Watermelon Salsa

We had a lot of watermelon, which we had bought for our daughter's birthday party. I sliced the watermelon into kid-sized wedges. But, we had a lot of watermelon. And, when the party was over, we still had a lot of watermelon. 

Clare had been talking about making some watermelon salsa. I went onto the Internet and began looking at various recipes. Needless to say, there is a lot of commonality amongst those recipes. Besides the watermelon, most recipes called for red onion, jalapenos, lime juice, cilantro and salt.

I wanted to do something a little different. There were a few recipes that provided some ideas. Recipes that called for additional ingredients, such as cucumber and lime zest. I even thought about adding some mango, but I decided to leave that for another day and another recipe.

In the end, I took a recipe that I found on Master Class and made a couple of changes based on other recipes. I added that cucumber (1/2 of a cucumber, diced) and lime zest (about 1 tablespoon). I also made the salt optional, because I did not think it was required. Given all of the fresh ingredients, along with watermelon's natural tendency to leech water, I thought that it was good to go without the salt (which would have only drawn out more water from the ingredients).  

The end result is a colorful, fresh salsa that is actually very good. If I had a summer menu, this salsa would be part of it, along with a good gazpacho. 

WATERMELON SALSA

Recipe adapted from Master Class

Serves several

Ingredients:

• 3 cups of seedless watermelon, diced
• 1 small red onion, diced
• 1/2 cucumber, seeded and diced
• 1 jalapeno, seeds removed and diced
• 2 tablespoons lime juice
• 1 tablespoon lime zest
• 1/3 cup cilantro leaves, chopped finely
• Kosher salt, to taste (optional)

Directions:

Combine all of the ingredients together and mix well. Season with salt, if desired, just prior to serving. 

Around the World in 80 Dishes: Republic of the Marshall Islands

The Marshall Islands, also known as Jolet jen Anij to the Marshallese (which translates as "Gifts from God"), consists of five islands and twenty-nine atolls (totaling sixty-six square miles in land) in the Micronesia region of the Pacific Ocean. At first glance, the country is beautiful, with the palm trees swaying in the breeze as blue ocean waves lap the sandy shore. However, this beauty belies a dark past. It is a past that still haunts the country's citizens to this day. But even the legacy of the past pales in comparison to the threats to the country and its citizens posed by the future. 

This particular Around the World in 80 Dishes challenge is more than just a culinary one: the dishes are relatively easy to make. The real challenge is coming to grips with this country's history: past, present and future. 

The history of the Marshall Islands goes all the way back to the 2nd millennium BCE, when Micronesians first settled on the islands and the atolls. There is very little known about this history, except that the people who lived on the islands were largely self-sufficient. They grew fruits (bananas, breadfruit), taro, vegetables and other crops. There was also an abundance of coconut trees. The Marshallese also fished the oceans (the Marshallese have over fifty phrases and words in their native tongue for various fishing techniques). This self-sufficiency continued into the twentieth century, as the islands and atolls passed from Spanish control to German control and then to Japanese control. However the self-sufficiency of the Marshallese people declined significantly with the arrival of the Americans.

The Bombs at Bikini and Beyond

The United States made an ask (or, perhaps better phrased, a demand) of the Marshallese people: to use their islands and atolls to test nuclear weapons. The United States evacuated the Marshallese who lived on the Bikini Atoll. These people went from an atoll with 2.32 square miles of land and 229.4 square miles of lagoon to Rongerik, which consists of .65 square miles of land and 55.28 square miles of lagoon.  A similar fate awaited the Marshallese on Enewetak Atoll, who were moved to another atoll that was 25% of the size of their home and had only 25 square miles of lagoon, as opposed to the 390 miles of lagoon where they lived.

Credit: Bettman/Getty Images

From 1946 to 1958, the United States tested sixty-seven nuclear bombs on the atolls of the Marshall Islands.  The destructive impact was far beyond what was experienced at Hiroshima or Nagasaki. Basically, the impact can be described as dropping twelve bombs of the size that were dropped on Hiroshima each and every day for twelve years. The tests left the atolls of Bikini, Eneweak, Rongelap, and Utirik devastated and much of the remaining islands and atolls contaminated. This legacy has also affected the health of the Marshallese.

As President Truman once remarked, it was "for the good of all mankind and to end all wars." Except it was not good at all for the Marshallese. This displacement resulted in the malnourishment of the Marshallese, who were forced to live on less land with less resources. Indeed, eventually one-half of the population ended up living in the capital, Majuro. The concentration and urbanization of the Marshallese became the drivers that undermined the self-sufficiency of the indigenous people, causing them to rely more and more on imported food. 

A Paradise of Processed Food

Credit: Neil Sands, AFP/Getty Images

For those who lived in the small, densely populated urban centers, such as Majuro (as opposed to those who lived on outlying atolls), their diet consisted less of locally grown fruits or locally grown seafood. Instead, their diet began to feature imported foods such as Spam, canned corned beef, and other "variety meats" like turkey tails and pig intestines. It also included much more white rice, ramen, popsicles and sweet beverages.  Nearly 80% to 90% of all food calories consumed by the Marshallese who live in Majuro comes from less than healthy, imported food. (By contrast, those Marshallese who still live on outlying islands still consume between 50% to 75% of their food calories from locally obtained foods.) All of these statistics come from 2008; however, the situation has not improved over the years.

The importation of processed food has had its impact on the Marshallese. Diabetes has become a serious issue among the Marshallese. As of 2008, overwhelming majorities of Marshallese were overweight, and significant numbers had type 2 diabetes. The type-2 diabetes rate in the Marshall Islands is around 23%, far exceeding the rates in the United States (13%) and globally (9%).  The combination of white rice, with fatty meats, canned seafood, salty snacks and sweet beverages, are believed to be the culprits. These imported foods, which are cheaper than locally produced vegetables or caught seafood, have created this health crisis in the Marshall Islands. 

Thus, the culinary history of the Marshall Islands has been severely and negatively impacted by its political history with the United States. While a substantial amount of work has been done to improve the diet of the Marshallese, the country still suffers from high rates of type 2 diabetes. However, that political history still hangs over the islands, as the majority of the population remains in densely populated areas while many of their homes - such as those who lived on the Bikini atoll - remain off limits. 

I spent a lot of time with this challenge focusing on the theme. In the end, I decided to direct that focus not only on traditional foods, but also on the positive. The appetizer illustrates the positive work undertaken by the Marshallese to take control of their situations. The main course - and, my culinary challenge - turns to the traditional foods of the indigenous people.  

APPETIZER

Nearly ninety (90%) percent of Marshall Island's non-aid income comes from the tuna industry.  To that end, the Marshall Islands started its own tuna company in partnership with the Nature Conservancy.  The company, Pacific Island Tuna, is the first step for this country to enter into a market that is dominated by foreign fleets, mostly from China and Japan.  

The step enables the Marshallese to own the fish that are sold (which are certified as sustainable by the Marine Stewardship Council), thereby ensuring that the proceeds stay in the country. Forty percent (40%) of the net income will be invested in community based conservation efforts and climate resiliency projects. The remaining sixty percent (60%) goes to the island government.  

I begin my challenge with an appetizer in recognition of the innovation and leadership demonstrated by the Marshallese people as they try to conserve an important resource and use proceeds in positive ways, such as improving the communities, marine conservation, and fighting climate change. This was also a very delicious start to the meal. 

TUNA SASHIMI

Recipe from Delicious.com

Serves 2

Ingredients:

• 500 grams (1 pound) sashimi grade tuna
• 2 avocados, flesh cut into thick slices
• 2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon lime juice
• 4 spring onions, finely sliced on the diagonal
• 1/2 cup light soy sauce

Directions:

1. Prepare the tuna and avocado.  Using a sharp knife, cut the tuna into 0.5 cm (or 0.2 inch) slices. Place on a serving platter with the slices of avocado.

2. Prepare the dressing. Combine the extra virgin olive oil and lime juice. When ready to serve dress the avocado and tuna with lime dressing. Garnish with spring onions and season with sea salt and pepper.

3. Finish the dish. Serve with soy sauce for dipping and extra lime, if desired.

MAIN COURSE

Now, I turn to the culinary challenge itself: to make a main course from the Marshall Islands. I drew inspiration from the fishing heritage of the Marshallese people (after all, as noted above, they have fifty different words for fishing techniques in their native language). The main course is known as Marshallese Grilled Fish. 

This grilled fish dish is traditionally prepared by marinating the fish first in "so-shoe" (soy sauce) and then grilling the entire fish (including the guts) over a fire made with coconut husks. I followed the traditional marinade, but the rest of the recipe did not quite follow the tradition. As a routine, I had my fish gutted and scaled at the grocery store. I also lacked coconut husks to use in the grilling process. 

The dish was relatively easy to prepare. The hardest part was deciding on the fish to use. The fishing fleets that patrol the waters of the Marshall Islands usually land bigeye tuna, yellowfin tuna, blue marlin, black marlin, albacore tuna and swordfish. None of those were readily available whole at any market near me. 

However, I decided to go with a yellowtail amberjack. Nevertheless, I felt it was appropriate because the Yellowtail Amberjack is a nod to marine conservation generally. The Monterey Bay Aquarium rates this fish either a "best choice" or a "good alternative" depending upon whether the fish is raised through aquaculture and/or where that takes place. I marinated the whole fish (minus the guts) in soy sauce and then grilled it on my gas grill (not authentic at all). My one regret is not getting a picture of the fish before I started to deconstruct it to serve as the main course for myself and my beautiful Angel.   

MARSHALLESE GRILLED FISH

Recipe from International Cuisine

Serves 2

Ingredients:

• 1 whole fish, cleaned
• Coconut oil, for basting
• 1/4 cup soy sauce
• Freshly ground black pepper
• Sea salt
• 1 pineapple, peeled and cut into rings or chunks

Directions:

1. Prepare the fish. Clean the fish inside and out and pat dry. Marinate the fish in the soy sauce on both sides for about 20 minutes. Brush with some coconut oil. Season with salt and pepper.

2. Grill the fish. Place the fish in a fish basket for grilling so you can flip it without sticking to the grill. Place on a medium-hot grill and cook both sides for about 5 to 6 minutes or until the fish is flaky and tender. Do not overcook.

3. Grill the pineapple. As the fish is being grilled, add the pineapple to the grill. Grill for 1-2 minutes and flip. Grill for another 1 minute.

3. Finish the dish. Serve the fish whole with grilled pineapple and chukuchuk.

SIDE DISH

This side dish calls for the use of calrose rice, although I had a lot of sushi rice at hand. So, I substituted sushi rice, which worked well in terms of making the rice balls. In fact, it worked a little too well as I ended up pretty much with sticky rice. That stickiness ensured that the final product would be a coconut rice ball. These rice balls are served on special occasions and are often served alongside grilled fish. 

CHUKUCHUK

Recipe from International Cuisine

Makes 12 balls

Ingredients:

• 2 cups calrose rice
• 1 coconut, meat shredded/grated

Directions:

1. Prepare the rice. Prepare the rice in accordance with the directions on the package.

2. Continue preparing the rice. When the rice is cool enough to handle, roll the rice into balls and then roll the balls on the grated coconut. 

*    *    *

As I mentioned at the outset of this challenge, the dishes are easy to make, it is the history that is hard. The efforts of the Marshallese to take control of their resources, their food and their health face even greater challenges in the future. I cannot finish this post without addressing the biggest of these challenges: climate change. The average height above sea level in the Marshall Islands is seven feet.  As temperatures rise around the globe (and, they are rising given 2023 will be the hottest year in history) and ice melts at the poles, the sea levels will rise. 

Rising sea levels pose a threat to a country like the Marshall Islands. An average sea level rise of just 3 feet (or 1 meter) will result in nearly forty percent (40%) of the buildings in the capital, Majuro, being inundated with water. It will also result in the salinization of land used for domestic agriculture. Thus, Climate change may end up doing what atomic bombs could not do. If left unchecked, it might completely destroy the country, submerging most of it under the Pacific Ocean leaving little left that would be inhabitable. 

Credit: Karl Fellenius, AFP/Getty Images

There is one thing standing in the way: the Marshallese people. Their resilience throughout their history is noteworthy, but I fear it may not be enough. Measures to combat climate change are expensive, far beyond the means of countries with far more in resources that the Marshall Islands. 

The challenge to prepare a main course from the Marshall Islands has been less a story about paradise and more about our health and the health of our planet. It has definitely opened my eyes. 

Until next time ....

Txuleta with Red Pepper

It has been referred to as the "cornerstone" of Basque cuisine. It goes by the name of Txuleta (pronounced choo-letah) which translates into "meat chop." This particular cut of "meat chop" is always a porterhouse steak, from cattle that are raised in the autonomous community of Galicia. The cattle are raised on a very particular diet comprised of "high quality grasses." Another source of beef comes from retired dairy cattle from Germany or Poland. Moreover, the beef comes from relatively old cows, ranging in age from eight years to eighteen years.

There is also a very specific way to prepare Txuleta. It involves the application of a lot of salt to the exterior of the meat. This layer of salt helps to create a charred exterior during the grilling process. Once the steak reaches the desired temperature, which should be rare and no more than medium rare, the salt layer is brushed off before the steak is cut and then served.  

Not just any porterhouse will do. The steak should be at least two inches thick, so as to allow the steak to "stand" on its side when grilled. Not everyone has access to a butcher, who could provide you with a two-inch thick porterhouse. Thus, the key is getting the thickest steak you can. You will just have to adjust the cooking times to ensure you reach that rare or medium rare temperature.

All of the foregoing suggests the importance of cuisine to the Basque people, as well as the pride taken in terms of its preparation. The cuisine reflects the Basque region itself, which stretches along a coastline of the Bay of Biscay in northeastern Spain and southwestern France. That coastline means that seafood often plays a prominent role in Basque dishes. These include Marmitako, a fish stew, and Txipirones, a dish made from baby squid. Yet, the region also extends into an interior of fields, hillsides, and mountains. That interior yields grapes, producing some very good wines (especially Txakoli white wines), as well as livestock, produce and cheeses (like the Idiazabal). It also gives rise to meat stews and the iconic Piperade, a mix of tomatoes, onions and green peppers whose colors reflect the flag of the Basque country.

Returning to the Txuleta, the dish is typically served with some simple sides. These sides include a tomato salad, fried peppers or green onions. The recipe that I found, which comes from the Smithsonian Institution's Folk Life Festival, included charred, thinly-sliced red piquillo peppers. 

As a cornerstone of a cuisine, Txuleta represents an excellent introduction into a culture that I hope to further explore in the near future.

TXULETA WITH RED PEPPER

Recipe from Smithsonian Institution

Serves 2

Ingredients:

• 1 T-bone steak, about 2 inches thick so it can stand on its side
• 1 Piquillo pepper (or any sweet red pepper)
• Salt
• Olive Oil

Directions:

1. Prepare the pepper. Take a red pepper and place it on a roasting stick. Using a burner with the plate removed, lay the pepper in the open flame. Roast the pepper until its skin is entirely black. Rotate as needed. Burning the skin makes the pepper easier to peel and gives it a slight barbecue flavor. Peel the pepper by gently scraping off the burnt parts with your fingers or a paper towel. Do not use water as the pepper will lose flavor.

2. Continue to prepare the pepper. Chop or tear the pepper into long thin strips. In a 10" saute pan, add a layer of olive oil (approximately 1/2 cup or 4 ounces) and the steps of pepper. Let the peppers cook in low heat for 5 minutes to soften. Set the peppers aside.

3. Prepare the steak. Place the txuleta on a skillet or barbeque. Cook one side for approximately 4 to 5 minutes on low heat. Flip sides when the steak gets a nice browned color. Add a layer of salt on the top side. This helps keep the juices in and makes the meat crisper. Cook the second side for 4 to 5 minutes. Once done, shake off the excess salt. 

4. Finish the dish. Cut the meat off the bone in long strips, cutting from outside in toward the bone. The meat should still be red, rare to medium rare. The dish is traditionally served along with hot stones, which can be used to cook the meat further if desired. Place the meat on a platter with the peppers and serve.

ENJOY!

Wok Charred Edamame with Togarashi

The last time that I visited Fort Lauderdale for work, I went down to the hotel restaurant for a drink and dinner. The food is pretty good, but sometimes it can be hit or miss. As I sat at the bar drinking a nice local brew, I decided to get an order of Wok Charred Edamame with Togarashi. I love Edamame, and, the name of the dish, with its reference to Togarashi, piqued my interest.

I have previously posted about Togarashi. It is a uniquely Japanese spice blend that is heavy on the chile pepper, but includes some other interesting ingredients, such as dried seaweed and hemp seeds. The key thing to remember about Togarashi is that the preparation involves seven ingredients. That gives you Shichimi Togarashi.

Having prepared some Shichimi Togarashi for myself, I decided to recreate the dish that I had at that Fort Lauderdale restaurant. I searched the Internet and came across a few recipes, which I used as a starting point. The recipes called for ingredients that I would have expected in the dish, such as rice vinegar, sesame oil, and sesame seeds.

However, in the end, the recipes fell a little short from what I had in the restaurant. The restaurant version had a more reduced, slightly sticky sesame sauce that coated my fingers with a very delicious chile sesame mixture as I ate the Edamame. This turned the dish into a "finger-licking" good appetizer. My re-creation of Wok Charred Edamame with Togarashi produced a runnier sauce and, hence, cleaner fingers. Still, the flavors were essentially there, especially the Togarashi, which makes the dish. 

WOK CHARRED EDAMAME WITH TOGARASHI

Recipe adapted from multiple sources

Serves several

Ingredients:

• 4 cups edamame in shell, thawed
• 1 tablespoon shichimi togarashi
• 2 tablespoons peanut oil or vegetable oil
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 1 tablespoon sesame oil
• 2 tablespoons sesame seeds, toasted

Directions:

1. Prepare the edamame.  Heat a wok over high heat. Add the peanut oil or vegetable oil. and Add the edamame. Toss the edamame until they are coated with the oil. Then add the rice vinegar and togarashi. Toss again to ensure that the edamame are covered with the spice blend. 

2. Finish the dish. Allow the edamame to sit in the hot wok for about 30 seconds to char. Then remove from heat, stir in the sesame oil and the sesame seeds. Transfer to a bowl and serve immediately.

ENJOY!

Jambalaya

While there is no dispute that jambalaya comes from Louisiana, there is a fair amount of uncertainty as to where "jambalaya" comes from. One school of thought is that the word itself originated from Provence, France. There is a Provencal word - jambalaia - that means "mixed up." Then again, the name could be a mixture itself, from the French word for ham, jambon and the African word for rice, ya. (Although, I have serious doubts about this theory, because I cannot find an African language that translates "rice" into "ya.") There is still another thought that the origin is Spanish, with the combination of jamon and paella. 

One of the most interesting theories is that the word "jambalaya" is actually derived from the Atakapa, a Native American tribe who lived along the Gulf Coast in what is present-day Texas and Louisiana. The Atakapa would say, Sham pal ha, Ya! This translates roughly into "be full, not skinny, eat up!"

Whatever the name's origin, what is beyond dispute is that jambalaya is a mélange of influences. Perhaps the most obvious influence comes from western Africa, with the use of rice and its similarity to jollof rice. There is an equally apparent influence from southern Spain, with the dish resembling paella and probably the use of tomatoes (rather than saffron).  There are French influences, mostly in the form of the spices used, which may have come from the Caribbean as well. 

Yet, there is still some mystery surrounding even the culinary influences, as the written record of recipes for jambalaya date only back to the late 19th century, even though the dish itself goes back much further in time. As for this particular recipe, it is a rather straightforward version of the dish. The absence of tomatoes pushes this dish more into the Cajun column than the Creole one (as the latter is known for its use of tomatoes in the preparation). I have also used turkey based products, such as smoked turkey sausage and turkey thighs, because that is the only meat that my beautiful Angel eats. You can use the more traditional ingredients, such as Andouille and chicken thighs in its place.

JAMBALAYA

Recipe adapted from Kitchn

Serves 4

Ingredients (for the seasoning):

• 1 tablespoon garlic powder
• 1 tablespoon onion powder
• 1 tablespoon paprika
• 1 teaspoon white ground pepper
• 12 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper

Ingredients (for the jambalaya):

• 2 medium scallions, sliced thinly
• 1 small yellow onion, diced
• 3 medium celery stalks, diced
• 1 medium green bell pepper, diced
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 (about 12-ounce) package smoked turkey sausage
• 1 pound turkey thighs, skinned, trimmed, and de-boned
• 1 pound of shrimp
• 8 ounces lump crab meat, picked
• 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt, divided
• 2 tablespoons neutral oil, divided
• 2 cups medium or long grain rice
• 2 1/2 cups turkey broth 

Directions:

1. Make the seasoning. Combine garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, white ground pepper and cayenne pepper in a small bowl. Stir well to combine. 

2. Prepare the vegetables. Thinly slice the 2 scallions and set aside for garnish. Dice 1 small yellow onion, 3 medium celery stalks, and the green bell pepper (about 1 cup of each). Mince the three garlic cloves.

3. Prepare the meats. Cut the sauce into 1/2-inch thick rounds. Cut the turkey thighs into bite-size pieces. Season the turkey with 1/2 teaspoon of the salt and 1 tablespoon of the seasoning. Carefully rinse the crab meat in a colander and pick out any shells. Season the shrimp with 1 tablespoon of the seasoning. 

4. Brown the sausage. Heat 1 tablespoon of canola oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium high heat until shimmering. Add the sausage in a single layer and cook until browned on the cut sides, 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer to a platter using tongs and repeat until all the sausage has been browned.

5. Brown the turkey. Add the remaining 1 tablespoon canola oil to the drippings in the pot. Add the turkey and cook until brown, about 2-3 minutes per side. Using tongs, transfer the turkey to the plate with the sausage. 

6. Sauté the vegetables. Add the onion and garlic mixture, remaining seasoning and remaining salt. Cook, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pot and stirring occasionally until the onions are translucent, about 2 minutes. Add the celery and bell pepper, continue to scrape up the browned bits and continue to stir occasionally, about 2 more minutes. 

7. Add rice. Add the 2 cups of rice and cook, stirring frequently until the rice is opaque and toasty smelling, about 3 minutes. 

8. Add liquid and meats. Pour in the turkey broth and bring to a boil. Add the turkey and sausage and any accumulated juices to the pot and give everything one good stir to mix together. Cover, reduce the heat to low, and simmer undisturbed until the rice is cooked through, about 20 to 30 minutes. 

9.  Sauté the shrimp. Add 1 tablespoon of oil to a small sauté pan. Add the shrimp and sauté until opaque, 2-3 minutes per side. 

9. Stir and let sit. After the rice is cooked through, add the shrimp to the top. Give the mixture a gentle stir on top. Cover again and remove from the heat and let sit for 10 minutes. If the rice is still too wet, take the lid off so the extra liquid evaporates. If the rice is a little dry, keep the lid on a little longer to give the rice more time to absorb the liquid.

ENJOY!

Togarashi

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I love spices and that I love to make spice mixes. I also like to learn about spice mixes, as this blog shows. I have made spice mixes based on historical recipes, such as Kitchen Pepper. I have also made spice mixes from around the world including, by way of example, Hawayil from Yemen, Suya from Ghana, and Nine Spice Mix from Palestine. 

This post offers me a chance to make a spice mix from Japan. The mix is known as Togarashi or Shichimi Togarashi. 

The story begins during Japan's Edo Period, around 1625 C.E. which happens to be around the time that chile peppers were introduced in Japan. The place was the Yagenbori Herb Shop. The shop was located in the Higashi-Nihonbashi district of Tokyo. It is at this shop where the first mixture was made. At the time, it was referred to as yagenbori, after the shop. It was used principally for medicinal purposes. Over time, however, the mix made its way into the kitchen for culinary uses. 

Togarashi is typically prepared from seven ingredients (and, hence, why it is also referred to as Shichimi Togarashi, as Shichimi is "seven" and "Togarashi" is "peppers" in Japanese). The seven ingredients may vary slightly by region, but it typically includes red pepper, poppy seeds, sesame seeds, hemp seeds, nori (or anori), sancho (a Japanese pepper) and orange peel.  Notwithstanding the variations, there is one thing that remains constant. There can only be seven ingredients. Any additional ingredient will result in Hachimi. That's a different blog post.

TOGARASHI

Recipe from the Daring Gourmet

Ingredients:

• 2 tablespoons red chile flakes
• 1 tablespoon dried orange peel
• 2 teaspoons white sesame seeds
• 2 teaspoons black sesame seeds
• 1 teaspoon ginger powder
• 1/2 teaspoon poppy seeds
• 1/2 nori sheet, toasted over open flame, crumbled

Directions:

1. Toast the seeds. In a dry skillet, lightly toast the white and black sesame seeds, poppy seeds, and Sichuan peppercorns until fragrant, being careful not to burn them. Transfer to a bowl and let them cool completely. 

2. Prepare the spice mixture. Place all of the ingredients, along with the nori, in a spice/coffee grinder and pulse until coarsely ground. It should be coarse and not a fine powder. 

3. Store the mixture. Store in an airtight jar. For best results, use within a few weeks. 

Swahili Fish with Creamy Coconut Sauce

There is a small island along the shore of the Kenyan coastline called Lamu. The island has the oldest and best preserved Swahili settlement in eastern Africa. The settlement - Lamu Old Town - dates back to the 12th century and is now one of UNESCO's World Heritage Sites. As the U.N. agency describes the town, "[b]uilt in coral stone and mangrove timber, the town is characterized by the simplicity of structural forms enriched by such features as inner courtyards, verandas, and elaborately carved wooden doors." The town has also become a center for learning about the Swahili culture and the Islamic religion. 

Nearly ten years ago, the culture and cuisine of Kenya took center stage at the Smithsonian Institution's Folklife Festival. While I did not attend the festival that year, I have been to the festival in the past. Each year, the Smithsonian Institution provides a spotlight for a few different cultures from around the world. One can learn about art, cuisine, history, music and much more at various stalls and stands across the National Mall. 

Back in 2014, one had an opportunity to learn about the Kenyan cuisine as part of a program called Kenya: Mambo Poa. The demonstration included this recipe, which is for Swahili Fish with Creamy Coconut Sauce. As Michaela Wright wrote for the Smithsonian Institution, the dish comes from Lamu island, where it is served for special occasions. It is also served of the iftar, the feast eaten by Muslims at night during the Ramadan holiday.

The cooks who prepared this dish - Amina Harith Swaleh and Fatrma Ali Busaidy - at the festival explained that they usually use 8 to 10 pounds of fish, such as red snapper or kingfish, for this dish. I did not have or intend to use 8 to 10 pounds of fish (primarily because neither my beautiful Angel nor myself would eat that much). So, I modified the proportions and cooking times to allow for about 2 pounds of fish (basically one large red snapper). 

If one had this dish on Lamu island, they would most likely be served a millet or what porridge during Ramadan, or with bread and rice at other times. If I make my way there, I will definitely try it as I take in the sights and sounds of that island. 

SWAHILI FISH WITH CREAMY COCONUT SAUCE

Recipe from Smithsonian Institution

Serves several

Ingredients:

• 8-10 pounds of firm, white fish (such as red snapper)
• Juice of 3 limes
• 6-7 garlic cloves, pureed
• 1/4 cup of pepper
• 3 tablespoons of salt
• 2 16 ounce cans of coconut milk
• 1 tablespoon tamarind
• 2 1/2 tablespoons turmeric
• Pepper to taste

Directions:

1. Prepare the fish. Toss the lime juice, pureed garlic, pepper and salt into a large plastic bag. remove bones and scales from fish, but no need to remove head. Place fish (whole) into bag and marinate for two hours.

2. Broil the fish. Remove fish and place on baking sheet. Broil the fish at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about 15 to 20 minutes, or until cooked through and lightly browned.

3. Prepare the sauce. Pour coconut milk, tamarind, pepper and turmeric into a medium saucepan and let simmer for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add salt to taste.

4. Finish the dish. Plate the fish. Remove sauce from heat and carefully use a spoon to coat both sides of the fish in coconut sauce. Pour any extra sauce on top. Serve warm with bread or rice. 

ENJOY!

Stir-Fried Walnuts with Dried Prickly-Ash Pepper Leaves

My exploration of the Mindfulness Foodways (and, for that matter, my cooking in general), has encountered some obstacles in recent weeks. A variety of issues have prevented me from being able to be in the kitchen. Those same issues have impacted my ability to meditate, as I find myself too exhausted to do much of anything. 

Yet, it is those moments when I need to meditate. I am not a Buddhist and I have had no formal instruction. (Just like I am not a chef and I have had no formal culinary instruction.) My interest in mediation led me to the Plum Village, which is the Buddhist temple and mindfulness center founded by Thich Nhat Hanh. The teachings of Master Thay impressed me insofar as it opened my eyes to all the ways that I could meditate throughout the day: whether it was while walking, while sitting and even while cooking. 

For a while, I would meditate at various points during the day. Events and issues would inevitably begin to overwhelm me and I would lose my focus on mediation. I would go days without meditating, trying to concentrate on the issues that lay before me. That is where I have been over the past few weeks (which explains the lack of posts on this blog). 

Even in the maelstrom of these issues, there have been moments where I have been able to find some peace, which enabled me to try to meditate while cooking. All it takes is a simple recipe, like this one for stir-fried walnuts with dried prickly-ash pepper leaves, which comes from my Buddhist temple cookbook. I could focus on the ingredients, which, at first, seemed out of reach. After all, few households around where I live would have dried prickly ash pepper leaves. (Those are the leaves from the plant that gives us Sichuan peppercorns.) Taking some breaths and centering myself in the present moment, I remembered that I had some curry leaves from my favorite local Sri Lankan market. I also knew I had the other ingredients, such as the  perilla oil and rice syrup, in my pantry.  

This very simple recipe gave me a moment that I needed. I could meditate for a moment as I prepared a dish that was different, and very enjoyable. I just need more of those recipes and moments.  

STIR-FRIED WALNUTS WITH PRICKLY-ASH PEPPER LEAVES

Recipe from Wookwan, Wookwan's Korean Temple Food, at pg. 77

Serves 3-4

Ingredients:

• 300 grams of walnuts, washed and dried
• 10 grams of dried prickly-ash pepper leaves (or substitute)
• 1 tablespoon perilla oil (or untoasted sesame oil)
• 1 tablespoon grapeseed oil
• 1 tablespoon rice syrup
• 1 tablespoon roasted sesame seeds
• 1 teaspoon fine salt

Directions:

1. Stir-fry the walnuts. Heat a pan, add the grapeseed oil and walnuts. Stir-fry well and add salt. Add in the rice syrup and stir. 

2. Add the leaves. Add the prickly-ash pepper leaves and stir. Turn off the heat and add perilla seed oil and sesame seeds. Stir well to mix. Plate and serve immediately. 

ENJOY!

Oysters with Nuoc Cham

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There was a point in time when I was experimenting with all sorts of mignonette sauces, seeking out the best ones to serve alongside raw oysters. The sauces include a Green Sauce, as well as ones made with balsamic vinegar, beer, or champagne. The experimentations continued; but, honestly, none of them stood out as something that I really wanted to make again, and again, and again. 

Recently, I got to thinking about a sauce that I really do love ... nuoc cham. My introduction to this sauce came about from my efforts to learn more about Vietnamese cooking. The sauce caught my attention because of how it balances sweet, sour, salty, bitter, and spicy. In addition, the backbone of nuoc cham is fish sauce, which adds umami to that balance.

Indeed, the history of nuoc cham is inextricably tied to the history of fish sauce. And, that history appears to be subject to some debate. There is quite a bit of literature about the development of fish sauce in the West, whether by the ancient Greeks (who called it garos) or the Ancient Romans (who referred to it as garum). Some of that literature (such as the one I have linked) suggest that fish sauce traveled east to Eastern and Southeastern Asia. However, there are other sources that propose the idea that fish sauce developed independently in Asia, rather than being an import from the West. 

Regardless of where it originated, there is no doubt that fish sauce - and nuoc cham - are very popular in Southeast Asia. Every country's cuisine has some form of the sauce, but it goes by a variety of names, including not only nuoc cham (Vietnam), but also tuk trey (Cambodia), nam pla prik (Thailand), budu (Malaysia), and ngan-pye-ye (Myanmar). 

In any event, my recent use of nuoc cham got me to thinking that it might make a great "mignonette" to be served alongside raw oysters. It is definitely a different taste, but the balance of flavors works well, especially with larger, meatier oysters. For this dish, I used Chincoteague Salts, which come from the Chesapeake Bay. These oysters tend to be more on the briny side. The brininess worked well with the sauce. The other flavors, namely the fish sauce, the chile and lime juice, still balanced the added saltiness from the oysters.  

Needless to say, I may dispense with mignonette sauces altogether and just prepare nuoc cham whenever I have or serve raw oysters. It is that good.

OYSTERS WITH NUOC CHAM

Nuoc Cham recipe from Luke Nguyen, The Food of Vietnam, pg. 358

Serves 3-4

Ingredients:

• 2 dozen oysters, rinsed and shucked
• 3 tablespoons fish sauce
• 3 tablespoons white vinegar
• 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 garlic cloves, chopped
• 1 red bird's eye chile, thinly sliced 
• 2 tablespoons lime juice

Directions:

1. Heat the liquid ingredients. Put the fish sauce, vinegar and sugar in a small saucepan with 1/2 cup of water. Place over medium heat, stir well and cook until just before boiling point is reached. Remove the pan from the heat and allow to cool. 

2. Finish the dish. Just before serving, stir in the garlic, chile and lime juice. Store in a tightly sealed jar in the fridge for up to five days.

ENJOY!

Chicken Tikka

Emperor Babur (born Zahir ud-Din Mohammed) established the Mughal Empire. He marched his armies from Kabul into the northern reaches of the subcontinent.  Babur conquered broad swaths of land, but just not as much as his ancestors, Timur (on his father's side) and Genghis Khan (on his mother's side). 

Yet, as the story goes, this great emperor had a fear of ... chicken. The fear was not necessarily of the bird in its live form, clucking around while pecking for food. Emperor Babur feared dead chickens. More specifically, dead chickens with bones in them. The great emperor was scared that he would choke to death on a chicken bone. That would not be a very good final chapter for an emperor. 

To avoid such an ignoble end, it is said that the emperor ordered his cooks to remove the bones from the chickens when they were prepared. The chicken was still bathed in spice-laden yogurt, threaded to skewers and placed over charcoal. The only change was that there would be no chicken bones to be found. This dish came to be known as Chicken Tikka, which is basically a boneless chicken version of Tandoori chicken. 

This recipe is a very simplified version of what is prepared by chef Vikram Sunderam, the owner and chef of Rasika. In my humble opinion, Rasika is one of the best, if not the best, Indian restaurant in the Washington, D.C. area. Chef Sunderam's original recipe calls for ingredients such as pathar ka phool (a seasoning made from bark) and deghi mirch (a Indian red chile powder). The substitutions contained in this recipe really do make it easy to have this dish as part of a regular course of meals throughout a week. 

Finally, the recipe calls for a Cilantro and Yogurt Sauce as an accompaniment to the chicken. When I clicked the link, I was taken to a Tzatziki recipe, which does not seem very Indian in nature. The link should have taken me to a Raita recipe, such as this one from the Modern Proper.

CHICKEN TIKKA

Recipe from Vikram Sunderam, available at Food & Wine

Serves 4

Ingredients:

• 1 tablespoon mustard seeds
• 1 teaspoon Chinese five-spice powder
• 1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon turmeric
• 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1 bay leaf
• 2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
• 4 garlic cloves minced
• 1 cup plain whole milk yogurt
• Kosher salt
• 2 pounds skinless, boneless chicken thighs, cut into 2-inch pieces
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• Cilantro and Yogurt Sauce, for serving

Directions:

1. Prepare the chicken. In a spice grinder, pulse the mustard seeds with the five-spice powder, pepper, turmeric, cayenne, and bay leaf until fine. Transfer the spice powder to a medium bowl. Add the ginger, garlic and yogurt and season with salt. Add the chicken and turn to coat. Refrigerate for 2 hours.

2. Grill the Chicken. Light a grill. Remove the chicken from the marinade and brush the pieces with the melted butter. Oil the grate and grill the chicken over high heat, turning occasionally, until lightly charred and cooked through, about 8 minutes. Serve with the Cilantro and Yogurt Sauce.

• ENJOY!