Posted on November 16, 2013
Sending some love, hugs and sugar cubes to sweetheart http://lillysuesbitesandbrews.com/ and darling http://fae-magazine.com/ for nominating me on Liebster Blog Award. Thank you and I accept the award with honor and pleasure. Rules: 1. Thank and link to the blogger who gave you the award. 2. Copy and paste the award in your post. 3. Pick 5 other blogs with less than 200 followers to award. Leave a comment on their blog to let them know about their nominations. My nominees:
Dedicating a bunch of sunshiny cookies and tea to darling Ada of http://morefoodpls.wordpress.com/, http://fae-magazine.com/ and amazing http://myeasychineserecipes.com/ for giving me Versatile blogger award. Thank you! Rules: 1. Display the Award Certificate on your blog. 2. Link back to the person who nominated you. 3. Present 15 awards to 15 deserving bloggers.
The prettiest Hibiscus from my garden goes to my sweetheart Angie of http://thenovicegardener.wordpress.com/ for nominating me on The Shine On Award. Thanks a million! Rules: 1. Visit and thank the blogger who nominated you. 2. Acknowledge that blogger on your blog, and link back. 3. Share seven random, interesting things about yourself. (I’m a good listener, I live outrageously simple, my husband is my best friend, love sightseeing, I don’t watch TV-movies, I try to stay away from worldly-material temptations, I smile a lot) 4. Nominate up to 15 bloggers for the ‘Shine On’ Award, provide a link to their blogs in your post, and notify them on their blogs. I nominate for both above Award:
- Thank you all, for being a source of beauty, creativity and positiveness ♥ Delighted to have you all in my life ♥
Wrinkled, crippled, thin and heavy with the burden of her loneliness, she remained afloat instead of sinking. But at a point, her old, feeble limbs and bones couldn’t hold her existence anymore; she tottered and fell. Norma, my neighbor, caught the smell of her own death but decided to live and built herself a herb-garden. The Phoenix was back on her wings again!
I could see through my widow her back-braking hard work in the heat and rain, turned the front yard, with peace hung heavy all over, into an oasis. She turned barren dirt, dust and black rocks into gold that sings soothing, somber hymn when the days grow dim. I love sucking up lungful of breaths of that growth, beauty and green.
Her garden is more like a shrine, glistening graceful halos, hosted by a merchant of happiness; like a dreamscape built of eternal sunshine, an ancient fantasy.
She helped me growing wild, purple Bean clusters, lush and brazen, smudging smoky-green hue on the fence with an ecstatic protectiveness.
She taught me how to fortify the fortress, my garden, with a never-ending infatuation.
The smell of wood smoke from her kitchen, warm and moist, has been sending the song through my chimney everyday which I have been trying to sing for years.
One sizzling summer high noon, when the sun climbed higher in the sultry sky, breathless, I stopped in her spotless home upon her invitation. Instantly I was draped by the twirling, swirling scent of deep, ancient, mythical Shrimp curry and steamed rice. The smack of aroma came through so vividly that my frigid soul came alive instantly.
Rooted in nature, it looked ordinary but went extraordinary as I took my first bite unleashing a universe of exuberant fragrance. Lovely austerity of the white-greenish curry levitated my heavy self immediately. Cheerful Shrimps were heightened with a touch of bare minimum spices. Half-melted onion sauce and fresh, smooth coconut paste were clinging to the shrimps with a penetrating soft sweetness.
The most beautiful ‘Tastemaker’ in the world with a spiral braid swinging at her back with Hibiscus tucked in, created hypnotizing alchemy in the pan. She made a meal that taste like a poem ♥
Recipe doesn’t belong to a labor-intensive or rule-braking repertoire. It is rather quite relaxed:
1 medium onion/shallot – paste
Garlic paste – 1 tbsp
Ginger paste – ½ tbsp
1-2 green chilies – paste
Salt to taste
Vegetable/olive oil 3 tbsp
Coconut milk – 1 cup
Shrimps 1 lb (10-12 large pieces, cleaned)
Saute first seven ingredients adding ½ cup warm water. Let it slowly evaporate until it had shrunk to a dense, caramelized gravy. about 10 minutes. Add shrimps and coconut milk. Cover. Cook for 7/8 minutes. Serve with rice.
Happy 98th Birthday, Norma, The Merchant of Happiness! Thank you for allowing me to touch the dreams everyday you have sown in your precious garden.
Posted on October 8, 2013
Static, stoic sunlight was streaming through the vast emptiness around and wreaking havoc in the endless Sahara. Wearing burning blisters like a raincoat, the traveler was running clueless in search of a drop of water in the barren land. But the cup was full of sand.
After sprinting a light-year around the back side of the moon, crying a million rivers for a single drop of water to drink, the traveler saw the sea painted midnight blue. An ancient- exotic-dreamy delta, emerged from the secluded sea a thousand years ago, nestled now against the hillside surrounded by tall, stately larger-than-life trees. This graceful land, kissed by eight hundred rivers, was so glitteringly green that seemed to hold all the grace of the world. Heart-stoppingly picturesque hamlets, doted with humble huts scattered all over, were hugging the flatland like a sun-bathed tapestry.
A clean, crisp breeze spiced by the aroma of the earthy spices and fried fish tiptoed across the traveler’s fatigued eyelashes.
Their sweets, “Shondesh” are as uncommonly soft and snowy as the fondest dreams; an elixir, a cure for all ailment, like an answer to prayers. They are compelling in their plainness; fancy words don’t come into play.
In a nonstick pan, over very low heat, add 2 tsp ghee (clarified butter); heat 2lb ricotta cheese (ছানা), handful sugar, 2 cardamom pods, stirring constantly. Cook for about 20 to 30 minutes or until the mixture begins to leave the sides of the pan. Remove from heat, make desired shapes using molds while the mixture is slightly warm. That crimson red fantasy glaze in the center of each flower is a dot of liquid food color. Serve. Refrigerate.
The scent of lentil rice wafted up deliriously from the kitchen, in welcome. Like butterflies fluttered down from the flowers that carpeted the yards.
This dish composed of:
Beef 2 lb with/without bones (cut into small chunks.)
1 medium onion paste, 2 tbsp garlic paste, 1 tbsp ginger paste (to get a pop of invisible depth of flavor that takes you by surprise)
½ tsp turmeric powder, ½ tsp red chili powder (to get that bright-flavored lightness that you are going to remember the next day. And the day after. Forever)
4 cardamoms, 1 stick of cinnamon, 4 cloves, 2 bay leaves (to perfume the curry so that you have a pretty good idea where you are)
2 tbsp yogurt/curd (to get that pulse-quickening intensity of irresistible smoothness)
½ tbsp toasted cumin seeds (to perk up the intense flavor simply and wonderfully)
1 tsp salt
2 tbsp olive oil/vegetable oil/Ghee (clarified butter)
1 large potato (optional)
Mix everything together in a large pan and stir on medium heat for 15 minutes. Put the lid on. Cook for 1 hour or until the meat surrenders into tender, juicy chunks.
A pool of crimson gravy gathers around the pan, if you pour 1 cups of warm water at this point. Add potato chunks. Let the chunks swirl across the pot absorbing the gravy. Put the lid back on and cook for another 20 minutes.
Serve with rice/roti.
With a deep nostalgic delirium, emotional upheaval spread through her heart, very early next morning the traveler headed back out to the Sahara, to the pitch black forlorn lagoon that reflects no twinkling stars. But she had fallen under the spell of ‘Bangladesh’, the shining monsoon-land she just left behind.
I- the traveler- From here walk with my face unmasked, soul uncovered and take back that sparkling starry trail which leads to where I belong; my home, to my peaceful people who meet, greet and feed total strangers like one of their own; I’m bonded with these fearless fighters who never stop smiling amidst devastating floods, lurking droughts, looming tidal bores, famine, oddities, hidden fears, leaders pocketing relief money…
My Bedouin-self yearns to return home before I grow older and my heart gets colder.
Posted on September 10, 2013
May you burn and rot in Hell-fire! May the Almighty hang you upside down and skin you alive in public!!
_ Here comes my muttered flurry of curse, with pain and disgust exploding in my heart, towards the young Arab guy every time he greeted me with his booming voice and crazy eyes. He was a total stranger I worked with at a security company as ‘student control room operator’. Night shifts. Just two of us. And he successfully made my life a living hell keeping my agony alive and well.
I have twenty million reasons to dislike this awkward slash highly unlikable guy. He sounds rude, looks rowdy, talks outrageously inappropriate in his random chit-chats. To fill in the impenetrable silence and emptiness between us, he would brag in detail about how thunderously ‘chicks/female species’ would succumb to his eccentric bohemian charm! (How utterly charming! How I wish to borrow Devil’s fork to poke this pathological flirt all over and watch his body twitch uncontrollably!)
He would sit with his chest puffed out, hair spiked bolt-upright in a despicable manner that screamed for attention! (But the narcissist buffoon was never able to make me swoon. Fiercely ‘modern’ guys like this specimen are so undatable, so-not-marriage-material, I tell you!)
Every morning before wrapping up, without offering him a single morsel, without acknowledging his presence, I would spread some devilishly tasty, lustrous Mango Chutney immaculately on a slice of bread. Sweet, a little tart, mildly spicy chutney would hit the right spots and I’d get lost into my wildest dreams, ultimate fantasy: in hell that fella is getting whipped hard by Arnold Schwarzenegger. And his evil tongue got twisted backward. And he got bitten by an Anaconda and declared spot dead by the reporting angels. ( How insanely nice would it be to watch his corpse half-buried upside down with his legs in the air!)
I’m snapped back to present by the scoundrel’s nasty gurgly slurp of coffee followed by humongous burps! How I hate the fact that he exists but how I murderously adore my captivating craving for ‘Mango Chutney breakfast revenge’!
His raven-black, voodoo presence chokes me, makes me feel like a dead wood drifting downstream. He is like a treacherous chunk of cloud curtaining my windows from letting in rays of the sun. I prayed hard for an exit as I’m caught in a spider web; stuck, froze-up in a dark, dingy dungeon; trapped in an unknown bottomless pit where there was no swimming forward or backward. I’m too much in love with this job to let it go just because of him. Was it worth shedding tears for countless hours over a guy who I hate to look in the eye? – Absolutely! A full year of soaking in his evil energies later, my prayers were heard and answered. We were informed that due to recent recession one of the student-operators will be laid-off and they will decide today who that would be. The infidel bum-hole Arab dude right away stepped aside and said, “I’m ready to resign”, sticking his pinky finger in a circular motion into his ear hole.
He left quietly. I was busy watching the snowflakes bouncing off the Eucalyptus leaves like popcorn. Let it snow.
That year the winter arrived with the harshest blizzards knocking off strong trunks of Maple and Mahoganies, burring Lilies and Lilac bushes deep into snowdrifts. The hit was hard to take. My devastated body collapsed due to extra workload all night long, rising pressure from classes and field works all day long, home works and researches all evening long. My heart and soul shuttled back and forth between life and death. Thankfully my Indonesian roommate was there to revive me.
Spring came alive. Pastel gardens went crazy with flowers and butterflies in bursting color and hue. With smoke-like sweet scented mist hovering from the towering trees, my dreams kept growing. I got promoted at work. Found a better place to live in. In reply to my sincerest goodbye thanks, my roommate smiled, “Give thanks your jobless ex-colleague who brought you home cooked fresh food every single day including that massive Mango Chutney jar.”
Suddenly the sun turned lightless and grey again, blowing foggy wind chills frosting my soul, deadening and hushing my heartbeats. Brightly blazed Daffodils beneath the hills died out in a wink. I kept on dialing his number to thank him but that number, by then, was inactive, unreachable and as silent as a dead shore where water never meets the land.
3 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
1 onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
Pinch of cumin seeds
2 green chilies or 1 tbsp crush red chili flakes
4 mangoes, peeled, pitted, and chopped (4 cups)
1/3 cup sugar
2 teaspoons salt
1/2 cup white vinegar
1/3 cup water
2 tbsp Mustard oil/vegetable oil
Heat just a little trace of oil. Sauté first five ingredients until they release fragrance. Add mango chunks. Add vinegar and water. Over medium heat, cook them down to a smooth density. Cook about an hour.
To mediate the spice and hit, add sugar and salt towards the end.
What emerges is an eye-soothing glaring amber colored satiny, soulful substance with delightful tastes synchronizing in it.
Allow the chutney to cool. Store in glass jars in the refrigerator up to six months.
Serve this luxuriant chutney with bread, rice, baked/fried fish, meat, fritters; should you care to invoke pure splendor and bliss in your lungs and taste buds.
Mango chutney builds tastes that you would want to keep going back to as long as you can. It’s a ravenous relief from store-bought jam/jelly boredom.
A total stranger who I had no strings attached with whatsoever, stepped into the quicksand so that I stay safe in the oasis. The beautiful stranger with beams of blue flickering through his eyes, chose to climb a nameless, starless, slippery staircase barefoot (as lovers often do) which leads nowhere leaving behind a lantern casting soft halos of light for me to ignite my hopes, to fix my life.
Ever since my ungrateful, ignorant, infidel, thankless, judgmental heart stopped breathing. How can I breathe knowing there’s a debt on my chest that is heavier than the Himalayas?
Posted on August 5, 2013
Free and fierce as a nomad on the Sahara. Careless like a yogi who has chosen exile in the Himalayas. Like a banned bandit wondering in the Andes. Vigorous as the swirling sun in a Van Gogh painting. – That’s how I feel when I cross the line and enter the sanctuary where the universe is regained and aligned, free from frail & feeble beings, where every particle preaches LOVE.
When outside burdened world gets too much to take, to take a break, I get back in touch with my sanctuary. Attacks withstood, storms endured knocked-off, pale, weary, fragile me celebrates the joy my heart yearns for; responds to the holiest, purest call what my soul has longed for, quenches the thirst that my throat has been carrying around for years.
My potential ‘boyfriend’ who I met online came to meet me all the way from America. On the first date I decided to take him out for breakfast- to my sanctuary- a destination unknown to him. Just to see what kind of a soul resides in his body.
As the first light of dawn turned the sky golden, we got on a local bus, took the highway to heaven, shared some chitchatting and laughter with some ‘never seen before’ passengers who always wear colorful clothing with dazzling clarity. For an hour or so, we rode past miles after miles of gorgeous greenery, vastness, huts with haystack roof, open air village markets, women walking carrying mud pitchers on the head filled with drinking water, fertility, healing and wisdom….
The driver dropped us off in the middle of nowhere. We were back to a world that was unchanged since the time of Christ.
Here the infinite sky rests its root in the river. The blazing sun kisses the knee-high rice saplings from up above. The air is dense with hoots and cheers and tweets of birds. Full-fledged larger-than-life trees cast lacy shadows on the silver waves of the river. Lazy, scented wind sifts through the wildflower bushes. Here human souls can see, hear, touch, feel the unchained melody coming from heaven beneath. (I saw the irises of his jet-lagged eyes widen).
We gazed down at the river bank. A Shabby, mud-built, humble hut on the horizon gazed up at us. This is a restaurant for small peasants, laborers and beggars to whom God cannot appear except in the form of bread and rice. I have been coming here, alone, to dine out for years now. The owner, the chef, standing strikingly strong and tall, like the timeless statue of Jesus Christ, invited us in. I have been watching him cooking and serving ‘love & life support’ for years now. (Cookery is an ancient, spiritually enriched, enchanting art indeed!)
He cooked us Potato Cakes. The smell of life hung everywhere. And my heart started throbbing!
2 cups mashed potatoes
1/2 teaspoons salt
1 finely chopped green chili
1 medium onion, chopped
Handful of chopped fresh Mint
Few drops of lemon/lime juice
2 tablespoons mustard oil
1 egg – beaten
some bread crumbs for coating
Vegetable oil for frying
*Mix first 7 ingredients. Chill/refrigerate it overnight for the best results. Let the flavors mingle.
*Use your hands to form 1/2-inch thick patties. (Apply a little oil for smooth finishing)
*Dunk patties into egg and then roll them into bread crumbs. shake excess crumbs. Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet/pan over medium-high heat until almost smoking.
*Add the potato cakes to the pan and reduce the heat to medium-low.
*Cook until they have formed a golden crust, 15 to 20 minutes. Turn and cook the other side until golden brown, another 15 minutes.
*Serve hot with rice/salad/coleslaw/tea.
You can add any herb with Potato cakes. But Fresh Mint from my garden fills up my senses delightfully.Why Mint? – My peasant-chef prefers Mint over any other herbs when it comes to Potato cakes.
As the sunset painted the sky all over with intense ruby red hue, I saw tear drops falling from his deep soulful eyes. May be like me he has scars caused by agony, fire, fear of failure, greed, struggle, suffering, sickness. May be he too dies an unthinkable death once in a while. May be that humble restaurant with a simple meal recovered, refreshed and lifted up his spirits stimulating his appetite.
May be the departed part of his soul has been resurrected here. Right in front of that worn-out sanctuary – that Cathedral- that Temple, when he asked if I would be willing to sail away with him again, I replied, ‘YES’.
An unprepared fun, whimsical ride turned into a blissful adventure of a lifetime.
Posted on July 19, 2013
That eighteen hour long journey chocked me like death ! Billions of nightmarish thoughts have been creeping across my heart for the last eighteen hours ! Pursuing higher education in an alien country where I have NOBODY was an ignorant, douche-like decision. (didn’t listen to Mom as I was adult enough to make all the horrible decisions I want). Now my over-zealous self will have to deal with a smelly 60 year old sailor dude who I’m going to be homestaying with for the next six months.
Hungry, paranoid, horrified, terrified with aloneness I finally landed in Australia in a bone crushingly chilly, rainy morning. My host, 60, white, grey bearded gentleman with a pair of glittering, kind eyes winked at me, smiled, picked me up and drove me home. He smells like ocean.
Soon after parking the car, he asked me to water his backyard garden. “But it’s raining”, I frowned speculating more upcoming weird, untimely orders.- “Well, fetch an umbrella and water the garden!”- serene brutality of his voice lured me instantly.
There were these gorgeous cute little heart-shaped slightly prickly skinned fruits all over the garden smiling at me. Perfect smile. Love at first sight ! Cloudy grief that choked my mind went away when I started picking Strawberries.
A breakfast doesn’t get any healthier, prettier. Freshly picked Strawberries and scattered baby Spinach just plucked from the garden!
He takes every bite solemnly, mindfully. “Eating is like praying”, he would say, “When you eat, you don’t stuff your body, you cleanse it.”- I sensed, felt a beautiful, enigmatic, electric power running through my heart and soul. – “Did you know that you have a contagious smile?” – I joined the conversation which would continue for the next six months.
While taking a stroll around the house I quietly shed a few tears over my parents and friends who are now lightyears away. Moments later, my eyeballs popped out of sockets in disbelief when I found sun-kissed, gorgeous, vivacious, radiant, dazzling Dill blossoms at the front yard. I fell in love rightaway!
He served me sautéed shrimps for lunch. One bite and I immediately sensed that belongingness. Loneliness puffed away. Warm, perfectly tender, slightly sweet but spicy enough shrimps along with fresh veggies traveled down my throat. And a soul-deep joy swelled within my stomach.
Devein, clean, pat dry 1 lb jumbo shrimps (12-16 pcs). Marinate them for 1o minutes with pinch of salt+pepper+crush red pepper, dash of olive oil, splash of freshly squeezed lemon juice, 1/2 tsp freshly chopped Dill. (Parsley/Thyme can be used instead.) Saute them in high heat for 3 minutes each side. Serve with your choice of salad/vegetable/rice.
Effortlessly plain, unscrewed-up simplicity. ...
We took a walk on the shore. I saw him hugging the sea and feeling the sky and how he let his soul & spirit fly.
I locked my eyes in the setting crimson sun and sipped into Tomato soup. For the first time in my life. Never imagined good old tomato could make such a wonderfully comforting, creamy, nutritious rendition! A little hint of heat, some pleasant touch of garlic, olive oil and the bright red hue of the soup took my breath away! How I adore the picture of the sailor-man putting warmth, light, happiness, hope, love, sweetness, charm into the soup pot !
* Cook for 20 minutes 4 large fresh, ripe, red tomatoes (cut in chunks) along with 2 tbsp olive oil, 1 small onion, 2 cloves of garlic, salt (as required), 1 tsp crushed red chilli flakes. Towards the end add 1 tsp sugar, if you like it sweet.
* Now blend the mixture. Sprinkle some crouton on top for a little crunch. Or go for healthier choice: toasted sunflower seeds, toasted chick-peas.
He took care of me, fed me, and healed my daunted, haunted wounds on the very first day I set my lone-voyage. He was the one to keep my rocking boat steady on the troubled water. And it’s because of him I was drawn to a lifelong affair with fresh fruits, herbs and vegetables. Also, till today Arthur didn’t disclose my sweetest secret to anybody: how BIG of a crush I had on him from the moment our eyes met ♥
Posted on June 26, 2013
I have an ego the size of a dinosaur! And whenever my humongous egotistic self gets badly bruised, I would immediately dash off to my next door neighbor Sheila Brown, 70, a retired school teacher – the sweetest, loveliest, kindest soul ever. She always helps me crossing the stepping stones. She seems to know how to heal my injured ego when I’m pissed-off, ticked off. She knows how to wake me up when I sleep walk.
She would always listen to every single sinister revenge ideas that pop, hop and knock in my head ! She would nod her head in approval on my despicable plan about how to successfully gut my hater like a fish ! Or how to poke in the eye of that specimen from a remote distance! She would smile when I describe her how to bury all the evidence after killing the rascal ! She would laugh her lungs out when I’d proclaim, “Farewell to kindness and humanity!”
“Step back- breathe a few deep breaths- reconnected to what has real value in life- and focus on something ‘worth obsessing over’ with a clear mind” – She would wink, “A Red Snapper sounds fun?”
Then she would forcefully make herself comfortable in my garden where I’ve sown and grown some magic, marvels, miracles with all my heart & soul.
She would ask me to feel the sunlight twinkling through the flowers.
“Gardening is a stress-buster, therapeutic tool which generates positive energies in your soul. And it helps you forget the grudges that have consumed your heart”, her soft voice flew away in the wind caressing those petals.
“Take a deep look at those softness, uplifting vivaciousness, the innocence. Aren’t you inspired now to release all your anger?” – she would put her kind hand on my shoulder.
This woman totally has the ability to full-on blow my goddamn mind!
Then she would grill the fish. She knows I’m deeply, madly, truly in love with grilled Red Snapper! I adore biting in the chunks of garlicy ultra soft meat, salted crispy crimson skin, herb flavored moist flesh separating into flakes! I fancy digging around gooey custardy brain, tearing apart the head with my fingers !
She would use waaaaaaaaaaaaay too much fresh herbs which will make the grilling extra special.
1/2 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons chopped fresh Mint/Parsley/Thyme leaves
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 garlic clove, minced
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 local whole fish (gutted and scaled. Washed. Pat dried). ‘Red Snapper’ worked for me very well.
Whisk first five ingredients in a bowl. Let the flavors of the herbs marry, lemon juices and pepper mingle, the garlic flakes dissolve into the oil. Brush and rub the mix generously all over the skin and cavity.
Place slices of lemon and some herbs inside the cavity.
Prepare the grill (medium-high heat).
Grill the fish until just cooked through, about 6 minutes per side (depending on thickness and size of fish)
With every bite, when the flavor infused flakes melt away in my tongue, my palate thanks her. With every chance she gets, she would show me that good food and good company make life intensely splendid.
Before leaving Shiela would hug me tight saying, ” Move on. Forgive. Let go of the resentment. And concentrate on more important things in your life, like grilling fish. Thou shall not take revenge, for it is the most unproductive of all human activities. ”
Posted on June 6, 2013
Stupid adrenaline junky me always breaking rules ! Single girls in a Muslim majority country don’t usually go crazy to move out of their parents shelter and hometown at the age of 17; in pursuit of higher education especially. But I was crazy-head enough to do so. As soon as I hit 24, I moved to another continent – to the other end of the world knowing the fact that I don’t have any friends or relatives living there! ! Yes, the relationship status was still ‘SINGLE’.
First few tumulus, hustly-bustly seven days in the Alien-land went by in a tick doing a lot of sight seeing and befriending exotic dudes I didn’t get a chance to miss my parents/sister/grandma. Why would I miss them? Those people choke me with their boatload of love ! It feels so good to break free from my parents’ supervision! The excitement of making an ‘un-interrupted expedition of my own’ is priceless!
All of a sudden, without any apparent valid reason, I broke down crying one day. I cried my lungs out. And my room got flooded with gallons and gallons of tears. Finally I figured, the reason of this heartache is ‘Lentil Rice AKA Khichuri’. Deep down I was tormenting over my split with Khichuri. Didn’t realize I was so truly, madly, deeply in love with that dish.
My crying accelerated and I almost had a heart attack thinking I won’t get to taste my favorite savory rice dish for the next 5 years ! (Haven’t you seen someone before crying over some soul food s/he grew up eating?!)
My craving went uncontrolled and I started exploring South Asian Restaurants around. No luck ! So that was about the damn time to get my priorities straight ! I learned cooking soothing-homey-beautiful amber colored fluffy rice mixed with lentil (dahl).
Like me, you have twenty millions reasons to give it a try:
You accidentally killed your worst enemy in your head? Feeling guilty now? My my ! That’s a pretty serious case! Khichuri and baked chicken might help you un-kill !
Just got out of a hellhole unharmed? Celebrate with Khichuri and fried chicken.
Had a pooptacular day? O my! You need some Khichuri along with fish fillets right-away.
Stress, stress, stress ! Make peace with your precious self. Take a look at the Peacemaker: Khichuri and fish fry.
Share Lentil rice with your neighbors. Make their jaw drop! You LOVE stardom, don’t you?
See Lentil Rice goes with pretty much anything and everything under any given circumstances ! Choices and options and possibilities are endless
1 cup yellow Mug or Moong Dal ( golden gram)
1 cup rice
½ tsp turmeric powder
1 stick of Cinnamon
2 pods of cardamom
Salt to taste 2 1/2 tbsp oil or ghee (clarified butter)
- Wash dal and rice together well. Soak for 15 minutes. Let the grains bloom. Drain.
- In a saucepan, add oil/ghee and throw cardamoms and cinnamon. Let them release their aroma. Now add rice and lentil. Fry for about 5 minutes. This ensures fluffy, non-sticky restaurant quality rice. Add salt and turmeric powder. and 3 cups of boiling hot water.
- Bring it to a boil. cook uncovered in high heat until water almost evaporates.
- Turn the heat down. Cover. Let it cook for another 10 minutes in low heat. Fork through. Check the fluffiness.
- Serve hot with meat/fish/salad/eggs/veggies. Whatever tickles your fancy.
In those lonely, lousy, ‘single’, cold, sad, mad days and nights whenever you feel like you’re an Orangutan trapped in a doorless cage, feed yourself some Khichuri and Kebab