In the last few years, the popularity of turmeric has surged in the western world. What was once a common spice in Asian and Middle Eastern households across the world has now been touted as a “health food” by people in the West. It is considered an anti-inflammatory, a spice capable of keeping colds and viruses at bay, potentially even able to help prevent diseases from heart disease, cancer, breathing problems, and even Alzheimer’s. People are adding it to literally everything: their smoothies, oatmeal, lattes, and even as a TOPPING on their dishes the way most people add scallions or cilantro to top Asian dishes, or the way Westerners might add salt and pepper to taste at the end. It has become a borderline insane obsession which absolutely need to stop.

Turmeric is primarily added to Asian and Middle Eastern foods for its bright yellow/orange color. It is always added in small quantities because the flavor of the dried form on its own is, to be frank, just like sawdust — woody, earthy, musty, like dirt (the actual fresh, raw turmeric is a different story, with a flavor that is more earthy and pungent). It is always, always paired with a pepper, whether it’s cayenne or black pepper, because the heat of the pepper “activates” the health benefits of the turmeric spice itself. It’s NOT a spice that you take a pinch of and throw in your mouth because it tastes delicious. This is not cinnamon. It’s NOT cardamom. It is turmeric. Have some respect for this spice and use it properly.

So I was a little disturbed, no, EXTREMELY disturbed, when I saw that #thestew was trending on social media. Apparently, some out-of-this-world coconut milk turmeric chickpea stew that the New York Times food writer Alison Roman had published was becoming a sensation in kitchens across America. It was like she had created this stew that just knocked everyone’s socks off. I didn’t understand it: it sounded like some basic, plainer iteration of the intensely flavorful chickpea curries I’d eaten in Indian cuisine. What the heck made this different, other than the fact that she dumbed down the Indian versions and used canned chickpeas?

Granted, I like a lot of Alison Roman’s recipes, particularly her American/European-influenced dishes. They’re flavorful, hearty, and seem well balanced. But this recipe, after reviewing it, just seemed so incredibly boring and like a knock-off of Indian recipes that Indian households and people have been making for hundreds of years. And the worst part: when I actually watched her video on YouTube where she’s making it, she actually had the gall to use turmeric powder as a garnish, as in… SHE SPRINKLED THE EQUIVALENT OF A TABLESPOON OF TURMERIC ON TOP OF THE CURRY STEW.

NO ONE DOES THAT, EVER. PLEASE, NEVER, EVER DO THAT WITH TURMERIC. It felt insulting to South Asian cuisine and to South Asians to me, and I am not even South Asian. A number of Indian views who commented on the video had the exact same sentiments that I have noted here. I have no problem with and encourage people to eat and make food from cultures that are not their own because eating another person’s food is the easiest and best way to learn about another’s culture and perspective. I make Mexican Indian, Middle Eastern, etc., food, all the time; I do not identify as having roots in those countries. However, taking that culture’s food, butchering it, and then claiming it as your own is a completely different story, one that borderlines being the food equivalent of white colonialism in the epicurean world. She’s a white woman recipe creator, so of course, other white people are going to find that version of that stew far more approachable and will be more likely to make and eat it. And this just sits oddly on my shoulders.

The turmeric being sprinkled on the top was really the last straw, and I had to exit out of that video immediately.

I grew up in a humble household in the Richmond District of San Francisco. My brother and I had zero extracurricular activities growing up. Our family rarely went on vacation, and when we did, it was just to places locally around California, as far as Orange County. But one thing that we were never lacking in was food. Our fridge, freezer, and pantry were always extremely well stocked, full of ready-to-eat food like frozen dumplings or burritos, canned vegetables and fruit, as well as fresh food such as fresh vegetables, meat, and noodles. Because I grew up like this, I just thought this was normal. If my mom wanted to make something quickly for dinner with the raw ingredients on hand, she always had plenty of garlic, onions, tomatoes, or carrots already in the fridge, ready to go. If she wanted to make us a quick pasta sauce, she’d just thaw out ground turkey or beef from the freezer and make it. Chicken cutlets? No problem – she always had chicken breasts on hand that she’d quickly pound, along with bread crumbs to coat the chicken pieces in. There were never too many eggs at home. We had all the usual condiments like mustard, ketchup, maple syrup, soy sauce, fish sauce, oyster sauce, etc., to make dishes from Western cuisines or different Asian cuisines. In many ways when I look back, our kitchen was like the land of plenty.

That’s why it was strange to me when I started making friends, and I’d go to their houses and see them open the fridge, and there would barely be a bottle of ketchup or water in there. Their freezers would be empty, except for maybe a box of popsicles or a bag of Hot Pockets. When the question of “what are we going to eat for dinner?” came up, the parents would scramble and get takeout, or just have everyone eat something like Kraft macaroni and cheese. I wasn’t sure if it was a money problem or a “preparedness” issue, but either way, it seemed depressing to me even back then.

I suppose I took that with me as an adult living on my own. When I started building out my pantry and kitchen staples, I’d buy more than what I’d need immediately and get more things for future uses. If I was at a Chinese grocery store, I’d buy the fresh noodles I’d make that night and also add a few more packs to my shopping basket to store in my freezer for future noodle dishes. For spice staples like cumin or turmeric, I’d get enough so that it would last me indefinitely. For frozen vegetables, well, you can never have enough of these, so I’d always get several pounds. For canned goods like tomatoes and coconut milk, these are forever on my shelf, and I get a bit uncomfortable when there’s only one more can left. This way, on the fly, I could make what I wanted to make and not worry about having to rush out to the store just to pick up one or two things for dinner. I could have a ready made meal on the table out of “pantry staples” in just 30-60 minutes.

I realize not everyone has the ability to buy enough to have a fully stocked pantry at any one time because not everyone is as lucky as I am to have the money to do this. Some people live paycheck to paycheck and cannot afford to “stock up.” But for those of us who can, it definitely pays off in the long run, in terms of sanity, preparation, and your stomach, to do this. Most of my friends, as I’m learning during this pandemic, have very little “staples” at home, and instead use their freezers completely as storage for ready-to-eat things like dumplings, enchiladas, etc., that they may not want to eat every single day during the shelter-in-place orders. They get bored. They want variety. And there’s nothing wrong with that — we should be eating varied diets regardless of whether we’re in a pandemic or not. Their pantries are mostly snacks like chips, pretzels, cookies. There’s not enough raw ingredients to do any real cooking with.

We’re well stocked because that’s all I’ve ever been fortunate enough to know and experience. I’d like to think that this pandemic would force people to be smarter and more prepared in terms of ensuring household and kitchen staples are plentiful if they can afford it and have the space. It’s annoying to have to run out to the store just for one or two ingredients, and it’s especially annoying during this time when we should be limiting our time outside our homes to keep ourselves and others safe. But wouldn’t that be annoying, too, even not in a pandemic?

Years ago, I attempted mango lassi a number of times, and I always grew frustrated when it never came out quite right. I used ripe mangoes, frozen mangoes. I used whole milk yogurt and low fat yogurt. I added more sugar. Nothing seemed to do the trick. Then, I realized the error of my ways and came to these conclusions:

1. Use the ripest, orangest flesh mangoes you can find. The riper, sweeter, and juicier they are, the more ideal they will be for mango lassi.
2. Whole milk yogurt – Indian/Pakistani/desi-style if you can find it. The thicker and creamier, the better. DO NOT USE LOWFAT OR NONFAT. JUST DON’T DO IT.
3. Whole milk – cow’s milk is best, but macadamia or soy work, too, as long as they are very creamy in texture.
4. Sugar – this is really only necessary if your mangoes are not at ultimate sweetness. Golden syrup works amazingly well, too!
5. Proportions are key here: 1 part ripe cut up mango to 1 part full-fat/full cream desi yogurt. Just a splash of milk, a handful of ice, and enough sugar/golden syrup to taste. The mistake I used to make was doing equal parts mango to milk, then adding yogurt. DO NOT DO THIS. The creamy, thick texture is key, and that’s where the yogurt comes in.

The idea of baking tofu seemed like a very weird western adaptation of making tofu when I first heard of it. Tofu is meant to be fried, steamed, braised, or stir-fried. Who in the continent of Asia BAKES tofu? That just seemed quite blasphemous to me.

In the last year, I warmed up to it given I do not love deep frying anything, but I do love the crispiness that results from a good deep-fry. Deep frying oftentimes results in a lot of mess, lots to clean up (no one likes cleaning, even anal retentive cleaners such as myself), and the amount of oil required always seem so wasteful. So I thought I’d try baking tofu to get a “like fried” result to see how it turned out.

I took two blocks of tofu today and cut them into thin slabs, then took two cutting boards wrapped in tea towels and sandwiched the tofu between. Then, I placed my Dutch oven as a heavy weight on top of the sandwich to press out the excess liquid from the tofu. A couple hours later, I removed the tofu, cut them into small rectangles, tossed them with a little olive oil, cornstarch, salt and pepper, and laid them all out flat on a baking sheet and baked them for 15 minutes at 300 F. I removed them from the oven, flipped them all over, and baked them again for 20 minutes. The result was golden, crispy little rectangles that would easily soak in any stir-fry sauce, without the need for a ton of oil that I’d eventually throw out. I used only a tablespoon of oil for 1.5 pounds of tofu with the same result as deep frying.

I was pretty happy with myself, and after I posted it on Instagram, I realized others were impressed by this, too, and wanted to try this out. Baking tofu could be the next thing we all do to keep tofu tasty *and* healthy.

Since I was young, I’ve always loved pancakes. We didn’t have them that often growing up, but when we did, they were always on the weekend, and they were such a fun treat. Most of the time, we had the crappy fake syrup, but in high school, my dad started buying real maple syrup (from Costco, because where else are you going to get a “good deal” on that liquid gold, which is priced as such since it’s so extremely laborious to make?!), and that was a true dream in the mouth.

As an adult, I’ve experimented with all kinds of different pancake recipes, whether it’s with separating the egg whites from the yolks and whipping the whites to stiff peaks, buttermilk vs. milk, vegan “milks” vs. cow milk, brown rice flour/whole wheat flour/all purpose flour/cake flour combinations, corn meal for extra texture, banana or pumpkin bases — you name it, and I’ve probably tried it out. This morning, I used my dormant sourdough starter to make sourdough whole wheat buttermilk pancakes, and the amount of tang from the buttermilk plus the sourdough starter was truly delicious. When using whole grains like brown rice or whole wheat, I usually do a ratio of 50/50 all-purpose to the whole grain, but this time, I thought, what the heck — we need to be eating more whole grains than processed grains, and I figured that the buttermilk and all-purpose flour-based starter would mellow it out. And they really did.

But I had one pancake failure, though. I used Smitten Kitchen’s fluffy buttermilk pancake recipe and replaced all the all-purpose flour with brown rice flour after the brown rice flour did well with the 50/50 ratio the week before. The texture and taste…. left something to be desired. It was gritty, almost bitter, and I couldn’t figure out why. It was essentially a whole grain rice pancake. Maybe the brown rice didn’t interact well with the buttermilk. It was the very first time I made something when Chris took one bite, grimaced, and immediately said, “this is disgusting.”

#testandlearn

As someone who has prided herself for making even the most laborious dishes from scratch, I was hesitant to buy dosa batter. I’d made it at least three times in the old apartment, old and wretched with who knows what growths there, and my dosa batter, since the first try, always fermented properly and yielded delicious, sour, crispy dosas. But Chris’s aunt, who took us to an Indian grocery store near her house in December, insisted that every Indian family buys their dosa and idli batter now. “Everyone does it,” she said to me. “Don’t feel bad. We don’t have time to make all this from scratch anymore! We’re too busy!” I looked at a container she pointed at, which she said she bought. I scanned the ingredients list to see what it was made of and was pleasantly surprised to see that no artificial ingredients or preservatives were listed. The only ingredients that should be in dosa/idli batter, which were the only ones listed were these, in this order: water, rice, urad dal, salt, fenugreek seeds.

I thought about it then, and I decided that at some point, when we returned to New York, I’d check Patel Brothers to see if they sold a similarly pure dosa batter and try it out. So the time came, and we added it to our Mirchi Market order this week. It was delivered yesterday, along with a number of other goodies, including my happy mangoes. I left it on the kitchen counter and photographed it for my social media, then left it there while eating dinner. Then, when Chris got up to get something from the kitchen, he returned to the couch to see splatters of white batter everywhere — all over the counter, the back of the couch, and even on the couch cushions! I realized that the batter had come from the dosa batter container. The dosa batter was so bubbly and fermented to the point of developing so much pressure that it popped the container lid off!

Well, I guess that means this batter won’t be a failure after all, and maybe this small trial was worth it.

I love sweet potatoes. They are likely one of the most nutritious foods on earth, rich in vitamins A, B (multiple types), C, beta carotene, potassium, and fiber. I used to eat them on their own all the time, steamed or roasted, but because Chris is not a huge fan of them, I’ve eaten them a lot less in the last eight years. I’ve occasionally spent time researching how I could incorporate these into our diet without him seeing them on the plate and screaming, “SWEET POTATOES! Noooo!”

A few vegan recipes I’ve seen have combined sweet potatoes with black beans in quesadillas. Something about that just seemed weird to me. There needs to be some other flavor component to pull these flavors together, and I found a recipe that incorporated some ground chipotle pepper that piqued some intrigue. Well, that could definitely be a start. Since I have a huge supply of dried Mexican chilies I’ve stocked up on, I decided to rehydrate a few ancho and pasilla chilies, add cumin, smoked paprika, and cinnamon, and mash roasted sweet potatoes and canned black beans together.

Combined with some hemp seeds, avocado, minced cilantro, mozzarella/cheddar, and pickled jalapeños and heated on a pan, these mini quesadillas were surprisingly very impressive. The flavors really work well with the rehydrated ancho/pasilla chilies with their heat and smokiness. Chris even embraced them and said they were very good. He made no negative comments on the sweet potatoes here.

Win/win for the sweet potatoes and black beans together. 🙂

I was waiting until I got my hands on whole wheat flour before I actually used my ripened sourdough starter for the first time, so I had to put the sourdough starter in the fridge. Once it’s in the fridge and no longer in a friendly, warm environment, sourdough starter begins to “sleep,” meaning it becomes dormant in the cold and needs to be reawakened for use by taking it out of the fridge, re-feeding it, and getting it to the ripe, mature stage again. Unfortunately for me, I had no idea what I was doing, and instead of re-feeding it with all-purpose flour, which is what I originally began this starter with, I thought no harm would be done if I added my new whole wheat flour. Apparently I violated a rule that says you are supposed to keep with the same flour, and the starter became far less happy and bubbly. And as a result of this, it’s been less gurgly and excited since coming out of the fridge.

This means I have more discard starter to use… even when I do not want to bake or make anything. Whole wheat sourdough crumpets are what I tried…. and what I did not realize is that the texture would be completely different than with all-purpose. As Chris said, “these are more doughy.” In other words, these are far more dense and not airy and “hole-y” the way the white flour ones are. Test and learn, I suppose?

In addition to video editing, cooking, and reading, I’ve been spending a good amount of my free time now studying sourdough and understanding how different recipes work. A few fun facts I’ve learned about making bread from a starter: it tends to be a bit more forgiving than dry active/fresh yeast, it doesn’t “rise” doubly the way commercial yeast does, and it also seems to develop more of a… “personality.” That last part can be a good or a bad thing depending on who you ask, but the die-hard bread makers will say it’s definitely a good thing. This is when cooking truly is a science, when everyone starts taking out their scales, instant read thermometers, and setting timers down to the last minute to keep track of proper, exact proofing and hydration. I’m not completely into that level of exact science (I’m also at a disadvantage now, in this very moment, because even if I wanted to be, I am not currently in possession of a scale), but this whole process is so fascinating. It’s also been interesting to see this domestic science side via our Breadheads Slack channel of a number of my fellow colleagues, who are engineers, data scientists, and statisticians by profession.

Sourdough is an art and a science. I’ve already appreciated the art, but I am still navigating the science, especially reading recipes written by these maniacally exact chefs (where everything has a gram measurement and a temperature, even the flour you use!).

I held my breath a little this evening as my alarm went off to remind me to check and feed my sourdough starter. I wasn’t sure how well it would do in our apartment given that our apartment, without the heat on, is not usually 70-75 F, but a friendly colleague let me know a hack: turn the oven light on and place the starter in there. The small space with the heat of the light would be able to do the trick. So I did that, and wow, what a difference that little light made! As soon as I opened the oven, my hands felt warm, so I knew the starter baby would be quite comfortable and cozy in there.

I stirred the starter with chopsticks and noticed that the top had crusted over, but the inside was sticky, a little sweet smelling: that’s the exact description my guide said it would ideally be today! So I fed it and placed it back into the oven. The crusty part could be avoided by making sure the towel placed on top is wet, so I wet the towel, too.

I’m on my way to becoming a sourdough starter queen!