Friday, December 31, 2010

Goodbye 2010, I'm off to India!

It is the last day of the year and I’m off to India in 12 hours. As I look back at 2010, I realize the gifts this year brought me. Although it was a year of much change and of painful detachments, it was also a year of much gain.
Breaking up with a former flame early in the year allowed to me grow as an individual and regain my sense of self, something I did not realize I needed. This breakup opened the door for living on my own for the first time in my 30 years.
Living in Miami Beach alone was a giant step in believing in my ability to support and protect myself regardless of where I live or my life circumstances. The sense of pride and independence I feel now is remarkable.
Located just a block from the beach, my tiny beach bungalow became a haven for me. It was my retreat from the world. Those four walls housed laughter, tears and many joyous moments I shared with family and friends.
My studio apartment was conveniently located in the bustling North Beach neighborhood, just two miles from my job. Every time the weather allowed I would bike to work, taking in the soothing scenery before my 12 hour shifts.
My days off were spent sleeping in and taking lazy strolls along the beach and cooking with friends. The freedom of those days allowed me to enjoy countless bike rides with my sweet friend Ellen. We would laugh, talk and share our deepest thoughts and feelings. Those are days I will always treasure.
I made and lost friends this year but I’m grateful for every life I’ve touched. I’m thankful for everyone who shared my laughter, tears, messes and successes. It’s all part of this adventure called life.
 I turned 30 this year and I rang in this new decade with a bang – Miami style! Aside from my Sweet Sixteen, this was probably the best birthday I ever had. The only thing that was missing was my mom but I know she was sending her blessings from above.
This year allowed me to spend time with my family in Arizona. We had such a wonderful family reunion in April to commemorate the first anniversary of my mom’s passing. Although we cried the entire length of the Easter Sunday mass, I’ll never forget how we embraced each other and slowly pulled each other through that difficult moment.
This summer brought me much joy. My sister and her family came to visit me for the 4th of July. It was amazing to show her around the neighborhood and introduce her to my friends. I also enjoyed the visit of my brother Robert, his wife and kids.
We all drove to Orlando and took the kids to Disney for the first time. Tears filled my eyes as I watched the kids enjoy themselves at Magic Kingdom. They were so happy to see Mickey and the Disney princesses. I remember my brother, my sister-in-law, my friend Jadira and I standing in front of Cinderella’s castle that night crying as the fireworks light up the sky. I knew that each of us was silently thanking God for allowing us to experience that moment as a family.
The summer also brought a very special individual to my life that opened up my heart and taught me that I could love again. For that, I am grateful.
This fall, my career reached new heights as I joined the very talented team of Chef Paula DaSilva at 1500 Degrees, a steakhouse at the Eden Roc hotel where I worked. Working with Paula, as well as Chef Benjamin Walanka and Chef Adrienne Grenier, allowed me to gain confidence as a chef and refine my skills. I will always be grateful for everything they taught me along the way.
Finally, this year has brought me to Texas. How grateful I am for my Indian family! Without them, I don’t know where I would be right now. The support they have given me is unmatched. Being in Texas is helping me heal my heart and mind and is propelling me to move forward.
Now, I’m beginning 2011with a trip to India for the first time. I am thrilled about my travels and my future move to Italy next year.  How lucky am I? I thank my lucky stars every day.
Goodbye 2010! I’m off to India…

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Taking a bite out of the Big Easy

New Orleans is one of those cities that stay with you long after you are gone. On any random day you will be sipping your morning coffee when out of nowhere you’ll think: “Wow, I wish I had some beignets to go with this.”
Your mind will drift to the French Quarter and its cozy streets. You’ll remember the coffee with chicory you had at Café du Monde or at Café Beignet. Your mouth will water at the thought of pressing your lips against a warm sweet beignet.
During a hectic work day you will wish you could stop at Acme Oyster House for a shrimp po’boy or cap the evening off with an original Hurricane at Lafitte’s, the oldest bar in the United States.
Oh…and did I mention the eternal craving for gumbo and jambalaya you are guaranteed to have once you leave?
Let me tell you, the Big Easy will make even a finicky eater a lover of Cajun and Creole food. The variety and creativity of the chefs in that city will keep your mouth watering.
We had the most amazing brunch at Mr. B’s Bistro on Royal Street. Whether it was shrimp and grits or the eggs Benedict with shredded pork and gravy, every dish was a knock out. The shrimp gumbo was spectacular. The best part is they serve you an abundance of warm crusty French bread so you can sop up every last bit of the delicious sauce on your plate.
New Orleans is a city of great music and fun so you can walk off the calories of your culinary indulgences. Take a stroll along the Mississippi River or explore the architecture and groovy shops in the French Quarter. Visiting the French Market is a must. There you will find an assortment cool souvenirs and, most importantly, really good food.
Every food lover deserves to enjoy this majestic city at least once in their lives. Don’t miss any opportunity to visit! When you finally make to the Big Easy try every dish you can. Eat everything! Trust me, you’ll be craving all that food once you are back home.
All this writing is making me hungry now. I think I’m going to make some beignets…

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Coconut Rice for Mami

November 27th, 2010                                                                                                           Dallas, TX

Today is Mami’s birthday. I wish I could walk up to her, hug her tightly and kiss her beautiful freckled face then whisper in her ear, “Happy 49th birthday, old woman!” I’m sure she would playfully push me away and tell me to stop being “a bicha” (her favorite term of endearment for me).

For Mami’s last birthday I got her a CD she kept bugging me about. She had seen Jim Dickinson’s “A Thousand Footprints in the Sand” on television and wanted to order it. I told her not worry because I would buy it online. When she finally received it in the mail she called to tell me I had purchased the wrong CD!

I'm wondering how to commemorate her birthday. Should I go out and do something fun or should I stay in today? I’m not happy and I’m not sad. It’s more like a neutral feeling. I’m glad she existed, gave me life and left me three beautiful siblings. I’m sad she’s gone but death was her freedom from illness. How can I be selfish and wish she was still here with me if it means she would have a terrible quality of life?

At this point, my goal is to live the best life possible and make her proud. I purposely moved to Dallas so I could continue healing in the company of people I love.

I am so happy I have my Indian family here. These wonderful human beings love me and care for me deeply. They are holding my hand through this grieving process and help me see the light at the end of the tunnel.

My Indian mom knows it is a sensitive day for me so she has surprised me.

“Rose, I’m teaching you how to make coconut rice.”

“Really, Magi. Why coconut rice?”

“The first time I met your mother she made coconut rice for me. Now, I’m making my version of Indian coconut rice for you on her birthday.”

I can’t help but smile J


Coconut Rice
2 cups of cooked basmati rice, cooled
1 lb. shredded coconut
1 ½ c sugar
3 tbsp Ghee
1 tbsp cloves
¼ c cashews
¼ c sultanas
¼ c sliced almonds
Saffron, a heavy pinch bloomed in 3 tbsp of warm milk

With your hands, gently mix the cool rice with coconut and sugar. Be careful not to break up the rice.

In a heavy pot, heat ghee over med-high heat. Add cloves, let cook. Add rice mixture. Stir. Add the bloomed saffron to the rice. Stir until rice becomes light yellow. Finish by adding the nuts. Remove from heat.

Eat when rice pudding has slightly cooled.




Sunday, December 5, 2010

Dosas in Houston

Houston, TX                                                                                                              
I saw a man make dosas today. I watched him from a window as he poured thick batter on a searing flat top stove. With the back of a cup, he spread the crepe-like batter in a large oval shape. With the speed of lighting, he poured 11 more dosas on the flat top.
A red dot decorated his tan complexion and white hair framed his face. He was wearing a flannel shirt that reminded me of the clothes my father wears when he’s on the farm.
With nimble fingers and impressive speed, the old Indian man with the gentle eyes spread the potato filling on each dosa before rolling them up.
I told him I was watching because I wanted to learn how to properly cook a dosa. His English must not have been that great because he did not respond. He looked at me with a smile. As if rewarding me for watching him, he gestured for my plate and placed the very first cooked dosa on it.
I beamed as I walked back to my table with the South Indian delicacy on my plate.
This dosa was not as good as the one’s I’ve had in New Jersey. The potato filling was not as spicy and the restaurant did not offer  the coconut chutney that normally accompanies dosas. Nonetheless, I savored every bit of it because I knew it was made especially for me.
What is a dosa?
The easiest way to describe a dosa is by calling it a sort of savory crepe. I truly hate this description because I think it offends both the Indians and the French. However, describing it as a crepe gives you a better idea of what a dosa looks like.
But that’s where comparisons end. Crepes are made from an egg rich thin batter,  that looks more like a thinned down pancake batter.
Dosas, on the other hand, are made from fermented rice and lentils. It involves fermenting the ingredients and then pureeing them together and adding spices. The result is a very tasty batter that gets very crispy when cooked.
At restaurants, dosas are cooked into very large shapes (I’ve seen dosas so large that they were literally the size of a small tabletop). After dosas are filled, they then get rolled into the desired shape. I’ve seen them rolled into what seems like a huge rolling pin, which is a stunning presentation as the server walks the dish to the guests table. I’ve also seen dosas rolled into pyramids. At home, people usually roll them into small logs.
How to cook a dosa
The trick for a nice crispy dosa is high heat and a well oiled cooking surface. Traditionally, Indians cook dosas using a tava, a form of cast iron flat skillet.
Although I own a tava, my Indian mom taught me to cook dosas in a nonstick sauté pan. Again, the trick is to cook in proper high heat they come out crispy every time.
How to get started
For beginners, I recommend buying the premade dosa batter. You can find it at any Indian spice shop. You can also find the prepared powdered mix.  For the powdered mix, just follow the directions on the back. Usually, the directions call for adding water (a ratio of 3 parts water to 1 part mix). You will let the batter sit for 5 minutes while you preheat your nonstick skillet. Check dosa batter and make sure it is not too thick. It should be a runny batter just like a crepe.
When the skillet is piping hot, add some oil and swirl around. Slowly drop a little batter in the skillet. Immediately swirl the mix around to coat the bottom of the skillet, making sure the batter is evenly distributed.
You will fear your dosa will burn because of the high heat. Don’t panic. The idea is to get a very nice crisp crust on one side of the dosa. It will be ready to pull from the heat when the dosa easily pulls off the skillet. If it sticks, then it’s not done.
You can eat the dosa as is or fill with your favorite vegetable filling. Mine is potatoes and onions with chillies and turmeric. Mmmmm!
For the beast in the kitchen
If you want to go hardcore and make a dosa from scratch, please do so by all means. It is very labor intensive but rewarding.
Enjoy!


Thursday, December 2, 2010

An Indian Thanksgiving

I woke up to the scent of incense. A hushed chant danced in my ears while tiny bells rang in the distance. I could tell my Indian mom was deep in prayer. I smiled.
With only a slight knock to announce her presence, Magi walked into my bedroom.
 “Good morning, Rose. Happy Thanksgiving. Get ready, we’re going to the temple soon,” she said with a smile.
Although I’ve participated in a number of Hindu religious events, I had never been to a temple with Magi before. I was excited about learning all about a religion I have always been quite curious about.
When I emerged from my bedroom I observed Magi’s altar, which was right outside my door. Half a dozen pictures of different Hindu deities were neatly placed on top of a tall dresser. A white candle and an incense burner completed the ensemble. The incense was still burning. Its sweet sandalwood scent permeated the house.
I looked at the deities. Who had Magi prayed to? All of them? Just one?
The most prominent picture on the altar was of a man draped in white cloth. His skin was the color of cinnamon and he displayed piercings in both ears. He sat with one leg crossed over his knee. He was looking directly in front of him, almost as if staring at me. Although he was not smiling, his eyes appeared calm and inviting.
After a quick breakfast of buttered toast and coffee, I reached across the table for a banana before making our way to the temple.
Magi informed me I was about to eat a blessed fruit. Was she serious?
“So, what makes it blessed?”
“It was an altar offering. Everyone who visits the temple brings a fruit and offers it to the god. Before you leave the temple you receive one of the fruits that were blessed. ”
Magi handed me a coconut. “Here,” she said, dropping the heavy fruit in my hand. “This will be our offering today.”
I shook the coconut and the water inside swooshed around. My instinct was to cut it, drink the coconut water and then thinly slice and eat its snowy white pulp.
Of course, this coconut was not for me but I was excited about offering it to a god. As a chef, the greatest gift I could ever give anyone is food. This tradition seemed like something I could get used to.
We set out for the temple during a very cold day in Dallas. The temperature had dropped 50 degrees from the day before. As soon as the first blow of winter air hit, I missed Miami immediately.
Magi parked the car at a strip mall. If I hadn’t just moved to Dallas from Florida (strip mall capital of the world), I would have been shocked that a temple could be sandwiched between a dollar store and a donut shop.
I had no idea what to expect as we made our way to the temple. Once inside, Magi instructed me to take off my shoes. Removing shoes is a must at Indian homes and temples. This is an Eastern tradition I practice in my own home so it was second nature to me.
As I walked in my socks, I looked around. Thanksgiving morning did not seem to be a popular time to visit the temple. We quietly joined the handful of people who were walking in a circle around a grand statue located towards the back of the room.
The statue was of a man sitting on a throne. His head and body were draped in a cloth and he wore a wreath of flowers around his neck. Both his ears were pierced. I recognized him from the picture on Magi’s altar.
“That’s Sai Baba. No one really knew his name or where he came from. He was very poor and accepted and helped people of all backgrounds. He never identified with any religion but we believe he was Hindu because of his piercings.”
What Magi said next really caught my attention.
“Sai Baba believed in feeding the needy. Anna, our Hindi word for food, is the principal of Sai Baba’s beliefs. No one should go hungry. That is why we offer fruits at his altar.”
 I did not know much about Sai Baba but I knew all I needed to know for now: He loved food and so did I. This was a soul I could pray to.
For the next half hour I followed Magi and repeated everything she did. She knelt to kiss Sai Baba’s feet. So did I. She walked around his statue with her hands clasped in front of her chest praying. So did I. She stopped and anointed her forehead with gray ash. So did I. Finally, she put money in a bin labeled Hundi.
As she slipped bills into the bin, she said, “They say that whatever quantity of money you put in the Hundi , it multiplies.” Without hesitating I made my contribution.
After our prayer, we approached a buffet set along the far end of the temple.
Magi instructed me to eat.
“But I’m not hungry,” I protested.
“You must eat at Sai Baba’s temple, even if it’s just a bite. The food honors his legacy of feeding the needy.”
How could I not eat? I looked around and settled on eating some sooji (sweetened cream of wheat with nuts and raisins) and lemon rice. Both were delicious.
After our small snack, Magi informed me we should sit for at least two minutes of prayer. I followed her to some mats on the tile floor. At first I hadn’t noticed it but now it hit me like a ton of bricks. There were no pews, no chairs and no seating aside from the mats on the floor. This was definitely not any of the Catholic churches I grew up in.
Magi prayed in silence while I pondered the seating situation. Snap out of it, I told myself and focused on my prayer to Sai Baba.
I prayed for the same thing I have been praying for since my mother’s death.
“Sai Baba, I’m tired of feeling hurt. I don’t want to feel pain anymore. Please, Sai Baba. No more pain, my heart can’t take any more loss. Please Sai Baba. That’s all I ask for. Please make the pain go away.”  
My hands were clasped in front of my chest as I meditated on my prayer. I thanked Sai Baba for the many blessings in my life, including the good, the bad and the ugly. I’ve become who I am because of my trials.
Magi gently tapped me on the shoulder indicating it was time to go. I opened my eyes and we enjoyed a quiet moment of admiring Sai Baba.
I wondered what Magi had prayed for. As if reading my mind, she said, “I prayed for you and my son.”
“Oh, Magi. You don’t have to pray for me,” I began saying but she interrupted me.
“Of course I pray for you. You are my daughter. I pray for you and my son.  I want you both to get married and be happy.”
Oh, marriage. Something I never thought of but was always being brought up by my relatives.
Mami had always told me to “not wait too long” to have kids. How will I know when the time is right? It made me sad to think Mami was no longer here. I guess Magi will be there to guide me.
“I’m not kidding,” Magi said. “I already have the dress I’m wearing to your wedding. Sai Baba, please let my children get married soon!”
You can’t blame an Indian mother for wanting her children to be married. My Indian brother and I are 30 years old. According to traditional Indian and Puerto Rican standards, we are way past our marriage expiration date.
 “It’ll happen, Magi. It’ll happen,” I said as we slipped into our shoes.
“Now we are going to a second temple,” she said as we made our way to the car.
I had gone from never going to a Hindu temple to visiting two in one day. Not bad for a novice, I thought.
The second temple had three Hindu deities but none of them were Sai Baba. We stood before them and prayed to each one. Although Magi explained them all in detail, the explanations were so extensive that I would literally need her to go over them three more times before I even think of writing about them.
The temple attendant wore a beautiful sari in bright hues. She offered us “blessed” water which she poured from a small bronze ladle right onto our hands. It tasted like water out of a garden hose but I drank it anyway because I knew it was supposed to bring good luck.
We sat in mediation again. Cross legged before the gods, I prayed for a completely healed heart. “Please god or gods, I don’t know who you are but I ask you to please erase the pain from my heart. I’m so tired of hurting and feeling loss over and over again. Please make the pain go away.”
When I was done with my prayer I kept my eyes closed. I meditated on bringing positive thoughts to my mind. My lips curled into a smile when I thought of Magi’s marriage plea to the gods.
I opened my eyes and saw the pretty lady in the colorful sari had come to say goodbye. As if she could hear my stomach growling, she offered us fruit from the altar. I mistakenly stuck out my left hand to grab one of the oranges she presented us. She kindly instructed me to use my right hand. How could I forget such a fundamental rule of Indian culture? You never touch food with your left hand.
Magi and I walked over to the shoe rack. I didn’t ask where we were headed next because I knew an Indian feast awaited us. We quickly slipped into our shoes and headed for the door.
“Magi, thank you for bringing me to the temples,” I said as we walked in the cold.
I may have left the house this morning with empty hands but I walked away from the temples with two oranges in my pocket and a heart full of hope.