Rice & Grains

Banana leaf packets of coconut sticky rice are prepared in many parts of Southeast Asia. These spectacular ones from Indonesia are filled with intensely flavored chicken. Among my favorites, they are a fine example of Indonesian cooks’ ability to create foods that are lusty, earthy, and chock-full of complexity. Lemper ayam are a popular snack and can be simply steamed or grilled; during cooking the banana leaf imparts a deep tealike flavor to the rice. For the best, most robust flavor, grind the spices from seed and use the galangal and kaffir (makrut) lime leaf; these latter ingredients are available at Southeast Asian markets and specialty-food stores, as are the candlenuts and banana leaf. Traditional Indonesian cooks use toothpicks to close up the ends of the banana leaf, whereas many modern cooks staple them shut. Serve the packets alone or as an interesting side dish.

Opening up a steamed lotus leaf packet and inhaling its alluring musty fragrance is part of many Cantonese dim sum rituals. Inside, the sticky rice is stained a rich brown from the leaf, and once you start digging toward the center with chopsticks, there is a treasure trove of succulent ingredients. Figuring out what comprises the filling is most fun. Chicken is often included, as jī (fowl) is part of these packets’ name in Mandarin; they are called lo mai gai in Cantonese. Chicken is commonly combined with shiitake mushrooms and Chinese sweet sausage, as is done here. But cooks can add a myriad of other boldly flavored or rich ingredients, such as roasted char siu pork (page 224), roast duck, dried shrimp, salted egg yolk, and chestnuts. Lotus leaf packets can be made large enough for several people to share, but I prefer to present a small one to each guest. I freeze extras as a homemade convenience food to be later revived and packed into a lunch box or enjoyed on the road. At Chinese and Southeast Asian markets, you will find the sticky rice and dried sweet sausages. Packages of fanlike dried lotus leaves are usually near the dried mushrooms; they are inexpensive and last indefinitely if stored in a dry spot. If you are making lotus packets for the first time, soak a couple of extra leaves in case you tear them.

Although there appear to be many recipes for the Armenian dish called khavits, most of which entail frying semolina or cracked wheat in butter before boiling it, the toppings are what hooked me when I had it for breakfast at an Armenian café in my town. You can crack your own wheat in a blender (see page 59), or use semolina, store-bought seven-grain cereal, or even Cream of Wheat. For added fiber, I usually include a couple of tablespoons of ground flaxseed in each serving.

This classic Greek soup is one of my favorites when I want to “lighten up” from a gustatory standpoint. It makes the perfect chicken soup substitute when you are just not feeling up to snuff, or a good light dinner when you’ve had enough of the restaurant-and-fine-dining circuit. It is traditionally made with chicken broth and small bits of chicken, but I think the meatless version yields even truer, clearer flavors. A touch of ground cumin adds yet another dimension to the flavor.

Florina peppers are named for a city in western Macedonia (Greece), a part of the Greek countryside in which peppers are an all-important agricultural crop. They have a thick, red, sweet, firm flesh and are perfect for stuffing. I was first served them at the table of Mrs. Fany Boutari, the gracious matriarch of Greece’s premier winemaking family. While Florina peppers are not easily found in the United States, you can buy them roasted and bottled, or you may be lucky enough to find some red Anaheim chiles that will work. In a pinch, you can use good old green Anaheims or the bigger poblanos, as I do. They won’t be quite as sweet, but they will be good.

Although this unusual risotto could be served with Parmesan cheese shaved over the top as a savory side dish, it’s at its best as a dessert. Serve it warm and topped off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or some sweetened whipped cream. Gobble it all up before the ice cream has a chance to melt.

It’s delicious. It’s typical of the kind of peasant soup you might find in a mountainous region where barley grows plentifully, and mushrooms are to be had in season. And best of all, it’s a put-the-stuff-in-the-pot-and-walkaway-from-it no-brainer.

For most of us, the mention of lasagna conjures up mouthwatering images of rich tomato sauce layered with rich cheeses and thin noodles. But a type of lasagna can also be made using polenta rather than pasta. In this polenta lasagna, the old familiar formula appears, but the packaging (polenta instead of lasagna noodles) is new. I recommend making the tomato sauce a day ahead of time, and possibly having two slow cookers on hand so that you can pour the polenta quickly from one into the other.

Although most Americans are familiar with ground wheat hot breakfast cereals such as Wheatena, few of us consider cracking whole wheat berries at home for breakfast. They are, however, aromatic and delicious, and much like oatmeal (either whole or cracked) in some rural areas of Italy. This recipe works well in the 3-quart cooker that I use for risotto and polenta. Just put it on to cook at night before you go to bed and awaken to delicious breakfast. Be sure to purchase “triple-cleaned” wheat from your health foods store or use a commercially prepared seven-grain cereal if you don’t want to go to the trouble of cracking your own wheat.

Over many centuries, every country in the world has developed ways to obtain much-needed protein by combining the simplest of ingredients. In Italy, the combination of lentils and rice has found just as happy a home as it has in India. The trimmings may be a little different, but this simple dish can make a meal in itself when served with a salad, or as an accompaniment to grilled vegetables or stuffed artichokes.

Grits, a traditional Southern breakfast dish, are often served topped with butter and cheese. They fill hungry bellies and stick to the ribs for many hours. Technically, grits are coarsely ground hominy, and they are white in color, while polenta is ground, dried yellow corn. But in the United States (outside the Deep South), the two are often used interchangeably. It’s best if you can find the stone-ground real thing, but if not, you can use the instant grits that are available in nearly every grocery store or mail-order them from a source that specializes in grains, such as Bob’s Red Mill in Oregon. I recommend using a 2- to 3-quart slow cooker so that your grits don’t dry out overnight.

Another delicious Indian soup, similar to the Spicy Indian Lentil and Tomato Soup (page 26), but with rice and a very different blend of spices.

Practically every country in the world has a recipe for stuffing peppers: Spain, Greece, Italy, Hungary, and Mexico, to name a few. India is no exception. The following recipe offers a variety of colors, textures, and flavors, with the stuffing being relatively mild and the raita-like sauce offering much of the dish’s flavor and texture. For a really stunning presentation, garnish with a sprinkling of fresh pomegranate seeds, Mogul style.

Most Americans would consider eating oatmeal for breakfast, but for the vast majority of Asians, rice is the breakfast food of choice. Here is a distinctively Indian variation on the Asian breakfast theme that can be cooked while you sleep and be ready for breakfast when you wake up.

I was doing a cooking demonstration in health-conscious Los Angeles, and when I melted the half-stick of butter that this recipe calls for—a modest amount by my standards—a woman near the front row panicked and exclaimed, “Oh my God! Look at all that butter he’s using!” I’m not sure these cookies fall into the “healthy” category, but with just a half-stick of butter for nearly 2 dozen cookies, I’d say you shouldn’t feel all that guilty about indulging in one—or maybe two, for those of you who really want to live on the edge. These cookies are a riff on Anzac biscuits that were created as sustenance for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (Anzac). I adapted a recipe from Cooking Light magazine, adding dried cranberries and naming them “cranzac cookies,” but I’ve left them lean enough to keep those who eat them in fighting weight.

I definitely have obsessive-compulsive baking disorder. I’d hoped to recreate the classic gâteau de riz, a French cake made by baking rice pudding in a mold. I tried fourteen times. The first time I made it, it was perfect: custardy and topped with a deep-golden crust, the top and sides bathed with a slick of glossy, thick caramel. When I attempted to reproduce it, it came out completely different with each try. Flummoxed, I sent my recipe to a friend in California. She made it two or three times and each time she also had completely different results. After a transcontinental tossing up of our hands, in her last anxiety-ridden response she told me, “but right out of the pot, it was the best rice pudding I’ve ever had.” And when I made it again, for the fifteenth time, I realized she was right.

I’m a big fan of fruit crisps. When I worked at Chez Panisse, I learned I wasn’t alone—they were more popular than our signature dark chocolate cake. But I’m not entirely convinced that I’d choose a fruit crisp over chocolate cake. Maybe I’d order both in the name of research. This fruit crisp topping, made with crunchy polenta, stands up well to the juiciest mélange of fruits. Here, I mix apples and pears, and it may seem like a lot of fruit when you’re doing all that peeling and slicing, but it cooks down considerably during baking. Use a good baking apple, such as Gravenstein, Winesap, Pippin, Northern Spy, or Cortland.

I once found a long-forgotten jar of homemade quince marmalade in the back of my refrigerator. Rather than throw it out, I took it with me to a friend’s house out in the country with the hope that one morning I could slip it onto the breakfast table and no one would be the wiser. But I was so mesmerized by the gorgeous rosy hue of the quince preserves that, instead, I used the marmalade as a filling for this amazingly easy-to-make jam tart. The tart is easy for a couple of reasons. The first is that there is no filling to make or fruit to cut up—any type of thick jam or marmalade, homemade or otherwise, is all you’ll need. The second is that the dough doesn’t require rolling: two-thirds of it is pressed into the tart pan, and the rest is formed into a log, sliced like refrigerator cookie dough, then layered onto the tart to create the top crust. Truly a piece of cake to make, this tart serves as a wonderful breakfast pastry. In the end, the marmalade did indeed make an early (well, not too early) morning appearance on the table, and I didn’t have to be sneaky about it.

Cornmeal is often thought of as purely an American ingredient, probably because of our infatuation with cornbread, but Italians love cornmeal as much as we do. It’s not unusual in Italian bakeries to see rows of golden cakes and baskets of crumbly cookies made with polenta and sometimes flavored with a pour of olive oil, just in case you forget you’re in Italy. A bit of minced fresh rosemary infuses this cake with a familiar, yet elusive flavor. I wouldn’t dream of leaving the rosemary out. Polenta gives the cake a rustic feel; you can use stone-ground cornmeal instead to make a cake with a more refined texture that retains that agreeable crunch. As for the olive oil, use one that’s strong and fruity; its flavor is more important than its provenance.

Despite the seemingly Indian name and ingredients, Chicken Tikka Masala is a decidedly British dish. While cooking spiced chicken in a traditional Indian tandoor oven is certainly nothing new, the British made it more to their liking by serving it in a rich, creamy tomato gravy, perfect to mop up with pieces of naan or pita bread. Its popularity soared, eventually leading Britain’s former foreign secretary Robin Cook to declare, “Chicken Tikka Masala is now Britain’s true national dish, not only because it is the most popular, but because it is a perfect illustration of the way Britain absorbs and adapts external influences.” Well then, they shouldn’t mind if I throw in a bit of Sriracha. . . .