Though it was a product of the grain belt and specifically from my home town, I didn’t grow up with Cream of Wheat on the breakfast table. We were a cold-cereal-and-milk family (to the best of my recollection), with oatmeal and raisins dusted with brown sugar on Sunday evenings in front of the Wonderful World of Disney.

Later, voyageur trips into the Boundary Waters between Minnesota and Canada introduced more variety of hot breakfasts, including homemade combinations of grains, or Canada’s famous Red River Cereal (a favorite of my trekking companion Bruce Hooke). To these we would add whatever dried fruits we had along, and some nuts or pepita seeds or sunflower kernels, sometimes a handful of couscous to lighten the porridge, a dash of salt, a dash of sweetener.Tasty. Sustaining.

The ancient art of food preservation was left behind with new invention, and has slowly returned to favor as we recognize, with some chagrin, that these novelties can cost more than their worth.

As I describe our space-age engineering in this way, the word rings true: novelty suggests triviality, connotes superficiality, a side-show trinket, a toss-off. They won’t last; they can’t last; we cook ourselves as we cool ourselves, we burn ourselves out as we speed ourselves up; the math only works if you ignore time.

What a great feeling, to tend to yourself. Each time you go closer to the earth, or closer to the source of the things that are needed, the sense of security and self-sufficiency grows. When we are safe, when we are fed well, we are not as susceptible to the kinds of negative whispering so prevalent on the Internet and cultivated in the news. Hope! And pass that hope on to others.

I am attracted to new languages. Not for the reasons one might imagine – desire to visit another nation, or make some kind of business, or win a language stamp, like an “I’ve been there” label plastered proudly on my luggage. No, I love languages because they allow me into a previously-unimaginable part of myself, which is a previously-unimagined facet of my (or our common) humanity. Some dive into the sea, some fly into space: I mine myself for the ore of my Self, and the more words you know, the easier it is to name emotions and ideas that were always whispered, never said. When I discover something new, I discover a new me.

There are many kinds of comfort food: something sweet to treat your child; a slice of watermelon split right there in the field on the hottest late August  day; the right tea when your aches have caught up to you, or a choice coffee when the day hasn’t yet.

Over the past few days I have been over-engaged with the stuff of the world, in control of things at work (and so, of course, they were in control of me), and out-of-control and out-of-sync with the hidden workings of my country, learning more than I really wanted to know… and certainly more than those in the shadows wanted to reveal.

That was many years ago.

One of my last meals on the island of Java was on a side-street of Yogyakarta. It was near the warung where stayed the first two months of our journey, before being sponsored by the owner of the research center and his wife; before borrowing their bicycle for trips into the surrounding desa; before climbing the volcano in the night; before the relationship had ended.

Another fine recipe from Julie Sahni (Classic Indian Vegetarian and Grain Cooking, the title a mouthful in itself), this rice preparation from southern India is a delicious complement, hot or room temperature, to South Indian Sambar (skipping the idli). Like many vegetarian Indian meals, the dish is high in protein, combining roasted ground gram beans and basmati rice, a healthy dose of traditional southern Indian spices, and your call on how much blast-furnace red pepper heat to include.

Ok, that is actually two memorable dishes rolled into one splendid meal. Probably against my “rules”… but I make ’em, I break ’em.

I often write out the recipes in these posts, so I can look back and find them easily, and share them with friends. Usually I have touched up an original from somewhere or other, or the dish is my own invention; or, if I have taken it from somewhere or another, credit and a link is provided. In this case, however, there is nothing for it but to buy Julie Sahni’s impeccably good taste and kitchen sense, bound in a single volume as Classic Indian Vegetarian Cooking. I wouldn’t dare touch one of her recipes: everything I have tried has come out perfectly. Wow.

This mild, sweet/spicy chutney is delicious! And using dry organic coconut, available in most grocery’s organics section,  it goes together in a matter of minutes. I usually have the ingredients on hand, and finish this off while the papadam oil is heating. The flavors combine well with rice and gram bean idli.

Yum!

Thai basil is key, though fresh picked salsa pepper & blackened dry chili add the depth needed, ginger some breadth, to make this dry-fried dish so tasty. Added zucchini gives the plate moisture. I couldn’t take my face out of the bowl!

Collected ingredients:

• a dried chili, blackened in fry oil
• scallions (whites first, add greens later)
• ginger
• salsa pepper (medium heat)
• tempeh, deep-fried to bring out nutty flavor
• cooked garbanzos (adds a little fullness to each bite)
• shitake mushrooms
• zucchini
• thai basil and scallion greens
• salt to taste

It’s fried in the “right” order, above: infuse the oil with seared flavors, add main protein to coat and season, then mushrooms and softer veggies to retain their “spring” and freshness. Make it sizzle, but not darken, and sift some salt from your fingers until it’s just right!