Groaning with Christmas/Seasonal/Holiday Joy: Part (how do you say “two” in punjabi?)

Our to-die-for Indian feast took place on Christmas Eve, that holiest of nights when families observe sacred traditions, passed on through the generations. The Midnight Mass tradition. The “just one” gift opening tradition. The visits to loved ones tradition.

Or in our case, the visit to the brewpub tradition. Each year since we moved here in 2002, we have stopped by “our” brewpub on Christmas Eve. Devoid of crowds (I mean, who goes out drinking beer on Christmas eve, geesh! Scoundrels!), dark and quiet, it is as sacred to us as any cathedral. The gigantic tree sweeping the thirty-foot ceiling made us feel all festive inside—or was that the sublime IPA or seasonal winter brew we quaffed? No matter, we were sure happy to be there.

And this year was no exception, but for the MASSIVE CROWD OF SCOUNDRELS that preceded us. Where normally about a half-dozen worshippers shared the sanctity of the place with the proprietors (all the staff was off duty), this year the word got out and we could barely get ourselves a table. Behind the bar, where once the owner pulled our Christmas pints (and give them to us for free), were two bartenders scrambling to keep up. In place of the manager, stopping by our table to visit with a plate of homemade macaroons, was our favorite friendly, but frenzied, waitress, who was trying to get home to be with her kids. Our manager friend was swamped in the kitchen, and we had to go back and stick our heads in the door to get a Merry Christmas! in. Worst of all—there were so many people drinking WINE* in the place that I thought we had entered the wrong building by mistake. Oh, it was sad, alright. We could not believe our eyes. The owner even apologized to us! I’m sorry, guys, he said, I don’t know what happened this year.

And so another Christmas tradition has become commercialized and ugly. I don’t blame all those folks for wanting in on something good. Oh—wait—of course I do. They should have kept their wine-drinking asses at home where they belong! Sniff, sniff. This was OUR tradition, dammit. *I love wine, oh I do, but not in a brewpub on Christmas Eve when the beer lovers can't get a table.

Afterward in years past, we would head over to our Unitarian Universalist fellowship for the Christmas Eve service, buoyed by the happiness in our bellies hearts.

This year, we had another service in mind: make some gooooood Indian food and serve it up as soon as possible. So we went home and got busy.

With no casualties or cut fingers this time, and no bugs in the food to deal with, we measured, chopped and stirred, and presto! presented the following for our friends’ and family’s enjoyment (and kids, DO try this at home):

Christmas Eve Indian Feast Menu

Dal with Basmati Rice (simply the best ever)
Lentil, Pea & Potato Curry, courtesy of Mediterrasian, a lovely website by a New Zealander and an Australian
Basmati Rice with Dried Fruit, Almonds, and Coconut (I'm eating some now. Yum! Friend D. brought it, let me know if you'd like the recipe and I'll post it)
Some chicken dish that our friend D. brought over for the carnivores in the house
Naan from Trader Joe's (so easy! and so good! why make it yourself?)

The Lentil, Pea, and Potato Curry was one of the best I've ever made or eaten anywhere. Note the recipe is for two servings, so double or triple at will. It is soooo good.

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We make the Dal often. It is a combination of two recipes: Dal with Coconut Cream and Red Lentil Dal with Aromatics from Vegetarian Cooking For Everyone, by Deborah Madison, food goddess:

Ingredients:

1 cup red lentils

3 cups water

½ teaspoon salt

1 garlic clove

1 tablespoon chopped cilantro stems

2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger

3 tablespoon ghee or clarified butter*, divided

1 small onion, finely chopped

2 cloves garlic, sliced

1 jalapeño chile, seeded and chopped

½ teaspoon turmeric

1 15 oz can unsweetened coconut milk

salt

2 shallots, sliced

1 dried red chile, broken into pieces

3 bay leaves

1 teaspoon mustard seeds

Wash the lentils thoroughly and drain well. Combine with 3 cups water and salt in a saucepan. Bring to a boil, then lower the heat and simmer until they have disintegrated and turned mushy, about 20 minutes. If needed, add more water.

Meanwhile, pound or puree the garlic clove, cilantro stems, and ginger together. Add them to the cooked lentils.

Heat 2 tablespoons ghee over medium-high heat, then sauté the onion, garlic, and jalapeño chile for 1 minute. Add turmeric and sauté everything until the onions are soft. Add to the pot of lentils. Pour in the coconut milk. Taste for seasoning and add salt if desired.

Heat remaining 1 tablespoon ghee over high heat. Add the shallots, dried red chile, bay leaves, and mustard seeds, and sauté about 1 minute, until mustard seeds turn grey. Stir into lentils and serve with cooked basmati or jasmine rice.

*Note: I always use regular butter, because I am far too lazy to clarify it or to make ghee. However, I recently read that ghee is the only acceptable fat to use in Indian cooking, and that it makes all the difference. I plan on making some soon, and will likely regret every dish I ever made without it.

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Perfect Basmati (or Jasmine) Rice
from Rebar Modern Food Cookbook


Rebar is our most favorite restaurant in Victoria, BC. Amazing food! You will see more in Part Tres of our Holiday International Food Frenzy

Prepare yourself for rice ecstasy!
Combine in a heavy saucepan:

3 ½ cups water

2 cups uncooked rice

1 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon butter

Heat to a boil. As soon as it starts boiling, put a tight-fitting lid on the pan and lower the heat to the lowest possible setting and set the timer for 18 minutes.

When the timer goes off, turn off the heat and let it sit for 5 minutes.

Fluff with a fork, and amaze your friends.

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And it came to pass that a new Christmas Eve tradition was born, on a star-filled night in the Pacific Northwest.

And peace abounded in the hearts of all who shared it.

And Hello, Booty Camp!

It begins tomorrow morning, 7 a.m. Think of me, please, and send little thoughts of sympathy as I start doing crunches, or leg lifts, or running in circles--really, only the trainer knows what's in store as I try to survive Boot Camp. I was coerced into attending by a nice-sounding guy at the gym, who just happened to call my business today. He must have heard a cry for help in my voice, because he not only seemed to understand that I needed a little kick in the ass to get myself to the gym again, but he had me signed up before I could say "drop and give me twenty."

It's an 8-week, 3-times-a-week class. That's only 24 hours. I can do it. Only trouble is, I think I heard him say something about a "cleanse." I don't know what their idea of cleansing is, but if it requires me to give up caffiene and/or alcohol, I will not be partaking of that part of the program. My life is nothing without coffee and wine.

And suddenly, I'm remembering boot camp scenes from An Officer and a Gentleman in which Richard Gere is weeping. Dear lord.

Updates to come. Painful, sore, can't-walk-normally updates. Hopefully, the weeping will be quick and quiet.

Let's Talk About Weight--It's Fun!

Here's a comment I posted on one of my favorite blogs,
Oh The Joys

Claire B. said...
Wow. I've been reading you for a little while now, and have been impressed by your wit and honesty, your talent and yes, your gorgeousness. I was *a little* jealous of how awesome you look after two kids. Me? I have somehow allowed myself to gain nearly every pound WW helped me take off in the late 80's. 20 effin years ago. I was at my own ideal weight (for about 6 hours), after being Porky Porkina my whole life. (I loved your turkey breast reference; I think of my excess pounds in terms of 5-lb bags of sugar, as in "I'm carrying SEVEN.BAGS.OF.SUGAR.ALL.THE.TIME.OMG!!!")

Following my six hours of Incredible Lightness of Being, I managed to look good for quite a long time. But did I feel ok about myself? NO! I still bitched unceasingly about being fat. And over the last few years, when my hub and I started a business together, I really let it go. Suddenly (?) I am within five pounds of my all-time high.

And do I think I need a program like WW? The one where I lost forty ugly pounds? Until I read this post, no I did not think that I did.

So thanks for the inspiration and for helping me remember that hot sexy women don't always just happen (like I used to think you did). Mostly they have to work very hard to pull it off.

Oh boy. This is, like, the first time I've ever written about my weight. I think about my weight all the effin time, however. Seriously. I am obsessed about weight: mine, yours, complete strangers', my sisters', every body's.

The other night, at the outdoor movie (The Goonies, and yes, I nearly wept just looking at Chunk because I felt so sorry for him) there was a super-skinny girl sitting nearby (ok, there were lots of them, but this particular one was SO thin and SO showing it off as well her twenty-one-year-old self should have been) and I said to D. "wow that girl is so skinny" and because he is the most adorable man ever, D. said "that is SO unattractive." Yay for me! Later, I saw a NOT thin girl preparing to sit on the ground (not an easy feat for a big girl) and she was adjusting her shirt so that her low rider jeans wouldn't expose her backside, while balancing her weight so she wouldn't fall over or land too hard, while keeping her pint of beer from spilling (and just because she's a big girl doesn't mean she can't have the beer), and none of this is as easy as being the thin girl and just placing your ass on the ground as your thin legs bend easily and freely--I know, I've been both of these girls. So I look at the larger girl's assets and ask D. "Is that how I look in my jeans?" and D., because he is the most adorable man ever, says, "No, honey! Do you actually think you look like that?" Yay for me!

Oh, really? What is so wonderful about comparing myself to every woman I see, and thinking how does it feel to be that thin or thank god I'm not that fat?

When will this obsession end? When I am no longer dissatisfied with myself and my body? As if that day will ever come? Or when I finally accept my body as it is, accept my weight as it is, and convince myself that this weight is where my body is at rest? After all, I am incredibly healthy, with the lowest blood pressure known to womankind, along with a very low vegetarian cholesterol count. My doctor says I need to take off a few pounds, but I figure she's so happy to have a patient with very few issues that she doesn't want to jinx anything so she leaves my fat, healthy ass alone. And I am thankful for my health. Every single day. I tell myself that years from now when I'm having my chemo or radiation or some life-saving surgery (I think about these things) I'll look back on my fat, healthy ass and wish that I were even MORE thankful for it. I tell myself that a) many people wish they looked like me (the girls that are even fatter than me); or b) I am among the lucky ones who happened to be born in this time and place and of the privileged race while so many women around the world are poor, oppressed, abused and have none of the opportunities I have so why in the hell am I so freakin shallow and worried about something of inconsequence like my stupid weight? Why am I not out there saving the world instead of obsessing about my weight?? AAARRRGGGHH!

But it makes me miserable. And so I drone on, driving myself and everyone around me to the tenth circle of hell. However, I'm apparently not miserable enough to do anything real about my weight. I have increased my level of exercise. I've been riding my bike and walking the two miles each way to work. I take my dog on long walks. D. and I stopped drinking the alcohol Monday through Thursday for awhile (yes, I felt better) but then summer rolled around and we needed to "celebrate" so I've had teensy bits a glass or two of some lovely summer wines and a few after-work-on-the-outdoor-deck pints with visiting family and friends. And I wonder where this comes from?





Yes, I saw Dr. Oz on Oprah and bought his book and was grossed out about my omentum. Again, not a lifestyle-changing event. Besides, Dr. Oz is naturally thin, while I am more Oprah-esque. That girl must exercise constantly to stay ahead of the weight gain. With my metabolism, I could eat a lettuce leaf and run a marathon and still gain a half pound.

I used to run. I ran a marathon. One. In 1996. I was never so proud of myself. I would like to run again. I would like to be thin again. I would like to love clothes on my body again. Actually I would love all of these things. But mostly I would love to stop obsessing over my weight. So I can stop hating myself every time I look in the mirror or catch myself in a storefront window.

It's not good, the hating. So I'm back on that track again, serious again, as I was at my first WW weigh-in when I almost passed out after the nice lady told me my weight. Will it be WW? Why not? Will it be Dr. Oz's plan? We'll see. Stay tuned, and if you'd like, stay in touch.