Memory Lapse

I am known in some circles for having a poor memory. I lose things, I forget things, I . . . there’s a third thing I do. 

I lose travel coffee mugs constantly. Once I went hunting for my phone and found it on a shelf in the linen closet. At least twice, I have paid for a pound of coffee beans and then walked away without my purchase. I’d like to say that I don’t lose important things, but my mom will set the record straight on that (*cough*a certain ring of hers*cough*). I can only remember the plots of the last 10 books I’ve read, give or take. I stopped being able to learn song lyrics sometime in college. And for some reason I can’t get it through my head that I don’t like mustard greens.

Strolling through the greenmarket the other morning, Bodhi Tree Farm had the most beautiful greens sitting out. It was a grey morning, cool and damp, and these greens were all . . . well, green! But so many shades, some with red veins, some with purplish tints, some almost blue they were so dark. So I found myself buying a bunch of mustard greens. I don’t even know what variety. They were just pretty.

And then I started looking up recipes. And I remembered, oh, right, I don’t really like mustard greens. I’ve eaten them every time they show up in my CSA (so, at least 3 times…) and they always seem too astringent. I had sort of given up on finding my go-to recipe for when the season comes around again each year. But luckily, I happened to have some sweet potatoes lying around, and when I googled those two ingredients together, I discovered this recipe for Coconut-Flavored Sweet Potato with Mustard Greens. And the happy ending of the story is that I think I have found what to do with mustard greens from now on.

Start with sliced onions, in vegetable oil. 

Cook until they’re starting to go translucent (probably over lower heat than recommended by the recipe, though I don’t think a little browning is a bad thing here), and then add some mustard seeds and minced garlic.

After another minute or two, add a can of coconut milk, coriander, cayenne, a cinnamon stick, and some cubed sweet potato. I used a Japanese variety, hence the white flesh, because I am a sucker for weird heirloom varieties of anything. I think I should investigate the difference in nutritional value between that and the regular orange kind, though. Usually vegetables that are more colorful are better for you, and that is also something for which I’m a sucker…

Cover the pot and let it cook while you wash & chop up your greens. 

(Can you blame me for being seduced by these? They are just so lovely and spring-like, I couldn’t resist.)

So cut out the stalks, chop them up into bite-sized pieces, and add them to the pot.

Keep cooking another 15 minutes, until the sweet potato is soft and the greens are tender.

Serve with rice and a squeeze of lemon or lime. For reasons that I cannot fathom, I had neither a lemon NOR a lime in the fridge when I made this, so I drizzled in a few drops of white wine vinegar, which was delicious but surely a very different flavor than the recipe’s author wanted. But I have no doubt that I will have a chance to try it again as originally intended.

Although the color in these photos is not the best, the rice in the above photo is actually reddish, something branded as Madagascar Pink Rice. See above re: sucker for heirloom varieties.

My Nutmeg of Consolation

There is a drink with origins in the British Virgin Islands called a Painkiller. Officially, it is made with Pusser’s rum, pineapple juice, orange juice, and cream of coconut, with grated nutmeg on top. They are mixed pretty strong–hence the moniker–and they are delicious. I was introduced to the Painkiller by my friend J.’s parents on a spring break trip with them, during our twelfth grade year. They chartered a 42-foot trawler, and J., myself, and four other friends basically just hitched a ride. That week still ranks very high on the list of Best Vacations Ever, and given what a spoiled life I’ve had as far as travel goes, that says a lot. 

J. is getting married in September, and she was in town this past weekend for shower/bachelorette nonsense. Sometime during the week leading up to her visit, I posted something on Twitter about a sudden food-related brainstorm–I was going to make Hot Toddy sorbet. That is, I’d make a pitcher of hot Toddys and run it through the ice cream maker (inspired by some jasmine green tea sorbet I had at S.’s the weekend before). J. responded that she wasn’t sure about that, but she could go for Painkiller sorbet.

And so, when she arrived at my apartment last Friday night, that is exactly what I had waiting for her in the freezer.

I decided that since I didn’t need a whole carton of pineapple juice, and I like doing things from scratch anyway, and orange juice is insanely expensive these days, I’d just buy myself a pineapple and some oranges. Of course, this means I made things unnecessarily complicated, because I always think my food mill is going to work for this sort of project and it never does. (I think that’s because my food mill is of poor quality, though it could also be that I don’t know how to use it.) So I had to wash a few extra things, after realizing that the blender & a strainer were the best tools for this job, but it was worth it.

In any case, this recipe is as simple as chopping up some fruit and opening a can and a bottle of rum. If you are wary of dealing with a pineapple, just buy some pre-cut fruit. It’s going in the blender, anyway. It would also probably be great–and not as sweet–made with coconut milk, instead of cream of coconut. If you try it that way, use full-fat coconut milk, maybe add a little sugar or honey, and let me know how it turns out.

Cutting up a pineapple isn’t really hard, as long as you have a big knife. Chop off the top and bottom, so you have roughly an even pillar of fruit. Then, with the pineapple standing upright on your cutting board, cut away the skin in big strips, working your knife down the sides. You’re going to miss some of the funny little seeds, but don’t worry, they aren’t terrible to eat, and you’re going to strain the puree anyway. Or you can do another round with the knife to do a neater job. Then cut it into quarters and remove the core before you chop it into smaller pieces.

(Note: At the moment I don’t have a photo of the finished sorbet, because J. and I ate it too quickly and I forgot to get out my camera. I will probably update this post later, when I have my next helping.)

Painkiller Sorbet

makes 1 quart

2 1/2 c pineapple (about 3/4 of a pineapple)

1/2 c orange juice (about 1 large orange)

1/2 c cream of coconut

1/4 c rum (ideally Pusser’s)

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

Puree the pineapple in the blender or food processor, then strain it through a fine mesh sieve. Mix in the other ingredients and chill.

Run the mixture through your ice cream maker for at least a half an hour, or according to the instructions. Note that the alcohol content will keep this sorbet from freezing solid. 

Chicken Soup with Rice (Noodles)

This week’s French Fridays with Dorie recipe is for Vietnamese Spicy Chicken Noodle Soup.

It is a surprisingly simple preparation; the only difficult part is having your fridge and pantry stocked appropriately. I used my favorite chicken stock concentrate, which is one of the few convenience foods you’ll always find in my kitchen, and truthfully one of the only shortcuts I regularly take. I do have a growing stash of chicken bones in the freezer that will be turned into homemade stock as soon as they hit critical mass, but even then, I’ll just have enough for a big pot of risotto. So it’s with only a little embarassment that I reveal my dependence on “Better Than Bouillon,” as it’s called.

Other than a good quantity of chicken stock, you’ll need a pretty wide assortment of spices (star anise was the one I had to buy), fish sauce, and a few fresh ingredients. One of the flavorings for the soup broth is the stems of a bunch of cilantro, which is not something I’d seen before. (Dorie says to wrap them in cheesecloth along with some coriander and other things, but I’m more likely to have teabags for loose-leaf tea than cheesecloth, and I’ve discovered that they are incredibly useful for this sort of thing. That’s what I do now for even a traditional bouquet garni.) Also, coconut milk, garlic, ginger, and onion.

Basically, though, it’s a “dump everything in a pot and simmer” recipe (my favorite kind). Once it’s simmering, add a chicken breast and poach until it’s just cooked through.

Cook up some rice noodles separately, shred the chicken, and combine everything together. Finish it off with lime juice, and the chopped leaves from the cilantro, and then garnish however you like. I added in some julienned carrots and sliced red peppers, because it seemed like a good idea, drizzled in some hoisin, and topped with some sliced basil leaves.

Judging by the amount of liquid going in, I was skeptical of the “serves 4” annotation in the book, but honestly, it’s so damn good that 4 meals is basically how long it lasted me this week.

Challenge: cucumber sherbet

A few weeks ago, I was at dinner with some friends, talking about food as usual (also talking about YA sci-fi/fantasy, also as usual). One of my dining companions mentioned that she was craving cucumber ice cream or sorbet or something along those lines, but had not been able to find it available anywhere, or even a recipe to make herself. And naturally I took this casual statement as my next culinary challenge. To my eye, it had to be a sherbet–something a little bit milky but not overly so. It wasn’t until a few days ago, though, that I had my inspiration for how to make it. The answer is coconut milk. Coconut is sort of the answer to everything, though, if you ask me.

I based my recipe very loosely on this one for Tip Top Melon Sherbet from 101 Cookbooks, which seemed like a good place to start given that cucumbers and melons are closely related.

As with so many recipes I love, this is really just an ingredient list. The Cuisinart and the ice cream maker do the heavy lifting. But that means you need to make sure you’ve got very high quality ingredients to start with. I chose a mild alfalfa honey from Tea & Honey at Grand Central, and “burpless” cucumbers from Bodhitree’s stand at the greenmarket. They are not quite as watery as regular cucumbers, and the seeds are practically unnoticeable. Then also a full-fat organic coconut milk, which I was hoping would bring enough fat to the mix to keep the sherbet from freezing solid. And I had a bit of lime juice frozen into ice cubes stashed in my freezer, and some wonderful African Blue basil growing at my window, which was a gift from one of my wonderful dinner guests at Cook Club #1.

Peel the cucumbers and cut into pieces, which go into the Cuisinart.

Puree thoroughly. You don’t want any chunks of cucumber remaining. 

I decided to take the additional step of running it through my double-mesh strainer, which was probably not necessary, but I really wanted to ensure the smoothest, creamiest texture possible. Truth be told, there wasn’t very much pulp remaining at all, so you can almost definitely skip this step. Then mix in the coconut milk.

Add 3 tablespoons of honey (start with 2, and add a third–and even a fourth if you want–if you think it’s necessary), and the lime juice, and the chopped basil. In retrospect, I probably should have pureed the basil with the cucumbers, but live and learn, right?

Then run the whole mess through your ice cream maker. If you’d like, you could add a tablespoon of light rum, which would contribute a little bit of flavor and go a long way towards keeping the texture nice and scoopable. I did not include any in this batch, though, because for uninteresting reasons this was destined to be a booze-free sherbet.

Once again I did not follow the “don’t test out new recipes on guests” rule. (Although for dinner itself, I revised my eggplant schnitzel with swiss chard and white beans recipe, with summer squash and veal cutlets, making it actual wienerschnitzel, I guess.) After dinner, I pulled the tub of sherbet out of the freezer with a sense of cautious optimism, and a vocal caveat that this was an experiment. My dining companion’s opinion was that it tasted like something you’d get in a high-end Japanese restaurant, which, ok, maybe. He also made the very astute comment that mint would have been good in place of the basil. And that’s exactly what I would have done except that presently, my basil plant is bigger than my mint. Either way, we both declared it a success. It is light and a little creamy and very refreshing, which is just what I was aiming for. It freezes a little bit harder than I’d like, but not so much that it’s a problem (and as I said, a little rum would take care of that).

Cucumber Coconut Sherbet
Makes 1 quart

1 1/2 lbs cucumber, peeled and chopped roughly
2 tsp fresh basil or mint
3/4 c. coconut milk (original, not low fat)
3 Tbsp mild honey (alfalfa or acacia would be good)
2 Tbsp lime juice
1 Tbsp light rum (optional)

Puree the cucumber and basil in a cuisinart. If you’re neurotic, run it through a fine mesh strainer into a bowl. If you are not, skip that step.
Mix in the rest of the ingredients, adjusting amounts as suits your own taste. (And remembering that things are not as sweet when they are cold, so don’t go TOO light on the honey.)
Run the liquid through your ice cream maker. Voila!