Anyone who’s known me at any point in my life knows that my greatest love has always been pasta. It’s dependable and familiar (topped with, for example, homemade tomato sauce and grated cheese), hot and intriguing (crushed red pepper and olive oil), the starting point for so many wonderful adventures, and, most lovely of all when it’s done right, simple and chic and bound to impress.
When I found this recipe, courtesy of Gina DePalma at Serious Eats, I was so impressed by the idea that I just couldn’t stop thinking about it–then after having made my first batch about two weeks ago, it got even more intense, and still now, after having eaten my fourth plate of it this week, I can’t stop thinking about it. Last night I made two batches, the first with linguine, that I sucked down at record speed, and the second with tri-color farfalle, the only other pasta I had on the shelf, to last today. It turns out that the pasta keeps okay overnight, although the garlic flavor, of course, gets stronger and hides the parsley and the delicious raw wine flavor that you get by adding that splash at the end.
Drunken Pasta
The wine that I used this time, as Gina advises, was a dry red that I wouldn’t hesitate to drink but that was still on the less expensive side–around 160 roubles, or about $4.70 at the current rates. I adapted the recipe just a tiny bit, cutting down the amount of cooking liquid so that I could get away with using just one 0.75 L bottle of wine (I’ve also made it with just a little less than half a bottle to use, and even that seemed to work fine), reducing the amount of olive oil, and garnshing with fresh chives.
To make it vegan nix the butter, don’t garnish with cheese, and take care to choose a wine that’s not made with animal-derived finings.
0.75 L bottle of dry red wine, divided
0.75 L water
pinch of salt
1/2 kilogram thick pasta, like linguine
2 large or 4 small cloves garlic, chopped
2 tbsp butter
4 tbsp olive oil
1/4 c fresh parsley, chopped
1/4 c fresh chives, sliced (optional)
1/4 c Parmesan cheese, grated (optional–I used Grana Padano instead)
Combine all but 1/2 cup of the wine with all of the water and the pinch of salt, and bring to a boil. Add the pasta, and cook until al dente (taste-test it, and when it’s tender but still tough to the teeth, it’s done–barring that, the infamous “wall-dente” test works okay enough with noodley pastas). While the pasta is cooking, melt the butter and olive oil over low heat in a saute pan large enough to contain the pasta. Add the garlic, and stir from time to time. The garlic should come to a sizzle and be aromatic, but not browned, just as the pasta is getting done. Add the 1/2 cup of wine to the saute pan, along with a splash (about a half-cup) of the pasta liquid. Scrape up any burned garlic from the bottom of the pan and turn the heat to medium. When the liquid is simmering, drain the pasta and add it, along with all of the parsley, to the saute pan. Stir constantly until all of the liquid is absorbed. Garnish with chives and grated cheese, and serve hot.
Yield: two portions
Almost a year ago, I made what was absolutely the most difficult move of my life, away from a little city called Portsmouth, NH. Aside from the other reasons I loved Portsmouth with all of my soul, there was this one little Indian restaurant on the corner of Hanover and Fleet Street: Shalimar’s. If I loved Portsmouth with my entire soul, I loved Shalimar with every single taste bud in my body. I couldn’t get enough of their chana masala, but was never brave enough to try making my own. Why try to recreate perfection?
Why? Because–and this epiphany occurred only after I’d been a few months in Penza with a distinct lack of Indian food–that’s what cooking is about. And I missed the hell out of Shalimar’s. With my newfound inspiration, I set out to find the basic ingredients for chana masala, an Indian dish made with onions, tomatoes, chickpeas, and a load of spices.
I’ve never been able to find chickpeas in Penza, but lo and behold, I found some in Nizhniy for around $3 a can two weeks ago, and glady hauled five or six cans back to Penza with me. The task was then to round up the necessary spices and create a garam masala, which in the end even necessitated a trip to the pharmacy to bring home a bottle of coriander oil. Having rounded up all of the necessary ingredients that I could, and having snagged the recipe from an older post at Orangette, where Molly raves about the “finest chana masala to ever flirt with her lips,” I finally decided to try my hand at making some sort of chana-mashup of my own.
The results weren’t as wonderful as the chana masala at Shalimar’s, which is smoky and spicy and toe-curlingly wonderful, but this definitely helped tame my craving, and made me look forward to my return ‘Statesside in September, where I’ll definitely find time for a special trip to my favorite little city in America.
Chana Masala
I left a few key ingredients out of Orangette’s recipe, just because they were things I couldn’t find in either Penza or Nizhniy. Namely, fresh cilantro leaves, ground coriander, and cardamom pods. I substituted coriander oil and ground cardamom for the latter two respectively, and sort of improvised the garam masala, which I talk a little about below. I also added a pinch of saffron to the mix for taste and color. It turned out that since I had no idea what proportion of coriander oil would suffice to substitute ground coriander, I added far too much of it, and this ended up undoing any of the taste effect I thought the saffron would have–but despite that, the meal was generally pleasing. The next time I make it, I’ll add just a tiny drop of coriander oil, as I’ve called for in the recipe.
Many people serve this dish with fresh whole milk yogurt, and although I’m not principally opposed to that, Shalimar’s never did it–so it was, of course, the last thing that crossed my mind today. Chana masala is absolutely delicious served on basmati rice, but I happened to have none on the shelf, so I served it over plain millet, which was tasty and healthy.
To make it vegan, nix the butter.
1 medium onion, coarsely chopped
2 medium cloves garlic, minced
2 large tomatoes, roughly chopped with skins and seeds left in
1/2 tsp fresh ginger, minced
1 fresh green chile, minced
2 15-ounce cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
Thin slice of butter
1 tsp cumin seeds
very small drop of coriander oil
1 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp ground cardamom
pinch of saffron
1 tsp red pepper
salt to taste
In a large saucepan, melt the slice of butter over medium heat and add the onion. Stir frequently until the onion caramelizes, and add the garlic and chile. Stir constantly until fragrant, and add the cumin, garam masala, cardamom, and saffron. Sizzle for a few seconds, stirring constantly, and add the tomatoes, coriander oil, salt, and red pepper. If brown residue remained on the bottom of the pan, add a splash of water and scrape it up with your spoon or spatula as you stir the mixture. Cook until the tomatoes are soft, approximately 10 minutes, and remove from heat. Hit the mixture with a stick blender for a few seconds. Add the chickpeas and return to the heat. Bring to a boil, then turn the heat down, cover, and simmer for 40 minutes.
To serve, stir in plain whole milk yogurt, if you like, or garnish with some lemon wedges and freshly chopped cilantro (I had only fresh chives in the fridge, so I used those instead).
Yield: About four servings
Garam Masala
Here’s what Wikipedia says about Garam Masala:
It is generally understood that the spices to be included in a garam masala will vary according to region, and personal choice. The basis of a North-West Indian garam masala usually comprises cloves, green and/or black/brown cardamom, cinnamon, cassia), and mace and/or nutmeg. Black pepper can be added if the mix is to be used immediately, but if kept, the fragrance will diminish, and may change in character. Also typical of the region is the use of black cumin (not white cumin) and caraway). The components of the mix are ground together, but not roasted.
Since I’ve got no spice grinder, I just used a spoon to crush the seeds against a firm surface (my dorm desk), and mixed the powders together in a plastic bag. This seemed to work okay for me, but if you’ve got a spice or coffee grinder, definitely use that instead.
1 tbsp cumin seeds
tbsp black pepper(corns)
1 1/2 tsp dry ginger
3/4 tsp cardamom
3/4 tsp cloves
3/4 tsp cinnamon
3-4 crushed bay leaves
Crush, grind, and mix together. Without the pepper this keeps indefinitely, but with the pepper, I’d only use it for a few days after I make it, since the pepper can change the flavors of the other ingredients with time.
Filed under: Uncategorized
A few months ago, I created a blog at this address in order to save the name from being snatched up, but at that time I had no idea what to use it for. Well, I’ve finally decided: I’m using it to document my adventures in cooking. Приятного аппетита! (bon appetit!)
