Tag Archives: tomatoes

Spicy Tomato Cashew Soup

Let’s put it this way: when I saw this post on Joanne’s blog, I knew I had to make the tomato soup she was talking about. I commented saying something like “looks delicious” and “can’t wait to make it”–but it was no mere blogger small talk. I actually couldn’t wait. I went to the grocery store that very day on my way home from work, picked up the ingredients I needed, walked in the door of my apartment, turned on the oven, and immediately started roasting those tomatoes.

I’ve never had such a fast recipe-to-table turnaround. I don’t know what about this soup (as opposed to all the other recipes I drool over on the internet) compelled me to make it so quickly, but guys–it’s truly amazing.

I’m thinking of writing “Call of the Tomato Soup”–kind of like “Call of the Wild” except . . . more different. With less stuff about wolves and more stuff about food.

This, my friends, is no traditional tomato soup. The Indian spices make it interesting and very flavorful, without detracting from its naturally comforting qualities. As long as you’re okay with a little spice (nothing unpleasant–just a delightful glow-in-your-mouth kind of level), I say make it! And fast. It’s a very low-effort meal with little hands-on time, and it’s also a great twist on what I’m sure for many of us was a childhood favorite.

Ingredients

(Serves 4)

1 ½ lb Roma tomatoes
2 tsp olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste
½ large red onion
6 cloves garlic
2 tsp minced ginger
1 tsp garam masala
1 tsp ground coriander
1/4 tsp chipotle chili powder
1/3 cup salted cashews
1 TBS tomato paste
1 cinnamon stick (1’’ in length)
1 cardamom pod, bruised
4 cups water
1/3 cup Greek yogurt
Optional: extra cashews and cilantro, to garnish

Here are the ingredients.

Except that I was in a hurry to get this soup moving, and in my frenzy I confused it with another recipe I was planning on making, and a few interlopers snuck in.

I x-ed them out for you. No hot pepper. No shallots. Those belong in the Tarka Dhal recipe I shared recently–also Indian, hence my confusion. While I’m giving orders out, I might as well order you to make that too, because it’s fab. Just fab, girlfriend. (Sorry, just channeling a little Beth Moore there)

Preheat the oven to 300 F. Line a baking tray with aluminum foil. Halve the tomatoes lengthwise . . .

. . . toss them with 1 tsp olive oil, sprinkle them with salt and pepper . . .

and place them cut side up on the baking sheet.

Roast the tomatoes for at least 1 hour, but longer if you have time. Use this hour to head down to your local beach and do a quick photo shoot with a beautiful Pilates instructor/dancer named Amie.* When you come back, the tomatoes will be roasted and also cool enough to handle. Remove and discard the skins.

*If you don’t have a beautiful Pilates instructor/dancer named Amie available to photograph, I make no guarantees. None at all. The batch of soup will probably be ruined, destruction and gnashing of teeth will ensue, etc. etc. I apologize for any inconvenience.

Chop the red onion (roughly, since it’s all going to get pureed anyway), and heat the remaining teaspoon of oil in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. When hot, add the red onion. Cook for 6-7 minutes, stirring frequently, until golden-brown.

While it’s cooking, mince the garlic and ginger.

Measure out the garam masala, coriander, and chili powder, because the spices are about to go in.

Add the ginger, garlic, spices, cashews, and tomato paste to the red onion.

Cook for a couple minutes, stirring constantly (to avoid burning the spices), until very fragrant.

Add the water . . .

. . . as well as the cinnamon stick and cardamom pod . . .

. . . and those lovely roasted tomato halves.

Scrape the bottom of the pot to release the brown bits.

Bring the soup to a boil, then lower the heat to medium and simmer for 30 minutes. Once that half hour is up, remove the cinnamon stick and cardamom pod, and blend the soup using an immersion blender.

Temper the yoghurt with a little hot liquid from the soup . . .

. . . then stir it into the soup.

Things are looking and smelling unbelievably good.

Taste the soup and season to taste with salt and pepper. You can garnish with extra cashews or a bit of cilantro if you’d like. I served it with some freshly baked Parmesan tortilla wedges.

Next time I plan on serving it with grilled cheese–maybe amped up grilled cheese with some melty slabs of Pepper Jack inside.

Or I might just use a nice mild cheese to counteract the spice of the soup.

In any case, what a total comfort food.

Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did! Another awesome soup coming up next week.

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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!

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