Spicy yogurt-lime chicken

A happy accident today. A “yogurt dip” recipe by Marcus Samuelsson went awry and turned out to be way too thin, so I made a marinade out of it and it was gorgeous. Here’s my recipe, adapted  yogurt dip.

In a small bowl, mix

• 1.5 C plain whole milk yogurt
• the juice of 2 limes (while you’re at it, check out this protip on juicing limes efficiently)
• 2 tsp parsley, minced
• 2 tsp cilantro, minced

In a small pan over medium heat, add

• 2 T olive oil
• 2 inches ginger, minced
• 2 cloves garlic, chopped
• a few whole dried chiles de árbol, or 1/2 tsp red chile flakes

Cook for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then add:

• 1/2 tsp ground cumin
• 1/2 tsp ground coriander

Cook for a couple more minutes to get them spices toasty. Remove the chiles de árbol and do something else with them.

Allow this to cool a bit, then stir it into the yogurt mixture. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Add:

• 6 bone-in chicken thigh+leg pieces

And refrigerate 1+ hours.

When you’re ready to cook, preheat the oven to 400F and bring out your chicken. Remove most of the marinade from the chicken pieces and place them on a rack in a sheet pan. Bake for about 45 minutes, basting with the remaining marinade twice during the final 20 minutes.

It’s citrus season!

Moro blood oranges, kaffir limes, cocktail grapefruits… At this stage, the best plan is to simply make one big fruit salad and be done.

Fried hijiki with pork

This turned out really well. Soaked in water until it ballooned to about 10 times its dried size, then sauteed with pork in a nice sauce that was on the package of hijiki: dashi, mirin, soy sauce, and sugar.

It’s pom season.

Carl and Mark: I’m done!

That’s right. I’m done. Over the last four months, as a tribute and adventure, I made all 25 of Mark Bittman’s favorites from The Minimalist. I did them mostly in batches of two or three when time allowed. This was not by any means a Julie Powell-scale endeavor. If anything, it gave me more appreciation for the breadth of Powell’s accomplishment.

Pear, Gorgonzola, and Mesclun Salad

We’ll start at the end. Tonight I made the final dish. Pear, Gorgonzola, and Mesclun Salad. This salad is to the 90s what the Caesar was to the 20s. Who knows how many times I’ve eaten this (plus or minus the toasted walnuts). But it definitely stands the test of time.

Carl and Mark, part 4

Here we are with five more dishes from Mark Bittman’s 25 Favorite Minimaist Recipes. Now that I’ve made 20 of them, I can look back a little. Most of the dishes have been quite good and have come together quickly. And when I make a dish for this project, it often stands out in an otherwise humdrum week of cooking. If I see a watermelon now, I definitely think of the Watermelon and Tomato salad. It’s not just a dessert or snack to me anymore. So a couple of these dishes will probably become standards for me at some point.

Braised Turkey was lovely and yields enough turkey for an army. The mushrooms and italian sausage lend great flavor to this, too. The turkey breasts came out beautifully thanks to the short cooking time, but the thighs had dried out by the end, like the braised duck legs in Carl and Mark part 2. That was frustrating. I still feel like I don’t understand how to slow-braise dark, tough meat so that it falls off the bone, rather than being dry and chewy. I think it needs to stay wetter (maybe be basted?) and probably cook for less time (the above turkey thigh cooked for 2.5 hours).

Carl and Mark, part 3

I’m already past the halfway point. I’ve made 15 of the Minimalist’s 25 favorites. Including this bad boy:

Carl and Mark, part 2

So! We continue with five more recipes from The Minimalist’s “25 favorites.” This set includes one of the biggest cooking disasters I can remember—and perhaps the most delightful thing I’ve ever cooked:

Oh. My. Cod. This was magnificent. Black cod with miso. Broiled black cod fillets with just three ingredients: miso, sugar, and mirin. How did I not know? How could I have gone so long without eating this? This dish makes the whole thing worthwhile. The whole “learning how to cook” thing. Not that it wasn’t a worthwhile endeavor already. But this dish really seals the deal. And it took no time at all to put together. Cod, rice, salad. Why go out? Why go anywhere? BTW, I believe this was originally a Nobu recipe that Mark adapted.

Carl and Mark, part 1

In January, I was sad to learn that the Minimalist column in the New York Times was ending. I’ve learned a lot from the Minimalist over the years and could always count on Mark Bittman to surprise and delight with a new recipe. And each new recipe usually involved learning a new technique. So it’s been a great education. Around 2007-2008 I was pretty devoted to the column and made whatever Bittman was making almost weekly. And I know I wasn’t alone. In the final column, Bittman chose 25 of his favorites from over the years. Out of a mixture of curiosity and gratitude (and hunger), the moment I saw the list I decided to make all 25. It’s a Minimalist Julie and Julia. But it should be a lot of fun and a good way to celebrate the food column that taught me so much.

I’ll be posting my results in chunks of five. Here are the first five…

Birchermüesli

So yeah, I’ve been making muesli. What can I say, I’m caught up in the muesli craze. It’s not a global phenomenon or a new Bay Area breakfast trend, it’s more of a hyperlocal fad centered around our apartment and along the famed Muesli Belt that I imagine roughly follows the Switzerland-Germany border.

The traditional recipe calls for oats soaked in water with lemon juice, cream, diced sour apple and nuts. Some people use orange juice.

In my version, yogurt becomes the acid. I toast some oats and coconut, add vanilla yogurt, plain yogurt, and almond milk in a ratio that balances sour, sweet, and overall fluidity. I add a bunch of dried fruit and nuts. By the next morning it has softened up and turned into a sloppy paste, to which I add more almond milk and whatever fresh fruit I can find. Serve with butterbrot and coffee for a Birchermüesli complet. Or just eat it.