What Am I – Chopped Liver?

Let’s talk about a type of food that most people wouldn’t make, let alone eat. Let’s talk about chopped liver. (Some will stop reading right now. I admire those who proceed.)

I understand its lack of appeal. It’s made from an organ that many Americans don’t readily consume. It smells up the house and spatters searing shards of grease everywhere when you cook it. It’s a brown blob that is not the most appetizing of dishes when sitting on a plate. As a result, it is unappreciated by the masses, hence the expression “What am I, chopped liver?” But chopped liver, when made right, is good. Oh so good.

It is food not for the faint of palate. The flavors are strong; mineral tasting and slightly bitter liver, sulfurous hard-boiled eggs, and almost burnt onions. Refined food, it is not, unlike its smooth and sophisticated cousin, liver pâté. Despite these elements, when combined, they work together beautifully.

The chopped liver at the supermarket deli counter and even in most kosher delis has never done much for me. It’s too tame and puréed, almost mushy, with little flavor. Chopped liver should be cooked until the edges of the meat are well-done, resulting in niblets of flavorful crispy bits among the hard-boiled egg and less well-done center of the liver. The onions should be cooked to dark brown, almost burnt. And it must be well-seasoned with salt and lots of pepper. Chopped liver cooked like this has character; it’s like your crazy uncle Morty – unsophisticated but with some spunk.

Chopped liver, like so many of the best recipes, is poor man’s food, made from the parts of animals that are affordable. A couple of pounds of chicken livers will only set you back a few bucks. And as chefs recognize that we must be more sustainable in the kitchen, nose to tail cooking has become more popular. Whenever I purchase a whole chicken, I never discard the giblets. I save the liver in a container in the freezer until I have enough to make a small batch of chopped liver for my wife and me, and I freeze the chicken neck in a bag for when I’ve collected enough parts to simmer into a steaming pot of soup.

As a child, my family and I would frequently go to dinner at my grandmother’s on a Friday evening. She cooked mostly traditional Jewish food, and because each of us had a different favorite part of the meal, her dinners were almost always the same. My grandmother made potato knishes and coleslaw. The main course was usually baked chicken coated in corn flake crumbs (okay, more 1960s or 1970s American than traditional Jewish). There was apple or plum strudel for dessert. But the meal always started with chopped liver; each of us got an ice cream scoop full on a bed of iceberg lettuce, with Ritz crackers. I never touched it.

At some point in my twenties, I must have tasted chopped liver and realized how good it was. Unfortunately by that time, my grandmother had passed. I had to re-create a recipe from scratch for something I never liked as a kid. Perhaps I searched for tips in cookbooks or online. My mother may have given me a few clues. I don’t know where my recipe comes from, but I do have a 3 x 5 card for chopped liver in the old recipe box, which of course I’ve modified. I almost never look at it now, except to remind myself to chop more onions than are reasonable and how many eggs to boil.

Chopped Liver

Cooking chopped liver isn’t fun, but the end result is worth it. It really does splatter hot grease everywhere, so if you have a splatter screen, now is the time to use it. Open kitchen windows, close the door to every room in your house, and turn the exhaust fan on high to prevent the clothes in your closet and your bedding from smelling like cooked liver. If you happen to have a side burner on your grill or can otherwise cook outside, do it. Unfortunately, there is no other way to cook the liver. (Some suggest broiling, but it does not give the same flavorful result.)

You want to cook the liver over a relatively high heat until there are crispy tips on the edges of the meat, while trying to cook the insides of the larger pieces to medium so they are relatively soft and creamy. Don’t fret over this too much; it won’t work for all of the pieces of liver.

My mother has told me that my grandmother used an old hand cranked meat grinder to make chopped liver. I opt for the ease of a food processor. I also don’t use schmaltz (rendered chicken fat) when cooking liver, although that’s probably what my relatives used many years ago. Instead I use vegetable oil and it works just fine. But if you feel like going old school, I’m sure a little schmaltz never hurt anyone.

45 minutes, makes about 2 cups

2 large onions, chopped, about ½ of one of them finely chopped, soaked in water and drained, reserved for garnish, optional

6 Tbsp. vegetable oil (or schmaltz), divided

1 lb. chicken livers, patted dry with paper towels

3 hard-boiled eggs, peeled

½ tsp. kosher salt or to taste

½ tsp. fresh ground pepper or to taste

Challah, rye bread, crackers, or matzo for serving

2 Tbsp. drained capers for garnish, optional

1. Chop the onions, reserving about a half of an onion finely chopped, soaked in water, and drained, for garnish, if desired.
2. Heat 3 Tablespoons of vegetable oil on medium heat in a heavy skillet. Add the chopped onions and cook, stirring often, until very well browned, about 15 minutes. During the last few minutes, turn the heat to high to really brown the onions. Remove from the skillet and reserve.

   

3. Blot the raw liver on paper towels to remove as much of the moisture as possible. This will reduce, although not prevent, splattering.
4. In the same skillet (no need to clean it), add the remaining 3 Tablespoons of vegetable oil and heat on high. Lay pieces of liver in the skillet, leaving space in between each piece. If they are too close together they will steam and the edges will not properly brown. You may need to cook it in more than one batch, adding a little extra oil if needed. Do not stir or move the liver; disturbing it will release more liquid, again preventing browning.
5. After roughly eight minutes, when the edges are well-browned and crispy, flip the liver and cook it until the other side is done, an additional eight minutes or so. Remove the liver from the heat and allow to cool until it can be handled.

   

6. Roughly chop the liver and hard-boiled eggs and add to the bowl of a food processor fit with the metal s-shaped blade. Add the cooked onions, salt, pepper, and any oil and crispy bits remaining in the skillet.
7. Pulse the food processor to chop and mix the liver and other ingredients to the desired consistency, stopping to scrape down the sides with a rubber spatula as needed. I like it finely chopped, with a touch of smoothness, but not puréed. By using the pulse option on the food processor, it is much less likely to be over-processed. Taste to adjust seasonings.
8. Serve with challah, rye bread, crackers, or matzo and garnish with drained capers and finely chopped, soaked, and drained raw onions, if desired.

Chopped liver can be made up to a day ahead and refrigerated. Remove from refrigerator about a half hour before serving to bring to room temperature and correct seasonings.

Please like and share this post: