Sumptuous Rice
I attended an Indian cooking class with some girlfriends this past week as a new exotic venture. The class, "Sumptuous Rice," was not exactly what I expected. Instead of stirring our own pots of biryani, we mostly watched the teacher cook at the front of the home ec room of a well-to-do high school.
Just getting to that home ec room was a stressful affair. Not so much because we had to navigate unknown halls, following cryptic signs, but because everywhere we turned there were banners and trophies declaring the stunning accomplishments of over-achieving, mal-adjusted, over-pressured, angst-ridden teens. A John Waters spoof of wealthy suburban Maryland life could not have been more disturbing than the reality. Passing the cafeteria, we saw pint-sized teeny-boppers defying gravity in a verticle pyramid under a plaque for State Champion Cheerleading. Professionally printed mega-banners in the stairwell congratulated the school for having two Westinghouse semifinalists and two Intel semifinalists. Their National Merit Scholars were proudly displayed, like a list of champions from the Pan Asian games -- C. Jao, J. Sun, J. Tian, W. Xiong, and L. Yu -- Can you blame the white flight from neighborhoods harboring these unreal kids? How can students possibly survive that kind of academic environment unscathed?
I'm not even white, and it's enough to make me want to run far, far away with my little yellow babies.
After recovering from my scary high school flashback, I settled down to making rice stews with an authentic Indian cook. To be honest, she lost me at "masala" and "pressure cooker". Even so, I did enjoy diving into the sumptuous bounty when it was all done, while believing, even for a short time, that I might be able to recreate it on my own.
The highlight of the class was really the instructor's story-telling. She had a gift, like Rachel Ray, of chatting away while not missing a beat with the cooking. One story she shared with humor was the evening she met up with her newly-arranged-to-wed husband in NYC after flying 22 hours from India. She was anxious to make her way to their new home in Maryland, so they hopped in the car and drove an additional 5 hours after her long flight. When they finally arrived, she was nearly sleep-walking from the fatigue, but perked-up when her hubby said he had a surprise for his new bride.
"Flowers? Jewelry?", she thought to herself.
He asked her to close her eyes as he steered her through the house. "OK, open your eyes!"
She found herself facing the kitchen as he smuggly declared, "Here is the kitchen, I will never have to step foot in there again!!!"
Remind me now, what they say about men and pigs?
Just getting to that home ec room was a stressful affair. Not so much because we had to navigate unknown halls, following cryptic signs, but because everywhere we turned there were banners and trophies declaring the stunning accomplishments of over-achieving, mal-adjusted, over-pressured, angst-ridden teens. A John Waters spoof of wealthy suburban Maryland life could not have been more disturbing than the reality. Passing the cafeteria, we saw pint-sized teeny-boppers defying gravity in a verticle pyramid under a plaque for State Champion Cheerleading. Professionally printed mega-banners in the stairwell congratulated the school for having two Westinghouse semifinalists and two Intel semifinalists. Their National Merit Scholars were proudly displayed, like a list of champions from the Pan Asian games -- C. Jao, J. Sun, J. Tian, W. Xiong, and L. Yu -- Can you blame the white flight from neighborhoods harboring these unreal kids? How can students possibly survive that kind of academic environment unscathed?
I'm not even white, and it's enough to make me want to run far, far away with my little yellow babies.
After recovering from my scary high school flashback, I settled down to making rice stews with an authentic Indian cook. To be honest, she lost me at "masala" and "pressure cooker". Even so, I did enjoy diving into the sumptuous bounty when it was all done, while believing, even for a short time, that I might be able to recreate it on my own.
The highlight of the class was really the instructor's story-telling. She had a gift, like Rachel Ray, of chatting away while not missing a beat with the cooking. One story she shared with humor was the evening she met up with her newly-arranged-to-wed husband in NYC after flying 22 hours from India. She was anxious to make her way to their new home in Maryland, so they hopped in the car and drove an additional 5 hours after her long flight. When they finally arrived, she was nearly sleep-walking from the fatigue, but perked-up when her hubby said he had a surprise for his new bride.
"Flowers? Jewelry?", she thought to herself.
He asked her to close her eyes as he steered her through the house. "OK, open your eyes!"
She found herself facing the kitchen as he smuggly declared, "Here is the kitchen, I will never have to step foot in there again!!!"
Remind me now, what they say about men and pigs?
posted by Ting at 3:13 PM
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