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

 

The (More) Perfect Pantry: What's out, what's in, and enchiladas

Last week I was talking to my BFF Joyce, who's been my BFF for 37 years, since before anyone used BFF, or IM, or a PDA or even a PC.

We are the kind of best friends forever who can admit to each other their worst sins, deepest fears, mortifying humiliations, unimaginable frustrations, and the occasional politically incorrect thought or George Clooney fantasy.

For the past few months, Joyce has been cleaning out her apartment. Cat-shredded furniture? Gone. Books so old the pages have fused together? Gone. Clothes that don't fit, phones that don't ring, cassettes for a long-abandoned tape player? Gone.

Old spices, older canned beans, mysterious frozen things in her pantry? Gone, gone, gone.

Yes, I confessed, I need to do that, too.

With the Table of Condiments That Periodically Go Bad in one hand, and this food storage chart in the other, and a flashlight in my third hand, and a copy of The Perfect Pantry database (hmm... is that geeky?) in my fourth hand, I set out to do a bit of pantry tune-up. The time had come to dig into the nooks and crannies of my spice rack, storage shelves, fridge and freezer.

The time had come to set some things free.

[I'm often asked about what's included in The Perfect Pantry. Each item must pass this test: it must be used as an ingredient; it must be something I use more than once; it must be either used in more than one way, or used in one way over and over again. So, while I always have Fresca, for example, you won't read about it here, but you might read about orange or pomegranate juice, because I use it in cooking.]

First, I packed for donation to our town's food pantry assorted jams, jellies, mustards, pasta, and other non-perishable souvenirs we've purchased but haven't managed to use in the past year.

Next, I looked for duplicates, and triplicates, and five-plicates (how much instant couscous do we need at one time, really?) and packed the extras for the food pantry, too.

I set aside all of the spices that are more than a year old, to test them for potency. Any spice in a jar so dusty that I can't see what's inside will likely be a candidate for the compost pile. I hope the deer and rabbits who feast on the composting table scraps appreciate a bit of seasoning with their food.

No surprise, but I found some items that no longer meet the test for inclusion in The Perfect Pantry. I'd kept them in my pantry, thinking I would use them more often, or more creatively.

These still have a place in the kitchen, but in a supporting or occasional role:

• Frozen artichoke hearts (haven't been making as much paella lately; for everything else, I prefer fresh artichokes)
• Sliced bread (I'm off most bread and on to oat-bran pitas, so I only keep frozen sliced bread for sandwiches for house guests)
• Maple-chipotle grill sauce (it was a fad)
• Cowboy ketchup (another fad)
• Curry leaves (can't find them very often)
• Dried galangal (a poor substitute for the fresh galangal rhizome)
• Fruit sherbet (other than stuffing it in lemons, or putting some on fruit salad, we eat it straight from the carton)
• Pickling spice (I have all of the individual components, and can mix my own)

Now there's room for some new things, like:

• Fino sherry
• Aji amarillo peppers
• Sweetened condensed milk

Best of all, I discovered, lurking in the recesses of the pantry, some ingredients that inspired me anew:

• Mexican chocolate: in chocolate pudding, maybe?
• Curry powder: a potato salad calls to me.
• Five-spice powder: a noodle salad calls to me.
• Frozen fruit: 'tis the season for fruit soups.
• Sherry vinegar: some panzanella variations?
• Chickpeas: I want to learn to love them. Truly love them.

The inventory in my more perfect pantry today stands at a slimmed-down 226 items.

Have you looked through your cupboards, spice rack, fridge and freezer lately?

What's out? What's in? What's new?


VEGETABLE ENCHILADAS
Adapted from the Stonewall Kitchen web site, this recipe will use the last of the Maple-Chipotle Grille Sauce in my pantry. If you don't have this, use your favorite sweet barbecue sauce. Serves 8.

1 tsp canola oil
1 small onion, diced
1 clove garlic, minced
2 cups zucchini, diced
1 cup red bell pepper, diced
1 can (4 oz) green chiles, diced
1 tsp ground cumin
1-1/2 cups fresh corn kernels
2 cups shredded Monterey Jack cheese (or this time saver from the supermarket)
1 bottle Maple Chipotle Grille Sauce (or 11 oz sweet barbecue sauce of your choice)
8 (8") flour tortillas, warmed for 10 seconds in the microwave until flexible

Preheat oven to 350°F.

In a frying pan, heat the oil over medium heat. Add onion and sauté for 1 minute. Then add the garlic, and cook for 30 seconds. Add zucchini and bell pepper, and cook for 3-4 minutes, until soft. Stir in 1 cup corn, plus the canned chiles and cumin.

Spread 1/2 cup Maple Chipotle Grille Sauce in the bottom of a 13"x9"x2" baking dish. Mix another half cup of sauce into the vegetables. Place generous 1/3 cup vegetable filling in the center of a tortilla. Sprinkle with cheese and roll to enclose the filling. Place seam side down in the baking dish. Repeat with remaining tortillas and filling. Cover enchiladas with remaining sauce. Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 cup corn and remaining shredded cheese. Bake until heated through and cheese is melted, 30-45 minutes. Serve hot.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Roasted halibut tacos with mango salsa
Smoky chipotle balsamic salad dressing

 

Almonds, for Señora Gonzales' mole colorado

Though I've been writing The Perfect Pantry for two years, and have adopted two blogs, and managed to figure out (stumbled upon, really) a few truths about what makes a blog work, I'm always surprised when new or would-be bloggers seek my advice.

The key to a successful blog, I tell them, is to keep a sharp focus and stay on topic.

Don't get sidetracked on stories about New Year's Eve in Mexico, I tell them, when you really mean to write about almonds.

Good advice. And yet...

You already know a lot about almonds: that they are one of the world's healthiest foods, high in antioxidants and Vitamin E, and may help lower LDL (the bad cholesterol) and control blood sugar; that they're related to roses, but commercial growers graft the rootstock onto peach trees; that Spanish missionaries brought almonds to California, which is the only state in the US to produce them.

You probably know, too, that almonds taste great in everything from rhubarb sponge cake to chicken with almonds and green olives, to chocolate almond buttercrunch toffee.

What you don't know is how Ted and Cousin Martin and I spent New Year's Eve in 1992.

Five thousand feet up in the mountains of Central Mexico, Oaxaca is one of those magical places where anything can happen. In our dusty rented Volkswagen Beetle, we drove to the small village of Tlacolula, an hour outside the city, because we’d heard there was a special celebration to usher in the new year. All of the villagers parade through the streets to the church on the zocalo (town square), we were told, carrying models of their houses, to be blessed, and gifts to be offered.

When we arrived in the village, in late afternoon, the only thing open was the grindery, where people bring their coffee, chocolate and grain to be ground. We walked up and down the main street, to the church and back, and didn’t see any signs of preparation for a festival that evening.

We asked everyone we met, “When is the celebration?” Midnight, we were told. Eight o’clock. Ten o’clock. It’s tomorrow. What celebration?, some said.

Finally, we found a taxi stand near the zocalo, and we asked the taxi drivers, because taxi drivers everywhere know everything.

“Huh?” they replied.

Confused and disappointed, we decided to eat. Could they recommend a restaurant?

They nodded and pointed down the street to the Restaurant Regis which, as it turned out, consisted of three Formica-topped card tables on the ground floor of a small, run-down hotel.

Soon after we sat down, Señora Amparo Gonzales appeared. In our very limited Spanish we asked for a menu. She said no, there was no menu, but she had enchiladas. And cerveza (beer). Okay, we said. A few minutes later out came three plates of chicken enchiladas in the most amazing mole (MOH-lay) sauce we’d ever tasted. Wow! We had to have the recipe.

The señora was delighted, and flattered, and she began to list the ingredients as I wrote down what I could understand. When we didn’t know the word in Spanish, she would run into the kitchen and bring the ingredient to our table. Ah, saltines! Raisins! Cloves! Almonds! Soon we had a list of ingredients, but when we asked for quantities and cooking instructions, our language skills failed us.

A few weeks after we returned home, we decided to recreate the mole while our taste memory was intact. We invited ten friends, all of whom are adventurous and experienced cooks. With the list of ingredients in hand, and our taste buds primed, we worked and worked, adding here, stirring there, until at last we created the sauce we remembered from a magical New Year's Eve at the Restaurant Regis in Tlacolula.

A sauce that, I promise you, would not be the same without almonds.

CHICKEN WITH MOLE COLORADO
Don't be intimidated by the long list of ingredients. That's typical for a mole, but the cooking method is simple. Here the rich sauce is served over chicken, but it’s great with rice, enchiladas, leftover cooked turkey, or steamed vegetables. Serves 12 or more; can be frozen. [Note: recipe updated from the archives.]

12 chicken thighs, bone-in and skin on
1 Tbsp olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
2-3 Tbsp canola oil
10 ancho chiles (smoked dried poblanos)
2 Tbsp raisins
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp fresh ground black pepper, or to taste
1 tsp dried Mexican oregano
3 whole cloves
2 tsp dried thyme leaf
1/4 cup lightly toasted sesame seeds
1/3 cup crushed oyster crackers (or soda crackers -- something with low salt content)
1 cup canned ground tomato (or tomato puree, or fresh peeled, seeded chopped tomato)
A 3" x 1/2" piece of semi-sweet chocolate (Ibarra or other Mexican or Oaxacan chocolate is best, because has sugar mixed in)
2 cups or more chicken broth
Salt and sugar to taste (if the chocolate is sweet enough, you won't need sugar)
1 package smallest size corn or spinach tortillas (or whole wheat, or flour, whatever you prefer)

Preheat oven to 325°F. Rub chicken thighs with olive oil, and sprinkle with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Place skin side up in a roasting pan just large enough to hold them. Add 1/4 inch of cold water. Cover with aluminum foil. Roast in the oven for 1-1/2 hours or as long as it takes to complete the rest of the menu. (Believe it or not, the chicken will not overcook. It will get more and more tender.)

Soak the ancho peppers in warm water to soften, then remove stems. Drain and chop roughly, and set aside.

In a small dry frying pan, toast the sesame seeds until they turn light brown, 2-3 minutes. Remove from pan and set aside.

In a deep stock pot (6-8 quart size), sauté the onion and garlic in canola oil until the onions are translucent. Add the chiles and sauté for 2-3 minutes. Add raisins, almonds, spices, sesame seeds, and crackers. Stir constantly over low-medium heat for a few minutes, until you have a thick paste and all ingredients are cooked through. With an immersion blender (or in a food processor), purée mixture with a few tablespoons of broth, and return mixture to the pan. Add tomatoes, chocolate and enough chicken broth to make a smooth sauce. Continue stirring, and cook until the chocolate is melted and the sauce is thickened, but still a little bit runny. Add more broth (or water) as needed to achieve desired consistency. Taste, and add salt and sugar if needed.

In a dry skillet or griddle, heat tortillas on both sides until lightly browned but still pliable (1 minute on each side on a hot griddle).

Remove chicken from the oven and place on a serving platter. Cover with mole sauce, and serve with tortillas.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Cod with raisins, nuts and apples
Tagine of chicken with prunes and almonds
Mixed grain salad

 

Ginger, in spicy Thai chicken curry

Ginger Week, Day One.

Ten things I know about ginger (you'll be glad to know them, too):

1. The edible part of the ginger is often called ginger root, but it's actually the horizontal subterranean stem, or rhizome, of the Zingiber officinale plant. If you grow irises in your garden, you'll recognize this type of stem, which must be exposed to the surface or the plant won't flower. (Ask me how many gardening seasons it took to learn that.)
2. China leads the world in ginger production -- almost 25% -- followed by India, Nepal and Indonesia (Jamaica produces lots of ginger, too). According to Jill Norman's Herbs & Spices, it was a staple in the diet of Confucius, but he never mentioned it to me.
3. The word ginger comes from the Sanskrit for horn root, though I've seen more ginger rhizomes that look like Richard Nixon's nose than the animal antlers for which it was named.
4. The Chinese and Japanese consider ginger a yang (hot) food, which balances ying foods to create harmony. Some ying foods: asparagus, tofu, broccoli, eels, pineapple, strawberries, honey, mussels, grapes, oranges. (Eels???)
5. Choose rhizomes that have a firm, unwrinkled skin, with a slight sheen. More mature tubers, harvested later in the season, will have a stronger, sharper flavor. They should feel heavy for their size.
6. Size doesn't matter, really. The length of a "hand" of ginger depends on where, and how, it was grown, but it's not an indication of quality. I like to buy ones that are larger than my own hand, but just because it's fun to measure them against my hand in the market. And I have small hands.
7. Ginger isn't pink; it's a lovely tan on the outside, and the color of Bailey's Irish Cream on the inside. Grenadine gives pickled ginger its scary neon Bazooka bubble gum color.
8. Long considered one of the world's healthiest foods, ginger is a good source of potassium, magnesium, copper, manganese and vitamin B6. It also contains protease, an enzyme that tenderizes meats, and antioxidants that retard food spoilage. Medicinally, ginger helps combat nausea, gastrointestinal distress, morning sickness, motion sickness, and high cholesterol.
9. Store unpeeled ginger in the refrigerator, wrapped in paper towels and plastic, or in a brown paper bag, for two or three weeks. You can freeze ginger for up to six months. I admit that I never remember to freeze the excess, and some percentage of my ginger ends up in the compost pile.
10. The longer you cook ginger, the more mellow it becomes. Like we used to say in school, compare and contrast; use a single large hand of ginger to make pork and broccoli stir fry, ginger salmon tartare, meatballs with ginger and radish greens, tofu in coconut sauce with ginger and lemongrass, white chili, ginger-and-cardamom poached pears, and white chocolate and ginger ice cream.

SPICY THAI CHICKEN CURRY
Another great recipe adapted from Fine Cooking Annual, Volume 2. Cooks up quickly, and tastes great served with jasmine rice. Serves 4.

1 Tbsp vegetable oil
1-1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breast, cut into 1-1/2 inch chunks
Kosher salt and fresh black pepper
1/2 cup thinly sliced shallots (approx. 2 medium)
1/4 cup peeled and finely chopped fresh ginger root
1-2 tsp Thai red curry paste
2 cups chicken broth
1 13.5-oz can unsweetened coconut milk
1 Tbsp fish sauce (I use Three Crabs brand)
1-1/2 cups sugar snap peas (fresh or frozen)
1 large lime, zest finely grated and fruit cut into wedges
1/2 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Heat the oil in a 10-inch sauté pan over medium-high heat. Season the chicken with salt and pepper, and sear the meat in batches until lightly browned all over. Remove from the pan and set aside.

Reduce heat to medium. Add the shallots to the pan and cook until just tender and lightly browned, 2-3 minutes. Add the ginger and cook, stirring, until fragrant, about 1 minute. Add the curry paste and cook, stirring, for 30 seconds. Stir in 1/4 of the broth, scraping up any browned bits that are stuck to the pan. Add 1/3 cup of the coconut milk, stirring to blend in the curry paste. Add remaining coconut milk, broth and fish sauce. Increase the heat to medium high, and return the chicken to the pan (along with any juices on the plate). Stir and simmer until the chicken is just cooked through, 7-8 minutes.

Remove the pan from the heat. Stir in the peas and cover the pan. Let sit for 1-2 minutes, then stir in the lime zest. If necessary, return the pan to medium heat to cook the peas. Sprinkle with cilantro and serve with lime wedges, over rice.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Ginger catfish
Ginger salad dressing
Green chicken curry with eggplant
Faux pho
Rhubarb-apricot chutney

 

Dal (lentils), in an herb and feta salad

When I was in college -- okay, when I was in high school -- and my friends and I talked about mood-enhancing substances, we weren't talking about serotonin.

We weren't talking about lentils, either.

Though my misspent youth is far behind me, my body still craves all the mood enhancement it can get, and legumes (lentils, beans and peas) are a good source of serotonin, a neurotransmitter that makes you feel mood-enhanced: balanced, relaxed and happy. With too little serotonin, you end up feeling cranky, sleep-deprived, a bit anxious, sugar-deficient, and in a generally bad mood.

I'm not sure why, but I call brown and green lentils lentils, and pink, white and yellow ones dal. Really, the difference isn't the color; dal are lentils that have been hulled and split.

Stored in a glass jar with a tight-fitting lid, dal will keep for up to two years. Some of the dal that have graced my pantry, in addition to the plain brown and Puy green lentils, are:

• Masoor dal, lentils (red or salmon pink; the ones in the photo)
• Channa dal, split chickpeas (yellow; I always have these)
• Urd (or urad) dal, lentil-like beans (black or, when skinless, white)
• Tur (or toor, or toovar) dal, pigeon peas (orange)
• Moong dal, mung beans (cream or yellow)
• Muth (or moth) dal, beans (brownish green with yellow interior)
• Muttar (or matar) dal, peas (green or white)

Most often, we think of dal as fundamental to Indian cuisine, whether served thick, like a stew, or thin. But now that lentils have been identified as one of the world's healthiest foods, they're lightening up a wide range of dishes, including black bean salad, burgers, tacos and even fudge.

To me, lentils of all types and colors mean one thing: soup, soup, and more soup. And with all that serotonin, I'll be happy, happy, and more happy.

RED LENTIL, SPINACH AND FETA SALAD
Inspired by a recipe in Happy Food by Marlisa Szwillus, this nutrient-rich, picnic-friendly salad serves 2. Can be doubled.

2 tsp olive oil
2 tsp chopped fresh rosemary or thyme leaves
4 oz red lentils
1 cup vegetable stock or water
2 Tbsp white wine vinegar
Kosher salt and fresh black pepper, to taste
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 oz baby spinach leaves
4 oz feta cheese, crumbled

Heat 2 tsp olive oil in a saucepan over medium heat, and briefly sauté the rosemary or thyme, just to bring out the aroma. Add the lentils and vegetable stock, cover, and simmer over lowest heat for 10 minutes or until lentils are cooked but not totally mushy.

Drain the lentils and add to a mixing bowl. In a small bowl, stir together the vinegar, salt and pepper, and 1 Tbsp olive oil. Add half to the lentils, and stir to combine. Add remaining ingredients, including remaining dressing, and mix well. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Punjab Five Jewels
One-of-everything lentil soup
Spiced lentils with squash and raisins
Lentils with spinach and preserved lemons
Mulligatawny soup

 

Olive oil, roasted fennel, and a very grand aioli

Special thanks to Simmer Till Done, where you'll find a little interview with me today. And here is the first of two posts this week about essential oils.

Last weekend, in a cooking class in my home kitchen, ten students worked together to produce a Grand Aioli, a typical harvest feast held in villages throughout Provence.

I know what you're thinking.

A French harvest festival. In the middle of May.

In Rhode Island.

Oui, oui!

In Provence, traditionally, the farmers bring their vegetables, the bakers contribute bread, the hunters might bring rabbit, the fishermen bring... well, you know. And the women of the village make the aioli, the garlic mayonnaise that is the raison d'etre for the entire meal. And there is wine, and singing and dancing.

In northwest Rhode Island, the farm stand and supermarket provided most of the food. Bread came from a local artisan bakery, fish from the fishmonger, and herbs from my garden: beautiful chives, thyme and lemon thyme, tarragon and mint. There was music, but no dancing; it was too early in the morning for wine, and maybe for dancing, too.

Ted built a fire in the fire pit and we cooked our fish on a giant paella pan suspended over the ashes. And, at the kitchen table, everyone took a turn pounding the aioli in two stone mortars; it took almost forty-five minutes to incorporate all of the olive oil, drop by drop.

On the platters, along with sliced red and yellow peppers, chunks of tomato and lemons, and chives from the herb garden, we arranged:

• Potatoes, fennel, baby zucchini and red onion, roasted in salt, pepper and olive oil
• Chick peas, sautéed in olive oil, garlic, bay leaf and herbs
• Salmon and cod, rubbed with olive oil, salt and pepper, cooked over a fire pit
• Chicken, seasoned with salt, pepper and olive oil, cooked on the grill
• Ditto asparagus, cooked on the grill
• Mussels, steamed in white wine, shallots, garlic, parsley, and a little bit of olive oil
• Broccoli and green beans, blanched, tossed with some salt, pepper and olive oil

Olive oil. The common denominator.

When I was growing up, my mother never cooked with olive oil -- we were strictly a vegetable oil, margarine and chicken fat family -- but in my kitchen, olive oil is most often the cooking oil of choice.

Nothing fancy, no extra virginity required. Just plain old olive oil.

For dressing salads, or when I want to add a fruity finish to a dish (i.e., the oil isn't going to be cooked, or will be heated only briefly), I use the best extra virgin oil I can afford, and I keep several varieties in the pantry.

For cooking or sautéing, I use blended olive oil, which has a higher smoke point (438°F) than extra virgin (375°F). Just as you needn't use your best wine for a long-cooking stew, you don't need the most expensive olive oil for cooking.

What's the difference between the different grades of olive oil? I've compiled this list from various sources, including the International Olive Oil Council:

• Extra virgin olive oil comes from the first pressing of the fruit of the olive tree, using solely mechanical or other physical means in conditions, particularly thermal conditions, which do not alter the oil in any way. It has not undergone any treatment other than washing, decanting, centrifuging and filtering. It must have less than 1% acidity. Most expensive; best for salads and drizzling on finished dishes.

• Virgin olive oil, made in the same way as extra virgin, has an acidity less than 2%, and has a good taste. There can be no refined oil in virgin olive oil. Good for cooking, and often good enough for salad dressings, in a pinch.

• Olive oil is a blend of virgin oil and refined virgin oil, containing at most 1% acidity. Mild flavor; great for cooking, but makes a mediocre salad dressing.

• Refined olive oil, also called pure oil, is a lesser grade than virgin. No real good use for this, except as part of a blend.

Olive oil draws its flavor and color from the particular variety of olives pressed, and from the terroir. Greek, French, Italian, Spanish and California olive oils reflect the quality of the soil, air and water of each region. Some olive oils are bright green and grassy, others are spicy and fruity. 

Taste to find oils that appeal to you, and keep several in your pantry, for ratatouille, lemon-olive oil ice cream, olive oil tart crust, and linguine with garlic and olive oil. Store olive oil in a cool, dark part of your cupboard; it should last for at least two years.

For cooking, I love Trader Joe's olive oil (only $6.99 per liter; TJ's also sells extra virgin that looks almost identical, so be sure to check the label). My current favorite extra virgin is Nuñez de Prado, a lovely Spanish artisan oil that's organic, mild and a bit fruity.

What's your favorite olive oil?

ROASTED FENNEL WITH POTATOES AND ONIONS
A few ingredients simply prepared, this dish is the essence of Provence -- and a perfect companion to aioli or grilled chicken or lamb. Serves 6-8 as a side dish.

2 fennel bulbs, trimmed quartered, cores removed
2 medium red onions, peeled and quartered
2 lbs baby red-skinned new potatoes or Yukon Gold potatoes, quartered
2-3 zucchini, cut into 3/4-inch chunks
8 oz large black pitted canned olives
Olive oil, a few tablespoons
Coarse sea salt and fresh black pepper

Preheat oven to 425°F. In a large roasting pan (I use a nonstick heavy roaster), combine all vegetables. Add olive oil, salt and pepper, and toss with your hands to make sure all of the vegetables are coated with oil. Roast for 40 minutes, stirring once during that time, until potatoes are cooked through and crusty on at least one surface. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Crusty roasted potatoes
Linguine with tomato-olive sauce
Cioppino
Pasta puttanesca

 

Hoisin sauce, in grilled tofu with soba noodles

If you heard about The Perfect Pantry on Martha Stewart Living Radio today, 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.

Authentic Asian cooking requires a pantry-load of smelly ingredients.

Fish sauce (also called nuoc mam or nam pla).

Fermented black beans.

Shrimp paste (also known as belacan or blachan, which always makes me think of blecchhh, the sound you make when you're trying to expel a bug that flew into your mouth, which seems totally appropriate when describing the taste of shrimp paste).

Smelly, one and all, but absolutely necessary to achieve the real taste of real Asian food.

And then there's hoisin sauce.

Blissfully not smelly. Not at all.

Sweet, thick and gloppy, just salty enough and completely addictive, hoisin (pronounced HOY sin) is made from sweet potato, fermented soybeans, sesame seeds, garlic, chile pepper, wheat flour, salt and sugar (and in most cases, sugar is actually the first ingredient listed).

Known as Chinese barbecue sauce or Peking Duck sauce, hoisin is both a dipping sauce on its own, and an ingredient in dishes like pork and broccoli stir fry, barbecued chicken, snow peas and red pepper, salad with hoisin vinaigrette, Asian-style ribs and Chino-Latino wings.

Look for hoisin in the Asian foods section of your regular grocery store; mine sells the Lee Kum Kee brand in handy-dandy squeeze bottles for less than $2.00 -- easy to use, and lasts forever in the fridge.

If you can't find hoisin in your market, here are two suggested substitutes that you can whiz up in your blender. I haven't tried either one, because I'm never without a bottle of the real thing, so let me know how these work for you:

• 3/4 cup pitted prunes + 2 cups of water + 1 tablespoon crushed garlic, then add 1-1/2 tablespoons soy sauce + 1-1/2 tablespoons dry sherry.
• 1/4 cup soy sauce + 1/4 cup plum sauce + 1 teaspoon flour + a pinch of five-spice powder + a pinch of garlic powder + sugar or honey or agave nectar, to taste. Of course, if you can find plum sauce, you can probably find real hoisin, too.

With the official start of barbecue season just a few days away, why not make a big batch of hoisin barbecue sauce tonight?

It's delicious. And it smells great.

GRILLED TOFU WITH SOBA NOODLES
Inspired by several recipes in Nina Simonds' Asian Wraps, this dish can be served warm, at room temperature, or cold. It's perfect for picnics. Serves 6.

2 lbs extra firm tofu

For the marinade:
3/4 cup hoisin sauce
1/4 cup rice wine or sake
3 Tbsp soy sauce
1-1/2 Tbsp finely minced garlic

Five 10-inch bamboo skewers, soaked in water to cover for an hour, or other skewers

For the vegetables:
1 Tbsp peanut or canola oil
1 Tbsp minced garlic
1 tsp chili paste with garlic
1 small onion, peeled and cut into chunks
1 red bell pepper, cut into chunks
1 yellow bell pepper, cut into chunks
1/2 lb fresh snow peas, ends snapped and strings removed
1-1/2 Tbsp rice wine or sake

For the sauce, mix together:
3-1/2 Tbsp reduced sodium soy sauce
1-1/2 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp sesame oil

1 lb soba, cooked according to package directions and drained

Cut tofu into 1-inch slices and place in a bowl. Add 2/3 of marinade to the tofu, tossing gently to coat. Let sit for an hour at room temperature. Thread tofu onto skewers, reserving remaining marinade in a bowl for basting.

Prepare a medium-hot fire for grilling, or preheat broiler. You might want to brush your grill with some canola or peanut oil, or spray with canola spray (do this before you heat the grill.) Place skewered tofu about 3 inches from heat source and cook 8-9 minutes on each side, turning once, basting occasionally with the marinade. Remove tofu from skewers, cut into 1-inch cubes, and set aside.

Heat wok over high heat. Add oil. Add minced garlic, chili paste, onion and bell peppers, and toss lightly for 1 minute. Add snow peas and rice wine; continue cooking, tossing lightly, until snow peas are tender, 2-3 minutes. Add sauce, and toss to coat.

Place cooked soba in a serving bowl. Spoon vegetables on top. Arrange tofu cubes on top and pour the reserved barbecue marinade over everything.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Asparagus wonton wraps
Moo shu chicken
Salmon and Asian pesto potstickers
Spicy peanut sauce
Vegetable dumplings

 

Low-carb pasta, in Tex-Mex Penne

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. 

Wehd ya fine dat penny riggAHHHHduh?

When I first moved from Boston to Rhode Island, I didn't speak the language. Eight years later, I'm starting to catch on.

Where'd you find that penne rigate?

That's what the cashier at my local supermarket asked me as he scanned the box in the checkout line. It was the colorful-but-not-blue design (and, by the way, why do so many pastas come in blue boxes?) that caught the cashier's eye.

What caught my eye was the promise of a low-carb pasta that didn't have the texture of wallpaper paste or taste like wet cardboard.

Over the past few years, as more and more companies have jumped on the low-carbohydrate bandwagon, I've tasted some pretty dreadful products masquerading as healthy-and-delicious, so when Dreamfields pasta actually passed both the taste and texture tests, I gleefully restocked The Perfect Pantry's shelves.

Made from durum semolina flour, with no soy or substitutes, Dreamfields has all the good flavor of regular pasta. When cooked to the al dente stage, it's actually firm to the bite, with what chefs call "good mouth feel." And with just 5 grams of digestible carbohydrate per 2-ounce serving, it's low low low on the glycemic index -- a boon to diabetics, South Beach dieters, and anyone who has to keep an eye on the daily carb count.

How does Dreamfields succeed where other alternative pastas, billed as low-carb or high-fiber or "healthy", have failed?

Thank technology and ingenuity. According to the inventor of the manufacturing process by which most of this pasta's carbs become "protected" or non-digestible, it "involves molecular interactions that help block the enzyme from attacking the carbohydrate starch granule. It is not encapsulated. We have basically created the situation where there is a matrix more or less that has a tendency to attract the enzyme to the matrix and not the carbohydrate."

That doesn't sound terribly appetizing, but the result is a truly technology-forward pasta that will hold up to your most traditional recipes. With six shapes to choose from, you can substitute this pasta in turkey or chicken lasagna, penne with meat sauce, broccoli pesto spaghetti, tomato-parmesan rotini, artichoke and lemon linguine, or mac-and-cheese, and nobody will miss the extra carbs.

Dreamfields does cost more than other dry pastas; at my local supermarket, a 16-ounce box sells for $2.99, compared to DeCecco ($2.39), Barilla ($1.33 to $1.79), Ronzoni ($1.25), and the store's own brand ($1.20). But, in the case of carbs, I'm willing to pay a bit more to get a bit less.

If you ever make it to Rhode Island, stop by for some penny riggaduh smothered with home-made gravy (that's what we call marinara sauce), a local favorite.

TEX-MEX PENNE
A true pantry special, this recipe, great for potlucks, works best with a pasta that holds on to the sauce, like penne rigate (small quills, with the lines) or rotini (corkscrews). Serves 8; can be doubled, or made ahead and reheated.

1 lb pasta (penne rigate or rotini)
2 Tbsp vegetable or canola oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 lb ground turkey (you can substitute beef, but reduce oil to 1 Tbsp)
1 tsp ground cumin, or more to taste
1 tsp chili powder, or more to taste
1/2 tsp ground oregano
Pinch of hot red pepper flakes
1 4-oz can fire-roasted green chiles, drained
16 oz canned chopped tomato
2 cups water
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/2 tsp ground black pepper

Store-bought shredded reduced-fat Mexican four-cheese blend, for topping (or other cheese of your choice)

Prepare the pasta according to package directions, until the pasta is still a bit undercooked but almost al dente. Drain and set aside.

AT THE SAME TIME, when you start the pasta water, prepare the sauce. In a large, deep sauté pan, heat the oil over medium-high heat, and cook the onion for 2 minutes, until translucent. Add the ground turkey, and cook, breaking up the pieces, until lightly browned. Add cumin, chili powder, oregano and red pepper flakes, and stir to combine. Add green chiles, canned tomato, water, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to simmer. Cook, uncovered, until mixture has reduced to desired consistency, approximately 20-25 minutes. (If the sauce gets done before the pasta is cooked, remove the pot from the heat and set it aside; bring back to the heat when you're ready to add the pasta.)

Add the pasta into the sauce, and cook, stirring well, until the pasta and sauce have come together, 2-3 minutes. Either stir in the shredded cheese, or pour the pasta into a serving bowl and pass the cheese separately, for each person to add to taste.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Rotini with spicy meat sauce
Farfalle with spinach and sausage
Falafel-turkey meatballs with pasta
Curried shrimp and pasta salad
Pasta with chunky vegetable sauce
Pasta puttanesca
Buddy Lasagna

Montreal steak seasoning, for 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.

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

Tortillas, wrapped around moo shu chicken

Ten years ago, Ted's aunt and uncle retired to Ajijic, a town on the north shore of Lake Chapala, due south of Guadalajara, Mexico.

Ajijic (pronounced ah-hee-HEEK) is a quirky little town, a mix of English-speaking ex-pats, locals, and wealthy Guadalajara residents looking for a weekend escape from the city. Though there's a Costco in "Guad", in Ajijic everyone shops at small, more traditional markets.

Best of all, just a few hundred yards downhill from aunt-and-uncle's house is a tiny storefront tortilleria, a tortilla bakery, where every morning the aroma of freshly-made tortillas pulls you in. Purchase a dozen for a few pesos; eat them the same day; buy more the next morning.

A tortilla -- the kind I keep in my pantry -- is an unleavened flatbread, made from corn or wheat flour, that originated in Mexico. (The Spanish tortilla, after which this tortilla was named, is a thick, layered omelet, often made with potatoes.)

Though wheat tortillas are popular in northern Mexico, they are a fairly recent invention. From ancient times, tortillas have been made from corn cured in lime water; the process, called nixtamalization, causes the skin of the corn kernels to peel off, which increases the nutritional value by activating the niacin and tryptophan in the corn.

Overall, corn tortillas contain only half as many calories, fat and carbs as their wheat-flour cousins, but recently those of us who are carb-challenged have been able to enjoy low-carb flour tortillas made by several companies. My newest passion, a true shadow of the basic flour tortilla and available in my local supermarket, is Joseph's brand wheat-oat bran-flax tortilla, with 70 calories and just 5 net carbs. With the carbs reduced, tortillas seem to lose a bit of their heft, so they're not wonderful for heavy fillings, but they're perfect for quesadillas.

All supermarkets now offer a selection of tortillas, often in the dairy section of the store. That's where I find the low-carb wonders that may be better for my health, but cost a whopping $3.29 for 6 tortillas.

If you live near a city and don't know of a local market, ask your favorite Latino restaurant where to shop. That's how I found a terrific Latino market in Providence that sells packages of 50 six-inch blue corn or white corn tortillas for less than $1.00. With a bit more asking around, I found a small tortilleria on Atwells Avenue in the Olneyville neighborhood.

For the longest time I limited my use of tortillas to Mexican and Tex-Mex dishes. But, like my wonton epiphany, I've learned a secret about tortillas. They are dough. Dough that has been mixed and rolled thin. Dough that can hold things, cover things, and layer with other things, such as sandwiches and roll-ups and pizza and pinwheels.

Of course tortillas, with or without corn, and with or without carbs, are pretty good for quesadillas, soup, chips and tostadas, too.

MOO SHU CHICKEN
The incredible flexible tortilla stands in for Chinese pancakes in this restaurant favorite dish, adapted from the Tortilla Industry Association web site. Substitute leftover cooked or store-bought rotisserie chicken, if you prefer. Serves 8.

8 flour tortillas (steamed or warmed in a microwave)
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breast, julienned
PAM or other canola spray
1 Tbsp fresh ginger root, peeled and grated
2 Tbsp shao hsing wine or sherry
2-3 oz bamboo shoots, julienned
2-3 oz mung bean sprouts, rinsed and drained
6-8 fresh shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, julienned
2-3 Chinese dried fungus, reconstituted, julienned, soaking liquid reserved
20 lily buds, reconstituted, tied in knot
3 Tbsp black bean garlic sauce
3 Tbsp soy sauce
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
Cornstarch or arrowroot, as needed
1 green onion, thinly sliced
1/2 cup hoisin sauce

Marinate meat in soy, ginger, and wine or sherry, for 20 minutes to 1 hour. Heat wok, add PAM, and cook the chicken. Add mushrooms, cook, then add fungus and lily buds. Cook, then add bamboo shoots and bean sprouts. Mix well and finally add in mushroom soaking liquid. Thicken with cornstarch or arrowroot mixed with a bit of water. Add black bean sauce, soy sauce and salt and pepper to taste. Thicken if needed with a bit of cornstarch dissolved in water. Remove from heat and adjust seasoning. Top with green onion.

To serve, lay a steamed tortilla on a plate. Spread lightly with hoisin sauce. Place 1-2 tablespoons of chicken mix, spreading evenly across the diameter of the tortilla. Roll the tortilla like a burrito and it is ready to eat.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Roasted halibut tacos with mango salsa
Mole colorado
Turkey tacos
Frijoles de la olla
Pueblo vegetable stew

Hot sauce, and saucy shrimp etouffee

Once upon a time, there lived a maiden so afraid of spicy food that nary a Szechuan dumpling, nor a bite of chicken with Thai red curry sauce, nor a nacho's worth of salsa ever passed her lips.

In her kitchen, a bottle of Tabasco hot sauce filled the space on the spice rack where hot sauce is supposed to be, though the maiden's specimen was aging slowly from red to brown, separating in the bottle and gathering dust.

Then, one day, the maiden and Ted and Cousin Martin traveled to New Orleans. She tasted jambalaya and blackened catfish, po' boys and shrimp caught fresh in the Gulf of Mexico. She visited Avery Island, the temple of Tabasco, where she walked up and down the rows of pepper plants, breathing in the aroma of pepper and vinegar.

There was hot sauce everywhere, and the maiden fell in love.

Louisiana-style hot sauce, the most popular in the United States, is made from chile peppers, vinegar and salt. Nothing more. The peppers are mashed, salt is added, and the mixture is transfered to oak barrels to age for up to three years. Then it's strained, and diluted with vinegar.

The heat of the peppers, which comes from the capsaicin present in the seeds and ribs, determines the strength of the sauce. The maiden who once feared Tabasco (2,500 to 5,000 Scoville units) now uses Dave's Insanity Sauce (180,000 Scoville units!). Sometimes she mixes a few sauces, including Rhode Island Red, which is a full-flavored, tomato-based sauce.

Hot sauce is super-healthy, with hardly any calories or fat. Some brands have a few carbs, and all have some sodium -- approximately 2 milligrams of sodium per shake of the bottle.

Even though her hot sauce could stay in the pantry for up to five years without refrigeration, it never lasts that long, because these days the maiden puts it in everything from bean soup to turkey chili, lentil salad to cornbread stuffing, and barbecue sauce to Buffalo wings.

SHRIMP ETOUFFEE
Mardi Gras has come and gone, but this Creole dish forever reminds me of my first visit to New Orleans. Make etouffee (pronounced eh-two-FAY) with crawfish tails instead of the shrimp, if you're lucky enough to have crawfish (or buy online and support the Louisiana economy). Adapted from a recipe taught by my friend Jennifer to the #1 Cooking Group. Serves 4; can be doubled.                 

1/2 cup butter
1/4 cup flour
3 cups chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped celery
1/2 cup chopped green bell pepper
2 tsp minced garlic
1/2 tsp minced fresh basil
1 tsp black pepper
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp kosher salt, or more to taste
1 tsp sweet paprika
1/2 tsp Tabasco or other mild to medium hot sauce
1-1/4 cup shrimp stock or chicken stock
1 lb peeled medium shrimp (31-40 per pound)
1/2 cup thinly sliced scallions
1 Tbsp chopped flat-leaf parsley

Set a large heavy Dutch oven over medium heat. Melt the butter, add the flour and make a roux the color of peanut butter (this is called a medium roux). Add the onion, celery and bell pepper. Cook until the onions are translucent and the celery and pepper are tender. Add the garlic, basil, black pepper, cayenne, salt and paprika, and cook for two minutes. Stir in the hot sauce and stock, and bring to a gentle boil. Add the shrimp, scallions and parsley. Simmer for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Serve over steamed rice.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Lentils and brown rice
Spicy turkey rolls
Jambalaya
Roasted halibut tacos with mango salsa
Doro wat (chicken in red pepper sauce)
Curried squash, apple and pear soup

Cinnamon, Mexican-spiced fish, and an award

I like a spice that swings both ways.

Cinnamon, for example.

It can go sweet, or savory. Hot or cool. Mild, or with a bit of a bite.

At the moment I have two types of ground cinnamon, plus Indonesian cinnamon sticks from Penzeys, in The Perfect Pantry. I'm not a cinnamon snob; I'm just one lucky cook.

My friend Candy recently traveled to Vietnam; in the Ben Thanh Market in Ho Chi Minh City, she bought (for me!) some fragrant ground cinnamon in a beautiful hand-carved box made from a branch of a cinnamon tree. That's it, in the photo.

Vietnamese cinnamon is said to be the highest quality, with the strongest flavor, but it's often twice the price of the cassia cinnamon I use for everyday. (In many countries, including the United States, cassia can be sold as cinnamon.) My go-to is Indonesian Korintje cassia cinnamon, which has a bit milder and sweet taste -- the cinnamon flavor of my childhood -- or sometimes Chinese cassia, which is slightly spicier.

Cinnamon is the inner skin of the bark of a plant in the laurel family (cassia is a different, but related, plant). The bark is peeled from the trees during the rainy season and left to dry and ferment for 24 hours. Then the outer layer of the bark is scraped off, leaving the inner, light-covered bark, which curls as it dries. Cinnamon sticks, which often seem to have a very mild flavor, come from the tree's upper new growth; more intense, ground cinnamon is made from old growth bark on the lower part of the tree.

When buying sticks, look at the shape of the quill. Cinnamon rolls into a single quill (like a telescope), while cassia curls from both sides toward the center, like a scroll. The sticks are difficult to grind, so it's best to keep both sticks and ground cinnamon on hand in the pantry. You can use cinnamon and cassia interchangeably, in bread, muffins, cake and cookies, but also with chicken, lamb and beef.

According to The World's Healthiest Foods, seasoning a high carb food with cinnamon can lessen the impact on blood sugar levels. I don't think this means that a bit of cinnamon will turn a sticky bun into health food (oh, how I wish it could), but it makes me even more enthusiastic about the health benefits of the cinnamon-spiced tagine cuisine I've been learning to cook.

In ancient times, cinnamon was used both for embalming, and as an aphrodisiac. Hmmm.

----------------------

Long overdue but heartfelt thanks to Amy from Nook & Pantry, Rebecca of From Argentina with Love, Meeta from What's for Lunch Honey? and Gretchen Noelle of Canela & Comino for honoring me with the E for Excellent Award. These wonderful blogs enrich my knowledge of Asian, Indian and South American cuisines, and I urge you to follow the links and enjoy.

Now it's my turn to recognize other blogs that are E for Excellent. Though some have been honored with this award previously, I hope you'll join me in celebrating the work of these five blogs, written by amazing storytellers who wrap their prose around you like the aroma of a fresh-from-the-oven loaf of bread. You'll want to settle in with them and read, and cook, and then read more: Tea and Cookies, Blue Kitchen, The Traveler's Lunchbox, The Wednesday Chef, and Culinary Types.

If these blogs are new to you, please discover. Search on each one for a recipe that uses cinnamon. You'll be so glad you did.

MEXICAN-SPICED FISH
We don't often think of the traditional "warm" spices with fish, but this recipe, adapted from The Food and Cooking of Mexico, South America and the Caribbean, by Jane Milton, Jenni Fleetwood and Marina Filippelli, uses cinnamon, cumin and annatto to give rich flavor to the fish (and the annatto will give this a bit of red-yellow color). The striped bass I saw at my fish market last week would be perfect here. Serves 6.

3-1/2 lbs striped bass, cod steak, or any non-oily white fish, cut into 6 portions
2 Tbsp canola or vegetable oil
1 large onion, thinly sliced
2 garlic cloves, chopped
12 oz tomatoes, sliced
2 drained canned jalapeño chiles, rinsed and sliced, or 2 fresh jalapeños, seeded, ribs removed, and minced
A few flat-leaf parsley leaves, for garnish

For the marinade:
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground annatto
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 cup mild white vinegar
Kosher salt, to taste

Arrange the fish in a single layer in a shallow dish.

Make the marinade: With a mortar and pestle, grind the garlic and peppercorns. Add the oregano, cumin, annatto and cinnamon, and vinegar, and mix to a paste. Add salt to taste, and spread the marinade on both sides of the fish. Cover and leave in a cool place, or in the refrigerator on a very hot day, for one hour.

In a flame-proof pan large enough to hold the fish in a single layer, pour in the oil and spread it to cover (use more oil if necessary). Place the fish in the dish, and top with the remaining marinade. Arrange the sliced onions, garlic, tomatoes and jalapeño over the fish.

Cover and cook over a low heat on the stovetop for 15-20 minutes, or until the fish is no longer translucent. Garnish with some flat-leaf parsley, if desired, and serve hot with rice.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Cranberry rice pudding
Aromatic rice pudding
Mole colorado

Fregula sarda, with leeks and sausage

Is it a grain?

Is it a couscous?

Is it a pasta?

No! No! Yes!

Meet fregula sarda, the newest addition to The Perfect Pantry.

A traditional Sardinian pasta made from hard durum wheat, fregula (or fregola) sarda resembles Israeli couscous. The pasta dough is rolled into tiny, not-entirely-round balls and toasted lightly -- not once, but twice -- which gives it a nutty flavor, a bit of texture, and a beautiful golden color.

With origins in the Moorish cuisine of North Africa brought to Sardinia by sailors and traders, fregula is great for salads, soups, and main course pasta dishes. Use it like couscous, topped with a Moroccan vegetable stew. Add it to soup, in place of barley. Boil it in water or stock, drain, and top with your favorite pasta sauce and lots of cheese. Cook it like risotto. Serve fregula as a cold pasta salad, or tossed with olive oil and fresh herbs, as a side dish with grilled meats or fish.

FREGULA SARDA WITH LEEKS AND SAUSAGE
Inspired by a recipe in Faith Heller Willinger's Adventures of an Italian Food Lover, this dish serves 4 as a first course, or 2 as a main course with a bit left for lunch the next day.

4 leeks
Sea salt
2 cups low-sodium or homemade chicken stock
2 cups water
2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
6 oz fresh sausage (I use turkey sausage)
Pinch of red pepper flakes (optional), to taste
2 Tbsp dry white wine
1 cup fregula sarda
1/2 cup freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, or more to taste
2 tsp minced flat-leaf parsley
Lots of freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Trim the leeks just above the white part of the stalk. Wash the top greens, and put them in a pot with a pinch of sea salt, the chicken stock, and 2 cups water. Simmer for 30 minutes, then remove and discard the leek greens.

Wash and thinly slice the white part of the leeks, and add to a deep sauté pan (or small stock pot or Dutch oven) with the olive oil. Cook over low heat until the leeks are translucent, 3-4 minutes. Add the sausage, and cook, stirring occasionally, for 3-4 minutes, until browned on all sides. Add red pepper flakes, white wine, and fregula. Stir to combine, and add the hot chicken stock. Bring to a boil over medium heat; then reduce heat to low and simmer until the fregula is cooked through and most of the liquid is absorbed (add additional water, a few Tbsp at a time, if needed). Remove from heat, and stir in the cheese, parsley, and plenty of black pepper. Serve hot or at room temperature.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Vegetarian couscous with dried fruit
Pasta e fagioli
Sweet couscous
Curried orzo chicken salad

Falafel mix, in turkey meatballs and pasta

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

A couple of years ago, I stopped into my favorite local market for all foods from the Mideast. For an upcoming cooking group session, I wanted to make falafel (chickpea fritters) from scratch.

I asked the shop owner -- a wonderful cook who prepares hundreds of hand pies, spreads, and stuffed grape leaves every week -- for her own falafel recipe.

She handed me a box of falafel mix.

"Nobody makes it from scratch," she told me. "The mix is so much better."

My jaw dropped. Could this be the same woman who welcomed me into her kitchen, who taught me to make mjedera and spinach pies and creamy baba ghanoush -- all from scratch?

I set out to prove her wrong. I purchased a box of falafel mix, which contains ground fava beans, ground chickpeas, corn meal, flour, dehydrated onion, dehydrated garlic, parsley, cracked wheat, baking powder, sodium bicarbonate, salt and spices. (Different brands have slightly different seasonings.)

To make falafel balls, we added water to the mix, allowed it to sit for an hour, formed the patties, and deep-fried.

To make the from-scratch falafel, I bought bags of dry chickpeas and fava beans, to combine with the remaining ingredients from my pantry. I researched recipes from many sources. I soaked the chickpeas overnight.

Then we mixed ingredients, refrigerated the balls to allow them to "set", and deep-fried.

The verdict? We all preferred the falafel from the box (golly...), which was more highly spiced and took one-tenth the time to make.

Ever since, I've kept a box of falafel mix in the pantry. It's great in eggplant parmesan, fried chicken, spiced pecans, waffles or cookies. The mix looks just like bread crumbs, and I often substitute one for the other.

FALAFEL-TURKEY MEATBALLS WITH PASTA
Make the meatballs ahead and freeze them, and you can pull together an easy weeknight dinner. Serves 6.

1 lb ground turkey
1 egg
1/4 cup onion, minced
1/3 cup falafel mix
Scant 1/4 cup mayonnaise
2 Tbsp grated parmigiano-reggiano or romano cheese
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
Olive oil, for frying
1 lb linguini or penne pasta, prepared according to package directions
3 cups baby spinach leaves

For the tahini dressing:
1 clove garlic, minced
1 tsp kosher salt
3 Tbsp water
1/4 cup tahini
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

Mix first six ingredients together by hand, season with salt and pepper, and shape into 20-24 meatballs. Season with salt and pepper. Film a nonstick deep sauté pan with olive oil. Break off a small piece of meatball, and cook it to test for seasoning. Then, sauté the remaining meatballs, in batches if necessary, for 8-10 minutes on low heat, until browned on all sides and cooked through.

In the meantime, cook the pasta. Drain, and place in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the tahini dressing ingredients, and toss with the pasta. Add spinach leaves and stir to combine. Top with the meatballs, and serve hot.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Florida crab cakes
Turkey meatloaf with fig gravy
Cauliflower gratin
Traditional hummus

Saffron, lamb tagine with prunes and apricots

In numerology, three can be lucky or unlucky.

Bad luck comes in threes, they say, but the third time's a charm.

For saffron, three is an auspicious number -- the number of stigmas, what we recognize as saffron threads, in each crocus flower.

Only three. Which is why it takes more than 70,000 flowers to yield one pound of saffron. Which is why saffron is the most expensive spice in the world.

According to the informative site Vanilla Saffron, Crocus sativus flowers in the Fall in many different countries, including Greece, India, Iran and Spain. Each flower contains three stigmas (the female part of the flower), the only part of the crocus that when dried become commercial saffron. Each bright red stigma is like a little capsule that encloses the complex chemicals that make up saffron's aroma, flavor, and yellow dye. In order to release these chemicals, you must steep the threads.

The male part of the saffron flower, the deep yellow stamens, are half the size of the stigmas and have no culinary value. Unfortunately, they are sometimes added to the red stigmas to increase the weight of commercial saffron. When you purchase saffron, look for the deepest red and uniform color; you want all-girl saffron.

In the kitchen, a little saffron goes a long way. To be sure it's evenly distributed throughout a dish, steep the threads in hot water for a few minutes, then add both the threads and the liquid to your recipe. Saffron pairs well with many foods, including almond, yogurt , rice and grains, cinnamon, pistachio, potatoes and tomatoes.

Store saffron in an airtight container, away from heat or light, and it will last for more than a year in your pantry. After that, the flavor will diminish somewhat, so increase the amount called for in your recipe. If you have the option, do not buy powdered saffron; the quality is often inferior, and the pungency degrades quickly as soon as the threads are ground.

Twice in the past couple of months, I've received the gift of saffron, from my traveling sister-in-law Jill and my traveling friend Candy. So, I now have three different saffrons in the pantry, from three different parts of the world (left to right in the photo above): Vietnam, India and Spain.

Could a pantry be more lucky than that?

LAMB TAGINE WITH PRUNES AND APRICOTS
It was such fun to prepare and serve this in my ceramic tagine, but a heavy Dutch oven also works well for this low-and-slow cooking. If you're going to cook in the tagine, start the recipe in a frying pan and transfer contents to the tagine base, as indicated below. Recipe adapted from Tagine: Spicy Stews from Morocco, by Ghillie Basan. Serves 4, with couscous.

1-2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp blanched almonds
1 large red onion, finely chopped
3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
A thumb-size piece of ginger root, peeled and finely chopped
A pinch of saffron threads
2 cinnamon sticks
1-2 tsp coriander seeds, crushed
1 lb boneless leg of lamb, or boneless lamb shanks, cubed
12 pitted prunes, soaked in hot water for 1 hour, drained
6 dried apricots, soaked in hot water for 1 hour, drained
3-4 strips orange peel
1-2 Tbsp agave nectar or dark honey
Sea salt and fresh ground black pepper, to taste
Handful of flat-leaf parsley or cilantro leaves, for garnish

Heat the oil in a large frying pan or Dutch oven, stir in the almonds, and cook until they turn golden. Add the onions and garlic, and sauté until they begin to color (do not burn the garlic). Stir in the ginger, saffron, cinnamon sticks and coriander seeds. Add the lamb, making sure it is coated in the onion and spices, and sauté for 1-2 minutes.

If you are using a frying pan, transfer everything to the base of a ceramic tagine.

Pour in enough water to just cover the meat, and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to lowest simmer, cover the tagine or Dutch oven, and simmer for 1 hour or until the meat is tender. Add the prunes, apricots and orange peel, cover the tagine again, and simmer 15-20 minutes. Stir in the agave or honey, salt and pepper, cover, and continue to simmer for 10 minutes, or until the sauce turns syrupy and slightly caramelized, but not dry. Stir in the parsley or cilantro, and serve with couscous or bread.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Lydia's Pie-ella
Risotto alla Milanese
Pomegranate fish
Paella a la Valenciana
Chicken with preserved lemon and olives