My friend used to buy the one with the rind in but pick it out off his toast.
I suggested he buy the one without but he thought that was weird.
Anyway dinner will be very late as Mrs AFB forget to get the chicken out.
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What is/was for dinner?
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I suggested he buy the one without but he thought that was weird.
Anyway dinner will be very late as Mrs AFB forget to get the chicken out.
They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery: With that in mind, I can reveal that (organic, free range, ethically retrieved) eggs featured on the menu this evening.
The chilli I had planned to prepare can wait until tomorrow.
The chilli I had planned to prepare can wait until tomorrow.
Isn't that just orange jelly? I've never seen a marmalade sold without rind.
Some carrot-onion-spinach bhajiyas (bhajis, bajji, pakoras, vegetable fritters), made on impulse and to use up some carrots and red onions of which I had prepared too many for use in a salad last night...
Here is a link to approximately the way I make them; the particular recipe hails from Gujarat (a a state in the northwest of India):
If the link dies, well this is my way which I do think is like that cited recipe:
coarsely grate up a couple of carrots,
slice up a red onion and cut across for half-circles and tap to detach
add big handful chopped fresh spinach or similar greens
add chopped fresh cilantro, a few tablespoons or to taste,
put in a bit of grated ginger
and... one minced red chili of your choice...
seasonings: a teaspoon or so each (ground turmeric, cumin seeds, garam masala),
a splash of lemon juice and a dash of salt
mix all that up with enough chickpea flour to bind it, maybe 1/2-3/4 cup
(you can sub all purpose flour if you have no chickpea / gram flour)
scrunch a handful of it to see if it will loosely hang together, if not add a little more flour, if too dry then add water a teaspoon at a time
then slide large tablespoon-sized blobs into a skillet with enough neutral oil made hot enough to semi-deep-fry the things -- a couple inches, 5cm or so in a deep sided skillet or wok is good -- and turn them carefully a couple times for even coloring maybe 5 or 6 minutes total but just pay attention.
drain on paper and eat when cool enough to handle. They go well with a mango or peach chutney or similar condiment, and are also nice with any sort of dip you may have on hand or favor, e.g. yogurt or sour cream based, tomato-based etc.
Basically, as one of my bros used to say, "they go fast." In theory one can tray-freeze any leftovers and stash in plastic bag in freezer, then microwave or oven-reheat.
I grate the carrots quite coarsely or sometimes matchstick them, so they look sort of uniquely spiky the way some tempura are served, rather than being flattened rounds or cylinders in the way bhajis or pakora are often served in restaurants or as street food.
There are all kinds of veggies used in these things, I sometimes use cauliflower florets in the East African manner via Indian influence there (although I got that recipe from a Chinese-American woman who was working in Kenya at the time) , and then they do end up looking like tempura. A fritter is a fritter... enjoy!
Here is a link to approximately the way I make them; the particular recipe hails from Gujarat (a a state in the northwest of India):
If the link dies, well this is my way which I do think is like that cited recipe:
coarsely grate up a couple of carrots,
slice up a red onion and cut across for half-circles and tap to detach
add big handful chopped fresh spinach or similar greens
add chopped fresh cilantro, a few tablespoons or to taste,
put in a bit of grated ginger
and... one minced red chili of your choice...
seasonings: a teaspoon or so each (ground turmeric, cumin seeds, garam masala),
a splash of lemon juice and a dash of salt
mix all that up with enough chickpea flour to bind it, maybe 1/2-3/4 cup
(you can sub all purpose flour if you have no chickpea / gram flour)
scrunch a handful of it to see if it will loosely hang together, if not add a little more flour, if too dry then add water a teaspoon at a time
then slide large tablespoon-sized blobs into a skillet with enough neutral oil made hot enough to semi-deep-fry the things -- a couple inches, 5cm or so in a deep sided skillet or wok is good -- and turn them carefully a couple times for even coloring maybe 5 or 6 minutes total but just pay attention.
drain on paper and eat when cool enough to handle. They go well with a mango or peach chutney or similar condiment, and are also nice with any sort of dip you may have on hand or favor, e.g. yogurt or sour cream based, tomato-based etc.
Basically, as one of my bros used to say, "they go fast." In theory one can tray-freeze any leftovers and stash in plastic bag in freezer, then microwave or oven-reheat.
I grate the carrots quite coarsely or sometimes matchstick them, so they look sort of uniquely spiky the way some tempura are served, rather than being flattened rounds or cylinders in the way bhajis or pakora are often served in restaurants or as street food.
There are all kinds of veggies used in these things, I sometimes use cauliflower florets in the East African manner via Indian influence there (although I got that recipe from a Chinese-American woman who was working in Kenya at the time) , and then they do end up looking like tempura. A fritter is a fritter... enjoy!
Fantastic recipe, (not sure I am equal to it), but I can certainly concur with your brother when he remarked "they go fast."
I could well imagine myself devouring a platter of these without any difficulty. And I order samosas and pakoras regularly from Indian restaurants, or, when I worked in central Asia, I used to ask our local staff (they knew the good places) to order such stuff for me (and rewarded them generously).
Agreed re chutneys and natural yogurt as accompaniments for samosas and pakoras. I've prepared a sort of raita (very finely sliced cucumber, peeled, and allowed to rest in its own juice, anointed with sugar, salt and black pepper, then drained, and added to natural yogurt and mint) as an accompaniment.
Well Mom and I had some excellent pizza at one of the better pizzerias on the Leman coast. She had a quattro stagioni and managed to finish half and I had a 4 cheese pizza and to my regret (actually no) finished it. This is one of a few pizza places here that make a really good crust, thin yet tender kind of like a New York crust.
Well, as it is a cold, nasty, overcast (and surprisingly dark) day, I decided to stay in and prepare some homemade chilli con carne.
The mince (organic, aged beef, bought in the farmers' market) is browning as I write.
Onions, garlic (a full head) and tomatoes have been sliced and diced and are ready in their bowls.
Chilli, and paprika, (both Hungarian and Spanish) and ground cumin, and ground coriander are all to hand. As are tinned tomatoes (Italian) and red kidney beans. The stock is ready.
And I shall serve rice with it.
When Mrs AFB used to make chilly we would have it with rice the first day and serve it either in tortilla wraps or jacket potatoes the second. Always tasted better the second day to my mind.
Yes, I am making more than enough to see me through a second day, as chilli, casserole and stews often taste a lot better on the second day; I have already notified the carer's friend and she will drop by tomorrow with a plastic container to take some away with her.
The meat has been browned and seasoned and is in a dish; it will be returned to the massive copper sauté pan presently.
Onions have been softened, along with a diced and sliced head of garlic.
A small red pepper (diced) has been added; as as a large dish of chopped (and seasoned) cherry tomatoes.
The kidney beans await in their bowl, as do the Italian tinned tomatoes (finely chopped and seasoned).
Next up, the spices.
Onions have been softened, along with a diced and sliced head of garlic.
A small red pepper (diced) has been added; as as a large dish of chopped (and seasoned) cherry tomatoes.
The kidney beans await in their bowl, as do the Italian tinned tomatoes (finely chopped and seasoned).
Next up, the spices.
Two days ago I was setting out mousetraps, figuring with it dropping off so cold at night the critters would be trying to check out my kitchen pretty quick here. And I was making lentil soup and thinking should I go up and get a thermal shirt on before nightfall...
Now it's 82ºF and I'm standing around in shorts and a tee, freezing the leftover lentil soup and making tabbouleh for dinner. Yep, September in the mountains. A dice-roll on clothes and food every day!
Now it's 82ºF and I'm standing around in shorts and a tee, freezing the leftover lentil soup and making tabbouleh for dinner. Yep, September in the mountains. A dice-roll on clothes and food every day!
Lentil soup? Yum.
In the Horn of Africa, one of the few meals that I liked which was served by the DFAC was a light lentil curry served with rice; irrespective of the temperature, I could have eaten that dish forever. Unfortunately, it wasn't on the menu every week, let alone every day.
They also did an amazingly good lentil soup, but only once a week, and not on the same day each week.
Therefore, I used to arrange with colleagues to text me (or phone me) if lentil soup was on the menu, whereupon I would dash down to sample some, as I rarely ate lunch otherwise.
Turkey is a country that really "gets" lentil soup; the aroma and taste of lentil soup - in backstreet Istanbul places, the sort that looked like dives but you later learned that they had won local awards for the quality of their food - especially their lentil soup, - even in the airport - is amazing.
Once, en route home while on leave from central Asia - an overnight stopover - in Istanbul - having spent around two hours prowling and pacing around the Old Town, feeling peckish and longing for a beer, I found my way to some sort of backstreet spot, and sat down at one of their pavement tables.
I was sitting, sprawled, leaning back in my seat, dreaming, studying the stars and the trees overhead, and keeping an eye on the sophisticated sleek cats that strolled around, winding around my feet (and those of others), while idly sipping my (very tasty) beer, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere of a balmy Istanbul evening, when my nostrils were assailed by this amazing aroma from the soup the local family seated at the adjoining table had ordered.
I summoned a waiter, requested another beer, and pointed at the soup the family were enjoying; a smile, complicit, delighted, enigmatic yet understanding, was bestowed upon me and a large bowl of stunning - and steaming - lentil soup with Turkish bread was placed in front of me (along with a beer) very shortly afterwards. Just sublime.
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Yum, I like curried lentils with rice also. Or lentils with pasta, mmm... I'll be happy to bump into my frozen leftovers sometime next week, I'm sure. Meanwhile there are still some tomatoes and cucumbers around at the farmers' markets so the salad fixings are plentiful at the moment, and a good thing too with this little heat wave.
Hah. This morning because it was already 65ºF outside at breakfast time, oatmeal seemed all wrong to me and I rummaged around in the fridge and came up with tuna-pasta salad. At six am.
Fiery chilli?
Mine had a little heat, but was soothing, with some - slightly more than a hint of heat - and delicious.
Better tasting, as always, on the second day.
München again.
No one does rib sticking eat until you fall over better than Bavarians.
Schweine Hackse, Knödel…
As much as I like Kaiserschmarren I could not contemplate a full portion, so we shared.
No one does rib sticking eat until you fall over better than Bavarians.
Schweine Hackse, Knödel…
As much as I like Kaiserschmarren I could not contemplate a full portion, so we shared.