Toby

Ken Hom has a recipe for Chiu Chow Noodles in Sesame Sauce in his book, Fragrant Harbor Taste. He uses dried Yi Fu noodles or dried or fresh thin egg noodles and blanches them for 2 minutes, until barely soft, drains them and tosses them with a little sesame oil. For the sauce, he combines Chinese sesame paste, dark soy sauce, light soy sauce, a little sugar, chicken stock and a little salt, brings it up to a simmer, cools it slightly and then tosses with the noodles. He says to use a smooth peanut butter if you can't find Chinese sesame paste, but not to use tahini.

How did you cook the fish wrapped in banana leaf? What is tehari rice?

Thank you, Suvir. The menu was mouthwatering and the whole evening sounds so magical. Other threads have made comparisons between restaurant meals and theater; it seems as if Indian haute cuisine can provide both the imaginative food and the charm and well-being that we look for in fine dining.

This is a fascinating thread. I've been wondering what the menu would be like at the kind of restaurant being discussed, both a la carte and tasting menus. Could someone come up with a menu? I've enjoyed reading ngatti's and basildog's menus, as well as Suvir's menus for meals he's cooked. Indian cuisine is so rich and varies so much regionally; I know so little about it. I can't even imagine the permutations of a menu for an "haute" Indian restaurant.

This would have been a good discussion on the Chinese v. French cuisine thread. The linked article above traces Peking duck back to the mid-19th century and follows its development back to the Yuan Dynasty (1206-1368), with cites of contemporary cookbook recipes. In Chinese Gastronomy, the Lins say: "Peking duck is one of the justifiaably famous stars of the cuisine. Because the flavor is very simple and fragrant, even children and other people with undeveloped palates like it. Its appearance is simple, and its presentation always follows the same order: first the skin, then the meat, then the soup from the bones. The skin is crisp and fragrant, but not oily (yu-er-bu-ni). The meat is tender and juicy, the soup rich and sweet with cabbage. The making of it has become a small branch of Chinese gastronomy in itself. ... The skin is the most important part of the duck. In order for it to be crisp but not fat, it must be dry. Air must be introduced between the skin and the flesh. In China, fowl are often eviscerated through a small opening under one of the wings.... Air is pumped into this small opening, so the duck balloons out. This permits faster drying of the skin.... The duck is hung up to dry for at least 24 hours in a cold, stiff breeze. The purpose of this is to permit drying of the skin, which then pulls away from the meat. This dish is a result of the cool and crisp Peking weather, which allowed the duck to be hung in this way when raw." In the linked article it says, "The preparation of the dish requires a series of complicated steps, which include inflating the unbroken skin so that it roasts just right." I think "glazed" may not have been the right term for the Cantonese roast duck we get in the West, which is sort of sticky and dark. (I borrowed "glazed" from Eileen Yin-Fei Lo's recipe in The Chinese Kitchen.) In the traditional method, the duck is scalded, air may or may not be forced between the skin and meat, and the duck is hung to air-dry; following all these steps, the skin probably would be glazed, as in Peking Duck. The distinguishing feature of Cantonese roast duck is that the marinade is "stuffed" inside the body cavity, which is then sewn closed. The marinade seasons the meat deeply during cooking and allows the duck juices to collect and enrich the liquid seasonings into a very flavorful sauce. After roasting the sauce is poured out and served over the carved duck. Cut-up roast Cantonese duck is also used (after roasting) as the main ingredient in a lot of braised dishes. At a wedding banquet I once ate roasted, then braised duck with various pieces of seafood, pork, chicken, dried black mushrooms and greens in a dark sauce. There are many wonderful duck dishes in China, such as Szchuan Crisp Spiced Duck, in which the duck is flattened by breaking the major bones and then the flesh is separated from the bones (although the bones aren't removed). The duck is rubbed with salt and Szchuan peppercorns and marinated overnight with soy sauce, sugar, wine and scallions. It's cooked in a sealed vessel placed in a pot of boiling water for 2 hours, drained, and then fried very slowly in oil, allowing the duck fat to be fried out and the bones to become brittle. At the end, the skin is dull, not shiny. It's served with ribbon rolls and Szchuan pepper and salt mix. Other duck specialties include Duck Steamed in Wine, Shanghai Duck (red cooked and then glazed), flavor-potted duck (deep-fried and then red-cooked), Crisp 8-Treasure Duck (a boned duck stuffed with 8 ingredients, including sticky rice, duck-liver sausage, dried mushrooms, ham, and gingko nuts, is first steamed and then deep-fried), Pressed Duck, Steamed Duck with Preserved Fruits, and Tea Smoked Duck (Shanghai, duck is smoked in Dragon Well Tea).

Peking Duck is a style of duck preparation as noted above, which is served in the classic manner as 3 separate courses: the duck skin folded into pancakes; duck meat stir-fried with vegetables; and duck bones boiled for soup. It's prepared by first tieing off the neck of the duck with string, inserting the nozzle of the air pump into the neck opening and then inflating with the pump until the skin separates from the flesh. The duck is then scalded and hung from a hook for the skin to dry. Then the duck is coated with a mixture of boiling water, vinegar and maltose and then left, still hanging, to dry completely for 10-12 hours. Then the duck is roasted until the skin is a deep brown color and very crisp. The skin is removed from the meat and served with steamed pancakes. (Marcella Hazen adapts this recipe somewhat in a recipe for roast duck where you first scald the duck and then blow dry it -- the pores open from the scalding and then the blow drying draws out all the fat. The duck comes out with very crispy skin.) Cantonese duck is roasted, glazed duck. This is the duck you see hanging in the windows of Chinese restaurants in Chinatown. First the duck is salted and rubbed with white rice wine. A marinade of bean sauce, soy sauce, brown sugar, white pepper and cilantro is placed in the body cavity of the duck, along with ginger, scallions, star anise and cinnamon stick. The duck is then roasted until well cooked and glazed, and served chopped into bite-sized pieces with the juices.

I thought of Jainism during the kosher bulls in Holland thread. I know almost nothing about the religion and find it hard to get reliable information. Madhur Jaffrey says (in a photo caption) that the Jains are complete vegetarians. The Orthodox Jains don't eat root vegetables so as not to harm insects when digging root vegetables up. They also don't eat tomatoes because the color reminds them of blood. Julie Sahni says they refrain from eating certain vegetables and fruits during the rainy season because they contain worms and insects (again, eating would harm the bugs). They don't practice agriculture for the same reason. Although she says that all the recipes in her Classic Indian Vegetarian and Grain Cooking derive from either Hindu (particularly the Brahmin caste) and Jain repertoires, the only recipe in the book that is indexed as being a Jain specialty is "Coriander-Scented Millet and Mung Bean Pilaf," but she includes a tomato in the recipe as well as 2 onions. I was once ordered (for pseudo-medical reasons) not to eat any onions, garlic, leeks, scallions or shallots. It made cooking very difficult and I lasted for about 2 weeks. Does anyone have any more information? I looked in Heinrich Zimmer's Philosophies of India and he has a lot of information, all very dense and rather goofily edited and annotated by Joseph Campbell. I did find this quote: "Every thought and act, according to the pessimistic philosophy of the Jainas, entails an accumulation of fresh karmic substance. To go on living means to go on being active -- in speech, in body, or in mind; it means to go on doing something every day. And this results in the storing up involuntarily of the "seeds" of future action, which grow and ripen into the "fruits" of our coming sufferings, joys, situations, and existences. ... The process of life itself consumes the karmic substance, burning it up like fuel, but at the same time attracts fresh material to the burning center of vital operations. ... New seeds of future fruits pour in. Two contradictory yet exactly complementary processes are kept, in this way, in operation. The seeds, the karmic materials, are being exhausted rapidly all the time through the unconscious as well as the conscious actions of the psychosomatic system, and yet through these identical actions the karmic storage bins are being continually restocked. Hence, the conflagration that is one's life goes crackling on."

Bill Neal's biscuits are very good (his cookbooks are great). In Southern Cooking, he calls for 2 tablespoons vegetable shortening, 1 tablespoon lard and 2 tablespoons butter to 2 cups flour. In Biscuits, Spoonbread, and Sweet Potato Pie, he gives the option of the above combination or using one of the fats by itself. He says, "Lard renders the best layers, long and distinct (vegetarians are out of luck). Vegetable shortening produces a tender and fluffy biscuit, lacking somewhat the taste and texture that comes from lard. Butter gives the best flavor and weakest structure. I often mix the fats, using some of each for its own properties. A biscuit without some little bit of lard will never taste truly Southern to me, but I must admit that shortening will be easiest for cooks new to biscuits to handle. Veteran biscuit makers will have their own ideas and ignore anything I suggest, anyway." And he recommends White Lily as the best flour for biscuits. I sometimes get pork fat ground up for me in Chinatown butchers and render it for lard, but I think it's fresh fat back. I've read that leaf lard (fat from around the kidneys?) makes the best lard. Does anyone know where to get leaf lard in New York?

Larry Forgione in An American Place has a recipe for strawberry shortcake in which the biscuit shortcake is made with 2 mashed hard-cooked egg yolks for 2 cups flour (he also uses heavy cream and butter). He says this is an idea suggested by James Beard and that the eggs add moisture to the biscuits but not taste. I made this once and found it made the biscuits very yellow and kind of heavy. I love egg yolks so I'm going to try this again, maybe with less butter. Does Beranbaum use both butter and cream?

A recipe for the technique Suvir described is given in Shirley Corriher's CookWise (Touch-of-Grace Biscuits) and also in Natalie Dupree's Southern Memories. It makes a nice biscuit.

I love biscuits. They were the first things I ever cooked also. Rather than kneading them, I pat the dough out into a 1/2-inch to 3/4-inch thick circle with my fingertips, then fold into thirds like an envelope, and repeat 2 more times before cutting the biscuits to get them flaky and splittable. Also sometimes make angel biscuits, adding a little yeast and using a rather liquidy creme fraiche instead of buttermilk. A woman from Mississippi once showed me how to just dump the stirred dough into a cakepan and bake it at about 400 degrees for about 25 minutes till browned on top for a big biscuit cake.

Risotto with baby summer squash and squash blossoms; seared tuna; mesclun; sliced up eva purple ball and aunt ruby's german green tomatoes; wilted amaranth; ambrosia melon and blueberries.

I have some of the little baby squash (and squash blossoms, too). I think I'm going to make a squash and squash blossom risotto with them.

I got some of his amaranth yesterday as well. Added some to his mesclun, and I think I'm going to cook the rest tonight -- just wilt it in a little corn oil with a little shredded ginger, dried chile pepper, garlic, salt and pepper. Has anyone ever had miner's lettuce -- I picked some along a stream in California once. It was so good. Also, the trout guy at Union Square has good wild watercress.

The Great Tomato Book is really good. Less is best. Last night, I just sliced up three different varieties and we ate them absolutely plain. The sauce is nice because you can freeze it and eat it when the heirlooms are all gone for the year.

Please excuse my ignorance but what's quince rataifa? Actually, I know what quince is but curious about the rataifa. I'm thinking of a filo-related dessert, but I couldn't find anything online to verify. Amazing how many brain lapses I made in one post (I have a bad hangover) -- should be quince ratafia -- grated up quince steeped in alcohol (in this case, cognac) with sugar added. Very delicious, hard to stop drinking once started.

Heirloom tomatoes make a great sauce, but because they're so juicy it can take a long time for it to cook down to a thick consistency. They have very thin skins, so just passing them through boiling water for a second should be all that you need to peel them, or leave them unpeeled. I saute some onion and garlic in olive oil, add some wine and let it cook down a little, and then add the whole tomatoes, thyme, basil (purple basil is nice with cherokee purples), salt, pepper, and a piece of parmesan rind. Let simmer at very low heat, covered for about 2 or 3 hours, then uncover and cook for another few hours (this depends on the tomatoes and how meaty they are; some give out a huge amount of liquid). Put through a food mill and then cook for another hour or two until the sauce is quite thick. (Sometimes I added some plum tomatoes just to make the sauce meatier.)

Thanks for the recipe, Soba. I thought I'd typed "shrimp," but I'm so obsessed with re-creating the salt and pepper squid served at Yuet Lee in San Francisco Chinatown, which is unbelievably good, I unconsciously typed "squid." They cook the squid so the coating is really dark and crispy; it's completely addictive, you just want to go on eating it forever.

You're welcome, Liza. Thin spaghetti with very quick-cooked sauce -- lots of olive oil and rough-chopped garlic and tiny red currant tomatoes, with garnish of lots of whole parsley leaves. Sliced heirloom tomatoes (pineapple, cherokee purple and mango tomatoes). Sauteed scallops. Mesclun. Bonny Doon Clos de Gilroy grenache. Ambrosia melon for dessert with homemade quince rataifa. Soba Addict, how'd you make the salt and pepper squid?

When we first started selling heirloom tomatoes at the greenmarket in NY in 1996, hardly any of the customers knew what they were, or what heirloom produce in general was. Today I rarely have to explain what they are. The greenmarket program in NY has done a good job of educating as well -- they work with public schools in leading class tours of children of all ages through the market. I think the farmers' markets through the US have done an enormous amount to improve quality of food -- once you've tasted good produce or good eggs, chicken, meat, you know the difference.

Thanks, Anil. At this point, it's becoming more like New York vindaloo -- the meat is marinating until tomorrow -- do you think the mustard oil will be too weird tasting? The marinade is pretty hot.

I'm getting ready to make vindaloo, and was just reading up on mustard oil. Don't know if this is true or not -- Julie Sahni says that "mustard oil in its raw form has a very strong smell that many people find unpleasant. Before Indians use it in cooking, it is put through a mellowing process. This is done by heating the oil to a very high temperature (smoking point), which releases the pungent smell and vaporizes the oil. When cool, the mustard oil is ready for use." Is this correct? Also, Sandra, where did you get the mustard oil?

Toby, I've never been able to get fresh epazote here in Canada. The dried has a kind of petroleum taste (but in a good way). What is the fresh like? Jinmyo, to me uncooked fresh epazote tastes first green, then a little bitter and then a kind of minty aftertaste (and a rather long aftertaste at that). Diane Kennedy says it has a "clean pungent taste -- a little like creosote." (=petroleum?) I think the fresh is way better than the dried, and I like it better cooked down with beans than as a garnish. It's pretty easy to grow. You can order the seeds from Shepherd's Garden Seeds, 30 Irene St., Torrington, CT 06790-6658; Johnny's Selected Seeds, Foss Hill Rd., Albion, ME 04901-9731; or Native Seeds Search, 2509 N. Campbell Ave., #325, Tucson, AZ 85719. I got mine in NY at the Union Sq. market, Paffenroth Farms.

Carnitas; seared corn (cut off cob) with serrano chiles, lime, chopped epazote; wild watercress with red currant tomatoes; and chopped radishes marinated in lime juice with Haas avocado.

Bella, there are recipes for short ribs in Michael Wild's Bay Wolf Cookbook (short ribs braised in red wine with spring vegetable ragout), the Chez Panisse Cafe Cookbook (Braised Beef Short Ribs with Gremolata) and a Paul Bertolli recipe for Short Ribs Braised in Red Wine in Feb/Mar 1996 Fine Cooking magazine. There's also a Oaxacan soup made with short ribs and chiles called che guina that is delicious. If you want any of these recipes, let me know.