Accuse us of being slow to the party, but we have been watching Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat. Well, technically we've been watching Salt, Fat, Acid, but we expect you to complete the quartet very soon. For those of you who aren't in the loop, the Netflix show is based around Samin Nosrat's seminal tome (which friend-of-the-blog Keith was so generous to send me as a lock-down gift recently) where she explores the four critical pillars of cooking that give their name to the book. Despite there being troves of wisdom to absorb, the show feels like you've taken the hand of a trusted friend who guides you through each inter-cultural exchange.
Samin's attitude towards food and it's preparation is one forged in curiosity. It's wonderment, and laughter and a genuine desire to learn. It turns out that food might just have a context, and so does the cooking process. Not just a context, but many different historical and personal strands that bring it to be what it is today, and continue it's evolution. Whether it's the cultivation of the Melipona honeybee in the Yucatan or the extraction of kelp salt in Nagoya, there is always an awareness of purpose which drives these processes and traditions.
While this is wonderful to sit and learn about inside of that specific bubble, it does make you reflect on your own purpose after the fact. This is easier for people who are brought up steeped in culinary traditions and practices (and this can be as low-key as baking with your parents) but, as I've discussed before, my earlier experiences with cooking were dictated by functionality. Trying to come up with some kind of overarching origin story that delivered me into the kitchen usually leaves me feeling as if I am on a continual process of stumbling through this entire experience.
This isn't usually a problem for me. I'm not particularly concerned with legacy, and having a so-called rich culinary heritage is a notion often tinged with affluence; something quite far removed from my first forays into cooking. However, if you have taken a look at my last blog post, you may have detected that I've been feeling a pretty adrift as of late. I begun lockdown as a sprinter, and now it feels like I'm flagging behind in the first half of a marathon. Trying to develop recipes to their completion has required what feels like a lot more energy on my part, and when the time comes for me to cook, the rigidity of such a structure feels like too much. So, if an identity crisis had been perching patiently on the branch of a nearby tree, at times I've felt like falling into the long grass and becoming carrion.
It's strange, because cooking has always been a constant for me. Even throughout depression, bereavement and a hectic academic burden, it felt like something positive I could focus my energy into rather than becoming tiresome. In general, I get overwhelmed by all manner of things; light, sound, people... somehow cooking escaped such an inglorious list. If anything, it was this that gave some sort of reason to the question of "why?", which makes it quite scary to lose momentum, even if it is just a temporary blip.
In the end, we don't need a reason to cook past that of hunger and desire. I've always loved the idea of having a story to tell and a platform to express that, but a want or a need will more than suffice. Watching the "Acid" episode of the aforementioned Netflix show was enough to spin out my desire for something acerbic, and it wasn't long before my heart settled on my favourite citrus fruit of them all; the lime. I'd also been thinking about cauliflower pretty frequently recently; it's one of my favourite vegetables, but I really do fear the great crumbling that seems implicit within it's preparation. I'm curious to know if anyone else avoids vegetables (or any other ingredients for that matter) that they love simply because of preparation anxiety?
So, cauliflower + lime juice, and some chilli for a rounded out warmth. Great! Now, what to go with it? I cook with beans a fair bit, but it's not something I've really written about on the blog. I think I have the notion that dried beans are wild and tempestuous, and therefore too unpredictable for me to write about with any kind of authority. Here, I'm breaking through that and pairing the black bean with a more common go-to ingredient (sweet potato), the shredded cauliflower leaf and the zest of the limes used for the cauliflower (I'm still atoning for my wasteful behaviour from the last post and maximising each ingredient) to impart yet more zest on to the plate.
I had many fears throughout the process that this would be too acidic to be pleasurable, and indeed the bean/sweet potato mixture does get fairly bitter, but I enjoyed it enough to post here nonetheless. Honestly, it was a bit of a struggle for me to get through the cooking process, not because it was particularly difficult but more so due to the fact that I wasn't sure if it would work out how I had hoped, and that I was feeling somewhat weary anyway. But it pulled through, despite the uncertainty. I hope this is positive reinforcement, but I guess I'm going to see how the next stabs at recipe development go.
Chilli & Lime Cauliflower with Black Beans and Sweet Potato
Preparation time: 30 minutes
Cooking time: 25 minutes
Serves: 3 people (with some leftover bean/sweet potato mix)
Ingredients
Cauliflower
1 large cauliflower (about 700-800g), cut into florets
Juice of 2 limes
2 tsp of mild chilli powder
1 tbsp of light soy sauce
1 tbsp of olive oil
1 tsp of granulated sugar
1/2 tsp of salt
Beans
250g dried black beans
1 medium sweet potato (about 200-300g), peeled and cut into 1cm cubes
Leaves from a large cauliflower, finely shredded
1/2 large red onion, finely chopped
4 cloves of garlic, crushed and minced
1 tbsp of ginger, peeled and minced
1/2 stalk of celery, finely chopped
1/2 tsp of dried chilli flakes
Zest of 2 limes
1/2 tsp of cayenne pepper
1 tsp of smoked paprika
1 tbsp of light soy sauce
50 ml of vegetable stock
1 tsp of granulated sugar
1 tsp of rice vinegar
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1/2 tsp of salt
Method
Pre-heat the oven to 180°C (for fan powered ovens) or 200°C (for gas) and grease a baking tray with olive oil.
Separate cauliflower leaves from the head and set aside. Add the florets into a large bowl, along with lime juice, chilli powder, soy sauce, sugar and salt. Carefully fold the lime mixture into the cauliflower, taking care not to break up the florets too much (however, it's not the end of the world if you do). Arrange the cauliflower on the baking tray, ensuring that the florets are spaced out properly and do not overlap with each other. Roast in the oven for 25 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat the vegetable oil in a wok or a large saucepan on a medium heat. When the oil has come to temperature, add the red onion and the celery and saute for 4 minutes, until softened somewhat. Add in the garlic, ginger and chilli flakes and saute for a further 1 minute.
Add the sweet potato and salt to the pan and turn up to a medium-high heat, incorporating the chunks into the mixture. Saute for 8 minutes, carefully stirring the mixture through until the sweet potato has softened somewhat. Add the cauliflower leaf, vegetable stock, soy sauce, cayenne pepper, smoked paprika, sugar and rice vinegar and cook for a further 4 minutes.
Add in the beans and the lime zest and saute for a further 2 minutes before taking off of the heat. Spoon the bean mixture into bowls and top with the roasted cauliflower.
Notes & Adjustments
I would strongly suggest using the cauliflower leaf here as it means that a perfectly usable part of the vegetable won't go to waste. If you haven't had it before it tastes quite similar to spring greens with a small hint of the creaminess of cauliflower. If you don't enjoy the taste or if you wanted to make the bean part of the dish without the cauliflower, then I would suggest substituting for shredded spring greens.
I like the contrast in colour that comes with the use of black beans, but I don't see why you couldn't use another bean in it's place. I would, however, avoid larger beans for this recipe.
Rice vinegar can be replaced by any other fruity and slightly sweet vinegar, such as red wine or apple cider vinegar. I use this because it's what I have around, and I know most people (me included) don't tend to keep a wide range of vinegars; it really depends on the kind of food you cook the most often (and if you make pickles, of course!).
Before serving, it may be a good idea to taste the beans to ensure that you don't find them too bitter. On this note, make sure you don't accidentally grate any of the lime pith into the mixture like I did! If you do find it too bitter, you can try mixing an extra tsp of soy sauce after everything has finished cooking. I tried mixing some sesame oil and some mirin with the leftovers and this worked out pretty well!
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