The Perfect Pantry

Dried peppers, in a savory romesco sauce

Imagine Laurel without Hardy, Wallace without Gromit, Carrie Bradshaw without Manolo Blahnik.

Unthinkable.

Burgers without buns? Mac without cheese?

Absolutely not.

The Perfect Pantry without dried chile peppers?

Never!

In fact, at this very moment, I have five -- no, six -- uh, seven varieties of dried chiles on hand, not including the peppers in the photo, which went into the recipe below. I've got habañero and the tiny piquin (pronounced pay KEEN), for pure fire. Ancho (smoked poblanos), chipotles (smoked jalapeños) and guajillo, not too hot, for smoky richness. Mulato, dark brown, sweet and a bit fruity, medium hot. Sanaam, small and red, used in Indian cooking (I'm just starting to experiment with these). And, of course, New Mexico red chiles, medium hot and all-purpose.

Chile peppers, native to Central and South America and the Caribbean, are an excellent source of Vitamins A and C. The kick comes from capsaicin, a chemical found in the seeds, ribs and skin. Capsaicin stimulates digestion and circulation, which helps the body perspire and cool. It also "tickles" the taste buds, which explains its popularity in almost every culinary tradition.

Dried chiles are not merely peppers left out on the counter too long; they have their own taste, usually more rich and concentrated than fresh chiles. The heat in the pepper also concentrates as it dries. And the general rule applies: the smaller the pepper, the hotter it is.

When working with peppers, wear rubber gloves or coat your hands with vegetable oil. To tone down the heat of a pepper, cut it open and remove the seeds and the white ribs. Then, wash your hands carefully, and don't rub your eyes. (Do this once, and believe me, you'll never do it again.)

Dried chiles will keep almost indefinitely in the pantry. Store them in a dark, dust-free place. If you're drying your own, make sure they are totally and absolutely dry before you store them, or you will create a happy environment for mold. I usually keep mine in glass jars, so I can see what's what.

Most recipes call for dried chiles to be toasted in a dry pan or on a griddle, then soaked in water to soften, and ground or blended into a sauce. Toasting enhances the flavor; for milder sauces, the peppers are soaked or cooked and allowed to steep in boiling water, without toasting. Remove the seeds and ribs before toasting, so that after the chiles are toasted, they're ready to be ground right away.

With a pantry full of dried chiles, you're ready to take on red chile enchiladas, pinto bean chili, turkey mole, or a big old bowl of red. You can even custom-blend your own chili powder or nam prik pao, which would make a great gift for the chile-head in your life.

SHRIMP WITH ROMESCO SAUCE
A traditional tapa, this recipe, inspired by Penelope Casas' Tapas: The Little Dishes of Spain, also makes a great sauce for pasta or saffron rice. Ximena sent me the lovely ñoras in the photo -- which are quite mild -- from Madrid. If you can't find them in your local market, substitute New Mexico dried red chiles. Serves 6.

1 large ripe tomato
5 cloves garlic, peeled
2 ñoras or New Mexico dried peppers
1/4 tsp crushed red pepper (hot or mild, your choice)
1/2 cup water
3 Tbsp plus 1 tsp red wine vinegar
1/2 cup plus 1 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1/4-inch slice from a long crusty loaf of bread
10 blanched almonds
Kosher or sea salt
Ground black pepper

1-1/4 lb medium (31-40 size) or large (26-30 size) shrimp, peeled and deveined

To make the sauce, roast the tomato and garlic in an ungreased roasting pan at 350°F for 30 minutes. Place the dried red peppers in a sauce pan with the water and 3 Tbsp of vinegar. Bring to a boil, cover, and simmer for 5 minutes.

Heat 1 Tbsp of the oil in a small skillet and fry the bread until golden on both sides. Transfer to a food processor. In the same oil fry the almonds until golden and add to the processor, along with the boiled red peppers, crushed red pepper, garlic and tomato. With the motor running, pour in gradually the remaining 1/2 cup of olive oil, plus the remaining vinegar, salt and pepper. Strain through a mesh strainer. Taste for seasoning, adjust as needed, and place in a serving bowl. Set aside.

Bring a small amount of water to a boil in a sauce pan, and cook shrimp for 2 minutes until just done. Cool, and serve with the sauce at room temperature. Or combine shrimp and sauce, and serve over pasta or rice.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Mushrooms and pepper in puff pastry
Pueblo vegetable stew
White chili
Slow-cooked beef and green chile stew
Spicy turkey rolls

 

Discos, for goat cheese-olive empanadas

I'm ready to sell our little log house, and move back to the city.

I'm ready to give up my herb garden, the one right outside the kitchen door.

I'm ready to say goodbye to my wonderful kitchen with -- finally -- enough counter space, and to the fire pit Ted built so we could cook paella and toast marshmallows for s'mores.

I'm ready to live without my beloved screened porch, the site of winter grilling and summer aioli-making, with a table that seats 12, or 14, or sometimes 16.

I'm ready to give it all up, to live closer to a supermarket that carries Goya frozen foods.

Not even all Goya foods.

Just one.

Discos.

Wait... you haven't tried them?

Neither had I, until Ted discovered discos one day at Foodie's, the best little market in Boston.

Just what they seem to be, discos are rounds of flaky pastry, ready to be turned into any variety of empanadas or tiny fruit-filled galettes or apple turnovers or savory pizzettas at a moment's notice.

Discos come in packs of 10, in white or yellow dough, each 5-inch 120-calorie pastry round separated by a piece of plastic wrap. Store discos in the freezer, and defrost at room temperature for at least 20 minutes before using. Or, cut open one side of the package and put in the microwave on defrost for 10 seconds at a time, just until you can separate the circles; then, let the dough sit at room temperature for 10 minutes or so and they are ready to handle.

Life doesn't get any easier than this.

GOAT CHEESE AND OLIVE EMPANADAS
Almost anything can go into an empanada! This filling makes 10.

1 package discos
1/3 cup pitted black olives, finely chopped
6 oz fresh soft goat cheese
1 garlic clove, crushed in a garlic press or mashed to a paste with coarse salt
1/2 tsp olive oil
Salt and black pepper to taste
1 egg beaten with 1 tsp water

Remove discos from the freezer and set on the countertop to soften. Meanwhile, mix olives, cheese, garlic, oil, salt and pepper to make the filling. In a small bowl, beat the egg and set aside.

Preheat oven to 425°F. Line a rimmed baking sheet with a Silpat (silicone liner) or parchment paper. Place a small bowl of cold water on your work surface.

Set out one disco. Place a heaping Tbsp of filling in the center. Wet your finger and run it around the edge of the disco. Fold the dough over to make a half-moon shape. Press the edges to seal, then take a fork and press into the dough all around the folded edge. Place the empanada on the baking sheet. Make the remaining empanadas, then paint each with a bit of the egg wash.

Bake in the middle of the oven for 11 minutes or until lightly browned. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Vegetable potstickers
Curried chicken wontons
Empanaditas
Asparagus gruyere tart
Double strawberry tartlets

 

Herbes de Provence, and marinated bocconcini

Who was more ingenious, the Provençal cook who first tossed together a few herbs growing on a hillside and gave it a fancy-sounding name -- herbes de Provence -- or the person who thought to market those herbs in an adorable ceramic crock ?

(You have one of those iconic little crocks on your spice rack, don't you? Me, too.)

Herbes de Provence is a bit of a free-wheeling spice blend. Like garam masala, the blend will vary with each cook, and from recipe to recipe in the cook's kitchen.

Depending on who's doing the blending, herbes de Provence might contain thyme, basil, summer savory, fennel seed and lavender flowers, which is what's in the crock in my pantry. If you purchase from Penzeys, you'll get a mix of rosemary, cracked fennel, thyme, savory, basil, tarragon, dill weed, Turkish oregano, lavender, chervil and marjoram. More complex flavor, but no crock.

The common components, spices that grow wild or are cultivated in the south of France and are harvested in the heat of the summer sun, include bay leaf, thyme, fennel, rosemary, chervil, oregano, summer savory, tarragon, mint and marjoram. Orange zest and/or lavender also make an appearance in many versions of the herbes.

If you don't live in France, you've probably purchased a crock of herbes de Provence to make one or two recipes, and because the ceramic pot is so cute, it's remained on your spice rack even though you don't use the contents very often.

So, get your crock out -- here are ten things to do with herbes de Provence:

1. Mix with olive oil and rub on chicken before roasting or stewing.
2. Add a pinch to scrambled eggs or mushroom-filled crepes.
3. Sprinkle a pinch or two on hot coals before grilling.
4. Add a pinch to a vinaigrette.
5. Mix with oil, salt and pepper, and drizzle on garden-fresh sliced tomatoes.
6. Put two parts mayonnaise and one part Dijon mustard in a bowl with a sprinkling of herbes de Provence. Stir together, thin with a bit of champagne vinegar, and use to season potato salad.
7. Make a paste with butter, and smear under and over the skin of a turkey breast before roasting in the oven.
8. Marinate boneless, butterflied leg of lamb in a mix of yogurt, garlic, and herbes de Provence.
9. Rub fillets of fish with olive oil, season with salt, pepper and herbes de Provence, top with a slice of lemon, and seal in a parchment paper pouch. Bake in the oven or steam over a pot of water.
10. Toss with roasted vegetables.

Though my climate zone is far from Provence, many of the traditional Provençal herbs grow well in my garden. I don't have great success with dill or chervil, mostly because they insist upon going to seed before I remember to cut them back, but I get a healthy crop of most of the other herbs every season. In the Fall, when I remember to do it, I dry them on a contraption Ted made for me out of an old screen window.

Maybe I could market my own herb blend.

Herbes de Rhody.

Coming to a farmers' market near you, maybe, some day. Just as soon as I save up enough little crocks.

BOCCONCINI IN OLIVE OIL
Inspired by a recipe in Patricia Wells'  Bistro Cooking, this is a wonderful recipe to make for hostess gifts or summer picnics. Find some pretty jars for packaging, and be sure to make at least one week ahead. The original recipe calls for a semisoft goat cheese, such as Montrachet, but I love to make this with the mini mozzarella balls you find at the supermarket salad bar.

12 oz bocconcini (small mozzarella balls)
1 tsp herbes de Provence
4 bay leaves
12 black peppercorns, slightly crushed (place them in a plastic bag, and hit with a frying pan)
1 to 1-1/2 cups fruity extra virgin olive oil

Place first four ingredients in a jar, and cover with oil. Close securely, and store in a cool place for at least one week and up to a month. I usually store mine in the refrigerator, and bring it up to room temperature before serving. Serve the cheese with crusty bread, and drizzle with a bit of the oil.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Mediterranean red snapper
Honey-roasted beets
Deviled eggs
Roasted fennel with potatoes and onions

 

Cumin, in spicy pinto bean ravioli

Spices That Make Your Food Sing Week, Day Three.

If cumin really could make your food sing, what tune would it choose?

A bit of Mexican mariachi?

Native American pow-wow?

Spanish flamenco?

Or would your cumin groove to a Bollywood beat?

More than most seasonings -- except salt and pepper --  cumin plays a key role in the cuisine of so many regions that it's impossible to imagine a pantry (or a music collection) without it.

On its own or in spice blends like panch phoron or garam masala from India, Persian baharat or Ethiopian berbere, cumin adds a familiar husky-musky quality, the taste your taste buds identify as the dominant flavor in many ethnic cuisines.

Cumin (comino in Spanish; kuming in Chinese; jinten in Indonesian; and cumin du Maroc or faux anis in French) is the seed of an herbaceous annual in the parsley family, native to only one place — the Nile River Valley in Egypt — and cultivated in India, China, North Africa, the eastern Mediterranean (especially Iran), and the Americas. It resembles the elongated and striated caraway seed, which is in the same plant family.

I keep both whole cumin seeds and ground cumin in my pantry; I buy in bulk from Penzeys, or from an Indian market when I'm lucky enough to get to one, and store most in the freezer, with a just a small amount on my spice rack. (Freezing extends the shelf life of many spices.) Whole seeds are often used in Indian cooking, or sprinkled on breadsticks and flatbreads; ground cumin features in the cooking of Mexico and the Mediterranean.

Chewing on cumin seeds can be an effective treatment for indigestion and morning sickness. In ancient Egypt, cumin was used to mummify pharoahs; in Roman times, students used cumin to give their complexions a more pallid look, the better to convince teachers they had been up all night studying!

More important to cooks, cumin is said to stimulate the appetite, with its naturally spicy-sweet pungency. Test the theory for yourself -- create your own world tour with cumin-spiced foods. Start in North Africa, head east to Persia, then on to India, Malaysia, South America, Mexico, and back to the Southwest United States.

And don't forget to load up your iPod, because food seasoned with cumin really does sing.

SPICY PINTO BEAN RAVIOLI
The filling, adapted from Foods of the Southwest Indian Nations, by Lois Ellen Frank, can be made ahead and stored in the refrigerator for a couple of days. It would be great in burritos or tacos, too. If you don't have a slow cooker, remember to soak the beans the night before you're ready to cook. Serves 4-6 as an appetizer.

2 cups dried pinto beans
1 tsp dried oregano
1 tsp ground cumin
4 cloves garlic, unpeeled
1 small onion, chopped
1/4 cup vegetable oil
1 Tbsp red chile powder
1 tsp kosher salt
24 wonton skins

Cook the beans: Pick through the beans to remove any stones or broken bits, and place in a slow cooker with water to cover; set on LOW and cook for 18 hours. Or, soak the beans overnight in cool water to cover. The next day, drain, rinse with cold water, and place in a pot with fresh water to cover by 2 inches. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce to simmer and cook for two hours or until the beans are soft and the skins begin to split, adding water if necessary to keep the beans from burning and sticking to the pot. Remove from heat; drain, but reserve the bean cooking liquid.

Toast the oregano and cumin in a dry sauté pan over medium heat until lightly browned and aromatic. Remove from the pan and set aside. In the same pan, add the unpeeled garlic, and roast over medium heat until it is soft and blackened in spots. Let cool, then peel and mash with a knife.

In a saucepan, sauté the onion in 1 Tbsp of the oil over moderate heat until it is lightly browned. Reduce the heat to low, add the garlic, and cook for 30 seconds. Add the oregano, cumin, red chile powder, salt, beans, and just enough of the bean water to cover, about 2-3 cups. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 30 minutes.

Pureé the beans with an immersion blender, or in batches in a food processor, until smooth.

In a cast-iron skillet, heat the remaining oil over high heat to its smoking point (make sure you have a fan or ventilator running!). Add the bean pureé and stir for 1 minute. Lower the heat to medium, and cook for 5 minutes, stirring frequently, until the bean pureé turns into a medium paste. It will thicken as it cools.

To make the ravioli: Bring a large pot of water to a boil. In the meantime, place 12 wonton skins on your countertop. Place a teaspoon of bean filling in the center of each wonton. With a small brush or the tip of your finger, paint the edges of the wonton skins with water. Top each with another wonton skin, and press tightly to form a seal. (At this point, you can freeze for future use.) When the water has boiled, reduce the heat to low, add the ravioli, and cook until they float on top of the water. Serve with your favorite salsa.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Hominy and cactus soup
Cocoa-cumin-allspice rub
Floribean chicken chili
Muhammara
Saag paneer
Lemon-onion hummus
Egg curry
Pueblo vegetable stew

Phyllo shells, for one-bite vegetable quiche

Does your house sometimes feel like a bed-and-breakfast inn, with a steady stream of guests coming and going?

When you live in a log house in the woods, with a great kitchen and a fireplace and a big screened porch and indoor plumbing, you get plenty of company. (Yes, people ask. Do we need sleeping bags? Do you have towels? Should we bring flashlights? I remind them that, even out here in the woods, we have a dishwasher and DSL.)

If you're me, you love having people come to visit. Of course, if you're me, you don't bake, so you're always on the lookout for ingredients to keep in the pantry for easy entertaining.

When it comes to pastry, I'm all thumbs. Forget making it from scratch; even a store-bought pie dough becomes silly putty in my hands. However, a bit of pastry can dress up almost anything, from scrambled eggs to hummus to leftover Chinese food, so I stash a few boxes of phyllo shells in the freezer.

Phyllo (pronounced FEE-lo, from the Greek word meaning "leaf", but also spelled fillo or filo) is paper-thin dough made from flour and water, layered with oil or melted butter. Phyllo originated in Turkey, and while it features in the cuisines of many Mediterranean and Balkan countries -- dishes like strudel, spanakopita and baklava -- it can be used to envelop chicken, lamb, asparagus, figs and cheese, butterscotch, or pears.

Any filling you'd use with sheets of phyllo dough will work with these pre-formed shells, which, at one-and-a-half inches in diameter, hold one bite's worth of anything sweet or savory. Use the pre-baked shells as is, defrosted and filled with a bit of ice cream or fruit or tuna salad. Or fill the frozen shells with a savory custard or leftover mashed potatoes, pop them into the oven, and bake for 12-14 minutes.

Whether you actually operate a bed-and-breakfast inn, or love to have company in your home, you can find recipes, tips and inspiration in a brand new blog: Inn Cuisine, the brainchild of Sandie, a Kansas City-based business writer, mother of three, and lover of bed-and-breakfast establishments.

I've "adopted" Sandie through the wonderful Adopt-a-Blogger program created by Dine and Dish to match experienced bloggers with those who've joined the food blogging community more recently. My role is to help my adoptee in any way I can, with advice and technical support (actually, she knows more than I do), and by introducing her blog to you.

When I first heard from Sandie, she hadn't yet launched Inn Cuisine. So I've been able to watch this blog grow from the very beginning. It's been so much fun to see her vision take shape, and to participate in the brainstorming process. We even had a kind of Vulcan mind-meld moment late one night, when we both thought of the same blog name at the same time.

Inn Cuisine will introduce you to innkeepers and their B&Bs, to wonderful afternoon teas and sumptuous breakfasts. A resource for travelers, cooks and proprietors, Inn Cuisine celebrates the hospitality and graciousness of the B&B experience.

Please pop over to Inn Cuisine, leave a comment, and visit often. Check out Sandie's recent series of posts about tea, crepes and honey. If, like me, you've always been a bit afraid of crepes, you'll love her step-by-step photos and instructions.

ONE-BITE VEGETABLE QUICHE
Irresistible, flexible, fast and easy! Each box of phyllo shells makes 15 miniature quiches, perfect for entertaining and for A Taste of Yellow 2008, supporting cancer survivors and their families. This recipe is for my courageous friends (and frequent house guests) Joyce and Fred.

1 package mini phyllo shells
1 large egg
1 tsp olive oil
1 Tbsp minced onion or shallot
1 Tbsp minced red bell pepper
1 Tbsp minced zucchini
Pinch of minced fresh thyme
Pinch of minced fresh parsley or chives
Kosher salt and black pepper or piment d'Espelette, to taste

Remove the shells from the package and place on a baking sheet lined with a Silpat or parchment paper.

Preheat oven to 375°F. In a small bowl, scramble the egg and set aside.

In a small nonstick frying pan, heat the oil. Add onion, bell pepper, and zucchini, and sauté for 2 minutes, until the vegetables are slightly cooked. Remove from heat, allow to cool for one minute, stir in the herbs, and add the mixture to the egg. Season with salt and pepper. Fill the shells with the egg mixture. Bake for 12-14 minutes, until egg is set. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Tyropita
Teeny tiny lime tarts
Elaine's lemon curd

Aleppo pepper, in walnut and pomegranate paste

This week we're cooking with pantry items from one of my favorite regions, the Eastern Mediterranean. Welcome to Fertile Crescent Week, Day One.

People in Boston -- home of the Kennedys, Parker House rolls, and some very smart folks at the World's Greatest University -- associate the word Aleppo not with northern Syria or caravanserais, but with large men in tiny cars and red fez hats, doing crazy-eights in the middle of the street.

Boston is home to the Aleppo Shriners, a fraternal order founded in 1882, part of a national organization that supports Shriners Hospitals for Children and specialized burn centers around the country.

Like Shriners everywhere, they are parade entertainers par excellence.

Yes, they can drive, but I wonder... do they cook?

And do they use Aleppo pepper?

Until recently, I didn't. Oh, I'd read about it in cooking magazines, and seen it on some trendy restaurant menus, but I already had so many peppers in my pantry. Did I really need another one?

After several Pantry readers pointed out the gap in my spice rack, I tried Aleppo pepper, and I fell in love.

Native to Northern Syria and Turkey, Aleppo (also known as halaby) peppers are sun-dried, seeded and crushed into small flakes. The pepper is a deep red, almost eggplant, color with a high oil content; the flavor is mildly spicy and fruity, with a hint of smokiness. You can substitute red pepper flakes plus a bit of cumin to approximate the flavor, or use ground ancho chile plus a pinch of cayenne or sweet paprika plus a bit of cayenne.

Aleppo pepper will add richness to many dishes, from butternut gratin to flatbreads with spiced chicken, lentil soup to lamb kibbeh, bulgur pilaf to collard greens. Mix it into egg salad, or sprinkle it on pizza.

Now that I've got it, what else can I do with Aleppo pepper? What do you make with it?

MUHAMMARA
This walnut and pomegranate paste is a stunning deep-red color, and the flavor is rich and mildly hot. Use it as a dip or spread, with bread or grilled fish or chicken. Recipe from The New Book of Middle Eastern Food, by the incomparable Claudia Roden. Serves 6-8.

1-1/4 cups shelled walnuts
1-1/2 to 2 Tbsp tomato paste
1 slice whole wheat bread, crust removed, lightly toasted
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
2 Tbsp pomegranate molasses
1 tsp Aleppo pepper (or a pinch of mild chile pepper)
1 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp sugar
Kosher salt, to taste

Blend all ingredients to a rough (not too smooth) paste in the food processor.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Mushrooms and peppers in puff pastry
White chili
South End Deep Root Chili

Panko, chicken fingers

I'm the same age, give or take a couple of months, as Peeps and Swanson TV Dinners, but I'm forty years older than panko.

Neither a dance, nor an exercise regimen, nor very cool drum-beating music, panko are the Japanese bread crumbs that have taken Western cooking by storm over the past five years or so. More coarse than traditional dried bread crumbs, panko are really bread flakes; the flakes absorb less moisture and, therefore, food made with them stays more crisp.

There are two main types of panko: white and brown. The white is made from bread without the crusts, and the brown includes the whole loaf. Last time I shopped in my local Asian market, I found this honey panko, which is not really sweet but is definitely more flavorful. The bag says "A Good Bargain," and at just $1.59 for a 12-ounce bag, I have to agree.

Once you've opened the package, store unused panko in a ziploc bag, in the cupboard. Don't freeze panko, as it will absorb moisture and become a bit gloppy. If that does happen, use it in meatloaf, but not as a crust. When a recipe calls for panko, you can substitute cracker crumbs, which are lighter than traditional dried bread crumbs.

Panko makes a great addition to stuffed mushrooms and salmon cakes, or a crispy crust for soft-shell crabs, daikon cakes and mac-and-cheese. 

P.S.: Last week I had a play date in my friend Bob's photography studio, which explains why my panko looks like a movie star today!

CHICKEN FINGERS
Just in time for the big football game (it's big, if you're from New England), here's an easy appetizer. Serves 4; can be doubled or tripled or more.

1-1/4 cup panko
2 Tbsp mayonnaise
1 Tbsp Dijon mustard
Few drops of Tabasco or other hot sauce, to taste
Drop of agave nectar, to taste
Black pepper, to taste
1-1/4 lb boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut lengthwise into 1-inch strips
Spicy ketchup or honey mustard (store-bought or homemade), for dipping

Preheat the broiler, and line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a Silpat. Place panko in a pie plate or other flat rimmed bowl. In a mixing bowl, combine mayonnaise, Dijon mustard, hot sauce, agave nectar and black pepper, and stir. Dip the chicken strips into the mayonnaise mixture, and then roll them in the panko, pressing lightly to make sure the crumbs adhere. Place on the baking sheet, and cook under the broiler, turning once, for a total of 6-10 minutes, until the chicken is cooked through and the panko is browned. Serve with your choice of dipping sauce.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Sicilian-style spaghetti
Jennifer's Criminal Crab Cakes
Peppery egg noodles, farmer's cheese and cauliflower gratin
Turkey meatloaf with fig gravy

Chili paste with garlic, spicy chicken balls

With the new year comes wisdom, and, at last, I have an answer to the question of the ages:

What's your favorite pantry item?

Oh. You were expecting another question. Something along the lines of what is the meaning of life? Why is the Earth round? Why did the chicken cross the road?

Here in The Perfect Pantry, I'm often asked about my favorite pantry item. So here it is, my favorite, the one thing I'd choose if I had to choose just one thing.

Chili paste with garlic.

Even as I write this, I'm mentally checking the pantry shelf. I know I have at least three jars -- a kind of chili paste security blanket -- plus the open jar in the refrigerator. Whew. Enough.

Now, I know you're thinking that salt, or sugar, or flour would be more likely choices for a favorite ingredient. Perhaps, but with one teaspoonful of chili paste, I can elevate any soup or stir-fry to something pleasantly warm, or downright incendiary. Who needs salt when you can have heat?

Chili paste with garlic contains mashed chile peppers, salt, soybean oil and garlic. It looks similar to sambal oelek, which is also mashed chile peppers, occasionally with salt, lime or vinegar added. The soybean oil in the chili paste with garlic gives it a bit thicker consistency than a sauce. Store it, unopened, at room temperature; refrigerate after opening, for up to one year. When you first open the jar, stir it well to redistribute the oil that has settled on the top.

I've written before about Lydia's Spicy Trinity (named after the famous Cajun trinity of onion, celery and bell pepper), which is my all-purpose seasoning combination for all manner of stir-fry dishes:

3 parts Kikkoman reduced-sodium soy sauce
2 parts oyster-flavored sauce
1 part chili paste with garlic (I am partial to the Lan Chi brand, available in Asian markets or online)

I love marinating half a dozen chicken breasts in a quarter of a cup of Spicy Trinity diluted with a bit of water, with a handful of sliced scallions added. Seal all ingredients in a ziploc bag, massaging occasionally, for four hours or overnight, and cook on the grill or under a broiler. Slice, and serve atop a bowl of noodles. Or, try chili paste with garlic in deviled eggs, mussels, spicy eggplant or Chinese hot pot.

The number of condiments -- Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, Indian -- that are called some variation of chili/garlic/sauce/paste is mind-boggling. The key difference seems to be the presence or absence of vinegar. Chili paste with garlic has no vinegar, so any similar sauce or paste or sambal (or even harissa or red pepper flakes) can stand in for it, though the taste and texture will never be exactly the same.

SPICY CHICKEN BALLS
An easy and unusual appetizer. Makes 24-30; can be doubled.

1 lb ground chicken
1/2 cup fresh breadcrumbs (make in the food processor from a couple of slices of good country white bread)
2 scallions, diced
1-1/2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 cup chopped parsley or cilantro
1-1/2 tsp chili paste with garlic
1/2 tsp low-sodium soy sauce
Peanut oil, for frying

Mix chicken and bread crumbs in a bowl. Add scallions, coriander, parsley, chili paste and soy sauce, and mix well. Using damp hands, form mixture into evenly shaped bite-size balls.

EITHER heat oil in a frying pan and fry until browned all over, or place directly on a baking sheet and bake at 400°F until cooked through (10-15 minutes). If you skip the frying, the chicken balls will not be as crusty on the outside, but will have slightly less fat. Good either way. Serve with toothpicks, or wrapped in lettuce leaves.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Spicy turkey rolls
Braised fish, Tunisian style
Rotini with spicy meat sauce
Pumpkin stew

Pie crust, empanaditas

When I was born, my parents took inventory.

Ten fingers. Ten toes. Eyes, ears, nose.

DNA. RNA. PIE.

Wait a second. PIE?

Right away, my parents sensed that something was missing -- the PIE gene, the one that governs the ability to bake fruit pies, cream pies, sweet or savory lattice-covered perfectly-crimped-edges pies.

After extensive testing, the diagnosis was confirmed; indeed, I lacked the pie gene. Oh, I could make a tasty enough filling, but when it came to marrying filling to pastry, I couldn't quite pull it together. I'd always forget an ingredient, or my pie would look great, but the bottom disintegrated. Or the filling escaped from a hole I didn't create.

For years I suffered the indignity of never being asked to bring dessert to a party or potluck. And when I entertained, I would pooh-pooh pie, telling my guests that I just wasn't in the mood to bake, or that I really preferred ice cream or a fruit salad.

And then, in the refrigerator aisle of my local market, right next to Paul Newman's lemonade, I found help for my affliction. Pie crust, ready to unroll and bake!

Could it be that simple? Yes, it could.

Refrigerated pie crust does have a down side; it contains saturated fat that comes from partially hydrogenated lard, as well as both yellow and red food dyes, to which some people are allergic.

On the up side, it's easy to use, delicious, flaky, and freezeable either before or after baking, for up to two months.

From quiche to crostata, cherry tarts to chicken pot pie to chocolate fudge pie, refrigerated pie crust makes it easy to turn the everyday into something elegant.

EMPANADITAS
Great for entertaining; make these ahead of time and freeze, uncooked, in layers separated by wax paper. No need to defrost before baking. [Note: you will have half of the picadillo filling left over. Freeze it for future use, or make a quick lunch of quesadillas with picadillo and cheese filling tomorrow.] Makes 20-24.

1 package Pillsbury ready-made pie dough (2 crusts)
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 medium onion, peeled and diced
1 large green bell pepper, diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb extra lean ground beef
1/4 cup tomato sauce
1/4 cup sliced, stuffed green olives
1/4 cup raisins
1 Tbsp capers
2 Tbsp white vinegar
1/4 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1 egg (for egg wash prior to baking)

Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium heat. Sauté onion and green pepper until the onion is translucent, about 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook 2 minutes more. Add the beef and break it up well. Stir in the remaining ingredients, reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 20 minutes or until a good, thick consistency.

Preheat oven to 425°F. Roll out dough to 1/8-inch thick, and cut with a 3-inch cookie cutter or empty can. Place a teaspoon of filling in the center of each round. Paint the edges of the pastry with water, and fold the round in half. Seal with the tines of a fork. Place on a nonstick baking sheet (or Silpat, or parchment paper, on a regular baking sheet). Brush with egg wash (one egg beaten with one Tbsp water). Bake for 10-12 minutes or until golden brown.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Sweet potato pie
Not-just-for-Thanksgiving pumpkin pie
Chocolate outrageous pie
Apple tart for non-bakers
Old fashioned apple pie

Photo from our archives.

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Menu for Hope. Three days left -- and already we've raised more than $33,000 for the UN World Food Program!

For each $10 donation you can earn one virtual raffle ticket good for hundreds of food-related prizes including autographed cookbooks, cooking classes, gourmet foods, restaurant gift certificates, and our own terrific prize, offered with Rhode Island Market Tours:

Item #UE12. Two tickets to SHOPPING FEDERAL HILL: AN INSIDER'S FOOD TOUR, a three-hour walking tour of Providence, Rhode Island's, most famous Italian food neighborhood. Taste your way through "The Hill" as Cindy Salvato, an executive pastry chef and cooking instructor, takes you behind the scenes and into market and bakery kitchens, sampling bread, cheese, antipasto and vino along the way. Good for any scheduled tour before December 31, 2008 (tours run on Saturdays and some weekdays, throughout the year); tickets are transferable but not refundable. This $90 value can be yours for $10 (hint, hint: the more tickets you buy, the more chances you have to win).

This walking tour is great fun -- and what better way to learn what should be in your own perfect pantry?! Cindy tells you which is the best pasta, which store has the best Parmigiano-Reggiano, where to buy the best pannetone, who has the prosciutto to die for. It's real insider stuff!

See the list of fabulous prizes here, then buy your raffle tickets here.

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Bake. Decorate. Donate. It's a simple idea. Bake some cookies. Invite friends, family, co-workers, or neighbors to help decorate. Donate your cookies to a local agency serving people in need, and "give back" while having fun. 

Planning a Drop In & Decorate event? Please let me know (lydia AT ninecooks DOT com) so we can share the fun.

To learn more about Drop In & Decorate Cookies for Donation, including how to host your own party, visit www.ninecooks.com; then stop in at A Veggie Venture, 37 Days, Culinary Types, Nikas Culinaria, Homesick Texan, Food Blogga, The Inadvertent Gardener, Jaden's Steamy Kitchen, La Mia Cucina, One Hot Stove, The Cooking Adventures of Chef Paz, French Kitchen in America, Veronica's Test Kitchen, Kelly the Culinarian, shawnkenney.com, Thyme for Cooking: The Blog, Chew on That, Nook & Pantry, Cookthink, Tea & Cookies, Mele Cotte, Cream Puffs in Venice, startcooking.com, Shazam in the Kitchen, The Family Quilt, The Daily Tiffin, Sticky, Gooey, Creamy, Chewy, The Budget Bambino, Baking and Books, What's for Lunch, Honey?, The Pink Hobart and Fun and Food.

Thank you, Slashfood and BlogHer. Thank you, Chow.com and Goodyblog and Woman's Day.

"Thank you and all your elves, helpers, cookers, decorators, delivery people…EVERYONE!!!!!!!!!!! who took part in your 6th Annual Drop In and Decorate!! The cookies are awesome, as usual, I tried to look at all the different ones (I only ate one!!) You didn’t bring any broken ones so I HAD too!  So many different ones this year; so creative! I really, really appreciate all the kind thoughts and special efforts everyone goes to for this holiday “cookie treat” to be such a wonderful success!" Nancy Johnston, Director of the Foster (RI) Food Pantry

Rice paper wrappers, salmon pesto potstickers

Sometimes, in the pantry, you've got to be ruthless.

Ted and I just designated for our upcoming yard sale an enormous platter with a turkey embossed on the bottom; we never use it for anything other than Thanksgiving turkey -- which we only make once every few years (and I think it was designed to hold a 25-pound bird). I'm also parting with a wok that's too big to fit on the stove (will we really use it on the fire pit some day?) and some of the extra whisks and spatulas I picked up at someone else's yard sale for almost nothing. And maybe a few springform pans, none of which seem to be exactly the right size for ... well ... anything.

When it comes to food in the pantry, I have a much harder time letting go. (The same can be said about cookbooks, but let's not go there.) So, as I travel through my pantry with you, looking carefully at each item and learning more about it, I've been asking myself, "Is this something I use in more than one way, in more than one dish, more than once a year?"

In the case of rice paper wrappers (banh trang), the answer is yes, yes and yes. Although associated almost exclusively with fresh Asian spring rolls (also called summer rolls or salad rolls), this ingredient passes the "more than one" test and earns its place on the pantry shelf.

Made from rice flour, salt and water, rice paper wrappers are flat, brittle, semi-transparent circles  that come in rounds from 6 to 14 inches in diameter, and also are available in quarter-rounds (shaped like little pie wedges). Sold in round plastic boxes, these noodles must be moistened in lukewarm water to make them pliable. Rice paper wrappers can keep forever in the pantry, but the older they are, the more likely they are to break or to tear when moistened.

Banh trang -- also called rice paper rounds or sheets -- have no flavor, so they are perfect carriers for any combination of taste and texture, from banana turnovers to apple strudel, to rolls filled with everything from smoked salmon to mango to swiss chard.

What do you wrap in rice paper wrappers?

SALMON AND ASIAN PESTO POTSTICKERS
Makes 20 two-bite appetizers.

For the pesto:
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1/2 cup cashews, chopped
Large bunch of cilantro, leaves only
Large bunch of Thai basil, leaves only
1/2 cup peanut oil
Sea salt, to taste

For the packages:
1-1/2 lb skinless salmon fillets
20 dry rice paper rounds, smallest available (preferably 6-inch size)
20 whole parsley or cilantro leaves
1 Tbsp peanut oil
Dipping sauce: your choice of sweet chili sauce, soy sauce or nuoc cham

Put all pesto ingredients in a small food processor and grind to a fairly smooth paste. Set aside.

Cut the salmon into 20 two-inch squares. Dip a rice paper wrapper in warm water to soften, and lay it flat on a clean dish towel. Put a parsley or cilantro leaf in the center, then top with a piece of salmon and a teaspoon of pesto. Fold up the sides of the wrapper to form a neat square (trim edges if wrapper is too big). The damp wrappers will stick closed. Place on a plate, seam side down (the pretty leaf will be facing up, visible through the rice paper). Repeat until all of the salmon and rice papers are used.

Heat peanut oil in a frying pan and cook the parcels, sealed side down, for 3 minutes until brown on the bottom. Transfer to a steamer set over boiling water and steam 4-6 minutes, OR add 1/2 cup water to the frying pan, cover, and turn the heat to simmer for 4-6 minutes. Check every couple of minutes to make sure there is still enough water in the pan to create steam. Serve hot, room temperature, or cold, with dipping sauce of your choice.

*** Note: The packages can be made ahead and fried ahead of time, covered with plastic wrap, and chilled. Steam when needed, or cook completely in advance and serve cold or at room temperature. You can also freeze the parcels before cooking.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Nime chow (fresh Vietnamese salad rolls) 
Vegetable dumplings

Parsley, tzatziki

Simon and Garfunkel would feel right at home in my herb garden.

I have it all: parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.

Can you see them in this photo?

I have lemon thyme and lemongrass, Thai basil and purple basil, chives and garlic chives too, but for some reason, I've never been able to grow dill.

Fresh herbs are an important part of The Perfect Pantry, even though they are only available from the garden for five months of the year. Of the four herbs of song, parsley will be first to go, as night temperatures begin their descent into winter. (Most of the tender basil has bid farewell for the year, though there is a fresh batch of pesto in the freezer.) It's a shame, too, because this year my parsley field produced the most glorious plants, rich in color and flavor, and, for the first time, I began to use my flat-leaf parsley not only as a garnish, but also as a valued ingredient in my cooking.

Fundamental to most cuisines of Europe and the Mediterranean area, parsley comes in two main varieties: curly, which we all know from its rampant overuse as a garnish; and flat-leaf, also called Italian or French parsley, which has the best flavor.

Rich in Vitamins A and C, and iron, parsley is a biennial herb related to celery; in fact, the word "parsley" derives from a Greek word meaning "rock celery." Native to the eastern Mediterranean region, it's cultivated in many parts of the world.  Parsley is essential to several basic sauces and garnishes, including chimichurri, gremolata, salsa verde, chermoula and persillade -- and, of course, to tabbouleh.

To store parsley, wash it and dry almost completely. Wrap the damp parsley in a paper towel, and put the bundle inside a ziploc bag. Stored that way, it will keep in the refrigerator for up to a week.

Parsley is one of those herbs I used to take for granted, but this year, when the last of the parsley succumbs to a hard frost, I will miss it.

TZATZIKI
This all-purpose yogurt sauce, adapted from a recipe our friend Greg taught to the #1 Cooking Group last night, is the perfect accompaniment to grilled lamb, chicken or salmon. It's the last hurrah for my herb garden, and a big hurrah for the two-year anniversary of one of the blog world's most enduring and endearing features, Weekend Herb Blogging, the brainchild of Kalyn's Kitchen. As the dill in my garden bolted ages ago, parsley, along with cucumbers, are the star of this show, with a bit of store-bought dill. Makes 2-1/2 cups.

2 cups plain whole-milk yogurt
1 small seedless (English) cucumber, unpeeled, or 1 regular cucumber, seeded
1 Tbsp plus 1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 cup sour cream
1 Tbsp white wine vinegar
Juice of 1 lemon
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 clove garlic, minced or grated
1 tsp minced fresh parsley
1/2 tsp minced fresh dill (or use more parsley, if there's no dill in your garden)
Pinch of freshly ground black pepper

Do ahead: Place yogurt in a cheesecloth-lined sieve and set it over a bowl. Grate the cucumber and toss with 1/2 teaspoon of salt; place in another sieve and set it over another bowl. Place both bowls in the refrigerator for 3 – 4 hours so the yogurt and cucumber can drain.

Transfer thickened yogurt to a large bowl. Squeeze as much liquid from the cucumber as you can, and add to the yogurt. Mix in remaining ingredients, and adjust seasonings to taste.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Frittata with broccoli and garden herbs
Vegetable paella with spicy garlic sauce
Pasta puttanesca
Tyropita (cheese-filled phyllo triangles)
French potato salad with basic vinaigrette

Chipotle peppers in adobo, vegetarian canapes

So, there I was, early this morning, driving along Bald Hill Road in Warwick, Rhode Island, which although called Route 2 is second to none in the trashiest-mall-lined-highway competition.

I was searching for a Dunkin' Donuts drive-through, so I wouldn't have to give up caffeine while I gave up an hour of my life waiting for the car to get its oil changed. At the intersection where I thought I'd find my iced coffee fix, however, I found something totally unexpected: a brand new Chipotle Mexican Grill.

First thought -- who moved my coffee???

Second thought -- will people around here know how to pronounce the name of that restaurant? No problem in California, where this chain of healthy-fast-food (although owned by McDonald's) restaurants began. But here in the Northeast, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard someone ask for chih-POLE-tees, I'd be able to afford a lifetime supply of chipotle peppers in adobo. Hmmm, maybe they should call the restaurant Adobo Mexican Grill.

Chipotles (chi-POTE-lays) originated in the area of Mexico north of what is now Mexico City. Also called chile ahumado, a chipotle is a smoked jalapeño pepper.  It's believed that the Aztecs smoked jalapeños to preserve them, because the peppers' thick skin inhibited the natural drying process.

Adobo, a sauce made of vinegar, tomatoes and garlic, further preserves the chipotles. The smoky, husky, tangy flavor of chipotles in adobo, or the adobo sauce on its own, make a fine enhancement for chili and stew. And the adobo is also a great kick-me-up for mayonnaise or marinade.

Oh. I know chipotle is misspelled on the can in my pantry, and yes, the señora looks like Frida Kahlo, or Salma Hayek. Maybe that's why I love these peppers.

VEGETARIAN CUBAN CANAPES
This fabulous appetizer, from Boston chef Julia Shanks, is a perennial favorite in my cooking classes. It's easy and unusual. Serves 8.

2 baguettes
1  cup mayonnaise
2 chipotle peppers in adobo, chopped, + 1 tsp adobo sauce
2 red onions, diced
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
2 tsp canola oil
4 cloves garlic, chopped
2 summer squash or zucchini, diced
2 carrots, diced
2 dill pickles, diced
1/2 lb Emmenthal cheese (or gruyere or Swiss), sliced

Preheat oven to 350°F. In a large bowl, combine mayo, chipotles, half of red onion, and cilantro. Set aside. Heat a large frying pan over high heat. Add oil, with the remaining onion and garlic. Cook 2 minutes. Add carrots and squash, cook 2-5 minutes, or until carrots are tender. You may need to add a bit more oil or water to keep vegetables from scorching. Meanwhile, slice bread and toast in oven. When veggies are cooked, remove from heat and stir in the pickles. To assemble: spread a spoonful of the mayo on each piece of toast. Top with veggie mixture, cover each piece of bread with a slice of cheese, and place on a sheet pan. Bake until cheese melts, about 4 minutes.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Spicy Sunday skirt steak
Bean dip with Maple Chipotle Grille Sauce 
Mushrooms and peppers in puff pastry
Mole Colorado

Tahini, traditional hummus

What's as thick as wallpaper paste, looks like tile grout, smells like a nut factory, and rhymes with teeny weeny yellow-polka-dot bikini?

Tahini, an essential component of both hummus and baba ghanoush, is an essential item in The Perfect Pantry. A paste made from sesame seeds, it's so much like homemade peanut butter that recipes often indicate you can substitute one for the other.

In commercial tahini production, sesame seeds are soaked in water for a day, then crushed to separate the bran from the kernels. The crushed seeds are put into salted water, where the bran sinks, but the kernels float and are skimmed off the surface. They are toasted, then ground to produce an oily paste. You can make tahini at home, using a much simpler method.

When you open the can or jar, you will see that the oil has separated and risen to the top. You must stir vigorously before using, just as though you were mixing the paint in a can, to even out the consistency.

Tahini sauce is a popular topping for falafel, and it's great on grilled chicken, on pizza, or in place of peanut butter in a PB-and-cucumber-filled pita or spread on a tomato sandwich. To turn tahini paste into tahini sauce, place a bit in a food processor, and slowly add additional olive oil until you achieve a pourable consistency. You can add a bit of lemon juice or yogurt, too. And some chopped parsley. And cayenne. And smoked paprika....

VERY TRADITIONAL HUMMUS
As traditional as it gets. Makes 4 cups.

3 cloves garlic, minced
4 Tbsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
2/3 cup tahini
2/3 cup water
4 cups canned chick peas, drained (reserve 1/4 cup liquid)
1 Tbsp ground cumin
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil (optional)
Paprika (optional, for garnish)

In a food processor fitted with a metal blade, process the garlic, lemon juice and tahini until a smooth paste. Add the water and chick peas, and continue to process until mixture is almost fluffy. Add some of the reserved chick pea liquid, if necessary. Season with the cumin. Transfer to a bowl. If desired, drizzle the oil over the top and swirl with a knife. Sprinkle with paprika.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Sesame seeds (Recipe: Za'atar)
Allspice (Recipe: Shish taouk)

Slow roasted tomatoes, tasty bruschetta

When my pantry was just a baby, it could hold everything I knew about cooking in a very small cupboard, on a single shelf.

In those days, before I discovered Asian condiments and imported pasta and sea salts and dried chile peppers and online spice merchants, the most adventurous thing in my pantry was a jar of sun-dried tomatoes, a gift from a friend who'd been to Italy -- or maybe just to Boston's most Italian neighborhood, the North End. I had no idea what to do with those shriveled-up tomatoes, but they looked exotic sitting in the jar, next to the more mundane black pepper and baking soda and dried oregano. It was many months before I began tossing one in here and there, in sauces and sautés.

It's been two years since I've had any sun-dried tomatoes in The Perfect Pantry, two years since I discovered something even more perfect: slow-roasted tomatoes, made in my very own oven, with herbs and garlic from my very own garden and meaty plum tomatoes from a farm up the road. I season my tomatoes with thyme, which is my all-purpose favorite herb, along with sea salt, pepper, garlic, and a lovely olive oil.

They're easy to make, easy to freeze, and easy to share with friends (nobody has ever turned down my gift of slow-roasted tomatoes!). The real gift, though, is to your cooking, especially in mid-winter when you can savor the burst of summer flavor while your garden is covered in snow. You can add some of these rich tomatoes, with their concentrated flavor, to hummus, pasta, savory tarts, salad dressing or soup.

A half-sheet pan (jelly-roll pan) holds five pounds of plum tomatoes, cut in half lengthwise. It sounds like a lot, but I'll make two or three pans each summer. And one of the best things about slow-roasted tomatoes is that, with five minutes of prep, you can create a pantry staple that will carry you through from one tomato season to the next.

SLOW-ROASTED TOMATO BRUSCHETTA
Too easy, and too delicious, here's what I'm bringing to La Festa al Fresco, a celebration of fresh foods of the season, hosted by Ivonne of Cream Puffs in Venice and Lis of La Mia Cucina. Serves 6-8 (makes 24 pieces).

1 baguette, sliced thinly on an angle (approx. 24 pieces)
1 large clove garlic, peeled but left whole
8 slow-roasted tomato halves
12 oz fresh mozzarella cheese, sliced into 24 pieces
24 small basil leaves
Very good balsamic vinegar, for drizzling
Coarse ground black pepper

Preheat broiler. Place bread slices on a sheet pan, and toast under the broiler for 1-2 minutes on each side (depending on the heat of your broiler -- in my infrared, it's a short minute from raw to charred), until lightly browned. Remove from the oven, and rub the bread on the top side with the garlic clove.

Chop the tomatoes coarsely, and spread evenly over the 24 pieces of bread. Top each with a slice of cheese, a basil leaf, a drizzling of balsamic vinegar, and some black pepper.

ALSO IN THE PERFECT PANTRY:
Roasted tomatoes (Recipe: Pasta with slow-roasted tomatoes)
Linguine, spaghetti (Recipe: Linguine with tomato-olive sauce)
Tomato paste (Recipe: My own meat sauce)

Sambal oelek, 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.

ALSO IN THE PERFECT PANTRY:
Chili paste with garlic (Recipe: Rotini with spicy meat sauce)
Harissa (Recipe: Braised fish, Tunisian style)

Szechuan peppercorns, salty 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.

ALSO IN THE PERFECT PANTRY:
Chinese five-spice powder (Recipe: Vegetable medley with five-spice dip)
Flavored sea salt, tips and spears (Recipe: Sirloin tips with asparagus)

Shrimp paste

A hard-boiled egg rolls under your refrigerator.

You forget about it.

(Would you really forget? I would. I did, once. Don't ask.)

A few days later, a foul smell begins to permeate the room, but you can't quite locate the source. You wonder what type of creature has died in the wall.

You hold your nose. You open the windows. You go out to eat, and hope the odor dissipates before you get home.

Now, ask me why I keep anything that smells like this in my pantry.

In many cuisines, you simply cannot achieve an authentic taste unless you use authentic ingredients. This is true of Asian cooking, Mexican cooking -- well, most cooking. When you taste a dish in a restaurant and then try to make it at home, substituting a little bit of this and that (regular soy for black soy, bell pepper for piquillo pepper), you wonder why the dish never tastes quite the same. Often "this or that" is the reason.

Shrimp paste is one of those authentic condiments that makes the difference between "real" and "sort-of-like" cooking.

When you first open the package, it smells like incredibly salty, old fish -- which it is. Called blachan, blacan, balachan, belacan, trassi, kapi or gapi, depending on country of origin and the whim of the transliteration, shrimp paste is made from fermented, tiny brine shrimp. The thick paste that forms as the shrimp are broken down (fermented) by salt is then ground up into a smoother paste and sun dried. It comes in slabs or blocks (usually labeled dried shrimp paste), or in a round jar with a tight-fitting lid. The lid is important for keeping that strong smell out of your refrigerator; this condiment can last almost indefinitely.

The amazing thing about shrimp paste, which is never eaten raw, is that once it's cooked, the flavor and odor mellow into a lovely background taste, much as anchovies melt into a sauce and provide a salty, nuanced undertone. In fact, if you don't have shrimp paste, you can substitute anchovy paste (milder) or some anchovies mashed with a tiny bit of water.

Use the real thing (easy to find in Asian markets or online here and here) to make really delicious Indonesian, Malaysian and Thai dishes, or this one from The Philippines, where shrimp paste is called bagoong.

Oh, and check under your fridge every now and then, just in case there's a stray egg rolling around.

SPICY PEANUT SAUCE
Somewhere in Malaysia, Ted and I and my cousin Martin went to a traditional roadside satay place, where satay is all they serve. There was a large wood-fired grill set up outside, with picnic tables surrounding it; you would eat and eat and at the end, they counted up the number of empty skewers on your table to calculate your bill. This peanut sauce, from Corinne Trang's The Asian Grill, comes closest to my memory of the peanut sauce served at that roadside stand. Makes 5 cups.

2 Tbsp vegetable oil
1-1/2 to 2 Tbsp red curry paste
1 Tbsp shrimp paste
1-1/2 cups unsalted roasted peanuts, finely ground
1/4 cup granulated sugar or palm sugar
2 cups unsweetened coconut milk
2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup tamarind concentrate*
3 Tbsp hoisin sauce
1/2 cup packed fresh Thai basil leaves, minced
1/2 cup packed fresh cilantro leaves, minced

In a saucepan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add the curry paste and stir-fry until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add the shrimp paste and continue to stir-fry until the shrimp paste is broekn up and one shade darker, about 1 minute. Add the peanuts and stir, roasting until two shades darker but not burnt, 8-10 minutes. Add the sugar and continue to stir-fry until the sugar is dissolved and starts to caramelize, 1-2 minutes. Add the coconut milk, chicken broth, tamarind concentrate and hoisin sauce. Reduce the heat to low and simmer the sauce until slightly thickened (look for a créme anglaise consistency), about 30 minutes. By that time, the natural oils from the peanuts should have surfaced. Turn off the heat and add the basil and cilantro. Cover and let cool. Store in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

*TO MAKE TAMARIND CONCENTRATE: Place a 16-oz package of tamarind pulp in a bowl and pour 2 cups of boiling water over it. Cover with a plate and allow the pulp to steam and soften for 30 minutes. With a fork, loosen the pulp in the hot water until thick and cloudy. Strain through a sieve set over a bowl, pressing on the pulp with the back of a large spoon. Discard the seeds and fibers. Transfer the concentrate to a jar. Cover and refrigerate for up to 1 week, or freeze in an ice cube tray for up to 3 months.

ALSO IN THE PERFECT PANTRY:
Galangal (Recipe: Opor manuk)
Roasted unsalted peanuts (Recipe: Tahu goreng)
Tamarind (Recipe: Pineapple shrimp curry)

Cannellini beans

Could there be a more "foods of the world" can in my pantry?

In Italian: cannellini beans. In Spanish, alubias.

Nowhere does it say white kidney beans, and yet I bought this at the market in my small town, which really is more of a white kidney bean kind of place.

Are canned beans just a convenience, a lesser substitute for dry beans? Yes, and no. Of course they are a convenience; when I've forgotten to pre-soak my dry beans, or just don't have enough time to cook, canned beans are right there in the pantry, ready for action. Mostly, though, I think of canned beans as an entirely different food product. In dishes that depend on the texture of the beans, I start with dry beans, soak them overnight, and cook them until just soft, but if I'm making a dish in which the beans will be smashed -- a dip, or soup, or salad, or bruschetta -- I prefer to start with canned beans.

Cannellini, so popular in Tuscany that the Tuscan people have been nicknamed mangiafagiole, or "beaneaters", originally were cultivated in Argentina, and now are grown in Greece, France and central Italy. During the 16th Century, due to Catherine de Medici's attempts to "refine" Italian cuisine, beans were seldom eaten except by the peasant class. However, because of their nutritious (high in fiber, iron, magnesium and folate) and economical benefits, beans slowly returned to favor in Italian cooking, and their popularity spread throughout the northern Mediterranean cuisines.

The mild-flavored cannellini bean, shaped like (and closely related to) a kidney bean, can be used interchangeably with Great Northern or navy beans in most recipes. You'll want to drain and rinse the beans, which will "refresh" them and remove any excess salt, though some recipes use a bit of the reserved liquid as a thickener. Canned beans are fully cooked, so should be added to most dishes close to the end of the cooking time.

I always have cannellini in the cupboard, for a quick pasta supper, an elegant white bean stew, a hearty bowl of baked beans, a flavorful dip for pita triangles or crudites, or a Big Fat Greek Salad.

NO-COOK SUMMER ANTIPASTO
Antipasto isn't an exact science; the more people you have, the more food you pile on the platter. Use your imagination and your painter's eye; combine colors and textures, and have plenty of good crusty bread on hand. Add meat and cheese, if you wish. This recipe -- more a method than a recipe -- is a pantry lover's dream. Serves 8-10.

Arrange on a platter, any way you wish, in a design or scattered as the base of the antipasto:

1 cup mesclun salad mix, or romaine lettuce
1-2 blood oranges or other seedless oranges, peeled and sliced crosswise
1 large red (sweet) pepper, cut into 1-inch chunks
1 large green pepper, cut into 1-inch chunks
2 large plum tomatoes (or other tomatoes, in season), cut into large chunks
1 large cucumber or English cuke, peeled, cut lengthwise,
    then into half-rounds
3-4 radishes, cut into chunks
2 stalks celery, cut into 1-inch pieces1 sweet white onion, sliced into half-rounds
1 fennel bulb (anise), sliced thin (save the leafy tops for garnish)

Make piles here and there of:

1 16-oz can black pitted olives (large or colossal)
6-oz jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained and quartered
1 3-3/8 oz jar green Spanish olives with red pimientos
1 8-1/4 oz can whole beets
1 3-oz can Italian tuna in oil
1 small can cannellini beans, drained

Make vinaigrette by placing in a jar with a tight-fitting lid:

1/4 cup vinegar (red wine or balsamic)
1/4 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Shake the dressing until well-mixed, and pour over the antipasto.

ALSO IN THE PERFECT PANTRY: