Skip to content

Lemongrass Rice Patties

March 09, 2012

melting pot adventures in food

When I was growing up, there was always a container of steamed rice sitting in the refrigerator.  My mother is from India, where rice is eaten with nearly every meal, so having rice always at the ready is pretty much standard for her.  If I were to get up right now, go to my parents’ house, and open their refrigerator, I can guarantee you that I would find a batch of rice sitting in there (chances are I would also probably find a package of hot dogs in there as well, because my father is not from India).



What is often found hanging out in my own refrigerator is a collection of bits and pieces leftover from various dishes that I have been making throughout the course of a couple of weeks.  If I spend a serious week or two trying out new recipes, the refrigerator will be, at the end of the cooking spree, a veritable junkyard of end bits, stray vegetables and herbs, and tiny little containers filled with the last drops of whatever I could manage to drizzle out of various jars and cans.  It’s basically one step removed from a compost pile in there.


It’s been a few months since I shared a recipe based on the principle of cleaning out the refrigerator, and, as the recent state of my own fridge indicates, it seems I am due for another.  Coincidentally, this particular recipe started with a container of leftover steamed rice, though the direction I took it was a bit farther to the east than India.  With hearty spoonfuls of lemongrass, scallion, fresh mint, ginger, and lime, all coated with a large splash of coconut milk, the flavors of these rice patties rest comfortably in Thailand.  The sauce I threw together to accompany the patties is a bit more difficult to define geographically, but, with its subtle honey sweetness and bright, kicky hints of lime, it makes a familiar, complimentary companion.

Lemongrass Rice Patties

3 cups cold, day-old jasmine rice
¼ cup rice flour
1 tablespoon finely minced fresh lemongrass (use only the tender middle of the stalk, not the woody outer layer)
1 large finely chopped scallion
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh mint
1 tablespoon finely grated fresh ginger
¾ teaspoon finely grated or minced lime zest
¼ cup coconut milk
1 large egg
pinch of salt
vegetable oil, for frying

Honey-Lime Sauce

1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lime juice
pinch of finely grated or chopped fresh lime zest
½ teaspoon honey
½ teaspoon finely grated fresh ginger
¾ teaspoon soy sauce

In a large bowl, mix together all of the ingredients, except for the vegetable oil.  The best way to really incorporate all of the ingredients is to mix using your bare hands.

In a large skillet set over medium high heat, heat enough vegetable oil to just cover the bottom of the pan.  When the oil is hot and just beginning to shimmer, form a small patty out of a scant ¼ cup of the rice mixture and gently place the patty in the hot oil.  Place enough patties in the pan to cook them comfortably without crowding them.  Cook one side of the patties until they are light golden in color, about 3 minutes, then carefully flip the patties over and cook until the other side has turned nicely golden.  Remove the patties from the pan and place on a layer of paper towels set on top of a wire rack.  This set up will allow the patties to drain and cool without becoming soggy.

Form and cook remaining rice mixture in the same manner, adjusting the heat of the pan as necessary to prevent the patties from cooking too rapidly and burning.

To make the sauce, whisk together all of the ingredients in a small bowl.  The sauce is great for dipping, or it can be drizzled over the cooked patties en masse.

Makes about 12 rice patties.

About the contributor:

Elizabeth Miller is a freelance writer who runs Savory Salty Sweet, a food and kitchen appreciation website. She also writes the Melting Pot column here on Indie Fixx, which appears bimonthly on Fridays. Read more about her on the contributors’ page.
  • Share/Bookmark

Hook Me Up to the IVY

February 24, 2012

Treehousehold series

Ivy House via Joanna Goddard | Ivy Hair via Pinterest | Ivy Wall via Girl and Cassiopeia | Solar Ivy by Solar Ivy | Ivy Corset by Lyndsey’s Boutique | Ivy Wall Art by Miss Green’s Wardrobe | Ivy Headboard by Dallas Coleman

We’re embarking on the greenest time of the year again, and whether it’s a thing of beauty or an invasive pest to you, ivy is here to stay. Its evergreen nature makes ivy a grand living statement of fidelity: faith in love, partnership and friendship. Ivy circlets adorning the head reflect eternity, the green circle of life, the hopeful ring-around-the-rosy. It’s a solar-powered sun-sucker that will climb wildly on anything anywhere anyhow to fulfill its craving for sunlight (see above for the Solar Ivy, a solar-energy system inspired by ivy). Immortality and a lust for life are the boons of its myriad three-cornered leaves. Yet it leads a codependent, selfish existence, knocking other life-forms off the living ladder so that it may conquer, thrive, and take over. Ivy is a gold medal winner of the award for survival of the fittest, known despairingly by another name as “the plant that ate Seattle”. If ivy were a human, she might have eaten all the rest of us by now. But what a grey world it would be without her! Poison ivy (albeit a different variety altogether than the traditional English) is not a mind-controlling temptress without cause—she has a raging fire to green the earth.

Ivy, close partners in crime with kudzu (another fast-growing invasive, particularly in the south), can grow up to a foot a day. People who plant it innocently hoping for a little cutesy green groundcover have no idea what they are getting themselves enmeshed with, and often find themselves ruing the day they introduced that overzealous ivy into their garden! It fights for attention, pulling water and nutrient sources from other plants, and, like the annoying kid at the all-you-can-eat buffet, takes way more than its fair share. Many gardeners and landscapers end up cutting their ivy back in order to give other plants room and resources to grow, but it is as hard to extinguish as it is easy to plant.

Ivy is ubiquitous, abundant, annoying, and very lovely as an interior accent. Do your part to clear away the tangled masses of ivy by picking some to make into your very own Ivy “Curtain”!

To make mine, I detangled and cut several 1-3 feet lengths of ivy, plucking the roots off so that all you’re left with is the connecting vine and the leaves. I spray-painted my cords of ivy in a range of metallics (gold is my favorite), leaving little peeks of green here and there. This gives the ivy a nice inside-outside sort of a look. I also painted a branch that is about the same width as a little side window of mine, and gave it a nice shiny sheen. A nice touch is to throw a bit of gauze or sheer lace fabric over the branch/curtain (like a towel on a towel rung), and tie the ivy onto that.

Using curtain rod holders, I affixed the branch to the wall by stuffing the ends of into the rod holes. Next, I took the strands of ivy (dry after 24 hours) and tied them (use twine if your vine is not cooperative) to the branch about 3 inches apart.

Ivy to the window! Ivy to the wall! Indoors, ivy lasts about a month or two before crinkling and sagging when on its last legs. When painted and given a finishing coat of clear artist’s shellaq, it can last up to two or three months as an indoor art accessory.

Give your garden a break and give yourself a bit of green sheen by making a living ivy curtain for your loneliest window! You no longer have to look outdoors to see green. Happy spring from TreeHouseHold!

All ivy curtain images by Heather Buzzard.

About the contributor:

Heather Buzzard is a freshly hatched graduate of Emory University, where she studied creative writing, sociology, religion and environmental science. Her time is spent frolicking as a musician in two Atlanta bands, dressing up for silly photoshoots, inventing recipes, and drooling happily over her Indie Fixx work.
  • Share/Bookmark

Carrots Two Ways

February 10, 2012

melting pot adventures in food

Holding rank as true workhorses in both the kitchen and the garden, it is rare to find a carrot that is not at least close to being in season.  I may be late to the party on this one, but I only recently realized that at the winter farmers market in Portland, carrots are always being offered, as is the case with the spring, summer, and autumn markets.  The more I thought about carrots, the more it became clear to me that, in addition to being a flexible, all-season vegetable, carrots are also a veritable cornucopia of cooking versatility.

It may sound surprising to hear someone wax so rapturously about the common carrot, but it’s only occasionally that one is faced with a vegetable so ready and willing to be roasted, mashed, shaved, boiled, pickled, or braised, and yet also able to be simply delicious and satisfying on its own, freshly pulled from the ground.   Carrots are a staple in my home, as I am sure is the case with many other people, and when the seasons change and we begin to set our sights past merely enjoying our carrots crunchy and raw, I begin to think of ways to continue our carrot consumption into the next season.

Roasting any vegetable will bring out the natural sweetness locked within, and carrots hold court as the pride of this tried and true cooking method.  Paired up with richly caramelized cloves of garlic and just a hint of woody and aromatic thyme, this intensely savory roasted carrot spread is an undeniable treat that is fit for both sunny picnics and cool winter evenings.


Taking the current pickling trend into consideration, it seems only natural to mention how well carrots take to brine.  A crisp carrot made vinegary and tart is a welcome snack during any time of the year, and this Indian-spiced pickle is a quick and refreshing way to dress up a garden’s bounty.  Using a cold pickling method to preserve the carrots will result in a pickle that requires being eaten at faster pace than pickles preserved in a hot brine, but I don’t imagine these pickles will be left to languish once word of their spicy, brisk sweetness gets out.  Even if you go so far as to make two batches of these pickled carrots—one batch to tell people about, one batch to hoard for yourself—I wouldn’t be too worried about the state of your pickled carrot supply.  Rest assured, there will nearly always be more carrots waiting for you and your brine.


Roasted Carrot and Garlic Spread

1 pound carrots, scrubbed, trimmed of ends, and cut into roughly 3-inch chunks
3 large cloves of garlic, unpeeled and very lightly smashed
1 teaspoon fresh thyme leaves
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
¼ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper
¼ teaspoon sea salt

Preheat oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit.  On a heavy baking sheet, combine carrots, garlic, thyme, olive oil, and seasoning. Toss to coat evenly.  Roast carrots and garlic for 25 minutes, turning over garlic cloves halfway through, until both carrots and garlic are soft and deeply caramelized.  Remove from oven and allow to cool on pan for 5 minutes.
When carrots have cooled slightly, scoop them into the bowl of a food processor, pouring in as much excess olive oil and possible.  Remove garlic cloves from their papery skin, and add to the carrots.  Blend in the food processor until thick and smooth, stopping every few seconds to scrape down the sides of the bowl, about 1 minute total.

Quick Pickled Indian Carrots

½ pound carrots, peeled and tops removed
1 ½ cups white vinegar
1 ½ cups cold water
½ teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon sugar
½ teaspoon whole mustard seeds
½ teaspoon whole cumin seeds
1 clove garlic, peeled and smashed
5 paper-thin slices of peeled fresh ginger
4-inch long by 1-inch wide strip of fresh lemon peel, outer part only, with no white pith
4 sprigs of fresh cilantro

In a 1-quart mason jar, combine all ingredients.  Tightly screw on the lid of the jar, and shake vigorously until the salt and sugar have dissolved and all of the ingredients have become intermingled.  Place in the refrigerator and allow carrots to pickle for at least 5 hours, but preferably overnight, before eating.  Pickled carrots will keep in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks, and their flavor only gets better the longer they are allowed to sit in their brine.

About the contributor:

Elizabeth Miller is a freelance writer who runs Savory Salty Sweet, a food and kitchen appreciation website. She also writes the Melting Pot column here on Indie Fixx, which appears bimonthly on Fridays. Read more about her on the contributors’ page.
  • Share/Bookmark

{Tree}household: Sewing Seeds

January 30, 2012

Treehousehold series

When the hibernation habit gets a little blase and the bottoms of your feet become a little itchy for remembrance of their bare-naked grassy days, I feel like the “wet seed wild in the hot blind earth,” of Faulkner’s imagination—caught in the hopeful tandem between winter and spring. If nothing else is ripe, at least the time is ripening for sowing seeds of futures, dreaming dreams, and planting wishes.

The Greek goddess of vegetation, Persephone, is the spring herald of seeds and fresh growth. The pomegranate seeds she ate, while banned from food, are said to have been the reason she was shunned and absent from her duty as fertility mother, thus creating the barren season of winter. We are teetering on the edge of this cold season and the turnover of new growth, so we shall celebrate the seed!

The year is new and I needed something lovely to write on and plant—why not combine the two forces into plantable paper? My seeded stuff ended up looking curiously edible. It somehow achieved the consistency of oatmeal (the brown and cream paper mush) and raisin (foxglove seeds) cookie bars. To make your own write-on granola-esque notes, do this!

(Oatmeal Raisin) Seeded Wildflower Paper

Material and Tools

  • 10-20 sheets of recycled paper (you can use newspaper, old book, junk mail, etc…) and keep in mind the color will be a result of the dye of the paper you use
  • 1 or cups of lukewarm water
  • natural dye or tissue paper (optional)
  • 1-2 packs wildflower seeds
  • a hand towel
  • a cookie/baking sheet
  • a mug, cup, or rolling pin
  • a blender

I started off with black/cream sheets of paper from a discarded 1950s atlas, a handful of newspaper, some junk mail, and a brown paper bag. Rip all the paper you’re going to use up into thin shreds. The smaller, the better, but don’t go too crazy! Put the paper shreds into the blender until it’s almost full. Add 1 cup of lukewarm water and blend, starting with the lowest setting and gradually vamping it up to full power. Blend until the individual pieces have become a watery mush and are indistinguishable, adding water as needed. This process took me 10-15 minutes, and lots of patient alternating between stirring and blending, but eventually did the trick. When the paper has returned back to its pulpy state, you may add a bit of natural dye or square of (dyed) tissue paper to kick it with some color. I chose to leave mine its neutral shade of oatmealy-beige.

Remove the pulp from the blender and place it in a bowl. Add whatever seeds you are inclined—I used foxglove, shasta daisy, and zinnia, for lots of variety and potential. Stir well until the seeds are distributed evenly throughout. Take a small handful of the “dough” and ball it up in your hands, squeezing most of the water out but leaving enough so that it clumps together. Spread the ball out into your desired shape on the baking sheet, flattening it until it’s as thin as it will go. Thin it out even further with a rolling pin, or by using a mug to roll it out. Soak up the excess water with a towel. Repeat this until all the pulp is used. You can make whatever size/shape of paper you desire, but know that the thicker and larger the size, the longer it will take to dry.

Bake at 250 for 20-30 minutes, or until mostly dry. Alternatively, leave in the sun to dry, dry with a hairdryer, take a hairdryer to it, or use your breath for the most hands-on experience. :-)

When you’re ready to bury it, soak the paper for about an hour before placing it lightly (about 1/2 inch deep) in the soil. My foxgloves, zinnia, and daisies will spring up to life in a few weeks.

Get fancy with your paper! I used a sheet of mine to make a hand-sewn Valentine. Simply use thread (usually 3 strands is plenty for this) to make your own design and sew it as you would anything else.

From {Tree}HouseHold, and the promise of spring, sew your seeds of wild oatmeal today!

About the contributor:

Heather Buzzard is a freshly hatched graduate of Emory University, where she studied creative writing, sociology, religion and environmental science. Her time is spent frolicking as a musician in two Atlanta bands, dressing up for silly photoshoots, inventing recipes, and drooling happily over her Indie Fixx work.
  • Share/Bookmark

Friday Indian Spiced Rolls

January 09, 2012

melting pot adventures in food

Since I am a big fan of cooking and being in the kitchen, I am generally not the type of person you’ll find looking for ways to make every recipe shorter or less labor intensive. I like working in the kitchen, so I am, unfortunately, more inclined to want to try out a ridiculously elaborate recipe than I am inclined to run away from one.

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule, and this trait of mine is by no means immune to that general truism. My general downfall when it comes to wanting something straight away, fresh from the kitchen? Sweets. That’s right. When I want a baked good, I want it NOW.

This is generally not a problem when I am craving a cookie or a muffin, but Danish pastries and rolls provide a bit of a problem. Fresh pastries, warm and inviting, are like a siren song to me, but I am often driven to despair by having to wait all day long to produce some fine and tasty pastries, on account of the necessity of waiting for a yeasted dough to rise, get punched down, shaped, rise again, etc. I’ve often thought that there must be a faster, more efficient way to hammer out fresh pastry in under an hour, and, after a bit of perusing my cookbook shelves, it turns out there is.

America’s Test Kitchen saves the day on this one, with a fantastic recipe for no-yeast cinnamon rolls that emerge from the oven as rich and delicious as any standard cinnamon roll that takes several hours longer to produce. I changed some of the proportions of the ingredients, altering them to my current tastes (lately I’ve been desiring my sweets to be a bit less sweet, so I tend to dial back the sugar of every recipe I see) and swapping out plain old cinnamon for a mix of enticing Indian spices, but the genius of the method is all due to ATK.

With this great recipe, you can have soft, fresh, delicious sweet rolls on your plate in fewer than 60 minutes. I hate to admit it, but this recipe might just be the key to making me less patient in the kitchen. Will I ever again enslave myself to the labor of rolling butter into a yeasted dough sponge, then turning and folding for an entire day, just to perfume my kitchen with the magic of fresh pastries? Perhaps. I may have to think about it, though. I’ll get back to you in an hour, after I’ve pulled these rolls from the oven and am sitting down to have a bit of a snack while I think things through.

Indian-Spiced Sweet Rolls

Preheat oven to 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Adjust an oven rack to the upper-middle position. Line an 8-inch square baking pan with a layer of foil that fits all the way across one way, then layer another sheet of foil on top of the first. You want to make a foil sling that will allow the rolls to be removed from the pan with minimal fuss. Spray the prepared foil sling with vegetable oil spray.

Filling

1/3 cup packed dark brown sugar
1/3 cup granulated sugar
¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 ½ teaspoons ground ginger
¼ teaspoon ground cardamom
1/8 teaspoon ground allspice
pinch of salt

Dough

2 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 ¼ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 ¼ cups buttermilk or sour milk
3 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly

Glaze

3 tablespoons cream cheese
¾ cup powdered sugar
1 tablespoon milk
pinch of ground ginger
pinch of cardamom
pinch of cinnamon
pinch of salt

Prepare the filling by mixing all of the ingredients together in a small bowl. Set aside.

Prepare the dough by whisking the flour, granulated sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt together in a large bowl. In a separate bowl, whisk together the buttermilk and two tablespoons of the melted butter. Slowly stir the buttermilk mixture into the flour mixture until the dough comes together and looks quite shaggy, about 30 seconds. Turn dough out onto a well-floured counter and knead for 30 seconds or so, until the dough has just become smooth and pliable (do not overwork the dough, as it will become quite tough).

Shape the dough into a 12” x 9” rectangle, long side facing you. Brush the dough with the remaining one tablespoon of melted butter, then sprinkle the filling mixture over it, leaving a ½-inch border along the top edge. Gently press the filling into the dough to make it stick a bit better.

Using a bench scraper or metal spatula, gently loosen the dough from the counter. Rolling lengthwise, roll the dough away from you into a tight log. Pinch the seam down and roll the log seam side down. Using a serrated knife, slice the log into 9 evenly sized rolls. Ever-so-slightly flatten each piece of dough to seal the open edges and keep the filling in place.

Arrange the rolls cut side down in the prepared baking pan. Tightly cover the pan with foil and bake for 12 minutes. Carefully remove the foil and bake for an additional 12 to 14 minutes, until the edges of the rolls are golden brown. Do not over bake, as the rolls can dry out fairly quickly.

Flip the rolls out onto a wire rack set over a sheet of parchment paper or foil (for easy cleanup). Remove the foil sling and allow rolls to cool for 5 to 10 minutes before frosting.

To prepare the frosting, whisk together the cream cheese, powdered sugar, milk, spices, and salt. Flip the rolls upright, then frost generously.

About the contributor:

Elizabeth Miller is a freelance writer who runs Savory Salty Sweet, a food and kitchen appreciation website. She also writes the Melting Pot column here on Indie Fixx, which appears bimonthly on Fridays. Read more about her on the contributors’ page.
  • Share/Bookmark

Popovers with Braised Leeks

December 16, 2011

melting pot adventures in food

As a child, there were few things as thrilling to me as when we were awarded the rare treat of being served breakfast-at-dinner. Is it even possible to think up a variety of dinner choices more likely to send a child into a whirlwind of heart pounding joy? Pancakes for dinner? Waffles for dinner? Are you kidding me? FRENCH TOAST for dinner? Just stop now, before I faint with pleasure.

Alas, as an adult, though I would truly love nothing more than a crisp waffle for dinner, I find that indulging in basic breakfast fare for dinner no longer suits my constitution. Oh, sure, I still want to eat a waffle for dinner, but, in the interest of my well being, I have to choose to look the other way. Fortunately, what resides at the other end of that directional gaze is a big plate of popovers.

The beauty of popovers, hollow and mildly flavored as they are, is that they are literally made to be adorned with whatever you desire. Spoon them full of marmalade, spread them thick with Nutella, or, for the more grown up palette, stuff them with this herby, aromatic filling of leeks that have been gently braised in white wine. The buttery, crisp popovers, so soft on the inside, make the perfect pocket for the delicious filling, and served with a light salad they make an absolutely fantastic dinner that barely hints at their breakfast origins. Paired with something so savory and satisfying, suddenly your popover breakfast-at-dinner starts to seem a bit less unusual, though certainly no less special.

Popovers with Braised Leeks

I don’t own special popover tins, and I really don’t think they are necessary to achieve superbly puffy popovers. I use a muffin tin to bake these, and my experience has shown that, time and time again, they work just fine. Though you may think it an error, you really do start these popovers in a cold oven. Some people swear by pouring popovers into an already heated pan, but I find this method to be easier, yielding more consistent results.

Popovers

2 tablespoons melted unsalted butter, plus more softened butter for greasing the inside of each tin
1 ½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 ½ cups milk
3 large eggs, beaten, at room temperature
pinch of salt

Thoroughly butter the insides of a 12-cup muffin tin, then set aside.

Whisk together the flour and salt, then add the butter, milk, and beaten eggs, and whisk together until just combined. The batter will be relatively thin.

Pour or spoon the batter into the muffin tins, filling each cup about 2/3 to ¾ full.

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit. Place the popovers in the oven and bake for 15 minutes, while the oven heats up.

After 15 minutes, reduce the oven heat to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, and bake for an additional 15 minutes. The popovers should be deeply golden and puffed up. If they look a bit pale at this point, continue to bake them an additional 5 minutes.

Immediately remove the popovers from their tins, and gently poke a little hole in the top of each one, allowing the steam trapped inside to escape. This will ensure that your popovers remain crisp as they cool.

Makes 12 popovers

Leeks Braised in White Wine

2 large leeks, thoroughly rinsed with dark green stems removed
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 sprigs fresh thyme
¼ cup white wine
salt and pepper

Slice leeks in half lengthwise, then slice each half into thin half moons. In a large pan, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the sliced leeks and sauté, stirring frequently, for 7-10 minutes, until the leeks appear soft and lightly darkened at the edges. Carefully pour in the white wine, and stir to combine. Cook for 30 seconds, allowing the white wine to steam and sizzle with the leeks, then cover the pan, reduce the heat to low, and cook for an additional 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve leeks spooned into popovers, garnished with crumbles of crisp bacon (I used turkey bacon, but regular bacon would obviously work fine as well).

About the contributor:

Elizabeth Miller is a freelance writer who runs Savory Salty Sweet, a food and kitchen appreciation website. She also writes the Melting Pot column here on Indie Fixx, which appears bimonthly on Fridays. Read more about her on the contributors’ page.
Related Posts with Thumbnails
  • Share/Bookmark