Carol Goodman Kaufman

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It’s a Wonderful Life

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Photo by snappygoat.com

Pandemic cooking has merged with the research for my food history/cookbook, so I’ve been testing dozens and dozens of new recipes, tweaking and fine-tuning to make them the best they can be. Because, after all, every cook has her/his own special twist secret makes a dish special.

With bated breath I awaited the fall crop of pomegranates. My study of the fruit’s history and travels was complete, but recipes needed testing. Late fall they finally arrived, and as soon as they did, I bought a bunch and plunged into recipes for the chapter on this amazing fruit with the tart-sweet, ruby-red arils.

Only one recipe, stemming from the Golden Age of Spain, did I have to exclude completely. Although I loved the idea of featuring this historical dish for chickpeas and honey with, and as hard as I tried to get J to enjoy the “different” flavors of said dish, I knew in my heart that he was right. People don’t want food that tastes bad, so why include a recipe for it? So, as much as I hate to waste food, I couldn’t bring myself to eat the leftovers for lunch the next day. Down the disposal they went.

But the rest! Oh, my. All came from Asia, the fruit’s birthplace, and some were out of this world. Persian kufteh-ye pesteh-o Anar and Indian chicken chitarnee were so delicious that they have earned a permanent place in my repertoire.

I realize that I have the best job in the world. I get to prepare, taste-test, and then share delicious meals with the people I most love in the world. And then I get to offer those recipes to everybody who wants them.

 

Pandemic Cooking

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While I’ve been managing pretty well during the quarantine necessitated by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, there are a few things I really miss. Above all, I miss hugging and kissing my kids and their kids. I am truly hoping to be able to put a smooch on 9-year-old Max’s soft cheeks before he starts to shave.

I miss shopping. Yes, just about everything is available for curbside or home delivery, but I like to examine things before I buy. I like to browse. I like to try on.

And, as much as I love to cook, I do miss eating out, especially with friends. And what I miss most of all is Indian food. But, now that we’re nine months into the pandemic, I’ve decided to take the plunge and try out some recipes.

Why I’ve been so intimidated by cooking Indian in the past is a puzzler. Maybe it was the list of ingredients that I don’t have? Like dried mango powder, fenugreek, and tamarind paste. But I do have cumin and turmeric and cardamom. I even have garam masala. So what was I worried about?

Since I’ve been working on an article about India, my cravings have intensified. And my need for a recipe to include in the column became evident. Luckily, I just happened to have all the ingredients in the house for Chicken Chitarnee, a curry popular among the Jews of India.

But once I got started, there was no stopping. Even as we were still working our way through the chicken (I made a whole bird), I had to have Chana Masala. And Naan. And shall we try Ghee Rice? And rice pudding? And …

As of yesterday, I think I’ve had enough to satisfy my cravings for Indian food. For now.

Last night we had scrambled eggs for supper.

 

Photo credit food.ndtv.com

 

 

Salsa Dancing to Avoid the Fuzz

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I found flour! A fifty-pound bag of it, to be precise, and I’ve been baking up a storm. Challah, whole wheat cinnamon bread, bagels,  pita. And, this past Monday, we were excited to make from-scratch tortillas so that we could have burritos for supper.

But when I reached into the fridge to retrieve the jar of salsa, I found a thick layer of gray fuzz over the top. Ugh. The jar had only been open for less than two weeks! While I applaud the use of fresh, natural ingredients in the brand-name salsa I buy from the supermarket, I am tired of the waste. After all, how much Tex-Mex can one eat to use up the jar in a few days? (Actually, quite a lot, but that’s not my point).

So, I decided to make my own. It was so easy, and it used items easily found in the cupboard. And if you don’t use it all up, just drain it and freeze it.

I will share it with you here so that you, too, can avoid the fuzz.

Ingredients:
2 cans petite diced tomatoes
2 green onions, sliced thin
½ cup chopped onion
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded and diced fine
2 teaspoons cilantro
1 tablespoon minced garlic
2 tablespoons of lime juice
½ teaspoon chili powder
¼ teaspoon cumin
½ teaspoon sugar
Salt and pepper to taste

Directions:
Mix all the ingredients together and enjoy! (Again, if you have leftover, just drain the liquid and freeze.)
Enjoy!

Back in the Saddle

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To prepare the seder plate for the recent Passover festival, I opened the fridge to retrieve the bottle of horseradish — red, as J prefers. Unfortunately, it had spoiled. There was no time to run to the supermarket and, frankly, I was too nervous to have done so in the current climate.

Of course I vented on Facebook. A couple of days after posting, our doorbell rang. Upon opening the front door, we found the dearest, sweetest Sara Jacobson standing ten feet away, having dropped a baggie of horseradish roots onto our front porch. We used one of them on the seder plate.

After Passover, I planted the root that we had used during the seder in the hope that we would have an annual supply of the root veggie. A previous attempt had rotted in the ground after too much rainfall.

But I had forgotten that the really big root was still in its bag in the back hall. Not wanting to waste it, I thought why not prepare our own horseradish? So, wearing my trusty swim goggles and gloves, I peeled and grated until I had a nice pile of white shreds. With a little salt and white vinegar, we were good to go.

The result? I should probably get a grater with smaller holes, as it was a bit too coarse. But, the flavor was exactly what one would expect — and want — to spread on a sandwich or over your gefilte fish or as an ingredient in cocktail sauce.

If you plan to do this, be forewarned: When you remove said goggles, the fumes will assault you in ways that make you think “riot squad.”

Ghee Whiz!

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I love Indian food, and when given the choice as to what kind of restaurant I’d like to visit, it is more often than not an Indian one — except with certain friends who shall remain nameless. They won’t go near the stuff.

I love the fact that there are so many vegetarian options. I love the music in the background. And most of all, I love the amazing flavors of the various dishes. Before the quarantine, J and I had even been making plans to travel to India next winter.

Needless to say, that probably won’t happen. Nor will visiting an Indian restaurant any time soon.

So, to Plan B. While trying to keep things interesting (in the kitchen) during this plague year and test as many recipes as possible for my cookbook-in-process, I decided to make carrot halwa. But even though my cabinets have many of the herbs and spices frequently used in Indian cuisine (e.g., ginger, garlic, turmeric, cardamom, even garam masala), I didn’t have ghee.

Frankly,  I’ve always been a little nervous about trying to make it, under the impression that it would be difficult to do. And the little jars of the stuff can fetch as much as $35 each. That was not going to be an option for this home cook.

But since we are at home and can’t get to our favorite restaurants, why not try making it myself? And guess what! It’s not hard at all. You just need patience. If for no other reason than the heavenly, buttery aroma that wafts through the house, I would recommend giving it a go. I used a bit on tuna steaks, and they were absolutely delicious.

Then, last night  (and the reason I actually started this little experiment, if you can remember that far back) I made the first of a series of recipes for carrot halwa. It was a fabulously flavorful pudding, and super easy to whip together with only a handful of ingredients.

Ghee whiz!

The Key to Happiness

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I’ve never been to the Florida Keys, but my family and I have loved key lime pie since the first time we tasted it, and we can certainly understand why it is the official pie of the state of Florida. So, one day I decided that it would be fun to try to make one. But, in what can only be described as a temporary break from reality, I decided to grow my own key limes. What began as two little saplings have grown tall in my sunroom, and every year they produce a crop of about a dozen limes each. And every year I harvest the fruits, squeeze them, and freeze the resulting juice.

For those readers who aren’t aware, key limes are tiny. Each one produces about a half teaspoon of juice. So it will come as no surprise that it has taken four years to get enough juice to make a pie. Two pies, actually, because by this time my family has grown to include our three kids, their spouses, and six grandchildren. And my rule was that all would have to be present in order to partake of this legendary dessert.

This past Sunday was the big day, as all fourteen of us were together at son Seth’s house (although little Tali isn’t on solid food yet, so I gave her a pass).

The pie recipe itself was actually quite easy, with only four ingredients, plus the three for the graham cracker crust.

But I was nervous. After all, I’d never prepared any recipe for key lime pie before. What if the one I’d chosen wasn’t good? Would I have to wait another four years before making it again?

To add to my angst, it turns out that the recipe I had was not the traditional one calling for raw egg yolks. In that original recipe, the protein of the egg yolks and condensed milk react chemically with the acid of the lime juice. This reaction causes the filling to thicken on its own without requiring baking. Today, because consuming raw eggs can be dangerous, the pie is usually baked, even if only for a short time.

Would my recipe, made with sweetened condensed milk, sour cream, key lime juice, and zest — but no eggs — make for a runny pie?

As if all that wasn’t enough to worry about: I can’t make a pie crust to save my life, so I no longer have pie pans in the house. Luckily, a quiche pan that must have been a wedding gift was tucked away in a cabinet. That, and a round cake pan of the same diameter, did the trick.

It turns out that graham cracker crusts are super easy to make.  (I may make more pie!)

The verdict: the pie was delicious and not at all runny. And, although my friend Sue insists that the whipped cream garnish is mandatory, I inadvertently left the cream in the fridge at home. Just as well. The pie was so rich that nothing else was needed.