smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings and black beans

smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com

After my trips to Paris and Oaxaca, arriving home in the middle of our depressing political situation and abysmal Seattle weather had me in a proper funk.

The kind of funk that leaves you struggling to get out of bed in the morning. A funk that makes eating cookies for breakfast, lunch and dinner sound like a good idea. The sort of funk that requires spending as much time as possible in stretchy clothing (preferably pyjamas) in order to avoid feeling bad about all those cookies you ate.

smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com
smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com

But the good news is I think I’m finally emerging from this tailspin. 

Beau once told me about a Kanye interview in which Mr. West declared his personal mantra: “My life is dope and I only do dope things.” Now, when I find myself feeling small or like an impostor or afraid to pursue my dreams, I try to channel Kanye’s manifesto of personal awesomeness. 

smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com
smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com
smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com

To that end, I have started taking better care of myself again. I’m wearing grown-up clothes with zippers and buttons instead of lycra and spandex. I have replaced cookies with home-cooked meals. I’ve booked tickets to go see my best friend and her kidlets in Wichita and to spend some time under the California sun. I’m planning some fun travel around my Paris workshop in May (Hello, Scotland!). I’m organizing volunteers and testing recipes for next week’s Love Trumps Hate fundraising dinner. 

smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com

Earlier this week, I wanted to go back to bed and sleep until summertime. Today, I managed to shop for, test and shoot this Smoky Tomato Broth with Masa Dumplings and Black Beans. So things are looking up!

Hoping things are looking bright for you this weekend and sending you a reminder that your life is dope and you should only do dope things!

XO,

Olaiya


Smoky Tomato Broth with Masa Dumplings and Black Beans

 

  • 1/2 cup dried black beans, soaked and cooked (or 1 can black beans)
  • 1 large onion
  • 4 dried smoked serranos (or other smoky dried chiles)
  • 2 teaspoons whole cumin seed
  • 2 tablespoons neutral tasting high-heat oil (I used avocado oil), plus additional for frying the dumplings
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • 3 avocado leaves or 2 bay leaves
  • 1 stick canela (Mexican cinnamon, also known as Ceylon or true cinnamon)
  • 1 28-oz can whole peeled tomatoes or diced tomatoes
  • 2 tablespoons Mexican chocolate or cocoa powder
  • 3-4 cups bean cooking liquid or vegetable or chicken stock (preferably homemade)
  • Salt, to taste
  • Piloncillo or brown sugar, to taste
  • 1 cup instant masa harina
  • 1 thinly sliced avocado, to serve
  • ½ cup crumbled queso fresco (or mild feta), to serve
  • ¼ cup cilantro leaves, to serve

*Notes: Home cooked beans are best in this recipe but canned will work in a pinch. 

– I recommend searching out the specialty Mexican ingredients in this recipe if you can. If there’s a Mexican tienda near you, you’ll likely be able to find them there. If not, you can order on-line. I get it if you don’t want to track them all down, but this soup is so much more wonderful and subtle with these ingredients instead of substitutes.

– For the masa dumplings, called chochoyotes, you can fry them as I call for in this recipe or you can cook them in your soup for 10-15 minutes until they’re cooked through. I like the crunch of the fried chochoyotes to add some textural variance, but they’re delicious both ways.

– The broth tastes even better the next day, so make it a day in advance if you have time. The dumplings should be made just before serving.

– I wanted to keep this recipe vegan- and vegetarian-friendly, but you can use lard instead of oil if you want. You can also add a tablespoon of lard to the dumpling dough to make your dumplings a bit more tender. If you have access to the lard left over from making chicharrones, a) you are a very lucky person and b) you should use that.

– To turn this soup into a heartier meal, you can add a poached egg or two or some shredded cooked chicken or pork.

smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com

Soup prep
If you’ve cooked your own beans, let them cool in their cooking water then remove them with a slotted spoon (dumping them into a colander while they’re hot leads to smooshed beans). Be sure to reserve the cooking liquid. If you’re using canned, drain and rinse them before using. Set aside.

Preheat your broiler and line a sheet pan with foil. Peel your onion. Leave the root end intact but trim the hairs down. Slice the onion in half through the root end then slice each half into sixths, so that each section has a little bit of the root holding it together. Place the onion, cut-side-down on your sheet pan and broil until the onion is nice and charred (but not burnt to a crisp). Flip and cook until the other side looks the same then remove from the oven and set aside to cool. (You can do this on a grill heated to high if you prefer.)

Place the smoked serranos in a heatproof bowl and cover with 2 cups of boiling water. Set aside for at least 30 minutes to soften. Do not discard the soaking liquid.

Toast the cumin seeds in a heavy pan over medium-low heat until fragrant and a shade or two darker. Set aside to cool before grinding them in a spice grinder. Set ground cumin aside. 


To make the soup
When the onions have cooled enough to be handled, roughly dice them, discarding the root ends. Dice enough of the soaked chiles to yield 2 teaspoons (discard the seeds unless you LOVE super spicy food). Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a heavy-bottomed stock pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the diced onion, garlic, avocado leaves and 2 teaspoons of the diced chiles. Cook until the onions and garlic have softened, about 5 minutes) then add the canela and ground cumin. Cook for 1 minute, stirring often. 

Add the tomatoes with their juice, Mexican chocolate or cocoa powder, 3 cups of the bean cooking liquid or stock, ½ cup of the chile soaking liquid and a generous pinch of salt. If you want more spice, add more of the chile soaking water and/or diced chiles. Add piloncillo or brown sugar to taste–you want just enough to balance out the acid in the tomatoes and any bitterness from the chocolate. Bring to the boil over high heat then reduce heat to low and cook, covered, at a bare simmer for 30-40 minutes. 

While the soup is simmering, make the chochoyote (dumpling) dough. In a medium bowl, mix the masa harina, a generous pinch of salt and ½ cup plus 3 tablespoons hot water. Knead until pliable and smooth, about a minute. Form the dough into a ball, wrap tightly with plastic wrap and rest for 30 minutes.

When the broth is done, carefully strain it through a sieve, pressing on the solids to extract as much liquid as possible. If your broth is thicker than you’d like, add a bit more bean liquid, stock or water to thin it. Taste and adjust seasonings. Return to the pot, add the beans, and keep warm while you make the chochoyotes.

Pour high-heat vegetable oil to a depth of 1 ½ inches in a small saucepan. Heat over medium heat to around 325°F. While the oil is heating, cut the dough into quarters and roll each quarter into a log roughly 1-inch thick. Use a knife or bench scraper to cut the log into 1-inch pieces. Roll a piece of dough into a ball then place on your work surface and use your finger to make a deep indentation in the ball. Repeat with the rest of the dough. 

Add some of the dumplings to the hot oil, taking care not to crowd the pan. Fry, turning once, until golden brown, about 4 minutes. Transfer cooked chochoyotes to a paper towel lined plate and salt generously. Repeat with the rest of the dumplings.

Ladle the hot soup into serving bowls. Add a few of the chochoyotes and garnish with avocado, queso fresco and cilantro. Serve immediately.

Makes 4-6 servings.

smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings || millys-kitchen.com

pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette

pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com

We’ve been in our house for a little over a year now. I’ve walked the streets of our new neighborhood dozens–maybe even hundreds–of times since we moved in. So I thought I had a pretty decent handle on the highlights of this little corner of Seattle.

Earlier this week, however, I learned that I had been overlooking one of the hidden culinary treasures of the city: the Discoteca los 3 Reyes.

This is not, as the name might suggest, a Latin nightclub, but rather a little grocery store jam-packed with every sort of Mexican ingredient your heart could desire. They stock the more familiar offerings: hot sauce and canned beans and spice packets for taco meat. But also corn husks for tamales, hibiscus flowers, dozens of chiles and fat kernels of Mexican corn ready to be ground into masa harina. They have piloncillo and Mexican cinnamon and dried avocado leaves. In short, they carry everything I need to get my Oaxaca food fix on.

pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com
pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com

Naturally, I filled my shopping bag with tons of ingredients I don’t entirely know how to use (what do you do with yerba santa anyway?) and over the next couple weeks I’ll be testing recipes for my upcoming Oaxaca-inspired dinner–and just for fun. I’ll be posting my successes here.

Today’s experiment was a Pineapple and Jicama Salad with Chile-Lime Vinaigrette and I’m calling it a success. This dish was inspired by a salad we had as part of our photography workshop in Oaxaca. As well as by all the chile-dusted tropical fruit sold in the streets of the city. It treads a thin line between savory and sweet and has some crunchy toasted peanuts and fresh herbs thrown in to round things out. 

pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com
pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com

Beau and I devoured a plate of this for lunch alongside some jalapeño eggs. Then we started dreaming up other ways to eat it in the coming weeks: as a salsa on top of a nicely charred steak, as a bed for roasted halibut, with yogurt and toasted coconut. Beau even thinks you could get away with adding a scoop of sorbet or ice cream. (Of course, he thinks you can improve a lot of things with a scoop of ice cream, so I’ll have to let you know about that one.)

However you decide to serve this salad, I hope you enjoy it. I’ll be back soon with more dispatches from the Discoteca los 3 Reyes and more Oaxaca-inspired kitchen experiments.


Pineapple and Jicama Salad with Chile-Lime Vinaigrette

 

  • 2 oranges, (I used cara caras)
  • 1 ripe pineapple, peeled, halved lenghtwise and thinly sliced
  • 1 cup peeled and julienned jicama
  • 3 dried arbol chiles (or to taste)
  • 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
  • 2 teaspoons honey
  • 1/4 cup neutral-tasting oil (I used avocado oil)
  • 1/4 cup roasted peanuts, roughly chopped
  • Salt, to taste
  • 6 radishes, very thinly sliced
  • 1 tablespoon roughly chopped mint, plus a few leaves for garnish
  • 1 tablespoon roughly chopped cilantro, plus a few leaves for garnish

*Notes: This salad is fairly spicy. If you don’t like spice, either cut back on the arbol chile or use a milder chile.

– I think this salad would also be delicious topped with crumbled queso fresco.

pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com

Using a sharp knife, slice the peel and pith from the oranges. Carefully slice them into 1/4-inch rounds and then cut each round into sixths (you’ll have six little triangles for each slice). Arrange the sliced pineapple, oranges and jicama on a serving platter. 

De-stem the chiles and place them in a spice grinder. Process into fine flakes. Place the chiles in a medium bowl along with the lime juice, honey, oil, peanuts and chopped herbs. Stir to combine then add salt to taste (you want it to be a bit on the salty side). 

Pour the vinaigrette over the pineapple, oranges and jicama. Scatter the radishes and reserved herb leaves over the salad and serve.

Makes 6-8 side dish servings.

pineapple and jicama salad with chile-lime vinaigrette | millys-kitchen.com

roasted grape clafoutis

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

I’ve been thinking about alchemy a lot lately. Not the quest to turn lead into gold, but the type of magic that unfolds in the kitchen–the transformation of pantry staples into something transcendent.

I became somewhat obsessed with the idea of kitchen sorcery while developing the recipe for this roasted grape clafoutis. Like a soufflé or a a Dutch baby, a clafoutis feels like an impressive magic trick. You whisk together a few mundane ingredients (flour, sugar, eggs, milk), drop in a handful of fruit and slide your batter in the oven. Less than an hour later, you’ve got a puffed, sugar-crusted pillow of cakey, custardy deliciousness.

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

This clafoutis is based on a version my friend Rachael made during our Paris culinary retreat. Now Rachael is a talented pastry chef, so I was prepared for her clafoutis to be delicious (which it was). What I wasn’t prepared for were the the memories each bite unleashed.

Suddenly, I was 19 again, accompanying my mother on a work trip to France. Thrilled to be  abroad for the first time, I was in awe of everything: The Eiffel Tower! The Arc de Triomphe! Croissants! People actually smoking Gauloise cigarettes like they do in old French movies!!!

Near Alsace, we stopped for lunch at an unassuming restaurant with a hand-painted sign. The menu was classic French: steak au poivre, blanquette de veau, coq au vin. For dessert, there was something called clafoutis. I had zero idea what clafoutis was, but it sounded sexy and French so I ordered it.

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

When my dessert arrived, the unpitted cherries and hint of kirsch confirmed its continental sophistication in my mind. Sitting in a French restaurant eating what I thought was a refined dish, I felt grown-up. Wordly even. Miles from the Midwestern girl raised on Kraft Mac and Cheese and Eggo waffles. 

That clafoutis was proof that marvelous things existed. Sophisticated, delicious things. Things I wanted to be part of. 

Memories of that trip tumbled back with every bite of Rachael’s clafoutis: Our tiny rented car. Getting lost on winding country roads. The inevitable mother-daughter squabbles. The thrill of discovering steak-frites and being allowed to drink wine before my 21st birthday.

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

Amazement, too. That I had managed to wind my way back, however circuitously, to this country I love. I was shocked to realize how many of the twists and turns my life has taken were rooted in that trip: my French-Studies major, working in the department of French Painting at the Met, four years in Brussels pursuing a master’s degree in French history, working in a French restaurant in Seattle. 

And now, two decades after that first revelatory bite of clafoutis, I find myself leading culinary tours to Paris, sharing a love of all things French sparked half a lifetime ago. This feels magical, too. As though my 19-year-old self willed this life into being. Like I planted a piece of my heart in France and I’ve been returning ever since in order to feel whole again. 

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

Thoughts of that clafoutis stayed with me when I got home. When I started working on my own version, I wanted the results to feel like the transformation it embodied: a dessert that goes in the oven a simple custard and emerges miraculously golden and souffléd under a crackled sugar crust. Add to that the rum-raisin notes conjured up by roasting grapes with a splash of dark spirits and you’ll see why this dish tastes like magic. Served with a dollop of tart crème fraîche, it’s far grander than the sum of its parts.

It’s funny how all this nostalgia and serendipity got rolled into one roasted grape clafoutis. But it’s fitting, too, that this particular dish reminds me of how each time I come back to Paris I’m transformed into my truest and lightest self–through some mysterious alchemy of the soul.


Roasted Grape Clafoutis

 

  • 1 lb grapes, washed and dried
  • 1 tablespoon butter, plus extra for the pan
  • 2 tablespoons dark rum, divided
  • 2 tablespoons water
  • ¾ cup + 2 tablespoons sugar, divided, plus extra for the pan
  • 1 tablespoon freshly-squeezed lemon juice
  • ¾ cup all-purpose flour
  • Pinch salt
  • 7 large eggs, at room temperature
  • 1 ⅓ cup heavy cream
  • ⅛ teaspoon almond extract
  • 1 ½ cups crème fraîche, to serve

*Notes: I recommend a sweet-tart variety of grapes for this recipe. The first time I made it, my grapes were too sweet and the finished result was cloying. If you can’t find grapes with a little sour zing, add a bit more lemon juice to balance them.

– Having your eggs at room temperature allows the clafoutis to puff higher. If you forget to pull them in advance, just pop you eggs in a bowl of hot tap water and let them sit for 15 minutes or so before using them.

– Traditionally, this French dessert is made with cherries. But one of the best things about a clafoutis is that it’s supremely adaptable. In addition to cherries and roasted grapes, it’s lovely with pitted and sliced stone fruit such as plums, peaches, nectarines and apricots. A few handfuls of fresh berries work well in spring and summer. Apples or pears sauteed in butter with a splash of calvados, brandy or pear au de vie are perfect for making this dish in the winter months.

– Whatever you do, don’t skip the crème fraîche; you want that hit of tanginess to balance the sweet grapes.

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

Preheat the oven to 450° F with a rack in the center of the oven. Place the grapes (on the stem or not) on a parchment-lined rimmed sheet pan. Melt 1 tablespoon of butter in a small pan or in the microwave and pour it over the grapes. Sprinkle them with 1 tablespoon of the rum, 2 tablespoons of water and 1 tablespoon of the sugar. Roast until the grapes have softened slightly (their skins will shrivel a little bit) and the sugar has caramelized, about 20 minutes. Pour the lemon juice over the grapes as soon as you remove them from the oven to deglaze the pan. Set aside to cool slightly. Reduce the oven temperature to 375° F

While the grapes are cooling, generously butter a baking pan and coat it with sugar. (Mine was 8″ x 11″.) Invert the pan and tap out any excess sugar. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, ½ cup + 2 tablespoons of the sugar and the salt. Add the eggs and whisk until the mixture is smooth. This takes a minute–if the batter looks lumpy, just keep whisking until it evens out. Whisk in the cream, almond extract and remaining tablespoon of rum.

roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com
roasted grape clafoutis on millys-kitchen.com

Arrange the grapes over the bottom of the prepared pan. Use a wooden spoon or spatula to scrape any juices from the sheet pan over the grapes. Pour the batter over the grapes. Sprinkle the remaining 3 tablespoons of sugar evenly over the top of the clafoutis and carefully place it in the oven. 

Bake until the clafoutis is puffed, golden-brown at the edges and just set in the center, 30-35 minutes. Remove from the oven and set aside to cool slightly before serving. The clafoutis will deflate as it cools. While it is still warm, cut the clafoutis into slices and serve topped with crème fraîche.

Makes 6-8 servings.

Recipe adapted from Rachael Coyle of Coyle’s Bakeshop