Spicy Peanut Noodles
Frankly, you could slather this peanut sauce on a flip flop and chew that shit with a smile on your face. That’s how good it is.
Bright herbs and veggies on a pile of spicy noodles. Sign me up, bitches.
A century ago when I attended college, there was a little lunch place I would go to on Pacific Garden Mall in Santa Cruz. I remember almost nothing about the place except that it had maybe three tables in the whole establishment, it was cheap, and it had noodles.
Specifically, it had spicy peanut noodles.
I was in love with those noodles and that sauce. Over the years I have tried to reproduce it - to do justice to my memory of those noodles - but couldn’t quite get it right. Then, one fateful day, I added a little gochujang to the peanut sauce. More than simply spicy, this fermented Korean chile paste has umami and tanginess and funk, and brought my peanut sauce to a whole new level.
Is this peanut sauce as good as the sauce I remember? With all due respect to my memories, it is better. Perhaps it’s the availability of ethnic pantry staples these days, or perhaps my memory isn’t as good as I thought. But damn, this is some good sauce.
Be aware, this recipe makes a large quantity. Enough for extra. Enough that you can cover a pound of noodles and have some left over. You shouldn’t need to lick it out of the blender. Shouldn’t need to...
But um, I did. I got sauce on my eyebrows. True story.
Frankly, you could slather this peanut sauce on a flip flop and chew that shit with a smile on your face. That’s how good it is.
But I suggest you do not put it on a flip flop. Put it on noodles instead. Add some julienned fresh vegetables (cucumber is a must) and some chopped cilantro and green onion. Top with some chopped peanuts. Add some shredded chicken if the spirit moves you. More sauce on top - always more sauce.
You. Will. Not. Be. Sorry.
If you are a spice junkie like me, add a drizzle of chile oil over everything. You’ll cry with heat and joy.
I could go on, but frankly, you need to stop reading and go make some fucking spicy peanut noodles.
Go.
Chicken is delicious with these noodles, but entirely optional.
Shit You Need
For the sauce:
6 ounces peanut butter. Ideally, use a “natural”, no sugar added kind. I like Santa Cruz Organics dark-roasted peanut butter. And no, I am not paid to endorse products. Unfortunately.
3 ounces rice wine vinegar (feel free to substitute apple cider vinegar or white wine vinegar - both are great in this)
2 ounces water
3 ounces soy sauce
1 ounce sweet soy sauce (if you don’t have this, add a Tbs or so of brown sugar - taste and adjust for sweetness at the end)
1 1/2 ounces gochujang (If you can’t get gochujang, you can use sambal olek or another chile paste. Just back off on the amount of sambal - it’s hotter than gochujang.)
1 ounce toasted sesame oil
1 inch fresh ginger, peeled, sliced, crushed, and coarsely chopped
3 cloves garlic, peeled and coarsely chopped
For the rest:
One pound spaghetti or similar thin noodles, cooked according to the package directions, drained. My gluten-free friends, this is your chance to shine. ‘Cause rice noodles are awesome with peanut sauce!
English cucumber (those plastic-wrapped babies at the store), cut into 2-inch julienne
One small carrot (green-top type, small = tender) cut into 2-inch julienne
Red bell pepper, julienned
Cilantro leaves, chopped
Green portion of a few scallions, sliced thin on the diagonal
Roasted peanuts, crushed or chopped (go for the salted kind - they add such a great burst of salty crunch)
Shredded chicken, optional. A great use of leftover rotisserie chicken.
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
You notice how most of the ingredients are listed by weight? The great thing about recipes that call for a lot of ingredients to be added to one vessel is that you can stick your bowl/blender/etc on the scale, and start adding things. Just re-zero in between each addition, and there is no need to dirty a bunch of measuring cups and spoons.
Park your blender on your kitchen scale. Add all the sauce ingredients, zeroing after each, and blend until smooth. Taste and adjust.
Toss noodles with enough sauce to coat them.
Plate noodles, then top with carrots, red pepper, and cucumber. You could skip everything besides the cucumber -and cilantro - and be fine. Omit either and you are a monster.
Add a drizzle of sauce, chopped peanuts, green onion, and cilantro. Also optional: a drizzle of chile oil. Ooh yeah, baby.
Banh Mi with Seared Ahi Tuna
My daughter went to Vietnam for a school trip and came back with a love of Vietnamese cuisine. You may not find this surprising, since Vietnamese food is fucking delicious. But this girl survived on mac and cheese and chicken nuggets for nearly fifteen years, so for me, this was a delightful surprise.
Seared ahi, sriracha aioli, pickled veg and fresh herbs. Traditional? No. Delicious? Hells yeah.
My daughter went to Vietnam for a school trip and came back with a love of Vietnamese cuisine. You may not find this surprising, since Vietnamese food is fucking delicious. But this girl survived on mac and cheese and chicken nuggets for nearly fifteen years, so for me, this was a delightful surprise.
Upon her return, she was flabbergasted to learn that there were Vietnamese restaurants in town! Really? How could I have hid this from her for so long? (Um, they don’t sell mac and cheese?) And then she was requesting Vietnamese food all the time. She was like a crackhead…or like a trust fund kid living next to a Louis Vuitton boutique. Take your pick.
Alas, our tour of local Viet-cuisine was cut short by the pandemic. But once I mentioned that we could make our own bahn mi, all was right with the world.
Note that we are culinary tourists here, and do not claim any sort of authenticity in this recipe. For that, plus the history of all things bahn mi, head over to Andrea Nguyen’s site, Viet World Kitchen. She is my go to for Vietnamese recipes, and is super smart and engaging to boot. 💯
My usual bahn mi filling is grilled lemongrass pork. This gets layered on a baguette with do chua (pickled carrot and daikon), fresh cilantro and cucumber, maybe some red pepper, definitely sliced jalapeño, and mayo - often blended with cilantro and hot peppers, or just with sriracha. Paté is an optional spread, and we include it from time to time as a treat, although my daughter has discovered that caramelized onions are a great substitute - they bring earthy depth and sweetness to the sandwich.
Don’t feel like you need to make something special to make a bahn mi. Use what you have! We’ve used carnitas, leftover steak, baked salmon, scrambled eggs, you name it. Basically, we’ll use any excuse to make a sandwich with cilantro and do chua, because they are so freaking delicious.
Recently I had a hankering for poke bowls, and so I had some sushi-grade fish shipped from Hawaii (Honolulu Fish Market: Five stars!!!!). There was plenty of extra ahi, so I cut a few steaks and seared them.
Ahi gettin’ it on with ginger, garlic, serranos and sesame.
After a quick sear in a hot pan.
After searing, we sliced the ahi steaks into thin, delectable strips. Of course we put them in banh mi.
Was it delicious? Yes, it was.
Was it a tuna sandwich? No. Not even close.
Would I do it again? Bitch, please… I already have.
A rare treat… Get it?
Shit You Need
This will make enough for 4 big-ass banh mi.
For the seared ahi tuna steaks:
Sushi-grade ahi tuna, cut into 1 - 1 1/2 inch thick steaks, 12-16 ounces total
1/4 cup of soy sauce
2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil
One inch of ginger root, peeled and minced
one serrano chile, halved and sliced thinly
3 cloves of garlic, minced
4 tablespoons sesame seeds
For the do chua:
One large carrot, cut into matchstick-sized julienne
One half daikon radish, cut into matchstick-sized julienne. Aim for 50% more daikon than carrot in your final mix.
2 teaspoons plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon kosher salt
3/4 cup hot water
3/4 cup white wine vinegar
For the banh mi:
Vietnamese or French baguette. Or a Mexican bolillo roll. I used homemade ciabatta rolls, which were a little more crusty than ideal, but still damn good. You either need a petite baguette or a length of baguette cut to 7 or 8 inches long.
Seared ahi tuna steaks, sliced into strips
Mayonnaise, store-bought or homemade. Add sriracha to taste, or blend it up with herbs and chiles and lime juice. You do you.
Seedless cucumbers, sliced thinly into stylish ellipses
Jalapeños, sliced thinly
Fresh cilantro leaves. You can also throw in basil or mint, or both.
Do chua
Maggi seasoning (optional)
Do chua, a quick Vietnamese pickle of carrot and daikon.
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
For the ahi steaks:
To a small bowl, add soy sauce, sesame oil, ginger, serrano and garlic and whisk to combine.
Heat a small skillet over medium-high and add the sesame seeds. Stir and shake the pan to keep them moving until they are light golden brown. Add them to the soy sauce mixture.
Place the ahi steaks in a small roasting pan or a large ziplock bag. Pour the marinade over them. If using a pan, flip them to coat, and cover. If using a bag, much the marinade around to coat. Place the steaks in the refrigerator to marinate for an hour or two.
Heat a large, preferably cast-iron or carbon steel pan over med-high heat. Add a tablespoon or two of canola, grapeseed or avocado oil (you need a high smoking point oil). Add the steaks and sear for one minute per side. They should turn golden brown, but not stay so long the flesh inside begins to cook.
Let the ahi rest until cool, then slice.
For the do chua:
Add the carrot and daikon matchsticks to a medium-sized bowl and sprinkle with the salt and 2 teaspoons sugar. Toss until the veggies start to sweat. Leave for 30 minutes.
Drain the water from the bowl. Dry the veggies on paper towels and rinse the bowl.
Return the veggies to the bowl and add the remaining sugar, hot water, and vinegar. Let steep at room temperature one hour.
Do chua can be used right away, or transferred to a mason jar and kept in the refrigerator for up to two weeks.
Banh mi:
Slice each baguette nearly all the way through, but not quite. You want the hinge to hold all the yummy inside.
Spread each half with the mayonnaise or aioli.
To the bottom half, add jalapeño slices and a generous layer of cilantro leaves and/or other herbs.
Add 1/4 of the ahi slices you’ve prepared.
Top with sliced cucumber and finally, do chua. If you happen to have Maggi seasoning, sprinkle a little on the top half of the bread.
Slam the lid and eat!
Pasta with Burrata and Pea Shoots
You know that pasta sauce I love so much? The one with garlic and Calabrian chiles? Well, toss that on some pasta with some peas and pea shoots, then mix some creamy burrata all up in that shit, and this is what you get: fucking deliciousness. Spicy and lemony with that gooey, creamy goodness is a winning - no, a genius - combo.
Creamy burrata. Sweet peas. Peppery pea shoots. Spicy Calabrian chiles. Fucking delicious.
I know, I missed Fucking Delicious Friday last week. Shut up about it. I was busy.
How about I make it up to you by sharing my favorite pasta recipe?
You know that pasta sauce I love so much? The one with garlic and Calabrian chiles? Well, toss that on some pasta with some peas and pea shoots, then mix some creamy burrata all up in that shit, and this is what you get: fucking deliciousness. Spicy and lemony with that gooey, creamy goodness is a winning - no, a genius - combo.
I came across this brilliant pairing when browsing an awesome blog: The Original Dish. Kayla gets major props from me. And my eternal gratitude. ‘Cause burrata.
I am now looking for all the ways to use that magical cheese. And since heirloom tomato season is literally now, I am finding other ways to do just that.
What a magical time of year. Heirloom tomatoes, sweet corn, figs. The beginning of apple season. Just before decorative gourd season sets in and fall really begins to sink its teeth into you.
It’s time for a fire on the porch, drinking up the last of that summer rose before it’s too cold, and a big bowl of this pasta to help bulk up for the cold months to come.
Alright, you got me. I used arugula here. I make this so often, I will toss in whatever greens I have.
Shit You Need
One pound dried pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 gloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 - 2 Tbs chopped or crushed Calabrian chiles (depending on how hot they are and your spice tolerance)
1 1/2 tablespoons honey
kosher salt and freshly ground pepper
12 ounces fresh English peas, or thawed frozen peas
The juice of one small lemon
2 tablespoons cold unsalted butter.
one large handful of pea shoots, coarsely chopped
8 ounces burrata
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
In a large pasta pot or dutch oven, get about 4 quarts of water heating. Salt it well (so you can taste the ocean!)
While you are waiting for your water to boil, get the yummy flavors going in a large skillet. On medium-low, heat the olive oil and add the garlic and Calabrian chiles. Let them hang out while you heat the pasta water and cook the pasta. If you are using fresh English peas, add them now to let them get tender. If using thawed frozen peas, hold off for the moment.
Cook that pasta 2 minutes less than recommended on the package.
Right before the pasta is finished, add a pinch of kosher salt to the garlic/oil mixture along a few grinds of pepper and the honey. Turn up the heat to medium-high.
Using tongs or a slotted spoon, transfer the pasta to the skillet. Don’t drain it - let it bring some of that starchy water along for the sauce. If you haven’t added the peas yet, add them now.
Add another 1/2 cup of pasta water and let the whole mixture simmer as some of the water cooks away, 2 minutes.
Add the lemon juice and cold butter and stir to combine. Watch the magic happen! Clingy sauce!
Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. It should be warming from the chile, bright from the lemon juice, with enough salt to make it pop.
Transfer the pasta to your serving bowl and toss with half the pea shoots. Murder your burrata right over the bowl, letting the creamy center drop right in. Shred the exterior part and add half. Toss to mix.
Top your dish with the remaining pea shoots and shreds of burrata.
Get that fire going outside. Pour your wine/bourbon/moonshine and eat a big bowl of this fireside.
Don’t forget seconds.
Israeli Couscous Salad with Pine Nuts and Currants
Couscous. The dish so nice you say it twice.
Products that originated in, or are otherwise associated with a particular country are often referred to by that country’s name when they go global. Example: French fries. They are simply “frites” in France. Canadian bacon is “back bacon” in Canada. American cheese is…um, also American cheese here. But that’s just because we haven’t figured out what the fuck it actually is. Bad example. Never mind. My point…
My point is that Israeli couscous is not called Israeli couscous in Israel. It is called “ptitim”, which means “little portion”. Like Moroccan couscous, it made from semolina flour. In other words, it’s pasta. Like its Italian dopplelganger fregola, it is toasted, for a great nutty depth of flavor.
Which is amplified further by adding nuts in the mix. In this case, pine nuts. A quick Google search will show you that a great many recipes for Israeli couscous include pine nuts. I mean, they do sort of look like they belong together, right? Like brothers from another mother?
They definitely taste great together. Which is why we are talking the risk.
What risk, you ask?
The two most dangerous tasks in the kitchen are 1. Using a mandoline. I take my goddamned life in my hands every time I use one. And 2. putting pine nuts in the oven to toast and walking away for even a moment.
Sure, you snicker. You chuckle. Listen: pine nuts go from anemic-looking to smoldering ashes in the melted wreckage of your Wolf range in 2.8 seconds. You need to take this shit seriously.
So take your potty break before they go in the oven. (For God’s sake wash your hands when you’re done). Turn off your phone. Don’t walk away.
We’ll do a couple more things to make this dish worth the risk you’re taking with your Wolf range. Confit a little garlic and make an infused olive oil, for one. Rehydrate some currants with a little champagne vinegar, for two. And finally, throw in some top shelf spices: ginger and cinnamon, and of course, a hint of saffron.
Shit You Need
For the currants:
1 cup dried currants
1 cup boiling water
2 tablespoons champagne vinegar
1 bay leaf
For the garlic olive oil:
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
3 cloves garlic, sliced
pinch of kosher salt
For the salad:
1 small onion, diced
4 scallions, chopped, green and white parts separated
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon saffron threads
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 cups Israeli couscous
2 1/2 cups water
1/4 cup chopped fresh flat-leaf parsley
the zest of one orange
For the vinaigrette:
garlic olive oil
1/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice OR 3 Tbs champagne vinegar
1 small shallot, minced
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
Hydrate the currants:
If you have a two-cup Pyrex measuring cup, boil the cup of water right in your microwave.
Add the champagne vinegar and bay leaf, then stir in the currants. Set aside for an hour or so.
Rehydrated currants.
Make the garlic oil:
Preheat the oven to 225 degrees Fahrenheit.
Place the sliced garlic in a small oven-safe dish or bowl. Add a pinch of salt and a few grinds of pepper, then the olive oil.
Place in the oven while you do some other stuff. Once the garlic is soft and golden and smelling awesome, it’s finished. Set it aside to cool.
Pine nuts:
Ready? Okay. Place the pine nuts on a cookie sheet and toast, shaking the tray every couple of minutes until golden and fragrant.
Vinaigrette:
Whisk the vinegar (or lemon juice) with shallots, salt and pepper. Slowly whisk in the oil, garlic and all.
Confit garlic vinaigrette
Make the Couscous:
Place 2 Tbs of olive oil in the bottom of a medium saucepan. Sauté onion and white parts of scallions over medium-high heat until translucent, about 2 minutes.
Add saffron, ginger, cinnamon and salt and toss until fragrant. Add couscous and sauté until lightly toasted.
Add water and simmer the whole shebang 10 minutes, until water is absorbed, then cover pot and let rest off the heat for another 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork, then transfer to a serving bowl.
Drain the currants, setting aside a few tablespoons of them for garnish. Add the rest of the currants to the couscous along with the vinaigrette, green parts of scallions, parsley, and all but a few tablespoons of the pine nuts. Toss well.
Sprinkle the last of the currants and pine nuts on top, and serve.
