Tag Archives: basil

Spicy Chicken with Basil (Gai Pad Krapow)

I love Thai food. I love America’s Test Kitchen. I also love eating fabulous food with the people I love. So when my sister Erica came through town for a brief visit the other week, I chained her to the kitchen and cried “cook for your loved ones!” (Me being the loved one in this equation)

Yöst kiddink.

The real story goes like this: I went shopping on the Magnificent Mile with Erica during the day and bought two cute tops, a pair of shorts and a cardigan. Obviously, then I felt too guilty to spend even more money doing the Thai take-out we had planned for that evening, so instead I burst open the doors to my kitchen and shouted “We shall cook off our guilt!”

Of course, the guilt was all mine since Erica didn’t buy anything, and my kitchen doesn’t have doors–but that was the emotional reality of what happened.

I was expecting this dish to burn a hole in my tongue since it calls for no less than 10 chilies, but since we removed the seeds from all of them, the final dish had very little spice–a mere tickle on the palate. Next time I would definitely leave the seeds from one or two chilies in the mix. The flavors are classic Thai, and it’s really very simple to make, so give it a go! Just plug your nose when the fish sauce first hits the pan, and you’ll be fine.

Ingredients

(Serves 5)

10 jalapeño peppers
10 cloves garlic
6 shallots
1/3 cup fish sauce
1/3 cup chicken broth
3 TBS sugar
1 tsp cornstarch
2 lbs ground chicken
3 TBS vegetable oil
3 cups packed Thai or regular fresh basil leaves
3 TBS lime juice

First we’re going to remove the seeds from some or all of the jalapeño peppers.

For this to happen, you need to identify the location of a younger sibling. Hey! Get off the phone and de-seed those chilies!

I love it when bossing my sister actually works.

She used to follow my direction with unquestioning trust when she was a wee thing. Then she hit grade school and . . . well, that was the end of that.

As I mentioned above, removing the seeds from all of them will produce a pretty non-spicy dish, so if you want some spice, leave some seeds in. Toss the chilies in a food processor or blender as you go. Also, either wear gloves during this part or wash your hands very carefully, because my sister had multiple chilied-up-finger-in-eye ‘situations’ that caused her much pain throughout the evening.

De-skin the garlic . . .

. . . and add it to the blender with the chilies.

Take the skins off the shallots and toss those in, too.

Process the chilies, garlic, and shallots until they form a coarse paste.

And now for the quick sauce: whisk together the fish sauce and chicken broth . . .

. . . sugar . . .

. . . and cornstarch.

Set aside.

Watch out, because things are about to get a little freako. Okay, maybe a lot freako for some of you. Put the ground chicken in a small bowl . . .

. . . grab a fork and schmush it about until all the ‘strands’ are gone and it has become a uniform paste.

Grossiola now–but deliciousiola later. Don’t become a vegetarian yet! It will all look better soon.

Almost done with the prep! Get your sister to squeeze a lime or two into a small bowl.

Yes, it’s very important that a younger sibling do this part. If not, the recipe won’t come out quite right, you see.

And finally–get the basil leaves ready.

Unfortunately, my basil had gotten quite ugly. And dark. And slimy.

It was only 2 days old, people! Me and Mr. Dominicks will have to have a “chat.”

Thankfully my sister brought a basil plant with her, and graciously share its abundance with  me.

Thanks, babes. I repent of all my bossing.

Now it’s time to cook! Heat the oil in a 12 inch skillet over medium high heat. When shimmering, add the chili/garlic/shallot mixture . . .

. . . and cook for about 5 minutes or until the moisture evaporates, stirring so that it doesn’t burn (especially near the end).

Turn the heat down to medium and add the chicken:

Cook for about 7 minutes, breaking it up with a spatula and mixing it with the paste, until it’s no longer pink. Still a little pink in there . . .

Once the chicken ain’t s’dang pink, we’re almost done. Sprinkle the basil leaves over the chicken.

Briefly whisk the fish sauce mixture to recombine the ingredients and pour it into the pan, over the basil leaves and chicken.

Cook for 3 minutes, stirring constantly, until the sauce has thickened.

Pour the fresh lime juice over the chicken . . .

. . . give it a quick taste for seasoning (adding salt and pepper if needed), and serve it over rice.

Deliciousiola, just as I hoped! And just as satisfying (or more) than take-out would have been.

Come back, Erica! You make cooking an all-around funner* experience.

*Dear Grammarian Conscience of Mine: I know that ‘funner’ isn’t a word. Aunt Paula taught me that the summer that I was 11 years old. But sometimes, I must follow my heart and rebel.

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Pasta al Pomodoro

This dish was pictured on the cover of the May 2011 issue of Bon Appétit magazine. It literally translates as “Pasta with Tomato Sauce” (thank you, GoogleTranslate). When I saw it, I desired it. When I desired it, I wrote it into my menu plan. When I wrote it into my menu plan, I purchased the necessary ingredients. And when I purchased . . . okay, let’s cut the the chase: I made it the other week. The result of my efforts: a silky, smooth, flavorful sauce that coats every strand of spaghetti. Somehow it manages to have both that fresh edge and also a subtle depth.

Now I’m not one to speak out against jarred spaghetti sauce–heavens knows that I always have a jar on hand to make emergency batches of Arroz a la Cubana. However, when you plop pre-made sauce on a pile of spaghetti, let’s be realistic: it ends up in a watery pile. Have you noticed that? The puddles of liquid that pool at the bottom of the plate? It’s kind of gross. The pasta and sauce have issues getting together.

This pasta does NOT have this issue. The sauce and the pasta become one. You can’t take a bite of one without getting the other. And together, they will conquer the galaxy.

If you’re just eating the pasta, it serves 3, but if you have bread and/or a salad, it stretches to 4 easily.

Ingredients

(Serves 3-4)

1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
1 medium onion, minced
6 garlic cloves, minced
1 pinch crushed red pepper flakes
1 28 oz can whole tomatoes, pureed
1 pinch kosher salt
3 large sprigs basil
12 oz spaghetti noodles
1/2 cup pasta water (reserved)
2 TBS cubed cold butter
1/4 cup finely grated Parmesan or Pecorino Romano cheese

Mince the onion very finely.

In a 12” skillet with deep sides, heat the olive oil over medium-low heat.

Add the minced onion and cook for about 12 minutes (until softened) stirring frequently.

While the onion is cooking, puree the can of whole tomatoes . . .

. . . and mince the garlic.

You’ll notice I added a few more cloves to the mix after that initial shot of all the ingredients together. Adding more garlic is a compulsion with me, and I can’t be expected to control my urges in that area.

Add the minced garlic to the onion . . .

. . . and cook for 4-5 more minutes, still stirring frequently.

Add the pinch of red pepper flakes and stir for 1 minute.

By now it smells so good in the kitchen that I’ll totally understand if you start weeping uncontrollably.

Turn the heat up to medium and add the pureed tomatoes and a pinch of kosher salt to the onions/garlic.

Cook for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. If you have a splatter screen, use it at this juncture! If you don’t (like me) please expect to clean the stove thoroughly from the red tomato polka dots after dinner.

The sauce will reduce nicely during those 20 minutes, as you can see here.

Plus I’ve heard that the acid tomatoes will soak up the iron from the cast iron skillet and give me a little extra boost in terms of my metallic needs.

As you wait for the sauce to become perfect, grate up the Parmesan cheese . . .

. . . and cube the cold butter.

Once the sauce is done simmering, take the pan off the heat and stir in the basil sprigs.

Note: we’re talking 3 whole sprigs here, not just 3 leaves. I tore off a couple leaves and set them aside for garnish.

Set the pan aside.

Heat 3 quarts of water in a large pot. Salt the water generously, and when it boils, add the pasta.

Cook 2 minutes short of al dente. We’re undercooking the pasta because we’re going to finish it off in the sauce, where it will absorb all the flavor during it’s final minutes of cooking. Reserve 1/2 cup of pasta water (just scoop it out in a measuring cup) . . .

. . . and drain the pasta.

Discard the basil, add the pasta water to the tomato sauce . . .

. . . and bring the sauce to a boil. Add the pasta . . .

. . . and cook for 2 minutes (until al dente), tossing with tongs so that the sauce coats all the strands of spaghetti.

Remove the skillet from the heat and stir in the cold butter and cheese.

Toss the pasta until the butter and cheese are melted and incorporated.

 Serve with extra basil and cheese to garnish.

Let’s dig in!

Yes, yes, yes. See how beautifully the ingredients have married?

So this is a little more trouble than using premade sauce, but if you have a little time, it’s so worth it. And now, a nice bottle of red would round things out perfectly.

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