Pilaf

FLAVOR BOOSTER Roasted vegetables are delicious—and healthful—on their own, but for variety, try tossing them with herbs or spices before cooking. Here, carrots and cauliflower are seasoned with cumin; feel free to experiment with similar ground spices. For the best flavor, lightly toast and grind the cumin seeds (or other spices) yourself.

A pilaf is a savory dish of rice that has first been sautéed in fat and then cooked in a seasoned liquid. (It differs from a risotto in that the liquid is entirely absorbed.) Depending on the recipe, a pilaf may also include nuts, spices, a few vegetables, or even a complex meat stew. I make mostly simple pilafs, such as the red rice pilaf that follows, to go with quesadillas and black beans, or a basmati rice pilaf with saffron and onions to eat with a vegetable ragout. Long-grain rice is usually used in pilafs, although some cuisines use short-grain rice. Sautéing the rice before adding the liquid enriches the flavor of the dish and coats each grain in fat. This, along with thorough washing, keeps the rice from sticking together or clumping. Olive oil and butter are the most commonly used fats. To avoid burning the butter while sautéing the rice, add a little oil to it, or use clarified butter (see page 125). Onion is usually sautéed for a few minutes in the fat before the rice is added. After the rice is sautéed, a flavorful liquid is poured over it and brought to a boil. The pilaf is simmered, covered, until all the liquid has been absorbed, about 15 minutes. Depending on their cooking times, vegetables and meats are added sometimes with the liquid, sometimes after the rice has been cooking for a while. The tomato in the red rice pilaf here is added at the beginning to color the rice evenly. When done, pilafs should be allowed to rest for about 10 minutes before serving.

Some people argue that a true paella must contain only meat or seafood, never both, that a true paella can be prepared only in a paellera, or that true paella must be cooked outdoors over wood. Perhaps they’re all right. What’s clear to me is that you can produce a fabulous rice dish I call paella in just over half an hour, which makes it a great option for weeknights.

You can make arroz con pollo, the Caribbean specialty, fast or slow. For weeknights, go with the stripped-down variation. But when you have a little time—and you don’t need much—make the full-chicken stock for extra flavor, and saffron for best color and complexity. If you don’t have stock, don’t worry too much. Since the chicken and vegetables are cooking in the liquid, the dish will taste good even if you make it with water. A few slices of tomatoes would go well here, or any salad you like. You don’t need much to round out this meal.

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.

This tagine is similar to the preceding Chicken and Lentil Tagine but, with the addition of dates and vanilla, far more exotic. My version of this tagine may not compare with those that begin with toasting and grinding spices and peeling grapes, but it’s easily executed (especially since the chicken is not browned first, which spares the cook a fair amount of time and energy) and, I think, quite divine. Some things to look out for: First, work with dark meat chicken only. In Morocco, the breast might be propped up out of the way so it almost steams and remains moist, but this is impractical without a special pot (also called a tagine). Be aware that tagines are on the dry side, so don’t add liquid to the sauce unless it’s threatening to burn. Home-cooked chickpeas and fresh tomatoes are, of course, preferable to the canned varieties, but in this dish the differences are not marked. Do, however, use a vanilla bean. If all you have is vanilla extract, omit the vanilla entirely.

A tagine is the name of both a stew and the pot it’s served in. A North African specialty, it differs from other stews primarily in its sweet spicing. This one, featuring chicken, is bright yellow and alluring. Serve it with rice, warmed pitas, or crusty bread.

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).

A slightly labor-intensive but wonderful vegetarian dish that, with its contrasting textures and slight sweetness, makes a terrific main course or a first-rate side dish. Other legumes you can prepare this way: split yellow or green peas.

A relative of tabbouleh, but (usually) served hot and made with lentils. This is a good vegetarian main course, but also a fine side dish at a Middle Eastern or other meal. The onion-mint garnish is terrific stuff.

You can also make this pilaf with rice, but bulgur makes it unusual and special. Serve with a salad and you’ve got a meal.

A kind of pilaf, really, but one that has become its own category, the mother of dishes ranging from Paella (page 519) to Coconut Rice and Beans (page 516). I cannot resist sautéing the rice in oil or butter first, but it’s not entirely necessary; see the simpler variation. (You can also use any of the variations on Pilaf, Many Ways, page 513.) Turmeric is a common and an inexpensive but one-dimensional substitute for saffron; it has none of the depth of flavor, though the color is terrific. You can put in a few roasted red peppers (page 470) or canned “pimientos” also, if you like; add them along with the rice. This is a side dish that has far-ranging applications but is especially fine with soupy beans.

With a couple of good side dishes, this delicious standard makes a satisfying main course.

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.

A Charleston classic, pirlou (aka purloo or pilau) is an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink rice pilaf that is the lowcountry contribution to the family of rice dishes, including jambalaya and gumbo, hailing from the rice-growing regions of the Southeast. Pirlous usually feature seafood of some kind—as you might expect, given their watery origins—but I like the way this simplified version showcases the grassy flavor of fresh field peas.

Carolina Gold rice, a fat, golden-hued, long-grained variety native to South Carolina, is so flavorful that only simple preparations are required. It is excellent in its most basic form, cooked in water with just a little salt and pepper, but for special occasions I opt for this gently embellished preparation.

Can you tell I love rice? I can’t say which one of these recipes I prefer—the spicy, tomatoey red rice or the poblano and herb flavors in the green rice variation. They are both full of flavor and complement countless dishes. Serve either one with Jalapeño-roast Pork (p. 269), and your favorite spicy black beans or grilled fish, chicken, or shrimp.

This is a fantastic dish that I came across when I was researching Caribbean food on the Internet. The recipe was cryptic—just a list of ingredients with no measurements or instructions. But I was so intrigued by the use of curry, black pepper, and Angostura bitters that I developed my own method (and added fresh herbs). This pilaf is substantial enough to eat on its own, but heavenly when served alongside grilled fish or shrimp.