Saag paneer enchiladas

When I first moved to New York City and discovered that the Tex-Mex was seriously lacking in this town, I embraced Indian food. Now, if you’re not familiar with Indian cuisine that may seem bizarre. But Indian cuisine is rich with ingredients familiar to Texans, such as cumin, chiles and cilantro. And while Indian food doesn’t taste much like Mexican food, its base note flavors satisfied my needs.

I first fell in love with Indian food when I lived in Austin. On Sundays my friends and I would frequent an Indian buffet and load up on tandoori chicken, stewed vegetable dishes filled with okra, potatoes and cauliflower, puffy naan bread and my favorite Indian offering of all—saag paneer, a creamy spinach dish spiced with cumin, cinnamon and ginger, with cubes of paneer cheese dotted throughout.

This past weekend I was at the Southern Foodways Alliance’s (SFA) annual symposium held in Oxford, Mississippi. If you're not familiar with the SFA, it's mission is to document, study and celebrate the diverse food cultures of the changing American South. This year’s theme was the Global South and there were presentations on topics such as “Cajuns, Croats, Vietnamese: On Land and Sea in Biloxi,” “Havana to Alabama: Cuba through a Southern Lens" and “Houston: The South’s New Creole City.”



Robb Walsh delivered the Houston talk and he discussed how in Houston he sees a glorious evolution of Texan cuisine as new immigrants arrive and merge their native foods with what we already eat. So you’ll see, for instance, Lebanese-Mex fajitas, spicy beef wrapped in pitas or Armenian bean soups that taste like chili.

The largest Asian population in Houston, according to the 2000 census, is Indian. And this got me thinking: why not make saag paneer enchiladas? There used to be a wonderful restaurant in Houston called Jalapeños and they had a spinach enchilada plate that was outstanding. It was pure Tex-Mex in that it was a rich spinach filling wrapped in flour tortillas and topped with a cilantro cream sauce—it certainly bore little resemblance to anything you’d find in Mexico. But I loved it and fortunately the Houston Chronicle published the recipe so you could recreate it in your home kitchen.

For my saag paneer enchiladas, I decided to use Jalapeños’ recipe as a starting point, but instead I made saag paneer the filling and then topped the enchiladas with a cilantro-mint raita, which is simply cilantro, mint, green chiles and yogurt. Paneer cheese is made much the same way as queso blanco, so including it in the enchiladas also seemed like a natural fit. And I used flour tortillas as they are very similar to the Indian flat bread called roti.



I think it’s an exciting time for Texas as people from different cultures arrive and blend their indigenous cuisines with the foods we already love. Sure, I will always cherish the dishes I grew up with and those that have been in my family for generations. But it’s also fun to try hybrid creations, such as these saag paneer enchiladas, and learn more about the cuisines of the world.

Saag paneer enchiladas (adapted from Jalapeños and Smita Chandra’s From Bengal to Punjab)

Saag paneer filling ingredients:
1 medium yellow onion
2 cloves garlic
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 10-ounce packages of frozen spinach, thawed
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 cup plain yogurt or sour cream
1/4 cup buttermilk
1/2 cup half and half
1/2 pound paneer cheese, cut into 1/4-inch cubes

Cilantro-mint sauce ingredients:
2 cups cilantro, leaves and stems
1/4 cup mint leaves
1 jalapeño, seeds and stems removed, chopped
1 clove garlic
1 teaspoon fresh ginger, grated
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 cup buttermilk
1 1/2 cups plain yogurt or sour cream
Salt to taste

For the enchiladas:
8-10 flour tortillas or roti
Chopped cilantro for garnish

Method:
In a blender or food processor, grind the onion, garlic and ginger. In a skillet, heat up the vegetable oil on medium-low heat and add the onion mixture and cook while stirring for 5 minutes. Add to the skillet the spinach, cumin, cinnamon, clove, cayenne, yogurt and buttermilk. Turn the heat down to low and simmer uncovered for 20 minutes, stirring occasionally. Stir in the half and half and paneer cheese and simmer for 5 more minutes. Taste and adjust seasonings and add salt.

Meanwhile, to make the sauce, in a blender, puree the cilantro, mint, jalapeño, garlic, ginger, cumin, lemon juice and buttermilk until smooth (you will probably have to press down the sides of the blender with a spoon a couple of times to make sure all the herbs are pureed.). Stir the cilantro puree into the yogurt. Add salt to taste.

Preheat the oven to 350. Wrap the tortillas in foil and place in the oven for 10 minutes while the oven is preheating.

Grease a baking dish. Remove the tortillas from the oven and open the foil (be careful as there may be hot steam). Take a tortilla and spoon 1/4 cup of the filling down the center. Roll the tortilla and place seam side down in the baking dish. Repeat with remaining tortillas. Cover the tortillas with cilantro-mint sauce and bake uncovered for 5 minutes.

Serve topped with cilantro.

Yield: 4 servings

Note: I recommend using whole-milk yogurt. And you can usually find paneer cheese at Whole Foods or Asian grocery stores such as Kalustyan in New York City.

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Buttermilk pie

“Two cups of sugar?” I said to myself as I read over my great-grandma Blanche’s recipe for buttermilk pie. That amount sounded outrageous! But when I mentioned this to a smart bunch of folks, they nodded their heads and said, “Ah, that must be a recipe for buttermilk pie.” And even though I was dubious, I decided to adhere to the wisdom of my elders and bake this sugar-loaded pie as apparently that is just how this pie is done.

Now, if you’re unfamiliar with this old Southern dessert you may be asking, “What is buttermilk pie?” Well, as the name implies, it’s a custard pie made with buttermilk. And while it may sound strange to the uninitiated, take note that Texans have long been resourceful with buttermilk, as for many years it was both inexpensive and widely available. But here’s where defining buttermilk pie becomes tricky, at least for me.



The interesting thing about my recipe is that Grandma Blanche titled it buttermilk chess pie, which begs the question: are chess pie and buttermilk pie the same thing? I used to think that they were not, as I have a chess pie recipe that does not include buttermilk. But perhaps it is simply a variation. I wish I had the answer to these questions, but I don’t. But as I wait patiently for one of you to shed light on this topic I will occupy myself by baking my great-grandma’s buttermilk pie.

Now, to make this pie is a cinch as you simply mix together a custard filling that includes buttermilk, eggs, flour, corn meal and vinegar, and then you pour it into a partially baked pie shell and cook it until it’s set. The hardest thing about making this pie is being patient as you’ll be keeping it in the oven for a while and your home will begin to smell divine.

Not a fan of buttermilk? I wouldn’t worry as this is a luscious dessert. It has a sweet and slightly tangy custard that is wonderful to eat as is, completely unadorned. But if you desire, you could spiffy it up by topping it with some seasonal fruit, candied nuts or a drizzle of sorghum syrup. Many people serve it at Thanksgiving as it sits well on the holiday table with the pecan and sweet potato pies. But you certainly don’t need to a cold-weather holiday to enjoy a slice or two.




And yes, in case you’re wondering, those two cups of sugar do make for a sweet pie but I wouldn’t cut it back too much or it will just taste wrong. Don’t worry as I did: Great-grandma Blanche knew what she was doing.

Great-grandma Blanche’s buttermilk pie
2 cups granulated sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons all-purpose flour (or 1 tablespoon flour, 1/2 tablespoon cornmeal)
8 tablespoons butter (1 stick), softened
3 large eggs, beaten
Pinch of salt
3/4 cup buttermilk
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon white vinegar
1 piecrust

Method:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the piecrust into the oven and bake for 10 minutes.

Combine the sugar with the flour and cornmeal, if you're using. Cream the butter. Add the sugar mixture to the butter and then stir in the eggs, salt, buttermilk, baking soda, vanilla extract and vinegar.

Pour filling into the partially baked piecrust and bake in the oven uncovered until brown on top and the custard has set, about 45-50 minutes.

Yield: 8 servings

Note: Great-grandma’s original recipe called for margarine, but I changed that to butter. I don’t think she’d mind too much. And feel free to add a pinch of nutmeg or cinnamon if you want to spice up the custard a bit.

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Green chile hominy casserole with chorizo

My grandma thinks I am incapable of making any recipe without chile peppers. And she finds this very amusing. Take our conversation about hominy casserole the other day. As she was telling me her recipe she paused and then said while laughing, “Say, I have an idea. Do you have any chile peppers? I bet that would make this recipe even better!”

Well, it’s no secret that I love chile peppers. So much that I’m pretty certain my grandma’s theory is true. But, hey, I’m a Texan, what can I say?

But back to this hominy casserole—when I was at my grandma’s house in July, she had provided me with a fat file of recipes she’s collected over the years. There were a bunch of gems and some strange ones as well. I will definitely be making her batch of apricot bread but Aunt Margaret’s meat concern casserole sort of gives me pause. No matter, I love recipes and made a ton of copies to bring back to New York. But I forgot to copy one I was very interested in cooking—grandma’s hominy casserole.



Hominy casserole, which at it’s most basic is simply a mixture of hominy with sour cream and cheddar cheese, is an old-fashioned Southern side dish you don’t see that often anymore. Grandma made hers often in the 50’s and 60’s as it was both hearty and a great portable dish to bring to potlucks. But when I asked her why she stopped making it she admitted that she’s not the biggest fan in the world of hominy.

Hominy, which is corn that’s been treated with the mineral lime, is the foundation for both grits and masa, making this grain both distinctly Southern and Southwestern. It has a chewy soft texture and a toasted nutty flavor, a combination that can be unusual but one I find strangely addictive.

Grandma’s hominy casserole is the classic rendition of the dish, though she also shared with me one that was a bit more gussied up with olives and pimentos. For my version of hominy casserole I decided to do a bit of a hybrid, adding roasted poblano chiles, jalapeños, cilantro and garlic to the standard sour cream and cheese base. I also threw in some chorizo, which elevates this casserole to a main dish if you like, though it can work quite well as a decadent side dish, too.



The best thing about this creamy casserole, however, is that it’s a snap to make and a one-skillet dish, which makes it perfect for a quick weeknight supper. Though I find it extravagant enough that you could also share it with company and I guarantee they wouldn’t complain.

Green chile hominy casserole with chorizo
Ingredients:
2 poblano chiles
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1/2 pound Mexican chorizo, removed from casing and crumbled
1/2 medium yellow onion, diced
2 jalapeños, seeds and stems removed, diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 15-ounce cans of hominy, drained
8 ounces sour cream
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
2 teaspoons lime juice
2 cups shredded cheddar cheese
Salt and black pepper to taste

Method:
Roast the poblano chiles under the broiler until blackened, about 5 minutes per side. Place chiles in a paper sack or plastic food-storage bag, close it tight and let the chile steam for 20 minutes. Take the chile out of the bag and rub off the skin. Remove stem and seeds and cut dice chiles.

Preheat the oven to 350.

On medium-low heat, heat the vegetable oil and then cook the crumbled chorizo while occasionally stirring in a 10-inch cast-iron skillet until brown, about 8-10 minutes. With a slotted spatula, remove the chorizo and drain any excess grease from the skillet, leaving 1 teaspoon. Add to the skillet the diced onions and jalapeños while occasionally stirring, cook on medium-low heat until onions are translucent, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 30 more seconds.

Remove the skillet from the heat and add the diced poblano chile, chorizo, hominy, sour cream, cumin, cayenne, cilantro, lime juice and half of the cheddar cheese. Stir until well combined, taste and add salt and black pepper and adjust seasonings. Top with remaining the cheddar cheese and bake uncovered for 30 minutes or until brown and bubbling.

Yield: 4-6 servings

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Pickled green tomatoes

There was a day back in June when I was driving my mom’s car around the Brazos Valley. I didn’t have a destination, I was simply enjoying the quiet country roads, a big blue sky and those Texan clouds that look like fluffy dollops of whipped cream. It was a pleasure.

Back when I lived in Texas, driving wasn’t as fun, it was simply a means to an end. But since I don’t drive in New York City and probably get behind the wheel only four or five times a year, it’s become a peaceful pastime. And so whenever I’m home, I drive as much as I can.

That day I probably put over 200 miles on my mom’s car. But wear and tear on her car aside, I found those miles well spent. See, when you don’t really have much of a destination, driving can be soothing and meditative. And as I motored along, I thought a lot about Texan cuisine.



“How would you define Texan food, exactly?” people will ask me. And I’ll reply that it’s Tex-Mex, barbecue, chili without beans and a plate of chicken-fried steak smothered in cream gravy. But it’s also gas-station beef jerky; a pot of freshly picked black-eyed peas; a kielbasa sausage smothered in sauerkraut; a bowl of carne guisada served with flour tortillas; A Viet-Cajun crawfish boil; and a corny dog eaten at the State Fair. I could continue, but I reckon my point is that the rich diversity of cultures that inhabit our state makes for a most unique regional cuisine.

I ended that day in Tomball, a small town north of Houston that’s within spitting distance of my mom’s house. I’d heard a lot about a new restaurant there called Bootsie’s that is owned by chef Randy Rucker. Now, Rucker’s spent time cooking in some pretty high-end places across the nation, but he’s from Tomball and wanted to open a café in his hometown, a place that offered Texan home cooking with fresh, local ingredients.

When I arrived at the restaurant by myself, looking a little haggard after a day in the car, the hostess ignored my road-worn state and greeted me with a big smile and a hearty, “Howdy.” After seating me at my table, she presented me with a bowl of pickled green tomatoes and said, “We made these this morning. Enjoy!”

They were crisp and cool and after a day of eating ice cream, fried catfish, hamburgers and brisket, were just what I needed. I hadn’t asked for the pickles nor had I asked for a smile, but the warm hospitality to a stranger was well received. And that gracious moment is what Texas food means to me.



Green tomatoes are simply unripe tomatoes. Now that it’s the end of the tomato season and if you’re stuck with a bunch, I highly recommend these tangy, slightly spicy pickles. They go well on sandwiches, with barbecue, grilled meats, on hot dogs or simply straight out of the jar.

Pickled green tomatoes

Ingredients:
2 pounds green tomatoes (about 4 or 5), thinly sliced
1 jalapeño chile, stems removed, cut in half lengthwise
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 teaspoon peppercorns
1 teaspoon celery seed
1 teaspoon dill seed
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 cup white vinegar
1 tablespoons sea salt

Special equipment
2 wide-mouth pint jars or 1 wide-mouth quart jar, sterilized

Method:
Evenly distribute the sliced green tomatoes, sliced jalapeños, cumin seeds, peppercorns, celery seed, dill seed and garlic into the jars. In a saucepan, bring to a boil 1 cup of water, the vinegar, and sea salt. Pour the boiling vinegar mixture into the jars leaving a bit of headspace. Cover with lid and fasten with rings. Allow to cool and then refrigerate. They will be ready after 4 hours and will last for 1 month in the refrigerator.

Alternatively, you can place the covered jars in a canning pot or stockpot, cover the jars with water, bring to a boil and then cook on high for 10 minutes. Remove the jars with tongs and then allow to cool. If you are processing this way, make sure that your lids have never been used before, as they will only seal once. These jars will not require refrigeration until after opening.

Yield: 2 pints

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