Local Food and Local Knowledge with Liza Gyllenhaal: In praise of panko crumbs

Nearly a decade ago my husband and I went to Vienna over the Christmas holidays — a city that we’d been told by several well-traveled friends was particularly magical that time of the year.  Perhaps it was the ear-ache I developed on the plane, or the frigid temperatures and unrelenting damp, but the fairytale capital of the Hapsburg empire left me cold — figuratively and otherwise.

And then, one night at a restaurant, we ordered a plate of Wienerschnitzel.

The breaded crust had crunchy little crannies dusted with salt and pepper — and lovely nooks, pooling with lemon juice. The veal cutlet inside was pounded thin as carpaccio and was just about as tender. The whole affair was a miracle of textures and tastes — crispy, salty, succulent, and utterly delicious — served with a simple salad of frisee dressed with vinaigrette. With the first bite, my feelings for the city began to lift, and soon were swirling as gaily as a Strauss waltz.

I’ve tried for years to re-invent that moment which marked, not just a turning point for that particular vacation, but the beginning of a minor obsession for my husband. Though usually amenable to whatever I cook, he began to boldly request Wienerschnitzel at least once a month. It seemed easy enough to copy — veal, dusted in flour, dipped in egg, coated in breadcrumbs then browned in vegetable oil and a bit of butter. The result was always good. Certainly satisfying. But it was never quite the same as that transformative dinner in Vienna.

I tried using just egg whites. I experimented with canola versus olive oil. But the problem, I began to realize, was the breadcrumbs. My usually reliable Progresso Italian crumbs were just too homogenized and heavy.

I’d been vaguely aware of panko breadcrumbs but, until recently, associated them exclusively with Japanese dishes such as pork Tankatsu. Over the last couple of years, however, panko crumbs have edged their way into the general culinary consciousness. They’ve been cropping up in food magazine and newspaper recipes. And now they’re available in most grocery markets — both gourmet and super — right next to the regular breadcrumbs.

Panko crumbs are made from Japanese wheat bread which has been dried and then shredded into flakes that are lighter of than air. (Literally: don’t sneeze when you’re working with them!) When fried, they brown beautifully. Baked in the oven, they hold their crunchy texture. In other words, they do everything regular breadcrumbs can do — only with a bit more flair and finesse.

They’re great in a simple and fast Shrimp Diablo: coat the shelled and de-veined shrimp (I leave on the tail) in a mixture of mustard, lemon, and olive oil, and then saute five minutes or so until golden brown. I’ve also tried this more elaborate but delicious old Gourmet (of sainted memory) recipe for Panko Scallops with Green Chile Chutney (click here). I’ve cut the ingredients by one-third, used larger sea scallops, skipped the chutney, and served the dish quite successfully with plain old lemon wedges and steamed spinach.

One of the handy things about breading, especially using panko, is that the breadcrumbs can serve as your carbohydrate, making most dinners both simple to make and fairly calorie-conscious. For instance, I serve this Crispy Oven Baked Chicken (I use skinless, boneless breasts) together with string beans with minced ginger:

Now let’s get back, finally, to that night in Vienna. The next recipe, incorporating panko crumbs, is about as close as you’re going to get to that ever-so-memorable Wienerschnitzel. (Click here.) You don’t need to bother with the thyme butter sauce (though it’s sinfully good), but do serve this with a lightly dressed salad and lemon wedges.

Now slide in a CD of Strauss waltzes — and you’re there!

Liza Bennett Gyllenhaal is a novelist who divides her time between New York City and The Berkshires. Read about her novel Local Knowledge at www.lizagyllenhaal.com.