Lunar New Year & Taco Night

In order to ignore (as best as possible) some of the uglier white noise in our collective background, I have enjoyed a great deal of kitchen time this week.

To celebrate the Lunar New Year (last Saturday) and welcome the Year of the Rooster, and also because Jack is finally exiting his phase of mind-numbingly dull eating and has discovered a mad passion for pork dumplings, I made, wait for it, many pork dumplings yesterday.* Oliver and his sweet hands were huge helps in the folding and crimping department, and we crafted about sixty half-moons in no time flat.

I steamed most of them but also friend about a dozen for Jack because he prefers pot stickers. Mine were definitely on the crisp side but he declared them delicious, so I'll take it. Meanwhile, Oliver inhaled approximately 35 of the steamed version. 

I also made some soba noodles, peanut sauce, fried tofu, and steamed broccoli, and tossed all that together for a nice salad. Oranges made for a perfect, good luck dessert. 

Tonight was taco night which, because of our embarrassing POTUS' lack of knowledge of Frederick Douglass, also included a margarita for moi. 

Frederick Douglass is an example of somebody who’s done an amazing job and is being recognized more and more, I noticed.

Is POTUS aware that Frederick Douglass died in 1895? I just don't have words. So really, you can easily see why I made the margarita. 

Otherwise, Tacos. Family dinner. Good!

And my darling fur baby. 

Pork dumplings:

1 pound ground pork
the white/light green ends of two scallions, minced
a couple teaspoons minced chives
~2 teaspoons grated ginger
~1-2 teaspoons sesame oil
about the same of soy sauce
~2 teaspoons salt.

Mix everything together well and refrigerate for at least an hour.

I only had egg roll wrappers, so used a 3" cup to press rounds for the big dumplings. I used a biscuit cutter to cut rounds for the potstickers. One by one, fill the rounds and then seal by dabbing a bit of water around the edge of the circle, folding the circle in half, and crimping it shut.
I steamed the dumplings and fried the potstickers.

Make a good dipping sauce. We did roughly this:

1⁄4 cup soy sauce
1⁄4 cup rice wine vinegar
2 1⁄2 teaspoons sugar (didn't do this, or only did a bit; I don't know, I put Tom on the sauce)
1⁄2 medium scallion, minced
2 teaspoons minced fresh gingerroot
1⁄2 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1⁄2 teaspoon hot red pepper flakes

Mix. Serve.

A meal fit for Tom's 39th

My dear, spring chicken husband turned 39 yesterday. 39 sounds different my side of 40, but I'm cool with it. Other than the presence of the Vulgar Talking Yam, I have loved every bit of turning and being 40.

But anyway, Tom.

Because we went away and celebrated for the long weekend, I admit to y'all that when I realized, Monday night, that the next day was his actual birthday, I was a bit shocked. Like, it occurred to me that I always cook T a birthday meal and wanted to do so again this year, but I don't usually wing it so dramatically.

Which is why it is crucial to have high-quality, tasty ingredients in your freezer, fridge, and pantry. Staples, if you will. I didn't have to buy a single thing for this evening, and voila!

Entree: The Silver Palate's Chicken Marbella

ready for the oven

cooked!

Have y'all ever had this dish? My aunt Wendy used to make it regularly (or what seemed like regularly to me), and I always adored it. The chicken and prunes, wine and olives, bay leaves and garlic, capers and brown sugar all meld together in such a savory, pleasurable way. Mamma mia!

Prunes, bay leaves, garlic, brown sugar, olive oil, salt, pepper, oregano: pantry
Olives, capers: fridge
Chicken: freezer

Sides: A festive winter salad and some cinnamon and bay pearled couscous all the better to sop Marbella sauce with.

Can you even? Blood oranges, Sumo mandarins, satsumas, lettuces, olive oil, aged Balsamic, salt and pepper

pearled couscous with shallots, cinnamon, a bay leaf, salt, lemon zest

Lettuce, butter: fridge
Balsamic, olive oil, couscous, shallots, herbs: pantry
Oranges: counter top

Dessert: Blackberry Pie because T is trying to be healthful 

The boys chose tool candles because "Daddy can fix anything!"

Blackberries: freezer
Flour, oil, salt, sugar, corn starch: pantry
Milk: fridge

More lentil wat and my first batch of injera

Last month, I wrote about my Ethiopian friend, Hiwot, and her generosity. She brought me a bag of berbere, her recipe for red lentil wat, homemade injera, AND starter so I could try and make my own. She also directed me to Black Lion market where I bought teff flour, more lentils, and a mitad, the grill on which injera is cooked. 

Hiwot sent me a YouTube video about making injera, and let me tell you, I was intimidated. I mean, the man in the tutorial used a fermentation bucket and an airlock. I can make a pie crust in my sleep, and it's rare that in the kitchen, I pause, put my hands on my hips, and think, "Dang. This is gonna take some time and practice!" 

Injera made me think exactly that.

But I love a challenge, and so with Hiwot's starter and my new flour and a generous dash of "fake it 'til you make it," I ordered a cheap bucket and airlock (great products and service from Bell's General Store, a brewing-oriented company in Kalamazoo, by the way) and got started.

starter

airlock nestled in the fermentation bucket's lid

Injera is a three-part, multi-day process punctuated by lengthy periods of rest time during which the batter ferments (hence the use of the airlock, although Hiwot was like "Huh??" She does NOT use the dang airlock!). If you linger around the batter or crack open the lid of the bucket just a bit, you're whacked with a pleasantly pungent aroma- yeasty, sour...rather what you might expect from fermenting grain and sourdough bread.

after 3 days of fermenting, the batter was actively bubbling!

Injera is unlike any bread I've ever made. The batter is runny, rather like that for pancakes. And Teff is a very fine flour, the brown variety particularly so.

brown teff flour

There's no kneading involved in the making of injera, and ultimately you cook each injera like you would a crepe, batter poured fairly thinly atop a hot griddle-for injera, the mitad-for a brief spell.

mitad off and minus its lid

Mitad heating and with lid

I am very pleased with this grill. It's fabulous to be able to set your desired temperature and know that it will remain steady, a must for such quick, needs-to-be-even cooking. Because everything happened so rapidly once I started making the injeras, I don't have many action shots. But here, you can see the "eyes" of the injera popping open.

eyes forming

That's good. Many eyes, the result of active, successful fermentation, produce the spongy texture that injera is known for. The mouthfeel of good injera is an absolute delight, a chewy, pillowy, yeasty pleasure.

Hiwot's was perfect. Mine was too dense and not as pliable, but for a first go, I'm proud. And perhaps the best part was that the kids enjoyed this whole meal. Will wonders never cease?! I even remembered to reserve some of the batter as starter for my next batch.

injera made from both brown and ivory teff, and red lentil wat

I sent Hiwot all these pictures, and she was, as always, incredibly lovely and supportive. She also sent me the second video in the series of tutorials she's making me. I know my injera will be so much better next time. And meanwhile, lucky me to have this woman as a friend.