Tag Archives: cinnamon

Chicken Vindaloo

I’ve been following and reading Prerna’s blog “Indian Simmer” for a while. She cooks traditional Indian dishes and takes the most beautiful and artistic pictures of food. After reading about her kitchen and seeing her gorgeous photography for months, I finally got around to making one of her recipes. And oh man, is it good.

Perfectly spiced . . . perfect consistency and texture . . . perfect tenderness of the chicken . . . ‘perfect’ is the operating word here, in case you hadn’t noticed.

And once ‘perfect’ has been thrown out there, well . . . I don’t really have anything left to say.

Ingredients

(Serves 5)

4 red chilies
6 cloves garlic
1 TBS grated fresh ginger
¼ cup white wine vinegar
1 ½ lbs chicken thighs
1 tsp cloves
1 TBS cumin
½ tsp cardamom seeds
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp turmeric
½ TBS whole peppercorns
4 TBS vegetable oil
1 ½ tsp mustard seeds
1 large onion
2 tsp salt
Cilantro, to garnish

De-seed and mince the red chilies.

I was wary of the heat, so I only used 2. BUT! I totally should have used 4. The heat (for me) was barely noticeable with 2.

Mince the garlic . . .

. . . and grate the ginger. After shouldering tons of guilt for letting my ginger shrivel in the fridge due to un-prompt usage, I finally followed someone’s advice and froze it. I keep frozen lumps of ginger, and when I’m ready to use them, I grate them with my microplane zester.

Works like a charm! Seriously. You’d think that grating frozen ginger would be tough–but it practically grates itself as I watch in wonder.

Soak the chilies, ginger, and garlic in the vinegar for half an hour.

Grind them or process them to make a paste.

My mortar and pestle experience wasn’t exactly ideal, since the liquidiness and the bashing together made for a very splashy time. So I recommend using a little food processor. However, the dish didn’t seem to suffer because the garlic and chili were in chunks.

At this point, I happily poured the mixture on the chicken thighs for the hour of marination to begin.

Then I remembered that I was supposed to chop up the chicken.

Whoops.

No harm done, ultimately. Unless you consider the additional pictures of raw chicken harmful.

My thumb. It looks gross. The chicken renders it totally unphotogenic, man.

Anyway, marinate the chicken in the chili paste for 1 hour in the refrigerator.

Grind the cloves, cumin, cardamom seeds, cinnamon, turmeric, and peppercorns in a spice or coffee grinder.

The smells are heavenly, people. This alone is a reason to make Indian food: to experience a world of scented spices.

Once everything is nicely ground up, mix in the salt.

Dice up the onion. I love dicing onions.

I hope you do too, because I certainly do a lot of that on this here blog.

Heat the oil over medium high heat in a large pot or Dutch oven. Add the mustard seeds . . .

. . . and when they start to pop, add the diced onion.

Note: the smell of mustard seeds heating is simply wonderful. And totally not what you’re thinking it might be if you’ve never smelled it before.

Cook the onion for 6-8 minutes, until the onion is softened and starting to brown. Add the marinated chicken with any accumulated juices to the pot, and stir fry for 4-5 minutes.

Add the dry spice mix . . .

. . . and stir it around until the chicken is evenly coated.

Cover the pot, turn the heat down to low, and cook for 30 minutes, stirring and scraping the bottom of the pot about every 7 minutes to avoid burning the sauce.

You may be thinking to yourself: but wait! There’s practically no sauce involved! Where is this ‘curry sauce’ that’s supposed to happen?

Well, the liquid released from the chicken and onion and such will somehow magically make things work. Just believe me. And believe Prerna. She’s an expert.

See?

During this half an hour, the chicken will cook through and the curry sauce will thicken. Use this time to wash and chop up the cilantro:

Once the timer dings, make sure the chicken is cooked, and stir in a nice handful of chopped cilantro.

Serve over rice!

It’s so good. I never would have guessed that such a great sauce could happen with vinegar and some spices.

It’s so good that I kept uncontrollably snapping almost identical pictures.

It may be slightly swamp colored, but once you eat it, you will understand that true beauty lies within.

Seriously. Take a bite!

Guys. Oh guys. Make it.

Click here for printer-friendly version: Chicken Vindaloo

Divine Red Wine Poached Pears

Doesn’t the phrase ‘poached pears’ sound so elegant? To me, it sounds like a dessert that might be served at a fancy party . . . in England. Definitely in England. There would be a table with cut crystal on it, freshly polished sterling silver flatware, wallpaper covered in roses on the wall, and a gracefully aging hostess with a ramrod straight back, who would say “Would you care for a poached pear, my dear?”

“Why yes, I believe I do,” I would assure her, tucking a curl behind one of my ears. Yes, in this vision my hair is a shining waterfall of curls, pinned up in loose poofs, with clusters of perfect corkscrews around my ears and above my alabaster brow.

But back to reality (with my brown hair which won’t hold a curl to save its life and my non-alabaster, quite freckled brow). I do have good news for all of us: besides being delicious, these pears (recipe adapted from this blogger) are a cinch to make. You toss them into a pot with a couple ingredients and they just kind of hang out there for a little over half an hour. After that, slap ’em in the fridge and you can feast off of them all week long. At least that’s what I did.

This is my idea of a perfect summer dessert–flavorful while still light, cool and satisfying on a hot evening, sweet but not cloyingly so, and they’re great either by themselves or with ice cream.

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

6 pears
1 cup red wine
1 cup water
1/2 cup + 2 TBS sugar
1 cinnamon stick OR 1 tsp ground cinnamon
2 cloves
Zest and juice of 1 orange

Peel the pears, leaving the stems intact.

In a large pot, combine the red wine . . .

. . . water . . .

. . . sugar . . .

. . . orange zest (man-hand + microplane = I love my life) . . .

. . . orange juice . . .

. . . cloves and cinnamon.

In other words, all the ingredients except for the pears.

Behold our poaching liquid! Heat the pot over medium, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves. Don’t sweat it if some globs of orange flesh got in there, too. Whatever, say I. It’s bound to add nutritional value, right? Right. That’s what my Mom used to say about bugs. “Oh, you ate a bug? More protein for you.”

Place the pears upright into the pot, fitting them together snugly.

Bring the poaching liquid to a boil . . .

. . . then cover the pot, turn down the heat to low, and cook for 35-40 minutes.

From time to time, lift the lid and spoon the liquid over the pears.

When the lid finally comes off, you will see a thing of beauty–the red wine has soaked into the pears, making them a lovely shade of mauve.

Test the pears for doneness by turning one over and inserting a sharp knife into its–hrngh hrngh–rounded bottom.

If the knife slides in easily with just a little resistance, the pears are done.

Discard the cloves and cinnamon stick, and let the pears and syrup chill in the refrigerator overnight.

Serve the pears cut or whole, alone or with ice cream, with the syrup drizzled on top.

A little French Vanilla is a great accompaniment.

And I say ‘syrup,’ however the liquid is rather thin, as you can see here.

But perfectly flavored! If you’re looking for a thick syrup though, you can continue to reduce the liquid once the pears are cooked. I leave it in your capable hands.

Even though these pictures show the pears whole, I found them much easier and more pleasurable to eat when cut. I made slices along the core and fanned the pieces out on a plate. It was beautiful, and the arrangement looked like a flower–but my camera was far, far away . . . in the other room.

Anyway, toss some pears in a pot and serve these at your next dinner party! Or furtively hide them in the back of the fridge in a place that only you know about and eat them for your midnight snack. Either way, these will hit the spot!

Click here for printer-friendly version: Divine Red Wine Poached Pears