
While I’ve been managing pretty well during the quarantine necessitated by the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, there are a few things I really miss. Above all, I miss hugging and kissing my kids and their kids. I am truly hoping to be able to put a smooch on 9-year-old Max’s soft cheeks before he starts to shave.
I miss shopping. Yes, just about everything is available for curbside or home delivery, but I like to examine things before I buy. I like to browse. I like to try on.
And, as much as I love to cook, I do miss eating out, especially with friends. And what I miss most of all is Indian food. But, now that we’re nine months into the pandemic, I’ve decided to take the plunge and try out some recipes.
Why I’ve been so intimidated by cooking Indian in the past is a puzzler. Maybe it was the list of ingredients that I don’t have? Like dried mango powder, fenugreek, and tamarind paste. But I do have cumin and turmeric and cardamom. I even have garam masala. So what was I worried about?
Since I’ve been working on an article about India, my cravings have intensified. And my need for a recipe to include in the column became evident. Luckily, I just happened to have all the ingredients in the house for Chicken Chitarnee, a curry popular among the Jews of India.
But once I got started, there was no stopping. Even as we were still working our way through the chicken (I made a whole bird), I had to have Chana Masala. And Naan. And shall we try Ghee Rice? And rice pudding? And …
As of yesterday, I think I’ve had enough to satisfy my cravings for Indian food. For now.
Last night we had scrambled eggs for supper.
Photo credit food.ndtv.com
I found flour! A fifty-pound bag of it, to be precise, and I’ve been baking up a storm. Challah, whole wheat cinnamon bread, bagels, pita. And, this past Monday, we were excited to make from-scratch tortillas so that we could have burritos for supper.
h roots onto our front porch. We used one of them on the seder plate.
I love Indian food, and when given the choice as to what kind of restaurant I’d like to visit, it is more often than not an Indian one — except with certain friends who shall remain nameless. They won’t go near the stuff.
A few years ago, J and I went to dinner at a little place in the Berkshires. We had decent salad and entrees that were meh. But, since we had eaten said salad and fish (so healthy, right?), we decided to order one dessert to split between us. A lover of all things British, I voted for the sticky toffee pudding that I had read about in many English novels. It came in a little ramekin and was so delicious that we could have eaten another three of four of them. Each. No kidding. It was that good.