How To Make Paneer?
Over Thanksgiving weekend, we went to an all-you-can-eat Indian restaurant, one of those fancy kinds with cloth napkins and unlimited mimosas. I was surprised actually; it was a kind wholly new to me. I’m so used to grungy hole-in-the-walls, where you grab a stack of napkins and silverware from a nearby dolly and a carafe of water from the fridge, and juggle everything back to your seat.
The last time I ate Indian food was more than a year ago in Cusco, Peru. Random? It certainly had been to me. The restaurant had been largely empty, although a steady stream of South Asian-looking patrons suggested that it was one of the better spots in town to procure Indian food maybe? I don’t know. It hadn’t been very good. And they hadn’t served naan, which is a dealbreaker.
So subpar experiences aside, I hadn’t eaten Indian food since I moved out of San Francisco. Which is a pity really. I’d forgotten how much I love the cuisine.
This buffet had all the goodies—namely chicken tikka masala (who doesn’t want to lick their plate after eating it?) as well as my other favorite, chana aloo, chickpea and potato curry. And there was naan! Lovely pieces of naan. And mango lassi. And chai. Check, check, check, all my favorite things were represented. What really stood out to me, however, was the palak paneer, spinach curry with cheese. The rediscovery of this humble little dish has stuck with me, demanding to be made.
So I thought I’d begin my forays into Indian cooking on this blog with paneer, Indian cheese. I guess paneer is essentially compacted cottage cheese, similar to queso fresco, but it’s so distinctly Indian to me. It’s great as a vegetarian base for lots of curry dishes, like palak paneer, but I’ve seen it in salads, in soups. It would taste great grilled, or in a wrap.
It’s also incredibly easy to make, requiring nothing more than whole milk and some kind of acid—in my case, lemon juice—to separate the curds from the whey. And that’s it! I love how you can get such great results from making it at home. It definitely convinces me to make it once a week just so I can have it on hand.
HOW TO MAKE PANEER?
From Aarti Sequeira for the Food Network
Makes about 12 oz.
Ingredients:
1 cheesecloth
8 cups whole milk (a half gallon)
about 1/4 cup lemon juice
Directions:
Line a large colander with a large double layer of cheesecloth, and set it in your sink.
In a large wide pot, bring the milk to a gentle boil over medium heat, stirring frequently so the bottom doesn’t burn, about 10 minutes. Add the lemon juice and turn the heat to low. Stir gently for about 30 seconds. The curds (white milk solids) and whey (greenish liquid) should start to separate immediately. If not, add a little more lemon juice
Remove the pot from the heat and carefully pour the contents into the cheesecloth-lined colander. Gently rinse with cool water to get rid of the lemon flavor. Grab the ends of the cheesecloth and twist the ball of cheese to squeeze out the excess whey. Tie the cheesecloth to your kitchen faucet and allow the cheese to drain for about 5 minutes.
Twisting the ball to compact the cheese into a roundish block, place it on a plate with the twisted part of the cheesecloth on the side. Set another plate on top. Weigh the second plate down with something heavy, like a can of beans. Move to the refrigerator and let sit for about 30 minutes to 1 hour.
Tomato Soup
Yesterday, I was working at Starbucks (Freelancers Central) when a lady standing by the doors tipped over into a drug-induced trance.
The baristas immediately called 9-1-1, but the woman sitting next to me, the one who’d seen the whole incident go down because she’d been standing outside making a phone call when it happened, just shook her head and informed me that the lady was ‘as high as a kite.’
Now that’s a feeling I can relate to. That world-weariness. After all, I had gone to school in the most psychedelic college town in the country (Berkeley), and lived in what is probably the most homeless-friendly big city in the WORLD (San Francisco). I’ve seen it all—so what if I’m only 26?—all the different variations of drug-induced catatonia and rants and everything in between.
This old man with white hair, he’s a regular who just hangs out in the cafe all day chatting with other regulars (except me, because I avoid eye contact with strangers, much in the style of Amelie Poulain), leapt up from his seat and raced outside, wanting to take charge of the situation. He reminded me of one of those alert guard dogs, the kind that’s been bred to inspect signs of disorder, and cleared aside the small crowd that had gathered around the woman to get a closer look.
He re-entered the cafe a few minutes later. “She’s on drugs,” he said disgustedly.
A few minutes later, the lady dizzily pushed herself up and teetered away. “She’s only on drugs,” Mr. Regular repeated, shaking his head.
This was when the firemen rushed onto the scene. They pulled up in their shiny truck with their sirens blaring, and parked gracefully into the empty space in front of the building that just happened to be big enough for one regular-sized fire truck.
“Did they need to bring so many men?” the woman beside me asked. Sure enough, five firemen stepped out, clad in their heavy protective gear. Men who meant business. Men who looked like they were ready to put out a fire.
“She doesn’t need firemen,” said Regular Man. “She needs to be slapped in the face and drenched with tomato soup!”
Tomato soup, now that’s an idea.
Did he mean what he said sadistically? Was he implying that the lady should be burned with a hot, acidic liquid as a sort of punishment? Or maybe he thought it would revivify her, the equivalent of pushing her into a molten pool. Or maybe he just wanted tomato soup for dinner and had made a Freudian slip.
Whatever the case, guessing does not change the fact: these are the kinds of moments that can inspire meals. I’m very easily persuaded, and I happen to really like tomato soup.
This recipe is one I’ve been making since my student days, so you can be sure that it’s low-maintenance. And it came in handy during my time in San Francisco, a city whose 365-days-per-year fog and gloom is enough to drive a person mad. You see, you need a soup as heartening as this to keep your spirits up, lest you succumb to drastic measures. Like quitting your job and chasing summer in the Southern Hemisphere. Well, that latter part was unintentional.
I don’t remember how I came upon this recipe anymore. I copied it long ago into a little pocket notebook that I have on me at all times—we all have one of these, I suspect—and have been faithfully following the same set of directions for a long time. I’m sure its source is not as obscure as I make it seem, but I prefer to keep it a mystery, for the sake of having a “family recipe” that I can pass down for generations. Or not. I don’t think that far ahead. (But it would be cool nonetheless.)
TOMATO SOUP
Serves 4
Ingredients:
- 1 28-ounce can of chopped tomatoes
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- salt & ground pepper to taste
- 2 stalks celery, diced
- 2 small carrots, diced
- 1 large yellow onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 cups chicken broth
- 2 bay leaves
- 1/2 cup chopped basil
- 1/4 cup cream or milk, optional
Directions:
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Strain tomatoes, reserving the juices, and spread onto baking sheet. Season with salt and pepper, and drizzle with about 1 Tbsp olive oil. Roast until caramelized, about 15 minutes.
In a saucepan, heat the rest of the oil on medium-low heat. Add celery, carrots, onion, and garlic. Cook until softened, about 10 minutes. Add the roasted tomatoes, reserved juices, chicken broth, and bay leaves. Simmer until vegetables are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Add basil and cream if using. Puree with an immersion blender.