Posts Tagged 'rice'

Aaaaand we’re back! Crisis Beans

Heeeeeeeeeeeey!  I missed you guys!  And by you guys, I mean the internet, that vast, echoey cloud full of kittens doing human things and the stalkery data trail I use to see if anyone is actually reading this.  Thanks, WordPress!  You make me feel less isolated.

As I mentioned in the last mini-post, I have been absolutely swamped by my Master’s program here in Sevilla, and have just recently surfaced.  I spent last week going around and reintroducing myself to some of my friends and dipping my toes into the internship world. Let’s not go there.  Right now, I should be working on my thesis – I actually just got an email with further instructions but I’m just going to pretend I didn’t see that – but instead, I want to talk about food.  Because that is what I do…well if not best, then let’s go with most often.  I promised that I’d talk about the cheese steak adventure that my friend Dan and I went on for Christmas, but I wanted to share this with y’all first.

For those of you who don’t know, Spain is submerged in an incredibly painful economic crisis that has been compared to the Great Depression and seems to only be getting worse.  Woohoo!  If you are at all interested or looking for a laugh, this comic book author sums it up pretty well.  And yes, it is subtitled.   I had to move out of my old apartment because both of my roommates lost their jobs and had to move home to their parents’ places, all of my coworkers are panicking because they may be losing their jobs because of education cutbacks, none of my students bother to study because there’s no jobs waiting for them after graduation, etc.  And for the last two months, I have been holding my breath because my bosses keep…forgetting to pay me.  So Desa of the expensive tastes is learning how to live off rice and other basic staples for that extra week of the month that appears off and on.

Oh, and welcome to my new apartment!

Continue reading ‘Aaaaand we’re back! Crisis Beans’

Leela Aunty’s Rajma

Summer before last I lucked into the trip of a lifetime.  My friend Rubai was going back to India to see her family, and I jokingly invited myself along, then the joke tumbled into reality (this seems to happen a lot, and I love it).   We ended up staying with various family  members or friends and visited Delhi, Mumbai, Amritsar, Khandala (by accident), Rishikesh, and other cities.  I met a ton of great people, learned a few words of Hindi, saw a million beautiful (and some scary) temples, got my picture taken by strangers, almost fell out of an auto rickshaw in a monsoon, sweated buckets, and generally had an unreal time. And of course, I ate lots, and lots, and lots of good food.

India Gate, in New Delhi.

I could easily write a book on the things I loved eating, and post pictures of some of them.  Unfortunately my vanity is going to prevent most of that, because it was summer in India and I was a beautiful, sticky shade of red for most of it.  I ate chicken tikka wrapped in the most tender flatbread I have ever witnessed; I would go back to India just to eat it once more.  They are called roomali roti, which captures some of the poetry that I love about Hindi.  Roomali is a handkerchief (a lady’s handkerchief) and this roti was like the embodiment of a fine square of silk that tears gently open at the touch of your teeth, except tastier.  Or the cold coffee in recycled glass bottles for fifty cents that chases the sweat from your brow for just a moment and allows you to breathe deep and plunge back into the market, amidst the samosa sellers and bunnies for sale.  Oh, and Indian goat.  You can’t find it here, so I won’t go into it, for fear of sending myself back into a funk.

We ate ear upon ear of corn, roasted. Then you rub it with a half lemon dipped in spicy salt. Oh man, so good.

But the best food in India came from no stall, no restaurant..  It came from the little, busy kitchen of Leela aunty, Rubai’s aunt we stayed with in Noida, a suburb of Delhi.  I could write three books about the wonder of her cooking.  She thought it was no big deal, but her cast off leftovers put to shame anything I spend a week planning and executing.  I could gain a hundred pounds if I were to live with her for a few months, but I would be an ecstatic blob.  Everything she touches has such savor…now I’m her-homesick.  Anyways.  Back to the point.

I got a few recipes off of Leela aunty, which was difficult, as she has cooked so well for so long that her recipes are all internalized.  So she handed over the cookbook that came with her pressure cooker – where she started many years ago.  Following please find the recipe for rajma, or kidney beans.  It’s a basic staple that I like to eat like I did so often: with chaval (rice) and Coke in a steel glass.  Unfortunately I have no steel glasses, so I often beg Meenakshi’s mother to make it for me at their house and then we watch a Bollywood and I pretend that I’m not a white girl from Washington, and that John Abraham will come save me from an arranged marriage.   Again, back to the point.

Rajma chaval!

Continue reading ‘Leela Aunty’s Rajma’

Hey, I'm Desa. I've been bouncing between the Pacific Northwest and Sevilla, Spain in the last few years and from tiny apartment to tiny apartment. I cook mainly for one, which means some potentially boring meals, but here I'll be sharing the food that excites me. Feel free to offer suggestions, commiseration, or desires. And thanks for coming by!


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