I knew the moment that I looked at the recipe I was going to have to alter it.

The recipe was for an Aztec Corn Soup, and it called for 4 rounded teaspoons of cumin.

No.

Cumin is not one of those spices I cotton to. When it’s out of balance (as it would be if I had used 4 teaspoons of it in any one dish), it reminds me of a smelly armpit. Sorry, but that’s not my idea of anything tasty.

I was debating including any at all. Then I remembered how good cumin is in chili and some Middle Eastern stews when incorporated thoroughly into the dish. So, I thought I would add just 1 teaspoon to see what the creator of the recipe had in mind. I could always add more later, if it needed it.

S0, I had to find my cumin. And that’s where things got messy.

A force greater than me, however, decided that cumin might not make it into the stockpot. That entity goes by the name of my spice cabinet. I have a three-shelved cabinet filled to overflowing with all manner of herbs and spices, dried chiles, extracts, toothpicks and who knows what else.

It’s the extraneous items that make it hard to find the jars I use regularly, including cinnamon, vanilla and cayenne pepper.

I once had a method to the madness. I cleaned the cabinet out a couple of years ago and arranged everything in order of what I use. The rose water went to the back. The almond extract was moved to the front. Red dye, for those red velvet cakes people demand all too often, stayed up front. Dried Indian gooseberries went to the back.

Except somehow all the jars seemed to have gotten mixed up. The jackfruit extract had no business being with ground savory. The za’atar was with black sesame seeds. Then there was a jar of mustard seed from my mom that could easily predate me.

I know some spices don’t age well. Saffron is best used as young as possible. Dried basil and oregano lose their flavor, especially when not stored well. But that isn’t true across the board. So, you won’t find me among those who throw out spices every year or every three years. I have a jar of curry with a tablespoon or two at the bottom that dates back to the 1980s. The last time I used some, a year or two ago, it tasted, well, like curry to me. Not curry that was reaching its 30th birthday, either.

I just smell it or even taste it before using and decide at that point.

That is, if I can put my hands on it. The hunt for cumin was so lengthy that I just started grabbing jars at random in search for what I needed. Pretty soon, the entire counter top beneath the cabinet was covered with jars of various sizes and colors, and I still hadn’t found it. And I knew for a fact that there were at least two jars of ground cumin and one jar of cumin seed in there dating to chili cookoffs in the past.

Given my fondness for the spice, you should have guessed already where I found it. At the very back of the top shelf, lurking behind a jar of mixed pickling spice.

So, into the soup it went. But only one teaspoon. I just couldn’t risk the rest.

A little while later, the soup finished cooking, and I processed it in my food processor until broth and vegetables were one. It wasn’t pretty. You’ll find no photos of the finished product here, even with the sprinkling of chopped cilantro on top. But the flavor was largely good, and I will make again.

Except there was still too much cumin in it.

I made a note of that on the page in the cookbook. And I’ve placed the cumin seed at the back of the cabinet again. Don’t tell any one, but this time it’s behind the pandan aroma paste.

Trust your instincts on recipes. If there seems to be too much or too little of an ingredient, modify it to your tastes. I added more vegetable stock and drastically reduced the amount of cumin. In the end, I wish I had added even more stock and cut back even more on the cumin. But the following is as the recipe appears in the book.

Aztec Corn Soup

1/2 ounce butter
2 large onions, peeled and finely chopped
4 rounded teaspoons ground cumin
1 rounded teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 head celery, finely chopped
2 1/4 pounds canned or frozen sweet corn, drained
2 pints vegetable stock
Juice and grated zest of 1 lime
2 tablespoons chopped fresh coriander (cilantro)

Melt the butter in a large pan, add the onions and sauté gently for 10 minutes, until translucent. Add the ground cumin and ground coriander and sauté for 2 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the celery, corn, stock and some salt and pepper. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer for 15 minutes. Purée the soup in a blender, then stir in the lime juice and zest and reheat gently. Adjust the seasoning and serve with the chopped coriander (cilantro).

Makes 8 servings.

From “Avoca Cafe Cookbook” by Hugo Arnold with Leylie Hayes

I blame Walt Disney for the general reluctance that the American public has shown towards  rabbit.  Cooking and eating it, not watching funny bunnies with cereal or Elmer Fudd.  I mean, did you see Thumper and think, “Hey, fricasseed rabbit sounds good tonight”?

I do think that way.  I pass herds of goats, see ducks flying north or south, and even look at the cows on the range thinking, “Many meals.”  My wife laughs, but I am a carnivore through and through.  So frogs, peacocks, feral hogs, or rabbits are things I see and my thoughts drift to recipes.  I will share one with you right now.

Rabbit Curry

In many local groceries and meat markets there is fresh or frozen rabbit.  It is just cut up pieces of the critter, cleaned, ready to cook.  This recipe is a fricassée, or a braised/stewed dish. So the meat will simmer in a little liquid for long enough to tenderize it and allow the seasoning to infuse it.  This will take about two hours to prepare, but it is all simple stuff.

3-4 pounds of rabbit, thawed, rinsed, dried with paper towels
1/4 cup dry curry mix (mild or hot, your choice)
2 teaspoons ground coriander seeds
1 teaspoon ground cumin seeds
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup vegetable oil (corn, peanut, or canola)
1 large onion, chopped
4 large cloves garlic, minced
3 ribs celery, chopped
1 cup vegetable stock (or 1 teaspoon vegetable stock concentrate with 1 cup water)
1 cup white wine (avoid oaky whites like Chardonnay)
1 (15-ounce) can coconut milk/cream
2 (15-ounce) cans garbanzo beans, drained
1/2 cup sun-dried tomatoes
Salt, to taste
Freshly ground pepper to taste

Heat a large skillet or Dutch oven on the stove and add oil.  Heat to medium-hot.

As it heats, place dried rabbit in a bowl that large enough to toss the pieces without making a mess.  Mix curry powder, coriander, and cumin.  Sprinkle half of it on the rabbit and toss to coat.  Add flour to the bowl and toss to coat.

Then use tongs to place the rabbit pieces into the skillet to brown.  When all is placed in the skillet, dump leftover flour and seasonings in the bowl into the skillet.  Turn pieces as needed to brown on all sides.  When all pieces are browned, remove from skillet and set aside.

While the rabbit is browning, prep your onion, garlic, and celery.  Have your tomatoes, coconut milk, wine, vegetable stock, and remaining seasonings handy.

When the rabbit is removed from the skillet, add the onions, garlic, and celery.  Stir well and let cook until onions start to become translucent. Then add vegetable stock, wine, coconut milk, and stir well, removing any bits stuck on the bottom of the skillet.  Then add garbanzos and tomatoes.  Stir in and cover skillet, reduce heat to maintain a low simmer for one hour.

Check seasonings and adjust as needed.  Taste a garbanzo bean.  If it does not just melt into a rich goodness on your tongue, recover the skillet and simmer for another 30 minutes.

This is well accompanied by rice and serves 6.  Reheats and freezes well.

From Cecil Flentge