Indian dinner

Way back when I just started writing this blog and wasn't sure what to do with it I started to draft some sort of essay on Indian cooking.  Check the archives; it never made it to publication.  Since then I've posted three Indian(ish) recipes, one of which hardly even counts despite having a semi-accurate flavor profile and ingredient list.

Which is all leading up to say: Indian cooking can be tricky.  Forget the ingredients; they're really not that unusual for the most part.  We all know about cumin and ginger and mustard and cinnamon and even some of the less obvious things spices like turmeric, coriander, and even cardamom aren't anything all that special.  In the end dal is just lentils and asafoetida isn't strictly necessary.

And yet it still ends up being somewhat tricky to figure out -- largely because of the process involved.  But rest assured, tricky doesn't mean hard.  Just... tricky.  All the rules about what goes in when and why in French cooking get tossed out the window (note: same is true of most Asian cuisines; it's just that Indian food is also quite different than anything with Sino-Japanese influences).  You end up building your spice profile from the beginning rather than the end, use odd thickening tricks, employ dairy in weird ways... etc, etc, etc.  But once you get the hang of it it's actually pretty hard to screw it up.  At least not too badly.  After trying a few (good) recipes (that actually try to explain themselves) and maybe using some of those boxed spice mixes (and analyzing what's in them and what each ingredient adds) improving becomes relatively simple.

Case in point: new year's eve 2010.  The wife (am I going to get used to saying that sometime?) calls on the way home and requests Indian.  A quick inventory of the kitchen and a run to the store yields:

• Almost 2 lbs of tri tip (thank god for discount meat but note that there's absolutely no reason to use this if you want to be authentic or otherwise cost-conscious; just replace with boneless skinless chicken breasts if you prefer)
• 2 yellow onions
• 3 bell peppers
• 3 jalapenos
• 7 red potatoes
• Chicken broth
• 1 large can diced tomatoes
• 1 can tomato paste
• Olive oil
• Cumin (whole; this is important)
• Coriander (whole; this is important)
• Cardamom pods (always pods; the flavor difference is substantial)
• Ginger (powder is fine but raw grated is always good)
• Cinnamon (ground; sticks are fine)
• Yogurt
• Rice
• Salt/pepper

I also had turmeric and a handful of masala blends laying around but opted against them this time around.

Looks viable... right?

Of course.  We'll start with the rice:

• Make rice

Basically I'd forget to do this until too late if I don't get it in early.  And if it's a little cool by the time you serve it it's no big deal.

Then move on to bigger, better things.  Like building a spice profile and braising a bit.  In a skillet combine:

• Olive oil
• Cumin seeds
• Coriander seeds

Get that HOT.  You want the seeds to be popping and jumping and generally scaring your domestic wildlife.  A little smoke from the oil isn't a bad thing.

In the meantime cube up your meat of choice.  Since mine was beef I felt obligated to conservatively apply salt and pepper.  Brown that in the superheated oil then transfer to a stock pot (along with some of the oil, naturally).

Take the heat down in the skillet, add a touch more oil along with the seeds from a half dozen cardamom pods.  Bring the heat back up a bit until they become pungent and then quickly add onions chunked rather largely and toss until they're just slightly cooked.  Then transfer everything to the stock pot, scraping for all the little bits of goodness left behind from the high heat.

Now you're just stewing.  Add:

• Bell peppers, also chunked
• Jalapenos, I like them ring sliced, seeds and all
• Diced tomatoes with juice
• Chicken broth
• Ginger

Bring to a boil and let that simmer together for a few minutes before adding:

• Potatoes, large chunks
• Cinnamon to taste -- but don't go overboard
• Tomato paste to thicken

Stir well, ensuring that the tomato paste is evenly distributed.  That's the only thickener you're using so make the most of it.  You're likely to want to add a bit of salt somewhere in here as well.

And that's it.  Walk away.  When the potatoes are done you have dinner.

Serve in a bowl with layers of rice, stew, and yogurt.  Garnish with cilantro if you're so inclined.

See?  Simple.  The spices toasted at the beginning are the primary flavor modifiers -- and they had to be whole in order to stand up to the high heat without burning.  The secondary spices are more mellow, present primarily to round out the flavor.  The onions are left nearly raw, imparting a very different flavor than the long sweats and browns you're used to.  The jalapenos add just enough heat to notice without being overpowering.  The potatoes take on the flavor of the broth, oil, and tomatoes.  And it all works wonderfully.

But yes, it does take some getting used to.

Split pea soup

Another in the series of "well, I have this laying around and by the way it's cold": split pea soup.

Having been informed that maybe lentils again might be overkill and that it definitely wouldn't kill me to dial back the capsaicin for a change it was time to find a new legume to play with.  Luckily, split peas were available by the pound from none other than the kitchen cabinet.

But of course there was no ham hock.  So at least I got to improvise a bit:

First, a 1:1:1 mirepoix in olive oil.  Nothing fancy.  A bit of salt helped to draw out the liquid and speed the process and several rough-chopped garlic cloves finished it off.

In another pan, I browned half a pound of chopped bacon which quickly joined the mirepoix, grease and all.  A pound of kielbasa, chopped, joined everything just before the pound of peas, 8 cups of water, 2 bay leaves, and pepper.

Forty minutes, more salt, and a generous amount of lemon juice later and the whole thing was actually better than the more traditional method.  Thank goodness for spare bacon in the freezer....

Chili con carne take 2

It's that season again.  And when the pantry is relatively empty it's easy enough just to go with what you have.  This worked out fine and basically proves that con carne is just one of those things you can do just about anything to without messing it up too badly.

This time, sweat two smallish white onions in olive oil until nice and tender.

Add in one to 1.5 pounds ground beef (70-30 if you can get it of course; 80-20 works though I wouldn't go much lower than that).  When that's mostly cooked through, throw in (of course) cumin and oregano along with cayenne in relatively equal parts.  Don't worry, the bulk of the heat will come later.

To that, add:

• 1 can black beans, half drained
• 1 can pinto beans, half drained
• 1 can great northern beans, half drained
• 2 cans tomato paste
• 1 can chipotle in adobo, chopped

Mix that together adding water as needed.  Garnish with cilantro (or parsley as that's what I had and it worked fine) and cheese of your choice.

Relatively quick, dead simple, and quite hardy.  Plus, well, hot.  Chipotle in adobo tends to lend itself to that quite well.

So you have some apricots

The family got some apricots from some very nice neighbors who have had the tree for years and only this summer decided to produce fruit.  Lots of fruit.  Way too much to use; they've been giving it away like crazy [ed. many inappropriate similes considered and rejected].

But they're not exactly the tastiest in the world.  I mean, they're good.  They're just not omgwtf wonderful.  And did I mention there are lots of them?

So, we cook.

Apricots, apricots, searching...  No, we're not going to make a jam or a desert or anything overly sweet.  Just not my thing.  And we're not doing pork.  Mainly because I can't find any in the house.

But wait.  Let's think about traditional pairings.  I mean, I'm pretty sure apricots are used all over south asia and the great middle east, right?  (Wikipedia says yes and much, much more.)  Ok, so let's think about, say, Iran.  Maybe Turkey.  What would compliment a mild pear-like fruit...

Pistachios.  Just stay with me here; this is about the point where my brother declared that either the proposed dish or I were "weird".

We have a high-sugar, medium-flavor fruit.  We need it to shine.  Something rich with a nutty yet still slightly sweet taste?  Perfect.  Plus the oils are delicious; otherwise almonds would do the trick.

So let's do this thing.

Combine in a food processor:

• 18 or so apricots, cored
• About a ramekin of shelled pistachios, washed several times if salted

Whir together.  10 1-second pulses are fine; you don't need to feel obligated to pulverize the pistachios.  You definitely want to get rid of some of the excess salt though.

In the meantime, start heating a decent sized sauce pan with a bit of oil (olive is fine).  Also, start thawing some chicken if need be.

Once the oil is hottish, add the seeds of three cardamom pods, maybe four or five cloves, and a very small number of cumin seeds, in that order, waiting for each to become fragrant before adding the next.

[Tangent, not required for the recipe at all: this is actually an entire idea based on a decidedly non-French style of cooking.  We're toasting spices, not aromatics.  The aromatics come in later and are left either stewed or nearly raw.  It's just a different way of flavoring things and if you're serious about making food that resembles anything from persian to indian and even further east into parts of China, get this technique down.  Through lots and lots of experimentation.]

Once your spices are toasted, add the apricot slurry.  Reduce heat and add:

• White or rice vinegar
• Sugar (if needed; if the apricots were quite sweet omit this)

Slice your chicken (two decently sized breasts or so) in thin strips then add that.  Let that cook while the sauce reduces and caramelizes a bit.

After half an hour or so, add a sliced onion and a medium to large tomato cut into about 16 parts.

And walk away for awhile for the whole thing to simmer down so the sauce can permeate the chicken and reduce further.

Serve with rice and some sort of salad, possibly with pita.

6.0221415 mashed salad

Umm.  Chemistry jokes are in right now, right?











Ok, so no.  So this is guacamole.  If you've never done it yourself, fix that. If you have, learn to go for minimalism; avocados are in season.

For some magical reason, the local grocery store has ripe avocados on the shelf.  This, for the record, never happens. Most avocados are firm and slightly, umm, bitter?  At least when you buy them.  But apparently right now they're just slightly soft and perfect for just slicing into, which is good, because I wasn't about to give them enough time to ripen to that state.

So, a very, very basic guacamole.  Combine in a suitable bowl:

• 2 ripe avocados, type doesn't really matter as long as they're about medium sized, but do reserve one pit
• 1 roma tomato, diced
• Juice of 1 lime
• Either some very finely diced garlic or two or three dashes of powdered garlic

And that's it.  Just stop.  Don't add onions.  Don't add anything to heat it up.  It just isn't needed.  A good guacamole should bring out the avocado flavor, not smother it and use the guacamole as an agent.

Mash by hand.  It's actually fun if the avocados are ripe; they squish like playdough.  Make sure everything is well-combined, wash up a bit, and then serve with chips or whatever else.

_____________________
On the title?  It's a pun.  That is all.

Carne adovada

I'm not sure why I haven't written this up yet, but it's well past due.

Carne adovada.

As far as I can tell, this is a pretty localized dish from north-central New Mexico but has migrated out a bit.  Sadie's used to be the standard.  Back when it was a little hole above a bowling alley the food was so good that it got in the way of bowlers on a good night.  Then they actually bought a full space and it was still good.  But I haven't had theirs in years and I've had to make do with my own.

The basics are simple: you're going to make pork as hot as you can with a red paste or sauce and then, pretty much invariably, add raw onions.  Huntley Dent has done his research and has broken down the basic dish into two categories: wet and dry.  Wet means a nice red sauce that can be eaten with tortillas; dry is more of a rub than a sauce and is meant mainly for the meat itself and not as a sauce.

But there are many more variations.  Is your pork (and it's always pork) sliced thin or cubed (1-2 inches isn't uncommon)?  Does the flavor come from the sauce or the meat?  Do you spice it or just let the chili speak for itself?

If I'm at a diner in, say, Espanola, I'll take cubed any time.  I don't know what they do to it to make the flavor permeate and I'd rather not speculate.  But a breakfast with carne adovada, hash browns, and tortillas is to die for if you find the right place.

But.  If you're doing it yourself, here's a basic recipe for a wet, thin-sliced dish best served with tortillas.

In a food processor, combine:

• 1 medium onion
• Several pinches of cumin
• Double the cumin with oregano
• 3 generous tablespoons of white vinegar
• 1 package of hot to very hot chile powder, preferably Chimayo but any will do if it comes to it
• Cayenne if you want more heat
• Water until you have a paste

And then slice your pork.  Thin, please.  Something like 1/8th inch.

Also, onions.  Sweet is good here, so if you can get vidalias, good.  Otherwise standard yellows are fine and whites are okish if you're going for maximal effect of the hot.

Layer the pork slices, then onion, then sauce in a baking dish (pyrex is best here).  A second layer is great.

And then let that sit.  For at least 12 hours.  Preferably more.

To finish it, bake covered in foil at about 325 for half an hour then remove the foil and return to the oven for another half hour.

Shred both the pork and the onions and serve that in flour tortillas with cilantro and whatever else you'd like in the mix.  Pico de gallo is good here.  And if you did it right, have water on hand.  Lots of water.

Early summer risotto

First, read up on the basics of a decent risotto.  I'm not inclined to repeat myself, so that's what you get for an introduction.  (And seriously, this stuff becomes second nature after awhile; it's not like you have to read a recipe for risotto and do more than skim to see what ingredients are added when.  It's a great dish for experiments.)

This is a side dish, I suppose.  It can work well with anything from salmon to chicken to beef.

Start off the dish as usual: onions, garlic, rice, wine, stock in that order.

Let that go about half way to done; judging that might take some time.

Add about a dozen capers, drained and rinsed, choped finely.

Aside: capers are neat.  Some people have them; they're basically crazy.  What they do is add a floral note to a dish that you basically can't duplicate.  Probably because they are, in fact, flower buds.  Subtle but it adds quite a bit.

Finely chop about half a red bell pepper.  Grate sufficient cheese.

Don't forget to keep stirring and adding liquid.

When the mixture is about 90% done (ie, it's getting noticeably harder to stir), add the red pepper.

Finally, the basil.  Cooked basil loses flavor fast, so this goes in nearly at the end.  If you have fresh, great.  If perhaps you froze some from last year, make sure you give it enough time (and hot liquid and massive amounts of stirring helps here) to defrost.  Chop finely, add that, let that go for another minute or two, then add the cheese, take off the heat, and stir it in.

Works wonderfully.

Orange quesadillas

Dead simple if a little weird.  But trust me; they're good.

Slice:

• 1/2 medium orange
• 1/8 or so white or yellow onion

Preheat the oven to 450.

Sprinkle a large (I think we're calling these "burrito size" now) tortilla with the onions.  Add either sliced or shredded cojack in a relatively thin layer.  Sprinkle the orange chunks over that.  Add Cholula for some heat; you really don't want to add the acid that comes from Tabasco here.

Layer on another tortilla.

Bake for 15 minutes on a high rack, flipping once at about 10 minutes.

Let that cool, slice, and eat.  Absolutely delicious.

Edit: and by all means serve this with guacamole.  It really is a perfect compliment.