Last week, my mother informed me, her 23-year-old baby, that all of her "adult children" made corned beef and cabbage for St. Patrick's Day. I have to take the exclusion with a grain of salt, because an uncle in his mid-thirties is still considered the baby in my dad's family, despite being by far the largest of ten siblings. His girth is cited whenever I'm indignant about the fact that my parents should, at some point, have to concede that I'm an adult now. Then again, they still file my taxes, answer my mail and pay for my health insurance. What is adulthood, anyway?
Still, this exclusion from the mythical adult-land where people cook real meals daily, combined with a desire to stop eating at restaurants so frequently (thanks in no small part to this story—more details and pictures—about recycling cooking oil from sewers being a common practice), has sparked an interest in cooking more of my own adult-grade meals.
One of the biggest issues I've encountered trying to cook for one is that it's almost never practical for me to have adequate ingredients on hand. If I buy vegetables without a specific recipe in mind for them, they're likely to sit neglected in my refrigerator while I make pb&j or boil a handful of dumplings. Thankfully, it's finally looking like spring up here—if spring is a snow storm followed by a gigantic dust storm followed by wind and rain—so fresh veggies are again on the street mere steps away.
I'm trying to build a repertoire of recipes I can file under "easy" in my mind, so I'm more likely to turn to them than a street vendor when hunger calls. Not surprisingly, the first winner involves a hearty scoop of peanut butter:
Peanut butter noodles – This was so delicious, and because it's an Asian dish, I didn't have to improvise on ingredients I can't find here. Peanut butter, honey, soy sauce, and hot chili paste!
A second dish that went well, and made more than enough to replace restaurant forays this week, is actually a version of a really common dish we ate in India, Aloo Gobi Masala. Fun fact, I learned the Chinese for "cumin" in assembling these ingredients. They call it "little fennel."
My student in India taught me how to make naan, or Indian bread. It was so easy when I cooked with her, but something went terribly wrong when I tried to make it myself yesterday. I ended up wasting most of my flour, making a doughy mess of my kitchen, and cooking something more along the lines of a bland pancake. Another hurdle for me is that mishaps like this make me want to swear off any interaction with a cutting board/rolling pin for a few days. Thankfully, I'll be working through Aloo Gobi leftovers for at least that long.
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