Slow Cooker Bang Bang Chicken with Lime, Lemongrass & Chilis

This is *not* the bang bang sauce from Cheesecake Factory -- a calorie-bomb of coconut curry and peanut sauce (I mean, it probably tastes amazing). 

This is the Laotian Bang Bang sauce -- a funky, fiery, sweet/tangy/spicy mix. Ie: a slow cooker friend.  

In my experience, the best slow cooker recipes are deeply, aggressively flavored (see also this miso ginger garlic chicken). Slow cookers get a bad reputation because they remind people of dull stewy mush. 

But that's why you fight against the murky "brown" flavor with brightness. In Laotian cuisine, bang bang is typically eaten with sticky rice (the way fries are eaten with ketchup). The same idea applies here: you want to match a tender, blank-slate food (slow-cooked chicken, sticky rice), with something that awakens the palate. Now you have the best of both worlds -- something soft and pillowy with something sharp and vibrant. 

My preparation includes two ingredients that aren't in classic bang bang sauce: gochujang and black bean sauce. I did this because slow-cooker sauces need to be thick. They'll get watered down a lot as the chicken cooks (such are modern chickens, very watery). Both sauces are thick, fermented and funky, and serve as the foundation for the more ephemeral top notes of this dish (ginger, lime, etc). 

So, to review: Laotian bang bang: wakes you up. Cheesecake Factory bang bag: knock you out. 

RECIPE: 
Skin an entire whole chicken (I do this because the fat doesn't have anywhere to go in a slow cooker. Since the slow-cooker is a pro at keeping meat tender, don't worry about going skinless!). 

In a small bowl, mix 2 tablespoons gochujang, 2 tablespoons of black bean sauce, 1 teaspoon chopped chili peppers (Thai chilis, piri-piri, whatever you have), 5 cloves of chopped garlic, 2 tablespoons chopped ginger, 1 tablespoon chili oil, 1 chopped lemongrass stalk (or 1/2 teaspoon of dried lemongrass), 1 tablespoon palm sugar, 1 teaspoon fish sauce, 1 pinch of dried ginger, 1 pinch of dried galangal (or just more ginger if you can't get this), 1 pinch of cardamom. Add enough water to mix, but not too much. 

Place chicken in slow cooker and pour sauce over chicken, making sure to get every crevice. Add one diced lime. Cover and cook on low for 7 hours. Serve with sticky rice and Thai basil. 

Friday Links | 5.8.15

Happy Friday! This weekend I'm seeing my family for Mother's Day so there will be a lot of cooking, eating, and perhaps a visit to the zoo or a garden (Tom family traditions). I'm also seeing Ex Machina tonight. I think it's funny that Ava, the AI woman, is a Natalie Portman lookalike (though isn't played by Natalie Portman). I have a theory that all sciencey guys are in love with Natalie Portman. 

Anyway, on to links! 

Mariah Carey starts her 2-year Caesar's Palace "residency". Jon Caraminica of the New York Times basically describes her show as a case of morbid rubber-necking: a train wreck you can't take your eyes off. Yikes. In college, I saw Celine during her Caesar's residency and it was magical. I hope Mariah can bring it! Surely she has it in her. 

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about my friend Andrea, the co-inventor of the LuminAID inflatable solar light. Well, now her former professor has a Kickstarter with a very similar product called the SolarPuff. WTF, right? I know a little about this, but I don't feel equipped to comment on this very serious intellectual property issue. Not to mention student-teacher ethics. So I'll just quote from the comment board, where people have not been shy about calling the project out: 

Like others in the comments below, I have given $1 only in order to help shed some light (pun intended) on the backstory of this project. I was once a student of Alice's, (and later a collaborator and co-teacher) and I was a student in the studio Alice taught in which she claims to have asked students to work with inflatable lights - this never happened. Anna and Andrea began to develop the LuminAid from their own independent research, LuminAid was completely their design and Alice started presenting the idea of the SolarPuff as her own only after Anna and Andrea made it clear that they would continue to develop LuminAid beyond their initial work in the studio. Its unfortunate to see that this misrepresentation has continued and the SolarPuff is being passed off as something it is not - there is certainly room in the world for many great designers to be working on behalf of the public good - but this seems like a good old fashioned case of intellectual theft and crafty marketing. It should be fine for a teacher to admit being inspired by their students without having to rewrite history to claim influence for the work of others. 

The other day, I posted my interpretation of April Bloomfield's whole-roasted cauliflower -- and she commented on it! I'm not one to get too starry-eyed when a "brand" engages with you (that's what they're supposed to do these days). But I had a major fangirl moment here (I also believe that April Bloomfield does her own social media, but I could be wrong). 

From McSweeney's: 13 Creative Writing Exercises for Women. "Write your greatest fear on a Post-it note. Place the Post-it at the corner of your eye before applying liquid liner, to create the perfect cat-eye." Ha! 

This article describes the lifestyle-office-crafting of Brad Sherman, who has designed offices/event spaces/Instagram stages for startups like Casper, Sakara Life, and Food52. I've been to the Food52 office -- it's basically like a Hamptons beach house meets a professional kitchen -- and I can see why he's in such high demand. 

And, related to the pic above. This goop-exclusive Spiralizer makes me laugh. It's very, very similar to the basic model, but 60% more. Why? Someone please enlighten me.

And, last, here's the recipe for the dish above. This is a true got-home-from-work-wanna-make-something-really-fast recipe. On days like that, I'm not making my own sauce and meatballs. This has a bunch of pre-made stuff, plus some stuff to round it out and make it fresher. 

RECIPE: 

Sautée 3 shallots, 4 garlic cloves, and 3 chopped carrots until sweating. Add 5 pieces of chopped turkey bacon. Add chicken meatballs. (I like Aidells Caramelized Onion. I also like to halve them because I like to spread out the meat more.) 

When everything is browned, add a can of crushed tomatoes and half a bottle of jarred sauce (I like Rao's). Add 3 glugs of soy sauce for extra umami. Simmer for 45 minutes. Add spiralized zucchini. Let them wilt, about 5 minutes or more, depending on how limp you like them. Serve.

Crunchy Spaghetti Squash with Sesame-Seared Ramps

Did you think that spaghetti squash always had to be that consistency? The softness of canned Spaghetti-Os? (I'm not hating!) 

Well... it doesn't. This was a revelation when my brother's girlfriend once brought this to a holiday dinner -- a spaghetti squash salad, with strands that crunched. How did she do it? Were the strands deep-fried? Dehydrated? No... they're just undercooked. Easy as that. 

The original dish has scallions, but I used ramps because 'tis the season. This would be great as a picnic dish -- it's hearty, but clean and fresh. 

RECIPE: 

Bring one large pot of water to a boil. Seed and cut spaghetti squash into 1.5" x 1.5" sections. Add to boiling water. The water will cool off. Leave in the water until the water boils for about 30 seconds (about 3-5 minutes). The spaghetti squash should still be hard (you should be able to insert a fork, but it should crunch, not sink, into the flesh). Soak the spaghetti squash in ice water to stop cooking. Once cool, scrape out strands and place in bowl. Add 1 tablespoon of kosher salt and let sit for 5 minutes. Then squeeze out all the water with your hands. 

In a frying pan, saute chopped ramps in sesame oil. Once fragrant, add to spaghetti squash. Serve warm, cold, or room temperature. 

Spring Roasted Vegetables

But first, a poem. 

Spring (Again) by Michael Ryan

The birds were louder this morning,
raucous, oblivious, tweeting their teensy bird-brains out.
It scared me, until I remembered it’s Spring.
How do they know it? A stupid question.
Thank you, birdies. I had forgotten how promise feels.

My friend who recently moved from NYC to SF told me she's now cooking more. 

"Finally, the recipes I cook turn out well!" she says. 

It wasn't that her skills improved. Or that she tried different recipes. The reason, she says, is that there's better produce on the West Coast. She can make a simple tomato salad, sautéed green beans, the most barebones recipes of Yotam Ottolenghi -- they all turn out great. 

As much as I want to defend NYC farmer's markets, she's probably right -- most of the year. Come spring, it's a different story and one can go wild at the abundance. 

This isn't a recipe as much as it is a shopping prompt. If you've got it it, roast it.

RECIPE:

Preheat oven to 450 degrees Fahrenheit. Prep vegetables, toss with olive oil, and roast them individually in their own trays (as opposed to all at once, as the photo implies). Veggies at the size shown will roast in 12-15 minutes. Sprinkle with Maldon salt. 

Shown: Asparagus, radishes, spring onions, potatoes, fennel, radicchio. 

Whole Roasted Cauliflower with Tomato, Capers & Beluga Lentils

Or, in praise of the mushy vegetable. 

It's not in vogue to eat mushy vegetables. They must be crispy and seared. Fried or pickled. They must snap, appear vibrant green rather than murky olive. But, can we admit that mushy vegetables are kinda good? 

I'm talking good in an nostalgic way, sure. The way mushy green beans taste like your summer camp in the Catskills. Or how mushy, underseasoned peas take you to the time you licked your baby brother's spoon clean. 

But also good in an objective way. Cruciferous vegetables are unequivocally stinky when they're cook to oblivion -- but isn't that the whole point? Sauerkraut, boiled cabbage, collard greens and ham hocks. All overcooked, the opposite of al dente, all delicious. 

Leave it to April Bloomfield to take the cliché of the greenish-gray British veg and turn it into something delicious. This recipe is adapted from her excellent new cookbook, A Girl and Her Greens: Hearty Meals from the Garden. 

I made one modification out of necessity. I was cooking for vegetarians and someone allergic to fish, so anchovies were out of the question. In went capers, lentils, and some caramelized onions to give this some brine and body. I served this as the main course -- like a whole roast chicken and leg of lamb -- and carved it tableside. No knife needed though. The cauliflower was soft and I used a serving spoon. 

RECIPE: 
(adapted from April Bloomfield's A Girl and her Greens )

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Trim and core cauliflower. Heat olive oil in a cast-iron pot (I used a 7-quart Le Creuset) and sear the cauliflower on all sides. Remove cauliflower and add 3 diced garlic cloves, 2 tablespoons of capers, and 3/4 teaspoon finely chopped rosemary. Stir until fragrant, then add 1 28-oz can of peeled plum tomatoes (cut the tomatoes before hand), 1/4 cup dry white wine, 3 large pinches of chili flakes. 

Return cauliflower to pot and baste with tomato liquid. Simmer for 5 minutes until the tomato mixture is thickened, then cover and place in oven and roast for 30-45 minutes, depending on your preferred mushy level (I did 45 minutes for peak softness). Every 10 minutes, baste the cauliflower with the tomato liquid.

In the meantime, cook 1 cup of beluga lentils in a separate pot (rinse them, cover with 2 cups of water, bring to boil until water is at surface, then cover and simmer on low until lentils are tender, about 20 minutes). Sauté three sliced onions (pearl onions are fun, too) in olive oil until golden brown.

When the cauliflower is ready, mix the lentils and onions with the tomato sauce and serve. 

Poached Egg and Purple Rice in a Collard Green Cup

Do you remember Fatty Crab in its hey day? Now Zak Pelaccio is cooking in Hudson, NY at Fish + Game (been there too, but very different), but back in the day, man that food was good.

nasi lemak at Fatty Crab (photo by travelchictv)

At Fatty Crab he had this insane nasi lemak -- coconut rice, chicken curry, slow poached egg, spicy pickles, deep-fried shallots, dried anchovies, various sambals. It remains one of the best restaurant dishes I've ever tasted. So much texture and funk and heat. Salty, sour, sweet, smooth, spiky. It was all there, a riot of bright, alpha flavors somehow sharing the stage in this dish. 

This is a bit of my homage... a petite chamber orchestra compared to Pelaccio's carnival. The depth comes from caramelized shallots, tucked in the sticky and sweet purple rice. Add a poached egg and a dash of salt, and you have a slippery savory little bite. Could it use some pickles, sambals, dried fish, fried garlic slices, etc? Yes, indeed. This is just a start.

RECIPE: 

Caramelize shallots by sautéing with olive oil and salt on low for 30 minutes (I had them from another recipe so it wasn't so bad). Make sticky purple rice according to instructions (The one I used was about 75% white rice that the purple rice stained. Best to stick with your rice's instructions since rice ratios may change).

Lay collard green leaves in the bottom of a poach pod. Mix shallots with rice and add to the bottom of the pod. Crack an egg into a shallow bowl, then add to top of poach pod. Gently place poach pod into a small pot of boiling water, making sure that water doesn't reach the top of the poach pod. If your poach pod is slanted because of uneven weight distribution, prop it up with a random kitchen utensil. I used a spoon. Cover the pot and cook for 5 minutes. Remove pouch from poach pod, sprinkle with salt and pepper and serve. 

Lemon Blueberry Cornmeal Muffins and Madeleines

I couldn't live without them. One thing -- two ways. 

The blush/lip stain. The work-to-cocktail cami. The primer-color-top coat (actually, not sure this exists?). The more things you can put into one thing, the better. 

It's true, things will get lost in translation. When I was a kid, I thought I could make my own Pert Plus, and mixed shampoo and conditioner. Why not? 

Well, it doesn't always work that way. You'll have to adapt a little. Add some bronzer along with the cheek stain. A blazer with the cami. 

And so it was with this lemon-blueberry-cornmeal batter. I made the madeleines first -- cakey and plush, something not-too-sweet to have as a snack. The muffins have more of a golden crackle to them.

Or think of it this way: the muffins are like a bread's crust and the madeleines are the fluffy inside. Both the same thing, and conveniently, pleasingly different.

RECIPE: (adapted from this Epicurious recipe)

Note: I used whole wheat flour and very coarse cornmeal for this recipe. If you want something less of-the-Earth, you can use all-purpose flour and a finer-grained cornmeal. 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Melt 1/2 stick butter and cool. In a large bowl, mix 3/4 cup whole wheat flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder, 1/2 cup coarse yellow cornmeal, 1/2 cup of sugar, and 1 tablespoon of lemon zest. 

In another bowl, mix melted butter, 1/2 cup almond milk, and 2 large eggs. Add to flour mixture and whisk until well blended. With a rubber spatula, gently add 3/4 cups of fresh or frozen blueberries.

For madeleines: Butter and flour your pan and bake for 20 minutes, or until the tops are just slightly golden on the top. 

For muffins: Increase oven temperature to 375 degrees Fahrenheit. Spoon batter into muffin tin and sprinkle top with turbinado sugar. Bake for 20 minutes (for small muffins... larger ones will need more time).

Hoisin Beurre Blanc String Beans

It was the 5pm question. What do I have in the fridge -- and how do I want to make it? My target was a 2-lb bag of haricots verts from Costco (yes, I am a New Yorker with a Costco membership. I am blessed).

Typically I'd do a Chinese stir-fry. You know the one: blistered yet still green, its divots filled with pockets of reduced hoisin. 

But then -- these are French beans. Haricots verts. They seemed to call for a Gallic interpretation: a green beans almondine, butter. 

But that's really not me and so I compromised with this hoisin beurre blanc. A beurre blanc is basically a warm vinaigrette, made with butter instead of oil. Here, I used rice vinegar rather than the classic white wine vinegar, which is softer than its more piercing cousin.

The result? Well, there's a reason that restaurants add butter to everything. The butter flavor was imperceptible, and yet you knew something was there. A body, a base. I made one pound of haricots verts this way, and you better believe that I'm doing the same with the rest of that bag. 

RECIPE: 

Wash and trim 1 lb of haricots verts. String beans (or Chinese long beans) are fine in this case). Add to wok with 1/2 cup of chicken broth and steam, semi-covered, for 5 minutes until broth has evaporated. Add 2 1/2 tablespoons of hoisin sauce, 1 1/2 tablespoons butter, and 1 tablespoon of rice vinegar. Sautee until sauce is reduced and string beans are tender, about 5 minutes. Top with toasted sesame seeds.

Mushroom Thyme Jerky

Oh, beef jerky. You are delicious and nutritious. Sometimes soft, sometimes chewy. Sometimes spicy, sometimes sweet. 

Mushroom jerky? Don't worry about it. It's a different sort of beast... chewy and savory, sure. Meaty, yes. But different. 

Here I roasted and dried four types of mushrooms in a two-step process. There are shiitake, oyster, clam shell, and shimeji. You're basically sucking out the moisture so all you're left with is the mushroom's essence: the earthy, umami-ed soul of the thing. 

What's great about using a variety of mushrooms is that you can get a range of textures. The shiitake get thin and leathery. You'll have to yank at it with your teeth. The oyster mushrooms are still pillowy, but not until your teeth snap through the surface. And the clam shell and shimeji are somewhere in between: chewy on the bottom, tender on top. 

It's not beef jerky, but it's just as good.

RECIPE:

Preheat oven to 35o degrees Fahrenheit. Toss your mushrooms in olive oil, salt and pepper. Sprinkle thyme on top. De-leaf them if you want the thyme to stick. Keep them whole if you want a lighter touch. Roast for 50 minutes then turn off the oven and leave there for two or more hours to dehydrate.

Jackfruit Boats with Chia Seed Pudding and Coconut Flakes

There are only so many foodstuffs that can be boats. Endive boats. Gravy boats. A banana boat is a thing, but not edible. 

So when I come across a potential boat, I pounce on it. Jackfruit is not easy to find in American grocery stores, but pretty easy to find in Asian ones. Jackfruits can be huge -- up to 80 lbs -- but you can buy them in pieces. 

Word to the wise: there's another large, prickly fruit in Asian grocery stores, but you do NOT want to get it by mistake. Durian -- the notorious, banned-on-public-transportation fruit -- looks very similar. A fresh durian will smell like dirty feet so you're probably not in danger of buying it by accident. But a chilled or old durian will have a mellower or non-existent smell. Jackfruit: this. Durian: that. Got it? 

Moving on... Jackfruit flesh comes out in little pouches that can be split into boats. The inside is filled with large seeds (which, by the way, can be boiled and eaten like boiled nuts), while the pouches themselves are encased in a matrix of fibers. It's rather tedious to prep, but at least you can snack while you work (as opposed to say, peeling garlic). 

The taste of jackfruit is basically a cross between a mango, pineapple and banana. It has a mango's tropical brightness to it, along with banana's tropical mustiness. (Also like a mango, it can cause some irritation in your throat). Add coconut, and you basically have a piña colada. 

RECIPE: There's really nothing to this besides making the chia pudding. Soak 1/3 cup of chia seeds with 1 1/2 cups of milk. I used almond milk, but this would be extra-amazing with a coconut-almond milk blend. I don't sweeten the pudding because I think the jackfruit is plenty sweet, but this is a matter of taste. 

Once the seeds are plump (about 4 hours), spoon into your halved jackfruit boats and sprinkle with unsweetened coconut flakes. 

Avocado Toast with Turmeric Eggs and Sumac

Let's talk about texture and the Instagram friend that follows us all: avocado toast. 

Growing up, the only time we ate avocado was for dessert. My Madagascar-born mom made avocado mashed with coarse raw sugar and dark rum. It was pasty yet grainy, like a boozy, moisturizing exfoliant for the tongue. 

You can pretty much put anything on avocado toast: something crunchy, something sweet, something fishy, something herby, something pickled. 

But my favorite is plush-on-plush, smooth-on-smooth. Egg on avocado has an echoing sensation on your teeth. And if you're looking for more avocado (and a different texture), then you know what to make for dessert. 

RECIPE:
Turmeric-Stained Egg: Fill a 1/2-quart saucepan with water and place the egg inside. When the water has reached a boil, turn off heat and let the egg sit for 10 minutes. Remove the egg and peel it. Stir 2 heaping tablespoons of turmeric to the water (be careful --- it will stain your counter, your hands, your cutting board You can get it out, but it's a bit of a pain). Add the egg back to the saucepan and let sit for 3 minutes. 

I won't insult you with the assembly. Mash, slice, place, sprinkle (sumac and salt). Done! 

More of my avocado recipes here.

Charred Cruciferous Veggies

One of the easiest ways to annoy D is to use a describe a body part with a medical word rather than the colloquial (and crasser word). For instance, once I said “pubic mound” with a totally straight face and he just lost it.

Cruciferous isn’t very colloquial and might sound a bit antiseptic. But I like it because it's inclusive and illuminating, like learning that Ira Glass is cousins with Philip Glass... or Amy Bloom is cousins with Harold Bloom. All of sudden, you have a deeper understanding.

What's a cruciferous vegetable? You have the sexy superstars: kale and brussels sprouts. The hall-of-famers: broccoli and cauliflower. The up-and-comers: collard greens and kohlrabi. And the uncoolest of the bunch: cabbage.

But knowing that they’re all part of the same family helps you realize that wallflower cabbage is not that different from its movie star siblings.

As Mark Twain wrote in Pudd’nhead Wilson, “cauliflower is nothing but a cabbage with a college education”.

RECIPE: This is really nothing special... just a super-hot pan, safflower oil (or some other high-smoke-point oil) and cabbage. You can choose to simply halve the cabbage and cook it in butter like this Bon Appetit recipe. I added feta for two reasons. 1) A nod to iceberg and bleu cheese dressing, and 2) sulfurous is mellowed by creaminess... like hollandaise on eggs. 

Other cruciferous vegetable recipes: 

• Cauliflower Steak from Superba (Tasting Table)
• Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Fish Sauce Vinaigrette from Momofuku (Food52) 
• Ale Braised Collard Greens with Smoked Ham Hock (NYT Cooking)

Pistachio Mint Radish Guacamole (or avocado toast without the toast)

If you see me during the day you'll know that I hardly wear the same outfit twice. (I'm talking weekdays. Weekends are a whole other story.) The thing is, I'm obsessed with newness. There are good parts to this. I'm always experimenting. I'm almost never in a rut. When it comes to outfits, I've been told that I look like a different person every time you see me, which I take as a compliment. (Some may say that I lack a stable sense of self... but whatever.) 

But there are downsides, too. I don't have a favorite movie because I almost never rewatch them. I will reluctantly tell you my favorite book and restaurant because that's what people tend to ask me. But truth be told, I've still only read my "favorite" book and visited my "favorite" restaurant three or so times. 

I do, however, have a very small collection of "go-to" dishes, things I'll make if we get home late and I don't feel like thinking, much less "innovating". I'll make these if there's little room for error: a dinner party or a potluck. 

So here's part one of a series. I can actually only think of three go-to dishes off the top of my head, so perhaps this'll be a very short series. But here goes. 

---

This was inspired by Alex Stupak's guacamole at Empellon. I love guacamole, but it can feel kind of dull after awhile, especially if you're using lackluster ingredients. Enter the most underrated nut: pistachio. 

There are also classic ingredients: lime, jalapeño. I add some chunkiness with some sliced red onions and sliced radish (not minced... more chunkiness this way). But I think the thing that really sets this apart, and perhaps brings it more into the realm of avocado toast than guacamole, is mint. It's so fresh, so unexpected. I love it. 

RECIPE: Mandolin 1/4 red onion and soak in ice water to take out the harshness. Mash two avocados in a bowl with a fork. Don't overdo it, because you'll be adding other ingredients later and you don't want to overmix it (unless you prefer pasty guac over chunky guac). Add the onions, 1 small chopped jalapeño, 5 mandolined radishes, juice of 1/2 a lime, and about 3 tablespoons of loosely packed mint. Salt to taste. When ready to serve top with 3 tablespoons of toasted pistachios. (Note: I used to add olive oil to my guac, until one time I forgot and realized that you can do without.) 

Endive & Orange Salad

At The Bazaar by José Andrés, you can get all sorts of food somersaults. I love me some culinary acrobatics, but for home, I prefer something a little more down-to-earth.

This came in an endive boat, but if you don't want to feel like you're at a cocktail party, just chop up the endives. It's sweet, bitter, creamy and a little piquant, depending on how many scallions you use. 

RECIPE: Slice four endives into 1/2 inch rings and place in large mixing bowl. Separate leaves. Supreme two oranges (or tangerines for a punchier fragrance) and toss with endives. Chop 1-2 scallions and add to bowl. Make a vinaigrette with olive oil, rice vinegar, the excess juice from the oranges' core and peel, and a dash of mustard. Toss with salad then add toasted sliced almonds and feta cheese, to taste. 

Brûléed Peeps

Today I lived my fantasy of brûléeing Peeps. Now I want to brûlée everything that's sugar-coated. 

The appeal is obvious -- it's crème brûlée meets s'more. Unlike a creme brûlée, the sugar on a Peep is very fine, resulting in a very thin sugar crust. Think: a film of frost rather than a hard chunk of ice. 

At first, I was a little scared to use the blow torch. It's not some frou-frou Williams-Sonoma thing -- it's the real deal to solder pipes and repair cars. I assembled a kit and was kinda scared I was gonna blow up. 

But I guess my pyro tendencies took over and I got the hang of it. FIRE! 

Asian Chicken Slaw

I always want things like this, but they're frustratingly hard to find. What is "this"?

"This" is a great post-workout meal -- Fresh and crunchy and satisfying. "Hearty" salads tend to have cream or cheese, which slam the gut. The key is enough protein (here, chicken breast), the body of an aromatic oil (sesame oil in this case), and some support from some nuts (almonds and black sesame seeds, above). See, no sluggishness!

"This" is not a flimsy salad --I'll take slaw over salad any day. A great salad is a revelation -- gossamer lettuce as silken as rose petals, dressing of elegance and subtlety, toppings that play nice while still adding textural, visual, and flavor contrast.  But salads are hard to balance because the leaves are so delicate. Slaws are easy. Make it with cabbage, kohlrabi, broccoli, carrots -- anything with bite. They'll withstand anything you throw its way.

"This" is nostalgic -- Remember the "Oriental Chicken Salad"? Oh, it was a confusing piece of work -- canned mandarin oranges, fried chow mein noodles, and a honey mustard mayo-based dressing made "Asian" with rice vinegar and sesame oil. I loved this salad, but it could bear to be less gross.

RECIPE: Slice Napa cabbage and salt generously. Saute chicken in olive oil and let rest once done. Dice carrots, red bell pepper, and scallions and add to cabbage. Add chicken, then soy sauce, rice vinegar, and sesame oil. Before serving, toss with sliced almonds and sesame seeds.

"Detox" Kale Chimichurri

Here in New York, the word "detox" is both status symbol and shaming device. In January, you'll see a lot of detox humble brags in your social feeds. Day 5 of cleanse -- kill me now! (she actually loves it)

I love this coconut carrot juice! (he doesn't really love it)

Doing penance for the weekend. Wish us luck! (they don't need it -- they do this every month)

Well this is not that kind of detox. Food should never be masochistic. It's either clean or indulgent, but you're in control of how far you slide either way. Stay towards the middle if you can. Eat what you want, move where you want, but no so much that you'll regret it.

This is a moderate detox -- the slightly left of center, but still sane kinda detox. It's clean but not ascetic, bright without being punishing, healthy without being obnoxiously so (if I do say so myself).

It starts with chimichurri -- a spicy and sour mix of herbs, a cross between pesto and Chinese ginger-scallion sauce. In the same way a squeeze of lemon and sprinkle of herbs cuts through the heaviness of a stew, chimichurri adds a welcome lightness and sharpness to your stomach. Kale and Bragg apple cider vinegar make a good thing even better.

RECIPE: Toast pumpkin seeds and set aside. Trim and clean a mix of parsley, cilantro, mint, chives, and kale. (I used equal parts parsley, cilantro, kale, and slightly less of the mint and chives... but it really doesn't matter). Add everything to a food processor with olive oil, apple cider vinegar, salt. Pulse until all the leaves are chopped (not pureed!). Add red pepper flakes and pumpkin seeds. Keep on hand to eat with a crudité platter, or with stir-fried veggie, or with a tuna-yogurt salad... you get it.

Zucchini Meatballs with Sumac Yogurt

When I worked in Bushwick, everyday I passed a mysterious wholesale furniture business that sold things like wooden eagles with ten foot wingspans and golden camels with marble hooves. I never saw a customer go in or out, only workers sitting outside smoking and grilling, no matter the season.

I usually stayed on the other side of the street or sheepishly rushed past them. I think they were Turkish, and their rumbling chatter echoed through the warehouse-lined streets.

I left that job two years ago this month. I must have been carrying a lot of stuff back, or maybe I had a sentimental look in my eye. But on the last day, the guys outside the shop gave me an oblong-shaped meatball right off the grill. It was so flavorful, still hot enough that the juices played close to the edge, prone to drip at just the slightest pinch.

I know you're not supposed to take food from strangers. But sometimes, those bites are the best.

RECIPE: adapted (and lightened) from Jerusalem by Yotam Ottololenghi & Sami Tamimi

Finely julienne or mandoline/slice 2 zucchinis. Chop your pick of herbs -- mint, parsley, cilantro. Combine 1 lb ground turkey, 1 minced onion, zucchini, 1 whisked egg, 2 cloves of crushed garlic, 1 teaspoon of ground cumin, 1 teaspoon of salt, 1/2 teaspoon ground pepper, 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne. Shape into patties or balls or footballs. Fry for 4 minutes each side, or bake for 40 minutes.

Mix one cup Greek yogurt with 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1 tablespoon sumac, 1 tablespoon lemon juice. Serve with meatballs.

Turkey Chili (with coffee & cocoa)

Great chili has soul. You might come across chili recipes that boast extreme prep times, like some miracle 30-minute workout. These recipes are roll calls of cans and ready-made mixes: Goya, Ro-Tel, McCormick. The flavors are shallow, merely the sum of their parts and nothing more.

You can't get soul in 30 minutes. You can, however, get soul in an hour and a half and with two guest stars -- coffee and chocolate.

I've made the mistake of thinking that meat and beans were enough. They aren't. I've tried to compensate with corn and chorizo and sweet potatoes. Not quite. It's rather hard to make the leap from slurry to stew.

Coffee and cocoa powder are miracle workers. Call them the Instagram filter for your lackluster chili. They smooth out the edges, they boost the main players, they blur out the imperfections.

In a perfect world, you'd cook this low and slow. But this recipe is no floozy. She's got enough soul to last you bowl after bowl.

RECIPE: Boil 1 1/2 cups of dried beans and soak for 40 minutes. In a Dutch oven, sauté 1 onion, 2 large carrots, 4 celery stalks, 1 cup of bell peppers (I like a combo of red, yellow and green) and 5 cloves of garlic, all diced. Add 1 tablespoon ground cumin, 2 tablespoons chili powder, 1 tablespoon paprika, 1 teaspoon ground coriander, and 1 tablespoon of salt. When the onion is translucent, add 1 pound of ground turkey meat. Break up the chunks with a wooden spatula and cook for 5 minutes, until some of the turkey is browned. (If you're using a fattier meat, I would cook the meat first so you can cook the veggies in the fat. Ground turkey breast will just dry out if you sauté it too long and is better served by steam and stewing.)

Add one 20 oz can of pureed tomatoes, one 6 oz can of tomato paste, and one 32 oz carton of chicken broth. Add the par-cooked beans and 1 cup of the bean water.

Add one tablespoon of instant coffee (!!) and one tablespoon of unsweetened coca powder. Simmer, partially covered, for 90 minutes or more.

Rainbow Fruit Salad

I take potlucks very personally.

Whether it's warranted or not, I put a lot of pressure on myself to "win". Maybe not in the potluck's spirit of sharing, but whatever.

What makes a good potluck dish? This is my internal calculus on the matter, told through the lens of our recent office Thanksgiving potluck.

1. Tastiness - Obvious. But not the be-all-end-all. (rookie mistake)

2. Table Appeal - This rainbow fruit salad was for 70 or so people. Your dish has to stand out on a crowded table. Some ways your dish can pop: color, height, an "action" (like flambé or a table-side activation like tossing or assembling).

3. Personality - Do potlucks normally have labels? I don't think so. Likely not in the spirit of sharing and collaboration? Anyway, to win the potluck the dish should be unequivocally you. If you eat healthy and clean, you should prepare something healthy and clean. If you wear dark colors, you should make something dark. Part of the fun of a potluck is guessing who made what, and this gives your dish something to remember and latch onto.

4. Comparison & Past History - What is everyone else bringing? Survey the field and know what you're getting into. I gambled that people who would be sick of pies, so made a refreshing fruit salad to counterbalance. I also knew last year's most popular Thanksgiving dishes were on the lighter side: kale salad, roasted cauliflower with buttered bread crumbs, green bean casserole.

So, did I win Thanksgiving potluck? Not sure. I got really worked up about before and after the dinner. But during? I just enjoyed myself.

Shown above: Kiwi, pear, orange, papaya, grapefruit, pomegranate in a light ginger lime syrup.