The Art Of Cooking With A Low Flame

The mood at VatulNet HQ is a bit somber today what with miserable southern weather, the western world in a partly-understandable tizzy and the second anniversary of Matthew Baker’s passing. Stewing in the heat of Houston himself, txyankee shares the eulogy he wrote for this intelligent and vivacious Stratfor analyst who was killed by a self-pitying lunatic. My head and heart flame for the loss of someone so young and wonderful, especially when I can no longer be privy to his well-researched opinion on what’s going on in the world today.

Productivity usually walks me out of careening towards gloom and doom. Not a habitual cook, I ventured this past weekend into preparing an entire South Indian meal from scratch. The menu: dosas, sambar and payasam. Keerthi’s charge was making the masala dosa, chutneys and pakoras. Thus, my esteemed colleague and I would bring together people of varying ethnic backgrounds to partake in the novel experience of South Indian home cooking. As it turns out,
a) I do have patience,
b) said patience works only on highly personal projects born of motivation, and
c) were Tamil Nadu to have a state fair with a sambar-judging category, my potent concoction would still win all possible ribbons.

Now, I relay some of my personal experiences as a modern-day, female scientist who switched a few major gears as she moved into the kitchen.

What Not To Do:

1. Do Not Freak Out When Grinding urad dal, parboiled rice and raw rice in a 12-year-old Braun blender. As much as the urad dal does not want to grind down and how ever coarse the rice initially seems, stop the emergency call to mom this instant, step away from the phone and use the time to break the dal and rice into smaller batches. The stuff eventually grinds down and your sweat and tears don’t help one bit when it comes to the correct amount of moisture required.

2. The Low Flame Is Your Friend. Hence, the title of this rather symbolic post. No part of the meal tastes hurried, burned or undercooked when you let the pot absorb the heat slowly, instead of outright blistering and shriveling your food into oblivion. Take heed, ye Tamilian wannabe cooks, the thalichukottal (tempering of spices in hot oil before adding to meal) is amazing when you let it take its time and let all of the mustard seeds pop and the urad dal cook to golden perfection.

3. Do Not Simply Walk Away While Assuming that the semiya (semolina) has enough ghee (clarified butter) between it and the frying pan. Yes, the recipe may tell you to wait until the semiya is reddish-brown and may not suggest an appropriate heat level. Regardless of this lack of advice and the strong desire to fling the book out of the closest window, your semiya is infinitely more important at that point. Tend to it and make sure that you remove the reddish-brown parts from the pan while continuing to cook the rest. Separating blackened semiya from the rest of the pile is not an easy task and makes your payasam taste less than optimal. Three more words: Lots Of Cardamom! Mmmmm …

My only disaster, how ever small, was the semiya payasam. No matter that everyone said it tasted great; it wasn’t up to my standards.

4. After transporting food over to friend’s house and while waiting for the door to open, be prepared for an adventure into “all is not what it seems.” When your friend swings the door open, a whole bunch of friends yell “Surprise!” and you realize that there is no South Indian party but, instead, a surprise party in your honor, Quell The Feeling Of Wanting To Run Away And Hide In The Bushes and accept with grace the fact that your friend has thrown said party just for you. Do Not Cast Dirty Looks in the direction of the organizers because you Will regret doing it later.

Pour moi?

5. The next day, while making the dosas meant for the previous day, Do Not Stand Over A Hot Skillet On The Hottest Day Of The Year. Also, after having prepared 20 dosas for your hungry friends and while attempting to exhaust the neverending pot of dosa batter as quickly as possible, Do Not Hurry Up The Process And Accidentally Spray Hot Oil From The Skillet Onto Your Forearm. It hurts like a b%!*@ and you cannot finish the dosa-making process if you are busy icing your arm.

What To Do:

1. Take Frequent Breaks During The Grinding Process to stretch your back. Lie face-up on the exercise ball and have it knead your back into a more acceptable shape. Bad backs come from bad posture, which is every easy to acquire from operating motorized objects in the kitchen for extended periods of time.

2. Cooking For Your Friends Is A Great Act Of Camaraderie. Try to do it more often.

A beaming mother is what I looked like as my guests licked clean their platters of New Culinary Experience and asked for recipes. Teaching and feeding are two things I love to do.

3. If your friend’s next door neighbor comes over and asks you to join them at a wedding after-party at their house, Do Go Over And Be Polite — Take A Bottle Of Something With You. If the Italian wedding singer starts to sing Volare, Sinatra and other traditional wedding favorites, Do Join In With The Leg Kicking And Choruses.

This was a tremendous amount of fun. Even the parts where liver-spotted grandpa wanted me to go to Harrah’s with him later that night and the old Italian ladies “went drippy” all over D and other young men present.

Ed & His Chorus Girls

The heady ups and downs of feelings that came with the events of the past few days, globally and locally, seem like a mirage dancing on the hot asphalt. They are there and, yet, they are not. The stickiness comes when I feel a part of the optical illusion. I am here, and then I am not. Sailing forth in a fog, fugue, whatever one wishes to call it, with the concrete realities that are the lingering smell of sambar powder and a temporary mehendi tattoo which refuses to detach from my skin.

Mimosa, I’m simmering and smoldering, and have an APB out on the spontaneous combustion.

Addendum: The low flame is significant in more than cooking. It is a rather literal illustration of getting through a period of emotional and physical tumult as long as the fire is low and the process works itself to its natural end. Some days don’t warrant jacking up the heat – you just have to wait it out.