This post should have been a cookbook review.
But it's not.
A few months ago I received a gorgeous-looking book about Moroccan cooking. Then I read it.
Augh.
Let's ignore the writing style that oozes braggadocious smarm and reeks of self-satisfaction.
Let's ignore little gems like telling the reader if they want to use this cookbook they should get a scale that weighs in fractions of a gram (since getting the book I've checked every kitchenware department I've come across and cannot find one that measures such minutiae...one gram, not a problem...less than that, I'd have to special order it in.
Aye, there's the rub.
Every cookbook review I do includes several recipes reviews, with each recipe blindly followed, you'd think I were a sheep crossed with a Disney-prodded lemming. There's no question that the book had a lot of recipes...the question was which recipes intrigued me enough to try them?
Apparently each recipe I found interesting required me prepping ingredients at least a month in advance, or scouring my local shops for ingredients they hadn't heard of. And those ingredients I could find made me balk at the pricetag.
Don't get me wrong. I'm all for authenticity, but this book really made it clear to me that this book--and many others are really written for those in major metropolitan areas (and yes, I do live in a CMA of more than half a million people...but that's not big enough to carry some of these ingredients). Home cooks who would like to try these recipes who don't have easy access to more exotic ingredients would have to order them in or try and make do with what they have, not really knowing what the called-for herbs and spices really taste like.
Needless to say...the book is still untested...and probably will remain so.
In the meanwhile...the book did trigger something.
Although his harissa recipe called for spices I couldn't find, the idea of harissa grabbed me. After looking up other recipes and playing with the flavours, another idea grabbed me.
Maple-harissa chicken wings: the smokiness of the spices matched maple syrup's smokiness. Sweet and hot are generally a good combination. It's a spicier version of honey-garlic and a smokier version of sweet thai chilli.
The wings also gave me an opportunity to try out Alton Brown's chicken wing preparation technique I saw ages ago --essentially render the fat first by steaming the wings and then roast the wings on a cookie rack. It's a bit labour intensive but the end result isn't too bad.
The sauce is sweet, hot and smoky. It may be too hot for some, and if you find it so, add a bit of roasted pepper or tomato paste to the pan with the maple syrup and balance flavours to taste.
Maple Harissa Chicken Wings
Yield 750g/1.5lbs
Ingredients
750g (1.5lbs) chicken wings, split into drummettes and wings
For the sauce
For the Harissa
0.5tsp (2.5ml) coriander seeds
0.5tsp (2.5ml) caraway seeds
0.25tsp (1.25) cumin seeds
2dspn (20ml/4tsp) lemon juice
5 dried chillies, soaked in boiling water for 45 minutes
2 garlic cloves
0.25tsp (1.25ml) salt
1Tbsp (15ml) olive oil
3Tbsp Maple Syrup (to taste)
salt (to taste)
pepper (to taste)
1-2 tsp (5-10ml) tomato paste or minced roasted red peppers (optional, to taste)
Method
Preheat the oven to 225C/425F. Lay a tea towel or a double layer of paper towels on a baking sheet. Set a cooling rack over top the towels and set aside.
To cook the chicken wings, set about 2-3cm (approximately 1") of water to boil in a large pot. Lay the wings in a steamer basket and set in the pot. Lid the pot and let steam over medium heat for about 10 minutes.Remove the wings from the basket, place on the cooling rack, and pat dry. Let the wings cool. Remove the towels and line the tray with tin foil. Roast for 40 minutes, turning the wings once.
Start the sauce while the wings are roasting. Toast the coriander, caraway and cumin in a dry pan, over medium heat, stirring occasionally. When the seeds have darkened and have released their aromas, remove the pan from the hob and tip the spices onto a plate to cool (five-10 minutes). Grind to a paste the toasted spices with the rehydrated chillies, garlic, salt, olive oil and lemon juice.
In a small saucepan, over medium-low heat, mix the harissa with the maple syrup. Taste the sauce--if it is too spicy for you, you can temper its zing by adding some tomato paste or finely chopped roasted red pepper. Balance flavours to taste.
When the wings are done roasting tip them into a bowl and pour the sauce over top. Toss the wings so they are evenly coated.
Notes
- If you don't want to make your own harissa, use about three-four tablespoons of bought sauce.
- You don't have to cook the wings in above-prescribed manner--if you prefer to bake or fry the wings, please do.
cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!
Tag-ine. You’re it.
Sorry. I couldn’t resist.
There was one rule for the potluck: bring something from a cuisine from which you normally don’t eat. Okay. There were two: list the ingredients beside the dish.
I suppose the challenge was easier said than done.
In the week prior to the lunch, I’d already partaken in Scandinavian, Italian, French, Mexican, Southern US, Thai and Vietnamese, along with the ubiquitous “Canadian” fare (foods that if I thought over long and hard I could ascribe to a region, but really: when you’re at the point of gnawing off your own leg, as long as the meal’s ready, edible and within reach, do you really want undertake a genealogical search on what you’re about to put in your mouth?).
Instead of challenging myself to a cuisine, I decided to revisit an underused-in-my-kitchen ingredient, and from that find some sort of national or cultural theme.
I’m not sure why I settled on lamb. As an unashamed carnivore who doesn’t practise ageism (apart from best before dates), I’m fully aware of the controversy of such a choice for a communal meal. But at the same time, it is a favoured meat in so many parts of the world. With so many options that lay before me—Chinese, Indian, the swath of Arabic-speaking nations, countries that lie on the Mediterranean’s northern shore—I decided to throw caution to the wind and simply cook.
Thanks to the genius that is Claudia Roden, I quickly became fixated on Morocco. I’d spent a day in Tangiers two lifetimes ago and fell in love with it as only a 16 year old school girl could. In Arabesque, I found two dishes that immediately leapt to the head of the queue Tagine Bil Barkok Wal Loz and Keskou Tfaya—Tagine of Lamb with Prunes and Almonds and Couscous with Lamb, Onions and Raisins.
Flicking between the two recipes, I quickly realised they could easily be combined into one. The prunes and almonds would be kept along with the couscous and honeyed caramelised onions. The couscous Claudia calls for is plain, but mine is usually made with stock, whole spices and raisins. A happy marriage of her two dishes, I think.
Moroccan stews or “tagines,” borrow their name from shallow round clay cooking pots with conical lids. If you don’t have the eponymous cooking vessel, you can simply use an aptly-sized lidded pot. Sweet and hearty, tagines of lamb and prune are the most well-known fruit tagines outside of Morocco, and often served with couscous and hot, buttered chickpeas.
Lamb, Prune and Almond Tagine with Honeyed Caramelized Onions
Serves 8
5-6 onions (approx 1.25kg (2.75lbs)),
Flavourless oil
2 garlic cloves, minced
1tsp ground ginger
4 whole cloves, bashed lightly
3Tbsp ground cinnamon, divided
1kg (2lbs) boned lamb shoulder, trimmed of excess fat and cut into 2.5 cm (1”) chunks
Copious amounts of black pepper (start with 3Tbsp)
Salt
Water (approx 1.25L (5c))
400g (14oz) moist pitted prunes
A good, solid pinch of saffron threads (about 0.5tsp)
40g (3Tbsp) butter
1Tbsp olive oil
2Tbsp runny honey
100g (3.5oz) blanched whole almonds
3-4 drops sesame seed oil
Finely chop one of the onions and tip into a large heavy-bottomed pot with four tablespoons oil, garlic, half the ginger, cloves and one teaspoon cinnamon. Cook until the onions begin to turn translucent. Add the meat and brown on all sides. Cover with water, add about two tablespoons of pepper and a few heavy pinches of salt. Bring the pot to a boil and then reduce the flame and leave the meat to quietly simmer for about 1.5-2hrs.
Meanwhile, prepare the caramelised onions. Thinly slice the remaining onions into lunettes, place in a wide, shallow pan with 250ml (1c) water. Cover and cook over a low flame for about half an hour. Unlid, turn up the heat and continue cooking until all the liquid has evaporated. Add the butter, olive oil and stir until the onions caramelise to a warm, deep brown. Mix in the honey, one rounded teaspoon of cinnamon and a good pinch of salt.
Toast the almonds in a few drops of oil until golden. If you wish, you can roughly chop about half the nuts, or leave them whole.
The lamb is ready when it is tender and can be easily pulled apart with your fingers. When so, give the pot a stir (you can remove any scum that's floated to the top, if you wish, but it's not necessary) and add the prunes, remaining cinnamon, saffron, another teaspoon or two of pepper, the caramelised onions and stir again. Let simmer and thicken for 30 minutes.
Taste the thickened tagine and balance flavours to taste. Stir in the almonds and a few drops of sesame oil.
Note: Beef can be substituted for lamb.
Couscous is semolina made from ground hard durum wheat which is then sprinkled with water and then rolled in flour, and is Morocco’s national dish. The couscous found in Western markets is the pre-cooked, instant variety that requires some boiling water and a relatively short steaming time. Properly cooked, couscous is light and fluffy and can be served with meat or vegetable dishes, or can be sweetened and used in desserts.
Couscous
Serves 8
500g (3c) couscous
Pepper
Salt
A couple of handfuls of sultana raisins
5cm (2-inch) cinnamon stick
4-6 cardamom pods, lightly crushed
600ml (approx 2.5c) vegetable broth, off the boil
2Tbsp flavourless oil
A couple of teaspoons of butter (optional)
Mix the couscous, raisins and spices together and then pour the hot broth over the grains. Mix well. Cover the bowl with cling film, a lid or simply put a dinner plate over top. Let the grains swell for 10 minutes.
Mix in the oil. Rub the couscous between your hands, above the bowl, letting the grains separate and tumble back to the bowl, breaking up any lumps.
Preheat the oven to 200C/400F.
Tip the couscous into an ovenproof dish and pop it into the oven for about 15 minutes (or until it begins to steam). Before serving you can, if you wish, stir in the butter, as you fluff the grains with a fork.
cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!
If necessity is the mother of invention, then an inability to sleep is the upstairs neighbour of a busy kitchen.
Which is probably why a caffeine-fuelled evening that led to my inability to sleep, combined with my natural (and I would argue genetic) completionist tendencies, transformed a single-dish potluck offering to a multi-part supper in itself.
It all started when the Toronto panel session I attended ended a tad early. Traffic on the 401 was more than a tad easy. The coffee I had early in the evening kept me more than a tad awake in the-close-to-wee hours.
At home, I did what any normal person would do: I flitted around my kitchen like a hummingbird wired on double espressos, looking for something to do. I didn't feel like baking. Cooking another meal would have been silly as most of the week would have me eat anywhere but home. Alas, it was also too early in the week to prepare my potluck offering.
There I stood, illuminated by the fridge's bulb, pondering its contents. The only thing I could see were bell peppers: the mediumscarymegamart had them on sale so my veggie drawer was full to bursting with oblong orbs.
My potluck muse must have arrived directly from the markets of Tangiers or Marrakesh, sending me into a decidedly Moroccan frame of mind. With North Africa in mind, Claudia Roden's Arabesque offered a solution to my excesses of energy and bell peppers. Her recipe for Felfla Wal Hummas Wa Jban (Roast Peppers and Chickpeas with Fresh Goat's Cheese) was reminiscent of Nigella's roasted pepper and feta starter from Nigella Bites. Yes, my singular, effortless potluck offering became two relatively effortess potluck offerings. As my Dear Little Cardamummy believes: better to have more food than less.
So there I sat on my kitchen kick stool, at midnight, in front of Beelzebub's window, wearing my white and blue floral printed flannelette granny jammies, occasionally practising culinary voyeurism while reading Nigel Slater's latest tome. I peered into my oven's window as the buckled baking tray encouraged the peppers to rock, roll and wobble in their desert-like heat: their wrinkled and blackened skins spat and oozed boiling juices from blistered gashes. Before my energies dissapated, they were stripped of their char and voided of their seeds, sliced into strips and popped into the fridge to be mixed with chickpeas and their flavourings.
Anyone who didn't know me (and I'm sure those who do) would have thought me mad, I'm sure.
This is easily a pantry dish, especially if you are running late and don't want to roast the peppers yourself and have a favourite jarred offering from your grocer, but you may have to adjust the dressing to make up for the extra sharpness that comes from the vinegar store-bought peppers are packed in.
For a more substantial lunch dish, add chunks of boiled potatoes and perhaps chunks of tinned tuna, with a sprinkling of roughly chopped flat-leafed parsley.
How to roast bell peppers:
Set your oven to its hottest temperature and let it come up to temp. Place whole peppers onto a foil-lined tray and pop into the oven. After 15 minutes, turn the fruit so an unblistered side is foil-down, roast for 10 minutes. Roast remaining sides for 8-10 minutes each.
When done, remove the peppers from the tray and place in a pot with a tight-fitting lid and let steam for about 15 minutes. When the fruit are cool enough to handle, slip off the charred skins from the flesh and remove the stem and seeds.
Roasted pepper, chickpea and feta salad
Serves 8-10
6 roasted red bell peppers, slivered
1x540ml (8.5oz) tin chickpeas, drained
60ml (0.25c) extra virgin olive oil
Juice of one lemon
4 garlic cloves, minced
salt
Pepper
1 Tbsp dried oregano
100g (3.5oz) feta cheese
Make the dressing by combining the oil, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper and oregano.
Mix the pepper ribbons and chickpeas together. Pour the dressing over top and give the contents a light stir.
About 10 minutes before serving, mix in the feta cheese.
cheers!
jasmine
I'm a quill for hire!
