A Spring-y Lamb Stew.

IMG_3676

Lamb Stew Chunks

Oh my god.  Where the hell have you been?!  You are in SO much trouble.   I hope you have an amazing excuse.

I don’t.

I’ve been studying for a terrible set of exams.  I paid $1,000 and studied for weeks and weeks.  It soon became evident during the test-taking that the test itself was written by a group of illiterate, and possibly drunk, garden gnomes.  I’m embarrassed for my profession.  (Hey, CLARB.) And I hope to something holy that I passed.  Because I never ever want it to happen again.

In the spirit of renewal, and this soggy, nutty spring we’ve been having, I bring you the spring lamb stew.  Adapted from this super classic and cozy Irish Stew recipe circa 1963, I’ve updated this shizznit with brighter flavors and that super trendy grain, FARRO.  Farro is sundried tomatoes, kombucha, quinoa, and chia seeds all rolled into one – trendy, healthy, versatile, and damn it, extremely tasty.  It goes in this stew.

Judge away.

IMG_3691

IMG_3674

INGREDIENTS:

1/2 lb thick cut bacon, cut into little matchstick pieces (I love this double smoked bacon from Schaller and Weber.  It can totes have my babies.)
2 lbs of lamb stew meat, cut into 1 1/2″ cubes
1/2 cup flour
handful of fresh thyme leaves
2 onions, diced
1 parsnip, peeled and diced
4 carrots, diced
2 turnips, peeled and diced
1 cup pearled farro
1/2 cup of flat leaf parsley, chopped with stems removed
Salt and pepper, as needed

Put all your little bacon friends in an good sized Dutch oven pot.

Lardons at Work

IMG_3727

Turn the heat to medium low and let the bacon sweat, stirring occasionally until they are lightly browned and crispy.  When the bacon is done, scoop it out and place it to the side for later.

While this is happening, season your lamb pieces well with salt and pepper, patting lightly to help the seasoning stick.  Lightly dredge the meat in the flour.  (Lightly!)

Brown the floured lamb pieces in the bacon fat on all sides, taking care to leave some space between the pieces and to be patient.  Browning = flavor.  This will take at least 3 or 4 batches to finish.

Browning Lamb Chunks

Once all the lamb pieces are browned, remove them from the pot and place them to the side as well.  Add the onions and thyme to pot, and cook on medium/high heat until they have softened and turned a nice caramel brown.

Onions and Thyme

Throw the lamb and bacon bits back in the pot along with the parsnip, and pour in enough water to just cover the lamb meat.  (Remember how much I love not having to use stock??  I really, really do.)  Bring the pot to a boil and cover, turning the heat down and letting the lamb cook at the smallest of simmers for 1 1/2 hours to 2 hours until just tender.

While this is happening, throw your farro into a pot with water (check the package for the amount of water, I find that it varies slightly from batch to batch.) I added a vegetable bouillon cube to mine to amp up the flavor.  Cook until al dente, about 20 minutes and then drain any remaining liquid and set aside.

IMG_3730

(Have you guys tried these Rapunzel cubes??  They are sort of amazing and taste like…vegetables.  And not like dirt water, mushrooms or mud.  Amazing.)

Adding Vegetables to Stew

Add the carrots, turnips and parboiled farro to the pot with the meat and cook until the farro is tender, about 8-10 minutes.  Add the chopped parsley to the pot and let the stew cook for another 2 to 3 minutes.

IMG_3691

And voila! Your stew awaits.

SOME NOTES:  This lamb stew is the perfect weapon to combat the last of the winter to spring chills, and to help your bide time while our local farmers markets ramp up for the new growing season.  Almost any root vegetables you have lying around will do to augment or substitute for the turnips, carrots and parsnip, just know that a pop of color is nice.  The bacon is great but not necessary, just add whatever cooking oil you prefer to substitute for the fat.

Good Morning, Sunday

kipperseggs_1

Hello there, world.

This Sunday morning felt like kippers and eggs.  For that matter, so did Tuesday night.  And last Sunday afternoon.  I’ve mentioned this before, but I’ll say it again.  Quick meals that have the right amount of cozy indulgence mixed with plain old comfort don’t come around all that often.   Like soft scrambled eggs, and a slice of good toast with butter and smoked fish on top, these dishes are like slipping on a well-worn robe after a long day of being up and about.

kipperseggs_3

A few things not about kippers.

I’ve been rather single-mindedly slogging through this food memoir list.  The last two I read were Marcella Hazan’s Amarcord, and Jacques Pepin’s The Apprentice: My Life in the Kitchen.  Both are formidable giants in the food world – they have published, they have taught, and they’ve blazed trails in their own individual way.  Marcella Hazan?  Not sure I’d want to hang with her.  Her memoir, though stocked with some great anecdotes, seemed more like a way to settle up with the world on some long held grudges and resentments.  Deserved?  Possibly.  But not attractive.  Jacques Pepin, on the other hand?  Maybe he just had a better editor, but each and every story just made me wish really hard that he would be my friend.   I would totally go mushroom picking with him anytime.  I liked his unpretentious way of talking about food, his easy way with people, and his utter lack of horn tooting.

This post from Brain Pickings about Ann Patchett caught my eye.  “Every choice lays down a trail of bread crumbs, so that when you look behind you there appears to be a very clear path that points straight to the place where you now stand. But when you look ahead there isn’t a bread crumb in sight — there are just a few shrubs, a bunch of trees, a handful of skittish woodland creatures. You glance from left to right and find no indication of which way you’re supposed to go. And so you stand there, sniffing at the wind, looking for directional clues in the growth patterns of moss, and you think, What now?”

The first story from Sum, by David Eagleman.

Christoph Niemann is the best.  Yet again.

And good morning.

Ix-nay On…Brains?

1360517717155

I was listening to this American Life the other day, as Ira and gang meandered through an episode on doppelgangers.  First up, (or should I say Act One) was a piece on passing off sliced pig rectum as…dum dum dum…imitation calamari.  (By the way, pig rectum is officially known as BUNG a.k.a. funnest word ever.) Initially, yes, I was horrified, but when I stopped to think about it, I was really just horrified by possibly being lied to.  NOT by the bung eating.

I’ve had this bung you speak of.  And I liked it.

Maybe you know this, maybe you don’t – Chinese people think everything is edible.  Like everything.  Color the world in shades of cold jellyfish salad, braised chicken feet, sea cucumbers, swallow spit, fish eyeballs, congealed pork blood cubes, duck tongues on a stick, fish head stew, and spicy tripe casserole.  On the less esoteric end, meat is always with bone in, fish with head on and everything with skin on.  Growing up in a Chinese household, within the ethnic food buffet that is New York City and being lucky enough to do a good amount of global traveling, food has always equaled adventure without the defying of death and threatening of life.  When confronted with a new, exotic dish, the question has always skipped right past the yes versus no to ‘is it good?’.  If you’ve come to conclusion that this also called being greedy, you are so correct.  Being overly confident in this particular sector of life, I thought there was nothing I could eat that would faze me.

Cut to the former M.Wells Diner in Long Island City, winter of 2011.  We had a bunch of good eaters doing what they do best, with a table of raw seafood, escargot, foie gras, maple pie, and veal brains.  Veal brains.  They tasted much like what I had envisioned – silky like a slightly toothsome tofu, with an undefinable sweetness.  In the moment, I felt fine about but for weeks afterwards I felt guilty and terrible, with a nightmare or two thrown in for a good measure. I decided that this was a food boundary I would not be crossing again.  It made me a little sad, as I like to think of myself as a person who eats everything, but this particular food has quite effortlessly punched through my imaginary armor.

Which made me wonder, adventurous eaters, what’s your food kryptonite?

(Thanks to my cousin, Peter, for the in-action shot of pork blood/rice cake on a stick at a Taiwanese night market.  Good job with the eating.)

A Little Mujaddara

winter blues

Dear friends,

We’re in that part of winter where it feels like the cold has seeped deep into my bones and I won’t ever know what it feels like to be warm again.  I’ve learned the hard way that my bean boots don’t have the greatest traction on icy sidewalks.  My coat hood, so necessary for survival, cuts off all peripheral vision and a good percentage of my ability to hear…both important attributes when moving about our crowded, beloved city.  This is exactly the time you should start talking to me about the tropical island that you have just gone to / about to go to.  I would love that.

Isn’t it funny how quickly we adapt to the status quo?  I know in a few months, I’ll be trudging along the streets, with the smell of hot asphalt in the air and a river of sweat running down my back, wishing fervently to live in an igloo.  All I will want is a dark, cool place to retreat to.  I’ve only very recently started adapting to a new job that operates at a much more bureaucratic pace than I’ve been used to.  For the first two months, I was crawling out of my skin.  This past week, I started to understand how to let the troublesome things go by, like quips in a sitcom, and use the time that I have to learn things I want to know about and meet new people that I would have never otherwise met.

I’m worrying about being brave.   I’m worrying about losing time.

Onion Halved

I’m not stressed, but I’m not settled.  There’s a vibrating part of me that’s just wanting to pounce (on what I’m not sure), but just as ready to curl up in a ball in my bed with a whiskey and a cat, and never come out.  We’ll just call this the winter blues.  One amazing antidote?  Besides thisAnd thisAnd this?  A little mujaddara, a super simple dish of rice, lentils and fried onions that will make you feel like you’re being petted with a large, warm cashmere glove.

This earnest vegan combination comes from the Middle East, and has been circling the food blogging world for a while now.  Arabic for SMALLPOX (wiki says lentils look like pockmarks), this dish benefits from the best your pantry has to offer.  With so few ingredients, each one is key - a good olive oil, sea salt and black pepper will help elevate your mujaddara to mindblowing levels.  This recipe is adapted from Aarti Sequira’s version. I love the way she builds flavor by first blooming the spices and toasting the rice, as well as letting the ingredients cook together rather than mixing them together at the end as other recipes do.   Because I like my mujaddara to whisper, not shout, I’ve taken away some of the zingier spicing, and substituted white rice with fragrant brown basmati rice.

By the way, it’s moo-jah-dah-ra.

Rice and Lentil FriendsSliced Onions

Ingredients

1 cup organic green lentils, rinsed and picked over
1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon cracked black peppercorns (I love the Tellicherry ones from Kalustyans.)
3 medium yellow onions, thinly sliced
1 cup brown basmati rice
Greek yogurt, for garnish
Salt, as needed

First things first.  The lentils get put into a medium saucepan along with enough water to cover them by at least an inch.  Bring the pot up to a boil and then lower the heat to allow for the smallest of simmers.  The lentils should be tender and ready to go after 20 minutes.  Drain the lentils and set aside.

While the lentils are cooking, we’ll be super efficient and take care of the onions.  Take a large saucepan, and put in the olive oil.  Let the oil warm up a little over medium heat and add in the peppercorns and cumin seeds.  Give the pan a little swirl.  After a minute, you start to smell the spices (which activate when you heat them!) and the cumin seeds should be a just little darker than when you started.

Onions in Seasoned Oil

Add the onions, along with a half teaspoon of salt.  This next step will depend on how much time you have.  The longer and slower you cook your onions, the more amazing they will be.  Think Funyuns vs. french onion soup.  No, I kid.  Things will be fine.  But slower will be finer.  We’re aiming for onions with a deep brown overall color and a little bit of crispiness along the edges.  This is the non-negotiable part of the assignment.

Now the choose-your-own-adventure part:  Over medium-high heat, carmelizing the onions will take about 20 minutes. Take the heat down to low-medium and we’re talking at least 30 to 45 minutes, depending on your pan.  Splash the onions with a little water if they stick to the bottom of the pan.

Softened Onions

Browned Onions

When the onions are done, remove about half of the onions with tongs or a slotted spoon and set them aside to use as garnish later on.  (Once, I forgot this step and almost went out to look for orphan children to separate the onions from the rice a la Argo.)

Mixing In Rice

Add the rice to the remaining onions in the pan over medium-high heat, stirring gently until some rice grains just start to brown. Add the cooked lentils, 3 cups of water and 1 teaspoon of salt and let it come to a boil. Turn the heat down to low so that the pan is at a simmer, cover and cook 30 minutes. The water should be completely evaporated and rice should be tender. If there’s still too much water in the bottom, put the lid back on and cook for another 5 minutes.  If the rice is still a little crunchy, pour in another 1/2 cup of water and recover for another 5 minutes.

Once the rice is done, turn off the heat, keep the lid on, and allow the rice to steam undisturbed for about 5 minutes.

Serve with the reserved caramelized onions, and a generous dollop of Greek yogurt on top.  I like to add a light sprinkle of a good sea salt and a squeeze of lemon as well, but you’ll figure out how you like your mujadarra after a bowl or two.  Or three.

Mujadarra Close Up

Lazy Sunday Chicken Stew

We took a jaunt up to Hudson, New York this past Saturday, the cutest little town up along (duh) the Hudson River.  After being lumps on the couch and in bed for hours after returning, it was time for a little one-pot sustenance.

Sunday Chicken Stew_3

I love whole chickens, they are the gifts that keep on giving during a busy week.  Roasted, they can take on a main course, be a welcome addition to a weekday salad, and be stashed away for stock when you’re feeling ambitious and leisurely.  Stewed, they become the ultimate comfort food, warming, soothing and a good dose of healthy luxury.

I have a few stew recipes that I’ve cycled through for the past few years, but lately, I’ve been honing in on my own personal combination of two of my favorite recipes – Pioneer Woman’s Chicken and Dumplings and Dave Lieberman of Food Network’s Hearty Chicken Stew.  Miz Drummond’s version is adapted originally from the now-defunct Gourmet magazine, but always makes me feel a little guilty because 1. I am not one bit Southern / I don’t get dumplings and 2. there aren’t enough vegetables. The slightly unorthodox additions of apple cider, a little cream and turmeric however, win me over completely.  Dave Lieberman’s version is a great simple chicken soup (read broth with stuff) but doesn’t have enough heft to make it a stew.  It does however abstain from using a broth base (just water!) which I love and extracts a huge amount of flavor from a few very simple ingredients.

Vegetables Mise En Place

Carrot Cut

Behold a hybrid, plus a few extra jingles.

Ingredients:

1 Tbs. butter
2 Tbs. olive oil
1/2 cup flour (By the way, was just reading a fun little book called 52 Loaves.  Did you know that bleached flour is carcinogenic?? Fun.)
1 whole chicken, cut into 8 pieces (extra points for free range, organic, etc. you know the drill.)
1 cup carrots, diced
1 cup celery, diced
2 onions, diced
4 cloves garlic, smashed
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
6 cups water
1 handful of fresh thyme springs
1 bay leaf
1/2 cup apple cider
1/4 cup half and half
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped roughly
Salt and pepper, as needed

Sprinkle chicken pieces generously with salt and pepper, then dredge lightly in the flour.

Chicken Cooking

Melt butter in a pot over medium-high heat along with the olive oil. In two batches, brown chicken on both sides and remove to a clean plate.  Don’t crowd the pan when you are browning – crowding leads to steam and steam leads to grey…not that golden brown we’re looking for.  Once the chicken pieces are evenly browned, put them aside.

Browning Chicken

Into the same pot, add all the garlic, diced onion, carrots, and celery, along with a generous pinch of salt. Stir and cook for 3 to 4 minutes over medium-low heat.

Stirring Vegetables

Stir in the turmeric, which will give the soup a nice golden hue and a little somethin’ somethin’ in flavor.  Pour in the water and apple cider, then add the chicken pieces you’ve patiently browned.

Simmering Stew

Using kitchen twine, tie together the fresh thyme and bay leaf and throw into the mix, making sure it’s submerged beneath the surface.

Bouquet Garni

Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.  Let the pot simmer for about an hour, discarding any scum to makes its way to the top.  Gross.  The chicken should come off the bone easily.  Depending on how finicky (or young) your eaters are, you can take out the chicken pieces, pull the meat of the bone and roughly chop before putting the meat back in the pot. OR just leave the pieces as is.  Your call.

Add the half and half and give it a good stir.  This will give the soup a little bit of mysterious silkiness.  Add salt if needed, and a generous sprinkle of freshly ground black pepper.  Chicken stew and black pepper are like peas and rice.  Or Jenny and Forrest. Scotch and fireplaces.  Bread and butter.  Yum.

Sunday Chicken Stew_2

Aaaand…that is all.  Dish that shit up.

This stew is a decent amount of initial prep, but I promise you  that it will be worth the time and the wait.  However, if you decided you needed a shortcut or two, and used a store-bought rotisserie chicken instead, I wouldn’t judge you harshly.  If you do, add some flour in when you cook the vegetables and maybe use chicken broth instead to make up for some lost flavor oomph.

Blog at WordPress.com.
Theme: Customized Esquire by Matthew Buchanan.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 60 other followers

%d bloggers like this: