Coming 'Round

I reserve the right to change my mind. It is something, admittedly, that I do not do often; I am quite strong-willed. One might even say obstinate. The exception to this rule is, not surprisingly, food. In culinary matters, I try to keep a very open mind. So open, in fact, that I am willing to eat nearly anything, at least once, and there are not many foods which I don't like. To list a few in the "not" column: beetroot (which taste of sweet dirt), calves liver (pasty metal), and kidneys (hot urine). It bothers me greatly that, as a chef, I don't enjoy eating these things. I feel somewhat obligated to like all foods, and I make a continual effort to get my palate to come 'round by trying and retrying. I hope in this way to make the flavors familiar to the point where I might enjoy them. This is especially true for kidneys.



When working at an insanely busy French restaurant years ago, one of the dishes on my section was a rabbit and quail terrine. Amongst the many accoutrement were sautéed rabbit liver and kidneys. I cooked each serve to order, in a tiny fry pan meant for making individual blini, basting the offal in foaming butter with a cracked clove of garlic and a sprig of thyme. The aroma was maddening: rich, roasted, meaty. I carved each liver and kidney in half, reserving always a secret slice from the middle of each for myself - cook's treat. The livers I loved. I must have eaten 200 slices of kidney, each warm and dripping nut-brown garlic butter, and every one tasted like piss.

I haven't yet given up on kidneys, but it seems unlikely I'll be changing my mind any time soon. Luckily, this is not always the case. Take, for example, nimbekai uppinkai, a Southern Indian lemon and chili pickle. I first tasted this when eating at my favorite local Indian dive and did not at all like the intense, soapy flavor of the cooked lemons. Over time, however, I have reversed my opinion and now quite enjoy the bite of the pickle's tangy-hot-salty-sour combination. I make sure to ask for extra whenever I order.



I was inspired to try to make the pickle recently when a couple a friends (Thanks Ant and Nic) dropped off a bagful of home-grown lemons, about half of which looked to be meyer lemons perfect for this pickle.



Southern Indian Lemon and Chili Pickle

When I bought some Indian chili powder from a small spice shop near my house, the shopkeeper pointed at my box and said “That's expired.” When I turned to look for one with a more recent date, he called over my shoulder “They're all expired.” “What? All the chili powder?” “No,” broad, sweeping gesture, “the whole shelf.”

I bought it anyway.

6 small meyer lemons (500-600g)
50g granulated salt
75g sugar
2 Tbsp red chili powder
2 tsp turmeric powder
1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds
1 tsp black mustard seeds
1/4 tsp garam masala
½ tsp cumin seeds
Juice of 1 lemon

Wash and dry the lemons. Remove the stem and flower ends. Cut each lemon into 8 wedges and then each wedge into quarters, leaving bite-sized pieces of skin and flesh. Mix the salt, sugar, chili powder, and turmeric together and toss with the cut lemons. Set aside.

In a dry pan on low heat, gently toast the fenugreek seeds, mustard seeds, garam masala, and cumin seeds, until they are aromatic and color slightly but do not burn. Remove from heat and pulverize in a mortar and pestal or in a spice grinder. Add to the lemon mix. Transfer the lot to a small, non-reactive pot. Add the lemon juice and bring just to a simmer on low heat. Cook very gently, partially covered, stirring often, until nearly all the moisture is gone – about 4 hours. Transfer to a jar and cool.