Dinner disapointment

simple miso dressing

Every culinary project can’t be a success. Then I might get cocky. 

Recent meals have been, if not a crapshoot, at least lopsided. The soba noodle dish when I couldn’t find the right seaweed so I just bought nori to garnish – not understanding until way too late that the soaking of the seaweed with the dried shitake mushrooms infused them with salt while they were being reconstituted. That dish fell flat for lack of an entire layer of flavor that no amount of soy sauce or salt could remedy.

miso soup

It was disappointing. All the more so because I have a cabinet full of soba noodles (not even the real kind because they are mixed with wheat flour). Of course, before that little fiasco, I made some kind of miso veggie that I can’t even recall now. The only thing I remember is how nasty it was and how I was stuck with a tub of miso.

But with every disaster I learn something new. That miso has been useful in making a miso dressing that I will find any excuse to make. So simple: miso, white wine vinegar, honey, fresh grated ginger, lime juice, and sesame seeds. Viola. I love that stuff. And it was born out of the miso I thought I detested. Well, I was able to follow the recipe I was given during my sushi making class. I did experiment with miso soup though. After the miraculous 8-course wild dinner I took part in a few weeks earlier I made friends with three couples who took me in as their seventh. One of them talked about the simplicity of making miso soup. 

I went home and tried it the next day. Some miso, water, dried shitake mushrooms, fresh ginger, joi choy, green onions – topped off with an egg. Once I figured out how easy it is I couldn’t help myself. Sometimes I’ll throw in some soba noodles for variety. Whatever veggies are in the fridge. Miso has become one of my favorite mistakes.

rolled our roti

Tonight’s disaster doesn’t have enough distance for me to think fondly of what I have learned. Well, beyond what I already knew but chose to ignore- half the recipe when I’m unsure of the outcome. 

Of course I ignored that nagging feeling and scooped out and sifted 5 cups of flour for dhal puri roti. It rang out to me as wrong but I ignored it on the off chance that it turned out like I saw it in my nostalgic brain. My college roommate was from Trinidad and every semester she would bring her dad’s homemade hotsauce and roti. We’d freeze the roti and ration it all year long. In my mind it is the most amazing of breads and I’ve never been able to replicate it.

Unfortunately, that is still the case.

Five cups of flour, some ground dhal, jeera, and oil later and all I really have are some exotified flour tortillas. And as far as my tortillas go, these aren’t even great. My ingenuity was masterful. No griddle (or tawah) at my disposal – and even my cast iron skillet too small- I turned the skillet upside down and cooked the roti on the bottom. 

tawah  innovation

Then there was the curry. I don’t make curry much since Peace Corps. It was such a staple of my world at the time. Curried lentils were my every day dinner, like peanut butter was lunch most days, and boiled eggs breakfast. Diversity was not my friend. So when I returned stateside I didn’t buy curry. Going out to eat and I wouldn’t order curry. Even now I tend to shy away from brown curries (what I was accustomed to working with) and lean toward green or red, sometimes the occasional yellow. 

Today my shrimp curry was as unsatisfying as the roti. Not so much bad as not so much good. Too watery, I added cornstarch to thicken the gravy, and when that didn’t work I added quinoa. 

Sigh.

The meal sated me, but oh how excited I was to make it to have it fall so short of my expectations. Now I’m stuck with six more roti in the freezer (next to the frozen and failed naan experiment of a few months ago). 

My one consolation though – I purchased more pistachios and dried apricots and I still have goat cheese and fresh dill…I see a repeat of the Persian rice in my future.