Alone in the Kitchen...

Several weeks ago, I was thrilled to be sent a preview copy of "Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant" by Riverhead Books. I love thinking about food and reading about food as much as I love cooking it and eating it. The subject of the book is an interesting one- It is a collection of 20+ essays, all about cooking for oneself and eating alone. I have to say- this was the most interesting and engaging bit of food writing I have read in several months- it seems that the subject evokes some pretty interesting thoughts, both from the editor, Jenni Ferrari-Adler, and all of the contributors. In fact, my mother was visiting when the book arrived, and she read it cover to cover before I even got a chance to touch it. She was quite amused by the theme of the book and thoroughly enjoyed it.


For most of the days since I set up my first kitchen in NYC, I often ate cozy dinners with V and boisterous dinners with my roommate and the parade of assorted friends who would troop through our apartment. I did have days and months of cooking and eating alone, however, and they always coincided with the times when I was busiest and most stressed out at work. Confronted with the prospect of cooking for myself, I would find myself singularly uninspired. I would often go into the kitchen, stand around for a while, sigh, then drink a glass of orange juice and go off to bed. This was a little disturbing- if I love cooking and routinely make full meals for the everyone else, why don't I care enough to feed myself? So I was delighted to find this paradox addressed in some of the essays.

As Jenni Ferrari-Adler says in the book, "A good meal is like a present, and it can feel goofy, at best, to give yourself a present. On the other hand, there is something life affirming in taking the trouble to feed yourself well, or even decently".

In Ann Pratchett's words, "Do I not believe that I am entitled to the same level of tenderness that I extend to others? Or is it, in fact, a greater level of self-love to not put myself through the hassle of making dinner?"

Ben Karlin makes a great point when he says, "I realized the secret ingredient in most great cooking is the confidence of others-the look in their eyes, the nods of encouragement and amazement that what they are eating is so good and you were responsible for it".

Laurie Colwin brings up the issue of the foods we eat when we eat alone by saying, "Certainly cooking for oneself reveals man at his weirdest. People lie when you ask them what they eat when they are alone. A salad, they tell you. But when you persist, they confess to peanut butter and bacon sandwiches deep-fried and eaten with hot sauce, or spaghetti with butter and grape jam." The food I ate alone were not so much bizarre as they were uncharacteristic. On my home-alone nights, I often ate things I would never dream of eating: microwaved frozen French fries, anyone? How about a whole bag of potato chips, with ketchup as a dip?

Obession with particular foods seems to be another hallmark of eating alone. Beverly Lowry says, "...I have routinely stuck to certain dishes, cooking them over and over again, until in memory, the place and the dish merge and become a single event". There are essays about obessive years spent making and eating black beans, spaghetti, instant noodles that tell me that I am not alone. Oh yes, I went through my phases too, of comfort-and-convenience foods- there was a peanut butter sandwich phase, then a poha phase, which ended prematurely when the mega-packet of rice flakes ran out and I refused to make a trip to Queens to buy another...followed by a bread-pizza phase (pepperidge farm sliced bread, topped with pasta sauce and sprinkled with pre-shredded cheese)...Oh, I shudder to think of the things I have eaten for dinner, all consumed while being propped up in bed, in the flickering glow of the TV.

Not all home-alone cuisine is as mortifying as the stuff I ate. Some essays talk about signature dishes that are perfected while one is alone in the kitchen. Dan Chaon, for instance, writes about making big pots of chili, stating that "Cooking chili made me feel festive, even though I was alone in my apartment, as if I would soon be surrounded by a large group of happy people".

And what is it about eggplants and cooking for oneself? Laurie Colwin talks about living on eggplant in the essay that gives the book its title. Recently, two bloggers confessed that if they were to cook for themselves, it would be eggplants/ brinjals that they would cook! So, without further ado, an eggplant recipe...

We do associate eggplants with their lovely deep purple color, don't we? In fact, in Marathi, a particularly fetching shade of royal purple is admiringly called vangi color, generally when referring to lustrous silk sarees and fabrics. So I was a little startled to see this fellow in the market:

I mean, you often see patterned purple-white eggplants of different sizes, but this one is totally monochromatic. Apparently, the white eggplant is the oldest cultivated eggplant, with some suggesting that the egg-colored and egg-shaped globes were the reason for calling it an eggplant in the first place. Today, these albino varietals are cultivated more as a novelty and the purple ones are the commonest ones. I used the white eggplant just as I would any other eggplant: not bothering to peel it. It tasted tender and delicious!

I used the eggplant in a signature Sicilian dish called caponata. The first time I ever tasted caponata was when our Sicilian friend made it, and it was the most complex and delightful mixture of flavors- fried cubes of eggplant, peppers, onion, tomato mingled with bits of olives and tiny capers. In making "real" caponata, olive il is used in a manner that can only be described as abundant, bountiful, copious! My stingy less-oil version (adapted from a Food Network recipe) turns out more like a stew, but is very tasty all the same. The raisins and sugar in the recipe result in a lovely savory-sweet flavor profile. Next time, I will also throw in some olives. Caponata is wonderful at room temperature, making it perfect picnic food. It also tastes better if made a day before serving.

Eggplant Caponata Sandwich

(adapted from Giada de Laurentiis' recipe, makes about 6 servings)
Here is how I made this (with substitutions according to what I had on hand). For the full recipe, please refer to the link above.
Caponata
1. Dice a medium eggplant and saute in 3-4 T olive oil until it starts to soften.
2. Add 1 C diced sweet yellow peppers and saute for a few minutes more.
3. Add 1 medium choppped onion and saute until the onion is transluscent.
4. Add 2 C diced tomatoes (with juice), 2 T golden raisins, 1 t dried oregano, salt and pepper to taste.
5. Cook for 20-25 minutes, stirring often.
6. Turn off the heat, then stir in 1 t sugar, 2-3 T balsamic vinegar and 1 T capers.

Sandwiches

1. Picnic version: Pack your favorite rolls such as demi-baguettes or ciabatta (halved) in a paper bag, mozzarella slices in one box, and caponata in a second box. Assemble sandwiches right before you eat.
2. Toasted version (If the temperature outside is a 108 degrees F and the picnic has to be relocated to your living room): Halve the roll, place slices of fresh mozzarella cheese on the bottom half, and toast until the cheese melts and the bread gets crispy. Stuff with a generous amount of the caponata and serve right away.

Other ways to use caponata...
1. As a spread for crackers or crostini (little toasts).
2. As a pasta sauce, thinned down with some pasta water if necessary.

The Eggplant Caponata Sandwich is my entry to Anupama's Picnic Food Event. Click here for the round-up, full of great ideas for picnic fare!

Grub For Thought

One of my favorite things about our new neighborhood is the big, airy public library that is just around the corner (lucky lucky me). I was especially overjoyed to see the generous aisles devoted to cookbooks, including shelves upon shelves of vegetarian cookbooks. One of the books I have been reading over the new year is Grub: Ideas for an Urban Organic Kitchen by Anna Lappe and Bryant Terry.



Lappe and Terry define Grub as wholesome food that is good for the body and good for the planet...organic food that is sustainably raised and locally procured. As opposed to mass-produced, highly processed food. The first part of the book talks about the principles that the authors believe in, and tips on how to incorporate "grub" into our kitchens. The second half consists of seasonal recipes.

Did the book tell me anything I was not already aware of? Well, not really. By now, the politics of food has been discussed in magazines, newspapers and on local radio, and most of us are already aware of "grub" in our own ways. I know that I certainly get angry when I think of mega-corporations taking over my kitchen. And most people I know do feel sad about living in times where a contaminated batch of spinach from one factory causes illness in five states across the continent. Still, at the beginning of the new year, the book was a reminder to cook and eat with consciousness.

Some tips and reminders from the book:
1. Our food dollars are powerful: we can use them to influence the world around us.
2. The extra time and money spent in procuring "grub" (rather than reaching for the closest mass-produced food product) is an investment in precious things: our health and the future of our planet.
3. The average American household throws 14% of its food into the trash (i.e., we waste nearly a sixth of the food we buy). So, wasting less food would be the first (and easiest) step towards a green kitchen.
4. Buy from Farmers Markets as far as possible, and try to buy fruits and veggies that are in season. How do you know what fruits and vegetables are in season? Here is where the book provided a great tip (if you live in the US): On the internet, search for your state's department of agriculture (eg. Google "Missouri Department of Agriculture"). The Department of Agriculture website provides a host of resources, like the locations of farmers markets, as well as harvest calenders.

Here, for instance, is the Harvest Calendar for Missouri:


Winter has lean pickings, but I am waiting for spring and summer and for a host of produce to come into season! If you live in St. Louis, don't forget to check out Veggie Venture, where Alanna has put together a tremendously useful list of several local food sources.

One of the recipes from "Grub" caught my eye: spicy barbecued tofu. I love eating tofu, but don't cook it nearly as much as I would like to. In this recipe, the tofu is pressed, shallow-fried to a golden brown, then drenched in a home-made barbeque sauce and baked to perfection. This is probably the tastiest tofu I have ever eaten, and I knew I had to share the recipe with you (my adaptation of it, anyway).

Barbeque Tofu

(adapted from Grub: Ideas for an Urban Organic Kitchen by Anna Lappe and Bryant Terry)

served 2-3 as a main course

Prepare the tofu:
1. Pressing: Start with 1 block of extra-firm tofu (I used Trader Joe's). Drain out the water and wrap the block of tofu in a clean freshly-laundered kitchen towel. Place in a plate/ bowl, and weigh down the tofu to press out as much liquid as possible. I did this by balancing an empty heavy pasta pot on the wrapped tofu, and placing 5 lb packets of lentils and flour in the pot. Press the tofu for 1-2 hours.
2. Slicing: Hold the block of tofu sideways, then cut into three slices. Cut each slice across one diagonal, and then the other, such that you get 12 small triangles from one block of tofu.
2. Frying the tofu: Heat 2-3 tbsp olive oil in a non-stick skillet. Fry the slices of tofu (in batches if necessary) to get them golden-brown on each side (takes several minutes).

Prepare the marinade: This can be done while the tofu is being pressed. A good barbecue sauce has such a complexity of flavors...this is what I used (with the original recipe suggestions in brackets).
Base: Canned tomato sauce 3 tbsp + soy sauce (tamari) 5 tbsp
Sweetness: Honey (maple syrup) 3 tbsp
Spice: Cumin powder 1/2 tsp
Acidity: Lemon juice (lime juice) 1 tsp + Apple cider vinegar 2 tbsp
Smoky flavor + heat: 1 dried chipotle chili (1 canned chili in chipotle sauce)
+ 1 tbsp olive oil to form an emulsion

Now, I entirely eyeballed the proportions of the marinade ingredients, and I would suggest tasting as you go along to find the right balance you like. In the end, the sauce was finger-licking good, way better than any store-bought BBQ sauce that I have tried.

Baking the tofu: Place fried tofu in a baking dish and pour the marinade over it. Cover dish with a foil and bake at 350 degrees F for one hour, turning pieces half-way through baking. The 12 pieces of tofu fit snugly in one layer in a standard 9x9 baking dish:

Tofu Tangram, anyone?


I served up the barbeque tofu with some smashed garlicky roasted potatoes (potatoes and garlic can be roasted in the same oven, while the tofu is baking). All in all, a delicious and off-beat Sunday lunch:


It was nice to start off the new year with some resolutions to eat and live better. But Alanna shares a cartoon depicting the resolution that beats all resolutions: Check it out!

Books and Food: Freedom Song by Amit Chaudhuri

This article is part of a special series called "Books and Food". I have loved books long before I ever got interested in the culinary arts. Short stories, novels, biographies and travelogues, I love them all. Human life is inextricably linked to food, and books often use descriptions of feasts and famines, dinner rituals and food memories to bring a point across to the reader. In this series, I talk about my favorite books and the food passages therein, and make a dish or a meal inspired by the book

Today's book: A Strange and Sublime Address, a novella by Amit Chaudhuri, part of the book Freedom Song

The food: A Bengali meal of Chholar Dal and Aloo Posto, served over steamed rice


Amit Chaudhuri's novella A Strange and Sublime Address is part of a collection of three novellas, Freedom Song. It is a story with a plot that is remarkable by its non-existence! It is not a story so much as it is a snapshot, a description of a certain time and place, capturing the minutae of existence of a certain family. Sandeep visits his mother's family in Calcutta for the summer, and Chaudhuri captures this simple summer vacation- the day-today activities of Sandeep and his two boy cousins, the goings-about of the typical Bengali household- with his exquisitely descriptive language. Here is a book that reads like a poem.

"...Later, they went down to have lunch in the dining-room; they dangled their feet ferociously from chairs round a large, shabby table with pots thronging in the centre.
Pieces of boal fish, cooked in turmeric, red chilli paste, onions and garlic, lay in a red, fiery sauce in a red pan; rice, packed into an even white cake, had a spade-like spoon embedded in it; slices of fried aubergine were arranged on a white dish; dal was served from another pan with a dropping ladle; long, complex filaments of banana-flower, exotic, botanical, lay in yet another pan in a dark sauce; each plate had a heap of salt on one side, a green chilli, and a slice of sweet-smelling lemon. The grown-ups snapped the chillies (each made a sounds terse as a satirical retort), and scattered the tiny, deadly seeds in their food. If any of the boys were ever brave or foolish enough to bite a chilli, their eyes filled tragically with tears, and they longed to drown in a cool, clear lake. Though Chhotomama was far from affluent, they ate well, especially on Sundays, caressing the rice and sauces on their plates with attentive, sensuous fingers. fingers which performed a practised and graceful ballet on the plate till it was quite empty"

I am a newcomer to Bengali cuisine. Bengali food is stereotyped by the heavy consumption of rice and fish, and is famous for its delicious milk-based sweets. Vegetarian Bengali food is traditionally "satvik", meaning "pure" and devoid of onions and garlic. Unlike the vegetarian food of the rest of India, Bengali veggie food is very mild as far as spices go. To make a simple home-style Bengali-inspired meal, I decided to make two classics: a simple chana dal called chholaar dal, a potato-and-poppy seed preparation called aloo posto and some piping hot steamed rice to round out the meal.


The chholar dal recipe is kindly provided by my friend Sujayita. She served this at a dinner to me once, and I was delighted by this mild, sweetish, buttery tasting dal. I personally tend to not use chana dal very much, and when I tasted this dal, I was convinced that I should use it more.

Chholaar Dal
(serves 4)
Ingredients:
1 cup chana dal (split gram lentils)
1 heaped tbsp grated fresh ginger
Tempering:
1 tbsp oil
1 tbsp ghee
2 bay leaves
1 tsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1 inch piece of cinnamon
Seasoning:
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 heaped tsp sugar (or to taste)
salt to taste
Garnish:
Bits of coconut, fried (optional)
Method
1. Soak the chana dal for 8-10 hours. Then cook on stove-top or in pressure cooker until it is tender but not mushy.
2. Stir the ginger into the cooked dal and set aside.
3. Heat the oil and ghee, then add all the tempering ingredients. Saute for a couple of minutes.
4. Add the turmeric and saute for a few seconds, then add cooked dal and simmer for 5 minutes.
5. Season with salt and sugar. You can add more water if the dal appears too thick. Garnish with coconut, if using.

The aloo posto recipe originates with my aunt J who lives in Toronto. Although she is Konkani, she was raised in Calcutta and is married to a Bengali; traditional Bengali food often makes its way to her table. When I visited her three years ago, she delighted me by serving aloo posto with typical Konkani-style dal, a true marriage of two culinary traditions! Once I returned home, I tried making it and it came out great. However, in a moment of culinary bravado, I neglected to write the recipe down. This is the best I can remember of it, so I'm not making any claims to authenticity with this recipe!

Aloo Posto
(serves 4)
Ingredients
2 large or 3 medium potatoes
salt to taste
1/2 tsp turmeric
2 tbsp oil
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 bayleaf
1/2 cup poppy seeds
2 green or red chillies
Method
1. Soak the poppy seeds for 30 minutes. Grind them with the chillies, using very little water, to make a thick paste.
2. Peel the potatoes and slice them into thick stubby finger shapes. Rub them with salt and turmeric and set aside.
3. Heat the oil, then saute the cumin seeds and bayleaf for a minute.
4. Add the potatoes and saute for a few minutes.
5. Stir in the poppy seed paste and 1/2 cup water.
6. Cover and cook till potatoes are tender and well-coated with the paste (adding a little more water if the potatoes start sticking to the pan).

See you soon with a new edition of "Recipe Watch", where I describe some recipes from my fellow bloggers that I have tried and loved. Have a great week ahead!