Rate My Raita!

I made takka tin again for din din! Annoying rhymes aside, it really is a wonderful dish. It's great hot (spice and temperature!) off the stove, heated up for lunch, on its own, and over rice. Since it's got quite a bit of heat to it I decided to whip up a quick raita to cool things off. Once again I'm not sure how authentic this is, and to be truthful I decided to wing it when I got into the kitchen. If only I'd had some fluffy naan with which to scoop everything up. Shovel, even. Double truth: I ate the whole bowlful with a spoon but it could have easily served three or four. I started with this recipe on Epicurious and made the following changes:

• I seeded the cucumber and diced it coarsely instead of using a grater.
• Rather than two cups of yogurt, I used only one. It'll be better if the yogurt has been strained (Greek style). It's no tragedy if it's not.
• Cumin is an acquired taste. I've acquired it. I shook a lot of seeds into a pan to gently toast them. Do this on low heat and watch for flying objects.
  
• Surprise! I added a diced mango!
• A little bit of hot paprika goes a long way. I added a quick shake for depth of flavor, but don't overdo it. You want the raita to be the antidote to your fiery takka tin.
  
• I did not chill it. Too hungry.

I could give you a song, but then again I could also give you Chris Kattan's greatest hits as Mango on Saturday Night Live: http://vimeo.com/11468275

Lean, Mean, Green Bean Machine

You know a dish is good when after cooking it one night you immediately march back to the grocery store and get supplies for another batch. Truth: French beans were on sale for $1.25 per pound, which was extra motivation. And these weren't some sad, brown specimens. They were crisp and sweet when raw, and just deliciously seasoned after following the lead of Deb at Smitten Kitchen. Deb, please allow me to correct your French and pluralize the name of this dish as Haricots Vert with Shallots (surely you'll want more than one!). Did you know the word zydeco is believed to be derived from les haricots? I'm Cajun, so you know I'm close to authoritative on this subject. Speaking of which, I am ashamed I didn't have a specific dish planned for Mardi Gras but there's only one food I associate with the holiday: king cake. I had two different versions shipped up to me from Louisiana, one of which had a pecan praline filling. It was divine. I will be working it off at the gym for a month. A few notes that are mostly differences of taste:

• I suggest cooking the green beans for a full 4 minutes before cooling. And the cooling step is very important to the whole blanching process, though I'm not completely convinced an ice bath is necessary. A thorough rinse under a cold faucet should do the trick.
• I like browned shallots and I like lots of them. Again, more of a difference of taste. Adjust the quantity and cooking time to your preference.
• Sure, they look prettier on the plate left intact. But unless you're eating them with your hands as Deb suggests, it might be more practical to halve the beans once they've been blanched. Everyone will look much more polite eating them this way, if that's a concern.

Double truth: the side tag is a bit of a misnomer: I ate a huge batch of these alone for dinner. Here is your shopping list (I'm doubling the starting quantity):

• 1 pound of French beans, trimmed and tailed
• 2-3 shallots
• 2-3 teaspoons butter
• 4+ tablespoons diced tomatoes
• salt and pepper, to taste
• lemon wedges

Blanch...BLANCHE! Oh Rue McClanahan, you minx. May you rest in peace. In memoriam, I'm suggesting the Golden Girls theme song as a musical pairing. That came out of nowhere, right?

You say tomato, I say tabbouleh!

TAKE TWO. I've been a bad blogger. Not only have I been hoarding drafts of recipes (the arduous task of pressing "publish" has proved too intimidating!), I've also neglected the comments. And just now I deleted an entire entry on accident. If you endeavor to make that lentil soup again--and don't be afraid to tinker, as I was amused to see a very similar recipe on another blog that added onions and cream--here is a great dish to include as a side. I absolutely love tabbouleh. I'm also a big fan of the mezze tradition, being one of those diners who can never decide on just one dish from the menu! Having grown up eating a lot of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean food, I can honestly say tabbouleh is one of my favorite dishes among their cuisine. It's usually one of the first things gone from my mezze plate. It also works as a great salad when serving with heavier options, like lamb skewers. Don't forget the piping hot pita! Here's your shopping list:

1/4 cup mint
1/2 cup parsley
1/4 cup red onion
3/4 cup dry bulghur wheat
1/2 dry pint grape tomatoes
1 cucumber, seeded
1 lemon, juiced
olive oil (the good stuff), to taste
salt, to taste

To cook the bulghur wheat, place it in a heat-proof container and cover with boiling water straight from the kettle. Let stand for 15 minutes. While the bulghur cooks, very finely chop the herbs and vegetables. I use grape tomatoes in the winter since larger varities lack flavor out of season. You can halve or quarter them to give the tabbouleh texture. If all you have on hand are one of those larger tomatoes, be sure to seed it. One step you do not want to skip: seeding the cucumber. It's annoying and messy--I do it over the sink--but it makes a dramatic difference in the final product. Your tabbouleh will be very watery if you neglect to do so. I also prefer a very fine chop, so almost all the ingredients are uniform in size along with the wheat. Cool the bulghur in a sieve under a cold stream of water. Combine all the ingredients along with a good glug of olive oil and a few shakes of sea salt (less than you think you need). I've been using the everyday olive oil from Olivier et Co. lately. While I wasn't that impressed tasting it in store, it has proven to be a solid performer in every dish I've used it. For authenticity, Minerva olive oils from Greece are reliably good. If you prefer a greener tabbouleh, double the parsley and mint. You can also omit the mint if it's too difficult to find this time of year. For the adventurous, finish with a dusting of cayenne pepper. Give the ingredients a few hours (ideally, overnight) to mingle in the fridge. I warn against oversalting since the incubation period will really intenfisy the flavors. Serves at least four side portions, or two greedy diners.

Mrs. Bea's New Year Cabbage

As the first week of the new year draws to a close, I--very belatedly--offer up a tradition that my Southern family and our former housekeeper Mrs. Bea have passed on to me. To be healthy, wealthy, and wise in the new year we cook cabbage and black eyed peas on January 1st of every year. The cabbage is for green bills of money, and the black eyed peas are the change! Mrs. Bea had a way with cooking things like turnip greens and cabbage, vegetables that many children would be inclined to hide in their napkins. Or in their milk--my sister did this once with broccoli. If you're a meat lover, try serving this cabbage with sausage links and mustard. Fish lovers might enjoy its pairing with herring and pickled onions. I, unabashedly, ate several plates of it atop brown rice and black eyed peas seasoned with Tony Chachere's (make a similar mix with salt, garlic powder, and cayenne pepper). The sweetness of the cabbage goes well with the saltiness of the other foods. You'll need:

• 1/2 a large head of cabbage, cut into 1/2"-1" strips
• 2-4 tablespoons of olive oil
• 2 packets of Splenda, or 2+ tablespoons sugar

Chop the cabbage while heating a large stockpot, adding a tablespoon of olive oil. Remember: hot pan, cold oil. Toss the cabbage with the remaining olive oil as you add it into the pot. You want all the leaves to be lightly coated, but not dripping in oil. Once the cabbage has begun to wilt add in your sweetener. Cook on medium-high heat, stirring often, until the leaves' edges have browned and taken on a caramelized quality. I am never able to cook this dish to finish without taking several bites along the way.

The Vegetable Formerly Known As Brussels Sprout

If I were to pair these recipes with music--and maybe I should--the perfect match to this side dish preparation would be Prince's "Let's Go Crazy." The way I'm suggesting you serve these humble, wild cabbages is dialing it up to ELEVEN. First, you cook them in a combination of butter, brown sugar, and maple syrup. Are you getting the vapors already? You would think this is indulgent enough, but oh no. We're going to put cheddar on top of these puppies. I'm a big fan of Black Diamond's grand reserve, but you really can't go wrong with any good cheddar. Here are the ingredients:

• Vegetable oil


• 2 1/2 lbs Brussel Sprouts, cut in half


• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter


• 2 tablespoons light brown sugar


• 1/4 cup maple syrup


• 2 tablespoons cider vinegar


• cheddar (optional, but highly recommended)

When I mentioned this dish to a friend whose former profession was as a sous chef he asked, "What? No bacon?" So if that's your sort of thing, go ahead and crumble some crispy bacon on top. You can start with this recipe, but first a few notes:

• Brussels sprouts should be washed thoroughly because these buggers hide grit well.


• Trim the sprouts' butts before halving or quartering them.


• Shave cheddar on top right before serving sprouts piping hot.


• Are you one of those people who grew up hating Brussels sprouts? I did not because, as it turns out, my mother hated them so they were never served in our household. I may not have eaten a single Brussels sprout until college. This, and another preparation that I'll tell you about later, might change her mind and yours.