Naughty Curry

Getting GREEN PEPPERS To Get Their Groove On

    How much blame do we really deserve for not liking a certain something? How much control do we really have as to what we like, or don't like? Should we lie?

          "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I told my older brother Bryce one Sunday afternoon. "I can't eat this, I just can't. Did I mention I was sorry?"

          Where I come from, the creation of chili (the dish, not the pepper) is one of those things inexplicably tied to a man's ego. So perhaps I should have been more sensitive. Swallowed my pride along with the chili. (But then, being my brother, how many times had I put up with cracks about my own lovable spiced-up foodstuff? Why should I lie for him?)

         Green peppers. OK? Green bell peppers had been the reason why I wouldn't eat Bryce's chili. Nothing against them-- I simply just never eat them . I won't. (Not with a fox, not in a box, in the rain or on a train.) It's just my thing. We all have things.

         So naturally, there was some reaction at the NC when I first proposed cooking up Kay's green pepper recipe. (That's right!-- the writer of Towards A Better Tomorrow.)

          Raised eyebrows from Trina."But Court, I thought you don't like green peppers."

           "So?" Was she saying I was biased? "This would be a cool little recipe for People Of The World to have on hand. (We're all for cool little recipes here at the NC.) Look how fast and easy it is. We'll try it. You can tell me if the spicing does the job."

          "`Kay," Trina said and went to the spice-shelf.

          "You know," she muttered as she pulled out the ingredients, "it is kinda strange that you of all people wouldn't like--"

          "Yeah I know I know," I said. I've heard it before -- twice from her.  And maybe I deserved it for taunting her for reducing the chillies from time to time.

         Trobee jumped on the chance to give me a hard time. Trobee is, after all, a fan of Bryce's chili. (And I admit I turn my nose up at her meat-foods every so often.) "You know," she said real nicely as she began chopping the onion, "It's weird how you like salsa. but..."

           "That's different," I said and I explained how. She nodded and chopped, avoiding my dirty look on purpose. What, should I have lied to Bryce? Whatever, chick.

          I thought of reminding her that before she began with the NC, she had hated rice. But she was in cook-mode now so I thought better of it,

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

"So all we're going to need here is a couple spices, onion and chickpea flour."

"What does the chickpea flour do in this recipe?" Someone at one point wanted to know.

"Texture. Body,"  I replied. "Plus, it binds everything together like eggs. You'll see. Best part? It's pure chickpeas. Healthy. Protein. Good."

"Is that what besan is too?"

I nodded. Gram flour. Besan. Garbanzo bean flour. All the same.  Same same same.

(Still, Trina almost added garam masala the second time she cooked this;, Trobee had listed 'gram flour' as 'gram masala'. Croiky.)

*     *     *

"I don't know, Court," said Trina that first time we cooked this recipe. "You taste it."

It had kind of a bitter edge to it. She noticed it, I noticed it. We guessed it must be the besan, er, chickpea flour.

"Maybe it is supposed to be roasted first. Hm. I'll go to the source."

I sent word to Kay straightaway.

She responded:

Well, yes, the besan could be dry roasted in a thick bottomed pan and let it come to room temperature.This improves the taste. (We always roast besan, when we are going to make desserts or savory crispies like murukku/chakli also called as 'Indian pretzels'.)

The capsicum should be already cooked and 'almost' in a dry state (not much water oozing out of the curry) before adding besan.

And do not cover the pan, until everything's done. Covering the container or reheating makes the besan sogyy or squishy and spoils the taste. Usually we prepare this and eat it at the same meal. ...

Does that help?

Kay

"Well we'll try it again and see. I'm hoping to finalize it cause the method is so simple and quick. So do-able." We set the project aside for a few months, pulling it out when we had nothing to cook with...except 2 green peppers.

Trobee listened to the 'chickpea flour' issue, and nodded her head. "I guarantee she's just not cooking it long enough at the end!"

"Ok, then," I told her. "If you're so sure, you give it a whirl."

She was right. She concluded that the flour, after being added toward the end, hadn't cooked properly before removing the pan from heat. Hence, the flour had retained its raw flavor. (Note: she hadused her own words. Can you imagine Trobee saying 'hence'?)

*     *     *

"How much oil does the recipe say to use?"

"Just two teaspoons."

"Really? Wow." We are usually scaling the oil amounts WAY back.

"See that's what's cool about Kay. Her recipes are all healthy,and low in fat."

*     *     *

"Damn that was easy," said Trobee after making the recipe a third time, using jalapenos instead of the green pepper. "Easy! And so fast."

We had decided to add some coriander spice so that the cumin wouldn't be lonely. We also felt the little dish could use a little asafetida.

"So what are your overall thoughts on this dish?"

"It's really good. I like it a lot. It's just so fast and simple-like. I'd make it at home any day."

*     *     *

"I looove onions and mushrooms with my steak -- green peppers I've never thought of!" said Trobee. But she was inspired to grill a big fat steak as soon as she finished cooking our finalized version of Green Pepper Masala

She took a picture. Then I watched the little girl make the monstrous masala-fied meat-thing vanish. (Quite a spectacle. It's mystifying-- where does she put it all?. But I will say: girl can eat!)

Below: Our Green Pepper Masala, which Trina ate with chicken and couscous.

...using jalapenos!

Chase added some to his scrambled eggs.

Trobee's steak. "Oh my god I could DIE right now this is so good together! MMMM! I'm making this at home. Want a bite, Courty?"

"No."

I lovingly wrapped the leftovers (of the jalapeno version) in a sundried tomato tortilla with sauteed tofu and salsa. Sensational.

photos by Trina and Trobee

* A special shout-out to Fiona Hird (self-described Scottish vegetable aficionado) for the use of her lovely Green Pepper pic in Mo Digital's graphic.

---

Green Pepper Masala 

• 2 green bell peppers, chopped
• 1 cup diced onion
• 2 tsp oil
• 1/4 tsp asafetida
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 2 Tb chickpea flour
• Salt

Masala:

• 2 tsp coriander powder
• ¼ turmeric
• ½ tsp cayenne or paprika

1. Heat the oil in medium skillet until it is sizzle-hot. Add the cumin seeds. As soon as they have darkened a few shades, add the onion pieces and saute until they are light brown.
2. Add the green peppers/green chillies and cook for about a minute. Add the masala and salt. Cook for another minute. Cover the pan. After about 5 minutes, uncover and stir. The green peppers should be cooked through before proceeding.
3. Reduce the heat, then sprinkle on the chickpea flour. Stir carefully until everything is mixed well. Let it cook uncovered for a minute or two, then stir again. Cook for about 4-5 minutes. Done.

Click here to see Kay's Marathi Mirchi Bhaji

When It's Raining Tomatoes, Try Trina's TOMATO SOUP

"When the Moment is ripe... BITE!" -- the NC

     They were ripe and they were ready-- a brown bag in the corner of the NC kitchen bursting with glossy red globes, plucked from the vines of local magical gardens (To me, all gardens are magical.)

          `Tis the time when acquaintance gardeners desperately offer their surplus tomatoes to any appreciative taker. Our most recent batch had come from the NC'S very own Vanesa... casually deposited on the kitchen counter after a 'tea and chatty'.

           Yo-ho-ho! All year long, I tend to shun the tomato, preferring to use the convenient kind in the can. (Understand, the long 'h' word attached to 'fresh' tomatoes most of the year is a turn-off.) But now I possessed a brown bag brimming with garden-reared tomatoes, a tantalizing tomato recipe to try, and an enthusiastic Trina. The moment was ripe. I was ready to bite into it.

               But alas, our onions had gone bad, the recipe was no longer possible. No onion, no onion. Disillusionment descended. I pouted. Trina offered to do a store run. "No!" I barked. "No. We'll just... make something else."

              That is when the fair-haired lass hinted at the once-proposed Tomato Soup Project, of which she was an eager-beaver candidate: "I've always wanted to make tomato soup!" Enthusiasm at the NC gets the green light.

           "OK. Fine. Good. Now's your chance." I handed her 7 basic tomato soup recipes fresh from the printer. "Go ahead, look among them and pick out the elements you like and what you don't like. Then we'll plan out some spices and try it out. And if it doesn't work out this first time round, that's OK. OK?"

          "`Kay..." Trina muttered as she sat down with the recipes and looked from one to the other with the focused intensity of a fourth-year college student majoring in socialwork....

RECIPE B-R-E-A-K-D-O-W-N

I usually reserve established recipes for Trina, cause I know she hates choosing her own measurements when it comes to the food items. Well, she pretty much hates making decisions in general. Having a direct effect on destiny. But I believe it's important to remind good students how to play. To mess around, wing it, riff.

And so it was that occasional episodes of bickering flashed through the NC kitchen during the project's early stages:

"...so do I add that along with the cumin seeds?"

"Cumin seeds? Why are you adding cumin seeds?"

"Because the recipe says--"

"But we're not following a recipe this time. I gave you a bunch of recipes so as to pick out the elements you like, and--"

"Right, and I'm mostly following this one, so--"

"But you don't like cumin seeds in your soup! You've told me."

"But that's what it says..."

"Who cares what it says! If you don't like whole cumin seeds in your soup, then don't add them. Do as you like."

"Court, I'm just saying."

"Well I'm just saying."

So and so forth. Trina and I had several such exchanges before the only sounds in the NC kitchen besides the retro rock n' roll seething from the radio station was chopping and sizzling and the like. Could Trina at last be experiencing a Zen-like moment? (I doubted it.)

"Look, hon," I spoke at last. "I know what you want. You want to be told what to do. Well you're not getting that this time. You're the one with the passion for this project. I'm just interested in the spicing. I will help you with that -- we'll sit and plan out the spicing together. But this soup is to reflect you. You're in the lead." Spicing, after all, can be an imprint of one's soul.

A moment of silence as Trina absorbed these words.

"Well, the first thing I'm gonna do is measure the chopped tomato in cups."

I smiled.

*    *     *

She said nothing when it was tasting time. I could not read her face -- was she triumphant or defeated? (One never has to guess with Trobee.)

"Holy tomato, is this good! I'm shocked." I'll admit now, tomato soup normally bores me to pieces. "Trina," said I, "I bow down before you. This soup is exquisite. Shame on me. I will never doubt you again."

"Court, I doubted myself."

"Well then shame on you, too. Don't be doubting yourself while you're cooking. You know what Trobee would say about that."

She smiled to herself as she stirred at the stove. "It did turn out pretty good, didn't it?"

"What makes this soup so pleasurable is that it is so bursting with flavor, so well-spiced, but there is no spice that sings out too loudly, y'know? They're all politely in their place. Trobee will go wild over it. And Ruthie?" I laughed at the thought.

*     *     *

"This is BEAUTIFUL," Trobee said upon her first taste.

"Cool. It's a post, then."

"Damn right it's a post. Our People will love this. I'm having a bowl of it right now. That OK?'

She didn't wait for an answer.

"Do you like the coconut in there?"

"Are you kidding me right now? There's coconut in here?"

"Oh yes. Coconut powder. We wanted just a hint of it. Boost the overall flavor with a lilt of playful sweetness..."

"Never would've guessed it. And I love the texture of this," she added, between bites. "I love how it's a little creamy, but still light."

"We used yogurt instead of the recommended heavy cream. And no flour. In fact, the stuff you're eating was made with soy yogurt."

"Shut up!"

I shrugged.

"Mmm, yum. You know, I think this is the best tomato soup I've ever had," Trobee continued. "Jeremy would love this. And I've got a ton of tomatoes at home...."

...with tortellini and a few pinches of paprika...

photos by Trina

graphic by Mo Digital

---

Trina's

Trippy Tomato Soup

Our suggestion: Cook up a bunch, then freeze or can a bunch for when you need some quick n'easy lovin' at constant convenience.

• 8 cups chopped tomatoes, cut in large chunks
• 4 cups vegetable or chicken broth
• 4 tsp oil
• 1 Tb garlic paste or minced garlic
• 1 ½ cups plain soy yogurt, or non-fat plain yogurt
• 3 tsp honey, more if needed
• 1/2 tsp salt

Masala 1:

• 2 tsp black mustard seeds
• 1/2 tsp asafetida
• 15 curry leaves

Masala 2:

• 2 tsp paprika
• 3 Tb coconut powder
• 2 tsp cumin powder

1. In a large soup pot, pour in the chopped tomatoes and the broth. Boil for 10 minutes uncovered, then cover the pot and simmer for 20 minutes. (The tomatoes should be soft and the peel should be falling off.)
2. Remove from heat. With a slotted spoon, remove the peels of the tomatoes. Let it cool for about 15 minutes, then blenderize the tomatoes and liquid into a puree. Transfer the mixture back into the pot and cook on low heat.
3. Meanwhile, in a small skillet, heat the oil until it is sizzle-hot. Add Masala 1 and sauté until the black mustard seeds have quit popping. Next add the garlic paste, followed by Masala 2, and continue to cook until it turns light brown.
4. Dump the small skillet's contents into the large pot of tomato puree and mix well. (Using a whisk works best, of course).
5. Next add the yogurt, salt, and honey and stir. Let the soup simmer for 15-20 minutes before serving. Done.