I'm not going to get into the nitty gritty of it, but I don't cook. I just don't see the point in wasting that much time. Why, when I can make a terrible turkey sandwich in 32 seconds and pop a multivitamin?
But I'm trapped at my place during this COVID-19 nonsense, and I have a kitchen, so sure. Why not?
I wanted Indian food. It's not a terrible turkey sandwich, but I like it fine. I'll make it.
The point of this is not whether I ended up making it. Spoiler alert: I made it. It was fine. Nothing to talk about there.
However, I have some thoughts on the experience of making it.
1. WHY DO SPICES COST SO MUCH!
What in the living hell is Cardamom and why does a thimble-full of it cost the GDP of a sub-saharan banana republic? Da Gama sailed around the Cape of Good Hope to find a way to get spices cheaper. Columbus accidentally found a new world on his journey to find a way to get spices cheaper. Indian food is eaten by, um, Indians, who on a per-capita basis are some of the poorest people on earth, and yet just the spices to make a dish that's a part of every cheap Indian restaurant buffet on six continents requires that I take out a home-refi loan. I have a job, a good one, so I buy the damn spices, but I'll be eating this damned Chicken Tikka Masala until at least the autumnal equinox just to make sure I get my money's worth. If I ever get extra money again, I'm investing in spices. This is ludicrous.
2. Knifework
If someone breaks into my house or an animal comes at me in the woods, I know what to do with a knife. Pointy end goes into problem. Repeat until no more problem. Easy peasy. But finely chop onions or mince fresh garlic and ginger? Oh my dear God. I feel like I'm eight and back learning how to painstakingly write in cursive. How am I this slow at this?
3. Timing
I've tried to cook before. In my twenties. That also went fine. But I knew that I was bad at timing. I recall that I'd end up eating whatever I cooked in stages. As in, oh crap, I finished the protein but haven't started the vegetables, so I guess I'll eat the pork chop as I make the squash casserole. Piecemeal eating would take hours. Now that I think of it, I bet that's where the word "piecemeal" came from in the first place. Part of me picking Chicken Tikka Masala is because it's effectively one dish. But I hadn't counted on how slow I am with that damned knife. I allotted an hour for prep time. It took closer to two. And then I was so focused on the chicken and sauce that I forgot to start the rice steamer. So I ended up eating three hours later than I intended.
4. Portions
This recipe says it feeds 3-5 people. Bullshit. Just this batch will last me two weeks if I eat five meals of it a day. I barely have enough tupperware to freeze the gallons this damned recipe created. But now I have iceberg-sized ice-blocks of Tikka Masala taking up my freezer. And, let's not forget that I have two billion dollars in spices left on my shelf to use up.
5. Smell
I love Indian food. Really. I do. And I like going to Indian restaurants. But I've never walked out of an Indian restaurant wondering if I'd ever smell anything but cumin and coriander and turmeric ever again. It's the next day and the smell from the clothes I was wearing as I was cooking last night has permeated through the laundry basket and swallowed my bedroom. My hair smells like spices. My blanket smells like spices. My kitchen, of course, smells like spices. I can only imagine that as I heat up the next 136 days of this meal, this smell will continue.
Sometime in September, I'm going back to terrible turkey sandwiches and multivitamins.
But I'm trapped at my place during this COVID-19 nonsense, and I have a kitchen, so sure. Why not?
I wanted Indian food. It's not a terrible turkey sandwich, but I like it fine. I'll make it.
The point of this is not whether I ended up making it. Spoiler alert: I made it. It was fine. Nothing to talk about there.
However, I have some thoughts on the experience of making it.
1. WHY DO SPICES COST SO MUCH!
What in the living hell is Cardamom and why does a thimble-full of it cost the GDP of a sub-saharan banana republic? Da Gama sailed around the Cape of Good Hope to find a way to get spices cheaper. Columbus accidentally found a new world on his journey to find a way to get spices cheaper. Indian food is eaten by, um, Indians, who on a per-capita basis are some of the poorest people on earth, and yet just the spices to make a dish that's a part of every cheap Indian restaurant buffet on six continents requires that I take out a home-refi loan. I have a job, a good one, so I buy the damn spices, but I'll be eating this damned Chicken Tikka Masala until at least the autumnal equinox just to make sure I get my money's worth. If I ever get extra money again, I'm investing in spices. This is ludicrous.
2. Knifework
If someone breaks into my house or an animal comes at me in the woods, I know what to do with a knife. Pointy end goes into problem. Repeat until no more problem. Easy peasy. But finely chop onions or mince fresh garlic and ginger? Oh my dear God. I feel like I'm eight and back learning how to painstakingly write in cursive. How am I this slow at this?
3. Timing
I've tried to cook before. In my twenties. That also went fine. But I knew that I was bad at timing. I recall that I'd end up eating whatever I cooked in stages. As in, oh crap, I finished the protein but haven't started the vegetables, so I guess I'll eat the pork chop as I make the squash casserole. Piecemeal eating would take hours. Now that I think of it, I bet that's where the word "piecemeal" came from in the first place. Part of me picking Chicken Tikka Masala is because it's effectively one dish. But I hadn't counted on how slow I am with that damned knife. I allotted an hour for prep time. It took closer to two. And then I was so focused on the chicken and sauce that I forgot to start the rice steamer. So I ended up eating three hours later than I intended.
4. Portions
This recipe says it feeds 3-5 people. Bullshit. Just this batch will last me two weeks if I eat five meals of it a day. I barely have enough tupperware to freeze the gallons this damned recipe created. But now I have iceberg-sized ice-blocks of Tikka Masala taking up my freezer. And, let's not forget that I have two billion dollars in spices left on my shelf to use up.
5. Smell
I love Indian food. Really. I do. And I like going to Indian restaurants. But I've never walked out of an Indian restaurant wondering if I'd ever smell anything but cumin and coriander and turmeric ever again. It's the next day and the smell from the clothes I was wearing as I was cooking last night has permeated through the laundry basket and swallowed my bedroom. My hair smells like spices. My blanket smells like spices. My kitchen, of course, smells like spices. I can only imagine that as I heat up the next 136 days of this meal, this smell will continue.
Sometime in September, I'm going back to terrible turkey sandwiches and multivitamins.
