MollyD's Kitchen in Seattle: Pickled Beets

I'm not cooking much beyond throwing things together, and thus I haven't posted in a while. Then, the other day, I spied some winter beets in the back of our crisper drawer and decided it was time to bite the bullet and do something with them. I considered roasting them as usual, but I usually tire of roasted beets' flavor before they go bad, which seems like a greater waste than leaving them alone in their uncooked potential. Instead I took a cue from a jar of Ikea herring and decided to pickle them, a great way to use a big ol' beet and have it last.

I googled pickled beet recipes and saw several suggestions of cloves, which complement beets' earthy sweetness. Since I recently picked up a small bottle of clove extract (in alcohol, not oil, which would just float on top of the pickling liquid) I ran with the idea, and with the “earthy sweetness” theme in mind I also added some balsamic vinegar.

Initially I wasn't preparing a blog post on this, so I eyeballed and tasted, and the following measurements are entirely guesstimated. You could halve or double it without problem, or use different ratios of balsamic vinegar to mild vinegar to water; it's a pretty mild pickle, so if you want something stronger you can fill the jar to the top with vinegar. Finally, I'm sure whole cloves would work in place of the extract, though I'd use a fair amount to ensure enough flavor extraction that they wouldn't be overwhelmed by the balsamic. Regardless, all of this recipe is flexible and to taste.

Pickled Beets

2 large beets or equivalent in small beets, with any long greens or tail removed

2 T balsamic vinegar

¼ c rice vinegar or white vinegar

½ tsp salt

few drops clove extract

water

1. Place beets in pot and cover with water. Bring to boil, then lower to simmer. Go do something else.
2. Remove beets from pot when knife can be inserted into center without resistance. Let cool, then peel off skin with fingers and, if necessary, a paring knife.
3. Quarter, then slice into ¼-inch pieces. Place into quart jars.
4. Add all other ingredients, then water to cover.
5. Refrigerate and eat over the next few weeks.

So what do you do with pickled beets? Obviously there's salad, but despite the lettuce in our fridge I haven't felt like it. Instead I chopped a few slices along with some of the pickled herring, mixed in mayonnaise (sour cream would be good too), and spread the Swedish-inspired mixture on toast. Today I made a closed tuna melt in the toaster oven (slice of bread + tuna salad + sliced cheese, plus a separate slice of bread), then laid some beets on top of the cheese before closing the sandwich; the mild, soft beets didn't ruin the texture or dominate the flavor, and it was a surprisingly nice combination. Pickled beets are more adaptable than you might think!

MollyD's Kitchen in Seattle: Pickled Beets

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Pork Hash

When I was a kid, after school we used to take our pocket change to the manapua man who parked his truck outside the school. I love a good manapua, but for me the real draw was the pork hash, because they cost only a quarter each. They were an especially large version of the juicy, open-ended pork dumplings, and one or two made a cheap and filling snack much more satisfying than anything from the convenience store down the street.

Pork hash is available all around the islands, and like many local dishes, it’s a bigger, heavier, and more strongly flavored version of a daintier Asian dish. In this case it’s a lot like a Chinese siu mai, and while it might be argued that siu mai are just as flavorful, pork hash are generally bigger and a solid mass of pork rather than pork combined with lighter shrimp. They’re also pretty easy to make, involving few specialty ingredients and no real dumpling-wrapping skills. The following recipe results in a mild savory flavor, and at the very end I include ideas for additional ingredients to mix in or condiments to serve alongside the pork hash.

This recipe (based on one from alohaworld.com) is easy and very forgiving, but it uses two techniques, dumpling wrapping and steaming, that some readers may not have tried before. For those who have not, after the instructions there is a longer description of how to wrap the pork hash and set up the steamer. This is a good recipe for novices because neither the wrapping nor the steaming needs to be precise: There’s no expert crimping or sealing to do and even if they don’t look pretty they’ll taste good, and they won’t suffer terribly if you leave them in a little long. (Just make sure the raw meat is cooked through!)

Pork Hash

1 lb. ground pork

2 eggs, beaten

3 stalks green onions, minced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 can water chestnuts, drained and minced

3 T oyster sauce

1 package won ton/dumpling wrappers*

oil to coat wrappers

*Mine are round dumpling wrappers maybe 4 inches in diameter, but square is fine and you can’t really go wrong as long as they’re mostly wheat flour and water. I find them in the frozen section of an Asian supermarket.

1. Combine all ingredients except wrappers and oil.
2. Add about 2 tsp of meat mixture into dumpling wrappers (give or take, depending on size of wrappers) and bring sides up to surround.
3. Coat wraps lightly with oil to prevent sticking.
4. Place in steamer and steam for 15-30 minutes depending on size of pork hash. (Not sure when it’s done? Take one out and cut it open.)

Variations

• This particular batch I made with half ground chicken and half ground pork and it turned out very well, probably because the mild chicken didn't compete with the pork. Beef might work, but it might not quite match up with the oyster sauce, especially if that cut or cow is at all “livery” or gamey tasting. You can also substitute minced shrimp (a great dim sum pairing with pork) for some of the meat. Larger pieces of shrimp tend to not stick to the meat mixture, so if you want to include some, don’t go overboard or it might not hold together.
• Other ingredients for the meat mixture could include diced lap cheong (I’ve had great results with that one), char siu, or minced cilantro. Anything that would work well in pork-based dim sum is fair game.
• These have a nice flavor on their own, but it’s mild. If you want a dip, try Chinese hot mustard or a vinegar-based hot sauce.
• For those who (like me) aren’t eating much gluten, try steaming the filling in a heat-safe bowl inside the steamer, and remember it’ll take much longer to cook. The resulting “meatloaf” is not nearly as fun to eat, but it’s very tasty and you can chop it up to put on top of rice or noodles, maybe with some sesame oil. If you want no gluten at all, leave out the oyster sauce and perhaps use wheat-free tamari, sesame paste, minced dried shrimp, or a flavorful Chinese condiment you like.

Technique: Stuffing Dumpling Wrappers

• After defrosting wrappers I leave them in the fridge until I start cooking so they don’t have a chance to get gummy and hard to work with.
• I keep some water in a bowl under my hands and wet the “wrapper” hand before I pick up each wrapper so that I don’t have dry edges breaking as they pleat around the filling
• To stuff, either cup one in the palm of your hand, add filling, then squeeze around sides to get folds of wrapper to stick to filling; or make a “c” shape with your hand and push center of wrapper into the hole, so your hand is already squeezing the sides. 
• You’re not trying to seal this (it ends up open at the top, like a little cup), so you don’t have to have perfect technique. They’re a bit easier to work with, though, if you err on the side of too little filling rather than too much.

Technique: Steaming

• I have a bamboo steamer, but metal is fine too and you can probably even use a little fold-up steaming insert, you just might have to steam in more batches.
• Set up a wok or large pot that your steamer will fit inside. If it’s a dedicated steamer it will have its own lid so the pot doesn’t have to completely encase the steamer, it just needs to be wide enough that you can set the steamer into it over the water.
• I want to keep food out of the crevices of the bamboo, so in each tray I lay down a big leaf of lettuce, heat-safe plate, or piece of foil; if I’m using a plate or foil I make there is a bit of space on the sides for the steam. Your steamer might not require this step.
• When you’re ready to steam add a couple inches of water to the pot, as much as you can without having the boiling water touch the bottom of the food. (If you’re using a steamer basket and want to get it higher off the bottom of the pot, you can coil up a wad of foil or use some other heat-safe metal item to raise it up further.)
• Turn the heat to high, and check the water level every so often (this may require lifting up the steamer) so it doesn’t boil dry.

Placing Pork Hash in the Steamer
Left to their own devices the wrappers will stick to the steamer and to each other, so you have to oil anything that will come into contact with the wrappers. I’ve tried two approaches:

1. Brush oil around each wrapper when you finish stuffing it. Advantages: You can nestle the pork hash right up against each other, which allows you to steam more at once, and they hold each other up and come out in nice cylinders. Disadvantages: It takes longer to set up and is messier.
2. Just oil the lettuce/plate/foil and then space the pork hash out so they don’t touch (and stick to) each other. Advantages: Setup is faster and neater. Disadvantages: You have to steam them in more batches, they spread out more, and if they bubble up over the edges of the wrapper they get sloppy, so they don’t look as nice. I don’t mind the spreading on its own but I don’t like it when they bubble over, so again I err on the side of under-stuffing. 

You can always try a batch, or even just a few, then adjust your technique for the next batch. Aside from keeping some water in the pot, you can go as fast or as slow as you like.

Technique: Pan-Frying Pork Hash

The photo that accompanies this post was taken the day after I made the pork hash, when I pan-fried them as I would potstickers. If you want to do the same:

1. Heat a pan with one or two tablespoons of oil on medium heat. When pan is hot, set pork hash on their flat bases, with a little space between them so they don’t stick to each other.
2. Fry pork hash without moving them until you can pick one up without any sticking and see that it is crisp and golden.
3. Add a couple tablespoons of water to the pan and cover, allowing just a bit of steam to escape.
4. When water is evaporated and edges of wrappers are pliable (because if you’re using leftovers, they’ll have dried out a bit in the fridge), uncover and allow to cook for a couple more minutes until bottoms are crisp again.

To read about Eric's Chinese-style pork dumplings, too, click here.

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Pork Hash

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Shoyu Chicken

For the first three years of college I ate in Haverford’s dining hall. Despite the institutional portions and budget the staff tried hard to please the students, so there was a decent salad bar and some notably crave-worthy baked goods (anise bread—who knew?) and desserts (those seven-layer bars!), but it wasn’t enough, at least not for me. Unlike friends from New Jersey or Boston, I only got home to Hawaii twice a year, and I knew I could stick it out and be okay if I could only taste some local flavors, to have a bit of Hawaii in Philadelphia.

From home I brought bags of li hing mui and lemon peel and tried not to go through them too quickly. (At least I never had to share: I learned that no one else wanted any after the first hall-mate who gamely tried a piece spit it out immediately.) I nibbled at the edges of my culinary heritage by going out for Japanese or Thai or dim sum, and for a few moments in those restaurants I felt the warmth of cozy belonging. While studying for finals I sequestered myself in my dorm room and ate long rice from a small rice cooker, sprinkling in jarred nori furikake for flavor. It wasn’t ideal, but it gave me what I needed at the time.

When I eventually had my own kitchen, I learned to travel into Philly’s Chinatown for ingredients. They were still fairly basic, but I had a much wider variety of noodles and rices and some of the other items that I had been carting back from home. I was only just beginning to learn to cook, so I made a lot of rice and fried Spam, waiting for trips home to satisfy most of my cravings.

Finally (and after I had moved to Denver) I was ready to be a bit more ambitious, and one of the first recipes I tried was for shoyu chicken. It’s extremely easy to make, the ingredients can probably be found even in small-town supermarkets, and it works well as leftovers. While I didn’t eat much shoyu chicken growing up, it’s a staple in my house today. My recipe is a minor variation on this one, from the excellent recipe portion of alohaworld.com.

Shoyu* Chicken

6 skin-on** chicken thighs

5/8 c soy sauce

1 ¼ c water

¼ c brown sugar

3 green onions, cut into 2 inch pieces

3 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed

2 slices ginger, crushed slightly

1. Place chicken in a large pot skin side up. Add all other ingredients and bring to a rapid boil. Lower heat to medium low and cover with lid.
2. Cook for an hour, turning chicken over halfway through to cook on other side.
3. After full hour, taste the sauce and adjust to your liking. If it’s too sweet, add more soy sauce; if it’s too salty, add more sugar.
4. Chicken is done when it is just about falling off the bone. You can leave it in longer than an hour if it’s not quite there yet.
5. When it is done, I recommend removing chicken from pot, turning the heat up to medium, and reducing the sauce down a bit to make a better sauce. Serve with rice.

*When I was growing up we called all soy sauce by its Japanese name, shoyu.

**You can take the skin off some of the chicken thighs if you’d like to cut back on the fat, but do leave some there for flavor.

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Shoyu Chicken

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Congee

One of my favorite comfort foods is rice porridge with Chinese flavors. When I was a kid in Honolulu we called it jook (the “oo” is pronounced as in “book”), which from what I can tell from my limited research is a Korean or alternative Cantonese name. Now that I’m on the mainland it seems the more common name is congee, so that’s what I’m calling it here.

My parents never made congee when I was little, so I only ate it in restaurants, often with dim sum. Muddling through Seattle’s dreary winter, I recently decided to make congee a more regular part of my repertoire. It’s warm and filling, cheap and easy to make, and can accommodate a wide variety of ingredients and toppings.

My congee is adapted from this recipe. (The blog is worth a read, too.)

Here is the absolute base recipe:

Congee

1 c. short-grain rice

8 to 10 c. water

Wash rice and put it in a large pot with 2 cups water. Place over high heat until water boils, then add another 4 cups water. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to low. Simmer for about 1½ hours, stirring occasionally and adding water as necessary (about 2 to 4 cups more).

Serves 6-8

Of course, you won’t want to eat it like that; it’s extremely bland, and congee can be much more interesting. This is what I did to make the bowl pictured above:

Congee

1 c. short-grain rice

2 c. chicken broth

6 to 8 c. water

4 or 5 shiitake mushrooms

handful dried shrimp

Wash rice and put it in a large pot with stock. Place over high heat until stock boils, then add about 4 cups water. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to low. Soak 4 or 5 dried shiitake mushrooms in hot water until softened. Remove stems and thinly slice. After congee has been simmering for half an hour, add mushrooms and shrimp to pot along with a pinch of salt.

Simmer for another hour, stirring occasionally and adding water as necessary (about 2 to 4 cups more).

Serves 6-8

I topped this bowl with:

• Fried tofu cubes
• Slices of lap cheong
• Fried carrot slices
• Sesame oil
• Dark soy sauce
• Sliced green onion
• Crispy fried shallots

(So many of these were fried because I was already frying the tofu.)

But honestly, you can mix in or top with anything you like. Any or all of the liquid can be veggie or meat broth. In the step when I added the mushrooms and shrimp, you could also put in ginger, garlic, bits of meat, or anything else you want to simmer with the rice and flavor the whole congee.

Other toppings might include:

• Flavorful sauces like black vinegar, chili paste, or soy sauce
• Meats and veggies like char siu, blanched broccoli, or raw tofu
• Garnishes like crispy noodles, pork floss, or bits of onion

You could even use non-Chinese ingredients based on what you have in the fridge and pantry, I just wouldn’t suggest combining preserved soybeans with leftover chicken mole, you know?

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Congee

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Butter Mochi

American pastries are usually made with wheat flour, which can provide great flakiness or a delicate cakey crumb, but if you’ve lived elsewhere and love food, you know that there are other textures out there. I grew up in Hawaii, and one of my favorite local treats is springy, soft rice-based mochi.

I know some mainland residents believe mochi is the ice cream-filled dessert they get at Japanese restaurants, but that’s mochi ice cream. Mochi is that little rice flour dumpling encasing the ball of ice cream. At its simplest, Japanese mochi can be made with just rice that is pounded into a paste and shaped, or it can be sweetened, flavored, and colored and wrapped around bean paste or peanut butter or fruit or anything else you want.

In Hawaii, cooks are also used to other Asian and Western influences, so we eat Chinese gau, deep fried poi mochi, and mochi banana bread. Most home cooks nowadays use mochiko flour instead of pounded rice, and the dishes they make can be sweet or savory and steamed, baked, microwaved, or fried for different results.

Hawaii’s Best Mochi Recipes is one of my favorite local cookbooks and a great source of all of the above. Today I wanted something eggy, and the butter mochi recipe on page 9 fit the bill. I've adapted it for my own, low-sugar needs, but if you want the beloved dense, crusty treat instead of the bready option I made, use two or three cups of sugar instead of my lowly 1/2 cup.

Butter Mochi

1 lb mochiko *

1/2 c sugar (see note above)

1 Tb baking powder

½ c butter or margarine

5 eggs, beaten

1 tsp vanilla

1 can coconut milk (12-oz)**

Melt butter and set aside to cool. In large mixing bowl, combine all ingredients. Mix until batter is smooth. Pour into greased 9 x 13 inch pan. Bake at 375° for 1 hour or until toothpick comes out clean. Cool and cut into squares. (If your knife sticks, try a plastic take-out knife.)

*I’ve included an Amazon link for mochiko in order to show you the box, but in many areas of the U.S. you can buy mochiko at Asian grocery stores, and in Seattle (and our last home in Denver) I could pick it up at the closest supermarket. By the way, brown rice flour will not produce the same result at all. It's a fine product, but it's not for mochi.

** The coconut milk does not add coconut flavor; you can sprinkle toasted coconut on top if you like.

null

Molly D's Kitchen in Seattle: Butter Mochi

Molly D.'s Kitchen in Seattle: Local Chocolatiers

Like many Seattleites I try to buy local and organic, and if you’re visiting you can find amazing apples from Central Washington, blackberries that grow like weeds, and shellfish pulled from local waters.

Okay, I guess you can’t possibly buy locally-grown chocolate, but you can do the next best thing and support our economy. Seattle alone has a wealth of chocolate manufacturers, each of which has found a niche in a pretty crowded market:

Oh! Chocolate has three locations (plus one in Georgia?!) and makes crazy good truffles, creams, caramels, and assorted dipped and seasonal treats like sugar plums and peppermint-white-chocolate-coated shortbread bites. I’ve been to two of the locations and the people working there were chatty and sweet, and they always give you a free truffle or caramel to try along with your order.

Theo Chocolate is quintessentially Seattle: organic, fair-trade, with many vegan offerings and its factory and showroom in funky Fremont. You can walk in and try pieces of almost all of its bars, or call ahead and reserve a spot on the factory tour, which I have yet to take but have heard is great. Many of the single-source Origin bars, simply-flavored Classic Combination bars, and funky 3400 Phinney bars are now available nationally, so you might be able to pick up Bread and Chocolate or Dark Chocolate with Orange where you are. Fig, Fennel, and Almond has its fans though I’ve never warmed to it, but for me a little of the Coconut Curry goes a long way, and the Vanilla Milk Chocolate bar is smooth and creamy. In-store and online you can get all sorts of confections like scotch caramels, walnut flaxseed crunch truffles, and Big Daddies in peanut butter or marshmallow. Theo is one of my top 10 Seattle food finds.

Seuss Chocolates & Pastries is the new kid on the block, making truffles and German pastries in an open kitchen in a cute area of Madison park. It’s clearly a labor of love for partners Dennis and David, who even donated their proceeds from heart-shaped Equality chocolates toward supporting Washington’s (now-successful) domestic partnership bill. I’ve bought chocolates for them as gifts but haven’t tried them yet myself, but I liked their focus on classic European chocolates and appreciated seeing slices of German stollen in their pastry case, so I hope they stick around.

Fran’s Chocolates has three locations, none of which I’ve visited myself, but I’ve seen her bars and salted caramels in grocery stores all around the area and have tried her dense, stubby nut-and-caramel filled Gold Bars in almond and macadamia. She seems to get good national press as a successful high-end chocolatier, and I think I’ll make a greater effort to try her wares.

Dilettante wants to satisfy all of your chocolate needs. Not only can you buy or order chocolates and bars, you can also get a whole range of hot chocolates and coffee drinks at its five mocha cafes, and the Mocha Martini Bar on Broadway has all of the above plus cakes, pastries, sundaes, chocolate martinis, and even a few savory items to soak up the sugar and alcohol. The chocolates are good, but Dilettante is really about the experience. I went to the martini bar for the first time recently, and I can vouch for its simple Mexicano cocoa as a warming, not-too-sweet cup of comfort on a frosty night.

Seattle Chocolate seems awfully corporate: available in all the grocery stores and the airport souvenir shops, no individual locations, readily-packaged items without adventurous flavors. I will, however, admit that I’ve enjoyed my share of its Truffle Bars, which have a texture like Lindt’s Lindor Truffles in bar form. You know they’re bad for you, and the flavors are a bit cloying, but they’re also addictive and you’ll keep eating pieces of Coconut Macaroon or Extreme Dark until the bar is gone.

  

Chocolati makes tasty chocolates, but my interaction with the company has primarily been through a couple of its four Chocolati Cafés. They’re a bit homier than Dilettante’s, more like independent coffee shops than Starbucks, and they make thick hot chocolates and mocha drinks that are a nice alternative to Seattle’s ubiquitous coffees.

A small shop I have yet to visit is Boehms, east of Seattle in Issaquah. The website touts a goofy-sounding Edelweiss Chalet, Alpine Chapel, and fountains and some old-school items like pecan roll and chocolate-covered licorice. I’m intrigued enough to stop by the next time I’m out that way.

If all this isn’t enough for you, take the Tour de Chocolat. It starts at Chocolate Box, a chocolate shop near Pike Place Market that serves confections along with selling a variety of upscale American and imported bars, then continues on to a tour of Theo, and one each of the Oh! Chocolate and Fran’s Chocolate shops. I haven’t been myself and am not sure how well it’s worth the $69 cost, but you do get to take home some treats and if you’re in Seattle without stamina for a self-directed tour, perhaps a guided one is the way to go.

So…how is this about cooking? Only tangentially, I suppose, but my love for food and my love for cooking are inextricably intertwined. If yours are too, come to Seattle for the food, chocolate included!

Molly D.'s Kitchen in Seattle: Local Chocolatiers

Molly D.'s Kitchen in Seattle: An Introduction, and Oxtail Tacos

Introduction to My Kitchen

Hi from Seattle! I was all set to write my recipe for today, but as I thought about it I realized my cooking style needs a bit of an introduction:

I'm a lazy cook. I don’t want to plan my grocery shopping way ahead so that I can follow a recipe, and I don’t want to wash a mountain of bowls and measuring implements when I’m done.

I have a diverse background of food influences and I like trying new foods. My refrigerator door is full of Asian condiments, I have over 20 types of sweetener, and I’ll buy unfamiliar items because they sound interesting. But a home kitchen can only stock so much, and many items only stay fresh for so long, so I don’t count on having on hand standard recipe items like parsley and chicken breast.

I love understanding how techniques and ingredients work and what they do for a dish--what to put together and how to do it. In most cases I’m happier doing something on my own than following a recipe.

What this all adds up to is that my cooking tends to be thrown together based on what I have and what I feel like eating. Sometimes what I make works and sometimes it doesn’t, and I hope that as I develop my cooking sense, I’ll make fewer mistakes and more great meals! Today's post is one experiment that worked.

Oxtail Tacos

This afternoon I took the bus to Pike Place Market, one of my favorite places to find unexpected ingredients, and spent several hours wandering through the maze of little shops. By the time my feet hurt, my bag was full of chocolate bars, fresh corn tortillas, little bags of ground ginger, cinnamon, and cloves, a palmier, a jar of brined lemons, Turkish delight, ground chipotle and pasilla peppers, piloncillo, and a new-to-me hot sauce.

When I got home I was starving, and I figured I should start in on the huge stack of tortillas. I decided to combine them with the oxtails I’d been thawing in the fridge, and while I’d never cooked oxtails before, I had been told to go with braising, which was also perfect for chilly late fall. I know relatively little about Mexican cooking and even less about Latin America’s wide variety of peppers, so the pasilla was also an experiment. As usual, I put what I had on hand into the braising liquid. The combination and cooking method might not be authentic, but I chose flavors that would complement each other and taste good reduced into a rich, savory sauce.

Here’s the basic recipe; measurements are guesstimates.

Ingredients

3 oxtails

1 leek, cut into big chunks

2 or 3 cloves garlic, sliced

1/4 c rice vinegar

1 T ground pasilla pepper

1 T ground chipotle pepper

1 tsp. cinnamon

2 tsp. salt

Corn tortillas

Directions

1. Stand oxtails on their ends in a medium-sized pot/saucepan with a lid and put all other ingredients except tortillas into the spaces around them.
2. Pour water into pot until it reaches halfway up the sides of the oxtails.
3. Place on heat and bring to boil, then turn heat down to low and cover pot.
4. Come back every so often to make sure water hasn’t all boiled out and to turn the oxtails over once or twice during cooking.
5. After two or three hours (this recipe involves minimal work but a lot of waiting), the meat should be tender enough that you can push it off the bones into the reduced liquid.
6. Spoon chunks of meat into tortilla. Dip each bite into a vinegary, spicy hot sauce to cut the richness and add heat. So good.

 Serves two.

Notes on the Ingredients

• Vinegar: There wasn’t enough flavor initially, so, inspired by adobo, I added the vinegar. I’m sure it would be fine with a different type of vinegar or without any at all, but I wanted tang without extra flavors, and rice vinegar was the mildest I had in my pantry.
• Pepper: At first I used only the pasilla, but I found it too mild so I added the chipotle for heat and smokiness. I’m sure other pepper varieties or Latin-American-inspired spices would taste great, just different.
• Leeks: I had leeks on hand, but onions would probably serve just as well.
• Cinnamon: I had just bought the cinnamon and remembered it from other Mexican dishes so I thought I’d throw it in, though I can’t tell if the amount I used made any difference.
• Corn tortillas: I love flour tortillas, but I suspect they’d be a bit bland and doughy next to the deeply flavored oxtails. Also, I understand that there are several ways to soften tortillas, and I went with steaming because it was convenient. We ate our tacos over the still-simmering pot of oxtails, so I softened each tortilla one at a time by laying it over the little tripod of oxtail bones and covering the pot. Depending how much steam there was, the tortilla was tender but not yet gummy after anywhere between 30 seconds and a couple minutes. (This is also why there are no photos of the finished, plated dish--there were no plates!)

Notes on the Final Result:

• The oxtails turned out great. The braising liquid reduced into an incredibly rich and savory sauce for the chunks of meat.
• The best surprise was that the leeks totally collapsed into the richness of the sauce. I’ve never been a huge fan of leeks, but each time I picked one out of the sauce it felt like a treat.
• The fat and long simmer really tamed the heat of the pepper, so the final product was way less spicy than when I tasted it earlier in the cooking process.
• This recipe serves two, but it doesn’t make a lot of meat. Because it’s so rich you only need a couple tablespoons of meat per tortilla.

Molly D.'s Kitchen in Seattle: An Introduction, and Oxtail Tacos