Piment d'Espelette grown in just a handful of villages in the Basque country of southern France, is as beloved in their region as paprika is in Hungary. The small red peppers can be used fresh, or hung up in bouquets to dry then ground into powder similar to hot paprika. First introduced to France by returning New World missionaries in the 1500s, the Espelette is now an essential feature of Basque cuisine. The village of Espelette holds a Celebration of Peppers each October, with Espelette-infused dishes, banners made from hundreds of red and green peppers, and street performers painted red to resemble the pepper itself.
Espelette goes especially well with seafood, mild cheeses, and hearty vegetable dishes. In Paris, I ate monkfish over white beans in an Espelette cream sauce. It was divine, silky and smoky with just a teeny-tiny kick. You could substitute hot paprika, but it wouldn't be quite the same. You can find ground Espelette in some gourmet markets or online at Amazon.com. There's a trove of Espelette recipes at Epicurien, which is in French but can be translated by Google to decidedly mixed results. I'm especially keen to try the sauteed shrimp with Espelette and Bayonne ham.
The Jerusalem artichoke (Helianthus tuberosus L.) is not from Jerusalem, nor is it an artichoke. The tuber also known as the sunchoke is the root of a type of sunflower native to North America, and was a staple food for early European immigrants. It may have gotten its name from these pilgrims, who considered America the "New Jerusalem," or it may be a bastardization of the Italian word girasole, meaning sunflower. Once considered a "poor man's food," the Jerusalem artichoke is experiencing a bit of a renaissance as of late.
The veggie resembles a finger of ginger root, with a nutty, starchy taste, somewhere between potato and artichoke. They can be found in the produce section of some supermarkets (I've seen them lots of times, I just never knew what they were!). The Jerusalem artichoke can be used like other root vegetables such sweet potatoes, carrots and parsnips, diced and tossed in stew, roasted with herbs, or pan-fried with butter. Check out this Epicurious recipe for Jerusalem artichoke with sage butter.
Asafoetida, also known as hing, is the powdered gum extracted from the root of the giant fennel. A major ingredient in Indian vegetarian cooking, it has a pungent, slightly sulfurous stink, hence it's nickname of "Devil's Dung" (I actually find it kind of pleasantly bracing, but maybe I'm a total freak). It's smell mellows through cooking to more of a standard onion+garlic odor.
Asafoetida is a crucial ingredient in many Indian vegetarian recipes, including many curries and lentil dishes. You can find it at Indian markets, maybe at a gourmet specialty store, but I've never seen it at a standard supermaket. While the powder is naturally beige, many commercial preparations include turmeric for a bright yellow color. Check out this recipe for Gujarati dal (lentils in the style of the Gujarat province of India) with asafoetida at Archana's Kitchen.
One of the great treats I had while driving through Kentucky last spring were the biscuits with sorghum-butter spread at a Louisville diner. The sweet, whipped spread melted on the hot fluffy biscuits, tasting lightly of honey. I'd heard of sorghum before, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was.
Sorghum syrup is made from the juice of the sweet sorghum cane, which grows all over the southeastern United States. African slaves introduced sorghum cane to the country in the early 17th century, and it rapidly became popular across the Midwest and, later, the South. A drought-resistant, heat-tolerant crop, it was hoped that sorghum could be used as a substitute for sugar cane, but extracting dry sugar from the syrup proved too difficult.
Sorghum syrup, which tends to be a medium brown in color, can often be used as a substitute for honey or corn syrup. Check out this site for a variety of sorghum recipes, including baked beans, shoo-fly pie, and old-fashioned sorghum cake.
I first encountered kuro mitsu in San Francisco not long ago, at a creperie in the Japantown mall. I ordered a crepe with green tea ice cream, red bean paste, strawberries, whipped cream (sounds totally overkill but is truly amazing), which came drizzled in a mahogany-colored syrup that tasted like a light molassas, with a hint of malt. The mystery syrup really brought the crepe together, somehow cutting through the sweetness with its odd, bright bite.
Later, through research, I discovered that this was kuro mitsu (literally, "black honey"), a Japanese brown sugar syrup not at all dissimilar to molassas. Made from unrefined Okinawan brown sugar, it is a central ingredient in many sweet Japanese dishes.
A Taste of Zen provides a recipe for making your own kuro mitsu. Drizzle it over pancakes, fresh fruit or ice cream, add it to tea or stir a spoonful into plain yogurt.
No, not the poison kind. Sumac, the powdered berry of the Rhus Coriaria bush, is a tart spice used in many Middle Eastern dishes. The brick-red powder is perhaps best-known as a major player in za'atar, a mix of sesame seeds, salt, marjoram, thyme, oregano, and other spices used as a meat or fish rub or mixed with olive oil for a bread dip. You can find it in some gourmet markets or Middle Eastern specialty stores.
Tangy sumac makes a nice substitute for lemon juice when sprinkled over fish, vegetables, or hummus. Stir some into thick Greek yogurt with a pinch of salt for a simple veggie or pita dip. I've served a cold salad of sweet potato wedges and diced red onion tossed with chopped mint and sumac alongside Middle Eastern-influenced main dishes like chicken tagine with prunes or lamb kebabs.
The ramp, also known as the wild leek (Allium tricoccum), is a member of the onion family that grows wild along much of the Eastern Seaboard of the U.S. and Canada. With its broad, light green leaves, the ramp arrives at the tail end of winter. As in, now.
Ramps can be used in most any recipe calling for scallions or leeks - in Appalachia they're especially popular fried with bacon and potatoes. I like them in scrambled eggs, sauteed in a bit of butter. The city of Richwood, West Virginia, nicknamed "Ramp Capital of the World," has an annual ramp festival each April. In Quebec, where they're not quite as common as in Appalachia, they're considered an endangered species.
Check out more ramp info at The Forager Press, where they've got a yummy-sounding recipe for Salmon with Spring Leeks.
Fennel is reliable. It's reliable-looking, for one: it sits on a sturdy, bulbous base and boasts welcoming green fronds and, if in the wild, tiny yellow flowers. It also possesses a reliable flavor: it'll welcome you back each time you use it, comfortable, secure, and unwavering in its flavor. And finally, you can rely on fennel for its multipurpose u, as a feature or an accent to your other foods.
Its History
Fennel is a perennial herb that's grown mainly in the Mediterranean and India. First referred to as "marathon" by the ancient Greeks and later used against witchcraft in medieval times, fennel is high in Vitamin C, potassium, and dietary fiber. Fennel's flavor, a distinct liquorice, comes from the anethole compound, which is also found in anise and star anise, which is why one is often mistaken for the other. The one you'll find most often in your local supermarket is known as florence fennel.
Its Uses
Fennel is primarily used either for its "bulb," a tightly-grouped bunch of leaves (large shards are pulled off to be used in soups or salads), its fronds (sprinkled onto salads and entrees as an accent) and as an herb to flavor dishes in its seed form. It is also one of the primary ingredients in absinthe. Even the pollen from fennel's delicate yellow flowers are used in cooking, though they are quite expensive. It is often used as a breath freshener, and is said to have medicinal qualities, used for everything from preventing jaundice to aiding digestion (it can be used as a diuretic) to staunching coughs.
I've heard rumors that Slashfood used to have an "Ingredient Spotlight" post, but it got lost in the shuffle. Well, never fear, Slashfoodies: it's back.
For my debut post, I'm going to go really crazy and choose...tofu. Okay, stop groaning. I know what you're thinking.
But give it a chance. Tofu is like that nerdy kid in freshman year of high school who wore his pants too high and his shirts too low, and still brought his lunch in those insulated, brightly-colored bags with the matching thermoses when the cool kids were brown-bagging it. You made fun of him all year, but when you came back to school in sophomore year, something had changed. He was...different. He held his head higher, he walked up straighter, and he was wearing khakis and polos. And if you titled your head and squinted your eyes just right, he was almost...cute.
That's like tofu. Despite its pale, jiggly appearance and its dorky past, tofu has a lot to offer if you give it a chance. If you know how to use it, tofu can be the homecoming king of dinners.
The history
Tofu is made by coagulating soy milk into bean curd, similar to the way milk turns into cheese as it ferments. (I'll pause as you salivate). It usually comes in soft, firm, and extra firm/dried varieties, the only difference being that soft has the most moisture in the curds, while extra firm has the least. It can also be fermented, made sweet, fried, or frozen before packaging.
Tofu's main claim to fame is that it's really mild, so it takes on the flavor of whatever you cook it with. Its taste and creamy consistency make it a great substitute for most dairy products, a star in smoothies, and a great addition to dressings or sauces.
Everyone's favorite comfort dish gets a tofu twist.
Macaroni and Cheese with Tofu From: Moosewood Restaurant New Classics Serves: 4-6
You will need: 12 oz. pasta (white or whole wheat)
Cheese sauce: 12 oz. low fat silken tofu 1/2 cup skim milk 1/2 cup nonfat plain yogurt 1 up grated cheddar cheese 1/4 cup Parmesan cheese 1/2 tsp. minced garlic 2 tsp. yellow mustard 1/2 tsp salt 1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper 1/4 tsp. turmeric
1/4 cup minced onions 1/4 cup fresh parsley 1/2 bread crumbs mixed with 1/4 cup grated cheddar
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Spray a 2-qt. baking dish with oil.
Bring water to a boil, and cook pasta according to package directions.
Combine all cheese sauce ingredients in a blender or food processor and puree.
Drain pasta, and mix it along with cheese sauce, onions, and pasta, into baking dish. Sprinkle bread crumb/cheddar mixture on top. Bake for 30 minutes covered, and then 5 minutes uncovered.
This is a simple vegan take on Huevos Rancheros. It has all of the flavor and substance of the original dish, but is a great healthy alternative. Mexican Tofu Scramble From: Moosewood Restaurant New Classics Serves: 3
You will need: 6 small tortillas 2 Tbsp. veggie oil 1 cup chopped onions 3 garlic cloves, minced 1 cup chopped red bell peppers 1 cup chopped green peppers 1 green chile, minced 1 tsp. ground cumin 1 tsp. ground coriander 1 tsp. salt 16 oz. soft tofu, pressed between two plates for 15 minutes, then drained 6 Tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped 1 1/2 cups salsa
Wrap tortillas in foil and warm in a 300 degree F oven for 10 minutes.
Heat oil in a wok, and then saute onions for five minutes. Add garlic, peppers, chile, and all spices and herbs, and saute for two minutes more.
Crumble the tofu and cook for 5 minutes (don't stir) until moisture evaporates. Then, stir and cook for two minutes more.
Remove tortillas from oven and mound scramble in each shell. Roll them up, cover with salsa, and set in warm oven until serving time.
It sits alone and untouched at the end of a long buffet table -- a bowl full of apples and bananas, maybe a seedy orange tossed in as an afterthought. Don't let your fruit salad meet this awful fate, spruce it up instead!
Piment d'Espelette grown in just a handful of villages in the Basque country of southern France, is as beloved in their region as paprika is in Hungary. The small red peppers can be used fresh, or hung up in bouquets to dry then ground into powder similar to hot paprika. First introduced to France by returning New World missionaries in the 1500s, the Espelette is now an essential feature of Basque cuisine. The village of Espelette holds a Celebration of Peppers each October, with Espelette-infused dishes, banners made from hundreds of red and green peppers, and street performers painted red to resemble the pepper itself. 
The Jerusalem artichoke (Helianthus tuberosus L.) is not from Jerusalem, nor is it an artichoke. The tuber also known as the sunchoke is the root of a type of sunflower native to North America, and was a staple food for early European immigrants. It may have gotten its name from these pilgrims, who considered America the "New Jerusalem," or it may be a bastardization of the Italian word girasole, meaning sunflower. Once considered a "poor man's food," the Jerusalem artichoke is experiencing a bit of a renaissance as of late. 
Asafoetida, also known as hing, is the powdered gum extracted from the root of the giant fennel. A major ingredient in Indian vegetarian cooking, it has a pungent, slightly sulfurous stink, hence it's nickname of "Devil's Dung" (I actually find it kind of pleasantly bracing, but maybe I'm a total freak). It's smell mellows through cooking to more of a standard onion+garlic odor. 
I first encountered kuro mitsu in San Francisco not long ago, at a creperie in the Japantown mall. I ordered a crepe with green tea ice cream, red bean paste, strawberries, whipped cream (sounds totally overkill but is truly amazing), which came drizzled in a mahogany-colored syrup that tasted like a light molassas, with a hint of malt. The mystery syrup really brought the crepe together, somehow cutting through the sweetness with its odd, bright bite. 
No, not the poison kind. 
The 
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