Lemon Rice

I started culinary school with a required course on classic French technique. It was led by a chef instructor who had worked for several renowned restaurants in Paris. A few weeks into the semester, Chicago banned the sale of foie gras. It became a topic of discussion, with the chef advocating for its reversal. Force feeding animals seemed inhumane to me. Nonetheless, I held back my opinion, taking cues from students who clearly felt it foolhardy to break rank. 

In the weeks that followed, we made sauces and soups that were invariably doused with dairy. I had never reached for so much cream and butter in my life. At home, I flavored my meals with a cocktail of spices that left me light on my feet. I found the dishes that we made in class numbingly filling, and worried that I might settle in for a nap after a marathon of tastings.

Towards the end of the course, the chef gathered us all around for another demonstration. When he reached for the cream, I found myself blurting out, “Chef, why don’t you just use some cumin?”

Humored by my outburst, he smiled, and muttered under his breath, “She wants me to use cumin.” 

Then he poured in the cream.

LEMON RICE

This spice filled vegan dish makes for a great meal on its own. If you’re sensitive to crunchy things, omit the channa dhal or wait a day before digging into it. By that time the channa dhal will soften. 

Serves 4

INGREDIENTS

1 cup uncooked parboiled rice
2 tablespoons olive or coconut oil
1 teaspoon brown mustard seeds
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon urad dhal
1 teaspoon channa dhal
1/2 teaspoon asafoetida
1 dried red chili
10 curry leaves
1/4 teaspoon turmeric
1 tablespoon minced ginger
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 1/2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

INSTRUCTIONS

Place the rice in a pot. Cover it with four cups of water. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to low and cook until the rice is soft. Drain the rice in a colander. 

Place the oil is a skillet over medium-low heat. When it is hot, add the mustard seeds. 

Add the cumin, urad dhal, channa dhal, asafoetida, red chili, and curry leaves. Cook until the urad dhal turns golden brown, about 3 minutes. 

Add the ginger, turmeric, and salt. Cook until the ginger softens, about 5 minutes. 

Remove from heat and stir in the rice. 

Sprinkle in the lemon juice and stir to combine. 

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Cucumber Tomato Salad

Cucumber Tomato Salad

Serves 6

Yogurt compliments the intensely spiced dishes that are served throughout Kerala. And so, plain or spruced up, it always finds a coveted place on the Malayalee table. This preparation calls for cucumbers, making it extra refreshing. For an elegant meal, pair it with chicken biriyani, lentil wafers, and lemon pickle.



INGREDIENTS

1 cup finely diced cucumbers
1 cup finely diced tomatoes
2 tablespoons finely diced onions
Half a small jalapeno, cut lengthwise and seeded
10 ounces low-fat yogurt
2 tablespoons low-fat sour cream (optional)
¾ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons chopped cilantro

INSTRUCTIONS

Toss the cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, and jalapeno together in a large bowl.

Mix in the yogurt and sour cream.

Stir in the salt and cilantro. Refrigerate for 30 minutes. 

Going "Home"

A Long Way Up - Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

In December, I traveled 8,000 plus miles to Kerala, the place my older relatives still refer to as "home." Though I never lived with its borders, the tiny state on the southwest tip of India shaped my food identity. This journey would be different from the five I had taken before. I would be traveling without my parents - as tour guides, translators, experts on etiquette, and reservoirs of family history. In the past, they had shared unwritten rules (you'll shock people when you use your left hand) and in their company I never worried about taking a rickshaw across town. They provided directions. When strangers pinched me on the cheek and asked, "Do you remember me?" - a dizzying question given the branchiness of our family tree - my mom provided the answer. "This is your maternal grandmother's sister's second cousin's daughter."

During the eleven years since my last sojourn to Kerala, I had sharpened my kitchen skills in culinary school. I had also documented many of my mother's recipes, trying to preserve what seems like a dying art. I numbered steps and quantified murky measurements. Two "dashes" of turmeric became a fourth of a teaspoon and I deciphered "a 2-inch piece of ginger" as being "a generous tablespoon."

Over the intervening years, I had also recognized that many mainstay Kerala dishes - such as sambar (dahl stew), idiappam (rice noodles), and the vast array of thorans (stir-fried dishes) - were deliciously low-fat. I hoped to share the recipes I collected to help chip away at the obesity epidemic current raging in the states.

Cabbage Vendor - Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2011)

I wanted to use this trip to gather recipes from relatives still in India. I also wanted to study the origins of the Kerala pantry. To see firsthand how and where the native berries, seeds, and roots that give Malayalee food its vibrancy grew. I knew that for centuries Kerala was the world’s only source of peppercorns and that the prized berries had spurred the region’s maritime trade predating the Kubla Khan. But I wanted to know what they looked like on the vine. (I vaguely remember my father pointing them out in the yard of his family home years ago. But sadly, what registered in my adolescent mind, “Zzzzz. Boring!”) I would also seek out cardamom growing wild in the mountains. Its exotic oils perfume Kerala’s sweet and savory dishes. Over time, the spice has also found its way into Middle Eastern coffee and Swedish pastries.

Susan Pachikara (COPYRIGHT 2010)

I knew my pursuit would conjure up memories of my grandmother’s dimly lit kitchen where I watched in wonder as she fed dried coconut husks to an open fire. Their brown hairs flashed like threads of lightening once ignited. Using the back of a cleaver, she would crack open the shells of coconuts harvested from the lanky trees dotting the yard. Sitting on a low wooden bench fitted with a serrated blade, I happily shredded the flesh into a triangular hill of coconut confetti that ended up in many family dishes that I'll be sharing with you including the cabbage thoran below.

CABBAGE THORAN

(Cardamom Kitchen LLC - Copyright 2011)

Serves 6

TIPS

- Warning: I've gotten greedy at the farmer's market and chosen the largest possible cabbage. I end up with WAY more shredded cabbage than I need. The leaves are tucked tightly. Chopping loosens them and the quantity seemed to grow exponentially! So don't make this mistake.

- Do not overcook the cabbage. It should be served with a bit of a crunch.

INGREDIENTS

2 tablespoons olive oil or canola oil

3/4 teaspoon black mustard seeds

1 teaspoon urad dahl (black graham, split)

2 teaspoons minced garlic

1 cup onion, thinly sliced

1/4 teaspoon ground cumin

1/4 teaspoon turmeric
I jalapeno, split, seeded and quartered
10 curry leaves (optional)

1 teaspoon salt

4 cups shredded cabbage

2 tablespoons shredded, unsweetened coconut

INSTRUCTIONS

1) Heat the oil in a large saute pan on medium-low heat. Add the mustard seeds and cover.

2) When the mustard seeds begin to pop, add the urad dhal. Cook until the urad dhal turns light brown.

3) Increase the heat to medium. Add the garlic, onions, cumin, turmeric, pepper, curry leaves, and salt. Cook until the onions are translucent.

4) Add the cabbage and coconut. Stir to coat with the spice mixture.

5) Cover and cook for 1 minute.

6) Remove the lid and stir. Cover and cook for another minute.

7) Remove the lid and cook uncovered until the cabbage is tender, but retains a bit of crunch.

A New Side Dish

Stately and imposing, roast turkey has an alluring presence on the table. But, all too often, the feast offered the eyes does not translate to the tongue. That is why I stand with the sides in the turkey v. side dish debate. I don't believe a relatively lean bird can compete with bread crumbs soaked in eggs and potatoes smothered in butter. I won't even start with the pie.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one in the family who covets the side dishes. When remnants of the Thanksgiving day meal are lined up, buffet-style, my siblings and I elbow for leftovers - mashed potatoes, dressing, and corn (a family tradition) - like early morning shoppers at a black Friday sale. A few forkfuls of the dismantled turkey eventually also make it onto our plates. Inevitably the dreaded post-Thanksgiving complaints are registered. "Is the dressing all gone???" "What happened to the mashed potatoes?"

Given our unanimous preference for sides, I decided to add another dish to the table this year. I wanted something to counteract the richness of the mashed potatoes and dressing. Bon Appetit's brussels sprouts slaw with mustard dressing should create the right balance. In-season and full of flavor, the briefly steamed sprouts offer crunch and tang. I'm hoping their presence on the menu will lead to less tussling over leftovers after the holiday.

Quick tip: score each sprout before placing them in your steamer. This helps the leaves and core to cook at the same rate.