Love what you do

Sweet potato and sugar snap pea salad + Be 4.

June 18, 2013 by Edlyn

I’m sitting at the table. It’s the kind of table that folds back to a flat piece of nothing. Unless you were hoping to have a floor-style community meal, it’s the kind of table that fades into the background or shows up for the times we want to eat on the balcony like it’s a picnic. Right now, it’s standing on its own. It’s covered in paintings, paints, a glass full of this murky brown water – that earns its colours after constant brush dipping – and of course, there’s a paintbrush. And almonds.

My 4-year-old neighbour came to visit today. I brought her with me to hand her our copy of “Lincoln”. She was supposed to take it back to her parents’ but she changed her mind. “I want to come to your house. I love the puppies!”

“I love to paint.” “I love my brother.” “My little sister’s name is Karthika. I love her.” “I think this puppy loves me.”

If I start this-right-here sentence with “Kids….”, I’m probably going to distance myself from the one thing I still wish I could be. I don’t want to do that. I loved being a child. Just yesterday I made a mental note of all the games we made up as children. The no adults allowed kind of games. Our stuffed toys would talk and if they were on the floor after we awoke the next morning, we would assume they came to life while we were asleep. Then there was mud. Lots and lots of mud became food and leaves were the plate. Dry mud sprinkled on top of wet mud was chocolate pudding, rice, curry, fish, and then some. I can still feel this overwhelming joy that I felt back when I knew my sisters and I were going to play in this small shed at Analise’s house. There would be lots of mud and we could cook for hours, or until A. Pacy called us for lunch. *Groannnn*.

Back then, I never challenged my (what us adults call) creativity. I didn’t know any different. I made up things in my head and I had nothing to worry about because my world was real. Of course, one of us would always try to contest this reality, which would end with a loud “You’re cheating!” and maybe some tears and/or bite marks. “Magenta?! There’s no such colour!” Try telling that to the crocodile, Miss 8-year-old.

I wish it was still okay to bite people especially an imagination that constantly doubts itself. I’d bite a system that gives us ranks instead of measuring our passions. I’d bite the table because sometimes, that seems appropriate. I’d bite the walls that pop up any time I think I have a good idea but have no clue where to go from there. I’d also bite walls, because I like the taste of cement.

TMI.

Just like the 4-year-old with two ponytails, I also love. Puppies and paint and my sisters. I love this writing thing. I love how everything I draw always turns into a tree. I love leaf money and my Peanuts comics. I love to cook.

I have no desire for fame, or money (except sometimes….you know. Boring stuff). I just want this love thing. It seems like something important to a 4-year-old.

“For happiness is anyone and anything at all that’s loved by you”

You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.

To my people in India, I know we don’t get these sugar snap things there so a good substitute for them would be some crunchy green French beans, cut in half and cooked in boiling water just until crispy/tender. They won’t be sweet but yet, they still will…if you know what I mean. You are my favourites. This recipe was inspired by this post on bonappetit.com.

Ingredients

160 gm (1 3/4 cups) sugar snap peas
190 gm (2 cups) sweet potato, cut in 1/2 inch cubes
1/2 cup green onions, chopped/minced…you get my drift
Pepper and/or salt

For the dressing

2 tbsp rice vinegar
2 tbsp lite soy sauce
2 tsp ginger, minced
2 tsp garlic, minced
1 tsp chili-garlic sauce like Sriracha
2 tsp peanut oil
1 tsp sesame seeds
1 tsp brown sugar
1/2 tbsp peanut butter

For garnish (optional)

Roasted peanuts or almonds or sunflower seeds…something nutty and crunchy that you already have in the kitchen, basically.

This should be fairly easy if I don’t eat up half my instructions. Shake me if I do.

Boil the sweet potato cubes in water until tender. As soon as you take them off the stove, shock them with cold water to stop the cooking process. Or tell them they’re fat. String the sugar snap peas and then cut them into 3 parts or 1/2 inch pieces. Put into a large bowl where your final salad will go along with the cooked sweet potatoes and green onions.

Once the veggies are ready, it’s onto the dressing. Apart from the peanut oil and sesame seeds, mix/whisk together all the other ingredients in a small bowl. As for the peanut oil, put it on a pan along with the sesame seeds. When the oil gets hot enough, you’ll notice the sesame seeds turning a darker shade of brown and getting fragrant as well. Watch it closely so it doesn’t burn. As soon as this happens, take the pan off the stove and pour the hot oil/seed mix into the dressing bowl. Mix it with the rest of what’s in there and pour over the vegetable/spud/root i.e. peas, sweet potato, onions. Garnish with garnish. You have options above. I used roasted almonds. Season with pepper and salt (if it’s not already salty enough). If you want to make this dish even more fun, serve with your favourite Asian noodles.

Dinner is served. By somebody else. Not me.

I’m back to here.

June 4, 2013 by Edlyn

Back to the same ol’ same. I figured by the time I hit “publish”, I’ll have officially moved out of this vacation mode I put myself in, which makes me not want to hit publish anymore.

Oh well*.

But wait! Guess what! We came back to maybe a tiny speckle of rain and lots and lots of summer, which makes it even harder to want to stare at a screen thinking of the perfect comeback words. Again*. Our trip back to southern Illinois was magnificent. I had forgotten what extra extra humid air felt like (apart from that one day last year) and heck, it was magnificent. Have I said this already?

I had a birthday, there were lots and lots of puppies (one that could run you over with his puppy brain), I ate a steak from the neighbour’s cow and made by the most interesting uncle-in-law (is that a thing), caught two fish and threw them back, got a Huck Finn foot tan (if Huck Fin did that sort of thing), got presented with presents (yeahhh buddy) and fell so hard for this new family of mine. All that and a pedicure.

After many months of it being just roommate-for-life and me, I missed being around other people. Happy people, living life with every fibre of their being, quoting lines from Gone with the Wind and laughing so so hard. I don’t know if you know this but it’s hard living in a place where nobody is familiar. I wish I could be over there anytime I felt like, assuming international travel is not an option.

But I’m here now and I’m back. I have a fun “can’t live without” recipe for Thursday and it only made the cut because it’s all I’ve been eating this past week. Ask me what’s for lunch? The green stuff. Dinner? Same. Breakfast? A fried egg on top of that. If anything is going to give me my wheels back, it’s secret (for now) recipe.

Hello again.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yHp2Ngvm9IA&w=420&h=315]

*Like my father-in-law says “SUCK IT UP, BOY!”

Can’t live without strawberry fields forever Thursday

May 16, 2013 by Edlyn

That was never going to be the title of this post but who cares? I allowed myself to change my mind and ran with it. Y to the E to the Yes, I did.

This past Sunday, I went and saw my favourite Seattle orchestra cover songs from the Sgt Pepper Lonely Hearts Club Band album and oh man. The only thing better than listening to a recording of the songs by the Beatles is listening to an orchestral arrangement of it in an early 20th century theater. The second best thing would be for the orchestra to follow me home and play my life’s soundtrack as I walk my way through the haze maze.

Which brings me to strawberries.

I’m still trying to figure out what’s seasonal here and what isn’t. All this while I was thinking strawberries were a summer berry but wrong wrong wrong you are Edlyn and how glad I am for that. With the brand new stop eating crap diet I’ve kindly made known to all who live within this little box, strawberries have become breakfast, lunch, drinks and dessert. Before you think I’m going crazy, that’s not all we consume. I wish! I need my carbs, girlfriend.

Which brings me to breakfast. Cereal. Breakfast cereal.

It really is an American thing, isn’t it? I remember when they came out with Kellogs cornflakes in India. At first it was like “yaaayy” and very soon it as all *womp womp*. If I could describe it better, I’d say I felt like I was eating milk-soaked cardboard. With sugar. I was happy to stick with chapatis and mango jam with tea. Here, breakfast cereal is sort of insane. As much as I love how easy it is for us all to throw together, it doesn’t do much for the hunger clock that ticks in my brain. It doesn’t play me Beatles’ songs and it doesn’t fall into the stop eating crap diet I’ve made known to all who live in this little box.

So I made my own. It has strawberries.

Rolled oats and strawberry breakfast cereal

This recipe serves two people and the toppings (apart from the strawberries) are completely up to you,

Ingredients

1 cup rolled oats
1 cup almond milk
1 cup quartered strawberries
1 tbsp honey (or any sweetener of your choice)
Roughly chopped walnuts and raisins to go on the top

Roughly chop the walnuts and quarter the strawberries and have them on standby. Until you’re ready for them, you know.

Put the rolled oats and almond milk in a bowl and let it sit for about three minutes. This will help the dry oats soak in as much of the liquid, making it a perfect bite in the end. If you like your cereal to be less liquid-y, just decrease the quantity of milk to 3/4 cup. If you like more milk, you can do that as well.

Once the oats have had a chance to sit for a while, distribute them in two bowls and top with half of the strawberries, walnuts, raisins and honey.

Nothing is real.

Thoughts + Spring greens and marinated mushroom spring rolls

May 15, 2013 by Edlyn

Thoughts when I wake up these days:

Should I eat? Maybe I should run. But what about writing? Maybe I’ll run later but I’m going to write soon after breakfast. Oh hell where did these dishes come from? Okay so I’ll wash this right after breakfast because I’m going to dirty more stuff anyway. Frying pans, wash yourself sometime. Try. What should I eat? An egg? Sounds good. Maybe two sound better. I have pesto (I always have pesto) I can eat it with and some mushrooms. Now I feel like drinking coffee. WHAT ABOUT YOUR RUN?! I guess I’ll have to wait two hours or so. Don’t want a side ache. I can’t remember when I said I would write but I’m thinking my brain will be more serotonin-y after and I’ll write an awesome post. I can even think about what to start with while running. Yes! Great plan. Eggs, eggs.

*Crack* Over easy, make toast, scoop pesto, chop mushrooms and 3 minutes tops and I’m ready to eat and yay, coffee is ready too. Sugar, cream, breakfast time. Should I take a picture? Nah I’ll take one when I make this for the 18,0000 time.

(10 minutes later)

This breakfast rocked. Shit. Dishes. Bleah.

(15 minutes and clean dishes later)

Should I go back to sleep? NO! The dogs need to go for a walk and all the other unpleasant but necessary stuff. Look at Chevy, he’s killing me with his sad dog face. Drama queen.

(15 minutes and two relieved dogs later)

Mmmmm I want cake. Run, remember? Whatever, I’ll just hydrate. Maybe I should write while waiting. Wait, I should FaceTime with Goa.

(45 minutes to 1 hour of FaceTime later)

I’m hungry.

This is what I eat because apart from the cutting of carrots, everything is almost always cut and in the refrigerator ready to go. It’s this new thing I’m trying to allow me to not get overwhelmed by the day ahead, especially when it comes to food. If you read what I just wrote, you’ll see that it’s working quite well. What? You don’t see it? Muggles.

Ingredients

5 sheets of rice paper or tapioca starch paper
2 1/2 carrots (110 gms), cut into matchsticks or grated
1 avocado, seed and skin removed and mashed in a bowl
1/2 cup onion, chopped fine
50 gms spring salad greens (or as much as you’d like to put in each roll)
Juice of half a lemon
Salt and pepper to taste

To marinate the mushroom

3 large crimini mushrooms (3/4 cup), sliced vertically
1 garlic pod, grated fine
1 tsp honey
1 tsp rice vinegar
1 tsp peanut oil
1 tsp lite soy sauce
1 scallion, chopped fine

I am having the most difficult time finding my words today BUT I’ll cry my river some other day.Today I will attempt to explain the subtle art of mushroom marination.

Just kidding, it’s not an art.

Take the stem off the mushroom and have the smooth side of the cap facing up. Slice it fine in one direction and put it in a bowl. Chop up the stems you took off as well and mix with the rest. Don’t want the stem to feel bad. I mean it only supported a huge head of fungus till us humans could rightfully consume it. Anthropomorphisation deactivated. Sorry.Add the rest of the ingredients to the mushrooms and let it sit for up to 3 hours or overnight too if you’ve planned in advance, unlike me.

Mash the avocado in a bowl and mix the onions in it. Add salt and pepper to taste. Wash the salad greens dry and then squeeze some lemon juice on top of them. Mix well and then go on to the carrots.

Okay so you might be wondering why I’ve listed 2 1/2 carrots aka 2.5 carrots in the ingredients. It’s because at the 2.5 point, I turned my index finger into a filet. No big deal. I iced, lemon juiced and bandaged it but not before reminding myself how much I really really reaaaallly really hate cutting carrots! Next time I make this, I’m grating them. Or maybe I should just learn a new trick. Like carrot mind control.

Once you cut the carrots into matchsticks, set them aside and start working on assembling the grand finale: FOOD. I’ve explained in this post (after the fourth picture) how to turn solid rice paper into a malleable spring roll that you can fill and roll. Have a clean basin of warm water and a damp, clean tea towel ready. That and here’s the link again, just in case you missed it.

On the side of the spring roll closest to you, spread on the avocado. A little less than a tablespoon of it should be fine. On top of it, put on the marinated mushrooms. Then put together a set of spring salad greens in between your thumb and index finger and place it over the mushrooms. Within this sort of cocoon of leaves, lay on a few matchstick carrots. You need to have enough for four other spring rolls so even them out that way.

Roll up the rice paper tight but not too tight and I think they’re ready. Yeah. I’ll go now. I might have to run.

PS: Other great fillers for this are cucumber, basil, chicken (3 of these had oven-baked chicken in them for the dude boy) or even tofu. If you have better or more out-of-the-box suggestions, let me know.

Look ma, no hands + Roasted red pepper lentil soup

May 13, 2013 by Edlyn

I saw a lot of mothers yesterday. Dark, pretty, wrinkled, big hair, soft smiles, heart-melting and there. Alert, present and there. There’s a reason why your troubles can melt away in their presence and another reason why they absolutely must. I didn’t want to get lost in the whirl of mother tributes (all 1000% beautiful) yesterday so I let my thoughts sit for a while. I looked at each and every one of them and not a single thing annoyed me. I saw all these young women talking about the inspiration that their mothers are and felt thankful that I get to feel the same way.

My mother was born in the 60s. My youngest sister looked most like her as a baby but there is this one picture from her pre-teen years where we could be the same person. I’m glad the similarities end there because I could never be like her. My sisters and I used to try when we grew tall enough to reach the top of her cupboard for the keys (by standing on the bed). Lots of lipstick and nail polish later, we grew out of it. To her, I’m sure we never will.

I couldn’t buy you a present this time mama (trust issues with postal service) but wait 6 months and there I’ll be. As for yesterday, the best I could do was go watch the Seattle Rock Orchestra play songs from Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Heart Club Band and think about you all through. That’s how I always remember you, singing along to U. Frankie’s guitar with dada and the rest and wondering if I could ever be that brave.

I try mother. Thank you for letting me. Happy one day after Mother’s Day day. Today and everyyyy other day in the year, thank you for letting me dream. <3

To my sisters. I order you to make this for our mother. If you don’t, you’ll both remember you took her to see Star Trek. Star. Trek. Your mother. It’s like the time Ignatius and John gave Roma a bottle of jam for her birthday.

Ingredients

1 cup of yellow and black lentils, moong (mung) beans and kidney beans (they have to be soaked overnight* in water before being cooked)
1/2 tsp turmeric powder (optional)
1 cup vegetable stock
1 cup water
1 cup roasted red pepper sauce
1/2 cup coconut milk
Salt to taste

To garnish, if you must

Toasted walnuts
Croutons
Parsley
Squeeze of lemon juice

As of right now, the Internet has decided to go bye-bye and I’m writing this on a little post-it note app thing on the computer. I feel incredibly empowered, why thank you for asking.

The lentils and beans don’t care. They have one life to live. At this point, you should have soaked a mix of them in water the night before making this.

If you like more yellow and less black, soak it like that.

If you like only yellow, soak only that.

If you like black beans and nothing else, soak black beans and nothing else.

If the moong beans walk into a bar and the bar doesn’t serve moong beans, tell them you’ll soak them next time.

My point is, do as you wish with proportions and colours and shapes. This lentil bean crazy town all cook more or less the same way. Like pasta!

Take the lentil bean mix and put them in a pot of vegetable stock and water on medium high heat to bring it to a quick simmers. Sprinkle the turmeric powder in the water if you’re using it. Once the pot starts to simmer, turn the heat down low to a slow simmer and let it cook. If the water dries up too fast, add more to keep the lentils and beans covered till they’re done. The lentils should be ready in 20-25 minutes and you’ll be able to tell that they are when they’re tender and no longer crunchy. Season with salt depending on how much is already in the stock.

Leave the pot on the stove and add the red pepper sauce to it. Let it have fun times with the lentil+beaners for 5 minutes. Next add the coconut milk to this and cook for 5 more minutes. Keep stirring throughout this process. Take it off the heat, taste and season with salt (if required) and a crack of pepper.

If you want to eat this with croutons, cut some bread into cubes, drizzle them with olive oil and place them in a single layer on a baking sheet in a 350 degree F oven. Take them out when they’re in the golden to almost brown stage. You can also make them on a pan on the stove by taking the same olive oil coated bread squares and stirring them until they turn the right colour.

For the toasted walnuts, I’m too lazy to type over an already amazing bunch of instructions so go here.

Sprinkle with parsley if you have any and squeeze some lemon juice over before digging in.

(*Lentils and beans go a bit crazy by increasing in size when soaked overnight. The 1 cup measure I used is post-soaking. If you soak 1/2 cup, you should get 1 cup the next morning)

Can’t live without happiness Thursday + Roasted red pepper sauce

May 9, 2013 by Edlyn

I think it was 2005 when the big flood hit Bombay. Rain that didn’t stop for a whole week and all I remember of it was a week off from college. That and some of my friends were forced to A) Walk hours through flood waters to get home B) Camp out in South Bombay, the part of the city that saw nothing of this so-called flood. I fell into neither of the categories because I lived in South Bombay, like a non-snob (promise). I was there as a paying guest in a nice little house, the kind that is the stuff of urban legend today.

Unable to completely understand what was bringing this beast of city to a standstill, I made no effort to go out and see it for myself. It was raining and I’ve always believed the one thing I don’t like about moisture-laden clouds is their ability to make my feet feel alien. “Rain shoes” were only part of my vocabulary until my mother bought them for me. After that, it was “whatever-I-can-find-under-the-cupboard shoes”, which were never my shoe(s) in the first place.

Landlady and us roommates got the daily flood reports of places 30-minutes-away-by-train from the TV. Everyday – assuming A. Myra was not taking Jassi waaaayy too seriously – we’d turn on nondescript Hindi news channel and see images of a lot of filthy water, flooded homes (many of them makeshift) and people…having…fun?

And smiling?

And playing silly games?

All this over the voice of a news anchor sitting in a studio trying to sound like the opposite of what was happening. Apart from the people who were living all of it, the rest of us were all detached from reality and unable to see that the only people whose lives really sucked at the time were the ones that were truly happy.

Happy.

In all that uncertainty, confusion and really inconvenient living arrangements, the moving images that moved me the most was their joy. Their faces did not match the headlines and it made me feel like an idiot for missing out on all the fun. I used to have this grand idea as a child of blocking the space under the doors and turning on the tap in the bathroom. So you know, I could turn the house into a swimming pool. I never accomplished that and the images were as close as I could get to being 7 again…minus all the parental drama that could’ve been.

Happy.

I want to be that happy amongst that much sad. Because stupidly, I feel like I can handle it. We live in a world with constant expectations and being damn near (pick a number!) 25 never makes it any easier. We choose our paths and create ideas of how we’re supposed to be but it’s never any of that. It’s always more. It’s the part of you that practices saying “I’m a photographer”, when you’re not sure if you really are/can/pretend to be one. Or the girl that wants to have an uninterrupted 8 hours of just plain creativity in the hope that it one day be paid for. In the middle of it all, we just want to be one thing, even if it means an unscheduled glass of life-changing grape juice.

And to be that girl in a flood because her life is not over and HEY, she finally has her own swimming pool.

Think of this as a “how to” because based on this, I have a lot of non-throw-it-over-pasta recipes swimming in my head. I tried out one today in a hurry since I had to feed my little animal before I went out into the world. I let him finish up the bits and ends so I’ve yet to taste it. If it’s good, tomorrow will be the day!

Ingredients

3 red peppers
4 cloves of garlic (more if you love garlic)
1 cup of yellow onions (or red/purple)
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil

Pre-heat the oven to 425 degrees F, which in this house take 5 years and I’ve hired a personal chef in the future so why are we doing this again?

Slice the red peppers down in the middle and get rid of the seeds and the stalk. If you’re the seed-preserving kind, you can do that as well! Place them cut side down on a baking sheet lined with foil. I forgot to grease the foil. I don’t know if you’re supposed to but it didn’t matter. I know this because it didn’t stick. Peel and smash the garlic with the back of the knife and place it among the cut peppers. Lightly sprinkle the peppers with salt and put them in the oven for 45 minutes of until parts of the top get slightly blackened.

Once this happens, don’t freak out because this is how it’s supposed to be. Let the peppers cool completely and then peel off the skin and keep aside. You can save the non-blackened parts of the skin if you want to use in the sauce. It’s no big deal either way. Throw the peppers and (possibly) rock hard garlic pods into a blender or food processor and mix it until it turns into a paste/sauce.

In the final part of the process, heat about a teaspoon and a half of olive oil in a small pot and throw in the onions. Let them cook until translucent and then pour in the roasted red pepper paste. Add a tablespoon or so of water and turn the heat to low. Once it simmers, take it off the stove and season with salt and pepper.

Can’t live without being insane Thursday + Brown rice date ‘spring’ rolls

May 2, 2013 by Edlyn

I have definitely lost my mind. Well. Maybe it’s not THAT bad. I’m probably dramafying this more because “woe is me, I need your attention”. Did I get it? Never mind. I’ll get you next time. I signed up for another run.

Huh? What? I didn’t say anything. The run? Oh that. I thought you weren’t paying attention. You see I have this thing where I like doing things that I’m not quite sure I can even do (Like this). Part of me feels heroic when I do but the other part wants to turn around and march right back home. Not surprisingly, the first part always triumphs. But still, I can’t. stop. feeling. like. I’m. nuts.

Crazy. Bonkers. Yes, I signed up for another 5K race. As if the 10K that’s two weeks from now wasn’t enough to stress me out. I felt I needed a mini challenge before the big challenge. A little boost of confidence and maybe a clear sign that my body is not going to fail on me. Refer to previous paragraph if you skimmed through and have no idea what I’m going on about (which is probably all the time, right?). Of course, there was the minor detail of a free drink? Margarita, or something of the sorts, for every runner and also – tacos.

Wouldn’t you have done it? “Sure, Edlyn. Of course I would!” I feel better. I do love motivating words and the people in my life are also accomplice to this insanity. I have a friend, whom I used to work with in Bombay. She’s teeny-tiny and smart enough to intimidate me. People who read a lot do that to me (how could they not?!). We’d sometimes ate lunch together at our desks and she would always make me take more of the dal khichdi. I didn’t mind except that she never ate much at all! I would never share my food with someone if I knew they were big eaters. She made me the big eater. She also ran a marathon.

A marathon. I feel like typing it might make it seem more real but it never works. Motivation #1: And this is in no way comparing a measly 5K to a MARATHON (never ever works) but if she can do it, I can. Not the marathon, the 5 and 10 kilometer race-a-thon. The slightly awkward cousin called the lame-a-thon. I should give myself more credit. I run because I enjoy it and that’s motivation #2. Right now I feel incapable and a bit of a show-off. I guarantee you I’m not either.

Motivation #3 and the final motivation (or so I think) of the day: It’s May. That’s right. The big fat May. My favourite month of the year and yours two. Stop arguing. If I can do something entirely spontaneous and slightly deliberate, I can do it in May. I can do it ALL in May. If last year’s trip to Bangkok and the previous years trip to Kashmir was any indication, I got this. May is always going to be reckless, rambunctious and pretty darn amazing. In another 2 days, I’ll have run my first 5K with a hoard of other free margarita lovers. After that, my first 10K. After that, I’ll be content.

I’ll be sort of short of sanity and breath but damn I’ll be happy.

First of all, I have no idea why there are chocolate chips in this picture. I must’ve been snacking but HEY it’s a great strategy while photographing food. Second of all, I love rice paper. It does take some getting used to because it’s so sticky and flimsy but it’s such great fodder for imaginative cooking. The possibilities of what to wrap are endless like my love for you.

Ingredients

4 sheets of rice paper or tapioca starch paper (the kind I bought was circular in shape)
3/4 cup dates, chopped
3/4 cup overcooked brown rice
1/2 cup walnuts, roughly chopped
2 tsp honey
1 1/2 tsp cinnamon powder
1 tsp vanilla extract

Start by cooking the brown rice like you usually do (or how it says to on the bag). If you don’t buy it in a bag, I’ll help you out here. Cooking brown rice is the same as cooking white rice except that brown rice takes longer to cook. Take 1/2 cup of brown rice and to it add 1 cup of water. Put it on medium high heat until it simmers. As soon as this happens, turn down the heat and cover the pot. It should take 15-20 minutes for all the water to evaporate. Don’t continuously open the lid to check because you don’t want the steam to escape. Just check once at 15 minutes and if the water looks like it’s almost gone, add more to cover about 1/2 of the now cooked rice. This will make the grains more glutinous and perfect for your recipe. Take the rice off the heat and let it cool.

While the rice is cooking, chop up the dates (vertically in the middle and then 3 or 4 times horizontally) and roughly run a knife across the walnuts. Put the dates in a bowl and mix it with cinnamon powder. Add the date into the food processor along with the rice, walnuts, honey and vanilla extract. On the low setting, let the ingredients come together in a sticky mess. You don’t want it to turn into a puree so let the processor run for about 10 seconds each time before you decide on the perfect crunchy/sticky consistency. This should take not more than 30 seconds. Put this mixture in a bowl and set aside.

Fill warm water into a shallow basin or even a deep skillet that has a 2-3-inch wider circumference than the rice paper. Keep a clean and moist tea towel ready on the side of the water container. Immerse the rice paper into the water for about 3-4 seconds till it turns soft. As soon as its state changes, gently lift it out of the water and place it on the moist tea towel. Leave it be for about a minute or until the towel soaks up the excess water and makes it easy to roll. You might get a bit annoyed with the rice paper at first but it works out, I promise. Just take a few tries to get comfortable with it.

Once the rice paper is dry enough, add about 7 tsp of the date and brown rice filling along one edge of the circle (the edge you will be rolling from). Try not to overfill it or the paper might tear. Lift the edge and fold it over the filling, making it fit snugly. Fold the adjacent (if I can call it that) left and right side of the rice paper inwards, so as to close the the open ends of the roll (refer to the fourth picture). Now you can keep rolling like you first did until you reach the other end of the circle. Repeat until you’ve run out of the filling. You can cut the rolls in half or eat them whole. If you’re not going to eat this on the same day, store it in the fridge for a day with a moist tea towel covering it.

PS: If you have the luxury of coconut in your backyard (which I did until I chose to be poor), you can add grated and toasted coconut to the filling too.

PPS: The run is on Saturday and I love the colour blue.

PPPS: There might not be a Sunday post (MIGHT) but it all depends on how much my knees like me.

*Goa people you get rice paper at Magsons. American residents, you can check the Asian section of your grocery shops.

Rhubarb sorbet ramblings.

April 30, 2013 by Edlyn

As I sit down to write, it’s already 1pm. Thirteen hundred hours in military time and I’m still not sure what to wear. I picked the dog up off the floor in the hope that a lap dog would inspire me but that only works until there’s a knock on the door. Yes, I have to go answer it which I never ALWAYS do but the UPS courier man always has such a sheepish look on his face – I see it through the spyhole on the door – that I fell compelled to.

Then he looks at me wanting just one thing: My signature. I already have 1000 excuses made up as to why I’m still in stretch pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Nothing matches and I realise I forgot to check if I have honeydew seeds stuck on my face. Why would you have honeydew seeds stuck on your face, Edlyn? It’s a new thing I’m trying out. Ask me later if it worked?

As I sit down to write this, I turn around to look out the window. It looks deceptively warm but I won’t complain because any sun is good. Any sun after the rain is even better. The plants in the window are probably a lot happier. They have a lot of growing up to do and I have no idea how to help them with that. There’s so much to learn about new life and I tend to just step back a bit. Not out of fear. I’m just a little less bold than I sometimes feel. There’s nothing fun about being told “no”. The only fun part is I don’t mind at all.

As I sit down to write this, I should probably write it already. Nothing about a blank page overwhelms me. This is the one thing I know will never let me down. I can collect as many hobbies and people and cardigans but this ability right here, will always feel permanently comforting. It’s okay not to be read but I know I’d be committing the biggest disservice to this comfortable outfit I’m in and that light from the sky if I didn’t sit down to write.

So I did.

Rhubarb is like the made-up cousin of celery except you can eat the celery leaves and rhubarb leaves can poison you. Chop those of before you start and banish them far far away. The entire rhubarb plant is also very toxic for dogs. So for those of you who have pooches that sniff at your feet in the kitchen, you might want to hang a “No Dogs in the Kitchen” sign. And then teach your dog to read.

Ingredients

1 1/4 cups water
2 2/3 cup rhubarb stalks (320 gms, I had 4 or 5 rhubarb stalks)
2 1/2 tbsp lemon juice
Zest of half a lemon (optional)
1 tsp finely grated ginger
6 tbsp honey (or more if you like it sweeter)

Is everybody listening? I’m about to begin! You there at the back. Eyes on the prize!

Chop the rhubarb into small-medium sized pieces along the length of the stalk. Place the cut rhubarb in a saucepan with water, lemon juice, grated ginger root and honey. The saucepan then goes on to a stove on medium-high heat for a couple of minutes until the honey dissolves. Taste if it’s sweet enough for you. If not, add more honey. Turn down the heat to medium-low and cook this mixture of ingredients until the rhubarb is tender and the contents are fragrant. This should take around 10-15 minutes.

Take the saucepan off the heat and let it cool before pouring it all into a food processor. Turn the processor to low (“high” makes me nervous about kitchen explosions) and work it until the rhubarb turns into a smooth puree. There puree will have some stringy bits of the rhubarb stem but this doesn’t affect the texture of the final product.

Pour the mixture into a bowl and cool it in the refrigerator for no less than an hour. Once cooled, you can put it in your ice-cream maker* for 20 minutes and then freeze the sorbet in a freezer-safe bowl. If you don’t care about owning yet another modern convenience follow this link to make the sorbet without a machine. You’ll just have to pretend the ice-cream in the link is sorbet and follow the same instructions.

*My frozen dessert fiend BHF and I own a Cuisinart ice-cream maker and it’s the bomb.

Get salad done Monday + Black lentil salad, that is.

April 15, 2013 by Edlyn

Where salad is another word for “stuff” and “stuff” is poop. If you’ve been reading stuff I’ve written so far, you’ll must already know how much I love doing dishes. I love it so much that I do them at least thrice a day. If I can’t find anything to wash, I make myself an unnervingly complicated bowl of food which requires no less than 83 utensils. Then I sit down and heave a sigh of relief because god knows what I’d have done if I didn’t have 83 utensils to wash.

I would have cried. Hopeless tears.

I’ve observed people around kitchen sinks all my life. Whatever they did while scrubbing blackened pots and pans looked simple enough. Yet, I felt guilt. Guilt that I did nothing to help dirty all those things and guilt that I only washed my own plate. And hand. Because that’s how we eat back in the South of the East. I knew it would eventually catch up to me.

All this love I had for washing dishes wasn’t going to stay bottled up in my big juicy heart forever. It spilled out into a sea of suds and blue scrubbers (many times over) ever since I started writing about my lust for eatable green world. Safe to say, I am overjoyed. I can now wash as many butter knives as I want without the slightest fear that somebody else (let alone a dishwasher!) is going to take away my sink full of dreams.

Butter knives? Sink full? It’s for when I want to study the wonders of natural peanut butter in pockets throughout the day. It’s going well so far, thanks for asking. Use a spoon, you say? Oh.

Studies show that using a spoon is a sure sign of an addiction. One that nobody should be willing to admit unless coaxed by observers forced to take out recycling bins full of jars that say “Skippy”. I speak like I know the truth, but really, all I know is there are certain cooking utensils that I love washing a lot more than others.

Spoons. Those same guys. Three sizes they come in. No idea why, but they’re breathtaking when you let the wonder that is running water caress their backs and it looks like a Vegas fountain. Turn the spoon the other way three seconds later and your face gets a free wash. WOW. Truly amazing.

Those scissor-looking things that people use to flip over bacon on pans and such. What a marvelous idea. I really do not know how my fingers have survived all these years without it. Washing the ends of this device is something I would give my left arm to Science for. And I don’t give things up to Science for nothing, ya know.

Knives. Oh if there was anything in the world that made me value the truth of dish-washing, knives would be it. Right on top. Number 1 and nothing less. How else could I explain the concern knives feel for me when they make me slow down. Pause. And breathe. And cherish the fact that it’s not those scissor-looking things that people use to flip over bacon that care for my fingers. It’s the knives. They love my fingers the most.

Non-stick pans and how little they actually make me work. I just have to blow on them and tuck them into a floor cabinet. Anything more is just too much Mama bear.

Pop yo collar (sometimes exploding) Pyrex. Because nothing makes me value my life more than having to see it all disappear in a matter of seconds.

Glasses where protein shakes once lived. They teach me the importance of soaking, and perseverance if I forget.

You see, I’m truly lucky. Blessed beyond measure. Ecstatic. Over the moon. Crock pot crazy! And if you know me, you’ll know that this is nothing out of the ordinary.

I feel like I’m starting to understand the vinaigrette formula better each day, and understanding it helps me adapt it to my arbitrary taste. I did a simple Internet search for a basic vinaigrette and most of them say that the ratio of vinegar to oil should be 1:3 (1tbsp vinegar:1tbsp oil). I’ve tried that formula and it works for sure but my Goan tastebuds are stubborn and they want more of the bite vinegar offers. You can tone it down if you prefer. I’m sorry if my vinegar-frenzy killed your throat or something.

Ingredients

1 cup black lentils, cooked and cooled
1/4 cup cooked and cooled quinoa (optional. I made this salad when I made those roasted carrots so I just threw in some of the quinoa that I used there)
1/2 cup roasted peanuts (unless you have allergies)
3 cups salad greens (I used a mesclun mix)

For the vinaigrette

2 tbsp apple cider vinegar
3 tbsp olive oil
1/4 tsp sea salt
Crack of pepper
Zest of 1/2 a lemon or 1 tbsp lemon juice
2 tbsp Greek yogurt
1 tsp honey (optional)

To cook the black lentils, first you have to buy them. Bring them home, scoop out half a cup and soak them in water overnight or for 10-12 hours. The next day, drain the water and put them in a pot of water with salt on medium heat for 25-30 minutes. The lentils should be just cooked through and not mushy. If they are mushy, kick it in the face and use them anyway. Life’s too short to waste good black lentils.

Roast the peanuts on a dry pan on medium high heat until they release their oils and become fragrant. Rinse and dry the salad leaves.

As for the dressing, in a small cup or bowl, mix together the vinegar and olive oil. Using a spoon or whisk, beat it until it combines. Add the salt and pepper and lemon parts and mix. Finally add the Greek yogurt to hold the vinaigrette together with its fattiness. Mix in the honey at the end.

In a medium bowl, bring the greens and lentils. Pour as much dressing as you want over and mix well. Toss the roasted peanuts in and serve cold. Guaranteed to leave your kitchen sink only slightly overwhelmed.

Cilantro-basil pesto + Some real talk

April 2, 2013 by Edlyn

Are you one of those people that believe ads? I’m not talking about the usual “Oh I need to get that” kind of belief. It’s more like the “Poor thing, I should help them out by buying some of that new toothpaste” kind of faith. There’s a big part of me that can’t stand advertising (this punchline is just one reason why). My sister was an ad copywriter for the start of her working life and one of the things I’d famously do in my head was secretly hate that profession. I had my head stuck in the clouds about how much better a journalist was. That somehow, my work was more meaningful no matter how much I was forced to fill space with make-up tips I didn’t have the slightest idea about. I was a good pretender. I know my spring colours. If by spring you mean trying to stop your face from melting because it does not exist in India.

That one.

I guess I’m not one to be Miss journalistic ethics but I do believe that a part of me did some good work. Now that I feel a lot more informed and less misguided, I still miss the poop world that us news guys created. No other place let me love and hate with equal fervour and I embraced it, knowing well that some of what we as an industry did was pretty crummy. Like that one time….meh. Fugghedaboutit.

As much as I try not to, I can’t help but be naive. It’s this big, fat stupid baby stuck inside my head that still wants to believe that people are good. I mean they try so hard to put Hawaiian breeze in an easy to spray can that they can’t be that bad, right? And just like Santa’s not real, I get to snap back into reality, except it’s more of a *thud* because shit just hit the fan. At least it’s Hawaiian-scented.

It’s not.

I’m 25 years old and I think I should be used to the idea that everything is something I’m supposed to need. All I ever need is for my body to be nourished well, my mind to be okay. As we become more conscious consumers, this goal become less of a chore and we can easily win. So try. Maybe one day, we’ll have the ad world wrapped around your finger.

I feel like I make this recipe too much because I (eeps) eat too much spaghetti. Judge, judge all you like. I love life in the fast lane. If my instructions are too easy because the recipe is just that. Make it once and you’re expert enough to adapt it the next time. I’m gushing. It’s my fave. Take that “can’t live without Thursday”!

Ingredients

1 cup fresh basil leaves
1 cup fresh cilantro leaves
1/2 cup pecans, chopped roughly or just crushed with a punch of your fist.
2 garlic cloves, chopped roughly
1/4 cup olive oil (you will need less than the quantity stated but have a 1/4 cup ready to pour into the food processor while it’s working the basil, cilantro and pecans)
1/4 cup parmesan-reggiano (optional)
Salt to taste

Put the basil, cilantro, garlic, parmesan and pecans in a food processor. Start it up and set it to low because setting mine to high just makes me paranoid that the blade will fly out and turn me into this.

Why so serious?

Okay that NEVER EVER happened.

As the food processor is working itself up, add the olive oil in a thin stream. Like I said in the ingredients note, you will not need the entire 1/4 cup of olive oil so keep a watch on the contents and how it reacts to the oil. When you notice the ingredients moving around the food processor bowl more freely and looking more pasty, stop stop stop stop. It’s done. Did I scare you? Okay, good.

Make a huge bowl of spaghetti, mix this in and bounce across the room because this is the life.

If you have leftover pesto, bottle it and refrigerate until you’re ready to make another huge bowl of spaghetti.

I don’t have to tell you what to do next.

(Look out for a sandwich recipe using this pesto on Thursday. So I guess as an afterthought, you could skip that second huge bowl of spaghetti.)