Week 50: A Journey to Nicaragua

I must admit that I am guilty of living in a city full of fritangas yet I knew nothing of Nicaraguan cuisine until I embarked upon this week’s culinary journey.  While I was a bit embarrassed to admit how little I knew of Nicaraguan cuisine, I felt better when I began asking friends who grew up in Miami, Columbia, and Venezuela who also didn’t know.  Apparently, I hadn’t asked the right friends, because as soon as I began my research and started posting photos of my dishes on twitter and instagram, I discovered a group of people professing their love for nica food.  Like other South American cuisines, Nicaraguan cuisine is rooted in dishes from pre-Colonial times that focused on local crops.  Corn is a key ingredient in many of its most popular dishes, including beverages and desserts.  In addition to consuming common cuts of beef and pork, Nicaraguan dishes contain many of the offals, such as udders, stomachs, brains, testicles, and hoofs, plus more exotic species such as lizards, armadillos, boas, and turtle eggs.  To say the least, I had plenty of options when planning this week’s menus.  I focused on cooking Nicaragua’s most famous dishes, and although many are similar to other South American dishes, understanding the nuance of the Nicaraguan approach proved both satisfying and intriguing.

gallo pinto

gallo pinto

Gallo pinto is the national dish of Nicaragua.  This simple dish of rice and red beans seasoned with onions, bell pepper, and garlic is well known in Nicaragua and Costa Rica, and both countries claim to be the origination point of the dish.  The name translates to “spotted rooster” which describes the speckled appearance of the beans and peppers in the rice.  Nicaraguans enjoy this dish on a daily basis for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  I liked it, but in all fairness, it didn’t seem any different to me than other basic red beans and rice dishes I’ve tried in the United States.  If someone simply presented it to me with no context of origin, I would assume that it was a vegetarian version of Louisiana Creole red beans and rice.  That is likely due to my Southern American heritage.  Regardless of which country the dish represents, I would be happy to enjoy it on a regular basis…but maybe not daily.

indio viejo

indio viejo

Indio Viejo is a traditional Nicaraguan dish dating back over five hundred years.  The dish only uses ingredients native to Nicaragua, such as tomatoes, sour oranges, achiote, corn, mint, and beef.  Legend states that the stew’s namesake, which translates to old Indian, can be traced back to the days of the Conquistadors.  When the local conquistadors learned that native Nicarao celebrated a tradition of providing food for anyone who asked, they took advantage of the communities and constantly appeared at their feasts in large numbers devouring most of the food and leaving little for the natives.  At one such feast, a conquistador asked the man tending to the pot of stew on the fire what he was cooking, and the man responded, “It’s just an old Indian who passed away recently.”  As the conquistadors quickly left the party, the natives laughed and continued with their party.  Hence, the name.

The dish includes beef that is boiled in water and sour orange juice until it is tender enough to shred with a fork.  Tomatoes, onions, peppers, and achiote flavor the stew, and corn tortilla dough is added to thicken the stew.  My understanding is that the stew should have a consistency similar to polenta as result of the corn tortilla dough added to the dish.  I read several accounts stating that cornmeal is often used in place of tortilla dough.  I opted to make my version with cornmeal, but I don’t think my dish reached the proper consistency.  I kept adding water in hopes of “plumping” the cornmeal, but somehow it never soaked in enough to be creamy.  Instead, my version was gritty.  I think the root of my problem is that someone more familiar with Nicaraguan cuisine would’ve known that the direction to “substitute cornmeal” meant to substitute the finer ground masa harina, not regular cornmeal.  If I try to make the dish again, I will actually make some tortilla dough to attempt a more authentic result.  On a positive note, the flavor of the stew was delicious.  I was surprised at how well the flavor of the sour orange paired with beef.  All in all, it wasn’t a complete disaster, but I definitely need to work on it.

vigorón

vigoron

Vigorón is a popular street food in Nicaragua.  The dish originated in Granada in the mid-twentieth century, and its popularity quickly spread throughout neighboring countries.  The dish begins with a plantain or banana leaf used as a vessel for serving boiled yuca topped with a cabbage salad called repollo and chicharrones.  While the concept of the dish is simple, the repollo varies among vendors and family recipes.  Repollo is a pickled cabbage slaw commonly served as an accompaniment to Nicaraguan meals.  A basic repollo includes shredded cabbage, grated carrot, chopped tomatoes, lime juice, red pepper flakes, and scallions.  In most cases, the salad is left to ferment for a few hours or several days to develop the flavors.  (For my vigorón, I made repollo and allowed it three days for fermentation.)  Although the dish is simple and compact, it truly ignites the senses with a variety of textures and flavors.  The yuca provides warm, creamy, and sweet elements, while the repollo offers sour, cool, and slightly crunchy textures next to the rich and crunchy chicharrones broken into bite size pieces.  I found the use of a banana leaf as a vessel for easy “fast food” transport to be a clever idea, as well.  Of all the Nicaraguan dishes I prepared this week, this one definitely stands apart for its ingenious juxtaposition of simple and complex flavors.

nacatamales

nacatamales cooking
in a pot of boiling water

I am a huge fan of tamales.  I rarely pass up an opportunity to order a tamale, but in all honestly, I always get to the center of that delicious cornmeal dough and wish that the small, thin layer of pork was just a little thicker…a little larger…a little heartier.  When I began reading about nacatamales, I was intrigued on several levels.  For starters, I loved the idea of wrapping a tamale in a plantain leaf (or banana leaf in my case), instead of a corn husk, because I knew that would impart an interesting flavor.  Beyond that, nacatamales presented a full realization of my desire to open a tamale and find thick layers of meat and vegetables with my pillow of cornmeal dough.  So, I set out to make nacatamales. 

The dough is made with masa harina, lard, sour orange juice, and broth (I used chicken broth).  I found a broad assortment of recipes for the dough.  The simple recipes included instructions to make the dough and let it rest for thirty minutes.  The more complicated instructions included a process of cooking the cornmeal in water and orange juice over low heat, rinsing it with cold water, placing it in fresh water and resting it for three days with daily water changes.  Even though the latter option presented a few more steps, I decided to try it because it “seemed” authentic and I thought the longer rest time would result in a stronger flavor. 

Upon reading lists of ingredients used in nacatamale fillings, I immediately recognized that the genesis of this dish must have been a cook looking to transform leftovers into a new dish.  The filling includes mashed potatoes, cooked rice, and pork.  For the mashed potatoes and cooked rice, I planned ahead when I was making them earlier in the week and made extra.  For the pork, most recipes called for “cubes” of pork butt, so I braised a pork butt earlier in the week and refrigerated it so that it would be firm enough to cut into cubes.  On the day that I assembled the nacatamales, I sautéed bell peppers, onions, garlic, achiote, tomatoes, fresh mint, and fresh parsley until the vegetables were tender.  Then, I mixed in the pork, potatoes, and rice.

nacatamale filling

After three days of attending to the dough and prepping the filling ingredients, I was more than ready to start assembling these little bundles.  I cut banana leaves into 16-inch squares and placed one cup of dough in the center of the leaf. I added a heaping spoonful of filling on top of the dough, folded the leaf around it, and tied it with string.  Then, I dropped the nacatamales in a large pot of boiling water, cooked them for thirty minutes, removed them from the pot, and let them rest for about five minutes.  When I finally had the opportunity to unwrap my first nacatamale, I discovered a little package of goodness just as delicious as I had imagined.  Wow!  The dough not only maintained its corn flavor, but it also took on the pungency of the banana leaf and the full flavors of the pork and vegetables.  Without question, this dish was the most flavorful and satisfying of the week.

tres leches

tres leches

Tres leches is a popular dessert in most Central American countries, and since moving to Miami, I have definitely eaten my fair share of it.  During my research, I discovered that many culinary historians believe the cake originated in Nicaragua.  The dessert is actually quite simple.  It begins with a white cake.  When the cake has cooled from baking in the oven, small holes are pricked throughout the cake and a mixture of whole milk, evaporated milk, and sweetened condensed milk are poured over the cake until it cannot absorb anymore.  (This reminded me of the infamous 1980s craze for pudding cakes.)  The last step is to add a simple white frosting and serve.  Interestingly, most recipes that I found called for a frosting made with whipping cream and sugar, but when I was discussing the recipes I’d read with a co-worker from Venezuela, she explained that a more authentic frosting would be one made with egg whites and sugar.  She pointed out that whipping cream would be too expensive for most people, and everyone had access to eggs, which is why so many cakes made in Central America have that fluffy, white meringue-style frosting.  I topped my tres leches cake with a thin layer of frosting made with egg whites and sugar.  I was very happy with the flavor, and the texture of the cake with the soaked milk was exactly like ones I’ve tried in local restaurants.  A definite success!

Although I enjoyed all of the week’s dishes, none compared to the nacatamales.  If I learned nothing else, I learned that this dish presents the best reincarnation for leftovers I ever imagined!  Fortunately, I did learn much more, and I ended the week with a newfound respect and understanding of Nicaraguan cuisine.

Week 49: A Journey to India

Indian cuisine offers a diverse presentation of dishes defined by their ingredients, cooking methods, religious connections, and regional origins.  While the original Indian diet dating back over five thousand years was simple, the introduction of spices by traveling salesmen and invading countries spurred the evolution of the more complex dishes we recognize as Indian cuisine today.  The introduction of Buddhism, Hinduism, and Islam influenced Indians’ culinary choices, as well.  With such a breadth of options, I found myself struggling to create menus for this week’s project, so I selected dishes that were outside the norm of my normal Indian dining regimen.  

Vegetarian Dinner
Because vegetarianism is a common way of life for many in India, its cuisine offers numerous options for hosting a legitimate vegetarian meal.  By that, I mean a menu with thoughtful dishes presented in a manner that celebrates their ingredients, instead of dishes obviously conceived as meat dishes with substitutions.  After planning the menu, I invited over a few friends (one, a vegetarian) for a fully vegetarian Indian feast.


 

homemade paneer

On the morning of our dinner, I began my day by making homemade paneer, which sounds impressive, but it’s really quite simple.  I boiled whole milk, added lemon juice, turned down the heat, simmered it for about a minute while the curds and whey separated, strained it into cheesecloth, rinsed off the lemon juice with some water, and let it drain for about five minutes.  Then, I shaped it into a round and set a heavy pot on it so that it could mold into a block of cheese.  When I came home from work that night, the cheese was perfect and ready to be cut into cubes for palak paneer.

papadum and tomato raita

My friends arrived for dinner bearing gifts.  Katrina brought a nice bottle of wine.  Debra brought an amazing homemade tomato raita, and Sweet Pea brought frozen papadums that can be microwaved to a perfect crisp.  (I didn’t even know that these little frozen gems existed, and I must say that I was skeptical until we popped them in the microwave.  Wow!  I couldn’t believe my eyes or my taste buds!)  Never a host to say “let’s save these for later,” we immediately began our meal with their gifts!  When we finished our papadums and raita, I served palak paneer, chana masala, and basmati rice that I lightly infused with cinnamon and cloves. 

palak paneer

Having ordered palak paneer and saag paneer many times in Indian restaurants, I actually never knew the difference in these dishes.  After a little research, I discovered that palak paneer is only made with spinach, but saag paneer may be made with any greens and is commonly made with a combination of greens, such as spinach and fenugreek greens.  With this information, I confidently set out to make palak paneer.  I couldn’t find one single recipe that seemed to include all of the necessary elements, so I combined a few different recipes to achieve the right combination of flavors.  For the sauce, I used fresh garlic, fresh ginger, ground coriander, ground red pepper, finely ground cashews and poppy seeds, onions, diced tomatoes, turmeric, sugar, cinnamon, and cloves.  When the sauce was simmering, I added the blanched spinach, and just before serving, I stirred in the cubes of homemade paneer and cooked it long enough to heat through the cheese.  Without question, this was the best palak (or saag) paneer I have ever tasted.  I used a full tablespoon of cayenne pepper, so it definitely had heat, but beyond that, I could taste the difference in using fresh spinach, garlic, and ginger.  Also, the consistency of the paneer was nice, firm yet creamy.  Sometimes in restaurants, I find it a bit rubbery or so creamy that it is falling apart and spreading into the sauce.  All in all, a stellar dish that I will make again.

chana masala

Chana masala is a popular chickpea dish in Northern India with a sour bite.  The chickpeas are stewed in a tomato-based sauce seasoned with onion, garlic, ginger, chili peppers, and curry powder or garam masala.  According to my research, the most authentic way to achieve the sour flavor is the addition of amchoor powder (dried unripe mango powder), but most accounts note that additional fresh lemon juice can achieve the same flavor profile.  I’m not sure what the correct flavor balance should be, but I added lemon juice and tasted the dish until I felt like the flavors were balanced.  I liked the dish, and it was especially nice alongside the very spicy palak paneer.

Friday Night Dinner for Two

chicken biryani

With so many options, I struggled to determine which dishes I should make for Friday night’s dinner.  In all honesty, I wanted to make our favorite Indian dishes (korma, tikka masala, and kadhai), but adhering to my project rules, I resisted.  Truthfully, I’ve made them all at home previously.  So, I chose to make Chicken Biryani.  While it’s one of the most famous Indian dishes around, I had never tried it.  I always thought it seemed so boring compared to the spicy curries and grilled dishes on Indian menus.  Then, I read Mark Bittman’s glowing description of it in his The Best Recipes in the World cookbook, and I decided to give it a try.  It was the most delicious version of “chicken and rice” that I have ever tasted.  In addition to achieving the most perfectly moist chicken I could imagine, the recipe’s use of onion, saffron, cardamom pods, cloves, cinnamon, and ginger creates an alluring aroma.  The dish is topped with almonds fried in butter which adds a rich, crunchy, nutty element to the dish and elevates it to another plane.  (Topping dishes with fried almonds is a trick I learned from my Palestinian friend Lana who fries slivered almonds in ghee and tops almost all of her dishes with them.)  This is truly a perfect dish for a night when comfort food is in order.  Bittman’s recipe is absolutely foolproof and delicious.



vankaya nuvvula masala

Fortunately, I made a large pot of chicken biryani, because the Vankaya Nuvvula Masala, eggplants stewed in sesame sauce, proved to be a complete failure.  In defense of the dish, I attribute the failure to my inability to select properly sized eggplants and the amount of time required to properly cook through large eggplants.  In other words, my eggplants needed to be smaller, or I needed to cook my large ones for much longer.  Despite the toughness of the eggplant, the flavor of the sauce was delicious and complex as it included onion, chilies, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, cumin seeds, ginger, garlic, turmeric, cayenne powder, coriander, and fenugreek.  For the purposes of the project, the sauce certainly offered a new flavor profile that I had not previously experienced in Indian food.  I don’t normally consider sesame seeds as representative of Indian flavors, but this dish surely changed that perspective.

With more available time, I could have cooked a different Indian meal every night this week, and still, I would’ve only scratched the surface of possibilities.  That’s one of the most appealing things about Indian food, yet I tend to always order the same dishes when I visit an Indian restaurant.  This week’s dishes inspired me to try new ones in an effort to experience the full scope of flavor profiles that Indian cuisine offers.  Fortunately, we have a great little Indian restaurant in our neighborhood for these future endeavors.

Week 48: A Journey to Sri Lanka

My week of Sri Lankan cuisine enlightened me to the limitless culinary possibilities this country offers.  Sri Lanka is an island nation off the southern coast of India.  While its dishes have obviously evolved though use of local ingredients, such as of tropical fruits, rice, and fish, Sri Lankan cuisine also bears the influence of Arab traders who settled there in the sixth century, as well as Portuguese and Dutch explorers who arrived in the sixteenth century.  Rice and curries are the most popular and prevalent dishes throughout the country, and Sri Lankan cuisine is most famous for its spicy profile.  Summarizing the cuisine beyond these simple points is nearly impossible, because Sri Lankan dishes are not necessarily the same throughout the country.  A basic dish may have very different presentations in the Northern and Southern Provinces, so for my purposes this week, I focused on finding authentic recipes for Sri Lankan dishes with an understanding that my dishes may not represent the entire country but certainly its spirit as a whole.

brinjal moju

brinjal moju

Eggplants grow well in warmer climates, so it is no surprise to learn that they are a common ingredient in Sri Lankan cuisine.  While many curry dishes feature eggplants, I discovered a dish called Brinjal Moju which is commonly described as a pickle in most references, but I think “relish” would be a better description of the dish.  It may be served with paratha, steamed rice, or as an accompaniment to a curry dish.  For my brinjal moju, I included eggplant, shallots, Serrano chilies, garlic, crushed red pepper, vinegar, ground mustard, rice vinegar, sugar, and cloves.  I sliced the eggplant into strips, tossed it in turmeric and salt, and let it sit for about 30 minutes.  Then, I fried the eggplant strips in coconut oil.  After removing them, I fried the shallots and Serrano peppers in the same oil.  In the meantime, I mixed the spices, sugar, and vinegar together and brought them to a boil.  When the sugar had dissolved, I removed the vinegar mixture from the stove top and mixed it together with the fried vegetables.  I let it cool to room temperature and then moved it to the refrigerator so that the flavors could meld overnight.


tamarind fish curry

tamarind fish curry

With limited time for cooking this week, I recognized that a fish curry was the most obvious and important dish to experience.  After reading dozens of recipes for Sri Lankan fish curries, I happened upon Laurie Ashton Farook’s recipe, Mama Farook’s Sri Lankan Tamarind Fish Curry, and I knew it was destiny.  Farook is a Canadian expat who has lived in Sri Lanka since 2003, and her blog chilli & chocolate serves as an incredible source for learning about Sri Lankan cuisine.  This dish is her mother-in-law’s recipe.  It begins with a marinade of tamarind paste, red chili powder, turmeric, salt, and a little water poured over white fish and sliced onions.  Then, coconut oil is heated in a hot pot (for me, a wok), and onion, a cinnamon stick, and garlic are fried in the oil.  The fish, onion, and marinade are added to the pot along with enough water to cover the fish.  The dish simmers until the fish is cooked and the sauce reduced and thick.  I served it with steamed rice and brinjal moju, and I couldn’t believe what an amazing dinner I had just created! In all seriousness, it turned out to be one of my favorite dishes of this year’s project.  It definitely had a kick of spice, but that was perfectly balanced by the fish, the tamarind, and the rice.  I also loved the way that the brinjal moju's cool, sweet, and sour flavors complemented the fish curry. 

This week, I didn’t have time to make as many dishes as I normally do, and yet, I feel like I learned more than some weeks with three dinners.  Sri Lankan cuisine offers an interesting combination of flavors, and I will definitely explore more dishes in the future.

Week 47: A Journey to Romania

When I glanced at the calendar and saw that this week’s culinary journey was taking me to Romania, I wondered why I had selected it for the project.  I couldn’t even name a Romanian dish if my life depended on it.  While my original intentions may have been lost, I immediately realized that my inclusion of this cuisine must have been intentional as I was immediately intrigued with Romania’s dishes and culinary history when I began my research.  Because of its history as part of the Ottoman Empire, Romanian cuisine includes Turkish dishes, and the dishes from its Western regions tend to be spicier due to influence of bordering Germany and Hungary.  Despite their rich heritage and numerous influences, Romanians actually do have several native dishes that differentiate them from their neighbors with the most famous category being ciorbă, sour soups flavored with vinegar, sauerkraut juice, or lemons.  Romanian cuisine is hearty.  Most meals center around meat, and the most common meal is mamaliga, a type of polenta, served on its own or as a side dish.  For this week’s menus, I focused on distinctively Romanian dishes and often found myself pleasantly surprised at the flavor profiles.

mititei (sausages) and ciorbă de perişoare (sour soup with meatballs)

mititei

Mititei are small sausages made from a mixture of beef, lamb, and/or pork.  Folklore holds that they were invented in the mid-nineteenth century when the chef at an inn famous for its sausage ran out of casings and improvised a dish by forming his regular sausage mixture into small patties.  The customers commented on how much they loved the mititei, which translates to “wee ones,” and the dish became infamous throughout Romania.  The spices used to flavor these little sausages varied in the recipes I reviewed, and I am sure that those variances reflect a cook’s geographic influences.  For instance, the recipe I used included seasonings prominent in German and Hungarian cuisine, such as garlic, thyme, hot red pepper, hot Hungarian paprika, caraway seeds, salt, and freshly ground black pepper.  I used lamb in my mititei, because I was only making a small batch and had about half a pound in the freezer leftover from another week’s project.  (Pork is the more traditional choice, but lamb, beef, and a combination of meats may also be used.)  I served the mititei with paprika-dusted sour cream.  The combination of the spicy meat with cool creamy sour cream was quite nice.  I would definitely make this dish again.  I read that the leftover sausages are often eaten cold in a sandwich, which sounds like a great idea, but there were no leftovers at my house.

ciorbă

Ciorbă is such a distinctive dish that Romanians actually refer to it separately from regular soup.  (In Romanian cuisine, supă refers to a broth, usually clear, made with vegetables and/or meat.  This broth is served with dumplings or noodles.)  Ciorbă refers to a sour broth, and the dish is served with many different meats and ingredients including tripe, meatballs, or leeks.  The broth is tomato-based and traditionally includes lovage.  Unfortunately, I did not plan ahead for lovage, so I substituted celery leaves which are offered as a decent substitution.  To make the broth, I stewed onions, celery leaves, parsley, parsnips, carrots, and beef bones in water until the vegetables became tender.  Then, I added pork meatballs (made with rice, onion, and bread crumbs) to the soup for another hour.  Just before serving, I added tomato paste and vinegar to the broth.  In all honesty, I never expected to be wowed by this dish, but it was actually my favorite Romanian dish of the week.  The complex flavor of the broth completely surprised me.  I liked it so much that I would’ve traded my meatballs for more broth….and I love meatballs.  After trying it, I understand why ciorbă is in a category of its own.  It doesn’t matter what you add to it…it’s all about the broth.

sarmale (cabbage rolls), mamaliga (polenta), and cozonac (sweet bread)

sarmale and mamaliga

A quick search on the internet for “Romanian Cuisine” results in a number of reminiscing Romanians sharing their memories of holiday dinners that include sarmale, mamaliga, and cozonac.  Sarmale is the dish that everyone’s grandmother made for special occasions and even casual family gatherings, and I found it interesting that most accounts regarding sarmale adamantly state that these cabbage rolls are nothing like Polish-style cabbage rolls.  After a little research, I discovered a few differences. The most significant difference is the Romanians’ use of sour cabbage leaves, instead of fresh cabbage leaves.  Romanians also primarily stuff their cabbage rolls only with ground pork whereas most recipes for Polish cabbage rolls use beef or beef with a combination of other meats.  In addition, Romanians layer smoked pork (fat, ribs, or sausage) between the cabbage rolls for added flavor in the dish and generally include dill, dried or fresh, in the bottom of the pot.  I did not find any full heads of sour cabbage to make my sarmale, so I followed the recommendations of several Romanian-Americans who note in their recipes that layering sauerkraut between the cabbage rolls made with fresh leaves incorporates the sour flavor into the rolls.  For the filling, I sautéed onions, celery, bacon, salt, pepper, paprika, and parsley together and mixed it with ground pork and rice after it cooled.  To cook the rolls, I placed a layer of fresh dill in the bottom of a dutch oven.  I layered the cabbage rolls with sauerkraut and thin slices of salt pork, and then I poured tomato sauce over the rolls and filled the pot with just enough water to cover them.  After bringing the stock to a boil, I reduced the heat and simmered the rolls a little over two hours.  I served them with sour cream and mamaliga, which is just yellow cornmeal and water.  They were delicious, but I must admit that while I tasted the sourness and the smokiness, I didn’t think that it changed the flavors that significantly from the Polish cabbage rolls I’d previously eaten without those elements.  Had I grown eating cabbage rolls as part of my normal diet, I’m sure my opinion would be different.  (I’m guessing that someone from Romania might find my strong opinions about barbecue to be a bit overstated, as well.)  Opinions aside, these cabbage rolls were great.

cozonac

Cozonac is a popular sweet bread served during the holidays.  (Cozonac is the name for Romania’s version.  In Bulgaria, it is called kozunak. Both breads are basically the same as Italian panettone.)  This sweet yeast bread is made with milk, sugar, eggs, butter, and raisins in its most basic presentation.  Variations exist throughout the country depending on regional preferences and can include the addition of Turkish delight, orange zest, lemon zest, walnuts, hazelnuts, vanilla, and rum.  Sometimes, the bread is filled with a mixture of ground walnuts, poppy seeds, cocoa powder, rum, and raisins.  During the Easter holiday, the bread is filled with farmer’s cheese and called pasca.  I made a version which included golden raisins, lemon zest, rum, and vanilla.  The dough is extremely sticky, which makes it a little difficult to work with, but other than that, it is a simple yeast bread that even a novice baker could easily make with successful results. By all means, this is more a bread than a dessert, but it is just sweet enough that it makes a nice dessert with coffee.  Even better than dessert, I made French toast with it the next morning.

While I may have begun this journey questioning my decision to plan a week of Romanian cuisine, I certainly ended the week with a serious respect for Romania’s dishes.  I’m still telling people about the flavor of the broth in the ciorbă, and I suspect I will continue to do so.  This is one of those weeks that speaks to the heart of this project as I truly discovered new flavors and dishes previously foreign to me and now a cherished part of my culinary journey. 

Week 46: A Journey to Italy

For months, I stared at the word Italian written across this week’s schedule and considered how I might approach the week with the necessary and appropriate reverence befitting such a beloved cuisine.  With a history that spans over two thousand years, the spirit of this cuisine which embodies the idea of cooking with fresh, local ingredients progressed as new ingredients and new ways to preserve food evolved in its regions.  Although Italian cuisine immediately evokes the idea of pasta and tomato sauce for many, its true dishes are not far removed from those that American households have served for years.  While I’ve noted previously that Italian cuisine is the only “non-Southern American” food my mom ever served in our East Tennessee kitchen, I had not considered just how much Italian cuisine truly influenced our table.  Although I was referring to the fact that mom made spaghetti, lasagna, and manicotti, most of the other dishes she served are rooted in Italian cuisine, as well, such as braised roast beef, fresh vegetables from the garden cooked with pork, and baked chicken coated in bread crumbs.  Even those bologna sandwiches and sloppy summertime tomato sandwiches made with tomatoes picked fresh from the vine could be categorized as Italian (minus the Miracle Whip component of our versions).  At its heart, the American table is more influenced by Italian cuisine than any others.

With a limited amount of time for cooking this week, I created a menu for a full traditional Italian meal celebrating fresh, seasonal ingredients.  Although I already had a few dishes planned, I turned to my copies of Mario Batali’s Molto Italiano: 327 Simple Italian Recipes to Cook at Home and Babbo Cookbook for the inspiration I needed to realize the complete menu.  After thoughtful consideration, I crafted a menu for an Italian Autumn Feast and invited over a few friends for Sunday Supper.

negroni

The apertivo is a pre-dinner drink served to introduce a meal.  It may be as simple as a glass of prosecco, but Italians often indulge in a cocktail made with Campari.  The Negroni is likely the most popular Campari cocktail.  It is made with gin, vermouth, and Campari and generally garnished with an orange peel.  This is not a cocktail for the faint of heart as it boasts a strong, piney flavor, and it is best defined as a a “sipping” drink.  For our dinner, half of the guests indulged in a Negroni while the others enjoyed a glass of prosecco.

frying the suppli di riso

The antipasto course offers guests an array of snacks that may range from a simple platter of cheese and meats to more elaborate salads and sandwiches.  A few weeks before our Italian dinner, my friend Stephanie told me about the suppli di riso (fried stuffed risotto balls) that she had in Italy while visiting with her friend Marco’s family.  She graciously asked Marco for his mother’s recipe so I could make it for our dinner, and a few days later I received an email that began with Marco’s family recipe in Italian and ended with his English translation.  

suppli di riso

Marco’s mother makes this dish with risotto flavored by homemade chicken stock and stuffs it with fresh mozzarella and prosciutto.  What an incredible dish!  It was also surprisingly simple to incorporate into the meal.  I made the risotto on the Saturday afternoon.  Then, I formed the risotto balls and stuffed them with the prosciutto and fresh mozzarella on Sunday afternoon, so the only task during the meal was to coat them in egg and bread crumbs before frying them. 

 

sauteed green and black olives
in tomato sauce

Because I knew the suppli di riso would require my full attention, I opted to serve two dishes that could easily be prepared before my guests arrived, such as sautéed black and green olives in tomato sauce and fresh herbed ricotta cheese served with homemade boules.  The recipe for the olives came from Batali’s Molto Italiano.  I made the tomato sauce on Saturday (enough for this dish and the braised veal I served in the secondo course), and on Sunday afternoon, I sautéed the olives with garlic, added the tomato sauce, and simmered them for about thirty minutes.  I served them at room temperature.  

fresh herbed ricotta

Making fresh ricotta cheese was a task I had tackled previously.  It’s simple to make and most recipes for it are similar.  My version is a hybrid of Michael Schwartz and Ina Garten’s recipes.   I just add some freshly chopped herbs, parsley in this case, for flavor and color.  For the boules, I followed Mark Bittman’s recipe in The Best Recipes in the World, and even though I’ve made many homemade breads, I was a little nervous about getting the consistency right when making such a classic bread; however, they turned out beautifully.  I thought two loaves would be enough bread, but everyone loved these boules so much that we ran out of bread before the antipasto course was complete.  They had an incredible crunchy crust with a perfectly tender center ideal for sopping up the tomato sauce with the olives. 

ravioli

The primo course serves as the first course of the actual meal and commonly includes pasta, gnocchi, risotto, polenta, or soup.  This is another course that I planned weeks before our dinner.  I was lamenting over my failed experiences of making homemade pasta with my friend Christine, and she immediately offered to bring her pasta maker to my house and give me a personal pasta lesson.  Fortunately, we had that conversation during my week of French cuisine and I still had some duck confit left in my refrigerator.  She suggested that I freeze it so that we could make duck ravioli.  Brilliant!  So, on Sunday afternoon, Christine arrived with pasta maker in tow, and she proceeded to make beautiful pasta for us.  (It’s so nice to have chefs for friends!)  Watching her work was so much fun…partly because she makes gorgeous food but also because it was nice to take a break from cooking for a minute.  She made a delicious brown butter and sage sauce for the ravioli and then topped each dish with orange zest.  It was amazing! 



duck ravioli in brown butter sauce with sage

The secondo course functions as the main course.  It is generally the heartiest course and includes meat. I made braised veal rolls in tomato sauce from Batali’s Molto Italiano. I thought

 that the stuffing mix of bread crumbs, parmesan cheese, prosciutto, currants, pine nuts, and parsley evoked a sense of Autumn flavors that would enhance our seasonal feast.  I also liked the idea that I could make the dish just before my guests arrived and let it simmer on the stovetop as they enjoyed the first courses of the evening.  To make this dish, I spread the stuffing mixture on thin slices of veal that I rolled and secured with butcher’s string.  In a Dutch oven, I sautéed pancetta and onions in olive oil, and then I browned the rolls in the same oil and removed them.  I added the tomato sauce I made on Saturday afternoon and red wine to the Dutch oven, and then I added the onions, pancetta, and veal rolls back to the pan to simmer for over an hour.  The resulting dish was a tender piece of veal complemented well with the sweetness of the pine nuts, currants and tomato sauce, saltiness of the pancetta and prosciutto, and earthiness of the parsley and red wine.

onions with balsamic glaze
braised veal rolls in tomato sauce
broccoli rabe in the style of Puglia

For the contorno, or accompanying vegetable dishes served with the main course, I selected two dishes from Batali’s Molto Italiano:  broccoli rabe braised in the style of Puglia and onions with balsamic glaze.  The broccoli rabe is braised with garlic and red pepper flakes.  Then, chopped black olives are added just before serving.  The onions with balsamic glaze turned out to be one of the group’s favorite dishes of the evening.  This dish is the ultimate example of Italian cuisine at its best…only a few quality ingredients and time.  I was so proud of the beautiful, thick balsamic glaze on those sweet onions.  Both dishes complemented the veal rolls nicely.

Traditionally, the formaggio e frutta course (cheese and fruit) is served between the main course and the dessert case.  Although I had nice Italian cheeses (parmigiano-reggiano, pecorino, fontal, gorgonzola) ready to serve with some green grapes, I knew that we were nearing our maximum capacity, and I didn’t want to spoil our dolce course, so we agreed to forego this course and move ahead.

pumpkin cake with toasted pine nuts
olive oil gelato

The dolce course is the dessert course and usually includes baked goods such as cake or cookies.  Again, I turned to a Batali cookbook for this course and opted to make pumpkin cake with toasted pine nuts and olive oil gelato from his Babbo Cookbook.  It was every bit as good as it sounds, too.  I loved the pumpkin cake, because it only included one cup of brown sugar which served to elevate the sweetness of the pumpkin puree.  Even better, the cake is studded with toasted pine nuts, golden raisins soaked in grappa, and finely chopped fresh rosemary.  Pairing it with the unctuous olive oil gelato provided the perfect dessert…not too sweet but full of flavor and definitely reminiscent of a beautiful autumn evening. 

I offered espresso for the caffe course, and I intended to ask everyone if they would like some grappa for the digestivo course, but after dessert, I looked over and saw all of my friends lounging across the couches.  We had reached capacity, and even the idea of the digestive was too much.  This is not a group of lightweights either.  None of us is a small portions, calorie-counting, leave food on the plate kind of person, but this feast knocked us out!  Well, except for Patrick.  He even had two servings of the olive oil gelato, and I’m sure he could’ve handled the cheese course, too.  There’s a reason that the Italians reserve these large, traditional meals for special occasions.

I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the cuisine of Italy than an evening spent with friends around a table of exquisite dishes.   I was so caught up in keeping our dinner on schedule that I completely forgot to document the incredible Italian beer that Patrick shared with the group and the numerous bottles of delicious Italian wines we enjoyed, but they have not been forgotten.  All in all, we had a lovely evening, and the feast was incredible. 

Week 45: A Journey to Lebanon

To date, I’ve research and cooked dishes of several countries significantly influenced by the dishes of the Ottoman Empire (Turkey, Greece, Algeria, Iran, and Palestine).  As I began to research this week of Lebanese cuisine, I found many familiar dishes, and in an effort to give Lebanon a more personal perspective, I turned to my friends Vanessa and Mohammed for a list of their favorite Lebanese dishes.  Mohammed grew up in Lebanon, and he quickly responded with a great roster of dishes, some that were new to me and others familiar.  With his notes, I set out to recreate iconic Lebanese dishes of his childhood.

Monday Night Dinner:  Kibbeh and Mujadarah

kibbeh with tahini

Kibbeh is the first dish Mohammed recommended, and after reading about it online, I understand why.  It is Lebanon’s National Dish, and its traditional preparation requires one to use a mortar and pestle to pound the ingredients.  I read that you can hear the sounds of kibbeh being made every morning all over the countryside.  Mohammed noted that I should make the “football-shaped” kibbeh, and when I started researching kibbeh, I understood why he specified that size and shape.  There are several versions of kibbeh ranging from raw to baked like a meatloaf to fried quenelles.  The basic ingredients are the same in all of them:  bulgur wheat, lamb, and onion.  Although some recipes simply call for mixing the ingredients, shaping them, and frying them, I turned to the more authentic tradition of wrapping the bulgur wheat/lamb mixture around a teaspoonful of sautéed lamb and onion.  I served tahini as a dipping sauce with the kibbeh, and they tasted great. 

mujadarah

Mujadarah was a new dish for me, and as a big fan of lentils, I knew I would enjoy it.  Quite simply, the dish is rice and lentils garnished with fried onions.  Because most recipes I found online said that the dish could be eaten hot or cold, I asked Vanessa and Mohammed how it was served most often, and they responded that the dish is actually more often served room temperature or cool.  On Monday night, I served it for dinner hot off the stovetop.  I thought it tasted great that way, but I also enjoyed the leftovers I took to work for Tuesday’s lunch.  I had the cold mujadarah with yogurt, and I enjoyed it just as much as the hot dish from the previous night.  Without a doubt, the fried onions are the star of the show here.

Friday Night Dinner:  Fattoush and Kousa Mahshi Bi Laban

fattoush

During my week of Palestinian dishes, I fell in love with sumac, and I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to serve a salad that uses it as a primary source of its flavor.  Considered a peasant salad, fattoush is generally made with assorted in-season fresh greens and vegetables, stale flatbread, and a tangy dressing that features sumac and pomegranate molasses.  For my presentation, I tossed stale pita bread in olive oil and sumac, and then I toasted it in the oven.  For the salad, I tossed together romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, scallions, mint, parsley, red radish, bell pepper, and the toasted sumac pita wedges.  Then, I dressed it with a mixture of mashed garlic, sumac, pomegranate molasses, freshly squeezed lemon juice, and olive oil.  It was one of the best salads I’ve ever tasted.  The hubs liked it so much that he suggested I make it more often.  It is a perfect salad to serve as an entrée on a hot summer night.



kousa mahshi bi laban

When Vanessa and Mohammed recommended Kousa Mahshi bi Laban (stuffed squash in yogurt sauce), I knew we had to try it.  The dish actually originated in Syria, but it is commonly found in Lebanon, Egypt, Palestine, Jordan, and Libya.  The squash used in this dish (or marrows as they call them in the Middle East) is not readily available here in the United States, but after reading about it, I determined that our green zucchini squash would be the closest in size, texture, and flavor.  To make the dish, I hollowed out zucchini squash and filled them with a mixture of raw lamb, uncooked rice, onion, garlic, pine nuts, cinnamon, and allspice.  Then, I stewed them in a tomato broth for over an hour.  (I admit that I was nervous about the raw rice cooking through, but it cooked perfectly.)  While the stuffed zucchinis stewed, I made a yogurt sauce seasoned with mint and garlic.  To serve the dish, I covered the bottom of a plate with the yogurt sauce and lay the stuffed zucchinis on top of it.  Unfortunately, my pictures show a dish that looks a little like big stuffed pickles.  They do not reflect the incredible flavors imparted by this dish.  I took one bite and thought, “Oh my goodness. This is amazing.  It’s like moussaka.  Why didn’t I think of this earlier?”  Not surprisingly, a variation of this dish is made with stuffed eggplants, and in retrospect, I recall having read moussaka recipes that incorporate zucchini squash in the dish with eggplant and sometimes as a substitute for eggplant.  To call this dish “deconstructed moussaka” is a bit of a stretch, but it definitely offers an interesting variation on the same theme.  I loved it, and I will definitely make it again.

I am so grateful that Mohammed and Vanessa shared their list of beloved Lebanese dishes for this week’s project, because it motivated me to try interesting variations on ingredients I adore.  These dishes prove that a few simple ingredients can truly come together to create a fantastic composed dish. 

Week 44: A Journey to Mozambique

I began this week’s journey with a search for culinary inspiration from an African nation.  When I discovered John Burnett’s chronicled story, “Hungry for Adventure,” published by Gourmet in March 2000, I found that spark.  Burnett tells the story of his quest through a minefield and into the bush of Mozambique in search of a good matapa.  He writes,

I had heard about matapa from Michael Bond, in the Mozambican capital of Maputo, where he is the British chef at the city’s Hotel Cardoso. Bond, who had described Mozambican cuisine as a blend of Portuguese, African, and Asian influences, had told me that finding a really good matapa—a combination of seafood, peanuts, coconut milk, cassava leaf, and garlic—prepared a day in advance, was worth almost any effort. “You can find it in the city,” he said, “but that would be like me going to New York for good hush puppies. If you want the best matapa, you don’t come to Maputo—you have to go into the bush, where they have the time, the ingredients, and the tradition. Find a fisherman. A good matapa, really, is a little taste of heaven.”

He found a fisherman who agreed to drive him into the country on the next morning for the best matapa, and fortunately, he finally made it to the little spot that the fisherman promised where he is served a matapa full of seafood that he describes as, “to my taste, quite possibly one of the most intriguing, satisfying dishes I have ever eaten, worth almost any effort—short of blowing oneself to smithereens. I could not get enough of it.”  With this, I decided to focus on Mozambican cuisine for the week and seek out my own version of matapa.

Matapa and Arroz de Coco

matapa and arroz de coco

As I began my search for an authentic matapa recipe, I discovered that most online recipes are much more basic than the dish John Burnett describes in his article.  In essence, there are three recipes posted repeatedly online: (1) one with only coconut milk, cassava leaves, peanuts, and garlic, (2) one which takes those basic ingredients and adds shrimp and shrimp broth to the mix, and (3) a recipe called matata or Clam and Peanut Stew.  I found references noting that some cooks add onions and/or tomatoes, and in John Burnett’s description of the dish he was served, he describes the inclusion of tomatoes, onions, and so many different types of seafood that he couldn’t even identify every type.  With this in mind, I set out to create a dish as close to his experience as possible.  I substituted collard greens for the cassava leaves, and I also used tomatoes and onions.  I made a broth with the shrimp shells to serve as the base of the dish.  I simmered the matapa for a few hours on the stovetop, and then I refrigerated it as I had read that most people make the dish a day before serving to ensure that all of the flavors develop.  When I was ready to serve it, I reheated the matapa, made arroz de coco (rice in coconut water) to serve it over, and sautéed some clams and shrimp in onions and garlic to serve on top of the dish.  I wanted to love it as much as Burnett, but somehow, it left me wanting more.  Don’t get me wrong…the flavors were nice, but it reminded me a great Indian curry without the curry.  About halfway through the plate, I added some piri piri hot sauce to the dish, which definitely helped to elevate the flavors. 

coconut scars

Interestingly, when Burnett asked his driver why he couldn’t have a good matapa in Maputo, the driver responded that the coconuts in the city aren’t sweet.  With this bit of info, I began to consider the quality of canned coconut milk versus homemade coconut milk, and I set out to make coconut milk for my matapa.  Unfortunately, this project did not turn out so well.  I followed the directions precisely.  I set the coconut on my kitchen counter, laid a kitchen towel over it, and smacked it as hard as I could three times.  It didn’t seem to be breaking apart, so I removed the kitchen towel to discover that the coconut wasn’t breaking up, but my kitchen counter had a huge dent in it.  Lesson learned.  Beat the hell out of your coconut outside on the ground.  Considering that this is week 44 of the project, I’m shocked that this is my first real casualty.  Oh well.  Live and learn.  Fortunately, I had a few cans of coconut milk in the pantry, and we have a few extra pieces of that tile for events such as these.

Tomato-Avocado-Buttermilk Soup, Frango a Cafrial (Barbecued Chicken), Mucapata (Rice with Split Peas) , Piri Piri Hot Sauce, and Bolo Polana (Cashew Cake)

tomato avocado buttermilk soup

Early in the day, I made a cold Tomato-Avocado-Buttermilk Soup that is popular in Mozambique.  It’s a simple soup with mild flavors, and the pureed avocado adds a nice creaminess.  Perfect for a hot summer day.  We began our dinner with a bowl of this soup while we waited for the chicken to finish on the grill. 

 

 

 

frango a cafrial, mucapata,
piri piri hot sauce

Frango a Cafrial is one of the most popular Mozambican meat dishes, and it couldn’t be simpler to make.  It’s just a grilled whole chicken seasoned with hot sauce.  The Mozambican hot sauce of choice is Piri Piri named for the small red fiery pepper native to Southern Africa.  In addition to the piri piri peppers, the sauce includes fresh lemon juice, olive oil, garlic, and salt.  I found some recipes that also included ginger, coarse red pepper, and vinegar.  Because I couldn’t find piri piri peppers, I just used a chile paste and added lots of fresh lemon juice, garlic, ginger, olive oil, white wine vinegar, and salt.  While not the most authentic, I imagine it is authentic in that most home cooks start with the basic pepper and fresh lemon juice then add other ingredients to taste.  To prepare the chicken, I simply mixed some of my hot sauce with olive oil and covered the chicken in the mixture.  Then, I handed it off to the hubs and sent him to the grill.  (During this year’s project, he has mastered the art of cooking a whole chicken on the charcoal grill.  Everytime he cooks it, the skin is crispy and flavorful, and the chicken is the moistest I’ve ever tasted.  Big shout out to him for his mastery of this dish!) I served the chicken with mucapata, which is a dish of rice, split green peas, and coconut milk.  As a fan of all three ingredients, I thought I would like this dish, but as it turned out, I found it to be a bit flat.  Even with some hot sauce poured over it, it just felt like eating a filler dish.  That’s okay though.  I just focused on that amazingly delicious grilled chicken!

bolo polana

Cashews grow so well in Mozambique that they are one of the country’s primary sources of agricultural income.  Because of their abundance, many dishes, from stews to desserts, include them.  I found a recipe for a popular cashew cake, Bolo Polana,  served at the Grand Hotel in Maputo.  The cake is made with ground cashew nuts in place of flour and mashed potatoes, sugar, butter, lemon zest, and eggs.  I loved this cake!  With so many eggs in it (9 yolks and 4 whites), the texture was moist and the flavor rich.  In addition to serving a great dessert, it made an excellent breakfast cake with coffee the next morning.

Although I found John Burnett’s story to be a bit more exciting than the actual dishes I made from Mozambique, I certainly enjoyed my journey of discovering Mozambican cuisine.  Sometimes, the journey is as much about understanding the history and cultural impact of a cuisine as it is the actual flavors.  Fortunately, we had some dishes, too!