There’s nothing sweeter than a good love story; and there’s no love story more refreshing than Thai Iced Tea. This is the love story of extra strong Ceylon tea, brewed until deeply blushing.
The rouge dissolves like a faint, as sweetened condensed milk swirls into the mix.
If you think that’s all there is to Thai Iced Tea, you’d be half right.
For many people, that’s all they desire.
But every love story needs a little spice, so today we’re going the extra mile, by including one of the little optional additions that give each pitcher ultimate romance … like a few stars, to brighten the mood.
Star Anise glitter as brightly as any in the sky… don’t you think?
This is a drink that will cool you after a bite of spicy Thai food. It will calm you after a stressful day.
And, if you sweeten it as much as they do in Thailand, it just might make your eyes pop out.
In a good way.
Note: Some people like to add orange food coloring, while others keep it au naturel. The choice is yours!
Makes 1 1/2 quarts
Ingredients
8 Ceylon Tea Bags
4 star anise pods
6 cups boiling water
1/2 cup sweetened condensed milk, to taste (I suggest 1-3 Tbsp per 1 cup serving, though of course you could add quite a bit more)
Method:
Before we begin, remember this Thai proverb:
“The sweetness of food doesn’t last long, but the sweetness of good words do.”
Brew tea with anise pods and boiling water. Let sit for about an hour, until mostly cooled, then strain out the tea and anise.
Stir in the sweetened condensed milk. Refrigerate until very cold (at least a few hours), then serve over ice.
So, so simple.
There’s only one thing left to do.
Sip in a shady spot, with a dreamy sort of view.
Phraya Nakhon Cave in Khao Sam Roi Yot National Park, Changwat Prachuap Khiri Khan, Thailand. Photo by Niels Mickers.
Thanks, Thailand.
Thai Iced Tea
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There’s nothing sweeter than a good love story; and there’s no love story more refreshing than Thai Iced Tea. This is the love story of extra strong Ceylon tea, brewed until deeply blushing.
There’s nothing sweeter than a good love story; and there’s no love story more refreshing than Thai Iced Tea. This is the love story of extra strong Ceylon tea, brewed until deeply blushing.
1/2cupsweetened condensed milk, to taste (I suggest 1-3 Tbsp per 1 cup serving).
Servings:
Units:
Instructions
Brew tea with anise pods and boiling water. Let sit for about an hour, until mostly cooled, then strain out the tea and anise. Stir in the sweetened condensed milk. Refrigerate until very cold (at least a few hours), then serve over ice.
Everything worth doing takes a little bit of work.
And so it is with Som Tam. The mortar and pestle crushes the garlic, mashes a Thai bird chili peppers, and wooshes the fish sauce and lime juice into the green beans and papaya.
I put the bowl on the table, dotted red with tomatoes. Ava thinks the papaya is spaghetti. The pale green shreds curl around her fork.
“It’s something like that…” I say, hoping she believes me. She takes a bite, then another.
Soon the forks on plates are the only noise.
While I adore Thai food, I’d never had green papaya salad before this week. When several readers suggested I try it on our Facebook Page, I listened. First, I tried to order it at a local restaurant called My Thai Kitchen, just to see what all the fuss was about, but it wasn’t on the menu. So, instead, I went to our local Asian market, Nam Hai, and picked up what I needed, including some palm sugar, a green papaya (which they also sold pre-shredded – yay!), fish sauce, Thai Bird Chili peppers, and some dried shrimp.
There really wasn’t much to it!
I was excited about all the ingredients, except for the dried shrimp, but when I opened my mind enough to chow down on one of them, I realized it was just a salty, chewy little bit of seafood. Good stuff!
Some say you can’t have a real Green Papaya Salad without a good mortar and pestle. The traditional set up is a clay mortar with wooden pestle. I bought a set at Nam Hai for $15 (they had a huge selection of them – I purchased one of the smallest). Still, I love how deep it is and the pleasant (rather dull) sound (much different than my porcelain on porcelain set which makes a sharp, clinking sound). If you can find a set at your Asian market, I highly recommend getting one.
Ingredients:
4 large cloves garlic, peeled and quartered
4 thai bird chilies (or more, to taste)
1/3 cup palm sugar, cut in small chunks (or regular sugar)
1/2 cup peanuts
1/2 lb green beans, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 1/2 tsp tamarind paste
1/3 cup fish sauce
1/3 cup lime juice (about 2 limes, juiced)
First, let’s go to the market and get what we need.
Taling Chan Floating Market in Taling Chan District, Bangkok, Thailand. Photo by Globe Trotter.
Oh, Thailand. You and your floating markets make me so very happy…
Boats at the Damnoen Saduak Floating Market, Thailand. Photo by Milei.vencel.
Anyone else wish they could shop by boat?
Ok. Next step. Pound the garlic with chilies and palm sugar until a paste forms.
The palm sugar will resist for a long time, but just when you think it’ll never happen, the whole thing will dissolve into a lovely paste. (You may need to use a spoon to loosen it from the bottom while you work)
Next, give the peanuts several whacks until beginning to crumble, then add in the green beans. Whack them a few times for good measure.
Stir in the tamarind paste, lime juice, and fish sauce until the green beans are evenly coated.
The mixture will be wet and spicy… and all kinds of irresistible.
But wait. There’s more!
If you didn’t buy pre-shredded papaya, you can find a tool to shred it… it looks like a ridged vegetable peeler… which is exactly what it is.
Simply peel the papaya and begin shredding.
Finally, pile on the shredded green papaya, tomatoes and dried shrimp. Give them a few whacks with the pestle.
Uh-oh.
If you end up like me, and you run out of room, transfer the mixture to a large bowl and mix thoroughly.
Garnish with lime wedges, Thai Bird Chili peppers… even a sprinkling of cilantro, if desired.
Enjoy with a friend…
A sense of adventure…
And a big dash of silliness…
Have you ever eaten or made Thai Papaya Salad?
How do you like it? Spicy or sweet?
Do you have any tips for how to prepare it?
Green Papaya Salad | Som Tam
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Some say you can’t have a real Green Papaya Salad without a good mortar and pestle. The traditional set up is a clay mortar with wooden pestle. I bought a set at Nam Hai for $15 (they had a huge selection of them – I purchased one of the smallest). Still, I love how deep it is and the pleasant (rather dull) sound (much different than my porcelain on porcelain set which makes a sharp, clinking sound). If you can find a set at your Asian market, I highly recommend getting one.
Some say you can’t have a real Green Papaya Salad without a good mortar and pestle. The traditional set up is a clay mortar with wooden pestle. I bought a set at Nam Hai for $15 (they had a huge selection of them – I purchased one of the smallest). Still, I love how deep it is and the pleasant (rather dull) sound (much different than my porcelain on porcelain set which makes a sharp, clinking sound). If you can find a set at your Asian market, I highly recommend getting one.
Pound the garlic with chilies and palm sugar until a paste forms.
The palm sugar will resist for a long time, but just when you think it’ll never happen, the whole thing will dissolve into a lovely paste. (You may need to use a spoon to loosen it from the bottom while you work)
Next, give the peanuts several whacks until beginning to crumble, then add in the green beans. Whack them a few times for good measure.
Stir in the tamarind paste, lime juice, and fish sauce until the green beans are evenly coated.
The mixture will be wet and spicy… and all kinds of irresistible.
Pile on the shredded green papaya, tomatoes, and shrimp. Give them a few whacks with the pestle.
Transfer the mixture to a large bowl and mix thoroughly. Garnish with lime wedges, Thai Bird Chili peppers… even a sprinkling of cilantro, if desired.
“Friends for a meal are easy to find, friends until end of life are difficult to find” (Thai Proverb)
Summer is the time of easy friendships, where the only things that matter are cold drinks, fresh food, and a patch of shade. Dinnertime is less strict, and I find myself veering towards later, lighter meals. Like this one. So now all you need is to find someone to share it with (P.S. Speaking of which, I can’t decide if that Thai proverb is encouraging or discouraging, but there’s one thing I know for sure. Whoever you make this meal for will certainly be woo’d for the summer, if not for life.)
The key to Thai food is balance. If you serve something hot and spicy, you must serve something sweet. Which is exactly what we did.
All recipes and the meal review will be posted throughout the week.
Green Papaya Salad | Som Tam [Recipe]
One of the easiest Thai dishes, with an orchestra of flavor. Think spicy, lime-tastic, and salty. This is salad all grown up, perfect for your impromptu back-yard chiminea night.
Thai Iced Tea [Recipe]
Oh, sweet goodness. This is Ceylon tea swirled together with sweetened condensed milk and a sprinkling of a super special Thai ingredient. It’s all you need on a hot, hot day.
Water buffalos in Thailand. Photo by Torikai Yukihiro
From her thick, green mountaintops in the north, all the way past her flatlands, through her river basins and glittering skyscrapers, Thailand has it all.
And if you thought her landscape is stunning, you should taste the food.
There’s a zing to Thai food that keeps me coming back; at first I thought it was the sour notes, formed from hefty squirts of lime juice. I do adore a good burst of lime…But over the years I’ve realized Thai food is far more complex than that. There’s a dance going on in every bite, especially in the salads, like som tam (green papaya salad [Recipe])… sure, there’s bright bursts of lime juice, but there’s also the smack of salty fish sauce, the brutal burn of Bird’s Eye Chili peppers, something sweet (usually palm sugar) and there, somewhere in the background, a hint of bitterness.
The Plaza Athenee hotel (left) and All Seasons Place (right-center) in Bangkok, Thailand with China Resources Building. Photo by Mark Fischer.
In preparation for this week’s Global Table, we ate at My Thai Kitchen in Tulsa, Oklahoma. We covered the table with several selections, most notably the beef salad, the green curry (chicken swimming in a smooth coconut infused curry), Thai Iced Tea (holy sweetness!!) [Recipe], and, of course, a huge platter of Pad Thai.
Pad Thai, the owner informed me, is usually made wrong in America. Too sweet. Too much sauce. Instead, Pad Thai should be rather dry, but full of the deep roasted peanut flavor and celebrate whatever meat accompanies the dish.
Phi-Phi beach on a lovelly day in Thailand. Photo by Chris Scubabeer.
Speaking of authentic Thai food, I have an extra special tip. If you want some Thai culture to rub off on you, you just might want to enjoy your meal in the company of a Siamese cat. Turns out they originally come from Thailand.
Win.
Many of the dishes use a small mountain of aromatics to amp up the flavor, from lemongrass to galangal, and from keffir lime leaves to Thai basil.
Cooking with these ingredients guarantees your home will smell like a fragrant Thai market.
Thank goodness for stovetop travel.
Maps and flag of Thailand courtesy of the CIA World Factbook.
I’m curious – what’s your favorite Thai food? Is it curry? Some sort of noodles? Or perhaps a rice dish?
Summer sweat is a near constant, now. I haunt my house, barefoot, draped in loose flowing dresses, completely aimless thanks to this seasonal fever. It’s all I can do to stay awake when the temperatures hit the nineties and the humidity approaches 100%.
Eating Tanzania in this thick sort of summer heat was just perfect. All I had to do was close my eyes, and I was there. At least, I was there on the flatlands.
But I wasn’t where I really, really wanted to be.
Where I really wanted to be was Mount Kilimanjaro in northern Tanzania. Unlike the sizzling flatlands, Mount Kilimanjaro is covered with a perpetual blanket of snow. This epic mountain has fascinated me ever since I read about it in Michael Crichton’s book Travels. Have you read it? It is one of his least known books, but by-far my favorite because it covers Crichton’s globetrotting days.
Kilma’njaro, captured out the window of a flight from Dar es Salaam. Photo by Paul Schaffner.
In the book, Michael Crichton attempts to climb Kilimanjaro. He approaches the mountain with all the swagger and arrogance of someone who’s never faced a mountain of such magnitude. It is his arrogance that causes considerable damage to his feet and very nearly sends him back down, whimpering, before ever reaching the top.
To me, Kilimanjaro will always represent those challenges which test us to the breaking point (especially when we aren’t exactly prepared for what we’re in for). I have to admit, cooking the world has had it’s daily challenges. There are moments when I want to throw in the towel. Hard. Just this week I drug myself through our Tanzanian dishes, despite running a pretty major fever… despite the fact that all I wanted to do was roll over and will the challenge to go away.
But something keeps me plodding along stubbornly. It’s the same thing that kept Michael Crichton going on the side of Mount Kilimanjaro.
Sign at Uhuru Peak, Mt Kilimanjaro, Tanzania, Africa. Photo by Arne D.
The promise of success… of that glorious view just waiting a few more miles up the trail. And there’s something more… that simple act of looking back and seeing how far I’ve come. Because… once you’re most of the way up the mountainside, how can you possibly go back?
Friends, we’re more than halfway up the mountainside. In anticipation of the summit, I wanted to bring this adventure to a conclusion in a BIG, BIG way. Sort of like the glorious view from the top of Mount Kilimanjaro… I want to create a vista worth attaining… and guess what?
Irio is a weeknight dinner dream. I’m able to serve Ava all her veggies in one go, and then just fill in with protein on the side. This will absolutely be in our regular rotation – it’s too simple and delicious not to! Plus Ava loved being a “big girl” and mashing everything together. Fun!
The faint nuttiness and hint of coconut makes for a wonderful departure for spinach, especially when coupled with bright bursts of sauteed veggies. I can easily see why my neighbor craves Kisamvu after every trip to Tanzania.
What I loved least about this dish:
Cleaning and chopping all that spinach takes a little time. Unless you have some friends to chatter with, you might consider using thawed frozen spinach (finely chopped) to make this an option for a weeknight side dish.
When my neighbor Jonathan told me he craves Kisamvu for weeks after his visits to Tanzania, I knew I had to try it. Kisamvu is just another word for cassava leaves, but Jonathan tells me he uses spinach whenever he’s in the states and the taste is a very good approximation.
Jonathan gave me the very recipe they use at the orphanage he visited in Tanzania, called the Janada Batchelor Foundation for Children. While there, he films documentary footage to help promote the good work they JBFC does with his production company called RTC Pictures…
What a fun gig!
Now about that recipe…
There are no exact measurements, although I did have the pleasure of watching the “Mamas” make a huge batch of kisamvu in his video footage (Mamas are the ladies in charge of the children). They do everything from build and stoke the kitchen fires (which are built under three large stones. The stones hold the pot). They also chop wood and cook the food.
And the food comes straight from their gardens, moments earlier. Nothing in the world fresher than that.
The flavor of Kisamvu is slightly nutty (more so if you add the full amount of peanut butter), with a creamy softness, thanks to the addition of coconut milk in the end (the coconut milk hints at the Indian influence that perseveres in Tanzania even today). It’d make a great side dish with chicken and rice.
Tanzania. Photo by Muhammad Mahdi Karim.
Serves 4+
Ingredients:
1 pepper, sliced
3 carrots, chopped
1 red onion, sliced
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 bunches spinach, cleaned and sliced very thinly
1/4-1/2 cup natural peanut butter, to taste
1/4 cup coconut milk
salt & pepper
garnish with crushed peanuts, as desired
Method:
Going to Tanzania has never been easier. For starters, fry the pepper, carrot, and onion in vegetable oil until softened. (Meanwhile work on cleaning and slicing up that spinach!). Check a couple of those carrots and make sure they are tender before you proceed.
Next, stir in the peanut butter.
Mix until it coats the veggies evenly, then add on the spinach.
(Note, if you are actually using cassava leaves, they are much more fibrous than spinach; you’ll need to boil them first).
Cook down the spinach, then stir in the coconut milk, salt, and pepper.
You can continue cooking to dry it out somewhat (this would be more traditional), or serve it wet, as I have done.
Serve hot with light, love, and…
… a sense of adventure?
Wait… that’s not right…
That’s better!
Now then… how about a climb to Mount Kilimanjaro?
African Elephants in Amboseli National Park. Photo by M. Disdero.
Greens with Veggies & Peanuts | Kisamvu
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When my neighbor Jonathan told me he craves Kisamvu for weeks after his visits to Tanzania, I knew I had to try it. Kisamvu is just another word for cassava leaves, but Jonathan tells me he uses spinach whenever he’s in the states and the taste is a very good approximation.
When my neighbor Jonathan told me he craves Kisamvu for weeks after his visits to Tanzania, I knew I had to try it. Kisamvu is just another word for cassava leaves, but Jonathan tells me he uses spinach whenever he’s in the states and the taste is a very good approximation.
For starters, fry the pepper, carrot, and onion in vegetable oil until softened. (Meanwhile work on cleaning and slicing up that spinach!). Check a couple of those carrots and make sure they are tender before you proceed. Next, stir in the peanut butter.
Mix until it coats the veggies evenly, then add on the spinach.
(Note, if you are actually using cassava leaves, they are much more fibrous than spinach; you’ll need to boil them first).
Cook down the spinach, then stir in the coconut milk, salt, and pepper. You can continue cooking to dry it out somewhat (this would be more traditional), or serve it wet, as I have done.
Serve hot with light, love, and… a sense of adventure.
I’m a little like mashed potatoes; I’m stable and sure, but I avoid wearing colorful makeup. The last time I wore blue eye liner was the nineties, and it was already a decade too late. I’m destined to recede behind more vibrant individuals – individuals of style.
But imagine what good things could come from a splash of color?
The jury is out with me, but consider the mashed potato. Must she remain the unadorned, pale wallflower in a buffet of color?
Tanzania teaches that this doesn’t have to be so…
Enter the rainbow known as Irio, a Kikuyu dish found in Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. Irio simply means “mashed” – a concoction of whatever tubers and vegetables the cook wants to pull together for an easy dinner. Most often, Irio is a combination of white potato, peas, and corn, but green beans, carrots, shredded spinach, or other veggies can also play star roles.
Depending on how Irio is mixed, the mash might be sunset orange, or new leaf green. For me, it was all about sunset orange, and so I added a sweet potato – the uber-healthy tuber beloved throughout sub-Saharan Africa.
I got the idea to add a sweet potato to my Irio from Marcus Samuelsson’s book “Discovery Of A Continent – Foods, Flavors, And Inspirations From Africa,” a brilliant, beautiful cookbook my friend Alexandra recently gave me. He even goes so far as to kick up the heat a level by adding a sprinkling of bebere spice, a blend we made way back when we cooked Eritrea.
No wallflowers here; if you’re looking for a little Tanzanian-style spice in your life, Irio is definitely the way to go.
A panorama of the Mikumi National Park in Tanzania. Photo by Muhammad Mahdi Karim.
Serves 4+
Ingredients:
3 medium-large russet potatoes
1 sweet potato
1 cup frozen peas
1 cup frozen corn
4 Tbsp butter, or to taste
salt & pepper
homemade berbere, to taste (optional)
Method:
Get ready for sunshine in a bowl!
Set the peas and corn out to thaw while you work.
Peel and quarter the potatoes. Add to a large pot and cover with cold water. Season generously with salt. Bring to a boil and cook until potatoes are fork tender. Cooking times will depend on the size and shape of your potatoes, so just check every once in a while.
Drain and dump on the peas, corn, butter, salt and pepper.
Add the berbere, if your feeling bold, too.
Next, find a sweet child to mash, mash, mash those potatoes.
Continue until you reach the desired consistency (chunky or smooth, it’s up to you). I love Irio chunky.
Unless you pulverize the mixture, the corn should remain whole, while the peas will break up somewhat.
So pretty… but enjoy with your eyes shut, while dreaming of East Africa.
What are the odds you’d make a dish like this? Do you have any tips or tricks to “spice up” plain-Jane mashed potatoes? I’m always looking for great ideas to make our weeknight dinners more varied and fun.
Mashed Potatoes with Veggies | Irio
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Enter the rainbow known as Irio, a Kikuyu dish found in Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. Irio simply means "mashed" - a concoction of whatever tubers and vegetables the cook wants to pull together for an easy dinner. Most often, Irio is a combination of white potato, peas, and corn, but green beans, carrots, shredded spinach, or other veggies can also play star roles.
Enter the rainbow known as Irio, a Kikuyu dish found in Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. Irio simply means "mashed" - a concoction of whatever tubers and vegetables the cook wants to pull together for an easy dinner. Most often, Irio is a combination of white potato, peas, and corn, but green beans, carrots, shredded spinach, or other veggies can also play star roles.
“The roaring lion kills no game” Tanzanian Proverb
In honor of this all-too true saying from Tanzania, we’re going all veggie this week. Truth is, I’ve been doing my fair share of ‘roaring’, which leaves me with a deficit of time for anything but quick (but fun!) dishes.
Veggies fit the bill rather perfectly.
In fact, our menu feels like a bulletin from Smokey the Bear, but without fires… and lots of veggies… “Thanks to Tanzania, you, too, can prevent veggie boredom!”
Whether you’re tossing corn and peas in your mashed potatoes, or stirring peanut butter and coconut milk into your leafy greens, Tanzania definitely steps up with fresh ideas for your weeknight side dishes.
All recipes and the meal review will be posted throughout the week.
This vegan treat is inspired straight from the heart of Tanzania; enjoy spinach cooked with carrot, onion, pepper, and a creamy, tantalizing blend of peanut butter and coconut milk.
Students at Nyanzwa Primary School in Iringa region. Photo by USAID Africa Bureau.
A few months ago, my next door neighbor, Jonathan, told me he was going to Tanzania to shoot documentary footage at an orphanage in Tanzania.
“Your going to Tanzania?!” I exclaimed, thrilled with the serendipity of the situation, “Tell me all about the food – what do the children eat?”
Serengeti. Vultures resting in sunset. Photo by Calle v H.
Over the next several minutes, he enthusiastically described the food of this east African country, possibly most well-known for the breathtaking peak of Mount Kilimanjaro.
(Incidentally, if you ever get the chance to read the autobiographical book Travels, by Michael Crichton, you’ll find a wonderful passage about his hike to the summit of this great mountain).
Kilma’njaro, captured out the window of a flight from Dar es Salaam. Photo by Paul Schaffner.
He said, while the food itself is simple, even outside of the orphanage, it remains utterly craveable. There’s an old Tanzanian saying that states “Little by little, a little becomes a lot.”
And so it is with the food. Even when there is a little, if it is good and the supply keeps coming, it fills the heart and belly to capacity.
Mt. Meru from the roof terrace of Jevas Hotel; Arusha, Tanzania. Photo by Phase9
The first food Jonathan mentioned was ugali, the white ball made of cooked corn, cassava, millet or sorghum grain. He said, like in many African countries, Tanzanians use bits of ugali to scoop up sauces and stews. The combination is both filling and satisfying.
Traditional Dance welcoming us into a Ngorongoro Maasai Village / The Maasai are a Nilotic [Nile Valley] ethnic group of semi-nomadic people located in Kenya and northern Tanzania. Photo by Harvey Barrison.
One of his most favorite dishes is called Kisamvu, which just means cassava leaves [Recipe]. The finely chopped greens are cooked with an assortment of chopped veggies, peanut butter, and a splash of coconut milk. Another fun dish is called Irio [Recipe], which just means “mashed” – typically a blend of mashed potatoes, corn, and peas.
Near the ocean, fish curries sporting more splashes of coconut milk betray the decided Indian influence in coastal Tanzania.
Maps and flag courtesy of the CIA World Factbook.
Have you ever been to eastern Africa, or even Tanzania?
I’m curious – do you see yourself hiking to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro or would you rather go fishing at one of the lakes?
I’ve heard the mountain is incredibly taxing, both physically and mentally.
It is often said that family who live in close proximity take each other for granted. But in many ways, I think it’s just as easy to take each other for granted when family is scattered around the country.
We get used to a certain state of … loneliness… of missing each other. We resign ourselves to the distance, and take for granted that it can be no other way than to be apart.
It got so bad, for me, that I hid behind my work and responsibilities. I didn’t take trips, not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t know how to leave. I didn’t know how to shut off the flow of work and make time.
The result? Until this week, I hadn’t seen my family in over a year. Fifteen months to be exact. Some of them I hadn’t seen in more than three years.
I’d resigned myself to being too far to help, too far to matter, too far to influence.
When my sister announced she was throwing a graduation party for her daughter, Amanda (who was graduating college), and her son, Donovan (who was graduating high school), she created the perfect scenario to bring us all together. We came from all over the country. We even got to celebrate with my brother, Chris’ daughter Ashley, who was also graduating high school.
Thank goodness; we need celebrations; they are the shoestrings that pull us together.
Everyone looked the same, but different, too. The passing years will do that. For the older ones, another wrinkle, some white hairs, a balding patch, a little less energy. For the younger ones, they were no longer filled with the bouncy energy of the tween years. These once “children” stretched lean and serene into the arms of boyfriends, or perhaps a cocktail.
These changes alarmed me. I couldn’t believe how much time is slipping us by, every moment, floating irrevocably under the bridge of life, while I sit, far from those I love.
I don’t have a solution, and perhaps there is none to be found, but – now, as I sit between tornado warnings – I wanted to share my heartbreak, my homesickness, the love I have for my family, no matter how far flung we are. And perhaps that’s enough. To express the love, to keep it alive.
How do you stay connected with your family? Are you far apart, or near? How do you deal with the distance (or lack thereof?)
This seems to be a universally appealing rice dish; the lamb soaks into the grains, giving each mouthful a rich, hearty flavor, while the raisins and apricots give lovely bursts of sweetness. I’m slowly seeing that the best way to feed a crowd is with a dish like plov; since there are no individual dishes, the cleanup is almost nil.
What I loved least about this dish:
Nothing, although I will say to watch the cooking of the rice. You don’t want to overdo it and end up with mushy grains. Keep the heat low to avoid such issues.
The flavor of this yogurt/wheat naan is wonderful; everyone enjoyed it, even those that I overcooked. We particularly had fun decorating them with the forks.
What I loved least about this dish:
I still haven’t figured out how to get the designs to show up perfectly – this will take trial and error, I imagine.
Tajik woman selling bread on a market. Photo by Steve Evans.
Any woman worth her salt is an incredible, complex specimen which takes time and love to fully understand.
But even when you think you know a woman, she remains – at her core – mysterious.
And so it is with today’s Tajik naan recipe.
Bread Market in Dushanbe, Tajikistan. Photos by Mr. Gadi Zafrir.
She’s made with a blend of wheat and all purpose flour, a healthy glop of yogurt, and not much else. She gets her shine for a quick milk and egg wash. The flavor is rustic, thanks to the wheat flour, and there’s a slight, yet definite tang, thanks to the yogurt.
The fact that she’s cooked in a super hot vertical oven makes this bread nearly an Olympic event.
Just watch these women make one of the more complex forms of this bread… for a wedding. Note the full arm “potholder” they use while slapping the bread into the oven.
Did you see that? How gorgeous is that bread!?
Wow.
Even after several focused, heart-felt queries into her nature, I must admit I am unable to replicate the intricate, ornate designs found on the breads of Tajikistan. This is partly because, in Tajikistan, the flower designs are pressed into the bread with special tools, making their results far more ornate than anything I can manage with a simple fork.
But it’s also because I could really use a Tajik granny to show me the ropes.
At best, the first rounds I created resemble the flatter naan in this woman’s hand – sort of rustic, yet charming:
Naan in Tajikistan, photograph by Steve Evans.
Several attempts later, and I got the depression in the center figured out…. though the designs never really got showcased the way I would have liked. Either way, the flavor is great. Just be sure not to overcook them.
Makes about 8 non
Ingredients:
1 cup hot water
1 cup yogurt
1 tsp sugar
2 tsp yeast
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
4 cups all purpose flour, plus more for dusting as needed
1 tsp salt
Egg wash:
1 egg beaten with 1 Tbsp milk
Method:
Heat up some water until very hot. Then mix with the cold yogurt. This should even out to a nice, warm mixture. Stir in the sugar, yeast, and whole wheat flour.
Let it sit around about an hour, until it looks like this:
Write a thank you note while you wait. It’ll make someone’s day.
Next stir in the all purpose flour and salt. Knead the dough together until a smooth ball forms. If it’s a bit sticky, that’s okay. If it’s excessive, however, add a bit more flour.
Cover with a damp cloth and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 2 hours.
Preheat the oven to 500F. Prepare the egg and milk wash. Then, divide the dough into 8 pieces (more or less, depending on what size naan you’d like) and press flat. Dust with flour as needed.
My first “rustic” attempt were decorated with a fork…
Then baked immediately. They came out pretty good after just 20 minutes.
A few things to note here – I was using my mom’s oven, which is quite small and I don’t think it runs as hot as a regular oven… also, these were simply brushed with milk – there’s no shine because I forgot to include the egg.
On my next batch I tried to do the indention. I found it easiest to press the middle with my knuckles until totally flat (dust your knuckles with flour, if necessary).
Again, family helped out…
Hi, Aunt Melissa, Ava, and Cameron!
Then I brushed with egg wash, then used the fork and a sharp knife to decorate as desired. You can use the knife to make slits all the way around the edge… which I tried, but not boldly enough.
Here’s how that batch came out… clearly the much hotter oven, puffed the bread up quite a bit more.
Please note: cooking times will vary greatly depending on how thick or thin you shape the bread…. At 500F, I had some cook up as quickly as 12 minutes, while others took closer to 25 minutes.
Have you ever made bread like this before? Any ideas on how to make these come out more like the Tajik women’s naan? I’m wondering if I should lower the oven temperature?
No matter how they come out, enjoy with love and light, because that’s what life is all about!
Recipe adapted from the World Cookbook for Students.
Yogurt Naan/Non
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Even after several focused, heart-felt queries into her nature, I must admit I am unable to replicate the intricate, ornate designs found on the breads of Tajikistan. This is partly because, in Tajikistan, the flower designs are pressed into the bread with special tools, making their results far more ornate than anything I can manage with a simple fork.
Even after several focused, heart-felt queries into her nature, I must admit I am unable to replicate the intricate, ornate designs found on the breads of Tajikistan. This is partly because, in Tajikistan, the flower designs are pressed into the bread with special tools, making their results far more ornate than anything I can manage with a simple fork.
Heat up some water until very hot. Then mix with the cold yogurt. This should even out to a nice, warm mixture. Stir in the sugar, yeast, and whole wheat flour. Let it sit around about an hour.
Next stir in the all purpose flour and salt. Knead the dough together until a smooth ball forms. If it’s a bit sticky, that’s okay. If it’s excessive, however, add a bit more flour. Cover with a damp cloth and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 2 hours.
Preheat the oven to 500F. Prepare the egg and milk wash. Then, divide the dough into 8 pieces (more or less, depending on what size naan you’d like) and press flat. Dust with flour as needed. Then baked immediately. They came out pretty good after just 20 minutes.
On my next batch I tried to do the indention. I found it easiest to press the middle with my knuckles until totally flat (dust your knuckles with flour, if necessary).
Then I brushed with egg wash, then used the fork and a sharp knife to decorate as desired. You can use the knife to make slits all the way around the edge… which I tried, but not boldly enough.
Recipe Notes
Please note: cooking times will vary greatly depending on how thick or thin you shape the bread…. At 500F, I had some cook up as quickly as 12 minutes, while others took closer to 25 minutes.
I’m an awkward girl; I’m not up on fashion trends, my slang is two decades passe, and I’d rather drink wine at home than be surrounded by 100 people I don’t know. Dinner parties can really put me to the test, especially when I’m the hostess. I want everyone to have a good time, but I’m never entirely sure how to bring everyone together.
That’s where Tajikistan can help.
You know that moment, right as everyone sits down to eat? I refer to it as the calm before the storm. It’s a little bit awkward; there’s a pause while everyone gauges the mood of the room. What follows this quiet determines the success of every dinner party.
In Tajikistan, where there’s a crowd, there’s Plov. Pulling up to a giant communal platter of rice brings a natural closeness. By forcing yourself to dip hands into a communal platter breaks down any barriers and is a natural conversation starter.
If your guests are unfamiliar with communal eating, the best thing to do is to give them some guidelines. It makes everyone more comfortable.
Top 5 Guidelines when eating from a Communal Platter:
1. All hands must be washed. Even then, only use the right hand, as the left is traditionally used for unclean things.
2. Only eat from the part of the platter directly in front of you. Reaching to another’s section is considered rude and unsanitary.
3. Don’t shove your fingers in your mouth. Instead use your thumb to push the food off your index and middle fingers. This will help you neatly “drop” the food into your mouth.
4. If you have a really large group (more than 8) and are seated at a rectangular table, consider serving with several large platters. I doubled this recipe for 18 and used three medium platters, so everyone could reach.
5. Have fun and don’t be too uptight. If someone has lots of trouble with their hands, offer them a spoon. If someone is sick, offer them their own plate. Remember, this should be fun, not work.
Serves 8
Ingredients:
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 onions chopped
1-2 lbs lamb shoulder, cubed (to taste)
2 carrots, cut in strips
1 turnip, cut in strips
salt
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp pepper
4 cups boiling water
2 cups rice
1/2 cup raisins
10 dried apricots, diced
Whole apricots, for garnish
Method:
Put on some happy Tajik music. Let the rhythms pull you through the chop-chop-chopping.
Dice the onion, then peel and slice the carrot and turnips into bite-sized sticks.
Next, brown the meat in the vegetable oil. The recipe purposefully uses a lot of oil (traditionally, the fat would be from the mutton)… the oil gives the plov authentic, rich flavor that you’ll be craving for years to come.
If there ever was a time to go for it, this would be it!
Stir in the onion and continue to cook. It might take a good ten minutes to get the onion soft and brown. By then your house will almost smell like glorious Tajikistan.
The finishing touch? Cooking down the carrots and turnips along with the cumin, salt, and pepper. While those soften, boil up the 4 cups water.
Add the hot water and rice to the lamb mixture. Simmer 15 minutes uncovered. Then add raisins and quartered dried apricots. Cover and remove from the flame. Let rest this way 10-15 minutes.
Fluff with a fork and invert onto a large platter.
Hi, brother!
Pull the bits of lamb to the top for display purposes, and garnish with extra pieces of dried apricot, as desired.
Enjoy with family, friends, and other loved ones. Use nan bread to help scoop up the food (recipe will be up tomorrow).
Then, instead of walking off your meal, go for a ride on your donkey.
Just because.
P.S. Have you ever eaten communally? What tips did I miss? Any techniques you’d like to add?
A boy in Tajikistan. Photo by Steve Evans.
Lamb Plov with Dried Apricots & Raisins
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In Tajikistan, where there’s a crowd, there’s Plov. Pulling up to a giant communal platter of rice brings a natural closeness. By forcing yourself to dip hands into a communal platter breaks down any barriers and is a natural conversation starter.
In Tajikistan, where there’s a crowd, there’s Plov. Pulling up to a giant communal platter of rice brings a natural closeness. By forcing yourself to dip hands into a communal platter breaks down any barriers and is a natural conversation starter.
Brown the meat in the vegetable oil. The recipe purposefully uses a lot of oil (traditionally, the fat would be from the mutton)… the oil gives the plov authentic, rich flavor that you’ll be craving for years to come. If there ever was a time to go for it, this would be it! Stir in the onion and continue to cook. It might take a good ten minutes to get the onion soft and brown.
Cooking down the carrots and turnips along with the cumin, salt, and pepper. While those soften, boil up the 4 cups water.
Add the hot water and rice to the lamb mixture. Simmer 15 minutes uncovered. Then add raisins and quartered dried apricots. Cover and remove from the flame. Let rest this way 10-15 minutes.
Fluff with a fork and invert onto a large platter.
![Traditional Dance welcoming us into a Ngorongoro Maasai Village / The Maasai are a Nilotic [Nile Valley] ethnic group of semi-nomadic people located in Kenya and northern Tanzania. Photo by Harvey Barrison.](http://globaltableadventure.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/Maasai-tanzania.jpg)
