I heard a rumor we are expecting snow showers next week—can you imagine?! An impending hard frost inspired G to bring in a huge batch of green tomatoes from the garden, the last ones clinging to the now-scraggly vines. Initially, I was a tad exasperated. But then I remembered to be grateful. Not to go all Pollyanna on you, but it’s an interesting challenge to turn everything into a positive. The old lemons into lemonade philosophy. Not that a bumper crop of green tomatoes really has anything to do with that. And once they were turned into a tart-sweet, highly spiced chutney—thanks to inspiration from Winnie’s Healthy Green Kitchen—I looked at those lovely jars stacked up and felt nothing if not happy. Like all the other animals at this time of year, I’m loading up the larder with stores for the winter.

greens keeper

I could imagine this recipe might work with tomatillos as well, but I think they would fall apart quicker and give you a gloppier consistency. Although they are totally different things, green tomatoes do have a similarly bright and acidic flavor.

more green stuff: serrano chiles

I’m sure you already know this, but to moderate the heat in chiles, you simply remove the inner white “spine” and attached seeds. This is where much of the capsaicin resides.

palm sugar infused with ginger

G made some new friends when he was on his (leg-breaking) shoot in Indonesia, and they sent us some of their wonderful products. Big Tree Farms, on the lush slopes of Bali’s second highest volcanic peak, are creators of artisan foods. I’m going to do a whole post on them soon, but wanted to introduce you here to their amazing palm sugars. For this chutney I used one infused with peppery ginger.

ginger-infused palm sugar

Most palm sugar comes in unwieldy clumps or “loaves,” but Big Tree has found a way to grind theirs, applying a dry heat to create a soft, crumbly texture that is very easy to use.

they also have a plain version, and one infused with turmeric

Decidedly Indian in flavor—thanks to ginger, garlic, chiles, fenugreek, mustard seeds, coriander, cumin and cayenne—this lovely, jammy chutney hits all the notes: hot, sour, salty and sweet. I ate mine with some of that mild dhokla from the other day, but I can imagine it perfectly accenting a curry, a piece of grilled salmon, a lamb burger or a cheese sandwich.

stirring the pot

You just dump everything into a big pot and walk away for a couple of hours, coming back occasionally to give it a stir. In the end, you’ve reduced a big pile of unripe (unwanted?) tomatoes into a luscious condiment that will turn others green with envy.

This year, I hope to bring you with me a little more often into the world of South Asian cooking. Having traveled in India, Vietnam, Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Indonesia, I’ve been fortunate to experience many of these flavors in their countries of origin, but my real culinary knowledge of them I owe to Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, authors of two seminal—and well-thumbed—volumes: Hot Sour Salty Sweet and Mangoes & Curry Leaves. They track their recipes to the source, often cooking in humble homes alongside matriarchs of the region, and they really believe in simple authentic dishes. Mangoes & Curry Leaves features the cuisine of the Subcontinent—Pakistan, India, Nepal, Bhutan, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and the Maldives—so you can imagine the rich variety. I’m sharing a recipe for dhokla, a Gujarati specialty that’s essentially a steamed bread. The recipe looks long, but it’s really a very simple process, and the result is light and delicious (and gluten-free). So you don’t become discouraged about trying these recipes, please find a source for South Asian ingredients. A market in Little India? An online resource? It’s exciting to try something new, and a great way to vary both your diet and your repertoire.

grinding the batter (my cuisinart is stained yellow from cooking with turmeric!)

This savory bread is made from a batter combining butterscotch-colored toovar dal (split dried pigeon peas) and white rice, though cornmeal is sometimes used. The dal and rice need to soak for 6 hours (or up to 24, if that’s easier for you). It’s ground into a batter that’s mixed with a little water and yogurt (buttermilk would probably work fine) and then steamed to a dense, springy texture. A little baking soda helps it rise, though traditionally the batter would be left to ferment for 12 hours to gain natural leavening.

i made mine in a cake pan

You’ll need an 8″ round cake pan and some kind of steamer that can hold it. One of these collapsible steamers works perfectly, and is a great kitchen item in general for steaming everything from broccoli to dumplings. Whatever your steaming arrangement, it needs to fit inside a larger, lidded pot that holds about an inch of water.

the top has a smooth, spongey texture

Once the dhokla has been steamed, it’s cut into small squares or diamonds and seasoned or “tempered” with a tarka, a mix of spices and aromatics briefly heated in oil. This smells amazing and seeps into the cracks, imparting another level of flavor to the mild bread.

seeds and curry leaves add texture and spice

Dhokla, traditionally served with one or more chutneys, is a farshan: almost like an appetizer, or a dish that constitutes a break or pause in a larger meal. With a little dal or soup, or even on its own with some chutney, I think it makes a lovely lunch or light dinner.

coriander-mint chutney is a sprightly accompaniment

My first apartment in New York was on Avenue A and 3rd Street, at a time when the East Village was a rather seedy no-man’s-land where you couldn’t score much more than smack and a good bialy. There were no gourmet stores, no coffee bars, not even an ATM within blocks. But there was the original Two Boots pizza parlor and, for a short and very blissful time, a little joint called Southern Style where you could get some clean and tasty down-home cooking for cheap. To my knowledge, they never served fried green tomatoes but that alone is not enough to explain why I’d never eaten any before making them myself recently. Thanks to new restaurants like this, or this one, Southern food seems to be having quite the renaissance these days, so I’ll probably end up sampling someone else’s fried green tomatoes soon. But until that day, mine will have to set the standard.

the unripe masses

What makes a green tomato ideal for frying is its firm texture. Juicy but crisp, it holds up to the batter and the high heat, retaining its toothy quality. Don’t get confused and use green heirloom tomatoes. The whole point is that these are unripe.

seeds of change

Green tomatoes have a nice tart taste that’s a good counterpoint to the cornmeal crust.

batter up

I like to use a 3-step batter that calls for dredging the slices first in flour, then in a mixture of egg and buttermilk, and finally in cornmeal which adds a thick and crunchy sweetness.

use a more finely ground cornmeal for a more delicate crust

to all things a season

A well-seasoned cast-iron skillet is an asset in the kitchen. I don’t believe in non-stick pans, since there’s no question that they release toxic fumes, so I rely heavily on my copper and cast-iron skillets. For more information on cast-iron pans, including how to season them, see here.

dredged in flour

then egg, and finally cornmeal

I know this next photo will be controversial. Mayonnaise is so polarizing! So many people absolutely loathe it and can’t even stand to have it on their plate, much less their palate. But for the rest of us, it’s a creamy, dreamy delight that, in moderation, enhances everything from tomato sandwiches to poached chicken.

the great white way

Crunchy fried foods pair well with something tart and/or creamy—french fries with ketchup, fried fish with tartar sauce or a squeeze of lemon—and these fried green tomatoes are no exception. Recently I fell in love with the smoked mayonnaise that David Chang slathers on his pulled duck buns at Momofuku Ssam. I happen to know he uses Kewpie mayonnaise a lot, so I grabbed one of the funny-looking squeeze bottles when I was at Fairway. Wow, what a revelation. I love this stuff! Made in Japan since the 1920s, it’s lighter, tangier and more deliciously savory than traditional store-bought mayo (aka Hellman’s), thanks to the use of rice vinegar and MSG. Yes, MSG, a compound that has been unduly villainized. To learn more about why it’s actually not toxic or bad for you, read this. Anyway, by stirring a little smoked salt and a couple of splashes of Tabasco into some Kewpie, I jerry-rigged a version of Chang’s smoked mayo that sends these fried green tomatoes into the stratosphere.

heading south

The plan was to invite a bunch of friends to our new property by the reservoir in Forestburgh on peak leaf weekend to gather around a big bonfire, eat chili, sip mulled wine and make s’mores. Wrong. Each morning during the week leading up to our party, G would tell me the weather forecast, and each day it would go up several degrees. By the time the actual day dawned, we were preparing for a scorcher, and the leaves had only just begun to display their showy colors. But what a glorious day it was! Perfectly clear and without a trace of humidity. I had been threatening to change the menu if the mercury rose above 70º, but in the end—despite it hitting 77º—we stuck with the chili and just swapped out the mulled wine for rosé and cocktails on the rocks. Later this week I’ll post the recipe for the thick, brick-red Texas-style chili, made with plenty of beef and no beans; and also for the caramel apples that were dessert, a great easy treat for this time of year. But for now, some photos to inspire you to get together with friends wherever/whenever/however (preferably outdoors while you still can), and a recipe for the perfect bourbon cocktail.

welcome to the drake

We call our property The Drake, after the old roadside hotel that occupied the land at the turn of the last century. Nothing’s left of it now, but there is this old (non-functioning) outhouse at the top of the lot. We nailed up these old metal letters we found at a local thrift shop. Our guests parked at the top of the hill and walked down past the apple tree to the party.

through the woods

At the bottom of the property is the Rio Reservoir; there are no homes on the other side as it’s state-owned land. The whole area is a protected sanctuary for the bald eagle, so we’re lucky to have lots of privacy.

bales and batiks

G built a beautiful fire ring with stones from the property, and got bales of hay from the local Agway. I covered these with vintage Indonesian batiks from my large collection of exotic textiles, and we spread various blankets, tapestries and cushions on the ground. Friends also brought excellent camp beds—canvas cots—and with all this we had enough comfortable seating for our crowd of 25 people.

the pie lady

You remember my friend Tomo—she of the wild mushroom pizza? Well, she did it again! This time she showed up with three pizzas, each one more delicious than the next.

vegetarian pizza

potato-bacon pizza

wild mushroom pizza

Talk about potluck. It was a great way to get the party started, especially since I had only brought a few pickled radishes for snacking.

real texas-style chili

My main focus was the chili, which was a rather involved, time-consuming dish, in no small part because I had to dice 12 pounds of chuck roast into quarter-inch cubes. (Next time, I may get my butcher to do that.) It was a pretty big hit, which I attribute not only to the quality of Dickson’s meat but to the 6 kinds of dried chiles, beer, coffee and Mexican chocolate that went into it.

Stephanie brought a delectable chicken soup, chock-full of corn and tomatoes and thickened with tortillas. It was a great light counterpoint to the chili. Sadly, I didn’t get a photo of it. Once the party gets started, I tend to forget to pick up the camera.

break bread with friends

Matthew made the cornbread which was incredibly fluffy and light with a hint of sweetness. He said the great texture was due to minimal mixing, and the toothy crust was from being baked in a skillet. I like to crumble mine up and ladle the chile over it.

hill of beans

and a celery-apple salad

I asked my friend Michael to bring a salad, and he brought two instead, both inspired by what was on offer at the local farmers market. Everything was so crisp and bright and flavorful. Sadly, this past weekend was the last market of the season around here.

basking in the late afternoon sunshine

It was kind of sweltering for a while, but there was canoeing over to the incredible waterfall on the other side of the reservoir, apple-picking from the enormous old tree on our land, mushroom foraging (unsuccessful) and lounging in the shade. Eventually, the sun went behind the trees and the air took on a cooling freshness. We lit the bonfire. Long wooden skewers were produced and marshmallows were toasted. S’mores were had. Sighs of contentment were heard.

and the leaves that are green turn to brown

It was the epitome of Indian summer, and a feeling of nostalgia floated through the air like the falling leaves. Much later, we were drawn to the mesmerizing electric-red embers as the moon rose and cast its silvery glow over everything.

cider house rules: the drake cocktail

The drink of the day, enjoyed by one and all—including the many wasps drawn to every sugary drizzle—was The Drake. It’s essentially a riff on The Eldred, the house cocktail enjoyed at our current home in the town for which it is named. We tend to favor Booker’s, but any bourbon you like is fine; there are many out there now that it has become so popular among The New Cocktailians.

you’ll see stars

The secret to this simple, three-ingredient cocktail (and, by definition, they do require at least three) is the cider syrup. Made with brown sugar, maple syrup and star anise, and reduced to a thick glaze, the syrup is also nice stirred into applesauce, spooned over ice cream or mixed into yogurt. I like to make a batch and keep it in my fridge for when inspiration strikes. So will you.

I’m up to my eyeballs in greenery. We’ve had SO MUCH rain that the entire landscape is like a sopping chartreuse sponge. The bleeding hearts are blooming, the ferns have unfurled and the weeds are seriously out of control. I’m a little overwhelmed, frankly, what with G laid up in bed and the planting still ahead of me. The storm windows need to come out and the screened-in porch needs cleaning and repair from storms and raccoons… How will it all get done? There’s been some mention of a handyman, and I’m looking forward to the moment one actually materializes. Up here in Sullivan County, much is promised and little delivered. Not that I’m complaining. The change in weather has also brought ramps, scallions, rhubarb, asparagus and the prospect of an excellent growing season. Until our own crops start to come in (ages from now, possiblynever), I’ll continue to forage from the local farmers markets which are up and running. This past weekend I scooped up 10 bunches of ramps to pickle (recipe coming). Also 2 gorgeous bunches of scallions which I’ll use to make Francis Lam’s delicious scallion-ginger sauce (recipe also coming), great with dumplings, poached chicken or even as the basis of a salad dressing. The greens from both ramps and scallions I use for a divine, jade-colored pesto.

fresh bunches of ramps and scallions

Both kinds of greens bring a pungent oniony flavor to this pesto, so I don’t add any garlic, but it’s a recipe that’s easy to adapt to suit your taste. Mine is made with toasted walnuts, but pine nuts or even almonds would be good. Instead of the parmesan, you might try pecorino or even a dry goat cheese. I think that lemon and salt are both essential for balance and brightness.

cheese and nuts for richness, zest for…zest

definitely toss in any scallion blossoms with the greens

ramp greens have a more delicate, almost spinach-like texture, but a strong flavor

How to eat this pesto? Tossed with nutty whole wheat spaghetti and a dollop of ricotta. Made into a compound butter to eat with grilled steak. Slathered on a ham sandwich. Spread on crostini and topped with an anchovy. Not sold yet? Stirred into homemade mayonnaise as a dipping sauce for cold artichokes. Rolled inside a roasted pork loin. OK?

this keeps in a jar in the fridge for a week or so (you’ll use it up before then)

photo from saveur magazine

It’s hot and rainy here in Indonesia, and so far I haven’t managed to do more than catch up on sleep and wander around the hotel. Any hopes I had of going sight-seeing with G were dashed the moment I clapped eyes on his leg: scarily mottled and swollen, his toes like little sausages. Not to mention the 8” incision through which they inserted two titanium plates and seven screws. I’ll venture out into the city on my own eventually but for today, the 5th of May, I’m content to do a little armchair traveling to another part of the globe: Mexico. It’s Cinco de Mayo, not Mexican Independence Day as so many seem to believe (that’s September 6^th), but a date observed in the United States as a celebration of Mexican heritage and pride, and in one part of Mexico as a commemoration of the army’s unlikely 1862 victory over French forces at the Battle of Puebla. If you lack the time or inclination to make something like my mother’s chile relleno casserole or my green chicken enchiladas, but still want to skew south of the border, maybe you’ll try one of these salsa recipes from Saveur magazine. (This month’s issue is devoted to Mexican cuisine.) Salsa simply means “sauce,” and variations extend well past the fresh-tomato-onion-chile-cilantro pico de gallo we all know (and love) so well. They’re quick and easy to throw together, pack a huge punch of flavor and are endlessly versatile. Beyond scooping them up with tortilla chips, you can serve them with grilled chicken or fish, stir them into scrambled eggs, spoon them into quesadillas, or whip them into mayonnaise to slather on fresh seafood or a steak sandwich.

tomatillos grow covered with papery husks

Tomatillos—not tomatoes at all, but related to gooseberries—have a tart, fresh taste that makes a bright, citrusy salsa. It pairs beautifully with chicken, cheese and seafood. You can also use it dress a cabbage slaw or an avocado salad.

Big note: Please remember to handle chiles very carefully. Their skin and seeds exude a powerful oil that can be very painful on the lips or in the eyes. Many people like to use rubber gloves when handling chiles. I find that with careful knife work and tongs I can avoid touching anything, but this requires some practice.

SALSA VERDE

makes 1 ½ cups

1⁄2 lb. fresh tomatillos

1 garlic clove, peeled and chopped

4 fresh serrano chiles, stemmed and chopped

sea salt

2 tablespoons minced white onion

2 tablespoons roughly chopped fresh cilantro

Remove papery husks from tomatillos, rinse and quarter. Place in a blender or food processor with garlic, chiles, a pinch of salt, and 1⁄3 cup water. Pulse until finely chopped.

Transfer to a bowl and stir in onions and cilantro. Season with salt.

freshly fried tortilla chips are so worth the (minimal) effort

The juices released when you broil tomatoes are incorporated into this red salsa. It’s slightly smoky sweetness is excellent with tortilla chips, but is also perfect for a Mexican-style shrimp cocktail.

SALSA ROJA

makes 1 ½ cups

2 large, ripe tomatoes

2 garlic cloves, unpeeled

1 large fresh serrano chile, stemmed

1 tablespoon roughly chopped fresh cilantro

pinch of sugar

sea salt

Preheat broiler. Place tomatoes on a baking pan lined with aluminum foil. Char, turning to blacken all over, about 15 minutes.

Heat a cast-iron skillet over medium heat. Add garlic and chile, and toast, turning frequently, until soft, 10–15 minutes. Set aside to cool.

Peel garlic, then place in a blender or food processor with chile and pulse until chopped. Core tomato (blackened skin will lend a slightly smoky flavor), add to purée, and pulse until blended. Transfer to a bowl. Stir in cilantro and sugar. Season with salt.

chipotles are intensely smoky and spicy

Chipotles are smoked and dried jalapeño chiles that have a very spicy, complex flavor. Try a little of this intense black salsa stirred into hot rice or drizzled over caramelized grilled pineapple. Whip a few teaspoons into mayonnaise to make the rich sauce found in restaurants in Veracruz, where it’s used as a dip for grilled or poached shrimp, lobster and crab claws.

SALSA NEGRA

makes 1 ½ cups

3 oz. dried chipotle mora chiles

7 tablespoons vegetable oil

12 garlic cloves, peeled

sea salt

Rinse chiles. Heat 3 tablespoons of the oil over medium heat in a cast-iron skillet. Add chiles and garlic and cook, stirring, until chiles are puffed and garlic is brown, about 5 minutes. Transfer chiles to a bowl; set garlic aside.

Soak chiles in hot water until soft, about 15 minutes. Drain, and carefully remove stems, veins, and seeds. Purée chiles, garlic, and 2 cups water in a food processor or blender. Heat remaining 4 tablespoons oil in skillet over medium heat. Add chile purée and cook, stirring with a wooden spoon, until mixture begins to stick to pan, about 10 minutes. Season with salt.

CHIPOTLE MAYONNAISE

makes 1 cup

1 cup mayonnaise

4 teaspoons Salsa Negra

1 garlic clove, peeled and minced

juice of 1 lime

In a medium bowl, whisk the Salsa Negra, garlic and lime juice into the mayonnaise. Refrigerate to chill and allow flavors to meld. Can be stored in fridge for up to 1 week.

Certain foods just have a universal appeal. Consider the dumpling, for instance. It’s found in so many cultures, this rose by any other name: knedlíky (Czech), kreplach (Jewish), pantrucas (Chile), manti (Armenia), ravioli (Italy), buuz (Mongolia), pangsit (Indonesia), dim sum (China), gyoza (Japan), mandu (Korea)…the list goes on and on. Yogurt—and soured milk of all kinds—may not be quite as common, especially given that many African and Asian countries don’t do dairy, but among those that do it’s a deeply-held tradition. From straight-up yogurt to crème fraîche to quark to ricotta to paneer to Mexico’s indigenous Nahuatl jocoque árabe, people have long been introducing bacteria or acid to milk with delectable results. Greek yogurt has become hugely popular in this country over the last few years, thanks in no small part to the ubiquitous Fage (pronounced “fa-yeh”) brand. It’s simply yogurt which has been strained to remove the whey, giving it a much denser, creamier texture. Sometimes this style of yogurt is even enriched with extra butterfat or powdered milk.  

In the Middle East, where it’s a traditional Bedouin food also known as labne, labneh, labni or lebni (all from the Semitic for “white”), it’s an even more extreme version: very thick, somewhere between the consistency of Greek yogurt and cream cheese. It’s a popular mezze dish and sandwich ingredient. Besides being used fresh, it can be dried and then formed into balls, sometimes covered with herbs or spices, and stored in olive oil.  Milk from camels and other animals is used in labne production in Saudi Arabia and other Persian Gulf countries, but what we see is mainly from cow. Recently, at Marlow & Daughters in Brooklyn, I did find a strained sheep’s milk yogurt that was quite creamy and wonderful, though nowhere near as thick as true labne.

High in protein and calcium and low in fat, especially given its creaminess, labne makes a wonderful substitute for crème fraîche or sour cream, without being too heavy to eat by the spoonful. Try it for breakfast with roasted walnuts, fresh or dried fruit and a swirl of good local honey. Or for lunch in a pita with some fresh tomatoes and a few chickpeas. Plop a spoonful on top of lentils or spinach soup. Thin it with a little water and drizzle it on fish tacos. Stir in chopped mint, cilantro, parsley and a dollop of good olive oil and scoop it up with toasted pita. Other foods it pairs well with: oil-cured black olives; sumac; lamb chops; roasted apricots; fresh berries; pomegranate molasses…

labne: an ancient and perfect food

LABNE
Start with top quality plain yogurt with no additives or stabilizers. You can use  fat-free to full fat yogurt, although the latter will be creamier. Each quart of yogurt produces about 6 ounces of labne, plus plenty of highly nutritional whey that shouldn’t go to waste. Try stirring it into soups, stews and smoothies, or use it to make sauerkraut.

Stir 24 ounces plain yogurt until completely smooth.

Set a mesh colander over a bowl and line with cheesecloth or a thin cotton dish towel (or very thick paper towels). Place yogurt in colander and leave to drain in the fridge for at least 24 hours, stirring occasionally to encourage even draining. Transfer labne and whey to separate covered containers for storage.

My passionate love of beets dates back to my early childhood. I can remember staring delightedly into the toilet as a lovely pink-tinged rinse circled the bowl. Their gorgeous color is a way of signaling how rich they are in minerals and antioxidants. (Beet juice, incidentally, makes a wonderful dye. Stay tuned for the transformation of my new white linen caftan!) The beets we know and eat are descended from the sea beet, Beta vulgaris subsp. maritima, which is native to the coasts of Europe, North Africa and southern Asia. Also known as wild spinach, it’s the common ancestor of beetroot, sugar beet and Swiss chard.

In my desire to help you squeeze the maximum out of your winter store of root vegetables, I can’t forget to mention these wine-colored jewels. We don’t eat them much in our house because G is not fond of them—something which is apparently rather common among men. I wonder why? He thinks they taste of dirt, which of course they do, but isn’t that the whole point? I love them in all their guises—raw, steamed, roasted and pickled—and will often indulge when the cat’s away.

roasted roots: a quick and easy preparation

Roasting beets in the oven brings out their flavor nicely. Just rinse them, giving them a quick scrub, and place them in a roasting pan with a little water. Cover with foil and bake at 350º for 45 minutes or so, until they are tender and can be easily pierced with a fork. Uncover them and let them cool until you can handle them without hurting yourself, then simply slip the skins off. It’s a good idea to dress them now, while they’re still warm, as this helps the flavors permeate.

Roasted beets are wonderful dressed with walnut oil and balsamic vinegar, and sprinkled with a bit of coarse sea salt. I like to add chopped toasted walnuts or pistachios; orange or lemon zest; a minced shallot.

I also consulted a wonderful new book I received for a birthday gift this year, The Flavor Thesaurus: A Compendium of Pairings, Recipes and Ideas for the Creative Cook by Niki Segnit. It’s a fantastic resource and I could while away hours reading up on interesting combinations of ingredients. Among her recommendations for pairing with beets are apple, anchovies, capers, horseradish, onion, orange, oily fish, walnuts, potato and goat cheese. She also provides this very simple recipe for what is an amazingly beautiful Pink Risotto for two:

Soften a finely chopped onion in olive oil, then add ¼ cup risotto rice, stirring until the grains are coated in oil. Add ¼ cup of white wine and cook until evaporated. Mix in 4 medium diced or grated cooked beets, then add 3 cups hot vegetable stock, one ladle at a time, stirring constantly, until the rice is creamy and al dente. Add a large handful of grated parmesan, salt and pepper to taste, and a few crushed leaved of fresh lemon thyme (or a little lemon zest). Divide risotto between 2 plates and crumble a bit of soft goat cheese on top.

I happen to love beets with ginger, and Alice Waters suggests an Indian-style beet chutney made with roasted and chopped beets, fresh ginger and serrano chiles, cilantro, vinegar, lime juice and cayenne.

I hope you’re getting your beets from the farmers market, in which case you’re probably bringing them home with the greens still attached. These are an excellent source of nutrition, including fiber, iron and other minerals. Don’t waste them! Stew them with a little bacon, or try this easy pasta dish with mint, currant and red onion, also from Alice Waters. Or forget the pasta, and serve this as a side dish.

*A chiffonade, in case you’re wondering, involves a technique in which herbs or leafy greens are cut into long, thin strips. Just stack the leaves, then tightly roll them like cigars, and cut across the rolls to produce fine ribbons.

BEET-GREEN PASTA

from Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Vegetables,

serves 4

1/2 cup currants

3-4 bunches beet greens (about 2 lbs)

1 small bunch fresh mint, a smooth-leaved variety if available

2 medium red onions

2-3 cloves garlic

1 bay leaf

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

1 lb dried fedelini pasta (can substitute angel hair or even spaghetti)

salt and pepper

Cover the currants with boiling water, let them soak for 15 minutes, and drain them. While they are soaking, wash the beet greens, strip the leaves from the stems, and cut the leaves into chiffonade. Chop the stems into 2-inch lengths. Stem the mint, wash the leaves, and chop them into chiffonade.

Put on a pot of salted water for the pasta. Peel the onions and the garlic and chop them both fine. Sauté them with the bay leaf over medium heat in 1/4 cup olive oil for about 5 minutes or until they turn translucent. Add the beet leaves and stems and the currants and cook 5 minutes more, covered.

Meanwhile, when the water has come to a boil, add the pasta. Uncover the beet greens, season with salt and pepper, and add the mint leaves. When the pasta is cooked, drain it and toss well with the sauce, moistening it with a ladle of the pasta water and the rest of the olive oil. Serve immediately.

Note: For a slightly more piquant dish, add a splash of red wine vinegar and a pinch of cayenne.

I finished brining my corned beef and cooked it a few days early, so I could share the rest of the recipe with you now. I’d love to hear if any of you decided to go for it this year, in time for St. Patrick’s Day this week. I’ll post pictures of the meat, sliced and plated, on Thursday, but I’m equally excited about the vegetables. These are poached in the beef broth until they are beautifully tender and nicely flavored from the pickling spices. You can make just potatoes and cabbage, but I encourage you to branch out and incorporate parsnips, carrots, onions, and turnips or rutabagas. You could even add daikon or kohlrabi. Be sure you’ve got some sharp, grainy mustard on hand, or whip up one or both of these piquant sauces. The demise of winter is nigh, slain by the fair hand of spring.

these vegetables are a great counterpoint to the rich, fatty meat

leave the spice bag in while poaching the vegetables

CORNED BEEF & VEGETABLES

a continuation of this recipe

serves 8, with leftovers

1 12-ounce bottle Guinness stout
3 tablespoons pickling spice, plus cheesecloth or spice bag

3 medium turnips or rutabagas, peeled and quartered

8 unpeeled medium white-skinned or red-skinned potatoes (about 3 pounds)
6 medium carrots, peeled
4 medium onions, peeled, halved through root ends
4 medium parsnips, peeled, cut into 2-inch lengths
1 2-pound head of cabbage, quartered

Remove corned beef from brine and rinse well. Then place directly in a very large, wide pot. Add stout and enough water to cover by 1 inch. Wrap pickling spice mixture in cheesecloth  or spice bag, enclosing completely, and securing with kitchen string. Place spice bag in pot. Bring just to a boil, skimming as needed, then reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until beef is tender, about 2 1/4 hours. Transfer beef to large baking sheet. *At this point, you can cool the meat, then wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for a couple of days.

Add vegetables to liquid in pot; bring to boil. Reduce heat to medium and boil gently until all vegetables are tender, about 40 minutes. Using slotted spoon, transfer vegetables to baking sheet with beef. Discard spice bag. Return beef to pot and rewarm 5 minutes.

Cut beef against grain into 1/4-inch thick slices. Arrange beef and vegetables on platter. Serve with Horseradish Cream and Guinness Mustard (recipes follow).

HORSERADISH CREAM

1 cup sour cream or crème fraiche

6 tablespoons prepared white horseradish (about 4 ounces)

1 tablespoon finely chopped dill pickle

1 tablespoon chopped fresh chives or green onion tops

Whisk all ingredients in small bowl to blend. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours. (Can be made 2 days ahead.)

GUINNESS MUSTARD

1/2 cup coarse-grained Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons regular Dijon mustard

2 tablespoons Guinness stout or other stout or porter

1 tablespoon minced shallot

1 teaspoon golden brown sugar

Whisk all ingredients in small bowl to blend. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours. (Can be made 2 days ahead.)

I arose this morning to the deep silence of new-fallen snow, a world blanketed white. Today is a holiday. An opportunity to putter about guilt-free, reading yesterday’s paper, enjoying a leisurely cup of chai. Thoughts turn to the cubes of lamb I pulled from the freezer to defrost overnight. Something warming is in order, a comforting braise of some sort, but nothing that requires too much work. Perhaps a spicy vindaloo is just the thing. It can marinate for hours, and then G can stir it on the stovetop while I’m at yoga this evening. A group effort, and yet not much effort at all. Brown rice, sauteed spinach and a little raita. That’s dinner on this Meaty Monday. A day off for you might mean ordering in, but it’s actually much more indulgent to inhale the wonderful smells of aromatics and spices, knowing that a delicious curry is in your future.

i love the earthy palette of these fragrant spices

you may not have all these spices on hand but improvising is totally acceptable

Making a curry is a great excuse to head to your local Indian market, always a delight for the senses. A visit to Kalustyan’s, in person or online, never fails to enthrall. I’m a big fan of making a curry whenever the mood strikes you, and this means stocking your pantry with, at the very least, cumin, coriander, ginger, cayenne, turmeric, fennel, cinnamon, clove and cardamom. If you have a spice grinder (or a coffee grinder), tou can buy everything whole (except ginger, and maybe turmeric); spices stay fresher for longer like that.

jaggery, green cardamom pods and ground sumac

If you’re not as obsessed with exotic items as I am, you may not have jaggery (unrefined Indian sugar) or ground sumac on hand, but fear not, oh intrepid cheflings! The point of the jaggery is to add a little sweetness, so you can substitute brown sugar or even a bit of molasses or light honey. The sumac adds an element of tartness, which you can replicate with a little more tamarind, or vinegar or lemon juice. It’s about balancing the flavors and you don’t need to be overly fastidious with which ingredients you use. Indian cooking is very forgiving this way, inviting cooks to create curries of their own devising with a classic repertoire of spices.

the marinade starts with a base of spicy mustard oil, tamarind and vinegar

For instance, I had no red wine vinegar on hand, so I used malt vinegar, which is what chef Durga Prasad of New York’s Tamarind restaurant uses in his vindaloo preparations. It has an earthy sweetness that enhances this dish.

ginger, chile and garlic are traditional flavors of Southern Indian cuisine

Vindaloo comes from vinho de alho, an old Portuguese dish of pork preserved in red wine (vinho) vinegar, and cooked with a lot of garlic (alho). Along with red chile peppers, this preparation was brought by Portuguese traders when they colonized India’s South coast in the 16^th century, including the city of Goa. The idea of preserving evolved into something more like a pickle, with a mix of whole spices including cumin, coriander, fenugreek, black mustard, cinnamon, cloves, black peppercorns, red chile and cardamom. In addition to vinegar, tamarind and sumac were added as souring agents, with a bit of jaggery to cut the sharpness. As in most dishes from this area, copious amounts of ginger and garlic are present. In deference to Muslims, pork has been replaced with goat or lamb, sometimes even chicken or prawns; and ghee takes the place of pork fat. It’s a fairly common mistake to think that the “aloo” in vindaloo refers to potatoes, but traditional versions of this curry do not incorporate the starchy tubers. Although they can make a nice addition, I prefer to serve mine with rice, and a creamy raita to cut the heat. Not the kind that drives you out of the kitchen, the kind that lures you to the table and warms the cockles of your heart.

GOAN LAMB VINDALOO

serves 6

Marinade

½ cup mustard oil

¼ cup red wine vinegar (or apple cider or malt vinegar)

2 tablespoons tamarind pulp (concentrate is fine)

1 teaspoon  sea salt

1/4 cup minced garlic

1-2 tablespoons finely chopped ginger (depending on your taste)

2 serrano chiles, seeds and vein removed

2 teaspoons ground cumin

1 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander

1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder

1/4 teaspoon ground fenugreek

1/4 teaspoon ground ginger powder

3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

1/2 teaspoon ground sumac

1 teaspoon hot mustard powder

2 teaspoons cayenne

2 teaspoons paprika

2 pounds lean lamb, cut into 1″ – 1½” cubes

1/4 cup ghee

2 cups minced onion

6 tablespoons water, or more as needed

2 teaspoons jaggery (or light brown sugar)

Combine all the marinade ingredients in a non-reactive bowl. Stab each cube of lamb once or twice with a sharp knife and then slather with the marinade. Cover and marinate in refrigerator for 12 hours, or on the countertop for 6-8.

Remove lamb from the marinade and scrape off any that is clinging to the meat. Reserve marinade and set aside.

Heat ghee in a heavy saucepan or stock pot. Add marinated lamb and brown on both sides over medium-high heat, about 8 minutes. Remove browned pieces and set aside. Add the onions and fry until almost brown, about 5 minutes. Turn the heat down and add reserved marinade, being careful to protect your eyes from cooking fumes. Fry the paste for a few minutes before adding lamb and water. This should be a fairly dry curry, so don’t make it too soupy. Bring to a near boil, then turn down heat and cover. Simmer on low until lamb is tender, about 20 to 30 minutes. Stir in sugar. Serve with rice or Indian flatbread, and raita.

raita is a mild and versatile sauce that complements spicy food

CUCUMBER RAITA

makes about 2 1/2 cups

1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds

2 cups Greek yogurt

1/3 seedless cucumber, peeled and grated or finely chopped (about 1/2 cup)

sea salt

Toast the cumin seeds in a small heavy skillet over medium-low heat until very fragrant, about 2 minutes. Be vigilant so these do not burn! You can incorporate these whole but I like to bruise them with the salt in a mortar and pestle. Drain excess water from the cucumber. Stir all the ingredients together. Serve cold or at room temperature with hot curry.

i previously touted the merits of the mortar and pestle here