Authenticity? Never heard of it.
Every time I venture into Asian cooking, I always feel I
need to acknowledge that I don’t really know what I’m doing.* But the truth is,
so many heinous things have been called “curries” or “stir-fries” or whatever
over the years, that I tend to go into preemptive apology mode when I try
something like today’s dish.
So for the record, I am not an expert on Thai cooking or on
Southeast Asian cuisines in general. I’m just an amateur cook with access to an
Asian market. Mind you, I’m not sure whom I think is going to chastise me. I’m
reasonably certain that there is no Thai culinary police out there, although if
I’m wrong, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t turn me in.
That’s a rather long preamble for what is a very basic
Thai-ish red curry with chicken. But like I said, it was pleasing and not too
taxing. And should my ingredient list flummox you, substitutions are fine—after
all, you really can’t desecrate a dish that doesn’t even have a proper name.
So we start with some aromatics: I’ve got some minced ginger
root, minced garlic (it's rather mixed in with the ginger in this photo, but trust me, it's there), some sliced shallot (scallions would work fine) and a stalk of
lemongrass.
Let’s begin with the lemongrass, as it’s the elephant in the
room. Rather than chopping it, I’m just bruising it somewhat; I’ll add it to
the curry sauce later, and its flavor will infuse the liquid. I do this because
lemongrass, although fragrant, is very tough, even when minced, and I don’t
care to have bits of it in the sauce. I am well aware that it is not available
in most burgs in this great land of ours, however, so if you can’t obtain it,
use the grated zest of a lime instead.
In a large skillet or pan, sauté the shallots (1 large) and ginger (about a 1 ½-inch piece) in
a tablespoon or so of vegetable oil (I used canola) for a few minutes until
fragrant and softened slightly. Add the minced garlic (1 clove) and cook for another minute. And no, I did not peel the ginger. Deal with it.
Now we add the protein. I used about ¾ lb. of boneless
chicken thighs that I cut into chunks/slices/gobbets. Add them to the pan, and
sauté (or stir-fry) until lightly browned. This will only take a couple of
minutes. Stir frequently to make sure your aromatics aren’t burning.
Don’t want to use chicken? A couple of pork chops, cut
similarly, would work as well, as would lamb or beef. Peeled shrimp or other
seafood would be wonderful here, although I wouldn’t add them until the very
end and just let them simmer in the sauce until just cooked through. Mushrooms, zucchini, and/or tofu would work if you prefer to go meatless, although I would probably
treat the (extra-firm) tofu like seafood, and add it at the end. Eggplant would probably be nice as well, although given the labor-intensive nature of that vegetable (chopping, salting, draining, etc.), I probably wouldn't use it if I were making this on the fly. But do whatever you want.
Now it’s time to add the curry paste. I’m using about 2
tablespoons of Thai red curry paste, which I obtained at an Asian market. Curry
pastes are appearing in more grocery stores these days, so you might be able to
find it in your local supermarket’s “Ethnic”† foods aisle. Green or Yellow
curry pastes would work as well, but if you can’t find curry paste at all, a
tablespoon or two of curry powder will suffice.
You need to cook the curry paste or powder in the oil in the
pan for a minute or two, stirring constantly just to heat the spices therein so
they don’t taste chalky and raw. You might need to add more oil to do this. Once this was done, I added about 1 ½ cups of
chicken broth and maybe 1 or 2 tablespoons of fish sauce. Soy sauce will do if fish sauce
cannot be found. Scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon or spatula. If you're Eurocentric, this is called deglazing the pan.
Bring this mixture to a simmer, and add about a cup (roughly
½ can) of coconut milk. This is where most cooking shows and cookbooks give you
a condescending warning to use coconut milk and not coco loco, which is used for cocktails. Has anyone ever actually mistaken one for the other? Wouldn't the fact that coconut milk is found near the soy sauce and rice noodles while coco loco is found near the grenadine and club soda give you some kind of hint?
That said, make sure you stir the
coconut milk well before adding, as it tends to separate in the can. You could use cream if coconut milk is unavailable.
Bring the whole lot back to the simmer and add the lemongrass or
lime zest. Simmer for 5-10 minutes, or until the chicken is cooked through and
the sauce is thickened to your liking. I added some thinly sliced bell peppers
(maybe ½ cup?) to the mixture, because I had some, but some blanched broccoli
or asparagus would work nicely, as would some frozen peas, or some spinach, or
really, whatever vegetables you wanted to add. Or just have a green salad on
the side.
Serve it forth with rice. I put some chopped cilantro on
top, but if you hate cilantro, parsley or basil would be nice. But if you
choose to rock it without herbs, good on you.
Bon appetìt,
y’all.
Again, no formal recipe on this one, but here are the
ingredients, as best as I recall them.
1 ½-inch piece of fresh ginger root, chopped
1 shallot (or 2 scallions), chopped
1 stalk lemongrass, bruised, or the grated zest of a lime
1 or 2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons red curry paste
1 - 2 tablespoons canola oil
¾ lb. of boneless, skinless chicken thighs
1 ½ cups of chicken broth
1 cup coconut milk
Thinly sliced bell peppers or other vegetables (optional)
Rice, for serving
Cilantro, for garnish (optional)
*Except, of course, where braised pork is concerned; there I
make no apologies.
†The supermarket definition of “Ethnic” seems to be “Not
Anglo.”
Forgot to mention this: once the sauce is thickened and the chicken is cooked, taste the sauce and correct the seasoning. You might add fish sauce (i.e., salt), or lime juice, or a bit of sugar, or all of the above, depending on what you want.
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