Thrill of the Grill 3

Last year, we started a series on relatively quick grilling recipes, such as grilled sardines and Thai grilled pork skewers.  As I wrote at the time, there are times when you want to get fully invested in "slow and low"-style barbecue, in making use of smoke's considerable powers as both a tenderizer and a flavour enhancer.  But there are other times when,

you just want the pure thrill of the grill. You want the slight blackening, the light smokiness, the caramelized flavors, and the primal pleasures of cooking directly over flames. You want the payoff to come sooner rather than later. You want to take full advantage of the fact that cooking over a hot grill can be quick and easy. 

Well, it's that time of year again.  Our fully winterized balcony is a thing of the past, the barbecue is back in its place of honour, and our 2012 smoking and grilling season is well underway.  And one of the best recipes I've tested out in recent weeks is another relatively quick grilling recipe that takes us to an entirely different region of the world:  Iran.

 fig. a:  land of bread & spice

The recipe appeared in an article on the cuisine of Iran in the March 2012 issue of Saveur by Anissa Helou ("The Land of Bread and Spice").  The article begins with a rather unexpected anecdote about a meal at Ava Gardner's house in London in 1982, but it proceeds to make a case for the centrality of Iran's "complex and captivating" cuisine to the world's foodways (both geographically and culturally)--at least those of Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia, and South Asia.  And it's a pretty convincing case.

Helou's account of modern-day Iranian cuisine in Tehran, Isfahan, and beyond, encompasses everything from home cooking, to restaurants, bakeries, and cafés, and, as the title suggests, it focuses on Iranian staples like spices and herbs, bread, and rice, of which she writes, "I've never seen so many different ways of cooking rice as I did in Iran," before describing the care which goes into making their revered polows.  Her text had me pretty hooked on the idea of cooking Iranian already, but Ali Farboud's photographs really clinched things.  Sometimes the anti-aesthetics of some of Saveur's food photography leaves me a bit cold, but, here, the article came with a photo-essay that lived up to the scope of Helou's article, and that I found positively enchanting.  That said, the photographs that I gravitated to on the afternoon that I read the article were among the least exotic and the most familiar:  Farboud's photographs of sabzi, the herb salad that's a staple of the Iranian table, and of jujeh kabab, spiced chicken and tomato kebabs.  I was looking for a quick grilling recipe at the time, and that was exactly what I found.

   fig. b:  land of sabzi & kebabs

Actually, the recipe itself didn't hurt, either.  When I flipped to page 76 and found the recipe for jujeh kabab, its intoxicating blend of yogurt, citrus, and spices leapt off the page.  I felt like I had a pretty clear idea of just how succulent these kebabs were going to be, and the recipe didn't disappoint in the least.  A few hours later, when Michelle came home to a spread of jujeh kabab, sabzi, a garlicky yogurt spread, fresh limes, and grilled flatbreads, she couldn't believe her luck.

 fig. c:  Iranian-style chicken kebabs

 fig. d:  lightly charred tomatoes

Jujeh Kabab (Spiced Chicken and Tomato Kebabs)

1 cup plain yogurt
1/2 cup fresh lime juice
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp orange zest
1 tbsp ground cumin (preferably toasted and freshly ground)
1 tbsp kosher salt
1 tbsp ground black pepper
2 tsp crushed saffron
1 tsp ground coriander
6 cloves garlic, minced
1 large yellow onion, sliced
2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cubed
4 plum tomatoes
ground sumac, to garnish
2 limes, halved
grilled flatbreads, for serving 

Stir together the yogurt, lime juice, olive oil, zest, cumin, salt, pepper, saffron, coriander, garlic, and onions in a bowl.  Chop the thighs into large cubes, roughly 1-1 1/2" x 1 1/2-2".   Add the chicken to the yogurt mixture, and toss to coat.  Chill for 4 hours (you can "chill," too, but make sure you've placed the chicken in the fridge at least four hours before you intend to grill).   

When the chicken has been properly marinated, build a medium-hot fire in a charcoal grill.  Skewer the chicken on flat metal skewers (Iranian-style), or on wooden skewers that you've had the foresight to pre-soak.  Add the tomatoes to another skewer.  Grill the chicken and tomatoes, turning often, until tomatoes are soft and charred, about 7 minutes, and the chicken is cooked through and slightly charred, about 10-15 minutes. (I recommend starting the chicken directly over the medium-hot fire, charring the meat on all sides, and then moving the skewers to indirect heat for the remaining time.)  Sprinkle the skewers with sumac.   Brush the flatbreads lightly with olive and grill quickly.

Serve with the limes and the hot flatbreads.  

Serves 4. 

 fig. e:  herbs & radishes

Sabzi 

watercress
mint leaves
parsley leaves
radishes

If you've been slow to kick off this year's grill & barbecue season, let the flames begin.

aj

eat your greens 1

fig. a: AEB Portuguese kale

It's never been all that difficult to get us to eat our greens, but ever since about March, we've been completely ga-ga for the green stuff. Part of it had to do with the long, snowy winter we had. Our poor bodies were crying out for additional nutrients and the Swiss chard and Belgian endives at our local supermarché started looking better and better (even if they were getting trucked in from California). But mostly it was because that's when we started making gombo zhèbes, that mysterious dish known in some circles as "the queen of gumbos."

Why "mysterious"? Well, gombo zhèbes (a.k.a. gombo aux herbes, gombo z'hairbes, and green gombo) may be "the queen of gumbos," but she's not your typical gumbo. In fact, she breaks with the two most hallowed tenets of gumbo- or gombo-making: she contains no okra and/or okra-like consistency (courtesy of gumbo filé) and she contains no roux.

If you had to boil it down (and some recipes require you to), Gombo zhèbes is a Creole version of that Southern staple "greens and pot likker," the principal difference being the addition of significant amount of herbs to the already heaping quantities of fresh greens, and a degree of complexity. In the Creole kitchen, gombo zhèbes was a dish associated with early spring--it was essentially a restorative dish, one that took advantage of the arrival of the newest greens, and it also was easily adapted to the Lenten diet (although sometimes it sure was hard to tell, because many traditional recipes included such extravagances as veal brisket in addition to the traditional ham).

Anyway, from the time we tasted gombo zhèbes' combination of greens, herbs, ham, garlic, green onions, and hot red pepper we were hooked and we immediately started planning our garden with gombo zhèbes in mind. That was the only problem with our earliest versions--we were living in Quebec and not Louisiana, we were still under a blanket of snow. But we knew that would soon change, and when it did we wanted to be ready. So we made plans and mapped things out, and in early May we broke with tradition (mostly tomatoes and peppers) and planted mostly herbs and leafy greens--savory, basil, thyme, and parsley on the one hand, oak leaf lettuce, mustard greens, cavolo nero, and Portuguese kale on the other. And now, we're happy to report, we're swimming in greens, and though this isn't the only way we've been enjoying our bounty, we've been eating a lot (a lot) of gombo zhèbes and gombo zhèbes-like creations.

fig. b: AEB cavolo nero

gombo zhèbes

Greens: choose a sizable bunch per person from the following list: mustard greens, cavolo nero, Portuguese kale, spinach, endives, watercress, arugula, chicory, kale, collard greens, rapini, etc. The more elaborate the mix, the better. Just remember to make (at least) the equivalent to one bunch per person.

Herbs: a bay leaf, a healthy handful of parsley, and then whatever you like from the following list: basil, savory, thyme, oregano, marjoram, sage, tarragon, etc. Again, the more the merrier.

Aromatics: 2-3 cloves garlic, 1 medium sweet bell pepper (preferably red, yellow, or orange), 4-6 green onions (and/or chives, shallots, onions), 1 small hot red pepper (fresh or dried), Tabasco sauce, etc.

fig. c: "le vrai bacon"

Finishing touches: 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1-2 teaspoons wine vinegar, 1/4-lb smoked ham (or bacon), and 1 cup uncooked white rice.

Equipment: one large skillet, one large pot.

Method: Cook the rice. When it's done, keep it in a warm spot on the stove. Clean, stem, and mince the herbs, leaving the bay leaf whole. Mince the garlic. Dice the sweet pepper (having already seeded and cored it, of course). Trim and finely chop the scallions. If using ham, cut it into slivers. If using bacon, cook the bacon in a large skillet until it has rendered its fat and become crispy. Remove the bacon and set it aside, and proceed using the bacon fat instead of olive oil. If not using bacon, heat the olive oil in a large skillet. When hot, add the ham, scallions, and sweet pepper. Cook these for a few minutes and then add the minced herbs, the bay leaf, and the crumbled hot pepper. Stirring regularly, cook over medium-low heat for another few minutes, until the herbs have all wilted. Now mix in the garlic and remove from the heat.

Pick over the greens, discarding the stems and any damaged portions. Tear the larger leaves into pieces. Wash carefully, using several changes of water if necessary. Put a cup of unsalted water in a large pot and bring to a boil. Add the greens, cover, and, when the water begins to simmer again, lower the heat to low. Cook until wilted and tender, about six to ten minutes, forking them over from time to time. Do not let the pot boil dry, of course, but at low heat there should be no risk of that.

Using a slotted spoon, transfer the greens into the skillet, spooning some of the pot likker overtop as desired. (The resultant mixture should be "wet" but not "swimming.") Cook everything together briefly until everything is hot and well blended. Taste for seasoning, adding the wine vinegar or lemon juice, along with salt and freshly ground pepper. Discard the bay leaf. Serve in bowls over the rice.

[recipe adapted from John Thorne and Matt Lewis Thorne's Serious Pig, with a little help from The Picayune's Creole Cook Book]

This makes a fine, healthy, and light meal on its own, but it's also a great accompaniment for a whole range of dishes, especially seafood (New Orleans "BBQ" Shrimp comes to mind). Obviously, this recipe can also be easily adapted into a 100% vegetarian version--the method is a keeper. We've found that as our greens have gotten better and fresher we've been adding fewer and fewer extras, so if you're making gombo zhèbes for the first time, and you're using top-notch greens straight from the farmers' market or, better yet, straight out of your garden, you might want to tone down the amount of vinegar/lemon juice and ham/bacon so that you can get the full greens experience. Then again, if you're making gombo zhèbes for the first time, you might very well want to stay close to the script--it's hard to argue with that combination of flavors.

aj