Tag Archives: onions

Israeli Couscous with Spiced Sweet Onions

If I were a good blogger, I would be sharing an amazing recipe with you all for pumpkin pie. Or pecan pie. Or brined turkey. I mean, it’s Thanksgiving week! However, I’ve never claimed to be a ‘good blogger.’ In fact, I only recently became comfortable with even using the word ‘blogger’ in reference to myself.

It’s been rough, folks. And exciting. And weird. And wonderful. There may be no going back.

Anyway, I came across this recipe for Israeli Couscous on The Novice Chef Blog, and let me tell you–it was love at first sight. She calls it ‘Warm Couscous Salad,’ but for some reason I can’t bring myself to think of it as a salad. Thus, I renamed it, made a few modifications, served it hot, and I bring it to you today.

It is delightful. Delicious. Delectable. Devilish.

Except not devilish at all, because it’s very healthy–Wikipedia tells me that couscous is “among the healthiest grain-based products,” beating out pasta hands down.

Devilish? Healthy? I love making a statement and immediately contradicting it. It keeps everyone on their toes.

I love this as a side dish, and served it with salmon. I also love this as a main dish, topped with a couple hard boiled eggs or some fried tofu. And if you’re of the meat-needing persuasion (Dave, I’m talking to you), toss in some cubed leftover Thanksgiving turkey or ham. Hah! I totally just redeemed myself by working in the holiday at hand.

Whether main dish or side dish, I would pretty much love this concoction under any circumstance, whatever its name, and however ugly its past was. I’m an all embracing person, and I embrace this couscous dish.

Ingredients

(Serves 6)

2 cups Israeli couscous

2 TBS olive oil

3 large sweet onions

1/2 tsp salt

1 TBS brown sugar

1 TBS balsamic vinegar

1 tsp turmeric

1/4 tsp cayenne pepper

salt and pepper to taste

2 pints cherry tomatoes, halved or quartered

cilantro, to garnish

First, slice up your onions.

Heat the olive oil in a large pot over medium high, and when hot, add the onions and 1/2 tsp of salt.

Cook for about 15 minutes, or until the onions are starting to get translucent.

In the meantime, get some salted water boiling in preparation for the couscous.

Once it boils, add the couscous and cook for about 7 minutes.

You want the couscous to feel like al dente pasta in your mouth–as soon as that happens, drain it and rinse with some cool water.

Back to the onions!

Once the onions are translucent, add the brown sugar, balsamic vinegar, turmeric, cayenne pepper, and a few more pinches of salt. I apologize for the disturbing picture. If you scroll down quickly you won’t have to look at it long.

Thankfully, no one ever said that pretty = delicious. This butt ugly sauce will soon make your taste buds sing a small anthem, and you’ll forget all about its brown gloopiness.

Stir it around and continue to cook on low heat for another 10 minutes.

See? No more brown ugly sauce. It’s magically transformed itself, and is now golden and gorgeous.

Don’t forget to add generous amounts of black pepper!

While the onions are making your house smell like a spiced paradise, quarter or halve the cherry tomatoes.

After the onions have cooked for those 10 minutes, add the cherry tomatoes and cook for 5 more minutes or until the tomatoes are heated through, but still retaining their shape.

Then ask your Nikon D5000, “why do you freak out when intense reds are in the picture? Do you really have to wig out like you do? Can’t you just balance the dang colors for me? I don’t have time for this!” Then the Nikon reminds you of all the amazing pictures not involving reds it has allowed you to take, and you make up with tears, hugs, and promises to never fight again.

I love my camera, and I can’t let our relationship stay on the rocks for more than two minutes at a time.

Adjust the seasoning to your taste.

It may seem like a lot of onions for not a lot of couscous–but don’t worry. When it comes together and you take that first bite, it will all make sense.

Combine the couscous with the onion/tomato mixture, and top it all with some cilantro.

Serve!

I resurrected this clear bowl that I had originally bought to float some candles in.

Then I didn’t touch it for 4 years, and it languished beneath my popcorn bowl, ignored and weepy.

I think this bowl has now found its purpose in life.

Let’s have a bite, shall we?

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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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