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Sichuan Fish for Lent

Posted in Food History, Medieval Lent, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , , on February 24, 2010| 3 Comments »

This article is part of a series of recipes suitable for the Medieval season of Lent during which all animal products other than fish were forbidden except on Sundays. I’ll be posting at least one Lenten recipe per week until Easter Sunday (April 4, 2010).

Asian cuisine is a tremendous source of Lenten dishes. There are many fish-based and vegetarian delights to choose from. These recipes often contain no dairy, or what there is can easily be replaced with olive or other oils. Best of all, this food is flavorful and exotic so you don’t feel like you’re denying yourself. In fact if you save these dishes especially for Lent, it can feel like a celebration.

Lately I have been infatuated with Fuchsia Dunlop’s magnificent Chinese cookbooks. Today’s recipe is a savory, spicy (but not too hot) fish dish from Sichuan province. It does require some specialty ingredients, but if you live near a chinatown this can be easily accomplished. There are also good mail order sources for much of what is needed (see recipe below for details).

Facing-heaven chiles, waiting to go into the wok

Don’t be intimidated by the bright red oil that drenches the fish. It’s purpose is to stimulate your senses with it’s deep color and spicy, almost floral fragrance, you are not expected to eat it. Take the fish out of of the oil with your chopsticks, leaving most of it behind on the plate, along with the whole spices which have also already done their job.

If you haven’t eaten Sichuan food before, know that while it is spicy, it is not as fire engine-hot as you might expect. One of the most important ingredients is Sichuan pepper which is not at all spicy, but instead causes a physical sensation of numbness and tingling in the mouth. It is very sensuous and pleasant, and really makes this cuisine special.

Fish with Chiles and Sichuan Pepper

adapted from Fuchsia Dunlop

Serves 2 as a main dish if served with a vegetable side dish and rice

Notes on specialized ingredients:
If you live in New York City, see my previous article about shopping for sichuan ingredients in Chinatown. There are also photos there of whole facing-heaven chiles and Sichuan pepper so you’ll know what to look for. Unfortunately, I have not found a good mail order source for the facing-heaven chiles so if you don’t live near a chinatown you may need to substitute. I have read that pequin chiles can be used, but the flavor is not the same. Beware, if you use the long skinny Thai chiles (also called bird’s eye chiles), they are much hotter than Sichuanese chiles so you should use less.

I can highly recommend the Sichuan pepper available via mail order from Adriana’s Caravan, it is very fresh and flavorful. They also carry the chili bean paste, which they call Chili Bean (Toban Djan) Sauce. When shopping for this item try to get a version made with fava or broad beans instead of soy beans.

1 pound filet of carp, sea bass, or other white-fleshed fish

For the Marinade
a 1-inch piece of fresh, unpeeled ginger, crushed
1 scallion, both white and green parts cut into 3-4 pieces and crushed
½ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons Shaoxing rice wine or dry sherry
4 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons cold water

For the Base Flavorings
6 dried Sichuanese chiles (facing-heaven chiles)
1 1-inch piece of ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
3 cloves of garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
5 scallions both the white and green parts, cut into 2-3 inch pieces and crushed
3 tablespoons of peanut or corn oil
1 tablespoon Sichuanese chili bean paste
1/2 teaspoon whole Sichuan pepper

For the Spicy Oil
¾ cup peanut or corn oil
1½ tablespoons Sichuanese chili bean paste
1-2 ounces dried Sichuanese chiles (facing-heaven chiles)
2 teaspoons whole Sichuan pepper

It is important to measure and chop all of your ingredients before beginning this dish. Once you start cooking it goes very quickly, so have everything prepped in small containers and ready to go.

Marinate the fish: lay your fish fillet on a cutting board and cut it into ¼-½ inch thick slices by holding your knife almost parallel to the cutting board and making very shallow cuts. Put the slices in a small bowl and add the salt, wine or sherry, ginger, and scallion, and toss gently with your fingers. Let stand while preparing the rest of your ingredients.

Snip all of your dried chiles in half with scissors and shake out as many seeds as possible. If you have sensitive skin you may want to wear gloves. In any case, wash your hands thoroughly with soap after handling the chiles and be careful about touching your eyes.

Cook the base flavorings: heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a wok over a high flame. When it begins to smoke, turn the heat down and add the chile bean paste and stir-fry until the oil is red and fragrant. Add the ginger, garlic, scallions, dried chiles, and Sichuan pepper and continue to stir-fry until it is very fragrant and the scallions are tender. Keep an eye on the temperature, you want the oil sizzling but not so hot that it will burn the spices. Pour the contents of the wok into a deep serving bowl.

Cook the fish: bring a medium saucepan full of water to a boil over high heat. Meanwhile, discard the ginger and scallion from the fish marinade. Mix the cornstarch and cold water to form a thin paste. pour the paste over the fish slices and toss gently with your fingers until all of the slices are well coated. When your water is boiling, drop all of your fish slices into the pot. DO NOT stir until the water has returned to a boil or the coating will come off. Allow the water to come back to a boil and cook the fish slices until they are just done and nicely flaky (about 5 minutes). Use a slotted spoon or skimmer to remove the fish slices from the pot and put them in the serving bowl on top of the base flavors.

Make the spicy oil: Quickly heat ¾ cup of oil in the wok over a high flame until it begins to smoke. Turn down the heat a little and add the chili bean paste and stir-fry until the oil is red and fragrant. Add the remaining chiles and whole Sichuan pepper and stir-fry until they are crisp and fragrant, the longer you go, the spicier it gets. The oil should be sizzling but not so hot as to burn the spices. When it is ready, pour the hot oil and spices over the fish in the serving bowl and serve immediately while it is still bubbling.

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Pancakes and Fritters say the Bells of St. Peter’s

Posted in Festival Cooking, Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , , , on February 15, 2010| 1 Comment »

No matter where you live or what you call it, the object of the last day before Lent is the same: eat as much of the soon-to-be-forbidden foods as you can before it’s too late. Lent, which begins this year on Wednesday, February 17th, is a 40 day season during which Christians traditionally fast, pray, and give alms to the poor. In the Medieval period, observant Christians were forbidden meat, milk, eggs and animal fats during Lent. The modern Catholic church has eased these rules, encouraging voluntary fasting and abstinence. This is defined as eating only one full meal per day (or two small ones which add up to less than one full meal), and the omission of meat and poultry on Ash Wednesday (the first day of Lent), and all the Fridays in Lent. It has also become traditional for people to give up something they particularly enjoy for the 40 day period, although that is not an official church policy.

As you might imagine, the Medieval rules led to lots of serious eating during the days leading up to Lent. Aside from having one last taste of your favorites, you needed to use up all the eggs, milk, and animal fats in the house. In the days before refrigeration, using up the meat was not as much of an issue because it was only acquired right before it was to be eaten, so most households didn’t have a lot lying around.

In particular the very last day before Lent is a great excuse for wild parties; in Iceland they call it Sprengidagur which means Bursting Day; the French name for it is Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday; in Sweden it is Fettisdagen; in Estonia, Vastlapäev; in Spain, Martes de Carnaval; in the Czech Republic, Masopust, which means “goodbye to meat,” and in German, Faschingsdienstag. In English-speaking countries it is known as Shrove Tuesday, Pancake Tuesday, or simply Pancake Day. The word “shrove” comes from the archaic verb “to shrive” which means to obtain absolution for your sins. It was important to be shriven before the beginning of Lent as it is a season of penance.

Even though the rules are no longer as stringent, this religious tradition has left us with some wonderful seasonal foods. Since their purpose was to use up all of the non-lenten ingredients in the house, they have some things in common. They are often fried and they are very rich, containing eggs, milk, butter, and if a creative cook can manage it, some meat thrown in for good measure.

In Portugal they make Malasada which is a fried dough; the Polish enjoy their Paczki or jelly doughnuts; in Sweden you would be eating Semla, a pastry spiced with cardamom, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, and served in a bowl of hot milk; in Croatia, which was part of Venice for hundreds of years, they eat Fritule which are fritters enhanced with brandy and lemon zest; and the denizens of the Czech Republic say “farewell to meat” by holding large pork feasts during the time leading up to Lent.

In English-speaking countries the traditional Shrove Tuesday meal is pancakes, they can be made either savory or sweet and are a great way to use up eggs, milk, butter and other fats. Traditionally in Britain they were served with a rich meat stew. In some places slices of sausages or other meat are mixed right into the pancake batter. Try out the recipe below and imagine, if you will, Medieval British cooks flipping their pancakes while keeping one ear cocked to hear the the ringing of the shriving bell or pancake bell which reminded them to use up all their fats and come to church to be shriven.

Pancakes

Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

Makes about 14 four inch pancakes

1½ cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons sugar
1¾ teaspoons baking powder
2 eggs, separated
3 tablespoons melted butter
1¼ cups milk, or buttermilk

Stir together the dry ingredients with a fork. In a separate bowl, beat the egg yolks and the milk or buttermilk together, then stir in the melted butter.

Pour the eggs and milk into the bowl with the dry ingredients and stir only enough to just wet all the dry ingredients, don’t beat too much; you want it to look lumpy. It should be thick but still pour fairly easily off a spoon. If it is too thick add a bit more milk or buttermilk and if it is too thin add more flour.

Whip the egg whites until they form stiff peaks and then fold them lightly into the batter, taking care to deflate them as little as possible.

If you cook the pancakes on a non-stick surface you won’t need any butter. If you use a regular pan then use just a little butter to keep them from sticking.

Heat the pan over medium-high heat until water splutters when a few drops are sprinkled on it.

Use a large spoon to transfer the batter to the pan. Don’t drop it from way up high, just let it pour from the tip of the spoon onto the pan, this will help control the pancake shape. Once you have formed the pancake let it cook for 2-3 minutes or until most, but not all, of the bubbles which form on the uncooked side have burst. Then flip the pancake and cook the other side for 1-2 minutes or until nicely browned.

Break open your first pancake to see if the inside is cooked properly and adjust the heat under your pan accordingly, then continue making pancakes until all the batter is used up.

To keep the pancakes warm before serving, keep them on a plate in a warm oven separated by clean kitchen towels. Without the towels between them they will steam each other and lose their nice texture. You can prepare a stack of folded kitchen towels in advance and put on pancake in each layer.

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Non-Union Ricotta

Posted in Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , on February 9, 2010| 6 Comments »

Making ricotta is sort of like getting into the union. You must already have a union job before you can get into the union and in order to make true ricotta you must already have made some cheese. Real ricotta is a dairy product (technically it is not a cheese) made from whey. Whey is a byproduct of cheese making; in particular, ricotta is made from the whey left over after making pecorino, an Italian sheep’s milk cheese.

To make true ricotta, the fresh whey is left to stand for 12-24 hours which increases its acidity. It is then heated to a temperature very close to boiling. This causes any remaining protein to coagulate into very fine curds which are skimmed off, drained through some cheese cloth, and allowed to cool.

We don’t really know how long people have been recycling left over whey into a secondary product. Some argue that it is mentioned by Cato the Elder in his De Agri Cultura which was written around 160 BCE. Others claim that the Arabs brought the technique to Europe when they conquered Sicily in the 10th Century.

As usual, our ancestors knew a good thing when they saw it. Whey is packed with important nutrients including protein and riboflavin (vitamin B2). In fact, the Vikings used to drink whey and use it for pickling fish and vegetables. Its acid nature makes it a great pickling agent. Other uses for whey include: replacing the water in any bread recipe, or buttermilk in other baking recipes; feeding it to farm animals, pigs in particular, love it; seasoned with spices it can be used to marinate meat; or pour it on your garden as a fertilizer. Modern dairies often send their whey to be dehydrated and used as a component in the various protein powders favored by body builders.

Even if you don’t have your cheese maker’s union card, you can still make ricotta (or something similar) at home. You just need good whole cow’s milk, salt and citric acid. Citric acid is a crystalline substance that looks a lot like sugar, but tastes like a thousand lemons. If you’ve ever tasted Sour Patch Kids or other super sour candies, you’ll recognize the flavor. Citric acid is sometimes called “sour salt” and can be easily purchased in stores which specialize in Indian ingredients because it is used to make paneer. You can also mail order it from a cheese making supply company. I have seen other recipes for ricotta which use lemon juice or vinegar as the acid component, but I think it’s easier to get the dosage just right with citric acid.

Whole Milk Ricotta
adapted from Ricki Carroll

Makes about ¾ – 1 pound of ricotta

Several pieces of equipment are important for this recipe. You must have a properly calibrated thermometer to measure the temperature of the milk. Test your thermometer by putting it in rapidly boiling water to see if it reads 212F.

You will also need a small fine mesh strainer, no bigger than about 2-3 inches in diameter. This is used to remove the curds from the pot. You can also use a skimmer or perforated ladle, but make sure the holes are not too big.

Finally, you need good quality cheese cloth. If you can get what is called “butter muslin” from a cheese making supply company you will only need one layer. If you use the cheese cloth sold in most supermarkets, use at least 3 layers because it is not woven as tightly.

½ gallon whole milk
½ teaspoon citric acid
¼ cup cool water
½ teaspoon kosher salt

Mix the water and citric acid together in a small bowl and stir until the powder is completely dissolved.

Pour your milk into a large and very clean pot. Add the citric acid solution and the salt to the milk and stir well. Put the pot of milk over a medium-low heat and slowly bring it up to a temperature between 185 and 195 degrees F. Do not allow it to boil. Stir often with a rubber spatula, scraping the bottom to prevent scorching.

You will see the curds begin to form, they are very tiny, perhaps the size of poppy or sesame seeds. After a while the curds will separate from the whey and you will see patches of greenish-yellow whey in the pot. When the curds and whey are completely separated, the whey will not look milky. You can see this by dipping a spoon in and pouring the liquid back into the pot, as it comes off the spoon you’ll be able to see if the whey looks milky or if the liquid is more clear in between the particles of curd.

One the curds and whey have separated, turn off the heat and leave the pot to stand for 10 minutes.

Prepare a strainer or colander by lining it with butter muslin or cheese cloth (see note above) and set it over a large bowl.

Use your small fine mesh strainer or skimmer to gently ladle the curds out of the pot and into the lined strainer. Use slow motions so as not to stir up the curds. When you have ladled as much of the curd out as you can then pour the remaining whey through your strainer or ladle and into another bowl to get the last bit of curd. Don’t discard the whey.

Tie the corners of your butter muslin or cheese cloth into a knot and hang the ricotta over a bowl to drain for 45 minutes to an hour or until it stops dripping. An easy way to set this up is by sliding a chopstick behind the handle of one kitchen cabinet door, through the knot in the butter muslin and then behind handle of the adjacent cabinet door. Then place a bowl on the counter below to catch the draining whey. Just be sure the knot is tight enough to hold the weight. You can also tie the cheese cloth to the faucet in your sink and hang it there with a bowl beneath.

Save the left over whey! You can’t make any more ricotta out of it but it has many uses (see above). I recently used it instead of buttermilk in pancakes to great acclaim.

When the ricotta is finished draining, unwrap and eat! Or use it to make ravioli, eggplant rollatini, lasagna, or cheesecake. If you would like a creamier consistency, you can add a couple of tablespoons of cream and mix thoroughly. It is also makes a stellar breakfast with a little honey drizzled on top. It will keep in a covered container in the refrigerator for 1-2 weeks.

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Bagel Stories

Posted in Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , , on February 1, 2010| Leave a Comment »

Stories make the best condiments. Just think of how many times you’ve tucked into a favorite dish with friends or family and commenced reminiscing about past eating experiences. Maybe it’s the one your uncle Howie tells about the neighborhood bakery that made the best bagels and phenomenal seeded rye and sadly closed down years ago, with nothing opening since that holds a candle to it. Or perhaps you’ve heard that bagels were invented in 1683 when bakers in Vienna celebrated the Polish King Jan Sobieski‘s victory over the Turks by creating a roll in the shape of his stirrup, (German for stirrup is “bügel“). And then there’s the tale that purports to explain why real bagels are boiled before they’re baked. Church leaders in medieval Poland wouldn’t allow Christians to buy any food from Jews, unless it was boiled.

One of the tastiest, and maybe even true, yarns I’ve discovered about bagels recently is the origin of the confederation of Thai bagel rollers found in the best bagel shops in New York these days. If you go into any number of reputable bagelries, where everything, including the shaping of the bagels, is still done by hand, you may be surprised to learn that the toothsome, crusty, chewy delight you’re about to sink your teeth into was created by a person originally from Thailand.

Milton Parker, the owner of the Carnegie Deli, writes in his history of the restaurant, How to Feed Friends and Influence People, that in the 1990s when there was a lot of money sloshing around in Thailand, the government decided it would be a good idea to teach bagel-making to some of its citizens. So it contacted some retired members of the International Bagel Bakers Union Local 338 in New York City and invited them to Thailand. As with many brilliant ideas conceived during boom times, the bagel never really took off in rice-centric Thailand. But, some of those Thai bagel men, and their sons emigrated to the New York and easily found jobs in the better bagel shops.

After recently making bagels at home for the first time, I can tell you that the rolling of the bagel is an important component. Some of mine came out looking very authentic and others, well, let’s just say I need a little practice. But I didn’t care how they looked because they had that snappy crust and chewy interior praised by all bagel lovers. Best of all, I can report that making bagels isn’t any harder than baking bread. It is time consuming but bagels freeze exceedingly well, so make a big batch and fill up your freezer. If you live in a part of the world where it’s difficult to get real bagels (as opposed to rolls with holes), this recipe could be a life saver.

Bagels

Adapted from Peter Reinhart

Modern bagels weigh in at a hefty 7 oz. while historically, they were much smaller (2-3 oz.). This recipe makes about 12 modern size bagels or 18-24 2-3 oz. bagels). I recommend weighing out your pieces of dough so they are all the same size and will cook evenly.

This recipe takes two days to make because the dough is “retarded” overnight in the refrigerator to develop flavor. If you’re in a hurry you can make it without that step, but the bagels won’t be as flavorful.

Please read the recipe all the way through before making your shopping list as there are separate ingredient lists for some steps.

Day 1

Make the Sponge

1 teaspoon instant yeast
4 cups unbleached bread flour or other high gluten flour
2½ cups water, room temperature

In a 4 quart mixing bowl, use a fork to thoroughly stir the yeast into the flour and then add the water and stir with a spoon until it makes a thick sticky batter. Cover with plastic and leave at room temperature until the batter has doubled in size and is quite bubbly (about 2 hours). It may take longer if your kitchen is chilly.

Make the Dough

Malt is a very important ingredient for this recipe as it gives the authentic bagel flavor. Malt syrup is usually sold in health food stores as an alternative sweetener. I was not able to find malt powder, but have heard that some Whole Foods outlets carry it.

½ teaspoon instant yeast
3¾ cups unbleached bread flour or other high gluten flour
2¾ teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons malt powder or 1 tablespoon of malt syrup, honey, or brown sugar

In the bowl of a stand mixer, stir the additional yeast into the sponge and then add 3 cups of the flour, all of the salt and the malt, and mix on low speed with the dough hook until the ingredients are well combined and form a ball. Then, slowly work in the remaining 3/4 cup of flour to form a stiff dough. You can do all of this by hand, with a spoon but it is a very stiff dough so be prepared for a serious workout.

Turn the dough out onto a clean surface and knead for 10-15 minutes. When finished kneading the dough should pass the “window pane” test and should read 77-81 degrees F on a thermometer. If you haven’t used the “window pane test” before, here’s a great video explaining it. If your window pane is still tearing after 10-15 minutes of kneading, add a few drops of water and knead a little more. If your dough is very sticky, add a tiny bit of flour and knead some more. Baking depends very much on the current weather conditions, especially the humidity, so these little adjustments may be needed.

Divide your dough into pieces of the weight you would like your bagels to be. I made 18 3 oz. bagels from this recipe. Form each piece into a roll by stretching down the “sides” of each piece and pinching the dough together in a seam at the “bottom.” Place the rolls, seam down, on a clean surface, cover them with a damp kitchen towel, and let them rest for 20 minutes.

Line 2 sheet pans with baking parchment and spray them lightly with a neutral spray oil (I actually used olive oil because it’s all I had around and it didn’t seem to affect the flavor).

Shape the bagels by using your thumb to poke a hole through the center of your roll and then carefully rotate your thumb, gently stretching the dough around it into an even, doughnut shape. For my 3 oz. bagels I made holes that were about 1 3/4 – 2 inches in diameter, for larger bagels the holes would be larger. When you first stretch the dough it may bounce back. Keep working with it until the hole remains the size you want after you put it down.

Put each shaped bagel on the prepared sheet pans, about 1 1/2 inches away from its neighbors. Mist the bagels lightly with spray oil, wrap the pans in plastic and let them rest at room temperature for about 20 minutes.

Next we check to see if the bagels are ready for their overnight rest in the fridge. Fill a small bowl with room temperature water. Carefully take one bagel and drop it in the bowl. If the bagel floats within 10 seconds, it is ready. If not, then pat it dry, return it to the pan, wrap up the pan and give them another 10 or 15 minutes before testing again.

Once a bagel passes the float test, pat it dry, return it to the pan, wrap up the pan and place the pans in the refrigerator over night or for up to 2 days.

Day 2

Mr. Reinhart’s recipe calls for putting baking soda in the boiling water. Another story I’ve been told about bagels is that the real secret ingredient is New York City water which happens to be a lot softer than much of the water in the US. I’m guessing that Mr. Reinhart has you add baking soda to imitate this softness. I left it out since I am lucky enough to have AOC New York City water coming right out of my tap.

cornmeal
1 tablespoon baking soda (optional)
Bagel toppings: sesame seeds, poppy seeds, kosher salt, etc. (optional)

Preheat your oven to 500 F and put two racks in the center.

Bring a large wide mouthed pot of water to boil on top of your stove. Add the baking soda if using.

Remove the bagels from the refrigerator and drop them gently into the boiling water. Do not crowd the pan, only put in as many as will fit comfortably. Boil the bagels for 2 minutes and flip them over and boil them for another 2 minutes. While the bagels are boiling, sprinkle cornmeal on the same parchment lined pans, this will help prevent the bagels from sticking. When the bagels are boiled, remove them from the water with a slotted spoon or skimmer and place them back in the cornmeal sprinkled pans.

If you are going to top your bagels, do it immediately after they are removed from the water, or the toppings will not stick.

Repeat until all bagels are boiled and topped.

Bake in the center of your oven for 5 minutes, then lower the temperature to 450 F. (Note: I actually forgot to lower the temperature, and it didn’t seem cause any harm). Bake for an additional 10-15 minutes or until the bagels are a dark golden brown. Partway through the baking rotate the pans, swapping racks and also turning them 180 degrees.

Cool on racks for about 15 minutes and serve with the traditional accompaniments of cream cheese (just a schmear), Nova, Gravlax, red onion, capers, whitefish, etc.

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Don’t Be Afraid of Lard

Posted in Farmers' Market Cooking, Ingredients, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , on January 27, 2010| 3 Comments »

The noble pig, supplier of some of humankind’s most delicious foods, bacon, pork loin, barbecued ribs, ham, sausages, etc. Oh and yes, that all important unguent, lard.

Some of the best pie crust I’ve ever had is made with lard. No it doesn’t taste piggy, not if you use the right lard, rendered properly. Have you ever had bitter greens like arugula, wilted in pork dripping, or bacon fat? It really turns a salad into a main dish, especially if you add some pancetta and a poached egg on top. On a recent trip to Budapest, instead of butter for my bread, I was served a mound of fluffy lard rendered from one of Hungary’s famed Mangalitsa pigs and flavored with paprika. It was heavenly.

I know a lot of people are worried about their health, but lard is really no worse for you than butter. In fact, it actually contains less saturated fat than butter. Butter is approximately 50% saturated fat, 30% monounsaturated fat, and 4% polyunsaturated fat. Lard consists of 39% saturated fat, 45% monounsaturated fat and 11% polyunsaturated fat. And it turns out that saturated fat may not even be as bad for us as we have been led to believe. A recent meta-analysis of over 300,000 subjects published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, found that “there is no significant evidence for concluding that dietary saturated fat is associated with an increased risk of CHD [Coronary Heart Disease] or CVD [Cardio Vascular Disease].”

But doesn’t fat make you fat? Well, actually, no. Eating more calories than you expend is what makes a person gain weight. Fat and the flavor that it brings to food, are what make you feel satiated. If we take the fat out of our food, we keep eating past the point where we are actually full, in search of satisfaction that will never come. The explosion of “no-fat” and “low-fat” processed foods, along with meat bearing animals that have been bred leaner and leaner over the past 30 years have paradoxically contributed to the current obesity epidemic.

Take that wilted arugula salad I mentioned above, if you make it with a bottled “no-fat” dressing and bacon bits (which, by the way, are usually made of soy, not bacon), you’ll be hungry half and hour later and digging into the emergency Oreos stash in your desk drawer. If you make it with pork fat and pancetta, you’ll hardly be able to eat too much of it, especially if you make a smaller portion to begin with and concentrate on eating slowly and savoring the luscious flavor. On this point I agree with Jennifer McLagan, author of Fat: An Appreciation of a Misunderstood Ingredient, with Recipes. Eat fat, lose weight.

If you’d like to try using some lard at home, start with something simple, like wilted greens with a vinaigrette made with bacon fat instead of olive oil. Or take some lard and melt it with salt and a couple of sprigs of a fresh green herb like thyme or rosemary. Let it cook over low heat for about 15 minutes, then pluck out the herb stalks, let the lard cool to room temperature, and chill it in the fridge. At serving time, bring it to room temperature, beat it a bit with a wooden spoon to make it fluffy and serve it as a spread for bread with some additional chopped fresh herbs to sprinkle on top. Any where you use olive oil, vegetable oil, or butter, you can try lard instead.

I recommend buying lard from a trusted source at a farmers’ market or a good butcher. It may be already rendered, or you can easily do it yourself at home (see below). Free range, sustainably raised pigs make better tasting fat, so ask about where and how the pig was raised. Heritage breeds such as Tamworth or Gloucestershire Old Spot, have more and better fat, than modern ones which have been bred to be “the other white meat.” Stay away from the lard sold in supermarkets. It has been industrially processed using bleaching and deodorizing chemicals and it is usually hydrogenated to make it shelf stable which really does make it bad for you.

There are several kinds pork fat, each being good for different types of cooking. Back Fat or Fatback comes from the back, shoulder and rump of the pig. It is the fat just under the skin and it is often sold with the skin still attached (great for making Chicharrón). If you remove the skin and render the fat, the resulting lard is very good for sautéeing and frying.

Leaf lard is the fat from around the pig’s kidneys. This is the purest and most neutral tasting lard and it’s special crystalline structure is what makes your pie crust the best in the world. You can also use it for frying.

To Render Lard

Adapted from Jennifer McLagan

Leaf Lard or Fatback, very cold or partially frozen
Water

Preheat oven to 250F

If rendering fatback remove the skin, if using leaf lard pull away any papery membranes. Cut the fat into 1-inch pieces. Put it in a dutch oven or ovenproof casserole. Add 1/3 cup of water for each pound of fat you have. This prevents the fat from burning during the rendering process.

Put the pan in the oven, uncovered. Check on its progress and stir it twice during the first 45 minutes, then check and stir once per hour. Render the fat until it starts to color. This will take 4-8 hours depending on the amount of fat you start with. As soon as you see any pieces with color, remove the fat from the oven and strain it through a fine mesh strainer lined with cheesecloth. Any pieces that remain in the strainer can be returned to the pan to render further if you wish.

Let the rendered lard cool completely before covering it and storing in the refrigerator where it will keep for about 2 months. If frozen it will keep for a year.

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Lamingtons for Australia Day

Posted in Festival Cooking, Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , on January 25, 2010| 2 Comments »

Aside from the cute accent, being married to an Australian has other advantages. We get to celebrate extra holidays, which of course involve food. January 26th is Australia Day, commemorating the arrival of the so called First Fleet at Sydney Cove in 1788. It marks the founding of the penal colony of New South Wales and the first European occupation of the continent of Australia.

One of the foods that is revered as being uniquely Australian is the lamington, a square of yellow or sponge cake covered in chocolate icing and rolled in dried coconut. Holding a similar place in the hearts of Australians as the brownie does for Americans, lamingtons are often served on Australia Day, but can also be found in bakeries and cafes year round. In particular they are the undisputed star of what we would call the bake sale, but which in Australia is simply known as the lamington drive. Any time money needs to be raised for a good cause, scores of people form assembly lines of cake baking, chocolate dipping and coconut rolling. Or they buy commercially made lamingtons at the store (no worries mate, we won’t tell).

It is thought that lamingtons are named for Charles Cochrane-Baillie, 2nd Baron Lamington, who was Governor of the colony of Queensland from 1896 to 1901. Supposedly, the governor arrived with guests at his summer home Harlaxton House in Toowoomba, which being in a somewhat mountainous area of southern Queensland is much cooler than the tropical north. His chef, Armand Gallad, was taken by surprise and had only day-old sponge cake to serve for tea. Improvising, he dipped the cake in some chocolate icing and rolled it in dried coconut. While nowadays coconuts grow all over Queensland, they were not as ubiquitous in the 19th Century and dried coconut was not a common ingredient in colonial cuisine. Needless to say, the newly invented tea cakes were a big hit with the governor’s guests who immediately asked for the recipe.

Australians are not known for wearing their patriotism on their sleeves, but they do enjoy Australia Day — any excuse for a barbeque; remember, January is summer time down there. Before we get to the lamington recipe, have a look at this ad for Meat and Livestock Australia made by former Australian Rules Football star Sam Kekovich with his rather opinionated take on what should be served on Australia Day:

Lamingtons

Makes 10-12 two-inch squares

You can use any yellow cake or sponge cake for this, but since it is a 19th Century recipe I decided to use a génoise which is an egg-leavened cake that was frequently used to make petits fours and other fancy tea cakes.

Génoise Cake adapted from Julia Child

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
⅔ cup flour, sifted
3 large eggs
½ cup sugar
1½teaspoons vanilla extract
1 pinch salt

Preheat oven to 350F

Prepare an 8 inch round cake pan as follows: put a piece of waxed paper, cut to fit, in the bottom of the pan, then butter it well. Finally, flour the pan, knocking out any excess when finished.

Melt the butter and set it aside to cool.

Beat the eggs, sugar, vanilla and salt with a portable mixer or a stand mixer for about 10 minutes or until they are very thick and pale colored. When you lift the beaters out of the bowl a ribbon of batter should fall from them and lie distinctly on the surface in the bowl before sinking back in. This is what is known as the “ribbon stage” in baking.

Sprinkle about 1/4 of your sifted flour onto the batter and then quickly but gently fold the flour into it until it is almost incorporated. Do your best not to deflate the batter. Add 1/2 of the remaining flour and fold it in. Next, fold in about 1/3 of the cooled melted butter and then continue alternating between flour and butter until everything is incorporated.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and give it a shake to even it out. Bake for 20-25 minutes or until the top is spongy when pressed and the cake has just started to pull away from the edges of the pan.

Let it cool in the pan for about 10 minutes, then turn it out on a cooling rack. If the cake doesn’t come out of the pan right away leave it upside down on the rack for a few minutes and it should drop out. Peel off the waxed paper if it has stuck to the cake. When the cake has fully cooled (in about 11/2 hours) wrap it tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate over night.

Chocolate and Coconut Coating

Be sure to check the label on your package of coconut. Much of the stuff sold in supermarket has added sugar, which makes it too sweet.

4 cups (about 1 pound) confectioner’s sugar
⅓ cup cocoa powder
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
½ cup milk
2 cups dried, unsweetened coconut

Remove your génoise cake from the refrigerator and cut it into 2-inch pieces.

In a double boiler, or a heat-proof bowl set over a pot of simmering water (don’t let the water touch the bottom of the bowl), combine the confectioner’s sugar, cocoa powder, butter and milk. Stir together until it becomes a smooth liquid that is easily pourable. Remove the icing from the stove, but leave the water simmering as you will probably need it again during the process.

Pierce each piece of génoise cake with a fork and dunk it in the chocolate icing until it is completely covered. It helps to use a spoon in the other hand to scoop icing over the cake. Hold the piece of cake over the bowl and allow any excess icing to drip off, then place the cake on a plate of dried coconut and quickly roll it to cover all sides. Finally, put the finished lamington on a rack to set.

As you go, you’ll find that the chocolate icing will thicken as it cools, making it difficult to dip the pieces of cake. Bring the bowl or pot back to the stove, set it over the simmering water and stir to regain a pourable consistency. You may have to do this several times during the icing process. If, towards the end, it is still too thick even after reheating, add a little milk to thin it out.

Continue until all of your lamingtons are iced and rolled in coconut. Once they have set they will keep for several days if stored in an air tight container.

Variation: After the lamingtons are set you can split them with a knife and fill the center with strawberry jam.

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An Almost Manhattan to Chase Away the Sunday Blues

Posted in Cocktails, Food History, recipes, tagged , , , , on January 18, 2010| Leave a Comment »

On a recent Sunday evening our house fell under the shadow of a looming work week. A cocktail was needed to lift our spirits. Besides, we had recently purchased some new (to us) cocktail glasses at the Salvation Army (a great source for cheap, nice glasses, by the way) and needed to christen them.

We had rye in the house but no sweet vermouth, so Manhattans were out. We did have dry vermouth however, and in lieu of a Maraschino cherry there was Maraschino liqueur. Since were were improvising, we reached for the Fee Bros. Orange Bitters instead of Angostura, stirred it all up and gave it a try.

Due to liberal use of the bitters it was very orange-y and that, combined with the toasty rye was just the thing for a freezing winter night. As we sat sipping away the blues we wondered what to call it. It wasn’t a Manhattan but it was an almost Manhattan, so of course it should be called a Marble Hill.

For those of you who don’t live in New York City, and those of you who do, but aren’t as obsessed with weird tidbits of history as I am, here’s the story of Marble Hill. It’s a neighborhood that used to be geographically located at the very northern tip of the island of Manhattan. As you may know, the river (well really at that point it’s a tidal estuary) to the west of Manhattan is the Hudson, and the tidal strait (no, it’s not really a river) to the east of the island is called the East River. Connecting the Hudson and East Rivers and going around the top of the island is another tidal strait called the Harlem River. In the late 19th Century it was decided that a ship canal needed to be created to allow larger ships to be able to navigate easily from the Harlem River to the Hudson River. The canal, known as the Harlem River Ship Canal, was dug through one of the narrowest parts of Manhattan, just south of the neighborhood of Marble Hill. After it’s completion in 1895 Marble Hill was an island surrounded on three sides by the original path of the river and to the south by the new ship canal. In 1914 the part of the Harlem River that flowed north of Marble Hill was filled in, connecting the neighborhood to the mainland and making it geographically part of the borough of the Bronx.

Over the years there have been many arguments as to whether Marble Hill should be considered part of Manhattan or the Bronx. A particularly weird episode occurred in 1939 when the Bronx Borough President at the time, James J. Lyons, planted a Bronx County flag in Marble Hill and demanded that the residents declare their allegiance to the Bronx. He even went so far as to call Marble Hill “the Bronx Sudetenland,” a reference to Hitler’s 1938 annexation of Czechoslovakia! The residents of Marble Hill smartly gave him a raspberry (I won’t call it a Bronx cheer) and sent a petition to New York’s Governor to remain a part of Manhattan.

It took a while but in 1984 the New York State Legislature passed a law declaring Marble Hill a part of Manhattan. Unfortunately, residents must put up with a ZIP code beginning in 104 instead of the coveted Manhattan 100 and in 1992 their area code was changed to from 212 to 718 along with the Bronx. However, to avoid confusion they are listed in both the Manhattan and Bronx phone directories.

Next time you want to win a bar bet, ask your opponent to name the northernmost neighborhood in Manhattan.

Marble Hill

It turns out there is already a cocktail named for Marble Hill which contains gin, Dubonnet and orange juice. But I say if there can be multiple Corpse Revivers then there can be multiple Marble Hills too, so here’s ours.

Makes one 4 ounce cocktail

2 1/2 ounces rye
3/4 ounce dry vermouth
3/4 ounce Maraschino liqueur
3 healthy dashes of orange bitters
a twist of orange

Combine liquid ingredients with ice and stir to chill. Strain into proper 4.5 ounce cocktail glasses and garnish with a twist of orange.

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Duck and Turnips by Way of Ancient Rome

Posted in Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , on January 14, 2010| Leave a Comment »

Cookbook authors only started giving precise measurements and cooking times a little over a century ago, so figuring out older recipes can be a real challenge. One of the earliest cookbooks we have is De re coquinaria or On the Subject of Cooking. Some of the recipes in it are attributed to Marcus Gavius Apicius who lived in the 1st Century CE and was famed as a gourmet. The book is sometimes also simply referred to as Apicius.

Not being a Latin scholar, I am indebted to the archaeologist-cook Ilaria Gozzini Giacosa who has given us A Taste of Ancient Rome (translated by Anna Herklotz). In this detailed and entertaining book, Ms. Giacosa, gives us everything we need in order to attempt some of Apicius’s ancient recipes in the modern kitchen. Here is Ms. Herklotz’s English translation Apicius’s original recipe for Duck with Turnips:

“Crane or duck with turnips: Wash, truss and boil in a pan with water, salt, and dill until half cooked. Cook the turnips so that they lose their bitterness. Remove the duck from the pan, wash again, and place in a pot with oil and garum and a bouquet of leeks and coriander. Over this put a turnip that has been well washed and cut into very small pieces, and cook. When it has cooked somewhat, add defructum for color. Prepare this sauce: pepper, cumin, coriander, and silphium root, moistened with vinegar and cooking broth. Pour over the duck and boil. When it boils, thicken with starch and add over the [remaining] turnips, Sprinkle with pepper and serve.”

Aren’t you glad they don’t write recipes that way anymore? Ms. Giacosa redacts the recipe, adjusting it to modern expectations by giving some measurements for the ingredients and leaving out the boiling of the duck, instead going straight to roasting it in a pot. The resulting recipe is actually very similar to a classic French dish called Caneton Poêlé aux Navet or Casserole-roasted Duckling with Turnips. I decided to put the two together and make a sort of Caneton Poêlé aux Navet á l’Apicius by using the French method with the ancient Roman flavors.

You may have noticed a few unfamiliar ingredients in the original recipe, namely: garum, defrutum, and silphium. Garum is perhaps the most ubiquitous ingredient in ancient Roman cooking. It is a fermented fish sauce they used to put on just about everything. The best garum came from what is now Spain and Portugal, regions still known for their fish cookery, and Roman nobles would pay a pretty denarius for it. Someday I would like to attempt making my own garum, but considering it requires layering fish innards with salt in a clay pot and leaving it out in the sun for three months, I think it will have to wait. There was a reason the garum factory was always located on the outskirts of town. Luckily, fish sauce is still beloved by Thai and Vietnamese chefs, among others, so for this recipe I used the Thai fish sauce called nuoc mam which is widely available at stores selling asian ingredients or even in the asian section of your supermarket.

Defrutum is a sweet syrup made by boiling grape must (what is left after the grapes have been crushed to make wine) and reducing it to about half its original volume. This ancient ingredient has survived in two different products still made in Italy, saba, and vincotto. They are essentially the same as defrutum but have been aged in oak barrels (which the Romans did not use). Sometimes vincotto is mixed with vinegar or fruit flavors so read the label carefully when shopping to make sure you get the plain version. I found some vincotto in a gourmet shop, I have also seen both vincotto and saba for sale online.

Our final mystery ingredient is truly a mystery. Silphium (also called laser by the Romans) was coveted by the wealthy as an exotic ingredient, and was so expensive that only the tiniest amounts were used. It is a resin from a plant that is now extinct. It is thought to be from the genus Ferula. It grew only in a small area near the ancient Greek settlement of Cyrene in what is now eastern Libya. The reason for its extinction is unknown, some speculate that it was farmed intensely until the soil was depleted, others think animals were grazed on it to improve the flavor of their meat, leading to overgrazing and extinction. Supposedly the last stalk of silphium was given to the emperor Nero (37 CE – 68 CE) as a gift.

Once there was no more silphium to be had, the Romans took to using another plant instead which they called laser parthicum. We think that laser parthicum is asafoetida, a plant in the same genus as silphium. Asafoetida is still used today in cooking in the Middle East and Asia. In particular it is used by Jainists as a replacement for garlic and onions which their religion forbids them to eat. Asafoetida is available at stores which sell Indian spices. Beware, it is extremely pungent, keep it in a well-sealed container if you don’t want your entire kitchen smelling like, well, armpit. Don’t be alarmed, when you cook with it, the smell changes into something like very savory caramelized onions. It lends a tangy almost citrusy flavor to the finished dish, which combined with the earthy cumin and coriander makes it taste very middle eastern. Nowadays we think of Rome as a great western city, but before tomatoes, pasta and many other foods became part of its cuisine, Roman food was very much influenced by the lands it conquered in the mysterious east.

Duck with Turnips á l’Apicius

Adapted from Apicius and Ilaria Gozzini Giacosa with a little help from Juila Child

Serves 4

1 large duck (about 5 pounds)
3 tablespoons olive oil
1 teaspoon Thai fish sauce (nuoc mam)
1 small leek
1 bunch fresh cilantro
2 pounds fresh turnips
2 tablespoons vincotto or saba

Sauce:
1 ½ teaspoons ground cumin
1 ½ teaspoons ground coriander
½ teaspoon asafoetida
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons flour
1 – 1½ cups duck or chicken stock

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Wash the duck and pat it thoroughly dry inside and out.

Truss the duck by tucking the ends of the wings underneath the bird and tying the legs together with kitchen twine. If the wing-tips have been cut off, tie another piece of twine around the middle of the duck to secure the wings to its sides. Use a sharp knife or skewer to prick holes in the duck skin around the thighs, back and lower part of the breast. This helps render the fat out while cooking.

Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a dutch oven. Over medium-low heat, brown the duck carefully in the olive oil turning it so all sides are nicely brown (about 20 minutes).

Remove the duck from the dutch oven and pour off the oil. Put 1 teaspoon of Thai fish sauce in the dutch oven along with 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Return the duck to the pot and add a bouquet garni consisting of the leek trimmed of its roots and dark green leaves and the bunch of cilantro tied together with kitchen twine. Peel and cut 1 turnip into a small 1/2 inch dice and sprinkle it over the duck. Cover pot and put it in the center of your oven for 15 minutes.

While the duck is cooking, prepare the rest of the turnips. Peel the turnips and cut them in a larger 1 inch dice. Cook them in salted boiling water for about 5 minutes. Drain the turnips and set them aside.

When your duck has cooked for 15 minutes, add the partially cooked turnips to the dutch oven, arranging them around the duck. Using a pastry brush, paint the duck with 2 tablespoons of vincotto or saba. Return the duck to the oven for about another 35 minutes or until a thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh reads 165 F and the juices run clear. Baste the turnips occasionally with the pan juices during this last phase of cooking.

When the duck is cooked, remove the it and turnips from the pot and put them on a hot serving platter. Cover with tented aluminum foil and allow the duck to rest (and finish cooking) while you prepare the sauce.

Pour the juices from the dutch oven through a fine mesh strainer and into a liquid measuring cup. Let it stand for a minute to allow the fat to rise to the surface. Use a spoon to remove as much fat as you can, or use a fat separator if you have one. Once the juices are defatted, see how much you have. Add duck or chicken stock until you have a total of 2 cups. Pour your 2 cups of stock and cooking juices into a small saucepan and bring it to a simmer over medium heat.

In a medium saucepan heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil over low heat. When the oil is hot, use a whisk to blend in 3 tablespoons of flour. Continue whisking until the flour begins to turn a light brown. Remove the pot from the heat and immediately pour the hot stock and cooking juices into the flour and oil mixture and continue whisking until completely blended and the sauce begins to thicken. Put the pot back over a medium-low heat and add the cumin, coriander, asafoetida and balsamic vinegar, whisking to combine. Bring the sauce to a simmer and cook for a few minutes, partially covered to combine the flavors. Season to taste with salt freshly ground black pepper and serve on the side with the duck and turnips.

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Middle East Peace Through Food?

Posted in Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , on January 11, 2010| Leave a Comment »

Hummus is immensely popular in Israel, where it is widely acknowledged to be of Arab origin. Ask anyone where to find the best hummus in Jerusalem and they’ll send you to the Arab Quarter. You might think this would be a problem for Arab-Israeli relations, but actually, as noted in a recent article in The Economist, the only thing Israeli and Arab negotiators could agree on in Shepherdstown, West Virginia ten years ago, was the fact that the American hummus was ghastly. Who knows, maybe the Israelis and Arabs will agree to share Jerusalem, so everyone can continue to get their daily chickpea fix. It brings new meaning to the idea of whirled peas.

Having everyone sit down to a meal may sound like a simplistic way to solve such complex international issues, but Senator George J. Mitchell, President Obama’s Special Envoy to the Middle East, had quite a bit of success with just that tactic in the Northern Ireland peace negotiations. He hosted a dinner during which the negotiators were forbidden the topic of politics and were encouraged to discuss more personal things such as family and hobbies. A few days after that dinner, the first glimmers of mutual understanding were seen among the parties, leading eventually to the signing of the Good Friday Agreement. If he tries it again, I would advise Senator Mitchell to get the best hummus money can buy. Or better yet, have the negotiators contribute their own family recipes.

As with many traditional dishes, we don’t know the origin of hummus. The word comes to us through Turkish, from the Arabic. As is often the case with food words, it simply means what it is, “chickpeas.” The full Arabic name of the dish is hummus-bi-tahina (chickpeas with tahina, or sesame paste). If you’ve only ever bought it in the grocery store or made it with canned chickpeas, you may think of hummus as heavy and pasty. The real dish is nothing like that, when freshly made, with good ingredients, it is light and fluffy, with bright lemon and earthy garlic bringing out the flavor of the staid chickpea.

Hummus
adapted from Mediterranean Street Food by Anissa Helou

Makes about 2 cups

1/2 cup dried chickpeas, soaked in water for 4 hours or overnight
1/3 cup tahini
2 cloves garlic, peeled
salt
4 tablespoons lemon juice or to taste
paprika
fruity olive oil
olives (optional)

Drain and rinse the chickpeas. Put them in a saucepan and enough water to cover them by about an inch. Bring to a boil and then lower the heat to a simmer. Simmer the chickpeas partially covered for about 45 minutes or until very tender.

Drain the chickpeas and reserve the cooking water. Place the chickpeas in a food processor with the tahini and garlic. Process into a smooth puree. Check the consistency, it should be creamy, if it’s too thick add a couple of tablespoons of the chickpea cooking water to thin it out.

Add salt to taste, processing to blend it in.

Add the lemon juice a little at a time, processing to blend, until it tastes the way you like. At this point you may need to add more salt to balance the lemon juice. I find that I go back and forth between the two until it tastes just right.

Serve in a shallow bowl or on a small platter. Make a slight depression in the center of the hummus, sprinkle the paprika on top and pour some nice fruity olive oil into the depression. Garnish with olives if you like.

Serve with pita bread and vegetables for dipping.

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Be Your Own Chai Wallah

Posted in Food History, recipes, Traditional Foodways, tagged , , , on January 7, 2010| 2 Comments »

Photo by Flickr user Shabbir Siraj

I remember the first time I had chai in an Indian restaurant. I was transported to an imaginary spice market, sitting in the shade, watching the crowds flow by, while a merchant tried to convince me that his turmeric was worth the extra money. Good chai is exotic, creamy, sweet, spicy and invigorating, all at the same time.

A certain overpriced coffee purveyor, which shall remain nameless (with a green and white logo) serves a concoction they blithely call “chai.” It comes from a liquid concentrate which is then mixed with steamed milk. When I’ve tried it, all I could taste was the sweetener (I’ll give them credit, it is sugar and not corn syrup) and very little tea or spices. In a quest to duplicate that first chai experience, I decided to make some for myself. It turns out to be incredibly simple and I will most likely never buy chai from a coffee bar again.

First, a little history. The word “chai” simply means tea in Hindi, Punjabi, and actually, many other languages around the world. Tea has grown in India since prehistoric times, in particular in the region of Assam. But until much more recently that you might think, tea in India was seen as an herbal medicine, not an everyday beverage.

India was part of the British Empire from 1858-1947. At the time, the British were prodigious drinkers of tea, consuming about one pound of tea leaves per person, per year. The majority (90%) of that tea was coming from China, expensively imported by the East India Company. As soon as they came into power in India, the British began to cultivate tea plantations there, in order to have more direct control over the source of their favorite beverage. They also grew tea in Ceylon (now called Sri Lanka). By 1900 50% of the tea drunk in Britain came from India and 33% from Ceylon.

What does this have to do with chai in India? Once tea became big business in India the usual trade organizations grew up around it. Specifically of interest in this story is the Indian Tea Association, founded in 1881. Beginning in the early 20th Century, the Indian Tea Association began a campaign promoting tea to Indians. The organization encouraged employers to give their workers tea breaks, and it supported chai wallahs (tea sellers) at strategic locations such as railway stations. Initially, the tea sold by the chai wallahs was the same as you would find in Britain, black tea with a little milk and sugar. The Indian Tea Association did not approve of any deviation from this model. Over time, independent chai wallahs started popping up and they put a local spin on this new beverage by adding Indian spices and boiling all the ingredients together, including the tea. Besides inventing a new drink, this was a way for the chai wallahs to save money and buy fewer tea leaves. When tea leaves are boiled, the end product is strong and bitter, but this is tempered by the addition of spices and boiling in a mixture of milk and water. To distinguish this new, exciting drink from the British version, Indians began to call it masala chai which means “spiced tea.”

Before we look at the recipe, take a moment to watch this lovely short film by Nick Higgins of a holy man brewing masala chai over a twig fire in New Delhi.

Masala Chai

Makes 2 small cups

There are just about as many recipes for masala chai as there are people in India, so feel free to experiment with different spices, amounts of milk and sugar, and cooking time until you get something you like. Other popular spices include star anise, fennel, mint leaves, liquorice, and saffron. One tip: don’t skimp on the sugar, it brings out the flavors and counteracts the bitterness of the tea.

1/8 teaspoon ground ginger
2 whole cloves
1 cinnamon stick
2 whole black peppercorns
2 cardamon pods
1 tablespoon of black tea (I like to use Assam)
1 1/4 cups water
1/3 cup milk
2 tablespoons brown sugar (turbinado or demerara are nice)

Lightly crush all of the spices. Put the tea, spices and water in a pot and bring to a rolling boil. Turn the heat down and let it simmer for about 3 minutes. Add the milk and sugar and stir.

Bring the mixture to a boil again. As soon as the milk begins to foam up the sides of the pot, remove it from the heat and strain through a fine mesh strainer into a pot from which you will serve it.

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