It's me!
Last week I overheard my sister being lectured on how she was “too young” and hence didn’t understand how her job worked. My sister is 30. Not 27. Not 28. Thirty. She’s done her job enough times to make a life of it for now yet the person signing the cheque resorted to condescension. Was she supposed to act 40? I don’t understand. I’ll spare all the reasons why my sister was talked to in that manner because I don’t want her to lose her livelihood.
…
Hi.
I’m in Goa. The evening breeze is heavy and warm, begging for a cup of tea (always). My hair is frizz (see new Insta profile pic please) unleashed and for the first time in my entire life, I love it. This is where I come from. Every single thing in this world is the reason I’ve become this shy, easily annoyed, colour-crazy, brown as the red dirt human. Truth: I’m the MOST excited person to have stepped through the timespace portal that is air travel. Especially since I have a love hate relationship with planes….
The sound of a dark black grinding stone pounding spices into a paste still plays in my head just as I heard it many years ago. I’m not sure what they were putting in it to turn it that bright orange but it was hypnotic for us children, who were otherwise more interested in digging up earthworms and feeling brave. That smell – pungent and earthy. That sound. If you know, can you hear it?…
Thanksgiving and I do not have the best record. I’m sure I’ve spoken about my first time tackling the massive amounts of food on my own. The second time was more manageable because I started 3 days prior. The third time, well, my husband got gout and nothing I planned to cook would even be worth the pain it would cause him. Gout is stupid but so is not eating the tenderloin I wrapped delicious things with….
When I started working at my first job my day off fell on a Tuesday. We had just one day off and unless you were the boss, it was always on a weekday. I became accustomed to spending my time with nobody else and no agenda except to walk down the stairs, go to the naka (lane) and find breakfast. Wrapped in old Gujarati newsprint, I would bring home my food and proceed to eat it in silence while reading the day’s English newspaper. There were no smart phones to distract me. I don’t think we had an internet connection at home either. My sister got one later but we did well for most of the 3 years in that place. I’d look through the HT Cafe, read some of the stupid interviews (the old school version of scrolling through facebook) and then went straight to the movie listings. I made mental notes of what was showing where and made sure I had enough time to get from Churchgate (Eros) to Regal (I’m writing in taxi instructions) or Sterling to Regal or Roxy to Sterling – all the theatres around me. Sometimes I would watch three movies and go for four depending on how okay my friends were with meeting at Lower Parel, the former textile mill hub turned white-collar paradise. If a movie plan ended at Regal in Colaba it would be the best day ever because I would cross the road and have a tall chikoo milkshake and walk by that man who feeds all the cats. I would people watch and sometimes I would buy a t-shirt depending on my bargaining mood. It was a win-win-win.
Doing things alone is something I’m comfortable with. Some consider it social suicide to be by yourself in situations where there are supposed to be more than one humans. I don’t care. Being alone revs up my brain. I decide things faster and make no consultations with the group (because there is none). I celebrated my birthday alone in Portland, walking around and eating my way through the places you don’t see on guides. One was a shoebox bakery that was a dollhouse fantasy. All those young years I spent wishing for the best Barbies and here I was, 28 years old, walking into a fantasy. It was a dream! Next week I’ll be going to this Fall Gala alone. I am thrilled. I’m going as my best self – solo.
My days off in present day are still centred around breakfast. I miss the idli-vada but I made do with eggs and toast. I call my mother and then I settle in to write. Like I’m doing right now! These little rituals become sacred. They happened at a time when I was just starting to figure out what life would be like without the safety net of college. I had to go out to work and find some meaning to life as a woman in the city. It was loud and unforgiving but I found my silence through the little things and I gave them meaning. Nobody else can teach you these things but yourself. Embrace it. Even if it feels bleak right now, there is definitely a lot to learn from being alone.
For me, independence is my #1 takeaway. From that my confidence has grown too and as a result I feel invincible. The people that stand to gain the most from all of this is your community and your close relationships. Self-love is empowering. The energy it creates makes a world of difference. I craved my Tuesdays. I awaited the solitude (in Bombay! It does exists!). I needed it. Now I know why.
I’ve been making pizza dough almost every Thursday since summer began. I took a very chapati with yeast approach to the dough at first. It worked and more importantly – I could get pizza on the same day if I wanted. However, it was always a battle fighting with the dough to get it to stretch wide enough to fit the pan. Then there were those air bubbles, probably a sign I didn’t let it proof long enough (so many air bubbles!!).
This dough recipe is from an awkward America’s Test Kitchen episode I saw on TV one night when I ran out of things to watch. I thought I’d try it out because I’m new to following recipes for flattened bread with toppings. It turned out SO well I never want to experiment again. It was chewy and crispy, proofed just right and done in a matter of minutes in a food processor. The dough follows the cold fermentation process so if you’re doing nothing right now, you can make bread and have pizza tomorrow! Make sure your yeast is fresh. All your future pizzas will thank you.
The toppings for this pizza can be made a day or two ahead and stored in the fridge until pizza Friday!
Ingredients
For the pizza dough
Recipe from America’s Test Kitchen. Makes two 8″ personal pizzas
Add the flour, sugar and yeast to the bowl of a food processor fitted with an “S” blade. Pulse it 4 or 5 times to combine the ingredients. Once the flour mixture is well-mixed, start up the food processor and slowly pour in the ice water until the flour forms into a ball of dough with no dry flour spots remaining. This should take 30 to 35 seconds. Let the dough rest in the food processor for 10 minutes (play with your dogs in that time). Add the vegetable oil and salt to the rested dough and mix again for up to a minute until the dough clears off the sides of the processor.
Plop the dough onto a lightly oiled counter top and knead it for about a minute. Shape it into a smooth, round ball and place it into a oiled glass bowl. Cover the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and place it in the fridge for a minimum of 24 hours and up to 3 days.
An hour before you’re ready to bake your pizza, place a rack 4 to 5 inches below the broiler/the second highest position in the oven. Place an 8″ cast iron skillet on the rack and heat the oven to 500 degrees F.
Remove the pizza dough from the fridge and divide it into half. Form the dough into two smooth balls. Grease a baking sheet and place the dough on it. Cover it loosely with lightly greased plastic wrap and let it sit on the counter for an hour. The greased plastic wrap helps prevent it from sticking.
Dust your hands and the dough with a generous sprinkling of bread flour and using your finger tips shape it into a flat 8″-ish circle to fit the skillet. Let the edges of the dough be thicker that the middle.
For the toppings
Heat the oven to 375 degrees F and line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Toss the eggplant with olive oil, salt and pepper. Place the baking sheet in the oven for 40 minutes until the eggplant is soft in the middle and crisp along the edges. Let it cool and set aside in a small bowl.
Take the minced garlic and anchovies and smash them lightly with the back of a knife. Run the knife through the mix one or twice and then add the two ingredients into a jar. Add the red pepper flakes and fresh thyme to the jar and mix well. Lastly, add 3 tbsp of olive oil and give it a final stir to let the flavours meld.
To assemble
Have all your toppings for the pizza ready to be spread on to the bread. Carefully pull out the hot cast iron skillet from the oven. Gently place the dough onto the surface of the skillet. Spread half of the thyme-garlic-anchovy oil onto the dough, like you would pizza sauce. Top with roasted eggplant, Parmesan and mozzarella. Place the skillet into the oven for 8-10 minutes until the edges of the bread have browned in parts and the bottom of the pizza is darker brown (and crispy)!
Let the pizza rest for 5 minutes before slicing it. Serve with lemon zest and a few squeezes of lemon juice. Add more fresh thyme and enjoy warm! Repeat the process with the other ball of dough.
Happy Friday!
There is a space in the sky that sits in that cozy spot right before the sun dips and disappears into a different world. We call it dusk but it’s a small word for how the world catches fire for a split second before it gets dark and we all settle in for the short period of rest. It’s the tiny area right above the horizon. The distance can be not-so-accurately described as “the space between your thumb and index finger when you’re trying to show someone how big 2 inches is”. Is this making sense? I’m trying.
When it’s clear enough up there, you can’t see any stark differences in colour on the world’s roof. It’s mostly all light, with a smattering of clouds that float on by changing shapes and just doing their cloud things like going to cloud work or cloud football games. This is summer light in the Pacific Northwest. When the world starts to spin differently come September, the sky gets heavy. The clouds are endless. Everything is grey. I’ve heard this term “marine layer” but as I write this, I’m not sure if it’s the same. Our clouds promise rain. Sometimes it’s a light mist and other times it’s endless, small drops that get bigger and then small again. The ground stays damp. It’s cold and it’s not a season for everyone.
But sometime the sun come out for a brief peek, just to see how things are going. Then it goes again. That space above the horizon remains waiting for its moment. Then at almost dusk it happens. It lights up like fire while the rest of the sky stays grey. It’s just a sliver but I’ve seen it with crazy eyes and much joy. It turns blue and pink and red all at once. It’s almost a promise that the cold will end and very soon, it will all be light again. It’s taken time but I’ve finally grown to appreciate this magic and poetry from that little space in the sky.
Apple and caramelised onion grilled cheese sandwich
This is one way I saw fit to use up some of the apples that grew on our tree. Last year, all we did was felt helpless and overwhelmed with all the fruit that was coming out of one tiny tree. It was my first experience with an apple tree so forgive me for my waste. I ate a lot of them after leisurely walks/runs/sitting down sessions. I recommended using brie because it’s the perfect cheese for these ingredients but it’s not as easily available all over the world (including India) so my next choice is cheddar. Or you know Amul cheese. It doesn’t really matter as long as you’re happy.
Ingredients
Place a heavy-bottomed skillet on medium heat and add the butter to it. Once the butter melts, add the onion slices and stir them until they’re coated. Cook the onions in the butter, stirring occasionally so that the onions brown evenly. This whole process should take 30 minutes (sometimes more. Trust yourself). The onions are ready when they turn a deep brownish-purple and have some crisp edges. Sprinkle the chilli powder and pour in the apple cider vinegar at the end. Mix well until the vinegar evaporates/coats the onions. Transfer the onions to a small bowl. Scrape whatever bits of onion remain on the skillet and leave the skillet unwashed for grilling the sandwiches.
Brush the outside of the bread with butter or olive oil. Lay them buttered side down on a plate or cutting board. Layer one slice of bread with brie to cover the entire face of the sandwich. Top the brie with some of the burnt onion and spread it evenly. Next add a single layer of apple rounds and top the apple with more brie, if you prefer. Place the other slice of bread over its loaded new partner.
Put the skillet back on the stove on medium-high heat and cook the sandwich once on both sides, pressing down with the back of a flat spatula. Let the outside of the bread turn a deep brown colour and crisp up. It’s also important that the cheese melts. This process may take less time once the pan gets hotter with each sandwich you make.
Serve warm with hot soup or on its own.
I finished reading Americanah, a book written by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, while commuting to and from work each morning and evening. It has probably taken me a month. I like to savour books, not speed read them. I know I’m not the only one who feels like a different person, like I’ve lost a friend, after I turn the last page on a story written for me (I think?). I definitely savored this one. I left the last chapter unread for 2 days because I knew that once I read it, I couldn’t change the ending. I was scared it wouldn’t end the way I wanted. It would end the way she wrote it, the way she wanted the story to be.
It was perfect. As an immigrant, I had certain luxuries when I moved here. I knew I would have a place to stay and didn’t need to rush to find a job. It makes me think deeply about those who don’t have the same circumstances. They are either running away from a hard life or they want to do better for themselves. Like me, they could be neither. I don’t think people really understand what it is to be an immigrant until they actually have to be one – illegal or otherwise. It’s hard. You leave everything (should be all-caps but I’m restraining myself) and you are forced to understand what a new society thinks of you. Your colour becomes the way you’re identified and people are shocked when you speak “good English”. I remember when I was 6, I could spell “environment”. I remember because my dad was proud/surprised and I was still in Std I. I was proud too because I loved to read. It’s so silly – as if my English makes me superior. Then you’re asked about spicy food and I can’t do all of this in just 2 minutes. I need more time so I’m not reduced to a stereotype.
I’m one of the privileged. I have the education, means and ability to work my way through this new system. Not everyone does. I didn’t come here to hit the jackpot. I came here to live with my husband. There is no sob story except when I think about my family. My story is unique as is every immigrants’* all over the world so we deserve not to be clumped together. I posted this video by Adichie on my facebook page recently and I come back to it a lot. I am guilty of some of the things she speaks about but I’m a lot better at catching myself. Notice the power structures and seek voices you wouldn’t have ordinarily sought. We are all trying to get by.
*I make zero distinction between legal and illegal. Nobody was here** first. Don’t be an asshole.
** Anywhere.
I was thinking of baingan bharta while I made this, but it’s different because there’s not much of that smokey flavour you get from charring the eggplant directly over a fire. Also, I didn’t use too much spice. I felt strange calling this anything but bharta, so here’s a stew.
If you have trouble finding whole canned tomatoes, you can use about 8 whole tomatoes, dice them and then use the back of the knife to lightly mash them. Use them the same way but cook them a bit more than you would with canned tomatoes. Try cooking it for 20 minutes instead of 10 after adding the eggplant and spices.
Ingredients
Set the oven to broil (500 degrees F) and line a baking sheet with aluminium foil. Make sure the foil is long enough to wrap up the eggplant into a tight bundle with no room for steam to escape. Place the eggplant on the baking sheet and into the oven for 10-13 minutes, until the skin is blackened and the eggplant inside is very soft. Take the baking sheet out of the oven and bundle up the eggplant with the same foil. Let it sit tightly wrapped for 10 minutes. Open up the foil and carefully peel off and discard the eggplant skin. Coarsley chop or mash the peeled eggplant and place in a bowl.
While the eggplant is steaming on the kitchen counter, place a large saucepan with a tight-fitting lid or a dutch oven on medium heat. Pour in the olive oil and let it heat for about a minute or 2. Add the onions and garlic to the saucepan and cook until the onion turn soft and lightly brown along the edges. Stir once or twice while they cook. This should take about 10 minutes. Once the onions are cooked, add the chopped canned tomatoes to the pot and stir them together until well combined. Let the tomato juices come to a slow simmer. You will also notice some of the juices separating and bubbling to the top. This is when you add the chopped eggplant. Mix it in well after adding the paprika and cumin. Bring it back to a simmer and cover the saucepan. Turn down the heat to medium-low (Between #3 and #4 on the electric stove) and let it stew for 10-15 minutes. Add the chickpeas in at the end and give it a big stir to combine. Sprinkle in a big pinch (I measure by using whatever fits between my thumb, index and middle fingers + a little more) of garam masala and salt. Cook for a minute more before taking it off the heat.
Throw in some fresh, chopped cilantro before serving. It also goes well with plain yogurt stirred in. Serve hot over pasta, rice or with bread. It tastes best the next and the next day.
I get a distinct yearning for home every once in a while. Like the past death of a loved one, I fill up with guilt at being unable to do better or be happy with what was around me. I remember the wings I grew at an age much younger than I would have preferred. I could never sit still and I knew I wanted more – to see more, to be more. It’s funny to know and realise that that feeling never goes away. Home is always the sweet, warm sun spot I can focus my mind on when things seem hard….
I have always had trouble with sitting still. To me, stillness is akin to idleness. My inability to stay in one place when I know the world is going on around me is a source of a lot of my best and worst habits. For example: I pull out my hair. Literally. Doing it right now even. For example #2: I dabble in many creative hobbies, have many creative ideas and then have a hard time seeing them all through.
I’d like to blame most of this on summer but really, this is how I’ve always been. I’ve always looked forward to my next challenge and while in the past, they seem to have come to me organically, this time it feels different. This is the big one. I have to make this challenge show up. The smart thing to do is to prepare for when it’s time. This means I have to be content with the lull. It means I have to keep this brain thinking while I say “Okay, I’m just going to wait right here for a second.” I’m going to read many books while I wait. Maybe I’ll write one. Maybe. Today I finished an illustration (on paper) that I’ve been meaning to make for the longest time. I’ll show it to you if you really, really want to see it and especially if you’re from Goa.
There are dreams bursting inside of me. Maybe staying still isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing.
Chanterelle and sweet corn hand pies
Last year I told you I had a favourite pie crust. I wasn’t lying but things have changed a little around here. My technique for one, has changed for the better. I am a believer in flaky pie crust that crumbles and melts and flakes and does all those incredible pie hug-like things. In my earlier experiments with pie crust, I was cutting the butter into cubes that were too small. After that I would break the butter into even smaller bits once it hit the flour. While I like this technique, I wanted to try something new. I’ve tried the vodka trick, the half-shortening, half-butter trick, I’ve done a mix of whole wheat and all-purpose flour and I still wasn’t too happy.
Enter “The Mind of a Chef”. Season 2 had a segment in which I got to see how perfect pie crust could be if I just did one small thing differently. That thing was the act of “pressing” the butter into the flour. It was almost puff-pastry like. Instead of cutting the butter into smaller cubes into the flour, the chef suggested using your fingertips to press the butter into the bowl of flour. That gave the pie crust a whole new, flaky texture I’ve only dreamt about. I also put the butter back into the fridge before adding it to the flour. Cold is everything with pie dough. I’m not one of those people that are intimidated by pie crust but it did help to see someone make the dough rather than just read about it. I’m on team butter and I’m a believer…until next year when I find out something new. You can be sure that I will come tell you about it.
You will need a weighing scale for this recipe.
Ingredients
For the pie crust
Mix the flour and salt in a large bowl. Cut your butter into 1 inch cubes and then put it back into the fridge to chill for about 15-30 minutes to firm up. Add the butter cubes to the flour by pressing them in so that they form flat-ish flakes in the flour. Once you’ve broken down all the big chunks of butter, add the cold water a tbsp at a time until the dough comes together into one firm ball. Be careful not to over-mix the dough. Flatten the dough into a disc and wrap it tight in plastic wrap. refrigerate it for an hour before rolling it out.
For the filling
Cook up the bacon on medium-low heat in a large skillet until it crisps up and all the fat has rendered. Take the bacon off the stove and place it on a cutting board. Scoop out 2 tbsp of the bacon fat and pour it down the sink (you won’t need that much). Turn up the heat to medium and add the onion and garlic to the bacon fat. Saute them until the onions soften, for about 6-8 minutes. Add the corn to the mixture next and saute it for 2 more minutes. Finally, add the chanterelles and cook them for another 2-3 minutes until they soften. Add the wine vinegar, thyme, salt and pepper and toss well to coat. Leave the skillet on the stove. Finally, scoop the pie filling into a bowl. Chop up the bacon into small bits and mix it in with the rest of the filling.
With the skillet still on the stove, pour in the chicken stock or wine. Scrape the bottom of the skillet and let the liquid reduce to half. Pour all of these juices over the rest of the filling in the bowl and mix well.
To assemble and bake
Heat the oven to 400 degrees F. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.
Lightly flour a working surface and roll out the pie dough. Flattening the dough might not look like a possible feat, but keep turning it around, rolling it as you go. The flour at the bottom will prevent the dough from sticking. A bench scraper – if you have one – also helps a lot with getting the dough unstuck. You can also flour the rolling pin to aid the process. Once the dough has been rolled out flat into a 1/4 inch thick circle (it might not be a circle at all but don’t worry about it).
Cut out 6-8 inch circles into the dough. Brush the edges (I know circles don’t have edges but you get my point, right?) with water. Place about a tablespoon and a half of filling in the centre of the dough. Fold one side over to the other and press the two parts together to seal. Use the back of a fork to press the edges shut and seal the hand pie, for real. It also make a great design. Cut 3 small slits on one side of the pie using a pairing knife. Place the finished pies on the baking sheet. Repeat the process until you’ve used up all your pie dough.
Before you set the baking sheet into the oven, put it in the fridge one last time to allow the dough to harden back up. It takes all but 30 minutes and it’s worth it. Brush the pies with the egg wash and place the baking sheet in the oven. At the 10 minute mark, turn the heat down to 375 degrees F and finish off baking the pies for 10-15 more minutes. Once the top surface of the pies have turned a beautiful golden brown, they are ready.
Eat the pies while warm, with a side of whatever makes you happy.
A lot of thoughts come to me when I’m sweeping the floor. I wonder if I should push harder for a smaller home because laundry would be so much simpler. I’d be more inclined to have less. I always have been. I dream about throwing away all my clothes and shaving my head. I sweep the leaves, dirt and strands of my long black hair that lay lifeless on the kitchen floor. “Into the dust pan,” I say. Hair. It means more to me than it should. Us women are more than our hair. In my country long black, well-oiled hair is the trademark of beauty. I know I fall for it sometimes but I’m proud that I don’t let it seep in.
My feet have a layer of mud oven them; my toes remind me of days when “wear your slippers!” was all that stopped us from taking over the world. We washed our feet under the leaky tap outside before going back into the house. I am not wearing my slippers today. I still want to be those kids that could walk and run barefoot on rocky ground like it was air. They were free and I knew it even at that young age. I land on my whole foot. Each piece of gravel that digs into my arch hurts. I pretend that it doesn’t. (I don’t HAVE to wear slippers! YES.) Dirty feet mean more.
I think about my liver. Liver disease, swollen liver, chicken liver, Liv52..that red pill I took before going to school after that time my parents say I almost died. Maybe that’s why I can’t keep more than a few drinks down. I have images of my grandfather pouring himself a beer and sharing the other half with my mother, his daughter. I haven’t yet clarified this memory but I hope it’s true. Doctors classified my mother as “alcoholic” because she told them she drank once in a while. She wasn’t given a middle ground: “Now deal with the consequences.” Doctors…
I go back to excess and the rooms that have yet to be cleaned, the tables that have to be dusted, the pile of clothes that is just chilling on top of the washing machine. I’m not going to deal with this yet, I tell myself. I put away the broom, throw away the sprinkling of DNA-laced insecurities, doggy winter coats, dirt and pine needles.
There’s is zucchini and cauliflower in the fridge. I think about my mother sweeping the kitchen floor every night before going to sleep. Then I think about the house and life they built with us girls, dogs, cats and an assortment of fish and birds at different times. I pull out the cutting board and get started on dinner.
Peach gazpacho
I made this peach gazpacho after reading a Food52 article by Book Larder’s Lara Hamilton, in which she reviews a book called The World on a Plate by Mina Holland: “She mentions that Andalusians make big jugs of gazpacho that they drink all summer. So the next time our Seattle temperatures get too high, I’ll be pairing these two dishes, getting into the kitchen in the morning when it’s still cool, and letting my fridge do the work.”
After reading it while sitting at a small bakery in the International District in Seattle, I thought to myself: “What a bloody brilliant idea!” I’ve been holding off buying tomatoes for a while because of this silly notion that I need to be patient and wait for my own to grow. It’s ridiculous, I know. What I did have were the best looking peaches, raspberries (that I rarely buy because they always get smushed), and blueberries that I found growing outside in the garden. It’s a wonderful way to use stone fruit without doing very much with it. If you look up “peach gazpacho” on the internet, you are bound to find many other recipes but I like to think I made this up out of pure necessity. I only looked it up after I made it. I loved it. And I got to keep it in the fridge in a big bowl for a few days of summer until the tomatoes come around. Patience. 🙂 This kept well in the fridge for 3-4 days. I believe the vinegar + lemon juice helped a lot with the preservation. Stir it well if you’re eating it at a later date.
Edit: Here’s some more information about gazpacho. I like cooking from other cultures only if it helps me learn a little bit more about them through their food. Consider me better informed.
Ingredients
Place the peaches in a large bowl and add the basil, wine vinegar, lemon juice + zest to it. Cover the bowl and let the peaches sit on the counter-top for 2-3 hours.
Add the contents of the bowl into a blender along with the salt and blend on high until it has been pureed to a thick, soupy consistency. Strain the liquid through a fine mesh sieve and pour it back into the bowl. Chill for 30 minutes to an hour before serving it up.
Add chopped or whole berries, tender basil leaves and a crack of pepper on top to serve.
