Coupl'a interesting notes courtesy of the dean of Hungarian cookbooks, if not cooking as well, George Lang. In his chapter on traditional stews, including gulyás, pörkölt, paprikás, and tokány,* he discusses pörkölt in general terms and then talks about what is essential and what is not:
"Matters of opinion: whether the onions are chopped or sliced; whether to use fresh tomatoes, tomato puree, or none; sliced green peppers or none; whether to add salt for the last 10 minutes or in the usual way; to brown the mean after the onion is golden, then add paprika and water, or to add water and meat right after onion has been sautéed and sprinkle it with paprika toward the last stages."
Disappointingly, although he mentions pork pörkölt, he offers no recipe--presumably because he considers it so basic. It can also be made with beef, mutton, game, goose, and duck (he offers recipes for chicken, veal, and carp pörkölt), but veal and chicken are most popular for paprikás.
He gets to székelygulyás in the next chapter, on "potted cabbage." There, he gives a recipe using 1 tablespoon lard to 1.5 pounds lean pork, as well as 2 tablespoons of tomato puree. He then relates the following somewhat longer and different version of how the dish came to be, as part of a long note:
"It is a cabbage dish that is not Transylvanian and was not created by the inhabitants there, the Szekelys, and it is not even a gulyás. According to a letter in the magazine of the Hungarian restaurateurs guild, it happened this way: In 1846 the librarian of Pest County came too late to a little restaurant, Zenélő Óra (the musical clock), to choose from the menu. The librarian, whose name was Székely (a rather common Hungarian name), asked the owner to serve the leftover sauerkraut and pork pörkölt together on the very same plate. The improvisation was so good that the great poet Petőfi, who was nearby within hearing distance, the following day asked the restaurateur to give him Székely's gulyás, meaning the same mixture Mr. Székely got the previous day. This time the owner topped it with sour cream and the dish, together with its name, became part of the everyday repertoire."
Lang also points out--his notes alone are worth the price of his book--that if one stopped after the first step in the Szekelygulyas recipe, one would have pork pörkölt (disznopörkölt).
Paul Kovi, in
Transylvanian Cuisine, doesn't even mention pörkölt. (I've always found his book a unique combination covering both Hungarian and Romanian and, while interesting in its own way, much less comprehensive.)
Leslie Chamberlain's
Food and Cooking of Eastern Europe, with its historical and somewhat British approach, mentions only beef porkolt.
Fascinating region, culinarily--not to mention the delicious food. Think I'd better go see what's in the cupboard (besides paprika!).
*Tokány, fwiw, is not Hungarian, but Romanian and the word itself derives from the Romanian
tocana which is a sort of ragout. This from Lang himself.
Gypsy Boy
"I am not a glutton--I am an explorer of food." (Erma Bombeck)