Bhindi (Okra) Curry

I hate okra. You know that song - "Great green gobs of ..."?

Well, it always made me think of okra. It is slimy, gummy, gooey, green grossness.

I HATE okra.

But I like this curry. And it is made with okra.

Okra. There's a reason the soup that incorporates it as a mainstay is called "gumbo". "Mucilaginous" is the best, most polite way to describe okra. Mucilaginous. The very word has the ring of authenticity. That's got to be an onomatopoeia if ever there was one. Mucilaginous mucilaginous mucilaginous - I really HATE okra.

Poor okra has really gotten a bum rap all these years. Poor okra does not, after all, entirely deserve it's reputation as the slug of the vegetable world. It turns out that okra does not, in fact, HAVE to turn into something that exudes long strings of slime that something deep inside you knows will never never never EVER wash off.

It can do so, and easily does. But it doesn't HAVE to be that way. With a little tender loving care, you too can make unslimy, tasty okra dishes.

There are two ways to get around the sliminess of okra. One is to deep fry the little buggers so you sort of cauterize the wounds, causing them to cease their relentless gooey oozings. It works, there's no doubt, but it's really sort of an unnecessary step if you're going on to make a main dish with it anyway. Plus, I don't like deep-frying much. Plus plus, I can't shake the idea that deep frying okra somehow contaminates the oil permanently (as I typically use deep-frying oil at least 3 times before discarding). I'd have to be sure I was using the deep frying oil on it's last trip before the Long Goodbye if I were ever to risk deep-frying okra.

But that's just me.

The other is to pan fry the okra, sliced into little wheel-shapes, in a single layer, until they are brown and crispy. This does take some time, but it is time well-spent. So first I'm going to describe the technique, and then I'll put the actual recipe under that.

JUMP to the ACTUAL RECIPE if you don't want to read all about the technique.

The first way to fend off the oozies it to use the freshest, least mature okra pods you can find. If they're longer than 3", they're edging towards doddering okra senility. If they're longer than 4", AVOID AVOID AVOID! *SHUDDER*

So get the smallest, firmest pods. It's unfortunate but an awful lot of grocery-store okra is going to be, shall we say, "overdeveloped" for our purposes, but you can still make it work as long as you stay away from the biggest pods.

Wash your okra, then dry it THOROUGHLY. I toss it in a dishtowel and then lay it out on another, dry dishtowel to air dry. Yes, this takes some time, but it's time you spend doing other more useful and fun things. Like reading the 9 million free books I downloaded onto the e-reader my son gave me. YES!

When the okra is completely dry (I mean COMPLETELY dry, because any hint of wetness will bring on the oozies big time), cut it into wheel-shaped rounds, about 1/4" thick. Discard the stem end. Whether or not you discard the pointy end is purely a matter of - dare I say it, in connection with okra - aesthetics.

Yes, it will start to ooze while you're doing this. Your knife blade will collect a layer of goo with embedded okra seeds, and you will occasionally have to remove the odd piece of okra that has glued itself to the side of your knife. However, be of stout heart! Persevere in the face of adversity! Fear not! All will be well, and all manner of things will be well.

Heat a T or 2 of oil in the largest frying pan you have - because you want to fry these up in a single layer, as much as possible. Shallow is fine, as long as the surface area is as large as possible. (Alternatively, you can stir fry these in a wok at high temperature, which would probably go faster, but I don't have a wok at present so this is how to do it sans wok)

As the oil heats, I add cumin seeds first, then as they start to brown, drop in the mustard seeds (quantities are coming later, patience, gentle reader!), and as soon as the mustard seeds pop I drop in the curry leaves, which fry just long enough for me to pick up my already-cut-up okra slices and dump them right in the pan there. Stir around quickly to sear/seal the cut faces of the okra. Reduce heat to medium and settle in for the long haul.

I have never timed this but it's a strictly go-by-looks sort of operation anyway so I'm not sure timing would be of any real use. How fast the okra browns up and "crispens" is going to be a function of how hot "medium" actually is on your stove, what sort of pan you're using, the age of the okra (older okra will take longer to properly "cauterize" and may actually get tough if you go too fast), how willing you are to stand and stir, etc.

Since I am unwilling to stand and stir, I'm happy with the medium heat and checking the okra every once in awhile to give it a stir, flip it over, and generally patiently wait for it to get brown and crispy. DO NOT cover with a lid while this is going on, or you will be trapping steam = water = GOO.

Once the okra is all brown and nice and crispy (and it does take awhile), you can add in the onions, garlic, and other spices, and finish cooking.

OK. Now for

THE ACTUAL RECIPE

1/2 lb of okra
1/2 to 3/4 lb of diced potatoes (I actually julienned mine on my mandoline, which turned out roughly 2" long pieces of potato that looked sort of like short shoestring fries)
2 T oil
1 tsp cumin seed
1 tsp black mustard seed
about a half dozen curry leaves
1 med onion (to taste), diced
2 - 3 cloves garlic, minced or crushed
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp turmeric
1/2 tsp ground red chili (NOT "chili powder")
1/4 tsp ground fenugreek
OPTIONAL - 1/2 tsp good quality curry powder (not any American grocery store stuff)
2 T cilantro, coarsely chopped

You can make this with just 1 lb of okra (no potatoes) if you wish.

1. Wash and dry the okra, as above.
2. While okra is drying, dice or julienne potatoes and fry with as little oil as possible until they are nearly done. This will only take a few minutes because the potatoes are cut small. Set aside.
   
3. Heat oil in a large skillet
4. Fry the cumin seed, then the mustard seed, then the curry leaves (as above).
5. IMMEDIATELY add the okra, stir well
6. Reduce to medium - NO LID! Stir well, and stir occasionally till okra turns brown and crispy
7. Add onions, salt and garlic - stir 'til onions start to brown.
8. Add turmeric, chili powder, fenugreek, and curry powder (if you are using it). If I'm using curry powder I will typically leave the turmeric out or cut it to 1/4 tsp.
9. Add the (precooked) potatoes.
10. Stir well to coat with spices as evenly as possible.
11. Garnish with cilantro and serve with rice or chapatti, puri, or naan.
    

Vimala's Curryblossom Cafe

Restaurant reviews are not really part of what I intended for this website, but the Curryblossom is so good that I just had to make an exception.

I love Indian food. I even like Indian-ish food. But the truth of the matter is that most Indian restaurants in the US are not real Indian food, they're an odd sort of Punjabi-Bengali-American-ish fusion that you would never find in any Indian home.

If you're fortunate enough to live in an area where there are a LOT of Indians, you may have stumbled across some of the exceptions to the above rule of thumb, but I have never had the good fortune to live somewhere like that. Mostly I've gotten used to the dishes inflicted on us by the more typical places serving sort of Indian-ish cuisine. Actually sometimes I like that style of cooking - but it's really not real Indian food. It is, however, what a lot of people now expect when they go to an Indian Restaurant.

After having tried several of the Indian restaurants in the area, I was pretty well resigned to the typical sort of Indian-ish fare I've come to expect over the years. Don't get me wrong - some of the other places in town are fairly good presentations of that sort of cuisine. But there was nothing new or special about any of them, including the one place in Durham where I found "Masala Dosa" on the buffet (the buffet - something else that seems ubiquitous now for Indian restaurants in the US). In fact the dosa were tough and rubbery. Not sure how that happened, but it was a disappointment. The only upside to that was that my dosa aren't THAT bad, so I got to feel superior. (They're not good, mind you. They're just not as bad as THAT.)

So one day I'm wandering around in downtown Chapel Hill, as I am wont to do (since it seems I'm perpetually a little bit lost these days), and I come upon the end of the run of restaurants on that section of Franklin Street. I want Indian food. Or Thai. Or good Chinese. Unfortunately there are no really good examples of any of those in Chapel Hill (at least not that I've found so far), and I'm just not up for the OK Indian-ish fare that's available. Plus the last time I set foot in the "upscale" Indian restaurant that everybody thinks is so good, they were SO incredibly rude that I ended up walking out. (I did go back another time - basically I got caught on foot in a downpour, and it was a choice between getting soaking wet or going in there. I chose wrongly - I went in.)

So I wander over to where there's a restaurant named "Penang", and discover that that is where there USED to be a restaurant named "Penang".

Darn! I was at least willing to TRY a new Thai place. Well at least I'd been told they served Thai food, although it sounds Malaysian. Anyway. Then I notice a little sign stuck in the grass strip there that says "Vimala's Curryblossom Cafe" - in "the courtyard", which I am guessing is to be reached by walking back between the (now missing) Penang and the OTHER empty storefront next to it.

I walk back, and there, tucked into a corner, is Vimala's. Drat it all, it's only 11 AM and they don't open 'til 11:30.

Oh well, I have a book, and there are places to sit. And I don't get around as well as I once did, so I'm happy enough to sit down, take a load off, and wait for them to open.

Eventually I wend my way into the restaurant proper. This is definitely not a "trendy", upscale place, like that restaurant which shall remain nameless of the rude rude staff, but that's not something I much care about (in fact I find that kind of ostentation a bit off-putting). I am a little worried, however, when I look around and see many many young people of the decidedly non-Asian-Indian variety behind the counter and in the kitchen. And that's ALL. Pretty sure I didn't spot anybody over the age of say 25-ish.

"Sigh" I sighed to myself. Well, I guess crunchy-granola-Indian-fusion is at least something different. (Yes, I was being a little judgmental. I'm sorry. I'm getting crotchety in my old age I think, LOL!)

Oh well. Like I said I don't get around that well anymore, and frankly I'd already walked through the vast majority of Restaurant Row without feeling like stopping anywhere else. So I lit.

I did feel a bit better when Vimala herself made an appearance (ah, there is the person who knows real Indian food! Little did I know how WELL she knows real Indian food.)

All I can say is, they blew my socks off. This is real Indian food like your mother would feed you, if she was South Indian. And if your mother is South Indian, then I hope she fed you food this good.

That day I had the Baingan Bharta, which was really good. I didn't notice the Masala Dosa on the menu until after I'd already ordered, so of course I had to go back for that another day. Except, when I did, the Uttapam seduced me away (oh, fickle fickle! To wear one's stomach on one's sleeve!) So of course, I STILL had to go back for the Masala Dosa.

The Masala Dosa comes with a thick, flavorfuly spiced sambar; coconut chutney; a dollop of potato curry; and something called "gunpowder", which I discovered, much to my embarrasment, I had been calling "chat masala" for something like 20 years. In my own defense, I think I finally figured out how I came to mislabel that. Long long ago I came across some of this stuff in an Indian grocery which was only labeled in Hindi. At least I assume it was Hindi; let's just say it WASN'T labeled in English.

"What's this?" I asked the proprietor. "Oh, that's spice powder." she says. I asked what was in it, and was told ground urud, ground chana, and some miscellaneous spices. You're supposed to mix it with ghee and serve with idli. Only I can't make idli, remember? I was afraid to try again after reducing my blender's motor to a smoking mass. So I didn't buy it.

This had to be over 20 years ago because I (barely) remember it being in Ohio.

Then a few years ago - maybe 5 - I came across something labeled "chat masala" in an Indian grocery in Missouri.

"What's this?" I asked the proprietor. "Oh, that's spice powder."

OK. So now "spice powder" becomes linked with "chat masala" as well as that stuff in the not-marked-in-English bag from 15 years before. Now put these 2 items next to each other and they look NOTHING alike; but it had been 15 years between sightings, after all, so I didn't realize at the time.

Now fast forward to the present day.

"My dad gave me this," sez my son, showing me some stuff in a bag that IS labeled in English, "What's it for?"

This stuff says "Chutney Powder". It looks vaguely familiar. I read the ingredients. 81% black gram, it says. (That's urud dal). "For idli, dosa" it says further on the packet. Oh yeah! I know what this is! Spice powder! CHAT MASALA!

So for years I've been calling this stuff "chat masala" when it was nothing like. Vimala set me straight, LOL! (It's GUNPOWDER. GUNPOWDER.)

But I digress. Since I have a strong aversion to anything coconut flavored - say, coconut chutney - I asked that they hold the chutney. Shortly Vimala herself came out and offered me several alternative chutneys. I picked the ginger chutney, and oh what a good choice that was!

Let me tell you, if I thought I'd had my socks blown off to start with, the Masala Dosa had to have blown me totally out of all my clothes and left me naked with all my food-related nerve endings tingling like they'd been struck by lightning. Which they had. (No, don't try to picture that. It would be a hideous sight. Just take it for a bit of hyperbole in service of TRYING to describe just how good that Masala Dosa was.)

I'm serious. It was so good I was bouncing in my chair making nomnom noises. There was a guy standing at the counter laughing at me. I was having paroxysms of joy!

Go ahead. Laugh at me. I've been cooking and eating Indian food for almost 35 years and except for my friend Usha's cooking, I haven't had anything that good outside of India. I make kind of crummy dosa myself, using cheaty kind of recipes that use pre-ground flours instead of fresh-grinding the whole dal and rice as you should. After burning the motor of my blender out lo these 30 years ago I never tried an authentic recipe again. So these were GOOD.

If you are ever anywhere in the area, give Vimala's a try. You only THINK you've ever had authentic Indian food up to now.

Unless of course your mother is Indian . . .

Paneer - or Ricotta. Whatever!

So I'm cruising through the blogosphere and come across instructions for making ricotta cheese at home. I'm looking at this and lo and behold - it's basically unpressed paneer. Technically, ricotta cheese is made from whey leftover after making a cheese that uses rennet. I don't know about you, but I don't do much cheese making using rennet. Using whole milk makes an acceptable substitute, plus I already know how to do this - it's just paneer without the pressing!

Basically all paneer/ricotta cheese is is heated milk with acid added to separate the curds and whey, and then strained. Paneer is either kneaded or pressed, ricotta cheese is only drained.

The acid used could be lemon juice, lime juice, or distilled white vinegar. The acid most often called for in paneer recipes in the states is lemon juice. However using lemon juice requires that the paneer be washed or soaked in cold clear water for a couple of hours to remove the strong lemony flavor that leaves.

While I found the Serious Eats recipe interesting (for one thing I'd like to try the microwave method next time I make paneer), it calls for an inordinately high amount of acid - 1 T per cup of milk, which would be a full cup of acid for a gallon of milk. That's about 4 times more acid than I've ever needed to make paneer!

I usually don't need to use even the full amount of acid normally called for to make paneer, because I have found that I can often get the curds and whey to separate just using organic plain yoghurt. If that doesn't completely separate the curds out, just 1 T of lemon or lime juice, or distilled white vinegar will usually complete the job. I've found that distilled white vinegar doesn't leave a noticeable aftertaste when used in this small amount, and just 1 T of lemon juice leaves only a very slight lemony taste, not enough to be unpleasant if it's noticeable at all. This cuts out the whole soaking/rinsing step altogether and produces a smooth paneer with a neutral flavor.

One other thing I do to make paneer that I don't think most other people do (actually I've never known anyone who does this but me) is to use powdered milk to increase yield. This will make the curds denser and less ummm, fluffy? Not sure how to put it, but it gives it a consistency that is fine when you're planning to press it anyway, but not really what you want for desert paneer or ricotta cheese. You want desert paneer to be nice and smooth and creamy. For ricotta cheese, the additional milk solids increase the risk of ending up with curds that are too dense or even rubbery. The addition of powdered milk to grocery store 3.5% milk is optional for paneer intended for main courses, and should definitely be left out for any other use.

Finally, I do not find the addition of salt to be either necessary or desirable. YMMV.

WHAT YOU WILL NEED:

1 gallon whole milk, or, better yet if you can find it, raw Jersey milk.
1 c powdered milk (optional for paneer for main dish)
1/4 c organic plain yoghurt (you need LIVE culture)
1 to 2 T distilled white vinegar or lemon or lime juice, if the yoghurt doesn't fully separate the curds and whey

A colander
A large stainless steel or enameled pan or stock pot
A milk jug filled with water or other weight (not needed for ricotta or desert paneer)

Flour sack cloth or clean muslin intended for cheesemaking. Don't try to use typical cheesecloth - the stuff that looks like gauze. The weave is too loose. You want a lint free cotton muslin or linen towel, or flour sack cloth. You used to be able to get good flour sack cloth towels at Walmart but the ones they carry now are a much looser weave. The old ones were lots better, but the new ones will do. Or you could try these:

Flour Sack Cloth Towels

I can't tell from the pictures how tight the weave is but they're at least no looser weave than what you can get in Walmart, if you can find them there.

DIRECTIONS

Add the powdered milk if you are using it and stir well.

Heat the milk to just barely simmering. DO NOT LET IT BOIL! Mostly because you greatly increase the chances of making a mess, and also it just doesn't need to be that hot.

When you see the first few bubbles, add the yoghurt and stir. The curds should separate quickly. If the whey still looks milky, add the vinegar or lemon juice one T at a time until the whey is a thin yellowish-green color. It almost never takes more than 1 T. Remove from heat immediately.

Line a colander with your muslin or sack cloth. If you want to reserve the whey, suspend the colander over a large pan to catch the whey - you can use it to make soups and curries, to make chapati or puri, or just google "uses for whey".

After the whey has drained off, twist the towel to make a sort of a bag and suspend it over the sink or a pan to finish draining. (One way to do this is to tie this makeshift bag to a spoon laid across the top of a large stock pot).

FOR RICOTTA CHEESE:
Let the curds hang for about 15 minutes. Do not press. Unwrap it and you're done. The sooner you use it the better.

FOR INDIAN DESERTS such as Ras Gullah:
For desert use, you will not press the curds, you will instead leave it hanging until the curds are cool enough to handle and you will knead the curds.

FOR MAIN DISHES such as Mattar Paneer:
Fold the straining cloth over the drained curds, remove from the colander, set on a plate or inside a pan and put a heavy weight on top to press the curds. I usually put the paneer wrapped in the muslin in the bottom of a large pan and set a plate on top of it, then put a milk jug full of water on top. I let that sit in the fridge overnight. Take it out the next day - there will be additional whey pressed out - unwrap it, cube it, and you're good to go.

That's all there is to it.

Basic South Indian Curry

Nothing creates as much confusion and misunderstanding in Indian cooking as the use of the term "curry". Even dictionaries frequently define this incorrectly when applying it to culinary practices.

First, let me clarify for those who don't know, there is no such spice as "curry". Curry powder is a masala, or spice mix, which could contain any of several spices. Typical curry powder contains turmeric, cumin, coriander, fenugreek, and ground red chili. Other ingredients may include cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, asafoetida, cardamom, black pepper, or mace. There is no one true curry powder, it's just one of many types of masalas used in Indian cooking and varies from one cook to another, let alone from one region to another. Cheap pre-packaged curry mixes frequently include a large amount of turmeric, giving it the yellow color that many Westerners have come to believe is typical of curry. In India, at least, there really is no "typical" curry powder.

However, such has been the popularity of "curry powder" in the west that "curry powder" has become common inside India as well. Many cooks in India now rely on this as a staple of their cupboard, but there is still wide variation in the actual makeup of the mixture, so that each cook has a particular formulation or brand that they swear by which may bear little resemblance to someone else's favorite.

I actually don't have a lot of dishes that call for curry powder. I have more dishes that call for a different masala blend, garam masala. This, too, does not have a single formulation, but could be formulated in many different blends. It can still be a useful shortcut.

More typically, Indian cooks use individual ground and whole spices in characteristic ways. I'm most familiar with South Indian style of cooking, so I'm going to give you a basic "curry" recipe today.

This is a basic technique for making a vegetable curry.

We will be quick frying spices in hot oil, and some of these spices will burn quite rapidly, so you need to prepare all ingredients in advance.

Gather the following in small bowls (my bachelor son has been known to use a roommate's shot glasses) so they are ready to use immediately:

GROUP 1:
1 tsp urad dahl
1 tsp chana dahl

GROUP 2:
1 T whole cumin seed

GROUP 3:
1 T black mustard seed

GROUP 4:
1 1/2 tsp crushed red chili pepper
(HOT chilis, not American style chili powder)
10-12 fresh neem or "curry" leaves
If you absolutely can't get hold of fresh, you may use dried, but it's not nearly as good.

Group 5:
1 T garam masala
1 tsp turmeric (optional)

Group 6:
1 to 2 onions, chopped
1 T minced ginger or ginger paste
2 tsp minced garlic OR 2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 minced green chilis (OPTIONAL, only if you want it HOT)

VEGETABLES - add salt to taste with your choice of veggies

For the vegetables you could use 2 or 3 cups of the veggies of your choice, such as:

Potatoes
Potatoes and cauliflower
Carrots, tomatoes, green beans, zucchini, yellow squash
Eggplant
Eggplant, tomatoes, green peppers
Eggplant, tomatoes, carrots
Cabbage
Cabbage and potatoes

or just use your imagination. Just have them ready to go before you start frying the spices.

Now for the spice fry:

Heat 2 or 3 T of oil in a good quality heavy frying pan. The pan needs to be large enough to accommodate your veggies.

Turn heat to fairly high. Add GROUP 1 when it's hot, but not all the way heated up.

When the dahls start to turn color, immediately add GROUP 2, the cumin seed.

When the cumin seed starts to brown, IMMEDIATELY add GROUP 3, the mustard seed.

If the oil is hot enough, the mustard seed will start to pop within just a second or two. If they don't start popping in 10 or 15 seconds, turn the heat up just until they do. Immediately add GROUP 4, the crushed red pepper and fresh curry leaves.

The crushed red pepper will burn VERY quickly, so LOSE NO TIME, as soon as it starts to cook add GROUP 5, the ground spices.

Stir well and quickly add GROUP 6, the onions, garlic, and ginger. Turn the heat down to kind of medium and add your veggies according to how much time they need to cook - longest time required first. Stir well to coat. You may add a bit of water, cover, and cook on a lower heat to cook the veggies through. Not too much water though as this is usually intended to be a dryish curry, but cook it to YOUR taste. If you want a bit of sauce, just add a bit of water, but this isn't intended to be saucy.

Feel free to experiment with this. For example, fresh (but not dried) curry leaves can go in earlier, say with GROUP 3 or even GROUP 2. The dried curry leaves will tend to burn fairly quickly, but you could get away with a bit more with the fresh as far as length of cooking time. Change the amount of garam masala, or substitute or add a good curry powder (I would leave the turmeric out if you use curry powder).

Easy Garam Masala

A masala is a mixture of spices. Garam Masala is a frequently used mix which varies a lot from one cook to the next, let alone from one region to another. I've occasionally seen Garam Masala referred to as "curry powder" but it is a different mix. Curry powder as we in the west think of it is not actually a traditional Indian masala mix, but similar mixes have become popular in India because of their popularity in the West. "Curry powder" constituents vary widely depending on the manufacturer. Many cheap blends use a lot of turmeric, giving curry powder the yellow color we of the west have come to associate with "curry". Garam Masala, however, is a different masala altogether.

Garam Masala is best made from whole spices which are lightly roasted in a dry frying pan and then ground. I use a coffee grinder which is used for nothing other than grinding spices. You can usually find one for around $20. However, if you don't have access to the whole spices or a grinder, this recipe using ground spices is a fairly good substitute. Ground spices quickly lose their flavor and aroma, but if your spices are not too old this is a fairly good substitute.

Easy Garam Masala

1 T ground cumin
1 ½ tsp ground coriander
1 ½ tsp ground cardamom
1 ½ tsp ground pepper
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground cloves
½ tsp ground nutmeg

Blend all ingredients well. Store in a tight container.



Here is a recipe for Garam Masala from whole spices. It's from one of Julie Sahni's cookbooks - I forget which one.

Whole Spice Garam Masala

2 tablespoons cumin seeds
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 tablespoons cardamom seeds
2 tablespoons black peppercorns
1 (3-inch) stick cinnamon, broken up
1 teaspoon whole cloves
1 teaspoon grated nutmeg

Instructions:

Put the cumin, coriander, cardamom, peppercorns, cinnamon, and cloves in a dry heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Toast the spices, stirring occasionally, until they turn several shades darker and give off a sweet smoky aroma, about 10 minutes. Do not raise the heat to quicken the process, or the spices will brown prematurely, leaving the insides undercooked. Cool completely.

Working in batches if necessary, transfer the mixture to a spice mill or coffee grinder and grind to a powder. Stir in the nutmeg.

Use immediately or store in an airtight container in a cool, dry place.

Murgh Makhani - Indian Butter Chicken

This is my favorite chicken curry recipe, bar none. Here goes:

Ingredients

* ½ c unflavored yogurt, preferably organic or home made
* 1 tsp ground red chilies (NOT American style chili powder)
* ¼ tsp ground cinnamon
* ¼ tsp ground nutmeg
* ⅛ tsp ground cloves
* 1 tsp garam masala
* 1 ½ tsp Salt
*
* 1 ½ tsp minced ginger
* 2 cloves crushed garlic
*
* 4 - 6 Roma style tomatoes, diced, or 16 oz can of diced tomatoes
* 2 med onions, sliced fairly thinly
* 2 bell peppers, preferably red, yellow, and/or orange but green will do, sliced
*
* 1 lb boneless skinless chicken breast
*
* 4 T butter (½ stick)
*
* 2 T chopped fresh coriander
* ¼ c heavy whipping cream

Directions

1. Mix the dry spices into the yoghurt. Add the ginger, garlic, and tomato and mix well.
2. Cut chicken into reasonable size pieces, about 1” - 1.5". Try to make the pieces about even in size so they’ll all cook at about the same rate. Add the chicken pieces to the yoghurt (hopefully you used a large enough bowl to start with) and let marinate in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes to an hour.
3. Melt the butter in a large wok or deep skillet and fry the onion and pepper slices until the onion slices are just beginning to turn translucent.
4. Add the chicken and its marinade and cook, stirring, for 5 to 10 minutes.
5. Add the cream and the chopped coriander and heat to just before the boiling point, stirring occassionaly.
6. Serve garnished with sprigs of fresh coriander

YUM!

Tomato Dahl

Where to buy Indian ingredients

About Dals

Tomato dahl is as much a comfort food in Indian culture as tomato soup seems to be for many people here in the US (hence all those Campbell's soup commercials).

Personally I don't at all care for tomato soup, but I do love the Indian version!

If you're not afraid of calories or cholesterol, serve this drizzled with ghee.

1 c Toor dal, dry
3 c water

2 small cans of chopped tomatoes or 4 to 6 chopped Romas

2 large onions
3 green chili peppers, diced

1 tsp chana dal
1 tsp urud dal

1/2 T cumin seed

2 tsp black mustard seed

2 dry red chilis, to taste

6 to 8 curry leaves

Masala: mix together and put aside:
2 tsp curry powder
1/2 T coriander powder
1 tsp cumin powder
1/4 tsp turmeric
2 tsp salt

First set the dal to cooking. Use 1 c dal to 3 c water. Bring to a boil, then reduce and simmer for 40 minutes to an hour, until the dahl is very soft and has absorbed most of the water.

Heat 2 to 3 T of oil in a karhai, wok, or large skillet.

When the oil is hot, add chana and urud dal. When the dal begins to brown, immediately add cumin seed.

When the cumin seed begins to brown, add mustard seeds.

When the mustard seeds begin to pop, immediately add the crumbled red pepper and the neem leaves.

The red pepper will begin to cook very quickly, as soon as it begins to brown add the masala. Fry the spices for a couple of minutes, stirring frequently, then add the onion and green chilis.

If you are using canned tomatoes, cook the onions until they are nearly soft, then add the canned tomatoes and mix well. If you are using fresh tomatoes, add the tomatoes with the onion and the green chilies and cook until soft.

Add this mixture to the dahl, stir well, and simmer for 5 to 10 minutes to distribute the flavors throughout.

Chop some coriander leaves (cilantro) and garnish to serve.

Serve with long grain rice, preferably basmati rice.

Enjoy!

About dal

This has been moved onto my static pages, see the links above for "Dal"

Sailing the Spice Islands

I grew up in the Midwest on a fairly typical diet for the time. Meatloaf, fried chicken, pot roast. "Italian" food was spaghetti or pizza; "Chinese" food was the impossibly exotic Sweet and Sour This'n That served by a local hot spot decorated in a "polynesian" theme.

"Vegetables", properly cooked, were boiled to near unrecognizability, unless they were fried to nearly the same state. Meat was sometimes treated the same way ("Dredge the roast in flour, then boil until tender"). "The Joy of Cooking" still had the section on how to clean game - and people still used it.

My mother had two kitchen gadgets. One was a copper bowl she never used that was ostensibly for making meringues (but in actuality gathered dust where it hung on the pegboard - yes, most of our kitchen tools were hung on a pegboard, ala Tim Alan).

The other was a plastic cylindrical thingy with round flat inserts and a sort of a push rod thingy that I believe was called a "hamburger press". The idea was you dropped a dollop of the raw meat into the cylinder thingy, topped it off with one of the round inserts, then squished it flat to make the Perfect Patty. You could make several of these - six is the number that springs to mind - and then freeze them for quick burgers at a later date. The circular discs had a tendency to slip at odd angles if you loaded up too many patties for squishing at once, making a lopsided burger that was thicker on one side than the other. Oh well.

That was the extent of kitchen tomfoolery in my household. Oh, we had lots of kitchen gear, but they were all TOOLS (hence the appropriateness of the Peg Board). We had two sets of pots, the "everyday" pots which were cast iron, and the "good" pots, which were Revere Ware Copper Bottomed Pots and were considered the height of culinary cookware attainable by mere mortals. When I took over as Kitchen Witch at the tender age of 6, the "good" pots quickly became the "everyday" pots, as the cast iron ware in general weighed more than I did.

Some of our kitchen tools were quite frightening. There was the meat grinder, and yes, I used it on a fairly regular basis. We also had a butcher's saw, bone saw, meat saw, whatever the proper name for the thing was - an implement that would no doubt be totally at home in a modern-day slasher flick, but not so much in a modern day kitchen. Unless your name is Hannibal Lector, that is.

I contend that it is my early exposure to What Goes Into Home Cooking that largely turned me off meat in later years. If adults don't want to know what goes into sausages, then 6 year olds don't need to know what that chicken looked like BEFORE it got fried. Not to mention beef liver, which came in a huge slab that had to be cut up before being, yes, "dredged in flour" and fried with onions.

Do you know what happens to your fingers as you dredge strips of beef liver in flour? Let's just say "ICK!" and leave it at that. Even eggs had to be carefully sorted, breaking them one by one into a teacup lest you come across one that had been fertilized.

Again, just say "ICK!" and leave it at that.

So, somehow, while learning to cook in ways to keep the small town Midwestern palate of 40 or 50 years ago happy and well fed, I did not develop a love of the very food I was cooking for others. Possibly I'd have been better off if I had had some guidance in the kitchen other than being tossed in the deep end with a stepstool and a cookbook. At any rate, I developed a very low tolerance for the "ICK!" factor and a dislike for most of the very dishes I was cooking. Even now the smell of corned beef and cabbage can put me Right Off food altogether for hours.

Every once in awhile, my brother will wax eloquent about some dish I cooked routinely in our youth. He'll go on and on about how good it was, what a wonderful aroma wafted from the kitchen when I was cooking it, and how eagerly he anticipated dinner on the occasions when I was preparing said dish. He'll look at me expectantly, and I just stare back at him blankly, because invariably it is some concoction or other that I would never, at that age, have even CONSIDERED actually eating, especially not if the title included any of the words "Salmon", "croquette", "pot pie", "casserole", or "soup". Don't be too impressed; one of the dishes he remembers so fondly was our family's version of "Spanish Noodles" which basically consisted of egg noodles, Campbell's Tomato Soup, and a pound of ground beef.

Once I left home, I virtually stopped cooking. Given that I didn't much care for meat, and given that "vegetables", in my milieu, generally meant something green and boiled to squishiness, I didn't have a lot of culinary options anyway.

That I knew of.

Then I met and started dating my ex and a whole new world opened unto my wondering eyes - and nose, and taste buds.

A world where "spice" meant a whole lot more than black pepper.

A world where vegetarian cooking was the norm, and people expected their vegetables to taste like something besides each other. Where "vegetables" meant more than carrots, peas, lima beans, and green beans chopped, sliced, cubed, and frozen into submission.

Where garlic was more than the stuff they put in bologna that made people avoid getting too close to you after lunch. Where cabbage took on many different forms, totally distinct from "boiled". Where a mango is a fruit and not a green bell pepper.

Where ginger was something much, much more than a pale tan colored powder in a can that you used on rare occasions to make cookies.

Where the exotic became attainable, but never (to me) ordinary. A whole new world of Spices.

Now I began to understand why countries went to war over control of "the Spice Islands".

Kalonji. That's onion seed. Zheera, cumin. Ajwain, Carom seed. Dhanya, coriander. Methi, fenugreek. Curry leaves. Amchur, mango powder. Hing, asofoetida. Imli, Tamarind. Saffron or it's poor cousin, turmeric. Chili peppers - not the anemic "chili powder" blends I was familiar with, or paprika, but REAL, fiery, hot chilis. Fresh ginger.

Since then I've embarked on a long journey of discovery, finding herbs, foods, and spices from foreign lands that to me were utterly novel and unique. Over time I've picked up a repertoire of Indian dishes which I have of late begun to flesh out with cuisine from Thailand, Vietnam, Korea, China, and Japan.

I'm still learning, still exploring. My sensibilities are not the sensitivities of a native from any of those lands, nor even my own. I'm the quintessential Barbarian, knocking at the gates, or more likely knocking them down, in search of culinary booty. When I've done looting the area, what I concoct may or may not much resemble a "native" dish. I'm inspired by, I borrow from, I out and out steal bits and pieces and stick them together in no doubt odd and garish - but tasty! - ways.

So, armed with the East Indian recipes I've developed over 30 years, internet access, and a half dozen South-east Asian cookbooks, I'm tackling new frontiers (for me) in Indian, Thai, Indonesian, Vietnamese, and Korean cuisine.

Kitchen Barbarian. Coming soon to a cookstove near you.