Saveur: The New Comfort Food (26 page)
Read Saveur: The New Comfort Food Online
Authors: James Oseland
The small plates known as mezedes are essential to the Greek way of eating. Served as snacks or appetizers in homes and tavernas, they make a convivial beginning to a meal. They’re also designed to accompany drinks, as it’s frowned upon in Greece to drink without food. (As long as you’re eating, it’s safe to order another round.) Greeks have been eating this way since ancient times; the third-century author Athenaeus, for instance, writes of meals that centered on “a large tray on which are five small plates.” Mezedes can range from humble to fancy. The simplest—oil-cured olives, feta sprinkled with oregano—are known as pikilia, which means “assortment,” and they usually arrive free of charge with any order of spirits, wine, or beer. Some mezedes are regional (like stuffed mussels, a specialty from Thessaloniki), while others are seasonal (like the fava beans and chickpeas you’ll see diners shelling at their tables in spring). Then there are the classics you’ll find always and everywhere: grilled octopus; garlicky dips served with bread; the rice-and-herb-filled grape leaves called dolmades; cheese-and-tomato-laden baked dishes called saganaki; and the ubiquitous fritters, known as keftedes, made with meat or vegetables. By convention, one starts with the cold vegetables, spreads, and pickles, continues on to cold seafood, and finishes with the fried and warm foods. Whoever has “the quickest fork,” as the old saying goes, succeeds in tasting them all.
—Aglaia Kremezi
Piperies Gemistes Me Feta
Cooks in northern Greece make this meze, or small dish, with the sweet, red Florina peppers grown in that part of the country. You can substitute Anaheim chiles, which have a good deal of sweetness, or Fresnos for a little more heat.
10 3-4-inch Fresno chiles, or six 4-5-inch Anaheim chiles
9 oz. feta, crumbled
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
2 tbsp. Greek yogurt
1 tbsp. minced fresh parsley
1
/
3
tsp. lemon zest¼ tsp. dried oregano
2 egg yolks Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste
¼ cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano
Serves 4-6
1. Arrange a rack 6 inches from the broiler element and set oven to broil. Put peppers on a baking sheet and broil, turning once, until just soft, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a rack; let cool.
2. In a large bowl, use a hand mixer to whip feta, oil, yogurt, parsley, zest, oregano, and egg yolks; season with salt and pepper. Make a lengthwise cut from the stem to the tip of each pepper; scoop out and discard seeds and ribs. Stuff each pepper with some of the feta filling; transfer peppers to an aluminum foil-lined baking sheet; chill for 30 minutes. Sprinkle peppers with grated cheese; broil peppers until cheese is golden brown and bubbly, about 6 minutes. Transfer peppers to a platter and serve hot.
You might find peppers stuffed with cheese (pictured) in a taverna in Athens or in other parts of Greece, but this classic dish is associated above all with the region of Macedonia, in the north. Peppers—mild and hot, fresh and dried—are one of the agricultural glories of the region, and the queen of them all is the sweet, firm-fleshed, long red pepper grown around the town of Florina, in the mountains of Macedonia’s far northwest. I ate these stuffed Florina peppers at Myrovolos Smyrni, an ouzeri, or ouzo bar, in business since the 1950s in the Macedonian city of Thessaloniki. (A waitress from Aristotelous, another Thessaloniki ouzeri, is pictured.) The filling is a whipped feta dip called htipiti, which is spiked with hot chiles; some versions get a tangy boost from fresh lemon juice. It’s a powerful combination of flavors, but then this is food designed as a match for anise-flavored ouzo or the equally potent spirit tsipouro. Htipiti is often served with pita for dipping, but in this case it’s stuffed inside the split Florina peppers, which are broiled until they’re black around the edges and the htipiti is golden and bubbly. The result—salty, sweet, smoky, hot, and luscious all at once—embodies the bold cuisine of the region better than any other dish I know.
—Beth Kracklauer
Dal Makhani
This velvety Punjabi stew is simmered for hours, until the lentils all but disintegrate and the flavors of cumin, coriander, garam masala, and other spices bloom, deepen, and intermingle. The name, dal makhani, is itself a testament to the stew’s richness: Makhan is the Hindi word for butter, and this dish contains plenty of it.
½ cups whole black lentils
½ cup split yellow lentils
½ cup small red kidney beans
1 tbsp. mustard or canola oil
6 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
2 Thai green chiles, stemmed and coarsely chopped
1 2-inch piece peeled ginger, coarsely chopped
6 tbsp. clarified butter
1 tsp. cumin seeds
1 medium red onion, chopped
1 tsp. ground coriander
1 tsp. ground turmeric
1 cup canned peeled whole tomatoes, puréed
2 tbsp. garam masala
1 tbsp. dried fenugreek leaves, optional
1 tsp. Kashmiri red chile powder or paprika Salt, to taste
1½ cups milk
8 tbsp. unsalted butter, cut into pieces
½ cup heavy cream
Serves 6–8
1. Combine lentils and kidney beans and wash under running water until it runs clear. Toss with oil in a bowl; set aside. Purée garlic, chiles, ginger, and ¼ cup water in a blender; set paste aside.
2. Heat clarified butter in a large pot over medium-high heat. Add cumin; cook for 1 minute. Add onions and cook until browned, 8–10 minutes. Add paste, coriander, and turmeric; cook 3 minutes. Add tomatoes and cook, stirring and scraping until thickened, 6–7 minutes. Add the lentil mixture and 2 quarts water; bring to a boil. Reduce heat to mediumlow; simmer, covered, until tender, about 2 hours.
3. Add garam masala, fenugreek, chile powder, and salt to taste; simmer for 5 minutes. Stir in milk and butter; simmer for 5 minutes. Drizzle cream on top and serve.
Donggu Pei Shucai
This is stir-frying at its purest and best: no sauce to make, no complicated steps to follow, just the judicious exposure of food to heat. Each ingredient remains in the wok long enough to undergo the desired transformation and not a moment longer; the mushrooms’ earthy fragrance seems to magnify many times over, while the bok choy takes on a vivid color and a mildly sweet flavor.
6 large dried mushrooms, such as shiitake
1 tbsp. canola oil
½ lb. small Shanghai or baby bok choy, halved lengthwise (about 10 heads)
¼ tsp. sugar Kosher salt, to taste
Serves 2–4
1. Put mushrooms into a medium bowl of water and soak for 2 hours. Drain and squeeze any excess water from the mushrooms and cut off their stems. Cut mushrooms into ¼ -inch thick slices. Heat a 14-inch wok (or skillet) over high heat until wok begins to smoke. Add oil around the edge of the wok and swirl to coat bottom and sides. Add mushrooms and cook, stirring and tossing constantly, until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Transfer mushrooms to a plate and set aside.
2. Return wok to high heat until it begins to smoke. Add bok choy cut side down, along with 2 tbsp. water, and cook, without stirring, until the water evaporates, about 1 minute.
3. Add sugar and season with salt. Vigorously stir and toss bok choy until it’s bright green and wilted, about 1 more minute.
4. Return mushrooms to wok, toss to combine, and cook until the flavors meld, about 30 seconds. Transfer mushrooms and bok choy to a serving platter and serve hot or at room temperature.
In Beijing, where I live, I’ve met cooks from all over China, and they’ve taught me a lot about their respective regional cuisines. The one common denominator they all share is stir-frying—not a single technique, but a whole approach to cooking that involves quickly preparing dishes over high heat in a wok, with ingredients added in a measured progression so that each one cooks to the point of optimal flavor and texture.
