The Perfect Pantry

Cinnamon (Recipe: cranberry rice pudding)

Nero Claudius Drusus Germanicus — he who reportedly fiddled while Rome burned — clearly had issues.

Who could blame him?

His mother, the ambitious and manipulative Agrippina, married the emperor Claudius and, to ensure the continuation of her own position of power, she schemed to have her son become the next emperor. To that end, Agrippina managed to get Nero betrothed to Claudius' daughter, Octavia. Whom he divorced soon after, at mom's urging. And then had killed.

And then, to demonstrate the depth of his supposed grief, he burned a year's supply of very expensive cinnamon on her funeral pyre.

Maybe that's why cinnamon is called a warm spice. (Groan.....)

Cinnamon comes from a small evergreen tree, cinnamomum zelanicum, and the spice is the inner bark of the tree, harvested in the rainy season between May and October. Native to Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), cinnamon is one of the oldest known spices, its discovery dating to the 13th Century, and was so prized that it was traded as currency. In order to corner the market, Portuguese settlers occupied Ceylon until the Dutch drove them out in 1636. The Dutch began to cultivate cinnamon, which up to that time had been harvested in the wild, and kept prices high by burning excess supplies. They maintained a monopoly until the British East India Company took control in 1796, though competitive trade had begun two decades earlier, when plants were taken by traders to Java, India, and the Seychelles.

Often confused with cassia, which is darker in color and stronger in flavor, cinnamon comes in quills (what we call cinnamon sticks), one piece of bark rolled inside another. Most of what we buy in ground form in this country is actually cassia, either from China or Vietnam. In The Perfect Pantry, I have cinnamon sticks from Indonesia, and  cassia ground cinnamon from China. It's just a matter of personal taste. Buy your cinnamon from a good spice vendor like Penzeys, and you'll have a choice of cassia or cinnamon, in different pungencies, from different countries of origin.

In cooking, cinnamon plays both sides of the field. Well known in sweet dishes, it's also fundamental to the savory cuisines of Morocco, India, and Thailand. Without cinnamon, we'd have no apple pie, no five-spice powder, no gingerbread, no Mexican coffee, no mulled wine — and no warm and gooey cinnamon buns.

CRANBERRY RICE PUDDING
Good for breakfast or dessert, this sweet dish, inspired by a Mexican rice pudding in James McNair’s Rice Cookbook, serves 4-5.

3/4 cup arborio rice
1 2-inch cinnamon stick
Zest of 1/2 lime or lemon, removed in one piece
1-1/2 cups water
Pinch of salt
1 pint whole milk
1 cup evaporated milk
5/8 cup sugar
1/4 cup dried cranberries (or dried blueberries)
2 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 Tbsp unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
Ground cinnamon

Combine cinnamon sticks and lime zest with water in a saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, and add the rice and salt. Stir once. Cover, reduce heat to low, and simmer until the rice is tender and the water is absorbed. Add the milk, sugar and cranberries, and stir well. Increase the heat to medium and cook, stirring frequently, just until the mixture begins to thicken, 20 minutes or longer if you want a thicker pudding. Remove from heat and discard the lime zest. Stir 2-3 Tbsp of the hot pudding into the beaten egg yolks. Stir the egg mixture and the vanilla back into the pudding. 

Preheat the broiler, and turn the pudding into a shallow flame-proof dish. Dot with butter and sprinkle with cinnamon. Place under the broiler just until the top begins to brown lightly, 3-4 minutes. Serve immediately or at room temperature.

Homemade chicken stock (Recipe: chicken soup)

Some people get hit with seasonal affective disorder, suffering in winter when the days are short and light is fleeting.

I get hit with seasonal annoying head colds. One each season, predictable as clockwork, when the weather goes from hot to cold, or from cold to hot. Or, seemingly, for no reason at all.

There is no cure, but there is amelioration: orange juice, hot tea with lemon, and soup made from homemade chicken stock. Trust me. If the stock isn't homemade, the soup doesn't work. I can't say why, exactly, but I know this to be true.

My new Joy of Cooking arrived the other day, and as usual it offers wonderful advice and information about the basics. Here's what it says, in part, about stock: "Stock is an exception to almost every other kind of cooking. Rather than seek out things young and tender, remember that meat from mature animals will be most flavorsome. Remember, too, that instead of making every effort to keep juices within the materials you are cooking, you want to extract and trap every vestige of flavor from them — in liquid form. Starting to cook in cold water, which draws out juices, is the first step on the way to your goal."

My goal is to banish each season's head cold as quickly as possible. I always have homemade stock in the freezer, ready to be turned into soup: the medicinal version, when I need it, and the delicious variations, when I'm feeling great.

By the way, this particular container of stock went into a Thanksgiving leftover soup, along with: some diced onion, leftover roast butternut squash and a raw butternut, 2 cups of cornbread-and-apple stuffing, a big handful of dried cranberries, a thick slice of turkey meatloaf, a cup of water, and a couple of cups of apple cider. Sounds odd, I know, but it all came together.

CHICKEN SOUP THAT FEEDS A COLD
This recipe always works for me (sniffle, sniffle). Use this method to make stock with chicken necks and wings, or a roasted turkey carcass, which you just might have on hand today. Makes a couple of quarts.

1 roaster chicken or stewing hen, 4-7 lbs
1 onion, unpeeled, cut in half
1 large carrot, ends trimmed, cut in half crosswise
1 large stalk celery, root end removed, cut in half crosswise
12 or so whole black peppercorns
1 bay leaf

Place chicken in a large stockpot with remaining ingredients. Add cold water to cover. Place over high heat until water comes to a boil; then reduce heat to simmer, skim any scum that rises to the top, and simmer, partially covered, for 2 hours. Remove the chicken bits from the pot (it should fall apart, so dig around and make sure you get all the bones out), and remove the veggies, too; then raise the heat to medium. Let the stock boil down until it is reduced by half. Cool for 30 minutes, then strain through cheesecloth or a fine-mesh strainer into a clean stockpot.

(Note: the incredibly overcooked chicken will have almost no flavor, but you can salvage the larger pieces of breast and thigh meat. Chop them, mix with celery and mayonnaise and a bit of mustard, add black pepper, and you'll have a decent chicken salad. Discard the rest.)

To turn your stock into cold-banishing chicken soup, add fresh chopped carrots, celery, and parsley to the pot (add as much as looks good to you for the amount of stock you have). Bring to a boil, then reduce to simmer. Add your favorite egg noodles or small pasta like ditalini, and cook until the noodles are done. Eat while it's hot; it will make your nose run, but you'll feel better.

Cooking spray (Recipe: frittata ring)

One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi....that's the sound of 21 calories of canola cooking spray.

Three long spritzes, three seconds, 7 calories per second.

Compare that to a tablespoon of butter (104 calories) or olive oil (122).

No contest.

For those of us for whom dieting is a lifelong companion, cooking spray is a lifesaver. The spray serves two purposes: (1) it creates a nonstick surface; (2) it dispenses minute amounts of oil in each spritz, so you use less oil in your cooking. Each can provides between 500 and 600 squirts, and will last two years in the pantry. The brand I'm using at the moment contains canola oil, soy lecithin, water, and a propellant like nitrous oxide. Cooking sprays made from vegetable oil and olive oil also are easy to find in the market.

By the way, did you know that PAM, the original cooking spray, stands for Product of Arthur Meyerhoff, who, with his partner Leon Rubin, began marketing their spray product in 1959? I didn't, either.

I admit that I feel a little bit guilty about the hole my spray might be poking in the ozone layer (though it contains no chloroflurocarbons — those nasty CFCs — so maybe it's only poking a teeny tiny hole). I have three spray cans in my house, and two of them are in my kitchen pantry. The third is for killing carpenter bees and ants. Truth is, I live in a log house, and I'm willing to do just about anything to keep the critters from eating it.

FRITTATA RING
A beautiful dish for the morning-after-the-holidays breakfast or brunch, because you can make it the night before. A great way to incorporate leftovers, too. And you have an excuse to acquire a bundt pan if you don't already own one! Serves 10-12.

18 large eggs
1/3 cup milk or cream
1-1/2 tsp olive oil
1-1/2 cups broccoli florets, diced
1/2 red bell pepper, minced
1 small red onion, minced
1 Tbsp thyme leaf
Kosher salt and fresh ground black pepper, to taste (be generous; if the frittata will be served cold, you'll need to make sure it's well seasoned)
Pinch of red pepper flakes or a few shakes of hot sauce (optional)
2 cups coarsely grated cheddar or swiss cheese
Cooking spray

Preheat oven to 325°F. Whip eggs and milk or cream in a bowl until well combined and frothy, and set aside.

In a small sauté pan, cook the broccoli, pepper and onion in olive oil for a few minutes, just until the onion is translucent. When the mixture has cooled, combine with the eggs and all remaining ingredients except the cooking spray.

Coat the inside of a bundt pan with cooking spray, and pour in the egg mixture. Place the bundt pan in a straight-sided roasting pan, and set on the oven rack. Fill halfway with hot tap water, and set into the oven (this is called a bain marie). Bake for one hour, until the eggs are set and slightly browned on top. Remove from oven, and remove bundt pan from the water. Let it rest for 5-10 minutes, then invert frittata onto a serving dish.

Powdered ginger (Recipe: spicy peanut noodles)

Ginger Rogers (remember Top Hat?).

Ginger Baker (remember Cream?).

Ginger Grant (remember her???).

Trader Joe's triple-ginger cookies.

What do they all have to do with powdered ginger?

Well, in their own way each is or was a little bit over-the-top, like the zing my cooking gets from good quality powdered ginger, a staple ingredient in the cuisines of Asia, North Africa, Europe, the West Indies and Caribbean — and a staple in The Perfect Pantry.

Depending on the country (and climate) of origin, powdered ginger can be pale or vibrant, mild or pungent, lemony or peppery. The main producing countries are Jamaica, India, China, Nigeria and, more recently, Australia. Penzeys powdered ginger has warm, lemon overtones, and plenty of bite. I like the balance.

Ginger to be dried is harvested 9-10 months after planting, when it is fibrous and more sharp-tasting. After the rhizomes are sun-dried, the skin is scraped off, and sometimes the pieces are boiled or bleached. Stored in an airtight container, dried pieces or powdered ginger will keep for six months on your spice rack, or up to a year in the freezer.

Powdered ginger is a must in curry and masala blends, five-spice powder, and quatre épices. It pairs well with carrots, pumpkin, squash and sweet potato — all things you might find on your Thanksgiving table — and imparts warmth and depth to baked goods like Guiness ginger cake, ginger pumpkin muffins, coconut cupcakes, and chocolate-nut pumpkin bread. Powdered ginger tastes very different than fresh, and one should never be substituted for the other.

In English pubs, bartenders used to set out small containers of powdered ginger, for people to sprinkle into their beer — the origin of ginger ale. In order to gee up (encourage) a lazy horse, English farmers apply a pinch of ginger to the animal’s backside. I'm not sure how that works, exactly....

SPICY PEANUT NOODLES
The owners of Moka, a restaurant in Boston's Back Bay in the 1990s, shared this recipe with readers of my newspaper column. It's great hot or cold. Serves 6 as an appetizer or light lunch.

2 cups peanut butter
1 cup rice wine vinegar
1/2 cup orange juice
2 Tbsp soy sauce
2 Tbsp sesame oil
1 tsp cumin
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp five-spice powder
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1-1/2 tsp chili powder
1 lb cooked angel-hair pasta
Optional garnishes: shredded carrots, scallions, red peppers, cucumbers

In a large bowl, combine all ingredients except pasta, and mix well. Add pasta, toss, and garnish as colorfully as you wish.

Green chiles (Recipe: turkey-green-chile chili)

The second of two posts for people who kinda, sorta want turkey — but not a turkey — for Thanksgiving.

Earlier this fall, three friends visited New Mexico.

All three, separately and without any coercion from me, came home with Hatch green chiles for my pantry. This made me happy.

One brought a can, one a jar, and the third a frozen brick. One was mild, one was hotter, and one was marked "hot" but should have come with a fire extinguisher attached, as it was truly incendiary.

Guess which was my favorite? (Can you hear me sniffling?!)

Green chiles and red chiles are the same fruit, at different stages of ripeness. Hatch green chiles, named for the New Mexico town where they're grown, often are flame-roasted to bring out their special flavor. There are dozens of recipes for green chile stew and sauce made from smoky roasted green chile. Red chiles may be allowed to dry on ristras, seen hanging from many adobe porches in New Mexico. In restaurants, if you're asked "green or red?", you're expected to state your chile preference. If you'd like some of each, answer "Christmas."

Hatch green chiles generally are thick-fleshed, curvy, and medium-hot (1,000 - 8,000 Scoville Units), though the growing environment, water and temperature levels can affect the heat. The best way to determine the heat of a pepper is to taste the raw pepper. And if, like I did, you happen to get a batch that's hotter than hot (lucky you!), dampen the flames with milk, ice cream, sour cream or yogurt.

TURKEY-GREEN CHILE CHILI
A simple bowl of green. Make a lot, freeze it in small containers, and use it as a base by adding frozen corn, canned beans, more fresh tomatoes, or diced sweet potato. Serves 6-8.

2 lbs ground turkey
2 Tbsp canola or vegetable oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 lb green chiles, mild or hot, diced
1 lb canned diced tomato, with its juice
1 medium potato, any kind, peeled and diced
1-1/2 Tbsp thyme leaf
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste

In a 4-quart stock pot, sauté the turkey in oil over low-medium heat until it's no longer pink. Add the onion, and continue cooking until the onion is translucent. Add remaining ingredients, turn heat to simmer, and cook, partially covered, until the potato is cooked and starting to fall apart, and the chili has thickened (add water, a few Tbsp at a time, to keep it from sticking if necessary). Serve with big chunks of cornbread.

Dried fruit (Recipe: turkey meatloaf with fig gravy)

The first of two posts for people who kinda, sorta want turkey — but not a turkey — for Thanksgiving.

In the house where I grew up, prunes were the dried fruit of choice.

Nobody liked the taste, but prunes were, quite literally, the magic bullet that kept all of us, well, regular. To this day, if I close my eyes, I can picture the bag of prunes always in the cupboard, and the Sunsweet prune juice, with its yellow label, always in the refrigerator.

To be honest, if it weren't for my love of Silver Palate chicken marbella (still one of my favorite party dishes), I'd probably never have prunes in the house.

Eggs (Recipe: albornia de chayote)

A few years ago, while working on a magazine article (never finished) about "designer eggs" (never found them), I interviewed a woman in our town who's  both a licensed veterinarian and a holistic practitioner. I needed a chicken refresher course, and she invited me to her farm for a lesson in which-came-first.

Of all the things she told me, the one I remember is this: you can tell what color an egg will be by checking the ear lobes of the chicken.

I'm not kidding.

White ear lobes, white eggs. Brown-ish ear lobes, brown eggs.

Anyone who's lived in New England knows the famous advertising jingle: "Brown eggs are local eggs, and local eggs are fresh!" But if, as they say, you're not from here, you might not know that brown eggs are the norm in this part of the country, thanks primarily to our very own state bird, the Rhode Island Red — a brown hen, with brown ear lobes.

Dried mushrooms (Recipe: mushroom paté)

C'mon, you know you're thinking it.

How can something so ugly taste so good?

Dried mushrooms may not win any beauty contests, but I love their shriveled caps, curly stems, gritty texture, woodsy odor, and concentrated flavor.

Even if I didn't use them in my favorite risotto, I'd keep dried mushrooms in my pantry. Stored in an airtight container, they last longer than fresh (a year or more, but read on for true confessions), and are available year-round.

Reconstitute dried mushrooms by soaking them in a bowl of boiled or very hot tap water, for 20-30 minutes, depending on the thickness. The soaking liquid often gets added to the recipe; pour carefully, as grit from the mushrooms usually will congregate at the bottom.

When Julie of Kitchenography asked me recently about how price and quality do (or don't) correlate, I had to admit to my own puzzlement. She noted that "the imported Italian ones from my local ultra-cheap Italian deli are twice as expensive as the domestic ones from always-more-expensive Whole Foods — and even the inexpensive ones are expensive." I've been lucky over the past few years; I bought a huge bag, a couple of pounds, of dried cepes at a street market in France, and (true confession) had them for at least five years. Now I'm working down a precious supply of Oregon wild mushrooms that my friend Candy brought from a farmers market. Both the French and Oregon mushrooms were "fresh" from the farm, well trimmed and dried, and full of flavor.

Could it be that simple? Buy local. Buy from areas known for the best fresh mushrooms — France, Italy, the Pacific Northwest. China. Poland. How do you know what's good and a good value? The same way you learn about any food — taste, and find your own favorite. 

Be sure you're buying large, identifiable slices or whole pieces. If you can't see the difference between a chanterelle and a porcini, you're not buying good quality mushrooms — you're buying kibble. (I'm not kidding; that's what it's called. Kibble is the dried equivalent of "stems and pieces" in a can.)

Most important, don't expect to buy sliced mushrooms at kibble prices. Online, I found Porcini Extra A, a very high quality, ranging from $6.80 for three ounces to $13 for four ounces, and from $41 to $49 per pound. Sounds expensive, but think about this: three ounces of dried mushrooms equals one pound of rehydrated or fresh mushrooms. A little does go a long way.

Here's another true confession: when cooked, most mushrooms taste the same to me. Except portobellos, which really are meatier. And shiitakes, which I just don't like. The texture may vary, but a cooked mushroom is a cooked mushroom. Same with dried mushrooms. Can you really tell the difference between a dried, reconstituted, minced and cooked porcini or cremini? Neither can I.

In most cases, you don't need to spend your money on the fanciest mushrooms. After all, why toss a $30 bottle of wine into a long-simmering stew, when a $10 bottle works just as well? Come to think of it, take the money you save by not buying exotic imported mushrooms, and treat yourself to a nice bottle of wine with this mushroom paté.

MUSHROOM PATE
Adapted from the first edition of the Moosewood Cookbook, this paté is an unusual appetizer that can be dressed up or down. Bake it in an earthenware crock, as we do, or in a loaf pan. Serves 6-8.

1/4 cup dried mushrooms (porcini, cepes, chantarelles)
4 Tbsp butter
2 cups chopped onion
1 lb fresh mushrooms (cremini or plain old white mushrooms), coarsely chopped
1/2 tsp salt, or less to taste
1 tsp dry mustard
1/2 tsp dill weed
black pepper, to taste
cayenne pepper, to taste
3 Tbsp dry white wine
1/4 cup wheat germ
8 oz cream cheese
2 cups part-skim ricotta cheese
Sweet paprika, for garnish

In a glass measuring cup or bowl, heat 1 cup of water in a microwave on high heat until near to the boil, 2 minutes. Soak the dried mushrooms in the hot water, for at least 20 minutes.

Preheat oven to 400°F. In a large skillet, sauté the onions in butter over medium heat, until soft. Add the mushrooms, salt, mustard, dill, black pepper and cayenne. Remove dried mushrooms from the soaking liquid, and mince. Add to the pan. Stir and cook uncovered over medium heat for another 5 minutes. Add the wine, and cook another 5 minutes. Sprinkle in the wheat germ, stirring the mixture as you sprinkle. Stir and cook 1-2 minutes more (it will be quite thick), then remove from heat. Drop the cream cheese in small chunks into the mixture, and stir to incorporate.

Using an immersion blender, or in a food processor fitted with metal blade, puree the mixture. Transfer the puree to a large mixing bowl and whisk in the ricotta cheese.

Pour the mixture into a buttered (or sprayed with a nonstick spray like PAM) earthenware casserole, or into 2 loaf pans lined with wax paper and buttered. Sprinkle with paprika. Bake for 1-1/4 hours, uncovered. Chill thoroughly before serving. (Can be made ahead; store, covered, in the refrigerator.)

Molasses (Recipe: Indian pudding)

On January 15, 1919, the temperature in Boston reached a balmy 40 degrees. Fifty feet above the street, an enormous cast iron tank owned by the United States Industrial Alcohol Company burst, sending more than two million gallons of crude molasses — destined for the rum distillery — cascading onto the streets of the North End.

The sweet, sticky flood of molasses devastated the area; people tried to outrun it, but the Great Molasses Flood spilled down the streets at 35 miles per hour, demolishing buildings, upending vehicles, causing fatalities and injuries.

And, some say, on hot summer days, with the wind just so, you can still smell the faint scent of molasses wafting up through the cracks in the sidewalk.

(You can't, actually, but it's a nifty urban legend.)

Molasses is a byproduct of the sugar refining process. After raw cane juice is processed into raw sugar, the sugar is refined, and the syrup that remains after the sugar has been crystallized is called first molasses. It's then thinned with water and boiled down again, to extract more sugar. With each boiling, the syrup (molasses) becomes less sweet. After three or more boilings, it's called blackstrap molasses — almost no sweetness, but rich in iron, calcium and potassium. The darker the molasses, the stronger (less sweet) the taste.

Most often, molasses finds its way into baked goods: muffins and more muffins, cookies and more cookies, and scones and more scones. Look for it in the occasional savory dish, too, like  filet mignon, barbecue sauce, and banana chips (though I might not serve these together!). Here in New England, molasses means Indian pudding, baked beans ... and, of course, gingerbread.

INDIAN PUDDING
On my most recent visit to Eagle Trading Company, a used/rare/out-of-print cookbook store in Assonet, Massachusetts, I unearthed a lovely copy of Around America: A cookbook for young people, by Mildred O. Knopf (1969). I've adapted her child-friendly recipe for Indian Pudding, a New England tradition from colonial days, centuries before the Great Molasses Flood. Serves 6-8.

4 cups milk
1/2 cup yellow corn meal
1/2 cup dark molasses
1/2 cup maple syrup
2 eggs
3 Tbsp butter
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp salt
1-1/2 tsp flour
Soft butter or baking spray
1 cup heavy cream
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 275°F.

Pour milk into the top of a large double boiler. Fill the bottom of the double boiler half-full of hot water. Place the top onto the bottom and cover. Turn on the heat and let milk heat through until thoroughly hot, but do not boil. At this point, stir in cornmeal. Cook, uncovered, for 15 minutes, stirring every now and then.

Remove top of double boiler to a kitchen counter or work surface. Beat in molasses and maple syrup. Break eggs into a small bowl, and beat thoroughly with a fork. Pour egg mixture into the pudding and stir vigorously. While mixture is still warm, add 3 Tbsp butter. In a small bowl or cup, combine cinnamon, ginger, salt and flour. Add to pudding mixture and stir well.

Prepare a two-quart baking ovenproof baking dish by smearing on some soft butter, or coating with baking spray (something like PAM that has flour in it). Add the pudding mixture, and bake for 2 hours. Remove from oven and let the pudding dish stand on a rack for 1/2 hour before serving. While the pudding is cooling, whip cream, sugar and vanilla until stiff. Serve pudding with the whipped cream, or with vanilla ice cream.

NOTE: Mrs. Knopf added that the pudding will have a delicious liquid (whey) in the bottom of the dish. "Some people are disturbed when they see this," she wrote, "but this is as it should be." I think she meant that the whey is as it should be!

Cayenne pepper (Recipe: Ethiopian chicken in red pepper sauce)

Turn Up the Heat Week comes to an end.

Twenty or so years ago, the City of Boston, in a brief spate of urban beautification that would have made Lady Bird Johnson proud, bestowed upon us a Norway maple sapling to fill the empty tree hole in the brick sidewalk in front of our house.

We loved that little tree.

So did every dog in the neighborhood.

To discourage the small gifts those dogs left us (in the days before pooper-scoopering was mandatory), we sprinkled cayenne pepper around the tree hole.

It worked! Every so often we'd hear a little sneeze...and we'd watch a very surprised puppy move along, perhaps to find a kinder and gentler tree hole.

The cayenne chile is a bright red pepper that ranges from two to five inches long and about half an inch in diameter. The majority of cayenne chiles are used to make the ground cayenne pepper we buy in the grocery store, though what's labelled "cayenne" often is a blend of several different types of chiles. The word cayenne comes from kian, a pepper grown by the Tupi Indians in what is now French Guiana, and was named after either the Cayenne River or the capital of the country, Cayenne.

When should you use cayenne? When you want the same heat intensity as hot sauce, without the vinegar. Tabasco and cayenne peppers have the same Scoville Unit rating, 30,000-50,000 units. So, fresh ground cayenne provides the same zip as tabasco-based hot sauces. Many recipes include a pinch of cayenne pepper, or even a whole pepper, here and there. Cayenne can anchor dry rubs and marinades for meat, poultry or chicken; it can even spice up dessert! 

Buy your cayenne from a reliable source that has frequent turnover, so you'll be sure to get very fresh pepper. Like most dried herbs and spices, ground cayenne may lose potency after long exposure to light or heat.

According to Penzeys, there is some evidence that eating hot pepper increases metabolism, reducing the calories retained from a meal by about 10 percent. There is also evidence that eating hot pepper increases the appetite. Hmmm....

DORO WAT (Chicken in Red Pepper Sauce)
In Ethiopian cuisine this is a dish for company or a special occasion. Traditionally a whole chicken is cut into 12 equal parts — a testament to the skill of the cook! This recipe, given to me years ago by Misrak Assefa of Addis Red Sea restaurant in Boston, serves 4.

2-1/2 to 3 lb chicken, cut into 12 serving pieces (or same amount of chicken breasts and thighs, boneless or bone-in)
2 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
2 tsp salt
1 onion, diced
1/3 cup spiced butter*
1 Tbsp fresh ginger root, minced
1 Tbsp chopped garlic
1/4 tsp ground cardamom
1/8 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 cup berbere (chili pepper), hot chili powder or cayenne
2 Tbsp paprika
1/4 cup dry white or red wine
3/4 cup water
4 hard-boiled eggs, peeled
freshly ground pepper

Pat the chicken dry and rub the pieces with lemon juice and salt.  Let stand at room temperature for 30 minutes.

In an ungreased, heavy nonreactive casserole, cook the onion over moderate heat 5 minutes until soft and dry. Shake the pan and stir constantly to prevent burning; if necessary reduce the heat or lift the pan occasionally from the stove. Stir in the spiced butter and, when it begins to sputter, add the garlic, ginger, cardamom and nutmeg, stirring well after each addition. Add the cayenne and paprika, and stir over low heat 2-3 minutes. Pour in wine and water and, still stirring, bring to the boil over a high heat. Cook uncovered, 5 minutes or until the liquid in the pan has reduced to the consistency of heavy cream.

Pat the chicken dry and drop it into the simmering sauce, turning the pieces until they are coated on all sides.  Reduce heat to low, cover and simmer 30 minutes, or until the chicken is tender. Add black pepper to taste. With the tines of a fork, pierce 1/4-inch deep holes over the entire surface of each egg. Add to the sauce and turn gently to coat. Serve hot (may be made a day ahead; refrigerate and reheat) with injera bread or boiled rice.

*To make spiced butter: Melt 1 lb organic butter in a pan with 1 tsp each cardamom, garlic, minced gingerroot and allspice. Store in a container in the refrigerator for 2 weeks.