Posted tagged ‘Indian food’

“They’re grrrrrrrrrreat!”

September 16, 2016

4 Days to go!!

Last night was downright cold. When I woke up, Gracie was lying against me, and Fern was on my hip. It seems both of them wanted my body heat. I, meanwhile, was under the comforter and was warm and cozy.

I checked the thermostat when I got downstairs, and the house was only 62˚. It was sweatshirt time. Lately I have had food cravings. First, it was pizza, and we had it for dinner on movie night. Next, it was fish and chips, and I had that for dinner last night. Chinese was a week ago. I don’t seem to crave Mexican though I did have a quesadilla on pizza night, and it was delicious. In Hyannis is the Brazilian Grill and Pavilion Indian. Neither one tickles my taste buds. I have a shepherd’s pie in my freezer. It has sat there a few weeks. Maybe that’ll be dinner.

Fern is quite unhappy now when she gets her medicine, especially the mouth one. She sees me going to the desk where I keep the medicine, and she is gone like a flash. I fill the syringe then sit and wait until she figures all is clear then I get her. The ear stuff is easier. I distract her with treats and slathered her ears while she is eating. Food trumps ear medicine.

Television is boring especially right now. Yesterday I watched WBINclassics. It airs old programs, some from my childhood like McHale’s Navy,  Father Knows Best and Leave It to Beaver. I ignore my internal critic.

My garden is looking forlorn. Most of the flowers are best their prime. A few white ones are still on the fence, and the front garden has a couple of new flowers, fall bloomers. A mum sits by the front steps, my acknowledgement of fall.

I knew all the commercial jingles when I was a kid. They just stuck in my head. Oscar Mayer was a favorite. The old Frito Bandito makes me cringe now. Snap, Crackle and Pop make the world go round, and Rice Krispies is my favorite cereal. Everyone knows it’s Slinky. I still have one, the old one, not the plastic new one. I wish all those Texaco guys would reappear especially when it rains. Mr. Clean is still around. I always loved his earring. You’ll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent. The Campbell kids have disappeared but luckily they didn’t take their tomato soup with them or grilled Velveeta cheese sandwiches would be very lonely.

“He was a bold man that first ate an oyster.”

March 29, 2014

Last night it rained, and it is still damp, but it’s warm. I stood out on the deck for a while after I filled the bird feeders. Gracie wandered the backyard. The snow is pretty much gone. It will be 49˚ today. The rain will be back this afternoon.

I had Chinese food for dinner last night. It got me thinking about food. I was the average kid who didn’t like a whole lot of vegetables, who found the idea of eating vegetables a parental conspiracy. Potatoes, especially mashed, were at the top of my willing and eager to eat list of foods. Canned LeSueur peas were also a favorite. My mother made us eat carrots, and I think that was it for my list of acceptable veggies. We never had salad except in the summer, and it was usually potato salad, not greenery. Italian and Chinese were the only foreign foods we all ate. The Chinese was always take-out.

It wasn’t until I went to Ghana that my palate expanded. Those two years were filled with new experiences and eating strange foods was one of them. It was there I first tasted Indian food. The restaurant, The Maharaja, looked liked what I always imagined an Indian restaurant to be. It had colorful fabrics on the walls, cushions on the floor for seating and a menu of foods totally unfamiliar to me. I read the descriptions and ordered. The food was delicious. I add Indian food to my list. Talal’s was a small Lebanese restaurant near the Peace Corps office. Volunteers ate there so often the owner made what he called a Peace Corps pizza. It was pita bread with tomatoes and melted cheese. Talal’s was where I first ate hummus and tabouli and falafel. The hummus was served on a flat plate. In the middle was sesame oil and around the top of the hummus was a ring of red cayenne pepper. I used to dip my bread in the oil and scoop up the peppered hummus. I still eat my hummus that way, with the red pepper. There was one Chinese restaurant way out of Accra, a one cedi ride which was about the highest cab fare we’d ever pay. It had an outside eating area. Going there was a treat because of the cost and we weren’t often in Accra. The restaurant was across the street from the Russian Embassy. The food was different from the Chinese food I ate at home. On later trips, I’d eat Chinese food in other countries and find the food was different everywhere from country to country. I ate Ghanaian foods all the time: t-zed, fufu, kenkey, which I never liked, kelewele, which I loved, yam, grasscutter and other foods I didn’t want identified. I ate chickens I bought live and beef of dubious age and condition: unsanitary was a given. I bought food along the road and never gave thought as to its origin. I drank water with floaties, the name we gave to bits of stuff floating in the bottles which once held beer.

After Ghana, I always tried local foods on any trip. I ate all sorts of vegetables and meats. In some countries, the less I knew the better the food tasted. I’ll try almost anything now. Innards, however, are not among them. I tried tongue once and once was enough. It was creepy looking served on a bed of lettuce as if somebody was under the table sticking his tongue out at me. I ate Rocky Mountains oysters and once was enough.

I scoff sometimes at people who won’t try new foods or old foods they didn’t like as kids, who look and never taste. They are missing the most amazing experiences: different spices and herbs, strange ingredients and foods with unknown origins. I’m glad to be a food junkie.

“(Baseball) is a game with a lot of waiting in it; it is a game with increasingly heightened anticipation of increasingly limited action”

October 12, 2013

The day is cloudy and fall cool. Later, I am going to put the storm door on the front. I hate to admit it, but the time has come. The days are only in the 60’s at best and the nights are even cooler. I put the comforter on my bed last night because I’ve been leaving the window open. The night air is sweet and still has a few summer sounds so I’ll enjoy it as long as I can.

The ALCS begins tonight. Our heroes play the kitties from Detroit. I get a chuckle out of some of the players on that team. Having an infielder named Fielder seems a bit much, especially a fielder of such girth. I always want to tell him to tuck in his shirt; slovenly is not fashionable even on the baseball field. What amazes me is that these two teams have never faced each other in a playoff but have played almost 2000 games against each other since the beginning of time. Fenway Park, voted the best park in baseball, was opened the same day and year as the Tiger’s park, now torn down. No sense of history in Detroit I suppose. I checked all the predictions and many favor the Kitties in a long series; the Sox are favored for a short series. That’s just the incentive the Sox need. Those bearded wonders love to beat the odds. After all, they came from last to first. Okay, I’ll admit Mr. V is the best pitcher, but the Sox got to him once and maybe are set to do it again. I wouldn’t bet against them. I suggest the Kitties adopt It’s Crying Time Again as their theme song. Go Red Sox!

My sister and I went to an Indian restaurant yesterday in Stoneham, where she still lives and where I grew up. The restaurant is at the site of what was The Children’s Corner. My sister’s memory of that is a bit hazy. She thought the store was in a different part of the square. Our table faced the street so I gave her a run-down of what used to be in the square. She was a bit amazed about the small restaurant, longer than it was wide, and the Spa with its lime rickeys, neither of which exist any more. She remembered Finnegan’s, a men’s store. Members of the same family were also morticians but out of the square, near all the churches. Later she went hunting on-line for a picture of the square and found one with the Children’s Corner and the old police booth. That was my up-town a long, long time ago.