There are some dishes we make when there’s nothing in the refrigerator. There are some dishes we make when you have no time at all. There are some dishes we make that are purely comfort food and remind you of home. This dish is all of those things for me………
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Low and slow, is the mantra for a good Curry.
Curry comes in a variety of colors. Cooking is an art, curries are the colors.
Indian Curries are pretty time consuming, especially with the ones that involve meat. The pan or pot that a curry is made in also adds to its complexity. Everything must be slow cooked and sauteed without burning, and the meat almost always is cooked for long periods of time left unattended. For example, a good fish curry would always take a while to make. If it sat overnight before serving, the dish became exquisite the next day. A lamb/goat meat dish prep would start a few hours before lunch time and it was almost on Sundays. Cookers or slow cookers were never used. It cooked long hours leading to a ‘fall of the bone’ tender, flavorful and juicy meat. All these different curries really required a lot of time and love, but were so worth the wait.
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Uncles, Mom and Dad have left for work. It’s just my Amma (grandmom) and I. It’s the peace after the storm.
With no one to order me around, tease me, or make me bring things, I very quietly walk to the balcony and hold the railings with my two tiny little hands and start my favorite pastime. Watching people. A variety of people with a myriad of emotions: preoccupied looks, busy smiles, the nervous laughter, all for different reasons. They all were in a rush to get somewhere. I was plain amazed by that. I looked at their clothes, their make up and everything. I remember one day asking my grandmom, pointing to a lovely looking girl: “She looks so pretty ma, will I ever be as beautiful as her?” To that she responded, “You, my dear, are much prettier than her and without all that makeup!” That made me feel good then. My ego booster, my Grandmom.
We sit chatting for a bit…..Until we hear the sounds of the guy we were waiting for….
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As I stood massaging the cabbage with copious amounts of salt for the Kimchi, my thoughts drifted to a place where I spent a lot of my early school days.
Right in the middle of a very busy market street, a road with the honks of scooters and auto rickshaws and the bells of the cyclists, kids playing marbles on the side of the roads was a norm. There were so many stray dogs and cows walking like they owned the roads. The homes were all quite tightly packed, and a lot of them were built in the early 19oo’s. Made of brick and wooden roofs, rough walls, and carved wooden doors with so many subtle nuances was my Maternal Grandparents’ home, famously known as “Ayya’s home.”
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Welcome to the first post of 2016. Happy NEW YEAR!!
“What do want for dinner?” – Mom
“Anything mom.”
“Something spicy today.”
“Something with rice.”
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Why measure when you have your taste buds, right?!
As long as I can remember, my grandma and mom never measured anything in their cooking. There would be huge family gatherings and lots of food. Just watching grandmom(Amma) cook with a pinch of this, a teaspoon of that, tasting every now and then was pure joy. Despite all the chaos I would be called to taste and see if it was OK. Let’s just say, it wasn’t just O.K, it was all so perfect. Maybe because of their inconsistency in how they cooked and got it right always, inspired me to see what cooking was all about.
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I’ve always been picky about my salads. I will eat a salad only if it is spicy, crunchy, and made with some peanut butter dressing :). Well, it changed.
I was invited to a clothing boutique opening a few winters ago. That’s when I fell in love with these endive boats after avoiding it for about 20 minutes. As we walked in, our coats were taken. The wine was served and the conversations were on full swing, when a very prim and proper server walked by us bringing these beautiful salad boats. I excused myself politely to walk across to the left of the room where the cocktails and desserts were. After a few minutes, the guy comes again with this beautifully arranged platter of these boats, and I picked out a boat just to be nice to the guy. He smiled because I had been avoiding him for at least 20 minutes. I stalked him for the next 15; I am sure I would’ve eaten at least 10.
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I thought I’d gotten used to this. One’s a teen, and the other just turned two digits. I’ve been through this for years now. Unfortunately, it is still so hard. My throat’s filled with knots. Emotions, those emotions all over again, the anxiety of separation. I thought I’d figured it all out, and it would be different this time around. Boy, was I wrong.
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You’ve heard it many times, read many experiences and you will hear it many more times.
When I stepped out into the cold chilly San Francisco airport as a new bride, I really had no clue what I was getting into….
I walked into a blank canvas in every sense. A large apartment with not a chair to sit on. No pots and pans, no spoons, I felt almost helpless. Really helpless and very thankful because for the name God, I could not make a decent coffee. Eating out was the only option until I got really bored of it….
It is probably the 5557th time he has asked me, “What time is the flight landing?” The baby bear of our home is a big fan of his dad. He calls themselves “the twins.” To him, his dad can’t do anything wrong or say anything wrong. His trust and love for him is unparalleled. When I am cross, it doesn’t take him a moment more to say I was wrong. He’s around his dad every minute possible. He’s the biggest fan of his dad, and takes every word his dad says to heart, and those are the final words. Imagine a kid who sounds squeaky and loud going daddy, daddy this, daddy that. It can get quite annoying, but it’s too cute for us not to smile.
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