One major sticking point is that I lack an oven in the piso I’ve found in Madrid – yes, I am going to have to get creative with cuisine; watch what happens!! In this case, the solution was to involve nearby friends as baking buddies.

Yeast in Spanish is “levadura,” but if you pick up a box of “levadura en polvo,” you will end up with a baking soda mixture of dubious origin. If you’ve never encountered fresh yeast before, do not fear – one of these lil’ puppies is equivalent to the packets Americans are more used to, and either should work just fine for this recipe.

Warning: the enticing scent of honey will weave its naughty way into every corner of your house while your doughbaby rises. And rise it does, rapidly doubling in size as the yeast scarfs up the sugars.

I went with a glass breadpan, but in retrospect leaving it in a flat braid on a baking sheet would perhaps have been more aesthetically pleasing. It needs twenty minutes of direct heat, then an aluminum foil tent prevents the top from charring too much.

However, successful bread is much like a child; its parents always believe it the most beautiful possible. The scent of this puppy is unbelievably marvelous, and the gleam of the egg wash is shiny eye candy – although next time I’ll definitely do it after the second rise for better coverage.

The honey and extra yolks in the dough give this dense bread a richness that pairs most sweetly with slightly salty soft cheeses, like the semi-cured sheep’s milk variety in my fridge. I also sampled it with strawberry jam, honey, and a nutella-esque chocolate spread, and recommend all of them, several times over.

Expanded story and more photos here.

Challah
significantly adapted from Joan Callaway’s allrecipes.com post.

makes: one large loaf of challah, which keeps for a few days if you like.
time: 20 min prep, then 1 hour rise, then 10 min prep, another 1 hour rise, and finally 30-40 min baking time. It’s an all-afternoon activity.

1 1/4 cups warm water
1 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast/1 “cube” fresh yeast
1/3 cup honey
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 whole egg + 2 egg yolks
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 egg for egg wash (directly before baking)

1. In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in warm water. Beat in honey, oil, egg and egg yolks, and salt.

2. Add the flour one cup at a time, beating after each addition, graduating to kneading with hands as dough thickens. Knead until smooth and elastic and no longer sticky, adding flour as needed. Cover with a damp clean cloth and let rise in warm area for 1 hour, or until dough has doubled in bulk.

3. Punch down the risen dough and turn out onto floured board. Divide into thirds, knead a minute or so, and roll into long snakes about 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Pinch the ends of the three snakes together firmly and braid. Either leave as braid or form into a round braided loaf by bringing ends together, curving braid into a circle, pinch ends together. Lay finished braid on greased baking tray or in breadpan. Cover with towel and let rise about one hour.

4. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.

5. Beat the remaining egg and brush a generous amount over braid.

6. Bake at 375 degrees F for about 20 minutes, then tent with aluminum foil to prevent burning and bake for 20 more minutes. Bread should have a nice hollow sound when thumped on the bottom. Cool on a rack for a few minutes before slicing.

Contrary to Western color designations, red Thai curry is notably less spicy than its green cousin.

This red Thai curry is inundated with all variety of vegetables, plus cumin-spiked tofu that I tried out but was totally not worth the effort (if you want tofu in this, you should just cut it up and fry it, then toss it in). The recipe uses pre-made red curry paste, and so should you if you don’t have access to every single fresh ingredient needed to make it – most home cooks in Thailand buy their pre-made from a market too. The complexity of the flavors may not be quite as thoroughly pronounced as with the freshly ground goodness, but the convenience more than makes up for it, and frying the paste in oil along with the onions coaxes an impressive depth from something out of a jar.

My personal tastebuds prefer sweet basil (the same kind used in Italian cooking) in my red curry, but if you like the touch of anise inherent in the holy basil variety, you should go for it. I won’t be vengeful.

I love the combination of stock and coconut milk as a base; it’s a perfect way to access the silky richness of coconut milk without going overboard with calories. Feel free to modify the selection of veggies as you please, although I’d definitely stick with the bamboo shoots as they add a marvelous crunchy contrast in texture.

You could also, clearly, add chunks of meat – chicken or beef would be my preferences here. See what I mean about customizable curries?

Sticky rice makes an excellent accompaniment, although spooning it over a heap of fresh jasmine rice is lovely as well.

Kaeng Phet Phak – Thai Red Curry with Vegetables
Adapted from Food & Wine.

makes: 6 servings
time: 30 minutes

1 1/2 tablespoons cooking oil
1 onion, diced
1 1/2 teaspoons Thai red curry paste
15 oz (1 2/3 cups) lite coconut milk
1 cup low-sodium vegetable broth
1 1/2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup drained canned bamboo shoots
1/2 head broccoli, cut into small florets
1 red bell pepper, diced
1 package extra-firm tofu, sliced and fried
2 roma tomatoes, chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons lime juice
1/3 cup thin-sliced basil leaves

1. Heat the oil in a large pot over moderate heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until starting to soften, about 3 minutes. Stir in the curry paste and fry, stirring, for 1 minute.

2. Add the coconut milk and broth and bring to a boil. Stir in the soy sauce, brown sugar, salt. Add bamboo shoots, broccoli, bell pepper, and tofu. Reduce the heat and simmer, until the vegetables are tender, about 10 minutes.

3. Stir in the tomato and heat through, about 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and add the lime juice and basil.

Try it also with any combination of vegetables, such as carrots, thai eggplant, cauliflower, snow peas, cabbage, green beans, and baby corn. Meat is also more than acceptable; cook it before adding it to the pot.

Immediate, Up-Front Disclaimer: This is in no way traditionally Thai!
Disclaimer to the Disclaimer: I am perfectly at peace with that!

There. Ass covered. As to why I didn’t go traditional on this one… it’s a mystery. No really, I usually aim to make my iterations of Thai food as close as possible to the versions I found in Bangkok, because eating 100% traditional Thai dishes all the time made for a seriously excellent culinary lifestyle. However, yesterday I stumbled across a recipe and thought something along the lines of “Oh yeah, I love laab!! Let’s just pick up these ingredients and not research this further at all.”

It was only once I got home and realized this particular recipe had neither lime nor cilantro – two ingredients I would consider essential for proper laab – that doubt crept its sneaky way into the corners of my kitchen. However – and I don’t say this lightly – it totally didn’t matter. That’s right. It may have been the magic of khao kua at work, or perhaps these particular lemons were aspiring lime-wannabes. Although fresh green sprigs would definitely be preferable, the coriander powder absolutely did its duty in standing in taste-wise for the missing cilantro.

Next time I’m going to give She Simmers’ much more traditional version a whirl – you can also thank her for the linguistically mindful multiple versions of the English transliteration of ลาบ – but we devoured this sham of a knockoff, and for very good reason. Like so many other Thai foods, laab is fun to eat; not only do you get to stuff it into lettuce leaves, forming the most adorable faux-tacos that could ever call themselves a salad, but the multitude of flavors is engaging with every crunch. The sour and spicy elements are balanced by cool mint, and bursts of red onion and scallion interrupt the overriding savoriness of the pork.

Laab/Lahb/Larb Mu – Spicy Sour Pork Salad
slightly adapted from Tan Kitchen

makes: 3-4 side salads
time: 25 minutes

1 1/2 cups of ground pork – I ground my own from a couple boneless pork sirloins in the food processor, because I like to know where it comes from. You can, of course, use chicken or beef or even duck if you like.
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
2-4 dried or fresh thai chiles, chopped – I used dried bird chiles
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon chili powder
1 tablespoon khao kua – don’t leave this out!
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 tablespoon fish sauce
1 tablespoon chopped red onion
1 tablespoon chopped green onion
1/4 cup mint leaves, chopped
1/2 head lettuce, torn into large leaves for shaping wraps

1. In saucepan, brown ground pork and chopped thai chiles in 1 teaspoon cooking oil, until pink is gone. Place in a mixing bowl, let cool for 5 minutes.

2. Season the pork with fish sauce, lemon juice, coriander powder, khao kua and chili powder. Add green onion and chopped red onion.

3. Top with chopped mint and serve with lettuce leaves.

NOTE: Serve this right away, and just make as much as you think will be eaten immediately – I’ve read it doesn’t keep well.

SECOND NOTE: How can I talk about laab and not mention this?

Sticky rice. Is there anything it can’t do? In this case, it works as a thickener akin to cornstarch, plus adds a rounded, nutty depth, coloquially known as the “mmmm… what’s in this??” factor.

Do not attempt with jasmine rice. Do not attempt with sushi rice. Do not even contemplate attempting with Uncle Ben – sooner or later, the two of us are gonna have a showdown. Don’t worry, I’ll sell tickets.

There’s magic in the grain of the sticky rice strain. Here’s hoping that nausea-inducing mnemonic is catchy enough that it’ll never leave your head, because you gotta try sprinkling a smidgen of this into your larb. It manages to melt its way into the texture seamlessly – although I’ve had varieties in Bangkok that were only describable as “gritty,” so go easy on the mortar-and-pestling if that’s what you’re after.

Easy, easy, easy, and totally adds even further Badass points to your spicy meat salad, nontraditional though it may be.

Khao Kua

makes: as much as you want. It’s so fast that you may as well make it fresh each time you need it, although I’ve read that it keeps well.
time: five, maybe ten minutes

sticky rice – also known as sweet Thai rice

1. Toast sticky rice in medium-hot skillet, constantly tossing, until beautifully browned all over. Some seriously enticing scents should reach your nose during this process, but if it starts smelling bitter, you’ve burned it and may want to start over.

2. Take the rice off the heat and let it cool a bit (careful not to burn it!!). Pour into your mortar and pestle set-up – or coffee grinder – and grind to a fine powder. Store and use as needed.

This four, count ‘em, FOUR ingredient recipe – including salt and butter – brings the allure of fresh sweet summer to your table for pennies, any time of the year, in just about ten minutes. You simply can’t ask for more from a recipe. It is the sort of dish you sneak onto the menu as a side, the clever mint slivers disguised as something probably far less punchy, likely parsley again, enough with the goddamn boring parsley already.

But Lo! one taste of these caramelized kernels and the Herbaceous Truth will reign free. High heat beckons all those natural sugars in the corn to the surface, where a steaming butterbath awaits. It is then that the determined mint leaves swoop down and lift the flavor far from the expected, adding a cool richness you would never believe possible except that, god, I think I need a second crack at this, is there any more? Luisa of The Wednesday Chef hit it on the nose – this is the dish that will forever convince you of the joys of frozen corn.

Corn and mint are, and have always been, destined for each other. Fear not pellagra. Give the Herbaceous Truth its deserved wings.

Caramelized Corn with Fresh Mint
from The Wednesday Chef, who found it from Julia Moskin.

makes: a small side dish for four
time: 30 minutes defrosting, 10 minutes active cook time

1 10-ounce package frozen premium corn (I used petite white; Luisa reports it as wonderful with plain yellow)
1 tablespoon unsalted butter
2 tablespoons minced fresh mint
Salt

1. Defrost the corn in a colander, tossing occasionally, for about 30 minutes.

2. In a wide skillet, melt the butter over high heat. Add the corn and cook, stirring often, until golden and browned (kernels may begin to pop), about 10 minutes. Stir in the mint and sprinkle with salt. Transfer to a serving bowl and serve while hot.

The perfect explosively juicy tangy-sweet mangobaby needs naught but your enthusiastic and incredibly talented tongue. As such, this salad (not a slaw, not a slaw) may be considered the perfect pair of frilly underthings.

Crunchy napa cabbage provides the lace, of course, upon which are nestled succulent bell pepper and red onion distractions, all bathed in perky lime juice and just a naughty little touch of chile.

The colorful lovenest, however, is clearly devoted to maximizing your mango pleasure, drawing out every last drop of tart candy from the slippery flesh. Chopped, toasted cashews are mere adornments to Queen Mango.

It’s an ardent ode to nature’s lustiest fruit, a hot moan cutting through cool mint. Make it with fish.

Note: if you’re looking for unripe mango salad, check out Som Tam.

Tangy Mango Salad with Mint and Toasted Cashews
halved from Deb of smittenkitchen.

makes: a good amount of salad for four as a side
time: 15 minutes

1 ripe mango, peeled, pitted and julienned
half a small napa cabbage, sliced very thinly (I will go thinner next time)
1 red pepper, julienned
1/4 red onion, thinly sliced
3 tablespoons of fresh lime juice, from about one lime
1/8 cup rice vinegar
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon Thai chile paste (optional, added a pleasant depth)
1/8 cup thinly sliced fresh mint leaves
1/4 cup toasted cashews, coarsely chopped

1. Toss mangoes, cabbage, pepper and onion in a large bowl. Whisk lime juice, vinegar, oil, salt and red pepper in a smaller bowl and pour over slaw. You can either serve this immediately or leave the flavors to muddle for an hour in the fridge (I strongly prefer the muddle).

2.Just before serving, toss with mint leaves and sprinkle with cashews.

The grilled naan last week was such a knockout that I was an easy sell on giving similarly fire-toasted pizzas a go. I tested the limits of Smitten Kitchen’s honey and white wine crust, piling four mini-pizzas high with twice the tomato sauce, plus roasted onions, red peppers, portabellas, and a heap of torn mozzarella.

Oh c’mon. Look at the golden mozzarella draped over that toasty onion. You can almost smell the tang of tomatoes hugging crispy honeyed crust. It was fabulous.

Just like the naan, I had no issues with hard-won dough tragically collapsing through malevolent grill grates, and neither will you. Crank that puppy up high, and I would actually recommend rolling the dough out quite a bit thinner than mine before you lay it on the heat – it should take the stress just fine. Pay attention to it; as soon as the bottom gets crispy, you snatch it away from the coals, flip, arrange your toppings on the already golden side, and then slap it back on the heat for just a minute or so more.

You can read about my first iteration of Deb’s recipe here, but there’s no way I’ll go back to meager oven-baked pies after experiencing the forbidden joy of grilled pizzabeasts. Let these mothers burn.

Honey and White Wine Pizza
from smittenkitchen.

makes: one huge thin-crust pizza or two fatty pizzabeasts (I doubled this recipe, and it could have fed 6 ravenous diners)
time: 20 minutes messing around, 1-2 hours rising

dough
6 tablespoons warm water
2 tablespoons room temperature white wine
3/4 teaspoon active dry yeast – about half of one of those little packets
1/2 teaspoon honey
1 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 1/2 cups room temperature  flour

assembly
cornmeal for sprinkling
flour for dusting counter
plenty of torn-up buffalo mozzarella
a few portabella mushrooms
1 onion
1 red bell pepper
tomato sauce (recipe below)

1. Whisk wine, water and yeast in a medium bowl until yeast has dissolved. Add honey, salt and olive oil and stir. Add flour, and no matter how dry it looks, work it with a spoon and your fingers until it comes together as a dough.

2. Sprinkle some flour on the counter and knead the dough for a minute or two.

3. Wash the bowl you made the dough in, dry it and coat the inside with olive oil. Put the dough in, cover it with plastic wrap, and let it rise for an hour or up to two, until it is doubled.

[Deb suggests: easiest way to tell if a dough has risen enough? Dip two fingers in flour, press them into the dough, and if the impression stays, it's good to go. If it pops back, let it go until it doesn't.]

3.5. Meanwhile, make some sauce [recipe below].

4. Preheat your grill to pretty stinkin’ hot. Cut and roast your veggies (mushrooms, bell pepper, onion), then set them aside for later. Sprinkle a baking pan/wooden cutting board with cornmeal.

5. Once the dough has doubled, turn it out onto a floured counter and gently deflate the dough with the palm of your hands. Form it into a ball and let it rest on a floured spot with either plastic wrap over it (sprinkle the top of the dough with flour so it doesn’t stick) or an upended bowl. In 15 minutes, it will be ready to roll out.

6. Do so on the floured counter until darn thin, maybe 1/8″ thick, then lift it onto a cornmeal-sprinkled baking sheet/cutting board.

7. Scoot dough onto hot grill. Let it toast until the underside is golden and lovely – the time it takes to do this will wholly depend on your particular grill peculiarities – then scoot it off the grill and onto the baking sheet/cutting-board again. Arrange your toppings on the cooked side, then it’s back onto the heat again until the bottom is just as golden and lovely as the top. Remove from grill.

8. Optional Effort Step: heat up your oven’s broiler and singe the mozzarella just a few minutes for that genuine wood-fired pizza look so popular these days.

Really Ridiculously Low Effort Tomato Sauce
from smittenkitchen.

makes: enough for the above dough’s pizza
time: 10 min prep, 30 min simmering on stove

8 roma tomatoes
2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil
6 cloves of garlic, minced
big ole pinch of red pepper flakes
several splashes of of white wine
1 teaspoon sugar
1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1. Bring medium pot of water to a boil. Poach the tomatoes for one minute only, and then drain them. As soon as they are cooled off enough that you can touch them, peel them. The peels should come right off. If they don’t, make a slit in the skins.

2. Drain and dry the pot. Put it back on the burner over medium heat. Pour in olive oil and let it heat completely before adding the garlic and stirring it for a minute with a wooden spoon. Add the red pepper flakes and stir it for anther minute. You do not want the garlic to brown.

3. Put the peeled tomatoes in the pot, along with the wine, sugar and salt. Break the tomatoes up with your spoon.

4. Let the sauce simmer for about 30 minutes, stirring occasionally, adding wine as needed, until the tomatoes break down. Carefully taste without burning your tongue and adjust seasonings, if necessary.

This one’s also lifted from minimalist chef Jules of Stone Soup, whose unassuming little dishes are furiously growing on me as I try them out. I honestly do believe in the value of slaving for hours over a hot stove  – there’s a certain kind of magic in bringing a whole day’s worth of effort to the dinner table – but Jules has definitely made a minimalist kitchen believer out of me. This took five minutes, maybe. It might take six if you experience great difficulty in opening cans.

I initially paired this with a slew of roasted veggies – red bell peppers, zucchini, and portobello caps – to pretty durn tasty effect. However, the true joyous epiphany took until earlier this afternoon, when I insightfully combined it with crispy slices of a particularly wonderful gala apple. Good lord. It was born for apples. Incited by the sweetness, the touch of sherry just blooms, and the walnuts are full-bodied and buttery like nobody’s business.

White Bean & Walnut Hummus
from Stone Soup.

makes: plenty, perhaps 2 1/2 cups worth of hummus
time: 5 minutes

16 oz walnuts
1 (14 oz) can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
2 cloves garlic, peeled
3 Tablespoons sherry
4 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
(plenty of) salt & pepper
4 Tablespoons water, or to taste

1. Process walnuts in a food processor until finely ground.

2. Add remaining ingredients, except water, and continue to process until you have a smooth paste.

3. Gradually add water until the paste is the consistency you’re after. Garnish with cilantro and smoked paprika if you feel fancy.

This? This, friends, is a salad.

I’ve been on a bit of a salad kick lately, I s’pose. How handy that essentially everything can be chopped up and labeled as such! There’s a simple pleasure somewhere in the methodical yet seemingly artistic process of combining fresh veggies, dicing and mincing and grating, watching the colors pile up together in the bowl.

I used to think I loathed salads as a kid, all because I was suspicious of the mysterious “dressings” – what the hell is that “ranch” gloop, and why do I want to eat it on leaves? I count realizing that dressings are just sour + oil among my favorite Adult Discoveries, because they work absolute magic on raw veggies, somehow perfectly underlining their lightness and freshness and crunch.

This iteration of shredded cabbage excites due to a secret weapon named “half a jalapeño.” It’s just barely enough to be detectable – you aren’t going to knock any socks off here – and as such is the driving force behind the why-yes-I-will-have-some-more-thank-you-ness of the mix. The tang of lime and rice vinegar is balanced by sweet carrot and earthy cilantro, while the cabbage just keeps doing its crunchy thing in the background. Simply a straight-A salad – just don’t tell anyone I got it from Martha Stewart. And definitely don’t call it slaw.

Spicy Cilantro, Lime, and Napa Cabbage Salad
adapted from Martha Stewart (I know)

makes: 4 servings
time: 10 minutes

1/2 small head shredded napa cabbage
3/4 cup cilantro, chopped
4 scallions, chopped
1 grated carrot
1/2 fresh jalapeño, minced
juice of 1 lime – if your limes are especially juicy, you may want to go light on this at first, then add more to taste
a splash of rice vinegar
a splash of vegetable oil
1 teaspoon sugar
a pinch of salt

1. In a large bowl, toss napa cabbage, cilantro, scallions, carrot, and jalapeño.

2. In a small bowl, whisk together lime juice, rice vinegar, vegetable oil, sugar, and salt. Toss with salad just before serving.

It absorbs sauce like a champ. It hugs raw fish. It’s a suitable restoration mortar for ancient masonry. And it deserves more of your time than a minute.

Sushi rice is noteworthy in particular. There’s something about its peculiar brand of gumminess that’s just lovely – it’s tailor-made for chopsticks, obviously, and pairs perfectly with thick sauces loaded with veggies of your choosing. The key is not only in the grain itself – you must use japonica, also known as Japanese rice – but also, after cooking, combining it with a small amount of vinegar, salt, and sugar. This gives the rice its characteristic sweet bite that perfectly complements buttery, raw, high-grade tuna – or whatever saucy dish you’re spooning over it tonight.

Sushi Rice
Halved and somewhat adapted from LucyDelRey’s AllRecipes post.

makes: 4 small or 3 large servings as a side.
time: 25 minutes

1 cup uncooked glutinous white rice (sushi/Japanese rice – I use Calrose)
1 1/2 cups water
3 teaspoons rice vinegar
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1 teaspoon white sugar
a pinch of salt

1. Rinse the rice in a strainer until the water runs clear to remove excess starch. Combine with water in a medium saucepan and bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to low, cover, and cook for 20 minutes. Rice should be tender and water should be absorbed. Cool, uncovered, for 3 minutes.

2. In a small saucepan, combine the rice vinegar, oil, sugar and salt. Cook, stirring, over medium heat, until the sugar dissolves. Stir into the cooked rice. The rice it may seem very wet, but keep stirring and it should absorb and dry as it cools.