The Foreign Foodie
A new chutney! The one that is the same consistency as the coconut but light orange in color is peanut chutney. ("Chutney" = glorp you dip things in.)
At breakfast I had gobi paratha. Knowing that aloo paratha are potato-stuffed griddle cakes, I piece together that "paratha" means stuffed, layered griddle cake. On a guess, the "gobi" is probably a variety of lentil (although those are usually named "[something] dal").
When I get home, I'm going to try making idli. They're not a far jump from steamed bao, which I've enjoyed with great success. (The gluten-free ones were a little grim, though. With garbanzo-flour buns stuffed with red-bean paste, you ended up with bean-filled beany-bean buns. Without gluten, "bread-like" buns have a sandy consistency, and trying to stretch and fill the "dough" (without gluten!) is miserable.)
So idli, as I understand them: cooked rice (or maybe just soaked rice), and maybe white lentils (likewise cooked or soaked), plus some salt, etc., mashed into a paste, shaped into flying saucers, and steamed. Of course, what really makes them a treat is a bunch of chutneys to scoop up with them.
I still haven't encountered my favorite chutney from Swad (our Austin Indian restaurant): a spicy and sweet, thick liquid of green and purple. I think it might be one sauce of plum or sweet something, layered and swirled with another of cilantro. The sweet and hot play off each other to great effect. (It's the one chutney Jon and I always run out of. And we always have a whole cup left of sambar chutney.)
***
You know how yesterday I said it was so quiet and peaceful in the office? As soon as I penned that sentence, a huge, thunderous drilling started up and harried us for the rest of the day, until we fled at 8:30. Again, today. On the plus-side, it covers speech, making it easier to concentrate on reading and writing. On the other hand, it covers speech, making it impossible to have a conversation.
***
Getting only four-and-a-half hours of sleep in order to prepare a presentation for a meeting that then got moved to 5:30pm is making this the Longest Day Ever.
I prodded Bill (a.k.a., Mr Pizza Hut) into eating at the $Office cafeteria, and as I navigated him around the food, I surprised myself with how much I knew. At this table full of single, male, Indian 20-somethings, if you want to know what's in your food, ask an American cook who's fascinated with South Indian cuisine. The guys couldn't explain anything, but I've got the cultural reference to put it in terms that make sense to a Westerner. (That's like a flour tortilla. That's a big pancake. That's like a funnel cake, without the sweet, stuffed with potatoes.) Not like those restaurant menus that define a word you don't know with more words you don't know. Maybe I should offer my services to Swad...
At breakfast I had gobi paratha. Knowing that aloo paratha are potato-stuffed griddle cakes, I piece together that "paratha" means stuffed, layered griddle cake. On a guess, the "gobi" is probably a variety of lentil (although those are usually named "[something] dal").
When I get home, I'm going to try making idli. They're not a far jump from steamed bao, which I've enjoyed with great success. (The gluten-free ones were a little grim, though. With garbanzo-flour buns stuffed with red-bean paste, you ended up with bean-filled beany-bean buns. Without gluten, "bread-like" buns have a sandy consistency, and trying to stretch and fill the "dough" (without gluten!) is miserable.)
So idli, as I understand them: cooked rice (or maybe just soaked rice), and maybe white lentils (likewise cooked or soaked), plus some salt, etc., mashed into a paste, shaped into flying saucers, and steamed. Of course, what really makes them a treat is a bunch of chutneys to scoop up with them.
I still haven't encountered my favorite chutney from Swad (our Austin Indian restaurant): a spicy and sweet, thick liquid of green and purple. I think it might be one sauce of plum or sweet something, layered and swirled with another of cilantro. The sweet and hot play off each other to great effect. (It's the one chutney Jon and I always run out of. And we always have a whole cup left of sambar chutney.)
***
You know how yesterday I said it was so quiet and peaceful in the office? As soon as I penned that sentence, a huge, thunderous drilling started up and harried us for the rest of the day, until we fled at 8:30. Again, today. On the plus-side, it covers speech, making it easier to concentrate on reading and writing. On the other hand, it covers speech, making it impossible to have a conversation.
***
Getting only four-and-a-half hours of sleep in order to prepare a presentation for a meeting that then got moved to 5:30pm is making this the Longest Day Ever.
I prodded Bill (a.k.a., Mr Pizza Hut) into eating at the $Office cafeteria, and as I navigated him around the food, I surprised myself with how much I knew. At this table full of single, male, Indian 20-somethings, if you want to know what's in your food, ask an American cook who's fascinated with South Indian cuisine. The guys couldn't explain anything, but I've got the cultural reference to put it in terms that make sense to a Westerner. (That's like a flour tortilla. That's a big pancake. That's like a funnel cake, without the sweet, stuffed with potatoes.) Not like those restaurant menus that define a word you don't know with more words you don't know. Maybe I should offer my services to Swad...