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Sauce that SIZZLES
So when the thrill of the grill is flickering, I fall back on wanderlust to spice things back up. I'm moving out of the deep South and setting my sights on South Asia, where India and its neighbors have a tradition of fervent grilling red, hot and spicy.
Two things are different, though. First, the "grill" is not a grill at all but a pear-shaped, coal-fired, clay oven called a tandoor. For Americans, this enclosed Dr. Seuss-like contraption pushes our definition of cooking out. It's contained, involves no lighter fluid, and the price tag of the average tandoor a whopping $1,500 keeps it from taking the place of our faithful Old Smokey.
I have a mantra when it comes to food: "Make it a melting pot." A basic backyard or balcony grill is no exception. But needing a bit of guidance, I checked in with Muhammad Uddin, chef-owner of the Bengal Tiger in the Ravenna District. When I saw how he tailored dishes, then named them after loyal customers, such as the "Wendy Wala" and the "Bob Burji" I knew I had the right man. Uddin has long applied the advantages of the American cookout to tandoori cooking. Catering to large groups is tough for a little tandoor, so Uddin often expanded onto the barbecue. "The charcoal gives great flavor," Uddin says. He takes the same steps preparing the grillables as he would with his traditional oven but cooks them instead over briquets. Not only did he co-opt the American backyard ritual, he converted the neighbors in the process. "I just marinated the chicken in the spice mix and told them to put it on the grill," Uddin explains, adding with a conspiratorial smile, "They just loved it." Tandoori masala is a find for vegetarians who are jonesin' for more than another round of Garden Burgers. Pushing the usual menu of grilled vegetables, Uddin also uses cauliflower, asparagus, carrots and potato slices. Then he throws in my absolute favorite, paneer a fresh Indian cheese. While you don't normally find paneer next to the goat cheese at your neighborhood grocery, firm tofu will make a good stand-in. But if you are a motivated spice hunter, you can pick up the paneer along the way. Most Indian markets carry it fresh or frozen. Without question, it's worth a splurge. I asked Uddin to teach me how to mix up my own masala. He started by helping me get the terms right. Tikka refers to boneless cuts of meat; tandoori chicken or lamb is quartered up and cooked still on the bone. Uddin mixes his tandoori masala into yogurt, then allows the meat to marinate for about eight hours. Yet he knows that most cookout plans are last-minute affairs, so he has a trick. Take chicken, for example. "I just wash the chicken in vinegar white distilled. This allows chicken to marinate quickly" an hour will do. The vinegar bath can be used for any meat, while vegetables can be dunked and basted just before hitting the heat. More often than not, aggressive schedules conspire with the need for instant gratification, ruling out a spice-hunting excursion. The good news is there are excellent alternatives, thanks to grocery stores housing an expanded international foods section. Beside the chutneys and the lime pickle, you can usually find several brands of tandoori masala paste. For less than five bucks, it's cheap to get off the beaten barbecue path. And you won't even have to part with the trusty Old Smokey.
Jacqueline Koch is a writer and photographer living on Whidbey Island.
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