Mollie Katzen's Lentil Chili

It's autumn officially now I believe. The last day of September, or perhaps by the time I publish this post, the first of October. Kids are back in school, I'm back in school, I might even be TA'ing for some of your older kids if they happen to go to a certain university. If I am, sorry for not giving out very many 'check pluses' on the last response paper. Best of all, my favorite TV shows are back. My beloved Bones (I love Dr Brennan so friggin much), my also-beloved Criminal Minds (I love Garcia so friggin much), even Glee (oh Sue, I love you too). Basically, if you have a compelling female character (or three! I'm looking at you CM, at least I was before I finished this last episode. What the heck?!) I probably love you. Helps me pare down tv shows pretty quickly, unfortunately. But that's how I roll. Love the leading ladies.

So between watching great TV, working on my dissertation, and grading your little darlings' papers, I also have a part-time job. And in the middle of the day while at that part-time job, I get to have a lunch break. A real, honest to goodness lunch break, the way adult people do. So sometimes I get a salad, sometimes a sandwich, and often I get a bowl of lentil chili. Which made me think, 'why in the world am I buying lentil chili when I could just make it?' Enter Mollie (with an "ie") Katzen.

This is her lentil chili, but I have some caveats. First: there just never seems to be enough liquid whenever I deal with lentils. Maybe mine are particularly thirsty? Or just greedy? Either way, I added far more liquid than she required, and still the chili was bordering on a lentil mash rather than a stew. I'm going to reproduce the recipe I actually made below, but in the future, these are the things I would do differently:
* Cut the amount of lentils in half
* Keep the liquid the same, the tomatoes the same and probably the seasonings about the same, but you'd have to adjust them to your taste.
* Same amount of onion, too, since I love onion.

Mollie Katzen's Lentil Chili
Adopted from Mollie Katzen's Still Life with Menu Cookbook

4 cups dried lentils (any kind, really)
2 cups tomato juice (can replace with just water if you want)
4 - 5 cups water
1 1lb can tomatoes, undrained, but broken up (which you can do with your spoon once they're in the chili)
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
10-12 medium garlic cloves (don't worry, it's not overpowering)
1 largish onion, chopped
2 teaspoons salt
Pepper to taste
6 tablespoons tomato paste
1-2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
Crushed red pepper, to taste

Put the lentils, the tomato juice and 4 cups of water into a large pot or dutch oven. Bring the liquid to a boil, then put the lid on only slightly askew so some of the steam can escape. Lower the heat and simmer for about 30 minutes. Start chopping your vegetables.

Add the tomatoes, cumin, paprika, thyme, garlic and onions. Stir until everything is combined, then return the lid to the position it was in before and simmer for another 45 minutes, and up to an hour, if that's what it takes for the lentils to become tender. Stir occasionally, scraping along the bottom of the pot to prevent sticking. If you notice the water level going down too much, add some more.

Add the salt, pepper and tomato paste and stir again. Continue simmering until the lentils are very soft, maybe even 30 minutes more.

Just before serving, stir in the vinegar and red pepper. Adjust the seasonings if necessary and heap into big bowls.

UPDATE: Have lots of leftover chili? You could try this idea for turning your leftovers into Lentil Chili Burgers!

Makhluta - Lebanese Lentil and Three-Bean Soup for MLLA 27

An extraordinarily hearty, traditional recipe from Lebanon, makhluta is a classic kitchen sink of a bean soup. If you are willing to swallow your pride by opening a few cans, this deeply comforting and filling meal can be prepared with such speed that it will be nearly ready by the time you've sipped the last of your preprandial cocktail after that shell-shocked day wherever it is that you work.

Of course, if you prefer the slow and satisfying ritual of soaking and simmering your dried legumes, you will not be disappointed with the relatively quick cooking method offered by Madelain Farah's recipe below, provided you remember to do your soaking the night before. And while you're at it, a good soaking the night before in a drawn bath does wonders for that shell-shocked day wherever it is that you work.

Makhluta - Adapted from the Beirut Restaurants recipe with additional inspiration from a recipe in Lebanese Cuisine by Madelain Farah (on page 32 in Google preview).

Serves 6 generously.


Ingredients

2 quarts richly flavored and moderately salted vegetable stock
1 cup brown rice (use quick-cooking for faster results)

1/2 cup virgin olive oil
1 very large yellow onion, chopped
2 tablespoons (yes, tablespoons) ground cumin

2 cups cooked and drained lentils
2 cups cooked and drained chickpeas
2 cups cooked and drained black turtle beans
2 cups cooked and drained green lima beans

6 very large Swiss chard leaves, coarsely shredded (remove center ribs if very bulky)
3 cups water

Additional salt to taste

Method

In your very largest pot, Dutch oven, or soup cauldron, heat stock to boiling. Add brown rice. Reduce heat to simmer until rice is tender (up to 45 minutes for regular brown rice; 10 minutes for quick-cooking kind).

In a medium saucepan, warm olive oil over medium-low heat. Add onion and saute until translucent and golden without burning. Stir in cumin and heat a few more minutes to fragrance and flavor the onion and oil. Remove from heat and stir into stock with cooked rice. Stir in all legumes. Increase heat just to boiling, then reduce to a maintained simmer for 15 minutes.

In the same saucepan which you used for the oil and onion, heat 3 cups water to boiling. Add Swiss chard leaves, continuing to boil until they are limp (about 7 minutes). Stir leaves into legume mixture. If you find the soup too thick (dependent on how fast a simmer, how absorbent the rice, and how soft/starchy the legumes), add enough of the chard water to thin to your preference. Taste and adjust for salt. While wonderful fresh, this soup does reheat well, but will thicken considerably when chilled and idle, like a dense stew. Reconstitute with more water if preferred.

This is my contribution to MLLA 27, which just closed out and has been hosted by me. I expect to have the round-up and drawing results online sometime next week. Thank you very much for sharing your lovely recipes. Your hospitality is always appreciated.

Divya of Dil Se is now hosting MLLA 28. Divya has just returned from abroad and is refreshed and ready to receive your wonderful recipes.


Been There, Done That

Leblebi - Tunisian Chickpea Soup
Vegetarian Caldo Verde
African Peanut and Yam Soup


Other Peoples' Eats

Pomegranate Lentil Soup - Apartment Therapy - The Kitchn
Syrian Vegetarian Red Lentil Soup - Herbivoracious
Turkish Red Lentil Soup with Sumac - ecurry
Algerian Lentil Soup - 64 Sq. Ft. Kitchen
Soup Chick - All Things Soup - Lydia of The Perfect Pantry

The Well-Seasoned Cook

Makhluta - Lebanese Lentil and Three-Bean Soup for MLLA 27

An extraordinarily hearty, traditional recipe from Lebanon, makhluta is a classic kitchen sink of a bean soup. If you are willing to swallow your pride by opening a few cans, this deeply comforting and filling meal can be prepared with such speed that it will be nearly ready by the time you've sipped the last of your preprandial cocktail after that shell-shocked day wherever it is that you work.

Of course, if you prefer the slow and satisfying ritual of soaking and simmering your dried legumes, you will not be disappointed with the relatively quick cooking method offered by Madelain Farah's recipe below, provided you remember to do your soaking the night before. And while you're at it, a good soaking the night before in a drawn bath does wonders for that shell-shocked day wherever it is that you work.

Makhluta - Adapted from the Beirut Restaurants recipe with additional inspiration from a recipe in Lebanese Cuisine by Madelain Farah (on page 32 in Google preview).

Serves 6 generously.


Ingredients

2 quarts richly flavored and moderately salted vegetable stock
1 cup brown rice (use quick-cooking for faster results)

1/2 cup virgin olive oil
1 very large yellow onion, chopped
2 tablespoons (yes, tablespoons) ground cumin

2 cups cooked and drained lentils
2 cups cooked and drained chickpeas
2 cups cooked and drained black turtle beans
2 cups cooked and drained green lima beans

6 very large Swiss chard leaves, coarsely shredded (remove center ribs if very bulky)
3 cups water

Additional salt to taste

Method

In your very largest pot, Dutch oven, or soup cauldron, heat stock to boiling. Add brown rice. Reduce heat to simmer until rice is tender (up to 45 minutes for regular brown rice; 10 minutes for quick-cooking kind).

In a medium saucepan, warm olive oil over medium-low heat. Add onion and saute until translucent and golden without burning. Stir in cumin and heat a few more minutes to fragrance and flavor the onion and oil. Remove from heat and stir into stock with cooked rice. Stir in all legumes. Increase heat just to boiling, then reduce to a maintained simmer for 15 minutes.

In the same saucepan which you used for the oil and onion, heat 3 cups water to boiling. Add Swiss chard leaves, continuing to boil until they are limp (about 7 minutes). Stir leaves into legume mixture. If you find the soup too thick (dependent on how fast a simmer, how absorbent the rice, and how soft/starchy the legumes), add enough of the chard water to thin to your preference. Taste and adjust for salt. While wonderful fresh, this soup does reheat well, but will thicken considerably when chilled and idle, like a dense stew. Reconstitute with more water if preferred.

This is my contribution to MLLA 27, which just closed out and has been hosted by me. I expect to have the round-up and drawing results online sometime next week. Thank you very much for sharing your lovely recipes. Your hospitality is always appreciated.

Divya of Dil Se is now hosting MLLA 28. Divya has just returned from abroad and is refreshed and ready to receive your wonderful recipes.


Been There, Done That

Leblebi - Tunisian Chickpea Soup
Vegetarian Caldo Verde
African Peanut and Yam Soup


Other Peoples' Eats

Pomegranate Lentil Soup - Apartment Therapy - The Kitchn
Syrian Vegetarian Red Lentil Soup - Herbivoracious
Turkish Red Lentil Soup with Sumac - ecurry
Algerian Lentil Soup - 64 Sq. Ft. Kitchen
Soup Chick - All Things Soup - Lydia of The Perfect Pantry

The Well-Seasoned Cook

Hong Kong

I said a few days ago that I'd upload some photos from our trip to Hong Kong. Because I know there's nothing like people (especially people you don't really know in real life) making you sit down in a dark room to look at their vacation slides. Anyway, I put them into some collages, so here they are.

Tomatoes Stuffed with White Beans

This is such a simple, 5-minutes-and-you're-done type recipe. But I really loved it. Probably because I love anything having to do with balsamic, tomatoes and basil. It's also a really perfect lunch to pack, if you just wrap the stuffed tomatoes in, say, foil, so they don't spill everywhere. Plus, it's a good way to celebrate the last of the season. Enjoy!

Tomatoes Stuffed with White Beans
Original recipe

4 large tomatoes
Small handful of chopped parsley
Small handful of chopped basil
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 tablespoon capers (I keep mine unrinsed, but you can rinse if you want)
1 large clove garlic (it's going to stay raw, so don't go overboard)
Salt and Pepper to taste
1 15 oz can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

Slice the tops off each of the tomatoes and use a spoon (I use a grapefruit spoon) to dig out the core and seeds. If the core isn't too tough, chop it up and put it, along with the rest of the tomato guts, in a medium bowl. Set the tomato 'shells' aside.

Add the rest of the ingredients to the bowl and toss until everything is coated. Spoon the filling into the tomato shells. There is will extra filling, which you can serve on the side.

Disappearing Act – White Chocolate Peppermint Truffle Cups

Harlequin, 1888–1890, Paul Cézanne
via Wikipedia Creative Commons License

Now you see him, now you don't. That is the way it is within the short stories of Agatha Christie's The Mysterious Mr. Quin.*

Mr. Quin, Mr. Harley Quin, is a character of a particularly elusive nature, fashioned after one the most famous buffoons of the equally famous Italian theater popularized in the 16^th century, La Commedia dell'Arte. Known for its improvisational slapstick and motley stock characters, this entertainment style was also all the rage in England, where the clown, Arlecchino, evolved into Harlequin, something of a romantic hero, fancied by Christie as "....a figure invisible except when he chose, not quite human, yet concerned with the affairs of human beings and particularly of lovers. He is also the advocate for the dead."

Mr. Quin, however a shadowy figure, is a subconscious catalyst of sorts for the true protagonist of the stories, the rather nondescript Mr. Satterthwaite, a man of advanced middle age whose own life lacks color and excitement. It is through Mr. Quin's vaporizing manifestations into and out of quasi-human flesh, which are sometimes seen by others, that provoke Mr. Satterthwaite into an agent who is critical to the resolution of crises in the circles of the very upper classes of English society where he feels himself most keenly as a humble observer.

In the story The World's End, Mr. Satterthwaite accompanies a feckless and supercilious duchess from the Riviera to Corsica, unbeknownst to him that he will engage in a drama which spares the life of a young, bitter artist betrothed to a jewel thief. As a picnic expedition to the very edges of a cliff reveals the flibbertigibbet nature of a fickle actress with a weakness for peppermint cremes, so it is also revealed that a secret compartment hides a glittering truth as magical as Mr. Quin's ghostly appearances and departures.

Christie cites The World's End as one of the scant favorites in this scant collection of stories. It is one of my favorites, too, for at the cliff's edge is the sea, where "....The road stopped....this was the end, the back of beyond, the beginning of nowhere. Behind them the white ribbon of road, in front of them – nothing...."

But as Mr. Satterthwaite says, “ It's an extraordinary place. One feels that anything might happen here...."

~~~~~~

White Chocolate Peppermint Truffle Cups - From the About.com: Candy recipe

The only deviation I have made is replacing the semi-sweet chocolate with white chocolate. I have used a high-quality, cocoa butter-based white chocolate rather than white chocolate melts which contain milk powder and fat, such as palm kernel oil. These treats are very, very delicate and benefit from spending time in the freezer - do consider that they are the very soft centers of the typical truffles you enjoy with crusts of dipped chocolate or powdered sugars. Tiny, demi-tasse spoons would be charming tools for enjoying every last dollop of decadence.

This post was written for Simona of Briciole and Lisa of Champaign Taste, who created and host Novel Food, the quarterly food-blogging event dedicated to celebrating what is eaten and imbibed among the pages of the literature we love to indulge in.

I am also sending this off to Aparna of My Diverse Kitchen, hosting Sugar High Fridays - Bite Size Desserts. Sugar High Fridays was created by Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess and is still enjoying popularity after several years.

~~~~
(* This link is purely for descriptive purposes. I do not have any business relationship with Amazon.)

The Well-Seasoned Cook

Disappearing Act – White Chocolate Peppermint Truffle Cups

Harlequin, 1888–1890, Paul Cézanne
via Wikipedia Creative Commons License

Now you see him, now you don't. That is the way it is within the short stories of Agatha Christie's The Mysterious Mr. Quin.*

Mr. Quin, Mr. Harley Quin, is a character of a particularly elusive nature, fashioned after one the most famous buffoons of the equally famous Italian theater popularized in the 16^th century, La Commedia dell'Arte. Known for its improvisational slapstick and motley stock characters, this entertainment style was also all the rage in England, where the clown, Arlecchino, evolved into Harlequin, something of a romantic hero, fancied by Christie as "....a figure invisible except when he chose, not quite human, yet concerned with the affairs of human beings and particularly of lovers. He is also the advocate for the dead."

Mr. Quin, however a shadowy figure, is a subconscious catalyst of sorts for the true protagonist of the stories, the rather nondescript Mr. Satterthwaite, a man of advanced middle age whose own life lacks color and excitement. It is through Mr. Quin's vaporizing manifestations into and out of quasi-human flesh, which are sometimes seen by others, that provoke Mr. Satterthwaite into an agent who is critical to the resolution of crises in the circles of the very upper classes of English society where he feels himself most keenly as a humble observer.

In the story The World's End, Mr. Satterthwaite accompanies a feckless and supercilious duchess from the Riviera to Corsica, unbeknownst to him that he will engage in a drama which spares the life of a young, bitter artist betrothed to a jewel thief. As a picnic expedition to the very edges of a cliff reveals the flibbertigibbet nature of a fickle actress with a weakness for peppermint cremes, so it is also revealed that a secret compartment hides a glittering truth as magical as Mr. Quin's ghostly appearances and departures.

Christie cites The World's End as one of the scant favorites in this scant collection of stories. It is one of my favorites, too, for at the cliff's edge is the sea, where "....The road stopped....this was the end, the back of beyond, the beginning of nowhere. Behind them the white ribbon of road, in front of them – nothing...."

But as Mr. Satterthwaite says, “ It's an extraordinary place. One feels that anything might happen here...."

~~~~~~

White Chocolate Peppermint Truffle Cups - From the About.com: Candy recipe

The only deviation I have made is replacing the semi-sweet chocolate with white chocolate. I have used a high-quality, cocoa butter-based white chocolate rather than white chocolate melts which contain milk powder and fat, such as palm kernel oil. These treats are very, very delicate and benefit from spending time in the freezer - do consider that they are the very soft centers of the typical truffles you enjoy with crusts of dipped chocolate or powdered sugars. Tiny, demi-tasse spoons would be charming tools for enjoying every last dollop of decadence.

This post was written for Simona of Briciole and Lisa of Champaign Taste, who created and host Novel Food, the quarterly food-blogging event dedicated to celebrating what is eaten and imbibed among the pages of the literature we love to indulge in.

I am also sending this off to Aparna of My Diverse Kitchen, hosting Sugar High Fridays - Bite Size Desserts. Sugar High Fridays was created by Jennifer of The Domestic Goddess and is still enjoying popularity after several years.

~~~~
(* This link is purely for descriptive purposes. I do not have any business relationship with Amazon.)

The Well-Seasoned Cook

The Comfort of Corn - Toumorokoshi no kurīmusūpu - Japanese Corn Cream Soup for NCR

We Americans all know the sensual, sloppy summer ritual of running our teeth repeatedly across an ear of corn, dripping salt-gritty butter down the corners of our mouths to our chins, barely giving ourselves time to breath as we savage the cob to a ragged, sad mess. Our smiles are now ragged, sad messes, too, but it's all for a good cause: the naturally sweet, carb-y comfort of fine local produce. Who would have thought that a world away, the Japanese would be peeling open cans of kernels for a ritual comfort all their own?



Corn cream soup, as it is known to the Japanese, is a miracle of ease that stirs very happy memories of childhoods fussed over by nurturing mothers. Though not terribly different from a corn chowder, it does have a distinctive hint of Asian flavor, chiefly from the addition of green onion rather than our use of celery. Though our summer is officially over, and the harvest of fresh corn will soon wane and yield to apples, pumpkins, and turnips, it's a comfort to know that comfort is only a can away.

Toumorokoshi no kurīmusūpu (Japanese Corn Cream Soup) - Adapted from a Tess's Japanese Kitchen recipe



Serves 2



Ingredients



2 tablespoons butter

1 small yellow onion, sliced

1 cup well-seasoned and salted vegetable broth

1 cup half and half, light cream, or whole milk

1 ½ cups canned or fresh sweet corn kernels

2 green onion blades, chopped, green part only

4-6 deep-fried lotus root slices (optional garnish)

Additional salt to taste



Method



In large saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add onion and cook until translucent and golden. Do not brown. Add broth and your dairy choice. Increase heat to a simmer. Add corn kernels. Heat through. Carefully pour hot liquid into blender. Purée briefly. The soup will have a light texture, but will not be velvety. Pour directly from blender container into serving bowls. Garnish with green onion and optional lotus root slices. Serve immediately with salt shaker on side.

This corn-centric recipe is for Lisa of Lisa's Kitchen and Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes, hostesses of the popular monthly event No Croutons Required.  Lisa will soon have the round-up online.  Do stop over for a peek and a taste of what's on the table.



I'll be back with another recipe post later tonight.  See you then!

The Well-Seasoned Cook

The Comfort of Corn - Toumorokoshi no kurīmusūpu - Japanese Corn Cream Soup for NCR

We Americans all know the sensual, sloppy summer ritual of running our teeth repeatedly across an ear of corn, dripping salt-gritty butter down the corners of our mouths to our chins, barely giving ourselves time to breath as we savage the cob to a ragged, sad mess. Our smiles are now ragged, sad messes, too, but it's all for a good cause: the naturally sweet, carb-y comfort of fine local produce. Who would have thought that a world away, the Japanese would be peeling open cans of kernels for a ritual comfort all their own?



Corn cream soup, as it is known to the Japanese, is a miracle of ease that stirs very happy memories of childhoods fussed over by nurturing mothers. Though not terribly different from a corn chowder, it does have a distinctive hint of Asian flavor, chiefly from the addition of green onion rather than our use of celery. Though our summer is officially over, and the harvest of fresh corn will soon wane and yield to apples, pumpkins, and turnips, it's a comfort to know that comfort is only a can away.

Toumorokoshi no kurīmusūpu (Japanese Corn Cream Soup) - Adapted from a Tess's Japanese Kitchen recipe



Serves 2



Ingredients



2 tablespoons butter

1 small yellow onion, sliced

1 cup well-seasoned and salted vegetable broth

1 cup half and half, light cream, or whole milk

1 ½ cups canned or fresh sweet corn kernels

2 green onion blades, chopped, green part only

4-6 deep-fried lotus root slices (optional garnish)

Additional salt to taste



Method



In large saucepan, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add onion and cook until translucent and golden. Do not brown. Add broth and your dairy choice. Increase heat to a simmer. Add corn kernels. Heat through. Carefully pour hot liquid into blender. Purée briefly. The soup will have a light texture, but will not be velvety. Pour directly from blender container into serving bowls. Garnish with green onion and optional lotus root slices. Serve immediately with salt shaker on side.

This corn-centric recipe is for Lisa of Lisa's Kitchen and Jacqueline of Tinned Tomatoes, hostesses of the popular monthly event No Croutons Required.  Lisa will soon have the round-up online.  Do stop over for a peek and a taste of what's on the table.



I'll be back with another recipe post later tonight.  See you then!

The Well-Seasoned Cook

Pecan Sandies-like

There are a few store-bought cookie types I'll always associated with home. Two actually, that my dad always ate. The first is the Oreo, but that's easy to guess. The second is the Pecan Sandie. I have to admit he didn't usually have much competition from us kids for the pecan-studded cookies. We were more interested in things frosted. Preferably with elves. We left the nut cookies mostly to him.

But when my parents came to visit the other week, I thought I'd try my hand at a homemade version of my dad's old favorite. I have to admit that I haven't actually eaten a Pecan Sandie in years. So I can't tell you if these are close, because that wasn't really the point anyway. But they have Pecans, and they are 'sandy' since they're shortbread cookies. Regardless of how close they are, or not, they're still great little nuggets, and I love that Art Smith's recipe makes a pretty modest number of cookies. You'll get about one log out of this to refrigerate and slice, or freeze for later. He says the dough is easily doubled if you make them and find you just can't live without more.

Pecan Sandies-like
Adopted from Art Smith's Back to the Table

1 cup all purpose flour
Pinch of ground cinnamon
Pinch of salt
1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup coarsely chopped pecans

First toast your pecans. You can just dry toast them by heating up a small skillet on the stove over medium heat and throwing them in. Let them roast, shaking them around a bit, until they're fragrant. Be careful not to burn, this will only take 5-7 minutes, but keep an eye on them the entire time. Set aside.

Whisk together the flour, cinnamon and salt. Set aside. Cream the butter and sugar together, along with the vanilla, in a large bowl with an electric mixer. You want the butter and sugar to become light and fluffy, which will take around 3 minutes. Stir in the flour mixture, then fold in the pecans until you have a stiff, moldable dough.

Lightly flour a clean work surface and form the dough into a 9" log. Wrap the log tightly and refrigerate until well chilled and firm. You want it to be firm enough to cut it into slices with a knife. You can also freeze the dough at this point if you want to save it.

After about 2 hours of chill time, preheat the oven to 350 F and put a wrack into the center of the oven.

Unwrap the dough, and slice it into 3/8" thick slices. Place the slices about 1" apart on an ungreased baking sheet. Bake for about 20 minutes, until the cookies start to brown around the edges. Allow the cookies to cool for about 5 minutes on the sheet, then transfer them to a cooling wrack to cool completely.

UPDATE: I thought the taste of these cookies really improved by the next day. Also, be careful not to over-toast your pecans, since they'll be baked again in the batter.