This is a favorite meal of ours for those nights when we don’t have a lot of time, we hardly have any fresh vegetables in the house, and we want something with a lot of flavor and a definite comfort factor. Kheema is like the Indian equivalent of chile con carne, or sloppy Joe mix, or spaghetti sauce. There are many different versions – probably as many as there are cooks who make it – and it can be tweaked to accommodate whatever you have in your pantry, as long as you have 1. ground meat 2. chile peppers (fresh or dried) 3. canned tomato and 4. spices. Onions and garlic are helpful, but not absolutely required.

My favorite kheema recipe for when we have no fresh chiles in the house is from Madhur Jaffrey’s first book, An Invitation to Indian Cooking. It’s warm with onion and whole sweet spices as well as dried red chiles, and tastes wonderful. But our current favorite kheema is from the Parsi cookbook My Bombay Kitchen. It uses whole slit green chiles as well as cayenne pepper, so it has a complex spiciness, and it can be made as thick or soupy as you like, depending on how you’re serving it. We usually ladle it over white rice, but the last time we made it I griddled some fresh chapati and we spooned the kheema into the breads with yogurt and chutney. It could also be eaten straight out of a bowl, maybe with tortilla chips. Why not? Not to mention the possibilities of using it for stuffing samosas, or topping pizza.

And for breakfast, I can recommend making a sort of huevos rancheros with leftover kheema and runny fried eggs over sourdough toast or chapati or tortillas. Oh, yeah.

A note about the recipe: there are a few odd ingredients here, but please don’t be scared off by them. We keep curry leaves in our freezer, but the kheema will be perfectly fine without them. And don’t worry about the dhana jiru or the sambar masala – we happen to have both of those, because Jon loves to make spice blends at home, but you can either leave them out, or do what I do, which is to look up the blend, see what the major flavors are, and just add a few of the more important-sounding ones. I’ve indicated a few possible options in the recipe.

Kheema
Adapted from My Bombay Kitchen: Traditional and Modern Parsi Home Cooking by Niloufer Ichaporia King

• 2 Tbsp vegetable oil
• 1 pound ground beef or lamb
• 2 green chiles
• 5-10 curry leaves (we keep these on hand in the freezer)
• 2-3 whole cloves
• 1 onion
• 1 small clove garlic, minced
• 1 tsp ginger, minced
• 1 tsp Dhana Jiru or garam masala or ground coriander (optional)
• 1 tsp Sambar Masala or ground fenugreek and mustard seeds (optional)
• 1/2 tsp cayenne
• 1/2 tsp turmeric
• 1/2 cup chopped cilantro, plus more for garnish
• 1 can diced tomato
• 1-2 cups water
• 1 tsp salt

First, get your mise en place ready – you don’t want things burning while you measure spices. It really helps to have everything chopped and standing by before you start cooking.

Slit the green chiles from the tip up to the stem, leaving the stem end intact, and put them in a bowl with the curry leaves and whole cloves. Measure the various dry spices into another bowl. Dice the onion.

If you have fresh cilantro, chop up the leaves (some stems are fine) and set aside. We have cilantro in our garden right now, but if we happen to be out it’s not the end of the world. I love the flavor it adds, though.

Heat the oil in a large skillet. Add the curry leaves, cloves and chiles. When they have sizzled for a minute or so, add the onion and cook until soft. Add the ginger and garlic and cook a minute more, then add the dry spices and most of the chopped cilantro (remember to save a little to add at the end).

Add a can of diced tomatoes and stir well. Cook for a moment more.

Add in the ground beef and stir it into the sauce, breaking up all the chunks into small pieces, then add as much of the water as you like (you can always add more later to make it soupier). Mix in the salt. Bring it all to a boil, cover, and turn down the heat so it simmers. Cook about half an hour, stirring occasionally. This is a good time to make rice or bread.

The kheema is done when the meat is tender and the oils have separated out of the sauce. Sprinkle on the last of the cilantro, taste for salt, and serve!

It’s always a bit odd to make a new recipe, taste it, then realize that you don’t know whether it turned out or not, since you have no idea of what it’s supposed to taste like. When we made dan dan noodles for the first time, it may or may not have been a success.

What I do know is that the noodles were flavorful, the sauce had an interesting sweet/spicy/salty tang, and the Sichuan pepper gave it so much ma that I couldn’t feel my mouth for half an hour afterwards. So perhaps it was a success. We decided to try it again another time.

That was our first time using Tianjin preserved vegetable, a fermented cabbage product that we had just recently found at a little Chinese market in Seattle’s International District. According to Fuchsia Dunlop, mistress of all things Sichuan, it’s not quite a perfect stand-in for traditional Sichuanese fermented vegetable, but it comes close. The flavor of it was sweet, a little funky and really, really, really salty. We keep trying to decide if we want to replace it when we use up the jar, or just use cabbage and lots of salt instead.

It was also our first use of Chinkiang vinegar, which we found at the same market. It’s made from glutinous rice, and has a surprisingly sweet, almost plummy aroma. The combination of the vinegar with the salty cabbage produced a really interesting flavor for the noodles.

Here is the recipe for the version we made the first time. It was pretty good, but seemed to be lacking something.

Dan Dan Mian (version one)

loosely adapted from Land of Plenty by Fuchsia Dunlop

8 oz dried or fresh wheat noodles (preferably not egg noodles)

The sauce:

• 1 Tbsp oil
• 4 Tbsp preserved veg
• 1 1/2 tsp Chinkiang vinegar
• 1 tsp ground Sichuan pepper

The meat:

• oil
• 4 dried red chiles
• 4 oz ground beef
• 1 Tbsp soy sauce
• pinch of salt

Put on a pot of water for the noodles.

In a wok over high heat, add a tablespoon of oil, then add the preserved vegetable and stirfry it for 30 seconds or so. Scrape out into a large bowl. Add the vinegar and Sichuan pepper.

Putting the wok back on the heat, add a bit more oil, then throw in the dried chiles. Stirfry briefly until they begin to brown a little, then add the meat and stirfry until it is cooked through and partially dried out. Add soy sauce and salt. Transfer the meat to the bowl with the sauce ingredients and stir.

Cook the noodles according to directions, drain them and add them directly to the bowl. Toss everything together and serve.

Just last week we made dan dan noodles again. This time we had thought ahead and made fresh chili oil, and we followed a different version of the recipe that called for fresh ground pork. The difference was astonishing.

The previous batch had been a little dry, and both spicy and numbing without actually being very savory. This batch was oily, salty, savory, slithery, and completely addictive. We didn’t have to ask ourselves whether it had come out right – we just inhaled it.

Dan Dan Mian (version two)

Also adapted (not as loosely) from Land of Plenty by Fuchsia Dunlop

10 oz somen or other wheat noodles

The sauce:

• 1 Tbsp peanut oil
• 4 Tbsp preserved vegetable
• 3 scallions, thinly sliced on the diagonal
• 1 Tbsp soy sauce
• 3 Tbsp chili oil
• 1 1/2 tsp Chinkiang vinegar
• 1/2 tsp ground Sichuan pepper

The meat topping:

• peanut oil
• 6 oz ground pork
• 1 tsp sherry
• 2 tsp soy sauce

Heat a spoonful of peanut oil in a wok, toss in the preserved vegetable and stir-fry for thirty seconds. Scrape into a mixing bowl. Add the rest of the sauce ingredients to the bowl.

Put the wok back on the heat, add another spoonful of oil, and add the pork. Break up with a spatula, and add the sherry and soy. Cook until done but still wet, and add to the bowl of sauce.

Cook the noodles according to directions (somen take almost no time at all), drain, and add them to the bowl. Toss well and serve.

Homemade chili oil is one of the those things where once you’ve made it, you wonder what on earth was stopping you making it. It’s so easy, and so good. All you need is a saucepan and a decent thermometer, and you can adjust the flavorings however you like.

We used to make flavored oils more often, but would make too much at once and have them go rancid when we couldn’t use them up in time. We’ve learned our lesson now, I think – small amounts only. It’s not like it’s hard to make more.

All of our chili oil recipes are from the wonderful China Moon cookbook by the incomparable Barbara Tropp. This one, which we made over the weekend to use in a noodle dish (coming soon to a blog near you), is basic enough to use in all sorts of things, but complex enough to really add a ton of flavor. You can use either just the flavored oil, or spoonfuls of the “goop”, depending on what you want. I also highly recommend her recipes for Chili-Orange Oil, Chili-Lemon Oil, and Ma-La Oil. And if you don’t have her book already, I strongly urge you to pick up a copy. This stuff is liquid gold.

China Moon Hot Chili Oil

Adapted (and very scaled down) from China Moon by Barbara Tropp

• 2 ½ Tbsp chile flakes (we ran out, but made more by running whole dried chiles through a spice grinder)
• 1 Tbsp fermented black beans, chopped
• 1 clove garlic, smashed
• ½ Tbsp minced ginger
• ½ cup peanut oil
• 1 Tbsp sesame oil

Combine everything in a heavy, non-aluminum saucepan. Bring to a burble over medium low heat – use a thermometer to get it between 225°-250°, and let it simmer for 15 minutes. Remove from heat, let cool, and scrape everything into a clean glass jar. Store at room temperature.

I don’t know if we make this dish mainly because it’s tasty, or because it’s so much fun to set fire to a panful of shrimp. Probably both.

Shrimp fra diavolo (“Brother Devil”) is a traditional dish, the main idea being a spicy tomato sauce with shrimp, saucing long skinny pasta. The version we make comes from an old issue of Cook’s Illustrated. It adds an extra step or two to the typical recipe, but it’s well worth the effort. If you’ve never flambéed before, give it a try – it’s gratifyingly easy. Just make sure there’s nothing flammable right above your stove burners. You can skip the flambéing step, but the shrimp won’t have as deep and rich a flavor.

First you toss the raw, peeled shrimp with hot pepper flakes, as much as you think you can stand, plus some salt and olive oil.

The shrimp are seared in a very hot pan, then pulled off the heat. Add some brandy (a quarter cup for a pound of shrimp), put it back over the heat, and tip the pan to let the brandy fumes come in contact with the open flame (or use a match)…

Once the shrimp are engulfed in flames, just shake the pan and wait until the fire dies down – it won’t take long for the alcohol to burn off. Scrape the shrimp into a bowl.

After being flambéed, the shrimp take on a slightly caramelized coating, and the hot pepper flavor is really seared in.

Then all you need to do is put the pan back on medium-low heat, sauté minced garlic in a bit of fresh olive oil until golden, toss in a can of tomatoes and some white wine, simmer it down and add the shrimp back in along with some minced raw garlic and chopped parsley. Cook some pasta and toss everything together. A chilled white wine goes well with the spicy shrimp.

Here’s a lovely sauce to make you feel like it’s summer again, even though it may be more than a little snowy outside. Oven-roasted tomatoes and peppers, pureed with chipotles and spices, then simmered with onion until thick, make for a spicy rich sauce redolent of the flavors of late summer. Using the sauce to braise country-style pork ribs makes for some fabulous winter tacos.

We’ve just started to get into the half pig we bought recently. The chops we started with were fantastic, pan-seared and coated with a cider reduction. More recently I tried braising some blade steaks in a sauce of vinegar, mustard and beer, which was eye-rollingly good but one of the ugliest plates I’ve ever produced (the braised green cabbage on the side didn’t help matters). These ribs came somewhere in between, and while I didn’t get any pictures of the shredded pork tacos, trust me that they were extremely successful as well. However, don’t feel that you need to use this sauce with pork – it would be great used for enchiladas, or on eggs, or stirred into a pot of beans, or anywhere that could use a shot of spicy tomato goodness.

Roasted tomato-pepper sauce with chipotles

from (guess where?) All About Braising by Molly Stevens

• 3/4 lb tomatoes
• 1 red bell pepper
• 3 cloves garlic (we left this out of this batch, due to a friend’s allergy)
• 1 tsp dried oregano
• 1 tsp ground cumin
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• 1 1/2 Tbsp cider vinegar
• 2 or 3 chipotles in adobo
• salt
• 1 tsp sugar (optional)
• 1 onion, diced

Turn on the broiler and set a rack about four inches below the heat. Place the tomatoes, pepper and garlic on a baking sheet and position under the flame. Broil, turning occasionally (and removing any vegetables that seem done) until everything is bubbly and slightly charred on all sides. Remove from the oven and let cool.

Core the tomatoes and peel off the skin, peel the garlic, and peel and seed the bell pepper. Drop them in a food processor.  Add the dried spices, vinegar, chipotles (with some of their sauce), and some salt, and process to a coarse puree. Taste, add salt and/or sugar as needed.

Fry the onion in olive oil until soft, then pour in the puree and simmer for about ten minutes. Use it for anything you like.

If braising pork in the sauce: take 2 or 3 pounds of  country-style ribs, season them with salt and pepper and sear them in batches in a skillet. When browned all over, lay them in a gratin dish and pour the sauce all over. Cover tightly with foil and put in the oven for an hour or so at 300°. Take off the foil and roast another 30 minutes at 350°. Serve as is, or take the meat out of the sauce to cool and shred it by hand, then combine it with the sauce again.

Stuffing cheese into a chicken thigh doesn’t necessarily sound like a wise idea, but when the cheese in question is panir, a dry non-melting Indian cheese, all is well. We found this dish in a recently acquired cookbook, Modern Spice (on clearance at Village Books!), which is full of wonderful recipes that fuse Indian flavors with the American pantry. In this case bone-in chicken parts are stuffed with Indian herbs and spices mixed with Indian cheese, but baked in the oven instead of being simmered in liquid on the stovetop, as with so much Indian cookery. The chicken gets crispy on top, and the stuffing takes on the flavor of the bird as well as that lovely cheesy toastiness and a kick of chile heat.

Panir is crucial to this recipe, since no other cheese behaves quite like it (maybe halloumi?), but if you can’t find panir you could still make all the other ingredients into a rub for roasted chicken parts. What’s not to like about butter, chiles, ginger, garlic and cilantro?

A fusiony sort of dish like this didn’t seem to need a traditional Indian accompaniment, so we recreated a salad we invented on our Paris vacation, caramelizing finely diced fennel in a skillet and stirring in chopped ripe tomatoes. Pure essence of summer, it played beautifully off the spicy cheese and chicken. With a bright Sangiovese rosé, this was a very successful summer-to-autumn transitional dinner.

Panir-stuffed Chicken Thighs

adapted from Modern Spice by Monica Bhide

• 4 bone-in skin-on chicken thighs
• 1 garlic clove, pressed
• piece of ginger, grated
• 1 Tbsp melted butter
• 1 1/4 tsp kosher salt
• 1 cup finely grated panir
• 2 serrano chiles, red or green, minced
• 2 Tbsp cilantro, minced
• 1/4 tsp ground turmeric
• 1 tsp red chile flakes (our serranos were so hot we left these out)

Preheat the oven to 375°.

Combine the butter, 1 tsp salt, ginger and garlic. Loosen the skin on the thighs, then rub the paste all over the chicken.

Combine the panir, chiles, cilantro, turmeric, chile flakes and the remaining 1/4 tsp salt. Stuff this mixture under the skin of each thigh. Place the chicken in a roasting pan, skin side up.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until cooked through and the skin is crispy on top. You can either baste the thighs halfway through, or use my technique of just turning them in their juices with tongs.

September is the month of corn. Trucks are parked by the side of the road, heaped high with ears of sweet corn and signs saying ten for a dollar (otherwise known as “Please! Take it!”). Coworkers bring in bag- and boxfuls to work, in desperate hope that someone will be willing to deal with the overflow.

When there is extra corn in the house, but I don’t really feel like eating it straight, spoonbread is a nice option. I’m not a big fan of fresh corn in cornbread, but spoonbread is more like an informal souffle with a bit of cornmeal in it. The version I like to make has both fresh sweet corn and roasted green chiles, as well as plenty of cheese, and the effect is rather like chile rellenos, with more of the fluffy coating and less of the chile. You get both a bit of crustiness and a rather pudding-like interior, and it makes a great accompaniment to roast chicken.

Ideally you should use anaheims, or other mild green chiles. Poblanos would be a great choice for a little more heat. On this occasion all I had were some big (and very hot)  jalapeños, so I limited myself to two so the spoonbread wouldn’t be too fiery. You can either roast them in the oven (like I do with bell peppers) or toast them over an open flame with tongs.

This is such an easy dish to put together, being very tolerant of adjustments, that it could easily be adapted to all sorts of flavorings and accompaniments. It could be made plain, with a sharp cheese, or flavored with anything you might put in a souffle or quiche: mushrooms, scallions, herbs, and so on. A bit of crumbled sausage or bacon might be really good, come to think of it. Minus the meat, it would make a great vegetarian main course, with plenty of greens alongside.

I may have to start making spoonbread other times besides corn season.

Double Corn Spoonbread with Chiles

adapted from Georgeanne Brennan’s recipe in The San Francisco Chronicle Cookbook

• 2 Tbsp butter
• 6 Anaheim chiles or 2-3 jalapeños, charred, peeled and seeded
• 1/2 cup grated cheddar (or more, if you like)
• 3 eggs, separated
• 2 ears of corn
• 2 Tbsp cornmeal
• 2 Tbsp all-purpose flour
• 1/3 cup milk
• 2 Tbsp sour cream (if you have it handy, otherwise omit)
• 1/2 tsp salt

Preheat the oven to 350°. Butter an 8 inch square baking dish with half of the butter.

Roughly chop the chiles and spread them in the bottom of the baking dish. Scatter the grated cheese over them, reserving a small handful for the topping.

Beat the egg whites until you get soft peaks.

Cut the kernels off the ears and combine them with the yolks, cornmeal, flour, milk, sour cream and salt. Mix well, then gently fold the whites in. Pour it  carefully into the pan with the chiles and cheese. Scatter the reserved cheese on top and dot with the remaining butter.

Bake for 25-30 minutes. Serve right away.

I had assumed that we would be eating all kinds of leftovers for days after our end-of-summer party. We did have huevos rancheros for breakfast (with drunken pinto beans and cotija cheese), and chips and guacamole for lunch, but then I realized there wasn’t really much else left except for a large pile of poblano and jalapeño chiles that somehow never got used, plus some leftover grilled corn. I really didn’t want to go to the store again, so I needed to think of something for dinner based on what was on hand. In a fit of fusiony madness, I came up with a sort of Tex-Mex risotto.

I chopped two poblanos and sauteed them in salted butter (I should have added onions, which would have given even more sweetness and depth), then added Arborio rice, followed by a glassful of white wine. I brought a quart of garlic-scented chicken stock to a boil and began adding it to the rice.

Near the end of the cooking time I took several pieces of cooked corn, cut the kernels off the cob and stirred them into the risotto, along with a pile of grated Parmesan.

To top the risotto for dinner, I roughly chopped a few cloves of garlic and sauteed them in olive oil with a handful of peeled shrimp (which I quick-thawed under running water), and seasoned it with salt, cumin and paprika. The garlicky shrimp juices were just what the risotto needed to perk it up. We drank a chardonnay-albariño blend that had a nice amount of both body and acidity.

The leftover risotto was wonderful for lunch the next day, reheated in a nonstick pan until lightly browned. And no, I did NOT top it with a fried egg! I don’t always do that. This time I used a poached egg.

Someday I’m going to find a spot in my tiny yard to grow tomatillos. A big, gangly, tangled green jungle so we can have as much green salsa as we could possibly want. In the meantime, we just keep buying big bags of them at the farmer’s market – at least until the farmers run out.

When I first discovered tomatillos, I was annoyed at their stickiness and not really sure what to do with them. Now I rather enjoy the process of peeling off the papery husks and rinsing off the gummy coating. Like shelling beans, it can be a contemplative activity. And if you do a few extra pounds while you’re at it, you can toss the cleaned tomatillos into a bag and put them in the freezer for later.

And as for what to do with them, my favorite recipe (so far) is Rick Bayless’ Roasted Tomatillo & Serrano Salsa, from his book Mexican Kitchen. It’s not that different from a traditional salsa verde, where you generally boil the tomatillos and puree them with onion. But in this version, you use the broiler to give the tomatillos and peppers some char before blending and simmering. See below for the recipe, it’s a good one.

Once you have your salsa, you have many options. You could set it out as a dip, of course, but I think it’s especially good cooked with fish (especially a delicate white fish like sole), chicken or pork.

The first time we made it this season, we used it to sauce a panful of enchiladas that had been stuffed with refried beans flavored with chorizo, and that worked really, really well. Is there anything more comforting than a pan of enchiladas and some good sour cream? Not to mention the avocado, cilantro and chopped ripe tomatoes…

The following week, I cubed a pork roast, seared it, and simmered it in the tomatillo salsa. We ate that with soft corn tortillas and salty cotija cheese. Not very showy, but it doesn’t really need to be.

The leftover salsa – what there was of it – is in the freezer waiting for a white bean chili. Plus all those frozen tomatillos. I wish I had more room in the freezer.

Roasted Tomatillo-Serrano Salsa

adapted from Rick Bayless’s Mexican Kitchen

• 1 pound tomatillos, husked and rinsed
• 3 serrano or 4 jalapeno chiles (depending on heat), stemmed
• olive oil or lard
• 1 onion, chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• 2 cups chicken or other meat broth
• handful of chopped fresh cilantro
• salt

Preheat the broiler. Spread out the cleaned tomatillos and peppers on a baking sheet (lining it with foil is very helpful), and broil for five minutes. Turn everything over and broil another five, or until they are beginning to blacken and bubble. Set aside.

Saute the onion in a spoonful of oil in a wide skillet. Cook until soft and beginning to color. Add the garlic and saute another minute or two, then scrape it all into a food processor. Add the tomatillos and peppers and any juices from the pan. Puree.  Depending on what you’re using it for, you can make it very smooth or leave it a bit chunky.

Heat a bit more oil in the skillet, then add all the puree and let it sizzle for a minute. Add the broth, bring the sauce to a simmer and let it reduce for ten minutes. Stir in the cilantro. Taste for salt. Make some tacos.

Although the snow has melted here, the weather continues to be cold and clammy. In Sichuan province in China, the answer to this is plenty of bold spicy food, such as Kung Pao chicken. It’s hot, a little sour, and has the tingle of Sichuan pepper. It helps pep up a wet gray day.

We hadn’t bought chicken breast meat for a really long time until we made this dish. We usually use chicken thighs for everything, being cheaper and less prone to become tough, but it was actually kind of fun to use white meat for a change. The marinade and the quick stirfry keep the meat tender.

Kung Pao Chicken

adapted from Land of Plenty: A Treasury of Authentic Sichuan Cooking by Fuchsia Dunlop

• 1 pound boneless skinless chicken breast
• 3 cloves garlic
• 1 knob fresh ginger
• 5 scallions, white parts only
• 2 Tbsp oil
• handful dried red chiles
• 1 tsp Sichuan pepper (she calls for whole, but I prefer it ground)
• 2/3 cup roasted peanuts

Marinade:

• 1/2 tsp salt
• 2 tsp soy sauce
• 1 tsp sherry
• 2 1/4 tsp cornstarch
• 1 Tbsp water

Sauce:

• 3 tsp sugar
• 1 1/8 tsp cornstarch
• 2 tsp soy sauce
• 3 tsp vinegar
• 1 tsp sesame oil
• 1 Tbsp chicken stock or water

Cut the chicken into small cubes and combine with the marinade ingredients. Let it sit while you get everything else ready.

Thinly slice the garlic and ginger, cut the scallions into chunks, and cut the dried chiles in half with scissors and empty the seeds out.

Combine the sauce ingredients in a bowl and set aside.

Add the oil to a hot wok. Add the chiles and Sichuan pepper and stirfry until fragrant. Add the chicken. As the cubes begin to cook and separate, add the ginger, garlic and scallions. Fry until the chicken is just cooked through. Stir in the sauce and toss until it thickens and gives the dish a glossy look. Add the peanuts, mix and serve.

I like this sort of spicy meat dish with white rice and a big pile of stirfried greens, like bok choi. And lots of jasmine tea.