Food Flubs and Good Friends

I have had a streak of bad luck in the kitchen. Three times in a row! It started with the failed attempt to make Asian-inspired ravioli. The wonton wraps whispered my name and giggled as I walked down the grocery aisle. Maybe it was just my overly-active imagination, but I did end up buying them.

When I was a little girl, I always believed that inanimate objects spoke to each other. So, when my mom would make me a new summer dress, like my favorite, the one with fluttery sleeves and red polka dots on white background, I would always imagine the conversations it had with the other clothes crowded in the small armoire in my parents’ bedroom.

“Hi dresses!” Polka dots would say.

The old dresses would be a bit jealous, because I loved the new one so much. They would pretend the new dress wasn’t even there. And so on. I daydreamed of the conversations that happened between my toys, books, and even food on my plate:

“Hello, pilaf!” the Çomlek* would say as it kissed the white grains, enveloping them in delicious juices and aromas.

Before you close your browser, shaking your head, rolling your eyes, exasperated at the ridiculousness of my claims, I here state that I no longer believe that foodstuffs and objects converse (unless they are wonton wrappers wishing to be turned into soft pockets filled with ginger, scallions, garlic, cilantro, among other things). Ok, ok, I’m done. Don’t leave just yet.

So back to my initial point (goodness, I digress). It started with my experiment of handmade ravioli. The flavors were delicious and the aroma to die for, but after the ravioli had cooked until al dente, it looked like loose skin shriveling around the filling, limping about in the water, completely non-appetizing. I had failed to seal all the air out of the pockets – a mistake I will never again make – and I had failed to fill the wrappers enough.

The second failure came in the form of a mushroom tart, which tasted wonderful, but my technique left much to be desired. I will keep working on this one – trust me, it will be a winner.


The third failure was an attempt at a vegan desert: silken tofu, fresh mangoes, homemade curried vegan crust, ginger, and mint. It worked on paper. It really was not good, and it was discouraging.



This brings me to the food of today’s post: Sour Chickpea Curry. Thursday was an Indian-themed day. Our friends Chrissy and Nathan, Ericka, who was my Post-colonial literature professor – how ironic, and Caitlin, were coming over for a viewing of Slumdog Millionaire, and an abundance of Indian food. Ericka makes some delicious samosas, which were brought along with some vegetable patties and a variety of chutneys. Chrissy made some rice, Caitlin brought the beer, and I made the Sour Chickpea Curry along with aforementioned failure - mango ginger pie.

It was all oh so good (minus the mango pie). And we were so happy to settle around the screen and begin watching the movie. It was heartbreaking, tender, beautiful, and gritty, all at once. I felt guilty at the abundance I am blessed with, and as a member of the Western audience, I felt guilty for assuming that the movie was going to be just entertainment, I, the audience being merely a voyeur, getting my fix for exotic escape. It portrays a harsh reality, one that is still present in most parts of the developing world. I hated the neatly-bow-tied ending. I felt that it did not do any justice to the reality it was trying to portray, but I am no film critic.



Slumdog made me think about the curry we had just eaten and how easy and cheap it was to make: chop this, sauté that, stir in this and that, and let simmer. Simple, delectable, and beautiful. It reminded me of some of my parents’ go-to dishes (they are called gjellë in Albania – more on these in the future), simply made, because of necessity and because, good cooking is often unfussy.

The evening left me content and thankful for my comforts, but most importantly for friends and family. People make our life beautiful; their presence makes the meal gratifying, and their affection and love are the salt that gives everything else flavor, even when we fail.

Sour Chickpea Curry**

Ingredients:

-One 15-oz can of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
-About 2 ½ teaspoons of salt (taste the curry when it is done to make sure it is salty enough)
-1 large onion, finely chopped
-1 fresh jalapeño, finely chopped
-2 tablespoons, peeled and very finely grated fresh ginger ( microplane comes in handy here)
-5 tablespoons of lemon juice (preferably fresh)
-5 tablespoons of olive oil
-1 tablespoon ground coriander
-1 tablespoon ground cumin
-1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
-1 15-ounce can of petite diced tomatoes
-2 teaspoons of garam masala
-1/4 teaspoon of cayenne pepper
-1/2 teaspoon of sugar
-1 cup of water
-3 tablespoons of chopped cilantro

-In a large covered bowl, mix two tablespoons of onions, ½ teaspoon of salt, the jalapeño, ginger, and lemon juice. Mix and let stand.
-Heat the oil in a large, heavy skillet or pan. Add the onions, coriander, cumin, turmeric, and stir fry for about 8-10 minutes.
-Add the tomatoes. Cook on medium heat for another 5 minutes.
-Add the chickpeas, the remaining 2 teaspoons of salt, garam masala, cayenne pepper, sugar, and water. Stir and mix well. Bring to a simmer, cover the pan, lower heat, and cook gently for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.
-Remove pan from heat, and add the chickpeas along with the cilantro to the bowl with the onion and lemon juice mixture. Stir well, cover and let stand for 30 minutes before eating.
-Serve with rice and a fresh green salad.

*A thick, tomato-based sauce (recipe coming soon).
**Adapted from a Mathur Jaffrey recipe.