Chicken Curry: One Billion People Can’t Be Wrong 01.07.2011

As far back as I can remember, chicken curry has been a regular part of my eating life.  I grew up eating chicken curry that was incredibly savory, with meat falling off the bone, and the juices satisfying enough to mix with rice and eat.  I have vivid memories of eating only rice with the chicken curry juices, much to the frustration of my mother.

For the longest time, my mother exclusively used drumsticks.  And as far as I could tell, many of the Indian friends we had in Houston also used drumsticks in chicken curry.  My mother moved on to other parts of the chicken, and then eventually boneless breasts, which, as you might imagine, drastically changed the composition of the curry. 

She goes back and forth between boned and boneless, but keeping to a relatively vegetarian diet these days, doesn’t make chicken curry that often.  I’m not complaining.  The Indian vegetarian food she makes is fantastic.

When I first started cooking in my early 20s, Indian cooking scared me.  It seemed complicated.  It is, in fact, quite simple.  There are a standard set of spices and their potency depends on how long and at what temperature they are cooked,; and then of course, you apply the same theory to the chicken, beef, seafood, or whatever you’re cooking.  This took a while for me to understand, and a little while longer for me to put into successful practice.

And because of my fear of Indian cooking, I took the easy way out and cooked with boneless breast, which was a tragic mistake.  The flavors don’t dance the same way without bone.

I’ve used a number of recipes over the years – note that my mother does not use a recipe, only her memory – and my favorite one (and most simple) is from a cookbook called “The Classic 1,000 Indian Recipes”, by Wendy Hobson.  I love this cookbook and this particular recipe. 

Here are the ingredients, I’ll go through my process below:

·      5 tbsp oil or ghee (I use 3 tbsp)
·      2 onions, thinly sliced (I only use one; not a fan of lots of onion)
·      5 cloves garlic, chopped (I use 6; huge fan of garlic)
·      1 inch ginger root, chopped
·      ½ inch cinnamon stick
·      4 cloves
·      4 black peppercorns
·      2 bay leaves (I usually use 4-5)
·      1 black cardamom pod (Can be found at Indian grocery stores; I use green if I don’t have black)

·      12 chicken pieces, skinned

·      1 tbsp ground aniseeds
·      1 tbsp ground almond
·      1 tbsp ground coriander
·      1 tbsp ground roasted cumin
·      ½ tsp ground red chili
·      ½ tsp ground turmeric
·      Salt

·      14oz canned tomatoes, chopped (I include the liquid)
·      2/3 cup plain yoghurt
·      ¾ cup water

Garnish

·      ½ tsp garam masala
·      1 tbsp chopped fresh cilantro (I use a hand full of cilantro)
·      1 small green chili, chopped

While I am getting all the ingredients out, I brown the chicken in a bit of vegetable oil – about 5 minutes each side.  Madhur Jaffrey did this in a chicken curry recipe I read years ago.  I have no recollection of the explanation, but the result is great. 

Once the chicken is slightly brown, I put it aside on a plate and pour out the fat and remaining oil.  Without cleaning the pan, I put in 3 tbsp of oil for the next step.   Indian food uses an excessive amount of oil, so I always decrease whatever amount asked in a recipe.  And I only use vegetable or canola oil – never, ever use olive oil.  I was up in Maine once visiting my in-laws and in a moment of desperation used olive oil.  It was…look, it was so horrible I can’t talk about it.

1.     Okay, so heat the oil and fry the onions, garlic, ginger, and whole spices over medium heat until everything is golden brown.

2.     Next, stir in the ground spices, tomatoes, and salt.  Cook until oil appears at the surface.

3.     Add the yoghurt and (the recipe says) “cook until all the liquid has been absorbed”.  I’ve always been unclear on this.  Does this mean that the liquid is all gone or that the yoghurt and other liquid have meshed well together?  I cook until everything is mixed well together.  

4.     Then, add two-thirds of the water, cover, and simmer over low heat for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. 

5.     Add remaining water, increase heat to medium and cook for another two minutes until “the sauce is the consistency you prefer.”  My preference is for a thickish sauce, that is more brown in color.  I get the consistency, but I’ve never been able to get the color.  I have no idea how my mother does it, but her curry is always perfectly brown.

I like to let any kind of Indian food sit for a bit before eating so all the spices have time to age, as it were.  I mix in chopped cilantro, cover, and let it sit until the meal.

A note about cilantro:  I love it.  I can’t get enough of the flavor, the texture, and the aroma.  I tend to overdo it on the cilantro garnish. 

For the rice, I make 1 ½ or 2 cups of basmati rice, and cook it with butter, salt, a bay leaf, a few cloves, a cardamom pod, and a cinnamon stick. 
 
Beer is the common alcoholic beverage to go with curry, but I find champagne does the trick, too. 

Enjoy!

Momofuku 01.04.2011

Since starting a business several months ago, I willfully have taken the word “hope” out of my vocabulary.  I know, I know.  Hope is so good.   Hope sustains us.  But it doesn’t stimulate commerce and it doesn’t create jobs, and, as an instructor recently told me, “Hope is not a business strategy.”  Well, hope crept back in a few weeks ago when we received a cookbook from our friend Emily:  Momofuku by David Chang and Peter Meehan. 

One reason I love cookbooks is because they fill me with a hope that has an immediate possibility of flourishing:  Hope of a good meal, hope of good conversation, hope of good drink, and hope of satiated guests.  I hope for all of it.  When I first flipped through Momofuku, hope was coming out of my pores.

Momofuku is fabulous to look at and read. I haven’t finished reading it, and I’m having trouble putting it down.  It’s a casual read with intermittent swearing and tremendous passion for and about Chang’s work.  It’s not organized like a typical cookbook, and while that might be frustrating, it isn’t.   There isn’t, for example, a glossary.  And it’s written as stories – not the first time this is been done, but it’s done well here.
    
David Chang, who is Korean, is the chef behind the Momofuku group of restaurants in New York City – Noodle Bar, Ssam Bar, Ko, and Milk Bar & Bakery.  Peter Meehan used to write the “25 and Under” food column for the New York Times; he now writes a bi-monthly column called “Grass Fed”.  If you haven’t read his work, I highly recommend it.  And if you pick up Momofuku, you’ll know why I make the recommendation. 

My attention immediately was drawn to the ginger scallion noodles.  It’s an easy recipe and the result was spectacular.  The first time I try a recipe, I stick to it to the letter but I was short on scallions and didn’t have the right noodles on hand.  I used 2 cups of chopped scallions instead of 2.5 cups, and used traditional Oriental noodles instead of ramen noodles. The ingredients can be adjusted up or down, but the noodles need to be ramen. 

Chang and Meehan say that if you have the ginger scallion sauce on hand, you’ll never go hungry – I agree.  Once I made it, I could envision using it with chicken, fish, and sticky rice, among other things.   I also took a few tastes right out of the mixing bowl – divine.  


The ingredients are: 


  •        2.5 cups scallions – thinly sliced, whites and greens
  •         ½ cup finely minced peeled ginger
  •         ¼ cup grapeseed or other neutral oil
  •      1.5 teaspoon usukuchi (light soy sauce)
  •      ¾ teaspoon sherry vinegar
  •      ¾ teaspoon kosher salt

Mix together, let sit for 20 minutes, and it’s ready to mix in the noodles.  The sauce can be left in the fridge for up to two days.

It was fantastic.  The scallions and ginger instead of fighting for attention create a crazy-big flavor.  This recipe made me aware of sherry vinegar and it’s powerful taste, and it’s ability to meld other ingredients.

A note about the chopping and slicing:  everything in this recipe needs to be thin or minced to the tiniest bit, and I cannot do either of those things.  I just cannot.  I’ve tried chopping, slicing, and mincing as small as possible but it never works out.  Is it my hands?  Is it because I’m Indian?  Who knows?

The cookbook also has a few kim chi recipes, and I am anxious to try the Napa cabbage version.  There are a number of Korean food carts throughout downtown DC and when I was working downtown, I became an addict.  My friend Andrew introduced me to the cart on 14th and L Streets, NW, which satisfied my desire for spice.  My friend Gregg introduced me to the cart on Vermont and K Streets, NW, which satisfied my desire for kim chi with a serious kick.

Momofuku also features Chang’s famous cereal milk custard, which our friend Emily has tried and about which she raved.  The recipe is in there, along with caramelized corn flakes.  I may have to take a week off and make as many of the recipes as possible. 

Ah, but there’s one more recipe that may make my head explode from pleasure:  shaved foie gras.  Chang discovered a torchon of foie gras in his fridge that had been forgotten.  In the spirit of innovation, he decided to grate it.  It was light, but once it hit the back of his tongue, it was “creamy, fatty, sweet, and cold”.  What’s not to love about that?  Also, the photo of the shaved foie gras is beautiful.

This is not a cookbook for someone looking to make quick, easy meals.  We often don’t have a luxurious amount of time to cook, but once (maybe twice) a week, one of us is able to make an extensive dish.  We remain hopeful we will be able to cook extensively throughout the week.  At some future date.