On the floor of her New York City restaurant, Dirt Candy, chef Amanda Cohen is laughing as she picks up containers. “This is what happens in a tiny kitchen,” she explains, still reeling from the container avalanche that had hit moments earlier. “On a good day, only one thing goes wrong.”
Dirt Candy’s kitchen is seventy-five square feet. With regular customers packing the house almost every night, Cohen—who works alongside three others in the tiny space—is forced to be resourceful. (“A menu is dictated by the size of the kitchen,” she tells me.) Her resourcefulness leads, in turn, to creativity, and Cohen’s food is endlessly creative. That’s why I’m here to cook with her. I’m here to answer the question: “How do constraints lead to innovation in the kitchen?”
Answer #1: You’re forced to use everything because there’s no room to store anything. When making her famous carrot buns (a riff on Chinese pork buns), Cohen buys bunches of purple, orange, and yellow carrots and puts them to immediate use. She juices them all separately, uses their pulp to make carrot powder, and then chops the remaining carrots for the carrot filling. Some of the juice goes into the bun dough and the remaining juice is used to roast the carrots. The end result is like a multicolored carrot extravaganza, and it’s a function of being resourceful.
Answer #2: With only so much room for ingredients, you have to make them count. Cohen doesn’t kid around when it comes to flavor: she shops regularly at Kalustyan’s, the famous spice store in Curry Hill (as the Murray Hill neighborhood of Manhattan is informally known), and stocks up on such flavor enhancers as preserved lemons, Berber seasoning (an Ethiopian spice blend), and shoyu (a stronger version of soy sauce). In addition, she makes her own orange powder, carrot powder, and dried zucchini and keeps flavored oils (parsley, cilantro) and salts (celery, sea) on hand.
“Vegetables,” Cohen says, explaining her crowded cabinets, “don’t have a lot of flavor. You have to do a lot to make them taste good.” (Cover your ears, Alice Waters.)
Cohen attacks her kitchen tasks with great force and bravado. She peels ginger aggressively with an ordinary metal spoon (the best way to peel ginger, it turns out); she proofs her yeast in a food processor because the processing heats it up and helps it activate; she measures out the dough for her carrot buns with a scale so each portion is exactly the same. When she preps her lemongrass, she peels away the outer stalk and then smashes the lemongrass with a knife, dragging the knife across, to release all the oils. Her attitude is can-do and adventurous. “When I came up with my carrot buns, I was like, ‘Can we make a dough with carrot juice and flour?’ And it turns out, we can!”
Despite the constraints of her tiny kitchen (or maybe because of them), Cohen produces complex, exciting food that’s won her a devoted following. Turns out that it’s not the size of your kitchen that matters; it’s how you use it.
“People aren’t as creative as they could be in the kitchen.”
Serves 4 to 6
The first time I made Cohen’s carrot buns, I loved the filling—a vibrant mixture of spice, sweetness, and acid—but felt the bun dough itself took too long to make, given that it requires several rises and setting up a steamer. I pitched the following question to Cohen: “What if I make carrot dumplings, instead?” The response: “I think that sounds like a great idea.” This recipe is the result. It makes enough for many dumplings, which is a good thing: you can use what you want right away and freeze the rest for later.
FOR THE CARROT FILLING
4 medium carrots, cut into ¼-inch dice
2 cups (one 16-ounce bottle) carrot juice
¼ cup oyster sauce or vegetarian oyster sauce
1 teaspoon fresh lime juice
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
2 teaspoons shoyu or soy sauce
1 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
2 tablespoons brown sugar
TO FINISH THE FILLING
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon chopped peeled ginger
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
1 cup diced deseeded hothouse cucumbers
½ cup sliced scallions
¼ cup toasted sesame seeds (see Resources)
2 teaspoons cornstarch
FOR THE CARROT-HOISIN DIPPING SAUCE
1 cup carrot juice
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
1 teaspoon chopped peeled ginger
¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
¼ cup hoisin sauce
2 teaspoons cornstarch
FOR THE DUMPLINGS
1¾ cups all-purpose flour, plus more as needed
½ cup carrot juice
Preheat the oven to 400°F.
In a 9-by-13-inch baking dish, mix together all the ingredients for the carrot filling. Bake for at least 1 hour, stirring every 15 minutes. The carrots will get slightly crispy on the exterior, but the inside should be firm and moist. Taste after an hour to see if they’re cooked. If not, continue cooking and check every 10 minutes until they’re done.
To finish the filling, in a large pot, heat the olive oil and sesame oil over medium heat and add the ginger and garlic. Cook for a few seconds and then add the baked carrot filling and any juices from the baking dish and turn the heat to high. Once the mixture bubbles, 2 to 3 minutes, add the remaining ingredients except for the cornstarch. When the liquid starts to reduce, after 5 minutes or so, add the cornstarch and cook until there is very little liquid left in the pan, 5 to 10 minutes. Let cool.
Make the dipping sauce by reducing the carrot juice to ½ cup in a small pan over medium heat. In a separate pot, add the oils, garlic, ginger, and red pepper flakes and cook for 3 minutes. Add the hoisin and the reduced carrot juice and let come to a slight simmer. Add the cornstarch, and when the sauce returns to a simmer, remove from the heat, place in a blender, and mix thoroughly. Allow to cool.
Make the dumplings* by stirring the flour and carrot juice together in a bowl. Remove to a floured surface, knead for a few minutes, and bring the dough together and shape into a ball. Allow to rest for 10 minutes and then divide the dough into 16 smaller balls. Flatten each ball and roll out with a rolling pin (you may need to sprinkle with more flour) to create a flat round circle. Fill each dumpling with 1 teaspoon of the carrot filling, and then pinch tightly closed. (If you have filling left over, either make more dumplings now or refrigerate the filling for up to a week and make dumplings later. Any dumplings you don’t use right away can be frozen for up to 6 months.)
Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Drop the dumplings in, a few at a time, and boil until they float* and cutting into one reveals it to be cooked all the way through, 3 to 4 minutes. Serve on a platter with a bowl of the dipping sauce on the side.
Serves 4
“Who likes celery?” Amanda Cohen asked me gleefully when she taught me this salad. “Nobody!” Yet this recipe rescues celery from its lowly status on the vegetable totem pole. Strategy #1: Work celery into the dish in three forms (the leaves go into a pesto, the seeds go into the dressing, and then, of course, the celery itself is the salad). Strategy #2: Big flavors. Grilled mushrooms and grapes add earthiness and sweetness; garlic and lemon juice rev things up even more.
FOR THE PESTO
1 big bunch of Chinese celery leaves* (about 1 cup), rinsed
¼ cup toasted sliced almonds
1 clove garlic, minced
Kosher salt
Olive oil (about ¾ cup; enough to make a pasty pesto)
FOR THE SALAD DRESSING
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
⅓ cup white wine vinegar
½ clove garlic, minced into a paste
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons celery seeds
Olive oil (about ½ cup)
FOR THE SALAD
½ cup red seedless grapes, sliced
2 cups button mushrooms, wiped clean with a damp paper towel and sliced
6 to 8 regular celery stalks, cut into ½-inch pieces on the bias
To make the pesto, blanch the celery leaves in a pot of boiling water for just 10 seconds. Shock them in ice water and then, with paper towels, squeeze them dry. Add the almonds and garlic to a blender and blend until you get a paste. Add the celery leaves and a pinch of salt and, with the motor running on low, slowly drizzle olive oil in through the opening in the lid until it forms a pesto. Taste and adjust the seasoning*.
To make the salad dressing, either blend or whisk all the ingredients except the oil, and then slowly drizzle in the oil until the dressing reaches a consistency that you like. Taste and adjust the seasoning.
To make the salad, get a grill pan or cast-iron skillet very hot* and, first, add the grapes by themselves. Grill just until they get a little color—2 or 3 minutes—and then set aside. Add the mushrooms to the pan and, again, grill until they turn a nice burnished color, 4 to 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, toss both the grapes and the mushrooms with the pesto.
In a separate bowl, toss the celery with the dressing* and plate; top with the grapes and mushrooms.
Serves 4
Cooking with color isn’t something most of us set out to do, but it’s a totally worthwhile (and vitamin-rich) way to think about the food that you make at home. This dish embodies that philosophy: make a bright red tomato spaetzle using tomato paste, water, and flour and heat it up in a sauce of yellow tomatoes, coconut milk, and Berber seasoning (an exotic, dynamic blend of spices; see Resources. The Berber turns the yellow sauce a funky shade of orange, and by the time you add the red tomato spaetzle, this won’t look like anything you’ve ever made or eaten before. The topping—a slaw made with Brussels sprouts and preserved lemons—adds crunch and even more color.
FOR THE SPAETZLE
¾ cup tomato paste
1¼ cups water
1¾ cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
FOR THE YELLOW TOMATO COCONUT SAUCE
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 small white onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1-inch piece of ginger, peeled and chopped
Kosher salt
¾ cup toasted, shredded coconut (not sweetened)
2 tablespoons Berber seasoning (see Resources)
1 stalk of lemongrass, bruised and cut into 1-inch pieces
8 large yellow tomatoes*, chopped and lightly processed in a blender
2 cups coconut milk, well stirred
Zest of 2 lemons
¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
FOR THE BRUSSELS SPROUTS SLAW
5 or 6 Brussels sprouts, sliced extra thin on a mandoline slicer
1 cup peeled and small-diced jicama (optional)
2 tablespoons diced preserved lemon (see Resources)
A splash of olive oil
Kosher salt
To make the spaetzle, whisk together the tomato paste and the water in a medium bowl until there aren’t any clumps. Sift the flour and salt into the bowl and continue to whisk just until a batter comes together (you don’t want to overmix). Let sit for 10 minutes.
Bring a large pot of water to a gentle boil and set a bowl of ice water on the side.
Hold a metal colander over the gently boiling water and press the spaetzle batter through the holes, sliding a bench scraper or another tool back and forth to help it along. When the spaetzle rise to the top and the water has returned to a gentle boil (3 to 4 minutes), drain and place* the spaetzle immediately into the ice water. Strain the spaetzle again, toss them with the olive oil, and refrigerate until you’re ready to use them.
To make the sauce, heat the olive oil in a pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onions, garlic, and ginger with a pinch of salt and sauté until the onions are translucent, 4 to 5 minutes. Add the shredded coconut, mix well, and cook for another 5 minutes.
Add the Berber seasoning and the lemongrass and let cook for another 5 minutes.
Add the rest of the sauce ingredients and another pinch of salt and bring to a gentle simmer. Cook for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally and tasting for balance.
Meanwhile, make the Brussels sprouts slaw in a bowl by combining all of the slaw ingredients and adjusting for salt, acid, and oil. Set aside.
Put the cooked yellow tomato sauce through a strainer or a chinois into a large bowl. Adjust the seasoning one more time.
To finish, spoon some of the sauce into a small sauté pan. Heat the sauce on medium heat, then add the spaetzle, cooking together just until the spaetzle are heated through. Spoon into bowls and top with a big mound of the slaw. Serve immediately.
