way of processing meat before the first half of the 19th century, when the German inventor Karl Drais built the first meat grinder. It was only then that pâtés, sausages and fillings in the form of a&nbsp;uniform mass became possible.

Besides, as I’ve mentioned already, it wasn’t only meat that was being chopped. Both in Menon’s book and in Wielądko’s translation we can find a&nbsp;recipë for a&nbsp;purely vegetarian dish made from diced root vegetables. Wielądko calls it ``carrot“carrot-and-parsnip ''bigos''``“.

| Cut onions into thin slices, brown them in butter with flour, add some bouillon, bring to boil; then add precooked and diced carrots, parsnips, celeriacs and rutabagas; salt, pepper, add a &nbsp;little vinegar and serve with mustard.