No Heat Required

Let's make one thing clear here: I'm a pasta addict. Sure, it's cheap and easy, thereby making it the kind of food off of which we graduate students base our existence. What's more, a good sauce provides the longest-lasting leftovers. I can think back to several periods in my collegiate life when all I had time to eat was Norma's Peanut Sauce. But I find that the real beauty of the food is that it acts as a base for just about anything. It offers a firm grounding for any inspired madman to create a sauce ridiculous and amazing. And as a result, I eat it all the time.

So when Moxie mentioned she wanted to make her mum's recipe for her favourite uncooked sauce, I was game to try it. I have witnessed others try to half-ass an uncooked sauce -- mainly by tossing on some oil, cheese, and calling it done -- and this is most definitely not that. This sauce relies on a collection of strong, distinct flavours: anchovies, olives, garlic, capers, etc. The blended result is amazing: potent, but not overwhelming, and easily diluted/focused by the addition/removal of more noodles. The taste lingers in your mouth without ever becoming abrasive, just leaving you craving more. Of all the sauces that I've experimented with, this is currently the most memorable. And what's more: it's really pretty! Not bad for a meal that takes no more than a few minutes of chopping & mincing to prepare.

Pasta with Uncooked Sauce

• 4 large tomatoes, chopped
• 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
• 14 large black olives //Kalamata recommended
• 3 Tbsp capers, minced
• 4 anchovy fillets, chopped
• 2 Tbsp olive oil
• 3 large garlic cloves, minced
• 1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper
• 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese //or more, to taste

Mix all of the ingredients in a large bowl. Cook angel hair pasta until done. Drain and toss with uncooked sauce. Serve immediately. Sprinkle additional Parmesan cheese over pasta to taste.

This amount of sauce is good for approximately ½ lb of pasta

Winter Strikes Again

Remember last week's blizzard? You might have known it as the Snowpocalypse or Snowmageddon. I'm talking about the one that blanketed most of the country with several inches (read:feet) of white fluff, to be accompanied by 60mph gusts, followed shortly thereafter by far-below-freezing temperatures. The storm in which many of us got to enjoy thundersnow for the first time, cozily contemplating the apocalypse? The storm that convinced the UChicago administration to stop classes for a day, an event that hasn't occurred in several decades? And then went and made them do it again? Yeah, that storm.

It's still snowing.

Granted, it's not the violent windy downfall that besieged us last week. After that experience, I barely noticed the delicate flakes currently drifting down from on high. But they're there. And a quick gander over to NOAA's forecast informs me that it is currently 13 degrees with a windchill of -3 degrees (Fahrenheit, mind you). Tomorrow is supposed to be colder.

Can I stay home?

No, probably not. But I can do the next best thing: make myself a big steaming pot of stew for when I get back. The stew I have in mind is one that has actually already been posted once on this blog. But I feel that Do, the Guinness-hating heathen, did not do it justice the first time around. Also, it's one of my most common go-to recipes throughout winter, so why not share it again?

The obvious selling point is that the stew has "Irish" in its title. As well as garner a little pride from Irishmen & women around (of which I am not one), this means that there's a certain amount (read:big heaping portions) of booze in the dish. In this case, the meat and vegetables stew for a few hours in a pint (or more...) of Guinness, which gives the softened chunks that subtle aroma of the bitter stout (the way a dancing elephant with a tutu and a neon sign is subtle). The preparation of the meat, as Do points out, is also a nice touch: before stewing, you cover the beef with a mixture of cornstarch and paprika, with a later addendum of salt, pepper, and (sure, why not?) basil. Some of this will get washed onto the veggies when you pour in the beer, but the rest sticks to the beef and offers a bracing seasoning for the cold weather.

The original recipe can be found at the Thyme for Cooking blog, which I've recopied here for convenience.

Irish Beef Stew

• 1 lb beef suitable for stewing
• 1 onion
• 2 cloves garlic
• 3 carrots
• 1 bay leaf
• 1/2 tsp dried thyme
• 1 pint Guinness
• 2 tsp beef paste (or stock cube)
• 1 tbs oil
• 3 tbs cornstarch
• 1 tbs paprika

Cut beef into 1 inch cubes. Cut onion into quarters, then slice thinly. Mince or press garlic. Cut carrots in half the long way, then into 1 inch pieces.

Combine paprika and cornstarch in a plastic food bag. Add beef and toss to coat evenly.

In a large sauce pan, enough to hold everything easily, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add onion and sauté until translucent, about 5 minutes. Add beef and brown on all sides. Add garlic and sauté 1 minute more. Add remaining ingredients, bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, cover and simmer at least an hour. If it starts to dry out, add more Guinness. If you would like the sauce thicker stir in 1 tbs cornstarch dissolved in 2 tbs water.

When ready to eat, remove bay leaf and serve with boiled jacket potatoes.

Kale and Seaweed Salad. And Qs about Online Sharing

I’ve written three very different versions of this blog post this week. I thought that I was rejecting drafts because I couldn’t get the voice right, but today it occurred to me that it’s the content that was giving me difficulty. I don’t have an answer to the questions that I’m posing; in fact, I don’t even know if they’re the right questions. So this entry is less of a declarative statement than a snapshot of the ideas swimming in and out of focus in my head. Really, I’d just like to grab a beer and have a spirited debate on the subject. So, imagine your favorite draft in hand and bear with me. And this is a soliloquy only due to the format choice – I really would like to hear your point of view.

Why share personal content online? That is the question. Recipes, photos, anecdotes, opinions, musings. Facebook, flickr, blogspot, twitter, Google Buzz, Google Reader. Why share?

That of course begs the question, “sharing with whom?” Because I update my Mom on my latest adventures for different reasons than I post a recipe for a bunch of (very agreeable) strangers. Or at least I think they’re different reasons.

In no particular order: archiving valuable information (recipes, photos) for easy retrieval, getting feedback and thereby validation on creative attempts, keeping in touch/strengthening relationships with distant friends and family, creating communities out of strangers, enjoying hearing myself talk uninterrupted on my soapbox, immediate attention from a wide audience, “popularity” (albeit highly transient…obsessing over hit rates and comment counts…blogging as a gateway drug…).

Why do you share? I bet your first answer is a highly logical, rational, reasonable one. I’m interested to hear that reason, but I’m also interested in the more subconscious one lying just under the surface.

Realization/Confession: I’m an information junkie. My crack is highly concentrated doses of really high quality content, content that pushes my brain to think slightly differently and makes me want to start a discussion with somebody immediately. A juicy local news item pertaining to a business or neighborhood or government institution that I know. An artistically impressive photo that succeeds in communicating a complex set of feelings. A blog post that not only disseminates a recipe but is able to articulate and therefore pass on the meaning buried in that particular combination of ingredients and technical steps. Or the briefest of high quality content messages -- and these days, one I come across with alarming frequency, the facebook update “X has gotten married.”

Quality. À la Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

This is important, because I’m trying to figure out how I want to use this blog and my flickr space. Whom am I posting for? How much personal detail is too much? How can I create and share compelling content while protecting myself emotionally and honoring the privacy of my loved ones? Ironically, I feel more comfortable sharing terribly intimate musings with perfect strangers than with remote acquaintances who know me in real life.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Oh, and this recipe. One of the best parts about living in a place and in a social circle where vegetables carry no stigma is that we’ve learned to expect them to be fun. This recipe honors the ingredients that go into it, producing something that is greater than the sum of its parts. It’s one of those rare reasons to love winter produce, that interminable sea of tough greens. The salad itself is fast, flavorful, and incredibly forgiving: change the ratio of greens to seaweed, supplement kale with chard, add mushrooms to make a hearty lunch… you really can’t go wrong. Believe me: we must have made this recipe 5,000 times while I was in grad school. It’s also vegan; translation: Everybody Will Like It. We bring it to almost every potluck we’re invited to between October and March.

Kale and Seaweed Salad (serves six as a side)

1 bunch Kale or Chard
1/2 cup seaweed flakes ("sea vegetable" - dried or fresh. Our grocery sells dried Wakame flakes in its Asian section.
1 Tbs peeled, minced ginger
1 Tbs minced garlic
1 Tbs toasted sesame seeds
Seasame oil
Soy Sauce

Optional: additional veggies like mushrooms or carrots, sliced.

Optional: 2 serrano peppers, chopped.

If using dried seaweed, let it soak in water 5 - 7 min. Drain and place in the serving bowl. Add 1 tsp sesame oil and the minced ginger.

Soak the Kale in water to loosen any dirt, rinse thoroughly. Chop in 1"x2" strips.

In a large skillet, heat 2 tsp sesame oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and serrano (if using) and gently sauté for 1 min.

Add the Kale and optional supplemental veggies and 3 Tbs Soy sauce. Sauté at high heat, stirring constantly. Alternatively, if not using mushrooms, turn heat to low and cover, cooking gently for 5-10minutes.

Add Kale to serving bowl, add sesame oil and soy sauce to taste. Garnish with toasted sesame seeds.

Death by Chocolate

This is something I wrote and put aside many weeks ago. I think I lost the pictures somewhere along the way. More updates to come...

A lot has happened since I last posted here. That applies to all three of us, really, but mostly to me. As of a few months ago, I am officially an alumnus of the University of Chicago (yaaaaaay!). Granted, with that comes all the "fun" of post-graduation: job-hunting, grad school-applying, student loan-paying, etc. (booooo!). Another piece of that unfortunate collection is saying good-bye to everyone who I've been suffering alongside through the past few years. As all graduates know, it's hard to do. You become attached to people fighting through the cerebral chaos of college. But you rarely realise that when you go on to the real world, you probably won't be able to share that camaderie as before.

But anyway, I'm not here to wax poetic and maudlin. I'm manly that way.

One such fellow whose company I no longer enjoy is my former roommate. God knows why, but the man has decided to leave Chicago to go to graduate school in Arizona. Frozen tundra to arid desert. What? I'm sure he'll have plenty of fun with his new pet scorpions (they hide in the shoes!) -- they will probably be more cooperative listeners to his advanced math lectures. More so than his former smartass roommates, at least.

The greatest loss here, of course, is that I have one fewer guinea pig on whom to test my baked concoctions. Evidently, being exposed to these hazardous materials, the boy has developed a mild addiction to them. Our most recent report from the Southwest informs us that he is "wasting away" without them. So, without further ado, I hereby provide the recipe to one of my most-favouritest cakes ever: the Silver Palate's Decadent Chocolate Cake. And when they say "decadent," they aren't kidding around. This is Death by Chocolate. I don't know if baking is quite as enjoyable down there, but the products of this recipe are always worth it.

So, Fluffles, this is for you.

Decadent Chocolate Cake

• 1 cup boiling water
• 3 ounces unsweetened chocolate
• 8 Tbs (1 stick) sweet butter
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 2 eggs, separated
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 cup dairy sour cream
• 2 cups less 2 Tbs unbleached, all-purpose flour, sifted
• 1 tsp baking powder
• Chocolate Frosting (below)

1. Preheat your oven to 350F. Grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan. Knock out excess.

2. Pour boiling water over chocolate and butter; let stand until melted. (you don't really have to do that. Really. Just ensure that the butter is in liquid form.) Stir in vanilla and sugar, then whisk in egg yolks, one at a time, blending well after each addition.

3. Mix baking soda and sour cream and whisk into chocolate mixture.

4. Sift flour and baking powder together and add to batter mixing thoroughly.

5. Beat egg whites until stiff but not dry. Stir a quarter of the egg whites thoroughly into the batter. Scoop remaining egg whites on top of the batter and gently fold together.

6. Pour batter into the prepared pan. Set on the middle rack of the over and bake for 40-50min, or until the edges have pulled away from the sides of the pan and a cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool in pan for 10min; unmold and cool completely before frosting.

Chocolate Frosting

• 2 Tbs sweet butter
• 3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips
• 6 Tbs heavy cream
• 1 1/4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar, or as needed
• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Place all the ingredients in a heavy saucepan over low heat and whisk until smooth. Cool slightly; add more sugar if necessary to achieve a spreding consistency. Spread on cake while frosting is still warm.

If you are so fortunate as to have a pint of berries on hand (raspberries are best, I think), I recommend tossing half in the batter, mixing some in with the frosting, and placing any remaining pieces on top as decoration.

Homemade Parmesan Polenta with Shrimp, Pancetta, and Chard topping

So to celebrate Do passing his PhD exams (yes! He passed!), we spent this past weekend in Santa Cruz. Four blocks from the beach, in a 1929 Victorian house that had 5 bedrooms, 30 stained glass windows, and a giant box of Playboys hidden in the attic. I mean, there was stained glass in the stairway, stained glass in the bathrooms, stained glass on the kitchen ceiling. Not kidding. And if all that weren't deliciously random enough, we were there with a college friend we hadn't seen since 2005, my cousin, his wife, his wife's sister + beau, and five other people whom Do & I had never even heard of before we all arrived Friday night. We drove up, made introductions, and promptly began exploring all the nooks and crannies of the crazy house and giggling over the epic quantity of board games we had all brought down. It was that kind of weekend.

By the way, if you're ever in Santa Cruz, the best coffeeshop in the entire Western Hemisphere is called The Abbey. It's this renovated space behind a brick church with huge, comfy, retro couches, funky art, and some of the best coffee drinks I've had anywhere. Do & I happily spent Saturday afternoon there reading and discussing the late 20th century bureaucratization of science research. Very us.

So we read books on the beach. We ate seafood at every possible opportunity. We visited the Monterey Bay Aquarium (just as awesome as everybody claims -- Do remembered almost nothing from when he visited about 15 years ago, until we got to the ray touch pool. You get to pet Rays! Apparently that made a big impression on him back in the day. They feel like velvet, BTW.). It was a very ocean-themed weekend.

We didn't do much cooking during the weekend, partly because we were so busy running around having a good time and partly because cooking for 12 people whom you don't really know is complicated. However, at our last supper club get-together, we had a massive success with a new seafood-themed recipe: an Italian take on southern Shrimp & Grits. Massive Success.

I don't really cook with polenta or shrimp. The former is too often just a swanky cardboard-tasting filler, and the latter is a bitch to clean and/or tastes like rubber when pre-frozen. But this recipe... oh, man. Like most top-quality homemade Italian food, this recipe takes my preconceived notions of "shrimp" and "polenta" and throws them back at me with "You keep using that word. I do not think if means what you think it means."

(This weekend also involved ample quotations from Princess Bride. What better way to bond instantaneously with perfect strangers on Valentine's Day than by talking about "Twue Wuv"?)

Cook's Illustrated has an amazingly simple and delicious recipe for homemade Parmesan Polenta: creamy like grits, but much lighter (think fluffy clouds of goodness), and chock-a-bloc full of a Parmesan/olive oil/black pepper flavor. Not delicate, this one. Which goes well with the rough and ready take on the shrimp: lots of garlic, tomatoes, meaty pancetta flavor, hearty greens, and then these really delicately cooked shrimp. Think Italian. Think Addictive. Vampire deterrent served on pillows of Parmesan.

For those of you who find the thought of homemade polenta intimidating: it is so worth it. And it only takes 5 minutes total of hand time (25min cook time). Please, please, please try it.

For the vegetarians out there, I'm tagging this as "vegetarian" because the meat products are in no way critical to the dish: top the polenta with whatever you want and it'll still be awesome.

And by the way, a great use for the leftover Parmesan Polenta is to have it for breakfast, topped with fried eggs. Almost exactly three years ago, the Nytimes published a recipe for that very dish. Yes, we've had the clipping squirreled away that long and only ever fantasized about it. And I can finally assure the world that the dish is as good as it sounds.










Homemade Parmesan Polenta, from Cook's Illustrated (serves 6-8)
1.5 tsp salt
Pinch baking soda
1.5 coarse-ground cornmeal (also called "corn grits")
2 Tbs butter
4oz good quality Parmesan cheese, grated (~2 cups)

Bring 7.5 cups water to boil in heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Stir in salt and baking soda. Slowly pour cornmeal into water in steady stream, while stirring back and forth with wooden spoon or rubber spatula. Bring mxture to boil, stirring constantly, about 1 min. Reduce heat to lowest possible setting and cover.

After 5 min, whisk polenta to smooth out any lumps that may have formed, about 15seconds. (Make sure to scrape down sides and bottom of pan). Cover and continue to cook, without stirring, until grains of polenta are tender but slightly al dente, about 25min longer. (Polenta should be loose and barely hold its shape but will continue to continue to thicken as it cools.)

Meanwhile, cook a polenta topping (see recipe below)

Once 25min are up, turn off heat, stir in butter and Parmesan, and season to taste with black pepper. Let stand, covered, 5min. Serve.

Shrimp, Pancetta, and Greens over Polenta, inspired by Gourmet Nov 2009 issue (serves 4)
Homemade Parmesan Polenta (recipe below)
1/3lb pancetta, chopped
4 garlic cloves, minced
1/4 - 1/2 tsp hot red pepper flakes
1 bunch winter greens, sliced into thick strips (chard, kale, whatever floats your boat)
2 Tbs extra-virgin olive oil
1 14oz can diced tomatoes in juice
1-1.5lb cleaned large shrimp
1 Tbs chopped flat leaf parsley

While polenta is cooking, heat 2Tbs oil in a heavy 12-inch heavy skillet over medium heat. Cook pancetta, garlic, greens, and red pepper until garlic is golden (~2-3min). Add tomatoes in their juice and simmer until liquid is reduced to ~1/4cup (~6-8min). Add shrimp and cook, stirring occasionally, until shrimp are just cooked through (~3min). Season with salt.

Spoon Polenta into bowls and top with shrimp mixture. Season with pepper and sprinkle with parsley.

And for Dessert... Lime-Yogurt Mousse

I promise this is the last blog post about the potluck housewarming.

I just had to share this success. Because I almost never make desserts.

Desserts intimidate me. Too often the batter's texture has to be just so, the relative temperature of the ingredients perfect, the cup measurements accurate, and the stars aligned. Yeah... I follow directions well, but not that well. And most dessert recipes are either way too sweet, or way too complicated. And really, you only wanted a small bite anyway, but now you've got this ginormous "serves 8-12" dessert occupying the previously free territories of your fridge. Either you're going to end up throwing half of it out, or any pretentions at weight control have just flown out the window. It's a lose-lose situation.

So I eat dessert at other people's houses. Thankfully, it seems like everyone in the known universe, including my kid brother, are more adept dessert-makers than I. I'm okay with this.

But sometimes, rarely, there is success.

Lime-Yogurt Mousse, people. It takes less than 20 minutes to throw together. It calls for everyday ingredients that I had lying around. It's not too sweet. If you replace the sugar with Agave syrup, it's arguably good for you (get your Calcium, ladies!). But best of all, it's elegant, light, and extremely tasty. Think Key Lime pie meets pillows of clouds, in your mouth.















The recipe supposedly serves 10, but the five of us inhaled all but the very last cupful. This definitely makes our All Time Favorite list.


Lime-Yogurt Mousse (From Food & Wine's May 2007 Issue.)
1 1/2 tsp unflavored gelatin
2 Tbs cold water
6 Tbs fresh Lime Juice
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup plain whole-milk Greek Yogurt
1 cup heavy cream
Optional: Zest from 1 lime, as garnish
Optional, but recommended: a handful of berries, as garnish

In a small bowl, sprinkle the gelatin over the water and let stand until softened, about 5 minutes.

In a small saucepan, combine the lime juice with 6 tablespoons of the sugar and simmer over moderate heat just until the sugar is dissolved, about 3 minutes. Remove from the heat and stir in the softened gelatin until melted. Transfer the lime gelatin to a medium bowl and let cool slightly. Whisk in the yogurt.

In another bowl, beat the cream with the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar until softly whipped. Fold the cream into the yogurt mixture and refrigerate until chilled and set, at least 1 hour (i.e. a good time to pause and have dinner -- dessert will be ready when you are). Just before serving, garnish with lime zest and berries.

Best German-style Pork Chops ever.

You wouldn't tell it from this blog, but eating habits in the Do-Neen household have changed dramatically since we moved to the land of amazing produce/long growing seasons. Without really meaning to, and despite Do's meat-and-potatoes midwestern background, we're cooking predominantly vegetarian these days. The other day I even put my foot down and declared that meat is too much of a pain in the ass to prepare, takes too long to cook for my grad student schedule, and that I just don't enjoy cooking it. This may or may not have been related to a browning chicken pieces incident, for which the damn browning took longer than the rest of the recipe and the oil splatters dirtied everything within 5 feet of the pot. And then there was that amazing NYtimes article about the dangers of mass produced ground beef. Maybe Michael Pollan has put something in the water. In any case, I rarely cook meat anymore.

Which leaves it up to Do. Every so often he'll put his foot down: "I. Need. MEAT." Then a series of things will happen:
1. He'll reach for Julia Child's MTAOFC Vol 1.
2. He'll realize the dish he wants is fairly time consuming (i.e. weekend only) and/or serves 12.
3. We end up throwing a spontaneous dinner party, for the sole purpose of drafting others to help us consume the product of his labors.

This happened, almost exactly as described, a few weeks ago. It started with Do deciding that he couldn't go another week without pork chops, and ended with one of the larger dinner+board game parties that we've hosted since moving to California. The whole experience yielded some revealing insights:

• This is why we've become closer to our meat-eating friends than to our vegetarian friends, even though we eat mostly vegetarian ourselves. We can (and do) have our meat-eating friends over at the drop of a hat -- or a couple hours after meat-related inspiration strikes Do. Vegetarian dishes are simply easier to scale and less of an event, and so less likely to prompt a last minute "We're making X, want to come over?"
• Do loves Julia Child. This cracks me up. I think his inner scientist really appreciates how precise she is, and his inner Midwesterner hearts her meat-centric take on food.
  
• Do makes effing good pork chops. I had always thought of pork chops as dry and leathery. Oh no. Not this recipe. Not this cook.
• Always serve a Julia Child dish over noodles. Best pasta sauce EVER. And face it, what else are you going to do with all that cream?

Cotes de Porc Sauce Nenette (serves 6)
6 thick pork chops (min 1"). Can be marinated ahead of time*
3-4 Tbs cooking oil
2 Tbs butter
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup white wine or beef stock
1 1/2 c whipping cream
2 Tbs mustard
2 Tbs tomato paste
2 Tbs fresh chopped basil or parsely
salt and pepper

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Dry the pork chops with paper towels. Heat oil until almost smoking in a large heavy-bottomed casserole. Brown the chops, 2 or 3 at a time, on each side for 3-4min. Transfer to side dish. If you didn't marinate them, season with salt, pepper, and 1/4 tsp thyme.

Add butter and garlic to casserole. Return the chops, overlapping them slightly. Baste them with the butter. Cover and heat the casserole until the meat is sizzling, then set in lower third of preheated oven for 10-15min. Turn and baste the chops once or twice.

While the pork chops are cooking, simmer the cream, 1/4 tsp salt and a pinch of pepper in a small saucepan for 8 - 10 min, or until it has reduced to one cup. Meanwhile, beat the mustard and the tomato paste together in a small bowl, then beat into the hot cream. Set aside.

Once the chops are done, remove them to a serving platter and pour the cream mixture into the casserole. Simmer 3-4 min, deglazing. Correct seasoning, stir in the basil, return the pork to the casserole and let heat.

Serve over noodles.

Neen's Roasted Yam salad

I don't invent recipes. I really don't. I'm not the type of person who walks into a Farmer's Market and designs the week's menu based on what's available, nor am I the type who has all recipes memorized. I'm the chick with the planner and the mountain of (organized) recipe index cards and one list of ingredients assigned to each person shopping. Yeah. I don't do spontaneous. I'm slowly moving away from teaspoon and tablespoon measures. Very, very slowly.

So you can imagine how impressed and dubious Do was when he came home last night and I presented him with a dish that I had invented. In the grocery store, on the fly. Yah. Who da man.

I swung by the grocery store yesterday to pick up some eggs (for challah) and a head of cauliflower (for spiced Cauliflower soup, recipe to follow). The Piedmont Groceries had just set up its fall display, with pumpkins, Indian corn, and all those cool squash. My brain went from "aaaw, I guess it is fall. Maybe I should do something fall-like for dinner." to "Oh, crap, tonight is the first night of Sukkot [Jewish harvest festival]. I should definitely do something fall-like." to "I think I have a recipe clipping at home for a roasted yam salad that sounded yummy. Ok, let's work from there."

I did end up using the recipe clipping for inspiration (Food & Wine's Roasted Yam and Apple Salad, unknown issue). It had a great method for roasting the yams: sesame oil and cumin. And, with a few tweaks to suit our preference for strong flavor, the vinaigrette was pretty damn good too. The lettuce is indispensable, both for color and because it alone adds crunch to an otherwise creamy salad. You may want to soak the lettuce ahead of time to make it extra crunchy. The tangerines add citrus, again to balance out the creamy flavor of the roast yams. Red Cabbage for color. And the rest, just because I'm the type who likes a lot of "stuff" in my salads and on my pizzas.

It was damn good: we had thirds. Really addictive. FYI, for those celebrating Thanksgiving with us, this may well occur.









Neen's Roasted Yam Salad (serves 8-10)
2 yams or sweet potatoes
1 small butternut squash (alternative: use two more yams)
1 Tbs cumin (on the plus side)
1 Tbs sesame oil (on the plus side)
vegetable oil or spray-on oil
1 cup raisins or dried cranberries
2 heads butter lettuce, torn into bite size pieces.
2 tangerines or apples
1/3 of a small purple cabbage
1/2 cup pine nuts
1/2 bunch of cilantro, coarsely chopped.

Vinaigrette
1/2 cup olive oil
2 1/2 Tbs apple cider vinegar
1 1/2 Tbs Dijon Mustard (on the plus side)
2 garlic cloves, crushed.
1 Tbs Korean Chili paste or any curry paste.
1 tsp Balsamic vinegar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Peel butternut squash. Chop squash and yams into 1" cubes. Spread on a baking sheet, drizzle with the vegetable oil, the sesame oil, the cumin, salt and pepper to taste. Roast approximately 1 hour.

Meanwhile, whisk all vinaigrette ingredients together in a small bowl and set aside. Separate tangerines into sections, and cut each section into three. Put tangerines into a large salad bowl, along with the pine nuts, the raisins, the lettuce*, and the cilantro. Using a Cuisinart, shred the red cabbage and add it to the salad bowl.

Once the yams are roasted until tender, add them to the salad bowl and mix with the vinaigrette.


*ALTERNATIVE PRESENTATION: Do really liked the contrast between the crunchy lettuce and the creamy yams. One way to keep the lettuce crunchy for as long as possible is to prepare the salad as stated above without adding the lettuce, and instead to prepare a mound of lettuce on each person's plate. Then the salad can simply be heaped on top of the lettuce bed, and mixed together by each guest.

Harissa Soup

For years now, Do and I have grown progressively more interested in the culinary culture of the Tunisian Sephardic community, where Do's maternal side hails from. A recent family reunion, complete with spirited arguments over the proper way to make Malmoula, so fueled this interest that we picked up Tess Mallos' North African Cooking cookbook the next time we were near a good cookbook bookstore. (P.S. Culinary Institute of America in Napa has an outrageous collection of cookbooks in their shop). We have very high hopes for this book: it has all the Tunisian classics of Doran's childhood memories, there are beautiful photos of every recipe, and the dishes seem exotic yet do-able given our time/energy constraints.

So last Thursday we tried it for the first time. We made Harissa Soup.

Yes, you got the name right. Harissa, as in the super fiery hot condiment that is ubiquitous on Tunisian tables. In a soup. Yup. :) It's like saying, "oh we had Tabasco soup tonight." Even my Texas self was a little apprehensive about that one.

Let me just say, it was amazing. I had seconds, Do had thirds. This recipe is going into the regular dinner rotation, and into the "All Time Favorites" category on this blog.

Some reassurance: it was nowhere near as spicy as I was expecting. In fact, I doubled/quatrupled most of the spicy ingredients just to suit our taste, and it still was a perfectly reasonable dish to serve company. Well, maybe not our German friends, but all others. It's spicy, but more in the complex, deep, exotic way than in the fire-in-your-mouth way. It's spicy and complex the way Indian food is spicy and complex: the heat is fun but not essential and definitely not all-encompassing. And it's perfect like that; I wouldn't try to make it hotter.

The soup itself is beautiful - the color is very vibrant in a way that my camera couldn't capture in the kitchen light. Unlike most soups, this one has great texture thanks to the couscous, the potatoes, the bits of tomato, etc. Every bite is interesting, texturally.

I'd be interested in trying to replace the can of tomatoes with fresh tomatoes, especially given how fantastic our tomatoes are out here in California. Do cautions me that some Tunisian dishes, like Malmoula, just aren't as good with fresh tomatoes. I'm thinking that with fresh tomatoes, and chilled, this soup could be a (much more interesting) Algerian take on gazpacho. In the winter, the soup's heartiness could be preserved with the canned tomatoes and Kale would be a fine addition.

Oh, and it's vegan.

Chorba hara bi keskou (Harissa soup with couscous). Serves 6.

4 Tbs Olive Oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, crushed (Neen: use more if your Harissa isn't garlicky)
1 tsp Harissa (Neen: Er, no. If not using imported Harissa, use 4-5 large dollops.)
1 Tbs Paprika (Neen: make that ~3 Tbs)
14 oz can chopped tomatoes, undrained.
6 cups water (Neen: add 3 cubes veggies bouillon cubes)
2 medium potatoes, ~12oz in total
1/2 cup instant coucous
3 Tbs finely chopped cilantro. (Neen: or more. We heart cilantro and used one bunch).

Heat oil in soup pot. Add onion and cook gently until transparent (~10min). Add garlic and cook for 1 min. Add Harissa to taste and cook gently, stirring, 1-2min. Add paprika, tomatoes in their liquid, water, and veggie bouillon cubes. Bring to Boil.

Cut potatoes into 1/2" cubes and add to soup. Cover and simmer until potatoes are tender (~20min). Stir in coucous and boil gently, uncovered, until coucous has swelled and softened (~10min). Taste, add more harissa and/or salt and pepper if desired. Stir in cilantro, let stand 5 min.

Serve hot in deep soup bowls with bread.

Quick and Elegant Salmon with Israeli Coucous Salad

Major success on the cooking front last night:

1. Had an unexpectedly delicious dinner
2. Rediscovered an old cookbook
3. Made up a successful dish from scratch
4. All prep took less than 20 min.

Did I say major success?

When we were planning the weekly menu last weekend, I picked up our copy of New Kosher Cuisine. It's a community cookbook that I'd gotten back in D.C. on recommendation from a good friend. It turned out to be too practical for our cooking style back then (though the Challah recipe is still our go-to challah recipe), but our interests and time constraints have changed radically in the past year or so. Like all community cookbooks it can be hit or miss, but I've gotten better at guesstimating what a dish would taste like based on reading the recipe. And oh man, was "Company Fish" a hit.

It's supposed to be a Shabbat dinner meal, when you have company over (hence the title of the dish). I'm not sure that would work for the super observant unless they were also super prompt (the fish needs to go straight from the broiler to the table, meaning your guests must already be home from shul and/or you don't mind using your broiler after sundown), but it's otherwise perfect for inviting guests over on a weeknight. The dish is super quick: since you marinate it ahead of time, it takes literally no more than 10min to have it from the fridge to the table. It's also quite impressive: strong complex flavors infuse all of the fish, and you really can't help but make sure the last drop of sauce is consumed. And the marinade ingredients are all standard (inexpensive) pantry fare -- what's not to like? Added bonus: the flavor of the sauce and the texture of the fish are on showcase here, so it's good for folks who are apprehensive about "fishy" flavors AND you don't need to feel compelled to buy expensive cuts of fish. Fresh fish, and voila.

The other success was the impromptu salad. Again, very simple: it was all ingredients we had in the fridge, and the chopping was the longest part. But it was so full of flavor and the freshness of summer that (don't read this part Mom) we totally started digging into the serving bowl with our forks once we we'd inhaled the servings on our plates. Great showcase for those uber fresh farmer's market veggies.


Israeli Couscous Salad, serves 4 generously

1 cup Israeli Couscous
1 cucumber
1 beautiful heirloom tomato,
4 oz feta
1 small-medium red onion
2 lemons
1/2 cup chopped mint

Toast the israeli coucous in a little bit of oil, stirring regularly. Meanwhile boil water in a kettle. Once the couscous is toasted to your taste, pour ~2 cups boiling water into the pot (slowly, and stand back, it's pretty exciting). Simmer water for ~6min, or until coucous is done. Drain couscous, put into salad bowl.

Mince 1 red onion, chop 1 cucumber, 1 tomato, and 1/2 cup of mint, and all it all to the salad bowl. Crumble 4oz of feta into the bowl. Add the juice of two lemons. Salt and Pepper very generously.


Company Fish (New Kosher Cuisine cookbook), serves 8-10.
Neen: don't bother being too precise with your measurements. And don't be afraid to cut the recipe down -- fish is always best straight out of the oven.

1/3 cup soy or tamari sauce
1/2 tsp black pepper
1/4 cup fresh lime juice
2-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbs Dijon
Grated zest of two limes (Neen: or a couple tsp lime juice, if that's what you have)
1/4 cup peanut oil
1/4-1/2 cup scallions, chopped
4 lbs ocean perch or salmon, skin removed.

Combine marinade ingredients in a small bowl. Place fish in a non-aluminum dish and cover with marinade. Refrigerate for 3 to 6 hours.

Preheat broiler. Broil fish 4 to 8 min until brown. Transfer to platter and spoon sauce over fish. Serve immediately.

Brownies, Milk, and Lots of Good News

First off, our new dishwasher arrived and, after some trials and tribulations (the electrical socket you see by the sink is dead, apparently, so we had to buy an appliance extension cord), it's working! We had the same model in Chicago, but I'd forgotten how big it was because our D.C. dishwasher was teeny tiny. How luxurious to be able to load things like mixing bowls or pans! We submitted our tea pot to a renewal of its baptismal vows, and it came out cleaner than it's been in three years. All that grunge that accumulates in the spout? Yeah, all gone.

I feel like a liberated woman. Better go burn some bras in People's Park or something.

The second good news is that Orientation has been going really well. Thanks for everyone who wrote in with encouragement! Perhaps because my field attracts applicants with a few years' of post-collegiate work experience, my new classmates are a lot more friendly, mature, and socially graceful than I was expecting. (Ask Do about his classmates sometime. Shudder). The coursework sounds extremely exciting, and (halleluja!) we have amazing medical/vision/dental coverage (working in the health field last year really taught me to appreciate that). My first class starts in four hours. Exciting!

And finally, I got a job offer from the Prof of my dreams. She's the director of this (very sexy) institute that tries to bridge the gap between academia and communities in need, facilitating research projects that will bring tangible benefits to lower-income neighborhoods. I have been lusting after this institute ever since I first looked into Berkeley two years ago, so this is very, very exciting. Daunting, because I'll have plenty of opportunities to impress or disappoint this Prof (I'm also enrolled in two of her courses this semester), but exhilarating.

Just to bring this full circle back to food, I have a new "All Time Favorite" recipe to share with you. We spontaneously had our Chinatown friend over for dinner a couple days ago, and ended a raucous conversation on the State of Science Research Funding with straight-from-the-oven brownies and milk. It was a new recipe, clipped from an Nytimes article years ago but forgotten in a file somewhere. What a success! The brownies were really, really decadent. Not at all cakey, or even frudgy, these are "almost as dark and dense as a chocolate truffle," as the author of the original Nytimes article put it (the photo to the left is from the original article).

These brownies use less butter, chocolate, and eggs than my stand-by brownie recipe (ironically, clipped from the same Nytimes article but tested years ago), but they also bake for half as long and are plunged into an ice bath post-oven to prevent over-cooking.

Just what the doctor ordered. Now, off to my first day of classes!




Nytimes' New Classic Brownies
Adapted from “Alice Medrich’s Cookies and Brownies” (Warner Books, 1999)

Time: 40 minutes

8 tablespoons unsalted butter
4 ounces unsweetened chocolate
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup lightly toasted walnuts or pecans (optional).

1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line an 8-inch-square metal baking pan with foil. In top of a double boiler set over barely simmering water, or on low power in a microwave, melt butter and chocolate together. Stir often, and remove from heat when a few lumps remain. Stir until smooth.

2. Stir in sugar, vanilla and salt. Stir in eggs one at a time, followed by flour. Stir until very smooth, about 1 minute, until mixture pulls away from sides of bowl. Add nuts, if using. Scrape batter into prepared pan and bake 20 minutes.

3. Meanwhile, prepare a water bath: Pour ice water into a large roasting pan or kitchen sink to a depth of about 1 inch. Remove pan from oven and place in water bath, being careful not to splash water on brownies. Let cool completely, then lift out and cut into 1-inch squares or wrap in foil.

Yield: 16 brownies.

Enchiladas Verdes: Worth the Effort.

I don't know much about Mexican food. If you don't count Do's sister's scuba-diving wedding in Cozumel (I wouldn't), I've never been to Mexico. I do know something about Dominican Republic food, since my family lived there for four years and I worked there for two summers, but since I live in San Francisco and not Brooklyn, that doesn't help me much.

When my Dad and I were driving from D.C. to Berkeley, we made a big effort to eat at uniquely local places. In El Paso, after driving 570 miles in a day, we had our socks knocked off at a Mexican roadside diner, Carnitas Queretaro. It didn't look like much on the outside, a cheap diner next to a gas station on a major thoroughfare. The restaurant had been recommended by Steve, a blogger who writes extremely thorough and helpful restaurant reviews. Oh man. The food was really, really superb. Moist, flavorful, with the right degree of spice, perfectly prepared -- this wasn't trashy Tex-Mex. This was top-of-the-line Mexican food. Wow. Must repeat.

Fortuitously, this month's Cook's Illustrated has a recipe for Enchiladas Verdes (someone has posted the full recipe here) This is your cue to laugh at me for trusting a guy from New Hampshire to teach me to make Mexican home-style food. A couple thoughts:

1) Tomatillos are just plain cool. They're not actually tomatoes -- check out that husk! -- though they are of the same family. Many Latin American sauces char-grill tomatillos before turning them into pulp for sauces, and the flavor is incredible. Think smokey and tart. I am SO EXCITED to have a neighborhood grocery store that offers tomatillos (and poblanos, and varieties of plums that I've never heard of... more on how much we worship the Berkeley Bowl at another point).

2) This recipe was a lot of work. Think Madhur Jaffrey or Silver Palate or Gourmet level of work. It consists of 6 mostly-unrelated steps that have to be done in sequence, so that you can add the broth from step 1 to the salsa in step 3 and stuff the filling from step 4 into the tortillas in step 5... ack! Definitely not a project for a weeknight or for a cook who doesn't excel at multi-tasking. I actually had a lot of fun, but that's probably because my little brother and I made this together, with a couple of beers, Randy Newman on the kitchen speakers, and a leisurely evening of Battlestar Galatica reruns in front of us. With two, the complicated, inter-related steps seemed almost like a dance.

Of course, it helped that the result was absolutely spectacular. This recipe gets added to our All Time Favorites category. It was that good. The chicken was moist and flavorful, the tortillas soaked up the tomatillo salsa and the cheese to have the perfect texture, and the salsa itself was delightfully smokey. The cumin and peppers give the salsa a light, bright flavor, then cheese and chicken keep the enchiladas firmly anchored on the ground. This recipe is outrageously good. Please, if you have two hours to spare and aren't feeling stressed, make this recipe. It's really, really good.

My brother and I followed the recipe closely, with very few changes (we added more cumin to the salsa and a dash of black pepper). Our tortillas were already pliant, so we didn't bother to soften them before stuffing them. We also couldn't bear to throw away the fragrant liquid in which the chicken cooked... so we drank it. It was so, so delicious. Finally, Cook's Illustrated didn't remind readers that roasted poblanos are easier to peel if you throw them in a paper bag and let them sit for a few minutes. As my brother discovered, it makes a big difference.

Two thumbs up.

Emergency Gourmet: Mint Pea Soup & Tip for Over-Spiced food

My life is honestly less interesting when we don't post. I mean, first of all, I become less interested in food and ingredients and presentation in general. Dinners degenerated to leftovers, canned/defrosted goods, and even (gasp!) ramen. I come home and find myself lackadaisical and apathetic and bored. And boring.

But just as bad, when I don't blog, I feel too guilty to go visit my bloggie-friends. And we really do have the best bloggie friends ever. You guys keep visiting and posting even when I (metaphorically) refuse to get out of bed and actually communicate. Thank you for not giving up on us. I especially want to give a shout-out to Krysta, who went out of her way to find some key ingredients at her local African-Caribbean grocery store to support my Chiebu Djen odyssey. I am completely floored and energized by her thoughtfulness. Apparently that Chiebu Djen struck a cord: my Dad also bought and mailed some dried fish for version 2.0. So expect some heavy duty Chiebu Djen to surface within the next few weeks!

*****

Earlier this week, Do and I had a couple of his graduate student pals over to dinner. Let me rephrase that: Do remembered 24 hours ahead of time that he had invited them over a month ago. We had just gotten back from Chicago, there was dirty laundry and half-unpacked luggage all over the place (and in an apartment as small as ours, even one suitcase can feel like an invasion), and the fridge was empty. Deer in Headlights moment. Oh and did I mention that one friend is vegetarian (there goes the quick roasted chicken idea) and the other turns out to be lactose-intolerant (ack!). To top it off, it was a Tuesday night. So we had to leave work, shop for ingredients, prepare food, host a dinner, and have them out the door by a reasonable hour.

Oh God.

It was this blog, of all things, that saved us from my rapidly approaching panic-attack. Do faced this minor calamity by very simply going to our blog and skimming through our 'All Time Favorites' posts. About 40 minutes before our guests arrived, he propped up his laptop on the kitchen counter and threw together his Pasta Arrabiata, which took about 15 minutes and next to no ingredients. Brilliant.

Do talks over Neen for a moment, before remembering to grab the talky stick: Well, as we all know I like spice. Something that I have always been curious about is how to tone down a spicy dish once the damage is done, so to speak. I have noticed before, that dishes that involve tomatoes tend to require more hot sauce to get the same amount of kick. So, floating in the back of my mind has been this idea that, if I just add more tomato sauce, the heat of a dish should decrease. Well, after adding 4 Serrano peppers, red pepper flakes, and cayenne pepper to my Pasta Arrabiata - I got a chance to test that hypothesis.

It worked like a charm. Before adding the additional tomato sauce, Neen was crying after taking one bite of the sauce. I added in two tablespoons of tomato sauce and all of a sudden Neen found the sauce pleasant, even slightly mild. Mild! From crying to mild in 10 seconds or less. I love it.

I have been trying to figure out why, but the internet has been no help. Capsaicin, shown to the right (image stolen from Wikipedia), is the molecule that binds to receptors on the tongue, giving the sensation of spice or heat. It is a pretty standard looking hydrocarbon. Since I don't know exactly how Capsaicin binds, it is hard to be sure why tomato is affecting it, but it may be a weak acid-base reaction. The back tail group (the part from the HO to the NH-C=O), which is conserved across a family of molecules with similar effects, has a couple possible acidic or basic components. It may be that the tomato sauce, being slightly acidic, is reacting with the molecule. Of course, that would suggest that lemon juice or any other acidic addition should have the same effect. And that is easy enough to test (oh yes, that is an experiment coming soon to a kitchen near me)! If it's not an acid-base reaction, then it may be a more complicated interaction between the Capsaicin molecule and something more specific that is found in tomatoes. Possibly an interaction resembling the Capsaicin-Dairy Fat interaction. Dairy fat dissolves Capsaicin, so that when you eat a spicy, dairy food, the Capsaicin can't bind to the receptors on your tongue because it is all tied up with the dairy fat. Which is why cream-based food doesn't tend to taste as spicy.

Neen grabs the talky stick away before Do scares all the readers away with too much science talk.

In the meantime (ahem), I forged ahead with the absolute best emergency recipe in my arsenal. This is my bang-for-your-buck, gourmet-in-30-seconds Ace. Giz and Psychgrad, if you host another Tried and True event, I'll be sending this recipe over. Mint pea soup. Ridiculously refreshing and light, perfect for a summer meal or an appetizer.

This soup is a godsend. It required no cooking, no prep, no exotic ingredients. In fact, chances are you may have all the necessaries in your pantry right now. Literally, you throw all the ingredients in a blender and have at it (or, if you have an immersion blender, throw the ingredients straight into the serving bowl). Serving it in wine glasses makes it fancy-shmancy; ah, the deceptions of presentation! For our dinner on Tuesday, I even had enough time left over to make homemade garlic croutons.

Someday, when I'm a harried mom or a broke, harried graduate student, this soup will be my saving grace. The original recipe is from "Real Simple: Meals Made Easy," the cookbook that introduced us to our first kitchen. The book has a whole section of No-cook meals, as well as no-shop meals, 30-minute meals, etc. When we sooner or later lose the luxuries of time and disposable income, and have to set aside overachieving cookbooks like Silver Palate or Madhur Jaffrey, Real Simple will be there for us. We will still eat well. Thank God. Because I'm so freakin' tired of apathetic dinners.

We're sending this Mint Pea soup recipe over to Joelen, who is compiling Blender recipes for her monthly Tasty Tool event. We can't think of a single better use for your blender!

Mint Pea Soup. Serves 4

2 10oz packages (4 cups) frozen peas, thawed slightly
3/4 cup fresh mint (or more!)
4 scallions, roughly chopped (1/4 onion works too)
3 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp sugar
Optional garnish: torn mint leaves, plain yogurt/creme fraiche, or croutons.

Place all the ingredients in a blender. Puree until smooth, at least one minute. Pour in individual bowls. Garnish with mint leaves, a dollop of creme fraiche or plain yogurt, or garlic croûtons.

Redemption in the Side Dishes

So I have a dirty secret. Last week, I made a meal out of a box.

I don't think you realize quite how serious this is: I have just lost all my moral high ground. Do's the one who waxes poetical about his childhood memories of Hamburger Helper, Do's the one who wouldn't let me throw out the Riceroni packages that had been left behind in our kitchen by the previous tenants. It's my role to be all snooty and expostulate on the value of daily family dinners from scratch, knowing what's in your food, that there's more to dinner than caloric intake.

Yeah, well. Part of being partners is being a bad influence. Do has become a sexy gourmet chef who makes dinners from scratch every other day... and I cooked out of a box last week.

Last weekend, I dragged Do back to that wonderful Indian grocery store in Rockville to restock on those addictive Kaju Kati Indian sweets. Do took advantage of my vulnerable state (I did pounce on 3 boxes of Indian sweets) and selected 4 boxed Indian dinners. Well, one thing led to another, it was a long week, I was feeling both uninspired and lazy... and... well.

He loved it. I loved it. We had seconds. And it took only an hour, mostly because I insisted on rescuing some dying veggies from the fridge and transforming them into side dishes. Boxed spice mixes may be the secret to eating Indian food on a weeknight. Well. I'm not quite ready to admit the error of my ways yet. But this could be the secret to surviving graduate school.

To accompany our boxed dinner, a South Indian chicken-coconut curry, I threw together some super quick sautéed spinach and some spiced rice. I'm including the recipes below because both were ridiculously simple but memorable, probably because of the spices. The spinach was smokey and spicy... not hot spicy but interesting spicy. I thought that the mustard seeds had moved beyond "roasted" and into "slightly charred," Do enthusiastically finished it off in its entirety: no leftovers.

The rice dish we had discovered before, and our opinion was confirmed: it's really impressive for a "supporting actor" role. It's not sexy, it won't make your guests' jaws drop, but it's solidly good and will keep you coming back for more. The spicing is subtle but unmistakable, and the bouillon cube gives the rice a heartier flavor. Less feminine, romantic Jane Austin and more Lara Croft.

Both recipes used mustard seeds, but we're still trying to distinguish what particular flavor mustard seeds deliver. Maybe the fact that we couldn't pick mustard seeds out of the flavor composition is a sign that both dishes were correctly spiced. Cool. Or it could mean that mustard seeds don't taste like much. Less cool. Hm. Clearly further experimentation is required. Aw, shucks.

Sautéed Spinach in Mustard Oil (inspired by Julie Sahni)
Serves 2 as a side, but is extremely amenable to proportional division

1 lb fresh spinach
1 Tbs mustard oil
1 tsp black mustard seeds
1 dry chili pods
1 garlic clove
Lemon juice and salt, to taste

1. Cut the stems off the spinach and wash the leaves.
2. Heat the oil in a skillet over high (but not smoking). Add mustard seeds. Keep the pot lid handy, as the seeds may fly all over as they pop. After 5 seconds, add the chili pod and fry until it turns several shades darker. add garlic and fry for 10 seconds. (I'm asking you to be quick is to prevent the mustard seeds from burning. This will be more or less of a concern depending on how high you have the heat.)
3. Pile the spinach leaves on top and cook, turning them often and quickly, until they look wilted and moist. Continue cooking until most of the moisture evaporates and the spinach leaves are glazed (3-4 min).
   

Gently Spiced Rice with Peas (Madhur Jaffrey)
Serves 2

1 Tbs vegetable oil (I used walnut oil this time, worked great)
1 tsp whole black mustard seeds
1 cup long-grain rice
1.5 cups chicken or veggie broth (we use bouillon cubes for simplicity)
1 tsp salt
1 cup (or more!) peas, fresh or frozen

Over a medium flame, heat oil in a pot with a tight fitting lid. When hot, add the mustard seeds and wait until they begin to darken (10-20 seconds). Stir in the rice, and the peas. Stir for one minute. Add broth and salt and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce flame to very, very low. Leave to cook for 25 to 30 minutes.

(n.b. Jaffrey suggests adding the peas in the last 5 min of cooking if they are frozen, I didn't find that this extra juggling was necessary).

Modern yet Comforting Matzah Ball Soup, by a first-timer

Let's do the sensual before the esoteric for once, shall we? Sort of retroactively taking up Psychgrad's suggestion to do the food before the ritual. :)

Do is now addicted to this Matzah ball soup. He has literally eaten it for three out of the last four meals, and has added it to his mental "must repeat once a month" list. Which is about as successful as a recipe can get in our house!

The soup itself is scarily easy to make (more on that later) and yet has a surprisingly deep chicken-y flavor. This is no insipid liquid that barely hints that someone may have once waved a chicken over it. This is punch-you-in-the-face chicken flavor. This may be because you add chopped roasted chicken late in the game (Thank You, local super market rotisserie!), which comes with its own set of spices and flavors that boiled chicken just doesn't have. The behind-the-scenes support staff, the veggies, are also doing more than their fair share of the work in the flavor department, I speculate because they get chopped very very finely in the food processor. As a result, more flavor leaches out of the veggies into the soup and you aren't distracted by hunks-o-veggie while eating. Oh and I speculate that my soup (above) would have been almost as clear as the Food & Wine photo (below) had I not spontaneously added chopped mushrooms to mine.

The Matzah balls, Do assures me, were also a success. They're spongy and light, yet they soak up chicken soup like a camel in the desert (Manna for my Men and Matzah ball soup for my Horses? No? No one listens to Toby Keith here? Maybe that's just Do's bad taste rubbing off on me). So it's like biting into chicken soup in solid form. I think they look kinda ugly, maybe like brains, but Do assures me that Food&Wine must have used golf balls in their photograph (see left), because no one's Matzah balls look that good. I think that this was my first attempt ever at Matzah balls, so they'll only get prettier with more attempts.

The last component, the dill-horseradish pistou, was really what took this version of the age-old classic to the next level. It was brilliant. It's essentially a pungent sauce exploding will dill and horseradish flavor. Extremely refreshing, extremely interesting, and forcefully inserts a light, fresh flavor into the otherwise heavier flavor of chicken soup. It reminded me of Scandinavian flavors. And it's beautiful. An impressively insightful modification to the classic: it takes chicken soup from the realm of the stuck-in-bed-with-the-flu and elevates it to High Holy day mode. Congratulations, Food & Wine, you really outdid yourselves on this one.

It was scary as shit to make though; at least 4 times during assembly I was convinced that it would be a total failure. The pre-cooked Matzah balls had an odd consistency and wouldn't really hold their shape. And then, I was convinced that they would stick to each other while simmering, and that I'd wind up with one giant glob-o-Matzah at the bottom of my pot. And then, I was pretty sure they looked like brains. And then, the chicken soup itself is so scary simple that I was sure it would taste just like tinned chicken stock. Let us say, it was an experience replete with adrenaline rushes.

Now for the mildly esoteric. I think it really says a lot about Judaism as (interchageably) a religion, a faith, and/or a family heritage/identity that Chicken Soup, chicken soup, is traditionally served on one of the High Holy days. It's in no way glorious, awe-inspiring, or intimidating. Instead, the focus is on a dish that is comforting and home-y, that creates the feeling that you are taking care of/being taken care of by the family and friends around you. I mean, it's soup, for goodness sake! It excels at producing warm and fuzzy feelings! How cool that it's traditional to serve a dish that brings out and prioritizes those sentiments. I dig that. I'm a-ok with religious observances that revolve around chicken soup.

(And yes, Matzah Ball Soup is traditional only among a subset of Jewish families, particularly those of Ashkenaz descent. For all I know, other Jewish cultures may serve a different dish that is equally warm and fuzzy. Me and my WASP-y preconceptions are taking this all in from a very subjective point of view. Speaking of which, if you want to read more about our intimate Monday night Seder, be my guest!)

The original version of this recipe comes from the Food & Wine magazine, but the version below represents my improvements (er, modifications).

Matzah Ball Soup with Dill-Horseradish Pistou (F&W claims that it serves 4, we found it served 6)

For the Matzo Balls:
4 large eggs, beaten
Half of 1/3 cup olive oil
1/2 cup seltzer or club soda
1 tsp kosher salt
1 tsp ground pepper
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 cups Matzo meal

For the Pistou:
1/2 cup extra-virgen olive oil
1 cup coarsely chopped dill
2 Tbs finely grated horseradish
1 garlic clove
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground pepper (we used Lemon pepper, since we had some on hand)

For the soup:
Carrots, finely diced (I used all our leftover carrots, which was probably 1/2 pound. Allow me to recommend the food processor)
Other veggies, finely diced (F&W used a medium turnip and a celery rib; I used 4 leftover button mushrooms).
3 quarts chicken stock (F&W recommends homemade; we are lazy and used storebought)
4 cups diced chicken (3/4 inch) (we highly recommend buying a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store, as it saved you time and tastes better than boiled chicken)

• Make the Matzo Balls: In a bowl, whisk the eggs with the olive oil, salt, seltzer, pepper, and ginger. Add matzo meal and stir until moistened. Refrigerated until firm, at least two hours.
• Line baking sheets with wax paper. Scoop the Matzo meal mcture into 1" balls (really. Keep 'em small. Unlike with cookies, bigger isn't better.). Using lightly moistened hands, roll the matzo balls until smooth. Transfer to the baking sheets and refrigerate the matzo balls briefly.
• Meanwhile, make the pistou: In a food processor, pulse the olive oil with the dill, fresh horseradish, garlic, salt and pepper until the dill is finely chopped and a sauce has formed. (At this point, you can stop and fridge everything overnight if you wish).
• In a large pot of boiling salted water, simmer the matzo balls over very low heat, covered, until they are plump and cooked through, 25-30 minutes.
• Meanwhile, in another large pot, heat the stock. Add the finely diced vegetables, cook 5 min until crisp-tender. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the matzo balls to the soup; simmer for 5 more mnutes. Add the chicken and cook until heated through.
• [You may want to let the chicken sit in the soup for a bit (10 min), to let the flavors mingle. I had to because Do was late coming home, and I think it made a big difference]
• Serve the soul in bowls with a dollop of dill pistou.