Momo Madness

You don't always have to get on a plane to travel someplace far away. Every major city has ethnic neighborhoods, it's Chinatowns, Greektowns, Little Italies, Little Indias... the list goes on. Sometimes, you don't have to look any further than your own back yard to discover a community you never knew existed. I'm lucky that I live near New York City. I literally have the world at my doorstep, and I take advantage of that whenever I can. But one time, about twelve years ago, I made of those back yard discoveries I just mentioned.

At the time, I was looking for places that taught Buddhist medtiation. A book that I was reading listed places all over the country, and in New Jersey, there was listed a place called the Tibetan Buddhist Learning Center. I went and made the aquantance of Josh Cutler, Director of the Learning Center. He took time out of his day for my unannounced arrival, and over the course of the next couple of hours, he told me the history of Tibetan Buddhism in the United States, and how it was first introduced to this country by one man, Geshe Wangyal, a Buddhist monk from Kalmykia. He also told me of the Kalmyk community in Howell, two towns over from where I live.

Kalmyks are Mongolian by ethnicity, Tibetan Buddhist by heritage, and Russian by nationality. There history, and how the Howell community came to be the largest Kalmyk community in the world (outside of Kalmykia) is facinating to say the least. The short version of the story goes like this.


In the seventeenth century, a large group of Mongolian nomads left the homealnds and migrated westward, eventually settling in a region bordering the Caspian Sea. They came under subject of the tsar, but remained relatively autonomous and the the area became known as the Kalmyk Khanate.

After the Soviet revolution, Lenin issued an appeal for them to revolt against their traditional leaders and join the red army. When the majority refused, the authorities began a campaign of terror against them through execution of their leaders, deportaion to slave labor camps, and confiscation of property.

Under Stalin, thing got even worse. Many escaped to what they thought was safety, but turned out to be Germany in the late thirties. Forced labor and concentration camps was the fate of many. After the war, with the help of the Tolstoy Foundation, a large contingent of Kalmyks were relocated to and area in NJ called Freewood Acres, which already had a large Russian community living there.

In 1997, I was working at a start up television news station called News 12 New Jersey. At the time, News 12, under the guidance of the forward-thinking new director, Jeff Marks, was attempting to become the de-facto destination for all things New Jersey. I pitched an idea for a documentary about a group of people in the state that most New Jerseyans didn't even know existed. New Jersey Kalmyks: Hardship and Homecoming became the first documentary to air on the station. If you would like to see it, I present it for you below in three parts. Enjoy this "facinating story about some of your neighbors."

While I was working on the documentary, I met a fellow by the name of David Urubshurow who was an invaluable help, filling us in on history, introducing us to the community and, yes, feeding us. Kalmyk food, specifically. If you watched Hardship and Homecoming, you saw David talking about, and making, Tibetan/Mongolian dumplings. In Tibet, they're called momos, in Mongolia, they're called buuz; but whatever you call them they're a delight.

If you've been following this blog, you may have noticed that I am an unrepentant dumpling lover. Judge me if you must, but I make no apologies for this.

Momos are related to every other Asian dumpling, and, ultimately, albeit distantly, to European stuffed dough dishes like pierogi and ravioli. The filling for momos is usually a combnination of meat and vegetables, much like their Chinese cousins. However, momos are not seasoned quite the same. For one, you don't use soy sauce for saltiness. The meat is almost always beef, lamb yak, or some combination of the three. Yak is a bit difficult, but not impossible, to get in the states. One place that does carry it is calld Fossil Farms, in northern NJ. They sell yak burgers for about $10.00 per pound. The batch I made for this post was made with ground bison, but you can use just about any lean meat. Here's one recipe.

Ingredients

Dough

3 cups all purpose flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup water

1 lb ground lean red meat

1 medium onion diced fine

1 tsp grated garlic

1 tsp grated ginger

1/2 lb finely chopped combination of leek and cabbage

2 scallions, chopped finely

2 tbsp chopped cilantro

salt to taste

Preparation

Dough

Place flour and salt in a food processor and pulse to mix. With the food processor running, slowly add the water until small dough pellets start to form. Don't make the dough too sticky. If it is add a little more flour. Remove and wrap in plastic wrap while you make the filling.

Filling

Combine all the filling ingredients and mix well.

Assembling

I use a pasta machine to roll my dough. For me it's just easier, and I get more consistent results. I pass the dough through successively finer settings until the dough is about 1/16" thick, and use a 3 1/2" cutter to make the rounds However, if you don't have a pasta machine, you can break off pieces of dough that are about the size of a walnut and roll these out to the same thickness.

Traditionally, the middle portion of the wrapper is slightly thicker than the edges to ensure that the dough remains consistantly thick after the momos are sealed.

Momos are made in one of two ways: a ball shape or a pleated crescent shape. The following video shows how to fill and wrap them.

To steam the momos, place them on lettuce leaves in a steamer and steam on high heat for fifteen to twenty minutes. remove them to plates and serve with one of the follwing sauces.

Tsal

This is a traditional sauce to serve with momos. It is made with seeded, chopped tomatoes, cilantro, green onion, and garlic. Sounds a little like salsa, doesn't it? I suppose you could use a mild Mexican salsa in a pinch; but if you've gone to the trouble of making momos from scratch, why cheap out now?

Soy based dipping sauce

Combine equal parts light soy sauce and rice vinegar. To this, add some grated ginger, garlic-chili paste and chopped scallion. This is my personal favorite.

By the way, I've stolen the title Momo Madness from a very good friend of mine, Beth Murphy. She is a film maker in Massachusetts who has produced some great docs around the world on subjects ranging from young survivors of breast cancer to womens' rights movements in Afghanistan. We worked together at News 12, and I have had the pleasure to work with her on several projects since then. Please visit her website at Principal Pictures.

Until next time, explore your neighborhood; you never know what you'll find.

Taking Stock in the Kitchen

I'm going to come right to the point this week.

THERE IS NO REASON YOU SHOULD NOT BE MAKING

YOUR OWN CHICKEN STOCK.

I'm going to repeat this.

THERE IS NO REASON YOU SHOULD NOT BE MAKING

YOUR OWN CHICKEN STOCK.

I watch a lot of shows about cooking, and when I see someone using canned or boxed chicken stock in a recipe, it really pisses me off. Meats stocks are used in so many recipes around the world. They're used as a base for gravies, sauces, rice preparations, soups... the list can go on forever. If you are interested in cooking, and cooking well, why would you use an inferior ingredient when you can make the same at home, deliciously, as well as economically?

Let's take chicken stock as an example. For "gourmet" chicken stock, you'll pay upwards of $4.00 per quart at your local market. You can make the same at home for almost nothing. Here's how I do it.

I almost never buy anything but whole chickens. I can get a whole roaster at my supermarket for anywhere between 89 and 99 cents per pound. I cut up the chicken into its constituent parts, freezing any pieces that I'm not going to use right away, and use the remaining carcass for stock. Oh, inside the chicken you'll usually find a small bag that contains the neck, livers and gizzards. Don't throw these out. Like Dan Ackroyd said in that famous SNL Julia Child sketch, "Save the liver!" You'll use the neck and gizzards in your stock.

Never broken down a chicken? Don't worry. It's easy and only takes a few minutes. All you need is a good sharp knife. Watch the following video and you'll see how easy it is.

All right, now that we're all experienced chicken cutter-uppers, let's make our stock. There are two basic types of chicken stock, roasted and unroasted. Roasted chicken stock uses the roasted chicken parts and unroasted chicken stock uses the raw chicken parts.

Roasted Chicken Stock

Place your chicken parts in a roasting pan a roast at 400 degrees until the chicken has turned a deep brown. When done, place these in a pot. You can also use the remains of that roast chicken you had last night. Waste not want not.

Add two or three carrots, two or three celery stalks, and one onion, all roughly chopped, and one clove of garlic, crushed. Don't bother to peel any of the vegetables.

Add a couple of bay leaves and about a teaspoon of whole peppercorns.

Add enough cold water to cover everything by about an inch.

Bring to a boil and reduce the heat so that the water is just simmering. This makes for a clearer stock. You can also skim the fat and foam that develops to help keep it clear. After a little while there won't be anymore foam to skim. Go do something else and let this stock simmer for three to four hours and let cool. You may have noticed that I didn't add any salt. You add the salt when you use the stock.

When cool, strain the stock, remove the fat and store, either in the refrigerator, or frozen in small batches. To defat the stock, refrigerate it and when the fat sets, remove it in pieces with a spoon. I like to use a fat separator. The one I recommend is by Oxo Goodgrips. It has a little stopper that goes in the spout and really keeps the fat out.



If you keep your stock in the fridge, bring the stock to a boil every few days and it will keep indefinitely, and just add it to the next batch you make. Did you know that in China there are master sauces that are reportedly hundreds of years old, kept fresh and unspoiled by continuously adding new ingredients and reboiling?

We're not quite done yet. There's still a lot of meat on them thar bones. Pick the meat from the bones and use it in soup. Or, if you have pets, it makes a nice special dinner treat. Around our house, the dogs call it shmutz night. Actually, we call it that. The dogs just eat it.

Unroasted Chicken Stock

Make unroasted chicken stock the same way, just don't cook the chicken. The resulting stock will be a little lighter and clearer, good for light soups and sauces.

The final cost? About a buck for a couple of quarts. Remember, the chicken would have normally been thrown out, so, what did the chicken actually cost? You really only had to buy the vegetables, and they probably didn't even cost more than a dollar. That's pretty economical, and once you used your own chicken stock, the store bought stuff is never going to taste the same.

So start making you own chicken stock today. I don't want to have to come to your pantry and check for boxes and cans. Remember:

THERE IS NO REASON YOU SHOULD NOT BE MAKING

YOUR OWN CHICKEN STOCK.

Welcome to Sarajevo

I was in Bosnia in 1998 to shoot series of reports on U.S. troops, three years after security forces entered the country. The military, under terms of the the Dayton Accords, were scheduled to begin withdrawl in July of that year, but their stay was ultimately extended.

Bosnia and Herzegovina, one of the countries that make up what is known as the Balkans, is a beautiful country, with rolling hills and tile roofed buildings. Although the three years of intense war, between 1992 and 1995, ravaged the countryside, the cities and the people, the people were warm, inviting and most of all, glad for the presence of NATO forces. Although the threat of overt violence had been largley stemmed when I was there, the people of Bosnia and Herzegovina lived with the daily threat of death and dismemberment because of the hundreds of thousands of undetonated and undocumented land mines.





According to the Electronic Mine Information Network, there are still "1,631 identified communities’ impacted by mines and/or unexploded ordnance. These threats directly affect the safety of approximately 921,513 people, out of whom 154,538 live in high-impact communities, 342,550 in medium-impact communities and 424,425 in low-impact communities." If you would like to learn more about mine action around the world, go to the Electronic Mine Information Network.

To see the reports that came out of that trip, click on the clips below.

During the times when I wasn't shooting, we were able to get out into the surrounding communities and I was able to sample some of the local fare. One day, in Tuzla, we stopped at a little cafe and had a dish called cevapi (pronounced cheh-vah-pee). Actually, what we had was a sandwich; but, oh, what a sandwich. The Food Network has a show called The Best Thing I Ever Ate, and one of the recent episodes was about sandwiches. If I was on that episode, I would definitely cite cevapi as one of the great things to eat between two pieces of bread.

Cevapi is a dish made of grilled minced meat, usually a combination of beef and lamb. It is considered the national dish of Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia and Montenegro; but, it can be found (in various forms) throughout the Balkans. The word cevapi is the serbo-croatian form of the arabic word, kebab, which we all know and love. In the Balkans, cevapi is served on a kind of bread called lepinja, with sliced onions, and that's it. Simple and delicious. Here's how you can make cevapi at home.

INGREDIENTS

1 pound ground beef and lamb (I like to use a 50/50 mix, but let your taste be your guide)
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 medium onion, minced
2 tbsp mineral water
1 tbsp oil
pepper to taste
Vegeta* or salt to taste

*Vegeta is a powdered seasoning made in Croatia and used throughout the Balkans and eastern Europe. It contains salt, dehydrated vegetables, spices, sugar, cornstarch and MSG. You can get it in most supermarkets that have an international aisle, or on the web. Just look for the happy chef on the bright blue bag.

TO COOK
Mix all the ingredients by hand.

Refrigerate mixture for at least two hours, or overnight.

Wet hands with water and shape the mixture into uniform rolls about the size of breakfast sausages (you know, like Parks Sausages you find in the freezer case).

Cook the cevapi on a hot charcoal, or wood, grill for 6-10 minutes, turning frequently (oil the grate first). You can also cook these in a lightly oiled frypan, but try to use a grill, if you can.

Cevapi can be served between slices of lepinja, or on its own, with sliced onion and tomato.

I have looked, and looked, for a recipe for lepinja, with little luck. There is one recipe on the internet that you can try, but my attempts didn't match what I had in Tuzla. It may be the recipe, it may be me. But, unless you live near a serbian or balkan community, your best bet will be to use ciabatta rolls. They're pretty close to lepinja.

And what should you have to drink with your cevapi? Pivo, of course. That's serbo-croation for beer. Try this recipe in place of hamburgers some time. You won't be disappointed.

Until next time, do vidjenja, and keep eating.

The Shocking Truth About Crabs

I'm back after a brief hiatus intended to clear the body and mind of the dross of 21st century life. It was a time spent in meditation, cleansing the spirit and contemplating life's ultimate meaning... Okay, I was just being lazy. But, whatever the reason is, I'm back... with a case of crabs. Blue crabs. Of the Atlantic variety. "Wait a moment," you might say, "you write about ethnic food. What's ethnic about a species of crustacian found in the waters on the east coast of the good old USA? What's ethnic about american food?"

My response: to some people, the term "ethnic food" is disparaging and Americentric. I agree. In many cases it is. America is just as ethnic as anywhere else. It just depends on geography and perspective. That's why I'm writing about a uniquely american food tradition this time (and it certainly won't be the last time), a tradition that is synonymous with Chesapeake Bay, the steamed blue crab. Those of you who have had them will know what I'm talking about. Those who haven't need to try them.

Blue crabs (Callinectes sapidus) can be found along the Atlantic coast from Nova Scotia to Florida, the Gulf of Mexico, the Carribbean and along South America's Atlantic coast as far south as Argentina. Chesapeake watermen call them jimmies, sallies or sooks, depending on their gender and sexual maturity. Jimmies are male crabs, sallies are sexually immature females and sooks are sexually mature females, prized for their use in she-crab soup. A great resource for blue crab information can be found here.

If you get the chance to visit the Chesapeake Bay region of Maryland and Virginia the best way to indulge in a blue crab feast is to visit a local crab house, sometimes known as a crab shack. The best ones are the mom and pop operations that ecshew the faux nautical motif of their tourist friendly competitors. You know the places I'm talking about, the ones with names like The Bucket of Chum and the Rusty Something-or-other. No, the true crab house doesn't decorate it's walls with never-used fishing nets and shiny brass sextants and diving helmets. The interior of a real crab house is usually somewhat spartan and sometimes even ramshackle. That's because the proprietors of these joints are too busy cooking up some really good food to worry about what adorns their walls, and isn't the food really what it's all about? If there is an occasional crab pot or cork float used as decoration, chances are that it was actually used to catch a crab or two.

Case in point: on the south side of Baltimore's Inner Harbor, in a neighborhood known as Locust Point, a block or two from the Domino's Sugar plant, there's a place called L. P. Steamer's, housed in an unassuming building on the corner of Fort Avenue and Woodall Street. You would be forgiven if you drove past it any number of times without realizing the crabby delights that lie waiting within.

Opened thirteen years ago by a gentleman named Bud Gardner, L. P. Steamer's is a family run, local institution. They started with seven tables on the ground floor, and as their business grew they expanded upward until they reached the roof, where they built a dining deck that sports a nice view of the Inner Harbor. The expansion included the addition of Bud's grandsons to the staff. By the way, all the construction was done by family and friends. No architects, no contractors and no fake nautical motif.

Here, in traditional crab house style, brown paper covers the tables and the hot, steamed crabs are placed directly on it. Wooden mallets and knives are provided to facilitate the removal of the tender, slightly sweet blue crab meat. According to the folks at L. P. Steamer's, there are probably as many ways to pick and eat steamed crabs as there are crab pickers in Baltimore. That's probably true. Here is their way to unlock the delicate treasure within.

One of the great things about this place is that when you come in, they make you feel like you're a part of the family, and it's genuine. These are people who enjoy what they do. Alex McVee, one of the cooks, commutes an hour each way, every day because, in his words, "I feel like a part of the family." Katie Schroeder, who grew up in the neighborhood, left her career at a non-profit organization to work here for the very same reason. Try to find that at your local Cap'n Crabbies chain. Need more proof? Bud was more than willing to share the recipe for his family's renowned cole slaw recipe. I'm not a big fan of cole slaw, but this one won me over. I am not going to share the secret either; you're going to have to go there and try it yourself. You won't be disappointed.

If you can't get to the Chesapeake Bay area, you can still enjoy steamed blue crabs at home. Here's how it works. Get yourself a mess of crabs (live, of course), a big pot with a wire rack on the bottom to steam them in, crab spice and enough water for about fifteen minutes of steaming.

When it comes to crab spice, the major players are Old Bay and J.O. I grew up using Old Bay, but Nick Salyers (one of Bud Gardner's grandsons) told me that, at L. P. Steamer's, they use J. O. #2 because it is ground more coarsely and sticks to the crabs better. After seeing their crabs, I'm inclined to agree. Either one will be just fine, though.

Start the pot to boiling and when it does, place the crabs in layers in the pot, dusting each layer with crab spice. Be careful handling these guys. They're naturally aggressive and probably in no mood to be placed in a pot for steaming anyway. The claws can deliver a wicked pinch, and if they break the skin, some say that blood poisoning is possible. Use tongs or gloves if you can.

While layering the crabs is nice, in theory, in reality a heated battle will ensue among the bellicose crustacians, and they will literally tear each other limb from limb in their final throes. Some people place their crabs in ice water for a few minutes to subdue them and make for easier layering, with fewer liberated limbs. They taste just as good either way, but if appearance is important, give this option a try.

Once cooked, the blue crabs will be the typical cooked crustacian red.

Get yourself some crab whackers, or nut crackers, some some knives (fondue forks work nicely too) and enjoy. Try dipping the crab meat in some apple cider vinegar. It grows on you.

"But wait," you say. "What's the shocking truth about crabs that you promised in the title of this post?"

It all has to do with the pugnacious nature of the blue crab. Remember a couple of paragraphs ago when I said that blue crabs will tear each other limb from limb in the cooking pot and that one way to avoid that is to place them in an ice water bath? Well, to keep their crabs whole and esthetically pleasing, crab houses have come up with a way to subdue the little scrappers and ensure their cooperation during the steaming process. They shock them. With electricity. It's kind of like a crustacian tazer that immobilzes them and renders them incapable of lashing out against their fellow crabs (or man). Instead of ice in their final bath, they recieve a jolt of electricity that provides the necessary attitude adjustment. I'm just glad that I was not born so delicious.

A Passage to India

I am fortunate to have been to India several times. It is one of most facinating countries I have had the opportunity to visit. It is the home of one of the oldest continuous civilizations in the world, and although India has been conquered or colonized by several outside forces throughout the course of it's history, from Alexander the Great and the Moghuls to the British Empire, the country retains an unmistakable "Indian-ness" that persists in spite of foreign influence. India is also the birthplace of two of the world's great religions: Hinduism and Buddhism.

I spent about a month in India in 2007, shooting a documentary about snake charmers, known as "sapera" in hindi. The snake charmer is a stereotype, a tourist attraction, a faded image on old postcards. He is also a man struggling to survive in the face of stringent animal conservation laws that make his profession illegal.

In 1972, India passed the Wildlife Conservation Act. As a result, saperas can no longer ply their trade legally. Capturing and keeping any of the animals on the protected list is illegal. The law was passed in an effort to protect India’s endangered animals from poachers and skin traders. Prior to 1972, millions of snakes were caught killed and exported every year. While the law has done much to reduce that amount, it has also criminalized a community that makes it living from live snakes, a community that says it would never kill snakes. Snakes are revered in India, probably more so by them than by anyone else. But every day, saperas who are caught with snakes have them taken away from them. They are often beaten and put in prison.

Many of India's hardcore wildlife conservation groups like Wildlife SOS believe that the saperas are actively involved in the skin trade, that the snakes they do keep are mistreated and that all snake handling on their part should be discontinued. They should walk away from their traditions, be rehabilited, assimilated into modern society and work as drivers, typists, and computer operators. Since most sapera are uneducated and unskilled in other areas, they cannot find work. In a rapidly developing society, many of the younger generation of saperas are willing to put the traditions aside, but access to education is difficult to come by, especially in the rural areas. Added to this is the fact that the sapera community is quite poor. Many of these snake charmers now work as day laborers. Some of the more elderly have grown their hair long and have dressed as ascetics to beg for food.

One conservationist, Bahar Dutt, conservationist, believes that such expectations of “rehabilitation” are unrealistic and unfair. Not only do the sapera not have access to the kind of education needed for “rehabilitation” because of their poor economic status, she believes that the fiercely proud saperas want to maintain their traditions and ways. She wants to redirect the saperas’ knowledge in a way that is in compliance with the law, but that lets them keep their traditions and make a living.

She says that saperas should be employed in the rural areas as “bare feet conservation educators.” Sapera centers should be set up for them, which could be used for teaching people about snakes through lecture demonstrations by the saperas, promoting related livelihood practices like dairy farming, cultivation of medicinal plants and musical ensembles that use traditional sapera instruments like the been.

Whether or not Dutt’s goal will be realized, remains to be seen. But in the meantime, as the older saperas continue to work and live on the fringes of society, on the wrong side of the law, and more and more of the younger saperas move toward menial work, with no touchstone to their past, there is a fear that within a few generations, another tradition, steeped in history, mythology and wonder will vanish from the face of the earth.

Please enjoy a clip from Sapera: The snake Charmers of India below.

While shooting, our crew spent a lot of time in the rural areas of Haryana, in sapera villages like Wazirpur, where a sapera by the name of Ramdiya Nath is the local healer. Rural villages such as this one often do not have the amenities that we take for granted. Food, for instance, is often cooked over small fires that use dried cow dung as fuel. On one our visits with Ramdiya Nath, we had a lunch consisting of dry-fried okra, known as bhindi masala, and chapati, cooked in this way. I've recreated the recipe below.

BHINDI MASALA

INGREDIENTS

1/2 lb okra

1 small onion, diced

1 1/2 tablespoons vegetable oil or ghee

Pinch of asafoetida

1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds

1 tablespoon ground coriander

1/2 teaspoon cayenne (or less if you prefer a milder dish)

1/2 teaspoon turmeric

1/2 teaspoon mango powder

1 tablespoon gram flour (optional)

salt to taste

COOKING

Wash the okra and pat dry. Make sure to completely dry the okra, otherwise it will turn sticky.

Cut off the both ends of the okra, and into 1/2 inch slices. Set aside.

Heat the oil in a frying pan on medium-high heat.

Add the cumin seeds and asafetida. When the cumin seeds crack, add the ground coriander, cayenne pepper and turmeric and fry for 15 - 20 seconds.

Add the onions and sautee until they turn light brown, add the okra.

Add the okra and stir for a minute, then reduce the heat to medium and cover, cooking for two or three minutes.

Add gram flour (if using) and continue to stir-fry until the okra is tender.

Add the salt and mango powder. Cook for another minute. Add salt to taste and serve with chapati.

DAL
One of the staple foods of Indian cooking is dal, a thick spicy stew (for lack of a better term) made of lentils that have been stripped of their hulls and cooked until tender. Beans are often added, most notably in a dish known as dal makhani. Dal recipes can range from very simple to quite elaborate (in the case of dal makhani), but most preparations consist of lentils that have been boiled with turmeric and ginger, with a spice preparation known as tadka added at the end. A popular dish in Northern India is dal fry. It's filling, nutritious, and has a rich earthy flavor that is difficult to describe, but essential to taste. Try the recipe below. You won't be disappointed.

DAL FRY

INGREDIENTS

1 cup toovar dal, masoor dal or channa dal (or any combination of the three)

4 1/2 cups water

1/2 teaspoom turmeric

1 slice ginger slightly crushed

1 or 2 small dried, red chilies

1 tbsp chopped coriander

FOR TADKA

2 tbsp ghee or vegetable oil

1 tsp cumin seeds (or black mustard seeds if you prefer)

1 small tomato, peeled, seeded and diced (or 3 tbsp canned,crushed tomatoes)

1 cup fresh, roughly chopped spinach

COOKING THE DAL

Rinse dal and pick over to remove any foreign matter.

Cook dal in water over medium heat until dal is soft (usualy around 45 minutes, adding water if dal begins to look too dry)

Using a whisk, blend dal until smoothReduce heat to low while preparing the tadka

COOKING THE TADKA

Heat oil or ghee in a separate pan

Add cumin or mustard seeds and stir until they begin to pop

Add tomatoes and fry gently until oil starts to separate

Add spinach and fry until well wilted

Stir tadka into lentils and heat an additional few minutes

Sprinkle chopped coriander over dal and serve with chapati, naan or rice.

Chinese Dumplings in Canada?

O Canada!
Our home and native land...

-Now in French!-
Ton front est cient de fleurons glorieux

Car ton bras sait porter l'épée...

-Now for our Inuit friends!-
Sanggijulutillu
Nangiqpugu, Uu Kanata

Canada, like its neighbor and ally to the south, US (catch the clever wordplay here?), is a polyglot nation of transplantees (except for the Inuit and othe native peoples), comprised historically of English, Irish, Scottish and French folk. As a result it suffers from a crisis of identity not unlike the one suffered by... well, us. Actually, Canada is a relatively well-adjusted and contented country, and the only identity crisis that I know of involves the conflict between mainstream, English-speaking Canada and some radical, French speaking(and, I think, only by tradition) Quebecois secessionists.

I, and countless other wiseasses, like to mock Canada, but let's face it, Canada has a lot of things going for it. Things like universal health care, a much lower crime rate than the U.S. and civil rights that we can only dream of. The first, and only, time I saw the Northern Lights was outside of Calgary. It was truly awesome, not in a mid-90s surf punk kind of way, but in a "there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio" kind of way. It was about two or three in the morning and I had to pull off to the side of the road and just watch until it was over. Let's not forget, either, that alot of bootleg liquor from across the Saint Lawrence River kept us smiling during prohibition. And, yes, the Canadian falls are better.

American Falls

Canadian Falls

See what I mean? But we're here to talk about food , and talk we shall. So then , you may ask, what do they eat in Canada? Wikipedia lists Butter tarts (essentially little pecan pies), pancakes and syrup, and Kraft Dinner (known as Kraft Macaroni and Cheese in the lower forty-eight) as some of the national dishes of Canada. True foodies are probably getting very nervous right about now.

Fear not intrepid reader, because Canada actually has a rich and varied cuisine that draws from all its native and immigrant culinary traditions. Wild blueberries, seafood, wild game fowl, fiddlehead ferns, chantrelles, morels all find their way into the cooking of the great white north. Possibly the best seafood chowder I ever had was in Nova Scotia, in a little fishing village known as Peggy's Cove, in a little restaurant called The Sou'Wester Restaurant and Giftshop, and one of my favorite dumpling shops is Toronto's Chinatown (more about that in a moment).

I spent this past weekend in the province of Ontario, Toronto specifically. Sitting on the northwest shore of Lake Ontario, Toronto is a pastiche of cultures from all across the globe. English, French, Caribbean, Indian, Chinese, African, Ukranian and Afghani are just a few of the nationalities that call this city home. A drive down Eglinton Avenue from Etobicoke to central Toronto is like a twenty minute world tour. An Indian restaurant sits catty-cornered to a falafel shop, which is just up the block from an Italian bistro. Want some Jamaican oxtail stew instead? Drive a little further. The city has its strictly ethnic neighborhoods too. Aside from Chinatown and Little Italy (which every major city seems to have), you'll find Koreatown, Little Portugal, Little India and Greektown. There are also places like the bohemian Kensington Market that have a little bit of everything, from vintage clothing shops to fresh produce and international cheese shops. Click here for a photo tour of Kensington Market.

You may remember me saying that one of my favorite dumpling shops is in Toronto. It's called Dumpling House Restaurant, and it's located on Spadina Avenue, right in the heart of Toronto's Chinatown.


Only four years old, this little eatery has acquired a loyal following, and for good reason.They take pan fried dumplings, a Chinese favorite, and give them a unique twist.Their dumplings have a lacy, crispy crust that lends a textural counterpoint to the soft, savory dumplings laying beneath. Here are a few pictures of the process.


Jing Wang, who works there, told me that dumplings are not made this way in China and that the owner, Hong Xian Zhang, invented the crust to make their's stand out from Toronto's only other dumpling house. Their strategy has obviously worked. If you're ever in Toronto, make it a point to visit. If not, I'm working on recreating their recipe. The dough and filling are pretty close, but the lace crust is giving me a bit of a hard time. I know that the batter contains water, rice vinegar and wheat flower. The proper proportions are still eluding me, though. I'll report back and provide the recipe once I get it right. Until then, it's back to the kitchen.

The Perils of Pine Nuts

This morning I was warming up some beef broth for a recipe. When I tasted it for salt, I noticed that it had a bitter, almost metalic flavor. I threw it out, even though it was homemade and I had in the freezer for less than a month. For some reason it had obviously gone bad. When I ate the dish I had cooked (without the beef broth), it too had that same bitter taste, which lasted for some time after I had finished eating.

This afternoon, I made a ham and swiss sandwich out of cold cuts I had just purchased from the market. Bitter, metalic taste again. I removed the cheese and tried again. Same result.

I took to the internet to investigate the causes for a bitter, metalic taste in the mouth. All the usual suspects popped up: negative reaction to medication, gingivitis, liver disease, brain cancer... none of these seemed right. I came upon one forum, however, that seemed to deal with this very phenomenon. Dozens of people around the world had, and continue to, experience the same symptoms as me. And all the signs pointed to pine nuts. Yes, pine nuts. Those little white seeds that figure prominantly in so many recipes around the world, from italian pesto to middle-eastern kibbeh. I remembered that, while talking to a friend last night, I was munching on some pine nuts that I had purchased from Wegman's earlier in the week.

Pine nuts are harvested from the seed cones of several different conifers that grow in various parts of the world. In the souwest U.S., in countries around the Mediterranian, and in parts of Asia. The culprits in this case seem to be ones imported from Asia, most specifically China, although Russian, Korean and Vietnamese imports may also cause the same effect.

This "pine nut effect" has been noted in a number of places. Wikipedia's article on pine nuts includes a section titled RISKS OF EATING PINE NUTS. The European Journal of Emergency Medicine also describes the phenomenon, noting that "Examination of the pine nuts revealed they were oxidized and not fit for consumption."

The good news is that this nasty tast in the mouth is not a real health concern and will go away. The bad news is that it can take up to a couple of weeks to do so. To avoid suffering the same fate as me, avoid Chinese pine nuts and only use those that are grown in either the U.S. or Italy, and make sure they are from a place that has a lot of turnover in their pine nut supply.

If you are interested in reading more about this, here are some blogs and forums that may be of interest:

Pine nuts, origin and the bitter taste...

Bitter taste after eating for days - caused by pine nuts?

Bitter taste in mouth after eating

In the meantime, I am hoping that my taste buds return to normal in time for my trip to Toronto on Friday. After all, I have things to eat.

Turkish Delights

Istanbul, once known as Constantinople, the heart of ancient Byzantium, and headquarters of the Ottoman Empire. I had the opportunity to spend a delightful two days there back in early 2002, not nearly enough time to experience the myriad sights and sounds. But it's better than not going there at all.

Some of the memorable things? Topkapi Palace (the official residence of Ottoman Sultans), The Hagia Sofia, my visit to a real Turkish hammam, and of course, the food. All of these are located in the neighborhood known as Sultanahmet, a promontory that separates the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara. While my visit to Topkapi and the Hagia Sofia were memorable experiences, the hour I spent at the Cemberlitas Hammam left the most lasting impression on me. Click here to visit their website.

The Cemberlitas Hammam is located within walking distance of most of the attractions of the district, and guide books will tell you that after (or before, depending on your disposition) a grueling day of sightseeing, there is nothing better than a nice shvitz and massage at a traditional Turkish bath.

Here's what happened when I went there. After undressing and wrapping myself in a towel, sarong style, I was led into the "warm room," which is heated by hot, dry air, not unlike the familiar Scandinavian sauna. It's here that you work up a good sweat, rinse off, then move on to the main event. I was brought in to a huge domed room, in the center of which is a large stone slab, heated by wood fires underneath. It is really humid in here. After relaxing on the slab for a while, a bath attendant came and scrubbed me from head to toe, lathering me with soapsuds so thich and dense that I've heard of people actually going missing for several days in these huge, billowy clouds. If you're looking for a good exfoliation, look no further. The attendant then rinsed me off with buckets of warm water, using a technique that may well have been the original inspiration for waterboarding.

Next, the massage. I quickly came to realize that that the hammam experience is really just a beating that you receive in a large, insanely hot and humid room. A beating administered by a large, insanely strong Turkish man. First, the deep muscle massage. When I say deep, I mean that while massaging my back muscles, my masseur was able to simultaneously massage both my left and right ventricles. He then proceeded to bend me into shapes that I never thought the human body could be bent into. I vaguely recall contemplating the details of the soles of my feet and silently praying for the sweet release of death. CIA take note; I would have confessed to anything at that point.

Lest you start snickering about hot, sweaty, half-naked men together in one room (women have their own facilities), conjuring up images of New York's infamous turkish baths, let me assure you that there is no funny stuff going on in these places. Although that wasn't always the case.

According to our old friend Wikipedia, "Traditionally, the masseurs in the baths, tellak in Turkish, who were young boys who helped wash clients by soaping and scrubbing their bodies. They also worked as sex workers. We know today, by texts left by Ottoman authors, who they were, their prices, how many times they could bring their customers to orgasm, and the details of their sexual practices... After the defeat and dismemberment of the Ottoman empire, in the quickly westernizing Turkish republic the tellak boys lost their sexual aspect, and now the tellak's role is filled by adult attendants who specialize in more prosaic forms of scrubbing and massage."

After my relaxing massage, I was led into the cold room to drink some tea, cool down and try to regain some of the feeling in my extremities. All this for about 28,000,000 Turkish liras (about $20.00). After all was said and done, I actualy did feel relaxed, and when I was dressed and back out on the street, I was ready to find a restaurant for some good Turkish fare.

And find it I did. Here are a couple of dishes I had that are easy to make and very easy to enjoy. The first is called pilaki, a stewed bean dish that is traditionally made with a bean called barbunya, difficult to obtain here in the U.S. I've substitued white beans for this recipe. Most turkish restaurants over here do the same. The second dish is called coban salatsi, shepherd's salad, which contains cucumber, tomatoes, and (hence the name) feta cheese. Pease try and enjoy.

WHITE BEAN PILAKI

INGREDIENTS
1 can small white beans, drained and rinsed
1 small onion, diced
1 clove garlic, sliced thinly
1/2 carrot, peeled and diced
1/2 celery stalk, diced
1 small potato, peeled and diced
1 large tomato, seeded and diced
2/3 cup olive oil
water
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp sugar

COOKING

1. Heat the oil and add garlic and onion. Sautee for 2 - 3 minutes
2. Add carrots and continue to sautee for 2 minutes
3. Add celery and potato and sautee and additional 2 minutes
4. Add beans and tomato, and enough water to just submerge all the vegetables.
5. Add salt and sugar, and simmer on low heat for 1 hour.
6. Cool to room temperature and serve with elmek (turkish bread) or greek style pita. For a recipe for elmek, click here. I have not tried this recipe yet, but I'll reports the results when I do.

COBAN SALATSI - SHEPHERD'S SALAD

INGREDIENTS

1/2 cup cucumber, diced
2 tomatoes, diced
1 cubanelle pepper
1/2 red onion, sliced
1/4 cup fresh mint
2 tsp lemon juice
2-3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
20 ounces feta cheese, crumbled
Salt
Pepper

DIRECTIONS

Place all the vegetables in a medium size salad bowl. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add the feta, lemon juice and olive oil and toss together. Serve along with pilaki for a light summer lunch.

Russian Pelmeni

In January of 2002, I had the opportunity to spend some time in Turkmenistan. At the time, the country was ruled by Saparmyrat Niyazov, a.k.a. the Turkmenbashy (which roughly translates as “the father of all Turkmen”). He was widely criticized as being one of the most totalitarian, repressive and egotistic dictators in the world, imposing his personal eccentricities upon his people. But he was also one of the funniest. Some examples of his wackier side: he renamed the months of the year after members of his family, declared a public holiday for melons, and had the Neutrality Arch built in honor of his pledge to keep Turkmenistan out of any “international arguments.” What a nice guy. It’s a 75 meter tall, three-legged monument which symbolizes, in addition to the implied cowardice of his neutrality pledge, the traditional trivet on which a Turkmen cooking pot sits. I guess that’s why there’s also a restaurant inside. Oh, and glass elevators.

The cherry on top of this crazy cupcake is a twelve foot, gold-plated statue of him with outstretched arms, which rotates so that the president always faces the sun. According to some people I spoke to about this, it was meant to show that the very heavens shone down upon his reign… sorry, presidency. This little conceit only cost the county around 12 million dollars in 1998. A mere bag of shells for one the poorest and least developed of the former soviet republics. I’m not even going to write about the preponderance of fountains in Ashgabat, the capital of one the driest counties in the world.

The great Turkmenbashy was also the alleged author of a tome called The Ruhnama (required reading for all students), a cavalier rewriting of Turkmen history and social philosophy, containing, among other things, the word of God transmitted by divine inspiration to the Turkmenbashy himself. According to some (probably the Turkmenbashy), he even persuaded God to ensure that any student who read the book three times would automatically get into paradise. Talk about E-Zpass.

Like I said, the Turkmenbashy was a funny guy, unless you happened to be a citizen of Turkmenistan.

Anyway, you may be wondering why I’m writing about Turkmenistan when this entry is about Russian food. Well, although traditional Turkmen food is closely related to the food of other central Asian countries and has links to the Middle East as well as India, Turkmenistan was a part of the former Soviet Union. Because of this, good deal of traditional Russian dishes can be found there (mostly served in restaurants). Also, I haven’t been to Russia proper. Yet.

One of the most famous Russian foods is pelmeni, a kind of Eurasian tortellini. They most likely originated in Mongolia and made their way through Central Asia and into Europe because they were easily preserved (especially in Siberia, where frozen food wasn’t a convenience, it was a fact of life), traveled well and taste pretty darn good.

If you live near a Russian deli or supermarket, you can buy them frozen. They are a filling meal that cooks quickly and easily (you just boil them in water or broth), but most Russians still prefer the tradition of making them by hand, and no self-respecting Russian housewife would consider serving her family the pre-made variety. They’re strictly for single men, hence the nickname, “bachelor food.”

Pelmeni are fairly easy to make, if a little time consuming, but if you have a couple of hours to spend, try making a batch and freezing them. You’ll have plenty of these little rib stickers on hand to get you through those long, cold Siberian nights. You might even want to curl up with a copy of The Ruhnama, just for laughs.

INGREDIENTS
2½ cups flour
½ tsp salt
3 eggs
1 tbsp vegetable oil
½ to 1 cup milk or water
½ pound ground beef
½ pound ground pork
1 onion, finely diced
Salt
Pepper

MAKE THE DOUGH

1. Combine the dry ingredients in a food processor fitted with a metal blade and pulse a couple of times to mix. Beat the three eggs with the oil.



2. With the food processor running, add the eggs and oil.



3. Slowly add enough milk until a soft, but not sticky, ball forms.



4. Remove dough and knead on a floured board for a few minutes, until the dough feels silky.



5. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let rest for about 30 minutes.

MAKE THE FILLING
I really recommend using a meat grinder for making the filling, because you will get the best texture by passing the beef and pork twice through the smallest plate. If you don’t have one, you’ll have to work the mixture a little more by hand. If you like cooking, though, consider getting one (more about meat grinders in another installment).

1. Combine ground beef, pork and diced onion in a bowl.



2. Work the mixture by hand until it is almost like a smooth paste.



3. Season with salt and pepper. Add a little more salt than you would normally add to a meat mixture. Some of the salt will leach out when they are cooked. Test by frying up a little piece.

Note: You can also make a vegetarian filling by finely dicing onions and mushrooms and sautéing them, adding salt and pepper to taste. Remember, add a little more salt than you would normally add if you were eating them as is. Some of the salt will leach out when they are cooked.

ASSEMBLE THE PELMENI

TRADITIONAL METHOD

1. Cut the dough into three equally sized pieces and roll each one into a cylinder the diameter of a finger.



2. Cut each cylinder into pieces the size of a walnut, then roll each piece into a very thin flat cake (about 1/16 of an inch) with a diameter of about 2 inches.



3. Put some of the ground meat mixture in the center of each flat cake (quite a lot, but not so much that you can't then seal up the dough).



4. Lightly wet the edge of the dough, then fold the dough in half and join up the edges to seal them.Bring the corners of the pelmeni together and pinch them to seal them.

EASIER METHOD
I use a pasta machine for this step. It just makes my life easier in this regard. Get one if you can, you’ll be putting it to good use.

1. Cut the dough into two or three pieces, and flatten out each piece to less than ½ inch thick.



2. Pass the dough through successive settings on the pasta machine until you have sheets about 1/16 of an inch thick.



3. Cut out circles of dough using a 2 inch cookie cutter, or, in my case, a 10 ounce tomato sauce can with the lid removed.



4. Put some of the ground meat mixture in the center of each flat cake (quite a lot, but not so much that you can't then seal up the dough).



5. Lightly wet the edge of the dough, then fold the dough in half and join up the edges to seal them.



6. Bring the corners of the pelmeni together and pinch them to seal them.

Don’t throw away the dough trimmings. Work them together into another ball and pass through the pasta machine again. You’ll be surprised at how many more dough circles you’ll get. Do this until your dough (or filling) is used up.

COOKING PELMENI
Boil fresh pelmeni about five minutes in either broth or water. Frozen pelmeni take about seven to eight minutes.

Serve pelmeni with one of the following: butter and salt, sour cream and dill, sour cream and vinegar, or as a soup with meat broth. You can also serve them with a traditional Russian salad of chopped cucumbers and tomatoes with mayonnaise or sour cream.

Welcome

Welcome and thanks for visiting EthnoFoodie. This being my first post, let me tell you a little about myself and why I’m doing this. I have worked in the television industry for close to twenty years and I have been fortunate enough to have traveled to five of the seven continents in that time. I’ve been to war zones and resorts, seen poverty as well as opulence. And in all of those places I have done what everybody, everywhere, does. I have eaten. I’ve eaten everything from beluga caviar in New York City to skewered lamb’s liver in Afghanistan. I’ve experienced hospitality in the most unlikely of places and broken bread where bread was considered a precious commodity. As a result of my travels (and love of food) I’ve come to realize that one of the best reflections of a culture is what, and how, they eat.

When Marshall McLuhan first posed the idea of the global village, the communications boom was still in its infancy. Now, more than thirty years later, we have almost fully realized the impact of McLuhan's prediction. Satellite-based communications and the internet place far flung lands at our fingertips. In less than twenty four hours you can touch down on the opposite side of the earth.

Fortunately, the staggering monotony that might exist in a world made smaller in this way has been kept to a minimum. There are still places that remain uncorrupted by McDonald's, places that are not drowning in sea of Coke and Budweiser, washed clean of tradition and any indigenous flavor.

There are still places where English isn't spoken, and the sound of it is as alien to the people who live there as ancient Sanskrit would be to us. There are still places where one's mere presence will turn heads and start hushed conversations about who the oddly dressed stranger is that's strolling through the local market.

Now, there's nothing wrong with McDonald's, Coke, Budweiser, Levi's jeans, or any of a hundred other products that seem to symbolize "American" culture around the world. They do symbolize American culture (at least in part.) But that's just it. They're a part of American culture. I knew someone who had the opportunity to go to Japan. When he got back to the states I asked him how the food was, especially the sushi. He told me that he and his family ate at a McDonald’s in Tokyo for every meal. What a shame! He had an opportunity and he wasted it.

When I’m stuck stateside between travels, ethnic dining is a fantastic way to travel to another land, whether it’s to a place you’ve been before or a place you’ve never been. I have yet to go to Ethiopia, but a serving of Doro Wat can transport me to the east coast of Africa, if only for a little while. A good bowl of seafood chowder can take me back to Nova Scotia and a little place called Peggy’s Cove.

The world is an interesting place. It's not always pretty. It's not always safe. But it's definitely interesting. I welcome you to EthnoFoodie, and invite you to join me on a journey of adventure and discovery. Oh yeah, and some really good food.