Rice & Grains

Here earthy ingredients from sunny Spain come together for a richly flavored meatball. A sharp Manchego sheep’s milk cheese and paprika-spiced chorizo sausage are mixed with ground pork and just a hint of red pepper flakes and garlic. When rolled into minis, these are a tapas treat. These balls stand up to the Spicy Meat Sauce (page 57) but go just as well with Classic Tomato Sauce (page 56).

Once veg burger and veg ball are in the sausage lexicon, why not include another offbeat member? In the spirit of having fun stepping outside the box, and for the love of my vegetarian son, Jenan, here is a cabbage leaf–wrapped brown rice, walnut, and dandelion green mix that simulates sausage without the meat. Dandelion greens are the surprise. No matter how young and tender you pick them, they retain a decidedly bitter pucker. But tucked into the brown rice, they cease to affront and instead demur to lending their healthful, herbal kick to the dish. The made-on-the-spur-of-the-moment tomato-caper sauce adds the acid element that brings it all together.

Quinoa (keen-wah), though not a cereal grain because it is not a grass plant, is nonetheless a life-sustaining grain native to the Andes Mountains in what is now Peru, Chile, and Bolivia. Although it was a staple food of the Inca, who peopled those high places, somewhere along the way it got shuffled aside for wheat and rice, grain imports from the Old World, and for corn, the New World’s other great grain. There it remained, in the shadows of time, until recently, when health aficionados rediscovered its food value and deliciousness. Quinoa’s nutrition is unique among the grains of the world. Within each tiny, almost miniscule bit of it, there is complete protein. When cooked, the grains puff up four times their size into a pillowy mass that resembles the cells in a beehive, with each compartment distinct. That means quinoa serves up not only plenty of nutrition but also enough bulk to make a filling meal. Together with tofu, their nutrition pedigree becomes double blue ribbon.

You might not think so, but butter is as important to the cooking of much of India, Africa, the Middle East, and all the way north to the Caucasus as it is to French, Swiss, or Scandinavian cooking. So it’s not too surprising to see it surface as a main ingredient in the broth for this traditional Armenian vegetarian bulgur dish. The red bell pepper and paprika tint the bulgur balls a Titian red, while the mustard and butter add a soft yellow hue to the broth. If there are any leftover balls and broth, chill them together thoroughly, until the broth is thickened to a cheeselike consistency. Then press them together and form the mixture into balls. Drizzle with fruity extra virgin olive and serve with crackers or bread.

Paella is one of the great composed rice dishes of the world. Many regions in Spain boast of serving the “finest” rendition, but Valencia, its original home, claims the blue ribbon. Many tourist guides acquiesce. Located close by the sea, the city provides its cooks with a daily supply of fresh seafood. Squid, which blackens the rice with its ink, and mussels are abundant and have become key elements in paella valenciana, along with snails and green beans. That repertoire has been expanded to include a selection of chicken or rabbit pieces; small sausages; other shellfish, such as shrimp, crayfish, or cockles; and other vegetables, such as red bell pepper or artichoke, though not all at once. I like to use shrimp in the shell, but if you don’t think your guests will want to peel their own shrimp, you can cook them as directed, then peel them before returning them to the pan. Paella is traditionally cooked over a charcoal fire in a large, wide, two-handled shallow pan called a paellera. As is common in many Mediterranean and Middle Eastern cultures in which dishes, such as shish kebab and gyros, are cooked over an open fire, the paella cooks are traditionally men because the men own fire. Nowadays, the paellera is more often used indoors, and women as well as men cook the dish. It is always a festive offering, worthy of a get-together of any size, indoors or out. No matter who is cooking, the key to a successful paella is the rice. It must be Spanish or Italian short grain.

I adore pearl barley, yet seldom remember to cook it. But at least once a year, in late spring leaning toward summer, when the weather is still chilly, I suddenly have a notion to make Scotch broth. It is essentially a homespun celebration of root vegetables bolstered by and enriched with lamb. The usual vegetable selection includes leeks, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, kohlrabies, and parsnips. Hamburg parsley, which is grown for its root rather than its leaves and is popular in northern European cooking, is also a good addition, adding herbal appeal. Unfortunately, it is so far not widely available in U.S. markets, but a garnish of fresh parsley nicely fills the herbal niche. Lamb neck and bone-in shoulder chops, the customary cuts for Scotch broth, create a meat broth as the soup cooks. Here, I turn the lamb into sausage and use a quick and convenient-to-make vegetable broth. That way the meat is thriftily stretched while still providing its depth of flavor to the soup. I add a tablespoon of tomato paste for color and a hint of acid: perhaps a shocking sidestep to staunch traditionalists, but I think the soup appreciates it.

This lamb, green bean, and tomato soup-stew, known as fasoulia in the home of my childhood, was the by-product of a regular event: my father dissecting a leg of lamb into its parts, from the most highly treasured, neatly cubed pieces for shish kebab to the fattier but still tender parts for grinding into sausage. A sidebar of the ritual was putting the bone and all the gristly bits into a pot, covering them with water, and gently simmering them into a broth for fasoulia. Even though the dish was a by-product of making shish kebab, it enjoyed a humble stature on our dinner table. These days when I desire a taste of lamb home cooking and am not deconstructing a leg of lamb, I use a bit of purchased ground lamb for meatballs. The green beans are key here, and though I usually turn up my nose at frozen vegetables, I make an exception for fasoulia, so that it can be enjoyed throughout the year. I find this soup-stew doesn’t need anything in the way of a side dish. A slice of bread, a spoon, and family company suffice, but Armenians would include pilaf on the side.

A constant—an icon—of my Armenian American childhood were grape leaves, cabbage leaves, bell peppers, zucchini, and tomatoes wrapped around or stuffed with lamb and rice sausage. My mother, a native of the American Southwest, married my father, an Armenian who enjoyed the honor of being the first of his direct family line to be born in the United States. So, in our family it was he who carried forward the Armenian tradition of lamb at table. That was not difficult for my mother to accommodate: her father was a rancher who raised sheep from time to time. In other words, lamb was a food that my parents easily shared through their more than half century of marriage. Interestingly, though the sausage stuffing was the same whether it was tucked into grape leaves, cabbage leaves, or vegetables, there was a name distinction: wrapped in leaves, the dish was called sarma, but stuffed into vegetables, it was dolma. Dolmas and sarma made with cabbage leaves were considered family fare, and they were a dinner staple in our household. Stuffed grape leaves, which require more time and earnest effort, were festive fare, so they were saved for family get-togethers or special birthday requests (mine in particular). For how to blanch and separate the leaves for making stuffed cabbage leaves, see page 151.

Rice, plainly steamed, is an underpinning, accompaniment, or ingredient for many dishes, both in this book and in kitchens around the world. In order to avoid the confusion that can result because of the many kinds of rice available, I have come to rely on a basic method for preparing steamed rice that works whether you need cooked rice for adding to a recipe or serving as a side dish. It is easy to do, though you must pay attention to when it comes to a boil and then promptly turn down the heat before it boils over, makes a mess on the stove, and turns out mushy rather than in beautifully individual grains. For other rice recipes in the book, see South African Sausage with Collard Greens, Ethiopian Spiced Butter, and Cashew Rice (page 69), Paella with Chorizo, Shrimp, and Baby Artichokes (page 130), and Brown Rice, Walnut, and Dandelion Green Veg “Sausage” Wrapped in Cabbage Leaves with Tomato-Caper Sauce (page 151).

Polenta, which is made from cornmeal, is a staple in northern Italy. To achieve an authentic texture, use imported polenta; look for it in Italian markets and specialty foods stores.

In one batch, find the flavors of two bakery classics: chocolate chip cookies and banana bread. Chopped walnuts and rolled oats add texture and more layers of taste. Use a ripe banana, which has more concentrated flavor, and is easier to mash, than an unripe one.

A glass of milk is the ideal accompaniment to these drop cookies. Besides white chocolate, the cookies are also chockablock with oats, coconut, golden raisins, and walnuts.

Toasted wheat germ and a generous amount of raisins make these cookies hearty. You can substitute an equal measure of dried cranberries, sour cherries, or chopped apricots for the raisins. To make oatmeal–chocolate chunk cookies, substitute 12 ounces good-quality chocolate, coarsely chopped, for the raisins.

These bars are more rustic than traditional dried fruit bars, since they are covered with a crumbly oat topping before baking. You can substitute chopped dried figs or dates for the raisins.

This chunky bar cookie recipe presents a perfect opportunity for improvisation, as you can use whatever flavors of jam and granola you have on hand.

The applesauce in this recipe keeps the cookies moist; maple syrup flavors the simple white icing that gets drizzled over the tops.

These are like tiny inside-out carrot cakes, with the signature cream cheese frosting on the inside and spiced “cake” on the outside.

These fruit-and-nut-rich cookies are like soft granola bars; they make a hearty and delicious after-school snack.

This recipe calls for natural peanut butter, which gives the cookies a richer peanut flavor. Old-fashioned rolled oats produce a heartier texture than the smaller-cut quick-cooking variety, while whole peanuts deliver added crunch.