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Add One Part Intention and Two Parts Patience
You end up with a recipe for life.
When cooking lentil, Mom taught me to heat the onion and garlic in oil separately from the lentil itself. “Carefully sear them in a saucepan until both are golden-red,” she said. “The edges should fray, but don’t burn it.” Once done, I could drop the entire mixture into an already simmering pot, which includes turmeric, salt, green chili, black cumin seeds, and cilantro. The onion and garlic mixture added a savory punch, and the most nostalgic and comforting aroma of home to the staple dish — the textbook definition of delectable.
Lentil is the most basic and must-have item on a South Asian lunch or dinner menu. Tonight, however, I didn’t have time to heat the onion and garlic separately. I never have the time, the patience, or want an extra saucepan to clean afterward, so I usually skip this step. Instead, I crush whole garlic and throw them and some onion slices into the pot to cook with the other contents. It still works. It’s functional Desi food and keeps my stomach full and happy.
The quest for functionality is just one of the differences I’ve observed when it comes to how I prepare traditional Bangladeshi meals compared to my mom. It occurs to me that the changes to the techniques that I make in my cooking speak volumes about the person I have become and the lifestyle I’ve embraced. My days are fast-paced, and from 6:30…
