The fuzzy black fellow is the scariest one of all, a plushy Yersinia Pestis.

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It’s tricky to make a humble stew look pretty enough for a picture. But who ever said comfort food needed jazzing up, anyway? It’s one thing I like about stews; they need not look like much to be tasty and satisfying. My little stew came into this world like so many others before it: as a quick way to use up some wanton, haphazard ingredients. My fridge had been harboring some squash, beans, and bell pepper that were lolling around for just the right sort of autumn day that encourages the eating of stews. A little bit of home-smoked chili powder from some Texan friends infused it with a welcome surge of heat, although I really need to remember not to stick my nose in the container and inhale its lovely scent, because I somehow manage to do this every single time and then have to spend the next 15 minutes sneezing out burning powder.

For those who do not have such incendiary compounds at home, any other kind of smoked chili pepper should do the trick, such as commercial chipotle powder. The warm, smoky flavor is what gives the stew a particularly rich and hearty flavor. If you’re a real fire-breather and the chipotle powder isn’t hot enough, add some cayenne to taste.

This stew also happens to be vegan and gluten-free. It’s great with a side of freshly sautéed greens and some warm tortillas, or even just chips for dipping.

Spicy Butternut, Black Bean, and Hominy Stew

3 cups peeled and chopped butternut squash or pumpkin
1 1/2 cups (or 1 16-oz can) black beans, rinsed
1 1/2 cups (or 1 16-oz can) white hominy, rinsed
1 cup vegetable broth
1/2 red bell pepper, chopped
3 cloves of garlic, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
1/4 teaspoon oregano leaves
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon chipotle powder or other smoked chili pepper
half a medium lime
salt and pepper to taste
chopped cilantro for serving

In a dry skillet, toast cumin seeds until fragrant. Set aside.
On a medium flame, heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a large saucepan or sauté pan. Add garlic and cook for about a minute. Add chopped onions and cook until translucent. Add squash, cumin seeds, chili powder, oregano, and vegetable broth. Cover and cook until squash is tender, about 10-15 minutes. When squash is tender, add bell pepper, black beans and hominy; cook for 10 more minutes. Squeeze juice of half a lime over mixture; taste and adjust salt and spices if necessary. Garnish with chopped cilantro to serve.

Soups & Stews | No Comments »

I’ve been working on trying to perfect a low-fat orange nutmeg muffin recipe; my hopes are that it will be something like a muffin version of my favorite Orange Almond Nutmeg biscotti from Enrico. I also want something to bring in to work in the mornings that hasn’t got loads butter or oil, so I can have an easier time pretending that I’m starting the day off on a healthy note. It’s surprisingly difficult to get the proper amount of fluffiness and flavor, especially because I’m not using moisteners typical of low-fat baking like bananas, applesauce, or prune butter. This batch from last night came close with a hefty helping of yogurt in the mix, but that distinctive yogurty tang seemed to intrude on my enjoyment of the nutmeg. So it’s back to the drawing board, although I think I may be pretty close to a solution…

Meanwhile, as a consolation prize I made one of my favorite cookie recipes, which came from a Maida Heatter cookbook by way of Craig Claiborne, the former food editor of the New York Times. Maida Heatter is such a beloved figure in the American dessert scene, I feel a bit guilty that I hadn’t heard of her until only a couple of years ago. However, it’s been a joy to catch up on her vast repertoire of cookies, bars, cakes, and other pastries. In her books, Maida’s voice is enthusiastic, bubbling with energy, and with descriptions of each recipe that sound so superior, it’s hard to decide which one to make first.

These cardamom cookies seem rather simple; so much that one might be tempted to overlook them in favor of something more elaborate and eye-catching. I can assure you, however, that they are one of those superb examples of simplicity at its best. The taste of cardamom combined with a butter cookie/shortbread-like dough is versatile enough for any occasion - last year I included them in gift boxes of holiday cookies. Using freshly ground cardamom is the key to their outstanding flavor, though; while the pre-ground stuff will do if that’s all you can find, if you can manage to toss some whole seeds in a spice grinder, the difference will be marvelous (plus, your kitchen will smell amazing).

Nic of Baking Bites has also made these cookies, and added a little vanilla to the mix. I think this is a great idea, although since I prefer the cardamom to take center stage, I recommend only using about 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon rather than a full teaspoon as she does. By the way, the cookies practically demand to be dunked in a cup of coffee or crumbled on coffee ice cream…cardamom and coffee are so sublime together that they really ought to be united whenever possible!

Craig Claiborne’s Cardamom Cookies
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
3/4 to 1 teaspoon ground cardamom seeds (use freshly ground if you can, it will make a tremendous difference)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup dark brown sugar
1 large egg
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350°F.
Sift flour and cream of tartar into a medium bowl.
In a large bowl, cream together butter, cardamom, baking soda and salt. Add sugar and beat until well combined, then beat in egg and vanilla. Stir in flour mixture, 1/3 at a time, until fully incorporated. Pluck tablespoons of dough and roll them into 1 1/2 inch balls between your hands, flatten them slightly in your palms, and place on a parchment-lined baking sheet about 1 inch apart (the cookies will not spread much). If you’re bored, you can score a crosshatch design on them with the back of a thin knife. Bake cookies at 350°F for 10-12 minutes, until light golden brown and look slightly dry around the edges. Cool on baking sheet 10 minutes before transferring to a rack to cool completely.

Baking | 2 Comments »

Do you think it’s weird to eat oatmeal for dinner?

I don’t…at least not when the day is dark, muggy, and wet, you forgot your umbrella on the way to work, and your dermatologist has told you that if you need to get rid of a few pimples, she can hook you up with a special formula that the pharmacy mixes up just for her, made from a drug that is usually used to treat leprosy. Yes, folks, say hello to your friendly neighborhood leper! But wait! Don’t run away just yet!

I realize that leprosy is probably not the best topic for a food blog, but still…it’s rather amazing what sort of new uses are discovered in old remedies. Maybe this stuff will soon be the new sensation. All medical speculation aside, though, what I really meant to say is that it’s just the sort of rainy day for comfort foods, warm blankets, and silly 80s movies. Let’s just call it a teeny, self-imposed quarantine.

*Please note that I do not actually have leprosy. Thank you.

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Tomorrow is the thesis defense of a very special chocoholic, so I made some cake as a sort of pre-celebration treat. The goal was to have layers of chocolate genoise filled with an ultra-decadent bittersweet chocolate mousse, with maybe a few sliced strawberries thrown in for good measure. To do this, I started with a cocoa genoise from Flo Braker, which turned out just perfectly; it baked up with a light and spongy texture that belied its deep chocolate flavor. For the mousse portion, I used Alice Medrich’s Chocolate Velvet Mousse from her book Cocolat. In the recipe, she describes the mousse as being thick enough to slice, which was exactly what I was after. I was hoping for a thickness almost approaching a marquise, so the cake would be extraordinarily rich with chocolate. This is the part where things went a little funky.

Since the mousse recipe made 4 1/2 cups, I decided to halve it, since I figured 2 cups or so would be more than enough to fill a split single-layer genoise. All very well, so I dutifully prepared the mousse as directed. But it certainly seemed incredibly fluffy and not dense at all, not to mention quite a bit more than 2 cups. And there was no way this stuff would be thick enough to slice. Had Alice lied to me?! I held my breath and tried piping it onto the cake, stubbornly averting my eyes as it slowly oozed out from between the layers and the strawberries squirted out onto the plate. I then chilled the mousse in the fridge, waiting patiently. It still did not thicken appreciably. Finally, I froze the mousse and managed to cram it in between the layers as such, where it stayed there long enough for me to speedily fill, cut, and serve. Still, I was certain of Alice’s egregious error and determined to never, ever make one of her mousses again. As we sat and ate, gazing at the smears of mousse which dotted every surface of the kitchen, it hit me. Oh, crap. The mistake was mine. I realized immediately what I’d done. Shame on me for blaming the recipe! What was funny is that it took so freaking long for me to figure this out - I’m not perfect by any means, but for some reason I was certain that I’d followed everything just right…until, ding! Duh.

Trying to fill & slice with room temperature mousse

What happened was this: In my slightly-distracted rushing, I’d screwed up and used half the chocolate but the full amount of everything else. Let this be a lesson to me that when halving recipes, I really ought to write down the halved amounts on a separate sheet of paper, rather than staring at the recipe and trying to reduce everything in my head while I’m also trying to cook it.

Thankfully, the chocolate gods had not abandoned me completely, and the cake tasted great in spite of the snafu. Briefly freezing the filled cake made it easier to cut into slices, and individual slices could be stored in the fridge or freezer for serving. The mousse, while cloudlike and ethereal, was still quite rich with chocolate flavor (if made with twice as much chocolate, as in the original recipe, the stuff would be a force to reckon with indeed). So instead of the rich and dark den of chocolate sin I’d anticipated, my cake was buoyant, creamy, and refreshing, while still holding its own in the chocolate department. Fortunately, the chocoholic also happily approved of this turn of events.

After filling it with partially frozen mousse, then freezing the cake for about 15 minutes to cut into slices (much longer than this and the cake portion would become hard and yucky), it was able to sit at room temperature for about 15-20 minutes or so before the mousse became too soft again and started creeping from the sides of the cake. Even though my luck in fixing kitchen goofs worked out today, I will not try to intentionally screw up that mousse recipe again. :) Still, I will definitely keep the idea of using a particularly light mousse for filling instead of a thick and dense one. If you want to try making a similar cake, below is the recipe for Cocoa Genoise, which was easily one of the best genoises I’ve ever made. Fill it with your own favorite mousse recipe, some sliced fruit if you wish, and dust with confectioner’s sugar.

After freezing for a few minutes - much nicer!

Cocoa Genoise
Adapted from The Simple Art of Perfect Baking by Flo Braker

1/3 cup unsifted cake flour
1/3 cup unsifted cocoa powder
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
2 ounces (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter, melted
3 large eggs, room temperature
2 egg yolks, room temperature
2/3 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla

Preheat oven to 350ºF, position oven rack to lower third of oven.
Grease bottom and sides of a 9-inch springform pan, dust with flour. Place a parchment liner in the bottom of the pan; grease and flour parchment.

Pour flour, cocoa, and 1 tablespoon sugar in that order into a triple sifter. Sift onto a sheet of waxed paper and set aside. Place sugar, eggs, and egg yolks in the bowl of a standing mixer; whisk to combine. Rest the bowl in a shallow skillet filled with one inch of hot (120ºF) tap water. Whisk the egg mixture continuously for about 30 seconds, or until the mixture is around body temperature and when a bit is rubbed between your fingers, it feels smooth, not granular. Don’t let the mixture exceed 110ºF.

Put the bowl on the mixer and whisk on medium speed until the mixture has tripled in volume (3-4 minutes), and it falls in ribbons back to the bowl when the whisk is lifted. Pour in vanilla and beat to combine. With a spatula, sprinkle half of the cocoa-flour mixture on top of the egg mixture and gently fold into the batter. Repeat with the other half of the cocoa-flour mixture, folding just until combined. Pour about 1 cup of the batter into the melted butter and fold until combined. Return the butter mixture to the rest of the batter and gently fold until incorporated, being careful not to deflate the batter.

Gently pour batter into the pan, smoothing the top with a spatula. Bake for 15-27 minutes or until the top springs back slightly when touched and the sides begin to contract from the pan. Cool for 10 minutes, then release sides of springform pan (loosening the sides with knife if necessary). Cool completely.

Baking | No Comments »

For dinner tonight I made this recipe from Fuschia Dunlop’s excellent Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook: Recipes from Hunan Province. It’s similar to a dish I make fairly regularly, but with the addition of pork, Shaoxing wine, stock, and sesame oil. The dish is slightly spicy-hot (and if you like things fiery, it can be made even hotter by adding chili paste or more chilies) and redolent with the unmistakable flavor of fermented black beans, which I absolutely love.

Perhaps you’ve had “home-style bean curd” in a Chinese restaurant, but as far as I’ve seen, most Chinese restaurants in America don’t make it anything like this. The original recipe was from a famous Hunanese chef, Peng Chang-Kuei, and, as Dunlop writes, “its Hunanese roots are plain to see”, with salty, bold, and rich flavors, and its the use of hot chilies (but not as mouth-tingling as Sichuan cuisine). I think it’s a terrific treatment of bean curd: assertive and complex, not to mention completely unlike the flaccid and gluey substance that passes for home-style bean curd in a typical Chinese take-out joint.

As this version does contain pork, it is obviously not vegetarian. However, vegetarians can make it work for them by simply leaving out the pork and replacing it with a little more bean curd and a small splash of Shaoxing wine. For those not familiar with some of the ingredients, the Shaoxing wine and fermented black beans can be found at any Asian grocer. There aren’t really any substitutions, though, so it won’t do at all to try!

Finally, a few words about deep frying the bean curd. I don’t have a wok or deep fryer at home, so I usually fry my bean curd in a large sauté pan with high sides. I find this works very well, and might also add that it’s a bit lower in fat than deep-frying, which frankly gives me a bit of the heebie-jeebies. Assuming you don’t have a complex about deep-frying stuff, by all means go for it - the bean curd will probably stay crisper when added to the sauce. Apart from frying the bean curd in a pan, the only other changes I made were to use cornstarch rather than potato flour (it’s easier to find and has basically the same effect), and the addition of some sliced red pepper at the same time as the black beans to provide a little more color and nutrition. For a full meal, I like to serve it with rice and sautéed Asian greens.

Peng’s Home-Style Bean Curd
Adapted from Revolutionary Chinese Cookbook: Recipes from Hunan Province

3oz boneless lean pork, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon Shaoxing wine
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 block firm bean curd, rinsed and patted dry (about 1 1/4 lbs)
3 scallions, green parts only, chopped
2 fresh red chilies, chopped (remove the seeds for less heat)
2 cloves of garlic, chopped
3 tablespoons fermented black beans, rinsed
1 cup vegetable stock
1//4 teaspoon dark soy sauce
1 teaspoon potato flour or cornstarch, dissolved in 1 tablespoon water
1/2 teaspoon sesame oil

peanut oil for frying

Place pork slices in a bowl with the Shaoxing wine and salt, toss to coat.
Cut bean curd into cubes or oblong slices, about 1/2 inch thick.

To deep fry bean curd:
Heat 1 cup peanut oil over a high flame until it reaches 350-400ºF. Add bean curd in 3 or 4 batches and fry until tinged with gold; drain and set aside on a plate covered with a few paper towel to absorb excess oil.

To fry bean curd in a sauté pan:
Heat 1/4 to 1/3 cup peanut oil on highest flame in a sauté pan with 2 inch high sides. Add bean curd in 1 or 2 batches and fry, turning pieces over as they become golden. Remove with a slotted spoon and set aside on a plate covered with a few paper towel to absorb excess oil.

In a wok or sauté pan, heat 3 tablespoons oil over a high flame. Add garlic and chilies and stir for a few seconds until fragrant. Add the sliced pork, and when it becomes pale, toss in the black beans, stirring all the while. When hot, pour in the stock, add the bean curd and soy sauce, and bring to a boil.

Reduce heat and simmer for several minutes so the bean curd will become flavored with the sauce. Add the potato flour or cornstarch and stir, then add the chopped scallions. Turn off the heat, stir in the sesame oil, and serve.

Main Dishes | 5 Comments »