
Chef Dean
Amish Buttered Egg Noodles
The humblest side dish in the Pennsylvania Dutch tradition, where wide egg noodles and good butter need nothing more than salt and a warm bowl to become the thing everyone remembers from the church supper.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
The soul of Louisiana in a single pot: long-grain rice stained gloriously with chicken livers, seasoned pork, and the holy trinity, every forkful carrying generations of Cajun kitchen wisdom.
They call it dirty rice because the finished dish looks like it's been dragged through the bayou. The chicken livers and ground meat color every grain, staining the rice a speckled brown that would never grace a magazine cover. This is not pretty food. This is honest food, the kind that sustained generations of Cajun families who wasted nothing and seasoned everything.
The dish emerged from necessity. Chicken livers and gizzards were cheap, plentiful, and too good to throw away. Resourceful cooks in the Louisiana parishes stretched them with rice, their crop of abundance, and seasoned the whole affair with whatever grew in their gardens. The holy trinity of onion, celery, and bell pepper became the backbone. Cayenne provided the heat.
I've eaten dirty rice in church basements and at white-tablecloth restaurants in New Orleans. The best versions came from home cooks who learned the recipe from their mothers, who learned from theirs. The technique is simple but the results carry real depth. This is food that travels well to potlucks, holds beautifully on a buffet, and tastes even better the next day. Make a double batch. You'll be glad you did.
Quantity
8 ounces
trimmed
Quantity
1 pound
Quantity
3 tablespoons
divided
Quantity
1 large
finely diced
Quantity
2 stalks
finely diced
Quantity
1 large
finely diced
Quantity
4 cloves
minced
Quantity
2 cups
Quantity
3 cups
Quantity
1 teaspoon, plus more to taste
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
freshly ground
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
2
Quantity
4
thinly sliced, whites and greens separated
Quantity
2 tablespoons
chopped
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| chicken liverstrimmed | 8 ounces |
| ground pork | 1 pound |
| vegetable oil or bacon drippingsdivided | 3 tablespoons |
| yellow onionfinely diced | 1 large |
| celeryfinely diced | 2 stalks |
| green bell pepperfinely diced | 1 large |
| garlicminced | 4 cloves |
| long-grain white rice | 2 cups |
| chicken stock | 3 cups |
| kosher salt | 1 teaspoon, plus more to taste |
| black pepperfreshly ground | 1/2 teaspoon |
| cayenne pepper | 1/2 teaspoon |
| smoked paprika | 1 teaspoon |
| dried thyme | 1/2 teaspoon |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| green onionsthinly sliced, whites and greens separated | 4 |
| fresh parsleychopped | 2 tablespoons |
| hot sauce (optional) | for serving |
Pat the chicken livers dry with paper towels and pulse them in a food processor until finely chopped but not pureed. You want small pieces, about the size of cooked rice grains. The texture should be chunky, like coarse ground meat. If you don't have a processor, mince them by hand on a cutting board until they resemble ground meat. This is where the 'dirty' comes from, so don't skip the livers.
Heat two tablespoons of oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Add the ground pork and cook, breaking it into small crumbles with a wooden spoon, until deeply browned and crispy in spots, eight to ten minutes. Don't rush this step. The browned bits on the bottom of the pot, that fond, is flavor you're building. Transfer the pork to a bowl and set aside.
Add the remaining tablespoon of oil to the pot. Add the processed chicken livers and cook, stirring frequently, until they lose their pink color and turn grayish-brown, about four minutes. They'll stick to the bottom initially, then release. This is adding another layer of that earthy depth that makes dirty rice unmistakable. Transfer to the bowl with the pork.
Reduce heat to medium. Add the onion, celery, and bell pepper to the pot. This is the holy trinity, the foundation of Cajun cooking the way mirepoix anchors French cuisine. Cook, stirring occasionally and scraping up the fond from the bottom, until the vegetables soften and the onions turn translucent, about eight minutes. The kitchen will smell like Louisiana.
Add the garlic and white parts of the green onions. Stir for thirty seconds until fragrant. Add the salt, black pepper, cayenne, smoked paprika, and thyme. Stir everything together and let the spices bloom in the fat for about one minute. You'll smell the cayenne open up, a warm tickle in your nose.
Add the rice to the pot and stir to coat every grain with the seasoned fat and vegetables. Toast the rice, stirring constantly, for two to three minutes. The grains will turn slightly opaque at the edges and smell nutty. This step prevents gummy rice and adds another dimension of flavor.
Return the pork and liver mixture to the pot and stir to combine. Pour in the chicken stock, scraping up any remaining fond. Add the bay leaves. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover tightly, and simmer for eighteen to twenty minutes. Resist the urge to lift the lid. The steam trapped inside does the cooking.
Remove from heat and let stand, still covered, for five minutes. This resting period allows the rice to finish absorbing liquid and firms up the texture. Remove the bay leaves, fluff with a fork, and fold in the parsley and green onion tops. Taste and adjust salt and cayenne. The finished rice should be fluffy, each grain separate, speckled throughout with bits of meat and vegetables.
1 serving (about 340g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Dean
The humblest side dish in the Pennsylvania Dutch tradition, where wide egg noodles and good butter need nothing more than salt and a warm bowl to become the thing everyone remembers from the church supper.

Chef Dean
A potluck legend built on crisp cabbage, sweet carrots, and the irresistible shatter of toasted ramen noodles, all lacquered in a sesame-ginger dressing that keeps people coming back for thirds.

Chef Dean
The potluck dish that vanishes first, every single time. Crisp raw broccoli, smoky bacon, and a creamy ranch dressing that turns skeptics into believers and demands a copy of the recipe before you leave.

Chef Dean
Pinto beans braised low and slow in Mexican beer with smoky bacon, fresh jalapeños, and ripe tomatoes until the pot liquor turns thick and savory, finished with a shower of cilantro that makes the whole kitchen smell like Saturday.