The Cuminist

the pattern "Samosa"

I’m reading A Pattern Language, a fascinating book that codifies a “language” for the design and use of human environments.  The authors argue that all the elements of built environments can be understood as “patterns,” and these patterns together make up a language, and that within a given cultural context, this language is universally, if unconsciously, understood. 

The language is all about what makes environments work for people.  For example: the authors posit that humans are comforted by working and living in smallish city groups of 7000, and by having their everyday needs met within this grouping.  They’ve identified patterns at all levels of hierarchy, from the spatial relationship of cities to the surrounding land (the patterns “City Country Fingers” and “Access To Water”), to community demography (the pattern “Old People Everywhere”) to the selection of chairs in a house (via the pattern “Different Chairs”).

For me this sparked the idea that food production, from arrangement of farming regions down to specific recipes, could also be thought of as a pattern language.  Maybe this language varies across cultures, but some patterns (especially those at finer levels of the hierarchy) could be universal things that humans everywhere take comfort in – like the samosa! 

A samosa is a bit of dough surrounding a savory filling.  So many cuisines express a version of this – there’s the empanada, the wonton, the potsticker, gyoza, the pot pie, the patty, ravioli, and dumplings of all sorts.  Maybe “dumpling” is the most inclusive name for this pattern.  Some other possible patterns in this language: “chai” (for warm stimulating beverage), “roti” (for bready staple), and the pattern “lassi” (for cold beverages meant to cool you down and chill you out).

There must be many, many patterns out there – what are your favorites?

chick peas with potatoes (a.k.a. aloo channe)

A favorite leisurely weekend breakfast in our house was aloo-channe with puri and halwa.  This was a dish for a day that was slightly out of the ordinary – maybe when we had brunch guests, or on a Sunday when there was no rush to get anywhere after, and we could sit around with the Sunday comics and digest.  It’s a bit of a carbohydrate bomb, in the tradition of extravagant breakfasts everywhere.

The looseness or dryness of the finished dish is a matter of taste, so add water to your liking, but gradually so you don’t have to cook the whole thing to death to drive off the extra water. Over-vigorous stirring will break down the potatoes faster and make them more likely to stick and catch, so the safer practice here is to let it cook slowly, though some potato-breakdown is delicious and necessary.

Instead of making puris from scratch, my mother hit upon the method of substituting deep-fried flour tortillas (“tortilla” is apparently Mexican for “puri”).  To prepare them, heat an inch or so of veg oil in a deep skillet until a wee piece of tortilla dunked in the hot oil immediately starts bubbling and sizzling.  Fry one at a time, a few seconds on each side, until the “puri” starts to puff up.  Drain on paper towels to get rid of some of the extra oil (but do not imagine that such treatment renders them low-fat).

I sometimes use leftovers as a base for a poached or fried egg to give the dish a protein boost.

recipe: aloo channe

1 small or 1/2 medium onion, chopped
2 T canola or other mild veg oil
1 medium tomato, chopped
3 good-sized potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks (perhaps 1 inch in the largest dimension)
2 cans chick peas, drained and thoroughly rinsed
1 tsp salt
1 light tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tsp garlic powder
pinch of turmeric
1 light tsp ground cumin
1 light tsp ground coriander

for garnish:

1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
diced tomato
lemon wedges
thinly sliced onion

Brown the onion in the oil over medium-high heat.  When most pieces are medium-brown, add the tomato, potatoes, chickpeas, salt, cayenne, garlic powder, and turmeric.  Add 1 1/2 cup water and stir it up; when it starts bubbling, cover and turn heat down to medium-low.  Every now and then, stir gently, check the doneness of the potatoes, and add more water if necessary.  When the potatoes are tender, and the mushiness is to your liking, the dish is done.  In the last few minutes of cooking, add the cumin and coriander, stir them in, and remove from heat.  Garnish with cilantro and serve with the aforementioned puris, diced tomato, sliced onion, and lemon wedges.