Wordless Wednesday: It Takes Tortillas

2n1 Salad Bar and GrillFalafel Wrap
Carnaless – Bacon Con Guacamole Breakfast Taco
Carnaless – Beef Fajita Quesadilla
De Nada Cantina – Crispy Mushroom Picadillo Tacos
De Nada Cantina – Verduras Taco
La Yunta – Chips & Guacamole
Nissi VegMex – Fajita Nachos
Rad Radish – Chilaquiles
Ramen Del Barrio – Champiñón Taco
The BE Hive – Taco Crunchwrap
Vivo – Emma’s Choice with Mushroom and Spinach Enchiladas + Tofu Puffy Taco
Vivo – Tofu Puffy Taco

Cook This Book: Tamu

I know remarkably little about African cuisine, but what I do know, unfortunately, is that I’m not alone in that. We consider ourselves a global society, immutably interconnected from here on out, and yet outside of Africa, which is the second largest continent on Earth, the food is largely lost in translation.

Even in the most diverse, metropolitan cities in America, where so many other cultures are celebrated, finding a restaurant specializing in any African food is like striking gold. I mean that both in the sense that the chances of it happening are exceedingly rare, and if you do happen to luck out, you’ll be truly rich.

That’s why I was so quite frankly thunderstruck by the depth and breadth of culinary knowledge contained within the pages of Tamu: A Journey Through Africa’s Plant-Based Cuisine by Jane Nshuti.

Right out of the gate, this is different from the average cookbook. Written with a distinct perspective and zero pretense, Ms. Nshuti manages to bridge the divide between instruction and inspiration seamlessly. She stays true to her heritage, writing from only her perspective and experiences to share a genuine, personal account of a life lived through food.

Ingredients are explained, not dumbed down, refusing to pander to the lowest common denominator. If you’re hungry to learn, all the tools and information you need are right here, at your disposal. Ravenous to expand my own palate, it was a revelation to read about so many ingredients and dishes that have never even been my radar before.

First off, Africa is not a monolith. Elegantly illustrating this point, recipe chapters are divided by country of origin, each one part of Ms. Nshuti’s personal path. Debunking the misconceptions that African food is “too starchy, too heavy, and too meaty” with every turn of the page, the fact that the whole book is vegan wouldn’t even register if not overtly stated. Having grown up with limited means herself, it feels like a wildly affordable luxury every time I sat down with a new dish in front of me. Abundance is implied; joy is inherent.

Green Banana Curry (page 96) from Tanzania provided my first real introduction to matoke, which are confusingly referred to as simply “green bananas” in most cases. No, they’re not unripe Cavendish bananas nor plantains, matoke are small, starchy, and vaguely reminiscent of white sweet potatoes when cooked. Stewed with coconut milk, spices, and vibrant fresh vegetables, the dish is positively dazzling. It’s an easy entry point towards appreciating the understated magnificence of this misunderstood staple.

Egusi Soup (page 164) from Nigeria had been on my wish list for a very long time. Egusi seeds, derived a melon distantly related to the watermelon, are ground into a coarse paste to form the rich foundation of this stew. Eggplant, mushrooms and soy strips take the place of animal protein, though you could easily adapt that to anything you have on hand. Spiked by the heat of habanero, dawadawa seeds (fermented locust beans) add an irreplaceable complexity that’s utterly crave-worthy. Perhaps it’s an unorthodox addition, but I thought that a dollop of shito makes it even better.

My only critique is that while the photo shows some sort of greens cooked down into the mix, there’s no mention of anything of the sort in the recipe or accompanying text. Further research tells me that ugwu (fluted pumpkin leaf), uziza leaf (pepper leaf), bitter leaf, or waterleaf are traditional inclusions, while spinach, kale, or collard greens are common alternatives outside of Africa.

Banfora Cakes (page 206) from Burkina Faso are often described as pineapple Welsh cakes, which fall somewhere between scones and pancakes, cooked on a hot griddle. I’d like to further confuse the uninitiated by saying that they remind me of sweet biscuits, crispy around the edges and fluffy on the inside, perfectly at home on the dinner table if not for the finishing sprinkle of cinnamon sugar on top. They strike me as the ideal solution to urgent cravings, since they use basic staples and come together in roughly 30 minutes from start to finish.

Umureti Wa Okara (page 19) is just one example of how the author maintains her distinct perspective in honoring traditional African foods while also using their inspiration to create her own unique dishes. A simple chickpea flour omelette gets a new lease on life with the addition of pan-fried okra and fresh cilantro. It blurs the boundaries between nations, speaking fluently in the universal language of a good meal. That said, my omelette quickly turned into a scramble, failing twice to hold together as intended. Purportedly just a single serving, it easily turned into two, or even three if served with a side.

Some chapters are necessarily shorter than others. Relaying memories alongside recipes flowing naturally from storytelling to suppertime, each page is a reflection of the Ms. Nshuti’s life; nothing more, nothing less. For places that made a bigger impact on her passion for cooking, there are naturally more recipes inspired by those experiences. There’s no breathless hyperbole pushing the reader along. Instead, we’re only asked to follow, if we’re hungry and curious enough, to learn more.

“Tamu” can be translated as sweet, pleasant, nice, or tasty, depending on who you ask. All seem like fine explanations for the contents of this cookbook, though I’d argue it deserves greater praise than that.

Right On Cue

Barbecue is big business here in the south. People worship at the altar of smoke and fire, where pitmasters stand like priests before steel rigs blackened by decades of grease and devotion. It’s less of a meal than a declaration of faith, because in truth, it does take that level of conviction to tend a single slab of protein for 6 – 8 hours and trust that it’s time well-spent.

Devotees are ready to throw down at the barest whisper of dissent, even when discussing the differences between Texas, Memphis, Alabama, Kansas City, and the Carolinas. Tossing a meatless option into the ring would tantamount to treason, ostensibly punishable by law, but I’m prepared to take that risk. That’s how confident I am in Fungitarian BBQ.

Mushrooms Over Meat

Challenging the status quo with mushrooms might sound dubious in a culture built on beef, but the whole art of barbecue has always been about transformation. Founded on taking humble, tough cuts and turning them into something transcendent through smoke, spice, patience, and fire, that ethos can be applied to anything. Fungitarian delivers on that same philosophy, and flavor, all in one ready-to-eat package.

Where There’s Smoke

Give mushrooms the same amount of heat and time to unlock their inherently umami, meaty, almost primal qualities. Charred around the edges, toothsome and supple in the middle, there are no woody stems to contend with, and no gristle, bones, or fat, for that matter, either. Absorbing the heady smoke like a marinade, they carry that flavor all the way through, rather than merely wearing it on the surface. That’s what makes it even more compelling as the crowning jewel on a loaded baked potato.

Potayto, Potahto

A proper barbecue potato is a celebration of excess. Blistered skins splitting open to reveal a steaming, fluffy interior; even without adornment, it’s a mouthwatering sight to behold. When piled recklessly high with cheese, protein, and enough toppings to collapse under its own weight, make no mistake, this isn’t some token side dish. Best of all, when done right, no BBQ sauce need apply. Such sticky, sweet syrup would only distract from the rich flavors of smoke and spice within.

Low and Slow or Fast and Fresh

Baked potatoes are nothing if not adaptable. You have five choices for how to approach the cooking process, all of which creating perfectly delicious results, though the longest wait does yield the greatest rewards.

  • Smoker: 2 hours at 225 degrees
  • Oven or grill: 45 – 60 minutes at 400 degrees
  • Air fryer: 30 – 40 minutes at 370 degrees
  • Microwave: 8 – 10 minutes at full power (cooked one at a time)

If you’ve already got the smoker or grill going, it’s a no-brainer. That extra infusion of smoke and char can’t be replicated and is tough to find elsewhere, even in most restaurants. If you’ve got a squad of hangry guests that need to eat ASAP, there’s no shame in getting an assist from the microwave.

Top That

Likewise, the number of potential toppings to adorn your barbecue masterpiece is limited only by your imagination. Want to add more veggies? Throw in some chopped broccoli or sautéed spinach. Like it hot? Go all in on chilies. Just a few of my favorite suggestions include:

Barbecue For All

Purists may clutch their tongs in horror, but it’s their loss if they can’t invite more diverse options to the backyard barbecue. One bite would end the argument faster than any amount of debate. Smoke, spice, char, and comfort don’t belong exclusively to brisket. That same experience is accessible to anyone willing to put in the time and respect the process. The loaded baked potato simply happens to be the perfect stage for proving it.

Continue reading “Right On Cue”

Full of Shiitake

Shiitake mushrooms have been the gateway to umami for countless young cooks. They were, in fact, a major contributor to the essential scientific understanding of umami we take for granted today. Long before we had the language to explain why fungi had a distinctive savory character akin to animal meat, shiitake proliferated in kitchens near and far, creating a depth of flavor exceeding the core constituents of any given dish.

Equally at home floating in a clear broth, blistered in a cast iron skillet, or folded into a rich stew, there’s no match for the versatility and power of this mushroom. A small handful of rehydrated shiitake can smell like a rainy forest floor or a five-star steakhouse, sometimes simultaneously. Few ingredients punch so far above their weight.

I’ve become an outspoken proponent of shiitake after years of witnessing their transformative power in my own cooking. As such, I have more shiitake recipes than I know what to do with. When anyone asks for suggestions, I just stare at the floor and mumble something about the recipe archive, knowing full well that it’s a dense thicket of odd titles to traverse. It’s about time I had a better answer, which leads me to this round-up of my top 40 shiitake mushroom recipes. Limiting myself to only 40 was a challenge because there are roughly 90 potential contenders on the blog, to date. No doubt, that total will continue to rise the moment I hit “publish”.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks; easy, intermediate, and advanced; elegant, rustic, and downright extravagant; this collection spans nearly every possible expression of the whole macrofungus, fresh and dried, I’ve personally enjoyed most. If you don’t know what to do with a sudden windfall of shiitake, I’ll help you make quick work of them.

Continue reading “Full of Shiitake”

Like A Moth To The Flame

Like a moth to the flame, I’m inexorably drawn to foods that elicit more questions than answers at first blush, for better or for worse. Moths, though a vital part of our natural ecosystem, are typically not associated with culinary greatness. That’s why the name “moth beans” immediately gave me pause, and soon after landed in my cart.

Fear not: these little legumes have absolutely nothing to do with dusty winged insects. Vigna aconitifolia, also known as matki, mat beans, or dew beans, are named for the lobed shape of their leaves when growing, which supposedly resemble a moth’s silhouette. I’d say that’s a real stretch of the imagination, but maybe my creativity is merely lacking. No matter how you look at it, moth beans have already proven themselves as far more than just a taxonomic curiosity.

What Are Moth Beans?

Native to the hot, arid regions of South Asia, specifically India and Pakistan, they have been a staple food for centuries. Because they can grow in sandy, bone-dry soil where other crops would wither, it’s there that they earned the nickname “dew beans,” seeming to subsist on nothing more than the morning mist. Preventing erosion by locking in what scant moisture remains in the soil, they’re vital for maintaining productive land in difficult climates.

What prevents moth beans from becoming more widespread across the globe is the difficulty of harvesting them. Laboriously cut by hand with a sickle, current mowers aren’t built for their unique shape and size, so they remain out of reach for industrial production.

What Do Moth Beans Taste Like?

If you’re familiar with green lentils or mung beans, you’ve already gotten a taste of what to expect from moth beans. Deeply earthy and nutty, with a savory undertone that hints at mushroom-like umami, there’s a faint sweetness on the back end, making them much more complex than your standard kidney or navy bean.

Even when fully cooked, they maintain a distinct, slightly firm bite between your teeth. They refuse to turn into mush unless you go out of your way to intentionally overcook them, making them ideal for salads, soups, stews, and most traditionally, curries.

Moth Bean Nutrition: Tiny But Mighty

Don’t let their diminutive size fool you. In the world of plant-based protein, moth beans are heavy hitters. Incredibly protein-dense, to the tune of roughly 23 grams of protein per 100 grams of dry beans, they make a compelling case for doing away with meat. They are an excellent source of zinc, which is great for the immune system, and iron for keeping energy levels high. Like most legumes, they are packed with dietary fiber, which keeps things moving smoothly and keeps you feeling full longer.

Soak, Sprout, or Simmer: Cooking Moth Beans

Sold both whole and split, the moth bean offers two distinct paths toward enjoyment. Whole moth beans necessarily take longer, they have more structural integrity, and have the added benefit of being sproutable. Sprouted moth beans have been especially crucial for those who may not have easy access to fresh vegetables, since the dried beans are shelf stable for months, if not years, and erupt with little white tails in 1 – 2 days.

  • To sprout whole moth beans, soak them overnight, drain, and keep them in a damp cloth or sprout jar for 24 – 48 hours. Once those tiny white tails appear, they can be eaten raw in salads, stir-fried, or steamed for just a few minutes.
  • To cook whole moth beans, while not strictly necessary, soaking them for 4 – 6 hours reduces cooking time and improves digestibility. On the stove top, simmer in plenty of water (about a 3:1 ratio) for 20 – 30 minutes until tender but firm. In a pressure cooker, cook on high for 10 minutes and quick release the pressure. Let stand in unsealed pressure cooker for another 10 minutes, then drain.
  • To cook split moth beans, simply rinse them under cool water and simmer on the stove top for 15 – 20 minutes. The ratio shifts slightly because they act more like red lentils, absorbing water as they break down into a soft, porridge-like consistency. Use a 2:1 or 3:1 water-to-bean ratio, depending on how thick you want the final result.

Traditional Moth Bean Dishes

In India, moth beans need no introduction. They’re the backbone of some of the most iconic comfort foods, including:

  • Matki Chi Usal: A spicy, sprouted bean stir fry tempered with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and a generous amount of goda masala.
  • Misal Pav: Perhaps the most famous use, this is a spicy sprout curry topped with farsan (crunchy snack mix), onions, and lime, served with buttery rolls.
  • Moth Dal: A simple, comforting stew tempered with cumin, ginger, and green chilies.
  • Moth Kachori: Tucked away inside flaky, fried pastries, the beans are seasoned and mashed into a coarse paste, providing a hearty, savory center that balances the buttery crunch of the crust.

Having a Ball with Moth Beans

While I’ll always carry a torch for the classics, I can’t keep away from a good pun, especially if it leads to even better food. I’ve never once in my life used moth balls, but I had to try my hands at making them from scratch… That is, moth bean meatballs.

If the name turns heads and grabs your attention, then that’s the point. How enticing does a “bean ball” sound in the first place? Might as well play up the weird and wonderful branding nature already provided. Rest assured, these savory spheres won’t make your kitchen smell like a nursing home. Instead, these vegan meatballs capitalize on that signature nutty umami, accentuated by sun-dried tomatoes and nutritional yeast. Seared, baked, or air fried, they’re sturdy enough to withstand a wave of marinara without dissolving into an accidental, extra-chunky ragu.

Fly Straight to Moth Beans

They may take a bit more effort to source in the US than the usual garbanzo, pinto, or kidney bean, which only adds to the appeal, if you ask me. Moth beans are special, to be celebrated and respected. Even without such an arresting name in English, moth beans warrant your attention, and intrigue. Give them a chance; your first taste of moth beans may just make your heart flutter.

Continue reading “Like A Moth To The Flame”