Basmati Rice

To make this exotic green rice, simmer basmati rice in a broth of mint, chives, parsley, and cilantro perfumed with sautéed red onion, fennel, and fennel seeds. When you prepare the herbs, don’t waste too much time on fastidious herb-picking. They all get puréed into an emerald green broth, so no one will ever know if you cheated a little and left some of the stems on.

Part Indian, somewhat Moroccan, a little bit French, and vaguely Slavic, this dish is a true mutt. Arranged on a bed of vibrant herbed rice and topped with spiced cucumbers, this snapper takes you into a world where hot, sour, sweet, and salty exist harmoniously.

This recipe is an homage. While aboard the Ocean, en route to Prince Edward Island, we had three choices for dinner: haddock Dugléré, chicken jalfrezi, or fish chowder and sandwich. Meredith went for the chicken, everyone else had haddock. Fred looked at Meredith’s, knew it was better, and talked the entire trip about ordering it on our return. As we made our way back to Quebec, all he wanted was a warm and true jalfrezi. So we’re back on the train, in our favorite booth, two bottles of wine down when the attendant comes to our table. Fred orders. “Sorry, sir, all we have left are ham sandwiches and Pringles.” Devastation in the form of a one-hour rant about the decline of the railroad ensues. The jalfrezi had such an impact that we wanted to get it into this chapter. So we asked ex–Joe Beefer and curry pro Kaunteya Nundy to come up with a classic jalfrezi. Not surprisingly, he came up with a recipe that put the VIA Rail version to shame. This is for Fred. And this is what Kaunteya had to say about the dish: “I asked my family what jalfrezi means, and I was told by my Bengali grandmother [Calcutta region] that jal means ‘hot’ and frezi means ‘fry.’ This is a very Anglo-Indian dish that was invented by the British. My mom, Shobhna Nundy, and I created this recipe. We made it three times to make sure that it was just right and would not blow away the ‘white folks’ from a spicy [heat] level.”

This fabulous pudding has all the flavors of kheer, the Indian rice dessert, but is richer and creamier thanks to the added egg yolks. Many rice pudding recipes are made entirely on the stove top, which requires lots of vigilant stirring (and watching). My version starts on the stove top but is finished in the oven, which leaves your hands free for other things. Chopped toasted pistachios make a nice garnish for this comforting dessert.

This homemade version of the Chinese standby is a great way to use up leftover rice. Or, to save time, cook the rice up to three days in advance, then let cool and refrigerate, covered tightly. Bring to room temperature before adding to stir-fry.

SMART SUBSTITUTIONS This recipe is inspired by saag paneer, an Indian dish traditionally made with soft, fresh cheese; here, the cheese is replaced with tofu, which is lower in fat. Reduced-fat sour cream, instead of coconut milk, thickens the curry sauce.

FLAVOR BOOSTER A potent spice blend is sprinkled over the fish before it is steamed atop rice, making up for any lack of crust the fish might get from pan-searing in butter or oil. The same mixture could also be rubbed over chicken or pork tenderloin before roasting or grilling.

This variation of Biryani (preceding recipe) is spicier, creamier, and somewhat more complicated. Go easy on the cayenne: this is meant to be a fragrant dish, not a fiery one. Serve with Dal (page 433) or any Indian-style vegetable.

When you open the lid of a pot containing good biryani—the Indian equivalent of arroz con pollo or paella—the smell should drive you wild: chicken (or lamb), butter, and spices should dominate, followed by the subtle aroma of basmati rice. When it’s prepared correctly, it seems to me, you can even smell the salt. This is one of India’s—indeed the world’s—great dishes, and yet too often in restaurants it is underwhelming, underspiced, and made without care. The spice mixture makes the dish exotic, but though it must be made carefully it isn’t difficult. (The chicken isn’t browned, which actually makes it easier than many similar preparations.) One key is to use real butter (in sufficient quantity; I’m sure the ultimate biryani has more butter than this version) and good spices: cardamom in the pod, whole cloves, cinnamon stick, and real saffron. Good coarse salt doesn’t hurt either and, needless to say, the better the chicken, the happier you’ll be when you bite into it. It’s also important to leave the lid on as much as possible. I’m not one of these people who believes that rice must be cooked undisturbed (on the contrary, I think it stands up to all kinds of abuse), but in this instance you want to make sure the chicken cooks fairly quickly and that as much of the aroma as possible remains in the pot. The goal, remember, is to smell everything. Serve with Dal (page 433) or any Indian-style vegetable.

Great for a small crowd, this one-pot meal is intensely flavorful and sweet and will fill your kitchen—indeed, your home—with the wonderful aromas of cinnamon and simmering meat. If you have the time and the energy, this is even better if you brown the lamb chunks first: Put about 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a separate skillet, turn the heat to medium-high, and brown the chunks on all sides, turning as needed; this will take about 15 minutes. (The lamb chunks can also be browned in the oven; just put them in a skillet or roasting pan and place in a 450°F oven. Roast, stirring occasionally, until they are browned all over, 20 to 30 minutes.) Other cuts of meat you can use here: boneless beef chuck, boneless pork shoulder or leg (fresh ham).

The procedure for basic pilaf—and here I’m focusing on the Middle Eastern rather than the Indian variety—is much simpler than that for risotto but truly no less rewarding. And like risotto’s, its technique can lead you to many different dishes; note the variations, which are just a fraction of what you can do. Long-grain rice (basmati is best) is the one to use here. Leftover pilaf can be successfully reheated in a microwave; no kidding. Just add a tiny bit of water first.

Rice and lentils are both daily fare in much of India, but rarely are they cooked together. An exception is made for the quite-quick-cooking red lentils, which are prepared in a manner not unlike that used in the Middle East.

I first ate this soupy stew (or stewy soup) at a lunch counter in Istanbul and was taken by its depth of flavor. It seemed that either the whole was greater than the sum of its parts or there were some hidden ingredients. It turned out to be the former, or nearly so; through an interpreter, I learned that the dish did not begin with stock but with water and that the only ingredient I was not seeing was a bit of garlic. The cook offered that one might add a bit of butter for richness but that he hadn’t done so with this batch. If you want to turn this into a more filling main course, use stock instead of water, add some cubed boneless chicken or lamb, season it with a little cumin or dill, and finish it with lemon. You’ll wind up with a bigger, more substantial Turkish-style stew, though not necessarily a better one.

Basmati wins my vote for the best all-around rice because it is easy to cook, incredibly fragrant, and complements so many different dishes. Best of all, it’s so rich in flavor that it needs little enhancement. Before I discovered basmati I used to love to eat butter with my rice. This pilaf is definitely delicious enough to eat on its own, but I especially like it with a sprinkling of chopped scallions. (What can I say—I’m a Crescent City girl.)

Asparagus is something you feel the need to gorge on, rather than finding the odd bit lurking almost apologetically in a salad or main course. The exceptions are a risotto—for which you will find a recipe in Appetite—and a simple rice pilaf. The gentle flavor of asparagus doesn’t take well to spices, but a little cinnamon or cardamom used in a buttery pilaf offers a mild, though warmly seasoned base for when we have only a small number of spears at our disposal.

My Iranian father is infamous for knowing how to make one single dish: rice cooked with lentils, dill, and spices. Rice is ubiquitous in Persian cooking, and there are many elaborate variations that include dried fruit, fresh herbs, nuts, and beans. This version is green and aromatic. Dried limes have a distinctly sour, herbal taste specific to Persian food. Whole or powdered dried limes can be found at the stores listed in this book’s Resources section (page 193), but if you can’t find either one, the rice can be cooked with 2 teaspoons of lemon zest and seasoned with 2 tablespoons of lemon juice right before serving.

Before I attended culinary school, my attempts at preparing rice were absolutely disastrous. Most often the final results were more like gloppy oatmeal, at best. The pilaf method I learned at L’Academie de Cuisine was my saving grace, which is why I call this recipe $20,000 Rice Pilaf (that was the cost of a year of school at the time).