DELICIOUS LENTIL CURRY

It is good to wait until after dinner before going onto the internet.
Had I not done so, I wouldn't have had much of an appetite.

On the same evening that one of my facebook friends posted an article with horrific pictures on his wall, a reader left a link underneath one of my earlier blogposts ("when grown men dream of goats").


Quote:

At 4:48 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

More compelling reasons to serve goat.

Noor Hussain (75) is now in trial in New York for beating his wife to death because she cooked him lentils for dinner instead of goat.


http://nypost.com/2014/05/21/man-charged-with-killing-wife-after-she-made-him-the-wrong-dinner/.


Mr. Hussain wanted goat. His wife cooked lentils. He chastised her to death with a laundry stick. Apparently under the mistaken impression that doing so was normative.

Quote:
"He comes from a culture where he thinks this is appropriate conduct, where he can hit his wife. He culturally believed he had the right to hit his wife and discipline his wife."

That's one hell of a nasty culture. It's rotten to the core.

Clearly mister Noor Hussain and all who think like him are not civilized or even human. Is it really "appropriate" to beat your wife to death, ever? For any reason? I'm asking, because his defense attorney thinks she can convince the court that it is, and undoubtedly there are plenty of splendid examples of Pakistanis killing their wives. For many reasons. Even something so trivial as a pot of lentil curry.

Just like there are innumerable examples of Pakistani men throwing acid in the faces of women. For what are, no doubt, "culturally appropriate" motives. As was mentioned in the article that my facebook friend posted to his wall. Which had horrific pictures.

What kind of society condones such behaviour?

I could say any number of horrid things.

About Pakistanis, and depravity.

But their acts speak.

Volumes.



What IS the proper response when you had a craving for goat, and she cooked Tarka Dal instead? Maybe she was tired, or had too much to do that afternoon, and the carnicería ran out of carne de cabrito early in the day. Or perhaps your good woman felt that lentils were a more suitable meal that evening. The only acceptable way to deal with the situation is to say "thank you for a lovely repast", and just suck it up. Have some yoghurt, and avoid the beer.
Eventually there will be goat. You could cook it yourself. Who says women have to do all the cooking? Going batshit crazy and beating someone to death is NEVER the appropriate way of dealing with a lentil curry.
Even if you are a Pakistani, heaven forfend.
There are worse things to be.
It's just not done.


LENTIL & TOMATO CURRY
[Not Pakistani style, more sort of generic subcontinental.]

One cup masoor dal (red lentils).
Two cups water.
One onion, chopped.
Two tomatoes.
Four garlic cloves, minced.
Equivalent amount ginger, ditto.
Four green jalapenos.
One Tsp. cumin seeds.
One Tsp. ground coriander.
Half Tsp. cayenne.
Half Tsp. turmeric.
Cilantro for garnishing.
Oil, and butter.

Rinse lentils well, remove any unidentifiable objects.

Put lentils in a pot with two cups water or slightly more. Bring to a boil, simmer till soft, about forty minutes. Stir frequently to prevent scorching. Set aside.

Roast the tomatoes and jalapenos over an open flame (one of the burners on your stove), then peel &seed -- don't worry if some of the blackness remains, it adds flavour -- and chop coarsely.
Fry the cumin seeds in a little oil, then add the onion plus more oil and some butter, and saute till translucent. Put in the ginger, garlic, chilies, and the powdered spices, and when the fragrance rises add the tomato and stirfry soft.
Decant everything into the lentil pot, and bring back to simmer temperature. Cook for about ten minutes, then squeeze in some lemon or lime juice for a fresh tanginess, and add salt and black pepper as appropriate. Garnish liberally with chopped cilantro, and a sprinkle more ginger, freshly slivered.


This is splendid as is, with white rice, cucumber-yoghurt, and achar.
 I also think it's superb with chunks of roasted fatty pork.
Or high quality pork sausage, grilled.
I am not a Pakistani.



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WHEN GROWN MEN DREAM OF GOATS

Before going to bed I had way too much coffee, and consequently last night's sleep images were tactile and delicious. As well as detailed. This often happens; I spend too much time in Marin, and consequently wish to make the most of what remains of the day when I return to civilization.
Which means coffee.

Years ago a friend mentioned that she would like to have a goat ranch. To which my instinctive response was "them's good eating", which was mildly horrifying, as she was thinking of cheese, whereas I was fantasizing about meat.


GOAT CURRY

1½ LBS goat, chunk cut.
1 Onion, finely chopped.
1 Thumblength ginger, minced.
3 Cloves garlic, minced.
3 Large tomatoes; peeled, seeded, chopped.
3 TBS curry powder.
6 Whole green chilies; Serrano or jalapeno.
6 Green cardamom pods.
2 Whole cloves.
2 Bay leaves.
½ Cup coconut milk.
1½ Cup water or beer.
½ Tsp. sugar.
½ Tsp. garam masala.
Salt, pepper, oil.

Salt and pepper the meat.

Gild the onion in the pan with plenty oil, add the ginger and garlic halfway through, and add the sugar, which will facilitate browning.
Add the curry powder, cardamom pods, and whole cloves, stir to blend; add the meat, stir to coat. When the meat colours, but before the curry powder scorches, add the tomatoes. Mix.
Pour the liquids in, and add the whole chilies to float on top; their presence will contribute fragrance, but scant heat if left whole. Add the bay leaves. Raise to boil, turn low and simmer for two hours.
Add the garam masala and cook a few minutes longer.
Garnish with chopped cilantro.
Serve with rice.


COCONUT RICE

One onion, chopped.
3 Cups rice; rinsed, drained, aired.
3 Cloves garlic, minced.
A little fresh ginger, ditto.
3 Bay leaves.
1½ Cups coconut milk.
1½ Cups chicken stock.
1½ Cups water.
Pinch salt.

Gild the onions in oil. When starting to brown, stir in the rice and garlic. Cook thus till the fragrance of the garlic is very noticeable. Add the ginger, stir briefly, then add the liquids and the bay leaves, plus the salt. Bring to a simmer, turn heat low and cover. Cook for fifteen to twenty minutes.
Let it rest, covered, for about ten to fifteen minutes.
Fluff it up, and squeeze some lime juice over it.


Indians will object to both of these recipes, because their equivalents are not prepared in this fashion. They'll especially quibble as regards the use of curry powder. No real cook employs such a thing, ALL spices are measured and prepared fresh and individually for each dish!

Nonsense.
It is worth while keeping a small supply of curry powder on hand at all times, for when you need to wing it.


GOAT CURRY POWDER

3½ Tsp. ground coriander.
1½ Tsp. (½ TBS) turmeric.
1½ Tsp. (½ TBS) ground cumin.
1 Tsp. cayenne.
½ Tsp. ground black pepper.
½ Tsp. dry ginger.
½ Tsp. cinnamon powder.

Mix, and use as necessary. This equals the three tablespoons needed for the goat curry.



Finding goat is an issue. They're rare in San Francisco now, but the meat used to be available in my neighborhood, when there was still a Halal butcher shop on Polk Street. The big bearded Yemeni gentleman who hacked the flesh closed when he realized that his Arab customers weren't very finicky, and his Caucasian customers were predominantly Wasps who didn't know anything about cooking at all.

Did he have pizza, they wished to know, or fusion wraps?

I suspect that I was his major customer for goat.
The meat is denser than lamb, more intense.
Goats are huggable, and delicious.


Goat curry powder can also be used for pork.



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GOATS ARE THE NEW EVIL

This shouldn't surprise you. You always knew something like this was going to happen.
First the Doritos Goat Commercial. Then the racist sexist criminal goat fronting for a mediocre carbonated beverage.
Eventually, a Batman enemy goat.
Terrifying!

But in the meantime, goats that sound like the drunkard at the bus stop. You know the one I mean, that fellow with the can of malt liquor at eight in the morning, happily saying "howdy" to all the offended commuters.

Yeah, that one.

Channeling for a goat.

GOAT!


[Source:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfwu_TG3K7M.]


The goats are taking over. Pretty soon they'll be driving the bus.  Then you'll have to pay them ten dollars in roughage just to ride. And their little paws can't grasp the steering wheel (no thumbs), so they'll take out several parked cars when they rocket downhill on the other side of Nob. That's what you get for not walking, you lazy human. Walking is healthy!

Let's see some more goats, shall we?

GOAT REDUX!!


[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O7FjqL_6FJc.]

Isn't that special? It's like a whole passel of bus shelter crazies! Without ever needing to leave your own home. Go on, hit replay. You know you want to. Everyone is wondering what kind of strange porn you are watching behind your locked door, but it's entirely clean. Just you and your new friends, vocalizing.

It's emotional wellness. For you, and the goats.
Admit it. Go on, admit it, dammit!
You NEEEED the goats.

You are NOTHING, nothing do you hear me, without goats!


FREAK GOAT!!!


[Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItEA3Tno3bs.]

Why am I typing code at this hour? Oh yeah, waking up the person asleep in the other room. She sicked the small roomies on me last night.... the one-legged monkey (a thief), the piggy with a pickup truck (a pink neck), the froad (small green sexist pig), the orange beaver (all the conversational gifts of the typical engineer), and the head-sheep (a goat).

He claims he's a sheep. But he's merely in denial. He's a goat.

I listened to the goat all night. He wants grass-suckies.
And Stolichnaya - "it's good for young sheep!"
This morning he was near my wallet.
Claims he "found" it.

Everybody should beware of goats.
Including my apartment mate.
I keep hitting replay.

Goats rule.
Loudly.



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DORITOS GOAT COMMERCIAL

I like goats. Consequently I've hit replay on the now deservedly famous commercial featuring a lovable scamp named 'Moose' several times, with feverish hands. That, gentlemen, is one personable goat!



DORITOS SHOWCASES NEW INTERNET STAR!

[Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ygXhyrPgZ-8.]

Copyright: Doritos®
Not only are their chips packed with serious crunch and bold flavors, the DORITOS® brand is all about bold experiences in snacking and beyond.


If I had been born a goat, this is what I would want to be.

Such personality!



For the truly obsessed, Moose the Goat is also on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/MooseTheGoat.




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GOAT CURRY DANCING

One of the dishes that begs for company is goat curry. Not the celebrated Jamaican dish, nor the hot Hyderabadi feast food, but a nice golden-hued treat-your-friends Dutch-Indonesian soup-stew.
I was reminded of this by watching the now famous Doritos Goat commercial, featuring a loveable beast named 'Moose', who commits domestic violence on the timorous quaking beardy man that 'adopts' him. Had I been that fellow, the violence meted out would have been repaid by a session in the kitchen.
But I am not he, and that Doritophile goat is actually too cute to eat.
I'll go the Muslim market at some point to acquire a bit of meat.
Maybe those Doritos would make a good hors d'oeuvre.
While waiting for our dinner to be done.


GOAT CURRY SOUP

Twelve pounds of goat, chunk cut through the bone.
Twelve large cloves of garlic, minced.
Equivalent amount ginger, ditto.
Ten TBS coriander powder.
Three TBS cumin powder.
Three TBS turmeric powder.
Two TBS cayenne powder.
One TBS sugar.
One TBS salt.
Half cup of oil.
Half cup of vinegar.
*And:
Four or five onions, chopped.
*And:
Four whole star anise.
Four sticks cinnamon.
Four stalks lemon grass.
Two TBS whole peppercorns.
Ten jalapeno chilies, left whole.
*And:
Three cans (approx. six cups) of coconut milk.
Six cups (approx. three cans) of good meat stock.


Mix the garlic, ginger, powdered spices, sugar, salt, oil, and vinegar. Rub this all over the goat, massaging it into the meat.
Place it in an enamel ware container or large porcelain dish, cover with plastic wrap, and stick it into the refrigerator for eight to twelve hours. Do not use a stainless steel mixing bowl, as it may react with the vinegar.
You might want to do this the day before the feast.

Sauté the onions in a very roomy pan till glossy golden brown. Add the meat, and fry up fiercely till coloured and fragrant, slightly crusty even.
Add everything else, plus water to cover generously. Simmer gently for three hours, stirring occasionally to keep it from sticking to the bottom.
Adjust the moisture level as needed, to ensure a soupiness.
When the meat is fall-apart tender, fish the lemon grass out.

Ladle it into deep pasta dishes, garnish liberally with parsley and cilantro, and warn your guests about bones, star anise, and cinnamon sticks.
Oh, and the peppercorns; they're kind of exciting.

Serve with hot crusty French bread, boiled potatoes, a few simple vegetables, and salad. Plus lime wedges.

Don't forget to put bottles of hot-sauce on the table for the nuts.


Please note that it is traditional to serve beer with this. However I believe that the beer is better used as part of the cooking liquid, à la flammande.
Use a bottle or two of a good brown ale.
Drink sherry instead.


Why so large a recipe?
Why not?


Man, I love that Doritos goat!



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KUDOS TO BALTIMORE!

It has to be said that other team played a darn good game. Deservedly they won the super bowl. Them and their Doritos-snarfing goat. And it was a remarkable victory, thoroughly deserved.

I didn't see it though, as I spent all of Sunday in bed.

It seemed like the safest place to be, as die-hard SF Giants fans were determined to burn the city down if we won. Everyone knew that the intersection of Twenty-Fourth and Mission was ground zero.
Muni buses were going to be overturned and set ablaze, bottles would be thrown, and civilians hurt in the cross-fire.
Because nothing says civic pride better than vandalism.

A torched public transit vehicle really expresses the glow of ownership in the champion team. Those columns of smoke rising into the night-time sky are a cleansing of collective daemons, and represent the hopes and fears of the vast illiterate majority.
Thank god the Baltimore Orioles won.

I note, by the way, that the Baltimore team wore the same colours as that bunch of fruitcakes across the bay. The Oakland team. Coincidence?
Or a brilliant hex?
Sports voodoo.


I like Baltimore. How can you not like a city that spawned John Waters?

I can still remember standing in the audience at a midnight showing of 'Eat Your Makeup', holding my Bic lighter aloft and howling, as Jackie Kennedy ('Divine') forced a super-model to do unspeakable things. Truly one of the best movies of all time!


The Orioles did Waters and Divine proud on Sunday.
Because of it, we didn't riot and destroy things.
Instead, we cried into our cheap beer.
And ate the last of the wings.
Cold, and too spicy.

Even if I hadn't had the flu on Sunday, I would not have watched the game.
I'm just not interested in men wearing spandex booties running around, unlike most of SF, where men wearing shiny tight pants are just the thing.
I wasn't planning on going anywhere, because of the great likelihood of mayhem and public orgies, but a fever, sweats, and nausea, floored me.
I heard the cheering from other apartments in the block.
Which finally died out sometime after seven.
Pumpernick did not save the day.


I'm going to buy me some Doritos.
It's time to feed the goat.



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MEN WHO STARE AT GOATS

One of my friends is obsessed with 'Pigeon Man'. Normally other people's obsessions do not bother me, as obsessions are natural. And for anyone on the Asperger Spectrum, as I presume my friend to be, obsessions define normalcy.
I have obsessions too. You may have noticed a few on this blog. Food. Language stuff. Fine tobacco. The well-known perversion and degeneracy of small European countries. Other things.

Forwarding a video of Pigeon Man to a vast list of e-recipients, however, is a little disturbing.
Most of us are not that heavily into the whole Pigeon Man gestalt.
He does not dingle our bells. We notice him, but we do not dwell upon him.
Our feelings don't fondly encompass Pigeon Man's 24 hour aura.

But 'Agent Left Testicle' has an alternative agenda.
Of his forty seven recent e-mails, fully half have mentioned Pigeon Man.


"We dress like chickens, Sasha dresses like a housewife, Von Auter wears vintage suit and a bow tie. I've changed my fetching headgear so many times now I don't know what I look like."


His electric texts paint a picture of San Francisco that I'm not sure I am comfortable with. In his world, San Francisco is an unstable place, filled with dark forebodings, and inhabited by strange musicians, men who imitate Sean Connery, chickens, coconuts, bananas...... goat fondlers, and Pigeon Man.

When most of us are at the wall, smoking our expensive tobacco products like the true one percent that we are, the Left Testicle will sit on the ledge, drooling all over the butt end of his cigar and giggling to himself. Without warning he'll say something non-sequitorial, before once again lapsing into a cell-phone screen induced catalepsus. The smoker's minyan will pause briefly to digest the comment, before rejecting it as not-strictly-speaking-sane, then continue their previous conversion.
Does not compute.
It's just Agent Left Testicle.
No one ever knows where the Left Testicle is.

A day ago we were all at the wall when L. Testicle vocalized. Perhaps not strictly in reaction thereto, Mike E. moved away so that he could see the jogging blonde woman both coming and going. After she had passed, he rejoined the conversation with a beatific smile that made him seem years younger and boyishly innocent.
Never before has a man's face beamed so radiantly.

Agent Left Testicle didn't notice a thing, but blindly continued his stream of consciousness commentary on life, the universe, and everything: "... when he inadvertently rear ends the Simon Peabody car causing his own airbag to deploy, punting him out the back window. He crash lands on a Creepy Tim's open briefcase lodging seven Tiffany pens and pencils in his pasty nutsack. Photos of the injury later posted to his Facebook page look like a miniature albino bagpipe."

[That's an actual quote. I cannot make this up. He really said it.]


There's only one conclusion possible. Too much nicotine in that cigar.
He rolled out of bed at the crack of noon, and this is his third stogie - he's all wired and jangly now.
No wonder his butt ends up soggy as a sponge. Which displeases Pigeon Man.

If I have too much nicotine I may have hotly glowing cheeks.
Agent Left Testicle, on the other hand, starts gibbering like a monkey, and chivies the Pigeon Man.
You'd rather deal with glowing cheeks than a crazed testicle.


I mention all this as a cautionary note for the parents of young children.
Never let your offspring smoke cigars first thing in the morning.
They'll end up either like our Left Testicle, or Pigeon Man.
Both of whom have been missing in action for ages.
Instead, introduce them to pipes and tobacco.
So they'll grow up clean and wholesome.
You've really got to be careful.
Rambling Left Testicles.
A horrible fate.
Obsessed.

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