Comunidad Health Foods

Are you sick of jicama yet? I might be, a little, but only because I pretty much single-handedly went through that monster of a root on my own the other week. If people are what they eat, right now I’d  definitely be a big, dense brown root veggie about the size of a small child’s head. So then why am I telling you about more jicama, you ask? Well, mostly because I thought this Thai Jicama Slaw would be a nice segue way between the cilantro jicama recipe from last week and the Thai chicken recipe I have coming up. Plus, a lot of the recipes I’ve been trying lately need some more tweaking and aren’t really blog-ready yet, making it slim pickins around these parts for blogging.

This recipe really came out of my own head with the help of what (little) I know of Thai cuisine and a session of perusing the world wide web. Most jicama recipes you see will incorporate lime and cilantro, and while that’s fabulous (see Heck of a Jicama Salad for proof), I had just gotten through an entire Tupperware container full of that particular recipe. If I didn’t try something new and different, I was going to experience jicama burn out, fast. Thankfully, I also discovered during my research that jicama pairs well with Thai flavors. It just so happens that I had half of a red bell pepper, half of a cucumber, some carrots, sesame oil, and peanuts that I was trying to use up. Clearly, this was fate.

I’m just now realizing that I also had a Thai curry paste sitting in my fridge that I’m trying to use, that would have worked well in this, too. Can’t win ‘em all.

What came out of this abundance of jicama and odd other ingredients I wanted to use was pretty great! It’s not what I would call spicy food, but there is a kick that you get every couple of bites from the crushed red pepper. It’s just as crisp and fresh tasting as other wonderful jicama slaw recipes, yet it’s different from a lot of the flavors you tend to find in them. You could scale back the dressing if you want – it’s pretty heavily dressed, but even the fats used are healthy so don’t let it scare you too much. A lot of jicama recipes don’t call for oil at all. You could also use less jicama and more other ingredients – this would make the slaw a little more vibrant. I just used what I had on hand, and encourage you to do the same.

One Year Ago: Lazy Balsamic Chicken Skillet

Yield: 6 servings

Prep Time: 15 minutes plus approximately 30 minutes to cut jicama¹

Inactive Time: 1 hour

(printable recipe)

3 tablespoons sesame oil

2 tablespoons lime juice

¼ teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes

freshly ground black pepper, to taste

375g sliced jicama (approximately half large jicama)

75g cucumber, julienned

40g shaved carrot (approximately 1 carrot)

65g red bell pepper slices

45g chopped snacking peanuts (approximately ¼ cup)

Whisk together the sesame oil, lime juice, red pepper flakes, and black pepper. Add the remaining ingredients and toss well to mix the vegetables and fully coat them with the dressing. Cover and place in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour before serving. Slaw will keep, refrigerated, for up to 2 days.

¹For instructions on how to cut a jicama, see this how-to post

Now that we’ve gone over the nitty gritty technique of how to cut a jicama, it’s time to get to the good stuff – the recipe. Jicama is a pretty versatile ingredient because of its mild flavor. Some people whisk up a simple lime vinaigrette to poor over julienned jicama for a raw, healthy take on fries. Other people chop up jicama and sprinkle it over their salad for a nice crisp crunch. This recipe uses jicama the way I like it best – as the basis for what is essentially a much cooler, hipper, tastier version of a slaw. It’s kind of like taking those jicama “fries” I just mentioned and putting them over a bed of lettuce. It’s sweet without added sugars, crunchy and crisp without any vats of oil, and bursting at the seams with flavor. If you’ve never had jicama before, this is a great first recipe to try. Once you do, let me know that you’re ready for the next step up with this other great jicama salad recipe I have waiting (im)patiently in the wings (this one, thai inspired)!

One Year Ago: El Diablo Black Bean Casserole

Two Years Ago: Vanilla Almond French Toast

Yield: 6-8 servings

Prep Time: 35 minutes (including chopping the jicama) plus 15 minutes down time

Cook Time: 0 minutes

(printable recipe)

½ large bulb jicama root, peeled and julienned

a sprinkling of coarse kosher salt

½ cup lime juice

1-2 hearts of romaine, coarsely chopped

¼ cup finely chopped cilantro

1 teaspoon ground cumin

5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil¹

Place the jicama sticks in a very large bowl and sprinkle with salt and 2-4 tablespoons lime juice. Toss to coat, then fill the bowl completely with cold water. Let the jicama sit for 15 minutes before draining well.

Meanwhile, stir together 2-4 tablespoons of lime juice with the cilantro and cumin. Whisk in the olive oil to emulsify. Arrange the lettuce on a serving platter and top with the drained jicama. Pour the cilantro-lime dressing over the jicama as evenly as possible, and serve.

Leftovers may be kept refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 3 days.

Have you ever seen this guy hanging out at your local grocery store and wondered who the heck he thought he was? I honestly passed him by every visit for years without a second thought. Jicama? How do you even pronounce that? Gee-comma? Jik-uh-ma? It wasn’t until I decided to make this gee-comma/jik-uh-ma/I-give-up salad a little while back that I paid it any mind in the supermarket. I bought this jicama not knowing anything about it. I hacked up this jicama not knowing anything about how I was supposed to do it. I served this jicama in a salad not knowing anything about what it should or should not taste like.

I was immediately sold.

At its worst, jicama (by the way, it’s really pronounced “hick-uh-muh,” much to my surprise) is a little watery and bland. It adds a nice crunch but not much else. At its best, though, it’s crisp and juicy with a mild sweetness reminiscent of a pear or apple flavor. It’s very unique, with a completely unexpected flavor based on its appearance alone – a true case of deceptive looks. L and I both really enjoyed it in that original salad, so when I saw that Rachael Ray had her own recipe for a jicama salad, I thought it would be a nice summer side dish.

The second time around, I did my research. There were only 2 at the store and they were absolutely massive – this thing cost me a whopping $6! – so I didn’t need much knowledge in choosing the “best of the bunch.” Where I did need help was in the cutting department. When I first did it, I was intimidated. I went at it with a knife and enthusiasm enough to scare a small child. I didn’t know what the heck I was doing. It took forever. The slices were all misshapen. I knew there had to be a better way.

This post is not about the really tasty jicama salad that I made – that will come on Thursday as part of, you guessed it, Thirty Minute Thursdays. But I know that jicama is not your average orange or broccoli stalk – a lot of people probably don’t know what to do with it, and it’s a shame because it’s such a cool little (ok, rather large) piece of produce. Don’t be intimidated. Cutting it is totally manageable. It may take you some time – with it being just my second time, I had to devote a solid half hour to fully slice down the monster of a jicama I bought – but it’s not difficult. You can do it, and I’m going to show you how.

One Year Ago: Cucumber-Feta Grain Salad with Greek Turkey Meatballs, The Holy Grail of Sugar Cookies
Two Years Ago: Thai-Inspired Chicken Salad

Yield: 1 chopped jicama (many servings)

Prep Time: 30 minutes

Cook Time: 0 minute

(printable recipe)

1 jicama of your choosing

Cutting board

Potato peeler, optional

Your best large kitchen knife, preferably a good chef's or large serrated

Wash your jicama and dry it well. Take your large chef’s knife and slice off both ends of the jicama to expose the flesh. With either a potato peeler or your knife (I preferred the latter), peel the entire jicama so that the creamy white flesh shows all over. Remove any bruised or questionable sections.

Halve the jicama. Take a small slice off the bottom of each half so that it balances flat on the cutting board. With the flat side down, working one half at a time, make thin slices no thicker than ⅛ inch through the jicama. Repeat with the second half. 

Take each slice (you may work with several at a time) and slice into thin matchsticks. Cut those matchsticks in half or into thirds for slices, or cube depending on your preference or what the recipe calls for (the one we’ll be looking at on Thursday calls for matchsticks).

And that’s it! See, it’s easy as pie. Nothing to be scared of. All you need is a jicama, a good knife, and a little bit of patience. Now go out there, buy yourself a jicama, and I’ll see you in just a few days with a recipe for a great Mexican-inspired jicama salad!

So first, I tell you about a humble and frugal French toast casserole on National Caviar Day. You couldn’t expect me to tell you about anything other than sophisticated Champagne Gelato on National Junk Food Day, right? That’s what I thought.

This gelato, originally a sorbet but since I’ve gone and added milk in place of the juice, I can’t really call it that anymore, is nothing short of incredible. It is decadence in a cone/cup/champagne flute. It’s rich. You may not be able to eat a full serving. You definitely will wish that you could. There’s no mistaking the flavor for anything but champagne, and its richness is just begging you to top it all off with some chopped fresh strawberries or raspberries. It’s smooth and creamy, and even after a month and a half of sitting in my freezer (I’ve been so distracted by all of the desserts we have in my house!), the consistency is still spot-on. The alcohol prevents it from freezing solid, giving it a very smooth slushy-type consistency. There’s nothing like it on a hot, summer day. You’ll feel like royalty with each spoonful. 

There’s just one caveat: I didn’t save the recipe. Well, I saved the original, but this is so far from that, it’s hardly the same recipe anymore. I really shouldn’t tell you about it, because for all I know the changes that I remember making are not at all the changes that I actually made. There’s this chance that I’m leading you down a path to failure. But I can’t not tell you about this gelato, either. I can’t look at it every time I open my freezer and pretend that it isn’t there. And who knows how long it’ll be before I’m faced with a half-empty bottle of champagne that I need to use up. You’ll just have to risk it this time. If it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty confident in my memory.  And the next time I find myself with extra champagne, you can bet I will make it again – and this time, I will save my notes like a good little food blogger.

One Year Ago: Avocado and White Bean Wrap, Grilled Turkey, Veggie Stuffing & Sugar Snap Peas

Two Years Ago: Healthy Tzatziki Chicken Salad, Healthy Thai Chicken Salad

Yield: approximately ½ quart

Prep Time: 20 minutes plus overnight chilling

“Cook” Time: 20 minutes plus 6 hours chilling

(printable recipe)

¾ cup sparkling wine or champagne¹

½ cup granulated sugar

½ tablespoon light corn syrup

½ teaspoon lemon zest

¾ cup unsweetened almond milk

2 tablespoons lemon juice

Combine the champagne, sugar, corn syrup, and lemon zest in a medium saucepan and bring to a vigorous boil. Once the sugar has dissolved, remove the pan from the heat and strain into a glass or stainless-steel bowl. Place the bowl in a larger bowl filled partially with ice cubes, and add the remaining ingredients. Stir until it has come down to room temperature. Cover and refrigerate overnight to chill completely.

The next day, chill the champagne mixture in an ice cream maker according to the machine’s directions (mine took approximately 20 minutes). It should have a mostly-frozen, slushy-like consistency. Transfer the gelato to a freezer-safe container and place in the freezer to firm up even more, at least 6 hours. Serve straight from the freezer; no thaw time needed.