How to care for a son-in-law Bengali style

Bengalis (people of Bangladesh and the Indian state of West Bengal, as well as people who share Bengali heritage) are renowned for their hospitality.

If you stop by for a visit — no matter the time of day and how busy life maybe — you will at least be offered a cup of tea and usually a small snack to accompany it. If you're visiting after a long absence, there will be feasts to welcome you back.

Traveling back to Bangladesh after 10 long years, I expected some festivities. What I didn't count on is the "jamaii" factor. Jamaii is the Bengali word for "son-in-law."

If ordinary people are treated most graciously, jamaiis are treated like God's gift to the family, world and universe. After a wedding, the newly married couple is feasted and feted almost nonstop for a year.

Now, after 11 years of marriage, two kids, countless diaper changes and loads of laundry later, I can't be blamed for not envisioning my darling husband in the glowing aura of a new jamaii. However, my Bengali family and friends, who last met my husband when we'd first got married and then only for about two weeks, still considered him new enough to celebrate.

The fact that he happens to be a tall, charming Texan also probably was a factor.

We were overwhelmed by the feasting. A dinner party wasn't just a dinner party; it wasn't even an ordinary feast. No, it was extreme feasting (yes, there's a reality show waiting to be made).

Cooks didn't just prepare a party menu, but seemed to make their entire repertoire of culinary achievements. For example, one of my uncles (a sailor) married a very nice lady from Thailand. When we were invited to their home, my Aunt Penn (in the apron) made Thai dishes, Bengali dishes and Western dishes.

This translated into two types of soup, two types of roasts, two types of curries, two types of rice, three chicken dishes, three seafood dishes and several vegetable dishes (I got tired of counting). And then there was dessert (many different kinds) and, of course, tea.

Knowing how much time and trouble the cook had spent preparing the feast, I felt obligated to taste each dish that had been cooked (fortunately, some of the sweets were store-bought). As a result, I could only have a few bites of each one (even the ones that made me swoon at first bite), but still ended up stuffed to the point of discomfort. Yes, another consequence of regular feasting was a tender and upset tummy.

Not surprisingly, some of my favorite dishes during this trip turned out to be the simplest. Simplicity sometimes is priceless. One dish was pishpash, a thin porridge of rice and vegetables often fed to infants and the ill. Sometimes lentils or other protein are added. Light with a subtle flavor, it offers both sustenance and comfort. My mother always makes me pishpash when I'm under the weather.

(Article originally published in The San Angelo Standard-Times, August 7, 2012)

Pishpash
Ingredients
2 teaspoon cooking oil
1 teaspoon minced onion
1 bay leaf
1 each: cardamom, clove and small cinnamon stick
4 tablespoons rice
2 tablespoon lentils or a piece of chicken or fish (optional)
1 thumb-size slice of ginger (about ¼-inch thick)
2 tablespoons rough chopped green papaya or zucchini
2 tablespoons grated carrots
1¼ cup chicken stock
- Salt and pepper to taste
- Garnish: lime wedges

Directions:

1 Heat oil in a small saucepan and cook onions. When almost translucent, add whole spices, rice and protein (if using). Cook for about 1 minute or until fragrant.
2 Add ginger, vegetables and liquid. Bring to a simmer and lower heat.
3 Cook until rice and vegetables are soft. Stir enough to mash some of the ingredients until you have a thin porridge. Remove whole spices.
4 Season with salt and pepper and serve with lime wedges for squeezing.

The First Dinner of January: Curried Black-Eyed Peas, Brown Rice & Beer

My parents always threw a New Year’s Eve bash. The furniture would be removed, music and drinks would flow, and tables would totter under the weight of food. Yes, my parents liked a good time, and yes this party was to celebrate their wedding anniversary (December 30) as well as the new year. What was not commonly known was there was also another, more superstitious reason.

The first day of a new year isn’t just another day for most people. It’s weighed down with significance and superstition. What you do in the beginning sets the tone for the entire year, determines the course. My mother, a steadfast believer of this, refused to spend money or cook on the first day of the year. So she was always made sure to have plenty of leftovers for January 1.

When I married the Cowboy and got initiated into Texan ways, I learned the importance of black-eyed peas. He insisted on eating them on January 1 to insure good luck and prosperity for the rest of the year. For this tall, dark and practical man of few words to admit to a superstition simply endeared him to me. Made me smile and give him a big hug (yes, it’s got to be love), then cook him those beans.

Unlike a lot of people, I don’t consider cooking a chore. There is a certain kind of peace in chopping and mincing, measuring and mixing. The heady scent of garlic, onion, ginger or the softer scents of cinnamon or vanilla are like aroma therapy. So come January 1, I insist on cooking dinner together (hey, with a superstitious mom and hubby, some of it had to rub off on me).

My 2011 mantra is: Live creatively, consciously, healthfully and simply. And black-eyed peas, an excellent source of Calcium, Folate and Vitamin A, dovetailed beautifully with that philosophy.

I’ve been hearing about the Meatless Monday movement for a while and this year I want to make it a part of my life. The goal is to reduce meat consumption by 15 percent for better health for yourself and the planet. The strategy is simple: Go Meatless once a week. Now I understand the organizers’ reasons for choosing Mondays –Monday is the beginning of the week and helps set the intentions for the rest of the week (again, the importance of the 1^st day). Also, Meatless Monday sounds a whole lot more poetic than Meatless ANYOTHERDAY. I tried them all out. 

I love the idea, but couldn’t commit to Monday. Part of living consciously is to pay attention to your body and emotions. So if I happen to crave steak on a Monday, I’m going to let myself enjoy steak that day. Instead, for me, Meatless One Day works better.

So for our first dinner of the year, on January 1, Saturday, the Cowboy & I enjoyed black-eyed peas cooked in a curried yogurt sauce served over brown rice and accompanied by a beer. Okay, so the beer didn’t quite fit the healthy part, but it was Shiner Cheer, an enjoyable nod to end of the holidays.

Continuing the pattern of firsts, this seemed to be perfect for my first 2011 #LetsLunch post.

So, what was your first dinner of the year?

Curried Black-Eyed Peas

2 tablespoons canola oil

2 bay leaves

2 large red potatoes, washed and cubed (I leave the peel on)

1 jalapeno minced (deseeded if you don’t like it hot)

1 small onion, finely sliced

6 garlic cloves, peeled and minced

½-inch ginger root, peeled and grated

1 ½ teaspoon garam masala

½ teaspoon turmeric

½ teaspoon ground cumin

2 tablespoons tomato paste

3 Roma tomatoes, chopped

1 small green bell pepper, cleaned and diced

1 can of black-eyed peas, drained and rinsed

2 cups of water

½ cup whole yogurt or Greek yogurt

A handful of cilantro, chopped

Directions:

1.       Heat oil in a skillet over medium high heat.

2.       Add the bay leaves and potatoes, and cook until the latter is turning golden brown

3.       Add the jalapeno, onion, garlic and ginger and cook until the onion has softened.

4.       Toss in the spices and tomatoes and cook for about 5 minutes.

5.       Add the bell peppers and black-eyed peas, cook for another 5 minutes. Add the water, bring to a boil and simmer for about 15 minutes (the potato should be done). Turn off the heat.

6.       Temper the yogurt with some of the cooked peas, then fold in the yogurt mixture into the rest of the curry. Stir and sprinkle with cilantro.

7.       Serve with rice and sliced lemon. Serves 6 to 8

If you'd like to join Let's Lunch, go to Twitter and post a message with the hashtag #Letslunch -- or, post a comment below.
And don't forget to see other Let's Lunchers' healthy dishes below:
Cheryl’s Watercress Soup at A Tiger In the Kitchen
Emma's Quinoa with Grilled Veggies at Dreaming of Pots and Pans
Linda's Mesquite Date Muffins at Free Range Cookies
Mai Hoang's Spicy Cauliflower at Cooking In The Fruit Bowl
Steff's Frittata attempt at The Kitchen Trials

Holiday Side: Festive Green Beans with a taste of Bengal, a touch of curry

Panch Phoron, is a spice blend, close to my heart.

The sizzle and sputter of the spices in hot oil, the savory-sweet scent released into the air, transports me back to my childhood home in Bangladesh. The name translates to “five spices” in the Bengali language and consists of equal measures of fenugreek (methi), nigella seed (kalo jeera), cumin (jeera), black mustard (shorsha), and fennel (mouri). It is almost exclusively found in the kitchen of cooks with roots in the Bengali culture, usually from Bangladesh, Assam, West Bengal and Orissa. The seeds are left whole so the flavors change from bite to bite, yet all five work together like fingers on a hand.

So for my first Let’s Lunch post, I decided to reach for this old favorite and create a holiday side bursting with color and taste.

My mother uses panch phoron to transform simple dishes of vegetable, lentils or fish to swoon-worthy delicacies. Just a whiff of the earthy fragrance makes my mouth water. So I paired this with green beans, butternut squash and red bell peppers.

The first step is to cook the spice blend in hot oil for a minute or two. The heat should make the spices pop and liberate their essential oils and aroma. This is a process known as “phoron” or “baghar” in Bengali.

The first veggie added in the squash, because it would take the longest to cook. I also tossed in a bit of turmeric, cayenne, and ground cumin – ingredients traditionally found in curries of the Indian-subcontinent. My mother would shake her head here, but hey, I’m a girl who likes to add her own twist.

Part way through the cooking, I add the tomatoes.  I also keep some water at hand and add splashes here and there to prevent sticking.  All these kitchen tips and tricks were learned at my mom’s side. Thanks mom!

When the squash is half-cooked, add in green beans and garlic. Save the bell peppers for the last five minutes. The vegetables should be just done, still bright with color.

Not your traditional green bean casserole, but an exotic alternative. My DH, the Cowboy, has already declared it a winner and requested it for our Christmas Eve dinner.  Maybe it’ll become a new tradition, perfect for our East-West household.

This post has been brought to you thanks to the Lets Lunch bunch, a group of food enthusiasts from all over, who come together to share recipes, stories, friendship and virtual lunch in cyberspace. To give full credit, actually this entire blog came into existence because I wanted to join in the fun and this group was the kick-in-the-rear I needed (I know, waaay late to the party…but here). So thanks #Letslunch pals, this one’s for you.

Check out some of the other Lets Lunch holiday sides:

The Kitchen Trials' Parker House Rolls

Free Range Cookies' Green Bean Casserole 

Cooking in the Fruit Bowl's Kimchi Risotto Bake

The Cowgirl Chef's Mushroom-Leek Quinoa Salad

If you'd like to join Let's Lunch, go to Twitter and post a message with the hashtag #Letslunch

Recipe: Festive Green Beans with a taste of Bengal, a touch of curry

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 teaspoons panch phoron (you can buy the mix in Indian grocery stores, online, or make your own)

½ a medium onion, sliced lengthwise

1 teaspoon ginger, peeled and slivered

2 cups butternut squash, peeled and diced (I kept them on the small side to cook faster)

½ teaspoon turmeric

1 teaspoon ground cumin

¼ teaspoon cayenne powder (or more if you like heat)

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

¾ teaspoon salt

2 to 3 Roma tomatoes, diced (juice and all)

12-ounces green beans, washed and trimmed

3 to 4 garlic cloves, peeled and minced (I actually pound mine into an almost-paste)

1 red bell pepper, cleaned and diced into 1-inch pieces

Directions

Heat oil in a skillet over medium heat

Add the panch phoron and cook for a minute or two. When it becomes fragrant, add in onion and ginger, cook until onion is soft and translucent.

Add in the butternut squash and the curry spices (turmeric to salt), stir and cook for about a minute or two (this cuts the raw flavor of the spices), add the tomatoes and cook some more. If your spices start sticking to the bottom of the pan, add splashes of water as needed (just enough to keep cooking and prevent burning).

When the butternut is half-done, add the green beans and garlic. Stir gently and cook for three minutes.

Add the bell pepper and cook another five minutes, or until the veggies are just done.

Enjoy!

The Princess and the Cowboy: How it all began.

OK, so I'm not a real princess, but my cowboy farmer makes me feel like one. Many people are surprised that an adventurous woman from Bangladesh and a quiet man-of-the-earth from West Texas can meet, fall in love and make a life together. Hey, love happens.

Welcome to Hot Curries & Cold Beer, where I share my kitchen experiments and life adventures, where I bring my two worlds together to create a whole new world full of color and sizzle, scents and flavors.

My West Texas adventure began with college graduation. I thought I was on my way to NYC, but then I started adding up the costs. Reality check. So instead, I decided to adventure in cheaper, but still exciting places. I sent resumes all over, from Alaska to West Texas. The latter won my heart (to be honest I'm a cold wimp) and I came to the land of the cowboys. The plan: work and save for two years, have fun, then head to New York.

Somehow two years turned into four. While I was enjoying my newspaper job, my feet were kicking up dust, ready to travel. Greece was calling my name (Greek food + Greek Men = one helluva siren call). My one regret: I hadn't learned how to two-step before I left Texas. I might have lamented about this over beers, because a friend from the paper soon invited me to hang out with her that weekend. She'd find someone to teach me how to two-step.

I walked into the bar and there he was: tall, blond and blue-eyed. There were others too, but somehow we kept finding each other. And we talked about food, and we talked about books (that's one of my other weaknesses/passions/obsession). He held me close and taught me the Texas Two-Step. After several dance classes -- dates -- he finally said, "You know, if I wasn't holding you so close, you'd probably learn easier." Well, he waltzed all thoughts of Greece out of my head.

That happened in 2000. We have had much fun introducing each other to our very different lives, experiences and worlds. I took him to Bangladesh (and for once my family found me instantly in the airport crowds. I was next to the towering white guy in the cowboy hat), he took me to his family's sausage-making. My mother cooked him up a bunch of greens, which he referred to as weeds,but ate and managed to compliment her. His mother fed me saurkraut and I actually smiled.

For the wedding, he wore a Western Tux and I wore a traditional red and gold Lehenga. After the first dance, he changed into a silk kurta set, and I wore jeans, boots and a cowboy hat. We exchanged garlands, followed by a traditional kiss. So our life has been a little bit of this, a little bit of that, a fusion.

No where is this fusion better expressed than in the kitchen. We both love cooking together and coming up with new recipes. I'm the experimental, go-with-my-gut kind of cook. He's the meticulous type, measuring and taking notes, just in case he likes it enough and wants it again.

Now that you know who we are and sort of what to expect, I hope you'll be joining us again to see what the cowboy and I are cooking up next.