Each Little World

A taste of Nepal (and elsewhere)

Mark arrived home from the grocery store late Friday morning just in time to beat the snow storm. He then spent the afternoon cooking spicy Nepalese dishes which he proceeded to serve in courses spread out over a couple of hours. He cooked, we ate, we read by the fire and then he cooked some more.

Strange as it may seem, Madison has a wealth of fabulous Nepalese restaurants. We've been going to the grandmother of them all, Himal Chuli, for more than twenty years. We finally decided we needed to learn how to cook some of our favorite dishes at home, which is how Mark wound up buying Taste of Nepal by Jyoti Pathak.

We began our meal with Taareko Alu or Spicy Sauteed Potatoes from that cookbook. Mark had made these before and this time decided to cut them like chunky French fries and to serve them as an hors d'oeuvre with a glass of Guinness Black Lager. They are fabulous and would work well as a starch with any number of grilled or roasted meats.

This was followed by bowls of Dal a la Himal Chuli. There is nothing more comforting, more warming, more sustaining than Himal's Dal. We'd tried to replicate it at home without much success. I decided to look on-line to see if the restaurant had ever published the recipe; no such luck. But local blogger Jessie Bluejay experimented until she came up with her own recipe to recreate Himal Chuli's Dal at home.

We tried it and thought it was a match. This time Mark served us leftover Dal that we had frozen when we made it after discovering Bluejay's recipe not long ago. De-frosted, and heated up, it still held up quite well both in texture and flavor. Mark served the Dal with Capital Brewery's Winter Skal. We emptied our bowls before I thought to have Mark snap a photo.

(Note that Bluejay's recipe has a couple of visual glitches in it; they appear to be related to accent marks and do not affect the recipe itself or ingredient amounts).

The Dal was followed by Tsak Sha Momos or Tibetan Beef Dumplings, a recipe that appeared in the New York Times not long ago. Momos are a staple at Himal Chuli and these were close enough to their version to satisfy us. Mark served them with Potosi Brewery's Cave Ale and a No Cook Tomato Chutney from the Taste of Nepal cookbook, similar to the way they are presented at Himal. The Tibetan Hot Sauce in the NYTimes sounded too hot for the subtle flavor of Momos. 

He was going to also make a stir-fried Ramechhap-style cabbage (from Taste of Nepal), but we ate so many potatoes that we decided to forego that dish.

Huma Siddiqui is a native of Pakistan who has lived in Wisconsin for quite a number of years. She's well-known locally for her televised cooking show, spice blends, and her evocative book, "Jasmine in her Hair." Part-memoir, part-cookbook, this little volume focuses on "culture and cuisine from Pakistan." It is a touching family saga filled with fabulous recipes.

Here you can find more versions of Dal, as well as a recipe for Saag Aloo (spinach with potatoes), one of Mark's favorite dishes from Himal Chuli; though they add black-eyed peas. And Huma also has a recipe for Samosas: pastry stuffed with spiced potatoes. Huma deep-fries hers while they are baked at Himal Chuli. Either way, another great dish winter or summer.

Here's a little video of Huma cooking. Having worked as her assistant during some of the cooking classes she taught at Orange Tree Imports, I want to point out that — though you can't tell from this video — Huma is always wearing heels and never wears an apron. You will also notice that she never seems rushed or tense when she cooks. Being in a kitchen with Huma is an almost meditative experience. If you live in Dane County, consider taking one of her classes or sitting in on the TV tapings. At the very least you will want to add her lovely book to your cooking library.

 

Editor's note: Just caught up with last week's edition of Isthmus where I read that Himal Chuli was the first Nepali restaurant in the country when it opened in Madison in 1986.

The Saveur 100

Every year at this time I make sure to pick up a copy of the magazine Saveur. The Jan./Feb. issue is devoted to "The Saveur 100," a compendium compiled by the staff of their "favorite tools, tips, ingredients, cookbooks, recipes, restaurants, and more." Each year the list has a theme and this year it's "The New Classics."

The Saveur 100 is the perfect midwinter read: engrossing and entertaining. And I always make a game out of reading it, giving myself marks for foods I've tried, tools I own and the like. Of course, since some foods and restaurants they talk about are in other states and even other countries, I do a bit of fudging on the foodie scale. I get points if I've tried the local equivalent.

If you're suffereing from cabin fever, find yourself a Saveur and create your own quiz. 

Here's how I fared this year:

• 13. Baumgartner's Limburger Sandwich. While I am not a big fan of this sandwich, I have been within sniffing distance of it. Chalet Cheese Cooperative in Wisconsin is the last producer in the country of Limburger, so like it or not, I am proud of its history and Wisconsin connection.
• 20. Griswold Cast Iron. We grew up using Griswold muffin molds and every time I visit my sister in Erie, PA — home of the Griswold company which folded in 1957 — I try to talk her into giving me the family Griswold pans. I've found them in antique shops in her area but the prices have kept me from buying my own.
• 29. Linie Aquavit. I learned to drink Aquavit (with a beer chaser) when I took a spinning and weaving class at Peter's Valley Craftsmen out east. But here in Wisconsin, with its strong Norwegian heritage, I learned to appreciate Linie. At all times — like right now — there's a bottle in our freezer staying properly chilled.
• 59.  Christmas in Connecticut. Watched it for the millionth time between Christmas and New Year's this year. Make sure to get the original 1954 version and not the ghastly re-make. Despite the photo in Saveur, Barbara Stanwyck has a fabulous wardrobe in the movie.
• 64. Vietnamese Pork Chops. Had them for lunch on Saturday at Saigon Noodle in Madison. Saveur provides a recipe, but I'm not sure I'd ever bother making them when I can get them right in the neighborhood.
• 66. Old Gourmets. I, too, hoard my back issues of the now-defunct Gourmet magazine. I've got a few dozen issues going back to the mid-1980s; in particular those from November and December with all the great holiday recipes. And then there are untold articles and recipes I've clipped from Gourmets before I tossed them.
• 67. Judith Jones. If you love cooking and cookbooks, you know Jones.  She's the legendary editor who persuaded Knopf to publish Julia Child.
• 68. Homemade scones. I make 'em, I eat 'em.
• 93. Lambrusco. A guilty pleasure and a must with Chinese food.

 

Soon I will be able to add No. 91. Sweet Orange Buns (pictured above). Mark, who doesn't have an insatiable sweet tooth like mine, pointed out this recipe to me in a way that clearly indicated he'd be mine forever if I made him this treat. What could I do but send him to the store for some oranges and yeast?

Basho's radish

When the winter chrysanthemums go,

there's nothing to write about 

    but radishes.

— Matsuo Basho, translated by Robert Haas

 

SHE SAID: Yes, this is a radish! According to "Wikipedia: Black Spanish or Black Spanish Round occur in both round and elongated forms, and are sometimes simply called the black radish or known by the French name Gros Noir d'Hiver. It dates in Europe to 1548, and was a common garden variety in England and France during the early 19th century." This one's about the size of a clementine. Mark bought it specifically to photograph it rather than eat it. 

Chunky cucumber pickles

I have been making these "smashed cucumbers with ginger" incessantly, ever since I discovered the recipe in Saveur magazine in the summer of 2008. They're super easy and can be made just a couple of hours before you want to serve them. Great in hot weather as well as an excellent foil for spicy winter roasts, soups and stews.  

Though the original recipe calls for kirby cucumbers I've used a number of varieties and they all work equally well. Depending on the size of the cukes, I will seed them or not. But I always take a vegetable peeler and get rid of most of the skin, leaving thin dark green stripes for drama. 

4 kirby cucumbers
2 tsp. Kosher salt
1  1-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled
1 tbsp. sugar
1 1⁄2 tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1 tsp. sesame oil
2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

1. Cut cucumbers into irregular chunks. The original recipe said to make them about 2" long and 1⁄4" thick, but I cut them into biggish — but still bite-size — chunks. Then put the cukes into a colander and sprinkle with the kosher salt. Mix, and set aside at room temp for about an hour.

2. Meanwhile, julienne the ginger. Put it into a medium bowl that you can use to make the dressing. I typically use a medium plastic bowl or container with a lid. Add the sugar, vinegar, sesame oil, and garlic. Toss to combine.

3. After the cucumbers have been draining for an hour, gently squeeze them to extract the excess liquid, then pat dry with paper towels. Add cucumbers to the bowl with the ginger dressing. Shake periodically to make sure all the cukes are coated with the dressing.

4. Let rest at room temperature for at least 15 minutes before serving to allow the flavors to come together.

SERVES 4, allowing one good size cucumber per person. Everyone loves them and I can stand at the fridge door and munch on them. So I always use a couple more cucumbers than people (if you get my meaning).

These would be perfect for a late fall dinner of grilled pork loin (brushed with a little hoisin sauce) and Altoon Sultan's Middle Eastern Potato Salad.

 

Jeweled slaw

I used to be very hesitant to try recipes that I found on the Internet. I think it stemmed from the fact that a friend always made dishes with such recipes, and they always left something to be desired. I've definitely gotten over my reluctance, though I am still careful about the source.

Of course, if you do a lot of cooking then it's pretty easy to determine if a recipe makes sense from the chemistry, the flavor and the aesthetic viewpoints. This is one of those recipes. It comes — of all places — from the quarterly e-newsletter of the Library of American Landscape History. Though the LALH gave it a rather prosaic name, I think its bright, intense colors make it look like a plate of jewels!

RAW BEET AND CARROT SLAW

INGREDIENTS:
5 medium to large beets, peeled and grated
8 carrots, peeled and grated
3 tbsp. parsley, finely chopped
2 tbsp. sesame seeds

VINAIGRETTE:
2 tbsp. olive oil
½ tsp. sesame oil
4 tbsp. red wine vinegar
juice of 1 orange
1 tbsp. honey
1 ½ tsp. salt
Several twists of fresh-ground black pepper

DIRECTIONS:
Mix the ingredients for the vinaigrette and set aside. Trim off the tops and bottoms of the beets and peel. Grate beets with a food processor or hand grater. In a large bowl, toss grated beets and vinaigrette. Cover, refridgerate and marinate for two hours, allowing the beets to soften and absorb the flavors. Stir occasionally to keep beets evenly coated.

Half-an-hour before the beets finish marinating, peel and grate the carrots and chop the parsley. When beets are done, remove them from the fridge and toss with carrots, parsley, and sesame seeds. Adjust seasoning to taste.

EDITOR'S NOTES: I made a couple of changes and additions. First I cut the recipe in half using three beets and four carrots to serve three of us. I added some grated ginger root to the vinaigrette. Then I marinated the beets and carrots separately to keep the colors bright and never mixed them as the directions call for. I plated the salad just like the photo above. I also added black sesame seeds to the carrots, left out the white sesame seeds and just added parsley to the beets.

I served this salad one night with chicken curry and saffron rice and another with a smokey grilled flank steak. It held its own with the strong flavors of both of these dishes.

If you like gardening and history, sign up for the newsletter of the Library of American Landscape History. It is always filled with interesting tidbits about designers, historic properties, new books and more. The current newsletter notes that LALH is republishing Fletcher Steele's "Design in the Little Garden." I am lucky enough to have a first edition of this wonderful little book. It would make a valuable addition to any gardener's library. And at only $20, it's a more affordable purchase than many garden books.

Though published originally in 1924, I think it holds up well and is especially valuable for city folks with limited space. It includes an elegantly useful design for a little tool shed that is a long narrow structure that could be built against the side of the house or garage or even a board fence. And Steele includes one of my favorite sections of any garden design book: he takes three adjacent properties of the same size and shape with similar houses and landscapes each one differently. All three include an area labeled "drying yard" for drying clothes outdoors.

Photos and recipe by Jessica Dawson / LIBRARY OF AMERICAN LANDSCAPE HISTORY  

A perfect August day

Woke to the sound of rain and a cool breeze blowing through the bedroom. So comfortable that I grabbed a blanket and slept in. Got up to sunshine and .72" of rain in the gauge; the garden and I both perked up. The rain is much needed. While we're not having a drought, it has been a very dry summer. Using the rain gauge in our garden, my records show that we only received 2.12" of rain in June, 2" in July and 1.55" so far in August.

 

It was still early enough that I made coffee and then headed over to the West Side Market. Came home with green beans, tomatoes, corn picked this morning, my favorite caraway rye from Madison Sourdough. Also got a gorgeous bouquet for a mere $5.00. And two end of season herb plants — basil and parsley — neither of which are doing well in the garden this year. I'm making Anna Thomas' cheese and onion pie for breakfast tomorrow so I also picked up Jarlsberg and gruyere cheese, butter and heavy cream. So Wisconsin!

As I was packing up the car, I heard someone exclaim at the "vanity" license plate of a nearby vehicle, so I had to walk over to see what it said. It was on a silver car sitting in full glaring sun and my phone couldn't get a good image. The license read:

"THNX  WI  14"

A perfect footnote to what is clearly going to be a great day.

Bennington: Summer memories with recipe

Forty years ago this summer, my friend Monte and I packed up a home-made tent/trailer and drove 7,000 miles (or was it 10,000?) on a massive cross-country trip. We were roommates as well as art teachers, so we left when school recessed for the summer and returned Labor Day weekend. It was a great trip, resulting in lots of adventures which I remember via the first journal I ever kept.

All of this came back to me during my recent visit to Atomic Interiors where I purchased the Dansk BLT plates. Among the wonderful mid-century treasures the store offers was a set of four Bennington Pottery plates and bowls. Potter's Yard in Bennington was one of our stops in July, 1971, and we fell in love with their delightful dishes. I fell prey to temptation and memory at Atomic again and bought the eight pieces of Morning Glory Blue spatterware. Again, at $9 for the dinner plates and $7 for the bowls, Atomic's prices can't be beat. The current prices on-line at Bennington are $24 for the plate and $26 for the rimmed soup/pasta bowl. The pieces I bought at Atomic were made in 1961/62 when I was a freshman in high school; the company's been making stoneware dishes since 1948.

Along with notes and bits and pieces glued into that first journal was the this recipe for salad dressing (below) that we enjoyed at Potter's Yard. 

BENNINGTON DRESSING

• 1 tsp. Kosher salt
• 1 tsp. freshly cracker white pepper
  
• 1/2 tsp. freshly ground black pepepr
• 1/4 tsp. granulated sugar
• 1/2 tsp. dry mustard
• 1 tsp. Dijon mustard
• 1 tsp. lemon juice
  
• 2 tsp. finely chopped fresh garlic cloves
• 5 Tblspn. good tarragon vinegar
• 2 Tblspn. olive oil
• 10 Tblspn. vegetable oil
• 1 raw egg
• 1/2 cup light cream

Put all the ingredients in a jar and shake well to combine. Chill before serving. 

Alas, I did not make any notes as to what kind of salad this might have dressed. 

Remembering Mom on her birthday

When Dorothy Kantorczyk Jackson died in 2006 in Erie, Pa., she was memorialized in an obituary that my sister, who lives in Erie, clipped and mailed to me. The obit said that Dorothy could best be remembered by the "laughter of loved ones" around her table after a "hearty dinner of Continental Steak, Twice-Baked Potatoes and French Fried Cauliflower."

It concluded by noting that "the measure of a woman is not what she did, but what she leaves behind." In Dorothy's case, what she left behind was the recipe for her Continental Steak — included at the end of the obit. Her children wanted to share her recipe "the way a magician shares the secrets to his tricks when he dies," according to a follow-up story.

 

 

My mother (far left) with her parents and brother Raymond in 1922.

 

My mother, Florence Brazill, who died later that same year at age 87, would have completely understood the Jackson children's motivation. For the women of their era, it was always about the table. They were the personification of the worthy women extolled in the Book of Proverbs: "Like merchant ships, she secures her provisions from afar. She rises while it is still night, and distributes food to her household."

The women of their generation might have worked outside the home — my mom had a B.S. in social work, had jobs in the insurance, medical and retail fields and got her real estate license when she was almost 60 — but they never focused on their careers the way their daughters did.

The home was the center of their world. As my sisters and I noted in our mother's obit in 2006, "Long before Martha Stewart, she taught herself to wallpaper and to make slipcovers . . . always set a beautiful table and her talents in the kitchen were legendary."

 

My mother on her First Communion in the late 1920s.

 

Unlike Dorothy Jackson's children, my sisters and I would be hard-pressed to pick a definitive recipe for our mother. Perhaps her cheesecake — easy to make, good for a crowd. It was the dish she brought to church functions, and that was mentioned by friends who kept in touch after she and my father left their longtime hometown of Buffalo, NY for Erie, PA in the 1990s. My sisters and I are all good cooks, but none of us measures up to our mother.

  

My parents at the time of their engagement in the mid-1940s. 

 

 

As we noted in her obit, "Florence baked from scratch: bread, pies, coffeecake, eclairs and traditional German Fastnachts Kuechla for Shrove Tuesday. She canned every kind of fruit and vegetable, made mincemeat, jams, jellies and watermelon rind pickles."

 

We grew up eating "thin pancakes" for supper on meatless Fridays not realizing until years later that they were French crepes. We took it for granted that everyone's mother stood at the stove — deftly controlling two frying pans — while we all sat at the table clamoring for more. I still make her crepes (topped with raspberry jam and powdered sugar — we never gussied them up with fillings) when I want a quick, comforting meal.

 

 

And I searched far and wide in the pre-Internet era to find a secondhand copy of the World War II edition of "The Woman's Home Companion Cookbook," virtually the only cookbook I ever saw my mother use. Usually she relied on recipes written out on index cards or yellowed newspaper clippings jumbled together in a three-ring binder. I followed suit and began my own clip file of recipes when I was still in high school.

 

My mother with three of her four daughters in the 1950s.

 

 

The photos that our mother used to mail to us in her cards and letters were not of her or our dad but of his peonies and poppies in the garden. Or an array of fresh produce piled on her old green kitchen scale just before the produce went under her knife. Or, perhaps, a shot of her father's "smoking chair" transformed after she signed up for an upholstery class.

 

 

Florence could knit, embroider and sew anything from a pair of lined Bermuda shorts to Halloween costumes and party dresses. In an era before clothing labels loomed large, it was her home sewing talent that gave the Brazill sisters their wardrobe edge. The dress she made for my high school graduation had an inset of antique lace that had belonged to her mother. That dress was both simple and sophisticated, a labor of love that's been a treasured memory all these years.

 

 

Our mother expressed her love for her family most often through her hands. And that's how we continue to remember her, through our hands — every time we sew on a button or crimp a pie crust.

 

 

Enjoying the sidewalk cafe with granddaughter Sarah, at daughter Pat's wedding in NYC in 1998.

 

 

This essay appeared under my byline in a slightly different version on Oct. 21, 2006 in The Capital Times newspaper in Madison, WI. Today is the 92nd anniversary of my mother's birth. 

Early April

My birthday falls in early April, so I long ago got used to bad weather — cold, snow, icy rain — as the sign that April and my special day had arrived. Today was classic: a cold and gray morning gave way to fat white flakes that turned into snow showers. There was only one thing to do as far as I was concerned: spend the day in the kitchen.

By ten a.m. I had made a triple batch of granola (first time in 30+ years) and blintzes. I filled a dozen homemade crepes with ricotta cheese flavored with honey, cardamon, orange rind and a dash of nutmeg. Hadn't made the blintzes in years either, so as soon as they were filled I warmed a couple of them in melted butter and ate them topped them with wild blueberry jam with limoncello (by Bittersweet Herb Farm available at Orange Tree). 

Then I moved on to Italian pot roast (Oprah at Home, Fall 2004) which slowly cooked on the stove all afternoon. I served it with pappardelle noodles and green beans sauteed with olive oil and lots of garlic. My sister-in-law brought a luscious little chocolate raspberry cake from Whole Foods which was a perfect end to the meal — and the day.

While I was in the kitchen, you can see that Mark was outdoors with the camera. The white crocus are the aptly named 'Snow Bunting."

Something sweet for St. Pat's Day

After a recent dinner at one of our favorite restaurants — Sardine — three of us decided to split dessert. Alas, I did not get the name of the narrow slab of dense delicious flourless chocolate cake we shared. At one end the cake actually sat in a pool of caramel sauce, while the other end sported a Florentine cookie rather like a sail. Off to the side was a spray of finely crushed nuts. To eat it, you dipped a bite of cake in the caramel and then into the nuts, for a taste explosion on the tongue. We were all moaning through our mouthfuls . . .

I had promised to bring my maple pecan shortbread cookies to a small dinner party the very next weekend. After enjoying Sardine's elegant offering, I decided to try my hand at creating a dessert of multiple flavors and textures — elegantly presented. Here's my dessert plate: vanilla ice cream, coffee caramel sauce (Stonewall Kitchen), and chopped toasted pecans with the maple leaf cookies.  

And Mark's personal preference: the more is more version.

I think it would make a perfect finale — with a glass of Tullamore Dew Irish Whiskey — to a St. Patrick's Day dinner. After all, every woman deserves her Dew — especially if she also made dinner and dessert!