It's me!
The coming week will mark the birthdays of two of my favourite grandparents, who made a huge impact on my life growing up and still do to this very day. They are no longer alive but I see a little bit of them in everything I do. I remember that joy for life I had and that they nurtured every time we visited them. They let us make-believe till lunch and then make-believe some more till it was time to wash away the dirt. That was true freedom. That’s what I will always carry with me….
I’ve been volunteering making photos for Rain City Rock Camp all week so I have little to say other than my heart is full. I tend to feel things like a blur while I’m at summer camp but once it’s over, I miss all the good feelings. Plus do you know any other camp that has a lunchtime band? We got to listen to Mommy Long Legs, Spinster, Naomi Wachira, Skates! and Charlie and the Rays while eating/grooving. Then there was the showcase on Saturday which will take me a while to recover from. In a good way. Those songs.
Here is a recipe I made on Sunday before camp. I guess it could be classified as a (not) recipe but it’s delicious so WHO CARES. Those are the best kinds. Here is a related recipe from last year, also simple and great for summer lunches….
I came this close to asking you to vote for me in the big blog awards thing that sweeps America this time of the year. This close. I thought about when I was in Goa, on one of my walks. I psyched myself up and said I would do it. I said I would list the things that would make me an ideal candidate for “Best whatever”. Of course, I would not be the best. There is no such thing. But for the sake of getting past these inner demons that tell us we’re inadequate, I’d do it anyway….
I was walking on the pavement in Bombay in 2008 – a remarkable thing when you’re in the city – past some heritage buildings that the British left us as visible reminders of an imperialist past. It had been a while since I was in that area near the VT train station. Though I lived close by, work was in the opposite direction. This is the part of town where I went to college. It was where we restricted most of our hanging out when we were not in the college canteen. It was here in 2006 when we found out about a series of bombs (seven of them) that went off during rush hour on the Western Railway line. My friend who I was with at the time was setting off to go catch his train home when he got the message to stay where he was. Nothing would be moving that night….
I was going to write this whole different story. I was going to say something about how I never order dal in a restaurant in America even though it’s all I always want. I can never get myself to pay the money they ask knowing that this is the food every class of Indian eats but it is a staple for those who can’t afford much more. I was also going to ramble about how annoyed I get when people talk about lentils like it’s a “trend” and I just. can’t. handle. it. when they put coconut milk in dal.
I can’t write about that in the long format because it doesn’t matter. People are going to do what they do to clean out their insides, like they do all over the world….
I owe someone a thank you note.
Last last weekend, I stood on a stage with 3 other women and played bass in my first rock band. It was a culmination of 2 days of meeting total strangers – with little to a lot to no musical experience, and being in a band with them, and thinking that they were the coolest people in the world, and wondering WHAT AM I DOING HERE and a mad karaoke party, and finally, belonging.
If I rewind to what are known as “the formative years”, I’ll tell you I wasn’t really Miss Outgoing. I’d clam up in front of strangers. I remember my mother telling people we were shy. There are photos of us with lowered chins and sneaky upward glances that were probably taken by strangers we were too shy to even look at. Past that phase, the awkwardness manifested into insecurity (typical teenager, right?). I wouldn’t discuss my favourite music with people I thought were too cool for me. I wouldn’t even talk to them.
Last year around this same time, I spoke in front of mostly people I didn’t really know that well except that they were by far some of the coolest women and humans on this planet. It wasn’t so much as I was speaking in front of people but that I was talking directly to women I idolise for being so revolutionary. My body turned very warm, I was shaking, and stuttering but I spoke. I didn’t even need to but when my turn came, I knew I had to get over this pre-anxiety anxiety.
This year, I played bass in an effing band. It’s something I would have never done for myself. I’m still always overthinking everything and feeling like I can never quite live up to the hype that my existence sometimes (rarely) creates. Somehow someone knew and they gave silly me a chance to leave all of that heavy shit aside and be in a band for 3 days. They gave me my favourite vocalist, my favourite drummer and guitarist. They gave me years worth of missed chances at hanging out not just talking *about* the band but actually being *in* it. Then they gave me red lipstick. They gave me Tri Bull.
This all looks very far from a thank you but trust me, gratitude has been pouring out of my skin. I got the rock camp glow. Life has been kind of rollercoaster-y for me these past few years (please take a seat and read this blog. You’ll see). But I’ve always had solid constant sources of power (my family yay!) to bring me right back up from these slumps. In 2012, I added photography and in 2013, it was Rain City Rock Camp for Girls (RCRC). Volunteering for this organisation has been nothing short of feeling like I’m walking around with a bag full of lightning bolts and wisdom to know when I need to use them or pass them around to those who might need them more. If you’re reading this and you know me even from limited interaction, you should know that I am my best self because of these women. I take that out into the world with me as much as I can and I try my best everyday to mould myself exactly on the values this organisation was founded on. It’s inclusive, it strives to be diverse (I love that!) and it gives us the tools to be positive role models to the people in our lives. When you go around trying to be under the radar, it’s like lightning to realise you’ve been noticed. It’s enough for me to volunteer but I know I’ve gotten so much more out of being a camper.
My thank you note is also encouragement for you to get involved as little of as much as you can. Right now, they have a wishlist you can view here and also a Disneyland-esque volunteer opportunities in Seattle and the South Sound the summer, which you can sign up for right here and here. World-famous musicians will play for you at lunch time and also be fellow volunteers WHAT!! This is not an exaggeration.
Thank you to all the donors and people that form the backbone of this organisation. Thank you for asking me to come to Ladies Rock Camp and then giving me a coach I’ve always admired and a band that I really want to go on tour with. Maybe? Yes? You really really really change lives in a way that can be hard to put into words (….she says after writing 1 million paragraphs). You gave this publicly quiet one the space to be heard and this is my shout out to you.
<3
If you’re visiting this space for the first time, hello! I know it’s strange that I write about fish and thank people for changing lives in the same post but it’s impossible for me to separate food from real life stuff. These two things go together and my blog does not ignore that. It would mean the world to me if you share posts if you like them but I’m just as happy with awkward sideways glances, a comment in person or on the post. I accept them all.
Now for the food.
Notes:
The way I’ve made the fish is inspired by how my family in Goa makes it. It’s the most basic marination most people use for seafood in my state. We even leave out the garlic. The only difference here is that I used paprika instead of chilli powder and lemon juice instead of lime. There is still some spice in this dish thanks to the slaw dressing.
Ingredients
For the fennel slaw
Toss the shallot, sugar and salt in a small mason jar and let it sit for 5 minutes. Add the apple cider vinegar, cover the jar and swirl around to mix well. In about 10 minutes, scoop out the shallots with a fork.
Add the fennel, shallots, herbs and raisins to a salad bowl.
Whisk the lemon juice, honey and pepper pepper flakes in a jar. Pour in the olive oil in a thin stream whisking until combined. Add salt and pepper to taste.
Refrigerate all the food until the halibut is cooked.
For the fish
Toss all the ingredients in a bowl and let it sit in the fridge for an hour (minimum).
Place a pan on medium-high heat and coat the bottom with cooking oil. Once the pan is sufficiently hot, add the halibut to it. The fish should sizzle as soon as it touches the surface. Cook on one side for about 4 minutes without disturbing it. Peek to see if it has darker sear marks and then flip over and cook for 2-3 more minutes on the other side.
To assemble:
Plate up some fennel slaw and toss with the dressing. Serve the just-cooked halibut with the cool slaw on flat bread or over brown rice.
I took a bunch – assuming that the collective noun for photographs is “bunch” – of photos for this post and then I spent another pot (I am winning at this grammar, right?) of time trying to make what I felt were the most *perfect* beetroot chips. Are they? Listen to this:
Not even close. So you know, I think it’s okay if the photos are true to the true nature of oven-almost-burnt-but-not-quite beet chips.
The last time or the time before I was here typing words into a blog post, I wrote about light. It’s this thing that takes up a lot of space on my phone’s memory. Every morning, I’ll try to walk through the house and open up all the blinds. Observing how the day looks out the window when I wake up is a ritual for me that has somehow become a comforting part of my morning. It’s just light but it’s moving and I can’t for the life of me seem to figure out why.
I’m going to say the word “spring” now and tell you that I’ve never enjoyed this season more now that I know I can grow things and not kill them. It’s true. It also happens to be the time when the light is at its most life-affirming (“I exist for a reason” “We are all stardust”….really). Most of my Instagram is just photos of be being SO EXCITED about all these light hours and especially so when it’s mellow and turns all the details on food into what can only be described as food seduction. Or leaf seduction…moss seduction? All of it.
I’m not sure who we have to thank for all this (wait for it) spring beauty. It’s there. I notice it and I just can’t help but feel giddy when it rains. None of what I do here is perfect. The real beauty is outside. It’s the only reason I can think of for spending the least possible amount of time EDITING PHOTOS (gahd) and eating more chips while looking outside at some silly dogs who find the best shady spots to watch the backyard and Matt’s lawn obsession come to life.
Beet chip toasts
Notes: When I make recipes like this, the goal is to be as easy on myself as possible by using what I have on hand. Actually, that’s how I always cook. Your biggest task in this recipe is roasting the beets to a crisp. So take your time doing it. Everything else can be prepped in advance. If you want to be an even smarter woman (or guy, hi!), buy some packaged vegetable chips and put everything else together in a snap. Another thing you could substitute: The bread for crackers.
For the balsamic reduction in this recipe, I simmered down 6 tbsp balsamic vinegar and 3 tbsp honey till it reduced by half. I have linked the recipe in the ingredients list. Make more if you’d like because it won’t go to waste. Think roasted strawberries over vanilla ice-cream and the honey balsamic on top.
Ingredients
Place two racks in the oven: One in the middle and one at the bottom. Heat the oven to a temperature of 375 degrees F and line a baking sheet with foil.
Slice the beets to a thickness of 1/8 inches on a mandoline slicer and toss with the salt. Let them sit for 10 minutes and then drain them in a colander. Dab lightly with a paper towel and toss them to coat with olive oil.
Line the beet slices on the baking sheet (some overlap is okay) and place them in the middle rack of the oven. Cook for 10 minutes. Pull out the baking sheet and quickly flip the beet slices over. I recommend using tongs, or two forks. I just use my clean fingers because I live on the edge. Place the baking sheet back on the lower rack in the oven and cook for 7-10 minutes more. Keep and eye on the beets because they go from crisp to burnt very quickly. They are ready when they change colour from their usual deep purple to an almost pinkish-orangeish colour (see photos). Let them cool for them to crisp up. Store in an air-tight container if not using immediately. You may have to do this in batches depending on how big your baking sheet is.
Mix the goat cheese, lemon zest and salt in a small bowl and set aside. If making a day ahead, let it soften at room temperature before using.
Make the balsamic reduction according to the recipe instructions in the ingredients list.
To assemble
Spread the goat cheese on the toasted bread and cover with beet chips. Drizzle with the balsamic reduction and top with fresh thyme and pepper.
I remember chancing upon Lindsey’s blog very clearly. It was wayyyyyy back when I had first started blogging about food (before that it was so much silly; please go look) and sometime prior to that, she was gifted her new blog on WordPress by her them fiance and now husband. I kept going back to her “about” page each time I wanted to comment on her posts (or reply to ones on mine), to double check if she was Lindsey with an “a” or an “e”. I remember a post about basil oil and almond flour (right?) Irish soda bread and generally being so charmed by her style even though it was visually different from the Dolly and Oatmeal you see today. I commented on her work and she wrote back. She had the exact same voice then and it’s one that has only gotten clearer with time. Those early days – what seems like not very long ago – laid the foundation for this work of artistic and technical beauty that lies in the pages of her new and first book “Chickpea Flour Does it All”.
I’ve always wanted to write a book. One of my cousins always says “You want to write a book? You should write a book.” It sounds so simple but it takes that kind of work you know will make you want to do a million other things except WRITE THAT BOOK. In the same vein, I know it’s something that’s worth putting everything aside to work towards and I’m so proud that she has come this far and was able to make all the sacrifices that have led to her making something that’s going to be treasured for years to come.
It’s amazing. I’m not just saying this because she sent me a copy. PS: First cookbook I’ve EVER received from the author with a note inside. I’m saying it because I know she has always and will always truly take the time to craft recipes you will enjoy making on the daily at home. This one is all about chickpea flour/what us Indians called besan or gram flour. A pantry staple in India, this flour is used in all my favourite savoury and sweet dishes. However, I’ve never ever seen it used in American/inspired food which is where this book makes a grand entrance. Divided into the four seasons, Lindsey has taken chickpea flour and used it in recipes she has grown up with or cooked in her own kitchen to cater to her current dietary needs. So there are waffles, LAYER CAKES, pizza, salads, bowls of hearty deliciousness, vegetarian sandwiches, pasta – all using the versatile and bomb.com – chickpea flour. All the recipes are gluten-free and vegetarian or vegan and from the ones I’ve made already, I guarantee they are 100% delicious. I can’t wait for more MORE summer days so I can eat that cherry Dutch baby outside. If you have the book already, make this a priority come cherry season (SO SOON). If you don’t, this is your cue to go treat yo’self. It’s the day after hump day. It will get you through the week.
Congratulations, Lindsey. This is SO COOL.
I chose this recipe because in the early Dolly and Oatmeal days, I wrote in the comment section of her WordPress blog that I would make her then Irish soda bread. I never did.
Until now 🙂
I enjoy playing with colours a lot and I don’t stop even when I’m in the kitchen. I used pink peppercorns and Himalayan pink salt in this recipe because I love how they look (SOO MUCH). If you don’t have access to these ingredients, just use any flaky salt and crushed black pepper. It will taste just as good, I promise.
Ingredients
For the strawberry-basil butter
Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Toss the strawberries with sugar and place them in a baking dish. Roast for 20-25 minutes. Remove the baking dish from the oven and let the strawberries cool completely.
Put the cooled strawberries, butter, milk, basil and pepper in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse until the ingredients are combined and have a creamy consistency.
Using a rubber spatula, scoop out the butter and pat it down length-wise on a sheet of parchment paper. Roll the sheet of parchment paper so that the butter resembles a tube and place the roll into the fridge to set. Bring to room temperature before serving.
This can be made a day or two ahead. Keep refrigerated and use it within 2 weeks. (This butter has been in my fridge for 2 weeks now and still tastes like it did when I made it.)
For the Irish soda bread
Recipe from Chickpea Flour Does it All by Lindsey Love
Heat the oven to 375 degrees F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
In a small bowl, combine the coconut milk and vinegar. Let the mixture sit for 10 minutes until the top is bubbly.
While the mixture is sitting, whisk together the flours, sugar, psyllium husk powder, baking soda, baking powder, salt and caraway seeds. When the milk and vinegar mixture is ready, add the egg, whisking until combines. Using a rubber spatula, add the wet ingredients to the dry and fold the ingredients together. Then fold in the currants. Lightly oil your hands and gather the dough into a ball. Place on the prepared baking sheet and flatten into a disk, about 1 inch thick.
Bake the bread for 40 to 45 minutes, rotating halfway through for even baking. Bake until golden.
Let the bread cool completely before slicing. Bread can be stored at room temperature, covered with parchment paper. It will continue to dry out each day it’s left out and should last about 3 days.
Spread the strawberry butter on top of the bread and top with pink pepper and pink salt. OMG. WHO AM I?!
I remember exactly how the light fell into the house through the front door when the clock was somewhere around 4.30pm. At 8.30am, that same beginning-of-day light came through Jane’s room window – where I slept during my 3 months home. It made dancing leaf shadows on the deep green wall inside. One morning, I grabbed my phone (rituals!) and made a small video. There was a light breeze, the curtains moved and sunlight filtered in as my swollen sleepy eyes blinked wider to watch this bit of theatre.
I don’t think I’d ever seen – really seen – my home aka piece of my heart so alive before. I can close my eyes right now and feel the warm yet soothing breeze coming in through the kitchen window. When I stood over the stove frying fish in the afternoon, I told myself I would remember exactly how it feels to be on this fringe of humidity hell while welcoming that subtle respite. That breeze. It’s the work nature brought right to me as a reminder of how far I’ve come and how lucky I was to just be standing there at that moment in time. And for a few seconds while everything moved around me, I stood very still.
To call this life an out-of-body experience would be no exaggeration. I spent all my time yearning for it and trying to adjust and accommodate others feelings of how I should be feeling when I’m away from it. Self-imposed or not, I can’t say but like the guy in that book-turned-movie Brooklyn* says, “Home is home.” When you dream of a place all the while when you’re gone it feels like you never really left. Yet, the first day back I was stunned while simultaneously comforted at the sight of my parents. The disbelief that I hadn’t been living here for 21 months crept up on me. Once that passed I remembered who I always was. That stupid homesickness lifted and I instantly belonged again.
Still, parts of me have changed making each visit home something new. This time I had a strong feeling of what I should be working towards. It’s always been just a thought but with each day it seems to get more clearer. Those slivers of light have to mean something. Seeking to remember them keeps them with me at all times. I am back in Washington now and it feel comforting to have all these things to locked in my mind. All I have to do is close my eyes.
*I did not like the movie very much. I have to read the book to make peace with the ending.
Notes and ideas:
Here are the ideas:
Ingredients
For the cilantro creme fraiche
Mix the ingredients together in a bowl and set in a fridge when ready to use. Keeps for a week.
For the dough
Mix the flours with salt. Add the vegetable oil and press it into the flour. Add the water a little at a time until a firm dough forms. Knead for a minute. Roll it into a ball and leave it in the bowl to rest on the kitchen counter for 15-30 minutes.
For the filling
*I add a little bit of salt while the peas are cooking in the water and added a little bit more at the end to taste.
Heat the vegetable oil on medium heat in a skillet. Once the oil is sufficiently hot, add the cumin and mustard seeds and stir them for 30 seconds or until they turn fragrant. They go from fragrant to burnt fast so keep a close eye (and nose) on them.
Add the onion, ginger, garlic, chilli and turmeric and stir for a minute until the onions soften a bit. Mix in the peas and add the water. Cook the peas until most of the water has evaporated (about 5 minutes). Take the skillet of the heat.
Add the cooked and cooled pea mixture to a food processor and add in the cilantro and mint leaves. Pulse until the peas have almost broken down but not completely. You want it to have some bite – not a paste. Spoon the mixture into a bowl.
To assemble
Heat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Make a paste of the flour and water in a small bowl.
Flour a working surface. Form the dough into balls and roll them out into one at a time until they are very thin and long. Keep dusting lightly with flour to avoid sticking. Cut the dough into sheets measuring about 7.5 in (L) X 2.5 in (W).
Grab one corner of the sheet and fold it into a triangle/ cone shape. Add the filling into the cone until it’s almost full to the top. Using the flour paste to seal the open end of the dough sheet. Flatten it a bit in the middle. Don’t be too worried if it doesn’t form into a perfect triangle. If you’ve filled the dough sufficiently, it will fold into a more samosa-looking shape very easily. It took me a few tries to get there. Also, I have pictures!
Place the samosas on the lined baking sheet and brush them liberally with the melted ghee. Put the baking sheet into the oven and bake for 15 minutes on one side. Pull the baking sheet out of the oven and flip the samosas, cooking them on the other side for 10 minutes. The samosas should be a deeper, toastier brown and crunchy.
Serve hot with this chutney or cilantro creme fraiche, for a grown up dahi samosa. I’m so strange.
I remember when Romaldin, her husband John and their son (our enemy) Ignatius moved into their sweet house. The first thing that struck me about the place was that there were no doors. You would walk right in to the seating/extra people sleeping area. If you turned right, you’d be in the kitchen. If you went left, there was a bedroom in which the bed took up most of the space. The bathroom was almost one of those bathe-under-the-stars kind and as kids we were mortified that someone would look over the wall while we were inside. We rushed our baths and went back out to sit and find some game to play. Even if I strain my brain to think, I can’t remember what we did. We were too young for cellphones, and the TV hardly worked. We waited to eat, played dress up or had Ignatius entertain us. We chased each other around in the dark and swatted many mosquitoes. It was like camping, even though I’ve never been camping so I’m not sure if it really was like that at all.
On one of those early days when we had gone to stay over, I was in their newly painted kitchen. John had just applied a simple coat of whitewash for the very first time. It was a quick job but it lit up that small space and made it a little more special. Even today, that kitchen fits only 2 adults comfortably at a time. I remember Romaldin pulled out the masala grinder and was making recheado. The mixer did not have a lid and I was supposed to be holding on to the top with a makeshift cover before turning it on. And so, I did exactly the opposite. I turned the knob to “high” and forgot to put my hand on the lid. It all happened in slow motion. Those newly painted walls were dressed in bright red masala. So were my clothes and everything else in that room. I was mortified and embarrassed and very confused. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!!!
I went and told her what happened or maybe she walked in and saw it for herself. I didn’t get scolded. Romaldin may have laughed and proceeded to clean up my mess. She wiped down the walls, the counters (everything basically) and told John he would have to paint over the red-stained walls. I reminded her of this story when she was making this recipe for me a few weeks ago. She didn’t remember it all exactly as it happened but she made the same face she made all those years ago and I knew we had come full circle. I knew it was recheado masala because I can’t ever forget that colour.
Before we decided she would teach me how to make this recipe, I asked her what she thought she cooked the best. Of all the foods she could have said, this was it. Her family agrees. Sometimes when we go over to see her, she sends us back with a bottle of it.
Her home still has no doors (just a gate) and she magically whips up meals for people with no notice. I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve called her while we’re driving to her house saying, “We’re coming over!” She always says “come”! Now she has the most magical unicorn seven-year-old daughter too and we do all of the same things like before. There’s always food to be had and stories to hear. Like that one time I took my hand off the mixer lid and….you know.
Recheado bhendi (okra)
Notes:
Ingredients
Place the chillies in a bowl with some depth and add the vinegar to it. Put another bowl on top of the chillies and add some weight on top of it, like a full bottle of water. The weight should press down on the chillies. Let this sit for 3-4 hours.
After the chillies have been soaked, add all the other ingredients to a high-speed blender with half of the vinegar and blend until it forms a thick and smooth paste. If the paste is still chunky, add more vinegar.
Make sure the paste doesn’t get too thin or you won’t be able to use it to stuff the okra. Taste for salt and add more if required. The recheado should be tangy, spicy, sweet – all in one!
For the recheado bhendi (okra)
Slit the okra down the middle making sure not to cut it right through. Add the recheado masala into the okra using your fingers.
Sprinkle some rock salt over the okra and toss lightly to coat.
Heat oil in a frying pan and add the okra to it. Cook for about 7-10 minutes until the okra turns darker in colour and the skin is lightly blistered on all sides.
Serve topped with onions, cilantro and squeezes of lime.
