Author: Nik Sharma

Eggplant is one of my favorite vegetables due to its silky texture and its ability to take on smoky flavors with ease. It’s both my go-to vegetable when I’m cooking a special meal for guests and also a dinnertime staple that I make at least once a week. 

Eggplant is a popular vegetable throughout Asia and the Middle East: Not only are they used in main courses like stuffed eggplants and bhaingan bharta (roasted eggplant with tomatoes and onions), they are often used to prepare appetizers and dips like baba ganoush and pakoras. Eggplants are often described as meaty in texture, but I hate describing vegetables in terms of meat so I prefer to think of them as full-bodied. Although they are sometimes described as bitter-tasting, most plant breeders over the years have selected varieties that have little to no detectable bitterness in them. Luckily for us, that means we can spend less time worrying about trying to rid them of bitterness and more time figuring out what flavors we want to infuse them with—because eggplant sucks up flavors with ease.

One flavor that's particularly well-matched with eggplant is smoke, which is developed through high-heat methods like charring, grilling, or roasting. Of those options, roasting is arguably one of the easiest: The high heat helps the sugars caramelize and also helps the amino acids and sugars participate in the Maillard reaction. The result of these two food reactions builds bittersweet flavors and a smoky profile.

I like to add cumin and coriander seeds to the vegetables during roasting, which allows the spices to toast and release their flavors directly into the vegetables while eliminating the extra step of toasting the spices separately. Once the vegetables are lightly charred, they carry a lovely smoky flavor. I then remove them from the oven and let them rest until they’re cool enough to handle. 

To add body to this dip, I turn to red lentils and cashews. This recipe uses red lentils but other options like black lentils and split pigeon peas will also work here. Once the lentils are tender and cooked, it's important to drain them right away. If left to sit in the water too long, the lentils run the risk of becoming mushy. As for the cashews, I soak whole roasted and salted cashews in boiling water to soften them, which makes it easier for them to break down during blending. 

While this dip can be made in a blender, a food processor offers better control of the final texture with less risk of over-pureeing. The dip should not be perfectly smooth but instead resemble a coarse paste, which can be accomplished by pulsing the processor in short intervals for a few seconds at a time until the paste comes together. 

This dip is a party-pleaser that both vegetarians, vegans, and meat eaters will love. It goes well with any kind of warm flatbread, buttered slices of crusty toasted sourdough, and I daresay a wonderful spread inside sandwiches too. 

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat the oven to 425°F (220°C). On a rimmed baking sheet, spread eggplant, bell pepper, shallot, and jalapeño in an even layer. Sprinkle cumin and coriander seeds on top, season lightly with salt, and drizzle with 2 tablespoons olive oil. Using your hands, toss to coat vegetables well, then cook until lightly charred, about 45 minutes. Let cool completely. Once vegetables are cool, remove and discard some (but not all) of the charred skin. Transfer vegetables to a medium bowl.

Meanwhile, combine lentils with 2 cups (480ml) water and 1/4 teaspoon salt in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Lower the heat to maintain a simmer and cook until lentils are completely tender but not falling apart, about 15 minutes. Drain lentils through a fine-mesh strainer, discarding the cooking water, and let cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, place cashews in a small heatproof bowl, cover by at least 2 inches of boiling water, and let soak for 30 minutes. Drain cashews through a fine-mesh strainer, discarding the soaking water, and add to the bowl of a food processor fitted with a metal blade.

Add roasted vegetables, lentils, garlic, and lemon or lime juice to the food processor bowl. Pulse until a coarse paste forms, 2 to 3 5-second pulses. Season with salt to taste. Transfer to a serving bowl, garnish with parsley or cilantro, drizzle remaining oil on top, and serve with warm crackers, flatbread, or buttered slices of toasted sourdough bread.

Special Equipment

Food processor

Make-Ahead and Storage

Dip can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 4 days. To serve, bring dip to room temperature or warm in a microwave.

I’m always on the hunt for new ways to cook vegetables, and this leek recipe has quickly become a favorite at home. It combines two cooking styles: The leeks are cooked using a method similar to European braised leeks, in which they are seared in a skillet and then gently cooked in the oven until tender. But the flavor profile of the sauce borrows heavily from Sichuan cooking. I think it's clear that this leek recipe isn’t a traditional Sichuan dish, but it is strongly inspired by what I’ve learned about the cuisine. Served with bowls of warm fried rice or plain rice, it makes for a light but filling vegetarian dinner.

Technique Breakdown: The Braise

The recipe starts by trimming and halving the leeks lengthwise. Leeks must always be washed very carefully to remove sand and grit hidden in their compact layers; there is almost always more there than one might suspect, and it will ruin the dish if you don't wash it out fully.

After a careful rinsing, dry the leeks well, then sear them in a skillet of hot oil on their cut sides until well browned. This builds flavor and allows us to deglaze the pan to pick up even more of the flavor of the browned sugars from the leeks. You can use water, vegetable stock, or, if a strictly vegetarian recipe isn't a requirement, chicken stock to do this. This liquid then gets combined with the leeks in a baking dish before they're slowly braised in the oven until meltingly tender.

While this happens, it's time to make the sauce.

The Sauce

The sauce for the leeks is remarkably simple, and relies on several ingredients to deliver bold flavor. Doubanjiang (Sichuan chile bean paste) brings an earthy savoriness and mild heat, while Chinkiang vinegar provides a fruity tang. Soy sauce and garlic, meanwhile, add extra savoriness and depth. Together, they make a punchy and intensely savory sauce with gentle heat that complements the delicate sweetness of the leeks.  

Since Fuchsia Dunlop’s book The Food of Sichuan introduced me to doubanjiang, it has become one of my pantry staples. Doubanjiang is an essential ingredient in many Sichuan dishes, including fish-fragrant eggplant and braised fish; it packs so much flavor that it functions as something like a super-ingredient, requiring little extra to build a deeply flavorful recipe (it is, without a doubt, the main reason mapo tofu is such a deeply satisfying dish to eat). 

Hailing from Pixian in the Chinese province of Chengdu, the paste is made from split fava beans and wheat flour that have been mixed together, allowed to mold, then fermented with er jing tiao chiles. Salty and savory, doubanjiang is available to purchase at various stages of maturity. According to Dunlop, doubanjiang is most frequently used when it’s been fermented for two to three years, when it has a rich mahogany color. Its rich color might hint at a high degree of heat, but doubanjiang itself isn’t particularly hot.

Once the leeks are braised and the sauce is whipped up, you can simply pour the sauce on top of the leeks and serve. Easy peasy…or leaksy?

For the Leeks: Trim leeks to remove root ends, tough or damaged outer layers, and dark green top parts; reserve trimmings for stock if desired. Cut leeks in half lengthwise, then rinse each leek half under cold, running water, gently fanning layers open while being careful to keep leek halves intact, to wash away any sand or grit. Pat dry.

Preheat oven to 325°F (160°C) and adjust oven rack to middle position. Heat 2 tablespoons (30ml) oil in a 12-inch heavy-bottomed skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Working in 2 batches, add as many leeks as you can fit in a single layer cut side down. Cook, pressing down gently with a spatula and shaking occasionally, until well browned, about 3 minutes. Transfer leeks to a 9- by 13-inch baking dish, arranging them in a single layer, cut-side up; sprinkle lightly with salt. Repeat with remaining leeks and oil until all leeks are browned, transfer to baking dish and lightly season once more with salt.

Pour water into the skillet; bring to a simmer, scraping up any browned bits, then pour into baking dish with leeks. Cover tightly with aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes. Remove foil and continue to cook until leeks are completely tender and translucent, about 20 to 30 minutes longer, depending on thickness of the leeks.

Meanwhile, for the Sauce: In a dry wok, toast sichuan peppercorns over medium heat, stirring and tossing often, until fragrant and lightly toasted, about 2 minutes. Transfer to a spice grinder or small mortar and pestle and grind to a powder. Set aside.

Wipe out wok. Add oil along with the doubanjiang and cook over medium-high heat, stirring, until doubanjiang is toasted and fragrant, 2 to 3 minutes. Add garlic and cook, stirring, until very lightly browned, about 1 minute. Add water, sugar, soy sauce, and vinegar, and bring to a boil.

Stir the cornstarch slurry to mix well, then pour into the wok and stir to combine. Return to a boil and cook sauce, stirring occasionally, until thickened to a lightly glaze-like consistency, 4 to 5 minutes.

When leeks are ready, ladle sauce on top of leeks, then sprinkle with a couple generous pinches of toasted Sichuan peppercorn powder. Serve.

Special Equipment

Large skillet, wok, baking dish

Notes

Doubanjiang (Chinese fermented broad bean-chile paste) can often be found at Chinese or Asian grocery stores and online. When possible, look for Pixian doubanjiang.

If you can’t find Chinkiang vinegar, you can substitute with malt vinegar.

The omission of salt in this recipe is not an error, as both soy sauce and Doubanjiang are quite salty and obviate the need for extra salt.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Leftovers can be kept in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days. Rewarm before serving.

Split pigeon peas, or toor dal, are traditionally used to make dals and South Indian sambhar, a lentil and vegetable stew served with dosas. But their ability to retain their structure well during cooking makes them an excellent legume to use in salads. One example is this hearty and filling pigeon pea salad that's rich with sweet morsels of roasted butternut squash, gently cooked spiced onions, and a simple dressing made from lemon juice, olive oil, and a bit of Dijon mustard and honey. It pairs wonderfully with thin slices of grilled steak, roast lamb, or chicken, but can also be eaten alone as a one-bowl vegetarian meal.

Preparing the Pigeon Peas

Pigeon peas, like other beans, contain pectin, a fiber that contributes to their firmness. The key to cooking pigeons peas so that they're tender but not falling apart is to salt both the soaking and cooking water. As I’ve written previously, beans harden when they undergo two enzymatic reactions: first, when calcium and magnesium attach themselves to pectin, and second, when an enzyme called pectin esterase modifies the pectin and makes it even more difficult to dissolve. When salt comes into contact with the calcium and magnesium attached to the pectin inside the peas, it takes the place of calcium and magnesium and makes the pectin more soluble, resulting in a more tender bean.

Though you may be tempted to add the baking soda I also recommend in my bean-brining article, this is one case where I'd suggest avoiding it, as the peas may become mushy and no longer retain their distinct texture in the final salad. The salt alone is enough.

Roasting the Butternut Squash

Roasting butternut squash caramelizes the gourd’s sugars, bringing out its natural sweetness. I dice the squash fairly small here—about 1/4-inch—so that it melds nicely with the peas and onions in the salad. Because it's so small, we want to brown it as quickly as possible to avoid overcooking the squash to the point of being mush. I accomplish this two ways. First, I use a relatively high oven temperature of about 425ºF. On top of that, I preheat the baking sheet so that the squash starts to sizzle as soon as it hits the pan.

For the Onions and Dressing

To infuse the salad with sweet and warm spices, I gently sauté diced onion until very tender, then add a medley of spices for the last minute, just long enough to bloom their flavor in the oil. Red chile flakes add a baseline heat, while allspice adds a well-rounded warm-spice profile, and turmeric infuses the onions with both a beautiful yellow color and earthy notes that pair well with both the squash and the pigeon peas.

The dressing for this dish is very simple—just fresh lemon juice, olive oil, Dijon mustard, and a bit of honey to round out the sharp flavors of lemon and mustard. I prefer the smoothness of Dijon over grainy varieties of mustard, as I find that the more coarse texture doesn’t work as well here.

For the Pigeon Peas: In a medium bowl, cover pigeon peas with at least 2 inches water and add a large pinch salt. Let soak at room temperature for at least 8 and up to 24 hours. Drain.

In a medium saucepan, bring the split pigeon peas, 4 cups (950ml) water, and 1 1/2 tablespoons salt to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to low and simmer until peas are tender but not falling apart, about 2 to 3 hours; add boiling water as needed to maintain liquid level during cooking. Keep warm.

For the Squash: Preheat oven and an empty rimmed baking sheet to 425ºF (220ºC). Toss squash with olive oil and a large pinch salt, then arrange in an even layer on the preheated baking sheet and roast, turning pieces 2 or 3 times with a thin metal spatula during cooking, until squash is tender and golden brown, about 25 minutes.

For the Onions and Dressing: In a small saucepan, heat 2 tablespoons (30ml) olive oil over medium heat until shimmering. Add onion and garlic along with a pinch of salt and cook, stirring often, until onions are very tender but not browned, about 8 minutes. Srir in red pepper flakes, allspice, and turmeric and cook for 1 minute longer. Season with additional salt, if needed, then remove from heat. 

Meanwhile, in a small bowl, whisk together lemon juice, Dijon mustard, honey, and a pinch of salt. Whisk in remaining 6 tablespoons (90ml) olive oil.

Drain pigeon peas. In a large bowl, combine pigeon peas with butternut squash, onions, and scallions. Stir gently to combine, then serve warm or at room temperature.

Make-Ahead and Storage

The pigeon peas, squash, and onions can all be prepared up to 2 days ahead and then combined and refrigerated in an airtight-container until ready to serve. Rewarm and fold in scallions just before serving. Note that cooked beans will often become more firm once refrigerated, and won't fully soften again upon rewarming; therefore, if making the pigeon peas ahead, be sure to cook them until fully softened throughout (but not falling apart).

Where I grew up in India, it was common practice to wash ingredients before cooking, including all types of meats and chicken. Only when I moved to America did I learn that washing meat, especially chicken, was discouraged by food safety authorities like the FDA, USDA, and CDC. Given the official stance of these federal agencies, and the scientific studies that support their advice, this article could start and end with a simple statement: Do not wash your chicken because science and the US government say so.

But chicken washing remains a common practice around the world (90 percent of respondents in one 2013 study claimed they still do it), and so the question lingers. Even in the 1990s, Julia Child and Jacques Pépin had a friendly back-and-forth about it on an episode of their TV show Julia and Jacques Cooking at Home—Julia told Jacques that she washed her chicken with hot water, and then Jacques very pointedly made clear that did not. Whom to trust? 

Let's get right to the point: While we have some lingering questions about the don't-wash-chicken edict and believe the subject can be approached with a bit more nuance, overall we think the evidence is clear that washing raw chicken is not generally a great thing to do.

Let's now take a closer look, because it's worth digging into the science and the studies that have contributed to our understanding about the relative risks and merits of chicken washing.

Why Do People Wash Their Chicken?

To state the obvious, people wash chicken out of a perceived need to clean it. In modern times, this can be driven by the desire to remove microorganisms like bacteria, but even before people knew of the existence of these invisible germs, it often made sense to wash meats to remove debris, traces of blood, and other unwanted or inedible matter. Just as one example, the chicken I used to buy in India went through fewer steps from slaughter to sale than most of the more industrial chicken I see here in the United States: The butcher killed the bird and then cleaned, cut, and packaged it right there, and I’d take it home to be cooked. It often had some remnant matter on it that we at home wanted to rinse off.

The cultural and agricultural contexts influencing chicken washing is something that has been pointed out by journalist and YouTuber Adam Ragusea in his insightful video on chicken washing. Ragusea hypothesizes that in parts of the world where more of the population remains more directly connected to agriculture, there could arguably be a greater need to wash a chicken of things like feathers and clotted blood that are less likely to be found in a shrink-wrapped supermarket chicken that gets thoroughly washed as part of its industrial processing. Plus, Ragusea links the frequency of the practice to parts of the world that tend to be hotter, where, especially in pre-refrigeration times, spoilage would happen more quickly.

This gets us to the other reason people often say they wash chicken: to remove an unappealing flavor, often described as "raw," from the bird prior to cooking. The editors at Serious Eats have heard this explanation frequently, often from contributors who come from countries where chicken washing is more common. In these cases, the washing often involves more than simply rinsing the bird with water—rubdowns with citrus, salt, and other seemingly cleansing ingredients are part of the process. Ragusea, in his video, wonders whether this "raw" flavor is really just the first signs of spoilage that might be more common in hotter climes, though we're not so sure that's it. Rinsing meat to remove unwanted flavors is something Serious Eats editors have heard from recipe writers from many countries around the world, some hot, some not.

Why Do Scientists Say Not to Wash Chicken?

The argument against washing chickens is all about harmful bacteria, specifically Salmonella, and it goes like this: When you wash chicken, you risk spreading those pathogens all over your kitchen via splashes and droplets of contaminated water as they land on surrounding surfaces, counterintuitively increasing the chances of foodborne illness instead of decreasing it. You're not cleaning your chicken, you're contaminating your kitchen!

A quick internet search reveals multiple studies that have looked at this phenomenon, and they tend to come to the same conclusion that washing chicken doesn't do much to help, and very possibly can hurt. Based on estimates from the CDC, every year one in six Americans gets a foodborne illness, 128,000 Americans are hospitalized, and 3,000 die. Salmonella specifically, which is the one we're most concerned about with chicken (though not the only one), is estimated to cause more than one million illnesses annually, 19,000 hospitalizations, and nearly 400 deaths.

In 2003, scientists at Campden BRI, an organization that works with the food industry on scientific, technical, and safety matters, published a detailed report on how bacterial contamination can occur during the handling of meat. This study examined various types of meat like chicken, beef, lamb, and pork and how bacteria transferred to two types of common kitchen surfaces—laminate surfaces and stainless steel. Not only did they find that wet meat transferred higher levels of bacteria, but they also noted that stainless steel surfaces had more bacteria transferred to them than laminate surfaces, and the bacteria persisted on these surfaces for 48 hours.

Since washing chicken doesn't seem to remove enough bacteria to make raw chicken safe, and since it seems to spread that bacteria around, it's therefore not recommended as a practice.

The Data: A Closer Look

Several of the chicken-washing studies I read sought to determine and understand the risk of spreading bacteria. Most of these studies involved applying a dye to the chicken (which could then be seen if spread elsewhere) or dosing the surface of the chicken with cultures of bacteria (which could then be detected by taking cultures of different nearby surfaces to see how much germ spread had occurred). The studies routinely reported finding the dye or bacteria on the surfaces surrounding the sink, indicating that washing chicken is highly likely to spread bacterial contamination. 

While there is no denying that washing raw chicken and meat can spread bacteria in the surrounding areas, I had several unanswered questions after reading the published literature. They include: 

1. How do we know if the manner in which the raw chicken in the studies was artificially loaded with dye or bacteria accurately replicated the bacterial load on raw chicken obtained from stores? The answer to this wouldn't change the basic finding that, yes, washing can spread bacteria in harmful ways, but it might have implications for the level of risk in real-world scenarios (that risk might be less or more, depending on the answer to this question).
2. How did each study account for the shape and dimensions of the sink where the raw chicken was washed? In this study, for example, the chicken and the trays used to collect the "projecta" (the potentially contaminated spray droplets) were placed at the same height. In reality, most sinks are deep basins so it makes interpreting the results from this study a little tricky. Other studies were done in actual sinks, though not all sinks are the same size, depth, or shape, which may also have some bearing on risk levels. 
3. Faucet height and design matter, as they can impact the flow rate and force of water hitting the chicken, assuming one is washing the chicken under running water and not in a basin of water. All of this can influence the way the water droplets fly off the surface of the chicken, with lower faucet heights and lower water flow rates in theory causing less splashing. 
4. What are the relative risk levels between washing chicken in prefilled bowls of water versus under running water? We know that washing chicken under running water is the riskiest of all, but by how much? It's possible that the advice should really be to avoid washing chicken under running water; maybe gently lowering a raw chicken into a prefilled bowl of water and then carefully discarding that water down the drain is much less of a concern.

These questions aside, I also wonder about the basic fact that these studies were carried out in such controlled conditions in the first place. Of course scientific studies need to be carefully controlled, there's no way around that, but it could have some implications for the conclusions we draw. For example, in most home kitchens, the sink is almost never a clean place. It's the place where dishes linger with standing water and remnants of food waste, where hands that have touched raw chicken get washed, and where raw chicken itself is often removed from its packaging—specifically because there's often excess raw chicken liquid (called "purge" in the poultry industry) that also can carry pathogens, and that comes sloshing out as soon as you unwrap the chicken. This stuff is going to get all over your sink too, whether you wash the chicken or not.

In a laboratory setting where the sink starts out sterile, then gets exposed to raw chicken splatter via washing, and then is swabbed to detect that splatter—sure, we're gonna find the germs from that splatter and declare all chicken washing bad. But any kitchen where raw chicken has to be handled is going to have exposures as well, it's simply unavoidable. The sink is not a clean place, and shouldn't be considered as such. 

This, of course, wouldn't change the fact that splatter caused by running water hitting the chicken has been found to extend outside the sink—that still seems like a pretty big problem we'd want to avoid—but it might make some of the other findings, in the context of a real kitchen where real raw meat is being handled no matter what, a little less alarming.

Conclusions

While I agree that water splashing on raw meat can transfer bacteria in the kitchen, there are broader implications to consider, and both details and context are very important. The findings from the studies on chicken washing and the resulting recommendations are good as far as they go, but they make me wonder if home cooks wouldn't be better served by a more general emphasis and education on basic cleaning best-practices and food safety.

Some actions that we might want to pay closer attention to include:

• washing/cleaning our hands, food-prep tools, and kitchen surfaces regularly, especially before and after touching raw meat, but also before and after cooking; 
• reserving separate cutting boards for working with raw meat; 
• and being mindful of how we store and prepare fresh produce that isn't going to be cooked to avoid cross-contamination with raw meats.

If you do decide to wash chicken, avoid doing it under running water from the faucet, and take care to avoid and/or contain any and all spatter or other transfer of wet matter that has been in contact with the raw bird.