Cardamom

This groglike drink has been popular in Russia for centuries. It’s usually prepared without alcohol, but it’s pretty good with it, too—just add 1/2 to 3/4 cup vodka or brandy during the last couple of minutes of simmering. It’s not often served cold in Russia, but I like it that way, as a kind of spicy, odd relation of Masala Chai (page 668).

Think of this as osso buco, Russian style; the technique is almost identical to that in the following, better-known classic, but the result is sweeter and more fragrant. Serve with pilaf or buttered noodles. If you are lucky enough to find fresh sour cherries, by all means use them; pit about a pound and add them to the pan as you would bottled sour cherries, along with about 1/4 cup sugar and a bit more stock. Other cuts of meat you can use here: as in classic osso buco, you will lose something by substituting chunks of boneless veal for the shank, but you will gain time, and the results will still be quite good.

I thought Lent was a time of self-denial, but in Sweden it’s when these absolutely delicious buns appear, filled with almond paste and whipped cream. They certainly could be served as dessert, but in Sweden people eat them as a midmorning or midafternoon snack.

This curry still carries a bit of heat but is mild and fragrant. If I were looking for an all-purpose curry powder, this would be it.

This is a sweet, mild, but very complex curry powder; you can add a bit of cayenne if you want some heat. You can chip pieces off a whole nutmeg with the blunt edge of a heavy knife or crack the whole thing by pressing on it with a heavy skillet.

A recipe from my friend Sumana Chatterjee, whose family lives in Calcutta. The ingredient list, obviously, could not be shorter, but don’t be deceived: This is a labor-intensive dish, best made on a cool day (we made it on a hot one and lost about five pounds each) when you are going to be in the kitchen for a long time. Having said that, it is wonderful stuff, creamy and delicious, representative of the scores of different milk desserts made throughout India.

This is what I think of as real coffee cake—not extraordinarily sweet and for some people not even a dessert. If you want it more cakelike, double the sugar in the dough and consider adding a couple more tablespoons of butter. But this is wonderful with a cup of coffee in the afternoon or toasted, with a little butter, in the morning. With the food processor, this dough becomes quite quick to make; just keep the processing to a minimum. You want to avoid building up the gluten in the flour so it doesn’t become tough. If you don’t feel like braiding the dough (it really is fun, though, and takes only a few extra minutes), by all means bake this in a loaf pan.

Cardamom is used everywhere from India to Scandinavia, and I love what the fragrant spice does for these classic French shortbread cookies. Though not traditional, the addition of cornstarch guarantees the delicate, crumbly texture for which the cookies are named (sablé translates as “sand”). Because sablés need time to chill before being baked, they make wonderful icebox cookies and are easy to keep in the fridge or the freezer and you can slice and bake as needed. They make an easy but distinctive finish to a meal, and are a nice accessory for a lonely scoop of ice cream or sorbet. If you like, instead of forming the dough into logs, roll out the dough after chilling and cut out rounds, then baked as directed. Cardamom loses its fragrance quickly, so make sure your ground cardamom is fresh.

I know I’m not alone when I say that snickerdoodles were my favorite cookie as a kid. Hell, they’re pretty much my favorite cookie as an adult. My mother’s 1970s recipe used shortening, but I prefer to make them with all butter, to deepen their flavor with brown sugar, and to scent them heavily with ethereal cardamom. This recipe calls for them to cool on a wire rack, but do yourself a favor and eat at least a few while they’re still warm, and be prepared to go weak-kneed. Snickerdoodles will keep at room temperature, in an airtight container, for about 3 days.

If you really want to replicate the Chef Shack’s most popular fall dish, go organic with the eggs and milk, try to get your hands on some bacon beer brats (they use Fischer Farms), and crisp up the bread in a deep fryer. If that sounds out of reach for you, your favorite pork sausage links will do, and a griddle or frying pan should work almost as well.

Sweet squashes marry well with the earthy flavor of beans and lentils. This is apparent in the dhal and pumpkin soup in The Kitchen Diaries and here in a more complex main dish that offers waves of chile heat with mild citrus and the dusty “old as time itself” taste of ground turmeric. Dried (which is the only way most of us know them) chickpeas are the stars of the world’s bean dishes, used to fill bellies everywhere from India to Egypt. Their character—knobbly, chewy, and virtually indestructible in the pot—makes them invaluable in slow-cooked dishes where you need to retain some texture. Fresh chickpeas are bright emerald green and have an invigorating citrus note to them that is completely missing in the dried version. I saw some for the first time this year. I have long wanted to put lemongrass with chickpeas, partly to lift their spirits but also to return some of their lemony freshness to them (I use more lemon juice in my hummus than most as well). This recipe, which just happens to be suitable for vegans, does just that. Like many of those slow, bean-based dishes, it often tastes better the next day, when all the ingredients have had a chance to get acquainted.

The kormas of India, serene, rich, silken, have much in them that works with the sweetness of the parsnip—cream, yogurt, nuts, sweet spices. The Mughal emperors who originally feasted on such mildy spiced and lavishly finished recipes may not have approved of my introduction of common roots but the idea works well enough. Despite instructions the length of a short story, I can have this recipe on the table within an hour. For those who like their Indian food on the temperate side.

A lovely, deeply flavored vegetable stew. This is one of those dishes that is all the better for a day in the fridge, during which time the flavors seem to mellow. I have kept it quite spicy but the final seasoning will depend on how hot your chiles are, and you will need to adjust it accordingly. Something to take your time over. I eat it with steamed basmati rice.

If a cauliflower is happiest under a comfort blanket of cream and cheese, we can run with the idea, dropping the cheese and introducing some of the milder, more fragrant spices such as coriander and cardamom into the cream instead. With its toasted cashews and crisp finish of spiced fried onions, this is a mild dish, so I see no reason to soften the blow with steamed rice, preferring instead to eat it with a crunchy salad of Belgian endive and watercress (or some such crisp, hot leaf ), using it to wipe the sauce from my plate.

Cakey, spongy, and deliriously delicious gulab jamun is one of India’s great contributions to the world of sweets. Shaped as small spheres that are fried and then soaked in a fragrant sugar syrup, the rich brown dumplings are frequently on restaurant menus and are enjoyed during special occasions such as Diwali, the autumn festival of lights, which is also known as the festival of sweets. The dumplings, traditionally made from khoya (milk that has been cooked down), are named for their resemblance to juicy, purple-brown jamun fruit. Cardamom is typically part of the sugar syrup, but you can add saffron and/or rose flower water, too; gulab means “rose” in Hindi. Cooking down milk is labor intensive, and many modern Indian cooks instead use nonfat dry milk to great success. The whipping cream lends richness and enhances the milk sugars, which you can smell while making the dough and frying the dumplings. For the rose flower water, I use rose-scented distilled water from France, which is sold in small blue bottles and often found at well-stocked liquor stores. If you are using rose essence, use just a few drops; it is very strong.

Many countries have a version of caramelized custard turned out of its mold for serving—from Mexico’s flan to France’s crème renversée. No border seems to be a barrier to the migration of this universally popular dessert. Cardamom is rather an exotic spice, but it is sometimes used in classic American coffee cakes and other familiar baked goods. Do not buy preground cardamom because its flavor dissipates quickly and you’ll miss the wonderful aroma released by cracking the seeds yourself. Oftentimes, cardamom seeds are sold still in their papery husks or pods, which should be peeled away to reveal the seeds within.

There seems to be an irksome theme in dessert books suggesting that a particular cake or pastry be served “with tea, in the afternoon.” I don’t know who has time to sit around and sip tea in the middle of the day, but I know at least one person who can usually be found foraging in his kitchen in the late afternoon, on the prowl for something to snack on. This cake combines everything I crave: tangy plums, toffee with a bit of salt, and buttery cake. If you do take tea in the afternoon, I’m sure it’d be a fine accompaniment. But I’m happy to enjoy it all by itself, whenever I can.

This is an absolute go-to dish for people taking pain medication. Why? Because many pain meds, especially opiates, can stop up the works, if you get my meaning. This isn’t your typical fiber-laden, tasteless concoction. (Can you say bran muffin?) In addition to prunes, the traditional remedy, this compote also includes dried apricots and cherries, and we’ve also brought ginger and cardomom to the party. The result is a delicious compote that smells incredible while it’s cooking and goes great over oatmeal or on toast. For those days when you need a kick start, this blend will nudge you in the right direction. Believe me, it works. Before cooking the compote, it’s best to soak the fruit for a few hours, or preferably overnight, so plan ahead. This is great served warm or at room temperature.

This is an old-fashioned recipe from Sweden, often baked during Christmastime. Although Swedish cuisine may be unfamiliar to most of us outside of Scandinavia, these cookies will probably taste familiar. Cardamom is the predominant spice in masala chai, the warming, aromatic tea sold by street vendors called “chai wallahs” throughout South Asia, and now also sold at Starbucks around the world, packaged as chai latte. But whether it’s Starbucks, Stockholm, or India, these cookies from way up north taste like the holidays to me.

This is a variation of a traditional Indian curried lamb dish called roghan josh. Typically this dish calls for mixing heavy whipping cream into the tomato sauce, but this version retains all the taste without the extra saturated fat. If you want, add two tablespoons of heavy whipping cream or milk to the tomato sauce and cook as directed. Turkey tenderloin or beef stew chunks make wonderful substitutions for the lamb in this recipe. The lentils can be omitted entirely, or you can use couscous instead (see the chart on page 8 for recommended couscous and liquid amounts). The lentils in this recipe will emerge al dente; for softer lentils, use canned and omit the half cup of water.

This out-of-the-ordinary stew is seriously good and its enticing aroma seductive. The sauce is smooth and complex: cinnamon, mustard, cumin, fenugreek, and cardamom all add up to an intriguing flavor that really lingers. The parsley-almond garnish adds brightness to the dish. Sweet, nutty, and crunchy, with layers of Indian spices, this killer recipe is a musttry. Serve it over basmati rice.

Dark green curly spinach varieties like Savoy or Bloomsdale have a deeper, richer flavor than the lighter green, grassier flat-leaf spinach, but any spinach pairs wonderfully with cardamom.