Seviche (or Ceviche)

I've always spelled it Ceviche, but this is a picture of my friend Omar's Seviche, and that's how he spells it.

I first heard about Omar's seviche when his wife Paola mentioned that they were going to a book party because Omar's seviche recipe had been published in this book.

(In the "small world" dept., also in this book are some recipes by the manager of the soccer monster's former soccer team, a man who was once unspeakably rude and mean and awful to us. Imagine my surprise when, looking through to find Omar's recipe, I came across this man's name and recipes. Oddly enough—or perhaps not so oddly—knowing he could cook improved my opinion of him.)

I've always had a funny relationship with ceviche (or seviche). I'm often not thrilled with the idea of eating it, and when I see it, it doesn't really look that appetizing to me. But then, when I take the first bite, it's usually unfailingly—and surprisingly—delicious. It's like rediscovering that I like ceviche, every single time.

Anyway, when I discovered that Omar's seviche was good enough to be in a cookbook, I was of course very intrigued and started dropping obvious hints about getting invited over for some waiting patiently to be invited over for some. I figured that a) it would be delicious and b) it would finally cure me of my ceviche problem.

But you know what? When I eventually did get invited to their lovely home to eat Omar's seviche, it was the same as ever. I looked at the seviche, all beautifully plated like this:

And I just thought, "Wow, I'm not going to like this much!"

Boy was I wrong!

Omar's seviche is, I can say fairly unequivocally, one of the best things I have ever put in my mouth.

It's just a totally harmonious combination of ingredients—the sourness of the lime and lemon juice, the bite of the raw ginger, the crunch of the celery, the smoky hotness of the roasted jalapenos. All of these combined with  the chewiness of the clams(he doesn't always put clams in, but he did this time) and the tenderness of the fish (he used tilapia) just made for amazingly happy mouthfuls. I couldn't stop eating it. We had the seviche on a gloomy, rainy sunday and the taste of it on my tongue just made the whole room seem bathed in sunshine. It's that good. Really.

As you can see from the picture above, he serves it with sweet potatoes and corn (and bread) which really turns it into a meal. And he also plates it beautifully on a piece of romaine lettuce. But you don't have to do either of those things. You can just make the seviche, leave it to marinate for a while (the longer the better) and then dig right into the bowl with a fork, transporting yourself directly to flavor heaven.

Not that I know anyone who would do such a thing.


Omar's Seviche
(serves 6)


2 pounds of tilapia or flounder
3 lemons
5 limes
salt to taste
2 stalks celery
1 2-inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled
1 red onion
1/2 cup chopped cilantro
2 jalapeno peppers
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large can whole clams or 2 dozen shucked fresh raw clams or 3 dozen cooked and shelled Manila clams (optional)
3 sweet potatoes (optional)
3 ears of corn, (optional)


1) Slice the fish into 1/2 inch strips and put into a bowl. Add clams if using.
2) Squeeze the juice from the lemons and limes and pour over the fish.
3) Add some salt. (Go easy at first and add more later if you need it.) Let the fish "cook" 30 to 40 minutes in the refrigerator.
4) Finely dice the celery and red onion. Grate or finely dice the ginger.
5) Roast the jalapenos over a flame until the outer skins blacken and burst. Let sit 10 minutes, then slide the burnt skins off and thinly slice the peppers.
6) After the fish has marinated, add all the other prepped ingredients and mix. Let sit an additional 20 to 30 minutes before serving. The longer you wait, the richer the flavor gets.
7) If using sweet potatoes and corn, boil them while the fish "cooks." Cut the sweet potatoes and corn cobs in half and serve the seviche accompanied by half a sweet potato and half an ear of corn.


Eat and swoon!

Potato Parathas

It's hard to post if you don't cook. And I haven't been. But not because I've been worn out or disinterested. It's just that for the past few weeks I've been in the warm embrace of my family in Thailand. This means that I eat a lot of Thai food, either out at a restaurant, or brought in. Or that my mother cooks delicious meals for me. She loves to do it, and I, being a dutiful daughter, have to let her.

Or it means I eat delicious things like this:

These are vegetarian Burmese style noodles made by Goma, my parents' housekeeper, who is Burmese but  of Nepali descent, and a strict pure-veg Hindu. She's always making delicious things and leaving them on the stove for us. As you might imagine, the Vegetarian loves Goma and has been in heaven.

But I've been sitting on this post for a while. For one thing, I love the ladies whose recipe I'm showcasing and have been wanting to give them a shoutout on my blog. For another, this post is a total counterpoint to the one I did on bao in which I extoll the virtues of letting other people make things for you.

In this case, I did the opposite.

I made potato parathas instead of buying them.

But, before anyone points a "j'accuse!" finger of hypocrisy at me, I will confess that I do usually buy them, on my Indian shopping sprees to Patel Bros. in Jackson Heights—about a dozen bags at a time. You see, potato parathas are a staple in my house. The kids can't live without them, and if they go a few weeks and there aren't any around, the whining will begin.

This winter, it so happened that I didn't get to Patel Bros. for months. Our paratha supply ran dry. The wee ones went into withdrawal.

I had to do something. So, inspired by these lovely ladies, I decided to try making my own.

I had avoided making filled parathas for years. It just seemed so hard, encasing the filling in the dough and everything. But you know what?

It was easy. Really, really easy. Here's the link to the recipe. And, now that I've done it a few times, a couple of tips:

1) the potatoes need to be really dry. I usually microwave mine or use leftover baked. If you boil them, drain as soon as they are done and put them back on the stove in the empty pan and shake the pan over high heat until they dry a little. If the potatoes are too wet, the filling will be too wet and it will ooze out of the paratha, making it impossible to roll the bread out and also making a big big mess. Trust me. I speak from experience.

2) If you can't find chaat masala, you can use another spice blend, or make your own. I have used both chana masala mix and sambar powder. I also add a few whole toasted cumin seeds to the filling.

3) a cast iron griddle (I use my cast iron tawa, or indian griddle, that I inherited from my mom) works great. These breads don't stick, but a little oil brushed on them during cooking improves the flavor immensely. As does a little butter or ghee put on top before serving. And keep the heat at medium, so that they can cook through before the outsides get too brown.

4) The first time I made the parathas with atta, Indian chapati flour, but then I ran out and, since I couldn't get back to Patel Bros. to get more (if I had, I would have just bought the parathas), I had to find a substitute. White whole wheat flour works very very well. I would give atta a slight edge, but white whole wheat flour is a) available almost anywhere, unlike atta, and b) can be used for other things as well.

5) Stack the cooked parathas in a covered container like tortillas and they will keep at room temp for a few hours and in the fridge for a few days. They even freeze beautifully. (Reheat in a toaster oven. This is a breakfast/snack staple in our house.) I've been on the lookout for a stainless steel lidded container like my Indian aunties use, but so far no luck. Here they are stacked:

But honestly, the first time I made them, I was amazed at how good and easy they are. They're very forgiving. Plus, they're nutritious—what with the whole wheat flour and potatoes and all. 

I'm happy every time the soccer monster scarfs a couple up.

Pie Time

If it's not too hot to turn on my oven, June means strawberry-rhubarb pie for the Vegetarian and me. It's our favorite.

I was worried that this June would go by without us making one, because after a cold spring it's been hot as hades around here and we have all been super busy to boot.

But last week the urge hit us hard and I bit the bullet and agreed to turn on the oven. (which I then forgot to turn off for hours, all the while wondering why the house was so damn hot)

The filling for this pie is easy. Just some strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, and the the thickener of your choice. I like tapioca starch for most fruit pies except apple.

Then comes the crust. The Vegetarian really enjoys making crust—mashing it all up in the bowl with her hands. This one turned out a litte too short, mainly because I used some lard but then forgot to cut the quantities (Lard, not having much water in it, is purer fat than butter, so you really can't substitute 1 for 1 in recipes.)

Which brings me to the real purpose of this post, which is to rant about pie crust.

I think I must have made my first attempt at crust over 20 years ago. Since then I have made many, many pies and learned a few things along the way. I've also tried almost every trick out there—using vodka, or milk, or orange juice instead of water; using the food processor, or a pastry blender; sticking the bowl in the freezer every 2 seconds; adding cream cheese (one of the few that I adopted) or whatever.

And you know what I have decided? They are all beside the point. Pie should be simple and easy to make, and too many of these recipes fetishize it. In the "Pie and Pastry Bible" Rose Levy Berenbaum wants you to stick the crust ingredients in a ziploc bag, chill it heavily, and then mix through the ziploc, so that the warmth from your fingers doesn't soften the butter too much. It does make nice pie crust, and if that's what works for you, great. Go for it.

But I just think it's all too much trouble. Pie is something farm wives used to get up and bake by the dozen at dawn, to be served at lunch when the men came in from the fields. They didn't have freezers, or ziploc bags, or food processors, or vodka.

So here are a few of my personal thoughts on pie crust, for anyone who is just starting out:

1) Find a recipe that works for you and stick with it. I have a friend who makes very good pie crust using oil. It's never worked for me, but it works well for him.

2) Don't be afraid of the liquid. Beginning crust makers are often afraid to add enough liquid, because all the recipes exhort them to use just enough to moisten. Then they end up with a dry dough that they have to knead until it's the texture of cardboard. If you're new to crust-making, too much liquid is better than too little.

3) A combo of lard and butter makes a superior crust, but all butter makes a great crust, too. I don't like all-lard crusts because the flavor isn't as good. And I don't like shortening crusts that much. They leave a greasy mouth feel.

4) Use your fingers to mix the dough and, if you do it enough, you'll get a feel for what the proper texture and moistness should be. Most recipes suggest about a stick of butter (1/2 cup) for every 1 and 1/4 to 1 and 1/2 cups of flour. I like the more flour ratio because I prefer my crusts not to be too short—it makes them crumbly.

5) Even good pie makers create dud crusts every once in a while. Trust me. I'm known for my pie and I still make a less-than-stellar crust sometimes. (See pie photo above.) It happens. Just note what you didn't like about it and adjust the next time.

6) Unlike free-form tarts, pie is not a last minute thing. The making and baking of a pie usually takes close to 2 hours, and then most pies need another 3 or 4 hours to cool down. I actually prefer pie the day after it's made. Store it covered or in an airtight place (I use my microwave) but please don't put it in the fridge, unless it's a dairy-based pie. The fridge ruins the crust.

7) One great trick I did pick up from Rose Levy Berenbaum is to place your pie directly on the floor of the oven for the first 20 minutes or so of baking. This keeps the bottom crust from getting too mushy. Of course, put a baking sheet underneath it unless you want fruit syrup all over your oven.

8) For double crust fruit pies, don't forget to dot the filling with butter before putting on the top crust. This step, which might seem unimportant, actually adds a lot to the finished pie.

9) And finally, don't be afraid of pie crust and pie. Many cooks and bakers are. A summer fruit pie is one of the most delicious desserts known to man. Others feel the same about apple pie, and, while I make a lot of apple pies (see my post on the lard man) I have never taken to them the way I have to summer fruit and berry pies. And pecan pie, perhaps my favorite.

I am southern, after all.