16 posts tagged “vegetarian”
The first recipe I tried for this Indian potatoes-and-cauliflower stew was from the special features section on the DVD for the movie "Bend it like Beckham." The director included this wonderful little how-to thing where she cooked it in a restaurant's kitchen, while her mother and "auntie" observed in the background and offered various um, criticisms... It was pretty funny, but also endearing. I must have played that clip about a dozen times, to try get the recipe from it (the DVD did include a recipe, but it didn't reflect what she actually cooked).
Since then, I've found a much better recipe — not just better tasting, but simpler also. Of all places, it was from this Betty Crocker book. The last time I made this, it ended up very watery, and with a really pale color. Didn't look appetizing at all. But I'm very happy with the way this turned out. This stuff makes great left-overs, too. It's very typical for Indian stews to improve like that — it gets better as the flavors gets a chance to mingle.
Western vegetarianism is far more obsessed with meat than meat-eaters, with fake hamburgers and things like that. Indian vegetarian food is different. If I had to become a vegetarian, there'd be a lot of things that I'd miss. But with this dish, you don't feel as if anything is missing. I always think that everything is better with bacon, but not this one. It's complete, as is.
Yup, there's three different types—or rather garlic prepared in three different ways—in this soup. Sadly, the weather just wasn't cold enough to truly enjoy it. This would be a killer soup for a cold winter day. However, if you're cooking for garlic-fiends, it's a killer any day.
This is yet another excellent America's Test Kitchen recipe. It uses minced garlic, sautéed; an entire bulb of garlic, simmered; and garlic chips, deep fried. Hey, garlic is good for you! Plus, there are an awful lot of vampires hopping around these days...
For the soup:
- 3 tbsp unsalted butter
- White and light green parts from a medium leek, chopped (don't forget to wash it)
- 6 cloves of minced garlic
- One whole bulb of garlic
- 5-6 cups low-sodium chicken broth/stock
- 2 bay leaves
- 2 lb. potatoes (use high and low starch taters for a varied texture—like russet and red)
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
- 1 1/2 tsp minced fresh thyme (less, if using dried)
- 1/4 fresh, minced chives for garnish
For the garlic chips:
- Olive oil for deep frying (in the smallest pot you have)
- Half a dozen cloves of garlic (or to you liking)
1. The soup starts by softening the finely chopped white and light green parts of a leek, in butter for about 5-8 minutes.
2. Then, add the minced garlic for 30 seconds, and a bunch of low-sodium chicken stock, a couple of bay leaves and a bit of salt—and an entire bulb of garlic with the top 1/3 cut off. If need be, add more stock to cover the bulb.
3. Cover partially and let simmer for 30-40 minutes, or until the garlic bulb is soft. Remove the garlic bulb, and using paper towels, squeeze out the contents and mash it into a pulp with a fork. Add it to the soup.
4. Add potatoes, cut into 1/2" cubes (for a more varied texture, you can use a mix of russet and red potatoes). Let simmer for an additional 20 minutes.
5. Bring olive oil to medium-high heat in a small pan and add thinly sliced garlic chips sliced lengthwise. This, you have to watch like a hawk, because I left them in too long and they got a tad too dark. They are supposed to have a bittersweet flavor, but the darker they get, the more bitter they get. I left them in too long.
6. Take the soup off the heat and add the cream.
7. Buzz the soup with a stick blender, according to desired thickness/chunkiness.
8. Serve garnished with garlic chips and chopped chives.
Dagnabbit, I keep writing "garlish" every time I try to write "garnish." I'm all garlicked out here. (Clue ridiculously hammy Klaus Kinski: "Listen to them: the children of the night—what music they make!") (Oh yeah, that's the ticket: I wanna be the Alton Brown of food blogging, heheh.)
This is yet another excellent America's Test Kitchen recipe. It uses minced garlic, sautéed; an entire bulb of garlic, simmered; and garlic chips, deep fried. Hey, garlic is good for you! Plus, there are an awful lot of vampires hopping around these days...
For the soup:
- 3 tbsp unsalted butter
- White and light green parts from a medium leek, chopped (don't forget to wash it)
- 6 cloves of minced garlic
- One whole bulb of garlic
- 5-6 cups low-sodium chicken broth/stock
- 2 bay leaves
- 2 lb. potatoes (use high and low starch taters for a varied texture—like russet and red)
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
- 1 1/2 tsp minced fresh thyme (less, if using dried)
- 1/4 fresh, minced chives for garnish
For the garlic chips:
- Olive oil for deep frying (in the smallest pot you have)
- Half a dozen cloves of garlic (or to you liking)
1. The soup starts by softening the finely chopped white and light green parts of a leek, in butter for about 5-8 minutes.
2. Then, add the minced garlic for 30 seconds, and a bunch of low-sodium chicken stock, a couple of bay leaves and a bit of salt—and an entire bulb of garlic with the top 1/3 cut off. If need be, add more stock to cover the bulb.
3. Cover partially and let simmer for 30-40 minutes, or until the garlic bulb is soft. Remove the garlic bulb, and using paper towels, squeeze out the contents and mash it into a pulp with a fork. Add it to the soup.
4. Add potatoes, cut into 1/2" cubes (for a more varied texture, you can use a mix of russet and red potatoes). Let simmer for an additional 20 minutes.
5. Bring olive oil to medium-high heat in a small pan and add thinly sliced garlic chips sliced lengthwise. This, you have to watch like a hawk, because I left them in too long and they got a tad too dark. They are supposed to have a bittersweet flavor, but the darker they get, the more bitter they get. I left them in too long.
6. Take the soup off the heat and add the cream.
7. Buzz the soup with a stick blender, according to desired thickness/chunkiness.
8. Serve garnished with garlic chips and chopped chives.
Dagnabbit, I keep writing "garlish" every time I try to write "garnish." I'm all garlicked out here. (Clue ridiculously hammy Klaus Kinski: "Listen to them: the children of the night—what music they make!") (Oh yeah, that's the ticket: I wanna be the Alton Brown of food blogging, heheh.)
The batch of dough that I make when I create naan, is enough for about eight moderately sized breads, but for the sake of convenience, I generally go with four enormous ones, and save the leftovers. The last time, though, I only baked two, due to time restraints. The other two balls of dough, I stored in the fridge.
It was just a matter of convenience, but I was curious to see how the dough would react to being put back in the fridge for storage, after the whole proofing process.
One noticeable difference was that the -- oh, I'm not sure what the word is, elasticity or whatnot -- of the dough was such that it tore a lot easier. It wasn't as sturdy. So I got some holes -- you can see the hole at the top there, with the two, charred bits on either side. But below it, there is another "tear," except it doesn't go all the way through the naan. The rest of the naan is also marked by a lot of similar, irregular tears all over its surface. It seems the integrity, or sturdiness (or whatever the right culinary term is) was adversely affected by this prolonged storage. This had no negative affect on the taste of the naan though. And it actually had a positive affect on the surface texture -- I like a slight crust on my naans, and a variation in thickness of the bread itself, as well as an irregular surface texture is really very nice.
But the really interesting thing is what happened when I decided to completely sacrifice one of the dough balls to an experiment: instead of stretching the other one, I decided to just go ahead and roll it... As far as I understand (and I may very, very, very well be completely wrong -- as evidenced by the results, obviously), this isn't such a good idea since it forces the air-bubbles out of the dough -- leaving you with a deflated and dense bread, rather than an airy, fluffy one.
Well, this bread was anything but deflated and dense. In fact, it was far airier and fluffy than the one I stretched. It didn't have the interesting, pock-parked crust -- but then again, it didn't have holes surrounded by carbonized dough, either.
This was extremely interesting to me, since shaping the dough with a rolling pin is FAR easier than stretching it by hand. I rolled it out fairly thinly, but I didn't want to take it too far, in case it would burn. Turns out I was too timid -- this naan actually ended up fluffing up and becoming far thicker than the stretched naan. Also, it developed some of those typical bubble puff-ups that restaurant naans have.
I guess I'll go back to rolling them again next time around -- and I'll try not to be timid about rolling them really thin.
It was just a matter of convenience, but I was curious to see how the dough would react to being put back in the fridge for storage, after the whole proofing process.
One noticeable difference was that the -- oh, I'm not sure what the word is, elasticity or whatnot -- of the dough was such that it tore a lot easier. It wasn't as sturdy. So I got some holes -- you can see the hole at the top there, with the two, charred bits on either side. But below it, there is another "tear," except it doesn't go all the way through the naan. The rest of the naan is also marked by a lot of similar, irregular tears all over its surface. It seems the integrity, or sturdiness (or whatever the right culinary term is) was adversely affected by this prolonged storage. This had no negative affect on the taste of the naan though. And it actually had a positive affect on the surface texture -- I like a slight crust on my naans, and a variation in thickness of the bread itself, as well as an irregular surface texture is really very nice.
Well, this bread was anything but deflated and dense. In fact, it was far airier and fluffy than the one I stretched. It didn't have the interesting, pock-parked crust -- but then again, it didn't have holes surrounded by carbonized dough, either.
This was extremely interesting to me, since shaping the dough with a rolling pin is FAR easier than stretching it by hand. I rolled it out fairly thinly, but I didn't want to take it too far, in case it would burn. Turns out I was too timid -- this naan actually ended up fluffing up and becoming far thicker than the stretched naan. Also, it developed some of those typical bubble puff-ups that restaurant naans have.
I guess I'll go back to rolling them again next time around -- and I'll try not to be timid about rolling them really thin.
Man, you learn something every time you cook. Unless you're smart enough to get it right the first time around of course, but what fun is that? :)
The look of this dish is a complete embarrassment. It doesn't look anywhere near the same as the first time I made it, when it had a thick, stew-like consistency -- and most important of all, a deep, beautiful yellow color from the turmeric. This time around, it tasted every bit as good, but it looked completely different. To be honest, if you compare the two side by side, this one looks like absolute garbage. (Check the link and see for yourself.)
I wasn't paying much attention to this poor aloo gobi, because I was completely preoccupied with my naan (I've been on a roll with those suckers lately).
Oh well, they can't all be Cadillacs.
I wasn't paying much attention to this poor aloo gobi, because I was completely preoccupied with my naan (I've been on a roll with those suckers lately).
Oh well, they can't all be Cadillacs.
This particular bread was used to accompany a Meen Kari, which is a very aromatic, and slightly hot fish soup (at least this recipe is -- there are variations). And what I wanted, was a thick naan, to soak up the soup. Shaping a naan is just about as important (and, I have discovered -- as difficult) as all the other elements that goes into creating the thing. In a way, I guess it's pretty much like shaping a pizza dough. The consistency and general attributes of the dough itself obviously influences what you can actually do to the dough. I'm reasonably confident (but by no means certain) that my dough is right at this point -- but my abilities to shape it leaves a few things to be desired. This is a little frustrating: I didn't realize I'd have to become a pizza pie-tossing, juggling acrobat just to create a simple naan bread.
I think this certainly is better than a typical restaurant naan. The air-bubbles in the crumb are bigger, which creates a lighter, fluffier feel to it. The crust is crispy. But most important of all, the crumb has an actual taste to it.
This is a classical vegetarian dish from India -- aloo means potatoes and gobi cauliflower.
First time I came across this dish was in the movie "Bend It Like Beckham," where the main character defied her mother and tried to follow her talent into the world of soccer. At some point, her mother tried putting her foot down, demanding that her daughter must follow her traditional, ethnic roots -- and learn how to cook. She responds, "Everyone can cook aloo gobi -- but who can bend a ball like Beckham?"
I like the movie, but the best part of the DVD is the special features section, as it contains a segment where the director shows you how to cook aloo gobi. It's really funny, and also pretty endearing, as she has both her mother and an "auntie" standing behind her, offering advice and generally nattering on (telling her everything she's doing wrong, of course). I spent a lot of time watching, rewinding, trying to figure out the recipe (the DVD contains the recipe, but it doesn't quite match what's done in the cooking segment, though). It was nice but not great, so I didn't make it again.
Then, a friend of mine tried the aloo gobi recipe from Betty Crocker's Indian Home Cooking, and it was much better. Simpler, and with a really deep color.
First time I came across this dish was in the movie "Bend It Like Beckham," where the main character defied her mother and tried to follow her talent into the world of soccer. At some point, her mother tried putting her foot down, demanding that her daughter must follow her traditional, ethnic roots -- and learn how to cook. She responds, "Everyone can cook aloo gobi -- but who can bend a ball like Beckham?"
I like the movie, but the best part of the DVD is the special features section, as it contains a segment where the director shows you how to cook aloo gobi. It's really funny, and also pretty endearing, as she has both her mother and an "auntie" standing behind her, offering advice and generally nattering on (telling her everything she's doing wrong, of course). I spent a lot of time watching, rewinding, trying to figure out the recipe (the DVD contains the recipe, but it doesn't quite match what's done in the cooking segment, though). It was nice but not great, so I didn't make it again.
Then, a friend of mine tried the aloo gobi recipe from Betty Crocker's Indian Home Cooking, and it was much better. Simpler, and with a really deep color.
Another meal from the most excellent Curry Cuisine cookbook. These are two individual dishes -- the spinach one is called "Cheera moru curry," and is from South India, while the potato part is from Pakistan, and is simply called "Alloo curry."
The first curry I ever had, I refused to eat. I though there was something wrong with it; that the meat had gone off. This was in college, where I lived in an area that had (still does) the most Indian restaurants in the world, outside of India. So going for a curry was pretty much the norm. I was overwhelmed by the spiciness, but quickly found that spinach curries were much milder. So spinach curries were the first Indian dishes that I truly enjoyed (my palette soon grew up, and by the time I graduated, I was slopping down vindaloos with the best of them, of course).
Not being a vegetarian, I rarely make meatless meals, but being so fond of Indian food, I end up with meals that have little, or even no vegetables, simply because I can't be bothered to prepare a side dish when I cook a curry. So I end up with just a curry with rice, most of the time: just meat and starch. And that's not a good thing in the long run, nutritionally speaking. So I figure I should do some veggie curries every now and then.
In his autobiography, "Kitchen Confidential,"Anthony Bourdain infamously called vegetarians "waterheads," and "the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit" -- and vegans "their Hezbollah-like splinter faction." As much as I love a good turn of phrase, my own stance on the issue is a little less severe. I like meat, and I also like vegetables, so I try to eat both. I mean, the flip side to vegetarianism would be to only eat meat, which sounds far less appealing than eating vegetables only.
The thing about vegetarianism in the western world, is that it is a relatively young movement. In India, the tradition has existed for countless centuries, so Indian vegetarian food is completely superior to Western vegetarian food. If someone put a gun to my head and forced me onto the vegetarian bandwagon, I'd be eating Indian food till the end of my days... Western vegetarianism also seems to be far more obsessed with meat than, well -- meat eaters. So they've got fake beef, fake bacon, fake whatnot -- it's like a heroin junkie switching to methadone. I've had lots of vegetarian hamburgers, but the ones I liked the most tasted the least like regular hamburger. Oops, I'm rambling...
Well, this was a pretty nice meal -- but I think I can do better. The cool thing about it is, it tastes considerably better as a leftover. The flavors really meld together beautifully overnight (it would make a perfect side dish for a meat curry, and a great way to stretch a meal). Also it leaves behind a fantastic aroma -- there's this gentle whiff of fenugreek seed in the air this morning...
The first curry I ever had, I refused to eat. I though there was something wrong with it; that the meat had gone off. This was in college, where I lived in an area that had (still does) the most Indian restaurants in the world, outside of India. So going for a curry was pretty much the norm. I was overwhelmed by the spiciness, but quickly found that spinach curries were much milder. So spinach curries were the first Indian dishes that I truly enjoyed (my palette soon grew up, and by the time I graduated, I was slopping down vindaloos with the best of them, of course).
Not being a vegetarian, I rarely make meatless meals, but being so fond of Indian food, I end up with meals that have little, or even no vegetables, simply because I can't be bothered to prepare a side dish when I cook a curry. So I end up with just a curry with rice, most of the time: just meat and starch. And that's not a good thing in the long run, nutritionally speaking. So I figure I should do some veggie curries every now and then.
In his autobiography, "Kitchen Confidential,"Anthony Bourdain infamously called vegetarians "waterheads," and "the enemy of everything good and decent in the human spirit" -- and vegans "their Hezbollah-like splinter faction." As much as I love a good turn of phrase, my own stance on the issue is a little less severe. I like meat, and I also like vegetables, so I try to eat both. I mean, the flip side to vegetarianism would be to only eat meat, which sounds far less appealing than eating vegetables only.
The thing about vegetarianism in the western world, is that it is a relatively young movement. In India, the tradition has existed for countless centuries, so Indian vegetarian food is completely superior to Western vegetarian food. If someone put a gun to my head and forced me onto the vegetarian bandwagon, I'd be eating Indian food till the end of my days... Western vegetarianism also seems to be far more obsessed with meat than, well -- meat eaters. So they've got fake beef, fake bacon, fake whatnot -- it's like a heroin junkie switching to methadone. I've had lots of vegetarian hamburgers, but the ones I liked the most tasted the least like regular hamburger. Oops, I'm rambling...
Well, this was a pretty nice meal -- but I think I can do better. The cool thing about it is, it tastes considerably better as a leftover. The flavors really meld together beautifully overnight (it would make a perfect side dish for a meat curry, and a great way to stretch a meal). Also it leaves behind a fantastic aroma -- there's this gentle whiff of fenugreek seed in the air this morning...
Didn't cook tonight, but I took the duty of Grillardin-Pâtissier-Boulanger (What's that in Hindi or Urdu?) and made some naans on the grill, over a pizza stone -- for a curry. The last time I tried this, I used a recipe that didn't call for yeast, and it ended up completely flat. This time I used yeast -- and also an egg. It fluffed up a lot more this time, but the taste was pretty bland. I mixed in two minced cloves of garlic in the dough for two of each of the naans, but you couldn't taste it at all. I know garlic flavor will fade as you cook things, but this was really fast -- no more than two minutes per side. I'm gonna have to use half a dozen cloves next time. Crazy.
My setup was like this: The naans were oiled and stacked with tin foil in between. I picked them up by the tinfoil and just tipped them over onto the pizza stone. No cornmeal, flour or oiled needed on it -- just give it 10-15 minutes to heat up properly after you place the coals (and I used a full (charcoal starting) chimney, so this was hot).
This was made earlier, and frozen. Soups are great that way -- easy starters.
I don't make as much soup as I'd like to I guess. The weather is pretty hot most of the time, around here. There's nothing like a bowl of hot split pea soup on a cold day.
I don't make as much soup as I'd like to I guess. The weather is pretty hot most of the time, around here. There's nothing like a bowl of hot split pea soup on a cold day.
Made with yellow and green split peas (actually, I think the yellow
ones might have been some chana dal). A soup & salad can make a
great, fairly light meal. Plus, you can freeze the leftovers and serve
it as a starter another day. Which I did here, a week later.
