I really love making Indian food. Another lifetime ago, long before I was married and even longer before baby Rain was an idea, I spend around 8 months travelling all around India and Nepal with two of my girlfriends. Despite my indifference to almost everything at that time of my life, somehow food and cooking was a priority as it’s always been. I was relatively intent on learning as much as I could about the regional cuisine of the many different places we travelled and I did a pretty good job of retaining and documenting most of that information considering I was completely stoned out of my mind 98% of the time.
All of you former young world travellers out there know how it is to be 18 and in search of the next “life changing” experience. Or maybe that was just typical to the angsty teenage backpackers travelling in South Asia in the late 90s? Either way, I was definitely in search of something or at least thought I was because it was all or nothing on every front. I think it’s safe to say that was the case for my friends as well. From the strange yogi who completely hypnotized my friend into covering her whole body with turmeric – incidentally my first experience with the spice – which despite relentless scrubbing made her appear jaundiced for 2 weeks afterwards (this still makes me laugh harder than most things), to the apprentice of a particularly famous guru, who I thought had the answers to all of life’s questions and had me dressing all in white and carrying a poster sized FRAMED picture of her with me for the rest of my travels. It’s safe to say that I am completely terrified of having a teenager, or at least one as willful as I was.