
Take chicken, pork chops, and soup from bland to bold
This aromatic braise with a warm yellow hue is our version of Ethiopian doro alicha, the milder cousin of better-known, more intensely spiced doro wat. Turmeric, onion, ginger, and garlic supply the flavor foundation. The dried herbs and spices mimic the complexity of niter kibbeh, a spice-infused butter ubiquitous in Ethiopian cooking.
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Serve with injera, a spongy, slightly sour Ethiopian flatbread, if you can get some. Otherwise, rice, or even naan, is a good accompaniment.
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Make sure to cover the pan and reduce the heat while simmering the chicken. The amount of liquid in the skillet is relatively scant (this is intentional, to keep the flavors concentrated); covering and gentle simmering will prevent it from evaporating.
3 tablespoons ghee or neutral oil
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
Kosher salt and ground black pepper
1½ tablespoons finely grated fresh ginger
4 medium garlic cloves, minced
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
½ teaspoon dried Mexican oregano or ¼ teaspoon each dried oregano and dried thyme
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cardamom
1 cup dry white wine
2 pounds bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs and/ or drumsticks, skin removed and discarded
In a 12-inch skillet set over medium-high heat, warm the ghee until shimmering. Add the onion and ½ teaspoon salt; cook, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned and fully softened, 10 to 12 minutes; reduce the heat if the onion browns too quickly.
Stir in the ginger, garlic, turmeric, oregano, cinnamon, cardamom, and ½ teaspoon pepper. Cook, stirring, until fragrant, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the wine and
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cook over medium-high heat, scraping up any browned bits, until the liquid has evaporated, 4 to 5 minutes.
Add ¾ cup water and the chicken, turning to coat. Bring to a simmer, then cover, reduce to medium-low heat, and simmer, occasionally stirring and turning the chicken, until a skewer inserted into the largest piece meets no resistance, 18 to 20 minutes.
Uncover, increase the heat to medium-high, and cook, stirring often, until the cooking liquid has thickened enough that a wooden spoon drawn through the sauce leaves a trail, 5 to 8 minutes. Taste and season with salt and pepper.
Cinnamon, Beef, and Noodle Soup
Connie Miller
Cinnamon, Beef, and Noodle Soup
Makes 6 servings
We first made this recipe with two cinnamon sticks, but its flavor didn't come through, so we tripled it and added anise seeds, as well. The broth is still balanced but much brighter.
Instead of developing flavor by browning the beef, we get rich umami flavor from soy sauce.
You can prepare the broth and meat up to three days ahead; refrigerate both until needed, then discard the solid fat from the surface of the broth and proceed.
Six 3-inch cinnamon sticks
2 teaspoons anise seed
½ cup soy sauce
½ cup rice wine
8 scallions, trimmed and halved crosswise into white and green parts
1 bunch cilantro
4-inch length ginger (3 ounces), cut into pieces and smashed
3 pounds beef shank, trimmed
8 ounces dried wheat noodles
5 ounces baby spinach
1 teaspoon chili-garlic sauce, plus more to serve
Ground white pepper
In a 7-quart Dutch oven set over medium heat, toast the cinnamon sticks and anise until fragrant.
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Add 8 cups water, plus the soy sauce, wine, scallion whites, cilantro, and ginger. Bring to a simmer. Add the beef, then cover and simmer over low heat until the beef is tender and falling off the bone, 2½ to 3 hours.
Using a slotted spoon, transfer the beef to a large plate and cool. Pour the broth through a mesh strainer into a large bowl. Discard the solids and return the broth to the pot. When cool enough to handle, shred the meat, discarding fat and bones, then return the meat to the broth.
Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add the noodles and cook until al dente. Drain and reserve. Meanwhile, return the broth to a simmer. Add the spinach and cook until wilted, about 1 minute. Off heat, stir in the chili-garlic sauce and season with white pepper. Divide the noodles between serving bowls and ladle the soup over, seasoning with additional chili-garlic sauce, if desired.
Salt-and-Pepper Pork Chops With Spicy Scallions
Connie Miller
Salt-and-Pepper Pork Chops With Spicy Scallions
Makes 4 servings
The salt-and-pepper treatment is a Cantonese technique applied to meat, seafood, and tofu. The protein typically is deep-fried, but here we opt to pan-fry pork that we first dust in cornstarch seasoned generously with Sichuan pepper, black pepper, and cayenne.
The easiest way to grind the tongue-tingling Sichuan peppercorns for this recipe is in an electric spice grinder.
In a classic salt-and-pepper dish, chilies and garlic are quickly fried and tossed with the cooked protein for big, bold, in-your-face flavors. We, however, finish the pork with a fresh, punchy uncooked mix of sliced scallions, chopped cilantro, minced chilies, rice vinegar, and grated ginger.
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When shopping, look for boneless pork loin chops that are ¼ to ½ inch in thickness. They sometimes are called pork cutlets.
Serve with steamed jasmine rice.
1 bunch scallions, thinly sliced
1 cup lightly packed fresh cilantro, roughly chopped
1 Fresno or jalapeño chili, stemmed, seeded, and minced
2 tablespoons unseasoned rice vinegar
1 tablespoon finely grated fresh ginger
Kosher salt and ground black pepper
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns, finely ground (see headnote)
½ to 1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
½ teaspoon Chinese five-spice powder
8 boneless (about 1½ pounds) thin-cut pork loin chops/ cutlets (¼ to ½ inch thick), patted dry
1⁄3 cup grape-seed or other neutral oil
In a medium bowl, toss together the scallions, cilantro, chili, vinegar, ginger, and ¼ teaspoon salt; set aside.
In a wide, shallow dish, mix together the cornstarch, Sichuan pepper, cayenne pepper, five-spice, 2 teaspoons black pepper, and 1 teaspoon salt. Dredge the cutlets in the cornstarch mixture, turning to coat both sides and pressing so the mixture adheres, then transfer to a large plate, stacking or shingling as needed.
In a 12-inch nonstick skillet set over medium-high heat, warm the oil until barely smoking. Add half of the cutlets and cook until browned on the bottoms, 2 to 3 minutes. Using tongs, flip the cutlets and cook until golden brown on the second sides, about 1 minute. Transfer to a platter and tent with foil. Cook the remaining cutlets in the same way, using the oil remaining in the skillet. Spoon the scallion-cilantro mixture onto the finished chops before serving.
Christopher Kimball is the founder of Milk Street, home to a magazine, school, and radio and television shows. Globe readers get 12 weeks of complete digital access, plus two issues of Milk Street print magazine, for just $1. Go to 177milkstreet.com/globe. Send comments to

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Los Angeles Times
16 hours ago
- Los Angeles Times
Separated by a border for decades, parents and children are reunited at last
José Antonio Rodríguez held a bouquet of flowers in his trembling hands. It had been nearly a quarter of a century since he had left his family behind in Mexico to seek work in California. In all those years, he hadn't seen his parents once. They kept in touch as best they could, but letters took months to cross the border, and his father never was one for phone calls. Visits were impossible: José was undocumented, and his parents lacked visas to come to the U.S. Now, after years of separation, they were about to be reunited. And José's stomach was in knots. He had been a young man of 20 when he left home, skinny and full of ambition. Now he was 44, thicker around the middle, his hair thinning at the temples. Would his parents recognize him? Would he recognize them? What would they think of his life? José had spent weeks preparing for this moment, cleaning his trailer in the Inland Empire from top to bottom and clearing the weeds from his yard. He bought new pillows to set on his bed, which he would give to his parents, taking the couch. Finally, the moment was almost here. Officials in Mexico's Zacatecas state had helped his mother and father apply for documents that allow Mexican citizens to enter the U.S. for temporary visits as part of a novel program that brings elderly parents of undocumented workers to the United States. Many others had their visa applications rejected, but theirs were approved. They had packed their suitcases to the brim with local sweets and traveled 24 hours by bus along with four other parents of U.S. immigrants. Any minute now, they would be pulling up at the East Los Angeles event hall where José waited along with other immigrants who hadn't seen their families in decades. José, who wore a gray polo shirt and new jeans, thought about all the time that had passed. The lonely nights during Christmas season, when he longed for the taste of his mother's cooking. All the times he could have used his father's advice. His plan had been to stay in the U.S. a few years, save up some money and return home to begin his life. But life doesn't wait. Before he knew it, decades had passed and José had built community and a career in carpentry in California. He sent tens of thousands of dollars to Mexico: to fund improvements on his parents' house, to buy machines for the family butcher shop. He sent his contractor brother money to build a two-bedroom house where José hopes to retire one day. His mother, who likes talking on the phone, kept him informed on all the doings in town. The construction of a new bridge. The marriages, births, deaths and divorces. The creep of violence as drug cartels brought their wars to Zacatecas. And then one day, a near-tragedy. José's father, jovial, strong, always cracking jokes, landed in the hospital with a heart that doctors said was failing. He languished there six months on the brink of death. But he lived. And when he got out, he declared that he wanted to see his eldest son. A full third of people born in Zacatecas live in the U.S. Migration is so common, the state has an agency tasked with attending to the needs of Zacatecanos living abroad. It has been helping elderly Mexicans get visas to visit family north of the border for years. The state tried to get some 25 people visas this year. But the United States, now led by a president who has vilified immigrants, approved only six. José had a childhood friend, Horacio Zapata, who also migrated to the U.S. and who hasn't seen his father in 30 years. Horacio's father also applied for a visa, but he didn't make the cut. Horacio was crestfallen. A few years back, his mother died in Mexico. He had spent his life working to help get her out of poverty, and then never had a chance to say goodbye. He often thought about what he would give to share one last hug with her. Everything. He would give everything. He and his wife had come with José to offer moral support. He put his arm around his friend, whose voice shook with nerves. East L.A. was normally bustling, filled with vendors hawking fruit, flowers and tacos. But on this hot August afternoon, as a car pulled up outside the event hall to deposit José's parents and the other elderly travelers, the streets were eerily quiet. Since federal agents had descended on California, apprehending gardeners, day laborers and car wash workers en masse, residents in immigrant-heavy pockets like this one had mostly stayed inside. The thought crossed José's mind: What if immigration agents raided the reunion event? But there was no way he was going to miss it. Suddenly, the director of the Federation of Zacatecas Hometown Assns. of Southern California, which was hosting the reunion, asked José to rise. Slowly, his parents walked in. Of course they recognized one another. His first thought: How small they both seemed. José gathered his mother in an embrace. He handed her the flowers. And then he gripped his father tightly. This is a miracle, his father whispered. He'd asked the Virgin for this. His father, whose heart condition persists, was fatigued from the long journey. They all took seats. His father put his head down on the table and sobbed. José stared at the ground, sniffling, pulling up his shirt to wipe away tears. A mariachi singer performed a few songs, too loudly. Plates of food appeared. José and his parents picked at it, mostly in silence. At the next table, José Manuel Arellano Cardona, 70, addressed his middle-aged son as muchachito — little boy. In the coming days, José and his parents would relax into one another's company, go shopping, attend church. Most evenings, they would stay up past midnight talking. Eventually, the parents would head back to Zacatecas because of the limit on their visas. But for now, they were together, and eager to see José's home. He took them by the arms as he guided them out into the California sun.


Buzz Feed
a day ago
- Buzz Feed
20 Kitchen Products For Bad Cooks
A meat thermometer for anyone tired of butchering their chicken to check for pink spots or slicing into steak so many times the juices run out, leaving it bone dry. This gives you an instant temperature reading, so you don't accidentally overcook your rare steak to medium while waiting for a slow thermometer to catch up. It also comes with an easy-to-read chart that shows the safe internal temperatures for different meats— so you can have a yummy (salmonella-free) BBQ! A rotary grater if you've had way too many close calls trying to grate blocks of cheese for macaroni or slice thin veggies for ratatouille. This comes with three different attachments to grate, shred, or slice your favorite veggies, cheeses, or even chocolate with just a quick crank. The protective cover keeps your fingers away from the danger zone, so you can be allowed back in the kitchen without being a hazard. An Instant Pot, your holy grail if you can't keep up with recipes that require more than one pan *and* the oven — something will definitely end up burning. Your dinner possibilities are endless with the seven preset functions! You can make warm chicken soup, try out your grandma's beef stew, or if those are too hard, chicken and rice have never been simpler. A pair of salad cutting scissors if you aren't trusted with a knife in the kitchen but still want to help out. Just toss all your ingredients into a bowl and cut away (there's no way you can mess it up). A pair of herb scissors so even if your final dish isn't the most appealing, you can quickly cut up a little green onion razzle dazzle right on top. These scissors have five sharp blades to give you finely chopped herbs in seconds — say goodbye to struggling with the old cutting board and knife. A vampire garlic crusher if you love garlic but haven't quite figured out how to properly chop it without just smearing it all over your cutting board. His pointy little fangs turn a messy job into a quick and easy one. Just twist for garlic heaven without having smelly garlic hands for days. A corn stripper that lets you forget the terrifying strategy of standing a slippery ear of corn upright and attacking it with your questionable knife skills — it ends in disaster every time. This gets every last kernel without the mess of corn juice or the waste of leaving half the cob behind. The stainless steel blade just glides through, so you can have a fresh bowl of Mexican street corn in no time for your next BBQ! A trio pack of Dan-O's seasoning because salt and pepper alone is not enough!! You can choose from original, spicy, or chipotle, all made with low sodium, so there is no such thing as overseasoning. If you are scared of branching out or mixing your own concoction, Dan-O's makes it easy to cook up the tastiest fish, meat, or vegetables. You can finally say goodbye to boring, bland food! A snap-on strainer so your noodles can actually stay in the pot instead of going down your drain. No more struggling, trying to hold a strainer with one hand and pouring the heavy pot with the other. Just clip and pour, so easy! A vegetable chopper for when you've watched a thousand cooking videos and still don't know how to dice an onion. This comes with four attachments for different-sized dices and even a spiral blade if you're into the zoodle trend. Just place your veggie right in the chopper and give it a good SMACK! You'll have pico de gallo or stir-fry-ready veggies in seconds. Al Dente, your Italian bestie that'll watch your pasta while you figure out what went wrong with your pasta sauce. Just place him right in your pot and listen out for his little song so you can finish the job. It's truly an offer you can't refuse. Or a microwave pasta maker that makes cooking spaghetti even *simpler* (even boiling water can be hard sometimes). There's no need to dirty a bunch of dishes or throw your pasta at the wall to make sure it's perfectly al dente, this container has all you need to have a delicious pasta dinner with no mistakes. An electric peeler that'll save you time and your fingers when prepping a bunch of potatoes. Its hand-free design allows you to set and forget, while you practice your knife skills on your other ingredients. It also minimizes waste, so you are getting more of your produce instead of accidentally peeling it all away. A rapid egg cooker that'll give you hard-boiled, soft-boiled eggs, or even an omelette at the push of a button. If you're stressing over being assigned to bring deviled eggs for the potluck, this will cut your prep time in cut out the part of you accidentally under-boiling 100 eggs. Or an egg timer for when you like boiling the old fashion way but still haven't quite gotten the timing right for a ramen soft jelly egg. This little chick starts off red but slowly fades to white when your desired egg has reached the correct temperature. Now you can add "boiled eggs" to your cookbook, right next to instant ramen. A digital rice cooker — if you constantly serve burnt or soggy rice, you need this ASAP! It comes with various presets, labeled measurements, and tools to even steam veggies. Reviewers especially love the "keep warm" feature that keeps your rice fresh even hours after cooking. So if you get distracted trying to ensure your chicken isn't raw, you can have peace of mind that at least your rice will be edible. A cut-resistant glove if you have had far too many close calls using a mandolin, trying out that viral cucumber salad. These gloves are stronger than leather for extra protection, so now you can be trusted in the kitchen again. An EZ Bomb, a ball of seasoning to make the perfect pot of birria that even grandma would approve of. This dissolves right into your water, dispersing a burst of seasonings and flavors for an easy, no-mess dinner. You'll never go back to trying to follow a cookbook that just ends with you ordering takeout. A silicone spill stopper if you're tired of your pot boiling over and turning your stove into a disaster zone. Just place this right on top of your pot — no babysitting required. It will keep everything calm and contained so you can move on to the next step in your recipe without sprinting to check on your water. A veggie holder designed to help you get even slices without getting a slice of your finger in the process. This gives you a good grip, so you're not chasing your veggies as they slide all over your cutting board. This will definitely improve your knife skills so you can feel like a pro in no time.


Indianapolis Star
3 days ago
- Indianapolis Star
INdulge: It's corn time. This summery Mexican dish was the best thing I ate this week
I spent a chunk of the past week in a hospital, which, for the sake of not violating HIPAA, we'll pretend was due to a tragic State Fair funnel cake overdose (everyone's fine and no cake was involved). One consequence is that I spent far less time than expected at the Fair, where I had planned to consume a great deal of corn, both in cob and dog form. Fortunately, I did have time for: This time of year I think of the fairgrounds as the corn epicenter of the universe; however that designation might be equally appropriate for Tlaolli, the Near Eastside Mexican restaurant whose name literally means 'corn' in the Aztec Nahuatl language. There I enjoyed a cup of Tlaolli's street corn calabacita ($8), an especially summery take on Mexican esquites. More: Indiana State Fair announces 2025 Taste of the Fair winners Esquites — not to be confused with its cousin on the cob, elote —features cooked corn kernels tossed with a variety of ingredients, in Tloalli's case Cotija cheese, poblano pepper-infused mayonnaise and the popular chili-lime seasoning Tajín. At Tloalli the dish also receives an unconventional scattering of roasted calabacita, a small Mexican varietal of zucchini. As is the case with nearly every dish at Tlaolli, you can order your street corn vegan, with dairy-less mayo and nutritional yeast instead of Cotija. Even with its nontraditional departures, Tlaolli's esquites hits all the crucial notes. The corn is bright and fresh, the semi-melted mayo is tangy but not gratuitously creamy, the Cotija brings a little funk and Tajín remains the one seasoning that might genuinely improve everything it touches. Meanwhile, the roasted bits of zucchini add a subtle earthy flavor without the somewhat slimy texture that can undermine squash. Still, where summer produce is concerned in this dish, the corn is the star. Corn is, obviously, a pretty big deal around here. It's the Hoosier State's second-biggest cash crop behind soybeans, and Indiana regularly ranks among the nation's top five corn producers. At my alma mater Indiana University's home basketball games against Iowa or Nebraska, you can rely on a sizable contingent of students in the stands hoisting signs that read 'our corn is better than yours.' Previously in INdulge: Chinese dish with surprising Hoosier ties is best thing I ate in Indy this week I suppose Indiana has no excuse not to make good corn considering its earliest settlers practically obliterated the state so they could grow the stuff. In his 2003 book 'Corn Country: Celebrating Indiana's Favorite Crop,' author Sam Stall writes that travelers passing through Indiana occasionally remarked on the smell of smoke in the air due to settlers burning vast swaths of forest to make room for cornfields. Those early Hoosiers desperately needed a resilient, calorie-dense foodstuff to sustain both themselves and their livestock year-round. Fortunately for them, the state's original inhabitants had been growing it for thousands of years. Most scholarly research suggests corn was first domesticated nearly 10,000 years ago in southern Mexico's Atoyac River basin by Aztecs who began planting the seeds of a wild grain called teosinte. Teosinte migrated throughout the Americas with multiple tribes who selectively bred the plant to yield a higher nutritional value and, if you'll allow me to venture a guess, so it wouldn't taste like dirt. At some point that proto-corn became known among Native Mesoamericans as tlaolli, which some Aztecs used in the early versions of now-ubiquitous Mexican foods like tamales and tortillas. Millennia later, sweet corn likely originated as a spontaneous mutation in dent corn — the kind you typically see growing en masse alongside the highway — that inhibited the corn's sugars from turning to starch. The first recorded sweet corn harvest was in 1779 by the Iroquois tribe in New York, a bounty that was promptly pillaged by colonial soldiers and replanted on the same land from which the natives were forcibly removed. The history of corn is laden with similar examples of Europeans exploiting the same indigenous peoples who taught them how to survive by growing corn in the first place. The current result of that exploitation is, in a cruel twist of irony, a delicious bit of seasonal produce. Regardless of how much you choose to confront corn's uncomfortable history, you can find excellent preparations of its kernels at Tlaollli, whose street corn calabacita combines a Mexican culinary staple with Indiana's cherished crop to yield a refreshing, concentrated dose of summer. And, as I can attest, it is way better than hospital food. What: Street corn calabacita, $8 for 8 ounces Where: Tlaolli, 2830 E. Washington St., (317) 410-9507, In case that's not your thing: Tamales are the name of the game at Tlaolli, but you'll also find tacos and a handful of other Mexican staples reimagined to suit Hoosier preferences. Owner Carlos Hutchinson last year told IndyStar that while his food isn't quite like what you would find in his home state of Monterrey, Mexico, 'that doesn't mean that it's not Mexican.' Nearly every dish at Tlaolli has a vegan version, from jackfruit and mushroom 'birria' tacos to the NoNoNo tamales filled with soy chorizo, roasted poblanos, potatoes and black beans.