The Perfect Pantry

Basmati rice (Recipe: aromatic rice pudding)

One rice, two rice, basmati-wrapped-in-blue rice. (No doubt Dr. Seuss would have conjured a rice to fit the rhyme.) Late Summer Rice Week, Day Three.

If you've been watching Top Chef (of course you have), you must remember this season's Episode Six, the quickfire challenge that asked the chefs to identify a range of food products by sight or by taste.

Some of the tests were easy: tapioca pearls, oatmeal, bow tie pasta (Top chefs? My six-year-old grandchildren could identify bow tie pasta.). Some were a bit more difficult: hearts of palm, fish paste, Thai eggplant.

So, here's my quickfire challenge.

Should a Top Chef be able to identify basmati rice, just by looking at it?

Yes, indeed. Pure basmati grain is four-to-five times as long as it is wide, and has a slightly and uniquely twisted tip, almost like the toe of Ali Baba's shoe.

For centuries, basmati -- the word means "queen of fragrance" in Hindi -- has been grown in the foothills of the Himalayas, in the Haryana and Uttar Pradesh regions of India and the Punjab region of India and Pakistan. The best quality pure basmatis are from Dehra Dun (Type 3) and Punjab (Type 370, which was the first basmati released for commercial cultivation, in 1933). The basmati rice plant is delicate, and needs to be tended with care.

When cooked, the rice (which is available in white or brown varieties) expands both in width and, especially, in length. It is famously aromatic, with a slightly nutty flavor that works particularly well in traditional pilaf and biryani, and in somewhat less traditional stuffing and fried rice.

Washing and pre-soaking the basmati results in a softer and more elongated grain. It's often soaked for 30 minutes or up to two hours, with or without salt, so the rice becomes less brittle. To prepare the rice for cooking, pour the rice into a large bowl. Fill the bowl with cold water and swoosh around with your hand. Immediately pour out the cloudy water, leaving the wet grains in the bowl. Repeat 3-4 times; on the fourth fill, leave the water in the bowl and let the rice soak for 30 minutes. The soaking water, which is full of starch from the rice, usually is discarded, though in some families in India, according to rice experts Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, the water is used for ironing -- a great way to recycle.

AROMATIC RICE PUDDING
From Seductions of Rice, by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, this rich and sweet pudding originates in Calcutta. Serves 6-8.

1/2 cup basmati rice
8 cups whole or 2% milk, plus more if necessary
5 inches cinnamon stick, broken into several pieces
4 green cardamom pods
Generous pinch of salt
6 Tbsp palm sugar or brown sugar

Wash the rice thoroughly until the water runs clear, then drain in a sieve. Spread on a towel on the counter and use a rolling pin to break the rice into smaller pieces. You do not want a mush, or evenly sized pieces, you just want to break it down a little. Set aside on a plate or in a sieve to dry while the milk reduces.

Place the milk in a large, heavy pot and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon, then lower the heat until the milk is barely simmering. Add the cinnamon stick and cardamom pods. Cook for 45 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent sticking and to prevent a skin forming on the surface (if a skin does form, stir it back in), or until the milk has reduced to about 6 cups.

Add the rice and salt and continue to cook over low heat, stirring frequently, until the rice is tender, 35-40 minutes. As it cooks and absorbs liquid, the mixture will thicken; if necessary (if the rice is not yet cooked and the mixture is very thick), add a little more milk.

When the rice is very soft and tender but not a mush, add the sugar and stir gently to dissolve. Cook for another 5 minutes, then taste for sweetness and add a little more sugar if you wish. Remove the cinnamon stick and cardamom pods. Serve warm or at room temperature.

More in The Perfect Pantry:
Cranberry rice pudding
Vegetable nori rolls
Sushi rice
Salmon fried rice

Long grain white rice (Recipe: golden festival rice)

One rice, two rice, red rice, new rice. (Thanks for the inspiration, Dr. Seuss.) Late Summer Rice Week, Day Two.

Sadly, I'm not much of a linguist; it's taken me a lifetime to master English, and a few dozen key words (hello, thank you, where, toilet -- sometimes used all together, just like that) in a few other languages.

Occasionally I've had the experience of being in my own country and not being able to speak the language. While this most often happens in ethnic food markets, I also had to learn the local lingo in the Cajun country of South Louisiana (pronounced, locally, loo-zee-ANN-ah), where I fell in love with jambalaya (jam-boh-LIE-ah).

For years, jambalaya was a fixture in our kitchen. I'd make it a couple of times a month or more. The heat of the Tabasco sauce is compelling; the more I used, the more I could tolerate, the more I wanted to put in the next batch, the more I craved that next batch (yes, this is the definition of addiction...).

So I needed to keep more and more long grain white rice on hand. I graduated quickly from the one-pound to the three-pound box. Now I go straight for the five-pound bag that fits perfectly into my one-gallon storage jar.

As popular as rice is in the American South, its origins go back more than 3,500 years to India and the Niger River delta in Africa. China, India and Indonesia remain the world's primary producers; in the United States, the southern colonies of South Carolina and Georgia began to grow rice fairly recently (in 1694), and they derived great wealth from their rice crops.

The modern production method, removing the bran and germ layers of brown rice until all that remains is the inner white kernel, results in a highly-polished rice that cooks quickly; it also strips the rice of many nutrients, so a number of companies sell enriched white rice, which restores some of those nutrients. Long grain rice has slender kernels, four or five times longer than they are wide, that expand in both length and width when cooked, yet remain separate and fluffy.

When you bring rice home from the market, transfer it from its bag to an airtight container, to prevent any little stowaways from moving in. Stored in this way, rice will keep for a year or more.

In the kitchen, long grain white rice is like all-purpose flour; if you're missing the particular rice called for in a recipe, long grain always steps up to the plate, whether as a side dish, soup, casserole, biryani, pilaf or a lovely sweet pudding.
 

NASI KUNING (Golden Festival Rice)
A beautiful accompaniment to any Indonesian or Indian menu. Inspired by several cookbooks. Serves 8.

2-1/2 cups canned coconut milk diluted with 2-1/2 cups water
4 cups long grain white rice
2 large shallots, thinly sliced
2 Tbsp vegetable or canola oil
2-1/2 tsp ground turmeric
1 Tbsp minced garlic
3 Tbsp minced fresh chives
3 Tbsp minced red hot chile

Spread rice out on a tray or flat surface, and pick over by hand to remove any foreign bits. Place the rice in a bowl and add cold water to cover. Stir vigorously with your fingertips, then drain off the water. Repeat several times until the water runs almost clear.

Drain rice and transfer to a saucepan. Add the coconut milk, turmeric and garlic, and blend well. Place over medium high heat and bring to a boil. Stir once, reduce the heat to very low, cover tightly, and cook until the coconut milk is absorbed, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, add vegetable oil to a saute pan, and turn heat to medium. Fry the shallots until crispy and brown.

Spoon rice into a buttered 2 quart bowl, let sit for 10 minutes, and then invert onto a serving plate. Crown the rice with fried shallot, chives and chile.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Beef hot links (Recipe: Lydia's very famous jambalaya
Risotto ai funghi
Riz imfalfal

Brown rice (Recipe: vegetable fried rice)

One rice, two rice, sushi rice, gooey rice. (Dr. Seuss would be proud, don't you think?) Welcome to The Perfect Pantry's Late Summer Rice Week, Day One.

I know what you're thinking.

Good grief, three quarts of brown rice!

What is she doing with so much rice?

Mortaring a brick patio? Filling a sandbox? Making a bean bag chair?

Blind-baking a year's worth of pies???

None of the above. This brown Nishiki rice, perfect for the rice cooker to which I am unrepentantly addicted, isn't all that easy to find in the grocery store, and the smallest package in my favorite Asian market happens to be five pounds. But I'm glad to have it in my pantry.

Though more than half the world's population gets more than half its daily calories from rice, the rice they prefer is, overwhelmingly, white rice, such as arborio, basmati, long-grain and sweet. Yet there is no doubt that brown rice packs the greater nutritional wallop, with more than three times the dietary fiber of white rice, along with beneficial doses of many vitamins and magnesium.

Brown rice is white rice that hasn't been stripped of all of its layers. Only the outermost layer, the hull, is removed in processing, leaving behind the bran and germ layers where most of the nutrients reside. Because there are more layers for liquid to penetrate, brown rice takes longer to cook than its white counterpart. Rice cookers make this foolproof, as long as you start with enough liquid in the cooker.

You can find brown versions of many types of rice -- brown basmati, brown long-grain, brown Nishiki, etc. -- in supermarkets and ethnic groceries. Store your rice in an airtight container, where it will stay fresh (and critter-free). Be sure to cut out the cooking directions on the package and stick them in with the rice. That way, you'll remember what type of rice you have, and the proportion of rice to water that you'll need to cook it. For the brown Nishiki rice, the proportions are 1 cup rice to 2-1/2 cups water on the stovetop; 1 cup rice to 3 cups of water in the rice cooker. Either way, you end up with 3 cups of cooked rice.

And if you should find yourself in the grocery store, facing the five-pound bag of rice, don't worry about what you'll do with it; you'll be happily making stuffed tofu and Indian dosa, rice with cashews and rice with  green beans, rice porridge and rice pudding.

VEGETABLE FRIED RICE
Years ago, Jae Chung, owner of several restaurants in Boston and western Massachusetts, shared this recipe with me. It's a great way to use leftover rice (cook according to package directions, depending on the variety) and vegetables, and it cooks in just two minutes.  Add a Thai bird chile, or a drop of chile oil, if you like it hot. Serves 1; can be doubled.

2 tsp vegetable oil
1 egg, lightly scrambled
1/4 cup diced mixed vegetables -- onion, green and red pepper
1/4 cup broccoli florets, blanched for 1 minute in boiling water or stock
Thai bird chile, left whole (optional -- these are very hot)
1 cup cooked brown rice, any variety, chilled
1 tsp oyster sauce
1 tsp soy sauce
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 tsp sesame oil
Fresh sliced vegetables (red and green peppers), for garnish

Heat the oil in a wok over highest heat, and add the egg.  Stir quickly!  Immediately add the vegetables, and continue to stir. Add rice, oyster sauce, soy sauce, and salt and pepper, and stir for 1 minute; the sauce should be absorbed and the rice grains should be separate. Add the sesame oil, toss, and serve hot, garnished with fresh vegetables.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Salmon fried rice
Lentils and brown rice

Sake (Recipe: pesto soba)

Accidents happen.

Blue cheese, vinegar, wine, yogurt, fish sauce, yeast breads, sake.

If modern government-regulated food storage requirements of today had been in place hundreds of years ago, we'd have none of these products, because all are the result of storage mishaps.

Thank goodness for accidents, for food left out of refrigeration too long, left in a barrel for too many months, left out in the sun or in a dark cellar, or carried through the desert in hot saddle bags on a camel's back.

Sake (pronounced SAH KAY) most assuredly resulted from one of those fermentation accidents; somewhere in Japan, as early as the 3rd Century AD, some rice got wet and sat around, and turned into something drinkable. The process for making sake today is a bit more controlled. Fermented from rice and water, sometimes aided by the action of koji (a fungus enzyme) and yeast, sake is brewed (like beer), without carbonation (like wine) or distillation (like spirits). In Japan there are at least 65 varieties of rice that are used for making sake. Generally the final product contains 15-17 percent alcohol.

Sake is not aged beyond six months, and is made to be consumed soon after purchase. Stored in the refrigerator, or in a cool, dark part of your pantry, sake will last 6-12 months. Once opened, it really does need to be refrigerated. After 12 months, throw it away; it will not turn into something cool like sake vinegar.

There are various types of sake, and more than 800 breweries in Japan alone, so how do you choose a good one? Go to your local liquor store; you'll be able to find a drinkable American-made sake (the Gekkeikan company brews in California), that is quite affordable and perfect for cooking.

Sake adds sweetness to glazes and braises, sorbet, steamed fish, sangria ... and an unusual fusion risotto. Use sake plus a pinch of sugar as a substitute for mirin, too.

SPICY PESTO SOBA
The recipe calls for cooked chicken breasts. You can poach or roast chicken breasts, or even buy a rotisserie chicken from the market. And if you don't have soba, make this with any Asian noodles, or even with spaghetti. Adapted from Asian Noodles, by Nina Simonds. Serves 4.

1/2 lb snow peas, ends snapped, strings removed, sliced in half lengthwise
3/4 lb soba (buckwheat) noodles, cooked in boiling water until just tender, rinsed under cold water, drained

For the pesto:
1 hot red chile pepper, or 1 tsp crushed red pepper
6 cloves garlic
1 cup fresh basil leaves
1 cup fresh mint leaves
1 Tbsp toasted sesame oil

1 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cooked and cut into thin strips
3/4 cup minced scallions

For the dressing:
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbsp soy sauce
6 Tbsp rice vinegar
4 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp sake 

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Add the snow peas and blanch for 10 seconds. Drain, run under cold water to stop the cooking, and drain again. Blot dry with paper towels.

In a blender, combine all ingredients for pesto, and process to a paste. Toss noodles and pesto together in a large bowl. Arrange noodles on a platter and arrange the snow peas, chicken and scallions on top,

In a smaller bowl whisk together dressing ingredients. Drizzle the dressing over the salad, or serve on the side.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Asparagus cashew stir fry
Spicy peanut noodles
Spicy meat noodles
Teriyaki tofu wraps

Sambal oelek (Recipe: spicy turkey rolls)

In my files, I have dozens of photos of hot stuff.

Chili paste with garlic, Tabasco, piquin peppers, ground chile (green and red), New Mexico chiles, canned chiles, Rhode Island Red Hot Sauce....

I have dozens of photos, and I've got the goods to back them up.

In The Perfect Pantry, I've stashed sauces and spices, from every corner of the world, the use of which will make food hot hot hot. Everything from a mild tingle on your tongue to sweat-running-down-your-head, don't-try-this-at-home hot.

On the warmer end of the heat scale, sambal oelek derives from the Dutch spelling, which in modern Indonesian spelling has become ulek; both have the same pronunciation. According to Wikipedia, ulek is a kind of Indonesian (particularly Javanese) stone mortar (ulek-ulek) and pestle (ulekan) made from a mature bamboo root, used for crushing chiles, peppers, shallots, peanuts, and other ingredients.

Thicker than sauce, thinner than salsa, sambal oelek is a fresh-ground paste made of chile peppers, salt, and sometimes vinegar, lime juice, lemongrass, or brown sugar. The heat of the sambal depends entirely on the variety of peppers.

Huy Fong Foods, a California company, makes the brand of sambal oelek in my pantry; it's the most common brand in the United States, available in every supermarket and Asian grocery. Stored in the refrigerator, it will last almost indefinitely. Because its main contribution is heat, you can substitute chili paste, harissa, Tabasco, red pepper flakes, chile powder, or fresh Thai bird chiles.

Once you have sambal oelek in your pantry, you'll find all sorts of ways to use it, in sauces or glazes, in burgers, with chicken, in noodles or vegetable dishes. So go ahead -- turn up the heat!

SPICY TURKEY ROLLS
Remember the little cocktail hot dogs we used to call "pigs in blankets"? These little "pigs" can be made with ground pork, too. The inspiration for this recipe came from a cookbook (I don't remember which one) that I found at a library book sale many years ago. Makes 24.

6 scallions, each sliced lengthwise into four "ribbons"
12 oz ground turkey or pork
4 tsp sambal oelek, or to taste
6 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup finely chopped flat-leaf parsley or cilantro
1/2 tsp sea salt, or to taste
1/2 tsp black pepper
2 sheets frozen puff pastry, thawed
2 eggs, beaten with 1 Tbsp water
1/2 cup light soy sauce, for dipping (optional)

Put scallions in a bowl and add boiling water to cover. Let stand 1 minute. Drain and rinse under cold running water.

Preheat oven to 450°F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a bowl, combine turkey, sambal oelek, garlic, parsley or cilantro, salt and pepper. Put puff pastry on a work surface, and cut each sheet into 4 rectangles. Place a line of turkey mixture down the center of each pastry piece. Brush edges of pastries with beaten egg. Fold long ends of each pastry over turkey filling, overlapping slightly and sealing to form a neat sausage roll. Trim away any excess pastry. Cut each roll crosswise into three pieces 1-inch wide.

Place on prepared baking sheets. Brush tops with beaten egg. Tie a scallion around each piece. Brush again with egg. Bake until golden and crisp, about 15 minutes. Serve hot, with soy sauce for dipping.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Rotini with spicy meat sauce
Braised fish, Tunisian style

Dried black beans (Recipe: moros y cristianos)

Way back when -- we're talking decades ago -- my best friend Joyce had a boyfriend named Tom, who had a series of uninspired jobs to support his dream of hosting a public-radio show about military history.

The jobs, all odd and of fairly short duration, were entirely forgettable. All but one, which involved the packaging of glass stopper-topped jars, presumably for storing chemicals, as the tops were quite tight-fitting. The jars came in a whole range of heights, from just a couple of inches to, well, spaghetti length.

Now you see where this is going.

Of course Joyce and I began to stockpile the jars Tom would bring home (Were they seconds or damaged? We never knew.), and we would fill them with pasta, nuts, peppers, M&Ms, and beans and pulses of every imaginable size and color. No matter that we could spend a lifetime soaking and cooking all of the beans we collected. We were "evolving" (i.e., decorating) our kitchens with beautifully filled glass jars.

Of all the beans, my favorite, then and now, are dried black beans.

I love that these beans (often labeled frijoles negros on the package) aren't really black, but more of an inky purple. I love that they're called turtle beans, though they taste more like mushrooms than turtles. I love that they are classified as "common" beans, yet they are uncommonly good for you.

Black beans provide a huge dose of dietary fiber, with cholesterol-lowering benefits and the ability to help stabilize blood sugar. Recently I learned that the darker the bean, the higher the level of antioxidants it contains -- and what could be darker than black?

In soups and stews, black beans frequently cohabit with epazote, which gives me an excuse to have that wonderful herb on my spice rack. It's supposed to reduce the rooty-toot-toot, as Julia Child used to say, and to aid in digestion.

Dried black beans will keep for a year or more in a tightly sealed bag or jar. Beans do get stale, so try to use them as soon after purchase as possible. To cook dried beans, first soak them for eight hours, or overnight, in water to cover by several inches; before cooking, remove any stones or beans that look unhappy (often their unhappiness will cause them to float on the surface). Discard the soaking water and give the beans a good rinse before cooking.

In my pantry I keep both canned and dried beans. They are not entirely interchangeable; at times, only the texture of dried beans, cooked from scratch, will do. For dips and salads, use the canned beans; for soup or stew, start with dried beans.

And, if you're lucky enough to have a best friend whose boyfriend works in a jar factory, why not start your own bean collection?

MOROS Y CRISTIANOS (Black beans and white rice)
La Bodeguita del Medio is one of the most famous eating and drinking places in Old Havana. Started in 1942 by Angel Martinez as a small bodega (grocery store), it evolved into a mecca for Cuba’s leading writers and artists. Even Hemingway was said to have dropped in for a mojito or two. “Moros” is a staple at every Cuban meal. This recipe, adapted slightly from La Bodeguita, serves 6-8. (By the way, it is the tradition to sign your name on the wall at La Bodeguita; if you go, look on one of the second floor door frames. I hope my signature is still there!)

1-1/2 cup dried black beans
1/2 cup vegetable oil
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 small green pepper, minced
1 small onion, minced
4-1/2 cups rice
1/2 cup fresh lime juice

Soak the beans in cold water overnight.  Drain, and place in a pot with fresh water to cover.  Bring to a boil, then reduce to the simmer.  Cover, and cook for 1 hour, or until beans are tender but not falling apart.  Drain the beans, but reserve all of the cooking water.

In a stockpot, add the oil, and saute the garlic, pepper and onion for 3 minutes.  Add the black beans, rice, and the bean cooking water.  Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to simmer and cook until the rice is tender.  Add lime juice, stir, and serve.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
South End Deep Root Chili
Frijoles de la olla
No-cook summer antipasto
Bean dip

Frozen artichoke hearts (Recipe: vegetable paella with spicy garlic sauce)

While working on a new recipe index, I began revisiting some posts from the early days of The Perfect Pantry. Here's a recipe we love to cook outside over the fire pit (with s'mores for dessert, because we have the fire going). Welcome to the end of Oldies Week.

I love artichokes, and there's nothing more sensuous than pulling off a leaf, dunking it in melted butter, and sucking the tender part between your teeth. When I'm planning a veggie paella or pasta dish, however, I'd rather put that energy into the cooking, and that's why frozen artichoke hearts have a place in The Perfect Pantry.

There's a lot of mythology surrounding artichokes. According to an Aegean legend, the first artichoke goddess was a woman named Cynara, who so enraged the god Poseidon that he turned her into a thistle. And the first Artichoke Queen? Marilyn Monroe, crowned in 1947 in Castroville, California, the heart of America's artichoke industry.

Clarence Birdseye gets the credit for inventing the processes that led to what we now call "flash freezing", and Birds Eye Foods still dominates the frozen vegetable market. I've never been a huge fan of frozen vegetables, but technology has made it possible for foods to be flash frozen, or IQF (individually quick frozen), so that their peak flavor is preserved. In addition to artichoke hearts, I've started to keep frozen pearl onions on hand; they're peeled and ready to go directly from the freezer into Ted's favorite beef stew.

Most often, frozen artichoke hearts find their way into my new favorite vegetable paella recipe.

VEGETABLE PAELLA WITH SPICY GARLIC SAUCE
One of my ta-dah entertaining dishes, this recipe, adapted from Paella! by Penelope Casas, serves 6-8. The accompanying garlic sauce provides an amazing kick.

Make the spicy garlic sauce:

1/4 cup finely chopped red bell pepper
1 tsp finely chopped fresh hot red or green pepper (jalapeño is fine)
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/2 tsp kosher or sea salt
4 cloves garlic, minced
1-1/2 tsp fresh thyme leaves, or 1/4 tsp dried
4 Tbsp minced parsley
1/2 cup olive oil

Mash to a paste in a mortar or miniprocessor the sweet and hot peppers, cumin, salt, garlic, thyme, oregano, and 2 Tbsp of parsley. Stir in the oil and remaining parsley. Transfer to a serving bowl. (This will keep up to 24 hours in the refrigerator.)

Make the paella:

1 medium zucchini, quartered lengthwise, then cut in 1/2-inch pieces
2 cups well washed, dried, and coarsely chopped spinach leaves
2 medium red bell peppers, finely chopped
4 tsp finely chopped fresh hot red or green pepper (jalapeño is fine)
6 frozen artichoke hearts, quartered
6 large shiitake or other mushrooms (1/2 lb), stems removed and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup frozen or fresh peas
8 medium scallions, trimmed and coarsely chopped
6 cups chicken broth, low-sodium canned or homemade, or vegetable broth
1/4 tsp crumbled thread saffron
8 Tbsp olive oil
1 medium tomato, seeded and finely chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 tsp sweet pimentón (Spanish smoked paprika)
1 tsp ground cumin
2 Tbsp minced parsley
3 cups imported Spanish (Bomba or Valencia) or Arborio short-grain rice
Kosher or sea salt
1/2 lb snap peas or snow peas, strings removed
1 roasted red pepper, sliced lengthwise, for garnish (optional)

Combine in a large bowl the zucchini, spinach, sweet and hot peppers, artichokes, mushrooms, peas and scallions. Combine the broth and saffron in a pot and keep hot over the lowest heat.

Preheat the oven to 400°F for gas oven, 450° for electric.

Heat the oil in a paella pan measuring 17-18 inches at its widest point (or in a shallow casserole of a similar size), over two burners if necessary. Add the vegetables from the bowl and sauté about 3 minutes over high heat, until the vegetables are slightly softened. Stir in the tomato, garlic, paprika, cumin and parsley, and cook 2 minutes more. Add the rice and coat well with the pan mixture.

Pour in all the hot broth and bring to a boil. Taste for salt and continue to boil about 5 minutes, stirring and rotating the pan occasionally, until the rice is no longer soupy but sufficient liquid remains to continue cooking the rice. Stir in the snap peas, arrange the roasted red pepper slices decoratively on the top (a "spokes of the wheel" arrangement is traditional), and transfer to the oven. Cook, uncovered, 10-13 minutes in a gas oven, 15-20 minutes electric, until the rice is almost al dente. Remove to a warm spot, cover with foil, and let sit 5-10 minutes, until the rice is cooked to taste. Pass the garlic sauce separately.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Paella a la Valenciana
Chicken paella with slow-roasted tomatoes

Szechuan peppercorns (Recipe: salt and pepper prawns)

While working on a new recipe index, I've been revisiting some posts from the early days of The Perfect Pantry. Here's one of my favorites, about my search for an elusive pantry ingredient. Welcome to Oldies Week, Day Three.

File this under "explorations in an ethnic market where you don't speak the language and can't read the package labels and you've wandered up and down the aisles and looked and looked and know what you want is somewhere in the store but you cannot find it."

So you ask everyone in the market, which by the way is in Boston's Chinatown, "Do you have szechuan peppercorns?" Blank stares. You try different pronounciations — sesh-wan, setch-wan, setch-u-on. Pep-per-corn. Pep-pah (the Boston dialect).

Nobody speaks English.

Nobody understands your pantomime.

Fair enough. After all, you are the only one there who doesn't speak the language.

Frustrated but determined, you ask your husband Ted to bring his Chinese friend Margaret to the market to search for these peppercorns. A few days later on their lunch break, they go — but they come home empty-handed, too. Which, frankly, makes you feel a teensy bit better.

This is a true story, by the way. It happened in 1998.

Turns out that, back in 1968, the US Food and Drug Administration had banned the importation of szechuan peppercorns, because they might carry a citrus canker that could endanger the foliage of citrus trees. My old Chinese cookbooks didn't respect the ban; on the contrary, they happily featured this key ingredient — a mainstay of five-spice powder — in my favorite spicy recipes (Ma Po Tofu, Kung Pao Chi Ting), without regard to whether I actually could purchase it in the US. In 2005, the import ban was lifted.

Yes, szechuan peppercorns are back. By law they must be heat-treated to 160°F or higher temperature before entering the US. Though the heat-treating may inhibit (ever so slightly) the peppercorns' full flavor, there's still no taste quite like the pungent, smoky, fizzy-mint tickle on your tongue.

Szechuan (also spelled Sichuan or Szechwan) pepper is not a pepper at all; it's the berry of a deciduous prickly ash shrub. In some older cookbooks, it's called fagaro. The flavor resides in the shell, or husk; the small black seed inside usually is discarded, as it imparts a gritty texture when cooked. Most recipes call for grinding or crushing the shells, both to release flavor and to enable the spice to blend more easily with others.

I still have trouble finding szechuan peppercorns in some Asian markets, though the larger grocers in Boston, like 88 Supermarket, do stock them. So do Penzeys and Gourmet Sleuth, online — and in English, for non-Chinese speakers like me.

By the way, Ted and Margaret did discover one thing on their peppercorn prowl all those years ago. In Chinatown, szechuan peppercorns are called...simply...pepper.

Now I know.

SALT AND PEPPER PRAWNS
A classic recipe. Serves 4-6.

1 lb large shrimp (21-25 or 16-20 size), shelled, deveined, rinsed and patted dry
6 Tbsp peanut oil
2 scallions, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
2 dried chile peppers, left whole but seeds removed
1-1/2 Tbsp Szechuan peppercorns
1-1/2 Tbsp sea salt

In a small bowl, mix 2 Tbsp of the oil with the shrimp, and set aside. In another small bowl, lightly pound the peppercorns, and mix with the salt. Set aside.

Heat a wok or large frying pan. When the pan is hot, add remaining oil. Stir-fry the shrimp for 1 minute, and remove shrimp from the pan. Pour off all but 1 Tbsp oil. Bring the wok oil back to heat, and add the chile, garlic and scallions. Stir quickly, and add the shrimp. Sprinkle on the salt and pepper mixture, and stir-fry for another minute. (Do not overcook the shrimp, or they will taste like rubber!) Serve hot or at room temperature.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Vegetable medley with five-spice dip
Sirloin tips with asparagus

Miracle Whip (Recipe: wild rice and chicken salad)

While working on a new recipe index, I've been revisiting some posts from the early days of The Perfect Pantry. Here's one of my favorites -- a true confession! Welcome to Oldies Week, Day Two.

Strangers are about to learn a dirty little secret my family has known for years.

I eat Miracle Whip (gasp!).

In fact, I like it better than real mayonnaise (gasp!).

My favorite thing is to smoosh up Season sardines, mix in some Miracle Whip, and scoop it up on wheat crackers (gasp, gasp!). I learned this from my dad. My cousin Martin used to ship the sardines to me from Maryland (no other brand will do, just like no other mayo will do), because until recently I couldn't find them here. Finding the Miracle Whip was never a problem.

Invented at Max Crosset's Cafe in Salem, Illinois, Miracle Whip was originally called Max Crossett's X-tra Fine Salad Dressing. Crosset sold his formula to Kraft Foods in 1931 for $300.

A patented "emulsifying machine" helped produce a uniform blend of existing mayonnaise products and less expensive salad dressing. The machine, informally called "Miracle Whip" by inventor Charles Chapman, ensured that pre-measured ingredients could continuously enter the appliance and become thoroughly whipped and blended.

Kraft introduced its new product at the Chicago World's Fair in 1933, with the tagline "Salad Miracles with Miracle Whip Salad Dressing." It was an instant success.

While Miracle Whip is not an all-natural product, the list of ingredients contains nothing I can't identify: water, soybean oil, vinegar, high fructose corn syrup, sugar, modified food starch, egg yolks, salt, mustard flour, artificial color, potassium sorbate as a preservative, spice, paprika, natural flavor, dried garlic. Doesn't sound too bad, does it? And from a nutrition standpoint, it's actually a lower-fat alternative to mayonnaise, with no trans fat and only 1 gram of carbs per tablespoon.

In junior high school, my friends and I used Miracle Whip as a hair conditioner, and for facials (gaspgaspgasp!).

I grew up with Miracle Whip, and I guess I'll never outgrow it.

WILD RICE SALAD
This isn't really a salad, and it's not made with real wild rice. It was a favorite with our kids when they were young, and now our grandsons love it, too. A great way to get children to eat some vegetables. Use instant rice and a rotisserie chicken, and this meal comes together in less than 10 minutes. Serves 4.

1 box Uncle Ben's Instant Long Grain & Wild Rice, prepared according to package directions
2 Kirby cucumbers, or 1/2 of a long seedless cuke, diced
2 medium tomatoes, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
1 large green pepper, diced
1/2 lb roasted chicken breast, skin removed, diced (a rotisserie chicken from the market works well, or use leftovers)
1/4 cup Miracle Whip (or mayonnaise)
2 tsp Dijon mustard
Black pepper, to taste

Combine first six ingredients in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, mix Miracle Whip and mustard. Add to the rice mixture, and season with black pepper to taste. Serve warm or at room temperature.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Horseradish dip
Caesar dip
Curried orzo chicken salad

Allspice (Recipe: shish taouk/garlic chicken on skewers)

While working on a new recipe index, I've been revisiting some posts from the early days of The Perfect Pantry. Here's one of my favorites -- my very first ingredient post -- and the story of how I became a food writer. Welcome to Oldies Week, Day One.

Do you think it's easy deciding where to start?

I was this close to logic and predictability, beginning at the beginning with the quintessential pantry items: salt and pepper. And then, this morning, the universe sent me a sign. Two signs, actually.

First: While Ted was watching the World Cup soccer matches on TV, I entered all of the pantry items willy-nilly into a database on my computer, and kicked out an alphabetized list of more than 200 items that are always in my fridge, freezer, spice rack and cupboards.

Top of the list? Allspice.

Hmmm.

Second: We'd vowed to "eat down" our pantry and leftovers this weekend, so I needed to forage. In the freezer I discovered a deeply-buried package of Empire kosher chicken breasts (another pantry staple). On the counter sat a couple of lemons that were a day away from relegation to the compost bucket. I always have garlic, and olive oil, and allspice. In my kitchen that adds up to one thing: garlic chicken on skewers.

Hmmm.

Until I decided to try my hand at food writing, I'm sure I'd never ever bought allspice, nor did I have a clue about how to use it. However, my desire for the recipe for the absolutely heavenly garlic-lemon-allspice chicken kabobs made by Elias "Louie" Aboujaoude at Cedar's Restaurant in Boston propelled me into a food writing career, so perhaps it is the best place to begin our pantry exploration.

Within a week of moving to the South End more than 25 years ago, Ted and I settled ourselves at a window table at Cedar’s to watch our new neighborhood stroll by. For the first few months, we tasted our way up and down the menu of traditional Lebanese dishes, moving from the familiar shish kabob and falafel to kibbie bi syniyeh and kufta balls.

Then we discovered the garlic chicken, listed on the menu as “#25 chicken on skewer,” and life changed forever. We began to have garlic chicken cravings, and to bring friends to the restaurant to taste the dish and help us figure out the ingredients. In my own tiny kitchen I began to experiment. Each attempt was, as they say, “close but no cigar.”

By July 1993, I’d been tasting and trying to recreate Cedar’s garlic chicken for 13 years (at two skewers per serving, that’s more than 400 skewers!). I knew the time had come to ask for the recipe, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. And then it occurred to me that others also might like to learn the secret. Wouldn’t it be fun to share recipes, and stories of the lives of neighborhood cooks, in the local newspaper?

So that's how I became a professional food writer.

And that's why there's always fresh ground allspice in my pantry.

The dried berry of the evergreen pimiento tree, allspice, native to the West Indies and Central America, was discovered by Christopher Columbus — who thought it was pepper, hence its Spanish name, pimienta. Subsequently it became known as Jamaican pepper, because most of the best quality crop grew there; the English gave it the name "allspice", because it mimics the aroma of several spices, including cloves, pepper, cinnamon and nutmeg. According to Herbs & Spices by Jill Norman, "allspice is the only important spice that still comes almost exclusively from its region of origin — which also makes it the only one grown almost exclusively in the New World."

Today the majority of the world allspice harvest goes to the food industry, for use in commercial ketchups and other sauces. Allspice is an essential ingredient in jerk spice blends, barbecue sauces and rubs, chutneys, and sausages. Bakers often incorporate it into spice cakes. The whole berries add important flavor to the pickling spice mix I use for my half-sours every summer.

SHISH TAOUK (Garlic chicken on skewers)
Serves 6-8.

6 boneless, skinless chicken breasts
2-4 cloves garlic, sliced, plus 4 cloves mashed (or from a jar)
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp ground allspice
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice
1/4 cup olive oil

Wash chicken and pat dry with paper towels. Cut into 1-inch pieces. Add remaining ingredients, and mix well (with your hands). Marinate, covered or in a zip-loc bag, in the refrigerator for 4-5 hours, or overnight.

Heat grill to high. Place chicken on skewers, or on a barbecue grid, and cook over direct heat for 10-15 minutes, turning frequently. Serve with rice or in pitas, with chopped iceberg lettuce, tomato and cucumber.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Riz imfalfal
Zahtar
Lemon-onion hummus
Chicken marbella