Showing posts with label Hawaii. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hawaii. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Kauai, Day 3: The North Shore and Bar Acuda

Na Pali Coast in the rain
Anini Beach
Local avocado type #2 of ??

Mango from the Waipio farmer's market

Hanalei

Bar Acuda: Local honeycomb, Fuji apple, Humboldt Fog goat cheese

Arancini with lime, honey, and truffle sauce

Blackened tiger prawns

Chocolate pot de creme with toasted macaroon






Monday, August 11, 2014

Kaua'i, Day 1: Purple Long Beans with Garlic and Mustard Seeds

The downside of cooking away from home is navigating a foreign kitchen. For instance, I would have thought low heat was lower than medium, but that may just be me and my sheltered mainland ways. And under no other circumstances would you be likely to hit upon the idea of trying to rinse rice with the aid of a coffee filter. (Tip: Don't.)

The upside to cooking away from home? Grabbing the most unusual things in the market to make for dinner.


Found on the way north from the airport: Fresh-caught moonfish at Fish Express, local purple long beans at Papaya's Natural Foods, palm trees, green cliffs, bougainvillea and bromeliads, a vast and shimmering sea.


The long beans I just threw in a wide pan with some olive oil, a smashed clove of garlic, and a scattering of black mustard seeds, then tossed, covered, and cooked till al dente.




In the face of what I can only assume is an island-wide drought of coconut milk (since I can't imagine why else a store would be completely out of it...maybe coconut-obsessed island gnomes who strike in the dead of night?), I bravely abandoned my go to recipe for moonfish in favor of a new one (sprinkle with salt, black pepper, and red pepper flakes, pan fry until almost cooked through, serve over black rice...then melt a pat of butter in the pan, toss in a couple tablespoons julienned ginger and let caramelize, throw in some cilantro and a glug of white wine, simmer briefly, pour over the fish).


It'll do.




Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Moonfish with Curry Leaves, Ginger, and Asparagus

Spring is here, and with it comes green garlic, red spring onions, asparagus, and memories of our trip to Maui. Throw those together in a pan over medium heat, and you get this.


Ingredients
Olive oil
1 tsp chopped red spring onion or shallot
1 tbsp chopped green garlic
1 bunch asparagus, sliced at an angle into 1 inch pieces
1/2 lb moonfish (opah)
8-10 fresh curry leaves
1 tbsp julienned fresh ginger (slice thinly, then slice crosswise)
Salt
1/4 cup coconut milk

Heat a pan over medium heat. When hot, add a glug of olive oil. Add the asparagus, onion, and a bit of the green garlic, and saute, stirring, for 2-3 minutes. Cover, turn down the heat, and let cook for 1-5 minutes longer (depending on how thick the stalks are) until al dente, stirring occasionally. Sprinkle with salt, then transfer into a bowl and set aside.

Add another glug of olive oil to the pan, and return the heat to medium. Press a few curry leaves onto
one side of the fish, and then flip leaf-side down into the pan. Press curry leaves onto the upward side of the fish as well, and sprinkle with a little salt. Cook until the bottom of the fish is golden brown, then flip, and cook the other side till golden brown as well.

Add a little more olive oil, the rest of the green garlic, curry leaves, and ginger to the side of the pan and saute, stirring, for about a minute or until the garlic softens but before it browns. Add the coconut milk and a splash of water, stir to combine with the garlic ginger mixture, and then add the asparagus back to the pan. Cover and cook over medium-low heat until the fish is almost but not quite cooked through, then immediately turn off the heat.


Serve over jungle rice. (The heat of the rice will finish cooking the fish on the way to the table).



Serves 2.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Jungle Rice

If you think of rice as a plain old staple—something to plop down on your plate as a generic staging ground for a hunk of chicken or slab of fish—think again. Or better yet, stop thinking and just make this.


Pairs wonderfully with seared fish, sauteed bok choy, grilled garlic shrimp, avocado tossed with cilantro, ripe mango, and probably anything else you might find yourself cooking with Hawaiianesque ingredients (we named it "Jungle Rice" in honor of the little patch of Maui jungle in which we were staying when we first cooked it). And it's flexible—if you're missing something like pistachios, you can substitute cashews (or just leave the nuts out). If you don't have curry leaves or coconut milk, it will still turn out quite well (though make sure you add enough water to replace the liquid from the coconut milk). And you can make it with other kinds of rice as well (we just discovered that Madagascar pink rice is particularly delicious in this recipe...just make sure to adjust the water and cooking time for the type of rice you use).

Ingredients
Olive oil
1 shallot, chopped
4 fresh curry leaves
2 tbsp shelled pistachios (roasted is even better)
1 scant cup black Forbidden rice, rinsed and drained
1 cup water
1/4 cup coconut milk, plus a couple spoonfuls to drizzle over the top if desired

Heat a glug of olive oil in a smallish pot over medium heat. Add the shallot, curry leaves, and pistachios and saute, stirring occasionally, for 2-3 minutes or until the shallot softens. Add the rice and saute for 1-2 minutes more. Stir in the water and coconut milk, cover, and bring to a simmer, then turn the heat down to low and simmer for 23 minutes or until the liquid is all absorbed and the rice is tender.

Serve hot, with a little coconut milk drizzled over the top.

Serves 2-3.




















Monday, December 26, 2011

Adventures with Breadfruit

Our recent and much-needed vacation in Kaua'i gave us a chance to explore a whole new set of whole foods. The hands-down winner for weirdness (from our limited mainland perspective) was breadfruit—that round, green thing behind the papayas in the picture to the right—which we found first on a labeled tree in the Limahuli Botanical Gardens, and then growing by the side of the road as we hiked down to a beach on the north shore, and then in the weekly Kilauea farmer's market on a Thursday afternoon. The third time, we grabbed it.

Then we took it back to our little rental cottage, set it on the table gleefully, and wondered what on earth to do with it.

According to the internets, which we fortunately had, you can roast it over a fire for an hour. We didn't have a fire, but we had a Weber, and so we stuck it on the grill for an hour (medium heat, lid closed, in case you're thinking of doing this yourself) until it was charred on all sides and the stem end softened enough to yield a bit to firm pressure. Whereupon we removed it from the grill and photographed it. Obviously. Because that is what you do when you've cooked a breadfruit for the very first time.


Then we tried a variety of things.

Thing #1: We followed more internet advice and halved the breadfruit, peeled off the outer shell, scooped out the inner seeds, and sliced it. Only we, um, kind of dropped it somewhere between the grill and the cutting board inside, because it turns out holding it by just the stem isn't the fool-proof idea it seems when you first pick it up, so it didn't so much slice as break apart into pieces. Then we served it, hot, with butter, salt, and pepper. It was totally different from anything we'd ever eaten, and okay. Not mind-blowing, but worth it just to try.


Thing #2: We fried leftover breadfruit pieces in butter (they're kind of reminiscent of potato or sweet potato, only not), and served them with a papaya. This was better, although still a bit dry. Probably if you used a ton of butter, it would work well (don't try using olive oil...the taste is too strong for the mild breadfruit flavor).


Thing #3, and the winner, was to cook it with bok choy or tatsoi in a little coconut milk. Recipe coming soon to a blog near you.

Till then, I will be here, home again, complaining about the sudden change from summer to winter and the claustrophobic nature of socks.