DC Culinarian

April Indian -- Final Thoughts

I was talking with The-Soon-To-Be-Mrs. Culinarian the other night, and she and I agreed that April Indian has been The Plan's most successful month to date. We're both really quite upset to see it go. Every recipe was an unqualified winner, every flavor combination was different, our tolerance for spice grew exponentially.

That doesn't mean there weren't stand-outs among the bunch. The goat korma was the undisputed highlight of the month, bringing the key elements of flavor, authenticity, and unfamiliarity. The chicken vindaloo was a vinegary flavor riot, and the brightly colored green chile chutney tasted wonderful as it burned a hole through my tongue.

And I learned things, too! For example, mustard seeds, when heated in oil, explode violently out of the pan and become oil-covered, exposed flesh-seeking missiles. I got to play around with tamarind and discovered the local source for all things Indian and South Asian. Also, cayenne chiles are like toddlers with guns: small, but dangerous.

So yes, I'm sad to see it go. But as we say goodbye to April Indian, we also welcome May... well, I can't say it quite yet. But it will be a rollicking month that will include international dispatches as DC Culinarian goes abroad...

April Indian -- Chicken Vindaloo with Sweet and Sour Squash

And now we come to it -- the END of April Indian. We've had dhals, curries, kormas, chutneys, and flatbreads, so now we close it out with vindaloo.

Vindaloos came about during the Portuguese colonization of India; the name is derived from the Portuguese words for "wine" and "garlic." A proper vindaloo, however, is made with vinegar, not wine, and is flavored with a pungent mixture of chiles and traditional Indian spices.

While they have a reputation for otherworldly heat, this particular vindaloo is actually quite mild, but very flavorful -- the longer you let the chicken marinate in the spice paste, the better. The tartness from the vinegar was offset by the sweetness of the squash.

All in all, an excellent end to an exemplary month. I'll have an April Indian wrap-up later on, as well as the announcement of next month's cuisine.

More photos and recipes after the jump.

April Indian -- Chana Dhal and Chapatis

On Friday, The-Soon-To-Be-Mrs. Culinarian had herself a night out with a friend. So I did what any young-ish man with a Friday night hall pass would do... 

I made dhal.

Wild, right? I know. But hold on to your butts, because the night didn't end there.

I also made flatbreads.

Please, hide your envy. That's an unflattering shade of green.

In India, dhal reigns supreme. Everyone eats it, often several times a day, typically with rice or a vegetable. It can be made from chickpeas, mung beans, lentils -- you name it. The traditional process is to cook the beans or lentils in unsalted water and separately prepare the spices and other aromatics, typically by stir-frying in oil. The dhal and the flavoring are combined at the last moment.

This particular dhal was spicy as all get out -- quite a bit of cayenne found its way into it -- and flavored with garam masala, a spice mixture common in northern India (this recipe was adapted from a traditional dhal of the northern state of Rajasthan).

To help eat the dhal -- and help cut the heat -- I made chapatis. These simple flatbreads are almost comically easy to prepare, and fun too. As a flattened round of chapati dough sits on the skillet it blows up like a balloon, providing a perfect pocket for a heaping mound of dhal.

More pictures, and recipes, below the jump.

April Indian -- Goat Korma with Naan

"Hmm," was the noise that came from the-soon-to-be Mrs. Culinarian's side of the room as dinner simmered away in the kitchen. "It smells... goaty in here."

She was right, of course. In a covered pot on the stove, two pounds of goat meat and bones were slowly cooking with almonds, ginger, garlic, and saffron. But for a while all you could smell was goat. It was a gamy aroma: not unpleasant, but not something you'd turn into a scented candle either. Regardless, I loved it.

When the Washington Post's All We Can Eat food blog reported that the FreshFarm Market in Silver Spring would have fresh goat from Many Rocks Farm this weekend, I jumped at the chance. Goat is a mainstay of Indian cuisine, but more importantly, goat is different. Buying meat at the supermarket usually means choosing between beef, pork, lamb, or chicken. Their flavors, while earnestly appreciated, are familiar.

But goat, as my fiancée so ably put it, is goaty. It has a smell that's unlike any of the usual meat suspects, and that's what made it so appealing. Cooking it feels like stepping into a more primitive realm where meat doesn't have the plastic-wrapped sterility of factory farmed cuts, but rather a musk and earthiness all its own.

After a while, that musk subsided a bit and blended beautifully with the delicate flavors of saffron and almond. This goat korma, more than any April Indian dish thus far, felt truly authentic.

As for the naan, that's slightly different story. To prepare a proper naan -- puffy, soft, and slightly charred -- you need a tandoor oven, which can get as hot as 900 degrees. This I lack, so I cranked up my unremarkable electric oven to an uneasy 525 and set the trusty pizza stone in there. Lower heat meant more cooking time, so while the naans puffed out, they also crisped up, like a pizza.

That's not to say they weren't fantastic flatbreads. But unlike the goat korma, they lacked that key element of authenticity.

More photos and recipes below the jump.

On the platter, ready to eat

April Indian -- Baked Goan Fish with Green Chile Chutney

There's a classic episode of The Simpsons in which Apu, the stereotypically Indian convenience store owner, ends up living with the Simpson family and introduces them to Indian food. At one point during dinner, Marge asks Lisa if the food is too spicy. Lisa, already overwhelmed by the heat, whispers as she stares unblinkingly: "I can see through time!"

That's the kind of heat I was going for here. And I got it. Oh boy did I get it.

Six bright, angry green cayenne chiles went into this chutney, matched up with some cilantro and lime and tempered by a little bit of coconut. The color was mezmorizing. The flavor was intoxicating. The heat was incapacitating.

So I brought in reinforcements to help deal with the capsaicin overload: the bright yellow coconut rice you might remember from the inaugural April Indian recipe; and sweet mango lassis, drinks made with yogurt and mangoes and served chilled.

They helped. A little. By the end of dinner, the soon-to-be Mrs. Culinarian and I were tearing up from the heat and sucking in short gasps of breath to try and cool our smoldering palates.

And while the heat grabs your attention, this recipe from the western Indian state of Goa is held together by the fish. I went for a large, whole red snapper, and it's delicate sweetness stood up to the chutney's tastebud inferno.

Additional photos and, for those who dare, the recipes below the jump.

Snapper fillet with chutney

April Indian -- Sri Lankan Beef Curry

I know... I know... This is my second curry in three recipes. And Sri Lanka is not... uh... India.

But dammit if I don't love curry.

Also: beef! It's a meat that doesn't factor much into Indian cookery due to religious and cultural taboos against slaughtering cattle. So to get some beef on the menu I made a quick jump over the Palk Strait.

And it was worth it.

This curry boasts the usual spice suspects -- turmeric, coriander, cumin, cinnamon, and cardamom -- but features a surprise guest: tamarind. The tamarind blends nicely with the traditional curry flavors and gives the curry a pleasant acidity on the back end.

Served over rice with some radish rounds and cilantro for garnish, it made for some good eating. Additional photos and recipe (adapted from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid) below the jump.

The finished plate

April Indian -- Parathas

Ah, parathas. Spiced potato between paper-thin layers of dough, fried to mottled-brown perfection.

Making these savory, doughy flatbreads was something of a nostalgic experience. Many years ago my uncle, a journalist, and his family lived in New Delhi. Such distance meant, obviously, that we did not see them often, but one of my enduring memories of their infrequent visits is of the parathas my uncle would roll out and fry most mornings.

It was also something of a learning experience. Technically, the preparation can be a little tricky, as you're working with dough that is very thin, requiring a delicate touch with the rolling pin. I also figured out that mustard seeds, after spending but a couple of seconds in hot oil, will pop and spring out of the pan, carrying with them a payload of superheated oil en route to the underside of your arm.

Minor scaldings notwithstanding, the parathas were excellent. The recipe was typical of the northern Indian state of Rajasthan, spicy with cayenne and chiles. Additional photos and the recipe (adapted from Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid) below the jump.

The finished parathas, fresh out of the frying pan

April Indian -- Lamb Curry with Coconut Rice

India!

The subcontinent. Birthplace of chess. Backdrop for the formative works of Narayan and Rushdie. Home of Hinduism, the Ganges, and 21st century economic dynamism.

When starting out with a new cuisine -- particularly one with which I don't have much familiarity -- I like to keep it simple. And while the preparation of this dish wasn't technically complex, the flavor combinations were riotous. Cumin, coriander, cinnamon, fennel, cayenne, cloves, cardamom, ginger, whole peppercorns, turmeric, and coconut. The heat of the curry was balanced nicely by the rice and an aromatic Gewürztraminer.

All in all, an auspicious beginning to April. More pictures below the jump, click for larger versions. Recipes courtesy of Madhur Jaffrey.

The plated dish, garnished with sprigs of cilantro