tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61678013863838828482024-03-14T02:14:16.700-04:00Kitchen FlânerieThe Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.comBlogger139125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-13284736634945394852023-02-14T18:39:00.011-05:002023-02-14T18:47:36.737-05:00Retroblogging: Green Chicken Korma<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiurRJVf23vv_7RZlavLt5zhfZUFVIIewwj-U0P1YfzcbMt2Hv-8B-bDHQUl9CIzcg-FwhQMI6a_VI7YXHwxJ7wm8s89vaWrcOU2hoUcQ5sWoOcdWP_6SbbXKa9nkZoCcadutped8KECtswfbar_8vlgAmwNEKDI-VpkHRVQ-J4Hx1x-OPIqofXiG2msw" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiurRJVf23vv_7RZlavLt5zhfZUFVIIewwj-U0P1YfzcbMt2Hv-8B-bDHQUl9CIzcg-FwhQMI6a_VI7YXHwxJ7wm8s89vaWrcOU2hoUcQ5sWoOcdWP_6SbbXKa9nkZoCcadutped8KECtswfbar_8vlgAmwNEKDI-VpkHRVQ-J4Hx1x-OPIqofXiG2msw=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div><div>I haven’t put up a post for… ever. But my friend Catherine came over the other night and I made something delicious, and then tonight I made something delicious to go with the leftovers, so I decided to go retro and write it all down.</div><p></p><p>The dish—a green chicken korma full of mint and cilantro—is supremely easy to throw together but feels luxurious. And the naans turned out surprisingly convincingly. So get cooking. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b><br /></b></p><p><b>Green Chicken Korma</b></p><p>Serves 4-5</p><p>FOR MARINADE:</p><p>Half a bunch of cilantro (about 1 loosely packed cup)</p><p>About the same amount of mint</p><p>3-5 fat garlic cloves</p><p>1-1/2” piece of ginger root, peeled </p><p>1/2-1 tsp of Kashmiri red chili powder (which is very mild), or 1/4 tsp cayenne, or 2 tsp paprika </p><p>2-4 small green chilis, or to taste </p><p>1/2 tsp garam masala</p><p>1/4 c whole fat Greek yogurt </p><p>Juice of 1 lime</p><p>FOR KORMA: </p><p>About 1 lb chicken breast, cut into 1/4” slices</p><p>3 TB neutral oil or ghee</p><p>10 peppercorns</p><p>1 tsp cumin seeds</p><p>1 large onion, diced finely </p><p>2 TB cashew or almond butter (or about the same amount of ground nuts) </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9rZTDET6EIiMmKPPQcq_1sQ-Dlw_SroC651TquUyAx3MNJgWD005q6CISVSveZWsPLeWNocdhfGllxRgcE3QhknOr3yZ4WQq1C8twfBZhWx_7R1o4dr0StXxNxllY3OP3SrH9L5c6vATLb2bLNJih5uu75xXQ6DJ6vIoFskVB_6kfI-GpU9ZvIsm9OQ" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9rZTDET6EIiMmKPPQcq_1sQ-Dlw_SroC651TquUyAx3MNJgWD005q6CISVSveZWsPLeWNocdhfGllxRgcE3QhknOr3yZ4WQq1C8twfBZhWx_7R1o4dr0StXxNxllY3OP3SrH9L5c6vATLb2bLNJih5uu75xXQ6DJ6vIoFskVB_6kfI-GpU9ZvIsm9OQ=w240-h320" width="240" /></a></div>1. Put all of the marinade ingredients into a food processor and purée. Empty into a bowl and add sliced chicken breast; mix well. Keep in fridge for 1-2 hrs. (Don’t leave it longer or the chicken will get too cottony.)<p></p><p>2. Heat oil in a heavy pot over medium high heat. Add cumin seeds and peppercorns. When the cumin changes color, add onions. Sauté until lightly browned. </p><p>3. Add chicken and marinade. Sauté until chicken loses its raw color. Add 1/3 c water and turn heat to medium low. Let chicken cook till done, about 10 minutes. Stir in ground nuts or nut butter. Let it combine and thicken the sauce.</p><p>4. Serve with hot naans. Tonight I used <a href="https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1017747-meera-sodhas-naan?ds_c=71700000052595478&gclid=CjwKCAiA_6yfBhBNEiwAkmXy5wgG-TmEj2MHAhdEwW4Ok_uu_pmke0xCbewqJE_S5R_3m5sic6qXdRoCmMgQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds" target="_blank">Meera Sodha’s recipe, from the New York Times</a>. They were fab. </p><p><br /></p>The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-24422471895453703432020-06-03T11:16:00.001-04:002020-06-03T12:02:11.677-04:00On Persistence, Failure, Hope, and Sourdough<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby-kvY13nXHkdMwSN_DUTioFSkIpo4hDYg_WZsZmZCx7Hta8gGmtYfSgnJ6DV8hgQg_iFpMIIC9luqWDOq4GffPwjm_aj7nlJTaQJA494RiXzpAvYt5jJQ5z9oYSEHV8KsAj7RbpDe7wx/s1600/IMG_7104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjby-kvY13nXHkdMwSN_DUTioFSkIpo4hDYg_WZsZmZCx7Hta8gGmtYfSgnJ6DV8hgQg_iFpMIIC9luqWDOq4GffPwjm_aj7nlJTaQJA494RiXzpAvYt5jJQ5z9oYSEHV8KsAj7RbpDe7wx/s320/IMG_7104.JPG" width="320" /></a>I have faced many challenges in my life, but I swear to god the most difficult of them has been producing a moderately successful loaf of sourdough bread.<br />
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I will admit, some of the obstacles were self-created. Including the decision to take on baking sourdough bread in the first place. Why did this seem important to me, especially given that I had a literal QUART of commercial yeast in my fridge? Perhaps it was just CoVID FOMO—seeing all my friends posting joyfully about their science experiments. I don't think I've succumbed to social media pressure before, but I will admit to experiencing it in relation to this particular baked good.<br />
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I made my journey that much more difficult because of my determination to reject Bread Bro culture. (Is this someone else's term? I'm co-opting, if it is.) Bread Bro culture is, to my mind, aligned with Grill Boss culture and Pizza Guy culture and Authenticity culture—areas in the larger field of professional and amateur food culture that have been taken over by men and have a subtle but unmistakable taste of testosterone. It is hard for me not to see a task that was carried on by European grandmothers for centuries, and has now been coopted by male professional and home bakers committed to applying scientific principles to a messy process, as akin to the medicalization of childbirth or the shoving aside of naturopathic knowledge by the pharma industry. (I like medicine and pharmaceuticals just fine; I also appreciate that there are ways in which they've limited our understanding of our bodies, especially for women.) I hate Bread Bro culture the way I hate Chef culture. It recasts what has long been women's work into a realm of expertise to which women are often excluded or seen as irrelevant. (Don't believe me? Check out some of the sourdough recipes posted by women on food sites and blogs—and then look at the comments.)<br />
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I also hated—HATED!—the amount of wastefulness built into the process of making sourdough according to most methods. Discarding half or two-thirds of your starter daily in order to feed it afresh—sometimes on a daily basis—seems like such an American approach to problems. The methods advocated by many sourdough experts are inexpertly translated from bakery production to home production; you never actually discard starter in a bakery, because you're always baking bread. But if you're not baking multiple loaves a day at home, you either have to throw away perfectly good flour via discard, or you have to find creative ways to use that discard, often with recipes that ask you to use even MORE flour. (Where are all of you getting endless supplies of bread flour during CoVID quarantine, by the way?!)<br />
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I also couldn't get my mind around the timing, which seemed to require that you start your baking at a specific time so that you did not end up putting a loaf in the oven at 2 am.<br />
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With the help of a crack team of sourdough experts, though, I managed to work through many of my dilemmas.<br />
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I am so far from being an expert it's not funny. If you want to make a perfect loaf, go elsewhere. Seriously. But I seem to have figured out a way to make one loaf of bread and one batch of super delicious crackers a week, without too much stress. Of course if you want to make more, that's easy to do to.<br />
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You do need a few tools: a decent kitchen scale, and a bench scraper.<br />
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<b>First, get your starter.</b><br />
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I'm not even going to pretend when it comes to starter. I cannot in good conscience make one on my own because of the amount you have to discard in the process. I got my starter from a very kind neighbor, and I suggest you do the same. (Thanks, Ripley.) Once you have a starter, instead of discarding, spread the love by gifting yours to your neighbors.<br />
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Store your starter in a glass, straight sided container, like a mason jar or some such. BEFORE YOU ADD ANYTHING TO THE JAR, weigh it, and mark the weight of the jar on the bottom. Trust me, it'll make life easier.<br />
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<b>Second, get your starter good and ready.</b><br />
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Thanks to my friend Matias, I realized that you don't need to keep a massive starter. I start with 60 g of sourdough starter, which I feed with 60 g of flour (a mix of white and whole wheat) and 60 g of water (60 + 60 + 60 equals 180 g total). When I make a loaf of bread, I use 120 g of starter—which means I have 60 g left, that I can then feed and stick in the fridge for next time.<br />
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So theoretically, one does not need to discard any at all, right? WRONG. Because if you keep your starter in the fridge, you need to feed it once or twice or even three times to get it up to speed, which means you need to discard 120 g each time you feed. (Remember? Discard 120 g and then feed with 60 g flour and 60 g water.) Those two or three discards? Save in a jar and make sourdough crackers which are seriously delicious. (Recipe below.)<br />
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So: the day before you want to make bread, take your 180 g of starter out of the fridge. Take 120 g out of the jar and set aside. How do you know you've taken 120 g out of the jar? Jar weight (remember? you marked it on the jar) plus 60 g—that's the number you're going for on the scale. My mason jar weighs 285 g, so if I want 60 g of starter, the whole shebang should weigh 345 g. I take starter out until I'm down to 345 g.<br />
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Now, to the jar, add 60 g flour (a mix of white and whole wheat) and 60 g water (room temp or tepid). Mix well so no dry clumps of flour remain. Put an elastic band around the jar to indicate the starting level of your mixture. Set the jar on a counter (or, if your house is cool, in the oven with the light on).<br />
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Using that elastic band as your guide, check on your starter periodically to see if it's doubled in volume. How long did it take? If your starter doubled in volume in 4-5 hrs, you're probably okay to bake. If not, feed it again. (Remove 120 g, add 60 g flour and 60 g water.) Depending on how lazy or active your starter is, this may take one, two, or three rounds of feeding. Mine takes one, but I give it two because I don't quite trust the process yet.<br />
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(Remember: you're saving that 120 g discard from each feeding for crackers.)<br />
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When your starter gets to the point that it doubles within 4-5 hrs, check it. You should see lots of tiny bubbles around the side of the jar, and bubbles dotting the top. If you stick a spoon in it, it should feel airy and light—like a sticky soufflé. It should smell sort of lovely and tangy and sweet at the same time. You can triple check that you're ready by taking out a small bit and dropping it into a glass of room temperature water—it will float. You are now ready to make a loaf.<br />
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<b>Third, mix your dough.</b><br />
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A lot of recipes call for making a levain in order to bake, which seems wasteful to me, no matter what the benefits of taste are. (A levain involves taking out a little bit of your starter and feeding it so you have a separate offshoot of your starter.) I don't do this. Why? Because I keep the precise amount of starter I need for my amount of bread baking. See how that works?<br />
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Almost all current sourdough recipes also talk a lot about hydration levels for your dough; the current fashion is to make a super wet dough so that the resulting bread has lots of big holes, which requires at least a 75% hydration (that is to say, your water weighs 75% of what your flour does). Mine is slightly less than that, because I like holes but I don't want my butter to fall through the bread and because I like being able to handle the dough fairly competently.<br />
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So, this is what I'm currently doing.<br />
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<b>The Recipe</b><br />
<br />
Take 450 g of bread flour or all purpose flour, plus 50 g whole wheat flour. Mix in a medium bowl with 350 g tepid water. It will look shaggy and not quite cohesive—that's okay. Put a clean cloth over the bowl and let it sit for an hour or two. When you come back, you'll see that the dough has become moist and smooth.<br />
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(While the flour and water mixture are hanging out, feed your remaining 60 g of starter with 60 g flour and 60 g water. Let hang on the counter till it's doubled in volume, then stick in the fridge for the next time you bake. Note: if you bake less than once a week, you'll still have to feed this starter once a week.)<br />
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Now take 120 g of your freshly fed-and-doubled-in-size starter. Add to the flour-water dough, along with 10 g salt. Mix this together well, using your hands—you'll be sort of pinching and grabbing to get the starter and salt into the deep heart of your dough ball. It will feel squooshy and weird, but you need to keep mixing until the surface of the dough is not slimy and wet.<br />
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Cover the bowl with a towel and stick in your oven with the light turned on. Let it rest and rise for at least 45 minutes.<br />
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Now take the dough out of the oven and do your first "turn": scooping from the bottom of the bowl, lift the far end of the dough up and stretch it gently before you fold it towards you. Turn the bowl a few degrees and repeat this motion. Keep turning the bowl and stretching/folding the dough over on itself until you've done a full round. Cover the bowl and put it back into the oven.<br />
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Repeat this stretch and fold business every 45 mins to an hour, over the course of about 4 hrs. Make sure you do at least 3 or 4 rounds. As the dough rises, it will develop some air bubbles; as your doing your ministrations, try not to deflate those.<br />
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By the end of the 4 hrs, the dough should be sort of gorgeous and moist, and considerable pouffier than before; ideally it will have doubled in volume, or close to. If you feel like it needs to rise more, keep it for another hour or so in the lights-on oven, undisturbed.<br />
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<b>Now, shape. </b><br />
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This is the messy and not easy part. No way around it. But even if you don't get it right, the bread will still taste good so no need to stress. Because it's sort of hard to describe, you can look at <a href="https://www.kingarthurflour.com/blog/2018/05/31/shaping-a-boule" target="_blank">the tutorial on the King Arthur Flour site for three different approaches</a>.<br />
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Lightly dust a wooden cutting board or counter with flour. (Rice flour seems to work well for this.) Using wet hands or a wet spatula, scrape the dough out of the bowl onto the work surface. Cover the blob with a bowl and let it hang out for half an hour while you steel your nerves.<br />
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Now, grab the right side of the dough, stretch it out a bit, and fold it over the top. Do the same for the left side. Do the same for the top and bottom. You've basically created an envelope-type fold and created a roughly roundish shape. Using your bench scraper, flip the dough so that the folds are on the bottom and the smooth side of the dough is on the top. Cover with a bowl and prepare your bread proofing basket.<br />
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Take a dish towel and sprinkle rice flour all over it. Don't be stingy. Now rub that flour into the towel. Use some muscle. Add more flour. Rub rub rub. Trust me, it works. (After you are done with the bread rising business, DON'T throw this towel in the wash. Instead, put it in a freezer bag and throw it into your freezer for next time. Saves flour and the buildup of flour makes it "non-stick." Just sprinkle and rub with a little more flour next time you use it.) Use the towel to line a medium bowl or basket or colander—something that will allow your loaf to keep a round-ish shape.<br />
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Now return to your rested dough. Your goal is to shape it into a taut ball. There are a variety of ways to do this, including using your bench scraper to spin the dough ball to create the shape, or do as I do which is to pick up the ball and sort of use gravity and a gathering motion to create a taut dome. Place the ball, smooth, taut side down, in the towel lined basket. Sprinkle the top of the dough with a bit more flour and fold the towel loosely overtop.<br />
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You can now let it rest for its second rise in the oven, or, if the timing doesn't work, let it rest in the fridge. Remove from fridge and place in a lit oven when you're ready.<br />
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For the second rise, you're looking for the dough to visibly expand. It may not get to a full doubling of volume, but as long as you can see that the dough has puffed, that is a good sign. Take a flour-dipped finger and poke the dough—it should leave a dimple that slooooowly starts to repair itself. (If you've taken it out of the fridge, it will take significantly longer to achieve this; if you're going straight to the second rise, 2-3 hrs should work.)<br />
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Half an hour before you bake, remove the dough bowl from its warm rising spot and put it on the counter. Put an empty Dutch oven or cast iron pot in the oven. Preheat to 500 F. After half an hour, get the dough into the pot. This is how I do it: I place a piece of parchment paper on a small cutting board or plate. Unwrap the towel from the top of the dough, invert the parchment/cutting board over the bowl of dough, and flip the bowl so that the dough and towel plop onto the cutting board. Remove the towel.<br />
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Slash the loaf: with a razor blade, lame, scissors, or very sharp thin bladed knife, make a few cuts in the top of the loaf to allow the dough to expand during baking.<br />
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Using the parchment as a kind of sling, transfer the dough to the hot Dutch oven. Cover with the lid. Bake at 500 F for 25 mins. Uncover the pot, and grab a corner of the parchment paper to remove it like a magician pulling a table cloth out from under a set table. Lower the heat to 450, and bake for another 25 mins. (Check the loaf periodically—yours may take a little less or a little more time.) The crust should get dark brown but not burned, obviously.<br />
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Remove the Dutch oven from the oven, and CAREFULLY lift the bread out of the pot. Let cool completely on a rack before cutting into it. Then eat it.<br />
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<b>Timing</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Baking sourdough bread, I've discovered, is a long-term project. You can make a loaf in a day, but (thankfully) you can also stretch it out as needed.<br />
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8 am: Feed your starter for the second or third time (depending on what it needs)<br />
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12 pm: Mix flour and water for the dough<br />
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1 pm: Add starter and salt to dough and mix<br />
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1-5 pm: Let the dough have its first rise, stretching and folding the dough four times over the course of 4 hrs<br />
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5-6 pm: Let the dough rest, preshape, rest, shape [You can put the dough in the fridge at this point!]<br />
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6-8 pm: Let the dough rise in its basket/bowl/colander/towel set up [If you've put the dough in the fridge, add at least an hour to this second-rise period!]<br />
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8 pm: Preheat oven<br />
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8:30 pm: Bake bread<br />
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9:15 pm: Take bread out of oven and let cool<br />
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Next morning: breakfast!<br />
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<b>And now, the crackers.</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
Remember the discard that was produced when you were getting your starter ready to use? It's hopefully in a container in your fridge by now. There will be probably 240 or 360 g of it—maybe 3/4 or 1 cup. Preheat oven to 325F. In a bowl, mix with 3-4 TB melted butter, 1 tsp salt, and whatever dry or fresh herbs you have on hand. Using a spatula (a metal offset spatula works well), spread in a thin layer on two sheets of parchment or two silicon mats set in cookie sheets. If you'd like, you can sprinkle with some Maldon salt and more herbs. Put trays in oven. After 10 mins, take them out and "score" the crackers using a pizza cutter or knife—basically cut a grid into the surface. Put back in oven for about 45 more minutes. Let cool and break along score lines.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-82908701798930594092020-04-12T22:05:00.005-04:002020-04-23T19:26:58.306-04:00#CoronaCooking: Celebrating Spring<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have a big yard; I live in a place where going for walks in the woods is still possible. I’m so lucky—at least, until or if I get sick, with no hospital nearby, and the closest regional one overburdened thanks to an early COVID outbreak. But I’m not sick, so I’m still lucky.<br />
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On my last run to the grocery store there wasn’t much chicken or beef to choose from, but there were some beautiful legs of lamb on sale, so I picked one up for “Easter dinner,” which I put in quotation marks because we have no real reason to celebrate a Christian holiday. But it’s a great excuse to celebrate the sun, the awakening garden, the incipient buds on the trees. So lamb, and then some of the ramps (wild leeks) that I picked on a hike on Saturday, and the last of the potatoes and carrots.<br />
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The lamb is marinated in Indian spices, yogurt, cashew paste, and—this is the secret to the flavor—fried onions, crumbled up and added to the mix. Remarkably flavorful and easy.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Raan (Indian-style Leg of Lamb)</h3>
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Serves: many more than we had at our table</div>
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1 leg of lamb, bone in, partly deboned, or butterflied (your choice)</div>
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1 tsp fennel seed</div>
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1 tsp cardamom pods</div>
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1 tsp peppercorns</div>
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1/2 tsp whole cloves</div>
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1/2 cinnamon stick</div>
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Handful of cashews or blanched almonds</div>
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2 tsp cumin powder</div>
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1 TB coriander powder</div>
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1 TB Kashmiri chili powder or 1 tsp cayenne and 2 tsp paprika</div>
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1 TB kosher salt</div>
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5 garlic cloves and 2 inches gingerroot, grated on a microplane or puréed in a miniprocessor</div>
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3/4 c plain yogurt (if you use Greek, thin it out with a bit of water)</div>
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1/4 c oil</div>
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1 large yellow onion, sliced thinly </div>
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1. Make marinade: Grind fennel, cardamom, peppercorns, cloves, and cinnamon in a spice grinder. Place in a small bowl. Grind nuts in spice grinder till sandy. Add to bowl. Add remaining ingredients to bowl. Mix till smooth. </div>
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2. In a sauté pan, heat oil over medium high heat. When it ripples, add the sliced onion. Sauté over medium high heat, stirring at frequent intervals, until the onion is VERY dark brown and slightly crispy. This will take at least 10 minutes, probably closer to 15. When done, drain on paper towels. When somewhat cooled, chop up and add to the marinade. </div>
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3. At least 4 hrs before you plan to put the lamb in the oven, take a sharp knife and score the lamb in a diamond pattern. Place on a rack on a roasting pan (or use a rack in a sheet pan, like I did). With your hands, take the yogurt onion spice paste and slather it all over the lamb—every single side and crevice and slash. Allow to marinate in the fridge loosely covered by plastic film for at least 4 hrs, and up to 8 hrs. </div>
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4. Two hours before you plan to cook, take the lamb out of the fridge so it can come up to room temp. </div>
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5. When you’re ready to cook, preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Put lamb in oven; carefully add a cup or two of water to the baking tray (this keeps the drippings from burning and creating smoke). Cook until the internal temperature at the deepest part of the leg reads 135 (med rare) or 140 (medium). (My semi-boneless leg took about an hour and a quarter.) When the lamb comes up to temperature, remove it from the oven, tent loosely with foil, and allow to rest for 15 mins or so before carving. </div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-38980735537381492842020-04-09T19:36:00.001-04:002020-04-09T19:36:48.299-04:00#CoronaCooking: Dreams of Goa<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Coronavirus seems to have generated four thousand million chain letters and memes: every day I get a request for a poem, a recipe, a list of my favorite books and record albums, lists of things I love and things I hate. One of my favorites asks for people to post a picture of a landscape that they dream about in this period of shelter-in-place.<br />
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Here’s mine: Goa, December 2019. I’d been more than once before, but it was with this trip that I truly began to understand how special this place was, how it is really a 21st century reminder of its past, when it was a—possibly THE—hub of the world, connecting the Portuguese empire from Brazil to Angola to Macau and beyond. The Catholic Church was hardly a benign force here, but like in Mangalore—the place that my father’s family is from, a place that is like Goa’s distant cousin, full of family resemblances but still a little unfamiliar—people have embraced the religion that was imposed on them via violence and made it their own. Same goes for the food—no surprise there.<br />
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And the food! Seafood, coconut, lots of chilies, pork, vinegar, and so many local variations of Portuguese ingredients and dishes. Vindaloo, spiked with garlic and vinegar, was born here. Goan sausage is an impossibly spicy version of linguiça. Feijãoda, best known worldwide as a Brazilian stew, is a Goan dish, too.<br />
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We went to one restaurant more than any other on our week-long stay: a place located in one of the old, colorfully stuccoed houses in Panjim’s historical neighborhood, which bills itself as Asia’s only Latin Quarter. The restaurant—Viva Panjim!—serves all the local classics, including shrimp curry and rice. Fragrant with spices and coconut milk, the sauce is equally good with any white fish or squid.<br />
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A lot of Indian curries call for grinding whole spices, often along with “wet” ingredients like onion, garlic, and so on. I am always looking for ways around this step, for two reasons: first, western blenders don’t grind nearly as finely as Indian ones, so there’s a texture problem; and second, frying ground onions makes your house smell. So: this is my fragrant but also streamlined version of one of my favorite flavor memories.<br />
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Goan Seafood Curry</h3>
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Serves 4-5</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXxEak4Po60gahxn88mqq8oRpaD6GXrz-ATC0JETlMPL__9svjz4v0J6HAqZ8o3g2L7TDa4RhuJC3svhYXTtiJmXfv-V3PvoSlq5Fk2zpIm7f0oMKCCUA_00cpU9Hj6CiJYh_nAnD0Qnj/s1600/E13612D8-8F69-4AE1-AD38-7094834006EC.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXxEak4Po60gahxn88mqq8oRpaD6GXrz-ATC0JETlMPL__9svjz4v0J6HAqZ8o3g2L7TDa4RhuJC3svhYXTtiJmXfv-V3PvoSlq5Fk2zpIm7f0oMKCCUA_00cpU9Hj6CiJYh_nAnD0Qnj/s320/E13612D8-8F69-4AE1-AD38-7094834006EC.jpeg" width="240" /></a><br />1 lb prawns (peeled and deveined) or fish<br />1/2 tsp salt<br />1/2 tsp turmeric powder<br />1 tbsp lime or lemon juice<br />2 tsp coriander powder<br />1 tsp cumin<br />1/2 tsp ground pepper<br />1/4 tsp cinnamon powder<br />1/4 tsp ground cloves<br />3 tbsp vegetable oil<br />10-12 curry leaves (optional)<br />2-3 green chillies, minced<br />1/2 cup onion, minced<br />5-6 garlic cloves, minced<br />1/2 cup chopped tomato (fresh or canned is fine)<br />2 tsp tamarind paste<br />1 cup coconut milk<br />Salt to taste<br />Cilantro for garnish (optional but pretty)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DUGdbjSH6ydzqi6lp0-nqVeY0tTAF5BtSs33tiHvrv1FoQBJ9kr7NZM__czsyyBIZAAp4F5kLLhkP7uRXXuxImHlPnr8Kuu4xflGNsnOjyuUvqbtQyGBD1TVchsnhr3wsX6cUrdrhGKR/s1600/C61C0428-4AD5-4444-BB55-27DDF497251F.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8DUGdbjSH6ydzqi6lp0-nqVeY0tTAF5BtSs33tiHvrv1FoQBJ9kr7NZM__czsyyBIZAAp4F5kLLhkP7uRXXuxImHlPnr8Kuu4xflGNsnOjyuUvqbtQyGBD1TVchsnhr3wsX6cUrdrhGKR/s320/C61C0428-4AD5-4444-BB55-27DDF497251F.jpeg" width="240" /></a>1. Mix together the seafood, salt, turmeric, and lemon/lime juice in a bowl. Set aside for 15 minutes. Combine spice powders in a bowl and set aside.<br /><br /><br />
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2. Heat oil in a sauté pan over medium high heat. Once the oil is hot, add the marinated prawns and cook for 2-3 minutes. Remove the prawns on a plate and keep aside. (If you’re using fish, skip this step.)<br /></div>
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3. In the remaining oil, add curry leaves, and green chilli and fry for a few seconds. Add onion and fry until they turn translucent, then add garlic and sauté for a minute or so. Add tomato and 1/2 tsp salt and cook for 2-3 minutes, until the tomatoes break down and the oil starts to separate.<br /></div>
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4. Add the spice mixture and sauté for a minute or so until the spices are well combined. Then add 1/2 cup water and tamarind paste and cook for 5-6 minutes over medium heat.<br /></div>
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5. Add coconut milk, 2 cups water and the seared prawns or fish and simmer until the seafood is cooked. Taste the gravy for salt and adjust as needed.<br /></div>
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6. Garnish with fresh coriander and serve hot with rice. </div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-72066394657426628532020-04-06T19:32:00.003-04:002020-04-23T19:27:13.531-04:00#CoronaCooking: The Even Simpler Simplest Paella<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A few years ago I posted a <a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2012/03/mr-smith-comes-to-dinner.html?m=1" target="_blank">recipe for a simple paella</a>—and it is simple, relative to how grand paella can get. But to be honest I rarely make that version—I make a much, much more streamlined version. To me, it’s a weeknight meal, endlessly flexible, and quick to throw together. The only required ingredients for me are chorizo (although if you’re making a vegetarian version, that’s totally dispensable too) and smoked Spanish paprika. Chicken and shrimp if you’d like, aromatics that are usually in the fridge, tomatoes in some form, herbs if you have them. You could throw in peas, green beans, artichoke hearts, asparagus—or none of the above. Use what you have. It’ll be delicious. Not bad for one pan and 45 minutes, start to finish.<br />
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The Even Simpler Simplest Paella</h3>
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Serves 3-4</div>
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1 TB olive oil</div>
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4 oz chorizo—the Spanish, cured or half cured kind, not the raw Mexican kind, cut into rounds</div>
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4-5 boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1 in chunks</div>
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1/2 large onion, chopped</div>
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1/2 red pepper, chopped</div>
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2 large garlic cloves, minced</div>
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2 TB chopped parsley and 2 TB chopped cilantro, or just use one or the other, or more or less</div>
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3/4 c puréed (crushed) tomatoes</div>
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1 c rice: use Spanish Calasparra or Bomba rices or Japanese short grained rice (something like Cal-Rose or Nikishi)</div>
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3 c chicken broth or water (I used broth made with a bullion cube)</div>
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Kosher salt</div>
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1 TB and 2 tsp Spanish smoked paprika, divided</div>
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1. Toss chicken cubes with a good pinch of salt and 2 tsp smoked paprika. </div>
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2. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium high heat. Add chorizo and chicken pieces. Sauté until chorizo browns a bit and chicken loses its raw color. Add onion, pepper, garlic, and herbs, along with a good pinch of salt. Sauté the whole mess until vegetables soften and turn a bit translucent. Add 1 TB paprika to pan, stir to combine. </div>
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3. Add rice to pan. Sauté until rice is coated with oil and well combined. Add tomatoes, stir until well combined. Now add water or broth. (Depending on the saltiness of your liquid, you may want to add additional salt now.) Adjust heat so that you achieve a brisk simmer, and allow to cook, without stirring. </div>
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4. After about 5 minutes, you can nestle the shrimp into the liquid and rice. Keep simmering, uncovered, for another 15 minutes or so. You can shake the pan occasionally but don’t stir (it makes the dish too starchy). You want to cook the dish until the rice is just tender; if the liquid gets absorbed before the rice is cooked, add 1/2 c water and keep going. </div>
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5. Remove from heat. STIR. Allow to sit for five minutes or so, so the rice can get completely tender. Serve, accompanied by lemon wedges if you’d like. </div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-33001243186485325202020-04-06T11:37:00.002-04:002020-04-06T11:37:39.894-04:00#CoronaCooking: Pizza Madness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This is <a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2013/09/pizza-night.html" target="_blank">not the first time I've written about pizza on the blog</a>—it's been my burden to bear pretty much forever. Kid who loves pizza plus mom who doesn't love pizza plus coronavirus shutdown is not an attractive combination, and I finally had to give in and start experimenting again after a long while. That meant four—count them, FOUR—pizzas over the course of a week, my friends. The sacrifices I make, I swear.<br />
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The recipe on my original post works just fine, but I think this crust is even better, after some experimentation. (Thanks to baker extraordinaire Jennifer Nerissa Davis for the tips.) Big bubbles and air pockets, chewy and with a real structure. I make a thin crust—be light-handed with your toppings.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Pizza Crust</h3>
Makes 2 x 16 inch pizzas or 3 x 12 inch pizzas<br />
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1.5 tsp active dry yeast<br />
1 tsp sugar<br />
12 oz warm water<br />
3-3/4 c all purpose flour (bread flour is better, but we're in quarantine)<br />
2 tsp kosher salt<br />
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1. Put warm water and sugar in a bowl; sprinkle over yeast. Allow yeast to activate for 10 minutes or so.<br />
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2. Add flour and salt. Mix with your hands into a rough dough—it will be tacky, that's okay. Knead for 5 minutes or so.<br />
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3. Throw dough into a ziplock bag. Put into refrigerator for at least 24 hours—but frankly, 48 or even 72 hours works even better. (At this point, if you only want to use part of the dough, cut into two or three pieces and put the others into their own ziplock bags; you can refrigerate for use in a day or two, or leave in fridge for a day or two and then freeze for future use.)<br />
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4. Two or two and a half hours before you want to eat, take bag out of fridge and leave on counter. (If you're using dough that you've frozen, take it out of the freezer 24 hrs before and put it in the fridge; proceed from there.)<br />
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5. Lightly flour a cutting board or the countertop. Pull the dough out of the bag (it will look like a sticky mess, but don’t worry—scrape it out and dump it onto the floured surface. Flip it over once or twice and it will more or less magically coalesce into an actual ball of dough.<br />
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6. Shape the dough. You can use a pizza peel if you're planning on using a pizza stone, but I just use a pizza pan in a hot oven. (Put cornmeal or flour on the pizza peel, lightly oil the pizza pan.) Shaping is really just a matter of making a disc, and sort of pushing it outwards into a bigger circle with your fingers. Lift it up from one side if you want to allow gravity to stretch it out. Or just leave it on the tray or peel and lift it and shape it bit by bit till you have a thin circle. Be gentle with it. If it starts to fight back, step away for a few minutes until it relaxes, and keep going.<br />
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7. NOW start preheating the oven as hot as you can get it —my oven goes to 500˙F so that's what I use. Give the shaped dough some time to relax and puff. After about 30 minutes, you can top it: no more than 1/4 c of pizza sauce (<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2013/09/pizza-night.html" target="_blank">see here</a>), about 4 oz of shredded mozzarella, plus a dusting of whatever toppings you want. We're fans of thinly sliced red onion, thinly sliced mushrooms, and browned Italian sausage.<br />
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8. When the oven is fully heated, slide pizza into oven. It should take around 10-12 minutes to bake—keep an eye on it. The crust should be brown and crisp, and the cheese and toppings fully cooked.<br />
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9. Remove from oven, let rest for a few minutes, then cut and enjoy.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-25120251430778703262020-04-01T20:55:00.002-04:002020-04-23T19:28:40.233-04:00#CoronaCooking: Emergency Sheet Cake<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The fact of the matter is that sometimes you really NEED dessert, and when those times happen during a pandemic, satisfying the urge is not as easy as slipping out to the store to pick up a pint of Talenti or Ben & Jerry’s or what have you. Emergency sheet cake to the rescue: it can basically be made from what you already have in your pantry, and takes less than an hour from start to finish. And the best part? A completely moist, chocolatey cake that is as perfect in texture as one from a box but tastes infinitely better. Top with anything or nothing. This magic recipe is from <a href="https://www.fromvalerieskitchen.com/one-bowl-chocolate-cake/" target="_blank">Valerie’s Kitchen</a>.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Emergency Sheet Cake</h3>
Servings: that’s between you and your god<br />
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2 cups flour <br />2 cups sugar <br />3/4 cup cocoa powder <br />2 teaspoons baking soda <br />1 teaspoon baking powder <br />1/2 teaspoon salt <br />2 large eggs <br />1 cup buttermilk (or put 2 TB lemon juice in a one cup measure and fill the rest with milk) <br />1/2 cup vegetable oil <br />2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract <br />1 cup very hot water <br /><br />1. Preheat oven to 350 F. Coat a 13" x 9" baking dish with non-stick cooking spray or grease it with a little butter or oil. <br /><br />2. In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Using an electric hand mixer, beat in eggs, buttermilk, oil, and vanilla. Add hot water and mix until combined. Batter will be quite thin. <br /><br />3. Pour batter into prepared baking dish. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /></div>
The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-25457645735555433812020-03-26T19:38:00.000-04:002020-03-26T19:38:00.726-04:00#CoronaCooking: What Would Juan Sánchez Cotan Do<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear reader, I wonder if you've gotten to the stage of this self-quarantine business—13 days and counting for me—where you are running out of energy for cooking? Or maybe you never had it? You open your fridge and your cupboards and see all of that food you bought, things you imagined would be very PRACTICAL and NUTRITIOUS and SENSIBLE and think: but what I really want is take out?<br />
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I know lots of people are enthusiastically ordering take out, as a way of sending business to restaurants that are at risk of shuttering entirely because of various municipal and state-wide shelter in place laws. And certainly, <a href="https://www.seriouseats.com/2020/03/food-safety-and-coronavirus-a-comprehensive-guide.html" target="_blank">this article by J. Kenji Lopéz-Alt in Serious Eats</a>—one of my most trusted food sites—suggests there's no coronavirus risk in eating food prepared outside the home. But I'm nervous about it, and in any case I'm not craving anything from around here. I want to order dumplings from Dim Sum Go Go, or dosas from Saravana Bhaavan, or aujou chicken from Grand Szechuan—all in New York City, about 200 miles from here.<br />
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So I cook at home. Even when I don't feel like it.<br />
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The other day, I asked my FaceFriends what they had in their pantries, and Lisa Guido posted the most gorgeous picture of her packed fridge. It reminded me of my favorite still life painter—Juan Sánchez-Cotan, a 17th century Spaniard who clearly knew how to infuse the humble with the dramatic. I don't know if what I threw together tonight—a pantry pasta full of umami goodness and a dressed cauliflower salad—rises to the level of the dramatic, but it certainly rose to the level of the extremely delicious, easy, and quick, so perhaps that's good enough.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinraTMZb0I_WxDTQXsYCv6IoTIR58Lw80tZdBMjYOYmWW1YjPGBZbiB5R8fRDCzuVxheO2xwwbU9wqrrPodmv41R6QfhCkmP19YhrptRCAPUcc4xBzwjQHRClbNtTgll2JyzUVdtGEPY1_/s1600/Fra_Juan_Sa%25CC%2581nchez_Cota%25CC%2581n_001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1153" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinraTMZb0I_WxDTQXsYCv6IoTIR58Lw80tZdBMjYOYmWW1YjPGBZbiB5R8fRDCzuVxheO2xwwbU9wqrrPodmv41R6QfhCkmP19YhrptRCAPUcc4xBzwjQHRClbNtTgll2JyzUVdtGEPY1_/s320/Fra_Juan_Sa%25CC%2581nchez_Cota%25CC%2581n_001.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8QrZZ-J7DO_7fYJcemyJUSo1rGbCJ40XvuanblaznV2o9HgsTm0pn44QJ4tUh84FDeCHGoDy90_H85b2qUC-TpEKbQTVPss-Kvd6vBZEdnVPuu6Poz-MOR-ozfS6iUzE43BucYIr2y4K/s1600/fridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim8QrZZ-J7DO_7fYJcemyJUSo1rGbCJ40XvuanblaznV2o9HgsTm0pn44QJ4tUh84FDeCHGoDy90_H85b2qUC-TpEKbQTVPss-Kvd6vBZEdnVPuu6Poz-MOR-ozfS6iUzE43BucYIr2y4K/s320/fridge.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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<h3>
Pasta with Tomatoes, Garlic, and Anchovies</h3>
<h3>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Serves 2-3</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="font-weight: normal;">If you're making these two dishes together, start the pasta sauce, and while it simmers make the cauliflower salad. Then, when you take the cauliflower out of the boiling water, add the pasta to the same water—</i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>saves much time and retains some nutrients, too. If you're only making the pasta, put the water to boil as soon as you start.</i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">2 TB olive oil<br />1-2 garlic cloves, minced<br />2 anchovies, rinsed and minced<br />1 dried red chili, crumbled, or 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes<br />2 c canned tomatoes, diced<br />salt<br />a handful of parsley, minced<br />8 oz dried penne</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">1. In a cold pan, place olive oil, garlic, anchovies, and chili. Turn the heat on medium low, and allow the oil to warm. The anchovies will "melt" into the oil. At this point, turn heat up to medium high, and allow garlic to become fragrant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">2. Add tomatoes to the pan, along with the parsley. Turn heat to medium so that it stays at a steady simmer, but doesn't splatter all over the place. Allow to simmer for around 10 minutes or so. (If you're making the cauliflower, it's a good time to do that.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">3. When it's time, add the pasta to a large pot of boiling, well-salted water. Cook till just shy of al dente (10-11 minutes or so). Drain pasta, and add to sauce so it can finish cooking. Serve. (NO CHEESE!)</span></div>
</h3>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Warm Cauliflower Salad with Capers and Red Onion</h3>
<div>
Serves 4 reasonable people, and 2.5 cauliflower lovers</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1/2 head cauliflower, cut into florets</div>
<div>
1/2 red onion (or yellow, if that's all you have), minced</div>
<div>
a handful of parsley, minced</div>
<div>
a handful of chives, if you have them, minced</div>
<div>
2 TB capers, rinsed and roughly chopped</div>
<div>
2 TB olive oil</div>
<div>
1 TB red wine or sherry wine vinegar</div>
<div>
salt and freshly ground pepper</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add 1 TB salt and the cauliflower. Bring back to a boil and cook for 5-7 minutes, or until just tender. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. While cauliflower is boiling, add minced onion, herbs, and capers to a serving bowl. When cauliflower is done, scoop it out of the water with a slotted spoon and into the serving bowl. (Don't dump the water out of the pot if you're also making the next recipe.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
3. Add olive oil to cauliflower and toss ingredients together. Add vinegar and toss again. Check for salt, and add pepper to taste. Toss again, and serve.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<br /></h3>
<br /></div>
The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-24530837949703748912020-03-22T21:08:00.000-04:002020-03-22T21:08:29.430-04:00#CoronaCooking: Rice-a-Roni and Other Delicacies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I was a typical child of recent immigrants, in the sense that while I loved the food my parents cooked for me, the curries and bhajis and rice and biryanis on special occasions, I longed, too, for "regular food." Food, that is, that my white friends ate—sometimes homemade (like the pierogies and cabbage rolls that their moms and grandmas use to make), but all too often purchased in a box or a can. Hamburger Helper was one of my favorite meals, and I loved pork chops cooked with a can of Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup. I would love it when my parents went out in the evenings, leaving us with a babysitter and, if we were lucky, a frozen TV dinner; I only regretted that we didn't own any of those TV trays on which to eat it. My mom, a full-time doctor with two young kids, rarely resorted to these processed but coveted things; instead we were tortured with fresh food, cooked from scratch, in interesting ways. Poor us.<br />
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But the thing I loved most—partly because of the catchy jingle, I have to admit—was Rice-A-Roni. This magical melange of rice and vermicelli and chickeny goodness was the San Francisco treat, after all! (My first babysitter used to call me Rice-a-Rooni, just FYI. Not sure of the correlation-causation link there.) Every once in a while my mom would give in to my requests at the grocery store and she and my dad would nibble at it politely while I enthused, childishly. "Isn't it sooooo delicious?!" I would beam proudly. My parents were no doubt thinking that what they were basically eating was a rice pilaf—made of rice, noodles, and a seasoning packet—and that India does rice pilaf like nobody's business.<br />
<br />
Imagine my surprise when I found out, as an adult, that Rice-A-Roni was simply a commercial version of a common Middle Eastern dish—not a San Francisco treat after all! Armed with this knowledge, when my kid requested a meal organized around her craving of creamed spinach, I threw together a homemade version of my favorite childhood delicacy to go with. I made a glazed ham steak to round out our Sunday supper.<br />
<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Rice-A-Rooni</h3>
<div>
Serves 6</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1DzmQGo1dw7TMCAlCzWT421NJpKeYoMO-OzqAZu4C5ZML0nW0id0EZG3yx5oNi1PKrhfMffXuB8O0LTCb-B58WsWROGnKGnxcSUclAhcGXUhb5cLH1crwBVNCtcVvwPgIdLC8w9yLGjk/s1600/FullSizeRender+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh1DzmQGo1dw7TMCAlCzWT421NJpKeYoMO-OzqAZu4C5ZML0nW0id0EZG3yx5oNi1PKrhfMffXuB8O0LTCb-B58WsWROGnKGnxcSUclAhcGXUhb5cLH1crwBVNCtcVvwPgIdLC8w9yLGjk/s320/FullSizeRender+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
2 TB butter</div>
<div>
1 TB olive oil</div>
<div>
1/2 medium yellow onion, diced small</div>
<div>
1 minced garlic clove</div>
<div>
salt and pepper</div>
<div>
1 tsp dried herbs—thyme or herbes de Provence are both good</div>
<div>
1/2 c orzo, spaghetti or angel hair pasta broken into short lengths, or other small pasta</div>
<div>
1 c long grain rice</div>
<div>
3/5 c chicken, beef, or vegetable stock</div>
<div>
chopped parsley for garnish</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Melt butter and olive oil in a heavy pot. When butter is melted, add onion, garlic, a generous pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper. Sauté until onion is softened and translucent. Add dried herbs to the pot and stir till combined.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. Add pasta to the pot, and sauté until it turns toasty brown. Then add rice and sauté until well coated with the butter and oil and slightly translucent. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
3. Add stock to pot, stir well, and allow to come to the boil. Cover pot, turn heat to medium low, and simmer for about 15-20 minutes, until the liquid in the pot has been absorbed and the rice is tender. Turn off heat, and let sit, covered, for a few minutes to finish steaming.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
4. Serve, garnished with parsley if you have it.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Creamed Spinach</h3>
<div>
Serves 5</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<div>
<i>My farm sent me home with two large bags of spinach, freshly harvested. You could also use frozen spinach here, thawed and drained.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
1 large bag spinach (about 12 oz), washed well and chopped</div>
<div>
kosher salt and pepper</div>
<div>
1 TB butter</div>
<div>
1/2 medium onion, minced</div>
<div>
1/4 tsp freshly grated nutmeg</div>
<div>
1/4 c heavy cream</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Throw the freshly washed spinach, with water still clinging to its leaves, into a large pan with a pinch of salt. Turn heat onto medium high, and cover. Allow to steam, mixing occasionally to make sure all the leaves get steamed evenly. Turn off heat and puree with a stick blender (you could also dump the whole shebang into a food processor and whirr.)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. In a sauté pan, melt butter over medium heat. Add onion and a pinch of salt, and sauté till translucent and soft. Add spinach, pepper, nutmeg, and another pinch of salt. When well-combined, add cream, and mix until well combined. Allow to heat through, test for salt, and serve.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Glazed Ham Steak</h3>
<div>
Serves 4</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<div>
<i>I had never eaten ham steak until I started buying a half-pig a year from a local farm—Square Roots Farm in Cheshire, Mass. The butcher who breaks down the pig smokes the ham and the hocks, and cuts some ham steaks as well. It's a quick and easy meal, and looks quite impressive.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
1 ham steak, 1-1/4 lbs</div>
<div>
1/4 c orange juice</div>
<div>
1 TB brown sugar</div>
<div>
1 TB maple syrup</div>
<div>
1 TB mustard</div>
<div>
1/4 c water</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Combine glaze ingredients (OJ, sugar, maple syrup, mustard).</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2. Heat a large frying pan over medium high. Add ham steak. Pour glaze ingredients over and around ham steak. Cover until the liquid comes to a boil, and then lower the heat and simmer for about 10 minutes.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
3. Uncover pan and allow liquid to evaporate and glaze the ham steak. Keep turning to coat the steak while the sauce gets sticky and caramelized. Once the steak looks lovely and caramelized, remove from heat, cut into pieces, and serve.</div>
<br /></div>
The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-20833338874591583882020-03-20T20:58:00.001-04:002020-03-20T21:00:13.894-04:00#CoronaCooking: Radishes Last Forever<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My CSA farm offers shares for the winter season, consisting of lots of squash and root vegetables, and also some spinach and kale and even a bit of lettuce. The trick is, though, that you usually only pick up your vegetables every two or three weeks, and you get a TON. Finding a place to put them is always a bit of a challenge, and even more so today, the last pickup for the year, when we were given even more stuff than usual. Luckily, what we got generally stores very well.<br />
<br />
One of the crops that lasts a surprisingly long time is radishes, I've discovered. Today I realized I had two kinds of radishes that needed to be used up: a couple of daikon radishes—the long, pale, thick roots that are used in all manner of Asian cooking, from Indian to Japanese and many other places between—and about three pounds of watermelon and black radishes. The latter are slightly smaller than a baseball, with smooth sins; watermelon radishes are pale green with some pink, and when you cut them you find a pale white and magenta interior, while the black radishes have a lovely purple black skin and a creamy white flesh.<br />
<br />
Despite having been ignored in my vegetable drawers for.... weeks, let's say (maybe longer), they were in perfect condition. So I got to work.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<b>Braised Daikon with Shiitake Mushrooms and Ground Pork</b></h3>
Serves 4<br />
<br />
<i>This recipe is adapted from one of my favorite blogs, </i><a href="https://thewoksoflife.com/" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">The Woks of Life</a><i>, but with many changes: the original recipe uses Chinese turnip, not daikon, and fresh shiitakes, and I modified the method a little bit... Yeah, so totally different recipe, but "inspired by" is probably fair. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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1.5 lbs daikon radish, peeled, cut lengthwise in half, and each half cut into 1/2" thick slices<br />
4 scallions, chopped and separated into white and green parts<br />
1 TB minced ginger<br />
3 minced garlic cloves<br />
8 large fresh shiitake mushrooms, cut into quarters, OR 8-10 dried shiitake mushrooms, reconsistuted in hot water for at least 30 minutes, squeezed of excess water, and cut into quarters<br />
1 TB Chinese cooking wine or sherry (optional)<br />
1/2 tsp salt<br />
2 tsp dark soy sauce (if you don't have this on hand, use extra light soy sauce)<br />
1 TB light soy sauce<br />
1 TB oyster sauce<br />
1/2 tsp sugar<br />
2 cups water<br />
1.5 TB cornstarch mixed with 3 TB cold water<br />
2 TB vegetable oil<br />
1 star anise and 1 tsp Sichuan peppercorns, OR 1/2 tsp Chinese five spice powder<br />
12 oz ground pork<br />
<br />
1. Prepare the vegetables and aromatics. Mix together the sauce ingredients in a small bowl (cooking wine, salt, soy sauces, oyster sauce, sugar). Make cornstarch slurry.<br />
<br />
2. In a wok or large sauté pan, heat the vegetable oil over medium high heat. Add the star anise and peppercorns, if using. When aromatic, add the ginger, garlic, and white parts of the scallions. Sauté for 30 seconds and then add ground pork, breaking up with a spoon. Sauté the pork until it starts getting brown.<br />
<br />
3. Add daikon and mix thoroughly. Add shiitakes and mix. Add sauce and mix. Add water. Cover pan and let cook for 15 minutes or so, until daikon is translucent and tender. Stir every five minutes or so; if the pan dries up, add more water. When the daikon is tender, remix the cornstarch slurry and add it to the pan. Let the mixture come up to a boil, stirring well, until the sauce is thickened and glossy.<br />
<br />
4. Serve over steamed rice, garnished with the chopped green scallions.<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Kkakdugi (Cubed Korean Kimchi)</h3>
Makes a lot<br />
<br />
<i>The <a href="https://www.koreanbapsang.com/kkakdugi-cubed-radish-kimchi/" target="_blank">original recipe</a> calls for daikon radish, but I thought it would be pretty and tasty with the watermelon and black radishes I had around. Plus I had a lot of them. Feel free to halve the recipe if you would like. This is normally served as a side dish or condiment as part of a Korean meal. I would probably be thrilled with a lunch of steamed rice topped with a fried egg and a little of this pickle on the side. </i><br />
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3 lbs watermelon, black, or daikon radish, cut into 1" cubes<br />
2.5 TB coarse sea salt or kosher salt (don't use iodized salt)<br />
5 TB Korean red chili powder (gochugaru)<br />
1 TB fish sauce<br />
2 TB dried shrimp, minced (TOTALLY optional; add an extra TB fish sauce instead)<br />
1.5 TB minced garlic<br />
1 tsp minced ginger<br />
1.5 TB sugar<br />
3-4 scallions cut into 1" lengths<br />
<br />
1. Place cubed radish in a large bowl and sprinkle with salt. Toss well, then allow to sit for about 45 minutes. The salting with result in a fair amount of water at the bottom of the bowl; drain radish in a colander and reserve.<br />
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2. In another large bowl, mix together chili powder, fish sauce, dried shrimp if using, garlic, ginger, and sugar. The result will be a dryish paste. Add the radish and scallions. Mix everything together with your hands (use gloves if you have them). Mix some more. Mix like you've never mixed before.<br />
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3. Pack the mixture into an extremely clean quart sized mason jar. Like, really press it down. Pack it all in. Cover jar, and let sit on the counter for a couple of days. Once or twice a day, open the jars to let the built up gases from the fermentation process out—this is essentially burping your kimchi baby. You'll see more liquid come out of the radishes, and combine with the spice mixture, and the whole thing will ferment slightly until the flavors are beautifully melded and exceptionally umami-ish.<br />
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4. Once it starts smelling and tasting super delicious to you, it's ready. It will keep in the jar, refrigerated, indefinitely, getting stronger flavored as time goes on. Maybe consume it within a couple of weeks, though.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-88615186833346610832020-03-19T19:42:00.002-04:002020-03-19T20:14:00.918-04:00#CoronaCooking: It Doesn't Have to Be Perfect<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Just before it was clear life was going to change radically thanks to this superbug raging around the world, <a href="https://4columns.org/d-souza-aruna/ilana-harris-babou" target="_blank">I reviewed an exhibition</a> by a terrific young artist named Ilana Harris-Babou. In retrospect, it was the perfect "last show" to see: it centers around a video of her mother taking us through her beauty routines—what she does to prepare for "not breastfeeding" and what she does to prepare for a night eating a TV dinner in front of the television. What's hilarious and devastating about this deadpan video and the installation of handmade beauty products—not quite artisanal, given how weird they are—is that they completely lay bare the seductive lie that Gwyneth Paltrow et al are selling us: that trying to keep up with an aspirational lifestyle, of clean design and clean eating and wellness and calm, is impossible—especially if you are not-rich, not-white, and not-idle.<br />
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I'm thinking a lot about this now, as we're seeing people frantically trying to organize their own lives and their kids' in the face of school closures and shelter-in-place rules and the fantasy of being "productive" as our lives are thrown into limbo. I realized that I have basically no interest in trying to wrangle my extremely stubborn kid into a schedule of my devise, but I am not above assigning her a million chores and activities that seem useful if not traditionally educational. I have come to terms with the fact that, at least for a few days, I will not be able to string together a coherent thought about my writing assignments. That will just have to be okay, because nothing else is.<br />
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I had a new dish all planned out for tonight's dinner, but then my daughter preempted me by decided she wanted to learn how to make mozzarella sticks—her guiltiest guilty pleasure. Armed with a package of string cheese, a couple of eggs, and some (slightly stale) panko crumbs, she made an extremely creditable version, with a delicious marinara dipping sauce on the side. It wasn't exactly dinner, but it wasn't not-dinner, either, so we rounded it out with what was essentially a fancy variation of beans on toast: some toasted peasant bread with some leftover ragout of flageolet beans. (I had made the beans on the weekend to go with some grilled lamb chops.) A few grapes on the table, a little hummus—it was provisional but totally lush at the same time.<br />
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You will have to ask my kid for the mozzarella sticks recipe, but here is the recipe for the beans—I think we'll be eating a lot of those in these next weeks.<br />
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<b>Ragout of White Beans</b></h3>
Serves 6 as a side dish<br />
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<i>I used some Rancho Gordo flageolet beans for this, but you could use any small white bean for this—navy, cannelloni beans, cranberry beans, etc. Likewise, feel free to leave out the greens if you don't have any around.</i><br />
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8 oz dried white beans, soaked for 4 hrs or longer (if you use Rancho Gordo beans, you can get away with a 2 hr soak)<br />
2 TB extra-virgin olive oil<i> </i><br />
1 small onion, diced<br />
1 carrot, peeled and diced<br />
1 stalk celery, diced<br />
2 garlic cloves, minced<br />
1 tsp thyme, herbes de Provence, dried sage, or a mix<br />
1 bay leaf<br />
salt and freshly ground pepper<br />
1/2 c canned tomatoes (optional, but nice)<br />
a couple of handfuls of shredded kale, spinach, or other greens (optional)<br />
chopped parsley to garnish (optional)<br />
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1. In a heavy pot or pressure cooker, heat olive oil over medium high heat. Add onion, carrot, celery, and garlic; sauté until translucent. Add drained beans, herbs, bay leaf, a hefty pinch of salt, and freshly ground pepper. Cover with water by 2" or so.<br />
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2. <i>If using a conventional po</i>t: Bring to a boil. Allow the beans to boil for 10-15 minutes, then turn the heat down so that it's at a gentle simmer. Cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until tender. How long is "until tender"? That depends on the age and size of the beans. It could take anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half. Check the pot every once in a while to make sure there's enough water in it; if not, add some hot water and continue cooking.<br />
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<i>If you're using a pressure cooker</i>: Cover the pot and bring up to pressure over high heat. Once the pressure has been achieved, turn the heat down to low—just enough to maintain pressure. Cook for 15-30 minutes, depending on the variety of beans you use. (The chart here is a good guideline; if you are using soaked non-Rancho Gordo beans, use the timings for UNSOAKED beans per the chart). Open the pot: if the beans are not yet fully tender, continue simmering with the lid off until beans are tender.<br />
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3. Add tomatoes and greens. Cook until the greens are tender. Now add salt, a bit at a time—the beans take a little while to fully absorb the seasoning, and so taste along the way. When they taste to your liking, garnish with parsley and serve.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-38462066063117846472020-03-19T15:04:00.001-04:002020-03-19T15:04:55.055-04:00#CoronaCooking: Soup Two Ways<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My kid and I went to the store today—gloves on, keeping our distance—to buy a short list of maybe seven items. The mark of my extreme, though perhaps invisible, anxiety is that I ended up buying more groceries than I've ever bought at one time in my life. Some were things that I kind of forgot about the first time—toothpaste, shampoo, sanitary supplies, more lotion for my terribly painful, chapped hands thanks to all the hand washing. Others were the things that, the first time around, I told myself that I wouldn't or shouldn't really need—CHOCOLATE, snack things, etc.<br />
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We walked past shelves, curious as to what was gone. No flour to be had. No vegetable oil (lots of olive oil though.) Almost no canned vegetables—except for creamed corn. Lots of creamed corn. Perhaps because it was the only thing on the shelf, it caught my daughter's attention. "Make sweet corn chicken soup!" she begged—a total comfort food around here. So we got the creamed corn.<br />
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I decided that I would offer two different recipes: one is the way that I normally make it, when I have time and supplies on hand. (To be honest, I have all the supplies on hand even now, but you all perhaps do not.) The second is the way that I made it today, with pantry staples.<br />
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On second thought, I'll give you the shelter-in-place version first. No use dreaming of what we can't have, when what we can have is perfectly delicious.<br />
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<b>Chinese Sweet Corn Soup, Corona Version</b><br />
Serves 4<br />
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<i>This soup is easily adjusted to your taste. Tweak the amount of soy sauce, sesame oil, salt, and pepper to get it exactly how you like it. It is brilliant with a little chili crisp or sriracha swirled in. You can add chicken for a heartier soup, but I left it out today. In all, it takes less than 20 minutes to get onto the table.</i><br />
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1 quart water<br />
2 TB chicken bouillon powder<br />
2 tsp soy sauce, or to taste<br />
1 TB toasted sesame oil<br />
1/4 tsp white pepper<br />
1 can creamed corn (if you don't have creamed corn, take a can of regular corn and whirl it up in a blender until minced)<br />
1 can corn kernels, drained<br />
2 heaping TB cornstarch, mixed with 1/3 c cold water<br />
3 eggs, beaten<br />
1 scallion, chopped<br />
2 TB cilantro, chopped<br />
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OPTIONAL: 3 oz chicken (breast or thigh), minced, mixed with 1 tsp oyster sauce, 1 tsp soy sauce, 1 tsp sesame oil, and a pinch of white pepper OR use 3 oz of cooked chicken, shredded (no need to add any of the marinade ingredients<br />
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1. If using (raw) chicken, mix with marinade ingredients and set aside.<br />
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2. In a large saucepan, mix water, chicken bouillon powder, soy sauce, sesame oil, white pepper, and the two types of corn and bring to a gentle boil.<br />
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3. If using uncooked chicken, add it to the soup, breaking it up as it goes in. Let cook for a few minutes at a steady simmer.<br />
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4. Add half the cornstarch slurry to the pot, bring back to a boil. Depending on how thick you like it (I like it a bit thicker—more body), add the rest of the slurry and bring to a boil. Stir a few times and lower heat to a steady simmer.<br />
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5. Add beaten eggs by pouring into the pot in a thin stream and stirring with a ladle. Stirring creates strands of eggs—the more you stir as the egg goes in, the finer the strands.<br />
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6. Taste the soup. Add more sesame oil, soy sauce (no more than an additional teaspoon!), pepper if desired. If the soup is still not salty enough for you, add kosher salt (too much soy sauce will make it bitter).<br />
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7. Ladle into bowls and garnish with scallion and cilantro.<br />
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<b>Chinese Sweet Corn Chicken Soup, Non-Corona Version</b><br />
Serves 4<br />
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<i>For the chicken stock:</i><br />
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Take 3 lbs of chicken backs and necks, a halved onion, a few garlic cloves, a small piece of ginger, 1 TB coriander seeds, 1 TB of sugar, and 1/4 cup fish sauce, and place in a stock pot with 2.5 quarts of water. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about 1.5 hrs. (If you do this with a pressure cooker, you only need to cook it for 35 minutes.)<br />
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Proceed with above recipe, substituting 1 quart of chicken broth for the water and bouillon powder.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-40484442996950194322020-03-18T22:12:00.001-04:002020-03-19T20:14:30.552-04:00Vegetables That Go The Distance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Since we're all voluntarily or not-so-voluntarily staying at home, we're food shopping less often. Because of where I live—Western Massachusetts, in the Berkshires—this is not a tremendous difficulty: I belong to a local CSA (community supported agriculture) farm, and in winter the vegetables we get are generally those that store well. That means a lot of roots vegetables, squashes, and so on. At a friend's suggestion, I'm gathering some recipes I have on the site that use such hearty items—perhaps it will give you some inspiration for eating differently as we muddle our way through the coming weeks and months.<br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2015/10/falling.html" target="_blank">Wheat Berry and Root Vegetable Salad</a><br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2014/03/old-friends-and-new-tricks.html" target="_blank">Roasted Beet Salad</a><br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2014/06/turnips-are-not-sexy.html" target="_blank">Haruki Turnip and Pearl Couscous Salad</a><br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2013/02/cliches.html" target="_blank">Winter Salad with Roasted Root Vegetables</a><br />
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<a href="https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B94lJJQmDcLWV3JyYmpVMEhlUlk/edit" target="_blank">Hubbard Squash with Indian Spices</a><br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2013/03/eating-like-your-great-grandmother.html" target="_blank">Roast Winter Squash with Chili</a><br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2012/08/whetstones.html" target="_blank">Carrots with Ginger and Mustard Seeds</a><br />
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<a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2012/05/cruel-optimism-or-make-extra-just-in.html" target="_blank">Glazed Carrots with Preserved Lemon</a><br />
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<a href="https://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2015/07/stop-presses-i-found-use-for-kohlrabi.html" target="_blank">Twice-Cooked Pork with Hot Bean Sauce</a><br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-7605292377462988582020-03-18T19:10:00.001-04:002020-03-19T19:49:14.685-04:00#CoronaCooking, or Starting Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I wrote this blog devotedly from about 2012 to about 2015. I started it on a whim. I had decided to quit academia, and wanted to be a writer—it was a way for me to unlearn my worst habits of writing in that genre, and learn to write in other ways. To tell stories, not make arguments. To conjecture, not prove. (I also did corporate writing for an evil law firm, social media marketing, ghostwriting, and brand journalism to pay the bills—I was trying to get as far from my past as I could get.) Even though I wrote a lot about relationships and their failures, that's not why I characterize Kitchen Flânerie as therapeutic—it was this other, writerly restoration that I was seeking.<br />
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I petered out after some time, which was probably a normal course of events. I was doing other things, and felt a little like a cliché—another middle-aged woman with a food blog. But I had also decided to move back into writing about art, though in a very different way than I had in the past, and somehow the two things didn't naturally jibe in my mind. It had to be one or the other. </div>
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Now, in this moment of uncertainty—global uncertainty, uncertainty about my own and our species' future—I'm unable to think about art. I'm in the house, needing to futz around and keep my hands busy, and I want to create comfort for my kid and my boyfriend and my almost-sister who lives a few blocks away. So I'm cooking, again. I'm sure I'll have more to say about it as the days pass, but for now I'll just get straight to a recipe. I'm cooking out of my freezer, pantry, and preserves from last summer—a more robustly stocked larder than most, I'll admit, but nothing too exotic, I promise</div>
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<b>Red Beans and Rice</b></div>
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Serves 6-8</div>
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<i>If you're going to cook this dish, might as well cook a mess of it. You won't be having any dinner parties in this time of social distancing, but it freezes really well—nothing easier than heating it up and spooning it over some steamed white rice.</i></div>
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1 lb red beans (I used a mix of kidney beans from the supermarket and Domingo Rojo beans from <a href="https://www.ranchogordo.com/collections/heirloom-beans" target="_blank">Rancho Gordo</a>)</div>
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2 TB olive oil or other oil of your choice</div>
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1 large onion, diced</div>
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1 green pepper, diced</div>
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1 large or 2 small stalks celery, diced</div>
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3 large cloves of garlic, minced</div>
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1-2 tsp red chili powder (straight up, unadulterated red chili, not the spice mix you use to make chili con carne)</div>
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1 TB Worcestershire sauce</div>
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2 tsp dried thyme</div>
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2 bay leaves</div>
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1 large smoked ham hock</div>
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1 quart water</div>
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kosher salt</div>
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1. Soak red beans for 2 hrs or longer (if you use Rancho Gordo beans, you don't have to soak).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pL80FcVCiGh62olm3PMcVdu_9tfsacgDfAHvxlC1HkWzEHblhDR4neEzEijRXp1n4yyTW81oaptxxlUp9U-dzbEPgOJ7QNkDXVZ5caz9XJNK9-AMKBAg0Xi4V4JGTmhqvOgkBe85_eCq/s1600/IMG_5224.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pL80FcVCiGh62olm3PMcVdu_9tfsacgDfAHvxlC1HkWzEHblhDR4neEzEijRXp1n4yyTW81oaptxxlUp9U-dzbEPgOJ7QNkDXVZ5caz9XJNK9-AMKBAg0Xi4V4JGTmhqvOgkBe85_eCq/s320/IMG_5224.HEIC" width="240" /></a>2. If you're using a pressure cooker, like I do: heat oil over medium high heat. Add onion, green pepper, celery, and garlic, and sauté till translucent. Add chili powder, thyme, bay leaves and Worcdestershire sauce. Add the ham hock to the pot along with the drained red beans and water. (The water should cover the contents of the pot.) Add 1 tsp kosher salt. Cover the pressure cooker, bring up to pressure, lower the heat, and cook for 1 hr. Turn off heat and let pressure reduce naturally.</div>
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If you're using a conventional, heavy pot (a Dutch oven or similar): Follow the same instructions. Cover the pot, bring up to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook for about 3 hrs.</div>
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3. When your cooking time is done, open the pot and remove the ham hock—it should be falling apart tender. Put it on a cutting board and whenever it's cool enough to handle, pull off the meat, discarding the fat and rind. Chop meat up into bite sized pieces and add back to the pot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54BF8ut88hYQGAncE6uPwqtSabIaPcSayGu8HlgqYxbS68DEyLucT-Jz0lgc343_H_QzRUL55wpSvhhkqA1_w88d5g7s8DNFGxkaP2aYlzlNFiBVOcmIdM81k7m0_Hu7i1ge4QaDXHLxb/s1600/IMG_5226.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh54BF8ut88hYQGAncE6uPwqtSabIaPcSayGu8HlgqYxbS68DEyLucT-Jz0lgc343_H_QzRUL55wpSvhhkqA1_w88d5g7s8DNFGxkaP2aYlzlNFiBVOcmIdM81k7m0_Hu7i1ge4QaDXHLxb/s320/IMG_5226.HEIC" width="240" /></a>4. Test the beans—they should be completely tender. If not, simmer for a few more minutes until they are. Add salt if necessary. </div>
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5. Serve over steamed white rice with a good hot sauce on the side.</div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-48780118210903651982017-09-25T21:36:00.002-04:002020-03-19T19:50:10.956-04:00Avoidance Chutney<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Article to write plus a boatload of fast-ripening tomatoes to deal with equals a stab at a South Indian-style tomato chutney. It will require a trip to the Sourh Asian grocery, but nothing you can't handle. You could, I suppose, do this with canned tomatoes, but try it when you're overflowing with the ugly ones you get at the end of the season.<br />
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As for eating: fantastic with idlies and dosas, brilliant with rotis (Indian breads), perfect for filling an omelet, even great as a dip with potato chips, or with cheese and crackers. For vegans and vegetarians: umami bomb.<br />
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<b>Tomato Chutney</b><br />
Makes about 1 cup<br />
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About 1.5 lbs tomatoes, chopped fine or puréed (leave skin and seeds intact)<br />
3 TB neutral oil (e.g. canola)<br />
1 TB ground coriander<br />
1 tsp ground cumin<br />
1/2 tsp ground black pepper<br />
1 tsp brown mustard seeds<br />
1 sprig curry leaves (8-10 leaves), torn up if large<br />
2 dried red chilies, broken into large pieces (remove seeds if you don't like heat)<br />
I medium onion, finely diced<br />
3 garlic cloves, minced<br />
Salt<br />
2 tsp sweet or hot paprika, or Kashmiri red chili powder, depending on your heat preference)<br />
1 TB brown sugar or jaggery (palm sugar) (use less to tasted if you'd like)<br />
1 tsp tamarind concentrate or 1 TB white vinegar<br />
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1. Heat oil in wide sauté pan. Add mustard seeds. When they pop, add curry leaves and dried red chilies and stir for a few seconds. Add onion and garlic; sauté until onions are translucent and starting to darken around the edges. Add coriander, cumin, pepper, salt (about 1/2 tsp to start), and paprika. Sauté the mixture for 2 mins or so.<br />
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2. Add tomatoes and all their juice. Stir to combine and bring to a lively summer. Let it cook until the misxgure becomes a thick paste and you can see the oil separating from the tomatoes when you push the page around in the pan. If your tomatoes aren't very juicy, or if things start to stick, add a tablespoon or two of water as needed.<br />
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3. Near the end of the cooking, add the brown sugar and the vinegar, and stir to combine. Adjust with more salt, sugar, and vinegar till you like the balance of flavors.<br />
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4. Let cool. Put in jars and store in your fridge for up to 3 weeks.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-36254235203477940082017-08-13T19:54:00.001-04:002020-03-19T19:50:56.314-04:00Kitchen Therapy, Redux<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKlBg4KGk68R9tRrAaVEzIoggYArerRsAWqUx0cJ952rlqIH9Slu8oCGoFb4vT37oZ04F_9oWZgA7LlPMtQXBL9PSl70aL7L0bIpzI2KBMlutAa8IZqx-u4wTUJudzanM5262MkAA3OWe/s1600/IMG_4533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCKlBg4KGk68R9tRrAaVEzIoggYArerRsAWqUx0cJ952rlqIH9Slu8oCGoFb4vT37oZ04F_9oWZgA7LlPMtQXBL9PSl70aL7L0bIpzI2KBMlutAa8IZqx-u4wTUJudzanM5262MkAA3OWe/s320/IMG_4533.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I am once again turning to the kitchen to deal with (or not deal with) the depressing events of the weekend in Charlottesville. I had a meal recently—the dinner itself was terrible, but the corn pudding on my plate was spectacular. So I'm revisiting the scene of the crime in hopes of putting it to rest.<br />
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<b>Chili Cheddar Spoon Bread</b><br />
Serves 6<br />
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1 tablespoon butter, plus more for baking dish <br />
1 c cream plus 1 c skim milk, or 2 c whole milk<br />
1 1/2 cups corn kernels, cut from 2 cobs<br />
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3 TB chopped pickled (canned) jalapenos</div>
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1 TB fresh thyme leaves</div>
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2/3 cup yellow cornmeal <br />
kosher salt </div>
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3 large scallions, chopped<br />
1 cup sharp cheddar cheese <br />
4 large eggs, separated</div>
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1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Butter a 2-quart baking dish.</div>
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2. In a medium saucepan, combine 1 TB butter, cream/milk, corn kernels, jalapenos, thyme, cornmeal, and 1-1/2 tsp kosher salt. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 3-4 minutes until thickened.</div>
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3. Take off heat. Add scallions and cheese. When its cooled for a bit (about 15 minutes), stir in 4 egg yolks.</div>
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4. While the mixture is cooling, beat the 4 egg whites with a pinch of salt until they form soft peaks. Add 1/3 of the egg whites into the corn mixture, using a spatula and big circular strokes until just combined. Add the rest of the egg whites and combine, using a light hand, so you don't deflate the egg whites. The batter should be fairly light and airy; don't worry if it's not 100% combined.</div>
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5. Pour into baking dish. Put in oven and bake for 25-30 minutes until browned on top. Let it rest 5-10 minutes outside the oven before serving.</div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-49059268925162281622016-08-16T19:22:00.000-04:002020-03-19T20:07:43.830-04:00"Thai" Chicken Salad (But Please Don't Blame Thailand)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLD0oRo4brkaIXFMsepvtpPNuzFN8WQD98hG_RQ9B16lu1MBqqVfiaqoS-B0rQK5_MwAH-zvruHszeCgp6ZMYjXCMPwT1tgvQoGRaAgavRM1SqT-rxHgsUAOA-1vq0k1LnYRZ1qIJEjAVr/s1600/thai+chicken+salad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLD0oRo4brkaIXFMsepvtpPNuzFN8WQD98hG_RQ9B16lu1MBqqVfiaqoS-B0rQK5_MwAH-zvruHszeCgp6ZMYjXCMPwT1tgvQoGRaAgavRM1SqT-rxHgsUAOA-1vq0k1LnYRZ1qIJEjAVr/s320/thai+chicken+salad.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I don't know where the idea came from the saddle poor Thailand with the ubiquitous "Thai chicken salad" that you see on millions of café menus, especially when the best one I've had was at a café in Vermont that had not an Asian employee (or customer) in sight.<br />
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However, of all the things to be saddled with, this particular dish is not such a burden. It's not like baloney (poor Bologna) or Mongolian beef (a pure mall food court creation) or Neapolitan ice cream (Italians would never be so cruel as to interrupt the chocolatey goodness) or Long Island ice tea (although, on second thought, maybe LI deserves that one).<br />
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The genius of Thai chicken salad is the dressing, which is spicy and nutty and zingy and gingery, and tastes good on a whole lot of things. It's brilliant with chicken, salad or no, and makes a great dressing for a crunch slaw as well as a leafy salad. Ideas below.<br />
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<b>Thai-style Nutty Dressing</b><br />
<i>Makes about 1 cup</i><br />
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<i>You can use any nut butter you'd like in here—I used peanut butter, but cashew or almond butter would work just as well. </i><br />
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1/4 c smooth peanut butter<br />
3 TB unseasoned rice wine vinegar<br />
juice of one lime<br />
3 TB neutral oil (canola or grapeseed)<br />
1 TB sesame oil<br />
1 TB soy sauce<br />
1 tsp (or more, or less) chile sauce of your choice, such as sambal oelek, Sriracha, etc.<br />
2 TB honey<br />
1 plump garlic clove (or two svelte ones), peeled and smashed<br />
1 inch ginger, peeled and roughly chopped<br />
2 TB cilantro leaves (optional)<br />
salt to taste<br />
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1. Throw all ingredients except salt into a food processor or blender, and puree until very smooth. Taste: add more rice wine vinegar if it needs a bit more acidic bite, and add salt to taste. Whirr again, and it's ready.<br />
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<b>"Thai" Chicken Salad</b><br />
<i>Serves 2</i><br />
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<i>This is dinner at our house. Hearty and full of health. You can cook a chicken breast, or substitute any other protein you'd like—baked or grilled marinated tofu, shrimp, whatever you desire. You can also use rotisserie chicken or other pre-cooked meat or seafood. Use whatever vegetables are fresh—this is definitely something I improvise depending on what's up at the CSA.</i><br />
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1 chicken breast<br />
1 tsp canola oil<br />
2 heaping TB sliced almonds<br />
3 cups romaine lettuce, torn into bite-sized pieces, washed and spun dry<br />
1/2 c shredded napa cabbage<br />
1 carrot, peeled and sliced thinly on the bias (I use a Kyocera slicer/mandoline)<br />
1/2 cucumber, sliced into thin rounds<br />
2 radishes, sliced thin<br />
2 scallions, sliced<br />
a handful of cherry tomatoes, halved<br />
Thai-style nutty dressing<br />
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1. Heat a grill pan over medium heat. Season the chicken breast with salt and pepper. Brush grill pan with canola oil; grill chicken breast until cooked (about 10 minutes; nick it with a knife to make sure it's cooked all the way through). Allow to rest on a cutting board. In a small skillet, toast the almonds over medium-high heat, shaking the pan regularly so they don't burn. As soon as they turn golden and toasty, remove from heat.<br />
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2. Prepare all the vegetables. In individual salad bowls, arrange lettuce and top with other vegetables. Make it pretty.<br />
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3. Cut chicken breast into bite-sized chunks. Arrange artfully over the vegetables. Sprinkle almonds on top, and drizzle generously with dressing to taste. Voilà.<br />
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<b>"Thai" Peanut Slaw</b><br />
Serves 4<br />
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<i>This is another "put a bunch of crunchy things in a bowl and mix with dressing" recipes. Good in a lunch box.</i><br />
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4 c shredded napa cabbage<br />
1 c shredded red cabbage (optional)<br />
3 scallions, sliced<br />
2 large carrots, peeled and julienned or shredded, depending on the tools at your disposal<br />
5 radishes, thinly sliced<br />
1 pint sugar snap peas, blanched and cut into 1/2" pieces<br />
1 cucumber, seeded and julienned (but only if you're serving the slaw right away and don't plan on leftovers)<br />
1/3 c sliced almonds, toasted, or the same amount of crushed, dry-roasted peanuts<br />
1/3 c cilantro leaves, washed and dried<br />
Thai-style nutty dressing<br />
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1. Put everything into a bowl. Add dressing—start with 1/3 c, and add more until it's got enough for your taste. (I like it fairly lightly dressed.)<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-42369962190106217802016-08-10T16:10:00.000-04:002020-03-19T20:09:38.305-04:00East Meets West Meets Vegetables<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Apparently jalfrezi curry—a quick sauté of vegetables in a thick, spicy tomato sauce—<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/article/14253425/jalfrezi-overtakes-tikka-masala-as-most-popular-curry" target="_blank">has surpassed chicken tikka masala as the most popular Indian dish in England</a>, which makes the fact that it's almost unknown here in the U.S. even more surprising. Americans should get to know it better—it's easy and super adaptable to whatever vegetables and proteins you have on hand. The ideal weeknight meal, it seems to me.<br />
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The stories about its origin are legion—it's an eastern Indian dish, probably from Calcutta, which of course was the seat of English colonial trade for a long time and has a strong Chinese influence. One story is that it was concocted as a way to deal with the leftovers from British Sunday suppers—all that leftover meat and cooked vegetables were turned into a quick, spicy sauté. Another is that it was an Indianized version of a Chinese stir-fry. Both are plausible, and of course one doesn't necessarily contradict the other. (Of course, it could have just been invented in some London curry house, too, I suppose. Go diasporic restaurant owners.)<br />
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It only occured to me to make this because I had made a batch of paneer to use up a glut of milk, and someone gave me a green pepper—a capsicum, in British and Indian locution. So: paneer jalfrezi it was. Colorful, healthful, and versatile. I ate it with rice, but you could also do as Indians do and wrap it up in a flatbread for a satisfying lunch (naan or pita would work if you don't feel like making rotis).<br />
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<b>Paneer Jalfrezi</b><br />
Serves 3<br />
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<i>You can substitute any protein for the paneer—if you use something raw (say chicken breast), cut it into strips 1x2" and sauté it till golden, remove it from the pan, and proceed with the recipe. If you use something cooked (leftover roasted or grilled meat), skip the sautéing and just add it in later. Of course you should feel free to skip the protein altogether and add some other vegetables: blanched green beans, cauliflower, broccoli—whatever your heart (or CSA share) desires.</i><br />
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<i>To make paneer (which is seriously the easiest thing in the world): Place 2 quarts whole milk in a saucepan and bring just to a boil. As soon as it comes to a boil, add 3 TB lemon juice or white vinegar and turn the heat down to low. You'll see the milk curdle, with greenish whey separating from white curds. Empty the pot into a cheesecloth-lined colander (or use a clean tea towel) and when cool enough to handle bring the corners of the cloth together and twist tightly so that the most of the whey drains from the paneer. Lay the bundle, with the top still tightly twisted, on a cutting board you've placed in the sink, top with a plate and a weight for about 5 minutes. Now unwrap the paneer and use it.</i><br />
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<i>You can also buy paneer at an Indian store, or substitute firm tofu (skip the initial browning).</i><br />
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1 batch of paneer, cut into 1" cubes<br />
1 TB canola oil<br />
1/2 tsp nigella seeds (kalonji)<br />
1/2 tsp cumin seeds<br />
1 c onion, sliced<br />
2 tsp finely minced garlic<br />
1-2 tsp finely minced ginger<br />
1 green or red chili, sliced (to taste—you can even leave this out)<br />
salt<br />
2 tsp coriander powder<br />
1/2 tsp turmeric<br />
1/4-1 tsp red chili powder (to taste)<br />
1 green pepper, sliced into strips<br />
3 medium carrots, sliced on an angle<br />
3 medium very ripe tomatoes, or 1 c canned diced tomatoes<br />
1 perfectly ripe tomato of whatever color you'd like (mine was yellow), cut into thinnish wedges<br />
1 tsp garam masala<br />
2 tsp kasuri methi (fried fenugreek leaves), if you have it (I didn't)<br />
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1. Cut the very ripe tomatoes in half and take out the core. On the big holes of a box grater set over a bowl, grate the tomato. This is an easy way to separate the pulp from the skin (discard the skin) and make a purée. It's a very Spanish trick that I use all the time now when I have VERY ripe tomatoes.<br />
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2. In a medium nonstick frying pan, heat 1/2 TB canola oil over medium high heat. When hot, add cubes of paneer. Allow the cubes to brown on one side, then flip them over. Keep doing this until each piece has 2 or 3 golden brown crusty sides. Remove to a plate.<br />
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3. Add remaining canola oil to the pan, along with cumin and nigella (kalonji) seeds. When these become fragrant, add the onion and sauté until transluscent. Add the ginger, garlic, and fresh chili (if using) and stir fry for 1 minute. Now add coriander powder, turmeric, red chili powder, and salt to taste and sauté until the spices have toasted and covered the vegetables, about 30 seconds.<br />
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4. Add the tomato puree, and allow the mixture to cook until thickened, about 5 minutes over lively heat (longer if your tomatoes were very watery). Now add the green pepper and carrots. Allow to cook for another 5 minutes until the vegetables are just cooked—not soggy.<br />
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5. Add the paneer, garam masala, kasuri methi (if using) and fresh tomato, and stir gently to combine. Allow to simmer for a couple of minutes. Serve hot with rice, Indian breads, or stuff in a paratha or pita.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-52358469552383089742016-07-31T18:36:00.000-04:002020-03-19T20:10:08.027-04:00We All Quack for Ice Cream<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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For two years, my daughter has been pestering me to try to make the MOST DELICIOUS ice cream she's EVER TASTED omg it was so good: duck egg ice cream.<br />
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Now, I will fully admit that this sounded like the most digusting thing in the world to me; not sure why, because all it is is ice cream wherein the custard base is made with duck egg yolks vs. chicken egg yolks. And since duck egg yolks are larger and much richer than chicken egg yolks, it made sense to use them for ice cream (plus the whites of duck eggs aren't particularly tasty, so you feel less guilty throwing them out).<br />
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But nonetheless, I resisted, until—lo and behold—I saw sitting in the dairy case of my local organic market half dozens of duck eggs, produced by one of the local farms. They're quite a bit larger than chicken eggs, and the shell is thicker, more brittle, and more transluscent, so that you see a rosy golden glow from inside them.<br />
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Before I could divert my kid's attention, she spotted them, too, and my goose was cooked.<br />
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Thank goodness, as it turns out. This was the first entirely successful ice creams I've made in my <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Conair-Cuisinart-ICE-21-Frozen-Yogurt-Ice/dp/B003KYSLMW/ref=sr_1_2?s=home-garden&ie=UTF8&qid=1470005636&sr=1-2&keywords=cuisinart+ice+cream+maker" target="_blank">Cuisinart ice cream maker</a>, and maybe the most delicious ice cream I've ever eaten, no joke. It's plain vanilla, but really: what could be wrong with that.<br />
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If you come across duck eggs, the rule is use 2 duck egg yold for every 3 chicken eggs. In this recipe, you could use 8 chicken egg yolks instead.<br />
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<b>Duck Egg Ice Cream</b><br />
Makes a quart<br />
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<i>Homemade ice cream is not a spur of the moment thing—you need to make sure the freezer bowl of your ice cream maker is sufficiently chilled, that your custard is cold, and that you have time between the churning and the eating for the ice cream to set up properly. You could add whatever mix-ins you'd like; if you add fruit, cook it with a little bit of sugar and let it cool completely before adding it.</i><br />
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6 duck eggs, separated (whites discarded)<br />
1 c sugar<br />
2 c whole milk<br />
2 c cream<br />
1 tsp pure vanilla extract<br />
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1. Put the bowl of your ice cream maker in the freezer. It needs to freeze solid before you churn—at least 24 hrs.<br />
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2. Make the custard: In a saucepan, off the heat, whisk together the egg yolks and the sugar till smooth and glossy. Slowly pour in the milk, whisking all the time, until thoroughly combined. Place on stove over medium heat and stir constantly with a wooden spoon, making sure to scrape out the corners of the pot so nothing sticks. After about 10-12 minutes, the custard should have thickened—you'll know it's ready when you can run a finger across the back of the spoon and the line stays visible.<br />
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3. Fill a large bowl about halfway full with ice, and nestle a smaller bowl inside it. Strain the custard into the smaller bowl through a fine-meshed sieve. Stir in the cream and the vanilla extract till everything is completely combined. Cover the smaller bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 24 hrs, so it's thoroughly chilled.<br />
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4. Take your ice cream maker's freezer bowl out of the freezer, pour in the custard base, and set the machine. Let the ice cream churn for about 25 minutes—it will look like softish soft serve, and will "grow" as air gets incorporated. When it's at this stage, remove it to a glass baking pan (like a Pyrex) or some other suitable container and cover it well with plastic wrap. Place it back in the freezer for at least 4 hrs.<br />
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5. Scoop, serve, and swoon.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-40583234692459907842016-07-19T18:57:00.002-04:002020-03-19T20:07:08.755-04:00Okay, I know it's been a while....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I'm blogged out but I'm not cooked out. So, with your permission, dear readers, I'm just going to post some recipes of things I've been eating—often made using others' recipes, instead of ones I've developed myself.<br />
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I've been making a lot of kimchi, Korean fermented cabbage pickle, lately because I made the collosal (AND BRILLIANT) "mistake" of joining not one, but two CSA's this year: the charming <a href="http://www.caretakerfarm.org/" target="_blank">Caretaker Farm</a>, where you actually contribute to the labor of the farm and reap all its benefits, and <a href="http://mightyfoodfarm.com/" target="_blank">Mighty Food Farm</a>, with its terrific array of produce.<br />
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<br />
<a name='more'></a>It's not so much that it's too much food—I manage to put it all to good use—as much as I find myself gravitating to different vegetables than I normally would because, really, how many Boston lettuces do you need in your fridge at one time? (Answer: a lot.)<br />
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So: Napa cabbage. A vegetable that my mom cooked often when I was a kid and—sorry mom—I always hated. But between the overabundance of produce and the fact that I had a bag of Korean red pepper and Korean salt in my pantry (recently dug out during an inventory), kimchi it was.<br />
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As you'll see from the recipe below, kimchi is pretty straightforward to make, at least in my (likely not super authentic but pretty legit) version. But the best thing about having it on hand is that it will inspire you to figure out how to eat it—which will lead you down many delicious culinary rabbit holes.<br />
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So far, I've put it in bowls of ramen to add some nutrition to an otherwise utterly devoid-of-healthful-qualities meal, I've made kimchi fried rice (which was so good I asked it to go steady; it said yes), I've made cold spicy soba noodles, I've even tucked it into a grilled cheese sandwich (I have no idea why this works but it does). But the pièce de resistance was the grilled BBQ pork belly that we ate last night, with kimchi as an essential condiment.<br />
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<b>Kimchi</b><br />
Makes 2 quarts<br />
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<i>You'll need to make a trip to an Asian store for Korean chili powder (gochugaru) and, if you'd like, Korean sea salt. You can also use kosher salt or sea salt as long as it has no added iodine or anti-caking agents, which will inhibit fermentation. Pickling salt is also an option, although use an increased amount because it's bigger. I use a 2 quart mason jar for this, with a plastic lid; any glass jars with lids will do, but don't use plastic. Make sure you use kosher or coarse salt, or things will end badly. The recipe comes from Julia Moskin at the <a href="http://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1016209-kimchi" target="_blank">New York Times</a>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
1 Napa cabbage, about 1.5-2 lbs<br />
4 heaped TB coarse or kosher salt<br />
1 TB soy sauce<br />
2 TB fish sauce<br />
3/4 c Korean chili powder (gochugaru)<br />
1 bunch of scallions, thinly sliced<br />
2 TB garlic, minced very finely (I grate it on a coarse Microplane)<br />
2 TB ginger, minced (see above)<br />
4 c thin carrot sticks, about 3" long, or 2 c sliced red radishes, or 2 c thin strips of daikon radish (optional)<br />
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1. Cut the cabbage lengthwise into quarters, and then crosswise into 1" wide ribbons. Put it into a big bowl and add the salt; toss with your hands to make sure the salt is distributed. Add cold water until it just reaches the top of the cabbage, and then put a plate or other weight on top of the bowl to keep the cabbage submerged. Let it sit for 12 hours or so (overnight will do).<br />
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2. Pull the cabbage out of the saltwater and put it directly into another big bowl. (Reserve the saltwater for now.) To the cabbage, add the rest of the ingredients, and with your hands toss everything together really well—you want everything distributed evenly and thoroughly.<br />
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3. Pack the cabbage into the squeaky clean jar(s) (preferably ones that have been run recently through a hot dishwasher cycle). Push it all down as far as it will go; you'll see that juice will start to come out. Leave 2-3" of empty space at the top of large jars (or 1" at the top of small ones), as the contents will expand. Once the cabbage is in the jar(s), add whatever liquid is left in the bowl to completely (but just) cover the cabbage—if necessary, add some of the reserved salt water to get the level right.<br />
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4. Close the jars and place on a tray (in case of drips). Leave them on your counter for a few days to ferment. (If it's hot in your kitchen, leave them out for a day then transfer to the fridge; they'll keep fermenting in there.) Open the jars occasionally to "burp" them (like a baby!) so the gas doesn't cause leaks; push the cabbage back down into the liquid using a clean wooden spoon.<br />
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5. Once the kimchi starts smelling good, transfer it to the fridge. You can let it cure for as little or as long as you'd like—you really should just start eating it when it tastes good to you. The fermentation will cause it to sour and to get really umami-flavored, and the longer it sits, the longer those flavors will develop. But it's been going in our house pretty fast, so I really can't say much about that.<br />
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<b>Kimchi Fried Rice</b><br />
Serves 2<br />
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<i>Easy and satisfying. I dare you to come up with a better weeknight pantry meal. The recipe comes from <a href="http://www.maangchi.com/recipe/kimchi-bokkeumbap" target="_blank">this site</a>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
1 TB canola oil, plus 2 tsp<br />
3 c cooked brown rice (this is perfect for leftover rice)<br />
1 c kimchi, chopped<br />
1/4 kimchi liquid<br />
1/4 c water<br />
2-3 TB <a href="http://www.thekitchn.com/gochujang-the-miso-of-korean-cooking-ingredient-intelligence-165083" target="_blank">gochujang</a>, spicy Korean miso-chili paste<br />
3 tsp sesame oil<br />
2 eggs, beaten<br />
1 green onion, chopped<br />
1 TB roasted sesame seeds and 1 sheet nori, shredded, OR 1 TB Japanese furikake (rice seasoning)<br />
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1. In a small bowl, combine kimchi liquid, water, and gochujang and stir till smooth.<br />
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2. Heat oil in large pan. When hot, add kimchi and heat until sizzling. Add rice and stir until heated and sizzling. Add sauce and stir-fry until everything is combined, hot, and aromatic. Sprinkle sesame oil on top and stir till combined. Divide among two bowls.<br />
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3. In another small pan, fry the two eggs, sunny-side up, in 1 tsp of oil each. Add one to each bowl.<br />
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4. Garnish with green onion and sesame seeds/nori or furikake.<br />
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<b>Cold Spicy Soba Noodles</b><br />
2 servings<br />
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<i>This recipe comes from <a href="http://mykoreankitchen.com/spicy-cold-kimchi-noodles/" target="_blank">My Korean Kitchen</a> and is ordinarily made with somen noodles; I used soba noodles because I seem to have a lifetime supply squirreled away in my cupboards. It's really refreshing on a warm summer night. My kid devoured the leftovers, but I think it tastes best right after the noodles are mixed with the other ingredients. It's traditionally topped with a hard boiled egg, but I was craving shrimp.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
3 bundles soba noodles (about 6 oz)<br />
1/2 c (or more) kimchi, chopped into 1/2 inch pieces<br />
1/2 c julienned cucumber, with skin left on<br />
1 or 2 hard-boiled eggs to serve on top of the noodles (optional)<br />
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<b>For the sauce:</b><br />
2 TB gochujang (Korean miso-chili paste)<br />
1 TB rice vinegar<br />
1 TB sugar<br />
1 TB sesame oil<br />
1 TB roasted sesame seeds (you can roast them on a dry pan until they start to turn brown)<br />
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1. Mix sauce ingredients in a bowl.<br />
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2. Boil noodles. Drain and rinse under cold water.<br />
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3. Toss noodles with sauce and kimchi.<br />
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4. Top with halved eggs.<br />
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5. Eat.<br />
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This is hardly even a recipe.<br />
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<b>Grilled Pork Belly with Condiments</b><br />
Serves 4<br />
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<i>This isn't even a recipe so much as a method for a dish that is something like the Korean </i>somgyeopsal, <i>barbecue pork belly. It's traditionally made on a tabletop grill, and you could also make it on a stovetop grill, but for ease of clean-up and the smoke I like doing it on my charcoal grill outside. Just be sure to have a long pair of tongs and a spray bottle handy to tamp down the flames on the grill. (That sounds scarier than it is.) You basically plop a piece of pork belly in a lettuce leaf, add condiments as you wish, and gobble it up; I've given some idea for condiments here, but you can add or delete at will.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
1/2 lb pork belly, placed in freezer for 30 mins<br />
kimchi (see above)<br />
scallion sesame salad (see below)<br />
radish and onion salad (see below)<br />
whole Boston lettuce leaves, washed and dried<br />
gochujang<br />
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1. Take partly frozen pork belly out of the freezer, and slice into slightly thicker than 1/4" slices.<br />
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2. Build a charcoal fire in your grill. Bank coals on one side, so that you have a cooler side to move meat to when things get to flame-y. When grill is hot, add pork belly slices to the hot side of the grill. Move them around so they don't get charred; they should only take about a minute or two on each side. Transfer the pieces to a platter.<br />
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3. Stick the other condiments on the platter. Grab food from platter, wrap in lettuce, and eat.<br />
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<b>Sesame Scallion Salad</b><br />
Makes never enough<br />
<br />
<i>I swear to god I could eat this forever. The only trick is slicing the scallions very VERY thinly, like threads. It takes a bit of patience, but your knife skills will improve. Toss scallions and dressing together shortly before eating. Recipe from <a href="http://mykoreankitchen.com/korean-spicy-green-onion-salad/" target="_blank">My Korean Kitchen</a>.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
1 bunch of scallions, ends trimmed and cut into 3 inch lengths, then lengths cut very finely into thin slices<br />
2 Tbsp soy sauce<br />
1 Tbsp sugar<br />
1 Tbsp sesame oil<br />
1 Tbsp sesame seeds<br />
2 tsp Korean chili flakes (<i>gochugaru</i>)<br />
2 tsp unseasoned rice wine vinegar<br />
1 tsp minced garlic<br />
<br />
1. Slice scallions. Rinse in a colander under cold water very well. Shake the colander and let drain.<br />
<br />
2. Mix the rest of the ingredients together in a serving bowl. Add the scallions and toss with dressing. Serve immediately. (It tastes just fine the next day, but best if freshly tossed.)<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Radish and Onion Salad with Sesame</b><br />
<div>
Serves 4</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2 tsp sesame seeds</div>
<div>
1/2 medium red onion</div>
<div>
8 red radishes</div>
<div>
1 TB soy sauce</div>
<div>
1 TB sugar</div>
<div>
2 tsp unseasoned rice wine vinegar</div>
<div>
1 tsp sesame oil</div>
<div>
1 crumbled dried red chili or dried chili flakes to taste</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
1. Toast sesame seeds on a dry skillet until golden. Set aside.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
2. Slice onion into very thin slivers and radishes into very thin rounds; I use my trusty Kyocera slicer (a Japanese mandoline that costs about $15 dollars) to do this.</div>
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3. Combine remaining ingredients in a small serving bowl. Add vegetables and toss to combine. Just before serving, sprinkle with toasted sesame seeds.<br />
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-89681299834095917632015-10-18T13:21:00.001-04:002016-07-20T15:41:29.837-04:00A Quickie in the Afternoon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My kid loves borscht. Like, LOVES it. And I am happy that it does, but the fact is that <a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2013/12/christmas-borscht.html" target="_blank">my full-on, fairly authentic borscht</a> is not a 30-minute meal by a long shot -- it takes a day to make the rich beef broth, cool and skim it, and then make the actual soup.<br />
<br />
But she keeps asking for it, and I don't want to deny her, so today I had the most brilliant brainstorm ever. I have a huge jar of pickled beets in the fridge -- <a href="http://kitchenflanerie.blogspot.com/2015/07/pickled-beets-are-metaphor-for-nothing.html" target="_blank">I used this recipe</a>, but without sealing the jars (I just screwed on a lid and stuck it in the fridge). And I thought: hmm. I wonder if I could make borscht with pickled beets? And maybe instead of homemade beef broth I could use some of the chicken broth I made a couple of days ago?<br />
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It works like a charm -- since borscht needs a tang to counterbalance the sweetness of the vegetables, the pickled beets were perfect. The fact that they were spiced with peppercorns and allspice and bay leaves meant that I had to hardly do anything to the borscht to give it a warm flavor. The soup came together in about 15 minutes, and then simmered for a while to meld the flavors.<br />
<br />
<b>Pickled Beet Borscht</b><br />
Serves 4<br />
<br />
1 TB canola oil<br />
1 onion, diced<br />
1 large carrot, peeled shredded on a box grater<br />
1/2 celeriac (celery root), peeled and shredded on a box grater<br />
1 small leek, white and light gree parts only, halved and cut into thin half-moons<br />
1/4 small green cabbage, shredded<br />
1 garlic clove, minced<br />
kosher salt and freshly-ground pepper<br />
1 TB tomato paste<br />
4 c chicken broth, beef broth, or water<br />
1-1/2 cup pickled beets, chopped<br />
3 TB minced dill<br />
sour cream to serve<br />
<br />
1. Heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrot, celeriac, leek, and cabbage and sauté for a minute or so. Add garlic, a big pinch of kosher salt, and some liberal grindings of pepper, and continue to sauté until the vegetables lose their raw look. Add tomato paste to the pot and stir a few times.<br />
<br />
2. Add broth, beets, and a teaspoon of kosher salt (or more, depending on how much salt is in the beets). Lower the heat to a simmer, cover, and let bubble away for an hour or so, until the vegetables are extremely tender and the flavors have melded. Stir in dill, taste for seasoning, and serve with a dollop of sour cream.</div>
The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-4742523069740776542015-10-11T12:08:00.000-04:002020-03-19T20:11:07.298-04:00Falling<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It almost hurts, it's so beautiful in the Berkshires right now. That super clear, cool light, the growing intensity of the leaves on the trees. Flowers in my garden are exuding their last burst of energy, with showy nastrutiums and marigolds looking ridiculously overdressed against the drab foliage of the surrounding plants which are ready to call it a night.<br />
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I go to work in an office these days, and am enjoying the routine of that, especially now that it's autumn: the choosing of the outfit every morning, the packing of the lunch, the half-hour drive, even. (I've been listening to audiobooks to pass the time -- a new pleasure.)<br />
<br />
Went to the farm yesterday and came back with fall treasures: celery root, leeks, carrots, delicata squash. Made a hearty autumnal salad (is salad the right word? room-temperature, vegetable-based dish more like) for lunches this week.<br />
<br />
<b>Wheat Berry and Root Vegetable Salad</b><br />
Serves 4<br />
<br />
<i>This salad is versatile -- substitute peeled and cubed butternut squash for the delicata, add parsnips, rutabaga, red onion, etc. When cooked, the skin of delicata squash gets very tender, so I don't peel it. You could add some crumbled goat cheese on top just before serving if you'd like.</i><br />
<br />
1.5 c wheat berries<br />
kosher salt<br />
2 bay leaves<br />
1 delicata squash, cut in half, seeds removed, and cut into a 1/2" (1 cm) dice<br />
3 carrots, peeled and cut into 1/2" (1 cm) dice<br />
1 celery root (celeriac) peeled and cut into 1/2" dice<br />
2 leeks, white and light green part only, cut in half lengthwise and then crosswise into 1" pieces<br />
3 TB olive oil plus more to drizzle<br />
freshly ground pepper<br />
2 tsp fresh thyme or 1 tsp herbes de provence or dried thyme<br />
1/4 c dried currants, cranberries, or cherries<br />
1/2 c chopped walnuts<br />
juice of one small lemon<br />
<br />
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. In a medium saucepan, cover wheat berries with 2" of cold water. Add 1 TB kosher salt and bay leaves; bring to a boil. Boil for 40-60 minutes until wheat berries are chewy but tender. Drain, rinse under cold water, and drain again.<br />
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2. While wheat berries are cooking, toss vegetables and herbs with 1/2 tsp salt, pepper to taste, and olive oil and spread in a single layer on a large foil-lined cookie sheet. Put in oven and roast for 40 minutes or until tender and starting to brown.<br />
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3. In a small skillet, toast walnuts over medium high heat until fragrant and toasty smelling; don't allow to burn.<br />
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4. When vegetables are done, remove from oven and allow to cool slightly. In a large bowl, combine drained wheat berries, roasted vegetables (along with any oil that collected in the pan), currants, and walnuts. Drizzle with another tablespoon or so of olive oil and about 2 TB lemon juice and toss till well-combined. Taste for oil, salt, and lemon, and adjust to your taste.</div>
The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-80832016483661990652015-09-20T22:43:00.002-04:002020-03-19T20:11:53.170-04:00For Maria<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Two lamb stew recipes, no big whoop, for my friend Maria.<br />
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<b>Moroccan Lamb Stew with Merguez</b><br />
Serves 5<br />
<br />
<i>Merguez is a North African lamb sausage. I can find it in my organic coop; if you can't get your hands on it you can leave it out and up the amoung of boneless leg of lamb to 1.5 lb. This stew also benefits from the addition of zucchini or winter squash, cubed, if you'd like.</i><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
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2 TB olive oil<br />
1 lb boneless leg of lamb, well-trimmed and cut into 1.5" cubes<br />
12 oz merguez sausage, cut into 3" pieces<br />
1 large yellow onion, peeled and diced<br />
3 large carrots, peeled and cut into 1" chunks<br />
2 garlic cloves, minced<br />
1" piece of ginger, grated<br />
1.5 TB ras el hanout, OR 1 tsp coriander powder, 1 tsp cinnamon, 1/2 tsp red chili powder, 1 tsp ground ginger, 1 tsp cumin, 1/4 tsp ground pepper, combined in a small bowl<br />
1 TB tomato paste<br />
3 TB chopped cilantro<br />
2 tsp dried mint, or 3 TB chopped mint<br />
1 medium tomato, diced<br />
water<br />
salt and freshly gound pepper<br />
1 c cooked chick peas<br />
<br />
1. Heat oil in a dutch oven over medium high heat. When hot, add sausage pieces to the pot. Brown, then remove to a plate. Season lamb pieces liberally with salt and pepper. Add to the pot and brown on all sides, about 8 minutes.<br />
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2. When lamb is browned, add onions, carrots, garlic and ginger, and sauté until the onions turn transluscent, about 3 minutes. Add ras el hanout (or spice mixture) and sauté for 30 seconds, mixing well. Add tomato paste and mix and sauté for another 30 seconds until it loses its raw smell.<br />
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3. Add cilantro, mint, and tomato, along with enough water to cover the lamb. Bring to a simmer; cover and cook for 35 minutes.<br />
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4. Return merguez to the pot along with chick peas. Simmer for another 25 minutes, or until lamb is very tender and the flavors have melded. Check for salt. Serve over prepared couscous.<br />
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<br />
<b>Comforting Lamb Stew</b><br />
Serves 5<br />
<br />
2 TB olive oil<br />
1-1/2 lb lamb stewing meat<br />
salt and freshly ground pepper<br />
1 large onion, peeled and diced<br />
2 celery stalks, diced<br />
2 carrots, peeled and diced<br />
1 plump garlic clove, minced<br />
1 tsp dried thyme or 2 tsp fresh thyme leaves<br />
2 bay leaves<br />
2 TB chopped flat-leaf parsley, plus more for garnish<br />
2 c chopped tomatoes (canned or fresh)<br />
2 large waxy potatoes, cut into 1/2 cubes<br />
1 c frozen peas (optional)<br />
<br />
1. Heat olive oil in a dutch oven over medium high heat. Season lamb pieces liberally with salt and pepper. When oil is hot, add pieces to the pan, being careful not to crowd them. (Do this in batches if necessary). Allow to brown on all sides. Remove to a plate.<br />
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2. Add onion, celery, carrots, garlic and a hefty pinch of salt to the pot and sauté till the onion starts to take on a golden color, about 5 minutes. (Adjust heat so it doesn't scorch.) Add thyme, bay leaves, and chopped parsley and stir. Add lamb back to the pot, along with tomatoes and enough water to barely cover the mixture. Bring to a simmer, cover, and allow to cook on medium-low heat for about 1 hr. (The lamb should be quite tender at this point; if it still seems tough, allow to cook another 15-20 mins before proceeding.)<br />
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3. Add potatoes to the pot, and let the mixture stew for an additional 20 minutes or until the potatoes and meat are both very tender. Add peas to the pot, if using, and adjust for salt. Let the mixture simmer until the peas are just cooked. Serve hot, with bread for dunking.</div>
The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-28087740671910478152015-08-05T19:31:00.000-04:002020-03-19T20:16:24.138-04:00Cooking my way through my CSA share, Indian-style<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I went to my farm yesterday and was overwhelmed </span>-- in a good way. I am overwhelmed by the bounty of it all. Purple carrots, fennel, hot chilies, salad greens, tomatillos, tomatoes, eggplant, sweet onions, shiso leaf, an armful of flowers... And that's not even half of what's available. Canned 4 jars of tomatillo salsa verde last night, and will make more today just to eat now. Pickled some carrots with Moroccan spices, and made pickled beets, and canned the tomatoes from my garden that have accumulated on my counter. I have these jewel-filled jars piling high now, and it's making me feel very rich indeed.<br />
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Two recipes that take advantage of what's in season now.<br />
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<b>Corn and Chili Pakoras</b><br />
Makes about 2 dozen<br />
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<i>These are one of my favorite snacks. If I drank beer, I would pop one open, stretch my legs on the porch, and try and control myself around these delicious fritters. These are best served with a green chutney (storebought or homemade) or a <a href="http://www.mayakaimal.com/prod-ss-spicyketchup#.VcKXcSmRShI">spicy ketchup</a>. Note: chick pea flour is very light and airy -- when you measure it out, tap the cup on the counter a few times so it can settle and you get an accurate measurement.</i><br />
<br />
1 ear of corn, kernels cut off with a sharp knife<br />
1/2 large sweet onion, diced into corn kernel-sized cubes<br />
1/2 large jalapeno or other hot green chili, or to taste (remove seeds and white pith if you want it less spicy)<br />
1/4 c chopped cilantro leaves<br />
1 c chick pea flour (see note)<br />
1/2 tsp kosher salt<br />
1/4-1/2 tsp red chili powder (or to taste)<br />
1/2 tsp turmeric powder<br />
1/2 tsp baking soda<br />
1 tsp lemon juice<br />
water<br />
vegetable oil for deep frying<br />
<br />
1. Combine all ingredients in a mixing bowl, adding enough water to make a thick batter.<br />
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2. Heat 1" of oil in a deep-sided sauté pan, wok, or medium-sized saucepan. When oil is hot (test it by dropping a bit of batter in it -- the oil should bubble and it should float to the surface), add the batter in rough spoonfuls, making sure not to crowd the pan. When the bottoms of the fritters are a rich golden brown, turn them over and let them cook on the other side. Remove to a plate lined with paper towels. (I always make one pakora on its own first to test for salt and other seasoning, and I suggest you do, too, adjusting the batter as necessary before you make the rest.)<br />
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3. Serve hot with chutney or ketchup.</div>
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<b>Pickled Carrots with Moroccan Spices</b><br />
Makes 1 quart<br />
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>This is an only slightly-tweaked version of a <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/pickled-carrots-moroccan-style" target="_blank">Bon Appetit recipe</a>. It's delicious.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
2 teaspoons coriander seeds<br />
2 teaspoons cumin seeds</div>
1-1/4 pounds medium-size carrots, peeled, trimmed<br />
Peel from 1 lemon, removed in strips with vegetable peeler<br />
4 large garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced<br />
4 small dried hot red chiles<br />
1-1/2 cups water<br />
1 cup apple cider vinegar<br />
1/4 cup sugar<br />
1-1/2 tablespoons coarse kosher salt<br />
<br />
<div>
1. In a small, heavy frying pan, toast coriander and cumin seeds until they turn color and become fragrant. Remove to a mortar and pestle and crack the seeds (don't powder them).</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
2. Cut the carrots into long sticks -- halve them lengthwise, and then cut each half into sticks that are about 1/4-1/2" thick. (I like them on the thinner side.)</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
3. Put carrots in a quart-sized glass jar, adding lemon peel, garlic slices, chilies, and crushed spices. If you stand the carrot sticks up vertically you can pack them all in.</div>
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<br /></div>
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4. In a small saucepan, heat water, vinegar, sugar, and salt till boiling. Allow to boil for 5 minutes until the sugar and salt are dissolved. Pour the liquid into the jar, leaving 1/2" of headspace at the top. Close the jar and refrigerate for at least 2 days before serving. (I actually left mine out on the counter to marinate, with no qualms.)</div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6167801386383882848.post-39828326840983337252015-07-22T18:02:00.001-04:002020-03-19T20:13:25.039-04:00Pickled Beets are a metaphor for nothing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5oL6ru3zLRh2UqBridIvuu_MdlqDML_GYzE3aD0xFeDuCMr8a03Rck43Tv7gMMHZxs4anUeqfYtcRbWsbhJIVsvGCF8zKwTCh5-4PM21yQSdVjcyGgXpilIGx4iIiUdK4fouiYjp1aN2/s1600/beets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC5oL6ru3zLRh2UqBridIvuu_MdlqDML_GYzE3aD0xFeDuCMr8a03Rck43Tv7gMMHZxs4anUeqfYtcRbWsbhJIVsvGCF8zKwTCh5-4PM21yQSdVjcyGgXpilIGx4iIiUdK4fouiYjp1aN2/s320/beets.jpg" width="320" /></a>Okay here's the thing: I seem to have run out of things to say. I considered just stopping the blog -- it's run its course, served its purpose -- but sometimes I just want to post recipes, you know? So. Just a recipe. These are insanely good. I used baseball-sized (not softball-sized -- know your sports), very fresh beets.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Pickled Beets</b></div>
<div>
Makes 4 pints<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
1 lb beets (red, yellow, or chioggia -- your choice)<br />
1 white onion, sliced thin<br />
1 cup cider vinegar<br />
1/4 cup sugar<br />
1 TB cloves</div>
<div>
1 tsp allspice berries</div>
<div>
2 tsp whole peppercorns</div>
<div>
2 bay leaves</div>
<div>
1 tsp kosher salt<br />
<br />
1. Run 4 pint-sized mason jars through the hot cycle of your dishwasher. Have canning lids and rings ready.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
2. Put the beets in a large saucepan and cover generously with water. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to medium-low, cover and simmer until the beets are fork tender. This will take between 25 and 45 minutes, depending on the size of your beets. Set aside 2 cups of the cooking liquid. Drain the beets and let cool.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
3. When the beets are cool enough to handle, slip their skins off and cut into thin-ish slices, no more than 1/4" thick. Divide the beet slices and onion slices among the jars.</div>
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4. In a saucepan over medium heat, combine the reserved cooking liquid, vinegar, sugar, spices, and salt. Bring to a boil, stirring, until sugar is dissolved.</div>
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5. Ladle the hot vinegar mixture into the jars, leaving 1/2" headspace. Distribute the spices among the jars. Wipe the rims of the jars clean, cover with canning lid, and tighten the ring with your fingertips until tight. (Don't use your whole hand to tighten the ring -- that will make it too tight.)</div>
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6. Bring a large pot of water to a boil (it needs to be deep enough to cover the jars by at least an inch of water). Place a folded up tea towel or a silicon hot mat or some similar object in the bottom of the pot so that the jars don't jiggle and (god forbid) crack. Lower the jars into the boiling water, and let them process (boil) for 7 minutes. </div>
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7. Remove jars carefully from pot and place on a tea towel. Allow the jars to sit there, undisturbed, for 24 hrs. (You may or may not hear the distinctive "ping" of the jar lids sealing; as long as you can't push down the little bubbled top of the jar, it's sealed. Don't worry.) Allow the jar to remain sealed for at least a week for the flavors to develop. Store in a cool, dark place. When you open a jar, store the remainder in the refrigerator for up to a week or two.<br />
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Adapted from <i>The Art of Preserving</i>, by Lisa Atwood, Rebecca Courchesne & Rick Field (Weldon Owen, 2010).</div>
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The Invisible Flaneusehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01954925597560215861noreply@blogger.com3