Ancient Grains for Modern Meals - Maria Speck [78]
I understood early on that my sensitive nose served me best in my favorite pastime, cooking and baking. Otherwise I never paid much attention to it; after all, I was used to my “super-nose.” That all changed a few years ago, when I read an enchanting story by Monica Bhide in the Washington Post. In it she describes never being allowed to taste food while cooking for her Hindu family. In fact, she learned to add the correct amount of spices just by sight and smell. The reason: her grandmother insisted that the first serving of food be reserved for the gods—in this case via the revered street cows, for whom a plate of freshly cooked food was left outside the house each night. While I was raised not as a Hindu but by a Greek Orthodox mother and a Catholic German dad, I realized that I don’t taste the food I cook either! I almost never take a spoonful of this, or a bite of that. Instead, I navigate through all my cooking with my nose on top of the stove. And until that instant, I had been completely unaware of this curious habit.
The effect of cooking by scent is twofold: by inhaling the potent aromas a dish releases, I am almost always able to tell what’s missing—except salt, that is. I know when dinner needs a dash more cayenne or a hint of cumin. I smell when the mussels could benefit from a tad more wine, or a handful of fresh tomatoes to balance their rich sauce. Most of all, though, I relish the unintended effect of cooking with my nose: instant relaxation. As meat or fish, herbs and spices, vegetables and grains meld their many aromas, they build a castle of steam so rich and powerful that it bolts me in place when I open the lid of my pot. Breathing in the perfect blend of spices, the addictive fragrance of caramelized onions, the enticing marriage of carrots and tomatoes in a wine-braised lamb stew is rewarding, before I taste a single spoonful. It is then that I can feel the weight of my workday falling off, my body’s tense muscles unwinding, and the stress of the day waning.
And when baking, it is my nose, not the timer, that reports the exact moment when biscotti turn golden, that informs me of the instant to check on the Tangerine-Lavender Coffee Cake, that tells me the almonds are toasted just right. No need to wait for the timer to go off. No need to gauge by eyesight. My nose is almost always right. The only lesson I had to learn: when the sublime aroma of butter cookies reaches my nostrils, run. Stay put just a few more moments, and the long-awaited sweets will be beyond repair.
GRAIN BURGER BASICS
Nothing beats grain cakes and burgers when you have leftover grain from last night’s dinner. Instead of reheating the grain, which can be oh-so-boring, use it to create a flavorful new centerpiece of a meal, or make it into an innovative side—this is how grain cakes were invented in the first place. The recipes in this chapter are meant to inspire you and generally work best when you use leftover grain, or cook the grain the night before. Before long, you will come up with your own creations.
If you are not familiar with making whole grain cakes and burgers, give yourself a break if they don’t turn out perfect the first time around. As with all cooking, it does take a bit of practice to form a grain burger