Random Spicy Encounters & My Very Own Garam Masala

Garam Masala: A little bit of homemade magic.

When we first got to London three and a half years ago, we were bombarded by quite a few new sights, sounds, and sensations. Some good (initially countable on one hand), some bad (I won't go there), and some just plain different (that's the fun part).

Just one of the big differences between London and New York (where we'd just moved from) is the immigrant populations and ensuing ethnic influences (cultural, culinary, religious) that are reflected in the city. While New York has its fair share of delicious Indian restaurants (Tabla or Curry Leaf are just two good ones), it has nothing even distantly approaching the realm of Indian and Pakistani choices that London does, not even in Jackson Heights or Lex & 30th.

But even in London and its notorious world of Anglo-South Asian pleasures, like in all things, you get the good, the bad and the ugly: the good presumably being decently priced and ridiculously delicious Indian food, the bad being the expensive crap-"curry," and the ugly being the suspiciously greasy kebab shops selling roadkill-doner and chicken tikka (they don't all, but just sayin'...).

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Random (and rather spicy) Encounters with Masala.

I had a lot of learning to do, having only dipped the equivalent of a pinky toe in the deep waters of Indian-deliciousness while in New York. One of my first revelations after seeing the word "Masala" plastered on every other Indian restaurants name, was what that word meant: "spice." And when I started hearing the phrase "garam masala" thrown around on cooking shows, my ears perked up but I never knew why.

cardamom & black pepper:
just two ingredients in a good mix

Three Officially Random Encounters with Masala
my life is random, what can I say?

1. My first year in London, I was informed by a nice Indian man at a food trade show that Masala meant "spice" as he handed me a small sample of his freezeable-microwaveable-chicken-tikka-masala. He then also (and erroneously) "informed" me that all chilli peppers originated in India. Surprisingly (or not) when he got a feisty (slightly indignant) Mexican retort about said supposed origin of chilli peppers, he was no longer so generous with the samples and I gruffly made my way to the next stall.

Lucky for me, that was not my only random encounter with Indian spices and their origins.


2. Secondly, while pregnant and bored, I randomly wandered into a giant store in Tooting called Deepak Food & Wine. Deepak is a supermarket / wholesale Asian spice and food heaven (haven?). It is the only place I have ever seen 25kg bags of rice, lentils and every conceivable bean you can think of. They offer small sachets or 2kg bags of spices, herbs, or spice mixes. You can find any type of curry paste, curry powder, and even buy a lifetime supply of takeaway containers and forks if you really want to.

Besides wandering around taking a million pictures on my cell phone, I also saw and examined a bag of "garam masala" whole spice mix for the first time while in this store. I didn't buy it. But I did pick it up - and stared for a very long time.


3. One night while trawling the internet for a good recipe involving primarily cauliflower and ground beef (long story, hadn't been to the supermarket in forever, yadda yadda) I randomly happened to find this blog. "Food for Thought" was an easily readable food blog written about Indian cuisine and the culture surrounding it.

Sadly, its owner had abandoned it long before I came across it, but not only did I find a wonderful recipe for Keema Gobhi* - a pakistani recipe for cauliflower and ground beef - it opened my eyes to what Garam Masala - that secret spicy treasure of Indian cooking - really was, and how to make it myself. And make it myself I did.

*This recipe does not include ground beef, but this one does - and I combined the two for an excellent result.

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So, no longer a "masala" virgin, and the proud owner of a varied and delicious international spice cabinet - with many of the thanks going to making Indian / Asian food at home over the past three years - I can now feel pretty confident in writing my own two-cents about the Indian / Pakistani food scene here in London. In the name of England's unofficial national food (curry, that is), here's a post on some of my favorite Indian/Pakistani dishes and places to get them here in Londontown.

My Top 7 Places To Grab a "Good Curry"
and oh-so-much-more than just that...
in London, of course

onion, ginger, garlic & bay

7. Brick Lane
If you come to London you should see Brick Lane. It's an East End establishment: an ethnic, primarily Bangladeshi street, where street signs are written in Arabic and ethnic food shops and cool food & doodad markets abound. Amazingly, where Brick Lane meets Whitechapel Street is where one of the first murders attributed to the infamous Jack the Ripper took place. There's Brick Lane Market, but you're also a hop-skip-and-jump away from Spitalfields, which is really cool.

Sadly, the major part of Brick Lane is now made up of mediocre (if not bad) Indian restaurants. There are about a million of them and they all have "the best deal" and "the best review" posted on their windows and doors, and the stereotypical haggling doormen calling after you to go with them. We were overwhelmed and chose one at semi-random after doing a quick google search on Matt's blackberry. The food was pretty decent - and shockingly cheap by London standards! - but nothing to write mom (or the blogosphere) about.

One other cool thing to do on Brick Lane is to check out a little Masala Chai stand that opens in part of the street-food-market on the weekends. They make fresh Masala Chai which is fun to see and delicious to drink. It is not, however for the faint-hearted: they are very generous with the cardamom. You have been warned.


6. Masala Zone
When we first moved to London we lived in the only barely charming and really-quite-boring Earl's Court. The high street featured some decent eateries, among them a place called Masala Zone. The name itself kind of put me off, plus the restaurant - though not unappealing aesthetically speaking - has all the makings of a chain. Crisp, clean modern decor and a menu that reads like a "how to order Indian food" catalogue. In their own words:

"...our restaurants serve real indian food and cuisines, in contemporary yet exotic Indian popular art settings..."

That said, I really like Masala Zone. It is owned by the same people who did Chutney Mary (see below) and is meant to be affordable and authentic - both of which it is. It is also, incidentally, pretty darn good on flavor. The fact that they offer " thali" style eating also makes tasting lots of different things and eating the way Indians presumably do much easier than just ordering a la carte. This is worth a stop if you're short on cash and looking to try several things at once.

MASALA ZONE (Earl's Court)
147 Earls Court Road
London Sw5 9RQ
www.masalazone.com


5. Cinnamon Club
Ah the Cinnamon Club. It's the "good Indian restaurant" in London that everyone has heard of and wants to go to. It's not exactly a well-kept secret, nor does it want to be. It's popular with everyone from the artsy-marketing-sales" crowd to the financiers, and with a beautiful setting like the historic Old Westminster Library (floor to shockingly-high-ceiling bookshelves lining the walls and all), it's not surprising everyone likes it.

I went there for a dinner for someone's birthday in a private dining room and loved every bit of it. But the tandoori prawns are what stuck out then and stick out in my mind now. Unbelievably delicious, tender, juicy tandoori prawns served with a wedge of lemon and some saffron-laced rice. It's worth going just to taste those. But save it for a special occasion because those 3 prawns will probably cost you an arm, and the amazing wine you order to go with them will definitely take your leg.

CINNAMON CLUB
The Old Westminster Library
30-32 Great Smith Street
London SW1P 3BU
www.cinnamonclub.com


4. Lahore Kebab House
Two words: Lamb-chops.
I've already gone on at length about this place, so please go back and read my British "Local Color" at its Best: Lahore Kebab House post if you want to know more. No survey of London's Anglo-Indian/Pakistani scene is complete without giving them a mention. But if you don't believe me, check out celebrity-esque Indian chef Anjum's opinion. And don't forget to BYOB! : )

LAHORE KEBAB HOUSE
2-10 Umberston Street
London E1 1PY
www.lahore-kebabhouse.com


3. Chutney Mary
What an odd name for an Indian restaurant, right? I thought it was kind of a joke when I first saw it, but then I realized that it's on King's Road in the heart of beautiful (and beautifully expensive) Chelsea, and in a very large building on King's Road at that, which meant that either whoever was bank-rolling the place was loaded with plenty of money to waste, or the place is really good.

Luckily, the latter is true. Chutney Mary is probably the most aesthetically pleasing (to my taste) restaurant in terms of decor that I have mentioned here. And the food matches up. It's all very chic, very Indian, and very colorfully delicious. I had a great 5-course tasting menu dinner there with Matt one night. It was the kind of meal where I got more excited after every single course and started to wonder how on earth the next course could possibly top the previous (but it always did). I loved it.

It's the type of place that makes you feel special and exclusive and in-the-know when you go there. The reception is completely separate and curtained from the restaurant. And the fact that a large portion of the whole establishment is underground and therefore dark and uber-ly swanky with mirror-lined walls doesn't hurt either. It wasn't cheap, but for the quality of food and experience combo, it's definitely worth it.

CHUTNEY MARY
535 Kings Road
London SW10 0SZ
www.chutneymary.com


2. Rasoi
I have never been to Rasoi, but my better-half has, and I trust him almost blindly (with some noteable acceptions) with regards to food. He raved about this place almost as much as he raved about Lahore (see above), but in a different Michelin-star-induced kind of way (until he realized he'd gotten food-poisoning from something he ate there, at which point he recanted and swore off Mango-lassis for life).

There's so much that seems cool about this place to me, though: it's on a private, mostly residential street, in a private-looking house in the middle of the most exclusive neighborhood (or one of them) in Chelsea. A couple of blocks from Sloane Square, Rasoi is actually just 3 or 4 doors down from my posh private dentist's office, which says a lot because that is hands-down the nicest dentist's office I've ever been to in my life.

The way Matt described it (in his good moments) was Indian food cooked and served with French technique and style. To some that may take away some of the authentic charm of Indian, but for others, it is a worthwhile culinary experience. It's like the Cinnamon Club on steroids. If I had more time, I'd probably have to make Matt swear off his blacklisting and take me there.

RASOI
10 Lincoln Street, Chelsea
London, SW3 2TS
www.vineetbhatia.com


1. Ma Goa
As a Londoner, you start to accumulate "locals" whether you want to or not. The mother of all "locals" is your, well, "local" which in British-English means "your local pub." You often hear people say things like "Let's go the local and have a pint" or "it's not a bad local" in reference to this phenomenon. Everybody's got one, from the Prime Minister to the random American-expat living in Putney.

In addition to the pub, you also have your local "takeout" which can refer to any number of restaurants which are "good" and deliver in your area - generally Chinese, Pizza, or Kebabs in the UK (in all fairness, while you do get some good food here in the UK, Chinese is not one of them, so I have resisted partaking in this localness).

But the second most common and important "local" that everybody's got in the pantheon of localities is the great local Indian restaurant. Matt and I are no exception. It took us a while to agree on one, and to this day I think maybe I'm slightly more partial to this place than Matt, but no matter what he pretends, once the food is in front of him and he gets a whiff he admits it every time - Ma Goa is freaking good.

This restaurant is family-run and owned by a southern Indian (Goan, to be exact) family and based on the mother's home cooking - hence the "ma" in the name. Their takeaway menu is littered with references to "Ma" and what her favorite dishes are. There is even a picture of her and her son on the website (I eat that stuff up, as you can tell).

Besides doing good, hot, freshly-made takeaway - unlike many other Indian places that delivery, Ma Goa is not a nasty, greasy hole-in-the-wall with a miniature kitchen, a payment counter and a delivery man, helmet-always-on sitting inside on a dirty couch. Ma Goa is a tastefully decorated, immaculately clean restaurant with two spacious (by London standards) dining rooms and a friendly staff.

My favorite dishes - and the ones I think they do especially well - are:

Saag Paneer: My favorite Indian veggie dish - Creamed spinach with homemade Indian cheese - there's just a hint of heat, dill and cumin in this, and I think it's superlative compared to the many other versions I've tried.

Gallina Konkan Style: I order this almost every time I eat there. It's a spicey-sour curry sauce with tender chunks of chicken. It's the kind of dish that, after I've eaten all the chicken, I pour the rest of the remaining sauce either a) on the left-over rice or b) directly into my mouth and devour it.

Achari Murgh Tikka (or Achari Chicken): I discovered Achari dishes by accident. Again at the aforementioned food tradeshow in 2007 I was given a cooking sachet sample by a different Indian guy. This time it was Achari spices: a type of "bruised" mixture of pickling spices with a unique and pungent flavor. This is not for the faint-hearted as it approximates eating lime-pickle served over chicken, which I, incidentally, think is also very tasty. : ) You can buy packs of Achari spices at Partridges for DIY Indian food.

Tandoori Chicken: This is Matt's go-to dish. It gets a bad rap by a whole lot of "Indian connoisseur" wannabes because it's basically spiced, marinated grilled chicken, which does not seem exotic or complex enough to those - for lack of a better word - fools. But we know better. We, the superior ones, know that sancta simplicitas est mater-deliciousness. Tandoor ovens are one of Asia's greatest gifts to the world. And when this unique, especially-hot oven is paired with a good marinade, fresh lemon, some rice, naan and salad, you've got a perfect dinner on your hands.

*

Someone once complained to me that they only went once to eat at Ma Goa and never returned because their coats "smelled like curry" for a week after they left. I guess my answer to that would be, "clearly you don't love Indian food. Do us all a favor: stay home and save the seating space for the rest of us." : )

MA GOA
242-244 Upper Richmond Road
London SW15 6TG
www.ma-goa.com
*reservations are recommended for Fri & Sat nights.

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My Very Own Garam Masala
Makes about 6 tbsps


highly aesthetically pleasing: my jar of garam masala

Garam Masala literally means "Hot Spice" from the Hindi words "garam" meaning "hot" and "masala" meaning "spice" or "blend (of spices)." It is found in both powder or paste form, in the latter case being mixed with vinegar, water, or coconut milk. There are as many possible permutations to the mix as there are tastebuds in India. My recipe appears to be based on a more Northwestern Indian take, as it includes black cumin, typical of that region.

Interestingly, Indian cuisine is very precise on when and how Garam Masala is added to a dish. It is often added at the very end - either sprinkled on top in the last minutes of cooking, or even just used as a type of salt or pepper just before serving.

I already had all the spices necessary for homemade Garam Masala when I found a recipe for it on "Food for Thought," so making it was easy. For some who may not keep such an extensive or "exotic" collection at home, it might be easier to buy the pre-ground stuff (doesn't keep for too long) or the whole spice mixes which you can grind as necessary. I tend to use it quite a lot now that I have it on hand for all sorts of Indian and Indian-inspired dishes, so I'm glad I've learned this skill as I can tailor it to my palate.

Ingredients

2 tbsp whole coriander seeds
1 tbsp cardamom pods, crushed and seeds removed (shells thrown away)
1/2 tbsp whole black peppercorns
1 tsp cloves (either whole or I used already ground for ease)
1 small cinnamon stick (or 1 tbsp ground)
1/2 tsp black cumin seeds
1/2 tsp regular cumin seeds
1/4 nutmeg, ground
2 crushed bay leaves

Mortar & Pestle


Method

Using a mortar and pestle, crush coriander seeds & cardamom first and then add the rest of the ingredients, crushing and smashing until you get a fine powdered mixture. This could take a while so you can also use a small food processor for faster results. : )

Summer in a Pot: Guajillo Shrimp Chowder

PS: Don't eat the peppers.

When you're already as sick as I am of the cold and rainy London weather and it's only early November, you need something to flood you with warm, memories of summertime, both literally and figuratively, and I mean pronto.

I set upon making this autumnal deed happen for Matt and me a couple of weeks ago when I embarked upon a tireless search for a recipe to make something that sounded intuitively delicious but I'd never seen on a menu or actually even heard of: shrimp chowder.

Matt being a Northeastern man, and me being a total raw-bar pig / obsessed with shrimp, any excuse to eat shellfish or crustaceans in any shape or form is worth seizing on. But, it's too cold and un-summery to make my beloved Shrimp Boils - and yet, I wondered what I could do to bring that aestival favorite to my Autumnal table in an acceptably cozy form. Luckily, I am a bonafidelover of all chowders - New England, Manhattan, Rhode Island -- you name it, I'll eat it. A few hours, lots of researching, chopping, stewing and brewing later, this recipe was born. And yes, of course, it has a Mexican kick. (Really? Would you honestly expect anything less?)

Enjoy on a cold wish-it-was-still-summer-but-it-ain't-and-that-kinda-sucks kinda day. :)

* * *

Ode to the Guajillo Pepper

*with classical double-flute accompaniment*

My Chilitos, my Guajillos, loved and lauded in my heart,

loved and lauded by my taste buds, by my mind - ah, where to start?

a dried and smokey toasted chile, you're a meaty little heat-y,

I keep you stocked in my bodega for you taste good and you're pretty

Cooking you may seem too foreign to some gringos and their folk,

but I just remove your seeds and stem and leave your pretty self to soak.

When you're soft, hydrated, ready, I can take you to the knife.

Listo? Smell and taste but keep it steady! There's some heat, but nothing rife.

I can use you in a salsa for guizitos (that's a stew),

I can toast you for my chili, as good Texan folks would do.

I can chop you up and fry you with garlic, prawns and olive oil,

you work great for dinner, tapas, when I bake, fry, dip or boil.

Oh Guajillo, Oh chilito - you're a deep, rich red, I love.

How I crave your subtle flavors, I hold you in esteem above--
all other chiles (kinda). :D

* * *

Guajillo Shrimp Chowder

or Autumn's Shrimp Boil

Serves 6

how scrumdidliumptious is this picture? :)

This chowder can be as spicy or tame as you want it to be. Guajillo chiles give it flavor more than heat - that's where the chiles de arbol come in, so adjust those to your preference. Remove the peppers and bay leaves at serving time.

I find that putting the shrimp in at the very last minute and letting them cook with the heat of the soup is the best way to ensure succulent texture and avoid that nasty overcooked, dried out shrimp we have all had and lamented. Enjoy - I think this is a recipe I'll be making for years to come. :)

Ingredients

1 lb shrimp, raw, peeled (shells reserved) and deveined

1/4 lb bacon-chop or pancetta, chopped into squares

olive oil

2 tbsp tomato paste

1 small fennel bulb, sliced (fronds & tough exterior reserved)

1 medium onion, sliced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 bay leaves

3 guajillo chiles, seeds & stem removed

2 chiles arbol (or 1 or none if you're a wuss)

3 large potatoes, sliced into 1/4 inch slices

2 cups corn kernels (from frozen or canned)

3 cups fish stock OR 3 cups shrimp stock (see below**)

1 cup dry white wine

1 cup heavy cream

1 tbsp corn starch or flour

salt & freshly ground pepper

chopped cilantro for garnish (optional)

Method

1. Chop all your vegetables and heat 1 tbsp olive oil in large soup pot.

2. Add the bacon and cook over medium heat until browned and crispy (5 minutes or so), then remove from the pan and reserve on a plate.

3. Keep the same pot with bacon fat and bits on the stove. Add 1 tbsp olive oil and allow to heat. Add the onion, garlic, bay leaves, fennel and chiles and sautee until the onions and fennel are cooked but not browned.

4. Add the potatoes, corn, tomato paste, wine, cream and stock. The liquid should just cover the potatoes; if it doesn't, add a little bit more water. Cook on high heat for 8-10 minutes or until potatoes are tender.

5. Meanwhile, mix the corn starch or flour in a ramekin with some water until completely dissolved. Once potatoes are done cooking, pour a small amount of the hot chowder broth into the ramekin so that the flour dissolves completely, then empty the ramenkin's contents into the chowder. Mix well and allow to simmer for a further 2-3 minutes or until soup has thickened.

6. If you are serving the chowder immediately, turn the heat off, add the shrimp and mix well. Cover and allow the shrimp to cook with the residual heat of the chowder for a good 10 minutes.

Serve garnished with chopped cilantro and some crusty bread.

**Quick Shrimp Stock:

Sautee 2 cloves of crushed garlic, the shrimp shells, and the fronds and exterior layer of the fennel in two tablespoons of olive oil until the shells are pink and aromatic. Add the wine and water (4 cups in this case) from the recipe above and allow to simmer for 20 minutes or until reduced. Strain until only the broth is left and use for the chowder.

My Past Life.

Why not while away the (hopefully) last pregnant hours
by searching for absurd pictures of bards?
Image credit.

Thank you Krista and your most recent blog post for one of the only amusing distractions I've found lately.

The Past Life Analysis is not only an entirely frivolous and bizarre thing to do - it is strangely accurate, as I think I was definitely a bard in a previous life, though I don't know how happy I am that I was born in Wales.

Matt, on the other hand, was some kind of ritual sacrificer in Latin America. Pontifex Maximus indeed. Dead sexy.

Ditto for semi-humorous pictures of fake but very intense
Aztec priests who look weirdly like distant relatives of mine.
Image credit.

* * *

My Past Life Analysis:

I don't know how you feel about it, but you were male in your last earthly incarnation.You were born somewhere in the territory of modern Wales around the year 725. Your profession was that of a dramatist, director, musician or bard.

---

Your brief psychological profile in your past life: You always liked to travel and to investigate. You could have been a detective or spy.

---

The lesson that your last past life brought to your present incarnation: Your lesson is to conquer jealousy and anger in yourself and then in those who will select you as their guide. You should understand that these weaknesses are caused by fear and self-regret.

The Story of Igor the Feisty Female Hunchback Guppy & her Tragic and Inevitable Demise

Cicciatello and the Guppy Gang, at the wake

The saga of my goldfish "habit" started a long, long time ago. As a child unlucky enough to be allergic to every conceivable pet-like animal except for goldfish (and rodents, which I hate), my parents (who were also neat freaks) were happy to by-pass the whole "family dog" thing.

Instead, my dad kept and managed an amazingly large tank of fish. Most commonly we had sword tails, mollies, neons and, of course, guppies. I grew to appreciate the delicate balance that is the aquatic world of fish: cannibalistic mothers, inter-family fights, agressors, runts - they've got it all.

For various reasons, after I first moved out of the parental home to go to school abroad at the age of 17, I stopped having pets - until our first year in London, a little over two years ago, when I decided in a fit of ecstatic and probably hormone-driven maternal instinct to buy Matt a giant fish bowl and two beautiful Pearlscales for Valentine's Day. We named them Timo and Tima and those two fish, believe it or not, brought us (or at least me) as much joy as any dog could have.

Timo & Tima: a love story akin only to
Old Dan and Little Ann of Where the Red Fern Grows

Pearlscales and goldfish in general can live a very long time - 20+ years if the conditions are right. They interact with people in basic ways, dancing around when they see you near, or if it's feeding time, sucking at your finger and even allowing you to "pet" them sometimes (I know, you're not supposed to, but who could resist!). It was these lovely little fish who taught me exactly how intelligent fish can be.

They were also the reason that even after their unfortunate and debatebly shady deaths (the pet shop had a break out of Ick in their tanks the week after I bought some Black Moors and put them in my tanks; Timo died a slow painful death from Ick and Tima soon followed, dying of heartbreak; the pet shop owner pretended she didn't know what I was talking about), I continued to buy more fish and eventually encountered Igor, the hunchbacked female fish, who, sadly, passed today.

The Story of Igor the Feisty Female Hunchback Guppy
and her eventual and tragic demise

a likeness of Igor; photo credit.

I bought Igor, who was really not named Igor until she became a hunchback (something Matt throws in my face as proof of my cruel and callaced nature in dealing with the fish), along with four other female guppies and two male guppies about a year ago. I had been burnt pretty badly with the pearlscales so I figured guppies would be easier to deal with - there's more of them, they are smaller, and they don't generally dance for you when you are about to feed them the way Timo and Tima did.

Plus, I remembered my dad breeding the guppies as a kid and thought that might be fun.

After months and months of "trying," one day I woke to find a swarm of midget fish in my fish bowl. Luckily I had supplied them with ample hiding places by adding lots of plants to the bowl. They successfully avoided the cannibalistic, ravenous mothers and grew. After about two months we had gone from having six guppies to having about 40-50, plus a morbidly obese pearlscale who I couldn't resisit buying at the pet shop named Cicciatello ("Ciccia" in Italian can be slang for "chub," btw).

Basically the quality of life for all the fish deteriorated from there. There were too many of them and despite my attempts at keeping the bowl clean (both literally and figuratively), the mating did not stop and the males, in fact, seemed to become more determined to harass the females now that they had about a million to choose from.

The natural habitat could only sustain this for so long, and after Christmas break I noticed the population had regulated itself. All but two of the original females survived, and one of those died soon thereafter, leaving only Igor. Over the course of January and February, Igor, Cicciatello and only about 10 other baby guppies survived. Three of the mature babies were males who seemed to find joy only in bothering Igor. After a few weeks, she became a deformed hunchback, able only to swim sideways and spending most of her time floating at the top of the tank on her back or hiding in the plants, earning her the infamous moniker.

Admittedly I wanted her to die. I hoped she would perish quickly on her own and so it took me a lot longer than usual to administer fish medicine. It was around this time that she started to actually HOBBLE as she swam (maybe calling her Igor was cruel?). But despite the many handicaps, she could still hold her own in fighting the other fish off and was often the first to get at the food and nip at Cicciatello for being a pig. Every morning at feeding time I would yell out "Igor is still alive!" and Matt would yell back "You are such a jerk! Put her out of her misery!"

This morning, after a long sad battle with what was either a severe swim bladder problem or a case of old age combined with pitiless sexual harassment, Igor gilled her last oxygen.

This post is in memoriam of Igor the feisty hunchback and all the other undeserving casualties (past and future) of my little fish world.

* * *

Things I've learned from Igor's Sad Demise

or, why fish are people too, dammit

3. Amateur Guppy Breeding - not exactly child's play.
One thing you may or may not have know about me, even if you know me pretty well, is that I dabble in amateur guppy breeding. And by that I mean that I allow my guppies to indulge in copious amounts of unprotected sex (as is their wont by nature) and procreate in my fishbowl. As I mentioned, I even bought a maternity tank for the purpose and had some success with it, fighting bouts of cannibalism among the mothers and sexual harassment among the males. I'm hardcore, what can I say?

It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt. Among the less known facts of guppy life is that they are essentially the nymphomaniacs of the fish world. The males will relentlessly harass the females to mate, even unto death, if you let them. Which is why your fish supplier (pet shop guy) should really advise you to have at least 3 females to 1 male guppy in your tank.

When my older guppies started dying off, the "torrid and tangled" part of the guppy sex life came out. The ratio was thrown off, and I'm convinced that Igor, once a happy middle-aged female, was actually hounded-about-sex-to-death by the younger male bucks. Pretty awful.

Lesson learned. Fish are people too. So if you're gonna breed them, keep an eye on the ratios and living conditions or you just may end up with an Igor on your hands.


2. Believe it or not, there is such a thing as fish euthanasia.
I did read up on the possibility of euthanizing Igor. I wanted to be humane (despite what Matt may tell you), but in the end the idea of actually killing Igor seemed worse to me than just letting him fight it out to the end himself.

I mean, oddly and morbidly enough, I spent yesterday afternoon considering issues such as the need for a last will and testament, and even after a few minutes of that felt irrepressibly wronged by the universe despite not being dead. I had this intense sensation that all I wanted to do was keep-on-keepin-on and that nobody and nothing should ever be able to take that away from me. I guess maybe I thought Igor might feel the same.


1. I need a dog. Or a child. Preferably both.
It might be time for me and me Elmyra-esque fish obsession to take a chill pill.

I think the best cure for that would be a more vocal "pet." :D


Elmyra on pets: "I just wanna hug them and love them and squeeze them to pieces!"

In Hopes of Spring Day 5: A New World Order - Green Lasagna

Green. Ides of March. Cute graphic. Need I say more?
Image credit, um, I think.

It was exactly 2053 years and 1 day ago in 44BC that (Gaius) Julius Caesar was assassinated by members of his own senate in ancient Rome. That day, unbeknownst to the cunning but well-meaning senators desperate to have their Republic back from the dictator perpetuo as Caesar had proclaimed himself, would live on in collective history as the beginning of a New World Order. (Sorry, had to include the gratuitous HOT photo of Ciarán Hinds as JC from the HBO show Rome.) Photo credit.

A "New World Order" because rather than giving power back to the senate as Brutus and Cicero had hoped, Caesar's death actually quickly catapulted Rome into the infamous and thereafter permanent Empire led by, ironically, Caesar's adoptive son (& nephew) Augustus Caesar, who did keep the senate in place, but more as a courtesy than anything else. Rome was forever altered. We were forever altered.

Similarly, yesterday, on the Ides of March, I thought it wise to attempt something almost as daring, as life-altering as the assassination of one's dictator in the name of Democratic, or in this case, technically, Republican liberty: a new lasagna.

A - dare I? well, yes, because I did - GREEN lasagna.

* * *

My Accidental Assassination of Traditional Lasagna for the sake of The Republic
or, A New World Order - Green Lasagna
or, where did it all go so terribly wrong right?

It all started one day a couple of weeks ago as I was watching Ina Garten's Food Network show The Barefoot Contessa.

A small aside:

1. What the hell is with that name? (Not hers! The show's! Though yeah, Ina? What is that?) I admit, I do find it somewhat aesthetically pleasing - the image of a beautiful contessa walking barefoot through an herb garden and cooking delectable meals from simple, elegant ingredients. But then the show starts and you see...well, Ina! No offense, she's a pretty and well-put-together lady, but come on - a "barefoot contessa" she is not.

2. I'm all for using real butter and real cream - but I find Ina, as fearless culinary leaders go, tends to be somewhat exaggerated in her use of both. Whatever - I still make her recipes. :)

End Small Aside

So, as I was saying: I was watching The Barefoot Contessa and happened to catch the episode where she makes a mushroom (vegetarian) lasagna for some girlfriends. I am and always have been completely in love with mushrooms, and in this episode she actually purchases the loveliest of Oyster Mushrooms (my FAVORITE) for the dish, so I decided to make it. Sadly, upon searching for the dish, I found she wussed out of including the oyster mushrooms ("too expensive" "too hard to find" I imagine - they are neither, btw) and entitled the dish Portobello Mushroom Lasagna, which I adapted for my recipe.

my darling oyster mushrooms!

It may have been a Freudian slip or just an accident, but I also somehow ended up with a box of Green (Spinach) Lasagna in my pantry this week. I meant to get normal stuff, but no, I got Egg Lasagne Verdi instead, made from durum wheat and egg "for a richer taste" apparently. At first I was a little upset about this mishap, but I soon got over it when I realized this would allow me to create the perfect Springtime meal: GREEN Lasagna!

Green lasagna? Who knew.

But suddenly, my mind was flooded with would-be problems: It would be highly unorthodox on my part - a risk. What if the pasta was nasty? What if green lasagna just didn't look aesthetically pleasing? What about good old regular meaty lasagna? Would I be able to go back to ground beef after tasting the nectar of the gods - aka, the oyster mushroom filling mixture? Like Brutus and Cicero before me, I threw caution to the wind. It was time for a regime change and by God, I too would be stabbing the proverbial heart of the traditional (but nevertheless culinarily dictatorial) lasagna if that's what it would take.

I judged correctly, unlike the senators. Green Lasagna was a hit:
It was revolutionary enough to fit consumption on the Ides of March. Green enough to satisfy my kermit-esque obsession. Yummy enough to satiate Matt's belly. And a priceless opportunity to say the word "BESCIAMELLA!" (BESH-A-MELLA!) in an exaggerated Italian accent for the rest of the day, as this recipe requires you make your own. What else can a girl ask for?

* * *

Brenda's Green (Mushroom) Lasagna

Serves 6-8

Ingredients
3/4 lbs (350-400g) Dried Egg Lasagna Verdi (Spinach)
1 cup Parmesan cheese, freshly grated
1 1/2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese (optional)

For the bechamel:
3 cups whole milk
1 stick butter
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 tsp black pepper, freshly ground
1 tsp nutmeg, freshly ground

For the mushroom mixture:
good olive oil
1/2 stick butter
1 tsp or so dried thyme
1 shallot, minced
2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 to 1 tsp crushed red pepper, or to taste

salt, to taste
1 1/2 lbs mushrooms, a mix of oyster, chestnut and white



Procedure
1. Preheat oven to 275 F or 160C.

2. For the Bechamel Sauce (BESCIAMELLA!) Add 1 stick of butter to a medium pot; once melted add the flour and mix vigorously over medium heat, not allowing the mixture to burn, until well-combined. Then add the milk, salt, pepper and nutmeg and mix continuously with a whiskuntil the sauce is very thick and tastes right. Set aside.

3. Bring a large pot of salted water to boil with a good splash of olive oil in it. Once boiling, add pasta and cook as directed. Drain and set aside.
NB: I'm not kidding when I say LARGE pot and I'm not kidding when I insist you add olive oil. A small pot with no oil will result in lasagna which sticks together, cooks unevenly and is therefore unusable. Don't go there.

4. Meanwhile, chop the mushrooms. For the chestnut and white varieties, chop them into pieces about 1/4 inch thick. For the oysters, chop roughly LENGTHWISE. Leave the small ones in tact.

5. Add remaining butter and another good splash of olive oil to a pan. Once melted over medium-high heat, add the shallots, garlic and crushed red pepper to taste. Sautee for a minute or two and then add the chopped mushrooms and thyme. Salt and pepper to taste. Allow mushrooms to cook through and sautee until golden (5 minutes or so).

6. Assemble the lasagna. In an oven-proof, rectangular dish make layers as follows:
- Some besciamella!
**- Some pasta
- Some more besciamella!
- Some mushrooms (roughly 1/3)
- Some mozzarella
- Some Parmiggiano!

Repeat 3 times from ** and end with a layer of BESCIAMELLA! and then cheeses.

7. Bake for 45 minutes; if the top is not golden enough, put it under the broiler for an extra 3-5 minutes. Allow it to rest for 10-15 before serving hot with a delicious and simple salad made by your obliging husband. :)

Buon Appetito!

In Hopes of Spring Day 2: Lovely Lettuce & Corn Salad

Crisp, delightful Round, Butterhead, Bibb, or Boston lettuce; a British staple

Lettuce is, without a doubt, one of the loveliest of things. Every time I get a nice crisp head of Boston Lettuce or Romaine, or even the under-appreciated Iceberg, I can't help but feel a little bit thrilled at the basic, unadulterated beauty of it.

Yes, admittedly, my love of lettuce does have something to do with my love of all (well, most) things green. But, personal obsessions aside, I think green is a theme to cling to on the subject of Springtime. It is a symbol and sign of rebirth and renewal to me (despite some associating less pleasant emotions with it), and the types of greens you get in lettuce are the kind that make you want to run in the hills, rather than for them.

This explains why I could not resist making myself the simplest of lunches the other day when I discovered two very fresh, very yummy heads of Boston, or Butterhead here in UK, lettuce in my refrigerator. But more on that later.

While lettuce tends to have more of a summer-fall growing season here in the UK, where it is lettuce's ideal wet, cool and mild growing weather even at those times, it can be started as early as April. Having no yard or garden in my flat, sadly, I cannot dabble in the growing of lettuce the way this lucky person has, despite having actually managed to cultivate zucchini, tomatoes, bell peppers, and red chillies in pots in my sun room last year. But I wish I could, because I believe lettuce has all the admirable qualities of a beautiful flower with the added perk of being entirely edible. And trust me, if I had the space and time, I'd make sure I had the loveliest of rows for the loveliest of leaves.

* * *

My Make-Believe Lettuce Garden
what it would include and why

just plucked and just washed butterhead lettuce;
lettuce in the UK usually arrives to the stores within 24 hours of picking

The Heads

Butterhead Lettuce: I buy this lettuce most often here in the UK, it being the British staple, but first came across it in Texan supermarkets under the name of "Boston Lettuce" and in those amazingly complex plastic containers which provide a mini-greenhouse for the lettuce.
I would include rows of this flower-like lettuce in my garden because of its vibrant green color and delicate leaves. Much softer than iceberg and more alive-looking too, it would provide fullness and bouncy leafiness in the form of a head.


Romaine: I grew up eating Romaine lettuce several times a week during my childhood in Texas, usually in the form of my dad's Caesar salad, which was, incidentally and appropriately, invented in Mexico, not Italy. I would include it in my garden because of its firm, crunchy leaves,which are much longer and grow much higher than the Butterhead, providing both texture, and a stronger flavor. Romaine Photo Credit.




Radicchio: (pronounced ra-dik-ee-o) I hated radicchio (a chicory, technically) the first time I tasted it in my Insalatona in Italy, despite it being drenched in vinaigrette and covered in tuna fish and fresh mozzarella. But as a more-mature adult, I've come to love it for its beautiful red color and heartiness. You can eat it served hot (grilled, sauteed, wilted) or cold in a traditional salad. Either way, it packs a mean, bitter punch that most lettuces cannot even approach.

I would include it in my garden because of its dainty roundness and surprising redness, a much needed diversion from my green-only philosophy so far. Radicchio Photo Credit.


Frisee: I love everything about this lettuce, despite the fact that I almost never use it. It's the kind of thing I usually get at restaurants and vow to buy for myself, which is exactly why I love it: it has a luxurious oddness to it that makes it less mundane and more exciting than the others. It's like the Marie Antoinette of lettuces, with its frilly, lacy leaves, and beautiful greenish-red or greenish-yellow color.
I would include it in my garden for the effect of its delicious but frivolous look. It's a head that wants to be a leaf, and I can totally dig that kind of individuality in a lettuce. Frisee Photo credit.


The Leaves

Arugula: Not only do I think this leaf lettuce is aesthetically pleasing, it carries many fond memories of first flavors in Italy, arguments over nomenclature upon my arrival to the UK (arugula vs. rocket), and provides an ingredient with a million different uses (including garnish for a great hamburger).

I would include Arugula in my garden because of its delicacy. It bruises and breaks easily, has to be picked one leaf at a time (if you're dainty like me) and provides the pepperiest and strongest of flavors out there (maybe besides radicchio). Arugula Photo Credit.


Lamb's Lettuce: I discovered Lamb's Lettuce (what a great, pastoral name, huh?) one otherwise uneventful day of shopping at my local Waitrose (the pre-credit crunch supermarket). It's the kind of diminuitive piece of greenery that makes you want to run home and throw some olive oil and garlic in the pan immediately. But is also makes the most delicious of salads despite not having a particularly distinct flavor. What I like about it is that I feel like a little lamb chewing on some lettuce whenever I eat it - it's small and fits perfectly in your mouth in the little leafy bunches it naturally creates.
Lamb's Lettuce Photo Credit.

That's reason enough to include it, no?

Some Final Historical & Technical points of interest:

- Lettuce is native to Central Asia (who knew?)

- Lettuce is a member of the Asteraceae or "Daisy" family, linking it to Artichokes and Sunflowers

- Lettuce, the word, comes from the Latin Lactuca sativa: "lac" meaning "milk" based on the sometimes milky substance that comes from lettuce when squeezed

- Rumor has it that the Roman emperor Augustus Caesar once erected a monument to Romaine lettuce, believing it had healed him of an ailment

* * *

Lovely Lettuce & Corn Salad

Serves 2

It is almost laughable to me to try to give a recipe for this salad because it is so ridiculously simple and based almost entirely upon whim and random availability. I think fresh corn and lettuce make a delightful combination, and have thought so since one beautiful summer afternoon in the Danish countryside when I was served a similar salad with small pieces of chopped ham and cheese in it.

This is my take on that salad, ostensibly leaving the ham out but, in true omnivore style, throwing it back in when I serve the salad with my cheddar and bacon scones. :) And if the avocados here were generally decent, I'd probably add one of those in too.


Ingredients

1/2 small can corn drained, or fresh corn kernels, lightly blanched and cooled
1 head Boston (or Round) Lettuce
1 ripe avocado, roughly chopped (optional)
juice of 1/2 lemon
1-2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
salt & freshly ground pepper to taste


Procedure

1. Wash, spin or dry, and tear (not chop!) the lettuce and place in a salad bowl and add the corn and avocado.

2. Mix the lemon juice and olive oil until well-combined in a ramekin. Just before serving, pour over the salad and toss lightly, seasoning with salt and black pepper.

NB:If you have included the avocado, do not over-mix as the salad will become soggy and covered in avocado-y stuff.