Despite a forecast dangerous for State Fair goers, it had been a fruitful morning for me, personally – air conditioned Mass, then a promising meeting on St Cecilia’s Domestic Violence work with the pastor, as well as with one of my all-time personal heroes, Mary Louise Klas.
Once home and planted safely in front of my a.c., I did a broad-stroke outline of this year’s Escape-Winter-Ice Travel Plan, then began the memoir thrust upon me earlier in the day by Judge Klas. My weekly ESL work is allowing me just the narrowest glimpse into Somali (Muslim) women’s lives, and yet the experience has sparked my interest. In the spirit of full disclosure, I should say the experience has also raised questions [aka flags], as I watch the women in this 23-floor high rise, so I am fascinated by Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s INFIDEL.
IN OTHER NEWS:I have started cooking Indian this summer: coriander, cumin, cardamon…
My first batch of Garam Masala, that defining pleasure of many Indian dishes, was…well… Mary Briel, you will remember how I had you taste that finely-ground brown mixture I’d brought back from Chennai? Remember how we decided I’d mixed up the plastic bags, and you’d just tasted Ananda Ashram DIRT, instead of Spencer Plaza GARAM MASALA?
Yes. Well, let me say this: my first batch of GM tasted just like India…the dirt of India. ”…you will want to play with the flavors,” said the lovely Sri Lankan who sold me the spices and the grinder online, then called several times to check on my progress. (I was being overzealous with the nutmeg; the GM is improving).
Ths afternoon, as we edged into the upper nineties in St Paul, I did what the women who cook at the ashram do: made a spicy chicken dish.