Tea with Spiced Chickpea and Sweet Potato Tidbits & Thoughts on Marriage

The moment that set me on my journey to become an American occurred over tea, a cup of warm, sweet cha.

In our typical Bengali household in Bangladesh, once under British rule and forever haunted by colonial traditions, tea time was a precise ritual. At 4 p.m. in the afternoon I’d show up at my parents’ bedroom carrying a tray with a fat pot of tea, sugar, milk and a snack. My homework would be done, my mother would have had her afternoon nap, and my father would still be at work. Rain or shine, this was our together time.

I remember how grown-up I felt when I was eventually allowed to have a cup of tea instead of having my glass of milk. It was around my 13th birthday, sort of a nod from my mother that I wasn’t a child anymore. It was my duty to fix our cups of tea, arrange the plates and snacks in pretty presentation, because a young woman, a prospective bride, had to be a good hostess. Offering and serving tea was an essential skill on the road to a marriage.

The tea couldn’t be steeped too long, or it would be bitter. Too little, and it’d be flavorless. You had to add just the right amount of milk so that it would resemble a rich, bright dulce de leche. Not too dark, not too pale.

Once I poured too much milk and my mother sniffed at it. “I wanted tea, not milk with a touch of tea,” she said. “Fix me another cup.” So I did and took the cup she’d rejected. One sip and I realized she was right. The taste was insipid, a disappointment.

With this tea we would have a snack. The word “snack” suggests something quick or of little consequence. That would be misleading. The snack would depend on many factors, the weather, my mother’s whim and the cook’s whim.

On hot days, when the cook didn’t feel like cooking, it would be a fruit salad or platter of pretty store-bought cookies. On rainy days, it would be something hot from the stove and savory: freshly fried onion pakoras/fritters, or piping hot samosas. On cool winter afternoons we’d have some variety of traditional pithas –sweets- flavored with coconut, ja-ggery (dried sugarcane sugar), or date palm syrup.

I looked forward to being surprised at tea-time and relished whatever morsel that happened to accompany the tea. Not so my mother.

My mother usually had a late breakfast, and over her morning cup of tea, would talk with the cook about the day’s menu. On good days, when their ideas meshed, she’d receive nods of agreement. On other days, the cook would annouce what she thought would be better. At tea-time, the cook’s preference turned up.

At first, my mother would send the dish back and specify what she wanted. I got to be the messenger. She got her request. However, if the item had to be fried, it was almost burned to a crisp. Or it looked perfect, but somehow the cook forgot the salt. My mother learned to consult the cook on each day’s menu rather than give her a list.

I didn’t realize it then, but the cook taught me a lot, not only about food but also about how to deal with my mother. :)

To this day, I decide what to cook depending on the weather and my moods, the season and the taste. However, I also pay attention to presentation.

But I have my own ideas about what's needed for a marriage. :)

Spiced Chickpea & Sweet Potato Tidbits

2 tablespoon oil
1/2 teaspoon caraway seeds
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon mustard seeds (optional)
1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder
1/2 teaspoon coriander powder
1/2 a small onion, peeled and diced
1/2 teaspoon of red pepper flakes or chilli powder (or to taste)
1 medium sweet potato, peeled and cubed into 1/2" pieces
1 1/2 tablespoons finely julienned ginger (divided)
6 garlic cloves, peeled and mashed into paste
1 15.5oz-can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 jalapeno, minced
2 tablespoons of tomato paste diluted in 1/2 cup of water (keep more water on hand, to prevent sticking)

Garnish: reserved julienned ginger, chopped fresh cilantro, finely chopped red onion,a squeeze of lemon juice, slivers of Romaine lettuce.

Serve with: cocktail breads, pita wedges or crostini.

Directions:

1. Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat.
2. Add the whole spices (all the seeds)cook for 1 or 2 minutes, they should start sputtering.
3. Add other spices, cook for about 1 or 2 minutes and add onions, cook until softening.
4. Now add the chili, sweet potatoes, half the ginger, and garlic. Cook for about 3 to 5 minutes
5. When the sweet potatoes are half-cooked, add chickpeas and jalapeno. And the tomato water. Lower heat and cook 10 to 15 minutes.
6. When done, the sweet potatoes should be just done and the dish should be saucy...but not like a curry. Take off heat.
7. Top with garnishes (except for the lettuce).
8. Serve with bread, allow guests to build their own tidbits --bread + a bed of lettuce (for crunch)+ spiced chickpea & sweetpotato mix. Enjoy!

This post has been brought to you as part of October's #Letslunch twitterparty. Check out all the other yummy posts:

Hapamama's High tea with Taiwanese Sandwiches

Patrick's Welsh Rarebit

Cheryl‘s Cheese and Onion Sarnie at A Tiger In The Kitchen

Emma‘s Brown Sugar Shortbreads With Hawaiian Jam at Dreaming of Pots and Pans

Linda‘s Singapore-Style Ginger Tea & Kaya (Coconut Jam) Toast at Spicebox Travels

Lisa‘s Little Lemon Meringue Tarts at Monday Morning Cooking Club

Rebecca‘s Millionaire’s Shortbread at Grongar Blog

Steff‘s Lemon-Lime Shortbread Cookies at The Kitchen Trials

Tea Time for the Soul

Sometimes life knows better than I do about what I need.

Recently, I came home to a phone message from my Turkish friend, Saleha, inviting me to an afternoon tea the next day. I called her back to decline. I love Saleha and I love her cooking, but I had a hectic weekend scheduled.

When Saleha mentioned the tea was at 1 p.m., my food loving self piped up: ha, you’ve to drop the kids off at art class about that time anyway. How often do you get Turkish food? My writing self countered: you’ll actually have some peace and quiet, and you planned to write. How often do you get that chance? So they negotiated down to: just go for a little while.

Since the invitation was just for ladies, the Cowboy ended up taking the kids to art class and I went to tea (yes, I brought back goodies for the wonderful man). Saleha had prepared a feast: a red lentil soup, bulgur salad, and two different types of breads. One lady had brought a chocolate-covered Hawaiian bread and another had bought carrot cake. And of course there was hot tea, a beautiful, translucent burnished orange tea. Mine came in a traditional short glass with its tiny metal platter and spoon. I added my sugar and stirred, took a sip. One taste of that sweet, warm tea and my entire being relaxed.

Now I’d chosen my seat specifically to be able to keep an eye on the clock Saleha had hanging on a wall. But then the eating and talking began. I reached for a perfect round bun, shiny and brown, decorated with a sprinkle of black nigella seeds. I bit into the soft, buttery bread and discovered a delicious surprise: cheese and parsley hidden deep in the heart. The Turkish pogca (pronounced poh-cha) is a perfect treat.

Saleha shared the good news of her son’s engagement. Hearty congratulations rang out and more tea was sipped. We teased her about how worried she’d been about finding someone to take care of her son. We talked about our respective countries – Turkey, Jerusalem, Bangladesh, commiserated over bad politics and the expense of air travel.

We spoke of our new year celebrations. A friend spoke of her disappointment when ill health kept one of her children from travelling, but her other children rallied the family and off they escaped to the serenity of Big Bend. They hiked, they laughed, they celebrated family.

Somehow talk turned to fears. One lady treated herself to a spiritual retreat to celebrate the new year and drove to a hill country resort all by herself, terrified that she’d get lost. Well, she made it there and back. We told her, “You did it” and drank more tea.

My friend, Ara, told us about jumping off a cliff to paraglide. I think all the eyebrows around the table jumped to the ceiling and back. Why, we asked her.

“I didn’t have much choice,” she said, adding that she’d been in the company of her youngest daughter and so had to think about what message she wanted to communicate, what kind of example she wanted to set. “Plus,” she added with a shrug, ”all my kids are grown, I had a good life and so I decided what happens, happens.”

I shared my fear of heights and a story about a terrifying car trip to Aspen, where we had to travel a narrow and steep winding mountain road with no protective barriers. And Ara said, “But you’re a journalist and you’ve done so much.” Yes, but I’m also human. And part of being human is being afraid. What we are afraid of is as different as the different shades of human skin –some could be afraid of something as small as a common spider or something as big as death. Do we let fear stop us, or change our course? Do we face it down and work through it? Or do we thumb our noses at our fears and become daredevils? How each of us deals with our fears is what defines us.

Of course, talk turned to tea. The process of tea making, the different types of teas, the use of loose-leaf teas vs. tea bags. I’ve since learned that green tea, oolong and black tea are different classifications determined by how the leaves are processed. However, there are many sub-species of the tea plant and white tea is produced from the mature buds of a rare tea bush found in China.

Saleha shared that in Turkey women often come together for tea parties and wished her friends in San Angelo could visit more often.

Her words reminded my childhood home in Bangladesh. Tea was served at least twice– at breakfast and at tea time (4 p.m. precisely). Tea was made whenever guests dropped in, whatever the time. The Bengali’s tea-drinking habit is one of the few positive leftover legacies of British colonialism and we brew it strong and take it with milk and sugar. With garam cha (hot tea), there had to be some nashta (nibbles) and, of course, adda –a discussion that covered any and every topic under the sun.

So an impromptu invitation to tea by my Turkish-American friend took me half-way across the world and back in time when life was as sweet and nourishing as a cup of hot tea. I left Saleha’s house hours later than I’d intended but full of stories, full of good food and full of happiness. On the drive back, I made myself a promise: I must have more tea parties.

Ginger Tea

Whenever my mother heard any of us sniffle or cough, she’d rush into the kitchen and brew us some ginger tea to sooth the throat and chase off the cold. As a child, I thought it vile. But as I grew up, I grew to enjoy it. Now I make it if either Alvin or I are feeling under the weather or just to warm us up on a cold, gray day.

½-inch piece of ginger, peeled and crushed
1 cup water
1/8 teaspoon of black tea leaves or a tea bag of your favorite tea (a fruity flavored tea works good)
Sugar to taste
Lemon slices (optional)

Directions:
Place water and ginger in a small non-reactive sauce pan and bring to a boil, lower heat and simmer for about 2 to 5 minutes. Take off heat and add tea leaves and brew to desired strength (I prefer a bright rich color). Using a strainer, pour into a cup. Add in sugar and a squeeze of lemon (if using), stir and serve.