A Summer Recipe for Summer's End

There is one recipe that my husband and I love to make as soon as the weather starts to get warm, and that we make all the way up until the end of summer: dahi vade. We have taught this recipe in our Vegetarian Indian Cooking classes, served it to all our friends both Indian or American, and everyone just loves it. I promise that even though it seems complicated, it's really pretty easy. Dumplings made of lentils, fried then soaked in water and squeezed out, and served with yogurt, chutneys, and spices. It makes a good appetizer with dinner, or a light dinner by itself. It's cool and refreshing and delicious. In the waning days of summer, it's definitely something I want to have one more time before we move on to warmer/heartier fall dishes!




Dahi Vade

2 cups urad dal, soaked in water overnight
Salt to taste
Red chile powder to taste
1 tbs whole cumin seeds

Oil for frying

To serve:
Plain yogurt, thinned out with some water and stirred until smooth
Black salt to taste
Red chile powder, to taste
Roasted and crushed cumin seeds
Minced green chiles, to taste
Cilantro chutney
Tamarind chutney
Chopped cilantro

Take the soaked dal and grind it up as smooth as you can in a blender or food processor with a little bit of water and some salt, the cumin seeds, and red chile powder. It shouldn’t be too thick or too liquidy.

In a large skillet, drop the paste by tablespoonfuls into hot oil and fry until golden brown. After they are cooked and cooled a couple minutes, place them into a big bowl of cold water. You can let them soak for hours to get really soft, or you can serve them soon after.

When you are ready to serve, remove the vadas from the water and gently squeeze them to remove extra water/oil. Place maybe 5-6 vadas on each plate. Pour some of the liquidy yogurt over them. Then sprinkle the following on top: a pinch of black salt, some red chile to taste, minced green chiles, cilantro chutney, tamarind chutney, burnt cumin seeds, salt, and chopped cilantro.

Kshama Vani

If you're reading this blog you probably know that my husband and I are in an intercultural marriage, mixing cultures, becoming members of each other's families, and mixing religious faiths (mine Anglican Catholic, his family Jain). And (if you're reading this and I don't know you and you're feeling indignant or offended about our practice of either Anglican Catholicism or Jainism), while neither of us claim to be perfect practitioners of our faiths, we both find many things to admire in both religions.

That is why today (a day late) for the occasion of Kshama Vani, I ask forgiveness if I have ever offended you, either knowingly or unknowingly. I am sorry if I have done those things which I ought not to have done, or left undone those things which I ought to have done.

Responding to Ignorance

I've been enjoying the summer so much that I haven't been posting much. I've got some recipes and things to post soon though, but first I wanted to post this.

I was reading Cagey's blog today and thinking about how ignorant people can be and how you can just be blindsided by the awful things people can say sometimes. How do you respond to something like that?

I had a similar experience in 2006 and was so angry that I wrote an op-ed for the Roanoke Times, which they published. It was satisfying to get my anger out in that way, although the chances are pretty slim that the jerk who screamed at my husband actually would have read it. I can no longer find the op-ed on the Roanoke Times' website, so here it is:


It's been two days, and I'm still wondering what that guy was thinking.

As the pickup truck sped past us in the Valley View Mall parking lot, a man leaned out and screamed at my husband, "Osama!"

To give you some background, I'm American and my husband is Indian. Not American Indian, but from New Delhi in the subcontinent of India. There are challenges and rewards that come with mixing cultures in our marriage, and I'm happy to say that we make it work. It's an adventure!

At that moment I was livid. I'm a pale-skinned Caucasian and I've never experienced prejudice due to my race or appearance. Before the truck sped out of sight, I yelled back and—well, it wasn't very ladylike. I was shaking with anger.

I expected my husband to be angry too, but he shrugged it off. For one thing, he's not Middle Eastern; he is Indian, and a doctoral student at Tech. He is not Muslim; he is Jain. To my way of thinking, it takes a real bonehead to connect him with a mass murderer like Osama bin Ladin, based apparently on nothing more than his dark Indian complexion.

I haven't stopped thinking about how hateful and hurtful it was for someone to scream at my husband like this. I was humiliated that, in the place where I grew up, some people are so hateful and ignorant. The more I thought about it, the more connections I seemed to see between this sorry incident and our nation's parlous political state.

As I write these words, it seems that we may be about to expand our Iraq adventure into Iran. Ignorant people draw hateful cartoons about Muslims, and the reaction is burning rage. The Trotskyite neo-cons in control of our foreign policy are thirsting for war with another Middle Eastern country. And if people like the guy at the mall are a clue to the state of public discourse in America, the prospects for prudent consideration of the consequences are dim.

In the aftermath of 9-11 and in the run-up to war with Iraq, we witnessed the same kind of ignorant hostility. The actions of a few terrorists—themselves provoked by our meddling in the Israel/Palestine conflict—caused people like our "friend" in the parking lot to display indiscriminating animosity toward certain groups of people: Saudi Arabians, Iraqis, Middle Easterners, Muslims—a hatred that now seems to include all people whose complexion or facial features resemble even remotely those of the terrorists.

Such malice has caused the deaths of thousands upon thousands of innocent people: US soldiers, women, children, and non-combatants in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Whatever politicians' real motives are for a war with Iran, they can only regard the ignorance and anger of people like the guy in the pickup truck as a useful tool as they forge ahead in their utopian quest to remake the middle east.

I'd like to believe that in southwest Virginia in the year 2006, we are not so easily led by politicians who manipulate bigotry. I'd hope that we are not so consumed by a volatile and dangerous mix of ignorance and hatred that we would lash out at people simply because of their appearance.

So I wonder about the guy who screamed at us. Why?

Because, after all, people like him are as likely as anybody else to suffer losses from the war. It might be him—or his brother, or his buddy—who comes home next in a casket. So what could he have been thinking?

I'd like to believe that he would realize that the safety of his own family and community is endangered by our reckless adventures in the middle east, and that he would at least considering saying "no" to another disastrous and illegal war.

But after our encounter in the mall parking lot, I'm not so sure.

Easiest. Dal. Ever.

Some days V and I get home from work and we're in a creative cooking mood. Other days we're thisclose to calling for pizza, but since we're trying to save money we have to think of tasty things we can make quickly. One of our favorites is nimbu dal (lemon dal). V used to get this from street vendors on his way to school sometimes, irritating his mother who had just tried to feed him a big and filling breakfast only moments before!

All you have to do is cook the dal and then garnish it to taste with a few savory toppings. We like to cook a big pot of it so that we can eat it for dinner and then have leftovers to pack for lunch for the next day. What follows is not an actual recipe, but more of a technique.

Nimbu dal

Put some moong dal into a pot with water, and cook it until the dal is very soft and as thick as you like it. Serve it in bowls with the following things on top to taste:

Minced green chiles
Red chile powder
Black salt (a small pinch usually)
Burnt cumin seeds (just roast cumin seeds in a pan until they are dark brown, then crush them up in a mortar and pestle)
Chopped cilantro and/or cilantro chutney
Salt
A little butter
A couple dashes of lemon juice

Then you can mix it all up and enjoy! I like it by itself, and my husband likes it with parathas or rotis. I don't have a picture, unfortunately, but it looks nice with all the garnishes on top before you mix them in.

The Pasta of Summer 2008!

People, if you must know one thing about my food habits, it's that pasta is my comfort food. Sometimes nothing but pasta will do...preferably some kind of pasta that has lots of garlic with it. This can be a problem considering that I'm married to an Indian man who was raised Jain--that means that he didn't grow up eating pasta, and in his family's religion many people do not eat garlic, so he does not like the taste of very much garlic. So if we're trying to decide what to make for dinner and I suggest something that has pasta or a lot of garlic in it, I hear, "awwwww, noooooo...no pasta; no garlic." And since I refuse to cook separate meals, that means that I have to be vigilant about chances to eat pasta or lots of garlic when I'm alone.

Tonight was one of those nights. V got home from work and was so tired that he just wanted a small snack and to fall into bed. I was very solicitous about making sure he was comfortable and had what he needed, but in my mind I was thinking, "here's my chance! It's pasta night, baby!" I'm so bad, hee hee. And I knew just what recipe I had in mind.

This was in the June 2008 issue of Gourmet magazine. You can't get any simpler than this: pasta with garlic and olives. I made a few changes to the original recipe and ended up with the following recipe. The original recipe suggests that you serve it at room temperature (for cookouts and picnics and such) but I couldn't wait very long and ate it while it was still fairly warm. It was so excellent, I can definitely see myself making it for potlucks and parties this summer.

Pasta with Garlic and Olives
(Originally Acini di Pepe Pasta with Garlic and Olives, Gourmet June 2008)

1/2 lb small pasta (I used Barilla mini penne)
1 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp unsalted butter
4 garlic cloves, minced (1 1/2 Tbsp)
1/4 tsp hot red-pepper flakes (I used a little more than this)
1/2 cup pitted olives, quartered (I used Trader Joes' Mingling Olives)

Cook pasta in a pot of boiling salted water (3 Tbsp salt for 6 qt water), stirring occasionally, until al dente. Drain well in a sieve. Transfer to a bowl.

Meanwhile, heat oil and butter in a 10-inch heavy skillet over medium-high heat until foam subsides, then sauté garlic with red-pepper flakes until golden, about 2 minutes. Stir in olives. Toss with pasta. Season with salt and pepper.

Bhindi Masala

Why don't more people here in the US like okra? It's such a tasty vegetable. It has so much personality; it's so sturdy and quirky. Growing up, I only ever tasted it fried (that's how we roll down South, you know), and then later I got into making this Martha Stewart version that was stewed with tomatoes. But now that I eat so much Indian food, the stewed version tastes "dead," as my husband would say. Not enough masala. V loves a version of okra that's covered in spices and besan and then fried, but I like to do bhindi masala because it's healthier.

We were going to be teaching an Indian cooking class tomorrow but it got canceled because there aren't enough people in town during the summer who sign up for classes. The class is going to be rescheduled for the fall, but we'll have to change the menu because I'm trying to teach seasonal recipes with ingredients that can be found locally. That means that we won't be teaching bhindi masala this year. However, I can post the recipe here!

Our local international grocery has locally-grown veggies, and the okra is gorgeous right now. We've made it twice recently. Make sure you buy okra that's firm and unblemished. You can find it at regular grocery stores at exorbitant prices (seriously--I saw it for 4.00 a pound the other day), so I recommend an international grocery. Also, don't use frozen. It gets slimy and it doesn't taste as good.

Bhindi Masala

1 pound fresh okra, washed, dried, stem end cut off, and cut in half lengthwise
2 tbs olive or vegetable oil
1 large onion, very finely diced (about 1 1/4 cups)
1 small green chile, minced (optional)
3/4 - 1 tsp red chile powder, or to taste
1 tsp khatai (dried mango powder)
1 tsp ground coriander
1/2 tsp turmeric
kosher salt, to taste
14 ounces tomato puree, or equivalent amount of finely diced fresh tomato
1 tbs garam masala

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat the oil and then add the onions. Cook until the onions are light golden-brown and translucent. Add the green chile and stir for a minute. Add the red chile, khatai, coriander, turmeric, and salt and stir for a minute so the spices can blend with the onion and get toasty.

Lower the heat to medium and pour in the tomato and stir to blend. Cook for a few minutes so that the gravy thickens. You can add a half cup or so of water, then stir and cook a little while longer until it thickens a little again--I think this helps the flavors become more intense.

Stir the okra into the gravy, then put a lid on the skillet and turn the heat to medium-low. Cook, stirring once or twice, until the okra is tender. Add the garam masala and stir to blend, then serve the bhindi hot with chapatis or rice.

Here's to You, Here's to Me, Friends We Shall Always Be

When I started grad school in 2003, I met the other women who were in my program and they all seemed like interesting, fun, intelligent women with whom I had a lot in common. At first, I was a bit fatalistic about making friends with them though—I had only had two lasting female friendships up until that point, and our English master’s program was only two years long, after which point I figured we’d all be moving away from this little town. “What’s the point?” I asked myself. “It’s not like we’re going to be friends for more than two years anyway.” But I took that leap of faith and made friends with them, and five years later I’m so glad I did.

My grad school girlfriends and I formed a tight-knit group, hanging out at a local bar with the English grad students’ association, eating great food together at each others’ houses, and sitting and gossiping in our offices between meetings with our students or when we stayed late to write papers. Several of us got married during or immediately after grad school, and we held wedding showers (and one at-home wedding) for which I always made a rich chocolate ganache cake. We took day trips to Warm Springs to “take the waters” and stopped for picnics and antiquing along the way. After our graduate program was over, a few of us moved away, but a small core of us remained here. We started an email listserv to keep in touch and continued to hang out as often as we had time to do so.

Now one of us, S., is moving away because her husband is starting law school in another city about 3 hours away. Although we’re still close enough to visit, it feels like the end of an era.

Last week, S., B., and I went to see the Sex and the City movie. I think we couldn’t have picked a better activity for the waning days of S’s time here. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie (despite the negative reviews) because of its depiction of a group of four close-knit friends. Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte stuck with each other through good times and bad. They were fast friends even when the men in their lives were unreliable jerks, but they also were there to celebrate when one of them found love. That’s the true love story of the movie—not their relationships with their boyfriends or husbands—their lasting relationships with each other.

After (admittedly clichéd, but delicious) cosmopolitans at our old watering hole, I bid my friends goodnight with a hug and went to meet my husband nearby. I kept thinking about the movie and my “Grad Gal” friendships, and also about my very dear friend K. who now lives in California. A bit tipsy, I called K and left her a message telling her that I’d seen the movie that night and that I missed her. An hour later, she called me back to say that she’d also seen the movie that night, and that she missed me too! What serendipity.

I can't believe that so many women buy into the misogynist idea that it's not as good to have female friends, that it's somehow cooler to be "one of the guys" and a badge of honor to have more guy friends than women friends. My strong friendships with K, with the Grad Gals, and with my other women friends have been so important to me--they have sustained me. I'm sad that we're all beginning to go our separate ways, but I know that no matter what we'll stay in touch and stay friends for many years to come.