Aloo Mutter and the Six Million Dollar Man

The Six Million Dollar Man was a favorite television show when I was growing up. Colonel Steve Austin’s line after using brute strength to break free of chains was perhaps the best in all of 70’s television. An astonished onlooker asks how he managed to break chains without tools. His response? “Vitamins.” That got some mileage on the playgrounds of St. Peter Minnesota.

Not long ago, I found that I was gaining some weight, largely due to ingesting large quantities of Cheetos and nearly any other salty, fatty food that came within grabbing distance. I discovered my salt cravings were a common response to vitamin deficiency. I’ve been taking my vitamins lately, and the salt cravings have become less intense. Unfortunately, no bionic abilities have been forthcoming. And I still like Cheetos. And French Fries. And salty, greasy foods in general.

My appetites have recently made me a sort of widower. While I continue to live a food lifestyle that is vigorous and varied, albeit heavy on butter, salt and Cheetos, my wife has decided to lose some weight. She is a braver soul than I. This is death to a cook. Feast foods with more Weight Watcher’s points than an average NBA game are the norm in my cookbooks. Dieting cookbooks tend to be sad little productions of flavor-denuded skinless, boneless chicken, chicken, chicken with zucchini and cottage cheese doled out parsimoniously on the side. The texture of cottage cheese always kept me away.

In lieu of animal fat rich dishes, be they glorious new interpretations of pizzas heavily loaded with cheese, butter-laden sauces, and not-so-lean pork, I am trying to find my way back to a lesson I learned long ago about taste: If you can’t get it from the food itself (read: fat), reach for the spices.

Of my various cooking incarnations: Hungarian, Korean, East African, American Fry Cook; I have never reincarnated into an Indian/South Asian chef. Shedding the worn earthly clothes of the earlier me (for now) to reincarnate as a spicier, but leaner Indian-cooking me doesn’t sound too bad. I’ve worked on two dishes that I’ve greatly enjoyed when at the buffet lines of good Indian restaurants. The first, Palak Paneer, is a heavily spiced spinach and cheese dish. I have even experimented with making the rennet-free Paneer (cheese) of the Palak Paneer. The second, Aloo Mutter, is curried potatoes and peas. But it has infinite flexibility of vegetables and spices. Both of these are standard Indian Buffet items because they are simple, hold up well over time and are inexpensive. These recipes also have the advantage of not being too bad on calories.

When I first started cooking Indian food, I wound up with two types of recipes: those with five ingredients, and those with twenty. Those with twenty ingredients had twelve different spices. I would approach the end of the recipe and wonder when I was supposed to use my ancient tin of curry. I was making Curried Somethingoranother, where was the curry? Of course I had just made a curry, “curry” is not a spice itself despite that appearance in grocery stores or even on the menus of many restaurants. The recipes with five ingredients called for that ancient tin or a store bought paste. When I said earlier that these recipes were simple, there is a caveat. These curries can take a little time to assemble, but if you figure out that many go in together, you can prepare this step before you’re halfway through cooking, the potatoes are burning, and the kid has spilled milk on the counter.…

I will share my Aloo Mutter below. For the Weight Watcher’s crowd, this recipe does incorporate a small amount of fat, namely ghee – clarified butter, but a tablespoon divided by four servings shouldn't blow anyone’s plan. Enjoy, and take your vitamins!

Aloo Mutter (Curried Potatoes and Peas)

4 Medium Russet potatoes

2 Carrots, peeled and cut into 1/4” coins

1 Tablespoon Ghee or Canola oil

1 teaspoon Cumin seeds

1 teaspoon Mustard seeds

½ Chopped large Onion

1 teaspoon Salt

1 teaspoon Sugar

1 teaspoon Cayenne pepper

2 teaspoons Cumin powder

2 teaspoons Coriander powder

¼ teaspoon Garlic powder

¼ teaspoon Ginger powder

¼ teaspoon Turmeric

1 Tablespoon Lemon juice

Directions

1. Peel and cut the potatoes into ½ inch cubes, boil 10 – 15 minutes. They should be somewhat firm when you take them out. Drain and cool.
2. In a small bowl, prepare a mixture of the following ingredients: salt, sugar, cayenne pepper, cumin powder, coriander powder, garlic powder, ginger powder and turmeric. Set aside.
3. In a large frying pan, heat the ghee or canola oil. Add the mustard seeds and cumin seeds.
4. When the mustard and cumin seeds begin to pop, add the chopped onion. Sauté for 2 minutes.
5. Add the potatoes, carrots and spice mixture. Combine well.
6. Add the lemon juice just prior to serving.

Note on ingredients: You may consider a number of substitutions. Many recipes use waxy potatoes (red or Yukon Golds), my preference is for mealy potatoes that absorb the flavor of the spices better. Carrots are not traditional, but add a nice color and natural sweetness. Adding cauliflower is a common variant.

Food of the Day - Tamarind

Tamarind is new to me. Unknowingly, I had it many times in Thai and Indonesian food (and Bloody Mary's -- it's a component in Worcestershire sauce), but its role is subtle. What did it contribute? I decided to investigate. I bought raw tamarind pods in the produce section, a liquid tamarind syrup from the Caspian Market, and a seeded gummy block at the "world foods" section of Cub Foods. I am a kinesthetic learner, I must learn by doing. In this case, learn by cooking.

As part of my reckless-spending-on-things-I-can't-afford week, I purchased some used cookbooks recently: The Korean Kitchen, George Lang's Cuisine of Hungary, and The Around the World Cookbook. The Around the World Cookbook was the hardest sell. I don't like general, all-purpose cookbooks. I have lots of topical cookbooks and regional or national cookbooks, but a book on THE WHOLE WORLD'S CUISINE? I looked hard. I read specific recipes. I perused the index. A Thai recipe for pork satay caught my eye: peanuts (peanut butter), pork and tamarind. All ingredients I had at home. I spent the thirteen dollars for an opportunity to experiment with tamarind, and provide an excuse to add to my cookbook collection.

The amount of curry (2 tablespoons of powder and another of paste for 4 servings) was too much for the Mini Chef's seven year-old palate, so I cut it down to a third and boosted both the coconut milk and peanut butter. A lesson from cooking with peanut butter - don't overcook it. While marinating the meat, I prepared the coconut milk and peanut butter sauce. The sauce needlessly spent more than half an hour on the stove during which several tablespoons of oil from the peanut butter and coconut milk separated. Cook recipes two or three times to avoid these timing issues!

My adjustments to the curry worked well for the Mini Chef, but left me unsatisfied. She got a Thai kid's meal: chunks of peanut buttery pork on a stick with basmati rice for dinner. But I hadn't resolved my question -- what role does tamarind play in cooking? I bought a can of an uncarbonated tamarind drink just to get the unadulterated taste -- it's essentially tamarind iced tea. I can imagine how the savory, tanginess would appeal on a hot humid Thai day far more than a syrupy, fizzy Coke.

Tamarind is not a show-stopper ingredient. It adds depth of taste, but not a strong taste by itself. I adore figs. The tamarind juice and gummy blocks remind me of them. Initially, I thought satay had not been the ideal vehicle for exploring tamarind, but as a supporting actor, it have been as appropriate as any recipe.

Below is a Pork Satay recipe similar to the one in the world cuisine cookbook (without the small kid adjustments). The recipe has two components, the marinade and the dipping sauce.

Marinade
2 Tablespoons Curry powder
1 Teaspoon Turmeric
1 Tablespoon Brown sugar
1 Tablespoon Fish sauce (nam pla)
2 Tablespoons Lime juice
1 Tablespoon Vegetable oil
1/4 Cup Unsweetened coconut milk
1 Pound Boneless pork loin - cut into 3" long x 1" wide- 1/4-inch-thick strips

24 8-in bamboo skewers - soaked in water for 1 hour

Peanut Dipping Sauce
1 Tablespoon Tamarind*
1 Tablespoon Sugar
2-3 Tablespoons Peanut butter
3/4 Cup Unsweetened coconut milk
1 Tablespoon Red curry paste

*If you are using a gummy block of tamarind, cut off about a 3/4 " cube and soften/dissolve it in a few ounces of hot water before adding to the sauce.

1. In a medium sized bowl, mix the marinade ingredients.
2. Cut the pork into 1/4-inch thick, rectangular slices approximately 2-3" x 1"
3. Coat the pork with the marinade and set aside for at least 20 minutes.
4. In a small sauce pan (1 qt) add the red curry paste and slowly mix in the coconut milk.
5. Heat on medium low while incorporating the peanut butter, sugar and tamarind (see comment above about overcooking sauce).
6. Thread the marinated meat through the skewers. Roughly three chunks per skewer.
7. On a hot grill, or medium high corrugated pan cook the pork approximately two minutes per side.
8. Serve with basmati or jasmine rice and cucumber salad.

Insert Cheese Here

My father-in-law likes to joke that roast chicken uses the oldest recipe in the world: add meat, apply fire. Last week I stumbled upon a recipe for rotini and bleu cheese. By the time I started to put it together, I realized that this was a macaroni and cheese recipe -- substitute rotini for macaroni, bleu cheese for cheddar. Add cream (no butter). A few minutes later, I realized the same was true of a fettuccine alfredo recipe I make (instead use fettuccine, Parmesano Reggiano, and lots of butter). I have not seen bleu cheese in a macaroni & cheese recipe, though Mac & cheese has almost as many variations as there are recipes fitting my father-in-law's joke.

I decided to give it the Mini Chef challenge: She loves Mac & Cheese, but thinks bleu cheese is disgusting. The recipe I found gave a 3-1 proportion of cream to bleu cheese. I used a fairly strong bleu, Roth Kase -- and wound up using 4 or 5 - 1 cream to cheese ratio. In my two iterations, she went for it once, but rejected a second. Either she was on to me or I didn't disguise the offensive cheese with enough Parmesan in the rejected batch.

Perhaps this is only kid friendly to the French. I hated bleu cheese as a child, but it has grown on me over the years. The recipe is nearly as simple and quick as any box variety. By itself, this dish is big on flavor, but low on contrasts. I've added Parmesan and vegetables. I recommend peas, carrots, celery and green onions for texture and color. A dash of cayenne may cut the cloying creaminess.

The site I found this on was Frugal Cuisine. Frugal Cuisine looks like a good place to browse when payday is still a few days off . . .

Rotini & Bleu (4 servings with salad)

1 pound of Rotini
3/4 C of Heavy cream
2 Tbls of Bleu Cheese (adjust with strength of variety)
1 Tbls of grated parmesan
Salt to taste
Pepper to taste
Pinch of cayenne pepper (optional)
Diced vegetables of your choice

Directions:
1. Boil water with a lot of salt (I use a tablespoon per 2 quarts of water).
2. Cook rotini for about 7 minutes.
3. While rotini cooks, gently heat heavy cream and bleu cheese until well combined. You can do this on the stove or in the microwave.
4. Drain rotini, add cheese sauce, parmesan and vegetables.

Herbs & Spices are your Friends -- Paprika

My parents received a spice rack with about 20 jars of spices as a wedding present. More than 50 years later those same jars safeguard 50 year-old spices. I did not grow up with interesting food. Although Julia Child demonstrated French cooking to Americans during the 70's, Epicurians were viewed as self-indulgent. In college, my Adlerian desire to compensate grew. Immediate access to Ethiopian (Oromo) restaurants and hippie co-ops with mysterious produce fanned the flames.

My Kitchen philosophy is Adlerian -- compensation and overcompensation for all the dull food of my childhood. Alfred Adler was stuck on compensation for "feelings of inferiority." Inferior feelings, inferior food, not so far off.

Vienna (the city of Freud) is a city of Sussigkeiten, Sacher Torte and the like. I'm a salty guy. When I was a student there, I looked for a different kind of food, which I found nearby in Budapest: the culture of paprika. At the time, my interest was linguistic, but the food clinched the deal. I snuck off from my Austrian history classes to practice a Magyar nyelv and explore their ennivaló.

Hungarians astonished me. There seemed to be a bookstore on every corner in Budapest. Everything has been translated into Hungarian, and the bags of paprika were huge. Hungarians didn't buy paprika in little glass jars. It was sold in quarter or half kilo cloth sacks. The spilled fiery red powder covered shelves in food markets. My parents' wedding stock of paprika wouldn't last an ordinary Hungarian family a week.

About Paprika

Paprika is not per se a spice (ground seed or bark). Paprika is made from dried ground peppers (a fruit). Not surprisingly, Paprika can have a range of flavors and degrees of heat almost as wide as the fruit it is made from. The very hot, coarse pepper flakes found in some Asian groceries could be called paprika, but I've never seen it labeled as such. This variability can make paprika frustrating to shop for. Retailers sell sweet, hot and smoked paprikas, but its hard to know which you're getting -- neither the distinctive fire-engine red nor the country of origin are reliable guides. Hungarian paprika is almost always labeled sweet, whether or not its also piquant is seldom clear. Most of the large spice wholesalers (McCormick, Spice Islands, Penzey's, Spice House) will indicate whether or not it is smoked, and perhaps mention the country of origin (most likely Hungary or Spain, but possibly Turkey, USA or South America). Hungary alone claims to produce 40 different varieties of paprika. I've included some useful Hungarian descriptions of different types of paprika with their Hungarian names (courtesy of the Budapest Tourist Guide):

Special quality (Különleges) - this is the mildest of all paprikas and has the most vibrant red colour
Delicate (csípősmentes csemege)-mild paprika with rich flavour
Exquisite delicate (csemege paprika) –slightly more pungent than the Delicate
Pungent Exquisite delicate (csípős csemege), even more pungent
Noble sweet (édesnemes) – the most common type, slightly pungent with bright red colour
Half-sweet (félédes) – a medium-pungent paprika
Rose (rózsa) – light red colour, mildly pungent
Hot (erős) – the hottest of all paprikas, light brown-orange colour

For an encyclopedic look at paprika (and many, many more spices) with elaborate etymologies, biochemistry and history, I recommend Gernot Katzer's Spice pages. This guy's dedication to spices is amazing.

Cooking with Paprika

When cooking with paprika, three facts should be remembered:

1. It's vibrant color misleads cooks into thinking it is a potent flavoring. Paprika is a mild flavoring by weight. Hungarians don't buy it by the pound because they have a dull sense of taste, they use a lot so they can taste it. You may need two or three tablespoons (less for smoked paprika) to bring out a strong paprika flavor. This is an advantage when serving dull looking food if you don't want a strong paprika flavor: A sprinkle makes a colorful garnish.


2. Paprika releases it's flavor when heated. Adding it to a cold dish (e.g. potato salad) isn't an effective flavor booster.


3. Paprika turns bitter when burnt. Time the introduction of paprika so that it doesn't spend much time in hot oil or in direct contact with high heat.

No discussion of paprika would be complete without a goulash (gulyás) recipe. Traditionally, this stew was the staple of herdsman (gulyás means herdsman is Hungarian). It has become the best known and most widely consumed dish in Hungary. I had been making goulash for years, but the recipe we were taught in my class at Cooks of Crocus Hill was much better than mine, so I am using a slight variation on it. It is also close to recipes I've seen in the books peddled to tourists in Budapest, but more suitable to American ingredients.

Hungarian Gulyás

3 Tbs Bacon fat or pork belly fat
3 Large white onions, sliced
3 Lbs stew meat, or beef shoulder cut into 1 inch cubes
3 Tbs Paprika (preferably mild pungent)
1/2 Tbs Hot Paprika (if unavailable, use 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper)
1 Tbs Kosher salt
Pepper to taste
1 Cup tomato puree

Gremolada
Zest of one lemon
2 Cloves garlic
2 tsp Caraway seeds

Directions

1. Heat the pork fat (bacon fat or lard) until it begins to render. Add the sliced onions and cook until softened and transparent.
2. Season the beef with paprika, salt and pepper.
3. Add the seasoned meat and tomato puree to the onions.
4. Cook covered in a covered pot at 450 degrees for 1 1/2 hours. Remove and stir two or three times so that the meat is well coated.
5. While the meat is cooking, chop the lemon zest, garlic and caraway seeds very finely.
6. When the meat is tender remove from the oven, and mix in the gremolada.

Serve over csipetke (spaetzle) or other small noodle. This dish is frequently served with a dollop of sour cream.

Kickin' Back with Pickles, Sapporro, and Sumo

"There were these Moroccan guys who ran a 'hamburger stand' in Angers who made something just like this. They served it on a baguette."

"I used to get pickles just like these at the 7-Eleven in Sendai. Guys would eat these while drinking Sapporro and watching Sumo. I didn't watch Sumo, but I liked drinking Sapporro Black while eating pickles."

Twice last month E had "Deja Food" experiences with something I cooked. The funny thing is, both of these foods were completely new to me. The "Moroccan" guys' hamburger stand must have made something like Merguez sausage. Sichuan Pickles were the other. The summer may be over, but these are still a treat.

I've written elsewhere about the Merguez sausage. The Sichuan pickle recipe came from my recent favorite cookbook, Silk Road Cooking: A Vegetarian Journey. They're quick pickles (half an hour) so they are accessible to anyone -- not just those brave enough to take on canning.
I am including the recipe below.

Like most recipes in this cookbook, the balance of flavors is excellent. Sesame oil ads richness. Ginger keeps it "bright" and not cloying, and they're pickles: The vinegar provides acidity so bland cucumbers become delightfully tart.

Sichuan Cucumber Pickles

2 Large American Pickles, approximately 1 pound each (longer works better than wider)
1 1/2 tablespoons salt

Dressing
2 Cloves garlic crushed and peeled
1-inch Ginger root, peeled and grated
3 tablespoons rice vinegar
2 Hot red peppers, seeded and sliced
3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon toasted and ground Sichuan peppercorns
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt

1. Scrub and rinse the cucumbers, and pat dry. Cut each cucumber lengthwise into 6 slices.
2. To draw out the excess juice from the cucumbers, place them in a large bowl, sprinkle with the 1 1/2 tablespoon of salt, and let stand for 20 minutes. Rinse, drain and pat dry.
3. To make the dressing, combine all the dressing ingredients and mix well.
4. Place the cucumbers in a large serving bowl, pour the dressing over them and toss well. For the best results, refrigerate for 30 minutes before serving.

[These do not hold up well to storage beyond one day, so eat 'em up.]

Good luck!

Artichoke to Za'atar - White Bean Soup with Merguez Sausage

I wouldn't normally make soup in August. Soup making is a cold weather sport, and the time commitment intimidating. Huddling over a soup pot hour after hour, tweaking quantities and conditioning the right balance of flavors -- August is too hot for that. But if its a Middle Eastern soup? Heck, August in Minnesota is like . . . , I guess like night to an equatorial country, and the ingredient list was intriguing.

The use of cinnamon caught my attention. Although I'd seen cinnamon used as a savory ingredient in an Ethiopian stew (see Niter Kebbeh and Mekellesha in Ethiopian night), it still creates cognitive dissonance -- isn't this the stuff you make cookies and sweet rolls out of? My source for this recipe, Melissa Lion on Culinate mentions the same reaction in her review of Artichoke to Za'atar, by Greg and Lucy Malouf. Cinnamon is a hot spice, evident in numerous candies and displays of machismo on Youtube.

Hazelnuts, both roasted and hazelnut oil, put vote number two in the "I'll make this" column. I hated to drop $10 to $15 on such a specialized ingredient as hazelnut oil, but I have a feeling that if I own a bottle of hazelnut oil, I will find uses for hazelnut oil. There might be a salad dressing on the horizon.

The third vote in favor came from the Merguez sausage. I had never had Merguez sausage, but ground lamb with garlic, roasted red pepper, pepper flakes, oregano and paprika -- how wrong can you go? I didn't bother looking for a shop that sells this, though St. Paul's East African community is large enough to support halal butchers. I bought the ingredients and made it myself sans casings. I found a recipe at Charcuterista.

I belong to the "recipes are guides, not gods" club. The recipe as provided in Melissa Lion's review was very good. But I would make some changes. There was scarcely a quart after an hour and a half on the stove. An incidental draw to this recipe was that I could use some homemade stock and homegrown tomatoes. Unfortunately, the 3 tomatoes called for were overkill; this wound up very acidic. I plan on making this again, but here is the recipe with my adjustments:

White Bean Soup with Merguez Sausage (modified from Artichoke to Za'atar)

1 cup white haricot (navy) beans, sorted, rinsed and soaked overnight in 2 1/2 cups of water*
2 quarts chicken stock
1 cinnamon stick
3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 1/2 oz. of bacon
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 stick celery
2 cloves garlic
2 medium ripe tomatoes, skinned de-seeded, and finely chopped
1 tsp. honey
1 tsp thyme leaves
zest of 1/2 lemon
1 Tbsp hazelnut oil
Salt & pepper
1 cup shredded spinach leaves
12 oz merguez sausage, grilled and sliced
2/3 cup of roasted, peeled and crushed hazelnuts

1. Drain the haricot (navy) beans and place them in a tall 4 quart pan with the chicken stock and cinnamon stick. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer for 1 to 2 hours until the beans are tender. If you use the "quick soak" method below, this may be shorter.
2. In a frying pan, heat the olive oil and saute the bacon, onion, garlic and celery for about 4 minutes until they are lightly colored and softened. Add the mix to the beans and stock with the tomatoes, honey, thyme, lemon zest and hazelnut oil.
3. Season with salt, pepper. Bring the soup to a boil. Add the shredded spinach, garnish with slices of the merguez sausage and crushed hazelnuts.

*"Quick soak" method of preparing beans: Sort and rinse beans. Place beans with twice as much water in a pan with a tight fitting lid. Boil for two minutes. Remove from the heat and cover with the lid. Allow to sit for two to four hours.

Cooking this week -- Tuesday Armenian Lamb Meatballs

I do not have a story of a wizened Armenian grandmother who made countless meatballs while adults drank pot after pot of tea and talked about the old country and cousins played in the yard. I am not Armenian. But I will make a small claim of regional accuracy and not just because of my recent Armenian food jag.

Some of my recent Armenian foods include a wonderful lavosh cracker bread recipe I found and made. A week later I picked up some Armenian fig preserves "Ararat" (named after the mountain Noah's ark landed on). The enormous figs are packed in a wonderfully sticky syrup that I can only describe as "fig honey." Tonight's dinner was Armenian meatballs. Now a brief attempt to justify my recipe's authenticity.

When I was a student in Austria about 20 years ago, my Turkish friend Cem [pronounced like "gem"] made a sort of roasted hamburger on a skewer that he called shish kabob. Shish Kabob to me meant big chunks of beef interspersed with onions, tomatoes, peppers and such. According to him, "shish" is Turkish for skewer and "kabob" means "pieces of meat." But I digress . . .

What Cem prepared was similar to the way most Americans make meatloaf, only on a skewer. Remember, we were students. He used finely ground beef mixed with bread crumbs and large amounts of cumin, oregano, paprika (I just got back from Budapest), and just about any other spice accent he could get his hands on.

It was the strong cumin smell and taste that I remember most. Later, when I traveled to Turkey myself, I noticed the popularity of cumin in this region. The age old animosity between Turks and Armenians wasn't something Cem shared and I don't think it is terribly relevant to food. I've tried to preserve the heavy cumin and ignore the Turkish/Armenian mixed origin in my recipe.

As beef prices have risen, I've looked to alternatives to expensive beef cuts. I've found ground lamb a good value and savored the change of taste. When looking for recipes with ground lamb more than a few have incorporated cumin and some of them had "Armenian" as part of the moniker. Some were quite basic so I've tweaked, hybridized and mixed them with Cem's shish kabob. I was pleased with the result:

Armenian Lamb Meatballs

Serves 4 - 6

1 1/2 lbs of ground lamb
1 small onion finely diced
2 cloves garlic minced
2 slices of dry bread (or toast)
1 Tbsp olive oil
1 egg
1/2 C. milk
2 Tbsp of cumin
1 tsp paprika
1 tsp thyme
1/2 tsp of oregano
1/4 tsp of ground allspice
1/4 tsp of ground coriander
pinch of cayenne
salt and pepper to taste

1. Put lamb in large mixing bowl and add salt and pepper.
2. Cut bread into 1/4 inch squares and put in a separate bowl, add milk.
3. Add spices to the lamb, add egg.
4. Add milk-soaked bread into the lamb mixture and work until all ingredients are well incorporated.
5. After all ingredients are well mixed, form into 1 to 1 and 1/4 inch balls. Approximately 30 balls depending on the size.
6. Heat oil in a large frying pan, adding meatballs when hot. Stir occasionally.
7. Alternately, preheat oven to 425 F. Cook approximately 30 minutes.

The "Cem" method

1. Make mixture as above, but instead of meatballs, form into a solid cylander (approx. 1 and 1/2 inch in diameter) and skewer.
2. Cook in broiler over aluminum foil. These cook very rapidly and because it is ground meat it renders a substantial amount of oil.

Good luck, and let me know how yours comes out.

Why My Breakfast Hasn't Turned Me Into a Rabid Jihadist

Dear FBI,

I thought I better explain my breakfast today. The Persian Cauliflower Kuku I ate this morning may sound like food for jihadists plotting the destruction of the US, and so I'd like to clear a few things up. It is Persian, which of course is just a euphemism for Iranian, and we all know what that means.

When I ordered Najmieh Batmanglij's cookbook, Silk Road Cooking: A Vegetarian Journey from Amazon, I was afraid I might be making a bad impression. Batmanglij makes no effort to hide or apologize for the fact that she was born in Iran. Her cookbook features recipes and tales from regions as diverse as China and Italy, but most are central Asian. Iranian, Uzbek, Afghan and Turkish dishes make it look like a veritable Al Jazeera of food. But I really bought it for my cookbook collection. I didn't mean to show interest in recipes incorporating pistachios, pomegranates or saffron. My wife hasn't said anything, but I can tell -- she wished I'd picked it up in a regular store and paid cash.

The eggs, cheese, and cauliflower of the Kuku didn't use too much fat so I thought it looked like a hearty, healthy breakfast. I figured it wouldn't hurt anything. It was our family breakfast before going to church today. We haven't gone quite as much as we should, but I thought I'd let you guys at the FBI know, we are church-going types. Although, we're Presbyterians.

The recipe was kind of complicated. It had 16 ingredients. I wonder if such recipes are meant to boggle and distract Americans. First, I had to prepare an egg mixture, sort of like an omelet: 6 eggs, a little baking powder, flour and cheese (mozzarella and/or Parmesan), then I had to saute onions and garlic. Next, I added the florets from a head of cauliflower and a whole bunch of spices. No American recipe would use 1/2 tsp of ground black pepper, 1 tsp of cumin, 1/4 tsp of paprika, 1/4 tsp of turmeric, 1/8 tsp of cayenne and a 1/4 cup of flat parsley.

I was supposed to put the onions and garlic in a non-stick skillet, add the cauliflower and spices and when the cauliflower was soft, add the egg mixture. Okay, and are you ready for this? Wait for the eggs to set and then put it in the broiler. Yeah, fine except I had been cooking in a non-stick and then I realized -- I'm going to transfer this to an oven safe skillet! Just a reminder that we all need to be on our guard! Thank God for those cast iron skillets I've been dragging around with me since my earliest cooking days. If I can get government approval to make this dish again, I'd use a Dutch oven next time.

The dish was really good. My only complaint was that I thought it might be a little salty. An easy adjustment. My wife and I liked it so much that we had seconds. Even our spice shy daughter said she loved it. Sometimes she sings herself to sleep with "It's a Grand Old Flag," or "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy." I figure, if she likes it, it's safe for the rest of America.

One, Two, Three, Oops! Better Karma in the Kitchen

I have to ruin most dishes before I get the hang of them, but I can usually limit my ruining to a single instance. It's a memory problem.

In cognitive psychology it's called digit span. It has nothing to do with how broadly your fingers reach. It's the number of digits a person can recall. When someone is giving their phone number, it's easy to catch the whole number if we know the area code and prefix. There are only four digits left, and four isn't a great digit span. If none of it is familiar, we can break it down into smaller pieces -- two three-digit and one four-digit set of numbers. Give the average person a 14-digit number without any clear patterns and in a single exposure they may pick up the first 4 or 5 digits. Me, I'd have to work pretty hard for 5. My digit span is about 3 1/2.

Recipes can be like this. Ever have a recipe that looks straightforward, but trips you up in the kitchen because step two really includes step two, three and four? I read the step, execute it, move onto the next step, then realize that after adding the garlic I was also supposed to add the minced ginger and five spice. Every part of every step may contain getting tools, rifling through cabinets for ingredients, using tools and putting things away. Occasionally, I can blame the Mini Chef for distracting me, but my memory problems predate her.

I heard a piece on NPR about how Hare Krishnas connect the consciousness/karma of the food preparer to the food. Monks do not eat in restaurants because they don't know whose consciousness has been absorbed in the food. I'm working on a list of ways for me to follow recipes that will prevent the one, two, three, oops! Maybe I can eliminate the ruining of food as a necessary step to learning a recipe. Maybe omitting "damn its" will improve the food's karma too.

I suspect I'm not the only one with this issue. I'm open to additional suggestions. Much of this is common sense. Some of these you may have learned from your parents, and if you had a home economics class, you probably heard some there. If this is embarrassingly obvious, good for you. But some of it I wish I would have been told a long time ago. Many of my frustrating moments in the kitchen I can trace back to not adhering to one or more of these:

1. Read the recipe at least twice. I've had everything lined up, then on the second reading discover the part about marinating overnight. Frozen Pizza!


2. Make sure you really have all the ingredients and in the quantity specified in the recipe.


3. Don't cook in a messy kitchen. When I run out of counter space, discover the salad bowl I need hasn't been washed, or the sink is full of greasy pots and pans, I go nuts. People who know me have trouble imagining me going nuts, but it happens.


4. Figure out the timing, not just of the roasting chicken, but how long the salad will take to put together.


5. Ask someone else to set the table.


6. Anticipate when you'll need ingredients and in what form. For instance, if you saute onions and garlic and need to add chicken breasts, make sure you've prepared the chicken before the onions are just black vestiges of scallions.


7. The same as above, except with tools and plates. Do you have a bowl or plate ready to put that chicken on if it's supposed to be taken off after browning on each side?


8. Don't count on your memory to track when you put something in the oven. I shouldn't need to explain that.


9. Wait until you're well into your project before treating yourself to a glass. There are laws against driving under the influence, don't you think sharp knives and heat could also constitute a safety hazard?


10. Make food that you enjoy eating. If you don't enjoy potato salad, you'll probably resent the process of making it.