Tag Archives: fennel

Goan Chicken Curry

This lovely number is from one of my first cookbooks, garnered from that sale table at Borders so many years ago: the ‘Best-Ever Curry Cookbook’ by Mridula Baljekar.

The region of Goa is known for its coconut, and since I don’t think most people associate coconut flavors with Indian cooking (I certainly didn’t), I think this will come as a delightful surprise.

Unless you’re a rebellious coconut hater.

And unless you’re against dishes that look like a pile of schmushy brown sludge.

But tasty does not always equal photogenic–right?


(Serves 5)

1 ½ cups desiccated (dry, unsweetened, shredded) coconut
3 TBS water
2 TBS vegetable oil
½ tsp cumin seeds
8 black peppercorns
1 TBS fennel seeds
1 TBS coriander seeds
2 large onions
½ tsp salt (more to taste)
2 ½ lbs chicken thighs, or 8 small chicken pieces
Fresh cilantro
2 lemons, to serve

Soak the coconut in the 3 tablespoons of water for 15 minutes.

And by ‘soak’ I mean . . . well, more like ‘moisten.’ But I was trying to avoid that word. But then I went and said it anyway. Oh well.

Chop up the onion nice and fine:

Heat 1 TBS oil in a large pot or wok and fry the cumin seeds, peppercorns, fennel, and coriander seeds over low heat for 3-4 minutes (until they start spluttering).

The smells during these few minutes are to die for. “Hmmm, what smells like pizza?” my husband inquired happily, wandering into the kitchen. It’s those fennel seeds. They do it every time. One sausage pizza, not coming up.

Since I didn’t have coriander or cumin seeds (just the powdered kind) I added them along with the onion so as not to burn them.

Add the onions to the spices.

You’ll notice that at this point, the sun was slanting through our solitary, grated kitchen window. We only get about 10 minutes of natural light in there per day, and the light just so happened to invade right when I was trying to photograph the curry. That’s why these shots are a little whacko. Whacko exposure, whacko shadows, whacko whacko whacko.

But back to the curry! Which is not at all whacko.

Fry the onions for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, until they’re softened and become opaque.

Add the moistened coconut and salt, and keep frying for about 5 minutes, stirring.

I love coconut in all forms, but especially in a good curry.

And now! Put the entire onion/coconut mixture in a food processor and process until it forms a rough paste.

Why oh why didn’t I just get out my food processor from Aunt Jacquie? It was a battle extraordinaire to get the onions and coconut to finally resemble this:

I had to take a small break to cool down at this point, because I had worked up a mighty, mighty sweat.

All because I’m afraid of that ginormous food processor from the past. My cousin’s wife even cleansed it of all the dead insects and spiders–so why the fear? Why indeed. Is it so wrong to want a smaller, more modern food processor when I have this large and free one? I will be debating this internally, writhing in guilt, for at least the next few months, at which point I will give an updated status report.

Anyway, set the paste aside.

Cut the chicken thighs into bite-sized pieces (on the larger side).

You can also use big ole chicken pieces (such as drumsticks) after removing the skin, and leave them whole–that’s what the original recipe demands. But this time, I just wanted something I could scoop up with a spoon and ferry straight into my mouth. Either way, it’s great.

Heat the rest of the oil in the pot, and fry the chicken for 6-7 minutes.

Add the coconut paste (and note how the sunlight is quickly disappearing off to the side) . . .

. . . and cook over low heat for 30-40 minutes, until the coconut paste is a golden brown and the chicken is tender and cooked through, stirring occasionally to avoid burning at the bottom of the pot.

After about 15 minutes it still looked pretty pale . . .

. . . but as I stirred up the brown bits and gave it some time, after about 40 minutes it looked like this:

Mucho better-o. Time to taste, re-season, and stir in some cilantro.

The sauce is so flavorful, it blew my mind. Even though I had made it once before.

Also time to cook up some naan.

At this point my husband grabbed the camera from my hands.

Urgh–why do my knees look so . . . knobbly? Deformed?

Then again, let’s not dwell on that question for too long. They function and allow me to bend and walk and move around and such, so I’m grateful just to have ’em in there, cooperating with the cartilage and knee cap and tendons, doing their job day after day. Thank you, Oh Knobbly Ones.

Taste the curry and re-season if necessary . . . and serve it over rice!

Garnish with cilantro and freshly squeezed lemon juice–the lemon juice adds the perfect note.

Very tasty guys, very tasty. And different than anything else I’ve eaten.

I served it over that Golden Basmati Rice. Though it does it look kind of like . . .

. . . never mind. I won’t mention it.

Okay, I’ll mention it. Cat food!

I changed my mind. Erase that from your memory.

It’s great–make it!

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Seared Fennel Salmon with Pasilla-Spiced Pumpkin Basmati

So I have somehow gotten myself involved in a cooking challenge. Food blogger and med school student Joanne from “Eats Well With Others” was hosting a little recipe-making competition sponsored by Marx Foods, and in a stroke of wild abandon I entered my name as a potential participant. I’ve never done this before, and I was scared crapless. Yes, I can cook a delicious meal. Yes, I’ve fine-tuned recipes and even created many from scratch. But am I the wildly inventive person who in a stroke of genius adds an entirely unexpected ingredient such as caviar mousse or onion confit to a bread dough, resulting in the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?

Well . . . no. And then I got an email saying I had been selected. I took a deep breath. I took another deep breath. I got up, reheated my coffee, sat down again. I had visions of some kind of historical culinary disaster going down in my kitchen. Then I had visions of a gigantic personal culinary success. Then the disaster. Then the suceess. The two visions arm-wrestled each other for a while, until I was like “Enough you two! Just take it down a notch! I am going to make the best friggin, gosh darn, friggin fantastic thing I can, and whether I win or lose I will at least make something friggin delicious for dinner that my husband and I will friggin devour like wild hyenas!” And then I shouted out an extra ‘friggin’ just for good measure.

Now I could just jump into the recipe–but this is a blog! And that means you get to hear every single one of my thoughts (evil cackle). Hey! Get away from that scroll button!

The challenge was to create a recipe with the following conditions:

1. One of the main ingredients must be orange winter squash (any variety–acorn, pumpkin, butternut . . .). Apparently, Joanne’s goal this season is to eat enough squash to turn herself orange. This is our way of helping her achieve that goal.

2. You must use two of the eight ingredients mailed to you in a box by Marx Foods.

3. The recipe must be original (i.e. of my own brilliant or horrific creation).

How hard can this be? I asked myself with a furrowed brown in the days leading up to the receipt of the box. I could go the Thai curry route . . . the Indian curry route . . . perfectly seared salmon on a bed of rice and squash . . . I could do a risotto, or a salad with roasted pumpkin, avocado, pine nuts and other delights . . . I could do some kind of complicated gnocchi or ravioli . . . or even some kind of one-dish breakfast bake in my iron skillet. Or a quiche! Tacos! A spicy Pozole-inspired stew with a mole-style drizzle!

There was a frenzy in my brain. How would I ever decide what to make??

And then I realized how to simplify it. The question came down to: what did I want to eat? Which imaginary dish did I want to dig my fork into? If I were at a restaurant, which of these dishes would I order hands down?

The answer was clear: a piece of perfectly cooked salmon on a pile of rice. Oh, and a delicious rich Thai curry. So there were two answers. And they were both equally clear.

Yes, I decided to make both of my recipe ideas and simply submit the one I liked best. So my friends, without further ado, let’s get this show on the road. Let’s make that salmon, which is my official submission. The ‘freebie’ curry recipe, also delicious, will be posted later this week . . . or next week. We’ll see how cozy I feel like getting with Photoshop in the days to come.

I’m using sugar pie pumpkin, and the two ‘mystery’ ingredients I chose from the box are dried pasilla negro chilies and fennel pollen. I know the recipe name is long and complicated–but the actual instructions couldn’t be easier. It’s basically a piece of fish with a rub that sits on a pile of rice (rice-cooking method courtesy of Pastor Ryan) with some goodies tossed in. Do not fear the process.


(Serves 4)

For the rice:

2 c basmati rice

4 c water

2 TBS butter

1 tsp ground pasilla negro chili

1 TBS turmeric

1 tsp salt

1 c frozen peas

Cilantro (optional garnish)

For the pumpkin

4 cups sugar pie pumpkin cubes (from 1 medium sized pumpkin)

2 TBS butter

2 tsp dried ground pasilla negro chili

2 tsp brown sugar

1/2 tsp cumin

1/4 tsp ground black pepper

salt to taste

For the fish:

4 salmon fillets, skinned (about 0.3 lbs each)

3 TBS olive oil

2 tsp fennel pollen

salt (generous amount)

black pepper

Before anything else, grab a large pasilla negro chili:

Grind it up in a spice mill or coffee grinder.

I used our coffee grinder on the ‘espresso’ setting and got a lovely, finely ground pile.

Should I taste it?


I’m a huge proponent of tasting your ingredients–you’ll get a much better sense of how to combine different things if you take a chomp, or in this case, a lick.

If you’ve never had pasilla negro chili, you’re in for a treat. It has a spicy, raisin-like, almost chocolaty flavor that is very unique. And it’s not fiery hot either, so don’t worry about incinerating your tastebuds.

Now the salmon cooks pretty quickly, so I like to get the rice squared away first. Grab your rice cooker: dump in the basmati rice, water, butter, turmeric, ground pasilla negro chili, and 1 tsp salt.

Press ‘cook’! That was easy. Unless you don’t have a rice cooker. Then you’ll have to fend for yourself and make it in a pot on the stove, like a real man.

Your #1 mission is now to halve that sugar pumpkin. This is without a doubt the most difficult and dangerous part of the recipe. I was very afraid I would stab my own hand, or possibly lop my head off.

It looked so friendly, and innocent, and orange, and small . . .

But it proved to be a worthy and tough opponent.

I swung it around the kitchen a few times just for good measure.

Just kidding! Please don’t do that at home. You could really do some damage. Just keep working at it patiently and carefully. Once I got a cut made, I wedged my knife sharpener in the crack and forced the pieces apart.

Of course, a woodsman with an axe would have come in handy. But no woodsmen were patrolling my Chicago neighborhood that evening, so I battled it out. The triumph was sweet in my mouth.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt moved to pose with an ingredient before. I also seem to be looking particularly freckly. Hmmmm. Trick of the light, trick of the light.

Scrape out the seeds and innards. If you’re a motivated person you’ll save the seeds and roast them later for a delicious snack. I was lacking motivation that night and simply threw them away.

Now, microwave the halves for 4 minutes each. This will make the pieces much more tender and easy to cube.

Cut the pumpkin into small cubes and discard the rind.

You should have about 4 cups of cubes.

Heat 2 TBS butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Once the butter is fully melted and bubbling, add the pumpkin cubes, spices, and sugar.

If you cook the cubes for too long, you’ll end up with pumpkin mush instead, which is not what we’re going for here, so just fry them for 3-4 minutes, taste and adjust the seasoning.

Try not to eat all the pumpkin cubes at this time. I stopped after only 6, and I was quite proud of my self control.

Set aside the pumpkin cubes, and let’s get that salmon underway so that it’s done by the time the rice is ready.

Preheat the oven to 450, then heat an oven-proof pan (I used my trusty cast iron skillet) over high heat for 4 minutes. Rub both sides of the salmon fillets with olive oil and season the tops with salt, pepper, and the fennel pollen.

Go GENEROUS with the salt, and I’m talking generous. Once you think you’ve been generous, go ahead and salt it a little more. Use your fingers to spread the spice across the fillets evenly.

We’re keeping it simple here with the seasoning, and lemme tell ya–the flavors really shine through. When the pan is hot, place the fillets spiced-side down . . .

. . . and don’t touch them for at least 2 minutes.

Seriously! Get your mitts away from that pan! The underside should turn a gorgeous shade of brown. Now turn the pieces over gently (I recommend using a spatula).

Slap that pan into the oven and cook that fish for 5 to 7 minutes, then remove. Would you look at that perfect, beautiful sear? Would you look at that tender flesh? Oh my.

I should also drive home the fact that if you overcook your fish, doom and despair await–so make sure you take it out when it’s still tender!

Just in case you were curious, I cooked 2 salmon fillets and 2 steelhead fillets, which look very similar to the salmon. My fishmonger didn’t know what the difference was, and I needed to know. Answer: the salmon is 50 times more delicious, fatty, and luxuriant. The steelhead was more lean and stringy. The salmon was also twice the price. It presents a difficult dilemma in my life.

By now the rice is bound to be done, so simply stir in the frozen peas and pumpkin.

Serve the salmon on top! Garnish with some cilantro and if you want, lemon juice.

The balance of spices is perfection, folks. My husband even used the phrase “restaurant quality”–with no prompting from me!

There is nothing, and I repeat nothing, like a piece of perfectly cooked fish.

I’m sorry that I can’t seem to stop taking pictures of this salmon.

The pumpkin is feeling ignored and alone. Let’s give it a bite too. No one gets left out on this blog.

Oh joy. The orange stuff is divine.

Please send help fast.

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