Idli with South Indian Butternut Dal

Ahoy Foodies!

This week I am giving you a bit of science experiment-type recipe. You know the kind: a project that you can tinker with over a rainy weekend that takes a bit of soaking, peeking, grinding and then fermenting. They're idli, a south Indian invention of spongy rice-lentil cakes that are made from hulled black lentils (urad dal) and rice that are soaked, ground, fermented and steamed. Idlis have a slight fermented flavor (think Ethiopian flatbread, only milder, white and puck shaped) and a comforting texture that lends them to the breakfast food or a snack category in India. I serve them as a starch with a coconut based dal (lentil soup) for lunch, dinner, and if there are any leftovers, breakfast too. The recipe is adapted from Mangoes and Curry Leaves: Culinary Travels Through The Great Subcontinent, by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, my idols.

Making the batter involves soaking the little white lentil bits (available at Indian markets) and the rice overnight in separate bowls. Next you drain them, grind with a touch of water and leave the batter to ferment at least overnight, if not for 24 hours. That part is pretty flexible, the longer you ferment them, the more flavorful and puffy the idli, but even 4 hours yields a pretty tasty rice'n'lentil puck, especially if you add a few tablespoons of plain yogurt to add a sour note. In the summer the fermentation takes place all by itself, but in the winter idli need a little help. I've found that if you place the bowl of batter on a heating pad set on low, the batter will ferment quite well. It will begin to look a bit bubbly and puffy and it will smell a tiny bit yeasty. It sounds crazy, but it's really simple, and the fermenting not only adds loads of flavor, it also breaks down some of the indigestible starches, making the dal easier to digest.


Idli are usually steamed in an ingenious little stacked unit of metal plates (see above) that have shallow indents in them, or a plastic microwave version of the same. I paid a whopping $12 for mine. You can find idli steamer racks or "trees" at Southeast Asian and Indian stores, or you can use an egg poacher or custard dishes stacked in a bamboo steamer instead.

If the idli experiment is too much for you, just try mt creamy, exotic flavored dal recipe, it's wonderful ladled over plain bastmati rice. Or you can buy idli mix (no science lab necessary) at Indian groceries, just add water and steam. But really, what is the geeky food-chemistry fun in that?

Idli with South Indian Butternut Squash Dal
Serves 6 (makes 16-20 3-inch idli discs)

For the idli:
1/2 cup urad dal (hulled, split black lentils, which are actually cream-colored)
1 1/2 cups long grain rice
1 cup warm water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 tablespoons melted ghee or butter

For the dal:
3 tablespoons ghee or vegetable oil
1 1/2 teaspoons brown mustard seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1o fresh curry leaves
1 black cardamom
1 1/2 cups minced onion
1 cup chana dal (dried split, hulled garbanzo beans), soaked for 4 hours, drained
3 cups grated raw butternut squash
4 cups water
1 can coconut milk
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 serrano chile, minced

Make the idli. Rinse the urad dal in several changes of water, cover with water and soak for 8 to 12 hours. Drain and rinse. Do the same with the rice in a separate bowl. Blend the drained urad dal and 1/2 cup warm water in a blender, stopping to scrape down sides. Process until mixture is smooth paste. Pour into a glass or plastic bowl. Add the drained rice to the blender, add all but 2 tablespoons of the remaining warm water to blender and blend until smooth. Add to bowl with ground urad dal, using the remaining water to swish out the blender. Stir in the salt, cover with plastic and nestle the bowl onto a heating pad set on low heat. Allow mixture to ferment for 8 to 24 hours. Peek once in awhile and inhale the fermenty goodness. Make sure your heating pad doesn't get too hot or you will cook the batter!

About 1 hour and 20 minutes before you want to eat, make the dal. Heat the ghee in a 2-quart saucepan over medium heat. Add the mustard and cumin seeds and cook until the mustard seeds have popped, about 1 minute. Add the cardamom, curry leaves and onions and cook until onions are beginning to brown, 8 minutes. Add the drained chana dal, squash, water, turmeric, coconut milk and 1 teaspoon of salt and bring to a simmer. Cook over medium low heat, stirring frequently until the dal is tender, about 1 hour.

Thirty minutes before the dal is done cooking, steam the idi batter. Sprinkle the baking soda over the batter and very gingerly fold it into the batter. Try not to knock too much air out of it or the idli will be too dense...you want them to be puff-puff-puffy. Brush the idli indents liberally with melted ghee. Ladle about 2 tablespoons of the batter into each indent, stack the steamer and place it in a pot with about 2 inches of water in the bottom. Put the pot over high heat and when the water in the bottom has come to a boil, cover the pot, reduce heat to maintain a simmer and cook until the idli are springy to the touch and cooked through, about 30 minutes.

Season the dal with the additional 1/2 teaspoon of salt, if necessary. Use a small off set spatula to loosen the idli from the steamer. Serve the idli with a bowl of dal. Sprinkle with serrano chile if you like it a bit of spice. (In the unlikely event you have leftover idli, store them in a ziplock bag once cool in the refrigerator. Reheat by microwaving with a damp paper towel over the top.)

Greek Baked Orzo and Meatballs or "Eatballs"

Ahoy Foodies!

Lately I have been craving Greek food--rich casseroles of moussaka, pastitsio, octopus stew, and above all baked orzo bobbing with herby meatballs. It's not soul food for me in the sense that I certainly didn't grow up on such exotic fare. But it is memory-food all the same. You see, when I was the ripe old age of 17, my parents shipped me off to Greece as part of AFS, a foreign exchange program, mostly to get rid of me, but also to "broaden my horizons," which meant they hated my boyfriend.

When I announced the news to my small town friends, they were horrified. I was going to be missing the whole summer, they warned me. A summer, I remember pointing out to them, that would consist of driving around the McDonald's parking lot trying to find out where the parties were.

I was placed with a host family completely randomly. Fortunately, the foodie gods smiled down upon me: I was placed with Nicolas and Despina Kritharalis retired pastry chefs/bakery owners in far northern Greece on the Aegean sea. They brought me in to teach their athletic, super- hyper daughter Penny how to speak English. That didn't really work, since Penny was too busy at the track practicing her discus throwing and javelin skills (I kid you not).

In the meantime, I spent most of my time in the kitchen watching Despina and Nicolas cook. I had no idea what they were saying, but I wrote down what they were doing. I still have that sauce-stained Hello Kitty notebook, and it is full of really great Greek recipes that I learned by watching. This week, I give you their baked orzo with lamb meatballs.


It's a particularly good recipe if you're busy because the orzo bakes in broth with vegetables and a good amount of oregano and dill, no boiling and draining necessary. Despina would add braised lamb chunks or Keftedes-- tender, almost creamy meatballs seasoned with fresh mint and oregano. If you don't have the time, you can buy premade beef or turkey meatballs instead. For Mr. Tofu, I bake a separate gratin of orzo with Nate's Mushroom Meatballs, which he always eats second helping of.

Ah, Greece. I have such fond memories of the 3 hour lunches on the Kritharalis' patio overlooking the Aegean sea. The stewed goat, olive oil french fries, octopus in red wine, little donut holes soaked in honey syrup. Was I ever homesick? Did I miss my boyfriend or driving around with my friends in old station wagons? Uh, no. Instead, I got to dive off rocks into the sea, go to discos until 3 in the morning, and eat the best Greek food on the planet. I gained 10 pounds, and I'll never regret a bite of it.

Greek Baked Orzo and Meatballs or Eatballs
Serves 1 to 2 vegetarians and 3 omnivores

For the orzo:

2 tablespoons Greek olive oil

1 1/2 cups finely chopped onion

2 celery stalks, chopped

1 small green bell pepper, seeded and chopped

3 cloves finely chopped garlic

1 15-ounce can diced tomatoes, with juice

1 teaspoon dried oregano

1 teaspoon dried dill

1 1/2 cups orzo

4 1/3 cups water mixed with 4 teaspoons Harvest Vegetarian Chicken Broth Bouillon Powder

4 ounces creamy feta cheese, crumbled (for topping pasta last ten minutes of baking)

For the meatballs and eatballs:

1 slice of sandwich bread, torn into tiny pieces

3 tablespoons plain yogurt

8 ounces lean ground lamb

1 1/2 teaspoons minced garlic, smashed to a paste

1 teaspoon onion powder

2 teaspoons minced fresh mint

1/2 teaspoon oregano

1 egg yolk

3 tablespoons finely crumbled feta cheese

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 tablespoons Greek olive oil, divided

7 prepared vegetarian meatballs (such as Nate's brand mushroom meatballs)

Preheat oven to 350°. Heat the olive oil in a large saute pan over medium heat. Add the onions, celery, and bell peppers and saute until onion is tender, 8 minutes. Add the garlic, oregano and dill, saute 20 seconds. Add the tomatoes and simmer for 1 minute. Take pan off of the heat and add the orzo. Stir to combine.

Transfer 3 cups of the orzo-vegetable mixture to a 2-quart capacity baking dish and pour 3 1/3 cups of the bouillon mixture over the orzo. Transfer to oven. Vegetarian: Pour the remaining 1 cup of the orzo-vegetable mixture to a 4-cup baking dish. Add the remaining bouillon mixture and transfer to the oven.

Bake the orzo for 30 minutes. While the orzo is baking, make the meatballs. Combine the bread and yogurt in a medium bowl and allow it to soften for a few minutes. Add the ground beef, garlic, onion powder, oregano, mint, egg yolk, cheese, salt, and pepper and squish and stir until the mixture is well blended. Form into small meatballs.

Vegetarian: Heat 1 tablespoon of the oil in a saute pan over medium high heat. Add the eatballs and cook until browned on all sides. Transfer to a plate.

Return the pan to medium heat, add the remaining tablespoon of oil and when it is hot, add the meatballs. Cook until browned on all sides and nearly cooked through, 10 minutes. Drain.

Take the baking dishes out of oven and stir pasta gently. Add the eatballs to the small baking dish, pushing them into the pasta slightly. Add the meatballs to the larger baking dish. Sprinkle both dishes with the feta cheese and continue to bake until the sauce is bubbling, 10 minutes. Let stand for 10 minutes before serving, the pasta will absorb moisture as it cools.

Creamy Autumn Vegetable Soup with Smoked Paprika Oil

Autumn Goodies From Winter Green Farm
Ahoy Foodies!

Is it just me or is this not the BEST time to visit farmer's markets and cook? I trotted over to the new f.m. in my neighborhood (King Farmer's Market) this Sunday and between the gorgeous Rouge Vif D'Etamps squash (which always remind me of Cinderella's pumpkin carriage) to the last of the year's eggplant, I got all geeked-out and high from all the vegetable goodness.

I was so veggie-high in fact, that I bought a lot of really beautiful stuff, especially the organic celery root and other autumny goodness from Winter Green Farm. Almost more than I could carry. I didn't realize that I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do with all of it until I tried to cram it all in the fridge. There was no way in hell it was all going to fit in there, so I needed to figure out something quick.

Which reminded me of my old pal Trina. Trina is a great chef with a wickedly wry sense of humor and kitchen smarts like I've never seen. One day while we were slaving away at a now defunct-catering company, I looked at the clock and realized in panic that it was almost the lunch hour and we hadn't made the daily soup for our lunch rush. I asked Trina what in the world we were going to do. She stopped slicing meat, arched her left eyebrow and said, "I dunno, cream of walk-in."

"Walk-in" is kitchen speak for a walk-in refrigerator. Trina calmly went into the walk-in, grabbed a bunch of vegetables, sweated them in butter, added housemade chicken stock and simmered it for 40 minutes. She pureed the soup with an immersion blender and added cream. The results? A rich, silky smooth soup with great vegetable flavor in under an hour. It was a big hit with our daily lunch crowd and with me. I've never forgotten it.

Yesterday, I applied the same "cream of walk-in" strategy to my farmer's market booty, plus some bits and bobs I found in the vegetable keeper. Instead of chicken stock, I used water and a few tablespoons of Harvest brand Vegetarian Bouillon Mix-Chicken Flavor (available at Asian markets and by clicking the link) so Mr. Tofu could enjoy the soup too. For a snazzy topping, I drizzled bowls of soup with a blend of light olive oil and smoked Spanish paprika. Whizzed in the blender, the two ingredients combine to make a brilliant orange condiment that looks lovely drizzled on soups and lends a subtle smoky flavor to everything it touches.

As for the vegetable in the soup, I've listed what I used, but feel free to use whatever veggies you have on hand with the caveat that really strong flavored stuff like broccoli may hijack the flavor if used in too large of a quantity. Stick to the 6 pounds of mixed vegetables:8 cups water or stock:1 cup cream and you'll have yourself a big pot of vegetable comfort in no time. Call it "cream of vegetable keeper," if you like.

Creamy Autumn Vegetable Soup with Smoked Paprika Oil
Serves: an Army

1 1/2 pounds celery root (green stalks attached and set aside), peeled and chopped
2 tablespoons of butter
1 small onion, chopped
2 medium carrots (6 ounces)
2 parsnips (about 8 ounces), peeled and chopped
2 ounces fennel bulb (feathery leaves discarded), chopped
Three 3-inch long sprigs fresh thyme
1 1/2 pounds Yukon gold potatoes, peeled and chopped
3 ears of corn, kernels shaved off cob (15 ounces corn kernels)
8 cups cold water
2 tablespoons Harvest Vegetarian Bouillon Mix-Chicken Flavor1 cup heavy cream
4 tablespoons mild olive oil
2 tablespoons Spanish smoked Paprika
Freshly ground black pepper

Chop about 5 of the celery root stalks finely. Melt the butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add the celery root stalks (not the root yet), onion, carrots, parsnips, fennel and thyme sprigs. Cover and cook until the vegetables are tender but have not colored, about 5 minutes.

Add the potatoes, celery root, corn, and water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover and simmer gently until the vegetables smoosh easily when pressed against the side of the pot, about 45 minutes. Taste and add the bouillon mix if needed. Blend with an immersion blender, or allow soup to cool for 10 minutes and blend in blender in batches. Run blended soup through a food mill with the finest disc, or pass it through a fine-mesh sieve back into the pot.

Add the cream to the soup and heat over low heat until hot throughout, about 5 minutes. While the soup is reheating, make the smoked paprika oil. Combine the oil and paprika in a blender and run until thoroughly blended, about 3 minutes. Transfer to a squeeze bottle with fine tip.
Ladle the soup into warm bowls, grind black pepper over each bowl and drizzle with paprika oil.

Ma Po Tofu For Mr. Tofu (And Mrs. Bacon)

Ma Po Tofu For Mr. Tofu

Ahoy Foodies!

I know, I have been neglecting you for the last few weeks. It's no excuse, but here goes anyway: I was minding my own business, chopping, stirring and typing and I got a call from the editor of a big magazine. I mean like, BIG. And apparently this mag is sticking around. Out of the blue they decided that they liked my first book, The Farm to Table Cookbook and they asked me to write a 9-recipe feature about spring vegetables. So needless to say, I've been elated and busy in the kitchen for the past few weeks. Happily dancing about with asparagus, artichokes and peas.

In between all of that, my second book, The Adaptable Feast, appeared on the shelves at my local New Seasons Market and on the virtual shelves of Amazon and Powell's. Very exciting, Adaptable Feast is finally available to the masses! SO, if you like my recipes, or live with a Mr. or Mrs. Tofu yourself, or are anticipating sharing the holidays with someone of a different diet, or know someone who is, order AF here. If you'd like to have a copy signed, see my appearance schedule, including Wordstock, here. Thanks!

Now, on to the food. I love ma po tofu. The name is said to refer to a pock-marked grandmother/restaurateur in the Szechuan province of China who first served a dish of silky tofu swathed in a sauce of black bean sauce, Szechuan pepper and ground pork. I've always found it kind of funny that there exists dishes that combine tofu with meat, seems counter-intuitive. But when meat is scarce and tofu is not, meat becomes a flavor agent, a condiment. And that's a fine, healthy way of eating. In cultures where tofu isn't considered food only for tree-hugging hippies, it makes sense.
Ma Po Tofu For Meat Eaters

The Szechuan peppercorns in this dish will amplify the chili heat, and make your lips and tongue a bit numb. It's a fantastic sensation, if you like that sort of thing. Szechuan peppercorns aren't from the pepper family, but rather the prickly ash tree. Until recently they were banned by the USDA from being imported into the U.S. because they might contain a citrus canker disease that, if introduced into the country, might wipe out all of our citrus trees. So for years we've lived without. A few years ago the ban was lifted, now it's fairly easy to find it at gourmet shops and Asian markets. If you don't have it, just substitute black pepper in this recipe. Between me, you and the Cuisinart, it's not my favorite thing, so I use it in moderation.

But what about the meat in it? For Mr. Tofu, the sauce gets tofu crumbles (also notice his bowl has no broccoli on it. He hates it. Can't imagine why.) I add cooked ground pork or beef for my portion, so we're both a little numb and tingly. Hope you like it, and thanks for checking back in with Ivy's Feast! I'll be here more often from now on, I promise.

Ma Po Tofu for Everyone
Serves 2 vegetarians and 2 omnivores

2 tablespoons garlic chili paste such as Sambal Olek brand
1 1/2 tablespoons Chinese rice wine
1 tablespoon sugar
1 heaping tablespoon black bean garlic paste such as Lee Kum Kee brand
1 cup No-chicken broth or homemade vegetable broth
1 tablespoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons thin soy sauce
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2 large garlic cloves, thinly sliced
14 ounces firm tofu, drained and cut into 1-inch cubes
4 ounces tofu crumbles
4 ounces ground pork or beef, browned and drained
1/2 teaspoon Szechuan peppercorns, toasted in a dry pan and ground
2 green onions, finely chopped
1 small bunch broccoli, cut into florets and steamed
4 cups steamed rice

Combine the chili paste, rice wine, sugar, and black bean paste in a small bowl. In a separate glass measuring cup, combine the broth, cornstarch and soy sauce.

Heat the vegetable oil in a large wok over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and stir-fry 20 seconds. Add the chili paste mixture and stir fry until fragrant, 1 minute. Stir the broth mixture to make sure the cornstarch is dissolved and add it to the pan. Simmer until the sauce is bubbly, about 1 minute. Gently fold the tofu into the sauce.

Vegetarian: Transfer half of the contents of the wok to a saute pan and gently fold the soy crumbles into the tofu mixture. Cook over medium heat until hot throughout, 2 minutes.

Fold the cooked ground meat into the remaining sauce/tofu in the wok and cook over medium heat until heated through, 4 minutes.

Sprinkle half of the ground pepper over the meaty ma po tofu, the other half over the vegetarian ma po tofu and serve with rice.

Irish Mashers with Garlic and Cheddar

Ahoy Foodies!

I promised that I would pen a few recipes inspired by the lovely trip I took with my father, brother, and Mr. Tofu to Ireland, but truthfully the weather was so sunny and warm, it's been hard to get a hankerin' for potatoes and the like. Until yesterday, when a huge grey cloud wandered over our house, opened up, and dumped impossible amounts of cold rain on us and our (slowly) ripening tomatoes, causing them to split.

The grey skies had me nostalgic for Ireland, in particular a stellar, no, life-altering, gratin of cheddar-cloaked mashed potatoes we had in Birr, County Offaly. Birr is a charming Victorian town full of narrow one-way streets lined with shops, a 15th century castle with an enormous telescope and astronomy museum, and most notably The Thatch Pub.

I asked the front desk clerk, a doppelganger for Rose McGowan, for a recommendation for the best "real" pub in town. She suggested "da tatch". I was skeptical. My dad, a publican himself, is a connoisseur of pubs; he can spy a stale Guinness tap or faux antique Smithick's sign from 50 paces. A pub named after the old-school thatch roofs that are fast disappearing from Ireland sounded a little Disneyfied. "It's not too touristy, is it?" I asked Rose. She looked at me as if I was insane, "Ur, um, there aren't many tourists in Birr a'tall, miss," was her reply.

The Thatch is in a nondescript suburb, an old white washed cottage with the eponymous roof. As we entered the low door into the rather close entry way, the manager, Des Connole, came up to us all smiles and asked us "friends, would ye happen to have a reservation then?" We didn't, but it mattered little, he whisked us past the wedding party in the restaurant into the bar side of the pub. He seated us in front of a enormous stone fireplace, filled our beer orders (Guinness all around), and told us all about his relatives in New York State seemingly all at once.

Directly to our right seated at the bar was an old gentleman with grayish hair slicked back, a three piece Donegal tweed suit, dark sunglasses, and a glower. He couldn't look more like Samuel Beckett if he tried. The weight of the world seemed to be upon him, he talked to no one, though everyone in the room seemed to know each other, instead he just stared into his pint, head in hands. He moved only to go out for a smoke. When he returned, but dad whispered to me, "Ah, glad he's back, old boy. I thought he'd gone to the parking lot to blow his brains out."

I could go on forever about The Thatch. It's everything you want from a country pub, plus the food was amazing. I mean amazing. Dad reveled in an apple-stuffed pork loin glazed in cider, Mr. Tofu liked his mushroom pastry thingy, and my tandoori prawns were de-lovely. And then, without a word, a bar maid plunked a large gratin dish of mashed potatoes swathed in cheddar, the edges still popping and spitting with butter on the table. It comes with every meal, apparently. Dad took a bite, sheepishly looked at me and said, "Oh, Ive."

I ate until I was overstuffed, but could not stop. I asked the manager how they were done, and he stumbled through a rough description of it, "It's just good potatohs, you see. And cream, and butterh, of course." Next I asked his wife, who was also buzzing about serving tables. She seemed tickled that I loved them so much, especially since I was, as my dad informed her, "a famous cookbook author from America." Ahem.

She stopped, bar tray against her hip and squinted. "Ay. It's the potatohs now isn't it? I've been to New York, and they don't taste like a thing anyhow. But you could try..." And she gave me a rough idea of how the BEST mashed potatoes in the world are made. So I offer you the recipe here. They're close, but to get the real thing, I'm afraid you'll have to go to The Thatch.

Garlic Mashed Potatoes with Cheddar
serve 1 Ivy, or 4 normal adults as a side dish

2 1/2 pounds Yukon Gold Potatoes (buy the very best potatoes you can possibly find, and don't put them in the refrigerator. I recommend farmer's markets.)
1 tablespoon salt
1 cup organic whipping cream
1/2 cup Kerry Irish Gold Butter, or other cultured butter
2 teaspoons minced dried garlic (from Penzey's)
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
Salt and pepper, to taste
1 cup grated sharp cheddar, such as Dubliner

Peel the potatoes, cut into 2 inch chunks and place in a pot with the salt and cold water to cover. Bring the water to a boil, reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender when pierced with a fork. Drain and push through a food mill, potato ricer, or mash by hand until smooth.

Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Stir in half the cream, half the butter, nutmeg and half of the garlic. Taste, season with salt and pepper and pile into a buttered baking dish. Sprinkle the remaining garlic, cream and butter on top. Top with the cheddar. Bake for 20 minutes, until piping hot. Turn on the broiler and broil 4 inches below the broiling element until the cheese is bubbling and the butter is sizzling around the edges.