Thursday, May 08, 2008
When I’m busy tense, the sort that’s all prickly nerves but not much work, I cook. Hence the hunt last night for my grandmother’s cookbook, succor, order and who knows what in its tattered pages and just-about-there spine. Looking for spices I can ground to an obedient powder to add signature flavor and body to the routine. Just about there cardamom and a dash of clove… As I peer at the strange measures, all zero’s and ones, tola, adha and pa, measures long since discarded, I wonder what exactly I’m looking for, and what stops me from reaching for the store-bought stuff sitting pretty in its container.