aartipaarti

(Note: I already wrote this post once. And set it to publish in a couple of days. And then it disappeared. SO ANNOYED. In any case, here I go again.)

In some ways, I am a creature of habit. I wasn’t always this way. But I suppose that since my life has changed now, and every day is different from the one before it, I cling to ritual more than ever before. There is something about the rhythm of it, the familiarity of it… it’s comforting, something like the sound of waves crashing… it makes me feel like everything is under control.

One of my rituals is making myself a pot of coffee every morning. But Lord, do I like to get caught up in the details. And while some of you may think my coffee-nerdiness a tad extreme, let me assure you that I am nothing, NOTHING, compared to some of the coffee nerds I’ve met. You know who you are. You carry beans, a grinder and a French press when you travel. Uh-huh. Now I’ve got your number.

Anyway, here’s a little walk through my morning bliss (read: madness), along with a new addition to the ritual. Which has of course taken my madness to a new level.

1) First, I boil the water. This is my Le Creuset kettle.

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I’ve never been a good juggler… both literally, and metaphorically.

In secondary school, our drama teacher Mr. Jones spent a couple of lessons teaching us how to juggle. I’m still unclear what the dramatic purpose of this was, but I’m sure it had something to do with separating our minds from our bodies from a little while, teaching our bodies a new skill. He’d put on “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel, which he said was the perfect tempo to which to juggle.

But try as I could, the balls would never fly in those perfect orbits jugglers manage… those perfectly symmetrical ovals, ringing around each student like Saturn’s rings. Mine would wiggle through the air, and land hopelessly on the floor, gleefully bouncing away from me.

I still can’t juggle.

And now that I have a few things to juggle, metaphorically, I am finding it hard to juggle them all. Cookbook, TV, blog, husband, friends, family, God, me… Oh boy.

I don’t mean to complain. I am so grateful for all the things I have on my plate. And I know that so many of you juggle even more, or even more important things than I do. Normally, I just suck it up and handle it. But today I’m feeling a little overwhelmed.

How do you handle being overwhelmed?

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aarti

Bren is the real music collector in the McSequeira household. Every few months, he puts together a mix of songs he’s jamming to, and it’s always, always good.

(If you wanna hear his end-of-the-year mix, listen here. It’s called “If’n a Flame”.)

Music is one of the things that brought us together, since we both were lovers of angst-y women who played the piano. Think Tori Amos and Fiona Apple. I know. Now you know what my “dark” side looks like.

Ha!

Bren oftens uses music to describe what God feels like: you can’t touch it, but you know it’s there and it’s swelling your heart to heights previously unscaled.

To that end, Bren discovered this song yesterday, by LA artist Active Child. It’s storming the music blogs with its plaintive, other-worldly cry to the heavens, a cover of “His Eye is on the Sparrow”.

I CANNOT STOP LISTENING TO THIS!

And perhaps, as we scribble down New Year’s resolutions, attempting to grab hold of this tenuous thing called time… as we eye the horizon with hope and — in my case — trepidation… this song might be the most appropriate soundtrack to keep us rooted in the reality whispering to us from behind the mist.

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aarti

When I was 11, I had a little pink Minnie Mouse journal. Minnie. Mouse. At 11. Ah, the innocence!

Anyway, it had a lock on it, which could easily be picked with a bobby pin, but I felt cool about the whole thing, because it was wholly and truly mine.

Here was a place to store all my secrets, all those things that I thought but never said out loud. Here was a place where no-one could tell me what to say or think, a place of freedom in a world full of rules.

I felt very grown-up and cool. At that time, it seemed that most every girl on TV whom I loved, had a diary. Including my favourite: Punky Brewster.

Oh Punky.

As I head through my 30s I’m realising that, curiously enough, much of my life has been influenced by Penelope “Punky” Brewster. My love for bright colours and eccentric hair accoutrements. An appetite for adventure and striking out on your own. A sense that life should be bigger and more exciting than colouring between the lines (although I am a STICKLER for colouring between the lines; ask Bren).

Oh and speaking of Bren, an unstoppable attraction to the free-thinkers, the people who have never given up on their childlike sense of wonder and joy, the freaks and the artists, the people who swim upstream and cause others to question why they’re following everyone downstream.

I had totally forgotten about my love for Punky until a few weeks ago, when my friend Mona called me. I was shooting the second season of Drop 5 (whoopee!), so she left me a voicemail that I’ll love until the day the good Lord takes me:

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Between the season finale of Boardwalk Empire and the season premiere of the Shahs of Sunset (I know, I can’t help it. Bravo is my guilty, VERY guilty, pleasure), I’ve giving my DVR a workout this Sunday.

Might I be so bold as to suggest you add a couple more things to your DVR record list?! Especially those of you dear hearts who keep asking when you’ll see me on TV next? (Especially those of you who make that request in ALL CAPS; for some reason that tickles me even more!)

This Sunday, the 2nd of December, I’m on The Best Thing I Ever Made, at 1130am ET/PT on Food Network. This episode is about Stocking Stuffers, and I’m making my Coconut Toffee, the new and improved version! Easy, impressive and a little taste from every Catholic Indian’s childhood.

I’m honoured to be on the same episode as Alex Guarnaschelli, Ted Allen and Jacques Torres. Pretty killer.

Then, for those of you have Cooking Channel, I’m part of the Holiday Special this Sunday! It airs at 8p ET (and PT?). I’m cooking alongside Roger Mooking, Nadia G, Eden Grinshpan, Bobby Deen, Kelsey Nixon and G. Garvin. Roger and I had a blast, and couldn’t stop laughing and high-five’ing all the way through our shoot. Can’t wait to see how that turns out!! I made my version of the standard fruit cake we ate growing up: this one is a date, cardamom and pistachio cake, with plenty o’ booze.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!

So yeah, check out your DVRs and then let me know what you think!

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aarti

By overwhelming demand, here’s the recipe for the soup! A word of caution; I’ve only made this soup once, so it’s not tested as many times as I would like. But you guys wanted it so badly that I felt bad not posting the general idea at least. Also, using the full amount of dried coconut might be a touch too rich. Next time, I’m making it with half the amount. You may want to as well.

This soup came about last night after a nasty run-in with the closet door left me with a massive goose egg on my forehead. I was scurrying around the house, trying to do 600 things at once; unpack from a trip to New York, put clean dishes away in the kitchen and listen to a sermon on my computer. Funnily enough, it was a sermon about anxiety, and how the underlying cause of so much of our anxiety is a overly-tight clenching of the blessings in our life, as if clenching them would keep them from disappearing. As I was scurrying about, I was worried about writing my cookbook, figuring out when I’d get around to starting on the danged thing. And boom. Right into the closet door. I saw stars, and I immediately collapsed in a puddle of tears. Feeling quite sorry for myself, I listened to the pastor talk about turning my eyes upward, and as I did, I realised that the kitchen was, uncharacteristically, calling my name for a little bit of relaxation; in the weeks leading up to that moment, the kitchen had been somewhat of a stressful spot for me, a place of “work”. That had troubled me so.

But that night, as the bump on my head enlarged, the stress in my heart died down. I listened to Cindy Morgan croon some good ol’ fashioned hymns, and sang along as I churched this soup into existence. Leanin’ on His everlasting arms.

Note about ingredients: the dried coconut, spices, tamarind paste and curry leaves are available at Indian supermarkets, at better supermarkets or online. If you can’t find curry leaves, just go without.

You’ll need:

1/2 cup black lentils
4 cups water + (3/4 to 1) cup extra
1 cup dessicated, finely grated or ground coconut (Sold as “coconut powder” at some Indian stores; do NOT use the sweetened kind you find in the baking aisle at the regular supermarket. Also see my note above about halving this amount)
1 teaspoon cumin seeds (or powder)
2 teaspooons paprika
1 teaspoon turmeric
Pinch of garam masala
2 15-ounce cans of plain pumpkin puree
2 cups vegetable stock
2 teaspoons tamarind paste
3 tablespoons grapeseed/canola/veg/sunflower oil
1 ½ teaspoons mustard seeds
2 large cloves garlic, sliced thinly
2 dried red chiles (such as chiles d’arbol)
1 large sprig fresh curry leaves, stripped from the stem
Salt to taste
Big pinch of brown sugar

1) Bring 4 cups of water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Season with a couple of big pinches of salt. Meanwhile, pick through lentils for stones and other crap, then rinse. Add lentils to boiling water, stir and bring back to a boil, partially covered. Turn down to a simmer, cover and cook 20 minutes or until lentils are tender but still hold their shape. Drain and set aside.
2) Meanwhile, put coconut powder, cumin seeds, paprika, tumeric and garam masala in a blender. Blend to combine, about 10 seconds. Then add 1 cup water and blend again until semi-smooth paste forms. Pour into a bowl. Don’t worry about scraping all of it out.
3) Scoop pumpkin puree into blender, add stock and tamarind pasted, and blend until smooth.
4) Make sure you have the mustard seeds, garlic, chiles and curry leaves set up on the counter next to your stove because the next few steps move quickly!
5) Warm oil in a large deep skillet until nearly smoking. Add mustard seeds and cover immediately because if the oil is properly heated, then they should be spluttering! As spluttering dies down, remove lid and add curry leaves then quickly cover. Shake pan so curry leaves are evenly distributed. Wait 5 seconds until spluttering diminishes, then add garlic and red chiles. Remove lid and stir well. Cook another 5 to 10 seconds.
6) Add coconut paste, and sauté for about 5 minutes until fragrant.
7) Add pumpkin puree mixture and lentils. Season with salt, pepper and sugar. Stir together and cook over low heat for about 5 minutes, until heated through. Taste, and if you can, allow this soup to sit for 15 minutes before you serve, so that all the flavours come together. Serve with fire-roasted poppadums.

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aarti

Hey guys!

I’ll be spending some serious girl time with the ladies of CBS’ The Talk on Friday!

I’m talking to Julie Chen, Sharon Osbourne, Sara Gilbert and the rest of the ladies about easy ways to work Middle Eastern and Indian flavours into their everyday dinners. Tune in Friday morning! And wish me luck! I’m nervous!

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aarti

Bren and I got to go to Singapore and Malaysia in September because… THEY’RE PLAYING AARTI PARTY IN SINGAPORE AND MALAYSIA!

Ahghghghghghghggh!

Isn’t that wild?

Here’s the demo that I did in Singapore to promote the debut of season 3. It was so much fun to meet fans from a totally different part of the world. You made me feel so welcome. Thank you so much!

And one last one…

Cannot believe that puttering around in the kitchen 8 years ago, when I felt my most useless and worthless has led to THIS!

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aarti

I’ve always felt a little “less than” in terms of being Indian because:

(a) my Hindi is terrible — what I know I’ve learned from Hindi movies, so I know how to say “I love you” and “I’m going to cut you into tiny little pieces”. Which really comes in handy (not).

(b) I’ve never seen the Taj Mahal.

Well, colour me saffron, white and green, people… because I’ve accomplished one of the two!

After celebrating my cousin’s wedding in Goa, we flew up North to Delhi, the capital of India, to visit my aunt and uncle, who were superlative hosts, taking us around the city, making many of our favourite dishes from Mangalore (our hometown) and of course, taking us to Agra, where this lil’ ol’ building stands:

Love this photo — so moody.

Don’t be fooled by those clouds though. It wasn’t a blustery winter’s day. Those are monsoon clouds. Which means it was so hot and humid that it felt like you were wading through an invisible crowd of people just breathing on every pore of your body. Yummy.

The Taj is something to behold in person. I never realised how much detail lies in every corner, from the calligraphy at the gate, each letter about 2 feet long…

…to the intricately carved flowers on the walls of the tomb…

…so delicate and life-like, you’re tempted to pluck them right off the wall.

You can read all about the story behind the Taj Mahal but the thing you need to know is that this is a magnificent mausoleum built by a visionary, the Mogul emperor Shah Jahan, for the love of his life, Mumtaz Mahal. It’s a feat of architecture, built to withstand practically any natural disaster or test of time (except for something he couldn’t have forseen: pollution!), an external testament to what love does to us on the inside. Here’s something I hadn’t heard before: he had planned on building a matching mausoleum for himself, except all in black. Wouldn’t that have been cool? But even a man as powerful and intelligent as this Mogul can’t cheat God’s timing. And so there she stands, all alone.

And while I’d love to tell you that my best memory of the Taj will be the soaring minarets, or the stark white marble glistening in the summer sun, I am dismayed to tell you that I will always associate the Taj with… feeling terribly, awfully SICK.

Yup. As we walked barefoot (it is a mausoleum after all!) under the merciless sun, a viral fever was taking hold of me, spiking my temperature to 101.9 by the end of the day. Which resulted in this amusing (although not so much at the time) photo story.

Romantic, huh?

Although, I think that my favourite photo of this whole excursion is this one of my sister photo-bombing this little girl’s quintessential Taj Mahal photo. Priceless. (Don’t worry, she wasn’t actually in that girl’s shot. Also I made Crish do it. Also I don’t regret it. Also… oh never mind.)

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aarti

What is it about having fresh flowers in the house that makes me feel like I’m living a lavish lifestyle?

Does anyone else feel that way?

Sometimes, when things are either in shambles or just sort of blah-ing, a bunch of flowers is just what I need to turn the light back on in my soul. I’d like to pretend that it’s because it reminds me of that thing Jesus said about the lilies in the field don’t worry about anything, and yet look so beautiful… but honestly? It’s just because… they’re pretty and they make me stop what I’m doing… and smile.

Now flowers might seem like a big expenditure for you; I know that I always thought they were. But imagine my joy when Bren found a neighbourhood florist who sells big bunches of cheery orange marigolds for $5!

See, this is one of the greatest joys of my life: finding something seemingly humble, that when handled in just the right way, transforms into something opulent. Take these marigolds… at home, these were always the “filler” flowers in people’s gardens because they were the hardier plants that grew easily in Dubai.

But when these plump blooms are tucked into a vintage milkglass vase, on a pale blue tray alongside an old brass coffeepot and a candle? They are just the pop of colour that will make me drool into my coffee come breakfast time.

And when the florist sells me a particularly generous bunch of fleurs? Well, I grab an assortment of tiny vases that I picked at a garage sale (about $0.50 a piece), plop a couple of these extravagantly bright poofs in each one, and arrange them in a line on the mantle.

Just a little touch of pretty to greet you in the morning, and when you walk in the door. It makes all the difference I tell ya, all the difference.

Do you have little extravagances like this that make your day?

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