J, K, Lahiri
Creative expression has a momentum and a spiritual imperative, I told J tonight. Five kids into this thing we call this life, she's feeling the need to tell her story, get it out there, and I said, YES. If I am learning anything, it is that our stories are all we have and to tell them is to open ourselves truly to the universe. Boy, it sounds like I'm writing a self-help book, no? She and I agree that it's in our emails to each other that we express ourselves most truly, most genuinely, most without-bullshit-y. But I'm writing this now.
One month and seven days, writing every day. Wha-hoo! I've given up on sitting; writing is my practice for now. Every day, often last thing before bed (like tonight) despite good intentions to the contrary. Tonight I had to finish my novel (The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri, devistating in its inevitability), then my friend K came over to return something. A glass of water turned into impromptu tapas: left over curried cauliflower, quickly spiced chick peas, blue corn chips, red wine. Brainstorming about where and how she might position herself to meet the man she is sure the universe is preparing for her. Then J called. Now I write.
Curried cauliflower:
2 bay leaves, 4 cardamom pods, half a teaspoon of cumin seeds, cooked in 2 T. oil.
Add and saute half a chopped onion, 2 chopped cloves of garlic, 2" of fresh ginger, chopped.
When the onion is soft, add 1 t. curry powder, a generous pinch of red pepper powder, 2 T. tomato paste, 1 T. harissa, 1 cauliflower cut into florets, enough water to cover.
Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until all is soft. Remove lid at the end to evaporate the excess water.
Serve hot, or warm, but it was better rewarmed two days later.
Quickly spiced chick peas:
Half a can of chick peas, water to cover, 1 T. olive oil, salt and pepper in a pan.
Bring to a boil. With a fork, mash the chick peas. Add paprika and ground cumin, a half teaspoon of each. Cook uncovered until the water has evaporated and it's a spreadable consistency. Serve in a bowl, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with paprika. Eat with chips, crackers, whatever's around.
After the savories we had dark chocolate, almonds, raisins, more red wine. Lovely.
One month and seven days, writing every day. Wha-hoo! I've given up on sitting; writing is my practice for now. Every day, often last thing before bed (like tonight) despite good intentions to the contrary. Tonight I had to finish my novel (The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri, devistating in its inevitability), then my friend K came over to return something. A glass of water turned into impromptu tapas: left over curried cauliflower, quickly spiced chick peas, blue corn chips, red wine. Brainstorming about where and how she might position herself to meet the man she is sure the universe is preparing for her. Then J called. Now I write.
Curried cauliflower:
2 bay leaves, 4 cardamom pods, half a teaspoon of cumin seeds, cooked in 2 T. oil.
Add and saute half a chopped onion, 2 chopped cloves of garlic, 2" of fresh ginger, chopped.
When the onion is soft, add 1 t. curry powder, a generous pinch of red pepper powder, 2 T. tomato paste, 1 T. harissa, 1 cauliflower cut into florets, enough water to cover.
Cover and simmer, stirring occasionally, until all is soft. Remove lid at the end to evaporate the excess water.
Serve hot, or warm, but it was better rewarmed two days later.
Quickly spiced chick peas:
Half a can of chick peas, water to cover, 1 T. olive oil, salt and pepper in a pan.
Bring to a boil. With a fork, mash the chick peas. Add paprika and ground cumin, a half teaspoon of each. Cook uncovered until the water has evaporated and it's a spreadable consistency. Serve in a bowl, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with paprika. Eat with chips, crackers, whatever's around.
After the savories we had dark chocolate, almonds, raisins, more red wine. Lovely.
Labels: food, motherhood, wine, writing
posted by Slyvia at
6:15 PM
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