This is one of the easiest techniques of pickling in the repertoire.
All you need is salt, water, and time.
Plus, a mechanism to keep the vegetables below the water line. The CC recommends a Japanese pickle-press which is designed to do so. Even if you don't have one as long as you are committed to just shaking the container daily, you're good to go.
Pickling is an exercise in hygiene and cleanliness. Something that is very relevant to our times. Most of the hard work of pickling lies in sterilization. You are trying to get rid of all the bad bacteria and fungi and introduce the good ones.
There has never been a pickler in history who has said "My workspace is too clean."
Anal-retentives, please report to the front of the class!
There are just a few steps:
[1] Pour boiling water over your jar to sterilize it.
[2] 5% of salt by volume at the bottom. (Don't sweat this percentage thing. Just don't under-salt!)
[3] Scrub and clean [ and cut ] your vegetables.
[4] Boiling water over the top.
[5] Seal and store in your refrigetator - there's a reason for this.
Your vegetables are your babies. They will "burp" so every day, you will need to "burp the baby" — open the seal, "burp", close the seal again.
They will settle down just like babies.
Crispy vegetables e.g. carrots take longer to ferment. Rest work faster.
On the safety issue, as one FDA commissioner said and the CC quotes loosely, "There has never been a recorded case of illness [ due to lacto-fermentation ] in the entire history of the FDA. It's the safest technology we know."
Showing posts with label vegetables. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vegetables. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 26, 2020
Saturday, March 25, 2017
Pav Bhaji
What do the laws of electromagnetism, the Portuguese, the price of cotton, time zones, vegetarianism, and the American Civil War all have in common?
They came together to invent the iconic Mumbai street dish known as pav bhaji (pronounced: paav bhaaji — the two "a"'s are actually long vowels.)
Every good military general would tell you that the best way to win a war is through economics. The naval Union Blockade of April 1861 which heavily targeted New Orleans (Louisiana) and Mobile (Alabama) made the cotton exports of the South come to a grinding halt. The savvy Gujarati speculators of the old Cotton Exchange in Bombay knew the drill. Rates were wired in and orders wired out late into the night when the corresponding exchanges in Chicago would've been open.
(Bombay made its fortune on the basis of its cotton mills — a fact that is quite clear even today in its geography. The point being that the price of cotton mattered hugely and the American Civil War and the telegraph provided a mechanism to speculate on the price swings. Note that the world was on a Gold Standard back then so that exchange rates between the dollar, the pound and the rupee, which was basically the pound, would not matter.)
The word for trader in both Hindi and Gujarati is dalal (दलाल) — it's not a neutral word. It has a slightly shady connotation to it. No trader would self-describe themselves as a dalal even though that's exactly what they are. It carries with it the negative connotations of both "speculator" and "pimp". The Japanese equivalent is kabuya (株屋) — stock-broker/stock-slinger (= speculator.)
Now you have a bunch of traders working hard into the deep night. They're largely vegetarian. They're rich (or wanna-be rich) but in the classic tradition of rich people, they're also cheap. When you have a demand, a corresponding supply opens up. It has to be fast, tasty, and yes, cheap.
Where do the Portuguese come in?
India had no tradition of baking leavened breads before the 15th-century just like most of Southeast Asia. The Portuguese were responsible for introducing the yeasty bread (pão in Portuguese) which is paav in Hindi and パン (pan in Japanese).
The dish is made from the cheapest of ingredients — potatoes, tomatoes and onions. Plus fried bread. It's a street dish. It's not fancy. You toss in whatever vegetables you have lying around. It's also infinitely configurable with different toppings depending on the individual taste buds.
The critical point is that everything could be made ahead of time. You're basically stir-frying at the last moment. Even the bread could be made ahead of time. It could even be slightly stale because it would be fried again. Every corner that could be possibly cut was actually trimmed. This is one efficient caloric machine.
Needless to say, it was an instant hit.
Nothing's changed since 1861. This dish is still a hit and will continue to be so.
It's endlessly addictive. It's one carb-laden umami-laden butter-laden bomb!
Ingredients
(serves 4)
6 small potatoes (or 3 large ones)
8-10 tomatoes
1 large onion (finely chopped)
1" ginger
4-5 cloves garlic
butter
salt
3-4 tbsp pav bhaji masala
chopped vegetables (peas, carrots, cauliflower, french beans — optional)
12-16 pieces pav
Toppings
red onions (finely chopped)
lime
cilantro (finely chopped)
Note 1: Some of the toppings are missing in the photograph. Specifically, the red onions with lime and cilantro. (The toppings are frequently mixed together so you just add as much as you like including the lime juice.)
Note 2: The CC knows that the bread in the picture is not fried. As Julia says, butter makes everything better, but sometimes a little restraint also works. (People also add extra butter on the bhaji itself which is kinda "over the top".)
Note 3: Yeah, the CC is totally aware that the picture below isn't the "real" paav but one must work with what one has in New York not what one wishes one had. It's the closest approximation to the "real thing". The bread pictured above has the right texture — hard exterior and soft interior. It's from a local bakery.
Note 4: For once, the CC is not going to post a recipe for the spices. You are better off buying this at a Indian grocery store. You could do it yourself but the proportions would be all off unless you plan on making a year's supply. Sorry.
Note 5: Note the presence of two different kinds of sourness — amchur (= dried green mango powder) in the pav bhaji masala and lime juice. This is a consistent theme in Southeast Asian cooking. The presence of a dry "mellow" kind of sourness allied with a wet perfumed "fresh" kind of sourness.
Note 6: The CC knows that it's much more tricky to describe a street dish than it is to describe a more conventional one. However, when you are faced with alternatives and problems, the key question you need to ask yourself is "Would a street vendor in 1861 worry about this problem in the middle of the night?" If the answer is no, then the CC says, "Wing it!" Except for the butter, the spice mixture, onions, potatoes and tomatoes, it's all up in the air anyway!
Note 7: If you've ever watched it being made on the street, you'd realize that your puny home cooking range simply doesn't have the BTU's. Additionally, the tomatoes are simply not ripe enough. They toss whole ripe tomatoes onto the sizzling skillet and de-skin them with their spatula. You have neither the heat nor the skill to do so. Do it the CC's way, OK?
Note 8: The vegetables may or may not have been part of the original recipe but they've become "traditional" with the advent of healthier eating.
Recipe
First boil the potatoes. Skin them and set aside. Mash gently.
Pass the tomatoes through a food mill to get just the pulp. If the tomatoes are not completely ripe, you may need to par-boil them for 5-6 minutes each to get them to soften.
Pound the ginger and garlic into a paste.
Heat up the butter in a pan. Add the onions and fry till they turn pink. Do not let them caramelize. Add the ginger-garlic paste and fry for a bit. Add the tomatoes and let it come to a boil. Skim if you prefer that. Let it cook for at least 10 minutes. Add the pav bhaji masala.
Add the mashed potatoes and let it cook for 8 minutes or so. This concoction has a tendency to act like molten lava splashing everywhere so cover the lid partially otherwise you will be cursing the CC.
Taste. You may need to add more pav bhaji masala. It's hard to predict how much exactly.
Split the bread into two without cutting all the way. Take a skillet. Add butter and let the bread fry on both sides. (This is optional.)
Serve the bread, the pav bhaji and the toppings on the side (as needed.)
They came together to invent the iconic Mumbai street dish known as pav bhaji (pronounced: paav bhaaji — the two "a"'s are actually long vowels.)
Every good military general would tell you that the best way to win a war is through economics. The naval Union Blockade of April 1861 which heavily targeted New Orleans (Louisiana) and Mobile (Alabama) made the cotton exports of the South come to a grinding halt. The savvy Gujarati speculators of the old Cotton Exchange in Bombay knew the drill. Rates were wired in and orders wired out late into the night when the corresponding exchanges in Chicago would've been open.
(Bombay made its fortune on the basis of its cotton mills — a fact that is quite clear even today in its geography. The point being that the price of cotton mattered hugely and the American Civil War and the telegraph provided a mechanism to speculate on the price swings. Note that the world was on a Gold Standard back then so that exchange rates between the dollar, the pound and the rupee, which was basically the pound, would not matter.)
The word for trader in both Hindi and Gujarati is dalal (दलाल) — it's not a neutral word. It has a slightly shady connotation to it. No trader would self-describe themselves as a dalal even though that's exactly what they are. It carries with it the negative connotations of both "speculator" and "pimp". The Japanese equivalent is kabuya (株屋) — stock-broker/stock-slinger (= speculator.)
Now you have a bunch of traders working hard into the deep night. They're largely vegetarian. They're rich (or wanna-be rich) but in the classic tradition of rich people, they're also cheap. When you have a demand, a corresponding supply opens up. It has to be fast, tasty, and yes, cheap.
Where do the Portuguese come in?
India had no tradition of baking leavened breads before the 15th-century just like most of Southeast Asia. The Portuguese were responsible for introducing the yeasty bread (pão in Portuguese) which is paav in Hindi and パン (pan in Japanese).
The dish is made from the cheapest of ingredients — potatoes, tomatoes and onions. Plus fried bread. It's a street dish. It's not fancy. You toss in whatever vegetables you have lying around. It's also infinitely configurable with different toppings depending on the individual taste buds.
The critical point is that everything could be made ahead of time. You're basically stir-frying at the last moment. Even the bread could be made ahead of time. It could even be slightly stale because it would be fried again. Every corner that could be possibly cut was actually trimmed. This is one efficient caloric machine.
Nothing's changed since 1861. This dish is still a hit and will continue to be so.
It's endlessly addictive. It's one carb-laden umami-laden butter-laden bomb!
Ingredients
(serves 4)
6 small potatoes (or 3 large ones)
8-10 tomatoes
1 large onion (finely chopped)
1" ginger
4-5 cloves garlic
butter
salt
3-4 tbsp pav bhaji masala
chopped vegetables (peas, carrots, cauliflower, french beans — optional)
12-16 pieces pav
Toppings
red onions (finely chopped)
lime
cilantro (finely chopped)
Note 1: Some of the toppings are missing in the photograph. Specifically, the red onions with lime and cilantro. (The toppings are frequently mixed together so you just add as much as you like including the lime juice.)
Note 2: The CC knows that the bread in the picture is not fried. As Julia says, butter makes everything better, but sometimes a little restraint also works. (People also add extra butter on the bhaji itself which is kinda "over the top".)
Note 3: Yeah, the CC is totally aware that the picture below isn't the "real" paav but one must work with what one has in New York not what one wishes one had. It's the closest approximation to the "real thing". The bread pictured above has the right texture — hard exterior and soft interior. It's from a local bakery.
Note 5: Note the presence of two different kinds of sourness — amchur (= dried green mango powder) in the pav bhaji masala and lime juice. This is a consistent theme in Southeast Asian cooking. The presence of a dry "mellow" kind of sourness allied with a wet perfumed "fresh" kind of sourness.
Note 6: The CC knows that it's much more tricky to describe a street dish than it is to describe a more conventional one. However, when you are faced with alternatives and problems, the key question you need to ask yourself is "Would a street vendor in 1861 worry about this problem in the middle of the night?" If the answer is no, then the CC says, "Wing it!" Except for the butter, the spice mixture, onions, potatoes and tomatoes, it's all up in the air anyway!
Note 7: If you've ever watched it being made on the street, you'd realize that your puny home cooking range simply doesn't have the BTU's. Additionally, the tomatoes are simply not ripe enough. They toss whole ripe tomatoes onto the sizzling skillet and de-skin them with their spatula. You have neither the heat nor the skill to do so. Do it the CC's way, OK?
Note 8: The vegetables may or may not have been part of the original recipe but they've become "traditional" with the advent of healthier eating.
Recipe
First boil the potatoes. Skin them and set aside. Mash gently.
Pass the tomatoes through a food mill to get just the pulp. If the tomatoes are not completely ripe, you may need to par-boil them for 5-6 minutes each to get them to soften.
Pound the ginger and garlic into a paste.
Heat up the butter in a pan. Add the onions and fry till they turn pink. Do not let them caramelize. Add the ginger-garlic paste and fry for a bit. Add the tomatoes and let it come to a boil. Skim if you prefer that. Let it cook for at least 10 minutes. Add the pav bhaji masala.
Add the mashed potatoes and let it cook for 8 minutes or so. This concoction has a tendency to act like molten lava splashing everywhere so cover the lid partially otherwise you will be cursing the CC.
Taste. You may need to add more pav bhaji masala. It's hard to predict how much exactly.
Split the bread into two without cutting all the way. Take a skillet. Add butter and let the bread fry on both sides. (This is optional.)
Serve the bread, the pav bhaji and the toppings on the side (as needed.)
Wednesday, September 28, 2016
Kaeng Som (Thai Sour Curry - แกงส้ม)
This is the ultimate grande dame of Thai curries.
On the one hand, it's so simple to make that it's made almost weekly in Thai households. On the other hand, simply because of that everyone, their mother, their grandmother, their dead great-grandmother and her long-dead ancestors have an opinion about it!
(Read the post about food and identity to understand this phenomenon.)
That having been said, the dish is easy to make casually but extarordinarily hard to make expertly.
It's hard for the same reason that chefs routinely test novices with making an omelette, or that you end up skating naked making certain Italian dishes.
You're using a minimal set of ingredients, and there's no place to hide. Either you nail it or you don't, and if you don't, there's no way to fix it.
It's the ultimate test of technique. It's doubly hard for those of us who didn't grow up with a Thai grandmother beating us up while we were learning. We're going to have to take our beatings the ol'-fashioned way via experience.
What is it?
It's a simple water-based "sour" curry that's really quite "primitive" (to use David Thompson's description) in which vegetables and fish are simmered. It's served with rice (of course!)
There are only five ingredients that matter - chillies (which are emphatically not Thai but New World), garlic, shallots, shrimp paste, and tamarind.
There are also ingredients that will "balance" it - e.g. palm sugar, etc.
All the magic is in the paste which takes a bit of effort with a mortar and pestle. Thai curries simply don't work with food processors. You need to pound the ingredients. (The neighbors rang the bell to check that everything was OK since the sound of pounding wafted out the kitchen window. It sure was, kids, it sure was!)
For the record, it's harder to pound soft ingredients into the right consistency than hard ingredients. This one is filled with soft ingredients — garlic and shallots.
If you persist, and the CC is sure that the readers on this blog are the kind that would do so, you'll be rewarded with sheer magnificence. Everything that is so wonderful about Thai food distilled down into one elegant minimalist package.
Ingredients
Paste
2 tbsp dried shrimp
4-6 long red chilies
3 red shallots
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp shrimp paste
2 cups water
tamarind water (thin)
vegetables
fish
fish sauce (nahm pla) to taste
palm sugar (optional)
Note 1: The kinds of vegetables you can add varies. Long beans are classic as are bamboo shoots, or raw papaya but the CC has seen modern stuff like cauliflower, cabbage, etc.
Note 2: The village roots of this dish should be "obvious".
Note 3: There is a relatively modern variation that plonks in a square-piece of cha-om omelette. Cha-om is going to be impossible to find outside of California. It has a strongly sulfurous smell exactly like that of kala namak in Indian food. The texture is not dissimilar to samphire. If you're feeling particularly flush with money, the combination would do the trick. Otherwise substitute a bitter green and kala namak for a rough approximation.
Note 4: You still need to make the square "omelettes". Cook them thick with egg in a pan like a frittata. Flip, cook the other side. Cool and cut into squares. (They should be quite dry since you're going to plop them into a curry.)
Note 5: This is not a "fancy" dish. All the crazy caveats aside, this is closer to the fast and the furious. You should be able to make it in at most 30 minutes if you get all your ingredients in a row.
Note 6: There is considerable warfare even among the Thai population about how "thin" the curry should be. The CC is going to stay out of this particular "Vietnam".
Note 7: Side dish. The ultimate test of serving Asian food. Keep it simple. The dish is spicy hence sliced cucumbers.
Note 8: You need a fish broth ideally. David Thompson suggests pounding some dried shrimp as the first step of the recipe. Works like a charm. Instant "fish broth" as the deeply dead great-great-great-grandmother would've understood and appreciated.
Note 9: The "correct" sequence of pounding is the driest hardest first to softest wettest last. This just makes it easy to do the pounding. In this case, it would be dried shrimp, soaked chilies, garlic, shallots. and finally shrimp paste.
Recipe
First make the tamarind water. Soak the lump of tamarind in 1/2 cup of boiling water for 20 minutes. Strain it squeezing the tamarind. You can do this directly into the boiling water later.
Soak the separately chilies in boiling water for the same 20 minutes. Pull out the chilies. Reserve the water to add to the broth.
Roast the dried shrimp briefly on a skillet. Put aside. On the same skillet, roast the shrimp paste wrapped in aluminum foil. Flip and keep roasting until it gives off its characteristic smell. Be careful not to burn it.
(These first three steps can clearly be done in parallel.)
Start making the paste. Pound the dried shrimp followed by the chilies, the garlic, and the shallots. Add the roasted shrimp paste and make a smooth paste.
Combine the stock, tamarind water and paste and bring to a boil. Add fish sauce to taste. Add some palm sugar to balance the flavors. Let it simmer for 4-5 minutes.
It should taste hot, sour and salty.
Add the vegetables and let them cook through. Add the fish and let it poach for 2-3 minutes.
Serve at once with rice.
On the one hand, it's so simple to make that it's made almost weekly in Thai households. On the other hand, simply because of that everyone, their mother, their grandmother, their dead great-grandmother and her long-dead ancestors have an opinion about it!
(Read the post about food and identity to understand this phenomenon.)
That having been said, the dish is easy to make casually but extarordinarily hard to make expertly.
It's hard for the same reason that chefs routinely test novices with making an omelette, or that you end up skating naked making certain Italian dishes.
You're using a minimal set of ingredients, and there's no place to hide. Either you nail it or you don't, and if you don't, there's no way to fix it.
It's the ultimate test of technique. It's doubly hard for those of us who didn't grow up with a Thai grandmother beating us up while we were learning. We're going to have to take our beatings the ol'-fashioned way via experience.
What is it?
It's a simple water-based "sour" curry that's really quite "primitive" (to use David Thompson's description) in which vegetables and fish are simmered. It's served with rice (of course!)
There are only five ingredients that matter - chillies (which are emphatically not Thai but New World), garlic, shallots, shrimp paste, and tamarind.
There are also ingredients that will "balance" it - e.g. palm sugar, etc.
All the magic is in the paste which takes a bit of effort with a mortar and pestle. Thai curries simply don't work with food processors. You need to pound the ingredients. (The neighbors rang the bell to check that everything was OK since the sound of pounding wafted out the kitchen window. It sure was, kids, it sure was!)
For the record, it's harder to pound soft ingredients into the right consistency than hard ingredients. This one is filled with soft ingredients — garlic and shallots.
If you persist, and the CC is sure that the readers on this blog are the kind that would do so, you'll be rewarded with sheer magnificence. Everything that is so wonderful about Thai food distilled down into one elegant minimalist package.
Ingredients
Paste
2 tbsp dried shrimp
4-6 long red chilies
3 red shallots
3 cloves garlic
1 tsp shrimp paste
2 cups water
tamarind water (thin)
vegetables
fish
fish sauce (nahm pla) to taste
palm sugar (optional)
Note 1: The kinds of vegetables you can add varies. Long beans are classic as are bamboo shoots, or raw papaya but the CC has seen modern stuff like cauliflower, cabbage, etc.
Note 2: The village roots of this dish should be "obvious".
Note 3: There is a relatively modern variation that plonks in a square-piece of cha-om omelette. Cha-om is going to be impossible to find outside of California. It has a strongly sulfurous smell exactly like that of kala namak in Indian food. The texture is not dissimilar to samphire. If you're feeling particularly flush with money, the combination would do the trick. Otherwise substitute a bitter green and kala namak for a rough approximation.
Note 4: You still need to make the square "omelettes". Cook them thick with egg in a pan like a frittata. Flip, cook the other side. Cool and cut into squares. (They should be quite dry since you're going to plop them into a curry.)
Note 5: This is not a "fancy" dish. All the crazy caveats aside, this is closer to the fast and the furious. You should be able to make it in at most 30 minutes if you get all your ingredients in a row.
Note 6: There is considerable warfare even among the Thai population about how "thin" the curry should be. The CC is going to stay out of this particular "Vietnam".
Note 7: Side dish. The ultimate test of serving Asian food. Keep it simple. The dish is spicy hence sliced cucumbers.
Note 8: You need a fish broth ideally. David Thompson suggests pounding some dried shrimp as the first step of the recipe. Works like a charm. Instant "fish broth" as the deeply dead great-great-great-grandmother would've understood and appreciated.
Note 9: The "correct" sequence of pounding is the driest hardest first to softest wettest last. This just makes it easy to do the pounding. In this case, it would be dried shrimp, soaked chilies, garlic, shallots. and finally shrimp paste.
Recipe
First make the tamarind water. Soak the lump of tamarind in 1/2 cup of boiling water for 20 minutes. Strain it squeezing the tamarind. You can do this directly into the boiling water later.
Soak the separately chilies in boiling water for the same 20 minutes. Pull out the chilies. Reserve the water to add to the broth.
Roast the dried shrimp briefly on a skillet. Put aside. On the same skillet, roast the shrimp paste wrapped in aluminum foil. Flip and keep roasting until it gives off its characteristic smell. Be careful not to burn it.
(These first three steps can clearly be done in parallel.)
Start making the paste. Pound the dried shrimp followed by the chilies, the garlic, and the shallots. Add the roasted shrimp paste and make a smooth paste.
Combine the stock, tamarind water and paste and bring to a boil. Add fish sauce to taste. Add some palm sugar to balance the flavors. Let it simmer for 4-5 minutes.
It should taste hot, sour and salty.
Add the vegetables and let them cook through. Add the fish and let it poach for 2-3 minutes.
Serve at once with rice.
Saturday, July 4, 2015
Vegetables
Vegetables are bland in flavor. There, the CC has said it.
Before a lynch-mob comes marching in, hear me out.
Vegetables are diluted in flavor by the water in their cells. So is meat, for the record. Hence, the concept of "aging beef" which allows the water to escape and making the meat more intensely "meaty".
There are a standard set of tricks across the globe to make vegetables more "vegetable-y" but since chez CC, we tend to be of the analytic bent, let's dig in further. We're also going to go further into domains not imagined by all these vegetable cultures.
All world cuisine relies on one or both of these tricks:
Before a lynch-mob comes marching in, hear me out.
Vegetables are diluted in flavor by the water in their cells. So is meat, for the record. Hence, the concept of "aging beef" which allows the water to escape and making the meat more intensely "meaty".
There are a standard set of tricks across the globe to make vegetables more "vegetable-y" but since chez CC, we tend to be of the analytic bent, let's dig in further. We're also going to go further into domains not imagined by all these vegetable cultures.
All world cuisine relies on one or both of these tricks:
- Dessicate the vegetables to make them more intense.
- Dessicate the vegetables and then replace the lost water in the cellular structure by more "interesting" stuff.
There is no "third destination".
There are three standard ways of dessicating vegetables — roasting, frying and sun-drying. Each is standard across the globe although the CC would argue that frying is a cross between [1] and [2] in that it replaces the water with a light coating of fat which is irresistible to the human tongue.
Now, that you understand this, you will realize how bullshit the verb insaporire ("to infuse with flavor") in Italian actually is. You're doing nothing of the sort. You're dessicating the vegetables by pan-frying them for a long time. No flavor is actually being "infused' because nothing is entering the system. You are pulling water out and the flavor is already present in the amazing vegetables to start with.
Yet, the Italians are onto something important. Pan-frying the vegetables does indeed intensify the flavor and this is the criticism that the CC would lay on the modern world and it's "fast food" concepts. You need to be slow and fry them languidly on a low heat for longer you think possible. The CC routinely catches himself trying to speed up before the analytic brain kicks in and says, "ten more minutes, mofo!" and the food is always the better as the Italians would have it. A great minestrone would have the vegetables pan-fried for the better part of 30 minutes.
The greatness of sun-dried vegetables should be obvious. So should be the concept of fried vegetables — everything from pakoras and tempura to fritto misto.
They are all precise ways of dessicating vegetables.
(Now, you understand why kale chips work, right?)
Once you've dessicated the vegetables, you are can re-infuse the cellular structures with other stuff. Everything from spices to meat and fish broths. The genius of Indian vegetarian cooking can be encapsulated in the fact that they combine steps [1] and [2] in one neat step. The vegetables are dessicated at the same time infusing them with the taste of intense spices. You see the same logic in an Italian minestrone which relies on vegetables being dessicated via pan-frying and reconstituted in an intense tomato broth. (Before the discovery of the New World, the Romans used meat broth to the same effect but the tomato is both cheaper and more intensely umami.)
Armed with this analytic conceit, we're no longer constrained by the arbitrariness of culture. If you want carrots to be more intensely "carrot-y" then dessicate them at a really low temperature and then reconstitute them in carrot juice!
In fact armed with this trick, you can make zucchini taste of meat or tomatoes or whatever you please.
The vegetable world is your oyster!
The greatness of sun-dried vegetables should be obvious. So should be the concept of fried vegetables — everything from pakoras and tempura to fritto misto.
They are all precise ways of dessicating vegetables.
(Now, you understand why kale chips work, right?)
Once you've dessicated the vegetables, you are can re-infuse the cellular structures with other stuff. Everything from spices to meat and fish broths. The genius of Indian vegetarian cooking can be encapsulated in the fact that they combine steps [1] and [2] in one neat step. The vegetables are dessicated at the same time infusing them with the taste of intense spices. You see the same logic in an Italian minestrone which relies on vegetables being dessicated via pan-frying and reconstituted in an intense tomato broth. (Before the discovery of the New World, the Romans used meat broth to the same effect but the tomato is both cheaper and more intensely umami.)
Armed with this analytic conceit, we're no longer constrained by the arbitrariness of culture. If you want carrots to be more intensely "carrot-y" then dessicate them at a really low temperature and then reconstitute them in carrot juice!
In fact armed with this trick, you can make zucchini taste of meat or tomatoes or whatever you please.
The vegetable world is your oyster!
Friday, March 6, 2015
Poached flounder with baby potatoes, cherry tomatoes & olives in saffron-tomato broth
This is one of the dishes that is extremely simple provided you have the ingredients on hand.
Please read the notes and follow the instructions carefully.
Ingredients
(serves 2)
2 fillets of flounder
8 baby potatoes
12 cherry tomatoes
1/4 cup fresh peas
1/4 cup carrots (sliced into thin batons)
1/4 cup French beans (sliced into 1" length pieces)
1/4 cup black olives
2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup tomato purée
2 sprigs tarragon (chopped)
large pinch of saffron
parsley (finely chopped)
salt
black pepper
Recipe
Notes:
Bring the chicken broth and tomato purée to a gentle rolling boil. Add salt and black pepper. Add the baby potatoes and cook for 12 minutes. When this happens, foam will come to the surface. Skim it.
Add the cherry tomatoes, peas, beans and olives and continue to cook for 4 minutes.
With a slotted spoon, fish out all the vegetables and put them into two serving bowls which can hold liquid.
Bring the liquid to a boil again. Add the saffron and tarragon. Poach the fish in the liquid till it is cooked through - typically 3-4 minutes per fillet. (The CC had to poach them individually but if you have a large enough pan, you might be able to do both at once.)
Lift out the fish and place it gently on top of the vegetables.
Pour the broth over the fish and the vegetables. Sprinkling of parsley and if desired, more black pepper on top.
Serve with some crusty bread.
Please read the notes and follow the instructions carefully.
Ingredients
(serves 2)
2 fillets of flounder
8 baby potatoes
12 cherry tomatoes
1/4 cup fresh peas
1/4 cup carrots (sliced into thin batons)
1/4 cup French beans (sliced into 1" length pieces)
1/4 cup black olives
2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup tomato purée
2 sprigs tarragon (chopped)
large pinch of saffron
parsley (finely chopped)
salt
black pepper
Recipe
Notes:
- You absolutely need both chicken broth and the tomato purée. The umami is a big factor in this recipe. If you don't have chicken broth then you must either make a quick fish broth, or a Japanese-style dashi. This recipe will not work otherwise. The tomatoes and the broth function in tandem.
- Tarragon can be overpowering. Use in moderation. Substitute by fennel seeds.
- Saffron is non-negotiable.
- Obviously, you can use any combination of vegetables you have at hand but use neutral ones. Cauliflower is great as would be some beans. There is considerable leeway here.
- You can use any white fish. Cod is great too. Poaching time depends on the fillet thickness.
Bring the chicken broth and tomato purée to a gentle rolling boil. Add salt and black pepper. Add the baby potatoes and cook for 12 minutes. When this happens, foam will come to the surface. Skim it.
Add the cherry tomatoes, peas, beans and olives and continue to cook for 4 minutes.
With a slotted spoon, fish out all the vegetables and put them into two serving bowls which can hold liquid.
Bring the liquid to a boil again. Add the saffron and tarragon. Poach the fish in the liquid till it is cooked through - typically 3-4 minutes per fillet. (The CC had to poach them individually but if you have a large enough pan, you might be able to do both at once.)
Lift out the fish and place it gently on top of the vegetables.
Pour the broth over the fish and the vegetables. Sprinkling of parsley and if desired, more black pepper on top.
Serve with some crusty bread.
Thursday, July 3, 2014
Hiyashi Chūka (冷やし中華)
Literally "Chilled Chinese", this is the summer dish in Japan that only shows up on menus when the summer heat turns oppressive. Restaurants love it, since except for the ramen,
the dish consists only of assembly. All the components are pre-made and chilled down ahead of time.
It's exactly as rock-star as it sounds. Perfect cold dish for the insane summer heat just like this week here.
There is an ugly fact here that is going to upset most readers.
Precision of effect frequently requires substantial expenditure of means.
Each piece needs to be precisely made, cut up, and "chilled" and then the whole gets put together. It's not at all hard but it does go against that "effortless" summer dish mojo.
So why is the CC sabotaging his own readership with something that takes effort?
The answer is the sheer awesomeness of the dish with ingredients that can be stored for another day.
What is it?
It's cold noodles with a umami-laden gingery sweet-and-salty sauce and cold toppings. Unlike salads, the sauce sits at the bottom of the dish. You mix whatever ingredients you like for the "next slurp" and, let's face it, you need to slurp the ramen, people! The ingredients have been arranged at the top for visual interest not for "mixing". Each mixed-up slurp is going to be unique and umami-laden thanks to the personal mixing and the sauce.
The dish can only be described as "cold magic for a hot summer's day".
It is absolutely modern and in spite of its name it's no more "Chinese" than the CC is. It's Japanese through and through. The name is advertising. Every culture likes "foreign" stuff because exotic stuff sells and this dish fits the bill. It could never have existed before the age of refrigeration. The tastes are purely Japanese and only the noodles are "kinda sorta vaguely" Chinese. Don't let the name fool you.
(There's a general trend here. Names of dishes that contain a country/place rarely originate in the country/place named. For example, French Fries, Chinese Chop-Suey, Pad Thai, Baked Alaska, Hamburger, etc. This list is long!)
The dish follows the rules of washoku (和食) even though it is not really traditional. Five flavors; five colors; visual interest.
Typically, you would work with five ingredients plus the ramen but the CC had most of the stuff in his apartment; he was bored, and he is a little bit crazy (Really?!? Who'd think that?)
Let's enumerate the ingredients starting from the "6 o' clock position".
There is one deviation that makes it "modern modern" (to ape the modern way of talking.) Traditionally, the eggs would have been cooked in a Japanese-style omelette and cut into strips. The rest is pretty much conventional.
As pointed out the dish is a game of assembly. Each of the ingredients was cooked or cut up and chilled in the refrigerator. When the time came to serve the dish, the ramen was cooked and quickly chilled in ice-water and the dish assembled. It's also easiest if you just chill the plates in the freezer ahead of time. That way everything stays cold.
Everything serves two but you are welcome to make more and store it. Each cooked component stores really well and you can always quickly cut up the other stuff in a few minutes.
Also if you read the recipe carefully, the sequence in which to make things is clearly to make the dashi first, then simmer the crab sticks, then the lotus roots, then add the ingredients to make the mushrooms, and use the reduced sauce as a component in the dipping sauce. That way everything gets used up and no flavors are wasted.
This sort of complex sequencing is really the heart of many "hard" dishes. In order to not repeat things, you must sequence them out correctly up-front.
Vegetables
Ingredients
8 cherry tomatoes
1 small cucumber
Japanese-style pickled carrots (just use fresh if you don't have this)
4-5 Chinese chives
Recipe
Cut the tomatoes in half. The cucumber, carrot and chives must be cut into long thin strips. Set aside and chill.
Seaweed
Ingredients
1/2 tsp dried wakame
1 sheet nori
Recipe
In a small bowl add cold water to the dried wakame. The nori must be cut into fine strips. You can drain the wakame just before assembly.
Crab Sticks, Lotus Roots & Egg
Ingredients
2 cups dashi
4-5 crab-sticks
1 small lotus root.
1 egg
Recipe
The crab sticks are generally frozen. Bring the dashi to a boil and cook them for about 3 minutes. Lift out and set aside.
Add the lotus roots to the dashi and let them cook for about 4-5 minutes. Lift them out and set aside.
Cook the eggs mollet-style in a separate pot with some water. 7 minutes. Immediately plunge them into an ice bath. Peel when cooled and set aside. You can slice them right before serving.
Simmered Mushrooms
Ingredients
8 dried shiitake mushrooms.
1 cup dashi
4 tbsp. soy sauce
2 tbsp. brown sugar
Recipe
Combine the ingredients and bring to a boil. Let it cook uncovered for about 8 minutes until the shiitake mushrooms are cooked through. You can reduce the sauce and use it in the dipping sauce.
Dipping Sauce
Ingredients
1/3 cup dashi
2 tbsp. soy sauce
2 tbsp. black sugar
2 tbsp. sesame oil
1 tbsp. grated ginger
Recipe
The measurements are a little approximate. Mix everything together like a vinaigrette. You will need to taste it and make sure it has the right balance of sweet and salty tastes. The dashi will provide the intense umami.
Ramen
Ingredients
2 packages frozen ramen
2 tbsp. roasted sesame seeds
Recipe
NOTE: The frozen ramen available in the Japanese grocery store are the preferred ones. They are the ones made traditional-style with alkaline water. They will look pale yellow.
Roast the sesame seeds on a medium-hot skillet until they are golden and set aside.
Prepare an ice-bath. Then in a large pot, bring water to a boil and add the frozen ramen. Cook as per the instructions. The ones the CC had said 2 minutes and 30 seconds. Yes, this level of precision matters.
Immediately drain them and plunge them in the ice-bath to ensure that they stop cooking and chill down. Drain.
Now assemble everything. Ramen in the center. Pour the sauce over it. Add the toppings all around. and on top. Strew the sesame seeds all over. Serve at once.
It's exactly as rock-star as it sounds. Perfect cold dish for the insane summer heat just like this week here.
There is an ugly fact here that is going to upset most readers.
Precision of effect frequently requires substantial expenditure of means.
Each piece needs to be precisely made, cut up, and "chilled" and then the whole gets put together. It's not at all hard but it does go against that "effortless" summer dish mojo.
So why is the CC sabotaging his own readership with something that takes effort?
The answer is the sheer awesomeness of the dish with ingredients that can be stored for another day.
What is it?
It's cold noodles with a umami-laden gingery sweet-and-salty sauce and cold toppings. Unlike salads, the sauce sits at the bottom of the dish. You mix whatever ingredients you like for the "next slurp" and, let's face it, you need to slurp the ramen, people! The ingredients have been arranged at the top for visual interest not for "mixing". Each mixed-up slurp is going to be unique and umami-laden thanks to the personal mixing and the sauce.
The dish can only be described as "cold magic for a hot summer's day".
It is absolutely modern and in spite of its name it's no more "Chinese" than the CC is. It's Japanese through and through. The name is advertising. Every culture likes "foreign" stuff because exotic stuff sells and this dish fits the bill. It could never have existed before the age of refrigeration. The tastes are purely Japanese and only the noodles are "kinda sorta vaguely" Chinese. Don't let the name fool you.
(There's a general trend here. Names of dishes that contain a country/place rarely originate in the country/place named. For example, French Fries, Chinese Chop-Suey, Pad Thai, Baked Alaska, Hamburger, etc. This list is long!)
The dish follows the rules of washoku (和食) even though it is not really traditional. Five flavors; five colors; visual interest.
Typically, you would work with five ingredients plus the ramen but the CC had most of the stuff in his apartment; he was bored, and he is a little bit crazy (Really?!? Who'd think that?)
Let's enumerate the ingredients starting from the "6 o' clock position".
- Simmered lotus roots.
- Simmered shiitake mushrooms in savory sauce.
- Wakame.
- Eggs cooked "mollet".
- Pickled carrots with sesame.
- Crab-stick.
- (Egg).
- Crab-stick.
- Cucumber.
There is one deviation that makes it "modern modern" (to ape the modern way of talking.) Traditionally, the eggs would have been cooked in a Japanese-style omelette and cut into strips. The rest is pretty much conventional.
As pointed out the dish is a game of assembly. Each of the ingredients was cooked or cut up and chilled in the refrigerator. When the time came to serve the dish, the ramen was cooked and quickly chilled in ice-water and the dish assembled. It's also easiest if you just chill the plates in the freezer ahead of time. That way everything stays cold.
Everything serves two but you are welcome to make more and store it. Each cooked component stores really well and you can always quickly cut up the other stuff in a few minutes.
Also if you read the recipe carefully, the sequence in which to make things is clearly to make the dashi first, then simmer the crab sticks, then the lotus roots, then add the ingredients to make the mushrooms, and use the reduced sauce as a component in the dipping sauce. That way everything gets used up and no flavors are wasted.
This sort of complex sequencing is really the heart of many "hard" dishes. In order to not repeat things, you must sequence them out correctly up-front.
Vegetables
Ingredients
8 cherry tomatoes
1 small cucumber
Japanese-style pickled carrots (just use fresh if you don't have this)
4-5 Chinese chives
Recipe
Cut the tomatoes in half. The cucumber, carrot and chives must be cut into long thin strips. Set aside and chill.
Seaweed
Ingredients
1/2 tsp dried wakame
1 sheet nori
Recipe
In a small bowl add cold water to the dried wakame. The nori must be cut into fine strips. You can drain the wakame just before assembly.
Crab Sticks, Lotus Roots & Egg
Ingredients
2 cups dashi
4-5 crab-sticks
1 small lotus root.
1 egg
Recipe
The crab sticks are generally frozen. Bring the dashi to a boil and cook them for about 3 minutes. Lift out and set aside.
Add the lotus roots to the dashi and let them cook for about 4-5 minutes. Lift them out and set aside.
Cook the eggs mollet-style in a separate pot with some water. 7 minutes. Immediately plunge them into an ice bath. Peel when cooled and set aside. You can slice them right before serving.
Simmered Mushrooms
Ingredients
8 dried shiitake mushrooms.
1 cup dashi
4 tbsp. soy sauce
2 tbsp. brown sugar
Recipe
Combine the ingredients and bring to a boil. Let it cook uncovered for about 8 minutes until the shiitake mushrooms are cooked through. You can reduce the sauce and use it in the dipping sauce.
Dipping Sauce
Ingredients
1/3 cup dashi
2 tbsp. soy sauce
2 tbsp. black sugar
2 tbsp. sesame oil
1 tbsp. grated ginger
Recipe
The measurements are a little approximate. Mix everything together like a vinaigrette. You will need to taste it and make sure it has the right balance of sweet and salty tastes. The dashi will provide the intense umami.
Ramen
Ingredients
2 packages frozen ramen
2 tbsp. roasted sesame seeds
Recipe
NOTE: The frozen ramen available in the Japanese grocery store are the preferred ones. They are the ones made traditional-style with alkaline water. They will look pale yellow.
Roast the sesame seeds on a medium-hot skillet until they are golden and set aside.
Prepare an ice-bath. Then in a large pot, bring water to a boil and add the frozen ramen. Cook as per the instructions. The ones the CC had said 2 minutes and 30 seconds. Yes, this level of precision matters.
Immediately drain them and plunge them in the ice-bath to ensure that they stop cooking and chill down. Drain.
Now assemble everything. Ramen in the center. Pour the sauce over it. Add the toppings all around. and on top. Strew the sesame seeds all over. Serve at once.
Friday, March 21, 2014
Indian-Style Chinese Corn Soup
If you are not aware of the concept of "Indian-Chinese" food, you are in for a small shock and a treat to follow.
Chinese immigrants migrated from the Hakka region to Calcutta in the 19th-century when it was the de-facto economic capital of India under the British Raj. The laborers were the dark underbelly of the opium trade. Like all immigrants, the path to not being bonded laborers was to open food eateries. (It's the same today right now in modern-day New York!)
They brought with them their techniques but rapidly discovered that neither pork ("Muslim") nor beef ("Hindu") was going to work in the new situation. Additionally, the population wanted a different set of spices than what the immigrants were used to. However, adaptability is the name of the game as you might guess from the entirely analogous fact that there's no such Cantonese dish as "Chop-Suey" — it's a Chinese-American idea catering to vague Chinese ideas about American tastes in the 19th century from whence it spread nation-wide and thence world-wide.
And in the same vein, "Indian-Chinese" fusion cuisine was born.
It was a blockbuster hit from day one because the one fact about human nature that never changes is that we crave novelty.
Money makes the world go round so when the economic capital of India moved from Calcutta to Mumbai, the immigrants and the dishes followed. Now they are ubiquitous all over India.
This is a classic corn soup.
Corn is not Chinese, of course. Nor Indian. It's New World. Its global nature originates from the Spanish conquest of the New World after which it made its way to Europe and eventually along the Silk Road to most of Asia. There are multiple layers of fusion hooked up in this single dish.
It's emphatically not a high-falutin' dish. It's pretty low-brow.
The CC has wondered for the longest time how they got the tangy flavor in the vegetarian versions that they make? How was it that you could get a superior version in any crap town in India than what he was making at home?
It took a while but it finally struck like the biggest "DUH!" of all times.
"Of course! They are using MSG."
We can now add Japanese 20th-century science to the fusion. Just to recap, we are now talking about Pan-American corn, Spanish conquest, Chinese immigrants and adaptation, Indian flavors and techniques, and Japanese food technology in a single dish.
It's umami that is making all the difference. So by substituting the MSG with the functionally-equivalent dashi, we have a winner with the exact same taste. BINGO!
Why does the recipe work in the first place? What makes it successful?
It's corn soup that's nutritious with a "hit-me-again" umami taste that's off the charts. You can add any protein to it. It's cheap, easy to make, and easy to sell. It reheats well. You can make it ahead of time. It's basically street food is what it is. The only thing stopping it from being street food is the fact that it's a soup — too hard to serve on the street.
So as the CC unambiguously pointed out above, it's low-brow but he means that in the best non-pejorative sense of the word. This dish is simply awesome.
There are a few standard variants — you can add shredded chicken or shredded crab or prawns; and/or a beaten egg.
If you have never had this, you are totally missing out.
Ingredients
Paste
1/2" ginger
3 cloves garlic
4 green chillies
2 scallions (both white and green parts)
1 can "cream-style" corn
1 cup fresh corn (frozen is fine)
5-6 cups dashi
1 cup carrots (diced fine)
1 cup green beans (cut into very thin rounds)
1 tbsp. corn starch
6 tbsp. ice water
salt
white pepper
To Serve
1 scallion (diced into fine rounds)
cilantro (finely chopped)
3 green chillies (diced into fine rounds)
1/2 cup vinegar
soy sauce
Recipe
The recipe is straightforward. It's the side servings that require a little explanation.
There are four conventional ones — soy sauce, finely diced cilantro and scallions are self-explanatory. The last is the super-spicy chillies plonked in a neutral vinegar (rice vinegar works!)
You can add as much of each as you like including the fact that you can just add the vinegar minus the chillies.
First prepare the paste. Just use a food processor to grind the ginger, garlic, green chillies, and scallions together.
Heat up some oil. Fry the paste languidly for about 6 minutes. Add the carrots and beans and let it fry for 3 minutes. Add the creamed corn and the dashi. Add salt and white pepper to taste.
Bring to a boil. You can skim off the fat if you like. Let it cook for 10 minutes or so.
Meanwhile, add the corn starch to the ice water and let it mix. It will not "dissolve". You are making a suspension. Whip well and add to the mixture.
Serve with the fixin's!
Chinese immigrants migrated from the Hakka region to Calcutta in the 19th-century when it was the de-facto economic capital of India under the British Raj. The laborers were the dark underbelly of the opium trade. Like all immigrants, the path to not being bonded laborers was to open food eateries. (It's the same today right now in modern-day New York!)
They brought with them their techniques but rapidly discovered that neither pork ("Muslim") nor beef ("Hindu") was going to work in the new situation. Additionally, the population wanted a different set of spices than what the immigrants were used to. However, adaptability is the name of the game as you might guess from the entirely analogous fact that there's no such Cantonese dish as "Chop-Suey" — it's a Chinese-American idea catering to vague Chinese ideas about American tastes in the 19th century from whence it spread nation-wide and thence world-wide.
And in the same vein, "Indian-Chinese" fusion cuisine was born.
It was a blockbuster hit from day one because the one fact about human nature that never changes is that we crave novelty.
Money makes the world go round so when the economic capital of India moved from Calcutta to Mumbai, the immigrants and the dishes followed. Now they are ubiquitous all over India.
This is a classic corn soup.
Corn is not Chinese, of course. Nor Indian. It's New World. Its global nature originates from the Spanish conquest of the New World after which it made its way to Europe and eventually along the Silk Road to most of Asia. There are multiple layers of fusion hooked up in this single dish.
It's emphatically not a high-falutin' dish. It's pretty low-brow.
The CC has wondered for the longest time how they got the tangy flavor in the vegetarian versions that they make? How was it that you could get a superior version in any crap town in India than what he was making at home?
It took a while but it finally struck like the biggest "DUH!" of all times.
"Of course! They are using MSG."
We can now add Japanese 20th-century science to the fusion. Just to recap, we are now talking about Pan-American corn, Spanish conquest, Chinese immigrants and adaptation, Indian flavors and techniques, and Japanese food technology in a single dish.
It's umami that is making all the difference. So by substituting the MSG with the functionally-equivalent dashi, we have a winner with the exact same taste. BINGO!
Why does the recipe work in the first place? What makes it successful?
It's corn soup that's nutritious with a "hit-me-again" umami taste that's off the charts. You can add any protein to it. It's cheap, easy to make, and easy to sell. It reheats well. You can make it ahead of time. It's basically street food is what it is. The only thing stopping it from being street food is the fact that it's a soup — too hard to serve on the street.
So as the CC unambiguously pointed out above, it's low-brow but he means that in the best non-pejorative sense of the word. This dish is simply awesome.
There are a few standard variants — you can add shredded chicken or shredded crab or prawns; and/or a beaten egg.
If you have never had this, you are totally missing out.
Ingredients
Paste
1/2" ginger
3 cloves garlic
4 green chillies
2 scallions (both white and green parts)
1 can "cream-style" corn
1 cup fresh corn (frozen is fine)
5-6 cups dashi
1 cup carrots (diced fine)
1 cup green beans (cut into very thin rounds)
1 tbsp. corn starch
6 tbsp. ice water
salt
white pepper
To Serve
1 scallion (diced into fine rounds)
cilantro (finely chopped)
3 green chillies (diced into fine rounds)
1/2 cup vinegar
soy sauce
Recipe
The recipe is straightforward. It's the side servings that require a little explanation.
There are four conventional ones — soy sauce, finely diced cilantro and scallions are self-explanatory. The last is the super-spicy chillies plonked in a neutral vinegar (rice vinegar works!)
You can add as much of each as you like including the fact that you can just add the vinegar minus the chillies.
First prepare the paste. Just use a food processor to grind the ginger, garlic, green chillies, and scallions together.
Heat up some oil. Fry the paste languidly for about 6 minutes. Add the carrots and beans and let it fry for 3 minutes. Add the creamed corn and the dashi. Add salt and white pepper to taste.
Bring to a boil. You can skim off the fat if you like. Let it cook for 10 minutes or so.
Meanwhile, add the corn starch to the ice water and let it mix. It will not "dissolve". You are making a suspension. Whip well and add to the mixture.
Serve with the fixin's!
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The Fetishization of Seasonal and Local
One of the great tragedies of the culinary world is that it is not only faddish but also completely ignorant of science, history, economics, and the mechanics of trade.
In an ideal world, we would all eat seasonal and local but it's not an ideal world. For starters, there are 7+ billion people in the world and they can't all eat locally. An increasing amount of the world's population lives in cities so it is literally impossible that everyone in the city eat locally. It's just a simple mathematical argument about the population versus the amount of arable space and the steepness of its value. (The value comes from the fact that the population provides steep "value" on the economic food chain.)
Simple economics argues against it. The crux of a modern city — and by modern we have to understand that this is at least 500+ years old — is upwardly-mobile cheap labor. The desire to have a better life propels the cheap labor into the cities in the first place. The idea that these people can eat "local" is risible beyond the extreme. If cheap labor propels cities then by definition, it's cheap food that propels the cheapness of the labor.
So cheap means invoking Ricardo's principle of comparative advantage. Source the produce from wherever labor is cheapest and that means Africa, Asia and South America.
Seasonal is another bugaboo.
Places that have absurdly short growing seasons (think: Japan, Korea, Russia, Poland) rely to an unprecedented degree on pickled salted food.
Before World War II, Japan had the highest rate of stomach cancer in the world. It was so high as to be a routine tear-jerker movie cliché most memorably exploited by Kurosawa in his masterpiece Ikiru (生きる). It was definitely due to a heavy reliance on salted, smoked, and nitrate- and nitrite-rich foods (cured meats), the heavy incidence of the bacterium H. Pylori which thrives in stomachs with heavy salt diets, heavy tobacco usage, and above all, the lack of fresh vegetables for all but the briefest of growing seasons.
The same happened in Korea, Russia, and most of Eastern Europe. The common factor is the "short growing season" which means a reliance on "pickled foods".
Compare with both China and India where in spite of the heavy smoking and an equally important pickling tradition, the vegetable-rich diet traditionally traveling along trade routes had stomach cancer incidences at de minimus levels.
This is not just speculation. We have evidence for this.
After World War II, when vegetables flooded the Japanese markets thanks to free trade, the rate of stomach cancer plummeted precipitously. (Even then today, it's still 4x the rate in the UK!)
Do we really want to go "seasonal" so that we can go back to these bad old days?
To rephrase, going non-local caused stomach cancer rates around the world to plummet. Is this a bad thing?
Seasonal and local are not bad things.
For one, the seasonal component gives you an extreme rush of excitement. There's an anticipation to looking forward to something pleasurable that won't come around for another six months. There's also the fact that seasonal actually means cheap. Whatever is plentiful is cheap by the simple laws of supply and demand.
Local is a good thing too.
You can talk to the farmer. You can actually ask for something that lies outside the norm and since you are there to pay for it, they will do it. (Try doing that at a supermarket!)
What's wrong is the fetish. The hide-bound rules that don't allow for five thousand years of trading history (think: spices!), and science (think: stomach cancer) and a certain flexibility of both thought and process. A certain give and take (trade pun intended!) in the approach to food and markets.
Why not have a rich understanding of the subject and the best of both worlds?
In an ideal world, we would all eat seasonal and local but it's not an ideal world. For starters, there are 7+ billion people in the world and they can't all eat locally. An increasing amount of the world's population lives in cities so it is literally impossible that everyone in the city eat locally. It's just a simple mathematical argument about the population versus the amount of arable space and the steepness of its value. (The value comes from the fact that the population provides steep "value" on the economic food chain.)
Simple economics argues against it. The crux of a modern city — and by modern we have to understand that this is at least 500+ years old — is upwardly-mobile cheap labor. The desire to have a better life propels the cheap labor into the cities in the first place. The idea that these people can eat "local" is risible beyond the extreme. If cheap labor propels cities then by definition, it's cheap food that propels the cheapness of the labor.
So cheap means invoking Ricardo's principle of comparative advantage. Source the produce from wherever labor is cheapest and that means Africa, Asia and South America.
Seasonal is another bugaboo.
Places that have absurdly short growing seasons (think: Japan, Korea, Russia, Poland) rely to an unprecedented degree on pickled salted food.
Before World War II, Japan had the highest rate of stomach cancer in the world. It was so high as to be a routine tear-jerker movie cliché most memorably exploited by Kurosawa in his masterpiece Ikiru (生きる). It was definitely due to a heavy reliance on salted, smoked, and nitrate- and nitrite-rich foods (cured meats), the heavy incidence of the bacterium H. Pylori which thrives in stomachs with heavy salt diets, heavy tobacco usage, and above all, the lack of fresh vegetables for all but the briefest of growing seasons.
The same happened in Korea, Russia, and most of Eastern Europe. The common factor is the "short growing season" which means a reliance on "pickled foods".
Compare with both China and India where in spite of the heavy smoking and an equally important pickling tradition, the vegetable-rich diet traditionally traveling along trade routes had stomach cancer incidences at de minimus levels.
This is not just speculation. We have evidence for this.
After World War II, when vegetables flooded the Japanese markets thanks to free trade, the rate of stomach cancer plummeted precipitously. (Even then today, it's still 4x the rate in the UK!)
Do we really want to go "seasonal" so that we can go back to these bad old days?
To rephrase, going non-local caused stomach cancer rates around the world to plummet. Is this a bad thing?
Seasonal and local are not bad things.
For one, the seasonal component gives you an extreme rush of excitement. There's an anticipation to looking forward to something pleasurable that won't come around for another six months. There's also the fact that seasonal actually means cheap. Whatever is plentiful is cheap by the simple laws of supply and demand.
Local is a good thing too.
You can talk to the farmer. You can actually ask for something that lies outside the norm and since you are there to pay for it, they will do it. (Try doing that at a supermarket!)
What's wrong is the fetish. The hide-bound rules that don't allow for five thousand years of trading history (think: spices!), and science (think: stomach cancer) and a certain flexibility of both thought and process. A certain give and take (trade pun intended!) in the approach to food and markets.
Why not have a rich understanding of the subject and the best of both worlds?
Friday, October 12, 2012
Would You Rather Be a Fruit or a Vegetable?
Humans are a fairly omnivorous species.
We eat roots and tubers, stems and stalks, leaves, flowers, seaweeds, and fungii and call them all vegetables.
We also eat fruits.
Most interestingly, we eat some fruits and call them vegetables†.
A substantial reason for this is the United States Supreme Court decision from 1893 in the matter of Nix v. Hedden. And like all momentous events in the United States, it all comes down to a matter of taxation.
The Tariff Act of 1883 required a tax to be paid on imported vegetables but not fruit. The "intuitive" notion, which of course is not the botanical notion, was that fruits were sweet and were "mostly eaten as is" and vegetables were not and were "cooked".
It all came down to a matter of dueling dictionaries.
Common parlance‡ won and the tomato "became" a vegetable!
† tomatoes, eggplant, bell peppers, chillis, tomatillo, squashes, cucumber, legumes, peas, avocado, corn, okra and olives.
‡ If you really want to freak your vegetarian friends out, when you're eating fruit, be sure to say loudly, "Mmmmmmmmmm ... tasty ripe ovaries!" (because that's what they actually are!)
We eat roots and tubers, stems and stalks, leaves, flowers, seaweeds, and fungii and call them all vegetables.
We also eat fruits.
Most interestingly, we eat some fruits and call them vegetables†.
A substantial reason for this is the United States Supreme Court decision from 1893 in the matter of Nix v. Hedden. And like all momentous events in the United States, it all comes down to a matter of taxation.
The Tariff Act of 1883 required a tax to be paid on imported vegetables but not fruit. The "intuitive" notion, which of course is not the botanical notion, was that fruits were sweet and were "mostly eaten as is" and vegetables were not and were "cooked".
It all came down to a matter of dueling dictionaries.
Common parlance‡ won and the tomato "became" a vegetable!
† tomatoes, eggplant, bell peppers, chillis, tomatillo, squashes, cucumber, legumes, peas, avocado, corn, okra and olives.
‡ If you really want to freak your vegetarian friends out, when you're eating fruit, be sure to say loudly, "Mmmmmmmmmm ... tasty ripe ovaries!" (because that's what they actually are!)
Friday, February 24, 2012
Winter Mac 'n Cheese
When winter strikes, there's nothing like a warm oven and some comfort food.
This, of course, is a classic but it's been gussied up with winter vegetables. It takes a little longer because you have to roast all the vegetables separately but it's wonderful when it all comes together.
The trick with vegetables of the brassica family (brussel sprouts, cauliflower, cabbage, kale, etc.) is to roast them. It brings out the inherent sweetness in them without the smelly part (which occurs if you boil them.) They also happen to be absurdly nutritious.
The house will smell really nice with all the roasting and if you really want to amp it up a notch, a little truffle oil will take it to the next level.
Ingredients
4 cups whole-wheat penne
1 head radicchio (sliced into thin strips)
1 small cauliflower (cut into florets)
1 large carrot (diced)
butter
2 cups milk
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup gruyère (grated coarsely)
1 cup parmigiano-reggiano (grated coarsely)
4 tbsp fresh rosemary (chopped fine)
4 tbsp fresh thyme
breadcrumbs
nutmeg
olive oil
sea salt
black pepper
2 tbsp truffle oil (optional)
Recipe
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Toss the radicchio with olive oil, salt and pepper and bake for about 15-18 minutes. Remove.
Toss the cauliflower with olive oil and pepper (no salt! - otherwise the mixture will be overly salty) and roast for about 15 minutes. Remove.
Cook the penne in heavily salted water until under al dente (about 12 minutes.)
Meanwhile, make the béchamel. Heat the butter. Add the flour, and let it cook at medium low heat until it is golden (but not brown). Add the milk and continue stirring. The sauce will continue to thicken. Add the salt, black pepper, nutmeg, rosemary and thyme, and take it off the heat.
Combine the penne, the sauce, vegetables, the cheeses, and truffle oil (if using) in a oven-proof casserole. Top off the dish with the breadcrumbs (this is the real secret to success!)
Bake covered for about 30 minutes. Bake uncovered for about 12-15 minutes until the top is golden and crispy.
This, of course, is a classic but it's been gussied up with winter vegetables. It takes a little longer because you have to roast all the vegetables separately but it's wonderful when it all comes together.
The trick with vegetables of the brassica family (brussel sprouts, cauliflower, cabbage, kale, etc.) is to roast them. It brings out the inherent sweetness in them without the smelly part (which occurs if you boil them.) They also happen to be absurdly nutritious.
The house will smell really nice with all the roasting and if you really want to amp it up a notch, a little truffle oil will take it to the next level.
Ingredients
4 cups whole-wheat penne
1 head radicchio (sliced into thin strips)
1 small cauliflower (cut into florets)
1 large carrot (diced)
butter
2 cups milk
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup gruyère (grated coarsely)
1 cup parmigiano-reggiano (grated coarsely)
4 tbsp fresh rosemary (chopped fine)
4 tbsp fresh thyme
breadcrumbs
nutmeg
olive oil
sea salt
black pepper
2 tbsp truffle oil (optional)
Recipe
Preheat the oven to 350°F. Toss the radicchio with olive oil, salt and pepper and bake for about 15-18 minutes. Remove.
Toss the cauliflower with olive oil and pepper (no salt! - otherwise the mixture will be overly salty) and roast for about 15 minutes. Remove.
Cook the penne in heavily salted water until under al dente (about 12 minutes.)
Meanwhile, make the béchamel. Heat the butter. Add the flour, and let it cook at medium low heat until it is golden (but not brown). Add the milk and continue stirring. The sauce will continue to thicken. Add the salt, black pepper, nutmeg, rosemary and thyme, and take it off the heat.
Combine the penne, the sauce, vegetables, the cheeses, and truffle oil (if using) in a oven-proof casserole. Top off the dish with the breadcrumbs (this is the real secret to success!)
Bake covered for about 30 minutes. Bake uncovered for about 12-15 minutes until the top is golden and crispy.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Hiyashi Chūka
In the dog days of summer, there is pleasure in eating cold dishes. Nobody knows these more than the Japanese who have hot, humid summers.
The name gives away the origin of the dish. It quite literally means "Chilled Chinese". In Japan, you will see this dish on restaurant menus only in summer. In fact, its arrival suggests that summer is here.
It basically consists of cold noodles topped with cooled vegetables (of various kinds), other cold toppings like crab and shredded eggs covered with a Japanese version of a very light, sweet-salty, umami-laden "vinaigrette".
The noodles can be varied — popular ones include ramen, somen, even soba (which is what the CC used.)
The toppings are traditional too — cucumbers, carrots, thinly sliced Japanese-style omelette, crab sticks, tomatoes, negi, even various kinds of seaweed.
True to Japanese washoku style, the entire assembly requires some effort but it's entirely worth it when the weather is as hot and humid as it is now. It mostly consists of chopping stuff, and assembling it, and is very amenable to making in advance.
There is a free-form element to this dish so the "recipe" should be taken as a starting point not as "definitive". In fact, there's no such thing. Restaurants vie with each other to produce versions that attract clients but there's a core logic that must be respected.
Ingredients
1 cucumber (kyūri)
3 crab sticks
1 tomato
1 carrot
1 scallion (diced thinly at a steep angle)
2 eggs
1 tbsp mirin
noodles
1 cup dashi
Dressing
8 tbsp dashi
1 tbsp white sesame seeds
1 tbsp black sesame seeds
1 tbsp sesame oil
Recipe
Toast the sesame seeds. Mix with the ingredients for the dressing and set aside.
First make a very thin Japanese-style omelette with eggs, mirin and 1 tbsp of rice vinegar.
When cool, roll into a tight roll and slice very very thinly.
Dice the cucumbers, carrots and tomatoes into strips. Boil the crab sticks in the dashi, and when done, cut into thin strips.
Cool all of the above while you make the noodles. Dunk the noodles inside iced water to cool.
Assemble the lot and pour the dressing all over them.
The name gives away the origin of the dish. It quite literally means "Chilled Chinese". In Japan, you will see this dish on restaurant menus only in summer. In fact, its arrival suggests that summer is here.
It basically consists of cold noodles topped with cooled vegetables (of various kinds), other cold toppings like crab and shredded eggs covered with a Japanese version of a very light, sweet-salty, umami-laden "vinaigrette".
The noodles can be varied — popular ones include ramen, somen, even soba (which is what the CC used.)
The toppings are traditional too — cucumbers, carrots, thinly sliced Japanese-style omelette, crab sticks, tomatoes, negi, even various kinds of seaweed.
True to Japanese washoku style, the entire assembly requires some effort but it's entirely worth it when the weather is as hot and humid as it is now. It mostly consists of chopping stuff, and assembling it, and is very amenable to making in advance.
There is a free-form element to this dish so the "recipe" should be taken as a starting point not as "definitive". In fact, there's no such thing. Restaurants vie with each other to produce versions that attract clients but there's a core logic that must be respected.
Ingredients
1 cucumber (kyūri)
3 crab sticks
1 tomato
1 carrot
1 scallion (diced thinly at a steep angle)
2 eggs
1 tbsp mirin
noodles
1 cup dashi
Dressing
8 tbsp dashi
1 tbsp white sesame seeds
1 tbsp black sesame seeds
1 tbsp sesame oil
Recipe
Toast the sesame seeds. Mix with the ingredients for the dressing and set aside.
First make a very thin Japanese-style omelette with eggs, mirin and 1 tbsp of rice vinegar.
When cool, roll into a tight roll and slice very very thinly.
Dice the cucumbers, carrots and tomatoes into strips. Boil the crab sticks in the dashi, and when done, cut into thin strips.
Cool all of the above while you make the noodles. Dunk the noodles inside iced water to cool.
Assemble the lot and pour the dressing all over them.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Dhansaak
This is a traditional recipe of the Parsis, almost always served along with paatra ni macchi at a wedding.
The recipe is long and complicated, and is going to take the better part of a day. However, only those that have eaten the real deal can appreciate why the CC loves it made the traditional way.
The title literally means "wealth (=dhan) of vegetables (=saak)", and as you can expect from the title and the context, it consists of a rich stew of lentils, cooked with vegetables, and meat (traditionally lamb but frequently goat), served alongside with a spicy caramelized rice. There are traditional accompaniments — a cucumber-tomato raita and/or kachumber (diced cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions with salt), and fresh slices of salted cucumber and carrots.
The ingredient list is long so the CC will break it up into its functional components. The CC will try and indicate what actually makes the dish the dish, and what parts are frequently substituted by local fresh vegetables, etc.
The spices are absolutely critical (do not deviate!)
A quick note about the spices. They are really a combination of two spice mixtures in a 3:2 ratio. If you're just making this recipe, you can combine them because they follow the same procedure (roasting + grinding) but just be aware that they really are two logically different spice mixes that just happen to be combined in this specific recipe.
(Yes, this is anal-retentiveness of a superlative nature. Deal with it!)
Please read the instructions. If you read them carefully, you can streamline the recipe. In the modern day with modern equipment, you will not need to spend all day in the kitchen. However, that requires more than a little attention to detail.
There is nothing like this in the literature — caramelized rice with heavily spiced lentils and lamb with the occasional complimentary hit of sweetness from the pumpkin and carrots.
Routine recipes are all fine and dandy but this one is for the betterment of your soul.
Magic awaits!
Ingredients
Lentils
1/4 cup vaal (absolutely critical!)
1/4 cup whole masoor (brown french lentils — also absolutely crucial!)
1/4 cup toovar (pigeon peas.)
1/4 cup whole moong
Meat
1 lb lean lamb (cut into bite-size pieces)
1 cup yogurt
1/2 cup cilantro leaves
2 tbsp garam masala
4 tbsp ginger-green chilli paste
Vegetables
1 tiny pumpkin (chopped coarsely — traditional)
2 eggplants (chopped coarsely — traditional)
1 carrot, etc. (chopped coarsely — seasonal)
2 tomatoes (chopped coarsely — seasonal)
Fresh Spices
1 large red onion
2" ginger
8-10 Thai green chillies (substitute by 5-6 serranos)
1 tbsp turmeric
Spices
Dhansaak Masala
1 stick cassia
2 tbsp coriander seeds (critical!)
1/2 tbsp cumin seeds
8 dried red chillies
1/2 tsp poppy seeds
1/4 tsp cloves
4 green cardamom
1 black cardamom (badi elaichi)
1/2 tsp caraway seeds (shahi jeera)
1/2 tsp fenugreek
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 strand mace
1 tsp dagad phool
1 tsp naag kesar
Parsi Sambhar Masala
1 tsp chilly powder
1/2 tsp turmeric
2 tbsp mustard seeds
1 tbsp fenugreek seeds
1/4 tsp cloves
1 star anise
1 tsp black peppercorns
1/4 stick cassia
Garnish
1/2 cup cilantro leaves (chopped fine)
Other
oil
salt
Rice
1 cup basmati rice
2 large red onion (cut into thin half-moon rings)
1 stick cassia
6 cloves
10-12 peppercorns
6-8 tbsp brown sugar
2 cups water
salt
Recipe
Wash and soak the four lentils overnight in an excess of water. The excess is necessary since they absorb a lot more than you think they will.
For the meat, blend the ginger and green chillies with the cilantro leaves, and toss with the lamb, yogurt and garam masala. Refrigerate overnight or at least for 6-8 hours.
In the morning, drain the water from the lentils. Re-soak.
If you have a pressure cooker (highly recommended!) toss the lentils in with some water, and salt. Pressure cook for no more than 10 minutes. Set aside.
Please be aware that the vaal and the toovar are going to "decompose". This is part of the point of the recipe. The "stew" portion, if you will.
(If you don't have one, cook them until the hardest two lentils — masoor and moong are edible. Roughly 60 minutes.)
Meanwhile, chop the fresh spices (ginger, green chillies, onion) in a food-processor. They should be coarsely chopped not ground to a paste because you need to fry them. Set aside.
Heat a dry skillet on medium-heat till it's hot. Dry roast all the spices — the trick is to toss them in order of size, and add the next batch before the previous is well-done. This is a skill, and needs some experience. You could just roast each one separately but that wastes more time. Make sure you don't burn the poppy seeds.
Put them in a bowl, and allow them to cool. When cool, grind to a fine powder in a coffee grinder. Set aside.
First, make the lamb.
Heat some oil in a skillet. When it shimmers, toss in the lamb pieces straight out of the marinade into the oil. The yogurt will look very disturbing interacting with the oil. Ignore this. Keep adding the lamb with the yogurt coating, and letting it cook with the oil. Slowly, toss in the rest of the marinade. Roughly 6-8 minutes in, you will notice that the lamb is well-done, and there's a lovely brown slurry in your skillet. Set the whole thing aside.
Heat some oil in a stock pot. When it shimmers, add the onion-ginger-green-chilli paste, and fry languidly. When it's fried but not caramelized, toss in the vegetables and fry for a bit. Add the lentils. Mix together, and let it heat up. Add the spices. Then the lamb and the sauce.
Let it all simmer together at very low heat for at least 15-20 minutes. The lentils must be "melting" but the vegetables must still retain their identity.
Now, we make the rice.
Fry the onion half-moon rings in some oil. When limp, add the sugar, and coat and let it cook till they are nicely caramelized. Toss in the spices, and the rice, and let the caramel and oil coat the rice grains. Add in water to let the rice cook, and let it cook at a medium-low heat covered till the rice is done.
Serve the rice along side the stew garnished with cilantro leaves.
The recipe is long and complicated, and is going to take the better part of a day. However, only those that have eaten the real deal can appreciate why the CC loves it made the traditional way.
The title literally means "wealth (=dhan) of vegetables (=saak)", and as you can expect from the title and the context, it consists of a rich stew of lentils, cooked with vegetables, and meat (traditionally lamb but frequently goat), served alongside with a spicy caramelized rice. There are traditional accompaniments — a cucumber-tomato raita and/or kachumber (diced cucumbers, tomatoes, and onions with salt), and fresh slices of salted cucumber and carrots.
The ingredient list is long so the CC will break it up into its functional components. The CC will try and indicate what actually makes the dish the dish, and what parts are frequently substituted by local fresh vegetables, etc.
The spices are absolutely critical (do not deviate!)
A quick note about the spices. They are really a combination of two spice mixtures in a 3:2 ratio. If you're just making this recipe, you can combine them because they follow the same procedure (roasting + grinding) but just be aware that they really are two logically different spice mixes that just happen to be combined in this specific recipe.
(Yes, this is anal-retentiveness of a superlative nature. Deal with it!)
Please read the instructions. If you read them carefully, you can streamline the recipe. In the modern day with modern equipment, you will not need to spend all day in the kitchen. However, that requires more than a little attention to detail.
There is nothing like this in the literature — caramelized rice with heavily spiced lentils and lamb with the occasional complimentary hit of sweetness from the pumpkin and carrots.
Routine recipes are all fine and dandy but this one is for the betterment of your soul.
Magic awaits!
Ingredients
Lentils
1/4 cup vaal (absolutely critical!)
1/4 cup whole masoor (brown french lentils — also absolutely crucial!)
1/4 cup toovar (pigeon peas.)
1/4 cup whole moong
Meat
1 lb lean lamb (cut into bite-size pieces)
1 cup yogurt
1/2 cup cilantro leaves
2 tbsp garam masala
4 tbsp ginger-green chilli paste
Vegetables
1 tiny pumpkin (chopped coarsely — traditional)
2 eggplants (chopped coarsely — traditional)
1 carrot, etc. (chopped coarsely — seasonal)
2 tomatoes (chopped coarsely — seasonal)
Fresh Spices
1 large red onion
2" ginger
8-10 Thai green chillies (substitute by 5-6 serranos)
1 tbsp turmeric
Spices
Dhansaak Masala
1 stick cassia
2 tbsp coriander seeds (critical!)
1/2 tbsp cumin seeds
8 dried red chillies
1/2 tsp poppy seeds
1/4 tsp cloves
4 green cardamom
1 black cardamom (badi elaichi)
1/2 tsp caraway seeds (shahi jeera)
1/2 tsp fenugreek
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 strand mace
1 tsp dagad phool
1 tsp naag kesar
Parsi Sambhar Masala
1 tsp chilly powder
1/2 tsp turmeric
2 tbsp mustard seeds
1 tbsp fenugreek seeds
1/4 tsp cloves
1 star anise
1 tsp black peppercorns
1/4 stick cassia
Garnish
1/2 cup cilantro leaves (chopped fine)
Other
oil
salt
Rice
1 cup basmati rice
2 large red onion (cut into thin half-moon rings)
1 stick cassia
6 cloves
10-12 peppercorns
6-8 tbsp brown sugar
2 cups water
salt
Recipe
Wash and soak the four lentils overnight in an excess of water. The excess is necessary since they absorb a lot more than you think they will.
For the meat, blend the ginger and green chillies with the cilantro leaves, and toss with the lamb, yogurt and garam masala. Refrigerate overnight or at least for 6-8 hours.
In the morning, drain the water from the lentils. Re-soak.
If you have a pressure cooker (highly recommended!) toss the lentils in with some water, and salt. Pressure cook for no more than 10 minutes. Set aside.
Please be aware that the vaal and the toovar are going to "decompose". This is part of the point of the recipe. The "stew" portion, if you will.
(If you don't have one, cook them until the hardest two lentils — masoor and moong are edible. Roughly 60 minutes.)
Meanwhile, chop the fresh spices (ginger, green chillies, onion) in a food-processor. They should be coarsely chopped not ground to a paste because you need to fry them. Set aside.
Heat a dry skillet on medium-heat till it's hot. Dry roast all the spices — the trick is to toss them in order of size, and add the next batch before the previous is well-done. This is a skill, and needs some experience. You could just roast each one separately but that wastes more time. Make sure you don't burn the poppy seeds.
Put them in a bowl, and allow them to cool. When cool, grind to a fine powder in a coffee grinder. Set aside.
First, make the lamb.
Heat some oil in a skillet. When it shimmers, toss in the lamb pieces straight out of the marinade into the oil. The yogurt will look very disturbing interacting with the oil. Ignore this. Keep adding the lamb with the yogurt coating, and letting it cook with the oil. Slowly, toss in the rest of the marinade. Roughly 6-8 minutes in, you will notice that the lamb is well-done, and there's a lovely brown slurry in your skillet. Set the whole thing aside.
Heat some oil in a stock pot. When it shimmers, add the onion-ginger-green-chilli paste, and fry languidly. When it's fried but not caramelized, toss in the vegetables and fry for a bit. Add the lentils. Mix together, and let it heat up. Add the spices. Then the lamb and the sauce.
Let it all simmer together at very low heat for at least 15-20 minutes. The lentils must be "melting" but the vegetables must still retain their identity.
Now, we make the rice.
Fry the onion half-moon rings in some oil. When limp, add the sugar, and coat and let it cook till they are nicely caramelized. Toss in the spices, and the rice, and let the caramel and oil coat the rice grains. Add in water to let the rice cook, and let it cook at a medium-low heat covered till the rice is done.
Serve the rice along side the stew garnished with cilantro leaves.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Precision and Nutrition
If you want to have complete control over the texture of your vegetables, and the CC knows you do, you should steam them not boil them.
You get the added benefit that the nutrients are not lost to the water.
You get the added benefit that the nutrients are not lost to the water.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Frozen Vegetables
The CC pulled one of those ziploc bags out of the freezer. There was an incredulous sound made by one of the lesser species of the earth.
"What is that?"
"Frozen corn."
"But they're in a ziploc bag."
"???"
The CC was mystified. Had he entered the Twilight Zone?
"What brand are they?"
DOH! The invisible hand of idiocy smacked the CC's head with a powerful whack. The CC tapped his foot to gain his equilibrium (such as it is.)
"What do you think frozen vegetables are?"
"Ummmm .... vegetables that are frozen."
("Exactement, mon pauvre imbécile petite!)
"And who freezes the vegetables?"
This was the exact moment that enlightenment struck the ignorami with much more weight than the afore-mentioned invisible hand of idiocy.
Then the CC expounded at lyrical leisure (as he is wont to do.) Clearly, it made perfect economic and culinary sense to buy excellent summer vegetables (corn, peas) at dirt-cheap prices, and freeze them for future food-gasmic delight!
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
"What is that?"
"Frozen corn."
"But they're in a ziploc bag."
"???"
The CC was mystified. Had he entered the Twilight Zone?
"What brand are they?"
DOH! The invisible hand of idiocy smacked the CC's head with a powerful whack. The CC tapped his foot to gain his equilibrium (such as it is.)
"What do you think frozen vegetables are?"
"Ummmm .... vegetables that are frozen."
("Exactement, mon pauvre imbécile petite!)
"And who freezes the vegetables?"
This was the exact moment that enlightenment struck the ignorami with much more weight than the afore-mentioned invisible hand of idiocy.
Then the CC expounded at lyrical leisure (as he is wont to do.) Clearly, it made perfect economic and culinary sense to buy excellent summer vegetables (corn, peas) at dirt-cheap prices, and freeze them for future food-gasmic delight!
Lord, what fools these mortals be!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Summer Risotto
This is a glorious farewell-to-summer treat.
At the farmers' market, the tomatoes were glorious but nobody wanted any because "summer was over" - well, it's not - the CC is still blasting fans and the occasional air-conditioning. That's the problem with going by dates rather than weather. Things are not always quite so.
Anyway, a crazy number of tomatoes were bought, and logic necessitated that a last ta-ta to summer was in order.
This is riot of colors (as you can see below.) Oddly enough, it also happens to follow the traditional rules of the Japanese washoku.
Ingredients
6 pounds ripe summer tomatoes (yep! you heard that right)
1 small yellow squash
1 small zucchini
1 ear corn (if available.)
1 cup peas (freshly shelled)
1/4 cup green beans (cut into medium length)
1/4 cup purple beans (cut into medium length)
1/4 cup yellow beans (cut into medium length)
1/4 cup Italian flat beans (cut to resemble the above)
1 large red onion (diced very fine)
4 cloves garlic (diced very fine)
2 cups arborio rice (or carnaroli.)
purple basil (lots!!!, shredded by hand or snipped with scissors)
3 cups excellent white wine (1 cup for recipe, 2 cups to drink)
olive oil
salt
pepper
1/2 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano
Recipe
Bring a pot of water to boil. Dunk the tomatoes in batches for about 8 minutes each (depending on ripeness.) Pass the lot through a food mill to get a rich broth of tomatoes. You should have about 8-12 cups of tomato broth. (This is work. Deal!)
Bring the tomato broth to a slow boil. A lot of foam will rise to the surface. Skim, baby, skim.
Reduce the broth for about 45-60 minutes until it is "sticky" (Logic: this is the Maillard reaction with some caramelization taking place.) This is the "hard" part but since, it quite literally requires no work, it cannot really be called that.
Reconstitute with water to bring it back up to the original 8 cups.
Now, we prepare a standard risotto.
On a seperate burner, keep the above tomato broth at a low simmer. It doesn't have to literally simmer just that it needs to be on the hot side so as to not drop the temperature of the risotto when you dunk a ladleful in.
Fry the onions and the garlic at a medium-low heat for about 6 minutes. Add the beans, and fry for an additional 4 minutes. Add the zucchini and yellow squash and fry for an additional 4 minutes. Add the rice and fry till the rice is translucent and the kernel of the rice is visible (this is really obvious if you actually make this recipe as opposed to just reading this post.)
Add salt and pepper to taste. At this point, the CC adds a cup of white wine he's been drinking (read below!)
Add two ladles of the hot tomato broth, and stir. Keep stirring while it cooks. You are releasing the starch in this process. Ladles of broth and stir, ladles of broth and stir. Yes, this is fuckin' boring but deal with it. Have the afore-mentioned white wine.
Towards the end, add the corn and the peas (Logic: they cook really quickly, and you don't want them to turn into mush.)
Turn off the heat.
Add the grated parmigiano-reggiano (the mantecura), and the purple basil. Serve immediately with lots of black pepper.
At the farmers' market, the tomatoes were glorious but nobody wanted any because "summer was over" - well, it's not - the CC is still blasting fans and the occasional air-conditioning. That's the problem with going by dates rather than weather. Things are not always quite so.
Anyway, a crazy number of tomatoes were bought, and logic necessitated that a last ta-ta to summer was in order.
This is riot of colors (as you can see below.) Oddly enough, it also happens to follow the traditional rules of the Japanese washoku.
Ingredients
6 pounds ripe summer tomatoes (yep! you heard that right)
1 small yellow squash
1 small zucchini
1 ear corn (if available.)
1 cup peas (freshly shelled)
1/4 cup green beans (cut into medium length)
1/4 cup purple beans (cut into medium length)
1/4 cup yellow beans (cut into medium length)
1/4 cup Italian flat beans (cut to resemble the above)
1 large red onion (diced very fine)
4 cloves garlic (diced very fine)
2 cups arborio rice (or carnaroli.)
purple basil (lots!!!, shredded by hand or snipped with scissors)
3 cups excellent white wine (1 cup for recipe, 2 cups to drink)
olive oil
salt
pepper
1/2 cup grated parmigiano-reggiano
Recipe
Bring a pot of water to boil. Dunk the tomatoes in batches for about 8 minutes each (depending on ripeness.) Pass the lot through a food mill to get a rich broth of tomatoes. You should have about 8-12 cups of tomato broth. (This is work. Deal!)
Bring the tomato broth to a slow boil. A lot of foam will rise to the surface. Skim, baby, skim.
Reduce the broth for about 45-60 minutes until it is "sticky" (Logic: this is the Maillard reaction with some caramelization taking place.) This is the "hard" part but since, it quite literally requires no work, it cannot really be called that.
Reconstitute with water to bring it back up to the original 8 cups.
Now, we prepare a standard risotto.
On a seperate burner, keep the above tomato broth at a low simmer. It doesn't have to literally simmer just that it needs to be on the hot side so as to not drop the temperature of the risotto when you dunk a ladleful in.
Fry the onions and the garlic at a medium-low heat for about 6 minutes. Add the beans, and fry for an additional 4 minutes. Add the zucchini and yellow squash and fry for an additional 4 minutes. Add the rice and fry till the rice is translucent and the kernel of the rice is visible (this is really obvious if you actually make this recipe as opposed to just reading this post.)
Add salt and pepper to taste. At this point, the CC adds a cup of white wine he's been drinking (read below!)
Add two ladles of the hot tomato broth, and stir. Keep stirring while it cooks. You are releasing the starch in this process. Ladles of broth and stir, ladles of broth and stir. Yes, this is fuckin' boring but deal with it. Have the afore-mentioned white wine.
Towards the end, add the corn and the peas (Logic: they cook really quickly, and you don't want them to turn into mush.)
Turn off the heat.
Add the grated parmigiano-reggiano (the mantecura), and the purple basil. Serve immediately with lots of black pepper.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
A Spectacular Meal in Córdoba!
This is one of those epic meals that you only encounter once in your life. Naturally, the CC disdains such absurdly romantic notions so he went there for lunch two days later, and experienced it twice!
The picture of tomatoes below is deceptive. A picture cannot do it justice; it was poetry on a plate.
They were "only" tomatoes, sprinkled with fleur de sel (fiori di sale), and drizzled with olive oil. However, the tomatoes had quite literally been picked minutes before from the garden. They were still warm from the heat of the sun, and smelled like TOMATOES.
When years from now, the CC has his "madeleine"-moment, these tomatoes will be it!
Salmorejo, Gazpacho
Ajo blanco (Gazpacho with almonds)
Tomatoes with fleur de sel and olive oil
Frituras de verduras (Fried vegetables)
Rabo del toro (Braised oxtail)
Flan
Espresso
The picture of tomatoes below is deceptive. A picture cannot do it justice; it was poetry on a plate.
They were "only" tomatoes, sprinkled with fleur de sel (fiori di sale), and drizzled with olive oil. However, the tomatoes had quite literally been picked minutes before from the garden. They were still warm from the heat of the sun, and smelled like TOMATOES.
When years from now, the CC has his "madeleine"-moment, these tomatoes will be it!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Risotto with Vegetables and Rosemary
The first early summer vegetables are here. Risotto was called for.
This one contains squash, carrots, peas, corn, and rosemary.
If you chop the rosemary as well as add whole pines, you will get both the fragrance as well as this bitter edge that adds a low bass note as counterpoint to the alto sweetness of the carrots and peas.
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This one contains squash, carrots, peas, corn, and rosemary.
If you chop the rosemary as well as add whole pines, you will get both the fragrance as well as this bitter edge that adds a low bass note as counterpoint to the alto sweetness of the carrots and peas.
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Monday, June 7, 2010
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Monday, May 3, 2010
India : Day 6 : Post 1
We drove to Agra on day 6. Started very early, and stopped at a local dhaba (trucker's restaurant) for a late breakfast.
Vegetables fried in chickpea batter. Nothing like a good nutritious meal to start the day right!
We liked it so much, we ordered a second round (pictorial proof provided below.) It's topped with kala namak, of course.
Piggy, piggy, piggy. Oink, oink, oink!
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Vegetables fried in chickpea batter. Nothing like a good nutritious meal to start the day right!
We liked it so much, we ordered a second round (pictorial proof provided below.) It's topped with kala namak, of course.
Piggy, piggy, piggy. Oink, oink, oink!
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