Turmeric Tea in Quiet Protest

As the world slowly imploded Saturday night after the immigrant ban, Brett and I watched Scarface. An extreme choice in retrospect, but it offered insight beyond its cautionary tale of greed told by way of a cocaine avalanche.

Suffice to say if you are concerned about refugees killing Americans, which has not happened since the seventies, you might as well since cite Tony Montana as a reference.

I understand that terrorism is a threat.  I feel it.  I was in Boston during the marathon bombing and I have not been able to stand at ease in a large crowd since. But at its core this ban is un-American and uninformed.

It is also cowardly. 

Have its supporters ever met a refugee? 

I have. She was from one of the seven countries now banned from entering the United States. She was not carrying an assault riffle or a burning flag. She was carrying baklava.

Her delicately flaky pastries were held in a disposable foil pan.  The kind your mother might use to cook and transport a casserole.  They were stuffed with pistachios and scented with cardamom. She had Margaret Keane eyes and was incredibly kind.  So grateful to see me that she came carrying dessert.

Diversity makes us better. It makes our plates, and our lives, richer.

Without the movement of people from space to space we would not have baklava.  There would not be spaghetti and meatballs, either.  No chocolate for our chocolate chip cookies.  No coffee.

And certainly no turmeric tea. Which is what I am here to talk about today.

I had it in caffeinated protest before the rally in Boston on Sunday. 

The recipe comes from Tejal Rao, a London-born writer with Kenyan-Indian roots living in Brooklyn.  She describes the tea as her grandmother’s silent acknowledgement of the typical grievances that tend to occur in childhood, no matter where you call home.

The drink is the color of a canary and tastes like a delicate chai.  I used mostly water and a little half and half, instead of milk, because it was what I had. I do not think the liquid you use will matter much past its volume.  The milk is not the point.  The spices are the point.

I had torn the recipe out a couple weeks ago, intending it for a time when I needed a little quiet comfort. I did not expect to need it so soon.

But I am glad to have it here.

Turmeric Tea

Adapted from Tejal Rao of The New York Times Magazine

Ingredients:

• ¾ cup of water
• a ½-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and thinly sliced
• ½ tsp dried turmeric
• 1 cardamom pod, lightly cracked
• 1 cinnamon stick (see notes)
• 2 black peppercorns
• ½ to 1 tbsp honey
• ¼ cup half and half
• 1 black tea bag

Instructions:

In a small saucepan, add the water, ginger, spices, and honey (start with a ½ tablespoon) and set over medium-low heat.  Bring to a simmer and then add the half and half and tea bag.

When the liquid starts to steam (it should be barely simmering at this point), taste and add additional honey if needed.

Pour through a mesh strainer into a teacup and discard the spices.

Makes enough for one

Notes:

1. If you are going to make this often, you will go through a lot of cinnamon sticks.  You may want to experiment with ground cinnamon, which I suspect will be just as good.
2. If you do not want to use half and half, you could cut the water down to a couple tablespoons and add in about a cup of milk (or even a nut-based milk) instead.

Chile Sunflower Sauce Says Relax

There is a restaurant in Tulum, Mexico that does not have a roof.  There are probably a number of such places in the Yucatán, but this one is run by two ex-New Yorkers who traded tiny overpriced spaces, with ceilings, for the clear blue ocean and wood-fire cooking.

Their place is called Hartwood and last March Brett and I went to visit. I got halfway through my salad of chaya and hibiscus-stained eggs before microbial poisoning from a previous encounter took over and we had to leave rather abruptly.

We have vowed to go back and finish our dinner, but for now the restaurant also has a cookbook.  Until we are again Mexico-bound, their food can be recreated from the comfort of our enclosed Boston kitchen. 

The first recipe we tried was their grilled calamar salad.  It is a gorgeous plate of charred squid and leafy greens drizzled with an emerald basil and charred onion dressing set against a brick red chile sauce with coffee-colored flecks.

The sauce goes with everything, so a condiment of delicious ubiquity is what I am here to discuss today.

We have had it with grilled skirt steak and homemade breakfast tacos with soft scrambled eggs, also pictured above.  I suspect it would be wonderful with most meats and legumes known to man. Recently it has functioned as a universal taco sidekick, thanks to the tortilla press my sister gave me for Christmas.

It is slightly sweet from the honey, plums, and tamarind paste, while the toasted sunflower seeds lend some nuttiness. The chiles, cocoa nibs, and coffee add oomph and a spicy richness.  

It reminds me of a vibe that is, quite frankly, the opposite of New England petulant. Of a place where the locals are not as irritated. Where you will be less likely to have an obscenity yelled at you walking down the street. 

Maybe it is the lack of vitamin D or an over-reliance on root vegetables and long underwear with our front seat view of the Atlantic, but we coastal elites can be an agitated bunch.

This sauce is a counterpoint to all of that.  It says relax.  And eat some fucking tacos.

Chile Sunflower Sauce

Adapted from Hartwood by Eric Werner and Mya Henry

Ingredients:

• 4 prunes
• 2 tbsp sunflower seeds
• 1 dried guajillo chile, minced
• 2 dried árbol chiles, minced
• 1 tsp cacao nibs
• 2 tbsp tamarind pulp
• 2 tbsp honey
• 1 tbsp fresh lime juice
• ½ cup water
• ½ tsp finely ground coffee beans
• generous pinch of ground cinnamon
• ¼ to ½ tsp kosher salt

Instructions:

In a small saucepan, place the prunes and about 1 cup of water and simmer until they are plump (about 15 to 20 minutes). 

Meanwhile in a small sauté pan, toast the sunflower seeds, chiles, and cacao nibs until fragrant; set aside.

Drain the plums and place them in a blender with the toasted chile mixture and remaining ingredients.  Puree until smooth. Taste and adjust the seasoning as needed.

Makes a scant cup.

Notes:

1. Taza has great cacoa nibs.
2. Look for tamarind pulp in the Asian foods section of your local grocery store.

Fried Chicken with a Side of Humor

The food writer Laurie Colwin once wrote, “As everyone knows, there is only one way to fry a chicken correctly.  Unfortunately, most people think their method is best, but most people are wrong.”

I have eaten more fried chicken than a person should admit to and I ensure you I am not one of those people in a poultry bubble.  Fried chicken may sound like a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon.  And it is, once you are done.

It requires an acute attention span to the most mundane of tasks.  Mostly you will be plunging thighs and breasts (not yours) in and out of a bath of bubbling oil.  Let your mind wander too far for too long and you will have burnt outsides without surrendering the possibility of raw insides.  The temperature must be fastidiously manned.

It is also hard to pass the time with a cocktail in hand.  At least part of your dexterity will be devoted to dredging and shaking chicken parts.  A straw can help with this.  But if the thought of drinking your Chablis through a tube does not move you, I suggest a tiki drink.

This recipe is adapted from one published in the The Times from 2015 and provides the framework for a crispy, salty crust and juicy meat.  The original instructions were for cold fried chicken from chef Gabrielle Hamilton, of Prune in New York City. But it seemed a shame to go through all that work only to delay enjoyment. 

I prefer it hot anyway. Though it is good as cold leftovers too, as promised.  I also cut the salt way back.  It was edible, but brackish on the first attempt.

It holds up to some of the best fried chicken I have had, which includes the versions found at State Park and Prairie Whale, as well as the kind my friends, David and Justin, brought to a picnic a few years ago. All mentioned parties have a good sense of humor, which I believe is also necessary for great fried chicken.

While fried things have a reputation for being unkind to the body, this chicken is fine to have so long as you do not make it a weekly occurrence.  Besides, many of us may be in need of mediation by way of fried chicken given recent political events.

It is the kind, as Colwin says, that makes you “want to stand up and sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’”  Which is good because we will likely need all the help we can get this year. 

Superlative Fried Chicken

Adapted from The New York Times and Gabrielle Hamilton, of Prune

Ingredients:

for the soak

• 2 cups buttermilk
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• ½ tsp cayenne pepper
• ½ tsp ground black pepper
• legs and wings of 2 whole chickens (or 3 pounds of chicken thighs), see notes

for the dredging and frying

• 1½ cups all-purpose flour
• 2 tbsp plus 1 tsp ground turmeric
• 1 scant tbsp kosher salt
• 1½ tbsp ground black pepper
• 4 to 6 cups of canola or peanut oil (enough to come 3 inches up a deep bottomed pot)

Instructions:

the day before

Cut up your whole chickens, if using. In a large bowl, mix all ingredients for the soak and add in the chicken pieces, tossing to coat. Refrigerate overnight.

the day of

In a large bowl, mix the flour, turmeric, salt, and pepper.  Set a cooling rack over a sheet pan. (You may also want to prepare another rack set above a sheet pan for later.)

In a large dutch oven or high sided pot, add the oil.  Heat on medium to medium high heat.  If you have a deep fat thermometer (which I highly recommend), attach it to the inside edge of the pot.

Remove the chicken pieces from the buttermilk mixture, allowing the excess liquid to drip off.  Drop each piece into the flour mixture and toss to coat.

Shake off the excess flour and set the dredged chicken on the prepared rack.  Repeat until all chicken is well coated.

Once the oil reaches 325 degrees (specks of flour should sizzle when dropped in), carefully place three or four chicken pieces in the oil.  Fry until just shy of golden. Let rest on a second (clean) cooking rack set over a sheet pan. (During this process, adjust the heat as needed to maintain the temperature.)

Once all the chicken has been fried, skim off any flour bits in the oil and raise the heat to reach 350 degrees. 

Fry the pieces again until they are deep golden brown. (Again, adjusting the heat as needed to maintain the temperature.)

Drain on a rack until all pieces have been fried.

Makes enough for four to six humans

Notes:

1. I have tried using chicken thighs versus cutting up two whole chickens into eight pieces (wings, drumettes, drumsticks, and thighs) and preferred the whole chicken method.  If you prefer this as well, set the breasts aside for another use.
2. You will want to use good quality turmeric here too, or it may impart an off taste.