Text 22066, 173 rader
Skriven 2012-03-05 01:21:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
     Kommentar till en text av NANCY BACKUS
Ärende: poor philosophy 323
===========================
 ML> Unlike some, I feel that there really is such a thing as truth
 ML> in most cases. I am one who believes that the tree falling makes
 ML> a sound whether or not there's anyone there to listen to it.
 NB> Likewise.  Lots of creatures to hear it even if no humans are nearby. 

There was a little discussion subsequently on this subject.
Nobody took the "it doesn't make a sound" side.

 NB> And the results will be in evidence that it did fall for quite some
 NB> time until the tree fully decays... :)

It could have been dragged there by somebody.
 
 ML> I really don't like being there. Really really.
 NB> Totally understood.  Also, understood why you go anyway...

He maneuvered me yesterday into admitting that I
found him annoying. His rejoinder was that there are
two other people who do so - one being his shrink and
the other being our mother (he knows that I hate being
likened to her, as I never could stand her; plus she's
been dead for 7 years, and he talks about her in the
present tense, which is kind of Hitchcockian). I'm
wondering if he hadn't planned that conversation all
day just to get the zinger in. Anyhow, I'd promised my
father that I would do my best to keep him out of trouble;
further, staying at the house is often my cheapest
option. Funny thing, though, as I can't cook there
my food budget increases exponentially. Yesterday he
actually suggested a place to go to eat, and it was
actually pretty good - the Lebanese Taverna in Bethesda,
the most fashionable of the restaurants by that name.
I had falafel, raw kibbe, and sujuk, some kind of sausage.
The falafel were average, no better than you'd get at a
cart in NYC or Athens or Tel Aviv - that's to say, decent,
but nothing to write home about. The lamb was truly
toothless, obviously having been Cuisinarted rather than
hand-done; the sausage was lightly cumined and moderately
cayenned, broiled almost black and that quality masked by
a somewhat raw-tasting tomato sauce. Nice pocket bread
accompanied. But wait, there's more: two beers. How much
do you think that would cost you? $10? $20? No, think
twice that and then some. All this can be yours for a
mere $48. Jonathan had chicken wings and salmon, both
pretty good, for $45. I complimented him on his good
taste choosing the place but could not resist observing
that it was perhaps a bit pricy, especially as we should
be economizing a little.

Toothless Nawab Kebab
cat: Indian, Lucknow, main
servings: 4

1 kg leg of lamb
50 gr ginger
50 gr garlic
75 gr Raw papaya flesh
50 gr butter
1 ts chili powder
salt and pepper
1/2 ts mace
1 ts green cardamom freshly powdered
Clarified butter or oil to fry

Galouti Kebab

In Lucknow, kebabs are meat patties delicately flavored with
spices and fried in clarified butter on a large tray. Here
is one so soft you don't need your teeth to eat it. Honest!

Lucknow, a muslim city in the North of India, was ruled by
nawabs for 150 years, becoming a place of utmost culinary
refinement and the capital of Persian-inspired Indian Awadhi
cuisine. When the British East India Company decided to pull
the plug on nawab rule in Lucknow in 1856, sending nawab
Wajid Ali Shah in exile, the uprising that ensued changed
British rule in India for good.

I visited the city last year on my way to Benares and would
gladly go back. The city has an amazing feel to it - you'd
think you are in Pakistan, but people are very friendly and
not suspicious of foreigners. The city is very clean and
well-run. It has many attractive monuments from both the
nawab and British periods.

Legend has it that the ruler of Lucknow, nawab
Asaf-Ud-Dowlah, had lost all his teeth. And yet, the
toothless nawab was so big there was no horse that could
carry him. What was his secret? Legend has it that he
commissioned the creation of a version of his beloved kebabs
that could be eaten without teeth. His court chef designed a
new kebab that would use the finest lamb cuts, mince them
twice very finely, add a tenderizer and flavor the whole
with a heavenly spice mix. I have tasted this kebab in some
of the best restaurants in India and of course at every
single meal in Lucknow. Gorgeous! The texture is so fine it
surprises at first, but being dispensed from any chewing is
blissful. Kebab makers in the Chowk bazaar claim to use 100
spices in their kebabs - that's about every spice they can
get and I'm not sure the meat is any better for it. I
obtained several recipes from books written for Indian chefs
and reproduced the dish at home successfully. Here is for
you this cult dish part of the Lucknawi identity.

Measure 30 g gram dal or about 3 heaping tablespoons.
These are split yellow lentils from the Indian grocery
store, buy those that say 'gram dal' on the package.
Dry-roast the lentils until they turn a shade darker,
stirring them regularly to minimize burning.

Add the spices - peppercorns, dried chilies, mace and green
cardamom seeds you just removed from their pods.

Grind to a fine powder in an electric mixer.

Dice the leg of lamb. You can trim the fat because we will
add more fat later.

Grind the meat twice, using the finest disc you have. This
is our first layer of decadence. I have to be honest here,
normally I ask the butcher to do it (twice) and it takes but
a minute. But here I wanted to give my readers some dramatic
illustration of the grinding and for some reason it took me
the best part of 30 minutes to grind the meat with my bloody
Porkert grinder. I will soon buy an electric grinder.

Peel and crush a garlic clove and a thumb-sized piece of
ginger.

Indian meat is sold freshly butchered. As a result, it is
much tougher than what we get in the West. Indian chefs have
long used various ingredients to tenderize the meat -
yogurt, lemon juice, vinegar, pineapple and my favorite,
papaya, which contains an enzyme - papain - that would
soften bones if you left them long enoug. We will use papaya
but mix it in only half an hour before cooking - our second
layer of decadence.

Cut the papaya in half and remove the seeds. Scoop out the
flesh of one half and grind it or chop it to a pulp.

Dig a well into your meat and add a piece of butter at room
temperature. This will be our third layer of decadence. Lamb
fat is considered less noble than butter - but it is more tasty.

Finally add your ground roasted lentils and spices and mix
everything together until you have a smooth paste.

Pour a little oil into a bowl to oil your fingers and palms.

Form apricot-sized meat patties, oiling your hands as you go
to prevent the meat from sticking. Wash your hands carefully
afterwards, they will be coated with fragments of chili and
papaya and they might tenderize part of your body you don't
intend to eat.

Oil your largest frying pan with clarified butter or oil. Do
not use butter as it might burn.

Cook on medium-high, turning from time to time with kitchen
tongs, until both sides of each patty is well-browned.

There we are - three layers of decadence and no teeth
required! The most delicious kabab on earth humbly cooked in
my own kitchen!

The flesh is incredibly soft and fragrant. Serve with an
Indian flat-bread such as chapati or paratha. As my driver
in Lucknow says, 'You are now like Nawab person'.

http://FXcuisine.com, 18/02/2008
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