jeff yen

Moderately offensive recipes #1: F*ckin’ carrots.

In an attempt to get myself writing again, but in a way that lets me ease into it without having to be creative at all, I'm going to post the occasional oddball recipe I come up with in an attempt to feed myself.

So.

Today's recipe is inspired by... I kind of want to say Thai food, but I'd be lying. In reality, it was inspired by what was in the fridge when I got hungry yesterday.

In order to truly understand some of the origins of this recipe, and possibly those of some to follow, let me explain my current situation.

Lately, I have been living as something of a nomad. I signed an agreement on an apartment that starts at the beginning of August, but in the meantime I am bouncing around town, depending on the charity of friends and family -- and family of friends.

This has led to an interesting confluence of requirements when it comes to my (and my hosts') kitchen(s):

• The things I take from place to place can't spoil easily.
• These things also need to be portable, because I am lazy and hate hauling heavy things around.
• The things I buy I need to be able to eat for almost any meal, so I can use them up quickly, and also because I hate having to go back to the store because I'm missing one crappy thing that some meal depends on.
• Everything should be fairly inexpensive, because... well, because I'm a cheapass.

So essentially, my pantry is comprised of two shopping bags; one full of my knife, spices, and various fats, and another one with an assortment of fruits and vegetables.

I can honestly say though, it's been a while since I've enjoyed cooking as much as this.

All right, so on to the first and possibly last recipe.

This was created... let me see... yesterday, when I realized that my latest trip to the store, combined with a bout of absent-mindedness, had resulted in a fridge stocked with two pounds of carrots, three limes, a lemon, and a one-pound bag of dried garbanzo beans.

Don't ask me why the garbanzo beans were in the fridge, I couldn't answer you even if I wanted to.

Dinner time rolled around, and of course the garbanzo beans had to soak overnight, so I couldn't use them.

I contemplated the carrots, willing them to become a carnitas burrito, or a steak.

There must be, I thought when this proved futile, some way I can inject spice and fat into this equation.

And so I came up with this. I have no idea if it's original at all, and it still needs some tweaking, and of course I am just guessing at the measurements, but I've had this for two dinners in a row now and I'm pretty sure it's delicious.

 

Ingredients*:

• 1/2 lb of carrots (about 4 good-sized carrots), peeled and sliced into rounds or strips.
• 1/2 a lime: Shave or grate the rind off -- that's right, finally here's an opportunity to use that MicroPlane you bought five years ago after watching Rachael Ray. Get rid of as much of the lime's pith as you can, then roughly chop the flesh and set aside.
• 1/2 of a lime: That's right, another 1/2 of a lime. Math wizards will notice that this means you need around one lime. Don't do anything with this half, you'll just need a little bit of its juice.
• Butter
• Extra virgin olive oil (optional)
• Fresh garlic, 1 large clove or equivalent, minced.
• Fresh ginger (same amount as the garlic), minced.
• 2-3 Bay leaves (optional)
• Dried japones chilis (if you desire/can tolerate the heat), cut in half if you don't like bits of super-hot chilis in your carrots, otherwise torn/crushed/chopped. You could use dried red chilis of any kind really, but I've discovered japones have a great aroma to them that just kick chile arbols' ass all up and down the flavor street. I used about four large ones, because I am a MAN.
• Salt (preferably kosher, I guess, but I can't really tell the difference)

* If you want a simpler version that's "cleaner" tasting, get rid of the ginger, bay leaves, lime rind, and chilis.

Prep time:

5 minutes, 7 if you include peeling the carrots.

 

Cook time:

10-15 minutes, depending on how crunchy you like your carrots.

 

• Melt some... I dunno, maybe a tablespoon... of butter in a skillet, along with another tablespoon or two of olive oil, over medium heat. Vary the proportion of butter to olive oil as you like; I personally kind of prefer using all butter, but I feel guilty using that much butter, mostly because I've seen Paula Deen's show. The point is to have enough fat to fry the aromatics and coat the carrots, so do as your conscience and cardiovascular circumstances dictate.
• Once the butter has fully melted, dump in the rind and chopped flesh of half a lime, bay leaves, ginger, dried chilis, and garlic.
• Let them gently fry until the garlic is just starting to turn brown, then dump in the carrots and toss to coat.
• Give it a healthy pinch of salt, turn the heat down to medium-low. Squeeze in a little bit of lime juice and toss from time to time. Continue cooking until the carrots reach the desired level of tenderness; I like them a little soft all the way through, but still with a little bit of bite. If I were a hipster foodie, I would probably airily call them al dente while casually adjusting my vintage black glasses frames with no lenses.
• At this point, fish out whatever spices you don't want in the final dish (I just take out the bay leaves, but for most this will be the point where you remove the bay leaves, lime rind, and chilis).
• Season if needed, and squeeze in a few more drops of lime juice.
• Serve.

Serves 1 me for dinner, or three to four normal people as a side dish, which is how I'd serve it if it wasn't just me sitting around in my underwear eating the stuff.

The bay leaves and sour/bitterness of the lime rind hit first, tempered with the creaminess of the butter. Then the heat from the chilis and the slightly sweet caramelized lime flesh shows through, and finally you get the sweetness of the carrots, all of it with a thread of saltiness.

It's kind of a weird flavor combination, I'll grant you, but I've been finding it addicting.

Enlightenment (pic)

Ned has a religious experience at Korean bbq. Tishna is unimpressed