Guilty Pleasures in the Afternoon: A Tag

There's swine flu grunting at our doors, heat-wave deaths in India, the Taliban making waves in Pakistan, ice-shelves the size of Jamaica breaking off ...and who knows what other apocalyptic horrors in store for us. Can anyone blame me then for my oh-so-guilty pleasures?



1. Trashy magazines (thanks C and C's mom for my latest stash): OMG, did Angie throw Brad out? Are Jen and Angie finally going to come face-to-face? It's just too exciting for words. The trashier the mag, the better. Heaven!

2. A renverse in the afternoon: Thanks Mighty Mom for the milk-forther. I think of you each time I overdose on caffeine. Hey, I might walk around the house like a dancing jitter-bug but it tastes so *damn* good. Like my own little coffee-shop. Mmmmmm!

3. Cadbury's chocolates: This is a real guilty one in Switzerland. Oh non madame, you might exclaim. No Cadbury's can be consumed here. It is not chocolate at all, now is it? We have such good quality chocolate here. How can you? But Cadbury's is tied up with my childhood. That shiny, purple paper, the two glasses of milk in every bar (look ma, it's health food) and that undefinable taste that screams "chocolate" to me. So I can savor the best boutique, small-batch, handmade stuff....but sometimes a girl's gotta have her Cadbury's.

4. Cheddar cheese: Another heresy in Switzerland, the land of oh-so-heavenly fromage. I love all our wonderful Swiss cheese, but sometimes a sandwich asks...no begs... for some cheddar. And I can't believe I actually found some at our local French grocery store. It also rocks on home-made chilli (I made a huge batch and froze some a few days ago), and in the absense of queso blanco, cheddar can actually be good on Mexican food. Really, Swiss people, stop putting gruyere (much as I love it) on burritos. Now *that* is also heresy. So, we're quits, right?

And....ta...da...

5. Byron in Love: Unfortunately, not with me. But after all my Byron-stalking as my couch to 5K pal kindly called it...I walked into Payot...and this was the first book that I saw. I had to have it. What else can I say? It's Byron at his darkest and dreamiest. He's in love. Okay, with many, many people. And one of them was his half-sister. But the paths of love...they are so twisted, no?


...I tag anyone else who wants to take this on...but those mentioned in this post are gently nudged to take this on. You know who you are.

I also tag appalachianroots, which I believe might be her first tag.

Anyone who does take on this challenge, please do a guilty pleasures post on your blog, and then come back on here and let me know.

Have fun!

Eating Rubies

Don't pomegranate seeds remind you of rubies? I find selecting, preparing and eating anar to be a most beautifully sensual activity.

First the slightly leathery but bright red skin. Then you crack it open and using just the proper pressure of your thumb (too much and you squish those precious jewels, too little and you don't get any seeds) you push them into a waiting bowl. They are plump yet hard, though you know that hard seed is surrounded by the most amazing sweet, tart, fresh taste. Sometimes my white bowl get stained red, as does the floor if a few seeds drop and I being the clumsy ass I am step on them. I am being bathed in red.

Then, there there are, a bowl of red, irridescent pomegranate seeds. I ate them with a spoon for lunch today. I press the seeds between my teeth and tongue, and feel the pressure build before the sweet, tart juice spurts out, bathing my throat. Mmmmmm....

So, for lunch today I am just finishing up the last of my little pigeon-blood rubies...but neither pigeon blood (yeechhh) nor rubies ever tasted so good.

Food snobbishness

I am a bit of a food snob. There! I said it. I don't share the usual desi love for masala chai. Yuck! I like my tea very propah, brewed in a tea pot, milk and sugar served separately. Some might call it a slavish remanant of the raj. I just call it good tea. And civilized!

And I feel the same way about biryani...the snobbishness I mean. It might be unreasonable but many people cook biryani like pullao and call it biryani. Now I've only recently learned how to cook biryani from my sister who is the best biryani cook in my opinion. But even before that I knew you couldn't just make the curry and then boil the rice in it, somewhat similar to pullao (which is cooked in the meat broth) and call it biryani. Heresy!

The curry is cooked and thickened so it doesn't make the end result soggy and squishy. Each grain of rice needs to stand apart from the other. Then you boil the water until the rice is almost done...but not quite. Then you layer the rice with the thickened curry and simmer until it's done. No gooey biryani please.

It's a precise process, part science, part art...and totally delicious. And yes, no vegetables in the biryani. I am a Muslim biryani snob....no potatoes and peas in mine please. It's a meat and rice dish. Period!

And yes, no food coloring either. Gasp! Like a good paella a good biryani gets part of its color and its unique fragrance and subtle flavor from saffron. I dissolve mine in kewra water and that's when the biryani becomes what it is. Not an overtly spicy-hot dish but with layers of complex flavors, fragrance and appearance.

I miss wedding biryanis from Allahabad and Kanpur. Mine is a cheap imitation of a good imitation (my sister's recipe) but man those U.P. muslim wedding cooks, their biryani can make you weep. As do their salan and their kebabs. And the sheermal...just sweet enough and heavenly with a spicy wedding curry. And the naan, not the overly-white and soft naans from Indian restaurants, but the good stuff, slightly rough (whole wheat flour) and porous to soak up the spicy curries. I WANT SOME!

I need to get invited to a U.PMuslim wedding.

But until tha happens I am thrilled about my own quite decent, chaste and pure biryani. I just made a potfull yesterday and we've finished almost all of it already. Maybe there'll be some for dinner. Can't wait.