Pantry Specials are great ingredients that find
their way into my pantry from time to time, but not all the time. In
this occasional series of short posts, you'll find information and
recipes for foods that might not be on your local supermarket's
shelves, but are available online.
Popular in West African cuisine and indigenous to that part of the world, grains of paradise (also called Melegueta or alligator pepper) got its name in a medieval marketing ploy: spice traders looking for a way to inflate the price claimed that the seeds grew only in Eden, and had to be collected as they floated down the rivers out of paradise. Spices were popular in those days, but true pepper was expensive; grains of paradise was a cheaper substitute (ironically, today pepper is inexpensive, while grains of paradise is not cheap at all). The spice was widely used in England until King George III, fearing it was being used in beer and wine production, banned it.
Grains of paradise tastes pungent and fruity, a bit like pepper crossed with cardamom. A frequent component of the spice blend ras el hanout, it works well with eggplant, potatoes, lamb and poultry, squash, tomatoes, and other root vegetables. Purchased in seed form, it must be ground or crushed right before use, and is best added towards the end of the cooking time.
In the pine family, juniper is the rebel. Unlike its cousin, the slender and erect red cedar, juniper spreads low to the ground, sloppily, in all directions. Another cousin, white pine, can be lumbered, while juniper is almost impossible to uproot. And a third cousin, hemlock, has feathery soft needles; juniper’s are nasty, vicious little things.
Most of the pine cousins have woody cones that send seeds flying into the wind; the fruits start off as a cluster of fleshy scale, and when they dry out, they look like the familiar pine cones.
Juniper holds its cones tightly on the branches; the scales stay fleshy and look like berries, but they’re not. What we call juniper berries are actually soft purplish “pine cones”.
After tennis practice, on my way home from school, I'd dig into my backpack and pull out a roll. Every bite tickled the back of my mouth, and I couldn't get enough of it.
My addiction to apricot leather lasted only a few months, but I loved -- and still love -- almost every type of dried fruit, and I always have raisins, craisins (Ocean Spray's clever name for dried cranberries), dried cherries, prunes, figs and apricots in The Perfect Pantry.
Sometimes it takes a waiter with attitude to remind me of the value of a great pantry.
Last month, while visiting San Francisco, Ted and I and two of my favorite bloggingfriends went to dinner at the Fog City Diner, which has been a fixture on the dining scene since 1985.
We ordered a few different starters; I recall a tuna-avocado thing, and a nice salad with local greens. Ted chose a curried mussel stew, served with slices of baguette. While the other appetizers were good, the mussel stew was transcendent, and the four of us descended upon it until we'd dunked and devoured all of the bread and had to ask for more to mop up every bit.
When our waiter returned to clear the licked-clean soup bowl, we asked whether the chef would be willing to share the recipe.
Oh, it's not that hard, he replied. I'm sure you can figure it out.
And he walked away.
After a few seconds, we realized that no recipe would be forthcoming, but we agreed that yes, we surely could figure it out.
And so I returned to Rhode Island, to my well-stocked pantry, to extricate a can of coconut milk and my stash of red curry paste, for clearly those were the key ingredients in the mussel stew.
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.
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.
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.
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 likeBelizean 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.
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.
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.
"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
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.
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.
"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
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