Sri Lankan cuisine is under the radar in the U.S. and it’s a shame. I’ve been lucky to taste so many Sri Lankan dishes with Nishan’s family and these days, I’m learning to cook it myself. It’s fiery, vibrant, and the flavors are an amalgamation of Sri Lanka’s history. The rice and curry spreads vary with Tamil dishes, Sinhalese dishes, Muslim dishes, Dutch and British-influenced dishes, and rice and coconut factor into nearly every meal. I could go on forever, but Serious Eats has already written a terrific primer on the cuisine.
The base to many of the curries I’ve been cooking is this roasted curry powder. In practice, it’s usually supplemented with large doses of chili powder and fresh chiles. This curry powder should keep indefinitely in the fridge, but I wouldn’t know. A batch rarely lasts long in our household.
1. Toast each ingredient on a saucepan separately over medium heat, stirring often, until fragrant and lightly browned. Remove from heat, cool, and grind in a coffee grinder. Store in a glass jar in the refrigerator.
Khiar shoor literally translates from Persian to English as “salty cucumbers,” but it is so much more than that. Shoor are a category of Iranian pickled vegetables, be they cucumbers or cauliflower or carrots or nearly any other vegetable. There’s also torshi, but that’s a whole other classification of pickled vegetables that we’ll save for another post.
Every summer while I was growing up, my mom and all the Iranian aunties would gather in someone’s home and spend the day peeling vegetables and peppers and onions, making the next year’s batch of shoor and torshi. The air would be ripe with the smell of vinegar and garlic and the kids would be enlisted to help. The shoor would be ready to eat a few weeks later; the torshi would need to wait months, sometimes even years.
Nowadays you can buy shoor or torshi at any Middle Eastern market but nothing comes close to the homemade version. I made this version when I found myself with too many Armenian cucumbers from my parents’ garden. Once ready, these cucumbers go wonderfully with sandwiches or kotlet.
2 red or green chili peppers
2 pounds Persian or Armenian cucumbers
5 cloves garlic, peeled
7 sprigs tarragon
4 bay leaves
1 tablespoon peppercorns
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 cup white vinegar
1. Wash, clean and drain the vegetables and herbs. Sterilize canning jars, drain and dry thoroughly.
2. Fill each jar almost to the top with cucumbers, garlic, tarragon, and bay leaves.
3. Bring 6 tablespoons salt, 12 cups water, peppercorns, sugar, vinegar, and chili peppers to a boil. Remove from heat and fill each jar within 1/2 inch of the top with this hot liquid. Let cool and seal jars. Store the jars in the refrigerator for at least 10 days before using.
It’s dead in the middle of winter and there are no fresh okra at the market these days. Or so I thought. They’re around, albeit pricier than usual, and who knows where they came from, but I found them at the store last week and this recipe immediately came to mind. If you know me, you know I love pickles and I love okra too, so this condiment-slash-side dish is just perfect.
These are probably better pickled during the summer months, when okra are actually in season, but making these garlicy spears now is fine if you’re craving a taste of summer. Just make sure to use fresh, not frozen okra. They’re excellent alongside sandwiches or as a cocktail garnish. Oh, and straight out of the jar works too.
1. Divide okra and garlic evenly among 2 (2-pint) jars.
2. Combine vinegar and remaining ingredients in a saucepan; bring to a boil. Cook 1 minute or until sugar dissolves. Remove from heat; let stand 5 minutes. Carefully pour vinegar mixture into jars, leaving about 1/4 inch at top. Seal jars; refrigerate at least 3 days and up to 1 month before serving.
I have to be honest with you here: I used to really dislike cranberry sauce. Like yams with marshmallows, it was one of the few hallmarks of Thanksgiving that I never came to fully embrace. It probably didn’t help that the only cranberry sauce I’d ever tried was a gelatinous mass out of a can.
Until last year. I grew up with dual cultural Thanksgivings: baghali polo instead of stuffing alongside the turkey, mashed potatoes and tahdeeg. What better way to make an Iranian-American enjoy cranberry sauce than to throw some persimmons in there? We love our persimmons and now, I love my cranberry sauce too. And since Thanksgiving isn’t too far off, I’ve started craving this (ridiculously easy) recipe again. I adapted it from an old issue of Gourmet to suit my own tastes: less sugar, more persimmons and cranberries, and cinnamon instead of star anise to modify the original recipe.
1 lb fresh cranberries
1/4 cup dry red wine
2 tablespoons water
1/2 cup sugar
4 Fuyu persimmons, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch dice
1. Bring cranberries, wine, water, cinnamon, 1/2 cup sugar, and a pinch of salt to a boil in a medium heavy saucepan, stirring occasionally, then reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes. Fold in persimmons.
2. Transfer to a bowl and serve at room temperature. Stir gently before serving.