There’s always at least one bunch of cilantro in my refrigerator at all times.  It’s my herb of choice, followed closely by mint.  There are few Indian dishes that can go without a handful of my fresh little friend, whose zesty yet cooling brightness shines a light through all those warm spices.

Bren isn’t a huge fan though.  Whenever I finish a dish with a flourish of this cool number, he says, “Oh so you’re adding a little soap?”.  I used to think he was just being obstinate until I read this article about it being a genetic predisposition.  Some people really do taste soap.  I don’t.  I taste my momma’s kitchen on Fridays when my dad would come home from the market bearing bags and cases of fruit and veg.  We’d painstakingly wash the cilantro, dry it, pick out the leaves that looked like they’d seen better days, and then put them away.

Aha, but HOW did we put them away?

So many of you have asked me how to store herbs; my answer has always been to wash, dry, wrap in paper towel and then store in a plastic food storage bag.  Right?  Well that works for hardier herbs like parsley and mint.  But cilantro?  Well, she is a delicate flower (read that in a loonnnng New Orleans drawl please).  Throw her in a food storage bag like yesterday’s news?  She starts to pout, and then throws such a tantrum as to turn herself black, sludgy and unusable.

In a flash of inspiration a few weeks ago, I remembered how Mum would grab an old ice cream container (back then in Dubai, the local brand of ice cream, Kwality, came in plastic tubs which Mum would hoard for just this kind of purpose; she was ahead of her time!  Look at how much these food storage containers cost now!), line it with paper towels, place the cilantro in one even layer, cover with another layer, and snap the box shut.

And so that’s just what I did.  I snapped off the tougher stems, both because I don’t use them and also so that I could fit them into my container.  It’s worth mentioning that I spin these herbs as dry as I can, and even, if I have the luxury of time and counterspace, leave them out to dry on a kitchen towel.  Wet herbs go bad faster.  But for this batch, I just spun them and boxed ‘em.  Look at how good these leaves STILL look.

Now scroll back up to the first photo and look at the date on the sticker (another one of my favourite tricks: labeling everything with masking tape).  I took this photo yesterday.  This cilantro has lasted 3 weeks!  Isn’t that amazing?  Whenever I use some, I pull out any stems or leaves that are heading to that blackened stage, so they don’t contaminate the rest of the leaves, but I haven’t had to do that too often.

Amazing!

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aarti

Yeah, I know. It’s been a LOOOOOONG time since Lent.

However, the lessons are still strong in my heart.  Even while I was learning these lessons a month ago I thought, oh I can’t wait to blog about them! So many of you responded so deeply to my Lenten quest to “give up fear” for 40 days, because so many of you battle the same monster in the closet.  Thank you for telling me about your own struggles.  It makes me feel like I’m not a crazy person.  Which may or may not be true.

Anyway, here’s what I learned.

First off: Denial doesn’t work.

Bren has a very strong personality, and a very strong sense of discipline. I mean, it stands to reason; this is a man who survived for 40 days in the desert on nothing but water and some salt tablets. When I told him about my Lenten challenge, he said, “Great! So you’re not allowed to be scared over the rest of Lent! Awesome!”

Mmmmm, yeeeeeaaaaah.

I thought that it would be just like denying a late-night chocolate craving (aren’t those the worst?!). At first, just denying that sense of fear worked; anytime that familiar dread crept over my skin, I just said, “NO!” like students in a self-defense class when they’re kneeing the mannequin or the poor unsuspecting volunteer, dressed in three hundred feet of padding. It seemed to deaden that fear right in its tread.

After a couple of days though, it stopped working. It’s as if Fear realised my plan, went back to headquarters, gathered a coupla cronies, and came back to visit.

When Fear returned, he shut down my mind and went straight for my heart. There I was, watching TV with Bren, and suddenly Fear would clutch my heart and squeeze the tears out of my eyes. I’d look at Bren in sheer terror, and he’d say, “What’s going on, baba?” and I’d say, “I don’t know! I’m just so scared all of a sudden!”

I couldn’t rationalize it. Bren would sweetly put his warm hand (his body temperature is always at least 10 degrees above mine) on my head, take a deep breath, and pray away my fears.

Ah, but when I was away? In South Africa? In Dubai? Well, there was no Bren to help me then. And so here are the truths that I clung to, that I would say aloud to keep myself from drowning in the fear that snarled at me with glistening teeth:

1) My Father does not give me gravel.

I adopted this one from one of my favourite books of last year. Ann talks about realising that even when the meal set before you appears to be a bowl of gravel, it isn’t… because it isn’t in God’s character to give us gravel.  He can only give His children bread, something that will nourish and grow us. It takes a different set of eyes perhaps, a good deal of time for sure, to see that bowl of gravel for what it is: a gift of bread from the source of all love, joy and grace in the universe. Remember this?

“Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion?”

Luke 11:11-12

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.”

Romans 8:28

What does that mean practically?  Well, that even if I fail at the task set before me, if I make an utter fool of myself, if people realise that I am not as skilled as they think I am… that is somehow for my growth and for His glory.  So hurry up and eat.

2) You are with me.

So many times, when I pray, I fall into a rut of saying, “Please be with me, Lord”.  Then I sit and wait for His presence to fall over me.  And if it doesn’t, then I immediately assume I’m doing something wrong.  Cue the begging and pleading.  It dawned on me one day that God is ALWAYS with me.  Always.  Whether I feel Him in my heart or not.  Whether I acknowledge Him or not.  I mean, that’s the whole point of the Lord’s death, right?  That He could be with us in our hearts always, rather than appearing in a pillar of fire?  That we could go into the holiest of holy places, the inner sanctuary without having to make all kinds of sacrifices to approach the throne?  I always think of His words after His resurrection:

“And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

Matthew 28:20

And if He is with me, that means that I have everything within me necessary to complete the task at hand.  If He is with me, who can be against me?  Noone, that’s who.  Do not fear.

3) Ketchup, little tomato

At the beginning of this year, my “accountability group” (ugh, I hate that term) which we have affectionately dubbed Bike Gang (long story), decided we would give each other a mantra to repeat to ourselves when we got lost… something that we could tether ourselves to, set on our horizon so that we could focus all our efforts toward achieving that particular goal.  Mine was, “Be bold, for it is written”.  It’s the idea that my story has already been written, that there is nothing that I can do to mess it up, that my destiny is in no one’s hands but His and so it doesn’t matter if I turn anyone off by what I do, say or heck, fail at!

Or as Bren said to me, “God’s already written your story.  You just have to catch up to it.  Ketchup, little tomato!”.

See, it’s ok to feel scared.  We have a mistaken understanding of what bravery really is.  I used to think that true courage was doing something scary without feeling a drop of fear in your heart, your jaw set, nary a quiver in your hand, your superhero cape billowing behind you.  But that isn’t bravery.  That’s doing something you feel comfortable with.  True courage?  Being presented with something that scares the living daylights out of you… and with a quiver in your heart and a prayer on your lips… doing it anyway.

-x-

aarti

Of all the things I cook, I might have made my Chicken and Sweetcorn Soup the most.

It’s my answer to every cold, cough, sore throat that dares to cross this family’s path.  I can literally feel the flu quiver in its boots as I mince up the ginger, stew the chicken and give it a final hit of Sriracha.  Oh man, it’s so good.  But having made it so many times, I thought I had the recipe down pat.

Ah, but my cooking brain had other ideas, and that is what I love about cooking!  I never thought of this as an artform, having decided that one artist per family was plenty thankyouverymuch (Bren’s artistic brain is staggeringly active), but it’s moments like this that actually make me quite proud of this gift that God gave me.  Cooking is part inspiration, part strategy and for me, a whole lot of luck!  I love that no matter how many times I make a tried and true recipe, there’s always something else I can add, take away, streamline, elaborate… and that is what happened last night.

Bren’s been coughing horribly over the past couple of days, costing him (and me!) precious hours of sleep.  Finally, I had enough.  I reached for the soup pot and cooked up the old standby with a few changes… and I’m so chuffed with the result that I had to share it with you guys.

You can find the original here.

Here’s what I did:

• Instead of chicken breasts on the bone, I used two kosher leg quarters (ie. drumstick with thigh attached), which cost me a whopping… $5.  Man, I love this soup.  Also, I left the skin on; it adds a little fat to the soup (mmm, shmaltz), and it’s also hecka easier to scrape the skin off when cooked.
• Instead of just chopping the leek in 2, I sliced the white and light green portions it into 1/4″ half moons.  I added the thick,  dark green portion to the pot whole.  Additionally, I cut 1/4″ slices of the carrot, on the bias.  I also minced the 3″ hunk of ginger.  (You’ll see why later).
• To the bouqet garni, I added 2 dried bay leaves and a large star anise pod.  The latter added a lovely exotic licorice perfume and woody depth to the broth without overpowering it.  Really really good.  I highly recommend it!
• Once the chicken was cooked, I pulled it out along with the dark green leek “log” and the bouqet garni, but I left the leeks and the carrot in there.  I’ve always hated throwing away the veggies anyway.  They add great texture and sweetness to each mouthful of soup, plus we’re not losing any valuable nutrients!  Yay!
• I didn’t cook the scallions in the soup, but rather added them as a fresh topping on each serving bowl.  I sliced them on an exaggerated bias, all the way from the greens to the whites, taking advantage of the contrasting textures.  I love the way the sweet leeks and the more intensely oniony scallions play off each other.

That’s it!  Just a few changes, but ones that I think I will keep to the recipe!  Whaddya think?

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aarti

What a blast from the past!

I joined this group a number of years ago, craving the weekly bellydance classes I had taken when I lived in New York. We put on one major show during my stint there, and it was so much fun. This dance in particular put a huge smile on my face because it reminded me of the dances I’d watch on TV back in Dubai, although it pales in comparison to the long row of long, glossy, ebony-hued locks that would swirl in a blur for what seemed like hours as the men sang with the sun setting behind them.

Y’all who grew up in Dubai know what I’m talking about.

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aarti

I cried watching this video, because dearest hearts, this video is such a metaphor for what God did to me.  He took this stoic, sad, depressed soul… and transformed her forever into a vibrant, joyful thing!

Am I making sense?  Watch this video, and maybe it will help you understand why it is that I can’t stop talking about this God of mine; He changed my life, and I want you to have that same experience too!!

-x-

aarti

My mornings will never be the same.

Because of that gorgeous bowl of pudding up there.  Not only is it visually arresting — jade green, tiny black pearls, bright orange papaya, pale custardy-banana — but it’s delicious.  And bonus?  It’s wicked good for me.

I have Bren to thank for turning me on to chia seeds.

He’s obsessed with smoothies.  He loves the ease of making a “meal” in about 2 minutes flat, with easy clean-up.  A meal that provides a ton of nutrition in one very tall glass.  And he loves finding new, natural nutritional powerhouses to add to his smoothies.  Cue bags of hemp seeds, organic cacao and powdered mesquite arriving at our door.  Open the hall closet and you’ll find about 20 boxes of hazelnut milk tucked away in the corner (he found it was cheaper to buy it in bulk, and they’ll automatically send him another supply when he’s ready!).  About a year ago, he spoke, quite excitedly, about chia seeds.

And I got hooked.

See, chia seeds are packed with omega-3 fatty acids, those magical little things that may help prevent everything from heart disease to Alzheimers.  I’m no doctor, so don’t hold me to it… but I think it’s pretty much accepted that we need more of these acids (as opposed to the trippy kind you tried in college) in our diets.

I’ve been getting mine from shots of fish oil every morning (cue the fish burp half an hour later), and by grinding up flax seed too.  But I’m liking chia seeds because they don’t taste like old fish, and unlike flax seeds, they don’t go rancid or require grinding in order for my body to access those precious 3s.

And that’s why I’m calling this the Overachievers Breakfast Pudding…

Because not only are you getting those 3s when you munch on a delicious spoonful in the morning…

But you’re getting a ton of fiber (1 tablespoon of chia seeds has as much fiber as a bowl of oatmeal!), which will, ahem, clear you out…

And protein, from the seeds and the cashews on top…

And a ka-pow of antioxidants from the matcha green tea…

AND a slow dosage of energy from the agave which has a low glycemic index, so you won’t spike and crash like you do when you eat regular sugar or honey…

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE!

All of this, for the measly price of 2 minutes of “cooking” time.  Plus, you get to see a little magic.

The method is simple: mix the chia with the milk and agave (and whatever flavouring you like; I chose green tea) in a jar.  Shake well.  Put it in the fridge.  Go to sleep.

And while you sleep, dearest, magic is happening in that jar.  Alchemy if you will.  Each seed is soaking up the liquid and turning it into a light, almost creamy gel… a gel that is said to be very hydrating for the body…

So that in the morning, you get to have this…

PUDDING!  So many flavours in each bite: bitter, sweet, creamy, tropical, tannin-y, all to the gentle staccato beat of those chia seeds popping in your mouth.

It’s so good that it forces me to spit poetry at you.  Yeah.  (Picture me saying that all tough-like.)

Run, don’t walk.  I haven’t been this excited about one of my recipes in ages.  This one is so so so so good.  Like, if I died today and this was the last recipe I shared with you I would be happy-good.

You can find chia seeds online, or in the bulk aisle at a market like Whole Foods.  I bought my matcha green tea at Teavana.

Let me know if you try it!  I’m making another batch tonight for my breakfast!

Tonight on Food Network, something exciting is happening. So make sure you’re watching.

This is, hopefully, the beginning of a national discussion that is long overdue.

Did you know that 1 in 5 children is struggling with hunger in this country? Think of 5 children you know. Imagine one of them hasn’t eaten for three days. It’s happening. Heck, it might be happening to you!

There’s no escaping that there’s a whole heck of inequality and injustice in the world. Sometimes it’s enough to make me want to bury my head in the sand (aka watch yet another episode of the Real Housewives of insert-town-here).

But here’s the thing about this film. It’s not going to make you run for the (Real Housewives of Beverly) Hills. It’s going to energize you.

At least, that’s how we all felt after watching it the other night here in LA.

That’s Susie Fogelson, Bob Tushman, me, Melissa D’Arabian, Pat & Gina Neely and Chuck Scofield of Share our Strength, with whom Food Network has partnered for this film.

You know why we were energized? Because not only did it help shatter some of the misconceptions we didn’t know we had about hunger in America (why yes, you CAN struggle with hunger even if you have a job), but it also showed us how easy it is to fix it.

See, there’s actually plenty of food to go around. All Share Our Strength is trying to do, as far as I can understand it, is to get that food into needy hands. The USDA sets aside 70 percent of its budget just for food assistance programs! Isn’t that amazing?!

Share Our Strength, with Jeff Bridges (aka Lebowski) as its chief champion, has launched a simple, simultaneously ambitious-but-doable campaign: No Kid Hungry. By 2015.

And they have set up simple ways that you can help…

- Donate food to your local food pantry
- Find out about your school’s food programs
- Call your congressman or senator and let them know that this is a big issue for you
- Take part in the Great American Bake Sale on April 28th
- Check out the Share Our Strength website for more ideas

And, if I may be so bold as to add, go spend some time at the neighbourhood food pantry, or shelter or soup kitchen or whatever… our most precious resource is our time! One thing that came through so strongly in this film was how ashamed those suffering from hunger feel as a result of being in this situation. I was so struck by how one woman, Cheryl, who runs an amazing independent food pantry in Texas, made her “customers” feel accepted, loved and special; she evens rolls out a red carpet for them, gives them a shopping cart and walks them down each aisle so they don’t feel invisible. It’s beautiful.

So, please, watch the film tonight on Food Network at 8/7c. If you miss it, you’ll be able to download it off the Food Network site. Gather your friends and your family around. Once you watch it, tell everyone you know about it… and try to figure out a way you can do ONE thing this month to help. This is basic, y’all. We need to feed our kids. And we can do it!

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.”
Matthew 25:35-36

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aarti

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aarti

There’s the emotional-spiritual things that I learned, but let’s be honest here. What would you prefer to see: yet another long, tear-streaked post about my inner psyche… or photos of me PETTING AN ELEPHANT?!

Yeah. I thought so.

This is Three, a mature mama elephant, so named because that was the number of the container in which she arrived at the game preserve.

I was a bit tentative around her, not just because she could gouge out my innards with her tusks if something caught her eye suddenly… but because her feet were the size of tree trunks.  Should she plonk one of her footsies down on one of mine?  Well, there goes my tap dancing career.

And despite the fact that we have all probably seen zillions of photos of elephants, and maybe even seen a couple sad ones at the zoo, in person, with only inches between us, I still gasped in wonder when I saw her.  She is marvelous.

Here are things you notice when you’re up close and personal with an elephant.  She doesn’t smell.  She has insanely long eyelashes (I’m talking a couple of inches), which don’t grow uniformly in one direction… north, south, east, west; they stretch out wherever their fancies take them.  They look thick, even a little coarse.  Her skin is wonderfully rough, a little like the surface of an old barn that has seen its share of afternoon storms.  Rough, a little prickly, but soulful, inviting.  And then, just as you think you get her, someone tells you to stroke the back of her friendly, Africa-shaped ears.  Oh!  What a surprise!  No wood barns here.  Just soft, smooth leather, cool against your sun-warmed hands.  Oh to be back there again, as golden hour kisses the tall grass and paints everything and everyone in a magical golden glow, cooing at Three as she searches with quiet determination for the next clump of sweet grass.

Three has two babies, one biological, one adopted.  I can’t remember which one this was, but I do know that I wanted to take her home with me, especially after she ate some grass straight out of my hand.  Once you let me feed you, you have my heart.

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aarti

Alright. I’m hoping that decaf coffee at the end of dinner wasn’t a bad idea because I must fall asleep pronto!

Later, I will try and post photos from my game drive today… I got to pet a cheetah! Isn’t that incredible???

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