See below for recipes, photos, and more
about the book.
Friends:
Today I am presented with a great moment of pride
and nervousness as my second cookbook, American
Masala, is
officially released into the world. Please forgive me for this
mass email. I hope you will indulge me.
As most of you know, I am never shy to say what I feel or
be at a loss for words. Happy to say it as I see it, I’m not
easy to quiet once I start speaking about what inspires me.
Culture is not the ownership of any one person, race, religion,
society, or country, and so, it has never been easy for me
to call a recipe, book, restaurant, or catered event mine alone.
While chefs are great leaders and captains of their kitchens
(a stage really), I look at it more as a world unto itself.
A chef’s role is not always about being the captain, but often
just a bystander, sometimes a care giver or a catalyst, often
silent, sometimes vocal, and not always cooking while feeding
strangers, but always traveling far and wide to collect, preserve,
and to reinterpret or authentically recreate what could otherwise
become lost.
American Masala is my attempt at opening the world I inhabit.
Consider it, even if only briefly, as a study in how cultures,
people, politics, religion, and countries can work together
when separated from the egos (of political and religious leaders)
that, even when earnest, can carelessly endanger the very essence
that threads lives together.
I came to America armed with aspirations and dreams, comforted
in knowing that my extended family would take care of me upon
my arrival (and they did!). How lucky I was to have such a
gift. For an immigrant to have this security gave me a peace
of mind that is not common. Life has always been kind to me,
and so, not only did my family shine through, but I was also
blessed with friends who opened their own lives and communities
to me. Very soon, doors opened, bringing new opportunities
that I could have never dreamed of.
When my skin color, foreign accent, and recent immigrant-like
mannerisms could have robbed me of the pleasures of knowing
people, food came wholly to my rescue. Friends and family invited
me to their tables and came to mine (even during my first years
in America when I lived in modest roommate situations in Manhattan).
Food brought us together, spices captivated us, and through
their expected and unexpected flavors, we found a communication
so sincere that it felt old and tested.
After a brief exchange or two of nervous stereotypical fears,
it was masala that dispelled the unfounded angst and opened
the doors to the exploration of the unknown. Food became my
weapon of choice and my comfort to ease my homesick mind, soul,
and stomach. It also became the seduction that captivated and
preserved my relationships.
This book is the story of my life and of others who, like
me, have lived the American Dream and allowed this land of
plenty to penetrate beyond skin-deep emotions. The recipes
are a reflection of the rich American melting pot that brings
together the flavors of Lebanon, Morocco, the American Northeast,
Midwest, and South, and mixes them with the tastes of my homeland,
both in India and New York City. They don’t pretend to be tedious
or predictable, but instead comforting, simple (never simplistic),
and attainable. These are dishes meant to delight and nourish.
From the innocent and sometimes challenging
grandma from West Virginia I learned how to make the best cornbread.
From my own Indian mother I learned how to make what countless
many (including my dear friend Gael Greene) call their favorite
mac-n-cheese (Mom also taught me how to make the tastiest donuts,
that may even be a tad healthier than most others). My first
American friend, Mary Ann Joulwan, shared her family’s recipe
for rishta, the most haunting soup I have ever tasted. From
Renee Behnke, the brain behind what has become a retail giant,
Sur La Table, I learned how to make my masala fried chicken.
Richard Arakelian, my dear friend and the national chef of
Sodexho (responsible for feeding millions daily) shared his
technique for making meatloaf exciting, healthy, and tasty,
to which I contributed my own masala. My father’s battle with
end-stage liver disease taught my sister, mother, and mehow
to cook authentic, simple, and flavorful Indian foods that
enticed a man with no appetite to eat, even as doctors had
given up on him. He survived, ate well, and now has gifted
us a repertoire of dishes that are authentic but never
complicated.
Mine is a joy that comes because what I serve at my table
at home, what gets cooked by Hemant and our team at Dévi, and
at parties catered through our service, is always the gift
given to me by countless others, that have selflessly shared
what is theirs (if it could be called that), which was gifted
to them by yet others who gave of themselves and their own
heritage. This is the food I love, and so, I find it very hard
even for a moment, to make it the intellectual property of
any one person.
In this adventure, I found myself having at my side my dear
friend, Raquel Pelzel, whom I met during the blackout of 2003.
We were neighbors with many shared interests, good food being
one of them. Our meeting of kismet, made this book happen.
Raquel has supported me like few could, and has tirelessly
followed me around the kitchen and across my travels, documenting
what I do and say, and what memories haunt me and influence
me at the stove. This is as much her book as it is mine.
These are the pinches of spice and magic that I present in
this new collection of recipes. They are most of all a celebration
of what it means to be American, what it means to be a citizen
of the world, and most of all, they are a testament to what
makes each of us unique, with each spice adding new depth of
flavor to the bouquet garni called The World.
Thanks for always being there for me, thanks for indulging
me, and thanks for being yourself!
Best regards,
Praise for American Masala
From Publishers Weekly:
Although the recipes in Saran's aptly
titled second cookbook share no unifying principle apart
from their deliciousness—whoever heard of Macaroni and Cheese
keeping company with Mushroom and Rice Biryani Casserole?—they
complement one another in a mysterious way. Such eclecticism
reflects how Saran, chef and co-owner of Dévi in New York
City, cooks for his family and enormous circle of Tupperware-toting
friends. Unlike many other chefs' signature dishes, which
originate in a restaurant kitchen, Saran's most inspired
creations begin at home. When this cooking-without-borders
approach succeeds, as it mostly does, the results taste like
wild siblings of the original: bolder, stronger, deeper.
Seasonings for a delicious variation on harira, a traditional
Moroccan soup, include Aleppo pepper and garam masala; a
buttermilk brine for fried chicken is flavored with ginger,
coriander and cayenne. Indian dishes like Mashed Potatoes
with Mustard Oil, Cilantro and Onions and Bombay-Style Whole
Snapper, in which the fish is rubbed with a spice paste before
roasting, particularly stand out for their elegance and ease
of preparation. 60 color photos.
From Gael Greene's Insatiable
Critic website:
My signed copy of Suvir Saran’s new cookbook, American
Masala, arrived yesterday with my quote on the
back cover. So I’m already on record as loving how he has
infused Indian flavors into American dishes here.
I always feel trapped when a friend asks for a book quote
but I had no problem loving this book. I’d buy it for the outrageously
rich macaroni’n’cheese alone. I almost slipped under the table
comatose from eating more than my share one Christmas Eve at
Suvir’s place. Yes, our lives have become entwined since, he
corralled his powerful friends to welcome us on a three-month
trek through India. Not long ago we shared a nostalgic few
days tasting street snacks in the food market of Old Delhi
with him two years ago.
From the Seattle Post-Intellgencer:
American Masala: "Suvir Saran,
owner of Devi in Manhattan, takes on the intriguing task of
hybridizing Indian flavors and American dishes. While this
sounds like a train wreck, it winds up instead as an accessible
collection of home-style recipes, mixing cultures from garam
masala in the meatballs to cumin in the caponata. Note that
some recipes are straightforward Americana or Indian, while
others blend."
— Rebekah Denn
From the Foreword by Suvir:
Masala is the Hindi term for spice. Besides meaning
the spice that one adds to food, it also refers to the spice
of life, the excitement and vibrancy that blossom from stimulating
conversation and a house full of friends and family. All of
the things that make life interesting—all of the things that
inspire—this is masala.
As a chef and cook, I find inspiration everywhere, from the
countries I visit, the people I meet and the food I taste along
the way. I have found that the beauty of masala lies in its
ability to transpose borders and oceans, and find a home in
just about any cuisine, not just Indian. The dishes I cook
tend to take on an international theme, reflecting the background
and traditions of the places I’ve seen and the people I know.
I create food that I love to eat, food that I find stimulating
and satisfying, and that gets people talking. More often than
not, it’s not traditional Indian food that I am cooking, though
there are certainly Indian influences, as certain aspects of
cooking seem to be genetically juxtaposed into my biological
makeup.
I have lived in America for nearly as long as I lived in India
and have come to love American classics like fried chicken,
lasagna and cornbread. They are now as much a part of my culinary
heritage as is dal and dosas, raita and biriyanis. Applying
my knowledge of spices to American dishes is what I like to
call American Masala. It’s my reality and it’s how I cook at
home.
The recipes in this book are the ones that I make for, and
share with, friends and family. They are as at home in the
country as they are in the city or suburbs. They aren’t just
for Indian dishes, or Italian ones or Mexican ones. I present
to you an amorphous mix, as unique and diverse as New York
City, and yet as familiar as your mother’s cooking.
Recipes
 |
Chicken-Chickpea Harrira
Serves 8
Harira is a Moroccan soup that is
served during Ramadan to break the day’s fast. It is
most often prepared with lamb and perfumed with spices
like turmeric and cinnamon. Boneless chicken thigh
meat generally has a silkier texture and more depth
of flavor than chicken breast meat (though chicken
breast meat can be easily substituted if you prefer). Ground
saffron, toasted cumin, and the classic Indian spice
blend, garam masala, contribute a deep, sultry flavor.
My favorite saffron is from Kashmir, a state in northern
India. Its color, aroma and taste is headier than Spanish
or Persian saffron, and its depth of flavor and color
is deeper and stronger. To get the most flavor from saffron,
grind the needles into a fine powder using a mortar and
pestle.
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon cracked peppercorns
5 whole cloves
1-inch piece cinnamon stick
2 red onions, finely diced
1-1/2 pounds boneless chicken thigh meat cut into small
cubes
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon Aleppo pepper or 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon kosher salt
3 medium tomatoes, diced
Two 15-ounce cans chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2 cups boxed or canned chopped tomatoes
3 cups water
1/2 teaspoon saffron threads, finely ground
1 teaspoon Toasted Cumin
1/2 teaspoon Garam Masala or sambhar powder
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
Heat the olive oil with the cracked pepper, cloves and
cinnamon in a large pot over medium-high heat for 1 minute.
Add the onions and cook until they’re soft and lightly
browned around the edges, about 3 to 5 minutes, stirring
often. Add the chicken and cook until the meat releases
its liquid and the pan dries, about 5 minutes, stirring
occasionally.
Mix in the turmeric, Aleppo pepper or cayenne and salt
and cook for 4 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the
tomatoes and cook until the tomatoes release their juices,
about 3 1/2 minutes, stirring often and scraping any
browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Add the chickpeas,
the boxed or canned tomatoes and the water and bring
to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover and simmer
for 35 minutes. Stir in the saffron, toasted cumin, garam
masala or rasam and the chopped cilantro. Taste for seasoning
and serve.
|
Buy
the book now. |
Pork Chops with Pear Chutney
Serves 4
The oil in the marinade makes it possible to cook these
chops in a skillet with no extra fat. If you don’t have
any Pear Chutney in the house, serve these with some
applesauce spiked with a pinch of cayenne pepper.
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 teaspoons ground coriander
1-1/2 teaspoons cracked peppercorns
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Four 8-ounce 3/4" to 1-inch thick pork rib chops
1/2 recipe Pear Chutney
2 teaspoons sugar
Place the olive oil, coriander, cracked pepper, salt
and cayenne pepper in a resealable gallon-sized plastic
bag. Add the pork chops and turn to coat. Refrigerate
for 20 minutes or overnight.
Set an oven rack to the upper-middle position
and heat your broiler to high. Heat a large oven-safe
skillet for 2 minutes over medium-high heat. Add the
pork chops and sear until browned, about 3 minutes. Turn
the chops over and transfer the skillet to the oven.
Broil the chops for 3 minutes and then remove the skillet
from the oven spread 2 tablespoons of Pear Chutney evenly
over each chop. Sprinkle each chop with 1/4 teaspoon
of sugar and return the skillet to the oven. Continue
to broil the chops until the chutney is golden and even
a little charred, about 1 to 1-1/2 minutes. Transfer
the chops to a platter and serve.
Pear Chutney
Makes about 2 cups
In Himachal Pradesh and Kashmir, two northern Indian
states, fruit orchards are abundant, as are amazing pears.
I created this recipe thinking of these regions. It has
since become a classic at my restaurant in New York.
Certain regulars are chomping at the bit for me to bottle
the Pear Chutney for commercial sale. Until that time
comes, they’ll have to sate their appetite by making
it for themselves. I like to can the chutney and offer
it as hostess gifts or to friends visiting my home. It
is excellent with most any roasted meat, as well as on
a sandwich. Fenugreek leaves add a gentle bitter contrast
to the sweetness of the pears, but if you can’t find
dried fenugreek leaves, simply omit them.
3 tablespoons canola oil
3 to 6 dried red chiles
1-1/2 teaspoons fennel seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/4 cup dried fenugreek leaves (optional)
1/2 teaspoon paprika
Pinch asafetida
3-1/2 pounds (about 6) Bartlett or d’Anjou pears, peeled,
halved, cored, quartered and thinly sliced crosswise
1-1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/4 cup sugar
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
Heat the oil with the chiles, fennel seeds
and cumin seeds in a large saucepan or skillet over medium-high
heat until the cumin is browned, about 2 to 2-1/2 minutes.
Stir in the fenugreek leaves (if using), paprika and
asafetida and cook for 15 seconds. Add the pears and
salt and cook until the pears get juicy, about 3 to 4
minutes. Stir in the sugar and vinegar, reduce the heat
to medium, and cook for 3 minutes. Cook until the pears
are soft, sticky, deeply golden and caramelized, stirring
often, for about 35 to 45 minutes. Taste for seasoning,
transfer to a plastic container and refrigerate for up
to one week or ladle into dry and sterilized jars and
can according to the manufacturer’s instructions. |
• • • • • • •
|
|
