We made the long 25-mile drive to a local discount theater to see the Hindi film Malamaal Weekly. We held six additional seats for the friends who were joining us. Previews of coming attractions hint at what’s to come in the next months and then the feature film rolls. The titles play, the music starts, the voice-over starts narrating and Caroline and I are left wondering, well, just what is this guy saying in Hindi? Grrrr, no subtitles. Three hours of Hindi comedy without a clue about the dialogue would not have left us very entertained. We got a refund and caught a different film.
More Than a Bus
The bus is the medium, get the message. No matter that I choose not to watch television, read the local papers, listen to commercial radio. I am still bombarded with the slogans and marketing campaigns of trash companies I would rather not have floating around my conscience. One of the pleasures of small-town America is the absence of this intrusive and constant barrage of advertising. At least in Los Angeles, the ads are occasionally provocative and at times entertaining. Here in Phoenix, Arizona, I have seen billboards inviting mothers who do not know for sure who the father of their child is to ‘Call us to determine paternity using DNA’, or to call the Sheriff’s office to be certain that as your violent offender is released from jail that you are safe. Then we have all the ads for the various law firms promising to keep you out of jail for drunk driving, beating your wife, beating your pet while drunk, hittings someone with your car while drunk and fleeing the scene, handling your divorce, or suing the crap out of the business where you ‘accidentally got hurt. Finally, the reminder that this week’s lottery is up to $175 million – god, I hate that I fall for that one.
Out For Dinner
Back row: Sonal, Krupesh, Khushboo, Renu, Gautam. Front row: Caroline, Hemu, Rinku, and that big bearded dhoriyo on the right is me, John Wise. For the first time in a long while, we have gotten together for dinner. Unfortunately, no one told me the off-limits subjects and so true to form I was able to divulge two or three ‘secrets’ that were supposed to stay with me. No matter, we had fun, talking about…..well I can’t talk about that right now, or how someone might be going….oh yeah, can’t talk of that either, ok, we reminisced about Jay who moved back to India and stared at a Rinku who looked especially funny – in a veerd kinda vay.
Thorns
Protected like a well-defended prison, this cactus on our patio isn’t about to let birds, lizards, or any other critters get very close. It does flower occasionally and the bees have no problem getting at the pollen, but as you can see, anything bigger than an ant better find a more friendly place to call home.
Making Bhatura
Sonal invited us over for dinner this evening, and, lucky for us, she knows we appreciate a real old-fashioned homecooked meal. Before we could sit down to eat we stepped into the backyard where Sonal lit a propane-fueled burner to heat corn oil in a wok and proceeded to roll out the dough into rounds. Sonal’s mom is seen frying the bhatura (fried bread) that we would eat with chole (spiced garbanzo beans). Also on the menu, this evening was spinach rice that was served with homemade yogurt and papad jeera which was quite simply a papadam sprinkled with a bit of finely chopped red onion, tomato, cilantro, and a light dusting of chaat masala.
The bread is made by mixing 2 cups of all-purpose flour with 1 small boiled and mashed potato, 2 tbsp plain yogurt, 1/2 tsp baking powder, salt, 3 tbsp corn oil, and enough water to form a dough. This has to sit for 5 – 7 hours before you can pinch off a piece about the size of a ping pong ball. Dip in rice flour and roll to the thickness of a quarter and the size of your hand. Place in hot oil and fry on one side until edges begin to firm. Be sure to press the bubbling dough into the oil, then turn over and fry until just golden brown. Great with chole.
Thanksgiving
That’s right, today was Thanksgiving at the Wises. And as we are late celebrating this traditional American holiday, why not go all the way and make it as unconventional as possible. We broke out that old Tofurky we bought way back when, letting it thaw the recommended 24 hours before popping it in the oven for 2 long hours. I was salivating up a monsoon by the time it was ready. You’ve gotta be asking yourself, hey, just what does a Tofurky taste like? Well, now I know and I suppose I’ll tell you a bit more, but you will have to visit my other site www.happybumblebee.com to learn the details.