South Indian Local Spice

  Everyone on the bus is staring at me. I always managed to be the local attraction, despite the sari.

In preparation for my semester abroad in Madurai, India, I was given a crash course on customs and cultural differences; I learned to conduct myself as a respectable Indian girl. Upon arrival, my host family dressed me for the part—they wrapped me in vibrant saris with perfect pleats, sparkly stickers called bindis were placed on my forehead, and paisley swirls of henna decorated my body. My wanderings throughout the cavernous carved stone stalls of the Meenakshi Temple taught me how to barter and order sweet milky tea. I mastered the customary southern Indian head wobble, the respectful bow over hands pressed in prayer and only passed items with my right hand.

I stood out like a drag queen in church, and yet I felt my attempts to blend in with the locals were fairly successful—until I ate. With the first bite of my host mom’s cooking I was gripped by an intense panic that the inferno blazing inside my mouth was going to cause my head to spontaneously combust. My taste buds were under attack, my eyes burst from their sockets, a deluge of sweat washed over me.  The ability to pass chilies, so intense, from lips to stomach, would require months of pre-game training.

Riding a fresh wave of sweat, the bindi slid down my nose.

Stopping in mid-bite, jaws gaping; four dark brown faces stared at me with expressions of confusion and deep concern. Apparently, "turning pink and crying" while I ate was blowing my cover.

This post was entered into the Grantourismo - HomeAwayUK Travel Writing Competition for November on the topic, "Living Like Locals". We'd love to hear your thoughts in the comment section.

November Project: Thanksgiving Dinner

Mmmm, looks good. What's for dinner?

The Bourgaroni's fourth annual Thanksgiving Extravaganza

Herb Butter Roasted Turkey

Turkey Gravy

Port Cranberry Sauce

Mushroom and Thyme Gravy

Herbed Ciabatta Stuffing with Chorizo, Shitake and Sweet Potatoes

Challah Stuffing with Mushroom 

Marcus' Herbed Mashed Potatoes

Garlic Mashed Potatoes

Whiskied Roasted Parsnip and Apple Puree

Annika's Sweet Potato Casserole

Jiff's Traditional Green Bean Casserole

Glazed Brussel Sprouts and Apple in Brown Butter and Cream

Martin's Steamed Brussel Sprouts

Kai's Corn Bread (by Susanne)

Harissa Carrots

Spinach Gratin

Lowri's Celeriac and Potato Gratin

Butternut Squash and Roasted Garlic Galette

Pumpkin Pie

Earl Grey-scented Flan

Pecan Pie

Chocolate Pecan Pie

Whipped Cream

Vanilla Ice Cream

Whoa. That's a lot of food. But was it enough for 40 people? 

Ask Haiko - that's not a peace sign - it's a "second plate" sign. 

Enough food for seconds.. for 40? How'd you pull that off?

We put our army of kitchen bitches to work!

A table overflowing with old classics, first attempts, new favorites. A traditional American Thanksgiving prepared by one American, one half-American, five Brits, a Swede and numerous Germans. Guests who were well-versed in the tradition of dankbarzeit, or "thankful time", a new German word created for the occasion that translates as "Jiff's totally annoying insistence on a group of people, some of whom do not know each other at all, publicly embarrassing themselves by stating one thing, sometimes extremely personal, sometimes humorously removed, that they are thankful for", knew what to expect. For the novices, we put together a short film (imovie is soooooo awesome) with examples of things that one could be thankful for - if only I could figure out how to post it here.

In addition to being thankful for not burning the entire building down despite have three ovens going simultaneously all day long, I am particularly thankful for this community of people who gathered with us to celebrate one of my favorite American traditions. Thank you everyone! Same time, same place next year! Danke Schön!!

November Project: Saibling meets Reisling

Click for larger

First off, HAPPY THANKSGIVING dear smashandsniff readers! I realize that all of you in the States as well as many of you expats are celebrating today and I wish you warm blankets, lots of tag football and Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade action to go with your turkey-stuffing-gravy-mashed-potato comas. I will be eating schnitzel tonight but FEAR NOT: I have 40 people coming over for Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday night. Yes, I said 40. And I will tell you all about it next week. But until then...

On Friday night, Susanne and I went to our local neighborhood wine shop, Weingut Wein, for a fabulous home cooked meal - with 15 other people. Jochen, our local wine expert, pairs the wines with his wife Inka's fine cooking and once a month or so they offer dinners in their wine shop, each course paired with one of Jochen's personally selected wines. This time the theme was Saibling (a fish that is a close cousin of salmon - my German-English dictionary is offering "char","fingerling" and "samlet" as translations - help!) meets Riesling. The saibling is raised in the "altes Land" here across the Elbe river in Hamburg by an older couple who harvest them from a chalk pond. It is a very particular way of raising the fish and as the couple will soon retire and has not yet found anyone willing to take over their chalk farm, it may soon be extinct, at least here. So Inka prepared an amazing four course meal with the Hamburg saibling and Jochen found the perfect riesling pairings.

A hot smoked trout ("forelle") with roasted potatoes and herb apple remoulade.

Inka prepares the plates while Jochen explains a bit more about the saibling harvest and the wines he has chosen to accompany them. I was so absorbed in food and conversation that I forgot to snap a photo of the second course, the cold smoked saibling with orange lentil salad. The fish looked and tasted like smoked salmon but lighter. And while I am not usually a lentil fan, these lentils were a perfect foil for the fish, slightly acidic and sweet.

The cassoulet of hot smoked saibling was similar to a minestrone, lighter than a cassoulet. The smoked fish with the vegetables was fantastic.

And the cold smoked wild salmon (the only fish originating outside of the region) with a dill mustard sauce paired with a very minerally riesling - "mineralisch" in German - it's one of those words that just works so well that I anglicize it, like, "paired with a very mineralish riesling" - and then, oh, wait.... mineralish... is that a... did I just make that up? Whatever, you know what I mean. The longer I live here, the more "Denglish" I speak. Na ja. 

The wine crate-stocked shelves served as the perfect and effortless (it is a wine shop after all) decoration as we sat with strangers at tables of four or eight. A couple looking for a romantic evening alone might not appreciate sitting at a communal table. But Susanne and I had a fabulous time with our tablemates - a lovely older couple who drank us under the table. 

Thanks Jochen and Inka for a lovely and delicious evening!

November Project: December Project

The season opener. First day of the Weihnachtmarkt season and of course I arrived early and stayed late, kids in tow. Whether they liked it or not. At first, they needed a bit of cajoling. Because it was cold. Like, suddenly really cold. But I had just the thing to get them in the spirit:

My favorite Gypsy Santa band. The same one every year. At the same stand. These guys kill it on a clarinet, an accordion and a tamborine. They draw the hard-core Weihnachtsmarkts enthusiasts like myself. But my kids weren't feeling it.

Amalia was mentally singing along to "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". Henry on the other hand, shot me a look every three seconds that said, "Get me the f*ck out of here!" Every time the clarinet player took a step in his direction, winked, nodded or just blew, Henry twisted around and grabbed for me in utter desperation.

I realized that I was striking out here and it was essential that they have a good time if I wanted to get my glüwein on this season. There was only one thing to do:

They were toooootallly psyched about the carousel. And more than happy to oblige when a TV news crew showed up and asked if they would go around a few more times for a film shoot. What!?!? I have to drive the SUPER COOL TOTALLY AWESOME FIRE ENGINE WITH BRASS BELLS THAT I LOVE TO RING NON-STOP AGAIN!?!?! Awwwww Mom! Do I have to!?!??!

And just when they thought it couldn't get any better, the Tirolean bratwurst stand. Total contentment. If my plan is working, two budding Weihnachtsmarkts fans are in the making!

As Local As I'll Never Be

I spent two years living with a family in a hut made of cow dung in Mauritania, West Africa. I learned to speak the village language, Soninké, enough discuss the Koran with my host “father”, shoot the shit with my teenage brother Moussa about American pop culture and talk to my moms about female circumcision. I worked in the millet fields, pulled water from the well and slept outside with my sisters.

The Peace Corps, in essence, is the ultimate exchange program. It’s an opportunity to live more local than you ever thought possible in the developing world, basically being adopted into a family.

One afternoon during the daily tea break, I made fun of Moussa with the requisite insult, “You eat beans!” Everyone laughed. “Ah, Laliya (my local name),” said my mom, Khujedji, “You really are one of us.”

“No she’s not," Moussa shot back. “If anything happens to her, they’ll fly her out of here and she’ll leave us behind.” Khujedji shushed him. But he was right. I had an out.

For me, this was novel; for them, it was real life. I might have lived in the same mud hut, but I would be evacuated if I became severely ill; I’d be flown to shelter in the event of civil unrest and I would never be dependent on a millet crop for my survival.

While I gained a better understanding of daily life than otherwise possible, I would never know what it’s really like to be local.

This post was entered into the Grantourismo - HomeAwayUK Travel Writing Competition for November on the topic, "Living Like Locals". We'd love to hear your thoughts in the comment section. 

November Project: Bammy's Turkey Gravy

Thanksgiving 1974: Aunt Nancy, Bammy, and my beautiful Mother.

  

It has recently been brought to my attention that gravy can be bought in a can. Yes, in a CAN! And people buy those cans and serve gravy from them to people they don’t hate! Ok, I realize that I am sort of naïve about these things and rather than allow the reality of America’s laziness and loss of tradition seep into my consciousness, I happily believe that everyone takes the time to make proper gravy. And by proper gravy I mean the kind that is rich with layers of flavor and silky with the sweat and worry that goes along with making The Gravy.

Gravy is a major stressor. I cannot think of a more important condiment. If you are out of mustard, the sandwich is not ruined; salty crisp chips can be enjoyed without salsa. But Thanksgiving dinner without a thick deeply flavored slathering of gravy? Well, let’s be honest, it is a total failure. A savory gravy can save the driest, most desiccated turkey. I can understand not wanting to have that sort of responsibility, especially when most people will be lazing about with mimosas or enjoying a brisk game of touch football, oblivious to the culinary feats taking place in the kitchen. But consider the alternative: your friend offers to make it and brings over her “famous” fat-free, dairy-free, salt-free gravy (!!!) or worse Aunt Judy shows up with CANS of gravy!

It could happen, but don’t let it.

My grandma, Bammy, is a bit of a gravy nazi and won’t let anyone even think about making the gravy. Along with the mashed potatoes, gravy is her domain. Last Thanksgiving I followed her around the kitchen and diligently recorded a very sacred tradition: The Gravy. So pick up the whisk and take matters into your own hands—be the hero.

BAMMY'S TURKEY GRAVY

2 quarts water

Turkey neck and giblets

1 white onion, chopped

4 celery stalks, leaves included, chopped

3 carrots, peeled, chopped

5 sprigs parsley

7 sprigs thyme

2-3 bay leaves

2 teaspoons chicken base (bouillon)

Pan rich with roasted turkey juices and bits

6-8 tablespoons flour, sifted

Kosher salt and pepper

A few drops of Kitchen Bouquet- This is a very old school ingredient, and can be omitted (however, Bammy would NOT approve). She mainly uses it for color.

1. For the stock, combine the first nine ingredients in a pot and let simmer for one hour, or more.
Pass stock through a fine strainer and reserve the liquid. Trim off all usable meat from the neck. If desired, with a paring knife trim the giblets well. Cut neck meat and giblets into bite-sized pieces and add to stock. Discard all other vegetables and herbs. Cover and put in refrigerator; this step can be done a day ahead. You can use this stock and lots of butter to baste the turkey.

2.To make the thickener, combine the flour and two cups of the chilled turkey broth in a jar. With the lid on tight, shake vigorously until it is smooth with no lumps. (The stock cannot be hot, or else it will be lumpy.)

4. To make the gravy, bring the turkey stock to a low simmer. When the turkey is done, remove it from the pan to rest and skim off most of the fat—but not the turkey juices! Place the roasting pan over a burner or two on the stovetop over medium heat.

5. To incorporate the caramelized turkey bits and flavorful juices into the gravy, pour the thickener into the pan and bring to a simmer. Scrape up the bits from the bottom with a rubber spatula.

6. While whisking, slowly add the stock to the pan. Whisk continuously until all is added—don’t leave the stove, it is very important that you keep whisking! Return to boil and it will thicken to deeply flavored, silky gravy. Add salt and pepper to taste. Pour over everything on your plate!

November Project: Saturation Point, Brief Respite

 

 A few years ago, I spent several weeks traveling in India on my own. After my very first parantha breakfast, my first thali dinner, I was smittenly blissed out. Why have I not been eating only Indian all my life!?!? I thought to myself. The cardamon-scented biryanis, the rich butter sauces, the ubiquitous lentils, the spicy pickles. And a thali was the perfect way to try a little of everything. I ate at street stands (having been thoroughly warned not to), local hole-in-the-walls, and more upscale Indian-for-tourist type restaurants. But something happened around day ten: I wanted a pizza. I wanted pasta. I wanted a cheeseburger. I wanted anything that did not have a trace of cardamon, garam masala or nutmeg and for God's sake, NO LENTILS. 

Yesterday, exactly 17 days in to the November Project, I hit my no lentil point. No more squash, in any of it's lovely variations. No stuffing, no gravy, no root vegetables, nothing gratin. I needed something so completely different, Gegenteil, 180 degrees, several thousand miles and many different languages away from foods that are associated with a cornecopia. And hence, this simple but delicious pad thai recipe, for a change of pace.

(Make no mistake, the November Project will continue apace tomorrow - still have to share the world's best stuffing recipe, port cranberry chutney and spicy harissa carrots with you. And Smash has got a few tricks up her sleeve as well.) 

Shrimp Pad Thai by Mtlabor, courtesy of (who else?) Food 52

Serves 2

• 1-2 tablespoon tamarind concentrate
• 3 tablespoons fish sauce
• 1 tablespoon rice vinegar
• 3 tablespoons sugar
• 4 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 8 ounces thick rice noodles
• 2 eggs
• salt and pepper to taste
• 1 pound medium shrimp, peeled and deveined
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 shallot, minced
• 1 jalapeno, seeded and minced
• small handful honey roasted peanuts, chopped
• small handful cilantro, chopped

In a small bowl, combine the fish sauce, rice vinegar, sugar, 2 tablespoons oil, and tamarind concentrate. Stir until sugar is dissolved and set aside. (Jiff's note: mmmm Tamarind! So fragrant!)

Soak the rice noodles in hot tap water for about 20 minutes, or until they start to soften but not fully tender. Drain and set aside. (Jiff's note: I thought these noodles were too think. I will look for thinner ones next time. Also, make sure they are thoroughly cooked; mine were a little too al dente, which works better with Italian pasta that Thai - in my opinion.)

 

 

Beat the eggs with a pinch of salt in a small bowl and set aside. (There's lots of things to set aside, aren't there? Makes it easier in the end because the cooking of this dish is fairly quick).

 

 

In a large skillet or wok, heat 1 tablespoon of the oil under high heat for about 2 minutes. Add the shrimp and season with salt and pepper. Cook for about 2 to 3 minutes, or until the shrimp start to turn pink with browned edges. Remove shrimp and set aside.

 

 

Add remaining 1 tablespoon of oil to skillet. Add garlic, shallot, and jalapeno. Cook over medium heat and stir continuously for about 1 minute. Add eggs to skillet and stir vigorously with a wooden spoon until scrambled, about 30 seconds. Add the egg noodles and toss with tongs to combine. Pour the tamarind/fish sauce mixture over the noodles and increase the heat to high, continuing to toss the ingredients with the sauce.

 

 

Add 1/2 of the chopped peanuts and cooked shrimp. Toss noodles for about 2 more minutes. Dish out onto hot plates and top with remaining peanuts and garnish with cilantro. Enjoy! (But remember, it's back to (Thanksgiving) tomorrow!)