Tag Archives: cumin

Chicken Tikka Masala

I love Indian food. And I love making curry. Though the sometimes long-ish list of spices can frighten some people away, it’s really not hard to make–and in my experience, it’s hard to mess up.

When I graduated from college, I spent a wonderful year living with 4 fantastic roommates in a quite janky 5-bedroom white house in Bloomington, Indiana, on a street that lacked both streetlights and a sidewalk. But given that I was only spending $220/month on rent, I wan’t complaining–especially since Laurel took care of the ‘situation’ when mouse droppings mysteriously appeared in our kitchen drawers. The house was dubbed the ‘ihug’ –International House of Unbelievable Girls–thus called because we hailed from Spain, Guatemala, and Hawaii. We had weekly roommate meetings in which we discussed household business, prayed for each other, and divvied up kitchen duty so that the 5 of us each cooked a meal for everyone to share one night per week (Monday – Thursday + Sunday).

It was a perfect arrangement, since on most nights you could come home to a hot meal after a long day at school or work. Plus, the same person who cooked was responsible for clean-up, so there were no frustrations with “this person is a messy cook” or “that person always burns stuff to the bottom of the pot.” One night a week and you were done with kitchen duty, baby. It was a lovely, harmonious year. I’d do it all over again–except that would mean I wouldn’t be married. Which is not so cool, considering I’ve become quite addicted to the arrangement.

The point is, that year at the ihug was the first time I had really cooked on such a regular basis and on such a large scale. Large being . . . well, 5 people. So ‘kind of large’ scale, I guess. Or even ‘regular scale’ depending on your perspective. But I digress!

One of my first culinary love-affairs during this time was with Indian food. I found a couple Indian cookbooks on the bargain table at Border’s, stocked up on all sorts of ingredients that seemed quite exotic to me, from fenugreek to asaphoetida to ghee to cardamom pods–and I cooked! My first dish–potatoes and green beans simmered in a spicy sauce–was so spicy I could hardly eat it. But as I learned from my mistakes and forged ahead, my experiments became more and more successful. And I started truly loving Indian food.

It’s surprising to me that I’ve barely made any Indian food in the past year, since starting this blog, with the exception of the amazing (and cheap) Dhal Makhani. I have a lot of ground to cover if I plan on sharing all of the incredible recipes I’ve found and made over the years. So I’m gearing up for a new and more Indian-food-heavy season in my kitchen with this Tikka Masala, based on Pastor Ryan’s version, which I found on the P-Dub’s website a couple years ago and didn’t hesitate for one second to make. Why? Well besides being BFF’s with the P-Dub (in my mind at least–don’t shatter the illusion), this curry is creamy. It’s rich. The chicken is tender. It’s not over-the-top spicy. I want to eat it on a very regular basis in my life. Make it! Don’t fritter away any more curry-less days like I have.

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

3-4 chicken breasts
Kosher salt
3 pinches ground coriander
3 pinches ground cumin
½ cup plain yoghurt
2 TBS butter
1 large onion
1 TBS salt
5 cloves garlic
2-inch piece fresh ginger
1 chili pepper
3 TBS garam masala
1 28 oz can crushed tomatoes
1 TBS sugar
1 ½ cups heavy cream
1 cup chopped fresh cilantro

Season the chicken breasts generously with kosher salt, cumin and coriander on both sides.

Coat them completely in yoghurt (I used Greek, but regular works just fine). . .

. . . and place them on a metal cooling rack over an aluminum-lined baking sheet. The metal cooling rack is an important bit, because it keeps the chicken elevated and allows the hot oven air to circulate all around the meat . . . at least that’s how I explain it to myself. See you local scientist for a more accurate explanation.

Broil the chicken for 5-7 minutes on each side, until slightly blackened in spots. Remove it from the oven and set it aside. Pretend I took more pictures.

Dice the onion.

Melt the butter in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium-high heat, and add the diced onion.

Cook for 5-6 minutes, until softened and starting to brown.

While the onion is cooking, mince the garlic and ginger . . .

. . . and de-seed and mince the chili pepper.

Add them to the softened onions along with the tablespoon of salt. That’s right–it’s a whole whoppin’ tablespoon–but don’t worry. It’s the perfect amount.

Cook the shebang for another minute or two, until the garlic and ginger are fragrant.

Add the garam masala and cook for about one minute.

Plant yourself by the stove and stir it constantly so that the spice doesn’t burn.

Yes, it looks a little dark and funky at this point, but the smells . . . oh my heavens, the smells. At this point my husband came at a swift trot into the kitchen:”What’s smelling so good??” he asked, peering over my shoulder.

I love it when my husband comes into the kitchen at a swift trot.

You will get similar results.

Except not with my husband–more likely with your own posse instead.

I can’t send my spouse out to trot all over creation and smell everyone’s tikka masala sauce without having him sign off on the idea first.

Add the can of crushed tomatoes (alternately, you can use diced tomatoes for a lighter and chunkier sauce or pureed tomatoes for a thicker, smoother sauce–in fact, I used pureed tomatoes this time ’round).

Scrape the bottom of the pot to deglaze, add the sugar . . .

. . . and simmer the sauce over medium heat for about 10 minutes. You can cover the pot partially to avoid splattering if you’d like. I’d like.

Chop the broiled chicken breasts into bite-sized chunks.

If it’s still slightly pink, please don’t freak out–it will finish cooking in the sauce.

Add the heavy cream to the tomato sauce.

Go ahead and pour some straight down your gullet as well–you know you want to. I can see it in your eyes.

Mmmm, things are starting to look real good. They always do when heavy cream makes its grand entrance.

Dump in the chicken, too.

Stir everything around, and cook over medium-low heat for another 5 minutes.

Taste the sauce and re-season if needed.

Chop up the cilantro . . .

. . . and stir it into the sauce.

Unless you’re one of those weirdos who thinks it tastes like soap. And don’t worry–I’ll find it in my heart to love you despite your freakish dislikes.

Serve this hot little dish over rice!

It’s so tasty, guys. Even if I did cut that piece of chicken into a frighteningly perfect cube. Is that wigging out anyone else here?

And whether or not you’re put off by the geometrically distinct chicken chunks, the yellow basmati rice makes such a pretty bed for them. You won’t regret putting this on the menu!

Click here for printer-friendly version: Chicken Tikka Masala

Seared Fennel Salmon with Pasilla-Spiced Pumpkin Basmati

So I have somehow gotten myself involved in a cooking challenge. Food blogger and med school student Joanne from “Eats Well With Others” was hosting a little recipe-making competition sponsored by Marx Foods, and in a stroke of wild abandon I entered my name as a potential participant. I’ve never done this before, and I was scared crapless. Yes, I can cook a delicious meal. Yes, I’ve fine-tuned recipes and even created many from scratch. But am I the wildly inventive person who in a stroke of genius adds an entirely unexpected ingredient such as caviar mousse or onion confit to a bread dough, resulting in the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?

Well . . . no. And then I got an email saying I had been selected. I took a deep breath. I took another deep breath. I got up, reheated my coffee, sat down again. I had visions of some kind of historical culinary disaster going down in my kitchen. Then I had visions of a gigantic personal culinary success. Then the disaster. Then the suceess. The two visions arm-wrestled each other for a while, until I was like “Enough you two! Just take it down a notch! I am going to make the best friggin, gosh darn, friggin fantastic thing I can, and whether I win or lose I will at least make something friggin delicious for dinner that my husband and I will friggin devour like wild hyenas!” And then I shouted out an extra ‘friggin’ just for good measure.

Now I could just jump into the recipe–but this is a blog! And that means you get to hear every single one of my thoughts (evil cackle). Hey! Get away from that scroll button!

The challenge was to create a recipe with the following conditions:

1. One of the main ingredients must be orange winter squash (any variety–acorn, pumpkin, butternut . . .). Apparently, Joanne’s goal this season is to eat enough squash to turn herself orange. This is our way of helping her achieve that goal.

2. You must use two of the eight ingredients mailed to you in a box by Marx Foods.

3. The recipe must be original (i.e. of my own brilliant or horrific creation).

How hard can this be? I asked myself with a furrowed brown in the days leading up to the receipt of the box. I could go the Thai curry route . . . the Indian curry route . . . perfectly seared salmon on a bed of rice and squash . . . I could do a risotto, or a salad with roasted pumpkin, avocado, pine nuts and other delights . . . I could do some kind of complicated gnocchi or ravioli . . . or even some kind of one-dish breakfast bake in my iron skillet. Or a quiche! Tacos! A spicy Pozole-inspired stew with a mole-style drizzle!

There was a frenzy in my brain. How would I ever decide what to make??

And then I realized how to simplify it. The question came down to: what did I want to eat? Which imaginary dish did I want to dig my fork into? If I were at a restaurant, which of these dishes would I order hands down?

The answer was clear: a piece of perfectly cooked salmon on a pile of rice. Oh, and a delicious rich Thai curry. So there were two answers. And they were both equally clear.

Yes, I decided to make both of my recipe ideas and simply submit the one I liked best. So my friends, without further ado, let’s get this show on the road. Let’s make that salmon, which is my official submission. The ‘freebie’ curry recipe, also delicious, will be posted later this week . . . or next week. We’ll see how cozy I feel like getting with Photoshop in the days to come.

I’m using sugar pie pumpkin, and the two ‘mystery’ ingredients I chose from the box are dried pasilla negro chilies and fennel pollen. I know the recipe name is long and complicated–but the actual instructions couldn’t be easier. It’s basically a piece of fish with a rub that sits on a pile of rice (rice-cooking method courtesy of Pastor Ryan) with some goodies tossed in. Do not fear the process.

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

For the rice:

2 c basmati rice

4 c water

2 TBS butter

1 tsp ground pasilla negro chili

1 TBS turmeric

1 tsp salt

1 c frozen peas

Cilantro (optional garnish)

For the pumpkin

4 cups sugar pie pumpkin cubes (from 1 medium sized pumpkin)

2 TBS butter

2 tsp dried ground pasilla negro chili

2 tsp brown sugar

1/2 tsp cumin

1/4 tsp ground black pepper

salt to taste

For the fish:

4 salmon fillets, skinned (about 0.3 lbs each)

3 TBS olive oil

2 tsp fennel pollen

salt (generous amount)

black pepper

Before anything else, grab a large pasilla negro chili:

Grind it up in a spice mill or coffee grinder.

I used our coffee grinder on the ‘espresso’ setting and got a lovely, finely ground pile.

Should I taste it?

Absolutely.

I’m a huge proponent of tasting your ingredients–you’ll get a much better sense of how to combine different things if you take a chomp, or in this case, a lick.

If you’ve never had pasilla negro chili, you’re in for a treat. It has a spicy, raisin-like, almost chocolaty flavor that is very unique. And it’s not fiery hot either, so don’t worry about incinerating your tastebuds.

Now the salmon cooks pretty quickly, so I like to get the rice squared away first. Grab your rice cooker: dump in the basmati rice, water, butter, turmeric, ground pasilla negro chili, and 1 tsp salt.

Press ‘cook’! That was easy. Unless you don’t have a rice cooker. Then you’ll have to fend for yourself and make it in a pot on the stove, like a real man.

Your #1 mission is now to halve that sugar pumpkin. This is without a doubt the most difficult and dangerous part of the recipe. I was very afraid I would stab my own hand, or possibly lop my head off.

It looked so friendly, and innocent, and orange, and small . . .

But it proved to be a worthy and tough opponent.

I swung it around the kitchen a few times just for good measure.

Just kidding! Please don’t do that at home. You could really do some damage. Just keep working at it patiently and carefully. Once I got a cut made, I wedged my knife sharpener in the crack and forced the pieces apart.

Of course, a woodsman with an axe would have come in handy. But no woodsmen were patrolling my Chicago neighborhood that evening, so I battled it out. The triumph was sweet in my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt moved to pose with an ingredient before. I also seem to be looking particularly freckly. Hmmmm. Trick of the light, trick of the light.

Scrape out the seeds and innards. If you’re a motivated person you’ll save the seeds and roast them later for a delicious snack. I was lacking motivation that night and simply threw them away.

Now, microwave the halves for 4 minutes each. This will make the pieces much more tender and easy to cube.

Cut the pumpkin into small cubes and discard the rind.

You should have about 4 cups of cubes.

Heat 2 TBS butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Once the butter is fully melted and bubbling, add the pumpkin cubes, spices, and sugar.

If you cook the cubes for too long, you’ll end up with pumpkin mush instead, which is not what we’re going for here, so just fry them for 3-4 minutes, taste and adjust the seasoning.

Try not to eat all the pumpkin cubes at this time. I stopped after only 6, and I was quite proud of my self control.

Set aside the pumpkin cubes, and let’s get that salmon underway so that it’s done by the time the rice is ready.

Preheat the oven to 450, then heat an oven-proof pan (I used my trusty cast iron skillet) over high heat for 4 minutes. Rub both sides of the salmon fillets with olive oil and season the tops with salt, pepper, and the fennel pollen.

Go GENEROUS with the salt, and I’m talking generous. Once you think you’ve been generous, go ahead and salt it a little more. Use your fingers to spread the spice across the fillets evenly.

We’re keeping it simple here with the seasoning, and lemme tell ya–the flavors really shine through. When the pan is hot, place the fillets spiced-side down . . .

. . . and don’t touch them for at least 2 minutes.

Seriously! Get your mitts away from that pan! The underside should turn a gorgeous shade of brown. Now turn the pieces over gently (I recommend using a spatula).

Slap that pan into the oven and cook that fish for 5 to 7 minutes, then remove. Would you look at that perfect, beautiful sear? Would you look at that tender flesh? Oh my.

I should also drive home the fact that if you overcook your fish, doom and despair await–so make sure you take it out when it’s still tender!

Just in case you were curious, I cooked 2 salmon fillets and 2 steelhead fillets, which look very similar to the salmon. My fishmonger didn’t know what the difference was, and I needed to know. Answer: the salmon is 50 times more delicious, fatty, and luxuriant. The steelhead was more lean and stringy. The salmon was also twice the price. It presents a difficult dilemma in my life.

By now the rice is bound to be done, so simply stir in the frozen peas and pumpkin.