“The grass is always greener on the other side.”
There’s a reason that clichés are cliché: thoughts so true have to be expressed, often too often, until suddenly the metaphor or simile that at its inception seemed so clever and perfect is mundane, something that no one even thinks about anymore, just says with the same banality that they pronounce their own name. Think about it: how often do you actually think about your own name? How often do you actually analyze a clichéd metaphor?
This one is especially true for me right now, as I consider how much I wanted to live in New York when I couldn’t–evenings spent watching old episodes of Sex and the City at Andover, not because I particularly cared what antics Samantha and Miranda were up to, but because I wanted to catch a glimpse of that place I had abandoned when choosing Massachusetts. I craved it still, when I was denied admission to Columbia and ended up in Toronto: I spent all of my time wishing and pining over New York City.
Well, I’m finally back, and the grass is always greener on the other side: I miss Paris. But not only Paris–I miss Toronto and Andover and Westhampton and even San Francisco, though I haven’t set foot in the city in years. I miss everything I don’t have, and yet as soon as I’m back in a place, I don’t take full advantage.
Well, no more. The one thing I craved when I was back in Paris was the variety of international foods that had always been available to me in New York City, and now that I work in Murray Hill, I’m within spitting distance of curry and Korean food that would drive any deprived American living in Paris batty. Instead of stalking straight up Park Avenue, walking the three-odd miles home, waiting for that severe moment of crossing 72nd street and realizing you’re no longer in Midtown and you’ve entered into that bizarro world that is the Upper East Side, I walked east, to Lexington, to where Kalustyan’s has been drawing East Asian food fanatics for years.
I gathered a few spice packs and some dal, and I headed home. As I’ve said before, in the past, I haven’t been allowed to cook much in my mother’s house, but when it comes to certain international cuisines, I’ve been able to edge my way in, offering to prepare one or two dishes to back up what she’s prepared. As my mom had put tandoori chicken on the menu, I volunteered dals and a cabbage salad so that I could have Indian food even though I’ve given up meat for lent.
Being back in the kitchen was better than I remembered–I loved putting together a few dishes for dinner, especially now that it’s a special occasion thing and not something I do every day. There was nothing blasé about chopping onions or toasting spices or watching everything come together…
So maybe it’s not Paris or San Francisco or Montreal or any of the other places I’d love to be. It’s important to remember, every once in awhile, that where you are is pretty good and to appreciate it for what it is. I am, after all, living in Manhattan.
Chana Masala “Chutney” (adapted from The Spiced Life)
1 medium sweet onion, thinly sliced
1 Tbsp. neutral vegetable oil
1 Tbsp. tamarind paste
Salt to taste
1 clove garlic, minced
1 jalapeño pepper, minced
2 t minced ginger
1 T. quatre épices (French blend of black pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves)
1 t. cumin
1 t. coriander
1 t. cayenne pepper
1 can tomato paste
1 15 oz can of whole peeled tomatoes
water as needed
1 lb. bag of chana masala
Heat a large pot over low heat and add the onions, oil and salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about an hour or until caramelized.
Increase the heat to medium, and stir in the tamarind paste, garlic, pepper, ginger and spices. Cook until fragrant, 1-2 minutes. Add the tomato paste and stir to combine. Add the canned tomatoes, chana and a bit of water. Cover and cook, stirring occasionally and adding water as needed, until chana is cooked and sauce is thick, about an hour.
Plain Dal
1 onion, minced
1 tsp. neutral oil
1 clove garlic, minced
1 jalapeño, minced
2 Tbsp. dal masala blend from Kalustyan’s or other dal spice mix
1 lb. bag mixed lentils
water to cover
salt to taste
Heat a large pot over medium heat. Add the onion and oil and cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic, jalapeño and spices and cook until fragrant, about one minute.
Add the lentils and water and cover with a lid. Cook, stirring occasionally, until lentils are tender, about 30 minutes. Season to taste with salt.
Cabbage Salad (inspired by Smitten Kitchen
1/2 head green cabbage, shredded
1/2 small jalapeño chile, grated
juice of 1/2 lemon
1 tsp. olive oil (not extra virgin)
1 tsp. cumin seeds
1/2 tsp. salt
Shred the cabbage and grate the chile into a serving bowl. Allow to sit for a few minutes.
Meanwhile, in a saucepan, heat the olive oil and add the cumin seeds to toast. Add the lemon juice and salt to the oil.
Press any liquids accumulated in the bowl of cabbage and discard. Toss the cabbage with the dressing.
