I’ve had a bear of a cold the last couple of days, one of those knock-you-on-your-cheeks deals that left me generally interested in one thing: sitting on the couch, drinking tea.
After 18 dishes in the last 10 months, we’ve hit a milestone: A repeat dish.
We’re all guilty of spice hoarding. Deep in the back of your spice cabinet is something you don’t use – cloves, mace, in my case, cinnamon. And then there’s the stuff you see at specialty markets, thinking you’ll find a day when you need that exotic-named, richly-colored powder you’d never heard of before.
After spending two weeks in Europe, it was back to the grindstone – with another trip to the Muslim world.
This time, I was cooking Nihari, a national dish of Pakistan, and a contrast from the rice-and-meat heavy influence of most of the Middle East. Hell, in the U.S., we’d call this fusion cuisine – a mix of Indian and Middle Eastern influences.
I can’t imagine going dawn-to-dusk without a morsel. My respect for those who do is immense.