A taste of the West: a stew worthy of celebrations - includes recipe

Sunset, March, 1996 by Jerry Anne Di Vecchio

When the Keresan pueblo people of Cochiti, New Mexico, perform their ceremonial Corn Dance, it is feast day. And once I feasted with them as a guest of the great storyteller potter, Helen Cordero.

The hypnotic drumbeat and stamping feet of dancers on the plaza captured the attention of most of the household, but as they watched, I followed Helen out the back door. Behind her one-story adobe-walled home, she had set up an outdoor kitchen to produce enough food for the feast. At one side was the domed beehive adobe oven where bread was baking. And on a large iron grate, standing over a glowing bed of wood embers, were seven soot-smudged pots, the smallest of which was at least 12-quart. Each contained fragrantly simmering food - pozole (lamb with dried corn), chicken and rice, ears of corn, red beans, chili beans, vegetables with beef, and a green-chili stew. This was just the hot part of the meal.

Ladling the food into big bowls, we carried them inside to a long table with bench space that easily seated 20. Already on the table were salads of greens, tomatoes, and potatoes, hunks of watermelon, thin wedges of dried-fruit pie, old-fashioned fruit ambrosia with marshmallows and coconut, raspberry gelatin with bananas and cream, and bizcochitos (biscuitlike cookies).

As diners came and went, in waves that seemingly kept pace with the Corn Dance, they passed through the next room, where a row of Helen's magical clay storytellers - each with children nestled along its arms, legs, and shoulders - were waiting for her paintbrush. Nowadays, museum curators stand in line to acquire these pieces.

It was a good, filling meal of simply seasoned dishes, and the green-chili stew was particularly satisfying. The mild chilies had been roasted in coals, then peeled and seeded. The meat was tender chunks of lamb, and the broth was flavored with chili powder.

As we worked our way on to the sweets, I found myself hesitating as I tasted one of the intricately formed bizcochitos, shaped by Helen's hands. It seemed a sacrilege to bite it.

Green-Chili Stew

Cooking time: About 1 hour and 45 minutes

Prep time: About 30 minutes

Notes: In lieu of tiny carrots, use 1 1/2 pounds of carrots cut into 1/2-inch-thick sticks. If making ahead, let stew cool, cover, and chill up to 1 day, then reheat.

Makes: 6 to 8 servings

3 pounds boned lamb stew meat (shoulder or neck), fat trimmed 2 onions (8 oz. each), chopped 2 teaspoons cumin seed 4 cups beef or chicken broth 2 tablespoons chili powder 12 thin-skinned potatoes (about 2 in. wide), scrubbed 24 carrots (about 4 in. long), peeled 2 cups corn kernels, fresh or frozen 3 cans (7 oz. each) whole green chilies, torn into wide strips Cilantro sprigs Salt

1. Cut meat into about 1-inch chunks, rinse, and put in a 6- to 8-quart pan.

2. Add onions, cumin seed, and 3/4 cup broth. Cover, and cook over high heat for 20 minutes. Uncover, and stir often until broth evaporates and meat starts to brown, 20 to 25 minutes.

3. When drippings are very dark, stir in chili powder, add 1/4 cup broth, and stir to release browned bits. Stirring often, cook until liquid evaporates and browned bits stick to pan, about 1 minute.

4. Pour 3 cups broth into pan, scrape browned bits free, and add potatoes, carrots, corn, and green chilies. Cover, and simmer until meat is very tender when pierced, about 1 hour.

5. Ladle stew into wide bowls, garnish with cilantro sprigs, and season to taste with salt.

Per serving: 532 cal., 22% (117 cal.) from fat; 43 g protein; 13 g fat (4.3 g sat.); 63 g carbo.; 721 mg sodium; 112 mg chol.

SEASONAL NOTE

A guide to young sprouts

Shopping for alfalfa sprouts the other day, I was reminded of the radical statement these green wisps made in the '60s and '70s. If you ate them, you were labeled a health nut (a less positive accusation then than now) or a hippie. But no more.

Many kinds of sprouts are now readily available, and eating them means no more than that you like the way they taste. Each has an interesting personality, and blended sprout mixes take advantage of this. Any of these tender greens fit readily into salads or sandwiches, but that's just for starters.

Peter Henderson grows a lot of sprouts at Sprout House in San Bruno, California, and we gathered a group of them - though not all of the kinds I've spotted - for a tasting.

Clover sprouts. Look a lot like alfalfa sprouts, with a fresh, sweeter, cool flavor; they're just as adaptable.

Onion sprouts. Hair-thin and tipped with black seed, with the look and taste of green onions. Use where a faint touch of onion is desired; I love them rolled into omelets.

Pea sprouts. Sweet, delicate pea flavor. Easier to use than pea tips (or tendrils) from Asian markets because they don't need cleaning. Lovely in salads, chopped and floated in soups of peas or potatoes, or added last to stir-fried dishes.

Radish sprouts. Texture like alfalfa sprouts, with reddish stems and tiny leaves. Have a radish nip. Add to cream cheese on a bagel or to a grilled cheese sandwich.

Sunflower sprouts. Dime-size glossy leaves, white stems. Fleshy, juicy, with mild, slightly grassy flavor. Sprinkle on sushi rice, or mound under grilled salmon steaks seasoned with soy sauce.