Yellow Lentils with Tamarind (Khatti Dal)

Long overdue, this is the latest in my Indian for Dinner series, where I attempt to spend less money on takeout from Masala Art.

I think I speak for all of us when I say that this weather tries all patients. Some days taunt with 70 degrees and sun, but looking outside, it seems to be snowing, yet again, and here we are, facing another day of lost productivity and frigid air.

The silver lining is that this unpredictable and frequently unpleasant weather has given me loads of time to work on my dal-making skills. I love lentils in all forms, but dal reins supreme.

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"Dal" is just the Indian term for legumes. The category of dishes called dal includes crunchy snacks, soupy stews, smooth purees, and mixtures with rice not unlike Mujaddara. My favorite is dal makhani, the smoky, tomatoey preparation of dark lentils. But a couple of recent articles about dal have convinced me to expand my horizons beyond the familiar. That's how I came upon Khatti Dal, a chunky stew of yellow lentils with heaps of curry leaves and plenty of tart tamarind. I've been eating it on and off for the past week, retroactively missing it on behalf of all those times I could have made it but didn't know to.

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The key to flavor in this and many other Indian dals is a tarka (or tadka), which is basically a spiced butter. To make the tarka, you heat ghee (or a combination of oil and butter), and add mustard seeds, curry leaves, and garlic. You let everything get super hot and fragrant. When the mustard seeds stop popping and the butter smells like something you need to eat immediately, you pour the whole mess into the pot of cooked, mushed lentils. Then, because reasonably speaking you can't wait any longer, you ladle a big bowl of the dal into a bowl that fits well in your hands. You wrap yourself in your coziest blanket. And then, you eat up.

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And when you're nice and full and warm, maybe you'll put in a tiny request with the weatherman to just call it quits on the snow already. What do you think?

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More Indian for Dinner:

• Potato and Eggplant Curry
• Chana Dal with Golden Raisins, a real winner
• Mushroom Pea Curry, a weeknight staple around here
• If you feel like something lighter, Gujarati Mango Soup is great
• Finally, Masala Dosas, my crowning achievement

Yellow Lentils with Tamarind (Khatti Dal)Adapted from Mark Bittman and Julie Sahni, via the New York Times

This makes enough to feed about 4, but I'd say while you're at it, make a double batch. It keeps very well in the fridge, and unlike those stray pieces of Saturday's cake, it's the sort of thing you'll want to have lying around.

Also, I understand why Bittman makes the curry leaves optional. Where I live, they're only available in Indian grocery stores, and the dal will taste great without them. That said, if you have any inclination to schlep, I'd pick some up. They're part of what makes this dal taste Indian.

1 cup yellow lentils (toor dal) 1 1/2 teaspoons turmeric 1/2 a green (I like serrano) chili, seeded and minced 1 1/4 teaspoons salt 1/4 cup tamarind concentrate or 1 1/2 tablespoons fresh lime juice 2 tablespoons ghee, or neutral oil like safflower 1 teaspoon mustard seeds 1 teaspoon minced garlic 12 curry leaves (optional) 3 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro

Cook the dal: Put the dal, tumeric, chili, salt, and 4 cups of water into a pot. Cover and bring to a boil over high heat. When lentils come to a boil, uncover the pot, and cook at a rolling, bubbling boil for 25-35 minutes, until lentils are cooked through.

Add the tamarind concentrate and 1/2 cup additional water, and let bubble for another couple minutes. Turn off the heat. Then use a whisk to stir and break up the lentils; you're aiming for a smoothish puree that retains a bit of texture. Whisk and mash until the lentils achieve a consistency that you'll enjoy.

Make the tarka: Heat the ghee or oil in a small saucepan over high heat. When the ghee/oil is hot, add the mustard seeds and cover the pan; let the seeds pop and sizzle. When the popping begins to subside, add the garlic and cook until lightly browned, about 15 seconds. Add the curry leaves, if you’re using them. Cover the pan (to prevent spattering) and cook for about 10 seconds, allowing flavors to meld.

Pour the tarka into the dal, and swirl around to just barely incorporate. Taste, and add more salt if needed. Serve immediately with chopped cilantro.

Dal keeps in the fridge for at least a week. It will thicken when chilled, so reheat with a bit of water to loosen it up.

Yotam Ottolenghi's Watercress Soup

Sometime last year, D and I were invited to take part in a fun tradition that friends of ours had started, wherein they host dinner parties composed entirely of dishes from Yotam Ottolenghi, he of Plenty and Jerusalem and an earlier eponymous book that gets much less attention. (Also of a fantastic column in The Guardian, where this soup originally appeared.)

At the first of these dinners we attended, the table was full of exotic dishes: fava bean kuku loaded with barberries, grape leaf and yogurt pie, and mutabbaq. Everything went together, because everything came from the same brilliant mind. We left stuffed.

For the second dinner, we all went back to the well, digging for recipes that had languished on our to-do lists for too long. Josh made a saffron ravioli served with pink peppercorns. Bryce made the spinach-feta fritters that were a total pain but really delicious. And I finally flipped back to the page of Jerusalem with three soups on it, two of which I'd already made. This time, I made the third: a very green soup made of watercress.

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What do you make of watercress soup? It sounded like a thin, brothy bowl, and I was worried that without a poultry broth, it would come out sort of bland.

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Fortunately, I was wrong. Watercress is so flavorful! To think I've been missing out on its spicy freshness all this time. The sweet spinach provides a nice counterbalance, but what really makes the soup is its garnish -- if you can call it that: a big pile of carrots and celery, roasted in plenty of spices until crispy and fragrant. Plus Greek yogurt, of course. 

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Let's get the special-ingredient pep-talk out of the way. You need some ras el hanout, a Moroccan spice blend with as many varieties as people in Morocco. That said, I've seen jarred versions at two area grocery stores, so hopefully you're in luck. The other thing you need is rose water. On one hand, it's crazy to buy a bottle of rose water when you only need a tablespoon. On the other hand, my bottle cost like $5, I've had it for years, and it never seems to go bad. So there you go. If you don't want to buy rose water, you can still make the  soup. But the rose water does lend fragrance and overall intrigue, so if you're even considering getting it, go for it.

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As good as this soup is the day it's made, it improves with time, as the flavors come together and smooth out a bit. There's no problem making the garnish in advance, either. Just give them a quick reheat in a 350-degree oven (10 minutes?) before serving and you'll be all set.

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Watercress Soup with Chickpeas and Ras El HanoutAdapted from Yotam Ottolenghi Serves 4

1 large carrot, peeled and cut into 3/4-inch dice 3 tablespoons olive oil 3 teaspoons ras el hanout 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon kosher salt 1 8-oz. can chickpeas 1 medium onion, thinly sliced 2-inch knob fresh ginger, peeled (use the tip of a spoon!) and grated or finely chopped 2 1/2 cups vegetable stock (or sub water) 8 oz. fresh watercress 4 oz. spinach leaves, washed 2 teaspoons caster sugar 1 teaspoon rose water 1 cup Greek yogurt, to serve

Heat the oven to 400°. Mix the carrot with a tablespoon of the oil, the ras el hanout, cinnamon and some salt, and spread flat in a roasting tin lined with baking parchment. Place in the oven, roast for 15 minutes, then add half the chickpeas, stir well and and cook for another 10 minutes, until the carrot is soft but still has some bite.

Meanwhile, in a large saucepan over medium heat, sauté the onion and ginger in the remaining oil for about 10 minutes, until soft and golden. Add the remaining chickpeas, stock, watercress, spinach, sugar and some salt, stir and bring to a boil. Cook for a minute or two, until the leaves wilt, then blitz in a food processor until smooth. Stir in the rose water, taste and add salt or more rose water as required.

To serve, divide the soup into four bowls and top with the hot carrot and chickpea mix, and about two teaspoons of yoghurt per portion.

Yotam Ottolenghi is chef/patron of Ottolenghi in London.

Whole Roasted Cauliflower with Whipped Feta and Savory Fig Compote

The trendsetters over at Food52 recently told me that I could unabashedly pluRonk a whole cauliflower onto my table and call it dinner. Not just any cauliflower, though: it was this one, simmered in a rich, flavorful broth, then roasted on high high heat until the edges were singed, the whole orb a glistening golden. Then I could plunk it on my table and call it dinner. I needed zero convincing to try this one.

I will confess, though, that I only had one cauliflower in the fridge, and I was nervous that it wouldn't be enough to feed four of us. Since I'd bought a beautiful fillet of shad the previous day, I decided to roast that alongside the cauliflower. This meant that the cauliflower wasn't our only main dish, but no matter: it was a pièce de résistance all the same. The inner flesh was soft and flavorful from the broth, and those outer bits, well - I could eat them all day long.

The sauces didn't hurt, either: one was a whipped feta, made with a bit of yogurt and some softly whipped cream. The other was a savory fig compote, made by heating and steeping dried figs with capers until everything was soft, then blending the mixture until it was smooth. Sweet and briny, it was the perfect compliment to the silky cauliflower.

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The Menu: As promised, here's what we served for dinner that night:

• Leek Apple Walnut Soup (totally vegan, really delicious)
• Cauliflower with whipped feta and savory fig spread on the side
• Simply roasted shad (smeared with a bit of the fig jam; roasted with a few segments of lemon, flaky salt, and a drizzle of olive oil)
• Platter of leeks, turnips, and carrots roasted in equal parts miso and olive oil for about 45 minutes, until soft and browned
• Bulgur salad with eggplant and tahini dressing (from our friend Jana; super tasty)
• This orange marmalade cake, served  with whipped cream fortified with a bit of sour cream. Great combination

Dinner was simple, but we really enjoyed it.  And had we skipped the shad, we wouldn't have missed it.

Whole Roasted Cauliflower with Whipped Feta and Savory Fig SpreadAdapted from Alon Shaya, via Food 52Serves 2 as a main course with leftovers, 4 as a side

For the cauliflower: 1 whole cauliflower, leaves removed, stem trimmed 2 1/2 cups dry white wine 1/3 cup olive oil 1/4 cup salt (don't worry - it doesn't make the cauliflower too salty. Remember, you're seasoning 10 cups of liquid.) 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 tablespoon crushed red pepper 1 tablespoon sugar 1 bay leaf

Heat oven to 475° F. Bring wine, oil, salt, lemon juice, red pepper flakes, sugar, bay leaf, and 8 cups water to a boil in a large pot.

When broth is boiling, carefully lower in cauliflower, reduce heat, and simmer 15-20 minutes, turning once at the 10-minute mark, until a knife easily inserts into center. Using 2 slotted spoons or a mesh strainer or spider, transfer cauliflower to a rimmed baking sheet or roasting pan, draining well. Roast, rotating pan halfway through, until brown all over, 30 to 40 minutes. Transfer cauliflower to a plate. Drizzle with a bit more olive oil; sprinkle with sea salt. Serve with whipped feta cheese and/or savory fig compote. (recipes below)

That broth, by the way? Do not throw it away. It makes a fantastic base for soup and stew, and works like a charm as the cooking liquid for grains. I made some killer wheatberries in it right after removing the cauliflower.

For the whipped feta: 4 oz. feta cheese 1/2 cup whipping cream 3 oz. yogurt or sour cream

Put feta in a medium mixing bowl. Use a fork to mash the feta until mostly smooth (some chunks are okay). In a separate bowl, whip cream until it just barely holds soft peaks. Fold whipped cream and yogurt/sour cream into feta until combined.

For the fig compote: 1 cup dried figs, stems removed, halved 2 tablespoons capers plus 1 tablespoon caper brine (okay to skip if using salt-cured capers) 1/2 cup brewed chai tea

Bring chai tea and 1/2 cup water to a simmer in a small saucepan. Add figs and capers; simmer 5 minutes. Then remove from heat and let steep 1 hour. Blend cooled mixture using immersion or regular blender until smooth.

Barley Salad with Green Olives, Walnuts, and Raisins

The latest installment of my Weekday Lunch series, making midday meals the best part of your work week.

This time of year, our house is mostly a calm shade of grey. The scarce daylight hours feel like borrowed time, where after lazing around for a few two many minutes, I suddenly freak out that the sun is half gone, and drag my sluggish, slippered feet into the kitchen to bask in what little brightness is left before dusk. Hey there, January. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

As winter has tightened its hold, I've taken comfort in the various components of meals I've stowed away in our freezer. There are bags of cooked barley and brown rice, blanched green beans, and even kabocha squash braised in coconut milk. There is plenty of stock -- some poultry, leftover from Thanksgiving, and some vegetable, made from my carrot peelings and celery and leek scraps. These bits find their way into dinners and lunches: the stock becomes soup, the rice gets tucked under my new favorite aloo muttar (recipe soon!), and that kabocha -- I ate it alone, because it was perfect.

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Just before we left for Berlin, I took half a bag of the frozen barley and made this lovely salad that Heidi shared in the December issue of Food and Wine. Yes, I'm talking about salad. In January. Pick that jaw up off the floor.

Barley salad mise

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In my neck of the woods, non-kale greens are many months away. If a girl is gonna eat salad in January, she needs some variety. That's why I took a page from Heidi's playbook: Heidi is the queen of "grain bowl"-type dishes that combine all sorts of grains with whatever vegetables, nuts, seeds, and fruit are in season. I've been inspired by many of her concoctions, and this one is no exception. It's the sort of salad that flexes to meet the needs of your pantry and the occasion. You could double the barley and have a nicely-flavored grain side dish, or increase the amounts of the other ingredients to make it heavier on the fresh stuff. If I were doing that, I might add some diced celery, which would fit right in.

On substitutions: Heidi calls for farro, which I love, but man, is it expensive. I use it from time to time, but barley is a more economical choice. She also calls for Pecorino cheese. I rarely have it in the house, but I always, always have Parmesan. As tempted as I was to swap, I didn't, and I'd recommend you don't either. The Pecorino brings a clean, bright saltiness to this salad - one that doesn't overpower the olives and goes so well with the walnuts. Stick to Heidi's guidance on that one; she won't steer you wrong. Ditto on the Castelvetrano olives. Castelvetranos are juicier and fruitier than other olives, and much less salty and briny than the ones with pimento tucked inside, for example. They sound exotic, but they're actually quite easy to find: they're the big forest-green ones with taut skin. You can find them (pitted and ready to go!) at the Whole Foods olive bar, and TJ's also carries jars of them on occasion. Go forth.

Make it vegan: This salad becomes vegan in a snap. Skip the pecorino, add an extra quarter-cup or so of olives, boom.

it's a beaut

Barley Salad with Green Olives, Walnuts, and RaisinsAdapted from Heidi Swanson's recipe in Food and Wine

1 1/4 cups farro or barley (1/2 pound) Fine sea salt 1 cup walnuts (3 1/2 ounces) 2 1/2 cups pitted Castelvetrano or other green olives, chopped (11 ounces) 4 scallions, white and light green parts only, finely chopped 1/3 cup minced chives 2 tablespoons golden raisins 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice 1 tablespoon honey Shaved Pecorino cheese, for serving

Combine the farro or barley with 4 cups of water and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Bring to a boil and simmer, partially covered, until the grain is tender, about 20 minutes for farro and 45 minutes for barley. Drain, and spread it on a baking sheet to cool.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Spread the walnuts on an unlined rimmed baking sheet, and toast for 7-9 minutes, until very fragrant. Let cool, then chop coarsely.

In a large bowl, combine the farro, walnuts, olives, scallions, chives, raisins, crushed red pepper, olive oil, lemon juice and honey and season with salt. Toss well. Transfer the salad to a platter or serving bowl, garnish with the cheese, and serve.

Heidi says the salad can be refrigerated overnight - just bring it back to room temperature, and add the cheese just before serving.