Perfect Chana Dal with Golden Raisins

Introducing a new occasional column, Indian Feast, where I'll slowly tackle staples of Indian cooking right here in my kitchen.

I recently received an email from a reader (hi, Deborah!) about curry. She said she'd been on a kick lately, and wanted to know if I had any recipes to share.

It's strange and wonderful when I get emails from you and realize we are on precisely the same page.  Over my years of cooking, I've managed to make Vietnamese pho, real phat Thai, 30-ingredient mole negro, and more. But Indian food -- the kind you eat in restaurants: silky, smooth, and generously spicy -- continues to elude me. But now, after a few fits and starts, I've been tearing through lentils and rice like no one's business, trying to finally find recipes and formulas that will bring my favorite Indian staples within reach at home. The more successful I am, the more recipes I'll be sharing. Wish me luck. Shall we begin?

We start with dal, because it's dal. It is the staple of Indian meals, and if I can't make that, well, I might as well just quit right now. But I can! I can. In the past couple of months, I've made two dal recipes that blow the rest out of the water. One is for a straight-up traditional dal makhani, still one of my favorite things to order at Indian restaurants. But the one I'm sharing today is made with chana dal, yellow split peas - and for those concerned with authenticity, avert your eyes: we're going modern.

chana dal

The recipe comes by way of Nicholas Day, who writes a wonderful column on Food52 called Dinner vs. Child. I don't have any kids, but I feel that I, ahem, share parents' struggle to get their kids to eat healthy food. I've been tuning into Nicholas' column, and this recipe has been in the regular rotation ever since he posted it. It's adapted from 660 curries, a book I don't know but think I might need. This curry is delightful. It is spicy (if you want it to be), sweet, smooth and creamy. Unlike so many dal dishes I've had, where all the flavors are muddled into a big slop, this one is clean and rich and fragrant, and every bite tastes slightly different. It's really, really good.

Incidentally, even D didn't hate it. I told you this recipe's a keeper.

As if you need one more excuse to make this, I didn't even tell you the best part, which is that this dal sort of comes with its own chutney. That's because of the prep method: dal cooked separately; tomatoes and cumin sauced into deliciousness; onions, raisins, and more, cooked and reduced into an ultra-flavorful sauce; sauce folded into dal before serving. Bottom line? All you need to enjoy this dish is a bowl and a spoon. Rice and raita or even plain yogurt are good additions, but they aren't essential.

chana dal 3

Yes, you can read this now and have homemade Indian food for dinner tonight.

And just to make sure you come back for chapter 2, I'll say it right now: I'm teaching you how to make really, really good dosa at home. Stay tuned.

Perfect Chana Dal with Golden RaisinsAdapted from Nicholas Day on Food52, who adapted it from 660 Curries

1 cup chana dal (yellow split peas) 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric 3 tablespoons ghee or olive oil 2 medium-large red onions, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced 1/2 cup golden raisins (can substitute currants) 3 bay leaves 2 teaspoons cumin seeds 2-inch nub of ginger, minced or grated 2 large or 3 medium cloves garlic, minced 1 1/2 cups chopped tomato (can be canned) 3 serrano chiles, seeds and membrane removed, minced 1 1/2 teaspoons salt (unless using salted canned tomatoes, in which case use only 1 teaspoon and taste before adding it all) 1 teaspoon garam masala

Put split peas in a medium-large pot, and rinse in several changes of water until the water runs clear. Drain. Add three cups of water and turmeric, and bring to a boil. Skim foam, reduce the heat, and simmer the peas uncovered until cooked but still firm, about 25 minutes (longer if peas are old).

Add two cups water and simmer until tender, approximately 15 more minutes.

In the meantime, heat 2 tablespoons ghee or olive oil in a large pan set over high heat. Add onion, raisins, and bay leaves, and cook for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the onions look almost fried. Transfer to a bowl.

Heat 1 tablespoon ghee or olive oil in the same pan and turn heat to medium. Add cumin seeds and cook just until they sizzle, which will be almost immediately. Add ginger and garlic and cook for a minute, stirring.

Add tomato, chiles, salt, garam masala, and 1 cup water. Scrape all the good bits off the bottom of the pan.

When the peas are tender, add most of the tomato mixture to the peas and simmer, uncovered, for another 15 minutes or so, until the tastes meld. I like to reserve a good 1/4 cup of the tomato mixture to serve over the finished dish.

To serve, spoon dal into bowls and top with a bit of the tomato mixture and a spoonful of the onion-raisin mixture. Eat immediately.

Fresh Salmon Cakes with Ginger and Lime

We've been having some of the most beautiful days in DC these past couple of weeks. The air is crisp but not yet cool, and the sun seems happy to shine all day long. It looks like summer from my office window, but it's starting to feel like fall.

The weather's confused my compass a bit in the kitchen. tomatoes and -- believe it or not -- peaches are still at the market for the taking, but apples cropped up early this year, and now they're everywhere. Most confusing of all, as I passed through the lower part of the Dupont market a few Sundays ago, I saw unlikeliest of early fall produce: fresh ginger.

Ginger typically doesn't come into season until mid-October, but there it was, at the end of September, and it was gorgeous. I'd used up my stash from last fall months ago and craved more ever since. Was I going to hold back? No, no I wasn't.

The first thing I do with market ginger is make ginger ice cream. It's been that way every year. Fortunately, I bought enough to have extra after the ice cream was frozen and tucked away. So I flipped to a recipe I'd tabbed back when I breezed my way through The New York Times Essential Cookbook, for fresh salmon and lime cakes.

Rid the image of canned salmon and/or disgusting amounts of mayonnaise from your mind. Shudder; sigh. These are no ordinary salmon cakes. They contain fresh, diced salmon; very little binder; and --surprise! -- wasabi, ginger, and kaffir lime leaves. Dipping sauce: lime juice, soy sauce, brown sugar. No mayo whatsoever.

salmon cakes 2

These aren't burgers; they're cakes. Don't sandwich them inside a bun (unless it's one of those Asian steamed buns, which actually might be great with a shmear of hoisin and sriracha...whoa, what an idea!) But really, these don't belong in a kaiser roll. They belong on a plate, with a fork and knife -- the way the French might eat burgers, come to think of it.

salmon cakes 4

salmon cakes 5

Dicing the salmon will be time-intensive. If you have a meat grinder, lucky you. If you're in a rush, you can cut the salmon into large pieces, put them into a food processor, and pulse a few times very quickly until salmon is coarsely chopped. After that, the work is minimal. You can have dinner on the table in 15 minutes flat. Now that fall's arrived -- with school underway, jobs busy as ever, and all of those fall Jewish holidays here -- there's not much else I can ask for.

salmon cakes 6

Fresh Salmon Cakes with Ginger and LimeFrom The New York Times Essential Cookbook Recipe says it serves 4-6, but I'd say it's more like 2-3; I doubled recipe and served 4 with not too many leftover

*Note: kaffir lime leaves aren't the easiest to find. If we're being honest, I had to try 3 stores before finally getting some. Your best bet is an Asian grocer. That said, you definitely can make these with lime zest. Fret not.

One 1-pound skinless salmon fillet 1 large egg white, lightly beaten 3 tablespoons rice flour 2 kaffir lime leaves, chopped, or zest of one lime 1 tablespoon minced or grated fresh ginger 1 teaspoon wasabi paste 3 tablespoons chopped chervil or flat-leaf parsley

1/4 cup fresh lime juice (from about 2 limes) 1/4 cup soy sauce 2 tablespoons brown sugar

Oil for frying (something neutral, like corn, canola, or vegetable)

Run two fingers along the top of the salmon to check for any pin bones. They run the length of the flesh, right along the middle. To pull them out, either use tweezers or a small piece of paper towel between your fingers (which mitigates the slipperiness of the fish). Pull in the direcfaces of the bone; they should slide out.

Dice the salmon into 1/4-inch dice. In a medium bowl, combine salmon, egg white, rice flour, lime leaves, ginger, wasabi paste, and chervil or parsley. Stir until everything is evenly mixed.

In a small bowl, combine lime juice, soy sauce, and brown sugar. Set aside.

Set a piece of plastic wrap or parchment paper on a baking sheet. Scoop 2-tablespoon portions of the salmon mixture into your palms, roll into a ball, flatten into a cake, and set on the baking sheet. Continue until all salmon has been used.

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees. Put a baking sheet into the oven.

Heat 1/2 an inch of oil in a nonstick or castiron pan. When oil shimmers, add cakes, leaving at least 1 inch between them. Cook cakes for about 45 seconds on each side; do not overcook. When cakes have finished cooking, transfer them to the oven to stay warm while you cook the rest of the cakes.

Serve immediately, with lime dipping sauce on the side.

(If you'd like to make these in advance, don't preheat the oven; just transfer the cooked cakes to a plate, refrigerate, and warm through in a 200-degree oven before serving.)

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

Over years of hosting friends for Saturday lunch, frittata has become a staple of my lunch table. It's easy to prepare; it makes use of whatever of-the-moment ingredients you have in the fridge or on the counter; best of all, if you're preparing it in the Italian style, it's served at room temperature.

Unlike Tortilla Española, which stacks up nice and high, thanks to a hefty load of sliced potatoes inside - frittata is supposed to be thin. I've made it with tomatoes and feta; with kale, spinach, or other greens; with squash blossoms and/or zucchini; or with whatever else I have on hand. We're talking eggs, seasoning, and vegetables. It's pretty hard to screw up.

But a few weeks back, my in-laws were in town, so I went in search of something to make the frittata extra special. That's when I stumbled (literally - I almost knocked the whole thing over while reaching absentmindedly for flour) across a bowl of caramelized garlic, syrupy and soft and deeply browned, which - of course, you already know this - were the perfect addition to my frittata.

Backing up: I'd caramelized garlic to make Yotam Ottolenghi's caramelized garlic quiche. (I'm sorry, I've been hitting you over the head with Ottolenghi recipes - are you sick of him yet? Are you sick of me obsessing about him yet? Don't be; buy his book and you'll see why I can't stop.) But then I got sidetracked with mini lentil galettes and beet salad with walnut sauce and a really good blueberry tart, and that garlic quiche? It never happened. Kismet, I tell you.

caramelized garlic

Can I just spend a couple minutes telling you about this garlic? Because it is amazing. It's the kind of thing you make and then want to use in everything, on everything. Shmeared into hot sourdough bread, tucked around a block of feta and baked until sizzling, or - yes - sneaked into your mouth by the spoonful as you pretend to use it for an actual dish. It's fragrant with thyme, sweet from the sugar and balsamic vinegar. And it's as tender as if it had been braised. On paper, it sounds like the kind of special ingredient that makes everything better. In reality, it does just that.

caramelized garlic frittata ingredients

To echo the garlic's sweetness and give the frittata texture, I added some fresh corn. And because I really can't help myself, I added a few generous spoonfuls of fresh chevre. I wanted to add garlic scapes, but I couldn't get any, so I added a scallion instead. I may have also stirred in some basil. In retrospect, none of this was necessary. Corn, goat cheese, and garlic are all this frittata needs. The simpler, the better.

This frittata will take us right from summer into fall. When corn is gone, I'll make it with mushrooms. Or maybe I'll really make like an Italian and stick to eggs and that perfect, sweet garlic. Sounds like simple perfection to me.

Caramelized Garlic Frittata

1 head of garlic, separated and peeled 1 tablespoon olive oil 2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar 3/4 tablespoons sugar 2 teaspoons chopped thyme

8 eggs salt and pepper 5 ounces soft, creamy goat cheese Corn from 2 ears, uncooked zest of one lemon 1 tablespoon butter 1 tablespoon olive oil

Put the garlic cloves in a small pan and cover with half a cup of water. Bring to a simmer and blanch the garlic for 3 minutes, then drain well and dry the pan.

Return garlic cloves to the pan and add the olive oil.

Fry the garlic on high heat for 2 minutes, shaking the pan to fry each side of the cloves.  Add the balsamic vinegar and 1 cup of water and bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Raise the heat to medium. Add the sugar, thyme, and a pinch of salt and continue simmering for 10 minutes, or until most of the liquid has evaporated and the garlic is covered in a dark caramel syrup. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the eggs with salt and pepper to taste until well combined. Fold in the lemon zest, corn, and bits of goat cheese.

Set a large saute pan over medium heat and add the butter and olive oil. When butter has fully melted, swirl the pan to coat the sides. Pour egg mixture into the pan, swirl to distribute evenly, and sprinkle the garlic cloves over the surface of the frittata. They should sink into the egg mixture almost immediately.

Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until frittata is set, about 8 minutes. Let cool for 10 minutes before trying to remove the frittata from the pan; the hotter it is, the more easily it sticks.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Roasted Eggplant with Yogurt and Pomegranate

I think you'll be happy to know that I've found a legitimately easy way to tame the most finicky of vegetables into submission. I'm talking about eggplant, of course. Eggplant is beautifully purple (or white with purple speckles!) until you cut into it, when it's suddenly grey-brown. It's thick and sturdy, until you start frying it, when it seems to soak up exactly as much oil as is in the pan, always with room for more. Then it suddenly turns to mush, and from there, there's no going back. Yeah, eggplant is finicky. I said it.

eggplant before roasting

I'm over here breaking a sweat about my 'plants, but Yotam Ottolenghi is unfazed. From the gorgeous eggplant gracing the cover of his second book, Plenty, you'd never know the vegetable was the cause of such stress. The globes are perfectly browned, drizzled with sauce, and dappled with red gems of pomegranate. They're practically begging you to stop whatever it is that you're doing (probably ruining eggplant), and make them. So I did, and I did.

Here's what I've learned. Unless you're slicing your eggplant thinly enough that a quick dip in oil will cook it right through, the trick is to soften it by either roasting, instead of running immediately for the fryer. This way, the eggplant softens without getting too greasy. You can always fry it at the end to get that extra crispness, but if you make prepare eggplant a la Plenty, I'm guessing you won't want to. Ottolenghi has you score the eggplant flesh crosswise before drizzling it with olive oil and broiling it, exposing more surface area. As the eggplant bakes, the scored flesh crisps up on all sides, adding textural contrast to the surface while staying soft within. The yogurt sauce is redolent of garlic; it's a perfect contrast to the juicy, tart pomegranate that finishes the dish.

creamed garlic

eggplant prep

Pomegranates aren't exactly in season right now, but I finished the eggplant with a drizzle of pomegranate syrup, which worked very well. If you have saba, you definitely could use it. It's sweeter than pomegranate syrup, but still plenty tart. I'm pretty sure Cathy tried this with saba and loved it.

I can see using this eggplant roasting technique for so many things. When I was in Mississippi for work earlier this week, I dug my way through a stack of eggplant parmesan that tasted more like breadcrumbs than eggplant. Can you imagine riffing on parm with this roasted eggplant half? It'd be amazing. I'd maybe tuck some pesto into the olive oil before drizzling it on for the roast, and when the eggplant comes out of the oven sizzling, I'd top it with hot tomato sauce, maybe even some fresh mozzarella cheese before popping it back under the broiler for a hot minute. Mouth=watering.

eggplant with pomegranate and yogurt 2

Roasted Eggplant with Yogurt and PomegranateAdapted from Plenty, by Yotam Ottolenghi

Ottolenghi recommends you cook these eggplants for 35-40 minutes, but mine needed more like 60-75 before they were truly tender. Check early, but be prepared for a longer cooking time.

For the eggplant:

2 large and long eggplants 1/3 cup olive oil 1 1/2 teaspoons fresh thyme or lemon thyme, plus a few whole sprigs to garnish Sea salt and black pepper Seeds of 1 pomegranate or 2 tablespoons pomegranate syrup 2 teaspoons za'atar

For the sauce:

1/4 cup buttermilk (or substitute regular milk with a squeeze of lemon) 1/2 cup Greek yogurt 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, plus a drizzle to finish 1 small garlic clove 1 pinch flaky salt

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Cut the eggplants in half lengthways, cutting straight through the stalk. Use a small sharp knife to score three or four parallel cuts into the eggplant flesh, without cutting through to the skin. Repeat at a 45-degree angle to get a diamond-shaped pattern.

Place the eggplant halves, cut-side up, on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Drizzle or brush them with olive oil, brushing until all of the oil has been absorbed. Sprinkle with the thyme and some salt and pepper. Roast for 60-75 minutes, at which point the flesh should be soft, flavorful, and nicely browned. Remove from the oven and let cool.

To make the sauce: mash the garlic and the pinch of salt on a cutting board with a chef's knife until garlic is completely smooth. (Alternatively, simply send the garlic through a press.) Then whisk together all of the ingredients, taste for seasoning, and store in the refrigerator until needed.

To serve, spoon plenty of buttermilk sauce over the eggplant halves without covering the stalks. Sprinkle za'atar and plenty of pomegranate seeds (or pomegranate syrup) on top and garnish with thyme. Finish with a drizzle of olive oil.