Shrimp biryani.

Last night, I attempted shrimp biryani.

Part of my ongoing attempt to learn reasonably authentic Indian food, this was maybe my worst execution yet. I made too many tiny changes as I went (story of my life) and while the flavor was fantastic, the overall result was blah.

The main problem was the rice. It just went straight to mush. Maybe the problem was using jasmine instead of basmati. In the past, I might have used jasmine for everything, one of my regular shortcuts. No more. That was absurd. Look, kids, these are different rices.

I started with a recipe off food52. I soaked the rice in cold water (I don’t know why. Any idea what this does?). I peeled the shrimp and let them marinate in turmeric and kosher and a splash of cinnamon (my add).

I took a huge lump of ginger, diced it up, did the same with three enormous cloves of garlic, and pulsed the food processor. I didn’t have Serranos because I was trying to use up jalapenos in my freezer from last summer, so I tossed in two of those, which worked out fine. Oh, and a handful of cilantro, maybe a third a cup. This I pureed but it didn’t get very fine. I added a splash of olive oil and water.

Green stuff. Cilantro, ginger, garlic, jalapenos.

Then I sauteed the spices: cardamom pods, peppercorns, bay leaves, and cloves. I should have used a cinnamon stick, but APPARENTLY I am all out. I subbed powdered cinnamon, which didn’t really work, and a star anise. Note: that shit spits. I think it was the pods. Like popcorn.

Then I added diced onion and carrots. I also chopped up a metric ton of broccoli rabe, which was not a good idea. It tasted great, but turned the rice green. And the chop was not fine enough to mix well with the rice. But I just HAD to have something green in the meal, didn’t I? (Next time I will try finely chopped spinach. It will work.)

To this I added half the green paste, then rice and apparently too much water, plus butter and mint. I should add more butter and more mint. Then it all went into the oven to bake.

After the designated time (20 minutes), the water wasn’t yet gone, so I put it back in for another 10 minutes. I guess this had something to do with the rice mush.

I sauteed the rest of the green paste with the shrimp. I wonder if the paste would have made a better marinade?

I pulled out the rice, mixed it all together—oh, and made raita, based on this recipe. This actually turned out great; I added two radishes that I had sitting around, and also the rest of a small container of ricotta. The ricotta was dumb—all grainy to the otherwise smooth Greek yogurt.

And that was dinner. The flavor was great, but the texture was awful. So essentially I am bummed, but not fully discouraged—I’ll make this again with some modifications, like basmati rice, and careful cooking times, and no broccoli rabe.

Also it lasted three dinners. From a thrift perspective? Niiiiice.

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"

INTERVIEWER: What was it about the twenties that inspired people like yourself and Broun?

DOROTHY PARKER: Gertrude Stein did us the most harm when she said, “You’re all a lost generation.” That got around to certain people and we all said, Whee! We’re lost. Perhaps it suddenly brought to us the sense of change. Or irresponsibility. But don’t forget that, though the people in the twenties seemed like flops, they weren’t. Fitzgerald, the rest of them, reckless as they were, drinkers as they were, they worked damn hard and all the time.

"

Dorothy Parker on “the lost generation” and hard work, part of The Paris Review’s fantastic historic interviews. (via explore-blog)

(via explore-blog)

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explore-blog:

Frida – stunning series by Austrian creative studio atelier olschinsky

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Soup-for-brains.

I cook. All the time. I always have. But lately it’s been …more. Lately it’s been obsessive. Lately cooking has moved from a space of dedicated interest to a state of being.

Even today, when I should have rested. A migraine banished me to bed at 5 PM, but all I could think about, while waiting out the blindness, was the ramen soup I wanted to cook for dinner. The earliest moment when I felt safe, I ventured out of bed and into the kitchen and pulled out the Dutch oven. Then the half onion left from the previous night. A new onion to round it out. A knob of ginger from the freezer. A knife.

I sauteed the onion and ginger with garlic, then deglazed with mirin. I added chicken broth and water and tamari and brought it to a boil. I added carrots and roughly chopped water chestnuts and dehydrated shiitakes.

Last Sunday, I bought a gorgeous green bunch of baby bok choy, which is what inspired the soup in the first place. I discarded their bases, then washed each leaf, and thought about how ridiculous it was that I was going to such trouble to prepare dinner with a migraine. I thawed some shrimp and discarded their shells and tails (I should have saved these and made shrimp stock). This was all put in the pot with some noodles.

I ladled the soup into bowls and garnished them with cilantro, scallions, tamari, sesame oil, and sesame seeds.

Making that soup is what I looked forward to all day. It’s not even a special soup — just a use-up-the-vegetables kind of meal.

So I’m wondering what is going on in my brain that’s driving me endlessly into my kitchen. Is it my newfound lifestyle, stable, with dogs and a partner and a house, that gives me the freedom to explore my cooking in greater depth? Or is it a response to the lack of stability I had for so long, a compensation for time poorly spent? Is it the latest iteration of a documented mental quirk (which has, in all fairness, been held at bay for the past few years)? Or have I just reached a point where this skill is coming into its own?

I am literally obsessed with food right now.

I’m going to try embracing that.

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"It is summer time! It is time to climb up on things and yell at other things that are too high to reach. It is time to mess up the calm quiet routines we built up all winter. With fire. It is time to make yourself proud and everyone else a little nervous."

Joey Comeau (Sometimes I come across old things that I wrote and forgot about and think, “Fuck yeah! Preach it Joey!” and then feel bad for feeling good about myself.)

(via literarydrunkard)

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16th
May
nevver:

Handiedan
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