SPRINGING INTO LIFE AT THE EQUINOX

a first post

Is this where I start? Is this how I start? Finding myself at last embarking on a first Substack post feels a bit like arriving in a new country by stepping down from a train, or walking out of an airport. How to get my bearings? What looks likely? What looks interesting?

I guess I could have titled my Substack “Finding my Bearings” since it seems to me that the whole of life, both external and interior, involves doing that. And you may find this too: As soon as I locate myself, things change, life changes, seasons shift, priorities assert themselves. There’s a process of continuously figuring things out, while keeping one eye on the horizon and the other tuned to the close-by, whatever and whoever that might be.

In any case, here we are at the exciting turning point, Nou-Roz in Zoroastrian tradition, the start of a new year of growth and hope, as here in Toronto and in the northern hemisphere generally, mother nature shakes off the chilly pause of winter and warms into life.

In the kitchen symbols of spring life include fresh greens and herbs, bitter greens, and eggs in many forms. On Sunday night, with friends over for supper and Nou-Roz a few days away, I made a sabzi polo. The classic version of the dish is a Nou-Roz classic: perfectly cooked basmati layered with finely chopped green herbs. The rice is first boiled in plenty of water, then gently steamed.

I am a convert to whole grains of all kinds, including rice. I used a beautiful organic brown basmati, and my greens were chopped fava and radish sprouts plus some dill. There are many recipes around for classic sabzi polo, including in my books Seductions of Rice, and Taste of Persia. The method adapts easily to brown rice.

To make it with brown basmati, soak the rice in salted water for a couple of hours ahead, then rinse it off. The first boiling stage will take about 30 minutes or more, instead of a scant ten, until the rice is a version of al dente, then allow another 30 minutes for the second steaming. The brown rice makes a fine tahdig (I like using a blend of yogurt and one egg to make the tahdig).

The rice was accompanied by a large local chicken, which my friend Dawnthebaker had brined overnight. We spread shio koji on it and stuffed it with two lemons and some lime leaves I had hanging around. (Note on shio koji: you can make your own, from the recipe in my Miracle of Salt book or from other people’s recipes; or you can now buy bottles of it in Japanese and some other grocery stores. It’s a wonderful ingredient.)

I made a surface of carrots for the chicken to rest on. It cooked breast side down on a bed of carrots for 20 minutes or so (at 400 F/200 C) before we turned it over and finished it breast side up. The shio koji gives the skin a darker colour, presumably from the sweetness of the fermented rice, and a great flavour.

And for more greenness, we had both a mound of spinach (dressed with soy, sesame oil, and a squeeze of lemon) and broccoli raab, quickly boiled and then dressed in a light vinaigrette.

Before all that, the meal began with a soup of pureed roast squash lengthened with water, made lush with coconut milk, and flavoured with minced ginger, garlic, mustard seed, nigella, and fennel seed. A sprinkle of sumac on each bowlful is a good idea.

Back to the present: Now that we’ve reached the equinox, I want more greens and rice. This evening it’s risotto, made with broth from the roast chicken, and with brown carnaroli rice. I’ll include some chopped spinach later on in the cooking, and perhaps some arugula too. Again, you can use any simple risotto recipe and then adapt it to brown rice by adding extra time: the initial cooking of the rice in a little oil with garlic or whatever flavouring you like should take about twice as long as the same step with white rice. And then the gradual cooking takes about an hour. Be sure to have plenty of hot broth and/or water on hand. The rice needs to absorb the hot liquid gradually, and also to sit at low heat, partially covered, for ten to fifteen minutes near the end, to slowly become tender. It will still be a little chewier than white rice risotto, and with a lot more flavour. The trick is to leave yourself plenty of time and resist impatience.

There’s a lot on all our plates right now, with personal stresses and massive turmoil in the political landscape. Staying attentive to our friends and neighbours, to the seasons, to local farmers and what they produce, to facts rather than to speculation and fear: this seems to me a good way to keep our heads right now, wherever we find ourselves.

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