Over the Christmas holidays, my sweetie took me on an exciting trip to the big city, NYC. We walked and walked and walked, and we ate and ate and ate, (and we froze and froze and froze). I made the mistake of bringing only my Vancouver-weather rubber boots to stomp around in. Did you know that uninsulated rubber boots act as individual foot refrigerators in cold weather, the way they trap and recirculate damp, frigid air? So because of my silly choice of footwear, we froze. And because we froze, we ate – for every few blocks we walked, we had to stop in somewhere to warm up. We found all kinds of little hole-in-the wall shops and cafes where we were happy to munch on cupcakes, rice pudding, cardamom coffee, dosas, thin-crust pizzas… As far as problems go, this one was rather favorable, the freezing necessitating the eating – my tummy was happy enough to more than make up for my toes’ misery.

One of my favorite places we stumbled into to thaw our extremities was a little tea house called Alice’s Tea Cup in the upper west side. The entrance was just like a descent into the rabbit hole, and the inside was magically decorated with twinkly lights, keyhole windows, stained glass, and antiques. They had a multiple-page menu of teas and a selection of sweets to accompany them, including a variety of fresh scones with cream and fruit preserves. I hungrily devoured a warm strawberry-chocolate scone, piled with sweet whipped cream. And it was so scrumptious that it has been on my mind ever since.

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There is something hugely satisfying about making fresh pasta. Not only is its taste and texture incomparable to anything you get dried, it is very easy to do, and it is fun! It is a great idea for a dinner party – just knead up some dough, and let everyone roll it out and make the shapes they like. You could choose to prepare several fillings (my good friend Marnie makes sweet onion with ricotta, wild mushroom with mozzarella, and squash with marscapone) and do a ravioli making demonstration. Let everyone make what they want while they mingle, just keep a pot of water boiling on the stove, and a simple marinara sauce bubbling next to it.

Pasta is such a staple of the North American diet, yet most consider it something that comes in a box, not something to make at home. If you have never made it, you might not believe me when I tell you how straightforward and quick it really is. Just a pile of flour on a clean counter with a few eggs cracked into it. (That’s it, that’s the whole recipe). The kneading is the hardest part – because it is such a stiff dough, you’ll have to put your back into it. (I broke a sweat – does that count as a workout?). After ten minutes of grunting and puffing and knocking the dough around the counter, you’ll need to let it rest for about 30 minutes. This relaxes the gluten, so it will roll out without springing back on itself – you may need the rest, too, if you haven’t been toning those kneading muscles. (more…)

There are a million good reasons to visit South India. The people, for one, are amazing – warm-hearted, generous, and absolutely vibrant in culture. Then there’s the setting – think, the most amazing beaches you have ever seen. Tropical trees heavily laden with sweet fruit. Winding waterways through villages, making it a “Venice of the East”. But even if none of that existed, I would still make the trek for one inimitable pleasure – flakey, buttery parotha and a creamy curry, consumed without such complications as plates or cutlery, but rather with a banana leaf and bare fingers – and a good dose of utter, shameless delight.

If I had to choose just one food to eat for the rest of my life, this flatbread would be a sturdy candidate. I really don’t think I could get tired of pulling apart buttery layers of chewy bread – with or without a blazing hot curry to for dunking. Quite frankly, it blows my mind that Kerala Parotha, known in some circles as Malabari Parotha (and can also be spelled Parotta, or Paratha – just to complicate things) has not yet taken over the world. Because, in my opinion, once tasted, it is impossible to go back to life without it. And there are quite enough Indians on every corner of the globe to introduce it around… so why it hasn’t spread like wildfire? I’m baffled. Maybe it’s just meant to be one of life’s little secrets, that only a select few outsiders come to know of. Well, now you’re in on the secret! Now go make it and see what I mean about never going back. (more…)

Pineapple Pie with Brown Sugar Meringue? It just kinda happened to me. See, I was in need of a recipe to use up my egg whites after making this. So I did what I do when I need to think through a big decision: I hitched Oliver into his harness, laced up my sneakers, and hit the seawall. Loping along the dusty trail that flanks the Vancouver shoreline, my thoughts darted through all the important things I had to consider. Like pavlova… and dacquoise… and homemade marshmallows… and seven-minute frosting. But all I really wanted to become of those whites was a pile of soft, billowy meringue to top something gooey. So I moved on to the next important decision. What kind of gooey did I want to sit beneath my meringue? (Yes, this really IS what I think about while I run – call it the carrot that drives the horse).

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One of my favorite Vancouver outings is a late weekend lunch in an adorable little restaurant aptly named Fish. It is a small place so close to the ocean that you can smell the salinity when you dine on their quaint, cramped patio, and the fish is cooked to such perfection that it melts on your tongue like butter. Adarsh and I have become predictable to the staff there – they don’t have to ask before lavishing us with our favorites – cajun-spiced blackened salmon burgers, baby green salad with corn and red onions, and a couple of Coronas.

It’s nice to be predictable sometimes. I find comfort in repetition. I like to read my favorite books over and over again, watch my most-loved movies till I have the lines memorized, visit the same ice cream shop with my sister every time I go home in the summer, etc. And I really love to order blackened salmon when I go for lunch with my sweetheart on an breezy Saturday afternoon.

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