smoky tomato broth with masa dumplings and black beans

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.

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. 

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. 

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

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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.

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.

home away from home soup

Today has been one of those rare perfect days. 

I’m writing this from a picnic table in front of an old stone farmhouse in the Portuguese countryside. There’s a flawless blue sky overhead and a lazy breeze rocking the eucalyptus trees nearby. This morning, Beau and I walked to the beach where we watched the comings and goings of a flock of seagulls and listened to the waves roar in.

Later, we hopped in our rented station wagon and bobbed over country roads flanked by groves of cork oak trees. Our destination: a little restaurant housed in an old schoolhouse where we ordered a pile of fried fish and a bottle of crisp vinho verde to wash them down. Back at our guesthouse, I spent the afternoon lazing by the pool reading magazines and floating in and out of a delicious sleep. 

It’s days like today that keep me yearning to travel. To discover more serene beaches and locals-only restaurants nestled along country roads. 

But of course, travel is not always as idyllic as this sun-kissed day in the Portuguese countryside. I’ve been on the road for over three weeks now and it’s had its inevitable ups and downs. In Paris, I led a culinary tour with my friend Rachael that was fantastic. And exhilarating. And a lot of work. Navigating a group of ten through Paris traffic is not exactly a walk in the park. And pinning down tour logistics with the maddeningly noncommittal French has it’s own set of unique challenges. 

As soon as the tour ended, Beau and I headed to Porto and Lisbon to explore, see friends and do research for my next Portugal tour. Until today, this trip has been a whirlwind of seeing and doing and eating and trekking through different cities. Somewhere along the way, I started to feel pretty frazzled. There’s something about being away from the rituals of home, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed, eating strange foods, navigating foreign languages, that leaves me a little unmoored. A few days after we arrived in Portugal, I started waking up in the middle of the night feeling disoriented and anxious and longing to book the next flight home.

Luckily, I know what to do when I feel the travel blues coming on. I make this soup.

It is decidedly un-fancy. A few humble vegetables cooked together in a bit of water to make a savory broth with some chicken and/or sausage thrown in for good measure. It’s restorative powers lie in this simplicity. After days (or weeks) of rich fare and exotic ingredients, it’s exactly what I want to eat.

I first made this soup a couple years ago while staying at an Airbnb rental in Paris. I’d just finished leading a culinary tour and couldn’t imagine eating one more eclair or croissant or charcuterie plate. I stopped in at the corner market beneath my apartment and threw this together with what I found there. A bowl of this simple, homey soup cured my malaise. Now it’s my go-to remedy when I’m traveling and feeling out of sorts. 

Of course, you don’t need to be in a foreign country or fed up with French food to enjoy this soup. It will right your ship on a grey fall day or chill winter night. For me, this home-away-from-home soup (as I like to think of it) is a touchstone of sorts. A small ritual that anchors me when everything around me feels foreign. A brothy comfort that restores body and soul as only a warm bowl of homemade soup can.

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Home Away From Home Soup with Cabbage, Kuri Squash, Linguiça and Chicken

• 2 tablespoons good quality extra virgin olive oil + additional for drizzling
• 1 medium leek, white and pale green part only, halved lengthwise then sliced into half moons
• Sea salt
• ½ medium head savoy or green cabbage, cored and cut into 1-inch ribbons
• 1 medium kuri or kabocha squash, seeded and cut into bite-sized pieces (no need to peel)
• 2-3 small turnips, tops and tails removed and cut into ½-inch thick wedges
• 6 medium tomatoes or 1 28-oz can peeled tomatoes (drained), roughly chopped
• 6 oz linguiça or Portuguese-style cured chorizo, sliced into ¼-inch thick rounds
• 1 red pepper, seeded and cut into 1-inch pieces
• 1 medium zucchini, halved lengthwise then sliced into half moons
• 2 cups leftover roasted chicken

*Note: Pretty much everything in this soup is optional or adaptable. If you don’t have a leek, use a small onion. If you don’t like cabbage, use kale or another green you prefer. Sub potatoes for turnips if you want. Leave out the chicken and sausage (and maybe add a small handful of green lentils) for a vegan version. The version here is the one I first made and the one I always come back to. But feel free to experiment and make this soup your own.

– This was the first time I added sausage to the soup. In the past I’ve always made it with chicken. But since we’re in Portugal, I threw in some sliced linguiça we had in the fridge. I think the smokiness of the sausage adds delicious depth of flavor the soup. 

Heat the olive oil in a heavy-bottomed stock pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the leek and a sprinkle of salt and cook for a few minutes until the leek is starting to get soft. Add the cabbage, squash, turnips, tomatoes and sausage along with 4 cups of water. Salt to taste. Bring to the boil over high heat then reduce heat and simmer until the vegetables are almost tender. Add the red pepper and zucchini and cook for another 10 minutes or so. 

Add another cup or two of water if you like your soup on the brothy side like I do. Taste and add more salt if necessary. Continue to cook the soup until the vegetables are as tender as you like them. Sometimes I like them tender-crisp (this yields a prettier soup) and sometimes I like them super-soft (which is not as bright in color, but more comforting somehow).

Serve soup hot with a nice drizzle of olive oil over the top.

Makes 4-6 servings.

green bean, tomato and corn salad with serrano vinaigrette

There’s a flood of summer produce at the farmers markets this week: peaches, heirloom tomatoes, sweet corn, zucchini of every stripe and color! It’s the arrival of the corn and tomatoes though that signals the peak of summer for me; I grew up in corn country and summer dinners often involved corn on the cob served with a thick pat of butter and salted slabs of tomato from my grandma’s garden.

For all the market treasures they bring, these high summer days also breed a certain anxiety in me. So glorious and so fleeting, the month of August kicks my garden variety FOMO into high gear. What if I don’t make bbq ribs? Or see an outdoor movie?! Or go on a picnic?!? I haven’t taken a single swim all season and time is running out!!!

Of course, I realize that part of this is simply a reaction to the stress of being an adult with adult responsibilities. (Hello, mortgage!) And part of it is my own unique strain of anxiety. But a good part of this impulse to maximize summer fun comes from the child-like spirit buried (more or less deeply) within us all. 

The rational part of me says I should spend my days in front of my camera/computer/phone/stove developing recipes, shooting for the blog and working on the logistics for my next culinary retreat. The 6-year-old version of me wants to go barefoot all day and eat ice cream cones that drip down my arm in the heat and spend hours splashing around at the pool. 

As much as I sometimes want to ignore that 6-year-old version of me, I think it’s important to be reminded that summer only comes once a year and that play is an essential part of creativity and yes, even productivity.

So this week I have a recipe that features my favorite summer produce and is so easy to make it will leave you plenty of time for summer frolicking.

Which is precisely what I intend to do over the next four weeks. This Saturday I’m hosting a pop-up dinner with my friend Kyle (which is essentially a glorified backyard barbeque). Beau and I just booked a spur-of-the-moment glamping weekend on a farm outside Seattle. The week after that, I’ll be camping with my momma on Orcas Island. In between, I plan on taking a dip in Lake Washington, eating ice-cold slices of watermelon, working on my nap game, finishing another novel and dreaming up a super-sexy popsicle flavor combination for hot days.

I’ve decided to work a little less and play a little more. Which is what the month of August, with all it’s sweet produce and bright sunshine was made for.

I think the 6-year-old me would approve.

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Green Bean, Tomato and Corn Salad with Serrano Vinaigrette

• 1 lb tender green beans, stemmed
• Kosher or sea salt, to taste
• 2 ears sweet corn, shucked
• 1 cup cherry tomatoes
• 2 tablespoons lime juice
• 2 tablespoons champagne or white wine vinegar
• 1/4 cup finely minced shallot
• 1/2 teaspoon chopped fresh thyme
• 1/2 cup olive oil
• 1 serrano chile (or to taste), very thinly sliced
• 1/4 cup chopped or sliced basil, cilantro or mint (or a mix)
• 1/4 cup feta cheese, crumbled (optional)

*Notes: Having grown up in corn country, I am admittedly something of a corn snob. But please, please, please use the freshest, sweetest corn you can find for this recipe. It makes all the difference. Corn starts converting its sugars to starch as soon as it’s picked, so freshness is key. I try to buy corn at the farmers market that was picked that morning (ask your farmer). I also don’t hesitate to pull back the husk and silk to see how fresh the corn is. You want tight, shiny kernels with no mushy or brown spots. I sometimes even pop a kernel off the cob and taste it to see how sweet the corn is. 

– The green beans and corn can be prepared a day in advance. 

– The vinaigrette will keep, covered and refrigerated for a day or so. It will keep a few days longer if you don’t add the serranos until you dress the salad.

Bring a large pot of generously salted water to the boil. While the water is heating, prepare an ice bath by filling a large bowl with ice and water. 
 
When the water comes to the boil, add the green beans and cook until crisp-tender. (The precise time will vary depending on the size of your beans.) Remove the beans from the water with tongs or a slotted spoons and transfer to the ice bath. When beans are completely cooled, remove them from the ice bath and lay them out on a a kitchen towel to dry.

While the beans are cooking, cut the corn from the cobs and set aside. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half and set aside.

To make the vinaigrette, combine the lime juice, vinegar, shallot, thyme and a generous pinch of salt in a medium bowl. Gradually whisk in the olive oil. Add the serrano; taste and adjust seasonings as necessary.

To assemble the salad, combine the green beans, corn, tomatoes and half the remaining herbs in a large bowl. Dress with the vinaigrette to taste. Transfer to a serving platter and top with the rest of the herbs and the feta (if using). 

Makes 4-6 servings.

Vinaigrette recipe adapted from Hugh Acheson