Champagne, a missing cat and Abbott & Costello

We moved last weekend. Actually, the process has been ongoing in earnest for a few months now, but Saturday morning the actual movers came with the truck. We’d hired them to move the big stuff—furniture, mainly. That meant we were moving everything else, carload by exhausting carload.

Friday night we made two runs, then packed the car again to drive it full when we led the movers to the new place. We ended up getting to bed at 3 o’clock Saturday morning and got up at 7:30 to finish getting ready for the movers arriving at 9.

I don’t recommend moving on four and a half hours’ sleep.

We’d heard and read all kinds of horror stories about movers showing up late or not at all, but our crew arrived about 15 minutes early. Which was the cue for our 17-year-old cat Cosmo to add to the drama of the day by disappearing. He’s been an indoor only cat for the last ten years, but springtime always awakens the prowling gene in him, and he starts hanging out around windows and doors, sniffing the air and looking hopeful. We were afraid he’d already managed to slip out somehow—or would do so once the movers were going in and out. Finally, though, he nonchalantly sauntered out of a room we had each searched top to bottom, twice. How the hell do they do that? We promptly confined him in the room he’d just exited, and the move got under way.

The movers were amazingly efficient; when they finished unloading on the other end, it was only noon. And Marion and I were only getting started. We made another run to the old place, picking up another load, this one including Cosmo. Once he was safely installed in the new place, we unpacked boxes for a few hours, then made a run to what I’ve dubbed the holy trinity: Target, Home Depot and Petsmart [otherwise known as the cat food store in our household]. By the time we’d hit all three, it was eight o’clock and no dinner plans had been made, other than we needed to eat some. Fast.

Borrowed ingredients: Garam Masala Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

In her recent post The Flavor Of Yellow over at A Chicken In Every Granny Cart, Ann made a lovely golden Grated Cauliflower Curry. She said she had to improvise on the original recipe because she doesn’t “keep garam masala lying around.”

That got me thinking about the fact that we usually have at least a couple of different kinds of garam masala lying around at any given time—even though the couple of Indian-inspired dishes we cook don’t call for it. And that led to this post.

According to The Spice House website, garam masala is a Punjabi, or Northern Indian, style curry powder. Unlike other curry powders based on turmeric, it is built on a mixture of cardamom, coriander and black pepper. There are probably as many variations on garam masala as there are cooks who use it, but it may also contain cinnamon, cloves, fennel seeds, caraway, mace, nutmeg… well, you get the idea.

While it’s primarily thought of as a Northern Indian spice mix, garam masala is actually used throughout South Asia, according to food-nepal.com, and varies by region. This would explain its use in an amazing Vietnamese beef stew that Marion makes once or twice a year. This hearty dish dates to Vietnam’s colonial past, when it was known as French Indochina, so it is eaten with a fork instead of chopsticks and served with a baguette rather than rice. Unfortunately, with spring upon us as of today [those of us in the northern hemisphere, that is], you’ll have to wait ’til this fall for this dish.

We also use garam masala in chicken dishes, stews and various dishes with sauces to give them a nice depth and mystery. It doesn’t scream Indian food and it doesn’t pack much in the way of heat, but it adds a delicious spiciness to whatever you’re cooking. Most recipes for slow cooked foods advise you to add it near the end of cooking for maximum flavor.

But cookies? Or as Ann said when I mentioned them in a comment on her Flavor Of Yellow post, “Whoa. Oatmeal cookies with CURRY?!? WOW! This I MUST taste!” Okay. Here you go.

A Tale of Two Chilis, Part 2

I am nothing if not a procrastinator. Back in January, when I posted A Tale of Two Chilis, Part 1, I promised to follow up with Marion’s excellent chili recipe as Part 2. So here we are with spring right around the corner and I’m finally getting to it.

I also have a nice white bean chili dish made with chicken that I’d intended to get to as a hearty cold weather dish. But after two different chilis, my Tuscan beans from last week and Patricia’s delicious Brazilian rice and beans, I think I’ll take a little break from writing about beans.

That said, we don’t think of chili as a strictly cold weather meal at our house. Except for when the weather turns blazing hot—usually all of August here in Chicago—we’re happy to make it and eat it pretty much year ’round. Try Marion’s robust chili recipe below and I think you’ll be right there with us. I’ll turn the kitchen over to her now.

A Little Something on the Side: Tuscan Beans

As much as possible, I try to be a “waste not, want not” kind of guy. So, having some nice rosemary left over from my last week’s Rosemary Apricots post done for Weekend Herb Blogging, I thought I’d make this simple, delicious side dish. Also being a “two birds, one stone” kind of guy, I decided to post this one on Weekend Herb Blogging too. This week, it’s hosted by the newly married Anna over at Morsels and Musings [best wishes, Anna!].

This recipe came together as much of my cooking does these days. I read a reference to Tuscan beans somewhere that made it sound like a flavorful, rustic side dish that would complement a host of main courses nicely—roasted chicken, chops, lamb shanks… But it only mentioned some of the ingredients and didn’t give a recipe. So I checked out Epicurious.com and Googled “tuscan beans.” That gave me a number of ideas for ingredients and variations, which I combined with an actual recipe for a simpler side dish I make using only white beans, rosemary, garlic and olive oil.

The simpler dish is a not bad side when you’re really pressed for time and want something interesting [see this recipe in Kitchen Notes]. This only slightly more involved dish can on occasion outshine the main course.