Cold Chinese Sesame Noodles

Who can resist the deep earthy flavor of sesame noodles? Perfect for summer, they’re cooling, filling, and easy to make. Probably Szechuan in origin, this dish became very popular in New York City around the 1960’s as Chinese chefs, fleeing Mao’s tyrannical rule, began opening restaurants all over town. These noodles have since become a mainstay in the city’s cuisine.

Here are a few tips for you. Anything but Chinese egg noodles, (NOT spaghetti or udon) should be considered heresy. The noodles need to be long, wavy, and posses the right chewiness. Just follow the directions on the package and you’ll have the perfect vehicle for the sesame sauce. They’re available everywhere and very inexpensive. If you are fortunate enough to live near a Chinatown, visit a market there and buy them fresh. Dried noodles are perfectly acceptable.

The sesame flavor comes from sesame paste, or tahini. I prefer Joyva  Sesame Tahini. It has a rich, luxurious consistency and the perfect nutty sesame taste. Joyva is pure and consists of nothing but ground sesame seeds. No matter which tahini you use, be sure to mix it very well with a whisk before using it. Tahini without emulsifiers tends to separate. My experiences with Chinese sesame pastes have not been good and I’ve found them to be heavy, oily, and not especially fresh by the time they arrive here to go on the shelf. If you use them, proceed with caution. 

The slight heat in the sauce comes from Chinese chili paste. For balance, I like to use Guilin Chili Paste. It has a bit of heat that’s offset by a little sweetness. If you want a hotter palette, use your Chinese chili paste of preference or even sambal olek.

Garnishing is free-form and dictated by your taste. Julienned cucumber or daikon radish, sliced scallions, toasted peanuts, and chopped cilantro are all fair game.

So without further ado, here’s the recipe. Enjoy!

2 Cloves Garlic, Minced

3 Tbs. Joyva Sesame Paste, Mixed Well 

1 Tbs. Toasted Sesame Oil

1 Tbs. Soy Sauce or Tamari

2 Tbs. Shaoxing Cooking Wine

1 Tbs. Rice Vinegar or Black Vinegar

1 tsp. Brown Sugar

1 tsp. Guilin Chili Paste (or to taste)

Pinch Chinese Five-Spice Powder

1 Scallion, Sliced

½ C. Water

1 lb. Chinese Egg Noodles

2 Scallions, Sliced Thin

¼ C. Unsalted Roasted Peanuts

1.Combine the garlic, sesame paste, sesame oil, soy sauce, rice wine, rice vinegar, sugar, chili paste, five-spice powder, scallion, and water in a food processor. Process smooth. Pour into a large mixing bowl.

2.Cook the noodles, drain, and mix with the sauce. Chill for at least 1 hour.

3.Top with the scallions and peanuts.　

Serves 6

(Photograph by Paul Thompson)

Moong Dal

Moong is Hindi for mung and Dal is Hindi for (in the broadest sense) cooked beans, but as is the case with most Indian dishes, it’s much more than that.

Whole dried mung beans, like the type I used in my dal, are small and olive green in color. They’re found throughout Asia and India in a multitude of dishes including soups, curries, even desserts. They  cook quickly without any pre-soaking needed, and are full of good nutrients in addition to being easy to digest. You may find them in bulk at natural food markets and at Asian and Indian grocers.    

I started by frying a diced yellow onion in organic ghee (Indian clarified butter) which imparted a rich, deep buttery flavor to the onions. When they were translucent, I added some minced garlic, diced chilies, and grated fresh ginger, allowing just a moment or two of frying. The last thing you’ll want to do to garlic or ginger is burn them, which turns them bitter and unappealing.

The spices were next;ground turmeric for a beautiful yellow color and a hint of bitterness followed by a teaspoon of “Flavour Masala”, a blend directly from Jodhpur, India. It is a mild mix with coriander cumin, fenugreek, and cardamom among others. It doesn’t have any cayenne for heat, so it’s bit sweet, but compliments the mung beans very well. I heated the spices just until fragrant, then added a can of diced tomatoes with their juices to start the base for the sauce. After about 10 minutes the tomatoes began to fall apart and blend with the other ingredients.

After rinsing the dried beans under cold running water, I added them along with a vegetable stock/water mixture to the pot and brought the whole thing to a boil. I turned the heat down, and simmered the dal for 15 minutes. I wanted a thicker consistency for the dal so I added a peeled medium white boiling potato, diced in ¼ “ pieces. The starch from the potato would cook out over the next 25 minutes and thicken the somewhat thin sauce. I also added a small carrot for color and because it needed to be cooked soon or be thrown out. I covered the pot, and let everything simmer until the potato and carrot were fully cooked and soft.

And there you have it. I’ll be enjoying my dal this week for lunch. In the photograph you’ll also see a katori of cooked aged basmati rice and a small bowl of mukhwas, sugar-coated fennel seeds and herbs traditionally taken after an Indian meal to aid digestion and make the breath kiss-ably sweet. The big silver object on the left is my Masala Dabba (Indian spice box), and the whole lot is resting on the burlap sack the basmati came in. And you’re reading the sack right, it really was "But 1 Get 1 Free’!  

Potaje de Garbanzos

I love this stuff! It’s a potaje, a thick Spanish stew that originated around Madrid but can also be found in various permutations in Cuba and the Canary Islands. Some versions call for sausage (usually chorizo), lentils, spinach, and a variety of vegetables. My version is true to its Spanish origins, and consists of cooked garbanzo beans and white potatos in a lush, garliky tomato sauce punctuated with herbs and spices. I use smoked paprika to add a bit of heat and depth to the flavor profile, and add a bit of sugar to cut the acidity of the tomatoes.

Accompany this dish with a simple salad, crusty artisan bread or rice, and a glass of rioja or tempranillo for a delicious and healthy meal.

2 Tbs. olive oil

1 med. yellow onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, minced

½ tsp. smoked ground paprika

½ tsp. ground paprika

1 16 oz. can diced fire-roasted tomatoes, drained

1 bay leaf

4 Tbs. tomato paste

¼ tsp. sugar

1 med. boiling potato, peeled, in ½" dice

1 tsp. dried thyme

1 tsp. dried oregano

2 C. vegetable stock

2 16 oz. cans garbanzo beans, rinsed, drained

Grated manchego cheese

Chopped flat-leaf parsley

1. In a medium soup pot, saute the onion in the oil translucent.

2. Add the garlic and cook until aromatic, being careful not to burn it.

3. Add the paprikas, tomatoes, bay leaf, tomato paste, and sugar. Simmer uncovered for 10 minutes.

4. Add the potaoes, thyme, oregano, stock, and beans. Cover, simmer 30 minutes  or until the potatoes are tender.

5. Serve garnished with grated manchego cheese and flat-leaf parsley.

Serves 6

Tonight, Mujaddara, which translates to “Nails of the Knees”. A traditional breakfast of Middle-Eastern origins intended to steel one for a long day of arduous labor. You’ll find variations of this dish in Lebanon, Greece, Turkey, Cyprus, Palestine, and Jordan. Peasant food in every good sense of the term, filling, nutritious, and delicious. I make mine by slowly caramelizing yellow onions, steaming aged basmati rice, and boiling brown lentils separately. When all the ingredients are ready, I mix them together in a large pan and add a little olive oil, cumin, white pepper, and cinnamon. After that I heat the mixture gently until the spices give off their aromas. Let the dish sit overnight to allow all the flavors to meld. I serve mine in the traditional manner, with a spoonful of yogurt, or non-traditionally with a topping of flame-roasted chopped tomatoes.  

I also prepared a mini-mezze of rice-stuffed grape leaves and organic feta cheese topped with oregano and smoked hot paprika.    

I like just about everything that originates in Spain, be it passionate flamenco music, a glass of sublime ruby-hued tempranillo, or dark-eyed chestnut-haired señoritas. And tapas. I could easily live on tapas, accompanied by Spanish wine and Portuguese sherry, for the rest of my life. What a great idea tapas are! You order some rioja, or whatever you’re drinking at the time, and it arrives with a little plate of something sitting on the rim of the glass. Marinated olives, stewed chickpeas, salted almonds, maybe a square of tortilla española, the list goes on. I do have a favorite, though. It’s very easy and very tasty. All you need to make it is a wedge of Spanish manchego cheese and some dulce de membrillo (or just membrillo). 

Manchego is a fresh sheep’s-milk cheese found all over Spain and now all over the U.S. due to its popularity. It’s dry, slightly nutty and a bit saline, a little reminiscent of parmesan. Imported manchego is the best, look for cheeses aged 1-2 years.  

Dulce de membrillo may not be familiar to you. Quince, a small apple-like fruit, is peeled and cooked down with sugar and water into a reddish-brown sweet paste. It can be found tinned or in small plastic tubs in most well-stocked markets.

All you have to do is cut the dark rind off of the cheese, and then slice it into thin wedges. Arrange the wedges, in some creative pattern, on a plate. Next, remove the membrillo from its container and cut a small ½” square piece off of it. Thinly slice the square into tiles and place each tile onto the cheese at its wide end. Grab some red wine and proceed to eat. You will notice a complete flavor profile, salty and bitter from the cheese, sweet and sour from the membrillo. Your tongue should be very happy.    

Tagine bil Hummus. In my tagine.  

Tagine, also spelled tajine, is widely considered to be the national dish of Morocco. Tagine is cooked and served in a vessel called a tagine, which simplifies things considerably. That’s my tagine up there, a simple imported terra cotta reddish-brown version, which contains my version of tagine bil hummus, tagine of chick peas.

Tagines are available in a variety of colors, patterns, and materials. Staub, Emile Henry, and Le Creuset have recently gotten into the act by producing esthetically pleasing and rather expensive tagines (usually selling for around $150.00). My favorite new-school tagine is from All-Clad, a beautiful modern rendition of the classic North African form. It has a snow-white porcelain conical lid topped with a steel knob, which sits upon a stainless-steel base that has 2 gleaming steel handles. As tagines go, it’s a knock-out! This Lamborghini of the tagine world also comes with an appropriately high price in the $200.00 range. I’m calmly waiting to find one on E-bay. 

So what’s so great about tagine? The dish or the dish? We better take this one thing at a time.

The design of the cooking vessel is brilliant and purposeful. Once the raw ingredients are in the base, the lid is placed over them and the tagine is seated onto a charcoal brazier called a majmar. As the liquid in the tagine slowly heats it gives off steam which is captured and returned to the base via the conical lid, concentrating the flavors. The small hole you see on the side of the lid allows a small amount of moisture to escape so the sauce thickens as it cooks. Genius! After a few hours, the tagine will be ready. All you have to do is take the tagine to the table, and with a great deal of ceremony, remove the lid and watch everyone trying to catch the aroma as the steam from the sauce envelopes and causes rapture to spontaneously break out among your guests. 

As for the dish, tagine is a favorite of mine. A vegetarian paradise. It can be simple, consisting only of onions and spices, or very elaborate with several vegetables, legumes, and dried fruit. Every cook in Morocco has their own recipe and combination of spices and herbs. The characteristic spicing will usually be sweet and savory, for example combining cinnamon and cumin, sugar and cayenne. I typically start by sautéing diced onion and garlic in olive oil until they’re nice and mellow. Then I’ll add the spices and herbs and let them cook briefly to begin the release of their flavors. Then in go stock, vegetables, beans, and sometimes dried fruits such as apricots or prunes. Yep, prunes. The prunes cook down nicely and simultaneously sweeten and thicken the dish. It’s very Moroccan to do this, and believe me it’s delicious. All that’s left to do is cover the base and let everything simmer away. Go and have a glass of wine (or two), hang out with your guests or your pet, just relax…the tagine will take care of itself.  

You don’t have a majmar or a tagine you say? Don’t worry, a good soup pot and your stove will work just fine.   

Tagine bil Hummus 

2 Tbs. olive oil

1 med. yellow onion, diced

4 cloves garlic, minced

¼ tsp. ground cayenne pepper

1 tsp. ground cumin

½ tsp. ground turmeric

¾ tsp. ground cinnamon

10 sprigs cilantro, chopped fine

2 c. vegetable stock

½ tsp. brown sugar

1 sm. zucchini, chopped

1 med. red potato, peeled, chopped

3 med. carrots, peeled, chopped

1 14 oz. can diced tomatoes, undrained

2 14 oz. cans chick peas, drained

½ c. slivered toasted almonds

1. In a soup pot, sauté the onion in olive oil until translucent. Add the garlic, and cook until fragrant.

2. Add the spices and heat until fragrant.

3. Add everything except the chick peas and almonds, cover, reduce the heat to medium, and simmer 20 minutes.

4. Add the chick peas, and simmer uncovered for 15 more minutes, or until the sauce thickens. 

5. Garnish with the almonds. Serve with cous cous.

Serves 6 as part of a Moroccan meal.

Thanksgiving in the Round

When I was a kid, in my pre-vegetarian days, Thanksgiving was our big deal. My family always overdid the gifts at Christmas, my grandmother Gerard giving me everything that I placed my imprimatur on in the old Christmas Triple-Threat toy catalogs. Remember Sears, J C Penney, and Montgomery Ward? I do, vividly. I couldn’t rest until I got my hands on the thin, colorful “wish-books” filled with the marketing genius of 1960’s-70’s toy makers. But that was about stuff, things, toys that would be broken and discarded without much thought since they’d be replaced by new ones when the next Yuletide came along. Sure, we had Christmas dinner, the requisite turkey with all the trimmings, and it was almost the same as our unvarying Thanksgiving menu. I think, though, that all the gifts overshadowed the food, which seemed almost as an afterthought, pale competition to my new Man From U.N.C.L.E. Spy Briefcase, or my 6 year-old sized white Stutz Bearcat battery-operated car. I also remember not having the same appetite at Christmas when compared to Thanksgiving, probably too distracted by my new Tonka dump truck or Davey Crockett rifle. But Thanksgiving; that was different. No presents to exchange, no cards to send, no catalogs to drool over. Instead, family to hang out with, time off from school, and food, lots of food, in fact an obscene amount of food. And the food was good, made with a great deal of care, and unpretentious. I have always felt that no matter where or when it’s eaten, regardless of who prepared it or how much you paid for it, those are three qualities food should always posses.

When I became a vegetarian some 25 years ago, I cast a large spanner into the works of my family’s holiday meals. No longer would I eat plate after plate of turkey and oyster dressing. Especially oyster dressing! I ate more of that than anything else on the sideboard, usually 3 helpings of dressing alone. I love oysters, and in fact still have brief moments of nostalgia about my favorite bivalve. However, I won’t waver, no, I will not cave in, sell myself out, and allow myself even 1 morsel of it anymore. Rest assured that I’ll carry the smell and taste of it, in my mind, to the grave. Mom hasn’t made it for a few years, and in fact the last time she did, I had asked her to so I could take it to a friend at work whose late brother loved it as much as I did. My friend and I share strong emotional memories associated with oyster dressing.

But I digress. When I declared my freedom from animal flesh I also accepted the mantle of family chef. My Mom wasn’t, and still isn’t, a vegetarian. She is, though, a very understanding soul and a damned good sport! Upon assuming my new responsibilities, I had to think quickly and come up with a knock-out dinner, so as to show everyone that I was serious about my dietary choices. This life-style change wasn’t a lark, a fad, nor an experiment. I also felt compelled to shatter the myth of vegetarian food being clumsy and bland, an endless parade of amateurish culinary boordom. On the contrary, to me my newly found cuisine was exciting, exotic, flavorful, and beautiful. So I decided to make a Moroccan meal for my first vegetarian Thanksgiving. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating any dishes from Morocco you’ll understand that this was a good choice. A hit into left field, if you will. The flavors are intense but balanced, the ingredients substantial, and the exotic-factor was a 10+. I made salads with roasted red peppers, olives, preserved lemons, and lots of olive oil. The main dish was a tagine, a Moroccan slow-cooked stew with potatoes, artichoke hearts, fava beans, garbanzo beans, and tomatoes, redolent with herbs and spices. Of course couscous. But pumpkin pie for dessert! There’s a limit to the messing around one can do with tradition.

We’ve had Moroccan food alternately on almost every Thanksgiving or Christmas since. Mom loves it (I do too), and I’ve added new side dishes every year, though always making our favorite tagine. I even bought a tagine to serve the tagine in! Until this year. “Paradigm shift” doesn’t really do it justice. It was more akin to the planets realigning themselves. And this is where the “round” comes in. Well, more like oblong, but “Thanksgiving in the Oblong” sounded a little ridiculous for a title. So for 2009, tympani roll please, there would be no Chalada Felfla, Khubz, or L’Hamd M’rakad. Not one fava bean or strand of saffron. No. And this is how it came about; “Rob, do you know what I haven’t had for a very long time?” “No Mom, don’t have any idea.”…

“Pizza.”

That was actually a pretty exciting idea! I haven’t made a pizza since I was about 14 years old, and then all we had available was a Chef Boyardee boxed pizza kit. Mom and I used to make those all the time, rolling out the re-hydrated dough on our butcher block, pouring on the pre-made sauce, then arranging the slices of mozzarella in a wild-west influenced wagon wheel design. I honestly don’t remember putting anything else on it, no vegetables or meat, just dough, (canned) sauce, and cheese. Pizza night was a real treat, though. I was essentially raised by my Mom, and doing things like that with her meant a lot to me. In retrospect we were a good team in the kitchen, and had a hell of a great time making pizza or lasagna or Chicken Kiev. It was always fun. So now things would come full-circle, only this time there’d be no pizza kit, no canned sauce, no mozzarella wagon wheel. And it was Thanksgiving, our Big Deal! This would be no ordinary pizza…

I started by making my own pizza sauce which was extremely easy. Water, tomato paste, garlic, dried parsley, oregano, and basil. Simmered until thick and fragrant from the herbs, it was good enough to serve over pasta. For the toppings; sliced red bell pepper, black olives, portobello and crimini mushrooms, red onion, roasted garlic cloves, and a mixture of shredded mozzarella and smoked provolone cheeses. I was too lazy to make my own dough, and bought ready-made at Whole Foods, a great choice as it’s very high quality and convenient. I packed everything up and headed to Mom’s place.

To make restaurant quality pizza at home, you really need a tile surface to cook it on. I use a circular terra cotta pizza stone. You can also go to a hardware store and pick up unglazed terra cotta tiles, which I like better than the round stone, as I sometimes like to make an oval pizza instead of a round one. Just lay the tiles on the top rack in your oven and you’re ready. I placed the stone in the cold oven and turned the heat up to 425 degrees. This insures that the stone will not crack due to the thermal shock that happens when you place a cold stone into a hot oven. I allowed the stone to heat for about an hour to insure even heat distribution.

While the oven heated, I rolled out the dough into an oval on a home made pizza peel. After bringing up the edge a little, I ladled on the sauce, spreading it evenly throughout the well created by the edges of the dough. Next, the vegetables, followed by the cheese. Then, onto the blisteringly hot stone in the oven. Bear in mind I hadn’t made a pizza for about 30 years, so I was a little, how can I say it, hyper-vigilant about the thing. The baking garlic, herbs, and dough smelled fantastic, very pizzeria-like. But that was little comfort as I paced back and forth in front of the oven, wringing my hands, staring at the oven door, and believing that it would turn out well merely because I willed it to. I painfully waited out the 15 minutes without peeking (didn’t want to let the heat out the oven, of course).

When I opened the oven door, my fears were gone in an instant. Success! The rim had risen into a great golden brown bread-rope, lassoing in the piping hot sauce and all the perfectly melted cheese which blanketed the slightly roasted toppings, giving off a beautiful aroma which wafted through the kitchen. We ate. It tasted good, was made with a great deal of care, and was unpretentious.

Thanksgiving pizza was a big hit! Good-bye box, so-long tinny-tasting sauce, now just fond memories. After making a mature version of one of my favorite foods, pizza and I, it seems, have grown up. Separated by the years, we came back together in a glorious reunion, and you can be sure I’ll keep this friendship alive for a long time to come.