Archive for December 2011
Entranced at Cuckoo’s (Handi gosht)
When my friend Katie Parla asked me about my best bite of 2011 I had to think hard. There were so many! Kaymak in Istanbul, momo’s in Kathmandu, gnocchi all’amatriciana in Rome, my mom’s hare stew in Rotterdam. But, there was only one restaurant experience that really stood out: Cuckoo’s Den in Lahore, Pakistan.
Pakistan is not your average tourist destination, I know. Unless you have a reason to visit (I went for Children of Tomorrow, the education organization I volunteer for), western governments discourage visiting the country at this point in time. That’s unfortunate, because from what I’ve seen during two visits the landscapes are unique, the people most hospitable and the food just a-ma-zing. Pakistanis are true masters of barbecue and grill entire slabs of meat to sheer perfection.
The beautiful old city Lahore is known as the food capital of Pakistan, ever since the era of the Mughals. Here, all discussions sooner or later arrive at: ‘What are we eating? And when? ‘Food is the only real entertainment we have these days’, my host told me. He and his wife took me to Cuckoo’s Den. This famous restaurant is in the red light district of old Lahore (yes, Lahore has a red light district, Heera Mandi. Read more on it here). The owner is an artist, whose mother was a prostitute. Painted portraits of local women line the walls at the entrance. As you climb up three flights of steep marble stairs, encountering more objets d’art, dark carved wood and old tiles, the smell of grilled meat intensifies.
When we reached the rooftop, it left me speechless. Dimly lit by only a few bulbs that give the wafts of smoke a mystical air, the rooftop is a museum of curiosities. Roman busts mixed with carved elephants, mixed with buddha’s and ornaments. And, from any one of the wobbly tables you have a view on the majestic Badshahi Mosque.
The funny thing is, I don’t even remember the food all that well. I know it was good, very good indeed, especially the handi gosht (mutton stew). But in this ambiance, sitting outside in the sweltering Lahore air, you could’ve served me anything. I was under Cuckoo’s spell.
Handi Gosht (Pakistani mutton stew)
Handi gosht is a spicy mutton stew named after the type of cooking vessel, a handi. I didn’t have one, but used a Dutch oven instead. This recipe is adapted from Fazia’s Pakistan.
- 3 small dried chilies (seeds removed)
- 1 teaspoon fresh ginger
- 1 teaspoon fresh garlic
- ½ teaspoon cinnamon
- ¼ teaspoon cloves (or 1 whole)
- 3 black peppercorns
- 1 big black cardamom pod
- 4 tablespoons cooking oil
- 1 onion (chopped)
- 1 kilo or 2.5 pounds mutton (big chunks)
- 100 grams plain yoghurt (preferably Greek)
- 1 tablespoon of flour mixed with 2 spoons of water
With a mortar and pestle or in a food processor, grind chilies, ginger, garlic, cinnamon, cloves, peppercorns, cardamom and a pinch of salt to a spice paste. Add a little oil to smoothen.
In a Dutch oven, heat cooking oil. Fry the onions until transparent. Add the spice mix and fry for 5-7 minutes. Add a little water if the spices stick to the pan.
Add the mutton chunks and fry for a few minutes, until meat is coated. Add yoghurt and mix well. Add a cup of water, bring to a boil, then cover and let simmer until the meat is tender (an hour or so).
Add the flour/water mixture, stir and let simmer for another 15-20 minutes.
Serve with garnishes of garlic, fresh chilies and cilantro.
Delicious superstitions (Speck-wrapped salmon in pomegranate sauce)
A few years ago I’d easily walk under ladders, didn’t freak out when I accidentally crossed glasses when toasting and when I spilled some salt well, I just cleaned it up. But here in Italy, where superstitions run rife, I’ve noticed some changes in my behavior.
Not that I suddenly started to believe in supernatural causation after I do or don’t do something. I find myths and old wives’ tales highly amusing, but my no-nonsense nature prevents me from finding any consolation in them. However, I hate to step on toes, especially since I’m a minority. I decided to learn about the most common superstitions when my umbrella almost (by accident!) opened in a bar and I got yelled at. Rome blogger Eleonora Baldwin gave a great introduction a while ago, but I keep hearing new things every day. Who knew hearing a cat sneeze brings good luck!
Actually, if something is supposed to bring good luck, I’m all for it now, especially food-wise. If it doesn’t help, it doesn’t hurt and at least I ate well! Last week at the market an elderly signora told me pomegranates are supposed to be on the holiday table as they bring good luck. I knew they were considered lucky in Turkish culture (the seeds represent prosperity and money), but in Italian too? After a quick search I discovered this ancient fruit symbolizes long life, eternal youth, fertility, offspring and luck in love.
Wow, good thing I love to cook with pomegranates. They will be on the new year’s table together with the mandatory lenticchie con cotechino (lentils with traditional pork sausage) bringing money and good fortune, so we got everything covered for the new year ahead. Happy 2012 everyone!
Speck-wrapped salmon in pomegranate sauce
I meant to use bacon or thinly sliced smoked pancetta for this recipe, but when I couldn’t find that I decided to go for the nothern Italian speck. It’s nice and smoky, and has enough saltiness to balance out the sweetness of the sauce.
- 1 decent-size salmon slice per person
- 2-3 thin slices of speck, pancetta or bacon per salmon slice
For the sauce:
- 4-5 tablespoons pomegranate molasses (look for Turkish ‘nar ekşisi’ or Iranian ‘Rob-e Anar’)
- Seeds of 1 pomegranate
- Pinch of chilli pepper
- Salt to taste
Preheat the oven to 180 °C (350 °F).
Lightly wrap every piece of salmon in 2-3 slices of speck. Heat olive oil and sauté every slice carefully over high heat for 4-5 minutes on each side. Place in a baking pan, cover with tin foil and bake in the oven for 10-15 minutes.
Add the pomegranate molasses to the sauté pan. Stir over high heat, add a couple of spoons of water, a pinch of chilli pepper and salt and about half of the pomegranate seeds. Let it reduce to a velvety sauce. Reduce heat, add the rest of the pomegranate seeds (keep a few on the side), add the salmon and warm for another 2-3 minutes. Serve on heated plates and sprinkle with remaining seeds.
Picture: stock xchange (pomegranate) and Luis Herrera (salmon dish)
The non-Italian food club (Mole duranguense)
What is that trick our minds play that we always crave what we can’t have? In Rome, food lovers’ paradise, I keep finding myself on the lookout for great non-Italian food. And I’m not the only one.
A couple of months ago at a party, my friend Luis mentioned he once carried a hefty iron tortilla maker in his hand luggage, from his native Mexico to Rome. Other friends immediately jumped at him: “Can you make us burritos?” And so he did, in a 4-course dinner that blew our minds. Weeks later I was invited over at Hande’s to have German food and most recently I organized an Indonesian dinner. I jokingly dubbed these nights “The Non-Italian Food Club”.
When a cab driver recently stated that Roman food is the best in the world I couldn’t say no. Just because he wouldn’t let me. Clinging to your traditions is a fantastic thing, because a lot of people including myself reap the benefits from unbending rules. But how many times do I have to say that ‘different’ doesn’t mean better or worse?
From a young age I was exposed to a variety of cuisines. Traditional Dutch food was only remarkable in the hands of both my grandmothers. My mom cooked a mean curry one night and a bouillabaisse the next. Obviously I followed her example. And then my horizon expanded even more during my stint in New York. Having great food at your fingertips 24/7 is exhilarating!
For the large immigrant population Rome has, the city boasts surprisingly few non-Italian restaurants. I’m not saying ethnic food, cause as mentioned in this article recently, is there such a thing as ethnic food? And besides, I mean ALL non-Italian food, whether it be Dutch, Scandinavian or Pakistani. Anyway, if you’re brave enough to venture out to one of them, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment most of the time. There’s a handful of half-decent Korean places, some Indian restaurants, Middle-Eastern maybe. But most of it is kind of bland.
I’ve set myself on a mission to find the best non-Italian eats in Rome, even if it means wielding through a lot of crappy food. My brave friend Katie already found a good number of them, including favorites as Mesob or Shawarma Station. But what about great Mexican? Or outstanding French cuisine? In the mean time, I hope there’ll be many more of these unforgettable home-cooked dinners!
Mole Duranguense de la abuela Elvira
This is a tried and tested recipe of Luis’s grandmother Elvira. ‘Mole’ is the general term for ‘sauce’. The best known version is ‘poblano’, containing chili peppers, chocolate, shredded turkey and some other 100 ingredients. This family version from the Durango region ‘only’ has 9 (excluding those used for the broth).
- For the broth: 1 onion, 2 garlic cloves and a bunch of fresh green herbs such as bay leaves, marjoram, thyme and so on.
- 3 chicken breasts
- 10 red ancho chilis
- 1 green plantain (peel included)
- 10 almonds
- 4 tablespoons sesame seeds
- 3 cm cinnamon stick, ground
- 3-4 slices of toasted bread
- 1 flour tortilla (browned in a frying pan with a bit of cooking oil)
- 1 ½ tablet of Oaxaca chocolate (alternative: 150 grams of 80% cacao dark chocolate)
In a large pot, bring water to a rolling boil, add roughly chopped onion, garlic, and fresh herbs and add the chicken breasts (whole) after a few minutes. Reduce the heat, and let the chicken boil until done. (This method is pretty common in Mexico, even so that it says ‘cook the chicken the normal way’ in the recipe). Remove chicken and set aside.
Slice the ancho peppers in half, remove the seeds and soak them for 20 minutes or so in some of the warm broth.
Slice the plantain horizontally (including the peel!) and fry the slices in a bit of cooking oil until golden.
Soak the almonds and the sesame seeds in a bit of warm water. Drain and place in a food processor, together with the chilis, cinnamon, the bread (in small chunks), the tortilla, and the plantain. Process until the paste has a velvety texture.
Add this paste to a heavy-bottomed pot, and, over low heat, add the chocolate piece by piece. Keep stirring slowly until you have a thick homogeneous sauce. If it’s too thick, add a few tablespoons of broth. Add salt to taste.
Shred the chicken breasts with a fork, add the shreds to the sauce, stir for about 5 minutes. Turn off the heat and let the mole stand for 1 to 2 hours. Reheat before serving.
We served the mole with a slice of fried plantain, refried beans and saffron rice.
Picture courtesy of Gina Tringali.
