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Clammin’ It Up with Clams

Published by Kathy Hunt

FRESH CLAMS ON ICE

I spent much of this week on the West Coast, soaking up the sunshine and tasting the local specialties. For shellfish fans West Coast dining can be bliss. Home to petite Olympia oysters and gargantuan geoduck clams, it’s the perfect place for these delicacies.

Among the bivalves – scallops, mussels, oysters and clams – I’m partial to clams. Sentimentality influences this for they were the first bivalves that I’d ever tasted. Dipped in batter, fried until crisp and golden and paired ketchup, they were the most exotic thing that eight-year-old me had ever eaten.

Only two varieties of clams exist – hard-shell and soft-shell. Possessing a grayish shell less than two inches in diameter, the East Coast littleneck is the smallest hard-shell. Registering at two and a half-inches, the cherrystone comes next followed by the quahog or chowder clam. The quahog measures between three to six inches. Hard-shells such as Pacific littlenecks, Manilas, pismos and butter all hail from the West Coast.

Contrary to their name, soft-shells possess slender, brittle shells that don’t close completely. All soft-shells possess long siphons or “necks” that stick out of their shells. These necks prohibit closure. Soft-shells include such favorites as steamers and razors. They also have the monstrously large geoduck in their family. Pronounced “gooey duck,” the geoduck’s neck can jut out several feet. If you watch the Discovery Channel’s “Dirty Jobs“, you may remember Mike Rowe’s day at a geoduck hatchery.

With clams size matters. The smaller the clam, the tenderer the texture. Large clams, such as quahogs, usually end up chopped or minced and added to chowders or fritters. Small ones tend to be steamed. All should be cooked gently so that they don’t become tough and chewy. For me there are few things less appealing than having to gnaw away on rubbery food.

On nights when I crave these bivalves but don’t have the luxury of eating out, I buy a few dozen live clams at my local grocery store. If I’m not cooking them immediately, I place them, uncovered, in an ice-filled bowl in my refrigerator. They’ll keep for up to two days.

When I don’t feel like fiddling around with shells, I opt for canned or shucked clams. These are best used in recipes calling for chopped, minced or ground clams such as in fritters and sauces. Dishes such as West Coast Manila clams steamed in an herb-garlic broth will require fresh, whole clams.

MANILA CLAMS IN HERB-GARLIC BROTH
Serves 4 as an appetizer

This appetizer couldn’t be simpler to make. Just scrub the shells, boil the wine, steam the clams, add butter and eat. As with all bivalves, if the shell doesn’t open after steaming, discard it.

2 tablespoons olive oil
5 cloves garlic, grated
1 1/2 cup dry white wine
¾ cup clam juice
¼ cup fresh flat leaf parsley, washed and minced
1 teaspoon dried oregano
3 ½ dozen Manila or other small hard-shelled clams, scrubbed
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
ground white pepper, to taste
baguette or crusty white bread, sliced

Heat the oil in a medium-sized stockpot. Add the garlic and sauté until softened but not browned. Add the white wine, parsley and oregano and bring to a boil. Tumble in the clams, cover the pot with a lid and allow the clams to steam until opened, about 5 to 10 minutes. Spoon in the butter and ground white pepper and allow to simmer for another 2 to 3 minutes. Serve with slices of crusty white bread or baguette for dunking into the sauce.

What’s Cooking in Cambodia?

Published by Kathy Hunt

Ask that question 30 years ago and the answer would be far different than it is today. Ravaged by the Vietnam War and the reign of the Khmer Rouge, folks there were focused on basic survival, not on crafting their country’s cuisine. Yet, in spite of years of deprivation and starvation, Cambodians have persevered to create some of the most flavorful and freshest foods around. Last Friday I learned this firsthand by spending the day with a Khmer chef from Siem Reap, Cambodia’s Tara Angkor Hotel.

Since Cambodian cooking focuses on fresh, local ingredients, we took a tuk tuk to the market to pick up the provisions for our meal. Lemongrass, galangal root, kaffir lime leaves, turmeric, onions, string beans and sweet potatoes all made their way into our basket. Along with garlic the first four ingredients would appear in both the curry chicken and amok trey, or freshwater fish amok, that we’d make. Pounded together into a paste, this aromatic mixture is known as kroeung. A distinctly Cambodian or Khmer flavoring, it’s used in soups, stir fries, curries and the aforementioned fish amok.

Vegetables acquired, we moved on to fish and poultry. In keeping with the emphasis on fresh and local the chickens and fish came to the market alive and were butchered to order. The subsequent dishes created from these truly free-range chickens and fish were far richer, tastier — and authentic — than anything that I’d ever cooked with the factory-farmed, plastic wrapped-products from my local grocery store. Startling to see? A bit. Better to eat? Definitely.

Shopping finished, we headed into the kitchen and started cooking. After pulverizing our kroeung ingredients with a mortar and pestle, we assembled and cooked the curry chicken. As that simmered, we pinned together the banana leaf baskets that would hold the fish amok in a steamer. The “amok” in fish amok refers to the steaming of fish, chicken, tofu, etc. in banana leaves. It’s a traditional Cambodian cooking technique that results in a highly succulent, flavorful dish. If, like me, you’re a disaster at basket making, you can always steam the fish in ramekins. It’s not the customary method but it’s also potentially not as messy. Doubt the messiness? Just note the sagging, about-to-spill-over basket in the photo below.

Once the fish had been steamed, it was dressed with slices of red pepper and a drizzle of coconut milk. From here we could have just eaten the fish amok from its individual baskets. Instead we spooned it into coconut shells and served it in that fanciful manner. Moist, flavorful, fresh and fun, fish amok provided the ideal introduction to Cambodian cuisine.

FISH AMOK
Adapted from Chef Im at the Tara Angkor Hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia
Serves 2 to 4

for the kroeung:
2 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped
1 tablespoon lemongrass, chopped
1 tablespoon galangal root, peeled and chopped
1 teaspoon fresh turmeric, peeled and chopped
1 piece ginger, peeled and chopped
1 teaspoon salt

for the fish:
2 tablespoons kroeung
3/4 pound fillet of cod or other firm, white-fleshed fish, thinly sliced
3/4 cup coconut milk plus extra for garnish
1 morinda/noni leaf, chopped
2 tablespoons fish sauce
2 teaspoons sugar
2 eggs, whisked
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/3 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 cup thinly sliced red bell pepper
steamed rice or soba noodles, for serving

Using a blender or mortar and pestle, pulverize the ingredients for the kroeung. Spoon 2 tablespoons of the kroeung into a large bowl. Add the fish, 3/4 cup coconut milk, morinda leaf, fish sauce, sugar, eggs, salt and pepper to the bowl and mix the ingredients together until well combined. Spoon the mixture into small, heat-proof bowls or ramekins, filling each about two-thirds full. Place the bowls or ramekins into the basket of a steamer, put the lid on and allow the fish to steam for roughly 15 minutes. When finished, the fish will be firm and cooked through.

Carefully remove the hot ramekins from the steamer. Garnish the top of each with slices of red pepper and a drizzle of coconut milk. Serve immediately with a side of rice or soba noodles.

Note: You can find galangal root, fresh turmeric and morinda/noni leaves at Asian supermarkets.

Taste of Vietnam

Published by Kathy Hunt

For me Vietnam has never meant cuisine. Born at the end of the Vietnam – or, as they call it in Vietnam, “the American” – War, I’ve long been fascinated by that war and this Indochinese country. The food? It just didn’t captivate me the same way that the history and culture did. Yet, the more time I spend here, the more I grow to appreciate the background, flavors and techniques of Vietnamese cooking.

Eat in Vietnam and you eat with my nemesis, chopsticks. I have 1,000 years of Chinese occupation to thank for the popularity of these tricky utensils. Along with chopsticks the Chinese also introduced rice cultivation, stir-frying, beef and bean curd to the Vietnamese. Without their influence there would be no pho (rice noodle soup), congee (creamy rice soup), banh cuon (rice rolls) or stir fried meals of any kind. Guess I can forgive them for the chopsticks.

China wasn’t the only country to have an impact on Vietnamese cooking. Nearly a century of French rule resulted in affinities for beer, baguettes, cafe au lait, ice cream, soup stocks and wine. France also brought such crops as corn and tomatoes to the country. Through their efforts I can enjoy a grilled ear of corn, tomato-baguette sandwich, chocolate ice cream or cold beer on virtually any street corner in the country.

Although China, France and neighbors such as Thailand have left an imprint on the cuisine, the food here is still unique. Whether I’m dousing rice with the pungent fish sauce known as nuoc mam or nibbling on the prawn-on-sugar-cane-stick speciality chao tom, I know that I must be eating in Vietnam.

On this trip I’ve had the great fortune of dining in locals’ homes. There’s nothing quite like home cooking. A home cooked meal in another country is all the more special. I love that I’m eating just like the locals do, not like how tourist restaurants and hotels want me to believe that folks eat. Plus, I’m breaking bread with families, sharing in their daily rituals and celebrating their fresh, flavorful cuisine.

What have I been consuming? Relatives of my husband’s step-father have rolled out the red carpet, chilling and cracking open home-grown coconuts to drink and cooking elaborate meals for us to eat. Pork and/or vegetable stir fries, vegetarian spring rolls, chicken congee, banana salad and basil-chicken salad are among the many delicacies. These invariably are accompanied by steamed rice, soy sauce and a simple dressing made from salt, ground black pepper and lemon juice.

What I enjoy most, though, is all of the exotic fruit in Vietnam. Sometimes it’s a banana, mango or longan fruit plucked from a backyard tree. Other times it’s slices of cinnamon and ginger-laced jackfruit or a tartly sweet mangosteen bought at a market. Pineapples, papayas, pomelos and lychees likewise hit the spot on these hot, humid days.

Market Fresh in Vietnam

Published by Kathy Hunt

Although I’ve been in Vietnam less than a week, already I’m addicted to market shopping. Found in every city and town, the cho, or market, serves as a one-stop shopping spot for the locals and for me. Forget Western-style grocery stores, which you won’t find anyhow. If you need a new shirt, frying pan, necklace, pound of onions or fresh shrimp, just drop by the local market.

In Ho Chi Minh City I’ve spent hours at the Ben Thanh Market. Built by the French in 1914, this enclosed shopping mall was originally called Les Halles Central. If you’re familiar with Paris or French history, you might recognize the name for Paris also had a Les Halles or “central market halls.” With over 100 vendors in place Ben Thanh is unquestionably the main market hall for HCMC.

What have I found at Ben Thanh? Chopsticks. Chinese-style dresses. Quirky t-shirts. Men’s polos. Silk purses and cellphone holders. Coffee, tea and spices. And that’s just the some of the dried goods, textiles and general merchandise. If so inclined, I could pick up dragon or durian fruit, blue potatoes and even livestock. Highly unlikely that I’d crave a whole, live chicken but, if I developed some strange hankering for one, I could get it here.

Similar to Western shopping malls, markets offer cooked as well as fresh food. When hungry, I can grab a stool at one of the many makeshift cafes and enjoy a bowl of pho (noodle soup) or plate of stir-fried veggies. I can also just buy a bunch of bananas or dried fruit and snack as I browse.

I’d say that all Vietnamese markets are the same but that wouldn’t be true. Traveling south through the Mekong Delta, I experienced a vastly different marketplace in Can Tho. Situated on the Mekong and Can Tho Rivers, this large city is home to a series of floating markets. Vendors literally drop anchor in the Can Tho River and sell their wares from their boats. To see what each vendor has to offer, glance up at the pole on the front of the boat. Dangling from it will be squash, tomatoes, sugar cane and the like. Whatever their speciality is, it will be displayed prominently on this post.

To browse the floating markets, I hopped on a water taxi in Can Tho and puttered downstream to the Cai Rang market. Once there, the taxi cruised around the large boats, stopping whenever I or other passengers wanted to buy something. Smaller vessels paddled up to us and plied us with watermelons, pineapples, cold sodas and beer. Who knew that grocery shopping could be so fascinating?

For lodging in Ho Chi Mihn City, consider the upscale Legend Hotel or mid-range Bong Sen Hotel. Both are within walking distance to Ben Thanh Market.

To pick up a water taxi for the floating markets, head to the Ninh Kiều pier in Can Tho. This is where the majority of boats for the markets are located. The cost should be about $3/hour.

The Pleasures of a Potpie

Published by Kathy Hunt

During weeks when I’m juggling deadlines and a dozen other things I lack both the time and desire to make fussy, time consuming meals. Since I can’t, or shouldn’t, order take-out every night, I turn to the time-pressed cook’s friend, the potpie. With potpies I simply plunk fish, chicken or vegetables into a pie crust, place a starchy topping over them and slide the concoction into the oven. In less than an hour I end up with something wholesome and filling for dinner — a pie cooked in a pot, or so to speak.

Obviously, I’m not the first to cut corners with potpies. Indigenous to Northern Europe, this tasty dish has been popular since at least the 14th century. Although long reviled for their cuisine, the British have created a lengthy list of delicious, albeit sometimes quirky, potpies. Pies featuring goose, eel, game, steak and kidney, ham and egg, pork with anchovy paste, and cod, flounder or whiting fill the pages of countless British cookbooks.

Although the traditional potpie consists of both top and bottom crusts, my version frequently goes bottomless. Such is the case with chicken and mushroom “puffpie.” For this I toss cubed chicken together with carrots, onions, mushrooms and stock and spoon them into a baking dish. I then cover the ingredients with store-bought puff pastry and pop the pie into the oven. After 20 minutes I’ve got a succulent, piping hot potpie all ready to eat.

A far more famous bottomless pie is shepherd’s pie. Originating in northern England and Scotland where sheep and shepherds reigned supreme, this entree was born out of the need to use up leftover meat. As a result, it contains scant few ingredients — minced lamb or mutton, perhaps a little diced onion for flavor and mashed potatoes for the topping. When minced beef stands in for the lamb or mutton, you have another quintessential English dish, cottage pie. Most cooks today, though, refer to this beef-and-mashed-potatoes combo as “shepherd’s pie,” too.

Since, for me, potpies are all about saving time, I might replace the mashed potatoes in shepherd’s or cottage pie with simple drop biscuits or store-bought puff pastry. Similarly, I may opt to use two frozen, commercially-made pie crusts rather than homemade dough for any of the standard potpie recipes.

CHICKEN AND MUSHROOM “PUFFPIE”
Serves 6

1 ½ pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, poached
2 cups chicken stock
¾ cup low fat milk
¼ cup chicken stock
3 tablespoons flour
2 medium carrots, peeled and chopped
½ cup pearl onions, peeled and halved
8 ounces cremini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
2 tablespoons butter
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon pepper
1 sheet puff pastry

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

If using frozen puff pastry, unfold and defrost one sheet of pastry.

If you don’t have leftover cooked chicken on hand, you’ll need to poach 1 1/2 pounds of white meat chicken. To do this, place the chicken and 2 cups of stock in a large saucepan or Dutch oven and simmer until cooked. Strain the poaching liquid, add the milk, extra ¼ cup stock and flour. Whisk together and then set aside. Allow the chicken to cool before cutting it into small cubes or pieces.

In a large frying pan or Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the carrots, onions and mushrooms and cook until softened. Pour in the liquid and the cubed chicken and stir the ingredients together. Add the nutmeg, salt and pepper, stir and allow the filling to cook for 5 to 10 minutes.

Place the puff pastry on a cutting board. Using a pie pan as your guide, trim the pastry so that it fits over the pan. Once the pastry is trimmed, butter the bottom and sides of pan.

Spoon the heated chicken and mushroom filling into the pan. Lay the pastry over the top of the filling. Bake at 350 degrees for roughly 20 minutes or until the pastry has puffed up and turned a golden brown. Serve immediately.

Warm Bread and Honey Cake

Published by Kathy Hunt

Whether in Rome, Italy or Rome, New York, there will come a day when you find a to-die-for bread, cake or pastry, one that will linger on your palate and in your memory. If you’re like me, you may pester the baker until he shares his recipe. If that doesn’t work, you may end up rifling through stacks of country/region-specific cookbooks, searching for the secrets to that magical treat. With Warm Bread and Honey Cake (Interlink Books, 2009) food historian Gaitri Pagrach-Chandra spares me from the harassment and the hours of research. Her book showcases the best baked goods from around the globe. Everything from savory Turkish simits and Colombian pan de quesos to sweet Chilean apple cake and Caribbean coconut bread appears within this comprehensive book.

As someone who owns a ridiculous number of cookbooks, I’ve had to stop buying titles indiscriminately. Yet I still picked up a copy of Warm Bread and Honey Cake. What ultimately sold me were the chapters on flatbreads and yeast bread, cakes and rolls. When in Turkey, I fell head over heels for cheese-filled boreks and veggie-topped pides or flatbread pizzas. Unfortunately, I never found one book that did justice to these savory delicacies. Likewise, I’ve not come across a Turkish-American restaurant that prepares these pastries as I remember them. Thanks to Pagrach-Chandra, I can say goodbye to soggy boreks and bland pides for I now have reliable recipes for creating them at home.

Make no mistake — you don’t have to have traversed the globe to enjoy this book. For those inclined to armchair travel Warm Bread and Honey Cake will prove a satisfying read. Likewise, those who prefer laid back baking will find this an effortless introduction to the baked goods of other countries. Along with detailed histories and easy-to-follow recipes, this book possesses countless color photographs, drawings and prints. Similar to many of the previously covered titles, it serves the dual purpose of recipe source and culinary history.

Warm Bread and Honey Cake begins with a section on ingredients and equipment. Wondering where to buy or how to make Indian ghee or North African samn, two similar cooking and baking fats? You’ll find out here. Likewise, you will learn how to replace the thick cream kaymak with creme fraiche and discover why almond paste isn’t a good substitute for marzipan.

In the subsequent five chapters Pagrach-Chandra provides anecdotes and recipes for such familiar favorites as Greek baklava, Mexican tres leches and Austrian sachertorte. She also explores less commonly known offerings such as Indian dal puri, Dutch brown sugar coils and Guyanese fat top. It’s a lovely mix of common as well as exotic dishes.

Oyster Shooter for an Oyster Lover’s Holiday

Published by Kathy Hunt

Forget chocolate and champagne. This Valentine’s Day it’s all about oysters. With their rough, irregular shells and mottled, gray-green coloring, oysters may not seem like the sexiest looking fare. Yet, they have long been considered one of the world’s foremost aphrodisiacs. Ever since the Greek goddess of love, Aphrodite, rose from the sea in an oyster shell, folks have equated this bivalve with love.

The most coveted of all mollusks, oysters have been culinary darlings for centuries. Their heyday came in the 19th century when quantities were high and costs were low. At that time diners in North America and Great Britain consumed them as if there was no tomorrow. A slew of oyster-based dishes, including Oysters Rockefeller and Oysters Bienville, came into being. Whether eaten on the half-shell or in a prepared dish, folks just couldn’t get enough of those delectable shellfish.

Unsurprisingly, overconsumption led to shortages and higher prices. Fortunately, the oyster market has rebounded. Now farmed rather than gathered in the wild, their numbers remain high while their costs stay relatively low.

Think that oysters are too complicated or time consuming for your Valentine’s Day feast? Think again for oysters respond well to a wealth of quick and simple cooking methods. I can grill them in their shells or steam or saute them in a stockpot. I can also stuff them with herbs and bake them or coat them with breadcrumbs and pan or deep-fry them. I can make them into seafood soups and stews as well as casseroles and pies. If pressed for time, I can always resort to the three “S”’s: Scrub, shuck and serve them the on the half-shell with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Elegant and easy, they’ll woo with one bite.

Similarly, oysters partner nicely with a variety of flavors. Butter, cayenne, chives, cream, garlic, lemon juice, parsley, shallots, soy sauce, thyme and white wine all compliment their briny taste.

When selecting oysters, I consider size as well as shell. The smaller the oyster is, the tenderer it will be. In terms of shells, live oysters should have solid, closed shells. If slightly ajar, they should snap shut when tapped. If they rattle when I shake them, I toss those out. In all likelihood they’ll contain dead oysters.

Oysters can be stored in the refrigerator for up to a week. Before slipping them into the fridge, I simply place them in a bowl and cover them with a damp towel. If at all possible, I use them right away. I live by the adage “faster usage, better flavor.”

When I don’t feel like fiddling around with oyster knives and shells, I buy already-shucked oysters. Before taking them home, I check to ensure that the oysters’ liquid appears clear, not murky. I may also pick up canned, frozen and smoked oysters in grocery, gourmet and seafood stores.

OYSTER SHOOTERS
Makes 6 shooters

Legend has it that oyster shooters originated in San Francisco during the gold rush era. During that time miners reputedly slipped seasoned oysters into their whiskey glasses and downed the two together. A creative way to kick off your Valentine’s dinner, these one-shot wonders won’t fill you up or leave you tipsy.

Kosher salt, for decorating rims of shooters or shot glasses
6 oysters, cleaned, shucked and liquid reserved
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
6 teaspoons Tabasco or other hot sauce
6 ounces chilled vodka
juice of ½ lemon
special equipment: 6 shooters or shot glasses

On a small plate or cutting board make a mound of Kosher salt. Wet the rims of the shooters or shot glasses and dip them into the salt. When finished, you’ll have six salt-rimmed glasses. Place an oyster and its liquid in each glass. Sprinkle equal amounts of ground pepper on the oysters. Add 1 teaspoon of Tabasco followed by 1 ounce of chilled vodka and equal amounts of lemon juice to each glass. Serve immediately.

Authentic Mexican

Published by Kathy Hunt

Often I can spin a good yarn about my introduction to a cuisine — that first bite of a warm, soft, sugar-dusted crepe on the frost-covered steps of Paris’s Sacre Coeur or the initial, swoon-inducing sip of sweet mint tea in the chaotic main square of Marrakech. Unfortunately, my early experiences with Mexican food aren’t quite as romantic. That life-changing taste of guacamole came not from a bustling taqueria in the Yucatan but at a nondescript Chi Chi’s in Youngstown, Ohio. While neither exotic nor terribly authentic, it kicked off a lifelong love of Mexican fare. Now, when I crave this cuisine, I reach for Rick Bayless’s Authentic Mexican (William Morrow, 2007). Originally published in 1987, this classic cookbook provided me with my first, real taste of Mexican cooking.

Before writing Authentic Mexican, chef and restaurateur Rick Bayless and his wife spent years living, traveling, eating and cooking in Mexico. While there, he developed an encyclopedic knowledge of traditional, regional foods. It’s knowledge that he shares easily in this 384-page tome. Whether you’re a seasoned or novice cook, you’ll find this a highly approachable book.

Over 20 chapters Bayless covers such standard courses as appetizers, soups, salads, fish/meat/poultry, desserts and drinks. He also explores such uniquely Mexican offerings as salsas, tacos, enchiladas, tamales and moles. With each recipe he provides, as he calls them, “traditional variations” and “contemporary recipes” so that home cooks can substitute ingredients with ease. Such is the case with Seviche de Sierra or lime-marinated mackerel with tomato and green chile. Thanks to his handy sidebars, cooks may consider serving the mackerel seviche on crisp tostadas or replacing the fish altogether with shrimp or scallops.

In addition to detailed recipes Bayless offers fascinating histories and anecdotes about regions, meal courses, ingredients and techniques. He also includes a glossary of ingredients and equipment. That’s one of the things that I adore about this book. I not only learn how to make credible Mexican food but also garner an education about Mexico and how its citizens live, cook and eat. If I didn’t love to cook, I could read Authentic Mexican as a culinary history. It’s that thorough and interesting.

Along with color photographs, illustrations accompany the recipes. With this book I never wonder how to roll a corn husk properly or what the grinding stone metate looks like. All the necessary information is right in front of me.

Whether I’m hankering a simple taco or complex mole, I always find what I want in Authentic Mexican. It’s my go-to book for reliable recipes and traditional Mexican fare.

Food Fit for Pharoahs

Published by Kathy Hunt

A pyramid at Giza, Egypt

As a child, I dreamt of becoming an international correspondent, dodging bullets to get the story that would change the world for the better. Instead of global strife I’ve ended up with a safer beat, covering culinary trends. Every now and then, though, my childhood fantasy collides with my adult reality and a place that I’ve visited or topic on which I’ve reported shoots to the top of the day’s headlines. Such is the case with Egypt.

Last fall I spent several weeks in this ancient North African land. During my stay I talked to locals about politics, education, and, of course, food. Strangely enough, I had known the least about the cuisine. Although I had researched it before leaving, I had found little on that topic for Egyptian cuisine often gets lumped under the heading of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean cooking. While both in the Middle East and along the Mediterranean, Egypt nonetheless possesses its own distinct flavors and history.

Ful medammes for breakfast in Egypt

Take, for instance, ful medammes. This traditional dish of fava beans dates back to the pharoahs, who made offerings of these and other legumes to the gods. Today the beans are boiled, mashed and mixed with onions, herbs and spices before being served to diners as breakfast or a snack. Start your day with a protein-packed bowl of ful medammes and hunks of soft pita and you’ll have enough energy to climb a pyramid or two.

Legumes pop up again in koushari. Featuring lentils and/or chickpeas, pasta, short-grain rice, onions and a spicy tomato sauce, koushari has been called the national dish of Egypt. You will find this hearty specialty in homes, restaurants and koushari stalls throughout the country.

Vegetable stew, rice and pita along the Nile

Also seen everywhere is shorbat molokhiya, a leafy, green herb soup. Native to Egypt, molokhiya reputedly cured a sickly, 10th century, Tunisian caliph of his illnesses. Rumor of the herb’s amazing curative properties spread across the land. Fearing shortages, Egyptian rulers forbade the lower classes to cook with it. Times have changed and you can enjoy this delicate soup anytime, anywhere. However, if herb soup doesn’t sound appealing, look for wholesome, vegetable-based stews. These stews or tageens frequently contain legumes as well as root vegetables such as garlic, onions and potatoes. Paired with rice or a salad and bread, they’re a meal in themselves.

Juice bar in Zamalek neighborhood of Cairo, Egypt

From what I experienced Egyptians seem to love sweets as much as I do. Creamy custards, honeyed semolina cakes and crisp filo pastries showed up everywhere from patisseries and upscale cafes to simple street stalls. One of the treats that I enjoyed the most was mahallabiyaa. Made from milk, ground rice, rose water, almonds, pistachios and walnuts, this light, cinnamon-dusted custard dates back to the era when corn wasn’t available in Egypt. Hence why this ethereal pudding was – and still is – thickened with ground rice.

The feasting doesn’t end with desserts. Among the common, healthful snacks enjoyed are roasted, sugar-coated chickpeas, toasted pumpkin seeds, fresh dates, figs and pomegranates. Likewise, seasonal smoothies and juice drinks made from bananas, mangoes, melons, cactus pears and carrots can be purchased on almost every main street.

FUL MEDAMMES
Serves 6

1 pound fava beans, shelled and skins removed
6 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon ground cumin
2 tablespoons parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon salt
Freshly ground black pepper, to taste
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
Pita bread, optional for serving
hard boiled eggs, optional for serving

Place the fava beans in a stock pot filled with 6 to 8 cups of boiling water. Boil the beans, uncovered, for 1 1/2 hours, then add the garlic. Continue to cook for another 30 minutes or so, until the beans are tender. During these 2 hours you may need to periodically add water. However, by the end of the cooking time, most of the liquid should have evaporated.

Remove from heat then mash the beans and garlic. Add the lemon juice, cumin, parsley, salt and pepper, and stir to combine.

Spoon the ful medamme into a medium-sized bowl and drizzle with olive oil. Serve alongside warmed pita bread and/or chopped hard boiled eggs.

Matthew Kenney’s Mediterranean Cooking

Published by Kathy Hunt

Long before he became the king of raw foods, NY chef and restaurateur Matthew Kenney wrote a highly approachable cookbook on Mediterranean cuisine. Filled with vibrant photos, stories and recipes, Matthew Kenney’s Mediterranean Cooking (Chronicle Books, 1997) took readers on a culinary journey through such colorful countries as Morocco, Spain and Lebanon. It’s a trip that I’ve taken many times for Matthew Kenney’s Mediterranean Cooking is yet another beloved cookbook on my kitchen shelf.

So often Mediterranean cookbooks focus on a few countries; France, Italy and Greece usually are the standard ones. Yet, in Kenney’s book, less familiar but no less extraordinary places such as Tunisia and Turkey also have their day. Sure I can still find Greek moussaka, French ragout and Italian biscotti but I can likewise locate recipes for Lebanese kibbeh, Turkish lamb dumplings and Tunisian couscous salad. In Matthew Kenney’s Mediterranean Cooking the known and the exotic come together for some fabulous meals.

Kenney’s recipes combine a variety of countries’ signature ingredients, creating highly flavorful, aromatic dishes. For example, Italy’s salsa verde gets seasoned with Middle Eastern cumin and cilantro for Middle Eastern salsa verde. North Atlantic salmon is preserved with Mediterranean spices for cumin-cured salmon. Even India’s basmati rice receives the Mediterranean treatment, resulting in basmati pancakes with saffron, honey and mint.

Along with his creative pairings and exciting locales I appreciate Kenney’s explanations of ingredients and flavor affinities. Never once do I wonder why dried fruit ends up in a meat stew or how yogurt acts as a marinade. Sidebars dedicated to these topics – and more – accompany each recipe. Additionally, suggestions for sides – i.e. serve cumin-cured salmon with tahini yogurt sauce or warmed flat bread – accompany many dishes.

Simplicity has long played a role in my love of this book. Not one of these recipes requires a great amount of time or skill to make. Take, for instance, Moroccan spiced carrots. I toast a handful of pine nuts, cut and saute some carrots, and mix together a few, easy-to-find spices. Toss everything together in a bowl and dig in. Simple and fast!

Beauty also influences my appreciation of Matthew Kenney’s Mediterranean Cooking. Gorgeous, sun-drenched photos of food, cheery cafes and bustling kitchens pop up throughout the book. Here I receive a feast for the eyes as well as for the stomach.

Whether you crave exoticism or hunger for quick, tasty recipes, take a peek at Matthew Kenney’s Mediterranean Cooking. Chances are it will become one of your favorite cookbooks, too.