I seriously had a long and involved dream about salad. I'm so not joking. I dreamed about the different style dressings I made (dijon, hummus, creamy ranch style, and the chickpea cashew one I posted about), and then all the different vegetables I had laid out (tomato, onions, cucumber, grated carrots, olives [green, black, and kalamata], chickpeas, three kinds of lettuce, roasted mushrooms) and the various toppings (craisins, sunflower seeds, slivered almonds, glazed pecans, croutons). I woke up, and was sad to see that I hadn't actually made that salad or the accompaniments.

:(

I stop, and think about things, and realise that I actually live in New York City. It's almost surreal how it's possible for me to be living my dreams. I have a beautiful husband. I live in a wonderful city. I work a dream job. My boss is a kind man, who I look up to like a father. I can cook for anyone, and have them enjoy my food. My parents are good to me. My sister and her husband are wonderful. I know I'm not dreaming, because I still have to deal with drudgery (paying bills, waiting in queues, doing grunt work like cleaning the house), but I almost wonder if I've been somehow singled out for the gods to bestow me with the best that life can give. It's a nice thought, for sure.

And more than that? I'm never bored. Every minute of my life provides me with new wonders. With new things to explore and think about. It's like knowing that everything that you do will form ever-increasing ripples in the ocean of life. That you matter.

It seems sappy if you're not living it. But if you are living it, it's life!

Vanity

I wouldn't ordinarily think myself to be vain (STOP LAUGHING, STEVE!), but it dawned on me that when I do get old, there's a couple of things I'd like to see happen.

1. If I do get wrinkles, I want them to be because I've smiled so much. I see evidence of it already, around my mouth, and near my eyes. It's faint, but it's there, and I can tell that it's because of how much smiling I do naturally. I think I'd be OK with having smile lines.

2. If I do start to lose the darkness of my hair (and it goes to "grey"), I want it to go in huge chunks at the same time, so that I can finally dye it fire engine red without having to go through a bleaching process. If I'm going to age, I might as well have fun doing it!

3. Consequently, if I do start losing my hair, I want to shave it completely bald, because I do have a beautifully shaped head. I'm not the only one to say it; every time I get my hair shaved completely off, people mention how lovely my head looks, unencumbered by all that hair! If anything, it'll certainly cut back on prep time in the morning.

4. If my already flimsy tolerance to the cold gets worse, I want to be able to use it as an excuse to be close to my husband, so he can keep me warm. :)

5. If my walking pace slows down, I hope that I remind myself that it gives me more time to look around me, and take in the sights more fully. Right now, I may pass by the same spot 100 times, but be unable to tell you what on earth is there, because I'm so focused on getting where I need to be.

6. If my memory starts to go, I hope it leans in the direction of forgetting petty arguments, and imagined slights, rather than the kindness that people generally show me.

I don't know if I'll get my hopes, but the best I can do is work towards it.

Add garlic and ginger at the end, please

I've mentioned it before, but it bears repeating: add your garlic towards the end of cooking. I've seen the cost of garlic skyrocketing like everything else in the stores. And, just like everything else, we can find ways to maximise the way we use said ingredient. If it's oils that are costing a fortune (olive, sesame, etc.), we can use them only as finishing oils, and in sparing amounts. With garlic, the magic is in adding it at just the right time to get the punch you want.

If you don't like strong garlic flavour--

Wait a minute. If you don't like garlic, what're you reading this for? Don't use it!

No, I'll be serious now. If you're not a huge fan of the sharp, strong garlic taste, add it in the mid-point of your cooking. Say for example that you're making a tomato sauce or something similar. Instead of sauteing the garlic with the onions, and missing out on having the garlic give any impact at all, just use less than the recipe calls for, and add it after you add the tomato. It's when you cook it in oil that the flavour disperses and weakens.

So now, suppose that you're a huge fan of garlic. Mince it up as finely as you can, and go ahead and add it as close to the end as possible. You'll taste the garlic, and smell it as soon as it gets to the table. In fact, if you want to use the mortar and pestle to grind it down to a paste, and go from there. It'll be all the more strong, and taste all the sharper.

This goes double for ginger. I myself have advocated cooking ginger along with the aromatics, but I've found that it cooks extremely quickly. It cooks even more quickly than garlic! Add ginger at the very last minute possible, once you've grated it finely, and you'll taste it clearly in the end result.

Chickpeas are awesome in general.

I was in the vegan chat room today, and got to chatting with someone from Australia, who was just starting out her exploration of the humble, yes awesome, chickpea. She's been roasting them in the oven, and spending upwards of half an hour on the process, as the oven takes its own sweet time in making the roasty magic happen. I gave her a detailed explanation on how to roast chickpeas on the stove. She seemed shocked that it only takes a few minutes!

You can hear the results of the conversation here, on the new podcast episode. It was basically me catching up with my listeners, by reading their emails, and then plunging in head-first into chickpea heaven.

You start with a screaming hot skillet, some oil, some mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. I get into more detail about the conditions of the whole thing in the podcast episode, and in the cook book, so either way, read up or listen up to the whole popping spices deal before attempting this. If you don't have the book, listen to the pocast which is free. Either way, you'll get the idea.

After the seeds are popped, throw in the well-drained chickpeas WITH NO AROMATICS. Aromatics kill caramelisation of your ingredients. They exude water, and increase the cooking time. This is supposed to be a quick five minute thing. Besides, adding aromatics adds to your prep time. Bother with that stuff when you don't care about time!

Then, you roast the chickpeas on high heat for about five minutes. If you want them more brown, keep going. Do not fear oil! Stove top roasting is a bit more oil intensive than oven roasting. If you see the skillet drying out, add a bit of extra oil, until the chickpeas are slightly shiny from the oil, and keep roasting. You won't get that beautiful brown unless you use a bit of oil. If you are watching your calories, read on, and I'll explain how to do them in the oven.

After the five minutes (or however long you decided to roast them) is up, turn off the heat, and let the chickpeas rest for a minute, while you contemplate how to eat them. They're excellent in a pita pocket, with some alfalfa sprouts, cilantro, and tomato. They're good over hot steamy rice. They're quite nice all by themselves, as a snack. You can use them as croutons over a salad. You can add a cup or two of water, and make it a soup (to thicken up the soup, either mash with a potato masher or grind in a blender about 1/2 of the chickpeas). I discuss other possibilities in the podcast.

If you are watching your calories, and want to reduce the amount of fat, use the following ratio for 1 pound of cooked chickpeas:

1 teaspoon oil
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1 teaspoon sesame seeds
1/4 teaspoon turmeric powder
Salt, to taste

Mix the oil, sesame seeds, and turmeric powder into a spice paste. Toss the spice paste with the well-drained chickpeas. Arrange them onto a baking sheet, so that they have a fair bit of space between them. For me, a pound of chickpeas takes two baking sheets. Your sheets may be bigger or smaller. The idea is that you don't want to crowd your baking sheet, or else the chickpeas will not roast on all sides.

Sprinkle generously with salt, to taste. Let them roast in the oven for about 20 minutes (at 180ºC or 350ºF), and check and see if they're brown enough for your liking. Feel free to shake the pans a bit to turn the chickpeas over. Also, feel free to rotate your pans. Some ovens have "hot spots", and you might do well to move the baking sheets around your oven, so that they can all get cooked evenly.

If they are brown enough to your liking at 20 minutes, remove them. If not, keep roasting them until they're at the brownness and crispness of your liking. The longer you let them go, the more they dry out, and the more brown they get.

If you find that they are taking too long to roast, chances are that you're crowding the pan, and having them steam first, then roast. Make sure there's plenty of breathing space for the chickpeas in the pans.

Now go out and roast some chickpeas!

By the by, this whole entry and discussion with my friend on the chat room was spawned because of the mid week feast I made for Puppy. I've got the picture below and above this entry.

CREAMY DRESSING OF DOOM OMG

So I have a couple of heads of romaine lettuce, and a few other random veg lying about the fridge. I had today off from work, so I decided to cook up a bit of a feast for lunch. First, I set the lentils that I'd soaked overnight on the boil. Then, I cooked up some aubergine for Puppy. I used fennel seed, cardamom (1 pod), sesame seed, and cumin seed. The recipe is in the book. Then I cooked up some cabbage, and used mustard seed, coriander seed, cumin seed, and sesame seed, with a bit of turmeric for colour. Finally, I composed the salad. I used two heads of romaine, two small Jordan cucumbers, grated carrot, fresh summer squash, chickpeas, Kalamata olives, onions, and of course, the creamy dressing of doom. It changes shape every time I make it, but it's got a similar base of hummus. This time, I amped up the flavour profile to be a little more adventurous.

I started with 1/2 cup of chickpeas (the other 1/2 cup went into the salad itself), and a small handful of raw cashews. I first whizzed up the cashews in the food processor until they were ground as finely as they would go (almost a powdery thing). Then, I dumped in the chickpeas, as if I were going to make a hummus. I let the food processor run until the cashews and chickpeas became a solid mass of paste of delicious. Then I added a sprinkle of salt, a scant teaspoon of oil, and let the food processor rip again. Every time I open the top of the food processor, I had to scrape down the sides, because I wanted everything to come together neatly. It was still at a thick paste stage.

Now comes the fun part.

I dumped in a heaped teaspoon of my own home made grain mustard. It has a kick like horseradish, which I hate, but a wonderful peppery back note that I love. Also, since I had so much chickpea and cashew to offset, I knew I'd be fine. Then in went the juice of one lime. Always remember to be conservative when you're building a good dressing, because you can add, but you can't take away. I let the food processor rip again. By this point, it was starting to resemble a very thick hummus.

I tasted it for seasoning, after grinding till the mustard was combined through, and almost fell over in bliss. It was such a strong, bold dressing. It was creamy, but sassy. It had boldness but with a soft touch. It was beautifully balanced, and I didn't even need to add any vinegar! Just had to use my cashews, chickpeas, salt, mustard, and lime juice. (Side note: next time, I'll add the zest of the lime as well to amp up the flavour even more.)

Unfortunately, beautiful as it was, it was also way too thick to use as a dressing. I ran the food processor at full blast while I very slowly drizzled in some water, allowing the last bit to emulsify in before adding more. I'd say if you went with a teaspoon at a time, you'll be safe. I think (but don't hold me to it or do the same thing) I ended up with about 1/4 cup of water in total, but I could be mistaken, because I tend to eyeball these things, and before I have a chance to measure what I've done, the dressing ended up perfect. I did stop a few times to check the texture.

All this took about five minutes flat. It just seems like it took longer, because I wanted you to have the experience with me, and share along in the discovery. I'm eating the salad now, and I must say that it's a beautiful matching. The best part is that because the dressing has such a strong taste, I'm not tempted to use too much, and drown my salad in dressing. Instead, the leaves are gently coated with a fine layer of silky dressing.

Give this one a shot if you like creamy dressing. For the first time you do it, leave out the mustard, or use a mild dijon mustard, and go with a scant teaspoon. The dressing does not need the mustard; I just added it because I wanted to make something different from how I've been doing it all this time.

By the by, this dressing would have also been wonderful with the addition of a clove or two of garlic, and a scant 1/2 teaspoon of curry powder. If you don't like cashews, walnuts, pecans, or hazelnuts would work fine. Macadamia nuts would work, but it'd be a bit extravagant to use macadamia nuts in a dressing! Brazil nuts would work, but you would leave out the fat, as Brazil nuts are very high in their own fat. Pistachios would work, only if you don't mind the colour being a very mild pale green. Peanuts might work, but I'd suggest that you use peanut butter, and not whole peanuts.

Try it out, and tell me how it goes for you!

I mention the chickpea dressing here.

Pictures of the salad and the dressing:

Watermelon.

I just finished eating a giant piece of watermelon. Next to me was my little salt grinder. Now, anyone who's been over to my house to eat at one of my Saturday afternoon food for alls knows that I have a bit of a salt thing. You've probably eaten freshly cut fruit from atop my slab of Himalayan pink rock salt (it's shaped like a brick). You know that I use Kosher salt (and only Kosher salt) in my cooking, and I use coarse sea salt in a salt grinder for salting at the table.

So when I was staring at that little salt grinder, and wondering what would happen, my brain went back to that Watermelon Gazpacho (which is what it's called, but I couldn't remember the name) at Sacred Chow. If they can use salt on watermelon, why can't I?

On went a few ethereal grains of finely ground salt atop my glistening slice of watermelon. It was almost as if the watermelon slice grew more delicious than it already was! How was it possible that I've waited this long for the magic to happen? I'm quite pleased with my little salt grinder.

The language of hope!

I was talking to a friend, Sandra, a few years ago. Unfortunately, I haven't spoken to her in years and years, because both of us got involved in different online communities and the rest, and hadn't really kept up with each other as we should have. Anyrate. We were just chatting randomly, and I'd mentioned Esperanto off-hand. Immediately, her response was "The language of hope!" I was stunned and immensely pleased, because I'd heard of the language back when I was ten years old, and my brother had bought me one of those "amazing facts" type books for kids, that I read religiously. They mentioned all the history of the language, and how it came to be, and for some reason, every time I'd bring it up with my local friends, nobody had a clue what I was talking about. It made me sad inside, because it really is a cool project, and nobody seemed to know about it. So about twelve years after hearing about the language, Sandra, who I'd met at random too, heard of it too. What a cool world we live in. :)

It's FREEZING out there. :(

What is going ON out there? It's down in the mid 60s (F). This is ridiculous. Where is global warming when you need it? Argh. I'm sitting here at the basement in Chow, and shivering away, in spite of my wearing a jacket. I'm hoping that the broccoli soup gets made soon, so that I can warm myself from the inside out.

In food news, I made a giant broccoli dish yesterday. I started off as I usually do with vegetable dishes, with mustard seeds, cumin seeds, and sesame seeds. Then in went some very finely chopped potatoes, a bit of turmeric, and a bit of salt. Toss toss toss for about five minutes (yes, I chopped them that small that they cooked in about five minutes). Then in went the broccoli, stalks and all. All I did was peel off the bottom 1/3rd of the stems, with a vegetable peeler, to take off the woody part, and then sliced up the stems as thinly as I could. This was so that they would cook up at the same time as the stalks.

Toss toss toss. The broccoli was getting nicely roasted and toasted and smelling fantastic. To gild the lily, I added about a teaspoon or so of coconut oil, some red chile flakes, along with a couple bunches of scallions. Oh! It was like heaven in a pot! The smells were so intoxicating, and the whole apartment filled with the smell of beautifully roasted broccoli, toasted spices, roasty coconut, and the nicely browned potatoes. I wish you could have been there, because I made a good two large bunches of broccoli into this heavenly dish, and I love to share my food with people that I care about.

On the side, I had daal and rice, which I'd made earlier that morning (you remember how I mentioned soaking split peas). It was so good, and I'm still floating on the clouds to remember it.

I have my computer back in my arms, so I might be able to record a podcast soon enough. The downside is that I'm typing this in TextEdit while there's an internet blackout from my cable company for all of Manhattan, so I'll have to wait until I get to work to upload this to the blog.

Last night, I did an experiment with my yellow split peas. Because the toor daal is too expensive for me to buy with any regularity (or alacrity), I tend to use yellow split peas instead. Or is that split yellow peas? Whatever.

Because of this, I've noticed that from cold water to perfectly cooked (as in, they fall apart, and make a rich split pea gravy, along with the ones that manage to just barely stay together) takes about an hour and small change. Then, to add my spices and do all the rest of the business, I take about an additional 10 minutes or so, because I like my daal to have lots of textural and flavour differences going on.

Last night, I soaked my split yellow peas in cold water, and left them over night. They seemed to swell considerably in volume, so if you try this hint, make sure that you use a much larger container than you think you'll need. To save yourself some steps in the morning, use the same pot to soak as the one you want to cook the split peas in.

The next morning, I got up, and drained out the soaking liquid. We hear over and over again that the soaking liquid should be discarded so as to avoid the added "bonus" of the gas that beans are said to give you. Mind you, asafoetida and cumin are said to release said gas, but I'd sooner not have it show up in the first place, thank you very much.

Then, I put the pot onto the stove over the highest heat that it could muster. I also remembered to stay in the kitchen until the pot reached a boil, because I've learned time and again that when cooking split peas, you always have the issue of boil over, no matter how large the pot is. As soon as the water hit a rolling boil, I dropped it down to a simmer, and went about my morning routine.

Just about 20 minutes later, the split peas were done to a turn!

I decided to be lazy, and use the same spicing technique as explained in the dry roasted garbanzo recipe in my book. That is, mustard seed, cumin seed, and sesame seed, and a hint of turmeric. I did use asafoetida, because I like the flavour, but it isn't strictly necessary. I didn't bother adding onions or garlic or ginger, although any of those would have been perfectly lovely in flavour. It was that I was in a hurry to get out the door, and I wanted lunch ready for Steve. I just used a separate tiny pot that I have just for popping spices.

So, the spicing took less than a minute or so. I then poured the hot popped spices back into the split pea pot, and raised the heat to high, so that they could boil at full heat for about a minute.

25 minutes later, we had a pot of perfect split pea soup to have over hot rice. Life is good.

In future, I think that if I remember to do so, I'll soak all my beans, just to shorten the cooking time, even when they are already "quick" cooking ones.

Roti from the bread machine

There are few kitchen gadgets that I really care for, as I tend not to use too terribly many of them very often, because most times, I can just do it faster by hand. One of them is my citrus squeezer. It's a red number which resembles a large garlic press, only instead of being square, it's round and large enough to fit half a tangerine.

Another is my food processor. Few things can really get the job done like a good strong food processor, especially when I have large amounts of repetitive tasks to get done. It's not that I don't know how to chop garlic, ginger, or onions, but rather that if I'm about to chop around three heads of garlic, a pound of ginger, or three pounds of onions, I'd sooner run them through the food processor, whiz it a few times, and get on with my life.

Still another is the rice cooker, but this one is because it's so much more convenient to have a machine to make picture perfect rice every time. Frankly, we eat so much rice in my house that to cook it on the stove every time would needlessly tie up a burner that I could be using to cook up something else.

Largest and most ostentatious of the bunch, however, is the bread maker. I'd never buy one, but there are so many to be found for free either through Craigslist, or for really cheap, such as in garage sales and the like. The one I own now is from my mother, who got hers for free, because her friends went on a certain low carbohydrate diet, and decided that a bread machine is far too much temptation for anyone's own good.

Not only that, but she managed to snag yet another machine for free from yet another friend who was going off of carbohydrates. Apparently, this is a common occurrence. Fine by me, I say. More bread making for me and my husband!

At any rate, all this time, I've been using my own two hands, or the food processor to bring my flatbread dough together (roti, puri, etc.), and ending up with a hard dough. This is rather useless, because roti dough is meant to be very soft. Not soft because of lots of water and fat, but because it's been kneaded for a rather long time, until it becomes supple and pliable. Doing that with all purpose flour is bad enough, but I have durum atta, which is whole meal flour that's been finely milled. Even though it is finely milled, it's hard as rock when you attack it with your own two hands, and you'll frequently end up with tired arms.

As I side note, I feel that must mention that I do not make dainty little roti or puri like they do in restaurants. They are neither small not perfectly shaped into a perfect circle. They're vaguely circular in shape, but you wouldn't really call it a circle. And, they're on the minimum, ten inches in diameter. Why? Because I don't have all day to stand around rolling out dainty, perfect roti, and then griddling them one by one. There's way too much other stuff to be done, so I'd sooner make large ones, and bang them out quickly, than make aesthetically pleasing ones and stand over a hot cast iron skillet for hours on end.

By the time I'm done griddling off a set of roti, I'm usually fairly tired, since the kneading took so long. I don't know why it took this long for my dense skull to figure it out, but I finally realised that I could just chuck the lot into the bread machine, and let that wonderful invention do all the kneading work, as long as I used the dough setting. My dough setting does almost nonstop kneading for a good 30 minutes or so, and then goes for a 20 minute rest period, and then finishes off with another 30 minutes of kneading. Pretty cool, I think.

In it all went, flour, water, spices, and salt. On went the machine. I decided to just let it run for the first 30 minute cycle. It was a revelation! Perfectly smooth, round ball, and beautifully soft. It rolled out into a perfectly thin disc in no time flat, and I was slapping them on the cast iron skillet in just a few minutes. And the best part is that everything got perfectly mixed in. The roti taste fantastic.

For the record, there is an excellent puri and roti recipe in the book.

Cookware

Yes, it's true. I fantasise about having top of the line cookware, and using all the fancy tools of the trade. I'd have a giant kitchen, with a six burner range, and perfect, heavy cookware, calibrated to handle the high heat of the burners. I'd have a huge cutting board. So huge that I don't have to stabilise it or steady it with my little rubber mats that I use under my current ones.

And then I stop and think for a moment. It would be swell to have all those things, but they wouldn't be quite the same. I remember the day that I walked up and down Manhattan, on the hunt for cookware that I could easily afford. I found a wok, and a giant stew pot, and another pot or three. They all cost less than $10, and were light enough for me to carry back to work, and then onwards to home.

Home. I didn't think I'd ever call it that, when it's just me and my husband, but there it is.

I remember trawling the shelves of all the stores to find good sturdy knives to cook with. Then, all that time I saved and scrimped to have enough money to buy that giant granite mortar and pestle. Then, I found that really inexpensive cast iron skillet, and fell in love. And THEN there was that one day that I was in a thrift store, and I saw a carbon stainless steel wok, that had never been used, marked at $5. I was silently thrilled as I paid. It even came with a lid!

When I really think about the cookware that I covet, I'd have to say that my mother's beat up old wok calls to my heart much more strongly than the fancy ones that are on the store shelves and cost what I pay in rent every month. I treasure my little cast iron skillet far more than any amount of $300 cast iron enamel cookware from the expensive department stores. My wok, that I seasoned all by myself, with my own two hands, that cooked all those countless meals for the love of my life, and all the friends that have passed through our home and life, is far more precious ot me than that six burner range.

And of course, there's my beautiful mortar and pestle. He's ever faithful, and ready to do any amount of work that I ask him to do. He's a dear friend whom I've grown to care for more than I ever could a fancy marble number displayed at a cookware store.

I guess I don't want more than what I have. I love my cookware, because I worked for it, and in it, and with it. The sweat of my brow paid for it, and that same sweat created lovely dishes for the people that I care about the most.

Furthermore, I know every tiny bit of my cookware. I am quite used to their little bumps and dings and imperfections, and I love them anyway.

It's nice to know that what I have is far more worthwhile than any amount of money (although, if someone is looking to give me money, I wouldn't reject it by any means). I have the love of my friends and family, and that matters to me. So if you see or hear me talking endlessly about fancy tools and the rest, understand that it's exactly that: fancies that I dream of. For me, the reality is far more satisfying.

Strawberry & Spinach Salad

And back with the sweet and salty combos. There's this podcast called Delicious TV: Totally Vegetarian, where the hostess mentioned a Strawberry and Spinach salad.

Season 4

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Sounds pretty good, as long as you add some basil, which I'm all about when it comes to salad.

Yes, I'm back to eating my words when it comes to salty and sweet together. Maybe I'm getting soft in my old age? Either way, I think it's a lot of fun for people who like to explore and adventure with new things. The podcast is pretty cool. It says totally "vegetarian" but all her stuff is very easily veganised, and simple.

I covet her cookware in a small recess of my mind. I'll make a cookware post next, so I can explain myself.

Sweet & Salty

Ordinarily, I hate any combination of sweet and salt. If it's sweet, let it be sweet, but if it's salty, please give me more salt. I found myself eating my words (and a yummy dish, at that) today when I went to work at Sacred Chow. They'd made this cold fruit salad thing with onions and avocado and watermelon and mango and cilantro. And there was a dressing on there which had something sour, and salt and something something. It was quite good.

Lemon. That's what it was. Either way, I'm quite pleased. However, just don't tell anyone else, because I'm supposed to dislike my beautiful salt be adulterated with sweet.

http://glaadblog.org/2009/06/05/update-mcdonalds-is-10th-company-to-pull-kxrq-advertising/

Advertisers are bailing on the two cocksmacks who thought it was hilarious to talk about throwing shoes at little boys who might want to wear dresses or heels.

The best, is going back in the blog and reading the letters from the various advertisers.

It's nice to know that people actually care about others. That was a quote from my friend, who has three little girls. She's teaching her girls the meaning of respect for all people. If only all mothers could be as kind and wonderful. Thanks, my friend.

My senator is a good man. Please support him, and tell him that you appreciate his efforts.

I'm still alive!

I did my podcast episode on peanuts, which I'd been meaning to do for a long time. Finally, it's taken care of, and I've explained things as best as I could in a short time. I had to make it quick, because my battery was dying! What a mess I can be, right?

But! It's there, and I'm back to my food rambly self. Hopefully, people will like the new episode, and will want to listen. I'm still trying to work on saying "um" and "uh" a lot. It must be super annoying for you lot to listen to when I say it. But that's kind of how I talk, y'know? And of course, as anyone who's spoken with me on the phone can tell you, I can talk a /lot/.

I should catch up with my amma, but I don't know that I'll have too terribly much to say, seeing as how things are at a bit of a standstill at work. At least things on the personal front are cool! My friends are coming over on Saturday for an eating/cooking bash, so I'm definitely looking forward to that. I think I have three that are confirmed, so it's certainly exciting.

Then, I have a baby shower for a friend in Jersey later this month. I'm looking forward to seeing that bunch again. They're all sweethearts. It's going to be a pretty cool rest of the month, I think.

Aside from that, not much to report. I've gotta fly!

Really cool story about a couple with a child, who didn't feel right about being a boy. So they said, "Let him be her." Sacred Chow: good luck katie!

I wish all parents were that enlightened.

Court, boo

Had to go to MTA adjudication building to fight a bullshit ticket. Obviously, the matter isn't completed. They have to now send a summons to the cop who wrote the ticket, and send me the court date in the post via certified mail. Then, I have to appear AGAIN at the court house to present the evidence. Then, I have to wait for them to complete their decision. And if it doesn't go my way, I have to file an appeal.

All for a bloody $50 ticket. Sorry. Not going to buckle. I'm fighting this.

Stretching the Fat

Stretching Cream

It may sound like an obvious proposition, but if you're looking to cut back on the amount of fat and calories you stack up when you're using things like coocnut milk and coconut cream in recipes, you'll want to use as little as possible. Furthermore, coconut milk and coconuts aren't exactly cheap. I get my coconut milk from a wonderful Chinese market out in Queens, for about 89¢ per 15 ounce tin. This is drastically less expensive than my grocery store, where it goes for at least $1.25. And that's cheaper still than the grocery stores in Manhattan, where that same amount of coconut milk can easily go for up to $3.

Suffice it to say, these things are best used sparingly. Furthermore, they're best used as a finishing ingredient, rather than an integral ingredient. That way, you get the maximum flavour impact of the freshness of coconut coming through loud and clear. When you cook the coconut for a long time, the freshness starts to dull, and the character of the fat changes. As I've said a few million times by now, it's best to avoid cooking the coconut fat if you're trying to eat it in a healthy way. If you're making a bechamel, the hell with health, and go nuts.

So. What is the easiest method of making the fat stretch?

I find that for the most part, starch does the job really well. This can be either potatoes, flour, cornstarch, or rice, depending on the application. If you're working with a stew or something similar, and it's got lots of hearty vegetables, and you have like a backnote of cream going on, what I find works really well is to mash together the coconut milk and some cooked rice. Mash it well and vigourously, much like you were trying to make very smooth mashed potatoes. Once it's in a nice mashed mass, slowly incorporate the cooking liquid from the stew into the mash, so that the rice and coconut get dispersed in liquid. If you were try to put that ball of mashed rice directly into the pot, you'd end up with some fairly unpleasant blobs of rice floating around. Definitely not good. Once the rice and coconut are sufficiently liquidy, feel free to pour that stuff directly into the soup. Bring everything up to a full rolling boil, then drop to a simmer for about five or ten minutes. It should thicken up quite nicely. Adjust for salt at the end, of course.

If you're looking to do something more like a soup, wherein you have a smooth consistency to maintain, I find that either a roux or a slurry works well, but finely mashed potatoes don't interfere too much. Take vichyssoise for example. It's creamy all by itself, without the addition of any cream. All it is should be potatoes, leeks, a bit of oil, and salt and pepper. Anything else is a bonus. start off with about a pound or so of leeks, sliced as thin as you can get 'em. Sauté them in a bit of peanut or other vegetable oil. When they turn translucent, dump in about two pounds of new potatoes (not the starchy kinds, the waxy work better, in my opinion), peeled and chopped roughly. Stir the potatoes and leeks around in the fat for about five minutes or so, being careful not to brown the potatoes.

Add just enough water to cover the potatoes, and bring everything up to a boil. Drop down the heat to as low as it'll go, and let it gently bubble away for about 15 - 25 minutes, depending on how large you diced your potatoes. Once it's done, grind it down to a puree in a blender (if you want to grind it when it's still hot), or in a food processor (wait for it to cool down a bit, and use a fair bit less liquid to grind it), or a stick blender (if your food processor and/or blender are small, and you want to do it all at once). You won't need anything more, but a few tablespoons of coconut milk will just push it over the edge.

The vichyssoise is just an example of how powerful potatoes can be at thickening stuff. You don't quite have to go to the trouble of combining it with leeks every time (even though it's stunningly delicious). A shortcut is to nuke the potato for about four minutes (for a medium spud) on high power, and then peel it when it comes out of the microwave (be careful, it's hot!), and then mash the potato extremely well. Hell, if you want, pitch it in the blender with some water, crank that baby up, and bust out with improv potato "cream" with which to thicken your soup, stew, or whatever else. Then, at the very end, add just a fraction of coconut milk that you normally would, and watch the whole pot become creamy by association.

By the by, this also works with the ground nuts cream that I have in my book, if you don't have coconut milk.

Late to bed, later to rise

I got to bed FAR too late last night, and of course, ended up sleeping till 11. If I'm to get to work on time, by around 12, I need to get moving from my house around 11:15 or so, so that I have enough time to get to the subway, wait for it to arrive, and then get into work. Sometimes it takes five or ten minutes to come, if it's running late, or if there's some sort of heavy train traffic. Very annoying, indeed.

Any rate, I got out of the door around 11:25 or so, and really hoofed it. I made it to the subway station pretty quickly, but as soon as I got to the platform, and somehow the train arrived immediately! On the train I go. Somehow, I managed to make it to work not only on time, but early! That was so unusual, but quite nice nonetheless. It really gave me a bit of a boost throughout the day. I also managed to finish work on time, and got to the train station. Again with the subway arriving just as I got on the platform!

It's a minor pleasure, but when things just go well, everything seems so much nicer. :)

Dear Senator Serrano:

I was under the impression that this great city celebrates and rejoices in the diversity of its people, but I feel like my diversity isn't being respected. There's been some grumbling and mumbling going down about the Marriage Equality Bill not happening as it should have happened years ago, for all people. Please, if you have any compassion for those of us who have no rights to be given the respect that we deserve, please do your best to ensure that this bill passes. I came here from Florida to escape people who hated me for who I am. Please hear my voice, and know that people like me need those rights, so that we can have the same benefits that our straight married friends have. My partnership of four years is no less valid than anyone else's and I hope that you'll agree too.

I have attached a photograph of me with my beautiful husband, so that you'll see that we too have a face, an a voice, and are real people.

Thank you for your time.

Dino

The senator's email address: serrano@senate.state.ny.us

If you're a registered voter in New York, please, send the good senator a message. :)

Speak Softly, and Carry a Notebook

It happens so often that I wonder if I'm really alone as I think I am on this issue: great idea comes, you get distracted for a fraction of a second, and all of a sudden, the muse has flown off towards new heads. All of a sudden, you're slamming your brian against your skull to try to shake loose whatever that inspiration was from whichever dusty corner it sits in. Nothing.

It happened to me this morning. I had a pretty nifty idea for a blog post, but had to go to the washroom immediately. One flush later, and my idea was swirling along with the amber liquid and the rapidly rushing stream of water down the drain. Poof. Gone. Never to be realised now.

I used to be in the very good habit of carrying a notebook with me wherever I went. Then, when something just had to be said right now, I could reach for it, along with its pen (who sat neatly inside the spiral) and jot down whatever it is I was thinking. I would then get on with my life, and come back to that idea once it's had a chance to stew in my brain's juices, and pick up flavour and texture from the ambient noises that are always going on in there.

It's part of the reason that I digress so many times in conversation and in writing. My brain isn't a linear being; instead, he charges out in all directions, at a nice steady pace, in neat, parallel lines. Think of it like a koosh ball. Then, imagine each thought folding back in on itself, to come back to the middle. And while they do that, they rub up against each other, and create new thoughts, and new ideas, and different places to explore, all within a fraction of a second. It's not as chaotic as it sounds, mind you, but it works for me.

This is why it's so important to have that notebook at reach. If I don't have some place to put those fleeting moments of brilliance (stop rolling your eyes at me like that!), they'll constantly be escaping. And if I'd had the sense to be near my notebooks, as I used to be, you'd be reading an interesting piece, and not the insane ramblings of a crazy person.

Still Cold

I called my mother yesterday. Unfortunately, the conversation was only about an hour and small change, but I did get to have my boss join in on it, which was nice. We all got a chance to chat about work, and dumb people, and all the rest, and it was definitely nice for him to hear a voice that's not mine. I know that I talk a lot, but it's part of my charm. Right? RIGHT?

Fine. Be that way.

My father's book is coming along swimmingly, although I haven't the time to edit it quite yet, because work has been filling my days and the rest with so much to do! It's good in one way, because it means that there is so much to get done, and we're not sitting around and scratching all various and sundry body parts. It's also good because it means that we're forever trying to improve ourselves, and reaching for the highest and best that we can do.
It's not so good, because we're not lounging on a beach somewhere with cocktails.

Storing Grains

My mother had a problem with bugs, which she told me about. All her grain products, and many of her bean products had developed those little needle nosed bugs that some people call weevils, but are really Tribolium confusum, or the so called "confused flour beetle." Yes, it's a species of beetle. They're fascinating little creatures, and have a standard life cycle of egg, larva, pupa, and adult. They can survive on the tiniest amount of grain, and can even survive the freezer.

However, the people who typically give advice on bug management tell you to do horrible things, like put the grain into the freezer for extended time, so that they can be frozen to death. I don't know about you, but I'm not too keen on the cold, and freezing to death doesn't sound like my idea of fun. I think that the best way to avoid eating bugs (although it's funny how squeamish people get about eating bugs, when they have no problem eating other animals, but that's for another day) is to prevent their access to your food supplies in the first place.

This is dead simple to do, as long as you are fastidious about it.

1. If you already have an infestation, don't buy any new grain until all the old grain is completely consumed (by either you or the bugs). I'd suggest just letting the bugs have at, because the eggs are small enough to pass through a sieve, and are too small to be seen easily by the human eye. Better to start fresh, so that you're not taking any chances at all.

2. Clean out any vestiges of grain products left in open surfaces, such as on the counter, in cupboards, pantries, or other storage areas, and any other place you think some grain may have fallen. Thoroughly vacuum your kitchen, to pick up any stray pieces. Go over everything with hot water and bleach. It'll take a while, but it's well worth it if you're looking to start over fresh.

3. When you buy grain, beans, or anything else that these critters like to attack, store them in air-tight containers with as small an opening as possible.

I'll repeat that, in case you missed it: store them in airtight containers with small openings.

What do I mean?

Juice bottles! You know those bottles of cranberry juice or apple juice that you buy from the store? (Or, in some cases, bottles of liquor with a screw on cap.) Those are perfect for keeping out bugs, because you can close them tightly, they don't cost you anything, and they store a LOT of grain.

I can easily fit a 20 lb bag of rice into a couple of one gallon juice jugs. I prefer the clear containers, so that I can see what it is that's inside the container, but you can use any bottle you have.

If you've ever visited my apartment, you'll see bottles of rice, split peas, and other random grains on top of my fridge, bottles of spices in my cupboards, and bottles of other grains in my pantry. The easiest way to get your stuff into those jars is to visit a hardware store, and buy one of those cheap plastic funnels that have a very large opening on the bottom, so that your grain flows through evenly. Once they're in there, it's very easy to dispense.

Those funnels are usually used to get oil into a car, but they work just fine for grain. If you find that the opening that rests in the bottle is too small, grab a serrated knife, and saw off the bottom tip until it's wide enough to admit the grains, but narrow enough to fit the mouth of the bottles. Sand it down a bit with your sharpening steel, some steel wool pads, sandpaper, a nail file, an emery board, or whatever else you have lying around. The point is that you want to avoid the little bits of plastic getting into your food.

If you'd rather not spend the $1 - $3 on the plastic funnel, grab a newspaper, and roll it into a cone with an open end. Secure it with a staple or two, or some tape, and go to town. Or, use one of those party hats, and snip off an end. I used the same party hat for about six months while I was trying to find a better way, and it worked just fine for me.

In fact, I find it awkward to use my grains without pouring them out! The smaller containers are much easier to handle than those messy bags that they come packaged in.

This goes triple for sushi or basmati rice. Both are extremely expensive, and I'd sooner miss out on the attractive packaging that they come in than lose out on the rice itself.

If you have friends that also discard their used juice and water bottles, ask them to save the bottles for you, so that you can reuse them.

WARNING: Ensure that you wash and thoroughly dry the containers before putting any grain into them. Any leftover moisture will encourage the growth of fungus, and will spoil your stuff. Make sure that it's completely dry before using the containers. It's important to was the juice containers, because the leftover sugar will attract ants and other critters. Best to avoid it in the first place!

Why recycle when you can reuse?

Happy Mother's Day to all the lovely moms out there!

I sent my mother a letter this morning, letting her know how amazing she is. If you haven't done so yet, better late than never!

Here's to all the lovely moms out there. You make our lives better in so many ways.

I have no Junk Drawer

I don't have a junk drawer, and I'm quite happy that way. It goes in direct opposition (one of the very few times that I do diverge from her) to my mother's way, which is to have a junk drawer, a junk purse, a junk closet … you get the picture. The point is that people who tend to hold clutter tend to have these parts of their lives that are … junk.

What prompted me to give everything the ol' heave ho was an early morning while I was puttering around in my kitchen, making something for my darling husband. I don't recall which spice it was that I couldn't trace, but it was ever elusive. Fenugreek. That's the one. It's one of my favourite spices to use, both for its savoury aroma, and for its unctuous mouth feel when added to a soup towards the beginning of the cooking process. It was fenugreek.

At that moment, I started rifling through the pantry, the shelf above the stove (which is infrequently, if ever, used), the shelf above the fridge (which is damn near never used), and in all the drawers in the kitchen, starting with my spice drawer, and ending with my junk drawer. It dawned on me that while my computer files are neatly organised by project, and I can generally find things without the search feature, the rest of my life was slowly coming unglued, because of the chaos that I allowed to permeate everything.

Something had to go, and it sure as heck wasn't me.

Out came all the contents of the pantry, the shelves the drawers, everything. I arranged the whole mess atop my counter(s?), the stove, the floor, anywhere I could find another scrap of spare space. Then I attacked all the shelves and drawers with soap and hot water, to clean out the accumulated dust and debris that naturally builds over unkempt storage, like so many petals from the cherry blossoms on the ground during the first blush of Spring.

Then, slowly, methodically, and determinedly, I began to throw away anythingthat seemed remotely useless. The menu from the local eatery? They have a website. Gone. The random receipts from the grocery store? That food is long past eaten, and the paper has gone yellow with age, and become wrinkled. Yes, I got a fantastic deal on those strawberries, but this is surely not the way to enjoy that! As expected, most of the stuff in the junk drawer was exactly that: junk.

Anything else, like tools (hammers, chisels, screwdrivers) went to its own little storage area. No more office supplies in the kitchen. No more random scraps of paper that have no business existing, much less taking up valuable real estate on my tiny space. No more JUNK. All of it is gone now, and my pantry, although not the model of perfection, is organised, and easy to search. The shelves, although not strictly perfect, are still devoid of any random flotsam.

And for the record, there was no more fenugreek. I'd finished the last bit on a soup the week before, and had forgotten to make a trip out to the store to pick up some more. Never again.

And again, with the going back to the freezing.

So here I am, waking up on yet ANOTHER freezing May morning. Dude, what's going on? In Florida, we'd have nice, toasty sunshine by this point. Here, it's still grey and windy and miserable. I don't think I like this plan very much.

In other news, some nice lady from Pom sent me a bunch of the juice. It tastes pretty good, but so far I've only used the first bottle on cocktails. ::cough:: I can pretend it's healthy! I think I'll try and be more creative with the next bottle, and see if I can't come up with something interesting. I'll let you lot know how it comes out.

Emily, Mike, and Steve all helped make lunch on Saturday go really well. It was a whole lot of fun, because we got to sit and chat, and eat. And eat. And eat. We made roasted cabbage, daikon/carrot/ginger/miso that was baked in the oven, roasted swiss chard, and rice. Then, we had little mini pizzas on pita bread after everyone was done. Oh, also green beans, south indian style. There's a recipe in the book, I think.

Now, after that much food and chatting, the conversation always picks up, because everyone is full and happy and the rest, right? FINALLY, after all these years of having said fun conversations, I brought in a microphone so that we could record some of it. And as usual, topics ranged from food, to food politics, to animal rights, to stupid omni questions, to joking and being silly. I did try to get everyone to speak up a bit when they were waning, but it is what it is. I uploaded it as a new podcast episode, so I hope you lot give it a listen.

Aside from that, my mother currently has no phone or internet for a few more days, while the respective companies get off their behinds and set things up. Mind, my sister and brother in law have mobile phones, but those are prepaid. My father has one from his work at the temple, but that's a work phone. Either way, I won't be able to catch up with amma for a while, so I'm just kind of saving up all the experiences in my head.

Boo Cold

What do you think you are doing, New York? It has gotten chilly all of a sudden, and I am decidedly displeased. Please to return to your original weather patterns of warm and breezy and beautiful outside. Thank you.

Amma

I apologise for the long absence. I've been at work, and been working on a major project that's so exciting that it's been taking my considerable mental (and physical) energy, and channelling into making it a success. However, that doesn't mean that I've forgotten my friends on the internet here. I was thinking of my mother (as I often do).

Amma.

It rolls off the tongue. Um-maaaaaah. Tamil speakers the world over instantly recognise it as one of the first words that they learn to say. It means mother. It's also the word we use to describe Gauri, who is the wife of Shiva, and the mother of Ganesha and Murugan. The supreme mother.

Somehow that word in itself just wraps you up in a cushion of comfort and peace.

When I hear someone else calling her or his mother "amma", it immediately comforts me, because it means that all is right with the world. For you to call someone amma shows the utmost of love and respect. It's not a word that's used casually.

It's funny though. Friends of mine who used to play at our house would end up calling my mother Amma too, because that's the only thing they ever heard her being called in the house. And amma she was to all of them. She'd be just as comfortable feeding, comforting, or hugging any one of the parade of children who tromped through our house as she would her own children.

I found out later in life that it's a fairly common occurrence in the homes of other Tamil speakers, whose last names can get rather long (Venkatasubramaniam, anyone?), and the simple expedient of amma would often fill that role quite comfortably. But I'd like to think it's because a Tamil mother is a woman who has the skill to make anyone call her amma.