So Thai Pongal is coming up. It's a Tamil harvest festival, where we celebrate the sun, the harvest, and delicious food. Traditionally, white rice and yellow lentils are cooked together with ginger, black pepper, mustard & cumin seed, asafoetida, and curry leaves. Nuts are added if you can afford them, and the whole thing is sort of the ultimate comfort dish. It's a bit mushy, and creamy. It's got this real stomach-filling, comforting feeling whenever I eat a bowl. Think of it like the South Indian answer to macaroni and cheese.
I don't quite have the patience, however, to fiddle around with white rice, and its propensity to stick to the bottom of any cooking pot I put on the stove. I also don't much care for the long cooking time. When I want pongal quickly, I cheat. I use cooked rice, and cooked mung daal (the split one).
4 cups cooked brown rice
2 cups mung beans, soaked for 1 hour
4 cups water
3 TB vegetable oil (preferably a mix of peanut and sesame oil)
1/2 tsp mustard seed
1/2 tsp cumin seed
1/8 tsp asafoetida
1/4 tsp turmeric (optional; I like a bright yellow pongal, but you may prefer yours more light coloured)
1/4 cup grated ginger (do NOT substitute dried or candied ginger)
2 stalks curry leaves (if you can't find them, substitute 3 leaves of sage for a wonderful flavour)
Salt, to taste
Generous grindings of black pepper
2 cups water, reserved
In a pot, add the vegetable oil, and let it heat over high heat. While the oil heats, drain off the mung beans. Add the mustard seeds, and allow them to pop. Add the cumin seeds and asafoetida. Wait 5 seconds. Sprinkle in the turmeric, and stir well. Add the ginger, curry leaves and a generous bit of salt. Add the drained mung beans, Add the 4 cups of water, and allow to come to the boil. Because the stove is so hot, the water should take about a minute flat to come to the boil.
Let the beans boil for a good 7 minutes. They should be mostly cooked by now. Stir around, to make sure nothing is sticking to the bottom. In another 5 - 8 minutes, the mung beans should be cooked through. Add the cooked brown rice. Stir well to combine.
Keep cooking over high heat. Once the pot comes to a boil, you'll notice the brown rice try to absorb all the liquid remaining. Pour in some of the reserved water, and let it come back to the boil. Let the brown rice and beans cook together for another 5 minutes. By now, you'll have likely used about 1 cup of the reserved liquid (or more, if your stove is very hot, or your brown rice was on the firm side).
Once everything is boiled together, check for salt. Add generous grinds of black pepper, and serve piping hot, with coconut chatni, kootu, sambhar, or green beans curry.
Showing posts with label beans. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beans. Show all posts
10 January 2013
10 July 2012
Adai
2 parts toor daal
1 part barley
1 part brown rice
1 part mung beans
1 part masoor daal
3 dried mulato chiles
3 dried ancho chiles
3 dried pasilla chiles
2 dried chile de arbol
1 TB fenugreek seed
1/3 part urad daal
Soak overnight. Using the soaking liquid, grind to an absolute paste along with 1 part grated ginger, a generous sprinkle of salt, and 1 part curry leaves loosely measured. Fry off in your favorite pancake skillet and eat with great gusto.
1 part barley
1 part brown rice
1 part mung beans
1 part masoor daal
3 dried mulato chiles
3 dried ancho chiles
3 dried pasilla chiles
2 dried chile de arbol
1 TB fenugreek seed
1/3 part urad daal
Soak overnight. Using the soaking liquid, grind to an absolute paste along with 1 part grated ginger, a generous sprinkle of salt, and 1 part curry leaves loosely measured. Fry off in your favorite pancake skillet and eat with great gusto.
11 March 2012
Adai
Adai is a newly discovered thing in my house. My mum used to make it for me when I was a kid, but I didn't appreciate it so much, because I preferred dosa, which really is more kid-friendly. However, as of late, I've been making Pa Jeon, or Besan ka Puda, or those little Paniyaram. All of which are delicious, and all of which challenge my conceptions of what a savoury crepe type dealie should be. I especially was moved to change my mind about adai after eating some of the Besan ka Puda, as it's essentially the same thing, but made from the raw ingredients, and with the chance to ferment a little.
Traditionally, you do not have to ferment an adai batter. That's the charm of it in the first place. You can set the beans and rice to soak, and slap that bad boy onto the griddle immediately. I prefer my crepes a little more fermented, because I like the flavour better, so I decided to ferment. You may choose not to. The choice is yours.
I personally prefer it with the mix that I've come up with. You can actually alter the mix to your own likes and dislikes. If you don't have toor daal, use moong daal. If you don't have either, use split peas, and it'll get you there. The essential part is that you make it with at least equal parts lentil to rice.
Unlike dosa, Adai is not so popular for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it's more expensive by a long shot. Traditional dosa calls for a 4 parts rice to 1 part urad daal mixture. This means that if you buy the cheapest rice, and the urad daal on sale, you can generally knock out a batch for a family of six with very little money. Adai, on the other hand, calls for much higher quantities of lentils. In my version, there are even more lentils than rice!
For another thing, because of the heft and "stuff" found inside of adai, it's not as popular with the kids, who like the diaphanous and crispy dosa, because they don't have much chewing of little bits to get through, and they can easily eat a couple and feel comfortable. An adai, on the other hand, is filling. It tends to be one of those things that you can have one, maybe two of at the most. Because it's so nutritionally dense, you tend to feel full faster, and stay full much longer than if you were to eat a dosa.
Finally, it's not as amenable to being folded over. It's a hefty little crepe. You can't fold it easily like you can a dosa. It doesn't take to fillings so much as it takes to the stuff already folded into the batter.
All that being said, if you don't mind the extra expense of making adai, you will be greatly rewarded. For one thing, it's much easier to handle the batter grinding. Unlike dosa, you need not grind the rice and beans down to a fine puree. You can get away with a bit of grit in the batter. You can also add all kinds of different things to the batter, and still turn out OK. You can sub out part of the rice for oats, or buckwheat, or even millet and still turn out something that's very tasty. You can sub out the daal for actual whole beans, like mung beans or chickpeas, and it'll still be delicious.
You can also fold in an endless variety of add-ons into the batter. Adai batter is extremely forgiving. You have some leftover chopped onions from the main dish you were making? In it goes! You have some extra grated carrots from the salad? Throw it in! You like to boost up the nutrition value by adding ground flax seed (as I did in this recipe; flax seed isn't traditional, but it's most delicious)? The batter will be better! The sky's the limit with regards to the flavouring options.
Add to this the fact that you can serve it with any kind of sauce (mint, cilantro, tamarind-date), chatni (coconut, mango, tomato), or stew (sambhar, rasam, kootu)/vegetable (curry, poriyal) that your brain can think of, and you're talking about a very useful little dish to have on hand.
Bear in mind that I did this to suit my tastes, and you may want to leave out the optional ingredients. Don't worry. I won't be offended! I personally like the addition of the urad daal, because it helps to keep the batter stronger and more coherent. I like the flax seed, because it means that I can thicken the batter after grinding with plenty of water. My blender isn't very powerful, so I need to add extra water to get it all ground down to my liking.
For the batter:
1 1/2 cups brown rice
1 1/2 cups toor daal
1/2 cup urad daal (OPTIONAL)
1 TB fenugreek seed (OPTIONAL)
4 cups water
Soak the ingredients for the batter for 3 hours. If you're adding fenugreek seed, and using brown rice, like I am, soak it for 6 hours, and you'll end up with better results. If you're using urad daal, like I am, please only soak the urad daal for about an hour.
Then, after the soaking process is done, add the mixture into the blender, in 1 cup increments, with about 1 cup of soaking liquid at a time. The reason to go in small batches is so that you don't strain your blender. We're not in a rush here, and this recipe makes a large batch of batter.
At the end of the blending, you'll end up with a batter like the one pictured above.
At this point, if you're using the fenugreek seed, take the batter and set it into a container on your countertop to ferment overnight. If you're not bothering with the fenugreek, don't bother to ferment. The fermentation step is strictly because I like the taste of it, and because I wanted adai for breakfast the next day, and not dinner that night.
When you're ready to fry off the adai on your skillet, you can add in your additions.
Additions:
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped ginger
1/4 cup chopped curry leaf
3 green chilies (OPTIONAL)
2 - 3 pinches of asafoetida (OPTIONAL, if not using onion)
1/4 cup flax seed (OPTIONAL)
Any other veg you'd like
Mix the additions into 4 cups of batter, and salt to taste. Grind the flax seeds in a coffee grinder until it's a powder. Stir it into your batter. You'll have a cup or two of leftover batter to use later. The batter will be very thick and should bubble a little bit if you fermented it overnight. If you need to, thin it out with a bit of water. You want it to resemble a thick and chunky pancake batter.
Because I didn't go shopping this week, I didn't have much in the way of additions. I wish I had some coconut to fold in. That would have been lovely. I just added the ginger, onion, and curry leaf.
Using a 1-cup ladle, pour the batter onto a hot skillet (heated over medium high heat), and spread the batter around in concentric circles until it's about 1/4 inch thick. Don't worry about getting it crepe thin. It's never going to be super thin, because of the add-ins. This is OK. I'm using a nonstick skillet, so that I don't have to add very much fat.
Using a squeeze bottle, or a small spoon, put a few drops onto the perimeter of your adai.
When to Flip?
Look at the picture of the adai after it's sat on the skillet for about 30 seconds (click the image if you want a larger version). Notice how most of the surface looks mostly translucent? Notice how some of the "peaks" look a much more opaque white colour? The opaque bits (that I've circled in the image) are still not cooked all the way through. You want the bottom of the adai to be browned, and the top to be almost completely cooked before turning. At this point, I've still got too many uncooked bits, so I'm not going to turn it over yet.
Finally, once the adai is mostly cooked on the side you can see, flip it over, and look at the other side:
Isn't that beautiful? Flip it over a couple of more times until it's browned to your liking, then serve.
Traditionally, you do not have to ferment an adai batter. That's the charm of it in the first place. You can set the beans and rice to soak, and slap that bad boy onto the griddle immediately. I prefer my crepes a little more fermented, because I like the flavour better, so I decided to ferment. You may choose not to. The choice is yours.
I personally prefer it with the mix that I've come up with. You can actually alter the mix to your own likes and dislikes. If you don't have toor daal, use moong daal. If you don't have either, use split peas, and it'll get you there. The essential part is that you make it with at least equal parts lentil to rice.
Unlike dosa, Adai is not so popular for a couple of reasons. For one thing, it's more expensive by a long shot. Traditional dosa calls for a 4 parts rice to 1 part urad daal mixture. This means that if you buy the cheapest rice, and the urad daal on sale, you can generally knock out a batch for a family of six with very little money. Adai, on the other hand, calls for much higher quantities of lentils. In my version, there are even more lentils than rice!
For another thing, because of the heft and "stuff" found inside of adai, it's not as popular with the kids, who like the diaphanous and crispy dosa, because they don't have much chewing of little bits to get through, and they can easily eat a couple and feel comfortable. An adai, on the other hand, is filling. It tends to be one of those things that you can have one, maybe two of at the most. Because it's so nutritionally dense, you tend to feel full faster, and stay full much longer than if you were to eat a dosa.
Finally, it's not as amenable to being folded over. It's a hefty little crepe. You can't fold it easily like you can a dosa. It doesn't take to fillings so much as it takes to the stuff already folded into the batter.
All that being said, if you don't mind the extra expense of making adai, you will be greatly rewarded. For one thing, it's much easier to handle the batter grinding. Unlike dosa, you need not grind the rice and beans down to a fine puree. You can get away with a bit of grit in the batter. You can also add all kinds of different things to the batter, and still turn out OK. You can sub out part of the rice for oats, or buckwheat, or even millet and still turn out something that's very tasty. You can sub out the daal for actual whole beans, like mung beans or chickpeas, and it'll still be delicious.
You can also fold in an endless variety of add-ons into the batter. Adai batter is extremely forgiving. You have some leftover chopped onions from the main dish you were making? In it goes! You have some extra grated carrots from the salad? Throw it in! You like to boost up the nutrition value by adding ground flax seed (as I did in this recipe; flax seed isn't traditional, but it's most delicious)? The batter will be better! The sky's the limit with regards to the flavouring options.
Add to this the fact that you can serve it with any kind of sauce (mint, cilantro, tamarind-date), chatni (coconut, mango, tomato), or stew (sambhar, rasam, kootu)/vegetable (curry, poriyal) that your brain can think of, and you're talking about a very useful little dish to have on hand.
Bear in mind that I did this to suit my tastes, and you may want to leave out the optional ingredients. Don't worry. I won't be offended! I personally like the addition of the urad daal, because it helps to keep the batter stronger and more coherent. I like the flax seed, because it means that I can thicken the batter after grinding with plenty of water. My blender isn't very powerful, so I need to add extra water to get it all ground down to my liking.
For the batter:
1 1/2 cups brown rice
1 1/2 cups toor daal
1/2 cup urad daal (OPTIONAL)
1 TB fenugreek seed (OPTIONAL)
4 cups water
Soak the ingredients for the batter for 3 hours. If you're adding fenugreek seed, and using brown rice, like I am, soak it for 6 hours, and you'll end up with better results. If you're using urad daal, like I am, please only soak the urad daal for about an hour.
Then, after the soaking process is done, add the mixture into the blender, in 1 cup increments, with about 1 cup of soaking liquid at a time. The reason to go in small batches is so that you don't strain your blender. We're not in a rush here, and this recipe makes a large batch of batter.
At the end of the blending, you'll end up with a batter like the one pictured above.
At this point, if you're using the fenugreek seed, take the batter and set it into a container on your countertop to ferment overnight. If you're not bothering with the fenugreek, don't bother to ferment. The fermentation step is strictly because I like the taste of it, and because I wanted adai for breakfast the next day, and not dinner that night.
When you're ready to fry off the adai on your skillet, you can add in your additions.
Additions:
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1/2 cup chopped ginger
1/4 cup chopped curry leaf
3 green chilies (OPTIONAL)
2 - 3 pinches of asafoetida (OPTIONAL, if not using onion)
1/4 cup flax seed (OPTIONAL)
Any other veg you'd like
Mix the additions into 4 cups of batter, and salt to taste. Grind the flax seeds in a coffee grinder until it's a powder. Stir it into your batter. You'll have a cup or two of leftover batter to use later. The batter will be very thick and should bubble a little bit if you fermented it overnight. If you need to, thin it out with a bit of water. You want it to resemble a thick and chunky pancake batter.
Because I didn't go shopping this week, I didn't have much in the way of additions. I wish I had some coconut to fold in. That would have been lovely. I just added the ginger, onion, and curry leaf.
Using a 1-cup ladle, pour the batter onto a hot skillet (heated over medium high heat), and spread the batter around in concentric circles until it's about 1/4 inch thick. Don't worry about getting it crepe thin. It's never going to be super thin, because of the add-ins. This is OK. I'm using a nonstick skillet, so that I don't have to add very much fat.
Using a squeeze bottle, or a small spoon, put a few drops onto the perimeter of your adai.
When to Flip?
Look at the picture of the adai after it's sat on the skillet for about 30 seconds (click the image if you want a larger version). Notice how most of the surface looks mostly translucent? Notice how some of the "peaks" look a much more opaque white colour? The opaque bits (that I've circled in the image) are still not cooked all the way through. You want the bottom of the adai to be browned, and the top to be almost completely cooked before turning. At this point, I've still got too many uncooked bits, so I'm not going to turn it over yet.
Finally, once the adai is mostly cooked on the side you can see, flip it over, and look at the other side:
Isn't that beautiful? Flip it over a couple of more times until it's browned to your liking, then serve.
01 July 2009
Mid week feast.
I don't know if this will become a regular feature, but I guess I'll give you guys a peek at this week's mid-week feast. It's a special cooking I do during the middle of the week, to lift up my spirits (because I love to cook), and Steve (because it gives him something of a change, and makes the house smell nice). This week's mid-week feat was simple, but tasty.
I had a few yuccas lying about, along with a few heads of cabbage, some onions, a lot of garlic, some tomato, and sweet potato. I peeled and chopped up the sweet potato (1 large one) into large (about 3 cm cubed) pieces, and set it in a pot of cold water. I set it onto the stove to boil. While that water came up to heat, I peeled the yucca, and set that in a pot of cold water. Set that on the stove to boil as well. Then, I chopped up 1 1/2 heads of cabbage, and the onions I had left. Then I minced up a head of garlic. I then got to cooking. By the time the onions, garlic, and cabbage were prepped, the sweet potatoes were just tender.
That's when the magic started to happen. On went some oil into a screaming hot skillet. In went some mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. In went a bit of coconut oil, to fortify the smell and taste of the Canola. The house started to fill up with the heady aroma of the coconut oil, and the lovely spices. In went the sweet potatoes, a hefty hit of salt, and a bit of turmeric, black pepper, and cinnamon. I rounded it out with a good scraping of nutmeg.
I then continued to cook the sweet potatoes until they developed a rich, decadent crust on them. They browned every so nicely. I had to drop down the heat to medium low, and let them sit for a few minutes to move them around, but so what? The crust was developing. Then, I finished it off with some garlic, onion, and flaked coconut. That only boosted the smell even more.
By that point, the yucca was done. So I drained that, and chopped it up. In that same wok, I threw in some more oil, mustard seeds, and cumin seeds. When they popped, I dumped in the cabbage, along with some salt, and black pepper, and some red chili flakes. I sauteed that around for about ten minutes. That went off the heat into its serving bowl.
Finally, I had the chopped yucca, some tinned beans, the rest of my onions and garlic, and a hankering for a hearty stew. In went the mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and coriander seeds (crushed) with the screaming hot fat. In went the onions and garlic. When they browned, I threw in one tin of drained and rinsed black eyed peas, and a tin of pink beans (with the liquid it came in). I sauteed the beans around in the hot oil and spices, and slated it generously. Then in went the yucca, the yucca's cooking liquid, and some red chili flakes. The smells got even more heady, as the yucca cooked up, and the spices got more aromatic.
While this whole thing was going down, I had a pot of rice going in my rice cooker. All said and done, it took about 40 minutes from start to finish. Hope this inspires some of you to try your own mid week feasts.
18 June 2009
Chickpeas are awesome in general.
I was in the vegan chat room today, and got to chatting with someone from Australia, who was just starting out her exploration of the humble, yes awesome, chickpea. She's been roasting them in the oven, and spending upwards of half an hour on the process, as the oven takes its own sweet time in making the roasty magic happen. I gave her a detailed explanation on how to roast chickpeas on the stove. She seemed shocked that it only takes a few minutes!
You can hear the results of the conversation here, on the new podcast episode. It was basically me catching up with my listeners, by reading their emails, and then plunging in head-first into chickpea heaven.
You start with a screaming hot skillet, some oil, some mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. I get into more detail about the conditions of the whole thing in the podcast episode, and in the cook book, so either way, read up or listen up to the whole popping spices deal before attempting this. If you don't have the book, listen to the pocast which is free. Either way, you'll get the idea.
After the seeds are popped, throw in the well-drained chickpeas WITH NO AROMATICS. Aromatics kill caramelisation of your ingredients. They exude water, and increase the cooking time. This is supposed to be a quick five minute thing. Besides, adding aromatics adds to your prep time. Bother with that stuff when you don't care about time!
Then, you roast the chickpeas on high heat for about five minutes. If you want them more brown, keep going. Do not fear oil! Stove top roasting is a bit more oil intensive than oven roasting. If you see the skillet drying out, add a bit of extra oil, until the chickpeas are slightly shiny from the oil, and keep roasting. You won't get that beautiful brown unless you use a bit of oil. If you are watching your calories, read on, and I'll explain how to do them in the oven.
After the five minutes (or however long you decided to roast them) is up, turn off the heat, and let the chickpeas rest for a minute, while you contemplate how to eat them. They're excellent in a pita pocket, with some alfalfa sprouts, cilantro, and tomato. They're good over hot steamy rice. They're quite nice all by themselves, as a snack. You can use them as croutons over a salad. You can add a cup or two of water, and make it a soup (to thicken up the soup, either mash with a potato masher or grind in a blender about 1/2 of the chickpeas). I discuss other possibilities in the podcast.
If you are watching your calories, and want to reduce the amount of fat, use the following ratio for 1 pound of cooked chickpeas:
1 teaspoon oil
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt, to taste
Mix the oil, sesame seeds, and turmeric powder into a spice paste. Toss the spice paste with the well-drained chickpeas. Arrange them onto a baking sheet, so that they have a fair bit of space between them. For me, a pound of chickpeas takes two baking sheets. Your sheets may be bigger or smaller. The idea is that you don't want to crowd your baking sheet, or else the chickpeas will not roast on all sides.
Sprinkle generously with salt, to taste. Let them roast in the oven for about 20 minutes (at 180ºC or 350ºF), and check and see if they're brown enough for your liking. Feel free to shake the pans a bit to turn the chickpeas over. Also, feel free to rotate your pans. Some ovens have "hot spots", and you might do well to move the baking sheets around your oven, so that they can all get cooked evenly.
If they are brown enough to your liking at 20 minutes, remove them. If not, keep roasting them until they're at the brownness and crispness of your liking. The longer you let them go, the more they dry out, and the more brown they get.
If you find that they are taking too long to roast, chances are that you're crowding the pan, and having them steam first, then roast. Make sure there's plenty of breathing space for the chickpeas in the pans.
Now go out and roast some chickpeas!
By the by, this whole entry and discussion with my friend on the chat room was spawned because of the mid week feast I made for Puppy. I've got the picture below and above this entry.
You can hear the results of the conversation here, on the new podcast episode. It was basically me catching up with my listeners, by reading their emails, and then plunging in head-first into chickpea heaven.
You start with a screaming hot skillet, some oil, some mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. I get into more detail about the conditions of the whole thing in the podcast episode, and in the cook book, so either way, read up or listen up to the whole popping spices deal before attempting this. If you don't have the book, listen to the pocast which is free. Either way, you'll get the idea.
After the seeds are popped, throw in the well-drained chickpeas WITH NO AROMATICS. Aromatics kill caramelisation of your ingredients. They exude water, and increase the cooking time. This is supposed to be a quick five minute thing. Besides, adding aromatics adds to your prep time. Bother with that stuff when you don't care about time!
Then, you roast the chickpeas on high heat for about five minutes. If you want them more brown, keep going. Do not fear oil! Stove top roasting is a bit more oil intensive than oven roasting. If you see the skillet drying out, add a bit of extra oil, until the chickpeas are slightly shiny from the oil, and keep roasting. You won't get that beautiful brown unless you use a bit of oil. If you are watching your calories, read on, and I'll explain how to do them in the oven.
After the five minutes (or however long you decided to roast them) is up, turn off the heat, and let the chickpeas rest for a minute, while you contemplate how to eat them. They're excellent in a pita pocket, with some alfalfa sprouts, cilantro, and tomato. They're good over hot steamy rice. They're quite nice all by themselves, as a snack. You can use them as croutons over a salad. You can add a cup or two of water, and make it a soup (to thicken up the soup, either mash with a potato masher or grind in a blender about 1/2 of the chickpeas). I discuss other possibilities in the podcast.
If you are watching your calories, and want to reduce the amount of fat, use the following ratio for 1 pound of cooked chickpeas:
1 teaspoon oil
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt, to taste
Mix the oil, sesame seeds, and turmeric powder into a spice paste. Toss the spice paste with the well-drained chickpeas. Arrange them onto a baking sheet, so that they have a fair bit of space between them. For me, a pound of chickpeas takes two baking sheets. Your sheets may be bigger or smaller. The idea is that you don't want to crowd your baking sheet, or else the chickpeas will not roast on all sides.
Sprinkle generously with salt, to taste. Let them roast in the oven for about 20 minutes (at 180ºC or 350ºF), and check and see if they're brown enough for your liking. Feel free to shake the pans a bit to turn the chickpeas over. Also, feel free to rotate your pans. Some ovens have "hot spots", and you might do well to move the baking sheets around your oven, so that they can all get cooked evenly.
If they are brown enough to your liking at 20 minutes, remove them. If not, keep roasting them until they're at the brownness and crispness of your liking. The longer you let them go, the more they dry out, and the more brown they get.
If you find that they are taking too long to roast, chances are that you're crowding the pan, and having them steam first, then roast. Make sure there's plenty of breathing space for the chickpeas in the pans.
Now go out and roast some chickpeas!
By the by, this whole entry and discussion with my friend on the chat room was spawned because of the mid week feast I made for Puppy. I've got the picture below and above this entry.
17 June 2009
CREAMY DRESSING OF DOOM OMG
So I have a couple of heads of romaine lettuce, and a few other random veg lying about the fridge. I had today off from work, so I decided to cook up a bit of a feast for lunch. First, I set the lentils that I'd soaked overnight on the boil. Then, I cooked up some aubergine for Puppy. I used fennel seed, cardamom (1 pod), sesame seed, and cumin seed. The recipe is in the book. Then I cooked up some cabbage, and used mustard seed, coriander seed, cumin seed, and sesame seed, with a bit of turmeric for colour. Finally, I composed the salad. I used two heads of romaine, two small Jordan cucumbers, grated carrot, fresh summer squash, chickpeas, Kalamata olives, onions, and of course, the creamy dressing of doom. It changes shape every time I make it, but it's got a similar base of hummus. This time, I amped up the flavour profile to be a little more adventurous.
I started with 1/2 cup of chickpeas (the other 1/2 cup went into the salad itself), and a small handful of raw cashews. I first whizzed up the cashews in the food processor until they were ground as finely as they would go (almost a powdery thing). Then, I dumped in the chickpeas, as if I were going to make a hummus. I let the food processor run until the cashews and chickpeas became a solid mass of paste of delicious. Then I added a sprinkle of salt, a scant teaspoon of oil, and let the food processor rip again. Every time I open the top of the food processor, I had to scrape down the sides, because I wanted everything to come together neatly. It was still at a thick paste stage.
Now comes the fun part.
I dumped in a heaped teaspoon of my own home made grain mustard. It has a kick like horseradish, which I hate, but a wonderful peppery back note that I love. Also, since I had so much chickpea and cashew to offset, I knew I'd be fine. Then in went the juice of one lime. Always remember to be conservative when you're building a good dressing, because you can add, but you can't take away. I let the food processor rip again. By this point, it was starting to resemble a very thick hummus.
I tasted it for seasoning, after grinding till the mustard was combined through, and almost fell over in bliss. It was such a strong, bold dressing. It was creamy, but sassy. It had boldness but with a soft touch. It was beautifully balanced, and I didn't even need to add any vinegar! Just had to use my cashews, chickpeas, salt, mustard, and lime juice. (Side note: next time, I'll add the zest of the lime as well to amp up the flavour even more.)
Unfortunately, beautiful as it was, it was also way too thick to use as a dressing. I ran the food processor at full blast while I very slowly drizzled in some water, allowing the last bit to emulsify in before adding more. I'd say if you went with a teaspoon at a time, you'll be safe. I think (but don't hold me to it or do the same thing) I ended up with about 1/4 cup of water in total, but I could be mistaken, because I tend to eyeball these things, and before I have a chance to measure what I've done, the dressing ended up perfect. I did stop a few times to check the texture.
All this took about five minutes flat. It just seems like it took longer, because I wanted you to have the experience with me, and share along in the discovery. I'm eating the salad now, and I must say that it's a beautiful matching. The best part is that because the dressing has such a strong taste, I'm not tempted to use too much, and drown my salad in dressing. Instead, the leaves are gently coated with a fine layer of silky dressing.
Give this one a shot if you like creamy dressing. For the first time you do it, leave out the mustard, or use a mild dijon mustard, and go with a scant teaspoon. The dressing does not need the mustard; I just added it because I wanted to make something different from how I've been doing it all this time.
By the by, this dressing would have also been wonderful with the addition of a clove or two of garlic, and a scant 1/2 teaspoon of curry powder. If you don't like cashews, walnuts, pecans, or hazelnuts would work fine. Macadamia nuts would work, but it'd be a bit extravagant to use macadamia nuts in a dressing! Brazil nuts would work, but you would leave out the fat, as Brazil nuts are very high in their own fat. Pistachios would work, only if you don't mind the colour being a very mild pale green. Peanuts might work, but I'd suggest that you use peanut butter, and not whole peanuts.
Try it out, and tell me how it goes for you!
I mention the chickpea dressing here.
Pictures of the salad and the dressing:
I started with 1/2 cup of chickpeas (the other 1/2 cup went into the salad itself), and a small handful of raw cashews. I first whizzed up the cashews in the food processor until they were ground as finely as they would go (almost a powdery thing). Then, I dumped in the chickpeas, as if I were going to make a hummus. I let the food processor run until the cashews and chickpeas became a solid mass of paste of delicious. Then I added a sprinkle of salt, a scant teaspoon of oil, and let the food processor rip again. Every time I open the top of the food processor, I had to scrape down the sides, because I wanted everything to come together neatly. It was still at a thick paste stage.
Now comes the fun part.
I dumped in a heaped teaspoon of my own home made grain mustard. It has a kick like horseradish, which I hate, but a wonderful peppery back note that I love. Also, since I had so much chickpea and cashew to offset, I knew I'd be fine. Then in went the juice of one lime. Always remember to be conservative when you're building a good dressing, because you can add, but you can't take away. I let the food processor rip again. By this point, it was starting to resemble a very thick hummus.
I tasted it for seasoning, after grinding till the mustard was combined through, and almost fell over in bliss. It was such a strong, bold dressing. It was creamy, but sassy. It had boldness but with a soft touch. It was beautifully balanced, and I didn't even need to add any vinegar! Just had to use my cashews, chickpeas, salt, mustard, and lime juice. (Side note: next time, I'll add the zest of the lime as well to amp up the flavour even more.)
Unfortunately, beautiful as it was, it was also way too thick to use as a dressing. I ran the food processor at full blast while I very slowly drizzled in some water, allowing the last bit to emulsify in before adding more. I'd say if you went with a teaspoon at a time, you'll be safe. I think (but don't hold me to it or do the same thing) I ended up with about 1/4 cup of water in total, but I could be mistaken, because I tend to eyeball these things, and before I have a chance to measure what I've done, the dressing ended up perfect. I did stop a few times to check the texture.
All this took about five minutes flat. It just seems like it took longer, because I wanted you to have the experience with me, and share along in the discovery. I'm eating the salad now, and I must say that it's a beautiful matching. The best part is that because the dressing has such a strong taste, I'm not tempted to use too much, and drown my salad in dressing. Instead, the leaves are gently coated with a fine layer of silky dressing.
Give this one a shot if you like creamy dressing. For the first time you do it, leave out the mustard, or use a mild dijon mustard, and go with a scant teaspoon. The dressing does not need the mustard; I just added it because I wanted to make something different from how I've been doing it all this time.
By the by, this dressing would have also been wonderful with the addition of a clove or two of garlic, and a scant 1/2 teaspoon of curry powder. If you don't like cashews, walnuts, pecans, or hazelnuts would work fine. Macadamia nuts would work, but it'd be a bit extravagant to use macadamia nuts in a dressing! Brazil nuts would work, but you would leave out the fat, as Brazil nuts are very high in their own fat. Pistachios would work, only if you don't mind the colour being a very mild pale green. Peanuts might work, but I'd suggest that you use peanut butter, and not whole peanuts.
Try it out, and tell me how it goes for you!
I mention the chickpea dressing here.
Pictures of the salad and the dressing:
19 October 2007
Old standbys are there, as always.
Of course, since the move is coming up so soon, Steve and I are streamlining our lives, as well as our pantries and fridges and the like. Unfortunately, that means that we've more or less eaten everything else. It's vaguely embarrassing when the child of a mother whose cupboards are overflowing with food, who had to buy a second fridge to keep up with the amount of food, and whose family entertained almost every night is down to the components of food-like things.
There's split peas. There's oil, but I'd rather not bother with it, because I used it for frying a few too many times, and I think it answered back last night. Either that, or I was a lot more tired than I thought I was. Of course, there's rice. Spices are there, because my mother seriously has extreme stores of spices. No, I'm serious; she bought out stores with spices, and kept them in long term storage at home. Extreme, see?
It's not exactly torture, of course, when the pieces fall into place, and I make that old favourite, Venn Pongal. This time, I decided to be even more lazy than I normally am with this dish. I threw two cups of rice, and five cups of water into a large microwave safe dish. I microwaved it at 70% power for 15 minutes, then again at full power for 20 minutes. While that was going, I set a pot of water to boil (roughly 2 litres) and added 2 cups of yellow split peas to it.
As I said, that oil was giving me dirty looks, so I figured it'd be best to avoid that line of questioning, and tipped in a few stout teaspoons of my mother's Sambhar powder. (Google is your friend. I have a recipe in my book, but if you don't have my book, google "Sambhar powder recipe" and click around till you find one with the ingredients you have.) I also tipped in a scant teaspoon of turmeric, and a few scrapings of ginger root (fresh; powdered doesn't taste close to the same, so omit it if you don't have fresh). Of course, in went the ever present red chili flakes, and quite a lot of freshly ground black pepper. I could have added curry leaves, but I didn't feel like walking out into that rain.
I picked up my book, reclined on the couch to listen for the beep, and read avidly when the first 15 minutes were over. The water on the stove was cheerfully boiling, but the rice wasn't nearly cooked at all. In fact, at 70%, the water wasn't even boiling. I got annoyed, set the time for 20 minutes, and hit the start button. I added in the cooked rice. I replaced a bit of the water in the pot (as it was evaporating fairly fast), and put the lid on it. I dropped down the flame to medium low. Covering the lid and lowering the heat would maintain the temperature without my having to expend so much fuel. Besides, with Venn Pongal, you need the rice to be mushy in any case.
At the end of the 20 minute beep, the rice was done, and the split peas were almost done. I decided to have some toast, wash my face, do some tidying up, and get ready for dinner. The rice continued to merrily simmer away. About ten minutes later, the yellow split peas were done through (they sort of fell apart), and the rice was that proper mushy consistency. I generously salted the dish, and turned off the stove. It was still in that sloshy stage. I gave it a good strong stirring, to loosen up any bits that were stuck to the bottom of the pot, and covered the lid tightly. I relaxed with a glass of water, and knew that Steve would be coming home shortly. Just about ten minutes later, when the pongal had just set, he walked in, sniffed the air, and dug right in!
I'm surprised that it came out so well without any of the fat. Interesting ...
If, however, you don't particularly mind a bit of fat, here are some nifty and easy
There's split peas. There's oil, but I'd rather not bother with it, because I used it for frying a few too many times, and I think it answered back last night. Either that, or I was a lot more tired than I thought I was. Of course, there's rice. Spices are there, because my mother seriously has extreme stores of spices. No, I'm serious; she bought out stores with spices, and kept them in long term storage at home. Extreme, see?
It's not exactly torture, of course, when the pieces fall into place, and I make that old favourite, Venn Pongal. This time, I decided to be even more lazy than I normally am with this dish. I threw two cups of rice, and five cups of water into a large microwave safe dish. I microwaved it at 70% power for 15 minutes, then again at full power for 20 minutes. While that was going, I set a pot of water to boil (roughly 2 litres) and added 2 cups of yellow split peas to it.
As I said, that oil was giving me dirty looks, so I figured it'd be best to avoid that line of questioning, and tipped in a few stout teaspoons of my mother's Sambhar powder. (Google is your friend. I have a recipe in my book, but if you don't have my book, google "Sambhar powder recipe" and click around till you find one with the ingredients you have.) I also tipped in a scant teaspoon of turmeric, and a few scrapings of ginger root (fresh; powdered doesn't taste close to the same, so omit it if you don't have fresh). Of course, in went the ever present red chili flakes, and quite a lot of freshly ground black pepper. I could have added curry leaves, but I didn't feel like walking out into that rain.
I picked up my book, reclined on the couch to listen for the beep, and read avidly when the first 15 minutes were over. The water on the stove was cheerfully boiling, but the rice wasn't nearly cooked at all. In fact, at 70%, the water wasn't even boiling. I got annoyed, set the time for 20 minutes, and hit the start button. I added in the cooked rice. I replaced a bit of the water in the pot (as it was evaporating fairly fast), and put the lid on it. I dropped down the flame to medium low. Covering the lid and lowering the heat would maintain the temperature without my having to expend so much fuel. Besides, with Venn Pongal, you need the rice to be mushy in any case.
At the end of the 20 minute beep, the rice was done, and the split peas were almost done. I decided to have some toast, wash my face, do some tidying up, and get ready for dinner. The rice continued to merrily simmer away. About ten minutes later, the yellow split peas were done through (they sort of fell apart), and the rice was that proper mushy consistency. I generously salted the dish, and turned off the stove. It was still in that sloshy stage. I gave it a good strong stirring, to loosen up any bits that were stuck to the bottom of the pot, and covered the lid tightly. I relaxed with a glass of water, and knew that Steve would be coming home shortly. Just about ten minutes later, when the pongal had just set, he walked in, sniffed the air, and dug right in!
I'm surprised that it came out so well without any of the fat. Interesting ...
If, however, you don't particularly mind a bit of fat, here are some nifty and easy
Ideas for Jazzing Up Pongal
- Raw or caramelised onions, sprinkled on top of each diner's bowl
- Crushed toasted nuts
- A drizzle of tahini, thrown on just before serving
- Indian pickles (it's in the book, I swear)
Other than that, you really don't want to fuss around with the flavours or textures too much. Feel free to add more heat, or salt, or a kick more of spices. However, pongal is such a classic that it's hard to improve on something that's such a staple for so many people across the world.
That's right, world, not just India. I've noticed that all over the world, in the older civilisations, you had some mix of rice and lentils/beans/legums/pulses, that was cooked together, gently spiced, and eaten as a staple dish. The reason is that when you're feeding a family with such varied needs and tastes, as you did in those days when you lived with your family, you'd want to get something on the table that everyone could enjoy comfortably, from the very young to the adult to the very old. Regardless of what the culture would call it, it'd be fairly mushy, gently spiced, and cooked for a fairly long time (since the grain and the legume was cooking together). Cultures who don't quite have that art down (the younger, meat based ones) tried to emulate it, but would fall short of the whole point of the dish: it was meant to be a staple, it was meant to be cheap, and it was meant to be something that the whole family could easily enjoy.
Look at the traditional comfort foods of the American south. Macaroni and cheese. Smashed potatoes. You could certainly feed it to everyone, but it's not something you could eat every day as a staple. They're just searching for their lost bowls of pongal. It's OK, folks. There's a large pot of it waiting patiently on my stove. Come. Eat. :)
That's right, world, not just India. I've noticed that all over the world, in the older civilisations, you had some mix of rice and lentils/beans/legums/pulses, that was cooked together, gently spiced, and eaten as a staple dish. The reason is that when you're feeding a family with such varied needs and tastes, as you did in those days when you lived with your family, you'd want to get something on the table that everyone could enjoy comfortably, from the very young to the adult to the very old. Regardless of what the culture would call it, it'd be fairly mushy, gently spiced, and cooked for a fairly long time (since the grain and the legume was cooking together). Cultures who don't quite have that art down (the younger, meat based ones) tried to emulate it, but would fall short of the whole point of the dish: it was meant to be a staple, it was meant to be cheap, and it was meant to be something that the whole family could easily enjoy.
Look at the traditional comfort foods of the American south. Macaroni and cheese. Smashed potatoes. You could certainly feed it to everyone, but it's not something you could eat every day as a staple. They're just searching for their lost bowls of pongal. It's OK, folks. There's a large pot of it waiting patiently on my stove. Come. Eat. :)
12 October 2007
Gallopinto
I was up late last night, because I had a lot on my mind, and wanted to chat with a friend to clear said mind. Granted, I'd lost my mind years ago, but I can pretend, right? So there you go.
I think I got back in around 12:45 or something, and Steve, bless him, muttered something cute, and rolled over when I came to bed. The next morning, bright and early at 6:00, Steve cheerfully woke me up. I was still half asleep, when I figured out the best way to get him out of my hair so I could sleep in. "Steve could you please pop some cumin and mustard and sesame seeds, throw in some cooked beans, and throw in some garlic? Make sure to keep an eye on it though."
"Sure, no problem."
30 minutes later, he comes back. "Beans are done."
"Rice."
"We're almost out of rice."
"I meant uncooked. Throw in 1 cup of rice, 2 cups water, let it come to a boil, drop to a simmer for fifteen minutes."
Another fifteen minutes later, "Babe, the rice is done, and it's time to go."
I groaned, and silently cursed the need to go to the store, but I was fine once I got out of the house, because I had a yummy lunch to look forward to!
EDIT: Gallopinto is a delightful South American dish, where beans and rice are cooked together, and served as a main course. It's spicy, smoky, and yummy.
I think I got back in around 12:45 or something, and Steve, bless him, muttered something cute, and rolled over when I came to bed. The next morning, bright and early at 6:00, Steve cheerfully woke me up. I was still half asleep, when I figured out the best way to get him out of my hair so I could sleep in. "Steve could you please pop some cumin and mustard and sesame seeds, throw in some cooked beans, and throw in some garlic? Make sure to keep an eye on it though."
"Sure, no problem."
30 minutes later, he comes back. "Beans are done."
"Rice."
"We're almost out of rice."
"I meant uncooked. Throw in 1 cup of rice, 2 cups water, let it come to a boil, drop to a simmer for fifteen minutes."
Another fifteen minutes later, "Babe, the rice is done, and it's time to go."
I groaned, and silently cursed the need to go to the store, but I was fine once I got out of the house, because I had a yummy lunch to look forward to!
EDIT: Gallopinto is a delightful South American dish, where beans and rice are cooked together, and served as a main course. It's spicy, smoky, and yummy.
01 August 2007
Dragged down
Yesterday was just one of those days. By the time I got to the bus, there was a steady drizzle of rain blanketing everything in its wetness. I got on the bus, which was relatively empty (looks like others had the sense to seek cover already!) and made my way home. I got out of the bus to relatively quiet sunshine and a gentle breeze. Since it wasn't that bad out, I made the mistaken assumption that it would be smooth sailing all the way home.
No such luck.
About half way into my walk, the skies opened up, and soaked everything to its core. Fortunately, I'd managed to stash all my books and electronics into a small plastic bag that I always keep in my bag for such wet emergencies. I wasn't worried about anything valuable getting wet, so I grumpily stomped my way home and let myself get drenched, rather than worry about rushing for cover, and delaying my date with my stove.
With the best of intentions, I'd put on a pot of beans to cook in the crock pot that morning before I left for work. Whenever I see the fridge start to look a bit threadbare, I make sure to get something going before I leave, so that by the time I get home, dinner is only 20 minutes (at the most) away. By the time I walked into the door, I was not only drenched, but also fairly miserable. For all it mattered, the beans could go hang themselves. Dripping all the way to my room will tend to put me in a sour mood.
Before changing into dry clothes, however, I set a pot of water to boil on the stove, and dumped in the rest of whatever potatoes I had. (I wanted something hot and comforting, and nothing calms and comforts like a hot boiled potato with some chopped broccoli and lemon juice.) I also hacked off the stalks from a couple of heads of broccoli, and pitched them in with the potatoes. I pointedly ignored the beans.
After about 45 minutes or so, I was dry and comfortable, and the potatoes and broccoli stalks were done to a turn. I ate a couple immediately, and instantly, my stomach calmed down, and my mood lifted. Now those beans would get the attention they wanted!
I drained out the potatoes and gave the pot a quick rinse. I set it back on the stove, and popped my spices as I do for a daal. In went the cooked beans, along with their cooking water. After giving the crock pot a rinse (and adding the water that I used to rinse out the crock pot to the pot of beans), I set the crock pot to dry. The broccoli was easy enough to break up into florets, directly into the pot of beans. I had some spinach that had seen better days (but was still good), and threw that in as well. There was also a knob of ginger laying around in the fridge, so I grated that up as well, and threw it in. (For next time, I'll chop up the spinach. It gets stringy, and I'm not a huge fan of that texture.) I dropped down the heat to a low simmer, and put on the lid.
By now, I had enough motivation to also throw on a pot of rice in the rice cooker.
As the aromas of the cooking food filled the house, I relaxed in front of the window with a cup of jasmine tea, and a book. By now, the rain pattering on the roof took on a calming sound. It was like listening to a thousand people snapping their fingers. Every now and again, the wind would pick up, and the trees would add their counterpoint to the rain. It was nice.
About 20 minutes later, when the rice was done, the beans were done as well. I turned off the heat, and chopped up two of the cooked potatoes, and slid them into the pot. It was still another hour till Steve came home, so I had time to relax some more, and the potatoes would have time to absorb the flavour of the beans without releasing their starch and thickening up the soup any more than it already was. (Note for next time: even if it is thicker, it might be better to let the potatoes simmer along. They got flavourful, but not as much as I would have liked. Fortunately, there wasn't that much of it, and the texture was fantastic.)
When Steve did get home, he said, "There's nothing like coming home to that smell!" It was obvious that he'd had as rough a time as I did in that hideous rain storm. A couple of bowls of piping hot soup over fresh steamy rice was just what it took to get him in good spirits again.
If you ever come home, and really feel unmotivated to cook, just give yourself a little time. Often, it just takes a quick meal that comforts you to get you ready to cook. Since you're the one doing the cooking, you're allowed to comfort yourself first, and handle the needs of others afterwards. Once you do get around to cooking, however, all those people who share your meal with you will share in your good feelings, and your own good feelings will increase exponentially.
No such luck.
About half way into my walk, the skies opened up, and soaked everything to its core. Fortunately, I'd managed to stash all my books and electronics into a small plastic bag that I always keep in my bag for such wet emergencies. I wasn't worried about anything valuable getting wet, so I grumpily stomped my way home and let myself get drenched, rather than worry about rushing for cover, and delaying my date with my stove.
With the best of intentions, I'd put on a pot of beans to cook in the crock pot that morning before I left for work. Whenever I see the fridge start to look a bit threadbare, I make sure to get something going before I leave, so that by the time I get home, dinner is only 20 minutes (at the most) away. By the time I walked into the door, I was not only drenched, but also fairly miserable. For all it mattered, the beans could go hang themselves. Dripping all the way to my room will tend to put me in a sour mood.
Before changing into dry clothes, however, I set a pot of water to boil on the stove, and dumped in the rest of whatever potatoes I had. (I wanted something hot and comforting, and nothing calms and comforts like a hot boiled potato with some chopped broccoli and lemon juice.) I also hacked off the stalks from a couple of heads of broccoli, and pitched them in with the potatoes. I pointedly ignored the beans.
After about 45 minutes or so, I was dry and comfortable, and the potatoes and broccoli stalks were done to a turn. I ate a couple immediately, and instantly, my stomach calmed down, and my mood lifted. Now those beans would get the attention they wanted!
I drained out the potatoes and gave the pot a quick rinse. I set it back on the stove, and popped my spices as I do for a daal. In went the cooked beans, along with their cooking water. After giving the crock pot a rinse (and adding the water that I used to rinse out the crock pot to the pot of beans), I set the crock pot to dry. The broccoli was easy enough to break up into florets, directly into the pot of beans. I had some spinach that had seen better days (but was still good), and threw that in as well. There was also a knob of ginger laying around in the fridge, so I grated that up as well, and threw it in. (For next time, I'll chop up the spinach. It gets stringy, and I'm not a huge fan of that texture.) I dropped down the heat to a low simmer, and put on the lid.
By now, I had enough motivation to also throw on a pot of rice in the rice cooker.
As the aromas of the cooking food filled the house, I relaxed in front of the window with a cup of jasmine tea, and a book. By now, the rain pattering on the roof took on a calming sound. It was like listening to a thousand people snapping their fingers. Every now and again, the wind would pick up, and the trees would add their counterpoint to the rain. It was nice.
About 20 minutes later, when the rice was done, the beans were done as well. I turned off the heat, and chopped up two of the cooked potatoes, and slid them into the pot. It was still another hour till Steve came home, so I had time to relax some more, and the potatoes would have time to absorb the flavour of the beans without releasing their starch and thickening up the soup any more than it already was. (Note for next time: even if it is thicker, it might be better to let the potatoes simmer along. They got flavourful, but not as much as I would have liked. Fortunately, there wasn't that much of it, and the texture was fantastic.)
When Steve did get home, he said, "There's nothing like coming home to that smell!" It was obvious that he'd had as rough a time as I did in that hideous rain storm. A couple of bowls of piping hot soup over fresh steamy rice was just what it took to get him in good spirits again.
If you ever come home, and really feel unmotivated to cook, just give yourself a little time. Often, it just takes a quick meal that comforts you to get you ready to cook. Since you're the one doing the cooking, you're allowed to comfort yourself first, and handle the needs of others afterwards. Once you do get around to cooking, however, all those people who share your meal with you will share in your good feelings, and your own good feelings will increase exponentially.
18 July 2007
It may have taken five days, but it's worth it!
I was making this pot of mung bean sprouts. It took them about three days to sprout properly, and another day (in the crock pot) to cook down to where I thought they were done enough. I wanted them to cook over gentle heat, because I wasn't looking for a crispy texture. I wanted soft and soothing.
As is standard for most daals, I did the popping of spices, and curry leaves, and adding the cooked beans, and cooking them up. Somehow, because I'd given it enough time to develop, the mung beans got this gentle, subtle, smoky flavour underneath the flashy spices. It was like eating the colour of an oak grandfather clock. Very dark, very comforting, and somewhat ponderous. I liked how it smelled, but the texture was a little runny for my liking.
Granted, if I'd left it overnight in the fridge, it would certainly thicken up and become more rich and hearty in the morning, but Steve was headed home, and would be in around 7:00. So, instead of panicking, I grabbed a few potatoes, and threw them into the microwave. I let them cook up all the way, and took them out of the microwave. I gave them a rough chop with a knife (holding the potatoes with a pair of tongs, so that I don't burn my hands), and threw them into the pot. See, I wanted there to be a sauce around the beans.
I let the whole mess boil together for about fifteen minutes or so. Just as expected, the potatoes leaked out their starches into the water, and made a rich sort of gravy that surrounded the beans. Of course, there was a pot of rice cooking, waiting for the beans to finish. By the time Steve got back in, the whole house smelled of gently simmered spices, and fresh rice. Of course, there's still plenty for leftovers today!
Tonight, when I get home, I'm going to reheat the mess on the stove, along with some of last week's split yellow peas daal that I'd made, so that it makes an even more rich stew. I might even chunk up a few onions and tomatoes, and make it a completely different stew. It'll be fun.
As is standard for most daals, I did the popping of spices, and curry leaves, and adding the cooked beans, and cooking them up. Somehow, because I'd given it enough time to develop, the mung beans got this gentle, subtle, smoky flavour underneath the flashy spices. It was like eating the colour of an oak grandfather clock. Very dark, very comforting, and somewhat ponderous. I liked how it smelled, but the texture was a little runny for my liking.
Granted, if I'd left it overnight in the fridge, it would certainly thicken up and become more rich and hearty in the morning, but Steve was headed home, and would be in around 7:00. So, instead of panicking, I grabbed a few potatoes, and threw them into the microwave. I let them cook up all the way, and took them out of the microwave. I gave them a rough chop with a knife (holding the potatoes with a pair of tongs, so that I don't burn my hands), and threw them into the pot. See, I wanted there to be a sauce around the beans.
I let the whole mess boil together for about fifteen minutes or so. Just as expected, the potatoes leaked out their starches into the water, and made a rich sort of gravy that surrounded the beans. Of course, there was a pot of rice cooking, waiting for the beans to finish. By the time Steve got back in, the whole house smelled of gently simmered spices, and fresh rice. Of course, there's still plenty for leftovers today!
Tonight, when I get home, I'm going to reheat the mess on the stove, along with some of last week's split yellow peas daal that I'd made, so that it makes an even more rich stew. I might even chunk up a few onions and tomatoes, and make it a completely different stew. It'll be fun.
13 July 2007
Back to normal, after a breif break.
I was off taking care of business elsewhere, so this place has been a bit neglected. I came home to find the fridge dead empty. No rice, no bread, no nothing. EEK! I arrived back in Florida on Wednesday night, and really needed to get cracking.
This is when I'm so thankful to myself for taking care of things far in advance. For one thing, I always keep at least a few litres of soup in the freezer. This means that regardless of how long I've been out of town, or preoccupied with other things, or just swamped for time, I'll always have a ready meal, waiting for rice and/or bread within 20 minutes (which is about how long it takes to reheat in the microwave, if you keep them in one litre increments). While the soup reheated, it was a simple question of throwing rice into my rice maker, adding water, and hitting the start button.
Additionally, we have a breadmaker, that my mom got for us from Freecycle a while back. Since I always keep a few packages of yeast in the pantry, it was a simple question of dumping in the flour, water, yeast, salt, and a bit of oil, then setting the time and hitting start. Again, I don't have to bother with anything complex after getting off of a flight that took entirely too much more time than it should have.
Finally, as always, I had some dried beans in my kitchen. On Thursday night in they went for a soak, so that when I woke up in the morning, it was a crock pot away from having fully cooked beans by the time I get home tonight. I soaked up two different batches of beans, so that I could have some variety for Saturday night. Tonight, when I'm done cooking the first variety, I'll get the second variety started in the crock pot overnight. By tomorrow when I wake up, I'll have a second variety of bean to keep things interesting.
Tomorrow morning, I'll lay down some moong beans to sprout. Those will take about a day or so to bring together, and will give me a third option to have dinner on the table. After all is said and done, beans bought on sale in the 12 - 16 oz dried packages keep indefinitely, and cost around $0.50 per package at the regular price. Rice is dirt cheap, and bread made at home is just as cheap. Meanwhile, for less than $10 or so, I've got enough of the staples for the week. Now all I have to do is spice them up, and round out our meals with some vegetables. That part's the easy part.
This is when I'm so thankful to myself for taking care of things far in advance. For one thing, I always keep at least a few litres of soup in the freezer. This means that regardless of how long I've been out of town, or preoccupied with other things, or just swamped for time, I'll always have a ready meal, waiting for rice and/or bread within 20 minutes (which is about how long it takes to reheat in the microwave, if you keep them in one litre increments). While the soup reheated, it was a simple question of throwing rice into my rice maker, adding water, and hitting the start button.
Additionally, we have a breadmaker, that my mom got for us from Freecycle a while back. Since I always keep a few packages of yeast in the pantry, it was a simple question of dumping in the flour, water, yeast, salt, and a bit of oil, then setting the time and hitting start. Again, I don't have to bother with anything complex after getting off of a flight that took entirely too much more time than it should have.
Finally, as always, I had some dried beans in my kitchen. On Thursday night in they went for a soak, so that when I woke up in the morning, it was a crock pot away from having fully cooked beans by the time I get home tonight. I soaked up two different batches of beans, so that I could have some variety for Saturday night. Tonight, when I'm done cooking the first variety, I'll get the second variety started in the crock pot overnight. By tomorrow when I wake up, I'll have a second variety of bean to keep things interesting.
Tomorrow morning, I'll lay down some moong beans to sprout. Those will take about a day or so to bring together, and will give me a third option to have dinner on the table. After all is said and done, beans bought on sale in the 12 - 16 oz dried packages keep indefinitely, and cost around $0.50 per package at the regular price. Rice is dirt cheap, and bread made at home is just as cheap. Meanwhile, for less than $10 or so, I've got enough of the staples for the week. Now all I have to do is spice them up, and round out our meals with some vegetables. That part's the easy part.
30 June 2007
Lazy lazy Friday
It's been one of those Fridays where I was busy at work, but not to the point of exhaustion, like some days. I figured out how to load up video to a PC computer from a camcorder, by switching the camcorder to PLAY mode, and hitting the play button, while setting the video capture thing from Windoze Movie Maker. It was pretty cool, if a bit slow. I'm guessing firewire would have been faster? I'm not sure. Either way, it was pretty neat to know that it's possible, and relatively easy to do! Mind, I'm not going to start cheating on my mac, so no worries there. She's the first lady of my heart anyway.
Steve, on the other hand, didn't have as easy a time as I did. He was there at work from 8:30 in the morning till close to 9:00 at night! On top of that, because he was in the middle of a project, he never did go to lunch. I figured that by the time he got home, he'd be exhausted, so we nixed the plans to go to see that new Pixar movie. Instead, we stayed in, and ate some bean sprouts (spiced with mustard, cumin, chili, lemon, salt, and pepper) and rice, and some fresh popcorn (popcorn, olive oil, salt). I find that when you pop the kernels in olive oil, they have a very rich and buttery taste. I love it! Also, before sprinkling on the salt, I ground it down in a spice grinder to get it very fine, so that it adheres to the fluffy popcorn more easily. It was divine.
I am pleased that we've started to get involved in doing things more often than we used to. Saturdays and Sundays used to be "let's lie around and be lazy, and pretend like we don't actually have to get up to do anything." I'm sure it was driving Steve slowly mad, because we're funny like that. He's very introverted, but still likes to get out and do things. As extroverted as I am, I prefer to mooch around in the house. Either way, we've always found ways to amuse ourselves, whether it's sitting around the house, or going out.
The kitchen needed a mass overhaul type cleaning, so I figured that when it was done, I'd give Steve a treat. In the filter of the coffee maker, I put in 1/2 cup of ground coffee, cinnamon, cayenne, clove, nutmeg, and then topped it off with the rest of the ground coffee that I needed for a full pot. I filled the coffee maker. I then poured a twinge of vanilla extract, 1 tablespoon per cup of water of cocoa powder (unsweetened), and a few tablespoons of sugar. I turned on the coffee machine, and let the smells waft throughout the kitchen. It smells quite lovely, and is delicious straight up, with nothing added. If you've read my book, you know how I feel about "omni subs" or foods that substitute omnivorous ingredients (tofu, seitan, tempeh, soymilk), so I won't get into it here. I'll maybe cover that stuff in a later entry.
I started some beans soaking, and another set of moong dal to sprout. I think it's so cool that I can increase the amount of food I can put on the table, just by adding water to my beans, and letting them soak for a six hours, then air dry after draining them. They sprout on their own, and they're so cute! I almost (read: ALMOST) am tempted to get the stuff planted in my garden, so that I'll have plants, but I can't be bothered. I'm a bit too lazy for that to happen.
Maybe some day, eh?
Steve, on the other hand, didn't have as easy a time as I did. He was there at work from 8:30 in the morning till close to 9:00 at night! On top of that, because he was in the middle of a project, he never did go to lunch. I figured that by the time he got home, he'd be exhausted, so we nixed the plans to go to see that new Pixar movie. Instead, we stayed in, and ate some bean sprouts (spiced with mustard, cumin, chili, lemon, salt, and pepper) and rice, and some fresh popcorn (popcorn, olive oil, salt). I find that when you pop the kernels in olive oil, they have a very rich and buttery taste. I love it! Also, before sprinkling on the salt, I ground it down in a spice grinder to get it very fine, so that it adheres to the fluffy popcorn more easily. It was divine.
I am pleased that we've started to get involved in doing things more often than we used to. Saturdays and Sundays used to be "let's lie around and be lazy, and pretend like we don't actually have to get up to do anything." I'm sure it was driving Steve slowly mad, because we're funny like that. He's very introverted, but still likes to get out and do things. As extroverted as I am, I prefer to mooch around in the house. Either way, we've always found ways to amuse ourselves, whether it's sitting around the house, or going out.
The kitchen needed a mass overhaul type cleaning, so I figured that when it was done, I'd give Steve a treat. In the filter of the coffee maker, I put in 1/2 cup of ground coffee, cinnamon, cayenne, clove, nutmeg, and then topped it off with the rest of the ground coffee that I needed for a full pot. I filled the coffee maker. I then poured a twinge of vanilla extract, 1 tablespoon per cup of water of cocoa powder (unsweetened), and a few tablespoons of sugar. I turned on the coffee machine, and let the smells waft throughout the kitchen. It smells quite lovely, and is delicious straight up, with nothing added. If you've read my book, you know how I feel about "omni subs" or foods that substitute omnivorous ingredients (tofu, seitan, tempeh, soymilk), so I won't get into it here. I'll maybe cover that stuff in a later entry.
I started some beans soaking, and another set of moong dal to sprout. I think it's so cool that I can increase the amount of food I can put on the table, just by adding water to my beans, and letting them soak for a six hours, then air dry after draining them. They sprout on their own, and they're so cute! I almost (read: ALMOST) am tempted to get the stuff planted in my garden, so that I'll have plants, but I can't be bothered. I'm a bit too lazy for that to happen.
Maybe some day, eh?
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