Saturday, 20 April 2013
That swag-bags need to be stuffed with military precision. Just ask Kathy.
That power cuts just mean more time in front of warm, cosy fireplaces. Unwashed hair be damned. Well, not if it stinks... but most Canadians are too polite to say you stink anyway. So I guess, unwashed hair be damned.
That meeting Sweetopia turns you into a mumbling, blushing (yep, brown people can blush) inarticulate fangirl.
That your voice is what draws readers to you. And if they like it, keeps them with you. And occasional pictures of cookies don't hurt either.
That self-publishing no longer has the 'vanity press' tag and is positively encouraged.
That you look like an idiot when you're taking food pictures lying down on your stomach. But the pictures are so cool, and you learn so much from the lovely photographers, so who cares about a little pain? Plus, you also get to eat the cookies in the end. And banter with Julie (verily, that Julie) on Twitter after. And your husband's snickers be damned too.
Now I have a stomach cramp :-) #FBC2013 #foodphotography w/ @sharp_photo @Foodstyler @dinnerwithjulie pic.twitter.com/ZYudlt3Wzc
— Michelle PetersJones (@michpetersjones) April 13, 2013
That exclamation marks and smileys need to be used with extreme caution! :(
That its completely normal and you're not the only one at the table photographing and tweeting about your food. We also, on occasion crept out from behind the cameras, smartphones and computers and... gasp... talked to people in real life. Gasp. Run. Hide Now!
That posts titled 'Ten Things About... Etc' get the best kind of engagement!!! :) :)
Wednesday, 17 April 2013
I don't know anyone who can resist the warm, soothing fragrance of cinnamon, do you? This warm, aromatic spice is used in everything from mulled wine to fragrantly spiced curries, to enduring cinnamon buns and baking of all kinds of goodies.Cinnamon has been prized everywhere since the early Egyptians and its not surprising that its a staple in Middle Eastern cooking as well as in cusines from all over the world. Mexican cuisine prizes its 'cannella' and no Indian spice cupboard is complete without its distinctive curls and bark.
There are several varieties of cinnamon, but in this short piece I will be focusing on the two genus' that I use the most, cassia bark and 'true' cinnamon.
Cassia Bark
Latin Names: Cinnamomum Cassia (Chinese)/ Cinnamomum Burmannii (Indonesian)/ Cinnamomum Loureiroi (Vietnamese)
Indian Names: (Jungli/ Wild) Dalchini (dahl-chi-nee)
One of the most familiar spices in the Indian kitchen is cassia bark. I always thought that cassia was the outside bark of the cinnamon tree/ shrub, and to some extent I was right. But as I read and researched more about cinnamon, I found out that cassia is actually a genus of cinnamon, and commonly grown in China, and therefore also known as Chinese Cinnamon. It grows extensively in China and South East Asia, and is cheaper to cultivate the 'true' cinnamon. Chinese cinnamon is cheaper and exported widely around the world, and also comprises a large portion of the ground cinnamon market. There are three commonly used types of cassia, Chinese, Indonesian and Vietnamese (Saigon). Saigon cassia tends to be more expensive, though disruptions in production have meant that its Chinese cassia that is the most exported and consumed. India and Sri Lanka (Ceylon) are also huge producers of cassia, with the state of Kerala in India, in particular, having some of the largest cassia/ cinnamon estates in Asia.
Cassia bark is widely used in Indian cooking, in particular, and my research suggests that the reason is that its cheaper to buy and use. However, taste testing also suggests that the flavour of cassia is milder and less intense than 'true' cinnamon, and this contributes to the flavour profiles of several Indian dishes in which cassia is widely used.
Cassia bark can be easily identified by its rough, tree bark like texture and tends to be extremely hard and difficult to powder. The flavour, as I said earlier, is milder and less intense to cinnamon, and youy have to rub your fingers on it to get a sense of the fragrance. The profile is warm and aromatic, similar to cinnamon, but the taste tends to be less overpowering, therefore it can be used in larger quantities to ground or 'true' cinnamon.
Wednesday, 10 April 2013
Its a ritual that takes place in almost every Mangalorean Catholic home every Sunday. First, the women of the family are up at an ungodly hour to start the sannas, the batter of which would have been ground the night before. Then the kids are unceremoniously kicked out of bed, and yelled at to get ready, otherwise they're going to be late to Sunday school. After the due religious routines have been followed, said kids may be lucky enough to be taken to a nearby restaurant, duly salivating at the thought of a masala dosa or a idli sambar (a thin rice crepe filled with spicy potato curry, and a steamed, fluffy rice cake, not unlike a sanna, with a hot steaming vegetable stew) Then the men of the family are dispatched to various grocery errands, while the women (and very often, the reluctant, whining, complaining kids who would rather be watching Sunday morning kid's television) would start the (seemingly endless) chopping of onions, ginger, garlic and hot green chillies that could take out an elephant, that was the base of this dukra maas.
The bafat would usually have been made a few weeks earlier, with fresh batches smuggled legally sent to various relatives who live in 'abroad'... and a small batch is left behind for the weekly Sunday ritual of the dukra maas, of course. Once the chopping is all done, the pork is then cubed into small pieces, and the cooking process begins. During the cooking process there will probably be a steady stream of 'I am hungry....' whines coming from all directions. The dog would add a couple of squeaks too... and he may be lucky enough to get a bone for his troubles. The house starts to smell more and more fragrant as the curry simmers away, and the smell is strong enough to lure a few interested neighbours into the fray. They peek at the curry, shoot some breeze, ask a few questions about the provenance of said cooking pig, and then meander away to their own homes, where, perhaps there is another kind of curry cooking.
Friday, 29 March 2013
Growing up in Catholic Mangalore, the one festival that we didn't really celebrate was the intensely riotous festival of colours, Holi. In
India, Holi signifies the arrival of spring and is celebrated by
throwing powdered colours at people, as well as buckets full of coloured
water.
But that changed when I headed to university in Delhi, and for two crazy years, I celebrated Holi with a passion that belied all my Holi-less days growing up. Our university turned into a rainbow as everyone was doused in every shade of colour known to humankind.
Holi is also about bhang... click on that word at your own peril :) Bhang is an intoxicating drink made with the leaves and buds of the female marijuana plant, and for one day is pretty much legal all over India. At university, we used to be served 'bhang thandai' (a chilled milk based bhang drink) in our residence mess halls. Obviously, you could choose if you wanted to drink it or not, but to be honest, what self respecting university student, away from home, wouldn't indulge? So we started off with bhang first thing in the morning, steadily getting more and more intoxicated as the day wore on and we all were wearing a plethora of colour. We danced out in the streets with wild abandon, and even the most uptight of people let go of their inhibitions, as everyone embraced the beginning of spring and the bounty it brings. Technically we still had classes, but seeing as most of the lecturers were down with the students, I can only assume not much teaching or learning happened.
And once the day was done, we all scraped ourselves off the ground, and oozed our way back to our rooms, where we spent hours trying to wash all the colours out of our hair and skin, usually to the chorus of 'why are you hogging the bathroom, get out and let others shower too' 'knock, knock, are you ever getting out of there?' 'other people need to shower too'... (these are Indian student halls, about four bathrooms shared between twenty odd girls led to a fair bit of possessiveness and yelling and screaming and threatening and accompanying hilarity :))
Sadly, as I am not so much in with the East Indian population here in
Edmonton, I didn't manage to find an, ahem! bhang party to attend this year... to be honest, I
would imagine most people celebrated quietly indoors anyway, owing to
the freezing temperatures :) So this year, my Holi has been spent
vicariously enjoying all the pictures that my friends in India, and some
abroad, have been posting on their Facebook timelines! And missing the
bhang warmth and colours of India.
Monday, 25 March 2013
I've always said that you can take a girl out of the tropics, but you can't take the tropics out of the girl. Yes, and that would describe me to a tee. As I always bemoan on this site, I miss the tropics. I am not saying that I don't love living in Edmonton, but to be honest, when its the end of March and we have over a foot of snow... well, it gets old very fast. This is the time when I am so heartily sick of winter and the cabin fever sets in. I get really tired of having to put on a million (erm... maybe a slight exaggeration, but close, nevertheless) layers of clothes, and hats and mittens and giant snowboots... its so wrong. Especially when then cat's bounding along with spring fever and shedding everywhere, and on occasion, you can hear a lonely bird or two tweedling their lonesome song...
Yes, these are the days the sunshine girl in me longs to shed all those layers and the only hat I want to wear is a sunhat. Preferably a pink one. With pink flipflops to match... its not that much of an ask, is it?
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