Okra Curry

A long while back, I got into a major Indian food kick. I made dosas (but really, really good dosas), eggplant curry, sambar, mushroom muttar curry, and more. I bought and made chutneys and stocked way too much ghee and ate as much Indian food as I could get my hands on.

Summer seems to call for a hiatus from piping hot bowls of curry, but now that fall has arrived, I'm back on the bandwagon. It's still early for long-cooked food, but this okra comes together quickly and tastes fresh - the perfect transition into September.

I posted about this on Instagram when I made it on a whim a while back, but since then it's become enough of a regular that I felt it deserved a proper post. I still see okra at most of our markets (not to mention growing from the pot on our walkway - my neighbor is quite the gardener!), so there's still time to make this before okra is gone.

In case I lost you way back with scary thoughts of slime, rest assured: this curry is not slimy. Just look at the photo above - see mom? No slime! A few tips to avoid the goo:

• I've found slime more likely in large okra and in okra that isn't super fresh. The smaller and fresher the pieces, the better.
• When cutting your okra, keep a paper or cloth towel close at hand. Wipe the knife often - after every two or three pieces - and you'll minimize the goo.
• Lastly, and you'll see this in the recipe below, cook the okra all the way before adding the sauce. You want those pieces crisp and browned, maybe even a bit shriveled. By the time you add the sauce, there won't be any slime to speak of, and your okra will end up silky, but not gummy.

Off to the races, folks.

Okra Curry

As noted above, you want the okra to be fully cooked before it's added to the sauce. This will minimize slime in the curry. The only other thing I wanted to mention is that while a cast iron pan works great for cooking the okra, the sauce should really be made in a stainless steel pan, since acid can ruin the nonstick surface of good cast iron. -R

1 quart okra
3 tablespoons ghee or vegetable oil
1 medium onion, diced
1 thai chili (or use a serrano), seeded and diced
1 teaspoon black mustard seeds
1 1/2 cups tomato puree
2 tablespoons tamarind puree
1/2-inch knob fresh ginger, grated
salt

Trim stem ends of okra and slice lengthwise in half or quarters, depending on size. Keep a towel nearby as you slice; if you notice the knife getting slimy, wipe off your knife before continuing. This will help minimize slime in the final curry.

Heat 1 tablespoon of ghee or oil in a large saute pan (cast iron and stainless steel both work) over medium-high heat. Add enough okra to sit in a single layer in the pan; I found I needed to do this in two batches. Cook okra mostly undisturbed for about 3-5 minutes, letting it really brown on the first side before flipping it; you want to draw out the moisture (read: slime) and dry out the okra as much as possible.  If the pan smokes, turn down the heat a little bit, or just turn on your fan - try to keep that pan as hot as possible.

Flip the okra (this doesn't have to be an exact science; a few turns with a pair of tongs should get most of the okra turned) and cook on the second side for another 3-5 minutes or so. At this point, your okra should be very deep brown and mostly dry. Transfer to a heatsafe bowl, and repeat with another tablespoon of ghee/oil and the second batch of okra. Transfer second batch to the same bowl once it's been cooked. (I use two pans at once to minimize total cooking time.)

Add the third tablespoon of ghee/oil to a stainless steel saute pan and set over medium-high heat. Add diced chile (as much of it as you want - feel free to hold back and add more later), onion, and mustard seeds, and saute until onion has started to turn golden around the edges. Then add tomato, tamarind, and grated ginger, stir to combine, and reduce heat to medium. Cook until onions soften, 5-7 minutes.

Add okra to the sauce and use tongs to coat every piece of okra with sauce. Toss a few times over the heat, just to incorporate, then serve hot with rice, naan, dal, dosa, or whatever else you feel like serving. This curry also reheats well.

Chile Relleno Casserole

During our week on Hilton Head Island, my brother-in-law and I spent an afternoon bouncing around recipe ideas and exchanging high fives over recent cooking successes. I told him about my dosas and a particularly good peach slab pie, he told me about the ethereal cake doughnuts he'd recreated from an old family recipe. Then he told me about some slam-dunk chiles rellenos he made, and I started to get jealous. Or maybe just really hungry. I wanted those chiles rellenos, stat.

Stephen's version sounded pretty authentic. The chiles were deep-fried, and the sauce was a split-egg concoction that had to be timed perfectly. He nailed it and reaped the rewards. But I'm settling into a slightly lower-key mode of cooking, one that involves lots of casseroles and things I can make in advance. I also vaguely remembered an episode of a bobby flay show from back before I swore off the terrible food network, where a California restaurant called La Casita Mexicana made its famous chile relleno in the oven, instead of in the fryer. Between my faint memory and my very not faint appetite, I figured something could be done.

Chiles rellenos casserole recipes abound, but they're almost all egg-based - like a massive frittata enveloping stuffed chiles. I wanted the chiles to stand out more, and  - shocker - I wanted the casserole to be saucy. So I riffed on the method for manicotti, basically swapping peppers in for noodles and Mexican stuff for all that ricotta.

Here's where the road forks. I loved this dish. Next time, I'd make two pans full and freeze one unbaked - it's the perfect thing to have tucked away in the depths of the freezer for a lazy dinner at home. But D found the whole thing way too spicy, and she ended up taking out the leftover corn filling and making it into a quesadilla. Winners, losers. I think she just got a particularly hot pepper - mine was pretty mild. See below for some thoughts on avoiding the last-minute scramble and/or sad face due to heat.

Notes on the fuss: Even though this is a casserole, it isn't the "dump everything in a pan and bake" kind of casserole. It's a bit on the fussy side. If you're feeling hesitant about the fuss, you can skip the tomatillos+tomatoes step and just use a large jar of whatever salsa you like. You can also probably skip blending the beans, and just toss them in with the corn; the result will be different, but no less tasty. Lastly, if you do bother to make the recipe, you might make a double batch. This is the sort of thing that freezes beautifully, and that way, it's twice the food for the effort.

Notes on the heat: One last note: poblanos are notoriously inconsistent in spice level. Some are as mild as bell peppers, and others are really quite hot. If you're nervous about the casserole being too spicy, you might consider substituting Anaheim chiles or even banana or bell peppers. Another nice option, though not widely available, are Jimmy Nardellos, which are shaped long and lean, but are not at all spicy.

Can I make this vegan? Definitely. Skip the cheese (or replace with soy cheese) and you're good to go.

Chile Relleno Casserole Serves 4 with leftovers

7 or 8 poblano chiles
3 tomatillos, husked and rinsed
12 oz. canned crushed tomatoes
1 canned chipotle in adobo (you may not need all of it)
1 can kidney beans
1 teaspoon epazote or dried oregano, divided
1 tablespoon olive oil or butter
kernels from 2 ears corn (about 2 cups)
2 scallions, sliced
salt
1/2 cup grated cotija cheese
1 cup grated cheddar or pepper jack cheese, or a mixture

Roast the peppers: Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. Set the poblanos and tomatillos on a baking sheet lined with foil, and roast until blistered and soft all over, about 30 minutes total, turning peppers once halfway through roasting. Transfer peppers to a heatsafe bowl, cover with a piece of plastic wrap, and let the peppers steam while you prepare the sauce. Lower the oven to 350 degrees.

Prepare the sauce: Transfer tomatillos in the jar of a blender or a food processor (I like a miniprep). Add the tomatoes and half the chipotle, and blend until smooth. Taste, and add any salt and, if desired, more chipotle, as needed. Transfer to a bowl and set aside.

Prepare the fillings: Drain the beans, and add to the same blender or food processor container along with half the epazote or oregano. Blend until mostly smooth, adding water by the tablespoon if the beans won't blend. When beans are mostly smooth, set aside.

Heat the olive oil or butter in a saute pan over medium heat. When hot, add scallions, corn, and remaining epazote or oregano. Cook 5-7 minutes, until some of the corn has turned golden. Transfer to a bowl, add cotija cheese, and stir to combine.

Assemble and bake casserole: By now, the peppers should have steamed enough that their skins slip right off. It's okay if little bits of skin remain, but try to remove as much as possible. Slit each pepper lengthwise down one side of the pepper, and scoop out the core and seeds from the pepper. Lay the slit pepper on a cutting board or work surface. Repeat with remaining peppers.

Pour 1/2 cup of the sauce into a 9x13" baking pan. Smear a large spoonful of the bean puree onto the inside of each pepper. Top with a couple spoonfuls of the corn-cotija mixture. Wrap the clean side of the pepper over the filled side, and transfer the filled pepper into the baking pan. Repeat with remaining peppers, laying peppers in the pan in alternating directions. You probably will have some leftover corn mixture; reserve it for stuffing quesadillas, or just eat it as is.

Spoon the remaining sauce over the peppers, and top with the grated cheddar or pepper jack cheese. At this point, the casserole can be frozen (preferably without the cheese), to be baked at a later date. Alternatively, transfer to the oven and bake for 25 minutes, until cheese is bubbly and melted. Let cool for 5 minutes before serving.

Fuchsia Dunlop's Pantry Noodles

There are days - you know the ones - when you must make a meal out of nothing. In winter, my go-to is Jen's Linguine with Sardines, Fennel, and Tomato (often with onion instead of fennel, since that's always around). In summer, it's slices of sourdough and perfect tomatoes and some sort of cheese. When it's not that, it's migas or chilaquiles. I really like tomatoes.

But still, it's nice to have other options. And last night, while planning Friday night dinner, I came across a Guardian article about making dinner from the pantry. Bookmarked, saved.

I had been gushing over yet another round of videos about Turkish cooking, trying to back my way into a decent recipe for Kanafe. Not so simple. Turned out it was much easier to figure out a dinner plan for the evening. I revisited that Guardian piece, saw Fuchsia Dunlop's recipe for spicy sesame noodles, and called it a day.

Good Chinese food is all about balancing the hot, sour, salty, and sweet. So why do sesame noodles always get a pass? We load them up with peanut butter until they're gluey and cloying. If we're being honest, here, I find it sort of gross. But thanks to Fuchsia, there is a better way. I'll never make sesame noodles the same again.

1-DSC_0963

Dunlop's sauce is a pantry sauce. It's based on peanut butter. But smartly, she has you add a bit of water to the mixture, giving an otherwise clumpy sauce the texture of light cream. The noodles get slicked and flavored, but never clump.

Also likely in your pantry: soy sauce, vinegar. Maybe some sesame oil. A cucumber, a scallion. Maybe some sesame seeds. That's it. If you don't have any of the above, don't sweat it. You need something acidic. Chianking vinegar is best, but red wine vinegar and lime juice both work. I bet lemon juice would work, too. As for the vegetables, Dunlop calls only for scallion, but adding a cucumber makes the experience feel less "crap, instant ramen" and more "wow, I'm a genius." If you have some kale or bok choy or cabbage or carrots red pepper or whatever else, feel free to throw that in, too. And remember, this is pantry dinner: don't worry so much about quantities.

We've got four pints of sungold cherry tomatoes on the counter, and I've been munching on them almost maniacally, waiting for regular tomatoes to get good and seconds to hit the markets. August is canning season around here, and while I already pressure-canned 6 pints of salsa (!), the fun is just beginning. Happy end of July, folks. See you in the dog days.

Fuchsia Dunlop's Pantry NoodlesAdapted from Fuchsia Dunlop, via this article in the Guardian Serves 4

This is a pantry dinner, but still - Fuchsia Dunlop's pantry might look a bit different than yours. I've listed her recommended ingredients first, followed by one or more totally acceptable substitutes. Remember, don't sweat it.

For the noodles:
4 tablespoons creamy peanut butter
2 tablespoons light soy sauce or scant 2 tablespoons regular soy sauce
1.5 teaspoons dark soy sauce or 1 teaspoon honey
1 tablespoon Chianking vinegar or scant 1 tablespoon of red wine vinegar or lime juice
3 teaspoons chili oil (to taste - Dunlop says 2-6), or use whatever chili paste/sauce you have (sriracha, sambal oelek, etc), adding to taste
2 teaspoons sesame oil
2-3 cloves garlic, minced
500 grams dried udon noodles or any other noodle you like

To finish:
2 teaspoons sesame seeds
2 scallions, sliced thinly
2 Persian cucumbers, quartered lengthwise and sliced
Any other vegetables you have lying around (red pepper, carrot, cabbage, bok choy, kale, whatever), chopped into bite-sized pieces

Toast the sesame seeds in a small dry pan over medium heat until golden. Set aside.

In a mixing bowl, use a fork to mash the peanut butter with the soy sauces (or soy sauce and honey) and vinegar until completely smooth. Stir in the chili and sesame oils and the garlic, and add enough water to make the mixture the consistency of whipping cream.

Cook the noodles according to the instructions on the package. If you're serving these noodles cold, as I did, set up an ice bath and use it to shock the noodles as soon as they finish cooking. Drain the noodles.

Separate the noodles into 4 bowls. Divide any vegetables you're using among the bowls, and ladle a spoonful of the sauce over each bowl. Top with scallions and sesame seeds. Tell your guests to mix everything well before eating.

Eggplant Pea Curry

Last week at work, I spent at least half of a 30-minute meeting peppering an Indian colleague about why my curries don't taste "authentic." I told her I was starting to think that my chosen guides to Indian cooking, Julie Sahni and Madhur Jaffrey, were just like the Jewish grandmothers of my youth, who mysteriously "forgot" one or two ingredients when sharing a family recipe. I wondered, were they adding an extra half-cup of ghee or cream to every recipe? Was there yet another important Indian spice -- not hing or kala namak, because I have both of those -- that they were quietly adding to every dish? Lately, it's started to seem that authentic Indian food, the stuff of Langley Park and Fairfax and my friends' mothers' kitchens, requires a secret handshake, a lifetime of understanding, or something else that I just don't have. My curries taste good, but sometimes they recall hippie sustenance more than Saravana Palace.

1-DSC_0312

1-DSC_0315

But, until some merciful expert comes to my rescue, I'm going to keep chipping away. The good news is that, with a few dozen experiments under my belt, I'm starting to get the rhythm of curry: making the tarka, or spiced ghee; sautéing the aromatics and adding the tomatoes to build a gravy; cooking the legumes just right; adjusting the heat; and so on.

I wouldn't say I'm ready to take on curry without a recipe, but I'm definitely at the point where I can look at a few templates and find my way. This eggplant-pea curry came out of such an experiment. I love baingan bartha, but coaxing all that smoke out of the eggplant takes more time than I had. I also love a good aloo muttar (peas and potatoes), but I had a couple eggplants that needed immediate attention. That's how I settled on a curry of eggplants and peas, cooked in a style that melded baingan bartha and aloo muttar. I broiled the eggplant, which softens it quickly and infuses it with mild smoke; I used frozen peas, and I'd use them even at the height of spring (which is coming!!) because guys? Frozen peas are always better. Let the farmers come after me.

1-DSC_0320

1-DSC_0326

The rest is pretty straightforward, and I'm really, really happy with how this one turned out. I'd say it's almost as easy as my very weeknight-friendly mushroom-pea curry from back when, and I'll admit that I like this one even more. Sorry, belatedly, if you're not a fan of Indian food. I'm clearly on a kick. For the rest of you? You're welcome. Let's have curry night together sometime.

1-DSC_0330

1-DSC_0341

Eggplant Pea Curry Serves 4 as a component of a meal

1 large globe eggplant 2 tablespoons ghee or oil (preferably with a high smoke-point, like safflower or sunflower) 1 teaspoon cumin seeds 1 medium red onion, diced 2 cloves garlic, minced 2 serrano or red asian chiles, seeded and chopped 1-inch knob ginger, minced 1 teaspoon garam masala 1-1.5 cups diced or crushed tomatoes (either works) 2/3 cup water 1 teaspoon salt, to taste (less if tomatoes are salted) 8 oz. frozen peas 1/4 cup chopped cilantro, for garnish

Cook the eggplant: Preheat the broiler, or turn your oven to its hottest setting. If using a broiler, place a rack in the highest position in your oven.

Pierce the eggplant all over its surface with a fork, place on an ungreased baking sheet. Broil or roast for 25-30 minutes, rotating every 5-7 minutes, until eggplant is blackened in spots and very soft. (Eggplant likely won't blacken if not using the broiler, but no matter.)

Remove the eggplant from the oven and immediately transfer to a heatsafe bowl. Cover in plastic wrap, and set aside to steam while it cools, at least 15 minutes.

Prepare the curry: Heat the ghee or oil over medium-high heat in a deep sauté pan and add add cumin seeds. They will sizzle. When seeds smell fragrant, add the onion, garlic, chilies, and ginger. Stir a few times, then cook about 8 minutes, until very fragrant and starting to soften. Add garam masala, tomatoes, water, and some salt to taste. Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook 10 minutes, until gravy has come together and reduced slightly.

While the gravy cooks, remove plastic wrap from eggplant, slit the skin with a knife, and scrape the flesh out of the eggplant shell using a fork. You want to break it up a bit, but no need for it to be perfectly pureed. Some chunks are nice.

Uncover gravy and add eggplant. Stir carefully to incorporate, and cook 5 minutes more. Then add peas, stir to incorporate, and cook 2 minutes, just until warmed through. Taste and adjust salt content.

Serve over rice, with cilantro, yogurt or raita, and chutney if desired.