There are a lot of things I love about curry -- and that might be because there are so very many different kinds of curry. There are red curries and green curries; there are spicy curries and fruity curries; thick curries and thin curries. Each one has its place (and each one should also have its place in your recipe box).
As of Wednesday at 4:00 P.M., I was still losing the War of the Chickpeas. My refrigerator still bursting with humus (I'm reluctant to call this a battle won, as I believe I'll be eating humus FOREVER), I realized that if I didn't do something, immediately, with the remaining cooked chickpeas still floating around on the back shelf of the fridge, I would lose them (and the Chickpea War) forever. It was time to bring in the big guns: it was time to go curry crazy.
The greatest thing about curry is that the longer you leave it sitting around, the better. And the greatest thing about currying chick peas is that it makes them taste like something. (I'll be the first to admit that chickpeas are pretty low on the flavor spectrum -- which makes them the perfect base for so many adventurous creations.) These chickpeas would taste nothing like the humus I'd made, and I could return them, newly-curried, to the back shelf of the refrigerator with a clear conscience: they'd be even better in a few days.
I began with 3 cups of chickpeas, already cooked. (You can use canned chickpeas if you wish.) I put them into a small pot -- you won't be adding tons of liquid, but you'll want the pot to allow room for stirring. Most importantly, if possible, your pot should be nonstick. If you only have a nonstick skillet, use it (as long as you can cover it). You'll ruin your curry if all of the spices start burning and sticking to the bottom of the pot.
I added only 50 mL of coconut milk -- this time, I did use a full-fat version, as I find that it makes a much better middle-man between the peas and the spices. (But in general, you can replace the whole-fat coconut milk in most recipes for the low-fat version without sacrificing taste.) I added a tablespoon of good olive oil (as in the humus recipe, you're using the oil here for flavor, not just for frying -- so make sure it's high-quality).The exact spices are now up to you. And I'll admit that my chickpeas are never the same twice (but I'd argue that no curry is exactly the same twice). On Wednesday, I was limited to the spices I could find in my pantry. In general, I like to use some pretty bold spices -- when paired with the coconut milk base, even the spiciest of spices will lose (some of) its evil edge.
I crushed 1.5 tsp of whole cloves, 2 tsp of whole coriander seeds, and 1 tsp of whole black peppercorns together with a mortar and pestle. (You're welcome to use all of these spices already ground.) I added them to my pot, along with 2 tsp of hot curry powder, 1/2 tsp of smoked paprika, 1 bay leaf*, and a small pinch of salt (really, really, a very small pinch). I added a medium white onion and a clove of garlic, diced.
*Remember to remove the bay leaf at the end -- they aren't edible.
And then things got hot -- I happened to have at my disposal two dried Thai chili peppers. I crushed them into my curry, seeds and all.
If you don't have a stash of dried peppers, that's okay. I usually don't either. In place of the dried peppers, you can use 1/2 tsp of chili powder. I like to also add 1/2 tsp of smoked chili powder -- the smoked chili powder will give the entire curry a deep, rustic, hearty flavor with a little bit of sweetness. Adding 1/4 tsp of (crushed) red pepper flakes will take it up one more notch.
Finally, I add half a lime, cut into slices. Just throw the slices in there. Really, trust me, just do it. You'll get the bitterness of the rind and the tangy juice.
Cover the chickpeas and allow them to simmer until the coconut milk and spices have formed a sort of paste that clings to the peas (about 45 minutes).
When prepping a curry, like a cheesecake, I say that patience is a virtue: you should make the curried chickpeas at least a day (preferably two) before you actually want to eat them. While the flavors will certainly blend together during the cooking process, you won't believe how incredible they'll taste after a little vacation in your refrigerator. I like to eat these peas on their own as an appetizer, in a pita pocket with salad and tomatoes, or with basmati rice.
01 February 2013.
Worth the Wait: Curry night.
Last night, I finally got reacquainted with those curried chickpeas. And maybe it was the anticipation, and maybe all things are dimmed in the distance of memory's haze, but those peas were even better than I remembered them.
I made a small pot of rice, seasoned with a generous pinch of salt and saffron (saffron is, admittedly, expensive -- but making the investment is worth it). To turn the curried chickpeas back into a curry-proper, I added a splash of coconut milk and about 1/2-3/4 cup of water.
While grocery shopping this week, I came across one of my all-time favorites -- I couldn't believe my good fortune, for there, in my local grocery store, was a bunch of carrots with the greens still attached. If you don't yet know the sweet delicious chewy delight of cooked carrot greens, I would encourage you to start looking out at the Farmer's Market or your whole foods store. When you find them, you can chop them up and cook them immediately (as you would a bunch of spinach); this week, I hung mine over the sink and dried them. (They'll "bounce back" when you cook them in liquid, but the flavor will have deepened and intensified a bit thanks to the drying process.)Thus for a touch of green, I added the dried carrot greens to the curry along with a chopped green onion. I also threw in two Roma tomatoes, chopped into bite-sized pieces.
We enjoyed our curry with a little bit of freshly-chopped basil. A feast for the eyes and tastebuds -- good things really do come to those who wait.
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