Chourico and Clams, Portuguese Style

Newark, NJ. Hardly a destination for most people. It's kind of a poster child for urban decay and the various ills that accompany it. But there is a part of Newark that I consider a worthy destination: the Ironbound neighborhood, Ferry Street in particular. This is the neighborhood where they shot the Sopranos episodes focused on Tony's childhood. The ethnic mix there is Italian, Brazilian and Portuguese. The Portuguese are very well represented, taking pride in the neighborhood and making it almost impossible to walk down the street without finding a taste of Portugal. Portugal tastes good.

I found myself on Ferry Street this week with a little time to kill. Had it been close to the dinner hour I would have stopped at one of the old school restaurants there. (Iberia Peninsula is a favorite). But it was early in the day, so I just stopped in a Seabra's grocery to pick up some Portuguese items I have trouble finding in Manhattan. Among them was a Chourico Serrano, which I used just under half of to make this dish. I love the combination of pork and shellfish, even though it may seem weird to some.

I served this with the sides you might find at a Ferry Street restaurant: rice, black beans and collard greens. This will feed two. A Portuguese vihno verde would be a perfect accompaniment.

Chourico and Clams
1 dozen Little Neck clams, scrubbed
1/3 lb Chourico Serrano, sliced
1 cooking onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, chopped
4 Tbs olive oil
1/2 glass dry white wine
fistful of chopped Italian parsley

Heat a heavy bottomed pot, add oil and saute onions, garlic and chourico. Add wine and clams, bring to a simmer and cover. Clams will open in seven or eight minutes. Discard any that fail to open. Stir in parsley and serve immediately.

(This week I started a weekly food column in the Lo-Down, my neighborhood online news source. You can check it out here:

http://www.thelodownny.com/leslog/2011/07/jps-food-adventures-the-best-of-eldridge-street.html

Readers of this blog will find some familiar ground covered!)

Photos by Cynthia Lamb

Blason Cabernet Franc, 2009

I just got back from a brief European tour with folksinger Rod MacDonald. A folk tour can be very different from a rock tour. It's still the same magic when you walk onstage, and the music can be just as transcendent. But you miss some things rock and roll gets you accustomed to, such as: monitors on the stage, a bus & driver, a tour manager, backstage dressing rooms, a crew and venues specifically designed for live music. Folk shows are smaller and more shoestring. The distance between performers and audience can be as little as three feet - more intimate than rock that way. You don't walk to the bus after a gig and ride through the night to the next one. After a folk show you hang out with the good people who came to see you, maybe even dining with some of them, tear down your minimal stage gear, sleep in a local guest house, then drive to the next gig in a rental car the following morning. Less glamorous, but you're rewarded with a strong sense of place and people. Places and people you might never see another way: Laupen, Switzerland; Obing, Germany; Vipiteno, Italy.

By far the biggest and loudest show of this tour was in Gradisca, Italy. Members of the local rock group Mr Tambourine Band sat in with us at a gymnasium. The stage was rock and roll loud. There actually were monitors, but they weren't much help. As a result none of us had any idea what this performance sounded like. I clearly remember letting a few notes during a solo ring out in hopes of hearing just where the downbeat was, as it became impossible to tell on my side of the stage. The bass player assured me things were no better on his side. But the crowd loved it, so I can only assume it sounded good where they were sitting, which is the most important thing. Afterward we had a lovely pasta dinner on tables set up in the back of the gym.

Gradisca is a beautiful little town, as far as I can tell populated entirely by lovely people. As this was my third time there I've actually managed to get to know some of them a little bit. One guy, an actor in local theater, is a fan of the music, and really seemed to dig my guitar playing. He remembered that I like wine, and graciously gifted me a taste of the local vineyard: three bottles from the Friuli producer Blason, located right in Gradisca.

The Blason Cabernet Franc 2009 was a standout among them. It's available here in the US (at least in California) for under $15 a bottle. Usually I find Cabernet Franc a little difficult on its own. Wine made solely from this grape often seems to be missing something to me - it rarely seems balanced. This one is. Nice fruit up front without being excessive or jammy. It ends a little quickly, but with clean tannins, inviting another sip. The wine is just big enough in the mouth to cover its 13% alcohol and still feel medium bodied. Along the way you get spice and black pepper following bright red fruits. Not a wine to show off with, but surprisingly good given its price tag. No one in their right mind would balk at this wine. The only criticism I can come up with is that this wine is a little simple, and the finish is a little short. It's a pleasure and a wonderful taste of Gradisca. If you're lucky enough to find this wine in your local shop I'd recommend picking up a bottle. It's one heck of a value. Made a wonderful gift, too!

$30 Plate of Spaghetti? No Thanks!

My friend Coco kindly loaned me her copy of Anthony Bourdain's book Medium Raw many months ago. Shamefully I have yet to return it. Part of the reason is because I find myself often rereading part three, titled The Rich Eat Differently Than You And Me. He describes what he calls the Cipriani Model: the idea that the rich will pay outrageous sums to eat marginal food as long as they can be secure in the knowledge that others in their set will choose to do so at the same place. Places he describes with the words, "...restaurants that any food nerd with a Web site and a few bucks would walk sneeringly by."

I'll have to take M. Bourdain's word for that, as I have no plans whatsoever to hit the Rainbow Room or Cipriani. But as a food nerd I've noticed a trickle down of sort of thing. The most expensive meals I've had were rarely among the best, and when I think about my favorite places to eat, very few of them even qualify as moderately priced restaurants. That's not to belittle the work of the great chefs out there and the justifiably popular restaurants they operate. I just fail to see a strong correlation between the amount on the check and the deliciousness of the food when dining out, though I feel like I should. And I take issue with that.

I have nothing but my own experience to go on here, which tells me in most situations one hits a wall somewhere around $40 per person for dinner. I'm pretty convinced that after that point added expense has little to do with the quality of what arrives on your plate. (Sushi excluded, of course). After that you're paying for a place's prestige, its location and the privilege of dining among others who have no qualms shelling out that kind of money. That last one is key. You're not just paying for food costs, staff, rent and whatever other set costs one would assume contribute to the total sum. Tacitly or overtly you're paying to associate with members of a specific class, whether it's the one you happen to be a member of, or aspire to be.

There's nothing wrong with that, in my opinion. People have every right to eat at a place that's within their comfort zone, or even their aspiration zone. A nice place with a specific clientele, decor, service, wine list, etc... Maybe they even brag about how they source some of their ingredients. But will the food be "better" than at a place with lesser standards? Maybe yes, maybe no. Because the food only has to meet the expectations of the target audience. That's why the $30 plate of good (but not amazing) spaghetti exists in New York City. It all depends on your comfort zone.

But you know what? That ain't for me. I've tried for years to appreciate things like decor and service, and I've made peace with the fact that beyond a certain point I simply don't. I do not care how cute a place is, and as long as the service isn't completely feckless or rude I'm fine. The social status of the other diners in the room? I hope to be too engrossed in my meal and conversation to notice.

Which brings me back to the food itself: if the bill approaches $40 per person (or sails right past that) it had better be excellent. Because I know where to get excellent food for under $10 a plate in this town; fail to impress and I'm done with you. Helps to have a pretty broad comfort zone, admittedly.

Massaya: A Tasty Rosé for Spring

There may be a mix of rain and snow outside my window right now, but it's spring, which means soon it will be rosé season. Now is a good time to drink rosés in America. Back in the 60's pink wine meant Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill. In the 70's it meant Mateus or Lancers. Things got worse in the 80's. As if hair metal, trickle down economics and androgyny weren't enough we also got cloyingly sweet white zinfandel, which still accounts for 10% of the wine sold in the United States. (WTF?!) Fortunately things have gotten a little better in the 21st Century. Dry rosés have increased in popularity as the stigma against pink wine slowly recedes. This is a good thing, but it's driven up the prices of good examples from Provence (which is where many of the best are made). If you doubt this just ask one of your posh friends what they're paying for a case of Domaines Ott this summer.

So what are the rest of us to do on a hot afternoon when nothing would be better than a cold glass of pink wine? I found a number of good choices at a recent rosé tasting hosted by New York distributors Winebow. Aside from a couple stunning sparklers, the star of that tasting was Massaya Rosé, from Lebanon. That's right: Lebanon. You'd never guess. The bottle looks like one from Provence. On the nose and in the mouth you'd swear it was from Provence. It's crisp, refreshingly acidic without being overbearing, dry and even lingers a bit. It does make sense: the Lebanese climate is hot and dry, and they did learn wine making from the French. (Unsurprisingly there are a couple French heavy hitters involved with Massaya). The story is pretty good, too. The winery is located in the Bekaa valley, so Israel shelling nearby targets or blowing up the road to the vineyard can have an effect on some vintages. We're not just talking good wine, we're talking triumph in the face of real adversity. I'll support that.

Best of all, Massaya Rosé will retail for about $12 a bot when the 2010 vintage hits the shelves in a couple weeks. So let everyone in the Hamptons tear through all the $40 bottles of D.O. they want to this summer. I know what I'll be drinking, and it won't be from Provence. Lebanon's got my attention this year.

Fish Curry!

I've never met a fish curry I didn't like. This one is both delicious and easy to make. It takes about half an hour. I used cod and squid last night, but you could use either. It would work well with shrimp, too. While fiercely tasty, I'll admit this curry is a bit on the mild side. You can adjust how tangy and hot it is by how heavy you go with the vinegar and hot pepper. When you open your can of coconut milk you'll be able to judge how thick it is; if it's half solid the curry will be very rich, whereas thinner will make a less rich curry. Both are good. If you have thick coconut milk you can always thin it down with a little water, but with thin you're best to use the whole can. One last point: most of my recipes are on the less salty side, because one can always adjust salt to taste at the table. You may want to taste and reason before serving. Beyond that there isn't much to this practically foolproof fish curry beyond making up some rice, dal and greens to go with it. If you really want to get crazy you could add a peeled boiled egg or two like the Malaysians do, but I think that would be gilding the lily in this case.

This recipe will serve four with rice, dal and greens.

1 1/2lb fish (I use 1 lb cod, 1/2lb squid), cut into bite sized pieces
2 Tbs white vinegar
3-5 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2 inch piece of ginger, peeled and chopped
1tsp black mustard seeds
2Tbs oil
1Tbs each: coriander, fennel and cumin seeds
generous 1/2 tsp turmeric powder
1/4 tsp Indian hot pepper powder (or cayenne)
jalapeno pepper, sliced in rounds (seeds and all; don't be a wuss)
2-4 tomatoes, cut into generous chunks
14 oz can coconut milk (if thick use 2/3 of can)
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup chopped cilantro, to garnish (or more, to taste)

In a bowl marinate seafood in vinegar. In a dry frying pan toast coriander, cumin and fennel seeds until fragrant. Let cool and grind together in a spice grinder (I like a cheap whirling blade coffee grinder). Toasting the spices is the secret to the curry - it's easy, so don't blow it off! In a large pan heat oil and black mustard seeds. When you hear the first seed pop add jalapeno pepper, ginger and garlic. Let fry for about a minute, then add tomatoes and salt. When tomatoes have softened a bit add coconut milk, turmeric, hot pepper powder and the toasted spice blend. Take a whiff of what's happening - it should be glorious! When tomatoes are cooked add seafood with the juice at the bottom of the bowl. The seafood will cook in 2-3 minutes. Garnish with cilantro and serve immediately.

Eldridge Street, Chinatown, Manhattan

Generations of New Yorkers have enjoyed the luxury of good, inexpensive Chinese food, some of it Americanized, some less so. Today Chinatown has more choices than ever: Old guard Cantonese, complete with roast ducks hanging in the windows, trendy Shanghai joints serving soup dumplings, dim sum restaurants, bakeries, tiny counters where people start the day with a cup of tea, a bowl of congee and a doughnut... Most New Yorkers have their favorites, whether it's Wo Hop, Hsin Wong, Joe's Shanghai, Mei Li Wah Coffeehouse, NY Noodletown or lesser known places they'd rather keep to themselves. Manhattan's Chinatown might not be as vibrant as Flushing's, but it's no tourist theme park, either. Granted, a few blocks have become that, but Chinatown stays refreshed by waves of new immigrants arriving and setting up shop. Many of the shops they set up happen to be food related businesses.

As a home cook I admire the frugality of Chinese cooking in general. Wastefulness is frowned upon, and value is appreciated; that lines up with my own way of thinking very nicely. I don't go out to eat often, but when I do it's no surprise when I end up in Chinatown. There are so many places where the food is good and I leave feeling like I got my money's worth (and then some). Extreme examples of this seem to be clustered on, or very close to Eldridge Street. They stand out so sharply in my mind that I drag people there. But they never seem to mind.

It's fun to eat delicious handmade food in places where if lunch costs more than $8 you're doing it wrong. A buddy from San Fransisco proclaims the dumplings in these shops "the best potstickers I've ever had." My dear friend Richard Priest calls them "pork porn." It was fun to watch band mates Jeff Kite and Mike Bloom overcome by the first bite of the Lamb burger at X'ian Famous. Or Julian Casablancas suspiciously eye a Fujian fish ball before trying and liking it. It was fun to see if my brother could polish off an order of dumplings and a bowl of hand pulled noodles. (He can). It's fun to see out of town guests shocked that places like these actually exist in 2011 New York. (There's so much more to this city than $14 cocktails and $35 plates of pasta!) It's even fun to pick up the tab; the damage is very little here.

So I'm going to take a break from offering home cooking ideas and instead suggest a walk down Eldridge Street. Depending on where you live and what your plans are for a New York City visit this may or may not be a practical suggestion. It stands as a tasty, inexpensive suggestion, regardless. Here's where I go:

Vanessa's Dumpling House, 118 Eldridge St. This is a good place to start. Word is out, and it's often crowded. What to get: fried pork and chive dumplings (four for a buck), sesame pancake sandwiches, homemade pickled cabbage (like a milder, sweeter take on kimchi). Mr Dunn, Glaswegian guitar tech extraordinaire (and a man with no patience for anything frou frou) considers this place a "top call." I took my nieces here years ago and they still talk about it. You can get more tasty food than most can consume in one sitting here for $4, all of it made before your eyes.

Prosperity Dumpling, 46 Eldridge St. There's a running debate on who has the better fried pork dumplings, Prosperity or Vanessa's. To me it's a knife-edge call: if you like more of a ginger flavor you'll prefer Vanessa's, but if thinner wrappers and pronounced scallion flavor are your thing Prosperity wins. A few years ago Julian Casablancas and I did a Lower East Side fried dumpling shootout, and Prosperity was our winner. The place can seat maybe ten people, so get your dumplings (five for a dollar) to go. Eat them walking down the street; they won't last half a block. Word is out about this place, too, so there is sometimes a line.

Super Taste, 26 Eldridge St. You can get good dumplings here, too, but the hand pulled noodles in soup are the star of the show. The spicy beef version is noteworthy, and quite spicy the last time I had it. (Also a bargain at about five bucks). You can watch the guy making noodles behind the counter.

Sheng Wang, 27 Eldridge St. To me this place is the star of Eldridge Street, and word seems to be getting around. Though the crowd is still mostly Fujian I've noticed other "aging hipsters" on recent visits. English is spoken here, but haltingly. Best to just point at the menu. Their policy has been not to serve tea, but they've realized many Westerners expect it, so it seems to show up at tables where Westerners are sitting. Last time I visited it arrived in small styrofoam soup containers. Very charming, even though the tea itself is weak. They offer both knife peeled and hand pulled noodles; the former are more interesting, but the latter are a little better, among the best I've had. Their steamed dumplings ($3 for 12) might be the best on Eldridge street - thin skins and a perfect balance of ginger and scallion flavor. They've elevated the lowly fish ball into a work of art as well, by giving it a ground pork center. It's obvious they're proud of that because they sneak one into most orders of soup, regardless of what you have ordered. I cut to the chase and order the hand pulled noodles in soup with fish balls ($4.50) to assure I get five or six in my bowl. Fifty cents extra gets you a fried egg on top.

Xi'an Famous Foods, 88 East Broadway. Walk to the southern end of Eldridge Street and you're looking at the base of the Manhattan Bridge. One of the businesses there is Xi'an Famous. This is food from Western China, with a Uighur influence. Nearly everything is oily, salty and spicy (cumin and hot pepper are well-represented). Imagine a mix of Chinese and Middle-Eastern flavors and you're not too far off the mark. Lamb and pork are the meats available, and their handmade noodles are completely different than those of their Eldridge Street neighbors - starkly white and quite thick. Most of the dishes here are too much of a commitment to eat on the street, and the shop's tiny counter can only accommodate three diners. So only go for the Cumin Scented Lamb Noodles, the Liang Pi Noodles or the Spicy and Tingly Lamb Face Salad (all excellent choices) if you're of a mind to seek out a bench somewhere to sit down and eat them. (You are just a block from Sara D. Roosevelt Park). If just a quick grab and go is more your style I'd have to recommend the lamb burger ($3.50): cumin scented lamb served on a bun that is like a tough Chinese version of an English muffin. That might not sound appealing, but trust me: it is sublime.

Bitter Melon

I like food with character. I don't need bold, assertive flavors 24/7, but I'll admit I gravitate to them. Bitter melon is a favorite of mine. It isn't for everyone - while popular in Asia, it's more of a cult veggie among Westerners. It's name is only half correct: it's not a melon; it's a gourd. But it is bitter, possessed of the powerful astringency of quinine. Some say the flavor reminds them of asprin. It has a medicinal taste, and in China has many uses in traditional medicine. I've heard of it being good for diabetes, hangovers and psoriasis, among other things. It is densely packed with nutrients, to be sure. But most important to me is that its astringency is a perfect foil to one of my favorite foods: pork.

On Chinese menus it appears in soup or stir fried with beef, but I'm of the belief that bitter melon is at its best with pork in a black bean sauce. And not sliced pork, char siu or the more traditional little spare rib chunks, either. I like it with coarsely ground pork. This has been in pretty regular rotation in my kitchen for 20 years. I'll include it on the menu for dinner parties sometimes, and am still surprised when it's one of the first dishes to be polished off. Bitter melon's flavor can be a bit much for some, but against ground pork and black bean sauce it's capable of winning people over. I'm capable of eating almost half a pound of bitter melon in a sitting, and am lucky enough to be married to a woman who takes great joy in doing the same.

Bitter melon can be found in Asian markets. You want it green, not orange. Sometimes you can find the Thai variety, which is white and very mild. The Indian variety is darker and even bumpier, not what I'd use for this dish. Right now bitter melon appears to be out of season in the Northeast, so not everyone has it, and it's $4 a pound - more than twice what I pay in the summer. But I'll pay it, because I need my fix. Today was one of those days, hence this post.

Approach the bitter melon by slicing it down the center lengthwise (unlike my picture above). Use a teaspoon to scoop out the seeds and white pulp, which you discard. Cut each half of the vegetable into 1/4" half rounds, and you're ready to go.

Note: Bitter melon is not a fast enough cooking vegetable to stir fry the way you would a bell pepper. You have two options for getting it cooked through: you can boil the slices for a few minutes beforehand, drain them and let dry before stir frying. Or you can let the finished dish simmer in the wok over low heat, covered, for a few extra minutes to finish cooking the bitter melon. I like the second method, although it seems to violate standard wok practices. Just remember the less cooked the melon the more bitter it will be. You don't want it totally soft, but you do want it cooked through.

The recipe below will makes enough for a complete dinner for two over rice, or will feed as many as six as part of a larger meal. (The black bean sauce in the recipe is also a no-brainer for seafood dishes, and even works for chicken and vegetables).

Pork and Bitter Melon in Black Bean Sauce

3/4lb bitter melon, cut in half-rounds as described above
1/3-1/2 lb ground pork (coarse is better)
2Tbs Chinese fermented black beans soaked in 2Tbs Chinese rice wine
Tbs soy sauce
1/2tsp sugar
1/3 cup chicken stock
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
1/2" piece ginger, peeled and chopped
1 jalapeno pepper, sliced into rounds
3Tbs peanut oil, for frying
heaping Tbs cornstarch made into a slurry with and equal amount cold water, to thicken

Pour oil into hot wok. Add bitter melon and stir fry for 3-4 min, adding a little oil if needed to keep from sticking. Add garlic, ginger and hot pepper and fry another minute. Add ground pork and sugar and fry until pork is mostly cooked, about two minutes. Add chicken stock, sugar, black beans in rice wine and soy sauce. Lower heat and let simmer (covered works fine) until bitter melon is cooked through, about four minutes. Stir in the cornstarch slurry until the liquid is the consistency of gravy. Discard extra slurry. Serve over white rice.

Pork Vindaloo

A pork curry? That doesn't square with Muslim curry eaters (and most Hindus), but there are Christian communities where pork is eaten on the Indian sub-continent. This dish is from Goa, where Portuguese missionaries arrived many generations ago. I've heard speculation that the vinegar in the dish was inspired by Portuguese stews cooked in wine. Makes sense - a pork curry would almost have to be a fusion dish, wouldn't it? The tangy vinegar nicely plays off the spices and the richness (read: fat) of the pork. It's very good.

Spicy pork served with rice hits my happy button pretty hard, and as a result I have two ways of preparing this dish. There's a quick method using pork loin (since loin gets tough when overcooked) and a long simmering version using shoulder meat. The long simmering method is a little better, but my source for pork (Hoosic River Poultry at the Tompkins Square Greenmarket) is often sold out of shoulder by the time I get there, so I learned how to make due with the more expensive and less tasty loin. Marinating the meat in the curry paste and adding some tomatoes (two tricks I picked up from a recipe by Emeril Legasse) make the quick method work. When slowly cooking the shoulder meat I leave out the tomatoes in favor of a cinnamon stick and a few cardamom pods. Either is a good excuse for a trip to the spice shop.

I serve it with white rice (basmati is good, but any rice works), dal and spinach. I've included my recipe for toor dal below, but you can use whatever dal recipe you like. I like toor dal because it's interesting; it looks like giant yellow split peas, but has a taste all its own. The spinach is easy to make: just saute a little chopped onion, garlic, ginger and hot pepper in oil with a pinch of salt, then add spinach until everything is cooked. Frozen spinach works fine.

Note: My curries sucked for a long time, because I was intimidated by the steps and ingredients involved, and tried cutting corners. I half-assed it, instead of just going for it. The bottom line is that this meal will take just over 40min to make using the quick method or about an hour using the slow cooking method. The dal takes about 40 min to cook anyway, so put the dal on first, get to toasting the spices, do the rice and spinach while the meat marinates/stews (depending on which method you use) and everything will come together at more or less the same time. You'll be busy enough that you won't have time to be intimidated! And you get an impressive pork curry when you're finished.

The recipes below feed two, with easily enough left over for lunch the next day:

Pork Vindaloo

For the curry paste:

Tbs coriander seeds
Tbs cumin seeds
Tbs black mustard seeds
6-8 whole cloves
1/2 tsp salt
tsp turmeric
1/4-1/2 tsp Indian hot pepper powder (or cayenne)
1/3 cup white vinegar

Toast coriander, cumin, mustard and cloves in a dry frying pan, shaking every minute or two so they don't burn. When you can smell them turn off heat and let cool. Grind in spice grinder and mix in small bowl with remaining ingredients. Congrats, you've made a vindaloo paste from scratch!

Quick method:

1lb pork loin, cut into bite sized cubes
curry paste, above
2 onions, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
Tbs chopped fresh ginger
3-4 canned whole tomatoes (depending on size), broken up by hand, with their juice
2-3 Tbs cooking oil
cilantro leaves, to garnish (optional)

Marinate pork in a bowl with curry paste for at least 20 min. In a heavy bottomed pot saute onions in oil until nearly translucent. Add garlic and ginger and saute another minute or two. Add pork to pot, leaving excess marinade in bowl. Cook for five minutes, until spices start to stick to bottom of pot. Add tomatoes and remaining marinade and simmer for five minutes more, until pork is cooked through. If you're skittish about the pork being fully cooked simmer a minute or two more, but remember if you overcook the loin meat it will be tough. Serve garnished with cilantro leaves (optional).

Slow cooking method:

1lb pork shoulder, cut into bite sized cubes
curry paste, above
2 onions, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
Tbs fresh ginger, chopped
1 stick cinnamon
5-6 whole cardamom pods
1 heaping tsp brown sugar
2-3Tbs cooking oil
1/2 cup water

In a heavy bottomed pot saute onions in oil until nearly translucent. Add garlic and ginger and saute another minute or two. Add pork and saute until cooked on the outside. Add remaining ingredients, cover and simmer for half an hour. Remove cover and simmer another half hour, until pork is tender, stirring every now and then and adding a little extra water if needed to keep from sticking. Serve garnished with cilantro (optional).


Toor Dal:

!/2 cup toor dal (available at Indian grocery stores)
1 1/2 cups water
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp turmeric
2-3 cloves garlic, chopped
1tsp ground cumin
2Tbs cooking oil
1 heaping tsp brown sugar
juice of 1 lemon or lime
cilantro leaves, to garnish (optional)

In a small pot bring dal, water, turmeric and salt to a gentle simmer. Simmer for about 40 min, stirring every now and then, so it doesn't stick, until dal is cooked. It should be like a thick soup. Add a little extra water if it gets any thicker than that. Turn off heat and mash with a fork or potato masher. In a pan fry garlic in oil for a minute or two. Add mashed dal and remaining ingredients, stir to mix together well and turn off heat. Garnish with cilantro (optional).

Pörkölt

I'm usually so busy eating pork and fish I sometimes overlook the wonder that is beef. I do keep a chuck roast in the freezer most of the time, and recently this has been how it often ends up. While many variations of paprika stew exist, Pörkölt is the most basic, not to mention incredibly tasty. No sour cream, potatoes, tomatoes or sauerkraut involved. Just onions melted in lard, meat, salt, paprika and a little water. (I add garlic and a sprinkling of caraway seeds, which is enough to raise eyebrows among purists). Because of this you want to make sure you use good paprika - the best sweet paprika you can get your hands on. I won't use the nasty lard from the supermarket, either. I get mine from Flying Pigs Farm, so it's outrageously expensive, but delicious, and a little goes a long way. Try to find a good source. This dish is traditionally low simmered until the meat is tender, but it works equally well in a pressure cooker. Serve with boiled or mashed potatoes, dumplings or egg noodles. (I favor garlic mashed, because I have yet to master proper dumplings). Add one of those Germanic salads from a few posts ago and you have a perfect winter meal. Simplicity is good.

This recipe will serve 2-3:

1 1/2 lb beef chuck, cubed
3 onions, chopped
3-4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 tsp lard
salt, to taste
2 heaping tsp sweet paprika
1/4 tsp caraway seeds
1 cup water

Heat lard in pot. Saute onions, garlic and salt over medium heat. Add beef and paprika when onions are nearly translucent and saute for a minute or two. When it starts to stick (don't let it burn) add water and caraway seeds. Cover and bring to a gentle simmer. Simmer until beef is tender, about one hour (or 15-20 min in a pressure cooker). Check several times to make sure liquid doesn't cook off; if needed add a little more water. (You don't need to do this if using pressure cooker, but your gravy will not be as thick as the long simmering method).

"Healthy Food" Rant

I've heard this one too many times: "I want to eat somewhere healthy." Usually spoken by someone looking for a quick bite out. I take it as a sign I will not be dining with that person. Not because I'm against so called healthy eating; changing my own diet allowed me to drop 45 pounds over the last four years. I just reject the notion that one food is healthier than another. Think about it: going to a place that touts healthfulness invariably leads to expensive food short on flavor, often with a dose of dogma to make up for it. It's "healthy" because it's (insert one or more of the following: raw, vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, low fat, low carb, low salt, macrobiotic, organic or whatever the health trend of the month happens to be).

I understand the desire to grasp at food dogma; one wants to eat healthy, and many of us suspect we do not. But this quickly leads to a forest for the trees scenario. Is the organic vegetarian convenience food item from, say, Trader Joe's obviously a better bet than a bean burrito from Taco Bell? Is the (god forbid) grilled chicken Caesar salad a healthier choice than a burger? Is it really a good idea to punish your taste buds and wallet with the organic quinoa salad and marinated seitan after going through the trouble required to find a place that offers such items? Maybe, but I hardly see any cut and dry answers in this regard. Yet people who make such choices will defend them because they're convinced they are eating healthy by doing so. And I have no reason to suspect they're right in this regard. I refuse to accept that the "healthy choice" is the boneless, skinless chicken breast or the vegetarian option. I don't believe fast or convenience food undergoes a transubstantiation to health food through the power of faith in the grilled chicken breast.

Some absolutes exist. If you cook from scratch at home, not going crazy with the salt, fat and white carbs you're doing better than most dining out options, if healthfulness is your goal. Given. If you eat meat it seems reasonable to be concerned with its provenance, given how much livestock is raised in our industrialized world. And you're probably doing yourself a favor if you manage the complicated trick of avoiding most products of the modern food science lab. At least there's reason to suspect as much. I'll admit to casting a wary eye toward most ready to eat items in supermarkets and convenience stores - things that can sit there for inordinate lengths without going "bad". The longer and less pronounceable the list of ingredients the less likely I am to eat it. But beyond that I don't think there are many absolutes when it comes to specific food items.

I don't think fried chicken, bacon, foie gras or triple creme brie are unhealthy. Nor is a cheeseburger and fries. Or a pizza. Spinach, carrots and hummos are not inherently healthy - eat enough of any and they will poison you. (Eight to ten pounds of spinach is enough to kill you). As convenient as it is for marketing, classifying particular foods as healthy is misguided. It's anti-cuisine, anti-pleasure and unfounded. Fat isn't bad, carbs aren't bad, and I refuse to be convinced that salt and sugar are bad. PATTERNS of eating are healthy or unhealthy, not foods themselves. Recently I've seen the trinity of corn, wheat and soy portrayed as unhealthy, which is nonsense. Pasta, corn tortillas and soy sauce are not out to get you. But a pattern of eating prepared foods made largely from processed corn, wheat and soy? Might not be a good pattern. We know that. If you have any doubts just head to the supermarket and look at the people pushing carts brimming with packaged heat and eat (or ready to eat) items. Do you want to look like that? Then don't eat like that. But even these foods fail to be evil incarnate (although they're probably close). If you like a TV dinner it's not unhealthy to have one. But every night? Welcome to Fatsickville. Potato chips or ice cream? Why not, once in a while? But every day? WTF? It's not the food; it's the pattern of eating. If you eat mostly vegetables rounded out with a little fat, some meat or fish and some carbs you're probably doing fine, regardless of whether or not you eat a pizza or a double cheeseburger once in a while. "Once in a while" being the key phrase.

Your home is where you have control over what you eat. Cook real food. Eat reasonably. It doesn't require lots of time or money, though they do make it easier. Probably best to avoid a pattern of grabbing food on the run. We know that's not a good pattern, even if you choose the so-called healthy options. They're usually not that healthy. And they're expensive. They'll leave you hungry later, more likely to start snacking. And they often taste like crap. Even when they don't it's a gigantic leap of faith to believe a $7 glass of juice with some protein powder or a $10 grilled chicken salad is a healthier lunch than last night's home cooked leftovers. I think of it like this: if I eat defensively most of the time I never have to fool myself into considering "healthy options" when dining out.

The Best Thing We've Cooked in a While

It started off with my wife announcing that she was going to make a batch of homemade pasta. I said I'd be happy to make the sauce, and she indicated a preference for a seafood sauce. I figured I'd go in a Sicilian direction, but didn't want to get too close to puttanesca territory. A quick trip to my favorite Chinatown fish market yielded a dozen little neck clams ($4), a pound of cleaned squid ($4) and a pound of shrimp ($5). I had anchovy paste and capers on hand, but knew these would have to be used in a restrained manner. But I had a trick up my sleeve: the shrimp heads and shells boiled in half a glass of white wine gave me a strong shrimp liquor that I added to the sauce. This, along with the juice the clams gave off while being cooked in the sauce added a depth far beyond what the anchovy paste alone ever could have.

The boys got wind of what we were up to and promptly invited themselves to supper, making it a family dinner for four. While it was not a complicated meal, nor an expensive one it did require about an hour of work from two people to make. Then again, we're not the fastest cooks in the world, and it had been over a decade since my wife had made fresh pasta. We could probably bang it out again in 45 min. And we probably will soon. This was much better than what I've had in good mid-tier Italian restaurants here in NYC. And the food cost to feed four was under $15. The worst part of the experience was cleaning the shrimp, but having the shells and heads to beef up the sauce was more than worth it. The extra buck-fifty for the already cleaned squid money well spent, however. This was hardcore enough.

My wife went with a half white, half semolina egg pasta. Rolling it out to the #5 setting on the Kitchen Aid mixer's pasta roller attachment made noodles that cooked to surprising lightness in about two minutes. Hand cutting gave them a pleasant unevenness that highlighted the fact that it was homemade. The noodles were about twice the width of fettuccine making them perfect against the sauce, which came out a bit richer than I'd anticipated (thanks to the shrimp shells).

The payoff for the effort involved was the best meal to come out of our kitchen in a while. And, without bragging, I can say good things come out of our kitchen on a regular basis. This will serve four as a main course or six as part of a larger meal.

For the pasta:

3/4 cup semolina flour
3/4 cup unbleached white flour
2 eggs
2 Tsp water
2 Tsp olive oil

Mix ingredients together and knead for 10 minutes (a mixer with a dough hook makes this easier). Ball it up and place in oiled bowl. Cover and let sit for 20 minutes. On a lightly floured surface cut into four pieces. Feed each piece individually (again, easier if you have the attachment for your mixer) as follows: Roll five times on #1 setting (it may rip, that's OK), once on setting #3 (if it rips here start rolling all over again) and once on setting #5. By now it should be a giant flat lasagna noodle. Gently lay on floured surface and cut into noodles about 1/4" wide. Drape noodles over drying rack or the edge of a very large bowl. Repeat until all four pieces of dough are noodles.

When you're ready to go with a large pot of boiling salted water cook pasta. It will cook in about two minutes, so make sure sauce is ready to go before cooking pasta.

For the sauce:

3-4 Tbs olive oil
5 cloves garlic, chopped
1 Tbs anchovy paste
28 oz can tomatoes (crushed or whole, broken up by hand with liquid)
1 Tbs capers
1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
1 doz clams (I used little necks, smaller is better), scrubbed
3/4lb whole shrimp
3/4lb cleaned squid
1/2 glass white wine
black pepper, to taste

Clean the shrimp, placing shells and heads into a small pan with the wine. Bring to a simmer. Cut the squid into rings and tentacles, and set aside with shrimp meat. In a large pan heat olive oil, garlic and anchovy paste. Fry for about 30 seconds, then add tomatoes, capers and crushed red pepper. Bring to a simmer. When shrimp shells have turned bright pink remove from heat, and carefully pour liquid into the simmering sauce. The liquid ought to be a robust orange-pink. Place the clams into the sauce and cover. When they open they're cooked. Remove cooked clams from sauce, making sure their juice remains in the sauce, and set aside. Discard any that fail to open within ten minutes. At this point the pasta should be ready to go, because you're about five minutes from plating it. Add shrimp and squid to the simmering sauce. When the shrimp turn pink it's done. Cut the heat and add the cooked, drained pasta, stirring to sauce evenly. Plate the pasta, placing the clams attractively on the side of each plate, or if the clams are very small you could toss them with the pasta before plating. Serve immediately.
Photos by Cynthia Lamb