The Hungry Tiger

Lemons in context

I am in a slack, slack state following my exam. But today I made a lovely potato salad that included minced preserved lemon (skins only), and thought I ought to report on the results. It was a very good combination.

The thing about preserved lemons is that before you make them, you wonder: What would I use preserved lemons for? But then once you get started, you want to put them in everything. Anywhere that a little bit of mysterious lemoniness would be nice, preserved lemons are good.

Consider: tossed in a green salad, potato salad, or pasta salad; over asparagus; over broccoli; over spinach; in melted butter for dipping artichokes; in couscous; in a stew of whatever, along with olives; in Spanish rice; with baked or mashed winter squash; as a garnish for carrot soup; as part of a Mediterranean-style gratin; with lentil stew; with penne and fresh tomato sauce; as part of a Greek egg-and-lemon soup; in a olive-oil pasta sauce; minced to the point of puree and mixed with butter and herbs to make a spread for cucumber sandwiches... you can fill in many more possibilities once you get started.

It comes out toasty!

On eggplant, curry, and eggplant curry

Last night I made a very nice eggplant curry. It was one of those catch-as-catch-can affairs, never to be exactly repeated, but it did make me take notice of three interesting points.

(1) I almost never cook eggplant without first baking/roasting it, and only when it is completely cooked already do I stew it or fry it or what have you. This strategy prevents the horrible happenstance of undercooked eggplant, which is a truly vile substance. It also prevents the sponge-of-oil effect for which eggplant is so justly known. With baking parchment or a silpat sheet, you can roast pieces of eggplant completely dry, or you can toss them with just a little oil and be sure to grease your baking sheet thoroughly. Either way, the toasty edges add a pleasant flavor and do soften back up in the moist cooking.

(2) Baked eggplant skin is not very nice. Now that I have gone back to saving scraps for making stock, I feel perfectly comfortable removing the skin (and a little flesh, because I do not peel so very painstakingly) before baking, a rougher but generally superior strategy. As it turns out, eggplant is one of those surprising vegetables you can add in nigh-unlimited quantity to your stock, and it will only make it better, like lettuce.

(3) Often when I am making some sort of curried something, I want to add just a little bit of tomato. If tomatoes are in season, that works out well. If they are not, I rebel against opening a new big can of tomatoes just to use one tenth of the contents, and then have to transfer the remainder to some non-metal container and remember to use it up soon. My standard cheat is to use a few tablespoons of salsa. We usually have some in the fridge, and generally all the extra flavors (garlic, chile, and so on) complement the curry just fine. I have a heavy hand with curry spices, too, which helps.

(bonus) After talking with S. about lentils and split peas the other night, I realized that it is not necessarily common knowledge that you really must wait until they are as soft as you want them before you add acidic ingredients. The vinegar, mustard (which contains vinegar), lemon juice, lime juice, or other such thing will put a halt (or near halt) to the softening process -- which is very useful, provided you're ready to have it stopped. Otherwise, your lentils will be rather crunchy.

Cook's Illustrated links

For my own reference, a couple of handy free items from the Cook's Illustrated website:

- How to improvise a mortar and pestle, and
- An appealing recipe for plain yellow cake

Hot chocolate is not hot cocoa

Malika's enticing recipe at Nobody's Fool, in combination with the wet, wet, cold, wet weather, has inspired me to make some delicious hot chocolate. Don't neglect that tiny pinch of salt, it's crucial for the fullness of pleasure!

Ginger and garlic

Two useful techniques I had the opportunity to use while cooking tonight's dinner:

(1) Judith reminded me the other day how nice it is to make your garlic into a puree, instead of mincing it. Just sprinkle the minced stuff with coarse salt and by alternating chopping and pressing with the flat of your knife blade, you can make a nice smooth paste. The process does something nice to the taste (unlike a garlic press, which does something nasty) and the garlic will be distributed evenly through your dinner.

(2) Ginger loves to mold and dry up and otherwise interact unpleasantly with the climate. And if you want grated ginger and don't have one of those special ginger graters, you might find the stringy fibers of any but the youngest, tenderest garlic can get pretty cranky about the process. But if you keep your ginger in the freezer, you can easily grate it (on the large holes of your pyramid grater, unless you really love to scrape around in the little ones) in its frozen state and pop it back in. The fibers are far less recalcitrant that way, as well.

The dinner was potato and broccoli rabe curry, with saffron rice. Starch with your starch?

Berries, black

This blackberry ice cream is very, very good. It is so good that you should wish that you were here right now, eating it. But you are not, and I am, so you should settle for being very envious. And if you are not convinced yet, maybe it will help you in your envy to know that not only do I have plenty of beautiful, delicious blackberry ice cream in my freezer, I still have more blackberries on my counter.

Ahem. Now that I have finished gloating, here is a related piece of useful information: Soap is a mordant for blackberry juice; that is, it sets it as a permanent dye. Once soap touches it, it will turn dark grey and stay for life. If dark grey dye is what you want, of course, you should find this habit very useful. Under most circumstaces, though, not so much. So if you get blackberry on your clothes or your tablecloth, you should rinse it with plenty of hot water and absolutely no soap. It should come right out.

Do the washing up [UPDATED!]

If you want to make your dishes truly clean, not merely acceptably clean, follow the proper method, as performed by Ms. Fey Parrill. Deviating from this program will yield inferior results!

First, take the dishes out of your sink and dishpan, and stack them on the counter. Fill the dishpan (making sure that it is empty and clean) with the hottest soapy water you can stand. Turn off the water. Off to the side, not splashing in your dishpan, quickly rinse out anything that has had liquid in it, and put water in things that need to soak.

Wash the dishes in the proper order. First, the things that go into your mouth: glasses, silverware, and mugs. Next, wash the other more delicate items with less crud on them: the Pyrex measuring cup, the metal pitcher in which you steam your milk, the cutting board, mixing bowls without too much stuff on them. Then cooking tools and other mixing bowls, then pots and pans. Wash them with lots of soap, being sure to wash the outsides and handles with every bit as much effort as the apparently dirty bits. Wash them again. Get them good and sudsy. As you finish soaping them, set them aside. If the water gets too dirty, empty it and refill the dishpan.

At last, when you have washed everything, begin rinsing. Rinse in the hottest water possible. Ideally, wear gloves, so that you can bear hotter water than you could naturally. Pay close attention as you rinse, so that you can catch and eliminate any blemishes. Set to air dry. Finally, empty and wash the dishpan. Wash the sink. Wash the countertop. Wash the stovetop. You may now also sweep the floor; there is no point in sweeping it before you start on this adventure, because you will invariably deposit something, and often several somethings, at your feet. The end.

Arborio rice with spinach

This method of making rice is, from the perspective of every other approach I have ever heard of, extremely weird. But it is pleasantly uncomplicated and the results are delicious. The texture is reminiscent of risotto, but lighter, less soupy, and much less starchy. This is because much of the starch in the rice is leeched away, which may seem appalling as you watch it happen -- all that foodstuff disappearing into the water! -- but leaves the grains with a lovely open texture that sucks up your sauce like a sponge. A small amount of a rich sauce is therefore ideal: small because you don't want it to get soggy and rich because it will incorporate with the rice and make it wonderfully creamy.

FOR THE TOPPING

juice of one lemon
1 egg, lightly beaten
1 bunch spinach, cooked with just the water that clings to the leaves after washing, drained and chopped coarsely
About 2 oz. romano cheese, coarsely grated
a small lump of butter
salt
pepper

Get your spinach and cheese ready, and beat the egg and lemon together in a small bowl. The egg will be cooked by the heat of the rice, as in spaghetti carbonara, so if you have a salmonella problem in your area, this method is not for you. If you find eggs repulsive, it is also not for you. However, you can substitute two tablespoons of heavy cream (stirred in separately from the lemon, so it doesn't curdle) with good results.

BOILING THE RICE

Bring a good big pot of water, salted as you would for pasta, to the boil. Pour your rice (1 cup for two people) into the water in a nice, steady stream and give it a stir. When the water has returned to the boil, lower the heat to a simmer and cook the rice for 15 to 18 minutes. Start checking at the early end, because you definitely don't want to overcook it -- as soon as it is cooked all the way through, it's ready.

PUTTING IT TOGETHER

Put the spinach at the bottom of your colander, and drain the rice over it, reheating the spinach. When water stops running from the strainer, return the rice and spinach to the cooking pot. Stir in the remaining ingredients: first the egg and lemon mixture (or, if you are avoiding eggs, first cream, then lemon), next the cheese, and finally the butter. Add salt and pepper to taste.