Parsnips and other winter delights…

This week we’ll be treated to a true prize of winter.  That ivory hued, less well-known cousin of the carrot, the parsnip, requires cold weather to develop its characteristic sweetness.  Without winter’s frosty touch, these subterranean veggies are just another starchy root.  Once harvested parsnips store better than most vegetables – placed in the crisper drawer, loosely bagged, they’re likely to last for weeks and even months.  These gnarly roots not only resemble their orange brethren, they lend themselves to many of the same cooking methods.   Unlike carrots though, parsnips are not suitable for raw consumption and require proper cooking to bring out their nutty sweetness.

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Lentil and Pinto Bean Chili

Lentil and Pinto Bean Chili

This dish draws inspiration from many sources—vegetarian chilis in Julee Rosso and Sheila Lukins, The Silver Palate Goodtimes Cookbook and Didi Emmon’s, Vegetarian Planet.  And there’s the Indian lentil stews I’ve learned to love over many years of marriage, like dal makhani which pairs lentils with kidney beans.  We’ve been experimenting and doctoring over years, each time we stir up this chili, we tweak it a bit, here and there.  The first version began with sautéed eggplant courtesy of the Silver Palate.  Years later, lentils and beer were added via Emmon’s suggestion, and somewhere along the line the spices that go into dal were stirred in.  If we have zucchini in the garden, we add it (toward the end of cooking).  Or carrots and celery.  Fennel even.  The beans we choose depend on what’s in the cupboard—cannellini, black, kidney and garbanzo are all able partners.

Though this chili is simple to prepare and can be on the table in an hour or so, it’s even better after a day or three, which allows the flavors to mingle, mellow and come together.

I like to grind my own spices—a trick I learned from my mentor in Indian cooking, my mother-in-law—since the flavor is far superior.  There’s a small coffee bean grinder stored in my cupboard, reserved just for spices.  Buy bags of cumin and coriander seed at an Indian market in bulk—the cheapest prices you’ll find anywhere.

We love Spanish pardina lentils here—they keep their shape as they cook, and have a lovely light brown hue—but substitute any earth-colored lentil.  French green lentils, lentilles du Puy, would be nice too. If you make a substitution, be sure to test the lentils for doneness, as each variety cooks at a different rate.  You may need to add more water too, depending on the variety.

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Indian Spiced Tea (Masala Chai)

I’m sure it comes as no surprise, what we commonly know as Chai Tea (or Chai Tea Latte), ordered up at the local java house, is an Americanized version of the authentic Indian beverage. By the way, “chai” is the hindi word for tea, so when we ask for “Chai Tea”, we’re really saying we’d like some “Tea Tea”. When you want spiced tea in India you need to ask for Masala Chai (masala means spice) – order Chai and you might end up with plain black tea. Formulas for Masala Chai vary between households, and regionally. The ingredients I use are those preferred by my husband’s family (from whom I learned most of my Indian cooking technique) – lots of ginger, cardamom and clove (I sneak in a bit of cinnamon sometimes). Other families leave out the cardamom or add some crushed fennel seeds, even black pepper. Whatever formula you choose, spiced tea is served with lots of milk or cream and a healthy (unhealthy?) dose of sweetener (granulated white sugar is traditional, but I prefer agave nectar or turbinado sugar).

A quick trick (from my pal, Jane, who is also married to an Indian) that simulates the flavor of spiced tea without the work – break open one or two cardamom pods and add the pods, plus one broken clove to a tea mug. Add a black tea bag and boiling water. Steep for desired time, then remove tea bag (and spices if desired – though I just leave them in), add milk and sugar.

(serves 6)

Ingredients:

  • 6 cups water
  • 1/2 to one inch piece of ginger root, peeled and sliced into thin rounds
  • 8-10 green cardamom pods, lightly crushed to open the pods
  • 1-2 cloves broken in half
  • 1 very small piece of cinnamon stick (optional)
  • 4-5 black tea bags (or equivalent loose black tea)
  • 1/2 cup (or to taste) whole milk (warmed briefly in the microwave)
  • Sweetener of choice

Method:

  1. Place water and spices into a saucepan and bring to a boil on the stove. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover the pot and gently simmer for 5 minutes.
  2. Turn heat off, but keep pan on the burner. Place tea bags in the pan and cover. Steep for 4-5 minutes or as long as needed to achieve desired strength. Remove and discard tea bags.
  3. Add desired amount of milk to pot. Turn heat back on (very low) if necessary to keep tea warm.
  4. Using a small sieve or strainer to remove spices, pour tea mixture through strainer into a tea pot or other pitcher for serving.
  5. Serve in mugs with sugar or other sweetener on the side.

Cooking from a Midwinter Farm Bag – Time to Change it up!

Peeking into our farm bags this time of year, we’re greeted with roots, greens and other winter harvest.  Some would say the pickings are a bit slim now through February, but having recently returned from a journey through snow-covered eastern Iowa and northern Illinois, I’ve gained new appreciation for just how lucky we Californians are when it comes to locally grown food.  Granted the diversity of crops narrows in the early months of the year – the juicy tomatoes of summer are but a faded memory.  The harsh reality in frosty Iowa is that the growing season is still another two months down the road, so when you think about it, we’re pretty fortunate to have access to any local produce at all, when most of the country is turning to canned goods.  In Iowa fresh fruits and vegetables are sourced south of the border right now and believe me, none of it compares with our local gifts.

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Espresso Brownies

This recipe comes courtesy of my friend, Jane, who has a natural instinct in the kitchen. I’ve always admired the way she whips up a piping hot batch of chocolate chip muffins for breakfast – on a school day. I treasure fond memories of cooking together from a farm bag in our California kitchens.  Collaboration has never been more gratifying—to the stomach as well as the soul.

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