The Perfect Pantry

Sesame seeds (Recipe: asparagus in miso sauce)

If you read about The Perfect Pantry in the Washington Post, and this is your first visit, welcome. This blog looks at what a professional food writer (me!) keeps in her refrigerator, freezer, cupboards and spice rack -- with a recipe for each item -- and the 23 things I absolutely, positively, have to have in my pantry. 

Two things I don't usually do:

I don't usually write about an ingredient in The Perfect Pantry just because I have a new kitchen toy -- oops, tool -- to show you, even when it is an adorable red Japanese sesame seed grinder that looks a little bit like a Mummenschanz crossed with a Tinkertoy.

And, I don't usually give advice about love and relationships and dating and all that.

I don't. Usually. Except today.

Today, I am going to tell you how to choose your life partner.

Forget sense of humor, shared values, attraction, responsibility, respect.

What's really important is to find someone who understands that you (yes, you, and me, too) cannot have too many tools/ingredients/pots/bowls. That when your pantry grows to more than 200 items, the right thing to do is to build more shelves.

That when he is in New York City on business, and you email to him about a neat housewares store in SoHo, he should know instinctively that you are not just being chatty, that the right thing to do is to go to the store and purchase a few surprises for your kitchen, including a little red sesame seed grinder.

That is the person you want to live with forever and ever, the person for whom you will make Asian cabbage salad and fish sticks, peanut sesame noodles and saffron bread, peanut butter-black sesame cupcakes and zahtar plantains. And of course you will make tahini from scratch. (It will take forever and ever to do it with your little red sesame seed grinder, so use a food processor. Go ahead. The love of your life will not mind one bit.)

While you are cooking, you can tell your forever person so many interesting things about sesame seeds, which come from a flowering annual plant grown in India, China, Sudan, Ethiopia, Mexico, and the southwestern US. In addition to a nutty flavor and crunch, sesame seeds also contribute to good health. They are a source of manganese and copper, as well as calcium, magnesium, iron, phosphorous, vitamin B1 and zinc. Plus, they're packed with sesamin and sesamolin, two beneficial fibers that may help lower cholesterol and control blood pressure.

You might mention that in the local Asian market, a 24-ounce bag of tan, black or white seeds sells for just $2.79, and that because sesame seeds are approximately 50 percent oil by weight, and tend to get rancid after a few months, they should be stored in the refrigerator.

Then, you can toast a few seeds in a dry frying pan for just a minute or two, to bring out the flavor, and sprinkle them on summer salads, noodle dishes, or a bowl of yogurt and fruit.

Or turn them into a sweet halvah, for the forever person who brought home the little red grinder.

ASPARAGUS WITH MISO-SESAME SAUCE
I can't resist a cookbook with mouthwatering photos, so when I saw Sur La Table's new Things Cooks Love, by Marie Simmons, on sale at Costco, I had to have it. The instructions for this dish call for grinding the sauce in a suribachi, but if you don't have one, use a mortar and pestle, or a cute Japanese grinding gizmo and a food processor. Perfect for the asparagus just coming into season here in Rhode Island, this recipe, slightly adapted from the book, serves 4, and can be doubled easily.

1 tsp tan or black sesame seeds
1 lb medium-width or fat asparagus, stems trimmed
1 Tbsp coarse sea salt

For the miso-sesame sauce:
2 Tbsp tan sesame seeds
2 Tbsp shiro (white) miso
3 Tbsp unseasoned rice vinegar

In a small, dry, nonstick frying pan, toast 1 tsp sesame seeds for 2 minutes over low heat, just until the seeds begin to brown slightly. Pour the seeds into a small bowl, and set aside for garnish.

Trim the woody ends of the asparagus and, if the spears are fat, use a vegetable peeler to remove some of the scales from the lower half.

Fill a large bowl with 2 quarts of water and a tray's worth of ice cubes, and set aside.

Fill a large saucepan with 2-3 quarts of water, and bring to a boil over high heat. Add the asparagus and sea salt, and cook for 2-3 minutes, depending on the size of the spears, until they are crisp-tender. Remove the asparagus with a spider or slotted spoon, and toss the spears into the bowl of ice water (this stops the cooking and sets the color). After 5 minutes, remove the asparagus and drain on a clean dish towel.

Make the sauce: Grind 2 Tbsp of sesame seeds in a cute little grinder gizmo, spice mill, or mortar and pestle. If using a mortar, add the miso and rice vinegar, a little at a time, and blend well. (Or you can toss it all into a mini food processor and blend to a nice consistency.)

Arrange the asparagus on a serving platter, and drizzle the sauce across the top. Garnish with the toasted sesame seeds, and serve chilled or at room temperature.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Zahtar
Potato salad with sesame dressing
Traditional hummus

Molasses (Recipe: Boston brown bread)

Spring has sprung, and my friend Laura is back on the yard sale circuit. And -- lucky me! -- she's already scored a couple of vintage cookbooks to add to my collection.

This week's bounty includes a book of chafing dish recipes by Fannie Farmer, and a guide to restaurants (and recipes) rated tops by employees of the Ford Motor Company -- in the 1940s. That was the heyday of motoring, of Sunday "drives in the car", before environmental awareness and gas prices hovering near US$3.50 a gallon. I love reading the descriptions of some of the historic inns all across the country, and I love the recipes -- old-fashioned, made with old-fashioned ingredients like molasses.

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.

These days, the largest producers of molasses are India, Brazil, Taiwan, Thailand, the Philippines and the United States, and it features in both sweet and savory dishes from each of those regions.

Store molasses in the refrigerator or a cool, dry pantry cupboard for up to six months after opening, and you'll be ready to make ginger spice cookies, marble molasses pound cake, Indian pudding, honey-molasses chicken or slow-cooked baked beans, all of which will help you keep up your strength for a morning of yard sale scavenging.

BOSTON BROWN BREAD
From The Ford Treasury of Favorite Recipes from Famous Eating Places, published in 1946. This recipe comes from The Williams Inn in Williamstown, Massachusetts; the lovely historic inn pictured in the book was converted to a women's dormitory for Williams College many years ago, but the new inn that replaced it still uses some of the original recipes. For sour milk, substitute an equal amount of buttermilk. A #5 tin is a 56-ounce can (7-1/3 cups). Makes 4 loaves; recipe can be halved, and baked loaves can be frozen.

3 cups bread flour
3 cups yellow cornmeal
3 cups whole wheat flour
1 Tbsp baking soda
2 cups raisins
1 Tbsp cinnamon
1 Tbsp ginger
3 eggs, beaten slightly
3 cups molasses
3 cups sour milk

Mix dry ingredients together first; then combine remaining items in a separate bowl. Add dry mix to this liquid and stir well. Spoon equal parts into 4 well-greased, tall #5 tins. Cover with lids or waxed paper tied on firmly, and steam for 3 hours.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Indian pudding
Gingerbread cookies

Other People's Pantries #13

From Zoomie (Zoomie Station), in Point Richmond, CA:

This is our pantry closet, very deep as you can see (sometimes, fog forms in the back of it), which used to be such a jumble of stuff that I could never find anything in it... (read more here.)

On Saturdays, we peek into Other People's Pantries.

Come on -- show us your pantry.

Here's how.

Yeast (Recipe: one-rise pizza dough)

If I were a Twitter person (Would that make me a Twit? Surely not.), if I really knew how to use it, how to encapsulate my day into less than 140-character sound bites, or how to find time to Twitter at all, this would be me, today:

Matzoh, matzoh, matzoh. Enough already.

And later:

Daydreaming about cinnamon buns, bagels, baguettes...

Still later:

Craving pizza w/ extra cheese and mushrooms....

And then:

Just drove past a bakery. Smells wonderful. No no no!

I'm sure if I were a Twit(ter), I'd be Twitting with lots of people who are thinking about bread in a week when we've promised not to go there.

So, instead of obsessing about bread, let's just talk about yeast, the amazing one-celled fungus that converts sugar and starch into carbon dioxide bubbles -- bubbles that get trapped in the dough, causing bread to rise (it's the rising that makes bread off-limits during this Passover holiday).

In The Perfect Pantry, I always keep both active dry and rapid-rise yeasts; they are different strains of the same basic organism. There are other differences, too. Though all granulated yeast is dried to no more than 8% moisture, which renders it dormant until it's rehydrated, active dry must be dissolved in water before being added to other ingredients; rapid-rise can be added along with the dry ingredients. Active dry should be proofed, and doughs made with it often require two rises.

Why use active dry, then, when rapid-rise speeds up every step of the bread-making process? Two reasons: doughs made with active dry yeast taste better, and they have better texture.

If you're planning to use your dough for a highly flavored bread or pizza, rapid-rise is great. For artisan breads that depend on the structure of the dough and few added ingredients, you might prefer to use the active dry yeast and let your dough rise more slowly.

A few more things to know about yeast:

• It's often sold in strips of three packets, in the dairy section of the supermarket.
• One 1/4-ounce packet contains 2-1/4 teaspoons of granulated yeast.
• Substitute the same amount of rapid-rise for active dry yeast in any recipe.
• Substitute one packet of active dry or rapid-rise for one cake (.6 ounces) of fresh yeast.
• Store all dry yeast in the refrigerator, or in a cool, dry part of your pantry.
• Do not freeze dry yeast. (Though yeast goes dormant at temperatures under 50°F, it takes so long to come back to activity after freezing that freezing isn't recommended. But if you must freeze, don't worry, you will not kill the yeast.)
• All yeast is marked with an expiration date. For best baking results, use it by that date, or discard.
• Yeast is one of the 13 things every baker absolutely, positively, has to have.

Planning ahead, baking next week for sure.

Twitter, twitter.

Pizza on the grill. What to put on top?


ONE-RISE PIZZA DOUGH
This recipe, adapted from Good Times, Good Grilling, by Cheryl and Bill Jamison, makes 2 thin 11-inch pizza crusts, or 6 individual pizzas.

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3 Tbsp coarse ground cornmeal
1 tsp salt
1 tsp rapid-rise yeast
3/4 cup lukewarm water
2 Tbsp plus 1 tsp olive oil

Lightly oil half of a 12-muffin tin (dip a paper towel in a small bowl of olive oil, and rub the inside of each muffin compartment), and set aside.

In a food processor, pulse together the flour, cornmeal, salt and yeast. With the motor running, add the water and 2 Tbsp of oil. Continue processing for approximately 30 seconds more, until the dough forms a cohesive ball that is smooth and elastic. If it remains sticky, add another Tbsp or two of flour.

Knead the dough a few times on a floured work surface, forming it into a ball. Pour the remaining oil into a large bowl, and add the dough, turning it over until coated with oil. Cover with a damp cloth, and set in a warm draft-free spot to rise until doubled (approx. 1 hour). Punch down the dough, and divide into 6 equal pieces. Roll each piece into a ball, and place each ball in the muffin tin.

You can refrigerate for 30-60 minutes before using, but bring back to room temperature before proceeding. You can also freeze the dough, wrapped in individual zip lock bags.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Oly koeks
Easy whole wheat pizza on the grill

Matzoh (Recipe: my dad's famous matzoh brei)

An updated post from the archives, with new photos.

My father, like all dads of the 1950s, mastered a couple of pieces of cooking equipment and had his special dishes that he produced on holidays, and on demand.

With the aid of a charcoal kettle grill in the back yard, he made the world's best lamb chops. In the electric frying pan, on Sunday mornings, he would make Spit in the Ocean, or another weird concoction that involved slices of bologna or salami floating in a sea of scrambled eggs. If that dish had a name, I've repressed it.

Every year in the Spring, my father did his best work, with a straight-sided covered sauté pan, a large melamine mixing bowl ... and his hands. Spring meant Passover, which meant matzoh, which meant matzoh brei. We ate this only once a year. And my dad was the matzoh brei king.

Matzoh (also spelled matzah, or matzo) is unleavened bread, made from wheat flour and water. By tradition and by definition, it's not allowed to ferment; in fact, from the time the water is added to the flour, it must be completely cooked in no more than 18 minutes. The result is a cracker-like consistency and, as you can imagine from something with only two ingredients, virtually no taste. Oh, there are flavored matzohs, enhanced with egg or onion or sesame — there's even chocolate-covered matzoh — but to us those were not "real" matzoh, and we never ate them at home.

Store-bought was our everyday, but for special occasions like Passover, my parents would seek out the more elusive shmura matzoh, which is a kind of artisan product: hand-made, and wood-fired.

Available year-round in my local supermarket, matzoh makes a fine alternative in lasagna, meatloaf, pudding, or chocolate crunch. I can grind the matzoh to make a coating for lamb chops, though they will never taste as good as my dad's, but after years of practice, my matzoh brei is every bit as delicious as his.

By the way, this post goes out to my Cousin Martin, who reminded me that matzoh is an all-the-time pantry item, not just a seasonal substitute for bread in a tuna-with-Miracle Whip sandwich.
 

MATZOH BREI
Pronounced MAT-ZAH BRY, this egg dish resembles a frittata or tortilla española: eggs, something starchy to give body, and salt. My father used to say that his secret was "in the wrist." Now that I make this for my family, I know he was right. I like this just as it comes from the pan, often with sea salt on top, but Ted gives it the pancake treatment (maple syrup, in the photo). Serves 6.

6 sheets of plain store-bought matzoh, from the box
6 eggs
Kosher salt
2 Tbsp butter

Place the matzoh in a large bowl, break it up into chunks, and fill the bowl with lukewarm water. Let the matzoh soak for 2-3 minutes, until it's soft but not disintegrating. Now for some wrist action: grab clumps of the soft matzoh, and squeeze out as much water as humanly possible. Place into another bowl. Repeat until all the matzoh is drained, and you have a bowl full of matzoh clumps. In another bowl, or in a large measuring cup, whisk the eggs with 2 tablespoons of water until thoroughly mixed. Pour into the bowl with the matzoh. Add some salt (start with a heaping teaspoon). Stir everything together.

In a straight-sided non-stick sauté pan over lowest heat, melt the butter, making sure to coat the bottom and sides of the pan. Pour in the matzoh mixture, and level with a spatula. Cover, and cook for 10 minutes or so, checking every now and then to make sure the mixture is not sticking. When the bottom is brown, either (very bravely) flip the entire matzoh brei over in one piece, or do what I do and cut it into quarters. Flip each quarter back into the pan, and cook, uncovered, for 5 minutes or until the bottom is lightly browned and the eggs are set. Cut into wedges, sprinkle with salt (believe me, it will be needed!) and serve.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Cheesy tarragon omeletta
Asparagus frittata

Soy sauce (Recipe: ginger cabbage salad)

The last time I wrote about lower-sodium soy sauce, I took a photo of the little bottle in my refrigerator.

Yesterday, I took a photo of the jug that's now in my fridge. You know what they say about something that comes in a jug, like the jug wine we used to drink in my college days.

It's cheap.

And you probably use it a lot.

True, and true. I have six other kinds of soy sauce -- Chinese light, dark, mushroom, and black; Japanese tamari; Indonesian kecap manis -- in my pantry, but Kikkoman less-sodium is the only one I buy by the jug.

Soy sauce is an ancient product, originally a salty paste that later came to be used as two separate foods: the liquid shoyu (soy sauce), and miso.

This lower-sodium (or less sodium) sauce is brewed, and after the fermentation (aging) process is complete, 40 percent of the sodium is removed. Though not as salty as regular brewed soy sauce, the reduced-sodium product works in harmony with very salty oyster sauce in the Cantonese Trinity (soy sauce, oyster sauce, sesame oil) and Spicy Trinity (soy sauce, oyster sauce, chili paste with garlic) that are fundamental seasonings for my stir-fry dishes.

Kikkoman lower-sodium soy sauce has a lighter flavor than some other brands and certainly than full-sodium varieties, so it's best added to sauces or lighter dishes, or as part of the Trinity seasonings. I love this soy sauce in salad dressings and with fish, but also in meatier recipes like chow fun, chicken wings, or beef and bell pepper with black bean sauce.

Once opened, soy sauce likes to be kept in the fridge, where it will be happy for 6-12 months.

If you don't think you'll use this amount in less than a year... well, you're not quite ready to step up to the jug.

GINGERED CHICKEN AND NAPA CABBAGE SALAD
Try making this with beef instead of chicken, or with tofu. Or with no protein at all; simply use the marinade as a salad dressing. Adapted from a recipe in Gourmet. Serves 6.

For the marinade:
2 Tbsp lower-sodium soy sauce
2 Tbsp fresh lime juice
1 Tbsp rice vinegar
1 Tbsp grated peeled fresh ginger
1/4 tsp chili paste with garlic, or more to taste

3/4 lb boneless, skinless chicken breast, all visible fat trimmed
2 tsp vegetable oil
1/2 lb fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems discarded, caps sliced
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 cup water
1 Tbsp agave nectar (or honey)
1 small Napa cabbage (approx 1-1/2 lbs), trimmed and sliced thin crosswise
1 medium red bell pepper, cut into thin strips
1 Asian pear or Bosc pear, cut into 1/4-inch julienne strips
2 scallions, sliced thin
1/2 cup packed fresh cilantro

In a shallow bowl, stir together marinade ingredients. Add chicken to marinade, turning to coat, and marinate at room temperature 15 minutes. Remove chicken from marinade, letting excess drip off, and reserve marinade. In a small nonstick skillet, heat oil over moderately high heat until hot but not smoking, and sauté the chicken about 5 minutes on each side. Transfer to a cutting board and let rest. (This would also be fabulous cooked on the grill.)

In any drippings remaining in skillet, cook mushrooms with salt, stirring frequently, until golden, about 3 minutes. Add reserved marinade, water and agave nectar, and bring to a boil. Remove skillet from heat and cool mixture for 10 minutes.

In a large bowl combine cabbage, bell pepper, pear, scallions, and cilantro. Add mushroom mixture and toss to coat. Cut chicken into thin slices and arrange on top.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Salmon fried rice
Beef and broccoli stir fry
Spicy turkey rolls
Hot and sour soup
Moo shu chicken
Broccoli eggrolls
Rotini with spicy meat sauce

Other People's Pantries #12

From Chris (Mele Cotte), in Atlanta, Georgia:

Here is my pantry. Scary!! This was a hard event because it exposes the inner sanctum!  :)

On Saturdays, we peek into Other People's Pantries.

Come on -- show us your pantry.

Here's how.

Montreal steak seasoning (Recipe: grilled tofu wraps)

Sometimes I spend hours researching an ingredient in my pantry, reading about food history or science or legend or nutrition.

Montreal steak seasoning should have been easier.

Tehhhhhhhhhd, what's Montreal steak seasoning?

That should have done it, one holler up the stairs, from my desk to the desk of my Montreal-born husband.

Huhhhhh?

Maybe he didn't hear me.

Montreal steak seasoningggggg? I tried again.

Never heard of it.

So much for shortcuts.

Montreal steak seasoning first caught my eye at the small grocery store in our town, but soon I started to see it and hear of it everywhere. I assumed it originated in Montreal, and it did, at Schwartz's, the smoked-meat emporium that opened its doors on Boulevard St. Laurent in 1928.

Nobody knows the exact formulation of the original Montreal Steak Seasoning (available by mail from Schwartz's), but every clone adds to a foundation of salt, paprika, and garlic a proprietary mix of spices that might include black pepper, cayenne, red pepper flakes, ground coriander, dill or fennel seeds, granulated onion, and rosemary.

In the photo above, the Montreal steak seasoning on the left came from my local grocery store, which buys it from a packer in Connecticut; you can identify dill seeds, red pepper, and caraway. On the right, Rod's Rub Steak Out! has similar ingredients, a more uniform texture, and whole leaves that look like thyme. (Thanks to the folks at Rod's for sending samples of their five spice blends.) Both are all-natural products with no additives or preservatives.

McCormick Grill Mates Montreal Steak Seasoning, first marketed in the mid-1990s and found in every supermarket in a spiffy grinder jar, has an overwhelmingly green and herby appearance, but it contains partially hydrogenated soybean oil and natural flavor, whatever that is.

Montreal steak seasoning enhances the flavor of flank steak or corned beef, pork chops, chili, and chicken burgers. Use it as a rub; mix it with oil to make a paste for grilled salmon; or substitute it in recipes, like meatloaf, that call for pepper and paprika.

MONTREAL GRILLED TOFU WRAPS
Improvise to your heart's content! Serves 4.

1 package extra-firm tofu
2 Tbsp Montreal steak seasoning
2 Tbsp canola oil
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, or to taste
1 large onion, sliced into rings
1 red bell pepper, core and seeds removed, sliced into thick pieces
4 burrito-size (large) flour tortillas
1 avocado, peeled and sliced
A drizzle of your favorite honey mustard

Drain the tofu, and place in a colander set over a bowl. Put a small, heavy plate on top of the tofu to weight it down, and let sit at room temperature for 30 minutes. In the meantime, preheat your grill, or grill pan, or broiler.

In a bowl, combine seasoning, canola oil, and cayenne. Slice tofu into 1-inch slices, and paint each gently on all sides with the seasoning paste. Place on the grill. Toss onion and bell pepper in remaining spice paste, and grill until nicely charred. Cook tofu for 4-5 minutes, until it has nice grill marks and is heated through. Heat tortillas on the grill for 20-30 seconds. Place tortillas on individual plates, top with tofu, vegetables and avocado, drizzle with honey mustard, and wrap.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Teriyaki tofu wraps
Spicy peanut sauce
Pan-roasted glazed salmon
Bulgogi

Prepared horseradish (Recipe: tart zucchini relish)

As the crow flies, it is 990 miles from my house to the Horseradish Capital of the World.

Collinsville, Illinois, struts its stuff every July at the International Horseradish Festival, when more than 15,000 devotees come out to celebrate a root that's also known as stingnose.

A root that makes your eyes water, your nose twitch, your tongue numb, your fingers wrinkle, and your ears burn.

A root used to treat headaches, respiratory distress and rheumatism.

A root that was a favorite of both the Oracle at Delphi and Dagwood Bumstead.

More than 80 percent of the world's supply of horseradish grows in southern Illinois, and of that, the majority comes from Collinsville.

The horseradish root, a member of the mustard family, looks like a parsnip on steroids, and it's just as mild as a parsnip until you grate it. Then the isothiocyanates, volatile oils that contain the stinging hot flavor, are released, and the reaction gets stronger and stronger until vinegar is added to stop the action and stabilize the bite. The amount of time between grating/grinding the root and the addition of vinegar determines the heat level of prepared horseradish.

While horseradish is cultivated primarily for its root, the rest of the plant is also edible. But it's invasive, which is why, despite having a large herb garden, I like my horseradish from a jar, the way people have been buying it since 1860.

So get yourself to Collinsville in July, for the Horseradish Derby, horseradish toss (The record? 80.5 feet!), horseradish golf, the crowning of Little Miss Horseradish, and, best of all, the Bloody Mary contest.

And, if you're very lucky, you might find some horseradish meatloaf, cole slaw, smashed potatoes, short ribs,  soup, hummus, aioli, and horseradish mayo that's great on crab cakes and roast beef sandwiches.

Now that sounds like a party.

ZUCCHINI RELISH
Adapted from Fondue, by Marlisa Szwillus, this tart relish makes a nice counterpoint to something rich and creamy, like fondue, or mac-and-cheese. Marinates overnight, so leave extra time for this recipe. Serves 4-6.

18 oz zucchini
5 shallots
1 tart apple
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 cup dry sherry
1 bay leaf
1 tsp peppercorns
2 cloves garlic
2/3 cup herb or white wine vinegar
2 tsp prepared horseradish
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp chopped Italian flat-leaf parsley

The night before serving, trim and wash the zucchini. Peel the shallots. Finely dice zucchini and shallots. Peel and core the apple, and dice. In a bowl mix the zucchini, shallots and apple with the sugar, salt and sherry. Cover and marinate overnight.

The next day, pour the mixture into a colander, collecting the liquid in a wide saucepan. Add the bay leaf and slightly crushed peppercorns. Peel and mince the garlic, and add it to the pan. Boil the mixture uncovered over high heat until it is reduced by half. Add the vinegar and fruit and vegetable pieces to the pan. Simmer, uncovered, over medium heat until most of the liquid has evaporated, stirring occasionally. Remove the bay leaf. Stir in the horseradish and let the mixture cool. Just before serving, stir in the oil and parsley.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Horseradish dip
Ginger salad dressing

Beans and corn (Recipe: Twisted Three Sisters Soup)

Today, Arlo joins The Perfect Pantry as our first guest blogger. Many of you remember her letters earlier this year. A wonderful and generous storyteller, Arlo writes from Ottawa, the capital city of Canada, and I'm delighted to welcome her. Watch for her posts once a month or so.

Guest post by Arlo from Ottawa

Years ago I was asked by my son’s school council if I had an Aboriginal recipe I could prepare for our first ever Stone Soup Café, a fundraising event that would sell the students' hand-decorated bowls and a range of parent- and restaurant-donated soups.

Being new to the Ottawa region at the time, I immediately called a friend who is indigenous to this territory and asked her how to make corn soup, a traditional fare at many eastern Native festivals and ceremonies. Sadly, she never really made the soup herself and didn’t know where I could buy white corn either. So that year I ended up making a venison stew, a popular feast dish in my home prairies. The following year I made Metis boullets, a meatball soup made every New Year’s Eve. This year, I was determined to succeed with Three Sisters Soup, a recipe that has been passed down since the time when corn, beans and squash were first planted.

Three Sisters Soup is as diverse as the people who have adapted it. Top contenders for claiming the origin of this recipe include all of the Six Nations tribes on the eastern seaboard, and all of the tribes in the area known as the Four Corners in the US (New Mexico, Arizona, Utah and Colorado). Throughout the centuries, regional variations have all become traditional fare, and each Three Sisters Soup maker believes hers or his is the original version. And I agree -- each should have that prize as most are tasty, full of fiber and good things, and just make you feel with each spoonful that you are connected with Mother Earth.

Modern day organic growers loudly proclaim the benefits of companion planting, a technique practiced by indigenous gardeners since dirt was invented. Corn or maize is planted, followed by beans and squash. The corn supports the climbing beans, and the fat, wide leaves of the low-lying squash keep all of their roots shaded, retain moisture, and deter weeds and greedy insects. The beans also capture nitrogen from the air, which the corn absolutely needs. Vegans may not appreciate this tidbit, but sometimes on the east coast fish and eel were once used to enrich the soil as fertilizer and to discourage pests, but I am not sure if this is still practiced.

Many legends surround the Three Sisters, so much that many eastern tribes refer to them as spiritual entities and the sustainers of life. Consumers of corn, beans and squash did not have to rely on meat, fish, fowl or other animal products to survive, as the combination provided essential amino acids and complimentary proteins. Frances Moore Lappé would be pleased, as were the pilgrims who survived on this mix 400 years ago.

My first attempts with a traditional recipe tasted like salty bland dishwater, and as I was competing with soup masterpieces from around the world (we have many cultures in our school) and with Ottawa’s finest restaurants, I kicked it up a notch. I checked a couple of our southwestern cousins’ versions and added ground chile peppers and sage (native to North America). I used dried hominy corn, which is more traditional, but regular or canned hominy can do in a pinch, especially for speed cooking.

There are many Three Sisters Soup recipes that throw in things like curry powder and yogurt, which I am sure taste delicious, but my version tries to keep with the original spirit of the soup -- that is, Sister Corn, Sister Bean, and Sister Squash.

And almost everything in this soup comes from my pantry.

ARLO'S TWISTED THREE SISTERS SOUP
Created for Stone Soup Café at the Connaught School, Ottawa, Ontario. Serves 10-12; with corn bread or whole wheat bannock, this makes a very complete and filling meal. Like many soups, it's even better the next day.

1 cup dried yellow or white hominy corn (or 2 large cans)
1 cup dried white navy beans (or 2 large cans)
1 acorn squash (peeled and diced)
1 butternut squash (peeled and diced)
1 medium zucchini  (sliced into 1/2-inch rounds, then quartered)
1 medium red onion diced
2 cups fresh or frozen green beans, cut into 1 inch pieces
2 tsp sea salt
1/2 tsp fine ground black pepper
1/4 tsp crushed red chile flakes, or more to taste
1 tsp dried ground sage
2 Tbsp margarine, butter or oil
Water -- lots

If you are using dried corn and beans, they will take a lot longer to cook than the squash, so start with the beans and corn first. Even if you have pre-soaked overnight, count on 1-1/2 to 2 hours simmering on the stove to cook them. Use lots of water and DO NOT add salt yet. I use separate pots because, oh, I don’t know, I am afraid the corn will beat the beans or vice-versa! Canned beans will work when time is short, but I prefer the non-processed version. Reduce salt if using canned corn or beans unless they are sodium-free.

When beans and hominy are tender, combine into one large pot and add the butternut and acorn squash, and seasonings (salt, pepper, chile flakes, sage).  Simmer 15 minutes until squash is still firm but not hard. Add zucchini, red onions and green beans and simmer another 10 minutes or so until all are tender. Depending on preference, pieces can be left intact or mashed a bit. Add butter or margarine or oil, adjust seasonings. If too watery, add flour paste or cornstarch paste to thicken (let simmer another 3-5 minutes if doing this) or pureé a cup or two of the mix. If too dense, add more water. I prefer mine like a chowder but others may like it thinner.

More recipes in The Perfect Pantry:
Zuni corn soup
Everything-in-the-pantry bean soup