Monastery Bean Soup - one of my Most Favorites

I reserve the last post of the year for one of my most favorite recipes.  Today's is one that I have made since the early 1990s:  Monastery Bean Soup.  I like it because it is different from most bean soups in that it is more brothy, very garlicky, and rich on the tongue.

I have no idea why it is called "Monastery".  I can only speculate and will probably be completely wrong.  This makes me laugh!

In 1993, my mom's side of the family organized a big reunion in Branson, Missouri. Many of us decided to contribute something memorable to the event, like performing skits, singing songs, telling family stories, and more.  I chose to gather family recipes and create a cookbook, and I put this soup recipe into it as part of my contribution.  I was able to assemble and print the entire thing before we gathered, and was happy to be able to hand out copies to everyone who wanted one.  Now, nearly 30 years later, it is fun and touching to read it over.  I think of that good time and of the really nice people in my family.

It is fitting to include this recipe in my most favorites list.  

Monastery Bean Soup

3/4 cup dried navy beans, soaked in hot water for 2 hours or in cold water overnight

6 cups broth (I actually prefer 8 to 12)

1 cup onion, coarsely chopped

1 1/2 cup diced carrots

1 seeded and diced yellow pepper

5 cloves of garlic, finely chopped (or more!)

1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds

1/2 cup chopped tomatoes

1 tablespoon soy sauce

garnish with croutons, red wine vinegar, plain yogurt

The broth is in the saucepan.

Drain beans, then add the broth and simmer for 25 minutes.

Meanwhile, sauté the onions and carrots in a little olive oil until the carrots are tender and the onions are limp and clear.  Add pepper, garlic, and caraway.  Cook 1 minute more.

Add a ladle of bean liquid to the onion mixture and stir.  Add onion mixture to the beans.

Simmer, covered, until beans are tender, about 20 minutes.  Thicken the soup a little by crushing some of the beans with a wooden spoon or potato masher.

Add tomatoes and soy sauce and cook 5 minutes more.

At the table, add croutons to the individual bowls, pour on soup, and add a splash of vinegar or a spoonful of yogurt.

My Notes

Today I soaked the beans in water that I heated on the stove until it was steaming.  Once it was hot I put the beans in, turned off the heat, put the lid on the pot, and let them stand for 2 hours.

Then I drained them and added them to the 6 cups of lovely, rich stock I had made from the Thanksgiving turkey carcass.  Once they started simmering I set the timer and got busy on the vegetables.

The broth is still jellied, so the beans sat on top.

The onions and carrots were so pretty as they cooked in the pan!  There was no rush to get them cooked and I noticed it took about 15 minutes to reach the desired level of tenderness.

Just starting.

I turned off the heat and let them wait until the bean simmer was nearly over.  Then I added the pepper, garlic, and caraway.  Now I love the garlic in this soup and I used garlic that was already chopped (from a jar).  I probably put in more than 5 cloves' worth, and I didn't mind at all.

The veggies!

It took about 30 minutes on the second simmer to get the beans tender.  Once they were ready, I added the tomatoes and soy sauce.  

Ready for the tomatoes.

I served the soup about 30 minutes after the tomatoes were added, so to avoid over cooking them, I turned the heat off as soon their five minutes was up.  Then I quickly reheated the soup to steaming just before serving.

The Verdict

How many croutons you put in the bowl is a personal choice.  They tend to soak up the broth and turn the soup into a stew, so judge accordingly.  I used seasoned croutons ("homestyle", meaning they were big) which add some extra flavor to the mix.  My guest taster and I both put a lot of croutons in!

Yum!

Our soup did turn into a stew.  We wished there was more broth, which is why I put my note in the ingredient list about using more.  Nevertheless, it was tasty, as I expected.

The dark is the balsamic drizzle.

My guest taster had never had it before and really enjoyed it.  He liked the amount of garlic, the croutons and the little crunch they added, and the flavor.  

I liked all of that as well as the fresh (not really cooked) tomatoes along with all the other vegetables.  He was surprised that the pepper was in it as he expected it to have a chile bite from it.  The yellow pepper I used is not fiery, just flavorful, and adds a different background note to the broth.

I also love the caraway in it.  Caraway is one of my favorite flavors, so I can't really go wrong here.  I think it brings the soup's flavor to a higher level.

When I put the recipe into the family cookbook, I had not yet learned about the joys of balsamic vinegar.  I was out of red wine vinegar and have a very nice aged balsamic (with a syrup-like consistency), which went very well on this soup/stew.  In the past I have also put sour cream on instead of plain yogurt.  It is all good.

This is a hearty main course dish, and made enough for 2 to 4 servings -- more if there is more broth to go around.  All we added to the meal was a good pinot noir.

Success, as always.  I hope you enjoy this personal favorite.  Think of good times and good people when you serve it.

Candied Egg Yolks

I find reading recipes from other cultures and times to be fascinating -- I love learning new techniques and new flavor combinations.  Having a sweet tooth, I also love to read and sometimes try recipes that use sugar.  This recipe from Encarnación Pinedo's book, El cocinero español, published in 1898, on page 13:

My translation:

Brilliant sugar syrup bath. 

The amount of sugar is graduated according to what you want bathe and add syrup that is clarified, letting it boil until, taking a little with your fingers, it snaps between them.  Once the syrup is cooked to its point, take the saucepan off the fire, nestle it into straw, and add almonds, cooked egg yolks or whatever you want to polish, covering the saucepan so that it cannot give the air to the syrup and so it is left until it is perfectly cold. Once cold, the rind or crust that has been formed is cut on the side of the yolks or what has been done:  this will be carefully removed, and the honey is drained well; immediately rinse them in warm water and again let drain.

It is intriguing!  I've candied nuts and peel before, but I have never thought about candying cooked egg yolks.  

I looked around the internet and discovered there is a classic Spanish recipe called "Yemas de Santa Teresa".  The recipes vary but the general technique is to make a sugar syrup flavored with lemon peel (or juice) and sometimes cinnamon, then the raw egg yolks are mixed into it.  The whole mixture is cooked lightly, cooled, and formed into balls that are sometimes rolled in powdered sugar.  It is quite popular.

So this seemed to me an adaptation of the idea, and I wanted to try it.  

The challenge is deciding what temperature is right for the sugar syrup.  The idea that the hot syrup snaps between your fingers suggests the hard crack stage (about 300 degrees F) but allowing the ingredients to soak in the syrup until everything is cold and there is syrup to drain off suggests the thread stage (about 230 - 235 degrees F).  

I chose the thread stage so as to have something to drain when the mixture is cold instead of a solid block of candy. Also, I'm not sure anyone wants to put their fingers into syrup at the hard crack stage.

My Redaction

6 hard-cooked eggs

2 cups sugar

1 cup water

*Have a candy thermometer handy, if possible.

Just add water.

Carefully peel the eggs and remove the whites.  The goal is to keep the yolks as whole and round as they can be.  Save the whites for another recipe.

Put the sugar and water into a small saucepan that has a well-fitting lid.  Stir until the sugar is dissolved.  The mixture won't be clear but you won't hear any more scraping noise from the sugar on the bottom of the pan. Turn the heat to medium.

Do not stir the mixture any more.  Watch it cook (it will boil and turn clear at about 212 degrees F) and start checking the temperature after it boils.

When the temperature of the liquid hits 232 degrees F, remove it from the heat and put it on a folded towel.  Then carefully add the yolks.  They float, so gently swirl the pan to make sure the yolks are completely coated with the syrup.

Finally, put on the lid and wrap the pan in towels.  I used two:  one under the pan that also came up and covered the lid, and one that wrapped around the sides.  I tucked the towels closely around the pan and left it to cool, undisturbed.

After letting it sit for 11 hours, I unwrapped the pot and opened the lid.

There was no crust to cut.  The syrup was very thick.  The yolks had remained floating, so the tops did not look candied.

The tops looked a little dry.

I used a slotted spoon to remove them to a colander.  They were so fragile!  I accidently tapped one with the spoon and a piece broke off.  Be very careful when fishing them out of the syrup.

Putting them in the colander was not a good choice -- the syrup was so thick that it was slow to move through the holes.  So I moved everything to a rack.

This made it easy to separate the yolks and also to pour warm water over them, letting the plate catch the pour.  I turned the yolks over after the first rinse and then poured a little more.

Shiny!  And a little damp, still.

I decided to let them sit out overnight to dry.

The Verdict

The next morning, they had lost their sheen.

I tasted one and it was -- disappointing.  

It tasted like a cooked egg yolk.  It was only vaguely sweet.  It was not interesting or different; it could have been just freshly taken from the hard-cooked egg and had a little sugar sprinkled on it.  The texture was that of a cooked egg yolk.  Honestly, I think it would have tasted better with a little salt on it.

I'm not willing to say Miss Pinedo was wrong here; I think I misjudged the syrup temperature.  My guess was based on her statements about the syrup snapping between your fingers and that the yolks had to soak in the syrup until everything was cold.  

It is not clear to me that cooking the syrup at a higher temperature would have improved the result.  The syrup did not penetrate the yolks much, as can be seen here:

The darker areas show about how far the sugar penetrated into the yolk.  I had hoped for more after it sat for so long.  Cooking the syrup to a higher temperature would not have had it penetrate so far, I suspect (but don't know).

I had also hoped for a shiny, possibly hard, shell around them, which I knew might not happen with the syrup cooked to below the hard crack stage.  I don't know why the instructions were to rinse them with warm water as it didn't seem to help at all.

Before I cleaned everything up, I decided to dunk two of the remaining three yolks into the syrup and allow them to drain and dry.

Easy to tell which two were recoated.

These were definitely improved.  The sugar coating made the creamy yolk-to-sugar ratio better, making it more like a candy than just an egg yolk.  They were shinier and also not sticky once they had some time to dry.  I wonder if dunking and drying them again would make it even better. 

I will call this a failure.  Perhaps I can learn more and improve it.  Or perhaps I will try the Yemas de Santa Teresa as a comparison.

Chicken Poached in Pyracantha Jelly (Syrup)

My attempt at pyracantha jelly (click here to see the post) ended up with syrup but that didn't bother me one bit.  Now it is time to put that syrup to work with a follow-up recipe from the same book, The Edible Ornamental Garden by John E. Bryan and Coralie Castle.

ISBN 912238-46-1

They suggest that the pyracantha flavor compliments baked sweet potatoes, cold lamb, hamburgers, hot dogs, and poultry dishes.  You know, I have some sweet potatoes growing in my garden that would be a great test for this!  Anyway, they offer a recipe on page 137 that I decided to try.

Chicken Poached in Pyracantha Jelly

Sauté in:

2 tablespoons butter and/or rendered chicken fat

1/2 cup minced onion

1 teaspoon minced garlic

Season with:

salt

freshly ground white pepper

paprika

4 large chicken legs and thighs

Place in sauté pan with:

1/4 cup rich chicken stock

Cover and simmer 10 minutes.

Add:

1/2 cup pyracantha jelly

Cover and cook, stirring to distribute the jelly and adding more stock if needed, until the chicken is almost tender.  Then add:

1 green pepper, cut in chunks

1 large onion, cut in eighths

Cover and continue cooking until vegetables are tender but still crisp.  Serve over white or brown rice, bulghur wheat or barley.

Serves 4.

Somehow I lost the picture of my ingredients, so here is my pyracantha bush.

My Notes

I used olive oil instead of butter, chicken thighs only (5 fit comfortably in the pan), and pineapple chunks because I really don't like green peppers.

I also used chicken broth from a box and ground long pepper instead of white pepper.  If you don't know long pepper, it is a lot like black pepper but with a bit of an afterburn.

My sauté was over medium low heat -- the minced onions and garlic cooked until the onions were nearly translucent.  

Before cooking

Ready for spices and chicken.

I used 1/4 teaspoon each long pepper, paprika, and salt.  They went into the onion/garlic mixture and were stirred in well before the chicken was placed on top.  Then I added the broth, covered the pan, and set the timer for 10 minutes.

Thighs on the onions and garlic, before the broth was added.

Next I took the meat out, added the syrup to the cooking broth and stirred it in.  The thighs went back into the liquid.  I put them in skin-side down to coat that surface, then turned them to skin-side up for cooking.  They simmered covered for 15 minutes.

The dark is the syrup!

Both sides coated.

Next the onion chunks and pineapple chunks went on top.  I pushed them down into the liquid as much as I could.  The cover went back on and they simmered for another 20 minutes.

Onions and pineapple added.

The Verdict

It wasn't really a meal time when this dish was ready, so my guest taster and I shared a thigh.  

Cooked!

The meat was thoroughly cooked, tender, moist, and flavorful.  The pineapple chunks were lovely with more depth of flavor than just pineapple.  The onion wasn't cooked enough for our preference -- it was crisp but not as tender as we liked, although I have to say the onion flavor was muted, so I know it wasn't raw.  

The sauce was wonderful!  Sweet but with an umami background.  The spices were just right:  there and adding a kick but not overwhelming.  My only criticism was that it was too thin for what my mouth wanted.

We gave it a rating of "success" as it was (except the onion), but then I modified it.

The meat came out of the sauce, then I simmered the sauce until the onions were cooked just right.  The onions and pineapple were removed and placed over the top of the chicken.  Then I simmered the sauce by itself to reduce it -- it turned into a thicker, darker brown sauce that smelled fruity and spicy and rich.  That was poured over the chicken.

Sauce reduced.

That was much, much better.  The onions were cooked but still a little crisp.  The sauce was more concentrated, with an onion flavor dominating but the spices and the sweet still present.  Very nicely balanced, although I think more paprika and pepper would have been acceptable.  The sauce's texture was not thick - I would probably have to add a thickener to get it so - but that didn't matter as the flavor was more intense.

The pineapple was a good choice as bell pepper substitute.  It went well with the sauce flavors and added a chewy, sweet, acid bite to the mix.

A second success!

Not everyone has access to pyracantha berries or their syrup/jelly.  What is commercially available is pomegranate molasses, which is sweet and tart and more strongly flavored than the pyracantha syrup.  I think it would be a good substitute.  Another fruit jelly, like currant or blackberry or raspberry might be good, too.  

This is an easy dish to make and tastes great.  Worthwhile serving to friends and family, and easily adapted to purchased products.

When I see the bright red berries on my pyracantha bush, I think about the first time I ever truly understood that there were different kind of birds, because I saw what I now know as a Cedar Waxwing eating the berries.  Then I realize that the berries mean that the Cedar Waxwings will arrive soon to my yard.  Sure enough, I heard their call today.  I haven't seen any yet but I know they are here.  I hope they enjoy the berries as much as I have.

Pyracantha Jelly - a long time goal

When I was a child, I fell in love with a book my parents had.  I don't know if they knew it, but it really clicked with me and I knew I wanted to try the recipes and ideas it contained.  When I was an adult, they  cleared out their excess books -- and I made sure I got this one.  

Published in 1974 (it cost $3.95!!!) and written by John E. Bryan and Coralie Castle, The Edible Ornamental Garden is an alphabetical collection of interesting and sometimes unusual garden plants.  Each entry is accompanied by a description, some botanical history, and recipes.  

ISBN 912238-46-1

The authors wrote in the Preface:

Here we propose a unique approach:  commonly known edible plants, lesser known for their decorative qualities, blended with ornamental flowers, bushes and trees almost completely unknown today for their culinary applications, along with unusual recipes for both.

The illustrations are basic but powerful - many are reproductions from Gerard's Herbal, published in 1633.  The authors include a section with gardening advice and another that discusses in general how to gather and cook with flowers, leaves, and herbs.  There are even recipes for making infused syrups, honey, oil, and more, and how to crystallize, deep fry, or glaze leaves, flowers, or fruit.

So what sort of plants were the authors referencing in their preface?  Here is a sample:

• asparagus
• bay
• scarlet runner bean
• birch
• chamomile
• Chilean guava
• chives
• chrysanthemum
• Douglas fir
• fuschia
• geranium
• lavender cotton
• violet

And then there is the one that I am addressing today:  the pyracantha or firethorn.  As a child we had pyracantha shrubs on our property; I intentionally bought two to plant on my property now.  They are a few years old and are producing berries in abundance.

It was time to try the recipe for pyracantha jelly (page 137).

Pyracantha Jelly

Combine and bring to boil:

4 cups slightly underripe pyracantha berries

5 cups water

Cover (tilt lid slightly) and cook over medium heat 40 minutes.

Mash berries lightly and transfer to jelly bag as directed on page 59:

Wet a jelly bad and wring out well.  ... Hang bag over a saucepan or place on a strainer over saucepan.  Let drip overnight to extract all juice.  Discard pulp ... and bring liquid to boil.  Skim any scum that rises to surface.

There should be approximately 2 cups liquid.

 Add to the juice:
1/4 cup grapefruit juice
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 cup sugar

Continue following directions for making jelly and start testing after 10 minutes of cooking.

Stir to dissolve sugar and boil rapidly 8 minutes.  Start testing at this point by placing a small amount of syrup in a wooden spoon and cooling it slightly.  Tip spoon and let syrup drop from side of spoon back into saucepan.  As the syrup thickens, 2 drops will form along the edge of the spoon on either side.  When drops run together and drop as one, the firm jelly stage has been reached.  Remove syrup from fire and pour immediately into hot sterilized jars to within 1/4 inch from the top.  Seal.  Store in dark, cool place. 

Enough for a double batch.

My Notes

I filled a container with berries, thinking it would be about 4 cups.  It was 8 cups!  I decided to make a double batch.

After picking, I picked through the berries well, removing leaves and most of the stems.  I noticed there was a lot of dirt on them, so I rinsed them in small batches, rolling them in the sieve to make sure they were clean.  Each batch went into the Dutch oven as it was drained.  Then I added 10 cups of water.

I turned the heat to high.  It took a while to bring it to boiling, which I expected because of the quantity.  However, I do think I might have missed the time when it actually started boiling.  It was not a roiling boil - I saw a lot of bubbles bumping the berries around.  I decided it had been long enough that I needed to start the timer.

You can see a color change from the cooking.

Then I put on the tilted lid, turned the heat to medium, and set the timer to 40 minutes.  It smelled good while cooking - appealing and slightly fruity.  Here it is after cooking:

Some of those yellow bubbles looked like they had fine particles in them.

I took the potato masher and mashed the berries until I thought most were at least even slightly crushed.

My jelly bag was set up on a stand over a bowl.  I ladled the berries and liquid into it.  I was really surprised that it all fit - I was certain I would have to drain it in batches.  

All of it!

The liquid that went into the bowl was red, which also surprised me.

I let it drain overnight.  The goal was 4 cups of liquid.  The liquid that was already in the bowl went into the refrigerator and the bag was left out to drip more.  

I tasted the liquid:  it was mildly tart, not sweet.  Slightly astringent.  A flavor that was mild and pleasant, although I can't really describe it.

The next day I measured 6 cups of liquid.  I put it into the Dutch oven over a very low heat to warm it while preparing the canning jars.  Then I added:

2 cups sugar

1/2 cup grapefruit juice

4 tablespoons lemon juice

and stirred it until the sugar was dissolved (no more scraping noises when I stirred).

It was brought to a rapid boil over high heat.  I saw a lot of small particle scum on the surface and so started to skim that immediately.  In total, I removed about 3/4 cup of liquid + particles.

The scum kindly gathered together, as you can see in the creamy patch at the upper right corner.

After the suggested 10 minutes, I found the temperature to be about 211 degrees F and the liquid still very runny.  This is not surprising due to the quantity I started with.  At 215 degrees F it started foaming and I had to lower the fire.  The cooking was completed over a medium heat.

Nearly done.  You can see how much it reduced.

It took a total of 35 minutes to get the temperature to 222 degrees F, which is in the range of jellying.  However I never saw the sheeting action as described in the directions.  A small bit poured on some cool metal thickened and looked somewhat jelly-like, so I called it done.

The final quantity was about 2 cups, which I put into one canning jar and allowed to cool.  My 6 cups of liquid had reduced to 1/3 of its original amount.

There was a little liquid left over which went into a bowl and into the refrigerator.  Thirty minutes later it was cold but not jelled.  It was a very thick syrup.  This is what was used for the taste test.

The Verdict

My guest taster and I tasted it by putting a small spoonful in our mouths.  We both liked it!  It did not taste the way we thought it would (although we really weren't sure what that was, except possibly like the raw berry).  

I could taste the grapefruit, and I thought it was a good flavor addition.  The flavor was balanced and the astringency was muted to just right.  The astringency was, I think, what made it intriguing.  My mouth didn't expect it in a jelly (AKA syrup!).  Also, it was just acid enough and not too sweet.  

Success!

Later I checked the jar full of syrup to see if it had jelled at all.  Nope.  It was a very thick syrup.  I didn't mind at all.  It still tasted good.

Not thick enough to jell.

The authors included a recipe for chicken poached in the jelly.  I think the flavor of pyracantha syrup makes it just right for a savory dish.  It looks like a good candidate for more kitchen playtime.

Medieval Style Baba Ghannouj

My eggplant plant, a variety called "Patio Baby", is a very persistent plant in my garden.  I bought it accidentally (I was aiming for one that produced regular-sized eggplants; this one produces tiny ones) because apparently I did not look at the tag after picking it up, believing it was one of the big ones next to it.  

It is persistent because even after the squirrels ate it down to the nubs, it grew back with gusto.  Even though my watering system failed it a few times (don't ask), it kept growing.  Now that it gets watered regularly, it is spreading and producing many tiny (2 to 3 inch long on average) purple eggplants.  

At first I thought I would be annoyed at having tiny eggplants but it turns out I like them.  It makes it easier to adjust the quantity of eggplant for my recipes without having a partial eggplant in the fridge.

The other day I checked on it and found an abundance of little ones ready to harvest.  What to do with them?

I have wanted to make baba ghannouj for a long time as everything I have ever read about it made it sound wonderful.  I checked my books and found three recipes, two which are modern and one that is from the medieval Islamic world.  The difference between them is that the modern recipes all call for the eggplants to be cooked over fire or under a broiler, which cooks them and also is supposed to impart a smoky flavor to the recipe.

The medieval recipe does not call for that, and this intrigued me.  Instead it calls for the eggplant to be slow cooked with onion (this is also different from modern recipes).  It does not call for tahini, either.  This, of course, means that I had to give it a try!

The recipe is from Medieval Cuisine of the Islamic World, by Lilia Zaouali.

ISBN 978-0-520-26174-7

I have written about one of her recipes before, a Lemon Chicken Stew from North Africa.  Click here to view it.

This version of baba ghannouj is found on page 66, in the Cold Appetizers section, and it is recipe #8.

Puree of Eggplant with Yogurt

Cut the eggplant into small pieces; put them in a jar for cooking [dast] together with whole cleaned onions.  Add some sesame oil and oil of a good quality and a little water.  Reduce over a slow fire.  When the ingredients are cooked, put them through a sieve and combine with a very small clove of garlic, yogurt, and chopped parsley.

Itty bitty eggplants, fresh from my garden!

My Redaction

2 pounds, 4 ounces of small eggplants, weighed before trimming

12 ounce onion (one whole)

1 - 2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 - 1 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

2 ounces water

6 tablespoons plain Greek yogurt

1/2 teaspoon chopped garlic

about 1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh parsley

1/2 teaspoon salt

My Notes

I removed the tops of the eggplants and cut them into small pieces.  I kept the onion whole as directed, although I suspected that the medieval onions were smaller, so I was a little doubtful of my decision.

Once all the eggplant pieces were in the Dutch oven, I poured the olive oil over them, then the sesame oil.  They were stirred so the oil coated the pieces and the bottom of the pan.  I put the onion in the middle and added the water.

Uncooked.

At first I had the fire underneath up high, until I heard it was hot enough to start cooking the ingredients.  Then I turned it down to low and put the lid on.  

After two hours it seemed like the eggplants were cooked but the onion was not.  I noticed the bottom of it, the part in the liquid, was cooked but the top still needed time, so I turned it over.  It cooked for another 30 minutes, for a total of 2 1/2 hours.

Done.

I let it cool, then tasted the liquid.  It was very bitter, so I drained it from the vegetables.

Then I used a metal mesh sieve placed in a bowl to hold the vegetables, and the back of a ladle to push them through the sieve.  I did this in batches, putting the pressed skins/seeds into a trash bowl and the resulting puree into another bowl.  I sieved the onion separately from the eggplant pieces because I wasn't sure it would work at all.

Once I had all the puree, I tasted it.  It was still bitter, so I crossed my fingers and mixed in the garlic, 1 tablespoon yogurt, and the parsley, mixing it well with a fork.  I wished I had thought to crush the garlic into a paste first.

This was better but still bitter.  So I crossed my fingers and added another tablespoon of yogurt.  This was better -- I was starting to taste the inherent sweetness of the eggplant.  That meant I put in another tablespoon of yogurt, and then it seemed pretty good.  Very mildly bitter; nothing bad.  However, I felt strongly that the flavors needed more time to blend, so I added another dose of yogurt and popped the whole thing in a covered container in the refrigerator and left it overnight.

Needs more time to blend.

The Verdict

We tried it with some toasted pita chips.  My guest taster said the bitter was gone, but I thought it was still bitter and I did not like it.

He also said it wasn't exciting or interesting.  If he tried this dip at a party, he would not go back to have more.

I decided I needed to play with it.  More yogurt could remove the bitterness that I could taste -- and I never would have guessed it could do that!  Perhaps more sesame oil to make the flavor more interesting, or more garlic (this time made into a paste first).  And maybe salt!

So I added two more tablespoons yogurt (for a total of 6) and 1/2 teaspoon salt.  Suddenly it tasted better, and my guest taster included it as a side condiment with his dinner one evening.  I liked it more, too.  The salt made the flavor much more interesting and the extra yogurt lowered the bitter level to where I liked it.  

I still think I should add some more toasted sesame oil.  I think that would add some depth of flavor, perhaps umami, to make the whole experience more complex.

When I considered the whole process, I realized that I could have debittered the eggplant before cooking.  If, after cutting it into pieces, I had sprinkled it with salt and let it stand for an hour or so, then drained it, that might have taken care of the problem.  Rinsing off a lot of the salt would be a good idea, too.

It might be worth doing again, and playing with the quantities to get a better overall flavor.  It certainly was easy, with the hardest part being pressing everything through the sieve.  I declare it a success, but only a mild one.

Palace Clamole revisited - by a Guest Cook!

My friend - and stellar cook - CT, tried his hand at the Clamole de Palacio, the Palace Clamole.  He made some changes to suit his tastes:  more chiles and also he used Spanish chorizo, which is cured and thus firmer.  He also scaled down the overall quantities a little.  Click here to see my previous post on this recipe.

What follows are his report and pictures.

His notes

Here are the ingredients of my version.

2 oz. pasilla chilis

1.5 guajillo chilis (I had some lying around from my last batch of chili from last year, so decided to try them in this)

6 oz Spanish chorizo (I chose Spanish for couple reasons - Spanish chorizo is cured and contains chopped pork, so it holds well when cooked.  Also, Spanish contains smoked paprika, so I thought the hint of smoke might be interesting)

1 lb 7oz Roma tomatoes

1.8 oz whole raw almonds toasted in iron skillet

1 oz 85% Mexican chocolate (I decided to go with the dark Mexican chocolate this go around)

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1 lb skinless boneless chicken thighs

No additional sugar - the Mexican chocolate seemed to have the right amount already

Salt to taste at the end (the chorizo added some salt of its own, so I added about a teaspoon or more -  did not measure)

Some additional water/veg broth

I started off by washing the chilis and browning them in an iron skillet (I left the chilis intact with seeds, only removing the stems:

I then immersed the chilis in hot water for about 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, I put the tomatoes on the gas grill to remove the skins.  I probably didn’t need to do this, since I ended up straining the blended mixture anyway, but I can’t resist grilling stuff.

I then blended the skinned tomatoes (I left the seeds and core, because I’m lazy), chilis, and about half of the chili water.

I then strained the mixture into the Dutch oven:

Only the pulp and seeds remained:

I realized at this point I forgot to add the toasted whole almonds, so put those in the blender and added a little vegetable broth.  Blended until it basically became almond milk.

Then added the almond milk to the Dutch oven:

I then added the chicken and chorizo and cooked for about an hour or so (I didn’t time it).  I found that the texture was a little too wet, so I left it simmer uncovered for last 20 minutes or so to get to the right consistency:

The Verdict

Served it garnished with a little cilantro, flour tortillas, and some grilled red cabbage marinated in rice wine vinegar, lime juice and salt which I made days before.  I paired it with a local bock beer which I think works really well with this mole.  

 

I probably could have added about 1/2 lb more chicken and maybe another 3 oz of chorizo to make it just right.  Otherwise I thought it turned out great, and I think we’ll definitely make this again.  

 

The Spanish chorizo offered the slightest hint of smoke and garlic, but not enough to get in the way of the more subtle flavors of the mole.  The chorizo didn’t melt away in the sauce, so if you like that additional bite its a good option if you don’t mind the flavors the Spanish version adds to this.  A great dish!

Thank you, CT, for trying this and telling me about it.  What I love about cooking and sharing with others is how we can all work with and learn from each other.  When we cook and evaluate the results, it is more gratifying to tell people about it.  

What is also wonderful is how you found a good beer to pair this with.  I'm sure others reading here will appreciate it!

I imagine Miss Pinedo smiling if she knew her recipes were being used again.