BS Summary: This article contains 28 faulty reasoning types, including Anecdotal, Appeal to Emotion, and Framing Effect, with Biased Writer Voice as the most egregious example at 58.4% saturation with 759 hits. Analysis detected 2,002 faulty-reasoning hits from 1,300 analyzed words, generating a BS Score of 25.6% and a BS Rank of 9% (20,021 of 21,886 articles). This article is better (less manipulative) than 91.50% of the article peer group.
This chowder isn’t chic.
I mean that specifically, because this is less a recipe than a small conspiracy of shortcuts — the kind of thing assembled from the freezer, the pantry, and the part of the brain that starts bargaining around 6:45 p.m.
And if you spend enough time steeped in contemporary food culture, you begin to absorb its little class system of convenience: which timesaving ingredients get to seem clever, charming, even aspirational, and which ones are expected to arrive at the table with an apology.
Shredded rotisserie chicken, swiped with Boursin and tucked into the puff pastry you “always keep in the freezer” in case someone drops by with Champagne?
Chic.
Anything that drifts too close to the dreaded category of “dump and stir,” a phrase that has done real reputational harm to a perfectly sensible technique?
Less so.
This recipe — a skillet dinner built from frozen dumplings, frozen corn, a bag of peppers and onions, coconut milk and miso — I should confess, lives much closer to the latter.
Which is perhaps why I kept it to myself for so long.
Somewhere along the way, I suppose I, too, absorbed the idea that there were shortcuts worth sharing and shortcuts better left unmentioned.
This despite considering myself a genuine evangelist for cooking in ways that match your energy instead of fighting it.
I’ve happily sung the praises of jarred garlic and frozen ginger cubes.
I’ve waxed poetic about pre-chopped onions as a doorway to weeknight cooking.
One of my favorite recipes this summer is held together by an Italian dressing packet and little else.
Then the heat wave arrived, and with it, two realizations.
Want more great food writing and recipes?
Sign up for Salon’s free food newsletter, The Bite.
The first was practical: I was looking for any excuse to open my freezer for a blast of cold air, and this recipe offered plenty.
The second was a little more emotionally inconvenient.
I realized this is exactly the kind of dinner I’d hand to my sister if she called after a long, hot day and asked, “What can I make that doesn’t ask too much of me?”
I wouldn’t frame it as a compromise.
I wouldn’t apologize for the frozen vegetables or the bag of dumplings.
I’d tell her it was one of my favorites.
I’d feel like I was letting her in on a secret.
It occurred to me that I had been extending that generosity to everyone but myself.
Let me tell you about it.
Like a lot of the recipes I come back to most, this one wasn’t invented so much as accumulated.
It began with a bag of frozen dumplings, a can of coconut milk, a spoonful of white miso and 15 minutes to make lunch.
I remember thinking, Well.
That’s a keeper.
Elsewhere in my rotation lived another favorite: a freezer-friendly coconut corn chowder.
For a while, the two recipes existed happily in parallel until, one afternoon, it occurred to me that they might actually be the same conversation.
The bridge, I realized, was the coconut milk.
Not just because it appears in both dishes, but because it gives them a shared vocabulary.
Dumplings already love broth.
Corn already loves coconut.
Miso already understands sweetness and starch.
Somewhere in the back of my mind lurked the memory of soy-butter corn ramen, another reminder that corn, umami, fat and slurpable carbohydrates have always gotten along beautifully.
Suddenly, these weren’t separate cravings at all.
They were cousins.
That’s still my favorite kind of recipe: one that knows exactly what it is while leaving plenty of room for improvisation.
Some nights I lean toward spice, blooming coriander, cumin, turmeric and red pepper flakes alongside frozen ginger and garlic cubes.
Other nights I raid the freezer for peas and carrots, handfuls of spinach or little nuggets of sweet potato in the middle of winter.
The skeleton of the dish never changes.
Everything else is candy.
And then, somewhere in the last few minutes of cooking, the small miracle happens.
The dumplings gently thicken the coconut milk.
The miso disappears into the broth instead of announcing itself.
The corn sweetens everything just enough.
The whole skillet crosses an invisible line from “ingredients” into “dinner.”
It feels, every single time, like a tiny act of contemporary kitchen witchcraft.
When I make it, I still like to give it a beginning.
Even if that beginning is nothing more than a little onion powder or a frozen ginger cube sizzling in a slick of olive oil, I find that tiny moment of fragrance changes the character of the whole meal.
The rest of the vegetables — frozen corn always, whatever else sounds good that day — get a quick toss in the aromatic oil, just long enough to glisten, before the coconut milk, miso and dumplings join the party.
From there, the recipe happily takes its cues from your day.
On the stovetop, it stays brothy and spoonable, somewhere between a chowder and a dumpling soup.
In the oven, the liquid reduces into something richer, the dumplings nestling into a creamy, deeply savory sauce that edges toward casserole territory.
I find myself reaching for the stovetop version after long afternoons at the lake and the baked version on the first truly cold weekends of fall.
You could absolutely make this with fresh summer corn and peppers if the season (and your energy) allows.
But that was never really the point.
This is a dinner built for the evenings when the very idea of chopping an onion feels like one task too many.
The freezer has already done the knife work.
Your only remaining responsibility is to slice a lime for the bowl — and perhaps one for the drink you’ll carry back to the couch, where the air conditioner is already hard at work.
Summer corn and dumplings
Yields
4-6 servings
Prep Time
10 minutes
Cook Time
15-30 minutes
Ingredients
1 (16-ounce) bag frozen chicken and vegetable dumplings
1 (12-ounce) bag frozen corn
1 (12-ounce) bag frozen tri-colored peppers and onions
2 to 3 frozen ginger cubes
1 (13.5-ounce) can full-fat coconut milk
1 can (about 13½ ounces) chicken stock or water
1 generous spoonful white miso, plus more to taste
Garlic powder
Ground coriander
Red pepper flakes
Olive oil
For serving:
Lime wedges
Thinly sliced scallions
Soy sauce
Directions
1.
Heat a generous drizzle of olive oil in a large, deep skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat.
Add the frozen ginger cubes along with a few shakes of garlic powder, coriander and red pepper flakes.
Cook for 1 to 2 minutes, just until fragrant.
2.
Add the frozen peppers and onions along with the frozen corn.
Toss everything together until the vegetables glisten in the spiced oil, about 3 to 4 minutes.
3.
Stir in the coconut milk, chicken stock and white miso, whisking until the miso dissolves into the broth.
Taste and add another spoonful of miso if you’d like a little more savory depth.
4.
Nestle the frozen dumplings into the broth.
Cover and simmer according to the dumpling package directions, usually about 8 to 10 minutes, until the dumplings are cooked through and the broth has thickened slightly.
5.
Finish with plenty of lime juice, sliced scallions and a splash of soy sauce.
To bake: Assemble everything in a baking dish, cover with foil and bake at 400 degrees until the dumplings are cooked through and the sauce is bubbling, about 20 to 30 minutes.
Remove the foil for the last 10 minutes if you’d like the top to brown slightly.
Read more
about this topic
How to be a neighbor, one dish at a time
In defense of jarred garlic
The at-home birthday party is back
Speakers
1speaker0.7%attributed speech1,291writer words
Voice mapSelect a segment to jump to its words
Selected voice
100%flagged-word coverageSalon
9 attributed words100% of attributed speech69% writer coverage
Attribution is sentence-level. Pattern percentages are calculated only from words assigned to that voice.
Loading…
Loading…
Loading…
Loading…
Analysis
Hover over highlighted words in the article to view the associated bias or fallacy analysis.