Coconut Curry Chicken Noodle Soup Recipe (Curry Mee)

When I was in college, I skipped breakfast, ate popcorn and diet coke for lunch, and made tuna fish sandwiches or pasta with red sauce for dinner. It’s a wonder I’m still alive. My students at Juilliard are fortunate to receive nutrition counseling, and I am impressed to see them eating fruit, yogurt, and nuts between classes (protein and carbohydrates are necessary for muscle recovery, especially immediately after exercising), and from tupperware containers packed with leafy greens, sweet potatoes, lean meats or beans, and whole grains for their main meals.

The following recipe is for my former student Doug, who lives in Israel now. Doug is a recent graduate of The Juilliard School, an excellent dancer, and is making his way as a young member of the Batsheva Dance Company. He wrote to me a while ago saying that he is interesting in expanding his culinary repertoire, and that a recipe he made for coconut curry from The Joy of Cooking was lacking. Actually, what he said was, “I just made a chicken coconut curry recipe from The Joy of Cooking and it sucked.  Edible but uninspiring.”

This one doesn’t suck. It is from the New York Times, and has been tested by them and by me, more than a few times. Forget conventional chicken noodle soup; to me, these complex, spicy citrus flavors are the ultimate comfort when autumn arrives. Enjoy, Doug; this is heaps better than a tuna sandwich for dinner, and more fun to make, too.

Coconut Curry Chicken Noodle Soup (Curry Mee): a recipe from the New York Times located here.

Note from Banu: This time I poached a whole cut-up chicken for 45 minutes in a couple of big pots of low-simmering water infused with some cilantro stalks, a few crushed garlic cloves, some curry leaves, and a sliced up onion. I removed the chicken pieces, shredded the meat as I picked it off the bones, and returned the bones to the simmering broth for about another hour and a half. I strained the stock, used half of it for the soup, and froze the other half for another use. Since the chicken was already cooked, I added it at the last minute, along with the noodles. I like this soup with chicken, but I am sure this would be fantastic with some shiitake mushrooms and tofu, for a vegetarian version.

I ate little bits of this soup all week, so cooked the noodles (I used mung bean noodles this time) at the last minute, so they wouldn’t get soggy. Also, I garnished with sunflower sprouts instead of bean sprouts, and I forgot to garnish with the cilantro for the picture, but it's a lovely addition to the flavors of this soup.

Time: 45 minutes

2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 small onion, minced
1 tablespoon minced ginger
1 tablespoon minced lemon grass or pale green cilantro roots
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dark red chili paste, such as sambal, more for serving
3/4 pound boneless, skinless chicken thigh or breast meat, thinly sliced and cut into bite-size pieces
3 tablespoons curry powder, preferably Malaysian, Thai or Vietnamese
1/2 teaspoon paprika
1 can (14 ounces) unsweetened coconut milk
1/2 cup half-and-half
4 cups chicken stock
1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 tablespoons fish sauce
1 tablespoon sugar, more to taste
About 12 kaffir lime leaves or curry leaves, fresh or frozen (optional)
8 ounces dried thin rice noodles (bun or vermicelli), or other Asian noodles such as udon or lai fun
Salt to taste
1 cup bean sprouts
3 tablespoons chopped cilantro
2 scallions, cut into thin rings
2 shallots, thinly sliced and deep fried in vegetable oil until brown (optional)
Quartered limes for serving.

1. Heat oil in a medium pot over medium heat. Add onion, ginger and lemon grass and cook, stirring, until softened, about 10 minutes. Do not brown; reduce heat if necessary. Add garlic and chili paste and stir until fragrant. Raise heat, add chicken and stir-fry one minute. Add curry powder and paprika and stir to coat. Then add coconut milk, half-and-half, chicken stock, turmeric, fish sauce, sugar and lime or curry leaves. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until chicken is cooked through, about 7 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, cook rice noodles in boiling water according to package directions (about 4 minutes). Rinse and drain.

3. Taste broth and adjust seasonings with salt and sugar. Divide noodles into large soup bowls. Bring broth to a boil, then ladle over noodles. Top with bean sprouts, cilantro, scallions and fried shallots, if using. Pass limes and sambal at the table.

Yield: 4 main-course servings.

Note: To make this rich soup more substantial, boiled potatoes are sometimes added to the simmering broth and cooked until very soft.

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Enchiladas Verde with Tempeh, Leeks, Goat Cheese, and Maitake Mushrooms Recipe

Except for breakfast, I haven’t been so hungry lately. In the mornings, I might have whole grain toast with a little flax oil, some cheese (maybe a goat milk gouda, or some chive-spiked English Gloucester), perhaps a bit of avocado, some cherry tomatoes, green tea (or coffee, depending on the amount of sleep I’ve gotten), and a piece of fruit. If I have a sweet tooth in the morning (unusual, but occasional), I’ll have some granola with yogurt, or peanut butter or almond butter on toast with honey in the comb or jam, or, if it’s the weekend, I might imagine making biscuits or French toast to share with a virtual someone. But the part of my day that involves eating in the hours after breakfast is being largely ignored lately.

After traveling for much of the summer, I’m only now again embracing the routine of cooking to pack my lunches, and last week I made some very weird food. To satisfy the Mexican food craving that inevitably hits after a long trip to Europe, I made enchiladas filled with tempeh, leeks, chipotle chiles, goat cheese, maitake mushrooms, and topped with salsa verde. Immediately out of the oven, I hated everything about my improvised meal, but packed for lunch the next day with some refried beans, additional chipotle chiles, and sour cream, it was actually pretty tasty, and reminded me why eating food at lunchtime is not a bad idea.

But the most memorable thing I ate this week is a burger I had at a friend of a friend’s house, on the rooftop, from the grill. Not for the burger itself, but for the accidental semi-raw entire piece of garlic I found in the burger, a piece of garlic that I didn’t remove, but chewed up eagerly, thinking I was likely to head home soon, and wouldn’t further talk to anyone I didn’t know. I don’t think I’ve been in a relationship with someone who didn’t like garlic, so I’ve generally had a partner eating the crushed cloves in my simple tomato sauces, the cloves that my friend Julia’s Roman boyfriend, while instructing me in the traditions of Italian cooking, advised me to take out once the sauce has finished simmering. I have not been alone in smearing the roasted cloves on toast, devouring the crispy ones whole, Mexican-style, with some toasted arbol chiles and peanuts as a snack, or eating the intense raw garlic yogurt sauces that are so popular in Turkish cooking.

When I was just out of college, I was seduced by the lingering smell of cut garlic on my future boyfriend’s hands; a sign that he was generously cooking dinner for his friends and family, that he understood the sensuality of food and cooked with my favorite flavors. I’m single again, now, yeah, and I’m sure that any new guy I’d like to share food with will not be bothered by a little garlic breath. He will probably have it, too.

Enchiladas Verde with Tempeh, Leeks, Goat Cheese, and Maitake Mushrooms Recipe

For the salsa verde:

about 16 tomatillos, husked, washed, and quartered
1 medium onion, quartered
2-3 cloves of garlic
1 jalapeño, cut into pieces
half a bunch of cilantro, chopped
salt and pepper, to taste

For the filling:

1 medium leek, trimmed, cleaned, and chopped
2 8 oz packages of tempeh (I used flax seed tempeh), cut into medium-sized cubes
about 4 oz of fresh goat cheese, crumbled
1 large maitake mushroom, cut into pieces
1 chipotle chile in adobo sauce, minced, plus a little of the adobo sauce
salt and pepper, to taste

about 12 corn tortillas

To make the salsa verde:

Purée the first four ingredients in a food processor until smooth. Heat the sauce in a saucepan over medium heat and cook gently for about fifteen minutes. Stir in the cilantro, and set the sauce aside.

To make the filling:

Heat a little oil in a large pan and sautée the leeks until soft. Remove them, set aside, and let cool.

Pan-fry the tempeh in a little oil until browned on all sides. You may have to do this in batches, so you don’t crowd the pan. Set aside to cool.

In a medium sized bowl, mix all the ingredients together, and set aside.

To make the enchiladas:

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Heat a small pan over medium heat and gently warm the corn tortillas until pliable.

Pour a little of the salsa verde into the bottom of the pan you will cook them in so the enchiladas won’t stick to the bottom.

Fill the corn tortillas with the tempeh-leek mixture, roll them up, and place them next to each other, seam side down, in the pan.

Smother the enchiladas with the salsa verde, and cook, covered, for about 30 to 40 minutes.

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Pineapple, Red Pepper, Jalapeño, and Basil Salad Recipe

I have done a lot of dancing in my life. I began studying ballet when I was six, danced seriously through high-school, continued, though not as rigorously, in college, and for the last eighteen years I have been traumatizing my body in various ways by performing, teaching, and staging the works of Merce Cunningham. Ok, it hasn’t always been painful, but age, and the ferocity with which I approach my profession (both physically and mentally) have taken a toll.

Lately, my back has been bothering me so much that even bending to shave my legs in the shower has been painful. I was worried I’d soon end up like old cats who develop hair mats when they can no longer groom their haunches, and, unwilling to accept this unattractive fate, quickly called the doctor. An x-ray revealed a severe lessening of space between the L-5 and L-4 vertebrae (in my lumbar spine), and likely arthritis. I did a little research, and read that ginger is very effective in decreasing the inflammation associated with arthritis, and saw the same thing about vitamin C-rich pineapple, which also contains a mixture of enzymes called bromelain, which is known to relieve the swelling associated with several other conditions, too.

Dancer or not, it can’t hurt to add these anti-inflammatory foods to your diet. They will help relieve pain, and may also reduce the risk of some cancers. My acupuncturist prescribed the ayurvedic anti-inflammatory herb boswellia, and I’ve been eating about a tablespoon of raw ginger every morning after breakfast. I went to a yoga class specifically geared for back care, and between these natural remedies and the following pineapple salad, I am in much less pain, and my legs are, again, as smooth as silk.

Pineapple, Red Pepper, Jalapeño, and Basil Salad Recipe

adapted from Savoury Pineapple Salad from World Food Cafe by Chris and Carolyn Caldicott

One pineapple, peeled, cored, and cut into large chunks
One red pepper, seeded, and cut into strips
One jalapeño, chopped into small pieces
A handful of basil leaves, torn into pieces (I used purple basil this time)

Combine everything, and serve chilled.

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Purslane and Cherry Tomato Yogurt Salad Recipe

Last night, anticipating a vibrant sunset, I poured a glass of wine and went up to my roof to listen, look, and think. Watching the planes come in to land at La Guardia, all in a lineup, five in a row, I wondered if anyone in those planes was passing above their house, like I sometimes do, and perhaps saying to a seat mate, “See, there? The tall building at the edge of the green, there? That’s my house; I live there,” and I wasn’t sure why I felt connected to all those people up there flying around.

I was comforted by the meditative white noise of the whirring cars on the BQE, and by watching the F trains come and go, shuttling thousands of people from work and play and adventures, taking them to and from events filled with grief, euphoria, or perversion. I wondered about the crimes of the people housed in the nearby prison, and I felt for those falsely accused. They don’t feel this perfect breeze on their skin, watch the ferries pass; they don’t see the pink and red ribbons appear in the sky and turn Manhattan a kind of glowy steel color in contrast, the imminence of the city’s lights a given.

I wondered if the new cell phone tower on my roof made my landlord any money, and if the waves were giving us all cancer. And then I dismissed this thought, imagining the thousands of cell phone towers all over the city projecting waves out and around, and I painted the waves in color, and I bet they look like a giant 70s thread sculpture/wall-hanging thing of a light blue and dark blue ship with tall sails, and I bet our brains are right in the middle of all those threads, between the pins at the edge, getting incessantly bombarded from the bow and the stern and the mast. Bad for our health, yeah. Probably doesn’t matter if there’s a tower right above my head.

The smell of the baking bagels from the roof is even stronger than from my apartment. These bagels are a tease: cinnamon and raisin, onion, blueberry, it doesn’t matter; these bagels are not for sale. Hermetically bagged for shipment behind those walls, I wouldn’t even know it was a bagel factory were it not for the mistakes they throw away in the dumpsters outside and for the bagel-making people hanging around, smoking, transparent shower caps on their heads, and wearing what look like white nurse outfits. Maybe they're saving the misfit bagels from the rats.

I am as at peace in that moment on my roof as I may have ever been. This is one of those try-to-remember moments when things aren’t going right. You know, when you're alone, and you try to zip your dress, and you can’t quite get the zipper to the top, and you're unable to find the single-girl gadget that your sister gave you to elongate your reach when no one is around to help you attach your bracelet, or zip your dress, so you have to change clothes, and you're uncomfortable, and you hate what you have on because it isn’t the original thought? Or when there’s a nor'easter, and hail is pelting you in your face; water is leaking into your boots; your scarf is strangling you in the wind like it did Isadora (but not all the way); you’re late for teaching class because the trains are flooded; a stranger yells at you for bumping her accidentally with your bag, and you find out someone has charged trips to South Africa and Thailand on your debit card? During those kinds of days I will try to remember this moment. This moment, up here with the breeze and the planes and the strangeness and the millions of people all around me; this moment feels like home.

Purslane and Cherry Tomato Yogurt Salad Recipe

Without the tomatoes, this is a classic Turkish recipe from the Aegean region, commonly served cold in the summertime. Purslane, a weed, is one of the most nutritious plants on the planet, and contains even Omega-3 fatty acids. If you can’t find purslane, you could easily substitute baby spinach, or any other tender green of your choosing.

a substantial amount of purslane (or spinach), washed and trimmed
some cherry tomatoes, halved
a quart of yogurt (I used goats’ milk yogurt)
one garlic clove, minced
salt, to taste

Combine everything in a bowl, stir, and chill.

When ready to serve, drizzle with a little olive oil.

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