City Dining, Country Cooking
A recent night out at Tabla Bread Bar, www.tablany.com, across from Madison Square Park reminded me of everything I love and loathe about juggling city and country life. In New York I have a wealth of restaurants serving a wide range of cuisines. At Tabla it is Danny Meyer’s modern take on Indian. Piquant tamarind margaritas. Lentil-studded navaratan dal. Spicy sag paneer pizzas. Soft, warm naan bread dipped in tamarind-jaggery chutney. A warm pumpkin bread pudding to top off the meal. Just divine!

Should I wish to recreate my Bread Bar experience at home, I can wander a few blocks north to the specialty food market Kalustyan’s. www.kalustyans.com Here, I can find the all the exotic spices featured in Tabla’s dishes. Walk about 20 blocks south of my apartment and I can roam the aisles of Fairway, picking up all the fresh ingredients needed. Hop the cross town bus to Kitchen Arts and Letters at Lexington and 94th, www.kitchenartsandletters.com, and I can even buy Tabla executive chef Floyd Cardoz’s cookbook, “One Spice, Two Spice.”
Yet, back at my apartment, ingredients and recipes in hand, I am at a loss at how to proceed. The reason? I have a kitchen the size of a closet. Not a spacious walk-in with ample room for shoe racks, sweater boxes and a full length mirror but a very small, very cramped one stuffed with puffy coats, sweaters and blankets and about to burst at the hinges.

With just enough counter space to hold a microwave – complete with toaster oven resting on top – coffee maker, one ceramic canister, a bottle of red wine and a roll of paper towels I feel fortunate that I can spread out and make a grilled cheese sandwich. Whip up chicken tikka masala with cardomom-scented basmati rice and garlic naan bread? You have got to be kidding.
In southeastern Pennsylvania it’s a whole different story. There I am lucky to possess a kitchen with yards and yards of empty counter space. Spacious and bright, the room contains a 5-burner stove, full-sized dish washer and refrigerator, table and chairs – not my apartment’s tiny, 2-seater kitchenette that doubles as dining and dressing tables, desk and prep station – and a wire shelving unit filled with cookbooks and cooking tools. It even has an island, one large enough to hold two, maybe three, average-sized people laying head to toe. Weird but true.

So, about what could I possibly complain? How about the paucity of ingredients.
A trip to one of the massive chain grocery stores serves as a perfect example. Four thousand types of cereals, cookies and chips yet not one jar of roasted chestnuts, preserved lemons or my beloved tamarind paste. Loads of plastic containers brimming with ground cinnamon, cardamon and nutmeg but not one holding a simple cinnamon stick, cardamon pod or whole nutmeg. Want 20 different brands of salsa or packaged tortillas? No problem. Want the masa harina to make your own tortillas? Well . . ..
Let’s consider a few fairly mainstream yet surprisingly hard-to-find goods. Wheat flour. I drove to three supermarkets just to find one bag of organic wheat flour. Monkfish. The man working the counter of one meat-and-fish department had never heard of it. Figs. No one was aware that these come in a fresh, non-Fig Newton form.
The solution to my no space/lots of ingredients or lots of space/no ingredients dilemma? A simple, if not slightly tedious, one. I load up my car with bags from Fairway and Zabar’s, www.zabars.com, then head across the Hudson where, two hours later, I unpack my coveted groceries and start cooking. Urban dining (and shopping) paired with country cooking. May seem unusual but, thus far, it has worked.
CHICKEN BIRIYANI
Serves 6 to 8
An Indian dish inspired by a cookbook from Kitchen Arts and featuring spices purchased at Kalustyan’s.
2 lbs. skinless, boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 onions, peeled and roughly chopped
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and roughly chopped
3 tablespoons fresh ginger, peeled and sliced into sticks
½ teaspoon coriander seeds
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon cardamon
½ teaspoon chili powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon garam masala
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon saffron threads
1 cup plain yogurt
1 ½ cups basmati or long-grain rice
8 cardamon pods, slightly bruised with back of knife
¼ cup of almonds, skinned, roughly chopped, and toasted
¼ cup of cashews, toasted
Place the onions, garlic, ginger, coriander seeds and lemon juice in the bowl of a food processor and process until smooth.
Add the nutmeg, cinnamon, black pepper, cardamon, chili powder, cumin, garam masala and salt to the mixture and pulse several times until well combined.
Pour the marinade into a large bowl and add 1 cup of yogurt and the saffron threads. Stir together then set aside.
Place the chicken in the marinade and toss to coat all the pieces. Refrigerate and allow the meat to marinate for at least 1 hour.
Pre-heat the oven to 350˚F and butter a 5-quart baking dish. Set the dish aside.
Using the flat surface of a spoon or the handle of a knife, press down on each cardamon pod, bruising but not breaking the shells. Place the pods, along with the 1 ½ cups of rice, in a saucepan. Following the directions on the rice’s packaging, cook the rice. Once the rice is finished, remove the cardamon pods then cover the pan until ready to use.
Remove the chicken and marinade from the refrigerator and pour into a large sauté pan on the stove top. Bring the contents to a boil then reduce the heat to medium and cook uncovered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
After 15 minutes remove the chicken and place it on a plate. Continue cooking the sauce for another 5 minutes to reduce it slightly.
Taking the baking dish, layer the rice, chicken and sauce. There should be two layers of each.
Place in the baking dish in the pre-heated oven, cover and bake for 25 minutes. In the interim toast the almonds and cashews in a pan until golden.
After removing the dish from the oven, top the biriyani with the toasted nuts then serve.


On Moroccan nights I hold my silver teapot high above the dinner table and pour hot, sweet mint tea into delicately filigreed glasses. Unlike the tea wallahs of Morocco, who can do this without spilling a drop, I usually splash some on the tablecloth, if not on a guest. Still, the spectacle is worth the stained linens and startled friends.


My mother may not have used the books often but, when she did, she filled the margins with ratings – a red “X” for unsuccessful recipes, a “good+” for, obviously, those she found worth making again. My favorite, the hardbound “Cook’s Choice,” is loaded with these notations. My first grade teacher Elma Alford’s chicken casserole warranted a “good+.” Yet, I can’t remember ever eating this well-reviewed meal. 