LiveScience.com – When you restrain from scarfing down unhealthy foods or hold back on that extra drink, others may deserve some of the credit. Self-control is contagious, a new study suggests.

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Self-Control Is Contagious, Study Finds
(LiveScience.com)

Many hours of my childhood were spent between the tall rows of Dad’s corn in the garden.I must have been very small because I remember the stalks towering well over my head. He grew so many vegetables back then: peppers, tomatoes, carrots, green beans. We even had rows of strawberries. But the corn was always my favorite. It was so sweet it barely needed cooking at all. The kernels were delicious raw and starchy. I would usually pick an ear and run inside to quickly cook it in the microwave but sometimes I would sit, hiding in the rows, and eat a raw one, convinced that no one could find me there among the leaves.

Grocery store corn is no comparison, at least not around here. It simply isn’t as fresh. It’s fine, but I don’t have the urge to bite into the raw kernels without cooking them. So when summer dinners call for corn, I tend to spruce it up a bit. Compound butters made with fresh herbs are great slathered over grilled cobs. If I’m servings steaks, maybe a sprinkling of smoked paprika and a hit of lime to give the corn color and a bit of acid to counter the richness of the meat.

Cutting the kernels from the cobs creates so many options, since you can sauté veggies and aromatics with the corn and dress it any number of ways that otherwise might not stick to intact cobs. Lots of herbs work well with corn—basil, oregano, thyme, or chives. Acids, such as citrus juice or vinegars, bring out the sweetness rather than mask it. You can serve sautéed corn hot or you can chill the mixture and call it a salad. Delicious both ways.

For this recipe I used what was handy: a red pepper and basil from the garden, a sweet onion and elephant garlic from the farm stand, and a lime.

Cutting kernels from the cob can be messy if you don’t take the right approach. If you cut the cobs on a cutting board, kernels will fly all over your kitchen. Instead, hold each cob upright in a large bowl and slice from the top down, as pictured. The kernels will fall in the bowl, not on your floor.

Be sure to cut the kernels at their base. If you cut halfway through, you are on the road to making creamed corn; the milky sweet starch will be released. Of course, homemade creamed corn is a delight and probably a whole post in itself.

When choosing cobs, pick heavy ears. Heaviness equals higher moisture content, which indicates freshness. Partially pull back the silks (which should not be moldy) and a little of the husk to take a peek at the kernels. They should look plump, not shriveled. Don’t worry about yellow corn versus white corn—the freshness will matter more than the color.

Lastly, if your corn just isn’t all that sweet, add a very light sprinkling of sugar to the pan as it cooks. Not every piece of produce can be perfect.

Fresh Corn with Basil and Lime
Crunchy, sweet fresh corn is cut from the cob and quickly cooked with onion, red bell pepper, and garlic then finished with a generous amount of fresh basil and a squeeze of lime. The acidity of the lime brings out the natural sweetness of the corn.

Serves 4

1 Tbs. olive oil or butter
5 ears of corn, kernels cut from cobs
1/2 small onion, small dice
1/2 red bell pepper, small dice
1 clove garlic, minced
10 leaves of fresh basil, minced
juice of one lime, or to taste
salt and pepper, to taste

Cut kernels from cobs by standing each ear of corn on its end in a large bowl and slicing from the top down.

Melt butter in a high-sided skillet over medium heat. Add onion, bell pepper, and a pinch of salt. Sweat until soft but not brown, 3-4 minutes. Add garlic, cook 30 seconds or until fragrant. Add corn, salt, and pepper. Raise heat to high and cook quickly, stirring, until corn brightens in color and is heated through. (If you prefer softer corn, use lower heat and cook longer.) Taste the corn; if it isn’t sweet, add a pinch of sugar to the pan and stir well. Remove from heat and finish by adding basil and lime to taste. Adjust salt and pepper. Serve hot or cold.

What’s your favorite way to cook corn? Leave a comment!

I didn’t get in a fight with a neighbor. I haven’t gotten into butchery. I haven’t killed the squirrels that are stealing my tomatoes.  

No, I just ran out of latex gloves when I handled these beauties:

Being beet-stained isn’t a big deal. Wear an apron. Put on some gloves if you care about your manicure. The stains on your skin will wash away easily.

And beets are so delicious, so good for you, so worth it. Is there any other food so simply gorgeous? The warm crimson layers of just-roasted beets seem to glow from within. 

Once you roast them, which involves nothing but wrapping them in foil and waiting, beets need very little else. The cooked skins slip off easily, you can quarter them right on the foil to keep from dirtying a cutting board, and they are so delicious right out of the oven that there’s no need for complicated preparations.

My favorite way to dress beets is with this simple balsamic vinaigrette. The toasted caraway seeds add a nice flavor note (and when else do you get to use caraway except in rye bread?) but they aren’t necessary if you don’t have any. 

The balsamic vinegar is a knockout with the beets’ inherent sweetness. Serve them as a warm side dish or toss with red leaf lettuce for a quick salad.

If you use foil wisely, you’ll only dirty two dishes for these beets: a skillet for toasting the seeds and the bowl you serve them in. 

Roasted Beets with Toasted Caraway and Balsamic Vinaigrette
Naturally sweet beets, still warm from the oven, are tossed with a sharp vinaigrette scented with caraway seeds. These bear no resemblance to insipid canned beets; if you’ve never roasted your own, you will be pleasantly surprised. 

Adapted from Martha Stewart’s Healthy Quick Cook

Serves 4-6

for roasting beets:
2 lbs. beets (8 or 9 small), scrubbed
1 Tbs. olive oil, approximate

for vinaigrette:
2 tsp. caraway seeds, optional
2 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil
2 Tbs. balsamic vinegar
kosher salt and black pepper

Preheat oven to 400F. Place a large piece of heavy-duty foil on a baking sheet. Place beets on one end and drizzle with oil. Fold foil over the top and roll/crimp the edges to seal.

Roast for one hour or until the beets yield very easily to a paring knife. (Very small beets may take less time.) Remove from oven, open foil, and allow to cool while you make the vinaigrette.

Heat a dry skillet or saucepan over medium heat. Add caraway seeds and toast, swirling pan, until fragrant, about one minute. Do not burn. You don’t want the seeds to turn dark, only to become warm and fragrant.

In a large serving bowl, whisk together oil, vinegar, caraway, salt, and pepper. 

Use a paring knife to trim away the stem end of the beets. Use your fingers (or your knife) to lift away the skins. Use the foil as a work surface to avoid staining a cutting board. Cut the beets into quarters or sixths and toss into the vinaigrette.  Adjust salt and pepper.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

People love to ask pregnant women about cravings. I can’t buy pickles without someone making a sarcastic comment. I’m sure it would BLOW THEIR MIND to know I’ve been eating pickles since 1982.

I haven’t had many cravings. No desire to eat dryer lint, soil, or cigarette ashes. Not even chocolate. My husband says there’s no way to know if I want anything weird because I eat weird things all the time. (He’s referring mostly to sardines on toast. Again with the mind blowing!)

But there is one thing this rapidly expanding ass would chase like a greyhound after a fake rabbit—bean burritos.

No, not just delicious homemade bean burritos. Not just hot, fresh tortillas wrapped around lovingly seasoned beans. I’ve resorted to nasty fast-food burritos. The Taco Cabana scourge of every street corner of San Antonio. (Seriously, the Cabana must outnumber Starbucks two to one in S.A.) I can’t explain the appeal. It must be purely hormonal. A need for iron maybe.

Determined not to eat any more of that garbage, I’ve been careful to keep stocked with good tortillas and beans so I can make my own burritos.

So when I read Nick Kindelsperger’s post on Paupered Chef about a friend’s quickly blended salsa with a heavy dose of dried guajillo chilies, I knew I had to make a batch. “Batch” doesn’t quite describe the quantity here—more like an “ass ton” of salsa.  A full quart. With this on hand, I can elevate even a mediocre burrito into something quite tasty.

Nick says this salsa has “insane heat”. I should have taken this claim lightly knowing it was coming from someone living in Chicago. I live in home city of the Nuclear Taco and have enjoyed a truly endorphin-rush-inducing burn. (You don’t know what spicy food is until you’ve gotten high from it.) I’d feed this salsa to a baby; it’s not hot at all. This should have been obvious, since the guajillos are the only source of heat and they’re not very spicy chilies.

Still, this salsa was outstanding. The guajillos give it a deep chile flavor and the pureed texture is perfect for topping tacos and burritos. It’s also quite lovely with fried eggs for breakfast. If I had it in me to make tamales, this salsa would be my sauce. I tweaked it a bit; my recipe doesn’t look exactly like Nick’s, but it’s close.

If you’ve never worked with dried chilies before, you’ll be amazed by the complex flavors.  See the tips below on how to handle them for various uses.

Blended Salsa with Guajillo Chilies
Dried chilies lend their deep red color, berry undertones, and slight heat to this pureed salsa of tomatoes, onion, garlic, and cilantro. Perfect for spooning over tacos, this salsa is dark, thick, and clingy. 

Makes one quart

12 dried guajillo chilies (or substitute New Mexico chilies)
1 (28-oz) can whole peeled tomatoes, with juice
1/2 bunch fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
1/2 onion, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic
4 limes, juiced
sugar, to taste (I used about 1 Tbs. Will vary.)
kosher salt, to taste

Pour boiling water over chilies. Let soak for 30 minutes. Drain chilies and discard the water. Cut off the stem ends, slice lengthwise, and remove the seeds. Place chilies in a blender with remaining ingredients and puree.  Adjust sugar and salt. Chill. 

——————–

How to Use Dried Chilies

* Rinse or rub clean before soaking to remove any surface dust or dirt.

* Pour boiling water over chilies and soak for 30 minutes to soften. Chilies may also be toasted (but be careful not to burn) in a dry hot skillet before use to intensify their flavor.  Soaking is not necessary if adding chopped chilies to a very long-cooking soup or stew. 

* Remove stems and seeds (before or after soaking or toasting).

* Pureed chilies make a flavorful paste for adding to sauces or stews. To get the blender going, add an appropriate liquid like water or stock. (For beef chili, I puree a combination of smoked and non-smoked dried chilies with a bottle of beer and add it to my chili pot.)

* Dried chilies can be stored for many months but they will eventually lose flavor. Store in the freezer for longer keeping.

* Wear gloves when removing the seeds from hotter varieties.

It seems I claim that just about everything on this site is “fast and easy.” But, yeah, it kinda is.

Since I spent my professional life working with limited hours in a rented kitchen or with unlimited hours at god-awful times of the night (holla to the bakers who work while you sleep!) and had only four hands to do the work, easy was a must. 

You don’t make a profit in a small food business unless you are seriously efficient. We turned out great food, but we didn’t make anything that took 3 hours to prep. I started out with overly ambitious menus but I’d have been broke within a year if I’d kept it up.

Over time, my area of expertise necessarily became healthy food that doesn’t take too long to make. A skill I’m especially glad to have now, since I am being kept up at all hours of the night by Little Miss Flashdance, the tiny lady residing in my pregnant belly who just loves to schedule her auditions for 3 am. Later, she’ll want to eat at 3 am. Later still, she’ll be on the phone with boys at 3 am.

So I’ll continue with the fast and easy, yes?

You already know how to cook perfect pork tenderloin, which is indeed fast and easy. Now serve that succulent strip of piggy with a luscious fig compote. This is a sweet sauce, for sure, but it’s sweet in a grownup kind of way—sweet with balsamic vinegar, honey, and the concentrated figgy-ness of the dried fruit, stewed until plump and thickly glazed with a syrupy reduction. 

And yeah, it’s fast and easy.

Balsamic Fig Compote
Sweet, tangy, and succulent figs are great paired with roasted pork tenderloin. The initial prep takes very little time but the figs will have to simmer (unattended) for 20-30 minutes, so start these first before you prep the rest of the meal. 

6 Servings

1 tsp. olive oil
1/4 cup shallots, minced
1 (7-oz) bag dried figs
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
3 Tbs. honey
1/2 cup water
kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp. fresh thyme, minced

Prep figs: Remove the tough stems and cut in half lengthwise.

Heat oil in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add shallots and cook until soft, stirring often to prevent burning with so little oil.

Add figs, balsamic vinegar, honey, and water. Season with salt and pepper.

Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer 20-30 minutes or until figs are plump and tender. If you lose a lot of water to evaporation and your figs aren’t tender, add more water, cover, and simmer longer.

Remove cover, raise heat to medium, and cook until the liquid reduces to a thick, syrupy consistency.

Add fresh thyme. Adjust salt and pepper as needed.

Note: If reheating leftover figs, you may need to add a bit of water to loosen the reduction.

There are some skills in the kitchen that, once mastered, pay off again and again. Basic techniques that can transform all of your cooking from good to great. 

Proper salting is an example. Or blanching vegetables to keep them crisp and vibrant. And, of course, cooking meat so that it is tender and flavorful before any sauce ever touches it. I’ve already covered how to grill chicken, now it’s time for some juicy piggy!

Pork tenderloin is a great meat to cook at home. It’s very lean with a fat content only slightly higher than chicken breasts, you can successfully roast a small loin that will serve as few as 2 people, and it cooks quickly due to the small size. It’s also one of the most tender cuts of pork, which is especially important now that commercial pork has lost its former succulence; pigs are now bred to be very lean in order to be “the other white meat.” 

Pork tenderloin is also terrifically easy to master. All you need is a standard meat thermometer. With one of these in your kitchen toolkit, you can cook perfect piggy every time.  Aim for a final temperature (after resting) of 145F, and you’ll have luscious (yet safe to eat) pork on your plate.  You can also use an instant-read thermometer, but you can’t leave that in the oven.

The easiest way to reach the optimal final temperature and also develop a flavorful brown crust is to sear first, then bake to finish.

How to cook perfect, moist pork tenderloin: 

1. Buy pork tenderloin, not pork loin. I find that people are often confused about this.  Learn the difference: pork tenderloins are relatively thin strips of meat, with a maximum 2-inch diameter and a dark color.  Pork loin is much larger, pale, and often sold as “loin roast” or cut into “butterfly loin chops”. Pork loin is not nearly as tender and is best when brined before cooking. 

2. Remove the silver skin. It’s that wide piece of silvery membrane attached to the thick end and it is chewy and tough. Great video demonstration here. 

3. Season well. Rub pork with a little oil and plenty of kosher salt, freshly cracked pepper, and any dried herbs or seasonings. Don’t be timid with salt or spices — the interior will not be in direct contact with the seasonings and you need to go heavier than you might think.

4. Sear on all sides in a preheated skillet set over high heat until golden brown.  Do not sear for too long or you risk overcooking the meat and making it tough. One minute per side is plenty. Sear only one loin at a time to prevent overcrowding your pan, which will create steam and reduce browning. Don’t shake the pan or shift the meat while it’s browning. Move the meat only when you’re ready to turn it over.

5. Finish in the oven and check internal temperature. Move the meat to a baking sheet or dish and roast in a preheated 375F oven until 140F internal temperature. This usually takes around 15 minutes, but measure the temp with a meat thermometer rather than relying on a time measurement, since your searing time and tenderloin size may vary. Insert the thermometer lengthwise into the thickest end of the tenderloin, as shown.

6. Let rest. Remove loin(s) from the hot pan to a platter, cover loosely with foil, and let rest for 10 minutes.  Slice and serve. 

When sliced, the pork should be blushing pink in the center, not gray. Don’t worry if you’ve been warned not to eat undercooked pork — pork is safe at 145F and your tenderloin will rise to that temp while it rests. The tenderloin naturally has a slight pink color when properly cooked. 

Get creative when seasoning your pork! Fresh herbs are an obvious choice, with thyme, sage, and rosemary being solid choices that also work well with many sauces. Use generous amounts of chopped herbs on the surface of the meat to ensure that the interior is seasoned well enough.

Dried spice mixes are also great; try a mix of dried coriander, cumin, and smoked paprika to take the tenderloin in an entirely different direction. You can also mix dried spices and fresh herbs — one of my favorite combinations is fresh sage, fresh rosemary, and Chinese five-spice. 

Up next: A quick fruit sauce for pork tenderloin. Subscribe to receive the recipe for a luscious (and easy) Balsamic Fig Compote when it’s posted.

If you’ve got any favorite spice or herb rubs for pork tenderloin, please comment and share! 

I’m originally a Louisiana girl and down there beans come in two varieties: red and white. Red are kidney beans and white are navy beans. We don’t go much farther than that. (Just forget lentils entirely. What are they?) Now that I’m a Texan, it’s pinto or black beans, almost exclusively.

So it makes sense that I still look at the wide world of bean recipes with an odd sense of wonder. Even simple recipes take my fancy like they’re the most innovative dishes I’ve ever seen. I don’t need molecular gastronomy just yet — I’m still finding great pleasure in the basics. Especially when the basics are easy, low-fuss, and nutritious, like these cannellini beans with tomatoes and chard.

Cannellini beans are white kidney beans, longer and a tad sturdier than smaller, rounder navy beans. They have a mellow, earthy flavor. You could start with dry beans and cook them until tender, but for me, good canned cannellini are just too easy and quick to bother with all that.   

The tender beans are quickly simmered with garlic, sweet canned plum tomatoes, a bit of dried red chile flakes for heat, and silky wilted chard. The bones of this recipe come from Lidia Bastianich, but I’ve tweaked it for my taste by adding oregano and fresh basil for more oomph along with a grating of salty Parmesan over the top. The result is a steaming bowl of comfort food, good for a side dish or a meal on its own.  

The La. girl in me required a wedge of hot, crispy cornbread with my beans, and a few slices of hot Italian sausage mixed in would have really sent me to the moon. It’s probably due to all those bowls of red beans with andouille I grew up with, but still, a bit of sausage would have made this dish even more fabulous. 

Cannellini with Tomatoes and Swiss Chard
A quickly simmered dish of mellow beans, sweet tomatoes, and silky wilted chard, topped with salty Parmesan cheese. Great as a vegetarian main dish or as side dish for grilled meats.

Serves 4 as a main dish

Adapted from Lidia’s Italy on PBS.

1 Tbs. olive oil
4 cloves garlic, sliced
2 (19 oz.) cans cannellini beans, rinsed and drained
1 (28 oz.) can peeled plum tomatoes packed in puree
1 bunch chard, ends trimmed and leaves chopped into large chunks
2 Tbs. tomato paste 
dried red pepper flakes 
1 pinch sugar
1/4 tsp. dried oregano
2 Tbs. fresh basil, minced
salt and pepper
freshly grated Parmesan cheese 

Put a large pot of salted water on to boil.

Pour canned tomatoes into a bowl and use your hand to gently crush the whole tomatoes into rough pieces.

In a large high-sided skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.  

Add the drained beans, tomatoes with juices, tomato paste, red pepper flakes, oregano, sugar, salt, and pepper. Bring to a boil then lower the heat and simmer uncovered until thickened, about 10 minutes.

Drop the chard into boiling water, blanch for 30-45 seconds or until just tender. Drain well. Stir chard into beans. Add fresh basil and adjust seasonings. Remove from heat.

Serve hot with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

**UPDATE: I’ve now also made this without bothering to blanch the chard first.  Instead, just chop the chard into 1″ pieces and stir into the simmering beans.  Easier and just as good!

Even professional cooks freak out when guests are coming for dinner. Maybe even more so, because the pressure is on. How do you cook for friends who know you do this for a living but have never tasted your cooking? It’s hard, at least for me. I’ve cooked for hundreds of happy customers and yet there’s always a sense of “Will they find out I’m a total fraud?”

Couple that with my inability to do two things at once, especially if any of it is social, so when guests are coming I fall back on a few standby recipes, mostly things that can be made ahead of time and finished off at the last minute. Grandma calls that “pulling a Darla.” I call it managing to serve dinner on time while also buzzing on a second martini.

(My refrigerator has two recipe cards stuck to a magnet. One is for “Darla’s coffee”; the other is for “Darla’s martini”. Oh, how pregnancy has changed my rituals!)

This Halibut with Coconut Milk is a dish I love to cook on such occasions or on any busy day. You can completely prep the ingredients ahead of time, wrap them in individual envelopes of foil (”hot pockets” in my house, en papillote to the French, but referring to parchment), and just slide them into a very hot oven 10 minutes before dinner.

Using foil seems like the kind of cooking you would do on a weeknight but never for guests, yet it’s really perfectly respectable, even for a fancy dinner party. This method of cooking steams the fish in the oven and results in succulent, moist flesh scented with the aromatics. In turn, the liquid absorbs all the juices from the fish, making your sauce tastier as well, without having to make fish stock. It’s a win-win situation.

Here, halibut fillets are baked in coconut milk infused with the brightness of fresh lemongrass, lime, and cilantro. Slices of ginger, chilies, and garlic bring heat while a touch of sesame oil adds a deeper background note. The coconut milk gives richness without a leaving a heavy feeling on the tongue, allowing the flavor of the fish to shine through.

To serve, lift the fish from the foil envelopes and pour the juices over as a sauce. Pair it with a bed of jasmine rice or bok choy sautéed in sesame oil with garlic, red bell peppers, and shiitake mushrooms.

You can use either regular coconut milk or light coconut milk, it doesn’t matter. Let your calorie needs decide.

Halibut with Coconut Milk, Lemongrass, and Chilies
Succulent halibut fillets bake in coconut milk infused with lemongrass, ginger, garlic, chilies, and sesame oil. This method of baking in foil is perfect for make-ahead dinners.

Serves 4

Adapted from Jamie Oliver’s The Naked Chef Takes Off.  
(He uses monkfish, wrapped in banana leaves.) 

4 (6-oz) pieces of halibut or other white fish, skin removed
1 fresh red or green chili, thinly sliced
2 stalks lemongrass, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 thumb-sized pieces of ginger, peeled and thinly sliced into rounds
1/4 cup cilantro, minced
2 limes, zested and juiced
2 Tbs. sesame oil
1 cup light or regular coconut milk
salt and pepper, to taste
heavy-duty foil

Lay out four pieces of heavy duty foil, about 15×10″, large enough to enclose your fish.

To mince lemongrass: Cut off the root end. Cut away the woody, darker green section near the top. (You can use this for broth.) Remove the outer tough leaves from the tender lower section. Mince the inner leaves.  (See picture above for guidance.) 

Combine lemongrass, chilies, garlic, ginger, cilantro, lime juice, lime zest, sesame oil, and coconut milk in a medium bowl.  Season with salt and pepper.

Use a slotted spoon to lift the solids from the coconut milk. Divide these solids between your pieces of foil, making a bed for each piece of fish.

Place the fish on top of the solid aromatics. Season with salt and pepper. Fold the foil over the top and fold tightly along the sides to make a rectangle.  Leave one end open for adding the liquid.

Pour or spoon the remaining coconut milk mixture into each foil packet, dividing equally. Seal the foil pouches completely.

Place foil pouches on a baking sheet. Refrigerate or bake immediately.

Bake at 450F for 8-10 minutes or until you hear the liquid sizzle when you jiggle the pan. Open a pouch and check for doneness. The fish will continue to cook a little after you take it out of the oven; if your fish is almost done, go ahead and take it out.  Thinner fish fillets will take less time.  Open foil immediately and serve.

To serve, lift the fish fillets out of the foil with a spatula. Spoon the juices over the fish.  Discard the large pieces of ginger.

Garnish with fresh cilantro. 

Nom nom nom nom nom nom.

For once in my life, I’m supposed to consume more calories: I’m pregnant! This insatiable incubator needs fuel! I have to eat every two hours or my body starts to freak out.  I feel like T-Rex in the kitchen, stalking my prey. (Minus the vestigial arms.) 

As I clean a fistful worth of salt-n-vinegar chip residue from my keyboard, I realize that even though I’d like to use pregnancy as an excuse to get fat on ice cream, I have to balance my indulgences with good nutrition.  I must pack my newly re-purposed body with mostly fruit and veg.

Enter this cool curried yogurt sauce — it makes an outstanding veggie dip.

The warmth of toasted curry powder, the brightness of fresh basil, the heat of a serrano chile, and the citrus kick of lime zest are all stirred into your favorite plain yogurt.  The flavors might seem a little odd (Indian curry and basil?), but the combination works.  This dip’s got enough going on to keep yet another bag of baby carrots interesting.  

Try it with carrots, sliced red bell peppers, cauliflower florets, broccoli florets, or sugar snaps.

If you’re not into spicy food, substitute a milder jalapeno for the serrano, seed it, and use just a little. You’ll need the fresh flavor from the chile but you’ll be omitting much of the heat.  You can also use a mild curry powder.  (I use a hot variety.)

This dip also makes a great sauce for fish.  I haven’t tried it yet, but I imagine it would be awesome with grilled chicken kebabs piled atop basmati rice.  If you find another good use for it, leave a comment and let me know!

Curried Yogurt Dip with Basil, Serrano, and Lime
Thick Greek yogurt warmed with curry and chilies and brightened with fresh basil and lime zest. Serve cold as a veggie dip or as a sauce for seared fish or grilled chicken.

Serves 2

Adapted from Sally Schneider’s The Improvisational Cook

1 cup thick Greek-style yogurt, see *note
1 tsp. yellow curry powder
1 Tbs. fresh basil, minced
1 tsp. lime zest
1 tsp. serrano pepper, seeded and minced
1/4 tsp. sugar
salt, to taste
black pepper, to taste

Toast curry: In a small saucepan over medium heat, warm the curry powder until fragrant, about 1 minute, swirling pan occasionally to prevent burning.

Seed the serrano: Wear gloves when handling chilies. Remove stem end. Cut serrano lengthwise into fourths.  Use a paring knife to scrape out all seeds and attached membranes.  Mince.

Mix yogurt, toasted curry powder, basil, lime zest, serrano, sugar, salt, and pepper.  Refrigerate for 15 minutes to let flavors meld, then adjust seasonings if needed. (Sauce will get slightly spicier as it sits.)

Serve cold.

Keeps up to one week in the refrigerator.

*Note: If you cannot easily find Greek yogurt, you can thicken American yogurt for a similar result.  Drain yogurt in a sieve lined with cheesecloth, set over a large bowl.  Refrigerate for 2-3 hours, until most of the liquid has drained away. Start with twice the volume of yogurt you’ll need once it’s thickened.

Some of you are still covered in snow.  Here in Texas we are simultaneously basking in and complaining about 80 degree temps. For us, it’s the perfect time to use winter’s seasonal citrus in gorgeous, light salads. It’s only “winter” in that the Rio Grande Valley grapefruits are still piled high and cheap in the grocery store.

This bright citrus and daikon salad with a tart champagne vinaigrette is another creation from Catherine Walther’s Raising the Salad Bar. Like the previous Apple and Pomegranate Salad, which involved seeding a pomegranate, this recipe is a great excuse to learn a new kitchen skill may teach you something — how to suprême citrus fruits.

If you’ve ever had canned mandarin oranges, you know what a supreme of citrus looks like — succulent sections of fruit, free of all bitter pith and membrane, with no toughness to chew through, the juicy fruit presented without distraction. With a sharp knife, it takes only a couple of minutes to supreme any citrus, giving you nice wedges to place atop fish, salads, or alongside eggs at your next brunch.

To supreme any citrus fruit: 

1. Remove the round top (stem end) and bottom of the fruit by making horizontal slices.
2. Place the fruit on a newly flat side.
3. Run your knife down the sides to remove the rind and outer white pith.
4. Holding the skinless fruit in one hand, working one section at a time, cut closely along the membranes that radiate out from the center.  As you are about to cut a section free, you may need to give your knife a slight twist at the center of the fruit to loosen the section.
5. Squeeze the cut peel and membranes over a small bowl to collect any juices.

You’ll be left with stunningly pretty fruit that bursts in your mouth.

Are you new to daikon? These radishes are long, white, and mild, with only a slight kick of earthy bite. They are normally found in the Asian produce section; look for radishes that are firm and resist bending. If yours come with their leafy green tops, save them for sautéing or roasting like kale until crisp. If you can’t find daikon, substitute jicama.

This salad is sweet, earthy, crisp, and juicy. Serve it on a plate instead of a bowl to show off your new skills — the blushing pink grapefruit supremes will look so lovely next to their vividly orange cousins.

Citrus and Daikon Salad with Champagne Vinaigrette 
Rosy pink grapefruit and bright orange supremes tossed with a crisp julienne of daikon radish and a bright, tart, champagne vinaigrette.  

From Catherine Walther’s Raising the Salad Bar 

Serves 4 to 6

2 grapefruits
3 navel oranges 
1 section (about 3 inches long) daikon radish, peeled and cut into matchsticks 
6 to 8 cups lettuce, washed and dried (I used butter lettuce, frisée, and radicchio.)

for the vinaigrette:
1/3 cup leftover juice from oranges and grapefruit
2 Tbs. champagne vinegar
1 tsp. shallot, minced
5 Tbs. olive oil
salt, to taste

Supreme the citrus as described above. Squeeze the peels and membranes over a small bowl to collect excess juice.

For the vinaigrette, mix the reserved juice, vinegar, and shallot in a small bowl.  Whisk in the oil and season with salt.

Toss the daikon and lettuce with just enough dressing to coat. Transfer to serving plates and top with citrus sections.