Some days I think I should just channel all my energy into redeeming the tarnished reputations of maligned and misunderstood vegetables. So many perfectly good vegetables get routinely shunned at the grocery store for no good reason.
At the top of this list would be the poor okra, which people seem to hate for no other reason than its propensity to exude a clear and copious mucilage when sliced, a sliminess that’s often further aggravated in cooked dishes. I know that the wo
A samosa can be a million different things. For most people the word evokes, inescapably, a filling of spiced and mashed vegetables enclosed in pastry and deep fried. But within those basic guidelines what a richness of variations exists. The texture of the crust can be thick, flaky, and tender, or brittle, thin, and crisp. It can be studded with aromatic spices, slightly leavened, or left entirely unseasoned except for some salt. And the fillings need only be limited by your
Pakoras, vadas, bhajjis, bondas—the variety and number of fried street foods in India fairly boggles the mind. One of my fondest childhood food memories is of the woman who had a fried food cart near our house. She and her husband manned the stall in all kinds of weather, but, through a perverse trick of appetites, the siren call of freshly fried bhajjis and pakoras was always strongest in the middle of a rain storm. Every time there was a storm, my sister and I would run dow
Chicharrón may just be my favorite thing in the world—well, this week anyway. In all seriousness, though: what’s not to love: all the crisp deliciousness of a chip but made out of meat! The idea to make chicharrón has been kicking about in my head for a while. I was first inspired when I was walking the aisles of a supermarket in Fulton, TX that had a truly impressive selection of chicharrón—short and curly, long and finger-like, dusted with fiery-looking spices, or just that