The Perfect Pantry

Pimentón (smoked paprika), in Clean the Freezer Chili

A week of Spices That Make Your Food Sing. Day One.

By now, Top Chef is old hat.

(Of course you're watching it. We're all watching it. We're hooked. We don't want to be hooked on a reality show, but we are.)

If you've been with Top Chef for a while, you remember Season 2, the season when molecular gastronomy met traditional Spanish cuisine, the season of Sam-who-should-have-won, the season of Marcel vs. Ilan, the season of saffron and pimentón.

Until a couple of years ago, I'd never heard of pimentón, the smoked paprika from the La Vera region of southwestern Spain. Now, it's everywhere (Penzeys, McCormick, Spice House). So, how do you know which is the good stuff?

Is all pimentón smoked paprika? Yes.

Is all smoked paprika pimentón? No.

Smoked paprika is made by slowly smoking pimientos -- peppers -- over oak, which gives it a distinctive, husky aroma and flavor. The paprika can be mild or strong, depending on the variety of pimiento used. Small round peppers produce a dulce, or sweet, paprika; longer, dark red peppers make agridulce, a medium hot (often called bittersweet) paprika; and several types of long red chiles can become hot (picante) smoked paprika.

Pimentón de La Vera was the first chile pepper product to be granted a Denominacíon de Origen, or controlled name status, which means that other varieties of paprika cannot be called pimentón. The letters "D.O." on the label ensure that the product is made from peppers grown in the La Vera region and processed in the traditional way. If it doesn't have the D.O., it's probably not pimentón -- it's smoked paprika, from somewhere else.

In La Vera, peppers are harvested in the Fall and set out to dry in special drying houses, where they are placed on racks above oak fires, and turned once a day for two weeks. The peppers are then taken to mills to be stone-ground, slowly, to preserve as much of the flavor and color of the paprika as possible. Though parts of the process have been mechanized, much is still done by hand.

Each type of pimentón is used in a particular culinary arena: dulce pairs well with eggs, potatoes, rice, and fish; agridulce enhances smoked meats, beans, game dishes and stews; hot (picante) is best for winter soups, chorizo and octopus. In a pinch, you can substitute New Mexican ground red chile mixed with a bit of ground chipotle.

Most often packaged in tins to keep the light out, pimentón will last in your cupboard for up to two years, though once you've tried it with asparagus, roasted red pepper-tomato soup, penne with shrimp and arugula, tomato paella, herb jam with olives and lemon, grilled chicken Morocco or sprinkled atop deviled eggs, you'll be replenishing your supply more frequently.

Authentic Pimentón de La Vera is available in gourmet markets, and online from reliable sources like La Tienda.

MARY'S CLEAN THE FREEZER CHILI
I laughed and laughed when, last Spring, my friend Mary sent me the following recipe with the note, "I just made chili that was darned good. I thought that the list of ingredients was funny -- reflective of our imperfect pantry." Any pantry that can produce such a wonderful chili is a perfect pantry indeed! Of course I started checking my own freezer, cupboards and spice rack, to see how many of these things were in it. This recipe is the definition of Julia Child's favorite phrase, "proportions aren't terribly important." Improvise to your heart's content -- and empty your freezer now, before this summer's harvest begins.

Chopped onions and celery -- sautéed
Tempeh -- simmered in broth, then crumbled
Black beans
The last of last summer's roasted tomatoes
Ditto on the pesto
A good amount of mole sauce (at least a cup)
1/2 of a flat beer
Some OJ (orange juice)
A dash or two of balsamic vinegar
Celery seed
Oregano
Cumin
Dark chili powder
Ketchup (true!)
Smoked paprika (pimentón)

You know what to do -- throw everything into a pot, taste and taste again, and simmer until the flavors combine.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Floribean chicken chili 
Vegetable paella with spicy garlic sauce
Chicken paella with slow-roasted tomatoes
Black bean soup 
Paella alla Valenciana

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

Dried kidney beans, pueblo vegetable stew

Beans, beans, good for your heart.
The more you eat, the more you... Oops.

Beans, beans, the musical fruit.
The more you eat, the more you toot.

Beans, beans, they'll give you gas.
The more you eat, the more you pass.

Beans, beans. Poor things. Beans have been the subject of some of the world's silliest rhymes.

They'll have the last laugh, though, because beans, one of the world's healthiest foods, pack a nutritional punch that's no joke. Most dried beans are loaded with soluble fiber, which helps maintain good digestive and heart health, balanced blood sugar, and sufficient levels of iron (especially important for women). Kidney beans provide almost double the daily requirement of molybdenum, a trace mineral that actually helps counteract (detoxify) the effect of the sulfites found in food preservatives and red wine. If you've ever experienced a "sulfite headache," it could be from a shortage of molybdenum in your system.

If beans didn't taste great, though, they'd be in the medicine cabinet instead of the pantry.

Native to Peru, beans migrated to South and Central America through Indian trade routes. Spanish explorers like Columbus returned to Europe with kidney beans; then, Portuguese and Spanish traders carried the beans to Asia and Africa. To this day some of the most exciting culinary uses of beans derive from those cultures, dishes like Belizean stewed beans, Nigerian red bean stew, Mexican pork and bean chili and green tomato curry. Some fundamentally American dishes depend on kidney beans, too, including a newfangled three-bean salad and good old franks and beans.

Dried kidney beans, an economical source of protein, will keep up to a year in an airtight container. I always remove them from the plastic bags and store them in a clean jar, sometimes mixed in with other like-minded beans. Be sure to rinse before cooking, and pick out any stones or damaged beans. If you presoak, which tenderizes and helps the beans cook faster, place them in a bowl with water to cover by two inches, in the refrigerator overnight. (The cold prevents fermentation.) Cook on the stovetop, in the oven, or in a slow cooker, and when the beans are mostly cooked through, add seasonings, salt and pepper, and other ingredients.

And to prove that for every bad rhyme there's a wonderful poem, here's a favorite by Gwendolyn Brooks, from her 1960 book with the same title:

The Bean Eaters
    
They eat beans mostly, this old yellow pair.
Dinner is a casual affair.
Plain chipware on a plain and creaking wood,
Tin flatware.

Two who are Mostly Good.
Two who have lived their day,
But keep on putting on their clothes
And putting things away.

And remembering . . .
Remembering, with twinklings and twinges,
As they lean over the beans in their rented back room that
is full of beads and receipts and dolls and cloths,
tobacco crumbs, vases and fringes.

 

PUEBLO VEGETABLE STEW
As a rule, most dried beans benefit from a soak before you cook them. However, my new slow cooker makes it easy to prepare bean dishes on days when I've forgotten, or just don't have time for, the soaking step. This recipe, adapted from James McNair’s Favorites, serves 6-8.

2 cups dry kidney beans, rinsed
1-1/2 tsp cumin seed
1-2 whole ancho, guajillo, pasilla or other large dried mild to medium-hot chiles, stems and seeds discarded, torn into small pieces
2 Tbsp minced fresh oregano, or 2 tsp crumbled dried oregano
1/4 cup canola oil
1-1/2 cups chopped yellow onion
1 Tbsp minced fresh jalapeño or serrano chile
1 tsp minced garlic
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cups peeled, seeded, drained and chopped ripe or canned tomato
3 cups chicken or vegetable stock
1-3/4 lbs butternut or other winter squash, peeled, seeded, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 cups thawed frozen corn kernels
1/2 cup fresh cilantro or flat-leaf parsley
1/2 cup pine nuts
Fresh cilantro or parsley sprigs for garnish

Drain beans, and place in a slow cooker. Cover with water by one inch. Cook on low for 6 hours.

In a small skillet, combine cumin seed, torn dried chiles and oregano. Place over medium heat and toast, shaking the pan or stirring frequently, until fragrant, about 3 minutes. Do not allow to burn. Pour onto a plate to cool, then transfer to a spice grinder or heavy mortar with pestle and grind to a fine powder. Set aside.

In a sauté pan or heavy pot, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring frequently, until soft but not browned, 5 minutes. Add jalapeño, garlic, cinnamon, and the ground spice mixture, and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomato and 1/2 cup of stock or broth. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 5 minutes. Add to the slow cooker with the beans. Add 1 cup of remaining broth, squash, and corn. Cook on low for 4 hours. Stir once each hour, and if the stew needs more liquid, add some of the remaining broth. A few minutes before serving, stir in the chopped cilantro or parsley.

Meanwhile, toast the pine nuts in a dry skillet until slightly brown and fragrant. To serve, ladle the stew into warmed shallow bowls, sprinkle with pine nuts, and garnish with herb sprigs.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Everything-in-the-pantry bean soup
Carmen's black bean soup
Football season chili
Frijoles de la olla

Coconut milk, egg curry

A week about stews, and the good things that come from cans.

Brother bought a coconut, he bought it for a dime
His sister had another one, she paid it for the lime

She put the lime in the coconut, she drank 'em both up
She put the lime in the coconut, she drank 'em both up
She put the lime in the coconut, she drank 'em both up
Put the lime in the coconut, she called the doctor, woke him up, and said

Doctor, ain't there nothin' I can take, I said
Doctor, to relieve this bellyache, I said...

Oops, don't know the tune? Here goes...

Where I live, neither coconuts nor limes grow on trees (we specialize in pine cones!), but there's always a can of coconut milk in my pantry.

In order to understand where coconut milk comes from, think about the life cycle of a coconut. On the tree, young coconuts are green, often the size and shape of bowling balls. At this stage, the flesh is somewhat soft, and the liquid inside is sweet. When you find ice cold coconuts for sale at street markets in Trinidad or Singapore, you'll be getting one of these green coconuts, with the top sliced off and a straw stuck in to get at the coconut water inside. The flesh (meat) is gelatinous, the consistency of pudding.

When the coconut matures to the "hairy brown rock-hard stage," the meat inside also solidifies, and the coconut water turns bitter.

So, what we know as coconut milk actually is not the liquid found inside the coconut. Coconut milk is made by grating the solidified coconut meat, squeezing it to extract the liquid, and thinning the liquid with water -- which is then called coconut milk. Confusing, I know.

While canned coconut milk is a wonderful ingredient in dishes from India, The Philippines, Malaysia and Thailand, it does present nutritional challenges. Relatively low in carbs, it is unfortunately quite high in saturated fat and calories (450 per cup).

Enjoy coconut milk in moderation. Enjoy Harry Nilsson's coconut song over and over again. And have a happy and fun Thanksgiving.

EGG CURRY
How could I resist sharing a recipe that includes both coconut milk and lime?! Slightly adapted from The Great Curries of India, by Camellia Panjabi, this curry comes from the Chettinad region and serves 2-3.

6 large eggs, hardboiled
3 tsp ground coriander
1-1/2 tsp cayenne pepper or paprika
1 tsp fennel seed
1 tsp cumin seed
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 x 1/4 inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled
2 large cloves of garlic
2 Tbsp vegetable or canola oil
1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seed
2-inch cinnamon stick
8 oz onions, finely chopped
8 oz tomatoes (fresh or canned), finely chopped
Kosher salt
7 oz canned coconut milk
Juice of 1/2 lime

Peel the eggs and halve them lengthwise. Set aside.

In a blender, put the coriander, cayenne or paprika, 1 tsp fennel seed, cumin seed, turmeric, ginger and garlic. Add 2 Tbsp water and blend to a thick paste.

Heat the oil in a deep sauté pan or small Dutch oven. Fry the fenugreek seeds, 1/2 tsp fennel seeds and cinnamon stick for 10 seconds. Add the onion, and sauté until lightly colored. Add the spice paste and continue cooking for 7 minutes; it will darken in color from the coriander, but do not overcook. Add a few drops of water if the onions stick to the pan. Then, add the tomatoes, and cook for 2-3 minutes.

Add 3 cups of water with salt to taste, and simmer, covered, for 20 minutes, to make a smooth gravy. Just before serving, add the coconut milk and bring to the boil. Add the lime juice, taste, and add more salt if necessary. Gently place the hardboiled eggs, yolks facing up, into the sauce. Place in a serving dish, and serve with brown or white basmati or jasmine rice.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Thai tofu and winter squash stew
Punjab five jewels
Pineapple shrimp curry
Prawn fried rice
Coconut flan

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This just in: Jenna has organized a lunchtime Drop In & Decorate event at her workplace in mid-December; the cookies will be donated to the TIMES Center in Champaign, IL, providing transitional housing and hot meals daily for up to 70 adult men.

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 and What's for Lunch, Honey?

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

"The families were thrilled with extraordinarily beautiful cookies, and your gift helped brighten their lives during a very difficult time." Crossroads Rhode Island Family Center

Canned chile peppers, beef stew

A week about stews, and the good things that come from cans.

It's possible, just possible, that I have more than my share of kitchen toys.

By toys, I don't mean butter wizards and doughnut makers and zero-gravity magnetic spice racks.

I mean serious tools and cookware, in multiples, like tagines and woks, Microplane graters, half a dozen really good santoku knives and nearly two hundred wooden spoons and utensils.

The current love of my life, however, is a single: it's my new slow cooker.

Like me, the slow cooker loves all kinds of stew, so I've had fun introducing it to my collection of canned chile peppers. Chipotles in adobo and green New Mexico chiles are mainstays in my pantry, along with canned poblanos, plus fire-roasted Anaheim and other green chiles from mild to hot.

Chiles do more than add some kick to your cooking; they also contribute a significant dose of Vitamins A and C, iron and lutein, which has proven benefits for eyesight.

With canned chile peppers in the pantry, you can always fire up your stove or slow cooker for a batch of chile con queso soup, five-pepper chili, quesadillas, hummus, salsa, and many variations of green chile stew.

And in case the whole chile-chili-chilli thing is still a bit of a muddle, chile with an "e" is the pepper, chili with an "i" is the stew, and chilli with the double-L is the spelling used in other parts of the world (including Britain, Australia and many Asian countries) for what we here in the United States call chile peppers.

Now, what kind of chili do you make with your chiles?

SLOW-COOKED BEEF AND GREEN CHILE STEW
If you don't have a slow cooker, make this in a Dutch oven or heavy stockpot. "Stew beef" is a common cut, available in the meat department of your supermarket. The recipe makes a lot, so stash some in the freezer for a cold winter day. Serves 10-12.

1 cup all-purpose flour
6 lbs stew beef (boneless beef chuck), cut into two-inch chunks
3 Tbsp canola or vegetable oil
1 large onion, diced
1 27-oz can mild green Hatch chiles, whole or cut into large chunks
1 cup chopped canned tomato (I use this brand)
2 chipotles in adobo, chopped, plus 2 tsp adobo sauce
1/2 cup barbecue sauce, homemade or store-bought
12 oz homemade beef stock, or 1 14-oz can low-sodium beef broth
1 Tbsp cumin
Salt and fresh-ground black pepper, to taste
2 tsp arrowroot or cornstarch

In a large bowl, add the flour. Dry the beef with paper towels, and dredge each piece lightly in the flour. Heat oil in a large frying pan, and brown the beef on all sides (be careful not to overcrowd the pan; brown the beef in batches). Add browned beef to the slow-cooker, along with all remaining ingredients. Cook on low for 8 hours (if using a Dutch oven, cook for 3-4 hours). Adjust seasoning with salt, pepper and hot sauce, if needed. If at the end of the cooking time, the liquid has not thickened to a consistency you like, pour all but half a cup of the liquid into a sauce pan. Pour the remaining half cup of liquid into a measuring cup, and whisk in the arrowroot or cornstarch. Bring the liquid in the sauce pan to a low boil, and add the arrowroot mixture. The sauce will thicken, and you can reunite it with the stew.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Floribean chicken chili
White chili
Football season chili

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This just in:  April from New York City hosted a Thanksgiving Drop In & Decorate baking-and-decorating party this past weekend, and donated the cookies to two food pantries, Center of Hope International's Bread of Life Food Pantry (Long Island City) and Services and Food for the Homeless (Lower East Side). 

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 Nikas Culinaria, Homesick Texan, Food Blogga, The Inadvertent Gardener, Jaden's Steamy Kitchen,  La Mia Cucina, One Hot Stove, 37 Days, 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, Culinary Types, Nook & Pantry, Cookthink, Tea & Cookies, Mele Cotte, A Veggie Venture, Cream Puffs in Venice, startcooking.com, Shazam in the Kitchen, The Family Quilt, The Daily Tiffin, Sticky, Gooey, Creamy, Chewy, The Budget Bambino and What's for Lunch, Honey?

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

"The families were thrilled with extraordinarily beautiful cookies, and your gift helped brighten their lives during a very difficult time." Crossroads Rhode Island Family Center

Harissa, pumpkin stew

A week about stews, and the good things that come from cans.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.

Ilsa didn't go to Rick's Café Americain for the food. In fact, nobody went to Rick's for the food. Drinking, yes. Smoking, of course. Gambling and trading? You betcha. A rousing chorus of La Marseillaise? Absolutely!

But food? Not a bite, and what a shame, because Rick's, the place to see and be seen in the classic film, Casablanca, surely might have had wonderful food, including couscous and tagines with spicy homemade harissa.

Harissa (also spelled harisa, which is more true to its pronounciation: hah REE sah) is the most important condiment used in Moroccan, Algerian and Tunisian cooking, yet it is made from chile peppers -- often guajillo, New Mexico, ancho, cayenne or chile de arbol -- which were introduced to the region by explorers returning from the Americas.

From the Arabic word for "to break into pieces," harissa is made by pounding hot chiles in a mortar and then adding salt and sometimes garlic, plus spices such as coriander, cumin, caraway, or fennel; our modern-day mortar, the food processor, makes quick work of what is traditionally a lengthy preparation done by the women of a family.

Harissa is sold in tubes, cans or jars. Tunisian brands are considered the best, but it's easy to make your own using this recipe. You can make it hot or mild, depending on the chile pepper you choose. In the tube, or covered with olive oil in an airtight container, harissa will keep in the refrigerator for a month or more.

In Morocco, harissa often is served apart from the main dish, for diners to add to their own taste. In Tunisia and Algeria, it's an ingredient in the cooking.

In my cooking, harissa stands in for cayenne pepper, to spice up salad or soup, or a marinade or stew.

Rick and Ilsa, and even Captain Renault, would have loved it.

MARAK DAR MARHZIN (PUMPKIN STEW)
A marak is a vegetable version of a tagine. Adapt this recipe to whatever root vegetables you prefer. Serves 6.

3 Tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1-1/2 tsp turmeric
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tsp ground cinnamon
2 medium carrots, peeled and sliced
2 cups water
1 lb butternut squash or sugar pumpkin, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
1 lb sweet potato, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes
1 14-oz can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2 tsp harissa, or more to taste
3/4 cup raisins or dried cherries
3 tsp honey
Kosher salt and black pepper, to taste
Parsley leaves, for garnish
Lemon wedges, for serving

In a small frying pan, heat the oil and add onions. Cook gently for 5 minutes, then add garlic, turmeric, ginger and cinnamon. Cook, stirring, for 2 minutes until the paste becomes slightly aromatic. Transfer mixture to the base of a large tagine.

Add carrots and water, stir, and cover the tagine. Cook for 10 minutes. Add squash, sweet potato, chickpeas, harissa, raisins and honey, plus salt and pepper to taste. Cover and simmer until vegetables are tender. Garnish with parsley leaves, and serve with couscous and lemon wedges to squeeze over the vegetables.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Spiced lentils with squash and raisins
Braised fish, Tunisian style

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This just in: Mary from Shazam in the Kitchen and a group of friends and family decorated and donated seven dozen beautiful cookies to Ann Arbor Ronald McDonald House.

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 Nikas Culinaria, Homesick Texan, Baking and Books, Food Blogga, The Inadvertent Gardener, Jaden's Steamy Kitchen,  La Mia Cucina, One Hot Stove, 37 Days, 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, Culinary Types, Nook & Pantry, Cookthink, Tea & Cookies, Mele Cotte, A Veggie Venture, Cream Puffs in Venice, startcooking.com, Shazam in the Kitchen, The Family Quilt, The Daily Tiffin, Sticky, Gooey, Creamy, Chewy, The Budget Bambino and What's for Lunch Honey?

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

"The families were thrilled with extraordinarily beautiful cookies, and your gift helped brighten their lives during a very difficult time." Crossroads Rhode Island Family Center

Olives, chicken with preserved lemon

A few nights ago, Ted and I walked over to Foodie's Urban Market in Boston's South End to pick up a few provisions for a quiet night of dinner and a DVD.

We didn't have anything particular in mind; we were following our cravings. Grapes. Cheese. Chips. Chocolate. We wandered up and down the aisles. Just as we passed the artisan breads, my little eye spied a hand-lettered label...

"Venetian olive rolls."

Oh boy! The last time we'd had those was in Venice, when we'd rented an apartment near the Galleria dell'Accademia, around the corner from a bakery. Every morning Ted would buy rolls that were warm and purplish with chunks of Kalamata olives, and we'd get cheese at a market a few doorways down the street. It's the only time I've ever had olives for breakfast, and it was a wonderful way to start each day.

Like hot sauce and sea salt, olives of multiple varieties merit a permanent place in my pantry. Kalamata, which are Nick's favorite. Cracked green, when I'm lucky enough to get to the Syrian Grocery in Boston's South End. Stuffed green, for tapenade. Black ones in the can, because I love them in salad with nectarines and blue cheese, both strong flavors with which cured olives should not compete.

Olives are the fruit of a small evergreen tree; according to the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, the top ten olive-producing countries in 2003 were, in order, Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Syria, Tunisia, Morocco, Egypt, Algeria and Portugal. So it's no surprise that olives figure prominently in the cuisines of those countries.

I love this passage from John Thorne's Simple Cooking:

Olives. If there is a single flavor whose presence gives shape to the eating of all the Mediterranean, it is theirs. Street markets reek of their acescent aroma, brine-soaked tubs proclaim their gaudy multitude: bruise-purple, glaucous, pure emerald green; some plump to bursting, others withered as any prune. In Provence alone, there are dozens of varieties and hundreds of cures, touching every note in a register of bitter, pungent complexity.

How can we understand this appetite? Olives, their olives, are so hard to like except one by one -- the piquant touch on the hors d'oeuvres tray, some tiny slivers scattered over the salad, pasta, or pizza. And even then, we prefer them at their most suave -- nicoise, Kalamata, Ponentine -- sleek miniatures of what is in truth a coarse and gargantuan hunger.

People are passionate about olives, love 'em or hate 'em. If only as a snack food or garnish (after all, they were good enough for James Bond), olives would find their way into my refrigerator from time to time, but the great joy, and challenge, is to use them as an ingredient in other dishes, such as chicken with feta and olives, or pasta puttanesca, or muffuletta salad.

To prepare olives for cooking, you need to minimize the intensity of the brine, or salt, in which they were preserved. Place the olives in a small pan, and cover with water. Bring to a boil, drain, and return olives to the pan. Cover with water again, bring to the boil, and drain. After two or three repetitions, the olives will have lost the briny quality but will retain all of their fantastic flavor.

CHICKEN WITH PRESERVED LEMON AND OLIVES
If there’s one dish that everyone thinks of as typically Moroccan, it’s this one, often called a tagine, and cooked in a pot of the same name. Usually a whole chicken is cut into serving pieces; in this version, I’ve adapted to use boneless, skinless chicken thighs, which cook much more quickly than using chicken on the bone, but still stay moist. The chicken does need to marinate for a while before cooking, so be sure to leave extra time. Serves 6-8.

3 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/2 tsp ground cumin
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper, or 1 tsp harissa
1/2 tsp turmeric
Pinch of saffron, crushed slightly
2 Tbsp olive oil
10 boneless, skiness chicken thighs, trimmed, cut into large chunks
1 large onion, finely chopped
1/2 cup chicken stock
4 Tbsp chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley, plus extra whole leaves for garnish
Kosher salt, to taste
1 whole preserved lemon, or equivalent chunks
18 or more pitted cracked green or kalamata olives, cut in half
1-2 Tbsp lemon juice

Combine garlic and spices, plus 1 tsp olive oil, in a large dish. Add chicken, massage all over with the spice paste, and marinate in a ziploc bag, in the refrigerator for 2-3 hours or overnight.

Place remaining oil and onion in the base of a tagine or Dutch oven, and cook over lowest heat until translucent, 3-4 minutes. Add chicken to the pot along with marinade in the bag, plus the stock, parsley and a little bit of salt. Cover, and cook for 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, remove the pith and pulp from the preserved lemon, and rinse the peel. Julienne into thin strips. Place olives in a saucepan with enough water to cover; bring to a boil, then drain. Repeat at least once more, to remove bitterness from the olives.

Add lemon strips and olives to the chicken, cover, and simmer for 30 minutes more, or until the chicken is cooked through. Add lemon juice and adjust seasoning to taste with salt and pepper. Garnish with fresh parsley leaves. Serve with couscous.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Preserved lemons 
Tapenade 
Vinegar veggies
Mediterranean red snapper
Caponata
Stuffed pepper tapas

Tomato paste, chicken chili

If I could wake up tomorrow and be anything in the world, I'd be an artist.

Not just an artist.

A painter.

In my studio I'd have old coffee cans filled with brushes, a canvas on the easel, and a palette of paint blobs squeezed out of tubes: zapf green, alizarin crimson, yellow ochre, cerulean blue.

And tomato paste. If it's not a paint color, it should be. Everything about it -- the richness, the consistency, even the crinkly tube -- makes you want to squeeze a bit out onto a palette and push it into the canvas with a paint brush. Or squeeze a bit into a sauce or stew and push it around with a wooden spoon.

Tomato paste, also sold as tomato concentrate, is a thick paste made by cooking meaty plum tomatoes for several hours, straining them to remove the skins and seeds, and reducing them further until they turn into a thick paste with intense flavor. Though the paste can be reconstituted into tomato juice or ketchup, it's most often added to the pan right from the tube or can.

Especially in the off season, when the tomatoes you buy in the market are so often disappointing, a tablespoon or two of tomato paste really improves the flavor in almost any recipe.

If you can find tomato paste in a tube (always available in the Italian foods aisle of my local grocery stores; the Amore brand is most common), you'll love the convenience of using just a spoonful or two at a time. Store the opened tube in the refrigerator; it will last for many months.

FLORIBEAN CHICKEN CHILI
Ted, an unrepentant Montreal Canadiens fan, reminds me that this week is the start of hockey season, so this chili with mango salsa topping is for hockey fans everywhere, and for my mango-loving fan in particular. It has lots of ingredients but, like all chili, is very easy to make, and it uses chipotles in adobo, which we found in the pantry earlier this week. Adapted slightly from a recipe in Parade magazine by Sheila Lukins, the recipe serves 6-8; can be doubled or tripled.

2-1/2 lbs boneless chicken thighs
1 onion, divided (half cut into two large chunks, half diced)
1 carrot, halved
2 celery ribs, halved
2 bay leaves
Juice of 1/2 lime
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
3 black peppercorns
1/2 lb dried red kidney beans, soaked in water overnight, or 1 can red kidney beans (rinsed and drained)
2 Tbsp olive oil
1/2 chopped poblano pepper
4 oz diced chicken andouille or other spicy sausage
2 tsp each ground coriander, cumin, and chili powder (mild or hot, to taste)
1 14-oz can crushed tomatoes
2 oz tomato paste
1 Tbsp red wine vinegar
1 Tbsp molasses
1 Tbsp chopped chipotle pepper in adobo
1 tsp sugar, or more to taste
3/4 cup diced ripe tomatoes
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro leaves, optional

For garnishes (optional):
1 cup sour cream
1/4 cup snipped fresh chives
1 ripe mango, diced
1 ripe tomato, diced
Chopped cilantro
Grated Monterey Jack pepper cheese or other cheese

Place chicken along with the two large chunks of onion, carrots, celery, bay leaves, lime juice, 1 tsp cumin, 1 tsp coriander and peppercorns in a large heavy pot. Add water to cover. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 30 minutes, or until chicken is cooked through. Remove chicken to a bowl. Strain broth through a strainer lined with cheesecloth, and return the broth to the pot. Shred the chicken and set aside.

Add beans to the reserved broth. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer until tender, about 45 minutes. Skim foam if necessary. Drain beans, reserving 1 cup of cooking liquid; set aside. Heat olive oil in a heavy pot over medium-low heat. Add chopped onions, poblano and sausage; cook for 8 minutes. Add remaining coriander, cumin and chili powder; cook 3-4 minutes, stirring. Add tomatoes, tomato paste, vinegar, molasses, chipotle, sugar, and reserved bean liquid. Simmer 20-25 minutes. Add diced tomato, cilantro, reserved beans and chicken. Cook for 10 minutes longer.

Prepare garnishes. Combine sour cream and chives in a bowl. In another bowl, combine mango, tomato and cilantro, and salt and pepper to taste (making a mango salsa!). Serve chili with optional garnishes and grated cheese.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
My own meat sauce
White chili
Turkey-green chile chili
South End Deep Root Chili
Root-vegetables-with-beef stew
Football season chili

Ground chile pepper, white chili

Were you among the 30,000 people in Hatch, New Mexico, at noon on September 1, when the Chile Queen and her Red and Green Chile Princesses were crowned at the kick-off of the world's most famous chile festival?

Did you watch the chile-eating contests and inhale the aroma of fresh green chiles being roasted in the field? Did you purchase some ristras, taste the burritos and sopapillas, ogle the best-of-show chile pods?

Me neither.

Thanks to friends who travel frequently to Taos, however, I am well supplied with several varieties of New Mexico dried ground chile pepper, and my pantry would be naked without it. (Left to right in the photo above: red and green flakes, ground red, ancho.)

Big Jim, Sandia, Anaheim and Espanola are the most popular New Mexico chile varieties; all rank as fairly mild on the Scoville scale, at 500-2,500 Scoville units. (A bell pepper is 0 Scoville units, a habanero 300,000 or more.) In my pantry, I also have hot ground chile from Vietnam, and wickedly hot cayenne, from California, plus mild and hot variations of what we call pizza peppah here in Rhode Island.

Chili powder (with an "i") and ground chile pepper (with an "e") are two different products. With an "e", it's pure pepper. With an "i", it's a blend, often containing one or more varieties of ground chile pepper, plus cumin, garlic and Mexican oregano. And, even more confusing, many recipes for chili call for some type of chile.

According to New Mexico State University's Chile Pepper Institute, where in addition to scholarly research and practical advice, you can also find an online seed catalog, one teaspoon of dried red chile powder provides an adult's daily requirement of Vitamin A, and one fresh green chile pod has as much Vitamin C as six oranges.

In fact, chiles are so popular that, for more than 20 years, they've even had their own magazine. Now, how many foods can make that claim?

WHITE CHILI
Adapted from Weekend! A Menu Cookbook for Relaxed Entertaining, by Edith Stovel and Pamela Wakefield, this is a great recipe for those who don’t eat beef but still want some meat in their chili. Serves 8.

3 19-oz cans cannellini beans, drained, rinsed and drained again
14 oz homemade or low-sodium canned chicken stock (I use Swanson 99%)
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 lb ground turkey breast or ground chicken breast
2 large garlic cloves, minced
2 cups chopped onion
1 4-oz can chopped green chiles
2 tsp ground cumin
2 tsp dried oregano
1/2 tsp dried chile powder or ancho chile powder, or more to taste
1/3 tsp cinnamon
Tabasco or other hot pepper sauce, to taste
1/2 cup each: thinly sliced green onions, grated cheddar cheese, minced red onion (for garnish)

In a large heavy pot, combine beans with the chicken stock and heat over low heat while you prepare the remaining components of the chili. In another frying pan, heat the olive oil. Add the ground turkey and sauté, stirring frequently, until the turkey is lightly browned.  Add the onions and garlic, and continue cooking until the onions are soft. Add chiles, cumin, oregano, chile powder and cinnamon, and stir to combine. Stir the turkey mixture into the beans, and add hot pepper sauce to taste. Cook, uncovered, over medium heat (don’t allow the chili to boil) for 10-15 minutes. Garnish as desired and serve hot.

Also in The Perfect Pantry:
Piment d'Espelette (Recipe: Chicken basquaise with Espelette piperade)
Green chiles (Recipe: Turkey-green chile chili)
Red pepper flakes (Recipe: Pasta puttanesca)
Cayenne pepper (Recipe: Doro wat)
Red, white and blue (pepper) (Recipe: Burmese dry chicken curry)

Piment d'Espelette

On the last weekend in October, thousands of people will crowd into the narrow streets of the town of Espelette, in the Basque region of southwest France, for The Celebration of Peppers, honoring the area's most famous agricultural product: piment d'Espelette.

I'm partial to any food that merits an entire festival held in its name (Gilroy garlic, Hatch chiles, Crisfield crabs). I'm also partial to any food that comes from only one place on Earth.

Piment d'Espelette is a one-place-on-Earth, deserves-a-parade, sweet-hot pepper produced in only ten small villages in France with a total growing area of just 3,000 acres, earning it the coveted Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) designation.

AOC certification is granted to certain French products, like champagne, that are unique and grown in only one well-defined geographic region. Roquefort cheese was the first AOC product, designated in 1925; piment d'Espelette received its AOC appellation in 1999. As a result, this newest addition to my pantry has made its way into the American food scene, and into gourmet markets and online shops.

As essential to authentic Basque cooking as jalapeños are to Tex-Mex cuisine and anchos are to molé, piment d'Espelette is harvested in late summer, when the bright red peppers are strung like the chile ristras of the Southwest US, and hung on the lovely white houses of the villages to dry in the sun.

If you can't find the real thing, you can substitute hot paprika, mild New Mexico red chile powder, or a combination of the two with a bit of pimentón mixed in.

Piment d'Espelette is used, most famously, to both color and flavor the outside of Bayonne ham, but once you have it in your pantry, you'll love the uniquely sweet heat in a variety of recipes for steak and chips, fish and ribs, pretzels or — oui, oui — let-them-eat cake.

CHICKEN BASQUAISE WITH ESPELETTE PIPERADE
Recipe adapted very slightly from Fieryfoods.com. Piperade is a colorful pepper sauce that is only spicy when made in the Basque region. This simple but delicious dish is often served at the Celebration of the Peppers. Serve with boiled potatoes and green beans, over rice, or with egg noodles; tastes best at room temperature. Serves 4-6.

1/2 cup olive oil
4 medium onions, chopped
3 cloves garlic, sliced
4 green bell peppers, seeds and stems removed, chopped
2 red bell peppers, seeds and stems removed, chopped
4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded and chopped
3 Tbsp piment d'Espelette, or more to taste (substitute hot paprika or New Mexico red chile powder)
Pinch of thyme
Salt and pepper to taste
1 chicken, cut up, or equivalent chicken parts (2 breasts, cut in half; 4 thighs; 2 legs), skin on, bone in
1/4 cup chicken stock

Heat 1/4 cup olive oil in a large sauté pan and cook the onions and garlic for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the bell peppers and cook over medium heat for 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes and Espelette powder and cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the thyme, salt, and pepper and transfer to a bowl.

Wipe out the pan and heat the remaining 1/4 cup of oil. Brown the chicken in the oil until golden, turning often. Pour the pepper mixture over the chicken, reduce the heat, cover and simmer until tender, about 30-40 minutes. (If there is not enough liquid in the pan, add the chicken stock.) Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Dal, beans, lentils

In Alan Davidson's The Oxford Companion to Food, dal fills a third of a page between Dagestan and damson.

Open any Indian cookbook, however, and you'll see that dal (or dhal) fills much more than a third of a page; it's one of the mainstays of both northern and southern Indian cooking, an important source of protein served at almost every meal.

Dal — literally, "split beans" — refers to both the ingredient and the dish that results from cooking it. In the broader sense, dal refers to all hulled, split pulses: beans, peas and lentils. (Whole pulses are called grams.) Some of the more popular dal include:

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

In North India, dal is served thick and hearty, like a stew; in the south, generally it's thin and soupy. Though the term dal is somewhat generic, each type offers a different flavor and texture, and requires a different cooking time and method. Some need to be presoaked; some cook without salt; all benefit from being cooked in soft water.

Seasonings make dal come alive; try some classic combinations, or create your own using turmeric, mustard seeds, chile peppers or red pepper flakes, asafoetida, onions, scallions, ginger, garlic, tomatoes, garam masala, or curry. I keep my favorite Indian spices in a masala dabba.

There are, according to The Oxford Companion to Food, at least 60 kinds of dishes made from dal, some traditional and others a bit more innovative, pairing pulses with butternut squash, spinach, pasta, okra, chorizo, green beans, tomatoes — even sugar with cashews, for a sweet dessert. And while dal often likes to nestle in a bowl, it's happy if you form it into patties, balls, and squares, too.

PUNJ RATTANI DAL (PUNJAB FIVE JEWELS)
From Favorite Indian Food, by Diane Seed, this recipe, a delicious dal sampler, traditionally uses five different types of dal, but may be made with any combination of lentils and dried beans, or with any one type of dal. Yes, it looks like a long list of ingredients, but the dish comes together quite easily. Serves 6.

1/4 cup mung beans (moong dal)
1/4 cup white gram beans (urad dal)
1/4 cup pink lentils (masoor dal)
1/4 cup yellow lentils (toovar dal)
1/4 cup yellow split peas (channa dal)
1 large onion, minced
4 cloves garlic, minced
1-1/4 piece fresh gingerroot, grated or minced
2 fresh hot green chile peppers, minced
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp turmeric
2 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp ground cumin
Salt
2 Tbsp butter
2 peeled, chopped tomatoes
1 tsp garam masala
3 oz plain yogurt
2 Tbsp chopped fresh coriander

In a mortar and pestle, combine the onion, garlic, ginger and seeded chile peppers; pound until the fibers break down. Heat the oil and cook the paste for 5 minutes. Stir in the dal and when they are coated with the mixture, pour in 2 quarts of water. Bring to the boil, and stir in the turmeric, coriander powder, and cayenne. Simmer until the dal are cooked and half the liquid has evaporated. Sprinkle with the ground cumin and salt to taste.

In another pan, melt the butter and add the tomatoes, garam masala and yogurt. Cook for approximately 10 minutes, then pour over the dal mixture and garnish with fresh coriander.

Preserved lemons

When the universe conspires to teach you about something, you have to learn to ... well, learn.

That's what happened with preserved lemons, which are now a permanent fixture in my pantry.

I can't remember which came first: Bob's desire to create some tagines in his pottery studio, or Jessica volunteering to teach The #1 Cooking Group how to make preserved lemons, or the going-out-of-business sale at a small Moroccan shop down the street from our house.

No matter. I bought three clay tagines at the sale, brought them to Bob's studio where we designed new tagines based on traditional forms, and took Jessica up on her offer to teach us to make our own preserved lemons and to use them in some interesting recipes.

A fundamental ingredient in North African cooking, preserved lemons have a mild, pickled, almost caper-like flavor, not at all like raw lemons. They're sold loose in the markets in Morocco, where they are used in tagines (stews) of chicken, lamb, and vegetables. Don't substitute fresh lemons for preserved; the taste and texture are completely different, and preserved lemons are super-easy to make. All you need is patience, a clean glass jar, and lots of salt.

If you're not the patient type, try Paula Wolfert's five-day preserved lemons. Not quite the same as the long-cured ones, and they won't keep, but they'll get you through any recipe.

You can keep the juice after you've used the lemons, and start a new batch of lemons in the same jar, or just toss in leftover chunks of lemon as I've done here. The pickling juice can be used two or three times over the course of a year, and then should be discarded. You might see a kind of lacy white substance in the jar as the lemons mature. This is harmless and should be rinsed off for aesthetic reasons before you use the lemons. You'll be rinsing the lemons anyway, to remove the loose salt.

Experts differ on whether to use the flesh of the preserved lemons, or just the rind. I cook with the rind only.

JESSICA'S PRESERVED LEMONS
These take just 10 minutes to make, and last for six months or more. Adapted from Paula Wolfert. Use a plastic jar lid, so you can mark the date on it.

4 large lemons (preferably fairly thin-skinned), scrubbed (about 6 oz each)
2/3 cup kosher salt
1 cup fresh lemon juice (from 5 large lemons)
Olive oil

Dry lemons well and cut each into 8 wedges. In a bowl toss wedges with salt (it will seem like a lot of salt), and pack them into a sterilized glass wide-mouth canning jar (with a plastic replacement lid, available in the grocery or hardware store where you buy canning jars). Once the jar is full, add enough lemon juice to cover the lemons (don't use bottled lemon juice, or water). Make sure the rim is free of salt or juice, and that the lid closes tightly. Let lemons stand at room temperature for seven days, shaking the jar each day to redistribute the salt and lemon juice. Then, add oil to cover lemons and store in the refrigerator, covered. The lemons will ripen in 30 days and can be stored up to six months.

Jessica adds: "No surprise — I have never weighed my lemons or measured the salt and lemon juice... I just toss a bunch of lemon chunks in the salt and start packing them into a pint jar. Once the jar is full, I fill with enough fresh lemon juice to cover. The plastic tops for wide-mouth canning jars are excellent. They are much less likely to corrode from all the salt and acid."

Use a wooden spoon to remove lemons from the jar.

LENTILS WITH SPINACH AND PRESERVED LEMON
My adaptation of Jessica’s adaptation of a recipe from Paula Wolfert’s Mediterranean Cooking. Serves 6.

1 turkey kielbasa
1/2 lb brown or black lentils
1 cup sliced onion
1/4 cup olive oil
3 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
1/4 cup chopped fresh coriander or parsley
10 oz frozen spinach leaves, completely thawed and roughly chopped (or fresh baby spinach)
2 medium Yukon Gold or red-skinned potatoes, peeled and sliced
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1/4 cup chopped rind of preserved lemons

In a frying pan, brown the kielbasa until very brown. Set aside.

Wash and pick over the lentils. Place in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to the boil. Cook, covered, about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, brown the onion in oil in a large casserole or Dutch oven. Stir in the garlic and coriander/parsley. Add the spinach and sauté 5-6 minutes, stirring frequently. Add the potatoes, lentils, and enough cooking liquid to cover. Season with salt and pepper. Bring to the boil, lower the heat, and cook at the simmer for 1 hour, or until thick and soupy, about 20 minutes. Stir in the chopped preserved lemons and the sausage. Serve hot, lukewarm, or cold.

Ketchup

No matter how old I get (and today is my birthday, so I know I'm getting older), I will never, ever, outgrow ketchup.

In my family, it was always ketchup, Heinz ketchup, that rescued the bad meals (mother's grievously overcooked calf's liver, hard as shoe leather), and enhanced the good ones (dad's perfectly grilled lamb chops). I put it on cheese omelets and mashed potatoes, and everything in between. Sure, ketchup isn't a vegetable, as the USDA now admits, but I could eat five servings a day.

I don't remember ever seeing my mother cook with ketchup, apart from slathering it atop meatloaf or mixing a quick sauce for shrimp cocktail. As my tastebuds, and my own interest in cooking, broadened, I discovered ketchup in recipes for Chinese stir-fry, Malaysian noodles, Indian curries and barbecue sauces.

According to the Food Lover's Companion, ketchup originated in 17th-Century China, where it was a fishy, smelly, pickly condiment (with lots of anchovies, but no tomatoes) called ket-siap. British seamen brought it home, where mushrooms became the dominant flavoring; other ingredients, such as walnuts and vinegar, were added to cater to the European preference for strong sauces. By the 18th Century, ketchup made its way to New England, where tomatoes were added; a century later, Henry Heinz began to bottle and mass-market the product we know today.

Modern-day American ketchup usually has a tomato foundation, though gourmet markets often carry interesting variations (mango ketchup, anyone?). Vinegar gives ketchup its tang, while sugar, salt and spices contribute to the blend.

There is, as it turns out, a correct way to get ketchup out of the bottle. You can invert the bottle and wait, and wait, and wait. You can stick a knife in it, but that can be messy.

Instead, please try this at home: Make a fist with your left hand. With your right hand, invert the bottle on an angle, and rap the lower part of the neck down onto your left fist (on my bottle, above, I hit the 36-ounce label on the neck). This applies the correct G-force to the viscous ketchup, which causes it to flow. No kidding!

Heinz tomato ketchup, approved by NASA for use on the International Space Station, is 130 years old. Makes me feel like a kid again.

FOOTBALL SEASON CHILI
Adapted from a recipe from Arthur Manjourides, chef/owner of Charlie's Sandwich Shoppe in Boston's South End. Serves 10.

2 large onions, chopped
1-1/2 cups celery, chopped
4 bell peppers (a mix of red and green), chopped
5 cloves garlic, minced
1 habanero chile pepper, chopped (or jalapeño, for a milder chili)
4 Tbsps olive oil
2 lbs ground sirloin
2 28-oz cans whole peeled tomatoes
4 oz ketchup
2 oz tomato paste
1 cup water
4 bay leaves
1 Tbsp kosher salt
2 heaping Tbsp black pepper, or more to taste
3 Tbsp ground cumin
2 Tbsp cayenne pepper
5 Tbsp chili powder, mild or hot, to taste
2 Tbsps dried oregano
4 Tbsps paprika
2 28-oz cans dark red kidney beans, rinsed and drained

In a large heavy pot or Dutch oven, sauté onions, peppers, celery, garlic and chile pepper for 5 minutes in olive oil. In the meantime, in a frying pan, brown the beef. Drain off the fat, and add beef to the vegetables. Break up the tomatoes (hint: cut them into the pot with kitchen shears) and add to the pot with ketchup, tomato paste, 1 cup water, and bay leaves. Stir to combine. Add remaining seasonings, and bring to a simmer. Stir in the kidney beans and cook, uncovered, on low heat for 1 hour. Adjust salt and pepper to taste. Can be made ahead; cool, cover and refrigerate.

Green chiles

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

Earlier this fall, three friends visited New Mexico.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pearl onions

When Ted and I first started dating, a hundred million years ago, he seduced me with a very romantic dinner of beef bourguignon. Chunks of beef, mushrooms, pearl onions, red wine sauce....

One bite, and I was smitten. (Truth? I was smitten long before that, but I'm not sure he knew it.)

I've never made beef bourguignon, and Ted's never made it again, either — after all, he got the girl — but over the years we've experimented with many variations on beef stew.

The only thing I don't like about making stew is peeling the dozen or more little onions that, for some reason, absolutely have to be in there. My eyes start to burn, and the onion skins get stuck to my skin. I love Ted, and he loves stew, so we've both struggled for years to peel through the tears.

A few months ago, quite by chance, I watched an episode of Barefoot Contessa that changed my cooking life. There was Ina Garten, one of my kitchen idols, dumping a bag of frozen pearl onions into her beef bourguignon. Wow! That was the permission I needed; if it was good enough for Ina, it was good enough for me.

I'm a very recent convert to frozen vegetables, but I do understand the concept of IQF: freeze things at their peak of flavor. I keep a few vegetables in the pantry freezer to add to soups and stews when I can't get fresh veggies during the winter months, but why go back to peeling little onions, when I can open a little bag?

Thank you, Ina!

ROOT-VEGETABLES-WITH-BEEF STEW
Heavy on the root veggies, this is a wonderful stew that can accommodate your personal preferences in the vegetable department. Like all stews, it improves with age, so make it a day ahead if you have time. Can be frozen, but it rarely lasts that long in our house. Serves 8-10.

3 Tbsp olive oil
2 lb beef stew meat (chuck, bottom round, etc.), cut in large chunks
1 cup flour
1 medium onion, sliced
1 clove garlic, whole
1 Tbsp thyme leaf, or a couple of sprigs of fresh thyme
1 bay leaf
1 bottle red wine
2 tsp Dijon mustard
2 Tbsp tomato paste
2 tsp oyster-flavor sauce
1 tsp honey
1/4 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, or more to taste
1/2 tsp paprika
4 large carrots, cut into chunks
1 package (16 oz) frozen pearl onions
8 small red-skinned new potatoes, cut into chunks
1 large rutabaga, wax coating removed, cut into chunks
2 small purple-topped turnips, peeled, cut into chunks
4-5 parsnips, peeled, cut into chunks

Heat oil in a very large stockpot (12 quarts or larger). Dredge meat lightly in flour and, adding a few pieces at a time, brown meat thoroughly on all sides (remove the pieces as they're browned, into a bowl; when all of the meat is browned, add back the reserved meat and juices). Add sliced onion, and the garlic, and cook for 2-3 minutes, until the onion becomes translucent. Then, add the thyme, bay leaf, wine, mustard, tomato paste, oyster sauce, honey, peppers and paprika. Bring to a boil, then cover and reduce heat to lowest simmer. Cook for 2 hours, stirring occasionally. Add all of the vegetables and cook, covered, for another hour until all of the vegetables are tender (the potatoes will start to fall apart a bit). The sauce will thicken nicely, but if you'd like it thicker, stir in a solution of 1 Tbsp cornstarch dissolved in 3 Tbsp water. Serve in large bowls with some crusty bread.

Coconut milk

A few years ago, Ted and I visited Trinidad, where we stayed with a family in the town of Arima, a lively Afro-Caribbean community in the center of the country.

Each day we'd set off on explorations, to the Asa Wright Bird Sanctuary, a steel pan competition, the tar pits in the south, or the capital city, Port-of-Spain. And everywhere we went, we passed open-back trucks parked along the side of the road, with hand-lettered signs:

ICE COLD NUTS

Sometimes,

COLD NUTS

and, occasionally,

$1 NUTS.

The nuts were ripe green giant coconuts, and when you purchased one, the seller would hack off the top with a machete. He'd stick a straw in it and hand it to you, like an oversized tropical drink at a tiki bar, and you could sip the very cold liquid inside — entirely refreshing in the hot Caribbean climate.

I was expecting coconut milk, the stuff that comes in a can. Instead, out came coconut water, also referred to as coconut juice or milk, though it's not milk at all.

Coconut milk — also called coconut cream (are you confused yet?) — is made by passing coconut meat through a grater and then squeezing it to extract the milky fluid, which is thinned with water. The resulting milk is smooth and thick, with a slightly sweet flavor. In the can (which is how we usually buy it), the thick "cream" floats to the top, and can be scooped off for recipes that call for coconut cream. The thinner milk remains at the bottom. Shaking the can redistributes the creamy bits.

Coconut milk plays an important role in the cuisines of Thailand, Malaysia, the Philippines, Hawaii, the West Indies, and Sri Lanka.

Those who are limiting their intake of cholesterol should go easy on coconut milk; while it contains no cholesterol, it boasts 552 calories per cup, of which a whopping 88% is fat. And that's what makes it taste so good.

THAI TOFU AND WINTER SQUASH STEW
Great for potluck, when you want to bring something meatless. Recipe adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison. Serves 6.

3 large leeks, white parts only
4 Tbsp peanut oil
4 garlic cloves, finely chopped
4 serrano chiles, minced (remove seeds and ribs for mild heat; leave in for hot!)
2 Tbsp finely chopped fresh ginger root
2 Tbsp curry powder, sweet or hot, to taste
2 tsp light brown sugar
6 Tbsp mushroom soy sauce (or regular soy)
2 14-oz cans unsweetened coconut milk
3 lbs butternut squash, peeled and diced into 1/2-inch cubes
Kosher salt
2 10-oz packages extra-firm tofu, drained, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
Juice of 2 limes
2/3 cup unsalted roasted peanuts, coarsely chopped
1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Halve the leeks lengthwise, then cut them crosswise into 1/4-inch pieces. Wash well in a bowl of water, then drain.

Heat the oil in a wide soup pot. Add the leeks and cook over fairly high heat, stirring frequently, until partially softened, about 3 minutes. Add the garlic, most of the chiles, and ginger; cook 1 minute more, then add the curry, sugar and soy sauce. Reduce the heat to medium, scrape the pan, and cook for a few minutes more. Add 3 cups water, the coconut milk, squash, and 1 tsp salt. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer, covered, for 15 minutes. Add the tofu to the stew once the squash is almost tender, then simmer until it’s done. Taste for salt and add the lime juice.

Serve the stew over rice with the cilantro, peanuts and remaining chile scattered over the top.

Black beans, canned

Once upon a time, a woman named Mary entered a chili contest, a benefit event for one of her causes, and she enlisted the help of her sister and two friends to come up with a signature chili.

She'd seen a recipe for a black bean chili in a magazine, and we started from there. (Cat's out of the bag now...I was one of the recruits.) We worked on our recipe, tweaking a bit, having fun, and — in a stroke of genius — adding some pasta at the end, until we all were pleased with it.

On the day of the contest, I prepared a large vat of our concoction, which we named South End Deep Root Chili in honor of the mega-toothache Mary had on the day we first tested our recipe. Off she went to the contest. There were nine other entrants, all of whom had made traditional chili.

The cook at the station next to Mary's came over for a taste.

"That's not chili," he proclaimed. "It's going to win, but it's not chili."

And win it did. The prize was a crockpot, which the four of us agreed to share (!). I don't know what became of the crockpot, but the chili has become a house favorite, and that's the primary reason canned black beans are always in my pantry. (I stock dried beans, too, and I'll write about them at a later date, but for this chili the canned beans work well.)

Black beans — a.k.a. turtle beans, black Spanish beans, Tampico beans, or Venezuelan beans — are native to Peru, and were introduced to Europe in the 15th Century by Spanish explorers returning from their voyages to the New World. Portuguese traders brought the beans to Africa and Asia, which explains their popularity in the cuisines of almost every culture. An inexpensive source of good protein, black beans are important in the cuisines of Mexico, Brazil, Cuba, Guatemala and the Dominican Republic.

Black beans' high dietary fiber content makes them a good choice for those with high cholesterol or blood sugar control issues. Research now shows that the darker the seed coat of the beans (and how much darker can you get than black?), the higher the level of antioxidants. They're also rich in iron, tryptophan, manganese, folate — and a one-cup serving provides 172% of the recommended daily amount of molybdenum, which breaks down the sulfites found in prepared foods and red wine.

Canned black beans have many uses, from