Tag Archives: Cooking

Braised Chicken Curry with Yams

I had forgotten all about this recipe until a few weeks ago I was casting about in my memory for delicious stews to counteract the winter chill . . . and I remembered. All of a sudden, the flavor of this dish came rushing back and I knew I had to make it immediately.

The original recipe comes from Ming Tsai’s East Meets West, which I checked out of the library in Delaware years ago. I had scribbled some brief instructions on a lined sheet of paper which was subsequently swallowed up in my recipe binder where it lived for a few years, forgotten and alone. Until now! Though I loved the base flavor of the original recipe, I wanted some more texture and ‘zing’, so I added some golden raisins and cilantro to finish it off. It’s perfection.

Don’t hesitate–just make it!

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

2.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs

Salt and pepper, to taste

3 TBS olive oil

2 large onions

2 TBS minced garlic

1 TBS minced ginger (heaping!)

1/3 c Madras curry powder (fresh as possible)

4 c chicken stock

1 large banana (or 2 small ones)

2 bay leaves

2 large yams, peeled and cubed

1/3 c golden raisins

Garnish with cilantro and blanched almonds, coconut flakes, or lime juice

First, trim the chicken thighs. For some reason the fat on chicken thighs really grosses me out, though I’m immune to the fat of pork or steak.

Now pat them dry (super important!–this will help them brown well) and put salt and pepper all over both sides of them. Heat the olive oil in a large pot or Dutch oven. When it’s very hot, add the chicken thighs. You may want to do this in two batches, because if you overcrowd the pot they will steam instead of frying.

It’s important to take your time during this step, because you want a really nice sear. It will probably take 10 minutes per batch. Don’t hurry though–you’re building flavor.

While the thighs are browning, roughly chop the onion. Very roughly.

No mirepoix required here, thank you very much.

Mince the garlic and ginger as well.

You should also have plenty of time to peel and chop the banana.

Once the thighs are done browning, remove them to a plate. They should look something like this:

Your pot will now look something like this:

Without cleaning it, dump the onion, ginger and garlic into the pot . . .

. . . and cook for about 5-6 minutes, until they’re getting golden and wonderful. Stir often so that you don’t burn the garlic! Right now your entire household will come to the kitchen to investigate what that heavenly smell is. Use your tongs with impunity to defend the pot and beat them back.

Now add the curry powder.

What a gorgeous, gorgeous yellow.

Stir constantly and vigorously for no more than 2 minutes. The spices need a couple minutes to get fragrant, but they also burn easily, so keep the ingredients in constant motion.

I should also mention that having the chicken stock handy is important, so that you don’t have to stop stirring. If you burn that curry powder, the flavor of the dish will be . . . not right.

Pour in the chicken stock . . .

. . . and add the bay leaves and banana.

Stir to scrape any brown bits off the bottom of the pot.

Bring it to a boil, then lower the heat and add the chicken back in.

Cover the pot, but leave a little vent for the steam to come out.

Let it simmer for an hour and a half. During this time, the banana will completely dissolve. The flavor it adds is wonderful, but nobody would guess it was created by a banana. If you peak into the pot after half an hour, the banana will look frightening and disturbing. I actually poked at it and asked out loud “What the heck is this thing?” before a logical process of elimination revealed it was the very banana I had peeled and chopped with my own two hands not thirty minutes prior. So don’t peak, and just trust the fact that by the end of the hour and a half it will have completely disappeared.

If you get ravenous, grab a snack. This chocolate from a Big Jake food shipment came in handy. You can see proof that he delights in a good deal by the orange 50 cent sticker.

You should also use this time to peel your yams . . .

. . . and chop them into medium sized cubes.

And rinse and chop some cilantro if you plan on using that.

After 90 minutes, take the lid off the pot and smell the goodness at hand.

Now grab those yams, add them to the pot and give it a good stir to submerge them.

Cook for 30 more minutes with the pot partially covered–but no longer than that or your yams will get really mushy. During the last 15 minutes of cooking, add the golden raisins.

They will get plump and delicious, and they add a fun burst of texture and flavor.

Remove the bay leaves and serve over rice.

Top it with cilantro. Or blanched almonds. Or peanuts! Or lime juice! Or just eat it as is.

The chicken is fork-tender. Mmmmmm.

I also tried sprinkling it with coconut flakes:

Delicious. You can tell this was a different night because the color of the plate has changed.

Make it! It’s fall, and I can’t think of anything else I want for dinner at this moment. A bowl of this magic would hit the spot.

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Dhal Makhani

I saw the recipe for Dhal Makhani on Andrea’s lovely blog ‘Can You Stay for Dinner’, and immediately knew I had to make it. It’s been far too long since I made Indian food, and this recipe was too easy to be true. Plus, it would use up some of the lentils that have been kicking around in my pantry–my husband is on a ‘clean out the pantry’ mission and has been requiring me to make recipes that use what we already have. A wise choice, since there is still no ice cream space in our freezer.

If you have never made Indian food before, this is a perfect place to start. There are practically no ingredients (OK, well, there are nine of them counting the water), and the ingredients that are in it are totally basic items: ginger, garlic, cayenne–nothing that will require a special trip to an international grocery store. Basically, Dhal Makhani = the most amazing lentils I’ve ever tasted. And I’ve made a lot of lentils in my day.

Which brings us to the question–what the heck is a lentil?

I realized with shock while drafting this post that I had no idea. Was it a pea? Or a bean? Does it qualify as a vegetable? Wikipedia tells me it is a legume, in the same family as peas and beans and peanuts and chickpeas and tofu (soy beans) and (wait for it) it is a fruit. Whaaaa . . . ?

Let’s not get caught up in technicalities here–it’s incredible and wonderful in every way.

I made very few changes to the original recipe, and it is so delicious. It has very few ingredients, but the depth of flavor that emerges when they are brought together into this vegetarian harmony is just amazing. Even though the cook time is 1 hour and 20 minutes, the prep time is virtually nonexistent, so it’s still the perfect dinner for a busy weeknight . . . as long as you can control your hunger pangs for a little longer than usual.

Ingredients

(serves 3)

1 cup dried lentils

15 oz can tomato sauce

1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger

3 large cloves garlic, minced

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

2 tablespoons butter

water (up to one cup)

3 tablespoons heavy cream

fresh cilantro for garnish

OK, first let’s grab our lentils. I used Dupuy lentils, which are French and dark green and tiny. But any kind of lentil would work.

Now, put the cup of lentils into a pot. Cover them in cold water by 2 inches, then slap that baby on the stove over high heat.

Bring it to a boil, decrease the heat to medium high, cover the pot, and cook for 20 minutes.

While it’s cooking, prep your other ingredients: open your can of tomato sauce, mince the garlic, grate the ginger, measure out the cayenne, and grab that butter.

After 20 minutes the lentils should be a little softer, but not mushy. Drain them in the sink . . .

. . . and then return them to the pot with the ingredients you just prepped.

Mix that deliciousness in.

Cover the pot and turn the heat on low. Cook for an hour, stirring occasionally and adding water (up to a cup) when needed. If you don’t stir them, your lentils will probably burn to the bottom (that could also mean your heat is too high)–I stirred them 3 or 4 times throughout, and added the full cup of water.

At the end of an hour they will look something like this:

Now it’s time to taste and adjust the seasoning, with more cayenne for those of you who like a jolt of fire on your tongue.

The next step is very important. Grab your best friend:

That’s right–we’re BFF’s and not ashamed of it!

Stir in the cream and sigh at the delights to come. While you’re at it, add a serious handful of chopped cilantro.

Heck yes.

Serve it over rice.

So satisfying! So hearty! So flavorful!

Seriously guys, the ratio of ingredients (few) to flavor (lots) is so surprising. Plus, it’s eating on the cheap–lentils and tomato sauce are grocery-budget friendly, which is great news for us grocery budget transgressors.

So pretty–the red, the yellow, the green . . .

Just because my life has been a barren wasteland because of the lack of Dhal Makhani up to this point doesn’t mean yours has to be. Learn from the mistakes of your forefathers! Make this dish!

Click here for printer-friendly version: Dhal Makhani