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.

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.

Curried Pumpkin Soup with Ginger

This soup is straightforward and fairly quick as homemade soups go, and involves (are you ready?) both pumpkin and curry leaves. Needless to say, I adore it. It's good on its own, and downright heavenly if you pair it with toasted strips of whole wheat lavash bread—just take a sheet of lavash, slice it crosswise into 1-inch strips with a pizza wheel, and lay the strips on a baking pan that you've lightly coated with olive oil. Toast in a 400°F oven for 4-6 minutes or until golden brown and crispy, then use the strips to dip in the soup as a sort of edible spoon.

Which brings me to a point that's been bothering me for seven to ten seconds now: Why aren't all spoons edible?

Ingredients
Olive oil
10-12 fresh curry leaves
1 large sweet onion, chopped
Medium-hot, good-quality curry powder
Fresh ginger, sliced thinly and julienned (about 1 tsp or a bit more)
15 oz canned pumpkin (one can)
1/2 bay leaf
3 cups chicken and/or veggie broth
Ground cumin
Freshly ground white pepper
Pastured cream
Fresh cilantro for garnish

Heat a soup pot over medium heat. When hot, add a glug of olive oil. Add the curry leaves and let sizzle, stirring occasionally, for about 30 seconds, then add the onion and saute until golden around the edges, turning the heat down slightly if necessary.

Push the onion to the side of the pot, and add about a tbsp of olive oil to the empty side. Add a spoonful of curry powder and the ginger, and toast in the oil for 10-20 seconds, then stir to combine with the onion.

Stir in the pumpkin, broth, and half bay leaf (the half is so you can figure out which is the bay leaf rather than the curry leaves later on, to fish it back out). Cover, bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, and simmer for about 30 minutes.

Turn off the heat, remove the half bay leaf, and blend with a hand blender until smooth or desired consistency. Add additional ginger, a dash or four of cumin, and freshly ground pepper to taste. Stir in a slosh of cream.

Garnish with the chopped cilantro, and serve warm (rather than piping hot, which actually obscures some of the flavor) with strips of toasted lavash or pita bread.

Serves 3-4.

Ode to the Curry Leaf

It's hard to be sure, of course, in the absence of rigorous scientific experimentation, but I am nevertheless 60-82% certain that the majority of the world's problems could be solved by the curry leaf. For example, wars. Given the choice between going to war and eating a perfectly cooked mustard seed crusted salmon filet wrapped in curry leaves, most people would obviously devour the latter, at least if you set it down in front of them and they could smell the rich scent of toasted curry leaves wafting from their plate.

Also lots of other problems. I don't have time to go into them now. Too busy plotting our next excursion to acquire more curry leaves.

So here is my advice to you: Buy them. Borrow them. Don't necessarily steal them from old ladies because I can't bring myself to publicly condone that sort of behavior (although obviously if an old lady had ALL the curry leaves in the area and utterly refused to give you any when you gently encouraged her to share by pulling as hard as you could on the bagful that she was carrying, an extra-hard tug might be justifiable). If you're in Berkeley, Vik's has them (as well as most or all of the ingredients for the dal below); in NYC, go to the little store underneath Sigiri (after stuffing yourself at Sigiri, of course) and look in the refrigerator case.

Anywhere else, look for an Indian spice store somewhere and ask them if they know where you might find some in the area. (If you've had curry leaves before, note that it is understandable yet nonetheless considered poor form to grab people urgently by the collar as you do this.) The leaves will keep well in the freezer without losing much taste for up to a month or so. And they're DIVINE. Have I mentioned that? Divine.

What to do with your curry leaves, once you acquire them? Heat some olive oil in a pan, add several fresh curry leaves and saute for a couple minutes, then add other things. Cook and eat. Repeat as needed. Or make this (I'm sorry, that conjunction was entirely incorrect. Allow me to rephrase: AND make this).

Sri Lankan Dal Curry over Yellow Basmati Rice

I have no idea where we found the original recipe that gave rise to this dish (so let me just go ahead and thank anyone on the planet who knows how to cook Sri Lankan dal, for making the world a much better place), but we've adapted it over the last few years to come as close as possible to the lentil curry at the incomparable Sigiri in New York. It looks much more complicated than it is, because of all the spices, but it's actually a very straightforward recipe once you have the ingredients on hand.

Dal Ingredients
Olive oil
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, pressed
1 tsp black mustard seeds
1/4 tsp yellow mustard seeds
2 stemfuls of curry leaves, washed and dried (when in doubt, err on the side of more rather than less)
1 tsp Aleppo pepper (or 3/4 tsp if you want to keep it mild; can sub a minced hot pepper)
1 1/2 cups toor dal (small yellow lentils), picked through carefully, rinsed, and drained
1 cinnamon stick
1 tsp turmeric
1/4 tsp ground fenugreek
3 cardamom pods, cracked
2 cloves, lightly crushed
1 can coconut milk, divided (reserve 1/3 cup for the end)
Salt

Rice Ingredients
Olive oil
1 tbsp sliced almonds
2 tbsp golden raisins
4 curry leaves (optional)
2 generous pinches saffron
1 1/2 cups white basmati rice


Heat a generous glug of olive oil in a medium-to-large pot. Add the onion and saute over medium heat until soft, then add the garlic. Saute for a minute more, then add the mustard seeds, curry leaves, and Aleppo pepper. Saute for another minute or two, stirring occasionally.

Add the dal, cinnamon stick, turmeric, fenugreek, cardamom, cloves, most of the coconut milk (reserving 1/3 cup), and 2 cups of water. Stir, cover, and bring to a simmer. Turn the heat down to low and simmer rapidly until the dal is tender (about 20-25 minutes), stirring every 10 minutes or so. You may want to leave the lid ajar for the last ten minutes or so if it seems very soupy (or leave well-covered if it seems to be drying out).

Meanwhile, heat a teaspoon or so of olive oil in a small pot over medium heat. Add the curry leaves and almonds and saute for a couple of minutes until they just start to turn fragrant (but before the almonds have really started to brown). Add the saffron and golden raisins and stir a few times, then add the rice and stir to coat evenly. Pour in just over 1 3/4 cups water, cover, and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to low and simmer for 15 minutes or until the rice is cooked through (the ratio of water to rice is going to change slightly depending on your rice and stove and pot, so check a few minutes before it should be done and add a tablespoon more water if necessary, or leave the lid ajar to boil off excess liquid).


When the lentils are tender and soft, turn off the heat, stir in the last 1/3 cup of coconut milk, and season to taste with salt. Remove the cinnamon stick, cardamom pods, and cloves (as far as we can tell, it is only possible to find three out of four of the smaller whole spices at a time. If you're worried that your dining companions will stare at you accusingly if they happen upon a particularly pungent bite, tell them that whoever finds the last one "wins." Kind of like a King Cake, only with a cardamom pod where the plastic baby should be.)

Serve the lentils over the rice, with a side of sauteed greens.

Serves 3-4.

Soba Noodles with Luffa Squash

This is one of those everything-but-the-kitchen sink recipes that can be made with whatever you have on hand. Luffa squash appeared in our CSA box this week, but Japanese eggplant would make a good substitute. If you have spinach or Chinese cabbage, chop some and throw it in. If you don't have curry leaves, add a bit more ginger and cilantro to keep it flavorful; if you don't have cilantro, increase or substitute something else. In other words, adjust all proportions to taste and switch things out for whatever strikes your fancy. But definitely call it Luffa Noodles at least once, out loud, because you'll feel instantly and delightfully transported into the midst of a Dr. Seuss book. (It really can't be helped. Consider: If you quickly turn the corner near the farthest side of town/and follow Horton's footprints down the block and then around/the Christmas-stealing Grinch who sometimes suntans on his stoop/you can often join the Lorax for some Luffa Noodle Soup.)

Ingredients
2/3 package soba noodles (typically, two of the three bundles in a package)
1/2 large yellow onion, chopped
Several fresh curry leaves
A spoonful of black mustard seeds A spoonful of good-quality medium curry powder
A few thin slices of fresh ginger, julienned
2 luffa squash, peeled and cubed (you can also cook it without peeling it, but we decided we liked it a little better without)

Luffa Squash

Some shiitake mushrooms (or oyster, or enoki), brushed and cut into wide slices
A few long beans, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 cup chicken or veggie broth
1 egg
Freshly ground black pepper
Small handful cilantro leaves, coarsely chopped
A handful of pea shoots or bean sprouts, for garnish

Boil the noodles one minute less than directed on the package, drain, and set aside.

Heat some olive oil in a big pan over medium-high heat. Add the curry leaves and mustard seeds and stir for 15-20 seconds, then add the onion and cook until soft, turning the heat down to medium. Push onion to the side of the pan, add a bit more olive oil on the other side, then add a spoonful of curry powder to the oil, stirring to toast for a few seconds. Combine with the onion, add the ginger and saute for a minute, then add any vegetables that take a little longer to cook (the luffa squash, in this case). Stir and cook for awhile, covering the pan if it starts to dry out to create a little more liquid (you can also sprinkle a little salt on the vegetables to encourage them to release a little water). After awhile, add the mushrooms and beans, and continue cooking until tender. Sprinkle with some chopped cilantro and pepper, and turn off the heat.

Meanwhile, in a small pot, heat the chicken broth until it simmers. Add the soba noodles, bring back to a simmer, and then add the egg to the center of the pot. Turn off the heat, and fold a few noodles over the egg so that it's immersed. After 30 seconds or so, stir to break the yolk and let it cook into the broth.

Serve in layers: Noodles, then veggies, and top with a few sprouts and a bit more cilantro if desired.

Purslane with Sweet Onions

One day last week, while perusing our Coop's vegetable aisle and pining after the now-absent baby rainbow chard, my eyes fell on a bunch of some weedy looking thing I'd never seen before. A little detective work with the signs above (not purple kale, because it's not purple...not carrots, because I definitely know what those look like) suggested the mystery vegetable was purslane. I had no idea what purslane was, although it sounded vaguely familiar. (Turns out this is because Michael Pollan mentions it in passing as an example of how wild foods are often very healthy, which, apparently, purslane is.) But something about the way the tips of the weedy little sprigs jutted forward looked like a challenge. I will buy you, I said to them, hopefully under my breath although in retrospect, one never can be sure. I will buy you, and I will cook you. I fixed the stems with a steely gaze.

The problem, it turned out, when Phase I of my two-part plan (the buying of the purslane) had been completed, was that nobody seemed to know how to cook purslane (which was, if you recall, the crucial Phase II). I could find recipes online for salads and some people suggested using it on sandwiches, but I had distinctly (and hopefully silently) sworn to cook it, and a salad seemed like wimping out. Also, it tasted citrusy, almost sour, and I thought it might need something sweet to balance the flavor. So:

Ingredients
Olive oil
1 large onion, halved and sliced into thin half-rings
1 bunch purslane, washed
Salt & pepper, to taste

Heat olive oil in a wide pan over medium-high heat. Add onion rings and saute until golden and sweet-smelling, turning down the heat a little if necessary to avoid too much browning (although a little bit browned is perfect).

Meanwhile, cut the bottom 1/2 inch or so off the purslane stems, and then chop coarsely (I left it as a bunch and just sliced in one-inch intervals).

When the onions are carmelized, turn the heat back to medium-high and add the purslane.

Stir-fry for a minute or two, until the leaves just begin to wilt, add salt and pepper, and serve.


The citrusy taste of the purslane goes particularly well with salmon -- for dinner that night, we covered a piece of wild salmon with black mustard seeds and a few curry leaves, pan-fried it, then served over a bed of wild rice cooked with some chopped shallot: