The snow's gone but it's not exactly shirtsleeves weather. My idea of a good time is still hunkering down in front of the fire, or under a duvet. Soon I'll be donning my linen overalls and running up and down the aisles of Silver Heights Nursery buying scented geranium and heirloom tomato plants. But today I'm not above a good braise. Get 'em while it's cold. One last chance to slowly simmer and stew, to watch those lazy bubbles and that mesmerizing cloud of steam. So put aside thoughts of spring things for the moment and haul out your lovingly broken-in Le Cresuet, your stalwart Staub. You've just got time for one more stew before the mercury rises. Make it oxtail, the ultimate slow-cooker. Ick, you say. How can you eat a cow's tail? How can you not? I firmly believe you honor that cow more by making use of its every beefy bit.
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My dear friend Mirena taught me pretty much everything I know about Korean food—which is actually not that much, but enough so that everyone looks to me to order when we go out for barbecue on 32nd Street. I know how to grill the meat over hot coals and wrap it in lettuce with a smear of fermented soy bean paste; and how to say dumplings (man doo); and that a seafood pancake is a must; and of course that both types of meat—bulgogi (rib eye) and kalbi (short rib)—must be ordered. On my regular stop at Dickson's in Chelsea Market this week, I was pleasantly surprised to see thinly sliced short rib (vertically sliced) all ready for homemade Korean barbecue. I found recipes for the classic marinade and dipping sauce from Jenny Kwan, an owner of a popular Korean restaurant, Dok Suni, in New York's East Village. I picked up a great tip: she has you massage the meat with kiwi juice, a natural tenderizer containing enzymes that break down protein! Now that grilling season is upon us, I think you should give this easy preparation a whirl.
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As we become better acquainted, I hope to impart to you my love for Indian and Southeast-Asian cooking. I guess the first thing I would tell you is that you need to have a good source for ingredients. Many ethnic markets also carry requisite cooking tools, such as this sticky rice steamer you can pick up at almost any Thai market. Often, they'll even have a selection of mortars and pestles (mortar and pestles?), a tool which comes in handy prepping this type of food. In New York City, I recommend a visit to the Bangkok Center Grocery in Chinatown, on Mosco Street between Mott and Mulberry. First of all they are the nicest people in the whole world and will always greet you with "Sawat dee." And then they have a wicked green papaya salad that you will take home and be unable to stop eating even when your lips are burning off. They also carry hard-to-find fresh produce, like wild lime leaves (also known as kaffir).

Stock up on some cans of curry paste (the Masaman is flawless, served with a cucumber relish—recipe soon, I promise) and of coconut milk, and grab a bottle of fish sauce and you are in business for an easy, quick and delicious meal. You can simply follow the instructions on the can! I have gone to the effort of making my own curry pastes and, though they are quite good, I can't really say they're any better than the Maesri brand. But this post is really to tell you that making your own sticky rice at home is no big deal. All you need is the right steamer and the right rice.
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Isn't there something faintly S&M about this illustration? I just love it. Kudos to Jan Richter for her great eye and accomplished technique. (And I happen to know she makes a mean coq au vin.) This is just the sort of plump organic bird you want to find when you're setting out to make any number of cold-weather dishes. G makes the classic Jewish penicillin when I get sick (about once a year, knock wood) but I often look further east for something therapeutic. This recipe tips its hat to a classic Hispanic arroz con pollo but shifts gears with anti-inflammatory turmeric; lots of warming, healing ginger; and a hit of fish sauce. I think it's similar to the Filipino arroz caldo. You keep cooking the rice so it's somewhere between risotto and congee, that perfect comforting texture. And the bright yellow color is like a ray of sunshine.
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