There’s nothing quite so wonderful as preparing food for friends, especially when there are special requirements. For our Nepali Global Table I was tasked to prepare an entirely vegetarian meal so I could share it with my vegetarian friend, her daughter, and husband. I loved it! This “constraint” (which I use very loosely as I eat vegetarian much of the time) meant that I got to look through Nepali recipes with a vegetarian filter. Ironically, this opened my eyes to many dishes I might not otherwise have noticed if I’d felt the pressure of cooking some sort of meat dish. The timing couldn’t have been better – many people in Nepal live a vegetarian lifestyle.
This “constraint” also meant that I learned something new that i might not have come across otherwise: being vegetarian in Nepal means no meat or egg (although milk and cheese are fine). Who knew?
Home amid the rice. Photo by Julesair. Winnowing Rice in Nepal. Photo by KenWalker.
What sounds good to you?
Vegetarian Momos [Recipe]
These small dumplings not only have an adorable name, but they taste fantastic. Filled with cabbage, carrot, onion, turmeric, and ginger, each bite is a lovely window into Nepali food and, as you make each crease, you’ll slow down to a simpler time.
Vegan Spiced Yellow Split Peas | Dhal Bhat [Recipe] A daily staple in Nepal, Dhal are any kind of pulses like split peas or lentils and bhat is rice. While relatively straightforward to explain (and make), this is in fact a vegan dish of subtle complexity and great health benefits. Inside you’ll find golden turmeric, ginger, tomatoes, and more.
Crystal Crunch Fudge | Besan Burfi [Recipe] Pistachio and cardamom perfume this ghee and chickpea flour based sweet. Known for it’s characteristic crunchy texture and sweet, sweet flavor, Besan Burfi is a fantastic teatime accompaniment.
*All recipes and meal review will be posted throughout the week.
Mount Everest, photo by Bernard Goldbach. Stupa and prayer flags at basecamp, photo by Uwe Gille.
As you fly into Nepal, the first thing you might see is Mount Everest, rising up through the clouds like the spirit of the earth stretching in greeting to the sky. Once in town you’ll find monkeys eating with the pigeons and ambling through the cobblestone streets, baby following mother. A bus, loaded up with people (even on the very roof top) might zip by on your left, British-style.
Curiously, this is the only country in the world that has a zig-zag looking flag, as opposed to a rectangle. As my husband remarked, it looks like half of a Christmas tree. This means that, wherever the Nepali flag floats in the breeze you’ll find two two triangles decorated with the sun and moon. From the freezing mountain tops to the subtropical southern reaches of Nepal, an astounding assortment of temples, shrines, and plain ‘ol beauty awaits.
Flag of Nepal. Photo by Christopher Macsurak
The food reflects her status, tucked between China and India. There are all manner of curries, most commonly you’ll find dahl baht [Recipe] which I like to think of as a combo platter containing two bowls – one of dahl, or soupy, aromatic split peas and another of rice. This dish can be served with chutney or vegetable pickles called achaar. Other curries include potato, chicken, or fish among many more. Pieces of Indian-style flatbread, like chapati [recipe] also make it to the table.
On the more Chinese and Tibetan side of things there are momos, or little dumplings [Recipe]. These can be made with ground beef or be totally vegetarian, in which case they might sport a cabbage filling. Inside you’ll also find ginger root (which makes its way into much of the cooking).
A Rhesus Macaque on Swayambhunath hill, Kathmandu Valley, Nepal . An ancient religious complex atop the hill in the Kathmandu Valley, west of Kathmandu city. It is also known as the Monkey Temple for the holy monkeys living in parts of the temple. Photo by Ester Inbar, available from http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:ST and monkeys in courtyard by Holynow.
Dessert can be a simple piece of fruit like mango, papaya, watermelon, lychee and bananas… or it can be something from the Indian influence – Besan Burfi, a sweet ghee and chickpea flour treat which I’ve seen compared to fudge [Recipe]. Things might be finished off with a cup of hot buttered tea as we made for Bhutan [recipe].
As Ava scuttles off to the zoo with her grandmother, I stay behind to wrangle alligator for the first time. While she walks between the lanky giraffes and prowling tigers, seeking a tail-slinging alligator of her own, I coat ours with a bright layer of lemon piri piri sauce and pop it in the refrigerator for a few hours. As she watches the lions, padding their way around their enclosure, scanning the perimeter, looking for a way out – wondering where the rest of Africa is – I place a loaf of Veldt bread in the shimmering oven.
Ava looks at the animals curiously but not exactly afraid. Not like she would be if she ran into them in the actual wilderness. She is an observer but not a participant in the scene.
But things could be different.
Last week I was confronted with a sordid, disturbing tale called The Veldt by Ray Bradbury from the 1950’s writtenabout the veldt in southern Africa. The term veldt is a lot like the term outback – it’s the way-out-there land, the I-hope-I-have-matches-for-my-campfire land. Namibia is loaded up with Veldt.
In this tale an American family lives in a mechanized house that does everything for them – rocks them to sleep, cooks dinner – the works. There is even a room called the nursery that the children use to conjure up their wildest fantasies.
Who needs toys when you can bring the entire world to your feet with a flick of the imagination?
This nursery is where Africa comes in. The children become fixated on conjuring up the veldt – complete with insatiable lions and intent vultures. By the end of the story – which I won’t give away – I was utterly disturbed.
While I won’t go into the story’s obvious racial issues (which reflect the times during which it was written), there is something to be said for that part of our soul that calls us to become lost in the wild. To be among the lions. To smile under the scorching sun.
However, unlike the parents in this story, who are unnerved and struggle to shut down the wild side of their children, I think we need to embrace our inner Africa.
How wonderful for a child to be interested in the world enough to pretend they are somewhere else. To put themselves in another person’s shoes. How grand for them to put down the video games in exchange for a brush with real wilderness. How wonderful to feel the excitement and joy of the way-out-there lands.
Perhaps now, more than ever, we can benefit from putting some thought behind how much we rely on technology in our day to day lives and how much we experience the world. For me, right now, technology really helps me see and learn about the world. But so does picking up my pots, opening my spice drawer, and cooking up a storm.
In this case, a Namibian storm.
What about you? In what ways does technology help you experience the world and in what ways does it hurt?
What are the limitations and what does it do that nothing else can?
Oh, and read the story if you have time. It’ll make for great conversation around your Global Table.
Oh, alligator… This was another one of those dishes that took some courage to try, even for me. It was a great help that the meat was nicely packaged in a vacuum-sealed bag, rather than something I needed to hunt. I’m pretty sure who would come out on top with that one.
In the end I liked the alligator quite a bit and, aside from it being a bit too spicy for Ava and Grandma Martin, so did everyone else. Grandma even prepped Ava for the experience, seeking out the alligators at the zoo. I think it’s important for children to know that their food doesn’t come from the supermarket and, short of a trip to Georgia, this was the best way to do it.
What I loved least about this dish:
Alligator meat, not suprisingly, is rather expensive at $16/lb. This will certainly keep me from making it very often (if ever again). Still, it was fun to try!
Veldt bread is earthy, with a hint of spice but no sweetness. Although it’s strange to have spices in a savory dish, I think it really works here. In fact, I think this would be great with anything, any time of day. Because it is made with 100% whole wheat flour, the texture is dense and hearty – exactly what you would expect out in the wilderness.
Ava liked it and happily munched away on her slices, as did her papa and grandma.
What I loved least about this dish:
After the bread cooled down it was still fine, but not nearly as good as when hot. I’d definitely bake this when I wanted it and serve immediately.
I’m always interested in new ways to enjoy mangoes, and this chutney with ginger and hot pepper flakes is quite a treat. I found it was great to mix with my rice. Mr Picky and his mama also enjoyed doing this. Despite the chili pepper flakes the chutney wasn’t overly spicy and the sweet/tangy combination helped cool down the spicy kabobs.
What I loved least about this dish:
This was a little bit sweet for my tastes and I’d consider dropping the sugar back a bit, especially if your mangoes are very ripe. The amount listed is best for somewhat tart mangoes. Despite my best efforts Ava didn’t want to try it. I suppose the texture was a bit weird-looking (on a similar note, she still doesn’t like fruit pies).
Today we’re traveling to the sandy, dusty plateaus of of Southern Africa where you’ll find the Veldt – large expanses of wilderness, often filled with scrubby bushes and the occasional scraggly tree. Here, too, you’ll find prowling lions, circling scavenger birds, and hearty veldt bread – which pretty much means bread of the wild.
According to the World Cookbook for Students, this quickbread was created by European settlers as a way to nourish themselves with familiar ingredients in an unfamiliar land. Since it’s leavened with baking powder, there’s no long rise time – just pop in the oven (or over a campfire) and chow down. No muss, no fuss.
Spices like ginger, cinnamon and cloves give this rugged, dense “wheaty” bread a lovely lift. Much like Irish soda bread, Veldt bread tastes best when steaming hot, slathered with butter. So go ahead, set up camp by a Namibian sunset and enjoy a slice.
Sunset over the Namibian winter landscape; a westward view over the NamibRand private nature reserve from Wolwedans Dune Camp. Photo by Marco W.
First, get in the mood with a little Namibian music. Preheat the oven to 325F.
Dance while you whisk together all the dry ingredients. Enjoy how the earthy cinnamon, golden ginger, and deep brown clove make the flour look like a dusty wilderness – much like the veldt. See if you can find any lions in there…
Next, add in the wet ingredients.
You’ll end up with a somewhat stiff dough, but it should not be crumbly. Knead for several minutes until smooth. I got distracted and stopped short when I made this recipe – next time I’ll try kneading for at least 5 minutes.
Press into an oiled loaf pan and brush with more oil. Bake for 35-45 minutes, or until cooked through.
Since this is a quick bread, the loaf doesn’t rise a whole lot and maintains a rustic appearance.
Embrace imperfection. It tastes divine.
When you slice the hot bread, prepare yourself for the subtle beauty of the spices to perfume your home.
Immediately slather thick slices with soft butter.
Wait until it just melts into the bread…
… and enjoy!
Don’t let that giraffe bother you. She’s just loving the subtle hint of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves rising from your bread.
Giraffes crossing the road in Namibia. Photo from http://namibia.11-300mm.de/
Enjoy hot for breakfast in an early morning light, with tea in the bright afternoon, or with just about any meal as evening approaches.
Veldt bread also tastes beautiful at midnight under the Namibian night sky. Watch the glory and see if you agree.
Bread of the Wild | Veldt Bread
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Today we’re traveling to the sandy, dusty plateaus of of Southern Africa where you’ll find the Veldt – large expanses of wilderness, often filled with scrubby bushes and the occasional scraggly tree. Here, too, you’ll find prowling lions, circling scavenger birds, and hearty veldt bread – which pretty much means bread of the wild.
According to the World Cookbook for Students, this quickbread was created by European settlers as a way to nourish themselves with familiar ingredients in an unfamiliar land. Since it’s leavened with baking powder, there’s no long rise time – just pop in the oven (or over a campfire) and chow down. No muss, no fuss.
Spices like ginger, cinnamon and cloves give this rugged, dense “wheaty” bread a lovely lift. Much like Irish soda bread, Veldt bread tastes best when steaming hot, slathered with butter. So go ahead, set up camp by a Namibian sunset and enjoy a slice.
Today we’re traveling to the sandy, dusty plateaus of of Southern Africa where you’ll find the Veldt – large expanses of wilderness, often filled with scrubby bushes and the occasional scraggly tree. Here, too, you’ll find prowling lions, circling scavenger birds, and hearty veldt bread – which pretty much means bread of the wild.
According to the World Cookbook for Students, this quickbread was created by European settlers as a way to nourish themselves with familiar ingredients in an unfamiliar land. Since it’s leavened with baking powder, there’s no long rise time – just pop in the oven (or over a campfire) and chow down. No muss, no fuss.
Spices like ginger, cinnamon and cloves give this rugged, dense “wheaty” bread a lovely lift. Much like Irish soda bread, Veldt bread tastes best when steaming hot, slathered with butter. So go ahead, set up camp by a Namibian sunset and enjoy a slice.
Preheat the oven to 325F. Whisk together all the dry ingredients.
Next, add in the wet ingredients.
You’ll end up with a somewhat stiff dough, but it should not be crumbly. Knead for several minutes until smooth.
Press into an oiled loaf pan and brush with more oil. Bake for 35-45 minutes, or until cooked through.
Since this is a quick bread, the loaf doesn’t rise a whole lot and maintains a rustic appearance. Embrace imperfection. It tastes divine.
When you slice the hot bread, prepare yourself for the subtle beauty of the spices to perfume your home. Immediately slather thick slices with soft butter.
In the muddy waters of Namibia you can find all manner of crocodile. They are both hunted and hunters, so it’s best to keep your wits about you if you find yourself in their snappish company. Since I live in the part of the world where alligators roam (or very near to it, as they can be found in Georgia, just a couple of states away), I made this quick substitution for this traditional Namibian bushmeat.
If you’d like to know the difference between a crocodile and an alligator, I’ve been told it’s in the shape of the snout. Otherwise, it is rumored, the taste (and bite) is the same.
So let’s stove top travel our way to the hot Namibian sun and find ourselves some bushmeat for summer grillin.’
Bushment hunting in Namibia. Photo by David Barrie.
NOTE: I purchased alligator at Harvard Meats, our local meat market (that’s also where we found kangaroo for our Australian Global Table). Call around and see if any near you have alligator (most likely frozen, unless you live in the deep south).
Makes about 6 skewers
Ingredients:
1 lb alligator tail meat
1 recipe Piri Piri, with several extra peppers for heat
Garnish:
1 bell pepper
1 poblano pepper
2 tomatoes, cut into wedges
Serve with Rice.
Method:
First, stir together the ingredients for the piri piri marinade… it’s a lovely combination of lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, Thai bird peppers, red pepper flakes, and salt.
That’s good on just about anything, except for a frown.
Plus, piri piri adds just a bit of bite to your alligator, which is always a good thing.
After all, what’s is an alligator without bite?
If your alligator came in steaks, slice into 2 inch pieces for the skewers. Mine looked like a steak, but after thawing came apart into many little pieces.
Marinate alligator pieces in piri piri sauce overnight, or at least a few hours.
Meanwhile, sleep under the sparkling Namibian stars.
Quiver trees in Namibia waiting for a new day. Photo by Waterwin.
Thread onto skewers with slices of a sweet pepper and a spicy pepper. I used a sunshiny bell pepper and a dark green poblano.
Grill for a few minutes per side over medium-high. Be sure to oil the grill so they don’t stick!
Enjoy on a bed of rice with sliced tomatoes.
Will you take a bite?
Er, maybe not that big.
TGIF, my friends! 🙂
Bushmeat Skewers | An Alligator's Bite
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In the muddy waters of Namibia you can find all manner of crocodile. They are both hunted and hunters, so it’s best to keep your wits about you if you find yourself in their snappish company. Since I live in the part of the world where alligators roam (or very near to it, as they can be found in Georgia, just a couple of states away), I made this quick substitution for this traditional Namibian bushmeat.
Great served with rice.
In the muddy waters of Namibia you can find all manner of crocodile. They are both hunted and hunters, so it’s best to keep your wits about you if you find yourself in their snappish company. Since I live in the part of the world where alligators roam (or very near to it, as they can be found in Georgia, just a couple of states away), I made this quick substitution for this traditional Namibian bushmeat.
Great served with rice.
1recipepiri piri, with several extra peppers for heat
Garnish
1bell pepper
1Poblano pepper
2tomatoes, cut into wedges
Servings: skewers
Units:
Instructions
First, stir together the ingredients for the piri piri marinade… it’s a lovely combination of lemon juice, garlic, olive oil, Thai bird peppers, red pepper flakes, and salt.
If your alligator came in steaks, slice into 2 inch pieces for the skewers. Mine looked like a steak, but after thawing came apart into many little pieces. Marinate alligator pieces in piri piri sauce overnight, or at least a few hours.
Thread onto skewers with slices of a sweet pepper and a spicy pepper. I used a sunshiny bell pepper and a dark green poblano. Grill for a few minutes per side over medium-high. Be sure to oil the grill so they don’t stick! Enjoy on a bed of rice with sliced tomatoes.
Sometimes life throws us some pretty major “boulders” – huge, overwhelming problems we can’t seem to solve, let alone nudge out of the way. In Namibia, you can find a lot of these boulders, literally. Strangely out of proportion, these massive stones perch atop bald, widswept vistas. I like to think of these formiddable boulders as mangoes.
Spitz photo by Hansueli Krapf.
Yes, mangoes.
Something that, if given enough time, will soften and sweeten and delight you.
Why can’t all problems be this way?
Today’s recipe combines three beloved Namibian ingredients: mangoes, ginger, chili pepper flakes. The resulting chutney tastes great with meats, veggies, breads… you name it. It’s quite sweet, vinegary, and mildly spicy. You can add fresh minced chili peppers to increase the heat to sweat-inducing levels, if you’d like.
Makes 1 quart
Ingredients:
4 cups cubed mango
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1 cup sugar (less if your mangoes are very sweet)
1 small onion, chopped
1 tsp fresh ginger
1/2 tsp red chili pepper flakes (or more to taste)
1/2 tsp mustard seed (I had crushed on hand)
Method:
First, fly to Namibia in the southwestern corner of Africa. Find some mega boulders.
Pushing boulders at Bushmen’s Paradise, Photo by Hansueli Krapf.
Smile because, unlike formiddable boulders which refuse to budge, this recipe is easy. Thank goodness.
Simply dice up the mangoes, removing the skin and pit. You can use slightly tart mangoes, as I did. If your mangoes are very sweet, I’d recommend cutting back on the sugar.
Then, add all other ingredients to a medium pot. Bring to a happy bubble and let cook uncovered for about 45 minutes-1 hour.
Just look at this golden glow…
Meanwhile, sit by the window and imagine yourself climbing those boulders. Solving those problems. That’s the first step in figuring it all out!
Bushmen’s Paradise. Photo by Hansueli Krapf
Stir occasionally (your thoughts and the chutney).
Eventually the mixture will be softened and taste tangy, sweet, and spicy.
Spoon into a large sterile jar or several small jars.
Enjoy with rice, vegetables, meats.. anything really! Look at those little flecks of red pepper… just the perfect thing to cut the sweetness.
Enjoy on rice, meats, and more… always with a cheeky smile and a glorious Namibian view.
Bushmen’s Paradise. Photo by Hansueli Krapf.
Mango & Ginger Chutney
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Today’s recipe combines three beloved Namibian ingredients: mangoes, ginger, chili pepper flakes. The resulting chutney tastes great with meats, veggies, breads… you name it. It’s quite sweet, vinegary, and mildly spicy. You can add fresh minced chili peppers to increase the heat to sweat-inducing levels, if you’d like.
Today’s recipe combines three beloved Namibian ingredients: mangoes, ginger, chili pepper flakes. The resulting chutney tastes great with meats, veggies, breads… you name it. It’s quite sweet, vinegary, and mildly spicy. You can add fresh minced chili peppers to increase the heat to sweat-inducing levels, if you’d like.
Simply dice up the mangoes, removing the skin and pit. You can use slightly tart mangoes, as I did. If your mangoes are very sweet, I’d recommend cutting back on the sugar.
Then, add all other ingredients to a medium pot. Bring to a happy bubble and let cook uncovered for about 45 minutes-1 hour. Stir occasionally.
Spoon into a large sterile jar or several small jars. Enjoy with rice, vegetables, meats.. anything really!
This week we’re celebrating two awesome, wonderful, happy, lovely things. 1) We’re in the “N” countries… finally! It’s been nearly 2 1/2 years of cooking food from every country in the world and here we are! Namibia is a great place to start, too. This menu combines something new (alligator), with the rustic (Veldt bread) and a dash of sass (mango chutney). If that doesn’t sum up the spirit of this adventure, I don’t know what does 2) My husband was promoted to a new fancypants position at his company. It’s long since overdue. We’re fairly sure this means he has to stop wearing superman shirts, except for on the weekends. We shall see.
What sounds good to you?*
An Alligator’s Bite (Bushmeat Skewers) [Recipe] In Namibia Crocodile reigns supreme. Since we can’t get those in Tulsa, Oklahoma we’re cooking up the (incredibly similar) alligator. Just marinate with piri piri sauce and thread with peppers on skewers.
Bread of the Wild (Veldt Bread) [Recipe] Dense whole wheat quickbread made with cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. A rustic combination from African and European heritages. Goes extra well with butter.
Mango & Ginger Chutney [Recipe] A sweet and spicy blend of mangoes, ginger, onion and red pepper flakes. This vegan condiment is perfect with just about anything.
*All recipes and the meal review will be posted throughout the week.
Ancient dunes from the Namib-Naukluft Park in Namibia, Africa. Photo by Bjørn Christian Tørrissen.
Not that you’d really believe you were in Germany while gazing upon the vast deserts of Namibia, but quite a few things might make you wonder – especially closer to the coast. For starters, German words are everywhere, from the names of towns, to the distinctive brats and beer on the tables.
Lüderitz Port, for example. Could that be any more German?
Lüderitz Port, Namibia. Photo by Peter Stenglein.
If you dig in a little deeper, however, you’ll enter the Veldt or the wide open scrubby expanses. In this space, times moves more slowly. Dust hangs in the air where lions, giraffes, and zebra roam. Here, the food is much simpler. An entire meal might be made from bushmeat, such as crocodile [Recipe using a local substitute, alligator], or prized lamb meat. Vegetables would include simple stewed greens. Seasoning might consist of nothing or it might be piri piri sauce, bright with lemon juice and spicy peppers. Food can also be amped up with a sweet and spicy chutney [Recipe].
Deeper into the heart of Namibia you may experience dense quickbread called Veldt (named after the distinctive southern African landscape of the same name) [Recipe]. Seasoned with cinnamon and other spices, this bread at once represents the heart of the wilderness and the spirit of the European settlers.
Marienfluss Valley, Namibia. Photo by Hans Stieglitz.
Of course, most meals are served with something even simpler – Oshifima, or cornmeal porridge remarkably like the papa we made for nearby Lesotho.
Ava runs past me as I place the last clothespin on the line. Our blue sheets undulate with the breeze. Parting them with a quick swipe of her hands, Ava runs behind them and calls out:
“Mama, come on! The big bad wolf is coming. Let’s hide!”
She points at Malky, our cat, who slouches on the grass, licking his leg.
“Oh, is he the wolf?” I ask, chuckling despite myself.
Together we hide behind the sheets and every time the breeze blows the soft cotton towards our faces we squeal and say: “Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin.”
Malky continues his first bath of the afternoon, unconcerned.
Soon the game evolves into random singing and arm waving; the rudimary performance of an almost-three-year-old. And, yet, in this glorious moment, she’s not a toddler. She’s a queen and I, a guest in her magical Kingdom.
This isn’t surprising, really. Children conjure up entire worlds with nothing more than a sparkle glinting off of a ray of sunlight. But what is surprising is that Ava has second kingdom. This is a different dream entirely – a bygone era of Myanmar, that existed sometime between 1364 and 1555.
“Ava’s Kingdom.” It has a nice ring to it. While the kingdom lasted nearly 200 years in the northern reaches of what is now Myanmar, much of this time was spent defending itself against invaders.
So it is that I imagine ourselves in both of Ava’s Kingdoms as we play, with Malky the cat the ominous – and unwitting – invader.
Later that night, as I watch Ava studiously decorating her soup, careful to add just the right bit of lime juice and egg, I smile. This child is timeless. Where I once thought I had given her a unique name (meaning “life” and “bird”), here I find her given name as old as an ancient empire and as timeless as a smile.
And, somehow, strangely connected to a long-past era of Myanmar.
So many layers – so many connections in this world, past and present.
This is the kind of soup you cuddle up to after a busy day, when you are so hungry you can’t stand it. The coconut milk and nutritious chickpea flour create a smooth base for a slightly spicy chicken curry. The noodles soak everything up, including the half of a lime I squeezed on mine, tons of green onion, extra fish sauce and cilantro. Ava adored this and really went to town “building” her bowl.
What I loved least about this dish:
Remember to either stir together the chickpea flour with the ingredients or to create a slurry. I was in a hurry when I added some extra and created a bunch of lumps. It can really ruin the texture of an otherwise fantastic curry.
This salad surprised me. I didn’t expect to like it and, honestly, didn’t really want to make it. And yet! Ever since I made it, I’ve been daydreaming about making it again. There’s something so incredible about the chickpeas and lentils fried in peanut oil – the salad feels indulgent, until you realize it’s also loaded with healthy napa cabbage and other greens.
I was incredibly happy that both Ava and Keith ate this salad with no real problems – another surprise considering his Mr Picky tendencies and aversion to anything including “fish sauce.”
What I loved least about this dish:
I really liked it, although Keith did mention it seemed kind of dry. I think this was because he didn’t add extra fish sauce or much lemon/lime juice, which really makes all the difference. Something that also adds dryness and a bit of a gritty texture is the chickpea flour. I found the flour an interesting addition, although you could probably skip it and not hurt the salad if you can’t find it. Alternatively, if you’re feeling bold, go ahead and double what I called for… you’ll need to add quite a bit more moisture, but it’ll be much more gritty.
First of all, there’s nothing so neat as jello that sets without refrigeration, making this a great, safe option for outdoor summer parties. The flavor is light and tropical and it looks so beautiful. I enjoyed the light coconut flavor and the novelty of the “split” jelly.
What I loved least about this dish:
Ava wasn’t crazy about this, which surprised me. To be fair, the opaque layer has a slightly creamy texture, while the translucent layer is more like a hard-boiled egg white in texture (thanks to Alexis for this reference). Mr Picky wasn’t crazy about it either, although they both were more open to thin, rectangular slices.
Oh, yes. Even on the hottest day in steamy, tropical Myanmar, you’ll find gaping bowls heaped with noodles, chicken, and silky coconut curry. It doesn’t matter if you’re sick. It doesn’t matter if your skin is tacky with salty sweat. “Ohn no khao swe” is what’s for dinner.
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You can call it Coconut Chicken Noodle Soup, if you’d like. To a local, this curry topped with egg and a garden of garnishes is breakfast, lunch, or dinner. It’s as easy to find in rambling shacks as it is in roadside stalls. I can’t get over how easy it is to make. Chop a few things, toss them in a pot and simmer. After a happy mingle serve with noodles and enough garnishes to bring out even the Grinch’s smile, not to mention little Miss Ava (have I told you lately how much kids like to help build their own meals?).
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The secret to making a great ohn-no-khao-swe is in the toppings. More specifically, in assembling your own bowl, just as you like it. If you do it right, in every bite you’ll find chicken, noodles, chili peppers, green onion, cilantro, eggs, lime juice, and fish sauce.
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And smiles as far as your eyes can see.
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NOTE: You can find chickpea/garbanzo bean flour at your natural grocery store, near the specialty flours. Although you might not find pure chickpea flour, you can also use a blend of chickpea/garbanzo and fava bean flour.
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Serves 4
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Ingredients:
.
1-2 lb boneless, skinless thighs
vegetable oil
1 Tbsp hot paprika, or to taste
1 Tbsp grated ginger
1 Tbsp grated garlic
1 large shallot, sliced
1/2 cup chickpea flour
1 quart chicken stock
fish sauce, to taste (I used 3 Tbsp)
1 can coconut milk (I used light)
1 lb spaghetti (wheat noodles)
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Garnish:
.
2 hard boiled eggs, sliced
cilantro, torn
green onion, sliced
lime & lemon wedges
Fish sauce
chili sauce
.
Method:
.
Let’s get started.
First fry the chicken in hot oil. This can take ten minutes per side to get a good sear.
Meanwhile, grate the ginger, garlic and slice the onion. Whistle a little, if you can.
Once the chicken is brown on both sides, sprinkle on the paprika, ginger, and garlic. Cook for a minute, until fragrant.
Then add the beautiful shallot and cook a few minutes to soften. The shallot will add sweet goodness to the curry and balances the heat from the hot paprika.
Sprinkle on the chickpea flour and, to prevent lumps, stir. This will ensure that everything is coated and all the flour is moistened. The chickpea flour will thicken the curry and add a slightly earthy background flavor.
Now for the liquids.
Pour on stock, coconut milk, and fish sauce – instead of salt (I used quite a bit since my chicken stock is low sodium).
Simmer 30 minutes, breaking the chicken into smaller pieces with a wooden spoon. If the sauce gets too thick, thin it out with stock or water. If it seems a bit thin, make a slurry with some more chickpea flour and stir it in.
No biggie. That’s real life.
Meanwhile, cook the noodles and hard boiled eggs. Slice up a rainbow of garnishes.
Serve the noodles in one bowl, the curry in a second bowl, and the toppings on a platter.
The secret to making a great ohn-no-khao-swe is in the toppings. More specifically, in assembling your own bowl, just as you like it. If you do it right, in every bite you’ll find chicken, noodles, chili peppers, green onion, cilantro, eggs, lime juice, and fish sauce.
The secret to making a great ohn-no-khao-swe is in the toppings. More specifically, in assembling your own bowl, just as you like it. If you do it right, in every bite you’ll find chicken, noodles, chili peppers, green onion, cilantro, eggs, lime juice, and fish sauce.
First fry the chicken in hot oil. This can take ten minutes per side to get a good sear. Meanwhile, grate the ginger, garlic and slice the onion. Whistle a little, if you can.
Once the chicken is brown on both sides, sprinkle on the paprika, ginger, and garlic. Cook for a minute, until fragrant. Then add the beautiful shallot and cook a few minutes to soften. The shallot will add sweet goodness to the curry and balances the heat from the hot paprika.
Sprinkle on the chickpea flour and, to prevent lumps, stir. This will ensure that everything is coated and all the flour is moistened. The chickpea flour will thicken the curry and add a slightly earthy background flavor. Now for the liquids. Pour on stock, coconut milk, and fish sauce – instead of salt (I used quite a bit since my chicken stock is low sodium).
Simmer 30 minutes, breaking the chicken into smaller pieces with a wooden spoon. If the sauce gets too thick, thin it out with stock or water. If it seems a bit thin, make a slurry with some more chickpea flour and stir it in.
Meanwhile, cook the noodles and hard boiled eggs. Slice up a rainbow of garnishes.
Let’s just call this the dessert of indecision. My mom likes to say that doing the right thing is as “clear as day.” But here’s the thing: some problems are confusing. Even after an all night stresser, I can’t figure everything out. Am I capable of writing a book? Should I wear heels to a picnic wedding? Is it better to help an old lady cross the street, or maybe I should just drive her wherever she needs to go?
For every question, part of the solution is clear, but generally there’s a murky area, filled with unknowns.
For example, will my book be a book about food, babies, or … astrophysics? Will the ground be hard at the picnic wedding? If so, great, but then.. are my heels unwearable, covered with cobwebs, from years of neglect? Does the old lady even need my help? Why do I assume she does? What does that say about me?
Variables make everything more confusing. When this happens, only time will tell what the right answer is, like clarity revealing itself in murky waters…. or, as in this case, in Coconut Jelly.
This is the perfect treat for such indecision; you’ll find it throughout Myanmar. Made with little more than coconut milk, water, sugar, and agar agar, the jello-like dessert sets up firmly, separating into two layers. If you don’t disturb the mixture while it’s setting, the layers will be 50/50 clear/opaque, which is very cute. If, however, you spend 15 minutes furiously whisking the mixture in an an attempt to capture photos of steam.. well… it won’t separate quite as well.
Oh, the lessons I learn in the name of photography.
But murky, or clear, the dessert is still tasty!
As an added bonus, Coconut Jelly sets up at room temperature, since it’s traditionally thickened with agar agar instead of gelatin. This makes the dessert a great option not only for street food vendors, but parties & potlucks where you don’t want to mess with refrigeration. You can find this vegan seaweed thickener in the Asian aisle of your supermarket. It looks like tiny, delicate, ever-so-sparkly crystals.
So pretty.
So, whip some up, watch it set up on your counter and have a smile!
Here’s hoping Coconut Jelly helps you “cross that river” when you come to it.
Ferry near Chin village, Burma. Photo by Corto Maltese.
Serves 4
Ingredients:
1/4 cup agar agar flakes
1 3/4 cups coconut milk (1 can)
2 1/4 cups water
1/2 cup sugar
pinch of salt
Method:
This is a dump-and-go recipe. There’s no easier way to get to Myanmar.
First, add the sparkling agar agar…
… then splash on the creamy, luscious coconut milk…
… the sweet sugar and, finally, the clear, clear water to a medium saucepan. Whisk to combine.
Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer about 15 minutes, or until sugar and agar agar dissolves completely.
Immediately pour into an 8×8 dish or other jello molds. Want some bonus points? Pop those bubbles with a toothpick.
Leave on the counter and allow to separate into two distinct layers… rather like this photo:
View of Ayeyarwady River near Bhamo (Myanmar). Photo by Colegota.
It will begin to set almost immediately and will be done after the mixture cools. When firm to the touch, slice in cubes, strips, or triangles. The thinner the slices, the more transparent they’ll be. Refrigerate after cooling.
Enjoy the clarity and the confusion. Both are important parts of life. Without each of these, we can’t grow.
We can’t make good decisions.
Here’s hoping the solution to your dilemma will become clearer after this little snack.
Split Coconut Jelly
Votes: 2
Rating: 5
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Made with little more than coconut milk, water, sugar, and agar agar, the jello-like dessert sets up firmly, separating into two layers. If you don’t disturb the mixture while it’s setting, the layers will be 50/50 clear/opaque, which is very cute. If, however, you spend 15 minutes furiously whisking the mixture in an an attempt to capture photos of steam.. well… it won’t separate quite as well.
Made with little more than coconut milk, water, sugar, and agar agar, the jello-like dessert sets up firmly, separating into two layers. If you don’t disturb the mixture while it’s setting, the layers will be 50/50 clear/opaque, which is very cute. If, however, you spend 15 minutes furiously whisking the mixture in an an attempt to capture photos of steam.. well… it won’t separate quite as well.
First, add the sparkling agar agar, then splash on the coconut milk, the sweet sugar and, finally, the water to a medium saucepan. Whisk to combine. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer about 15 minutes, or until sugar and agar agar dissolves completely.
Immediately pour into an 8×8 dish or other jello molds. Want some bonus points? Pop those bubbles with a toothpick. Leave on the counter and allow to separate into two distinct layers.
It will begin to set almost immediately and will be done after the mixture cools. When firm to the touch, slice in cubes, strips, or triangles. The thinner the slices, the more transparent they’ll be. Refrigerate after cooling.
If we can’t open our hearts to the “weird” things in life, we’re not living fully. The girl who wears rain boots in the snow. The man that studies a bustling ant hill for an hour. The child that dips her scrambled eggs in molasses (Ava did this yesterday).
These people all have one thing in common: they see the world through a different lens. Their world has no limitations.
Wouldn’t it be glorious if a salad could change how you see the world? If one bite could take away all your preconceived notions and open your mind to the new, the exciting, and – let’s just be honest – the weird?
Today we’re going beyond watery diner salads, sporting browning lettuce, one measly crouton, a white-washed tomato, and a solitary red onion ring.
(Thank goodness)
Instead we’re loading our chopsticks with fresh, spicy ginger, salty fish sauce, fried lentils and chickpeas, chickpea flour, peanuts cabbage… and… and… so much happy goodness. This is a bouquet of flavor that sounds more … quirky.. than it really is.
This Burmese salad is extremely well balanced, which surprised me. No one flavor dominates the other. The chickpeas and lentils add protein, the cabbage binds everything together, the ginger is the occasional spicy bite, and even the fish sauce simply adds a salty dressing when combined with the bright acidity of lime juice and lemons.
One bite in and you’ll be hooked!
If that doesn’t convince you, let the smiles of Burmese children encourage you on your stove top travels.
Children in Bhamo (Myanmar). Photo by Colegota.
Serves 4
Ingredients:
1 thumb ginger, peeled and sliced in tiny matchsticks
1/4 cup lemon or lime juice
3 cups finely shredded napa cabbage
2Tbsp chickpea flour, toasted in a dry skillet (I used a chickpea/fava blend I found at Whole Foods)
For frying:
1/2 cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in water
1/2 cup dried lentils, soaked overnight in water
3 cloves garlic, slivered
1/4 cup sesame seeds
1/3 cup peanut oil
Dressing:
Fish sauce
Garnish:
cilantro, torn
crushed peanuts
green onion, sliced
Lime slices
Lemon slices
Red pepper flakes
Method:
SOAK
In the cool, calm evening, prepare the first few ingredients. Soak the ginger in lemon or lime juice, and soak the dried chickpeas and lentils in water overnight.
Be sure that ginger is sliced fine, fine, fine… or its bite just might make you cry.
Now go enjoy a stroll through a sparkling Burmese night. Smile and say “Min ga la baa” (a.k.a. “hello”) to at least three people.
Sule Pagoda Road in Yangon, Myanmar. Photo by Ralf-André Lettau.
While you’re out, the overnight soak will help soften the ginger’s bite and prepare the lentils and chickpeas for a quick dip in hot peanut oil. Some people like to soak the ginger for several days; it’s up to you, but I didn’t think it necessary.
The next morning, squeeze out the ginger (Tip: add the juices to some hot water, vodka and honey for a lovely sipper).
Next, rub the chickpeas and lentils down in a fuzzy towel.
Welcome to Cozy Town.
FRY
Now the serious work begins. Thankfully, it’s easy peasy.
Fry the chickpeas and lentils in peanut oil until golden brown, about five minutes. Add the garlic slivers and cook until golden brown (about 1 minute).
Finally, toss on the sesame seeds and fry for just 1 minute.
If you’d like things more or less crispy, adjust the cooking time.
I took things a little too far and the lentils got really crunchy (I cooked them about 8 minutes before adding the other ingredients). If you accidentally go this dark, just refrigerate the salad a while to soften the beans. They tasted great, regardless. If they turn black, however, start again. Burned food never tastes good.
Now, nibble a few beans and set the rest aside to cool. Begin shredding the cabbage. I only needed 1/3 of a small napa cabbage for this salad.
If you have some chickpea flour, toast it in a dry skillet (if you don’t, buy some! you can use the rest to make the wonderful crepes we cooked for our Global Table for Monaco.) It’ll turn chestnut brown after a few minutes; stir continually to keep the flour from burning.
ASSEMBLY
Next, add the cabbage, the fried lentil mixture (be sure to scrape in all that good peanut oil), and toasted chickpea flour to a large bowl. Splash on a good douse of fish sauce.
Traditionally, you would toss this salad with your hands which, if you are open to it, is a really great way to be sure it gets mixed thoroughly.
Garnish with green onion, crushed peanuts, lemon and lime slices (which your guests should liberally squeeze all over their salad), and cilantro.
Or, for a fun dinner experience, let everyone garnish their own salads with whatever they’d like.
I find this tastes best after a thirty minute rest in the refrigerator, at which time it’ll have soaked up much of the fish sauce and will likely need a refresher.
Enjoy how beautiful the world looks through this new lens.
Through this new experience.
Through a world of limitless possibility.
Shwedagon Pagoda panoramic view. Photo by Xiquinho.
Burmese Ginger Salad | Gin Thoke
Votes: 1
Rating: 5
You:
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Today we’re going beyond watery diner salads, sporting browning lettuce, one measly crouton, a white-washed tomato, and a solitary red onion ring.
(Thank goodness)
Instead we’re loading our chopsticks with fresh, spicy ginger, salty fish sauce, fried lentils and chickpeas, chickpea flour, peanuts cabbage… and… and… so much happy goodness. This is a bouquet of flavor that sounds more … quirky.. than it really is.
This Burmese salad is extremely well balanced, which surprised me. No one flavor dominates the other. The chickpeas and lentils add protein, the cabbage binds everything together, the ginger is the occasional spicy bite, and even the fish sauce simply adds a salty dressing when combined with the bright acidity of lime juice and lemons.
Today we’re going beyond watery diner salads, sporting browning lettuce, one measly crouton, a white-washed tomato, and a solitary red onion ring.
(Thank goodness)
Instead we’re loading our chopsticks with fresh, spicy ginger, salty fish sauce, fried lentils and chickpeas, chickpea flour, peanuts cabbage… and… and… so much happy goodness. This is a bouquet of flavor that sounds more … quirky.. than it really is.
This Burmese salad is extremely well balanced, which surprised me. No one flavor dominates the other. The chickpeas and lentils add protein, the cabbage binds everything together, the ginger is the occasional spicy bite, and even the fish sauce simply adds a salty dressing when combined with the bright acidity of lime juice and lemons.
1thumbginger root, peeled and sliced in tiny matchsticks
1/4cuplemon juice- OR -
lime juice
3cupsnapa cabbage(finely shredded)
2Tbspchickpea flour, toasted in a dry skillet
For frying:
1/2cup dried chickpeas, soaked overnight in water
1/2cupdried lentils, soaked overnight in water
3clovesgarlic, slivered
1/4cupsesame seeds
1/3cup peanut oil
Dressing:
fish sauce
Garnish:
handfulfresh cilantro, torn
crushed peanuts
green onions, sliced
1lime, sliced
1lemon, sliced
red pepper flakes
Servings: people
Units:
Instructions
Soak:
In the cool, calm evening, prepare the first few ingredients. Soak the ginger in lemon or lime juice, and soak the dried chickpeas and lentils in water overnight. Be sure that ginger is sliced fine, fine, fine.
The next morning, squeeze out the ginger (Tip: add the lime/lemon juices to some hot water, vodka and honey for a lovely sipper).
Next, rub the chickpeas and lentils down in a fuzzy towel.
Fry:
Fry the chickpeas and lentils in peanut oil until golden brown, about five minutes. Add the garlic slivers and cook until golden brown (about 1 minute).
Finally, toss on the sesame seeds and fry for just 1 minute.
Begin shredding the cabbage. I only needed 1/3 of a small napa cabbage for this salad.
If you have some chickpea flour, toast it in a dry skillet (if you don’t, buy some! you can use the rest to make the wonderful crepes we cooked for our Global Table for Monaco.) It’ll turn chestnut brown after a few minutes; stir continually to keep the flour from burning.
Assembly:
Next, add the cabbage, the fried lentil mixture (be sure to scrape in all that good peanut oil), and toasted chickpea flour to a large bowl. Splash on a good douse of fish sauce.
Traditionally, you would toss this salad with your hands which, if you are open to it, is a really great way to be sure it gets mixed thoroughly.
Garnish with green onion, crushed peanuts, lemon and lime slices (which your guests should liberally squeeze all over their salad), and cilantro.
Or, for a fun dinner experience, let everyone garnish their own salads with whatever they’d like.
I find this tastes best after a thirty minute rest in the refrigerator, at which time it’ll have soaked up much of the fish sauce and will likely need a refresher.
