PlayStations, Glitter glue, and one-pot meals

Ambassador Hotel-Inspired Kitchidi

A post on parenting this week, based on memories prompted, in no small part, by the fact that over the past month, I’ve been alone with the kids. And for a week of the past month, we were all ill, which meant staying home. All day. I’ve thought a lot this month about how to keep two littles occupied. Thank goodness for Netflix.

But more, much more, thank goodness for art.

I moved to Aden in 1980. My first memory of Aden was at the airport – waiting for our luggage in the small, cramped, incredibly hot and humid airport. And my brother and I having a conversation. These people are brown, just like us. Not like the people in Edinburgh.

And for the next four and a half months, our lives revolved around whatever we did at our temporary abode – a room at the Ambassador Hotel. This is where the university my dad worked at put us up, while our flat was being constructed. Four and a half months.

I have wondered many, many times, how my parents managed. My father was at work for a good bit of the time, so I guess my question is more how my mother managed. My fondest memories of our time in the hotel, not surprisingly perhaps, are food memories, but more of those in a bit.

My brother and I weren’t in school yet – it was, I believe, during the summer break. So it was bloody hot with little to distract us. As I think back to those days, now in particular, because my kids are about the same age my brother and I were when we were there, I am totally flummoxed. What on earth did we do? We did discover books, procured at Aziz Bookshop, and delving into the world of kids caravanning around Britain, midnight feasts at boarding school, adventures with animals, fairies, elves, and pixies most definitely kept us busy for a several hours during the day. But what else? First and foremost, there were no screens. Sure, there was a TV in the room, and we’d watch the very occasional, unscheduled cartoon, that was used as a filler in between news broadcasts – either Woody Woodpecker or Tom and Jerry cartoons, I remember very fondly. If a cartoon came on late at night when we were asleep, I remember our parents checking on us to see how sound asleep we were – to make sure we didn’t miss that precious, unexpected TV time. But other than that, no screens.

And there is no need to belabor that point. Except that I do want to point out that my nine-year-old today is the only kid in his large group of peers who doesn’t have a PlayStation. Or any other big gaming system, the names of which I don’t need to familiarize myself with until absolutely necessary. And I must hasten to add that this (his peers’ possession of said systems, not our kid’s lack thereof) could be partly because my children breathe the privileged, rarefied air of private school, our only option, and one we are very much hoping to change in the next year. My kids live in this beautiful and tremendously unsustainable bubble which will, inevitably, burst… but I digress.

So putting aside the obvious lack of screens then, how else were things different?

Art supplies. And this is where I wonder, question, how much my children do have. I remember vividly getting a set of felt tip pens for my eighth birthday (while we still lived in the hotel) – also procured at Aziz Bookshop. My dad tried hard to keep it from me when we were at the store…I remember whispers between my dad and brother, and my brother’s enthusiasm about the gift.  We might have had some colored pencils in addition, and a couple of regular pencils and erasers. But honestly, I have absolutely no recollection of doing any kind of art during those few months at the hotel. And today, to say that my husband and I would be at a loss if my kids didn’t have access to their art supplies would not be overstating the case. I have said this before, and I’ll say it again, my entire house is one giant art project. Paints of every sort are just a start – water colors, acrylics, oils, gouaches, pencils that turn into paint, oil pastels, I’ve learned so many new names. And our felt tips are now called markers – and there are about a thousand different kinds. Even markers with scents – both pleasant (fruity, usually) and ones that smell pretty abominable. We laughed so hard at one terribly stinky set the kids were given by their grandmother. I’ve learned over the past few years that manufacturers of art supplies make anything you can imagine. Cello tape in different colors? Yup. Go further. Cello tape with patterns on it? Absolutely. Except it’s not called Cello tape anymore.  And there are about a zillion different kinds of paper. Oh and glue! Colored, scented, colored and scented, and even glittered.  I don’t get the logic behind glitter glue at all. But my daughter loves it. And glitter? There’s not a spot in the house that hasn’t been glittered.

And I do think many parents worry about spoiling their kids. As do we.  Where’s the line between stimulating their creativity and stifling it because they have too much? Can they have too much? Would they be more creative with less? Necessity is the mother of invention, I’ve heard many times. So with no necessity, is creativity curbed in some way? Would we have grown up with our creative brains more turned on had we had access to more? I have no answers, nor am I particularly looking for any - these are just ruminations. And… I must confess, I love dabbling in whatever new kind of paints we get for the kids just as much as they do. And every single time we come across something new, we want to get it for them (er…me). And my children have produced some tremendous art.

But there is something a whole lot more precious to me. If you were to ask both my kids what one of their favorite things to do at home is, their response is pretty unequivocal – do art with Mama. Reading is a close second for my older little. I have much to be grateful for.

So despite wondering whether we are spoiling our kids, neither my husband nor I would change this particular aspect of how we are raising our kids. And as I write this, my husband is at an art store in Frankfurt, getting a couple of things for the monkeys to entertain themselves with during our next two months in Germany.

So. While I don’t have many art-creating memories in those four and a half months at the Ambassador Hotel in Aden, my food memories are vivid. Of course, there was the falafel and chips we’d get a couple of times a week during our evening walks. But on most nights early on in our stay, dinner was parathas from a street vendor very near the hotel, usually accompanied by store-bought lime pickle and yoghurt. Those parathas were a thing of absolute beauty.

Plain parathas and egg parathas. I can still smell them, and hear the sizzle of hot grease as the paratha uncle effortlessly dipped his spatula into the small vat of oil near the flat top that cooked the parathas and liberally doused them with it. My brother and I would watch, mesmerized by the speed with which a square paratha would emerge from a ball of dough; the paratha uncle would scoop up a ball of dough from his dough bowl, slap it down on his well-oiled counter. No rolling pin in sight. He’d flatten it a bit, then pick it up with both his hands, dough held between thumb below and four fingers above. He’d swirl it up in a figure eight and then smack it down again – lovely sound, that smack. And after four or five figure eights and smacks, there would be a perfect square paratha on the counter, which he’ then put on the flat, top. He always had four or five cooking at the same time. And then came the eggs if you wanted an egg paratha. Rapidly cracking an egg for each paratha, smearing it in the middle of the square, and deftly folding the four corners of the square to meet in the middle. A perfect little package which would then get another generous glug of oil, his spatula once again providing the vehicle of transport. Then a couple of flips to ensure both sides were cooked…the entire process took less than a couple of minutes. And we’d watch, salivating.

We ate many, many of these parathas. Until my parents decided that they needed to buy an electric rice cooker and start making some one-pot meals in the room. Strictly forbidden. But we can’t eat parathas every single day, they’d say.

Our paratha consumption greatly reduced once this device was purchased, and our meals were more varied. What my mum managed to do with that single rice cooker was nothing short of miraculous. The meal I remember the best was a mix of rice, lentils, and various veggies, with some south Indian spices, the latter brought from India. An Indian mother never travels without, or allows her offspring to travel without, various homemade spice blends in their suitcases. My first few years in America, I never left home without some rasam powder, some sambaar powder, some south Indian curry powder, at the very least. So in our room at the Ambassador, my mum would make these rice-lentil-veg concoctions with one of these spice blends. A very satisfying, well-balanced meal, a kitchidi of sorts, if you are familiar with this word, and one I have learned to recreate in my own kitchen. Takes me right back to that room at the Ambassador Hotel.

So today, I give you a recipe for my version of one of the Ambassador-inspired kitchidi. I don’t use a rice cooker – I’ve always preferred the stovetop, and I’ll replace the sambaar powder my mum used most frequently with a couple of simple spices along with coconut milk, the main flavors in a sambaar powder…simply because I haven’t given you the recipe for a sambaar powder yet. Soon.

I will end by saying that over the next few weeks, these posts will be a bit more sporadic, as the family is traveling. Taking a break for the first time since before the pandemic. Exploring new parts of the world, both for fun, and in search of new adventures, opportunities…. seeking to burst our current bubble before…well… before it bursts on its own. Or we are forced to burst it.

Ambassador Hotel Kitchidi

Ingredients (easily feeds 6 people)

1.     ¾ cup rice

2.     ¾ cup masoor dhal (orange lentils, split or unsplit)

3.     2 cups finely chopped ripe tomatoes

4.     1 cup coconut milk

5.     2 cups of cauliflower cut into bite-sized chunks

6.     2 cups finely sliced onions

7.     1 cup green peas – frozen or fresh

8.     2 cups green and red peppers – cut into bite-sized chunks

9.     3 Tbsp oil

10.  1 Tbsp cumin seeds

11.  1 tsp turmeric

12.  1 cup chopped cilantro

13.     2 ½ tsp salt

For the spice blend:

13.  2 Tbsp coriander seeds (or 1 Tbsp ground coriander)

14.  1 ½ tsp black peppercorn (or 1 tsp ground black pepper)

15.  5-6 red chillies (or 1 tsp cayenne)

Method:

1.     Rinse the dhal and rice together, and put aside.

2.     Roast all the ingredients for the spice blend (if you are using whole spices) on low for about 5 minutes till lovely and fragrant. Cool and grind to a fine powder in a coffee grinder. If you want to skip this roasting step and simply use ground spices, do. No need to roast them.

3.     Heat the oil in a large pot, preferably one that is heavy. When the oil is hot, add the cumin seeds and let them splutter. Next add the turmeric.

4.     Add the onions and ½ tsp salt. Sauté for about 5 minutes on medium, stirring occasionally.

5.     Now add the tomatoes and 1 tsp of salt to the sautéing onions. Cook on low-medium for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally.

6.     Now add the ground spice blend and cook together for another 5 minutes.

7.     Now add the washed rice and dhal, and the coconut milk, and another 1 tsp salt. Cook on medium for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent the rice from sticking.

8.     After 10 minutes of cooking, add in all the veg and 1 cup of water. If you use vegetables that have a lot of water in them (greens or zucchini, for example, you could add a bit less water). If you use a mixture of hard veg with a longer cooking time with soft veg with a shorter cooking time, stagger when you add the veg so the softer ones don’t turn to utter mush.

9.      Allow the mixture to come to a simmer and turn the heat down. Put a lid on the pot and cook, occasionally stirring. When stirring, you will determine whether you need more water. If the rice and dhal start to stick, add some more water. It should take about 20 minutes to cook on low.

10.  When the rice and dhal are done, stir in the chopped cilantro and turn off the stove. I like my kitchidi slightly loose in consistency – this is not a biriyani or a pulao, so the grains of rice shouldn’t be separate. This is an incredibly forgiving recipe, so during the cooking, if you like a looser consistency, add a bit more water.

11.  Enjoy hot! While we couldn’t do this at the Ambassador, now, the family eats a meal like this with some pappadums. Crunchies, my kids call them. If you have none, a bag of salted potato crisps do great!