What's shawarma, you ask? You know those giant meatsicles you always see cooking away on the spit inside Middle Eastern restaurants? That's shawarma. And they make gyros with it. Obviously this recipe is a bit of a variation on the traditional dish since, needless to say, we don't have a spit. Give us time...I'm pretty sure year three is the meat anniversary.
We're always excited when we get to use our fancy new kitchen equipment. While the insanely heavy piece of lava rock that is our mortar and pestle isn't technically fancy, it is fun.
Just mash up some cilantro with garlic, lemon and spices, add olive oil...
...and you've got yourself a delicious, aromatic marinade for your chicken.
We had our usual problem with cooking the meat again - the grill is hot enough that we're getting a nice sear, but the meat is just too thick to cook all the way through without it burning or drying out. Since raw chicken isn't something you want to mess with with, we decided to risk overdoing it.
Now, heating up tortillas on the griddle we can handle.
Check out this awesome hot sauce variety pack that Kelsey brought us back from New Orleans: Garlic, jalapeno, hot, super hot! We had fun sampling them all to figure out which was the tastiest.
Throw the chicken on the tortillas with shredded cabbage and green onions, artistically drizzle on some hot sauce and mayo, and serve it up.
I love me a good gyro. I'd had them before at restaurants with lamb and falafel but this was my first chicken - and homemade - gyro. As tummy-grumble-inducing as these pictures might be, I think I'll leave it to the professionals in the future. It's not that these were bad; they just weren't that good.
We're still not sure what to really make of this one: so many ingredients for such little flavour. But let me start at the beginning...
As you can see, this is not your standard pancake fare. Cumin, mustard, turmeric, ginger, chili and potatoes? We're in uncharted waters. Full steam ahead.
First step, as ever, toasting the spices to release those flavours. Maybe this is where we went wrong; maybe all the flavours ran away? But I'm getting ahead of myself again.
Chili, ginger and garlic take their turn in the pan, and everything is smelling fantastic up in here. And then we remember that we're making pancakes. And get confused all over again.
We are not to be daunted, though. Into the pancake batter with all those spices and things. Where the milk will successfully neutralise all its goodness. Clever plan.
Now, onto the filling! Potatoes? Potatoes.(Really? Really!) First, though, mustard seeds in a pan, until they get soft and ready to burst. Throw in some onion, and then the potatoes...
...and then the turmeric...
...instant yellow! Odd thing, turmeric. Doesn't really seem to taste of much, but if you want something turned yellow, he's your man.
And now it's go time. Crank up the heat and sizzle that batter.
Whatever the final result in terms of the dish, we actually made some pretty good looking pancakes here. Ignoring the first one, obviously. The first one never works.
See? Pretty.
Ultimately, though, this was just strange. As Christina put it, "simultaneously flavorful and bland." The pancakes weren't spicy at all, despite the promise of the ingredients; the potatoes were a pretty heavy filling, despite the light touch of the yoghurt topping. Overall, another disappointment. Why do I keep getting the bad ones?
Pizza might seem out of place in this cookbook, but the key to turning ordinary pizza into something gourmet is to make your own dough from scratch. It's as simple as it is tasty and makes for a super yummy pie when paired with fresh mozzarella and rosemary.
The first step to making pizza dough is to mix the yeast with water and sugar and let it do its thing for a couple minutes. Yeast, do your thing!
When the yeast is ready, it goes into a bowl with flour, salt, and olive oil.
Then comes the mixing, and the kneading...
...and the shaping...
...and the rising.
It was at this point that we realized we had made a ginormous amount of dough - way more than our oven, or our stomachs, could handle. Luckily, the extra stores well and can be turned into breadsticks later, if you're into that.
In case your kitchen lacks a real pizza oven, you can cook the dough for a few minutes on the stove to let it crisp up before putting it in the oven.
Time for toppings! Those chunks of mozzarella are seriously making me drool right now.
Instead of tomato sauce we used passata, which is sort of a homemade tomato puree. I guess we need some more practice because ours came out watery. But that didn't keep us from enjoying our gourmet pizzas. I'm looking forward to coming up with some crazy toppings to put on the next homemade pizza dough.
Say what you want about the legacies of colonialism, but it would be hard to find a negative in the baking tradition that the French installed in Vietnam. The banh mi, or Vietnamese sandwich, is a god damn culinary treasure. Sweet, spicy Asian flavours encapsulated in the best baguette you'll find this side of Paris. Was I excited about this one? Just a little.
Simple, fresh ingredients, don't try too hard. Got it. Make a marinade with the honey and soy sauce; chop up the steaks and throw them in. Can do.
Make a dressing with the chili, (veggie) fish sauce, lime juice and sugar; julienne the vegetables and give the carrots a bit of a pickle in the vinegar. This is easy stuff!
Now, cook the meat. Ah. Right. It's never easy, is it? For whatever reason, we've been on a terrible streak lately when it comes to cooking meat. I'm going to blame the stove: easiest on my ego and hardest to disprove.
Putting meat on sticks, that part's no problem.
Cooking said meat to a point inbetween raw and leather, well, we're still working on that. Looks pretty, though!
Eventually we had something edible, and proceeded to assemble what might be our best presentation yet. (Ably assisted by a pint, which, while not technically part of the recipe, was certainly very welcome after slaving over a hot grill pan.)
Ultimately, though, it was a bit of a disappointment. The meat, obviously, had been massacred at my unskilled hands; the bread was not the finest - but really, the problem was the flavours. There just wasn't anything bold here. A banh mi should be spicy and delicious, and make you take notice. This was unassuming and polite, a very English version of an Asian masterpiece. Whatever our failings in execution, I really think the problem here was the recipe. Definitely a missed opportunity.
