Indian-style fried rice with cabbage

In the unlikely event you read my last post on cabbage pasta and – even less likely – actually made it, you now have half a head of cabbage left over in your fridge. So, in case you’re wondering what to do with it, here’s an idea: Indian-style fried rice. In many ways, the pasta and fried rice are quite similar. Both are great ways to mop up leftover food, in today’s case both cabbage and old cooked rice. Both involve caramelizing the cabbage. And both are completely unremarkable and run-of-the-mill in their respective cuisines, but feature a ‘secret ingredient’ that lifts them above the ordinary. The pasta had anchovies; this one involves asafoetida, or hing as it is known in India. Usually, given its potency, hing is sparingly used lest it overwhelm the dish. Here, though, hing is the star and you really want its smell and flavor to come through.

Pasta with cabbage and anchovy-spiked bread crumbs

Cabbage is one of those vegetables that you don’t quite know what to do with (unless you make a lot of slaw). You buy it with some vague intent only to have it sit forlornly in the fridge, occupying valuable real estate. And for a long time, too, as it keeps well. But you don’t have to restrict yourself to slaw or soup. Cabbage with green peas or lentils are common dishes in India. Cabbage also makes appearances in yakisoba and okonomiyaki, Japanese stir-fried noodles and pancake, respectively. And, as I mentioned in a previous post, shredded cabbage can turn chickpea batter into a tasty and filling savory pancake. I’ll be visiting some of these dishes in future posts. Today, though, we’ll go to Italy and one of my favorite pasta dishes.

Eggplant fritters and beet dip with za’atar and goat cheese

This past summer, an excess of beets from my local CSA forced me to find new ways of cooking them. Roasting, I discovered, works best. As does pairing them with vinaigrettes involving (what else) anchovies. That said, I was almost glad when the CSA season was over. I thought, “good, no more beets!”. I know they are supposed to be good for you but I never particularly liked them, at least not the way they are usually served: as an afterthought, cloyingly sweet, their bright red juices staining everything. Until, that is, I came across today’s recipe for a dip.

You know you’re in France …

… when the local supermarket stocks canned snails…

…and the frozen food section a dozen varieties of quiche.

Actually, these pictures were taken not in France but in Montreal, where a recent work trip took me. It was my first visit to Quebec, and despite all I’d read and knew about the place, from the way people looked and dressed to the food its “Frenchness” still came as a surprise. As it was a short trip I didn’t have much time to explore the culinary scene (or take pictures). But meals at Au Pied De Cochon and a creperie convinced me that I probably wouldn’t starve in Montreal. On the other hand one could easily freeze to death (the wind chill was -20°C when I visited!). And if the cold doesn’t get you, the foie gras poutine just might! The pictures below, by the way, were taken at the Jean-Talon Market where I had the crepe.

Phyllo pastry with fenugreek and potato filling

Several months ago I took a series of cooking classes at the Institute of Culinary Education (ICE) here in New York. Although billed as “recreational”, these were intense, all-day affairs (each course lasting a week) meant to give you a flavor of what students in professional culinary school learn. The classes I took – Fine Cooking 1 and 2 and, subsequently, Techniques of Fish and Shellfish – covered everything from making sauce béarnaise to gutting a fish, and sauteing to making creme brulee. While every day we made several dishes, the point of these hands-on classes was to teach you fundamental techniques rather than specific recipes. Particularly impressive were the chef instructors who are not only highly knowledgeable but can also explain things well. This isn’t easy. Imagine a class of 10 to 15 students (working in groups of 3 or 4), each with different levels of skill and motivation, running around like headless chickens in the presence of (very) sharp knives and hot stoves. It was chaos to say the least, although of a controlled variety. But, somehow, at the end of the day everything miraculously came together and we’d end up with a fabulous 6-7-course meal. I imagine a restaurant is a lot like that.