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? 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, …
Read More
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. 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 …
Read More
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 written about the veldt in southern Africa. The term veldt is a lot like the term outback – it’s the way-out-there land, …
Read More
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. Makes 1 loaf Ingredients: 3 1/2 cups whole wheat flour 1 1/2 tsp baking powder 1/2 tsp salt 3 Tbsp brown sugar 1/2 …
Read More
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.’ 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: …
Read More
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. 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 …
Read More
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 …
Read More
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? 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 …
Read More
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 …
Read More
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. . 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?). . 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 …
Read More
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 …
Read More
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 …
Read More
