Rolling the naan.

 

Today I took an Indian cooking class, which I signed up for through the adult education school here.

I chose Indian because…well…it was the only one offered in English.

So the class starts…in German. I politely stated, ” Excuse me, I thought this was supposed to be in English.” To which the teacher replied, “Oh, I guess I made a mistake.”

Lucky for me, my vegetable and spice vocabulary game is really strong.

Samosas, filled with potatoes, peas, cashews, raisins and spices.

 

There were 12 of us (mostly Germans, but also a few from England and Ireland), and this cute little Indian woman who was the teacher.

We started with samosas (pictured above), masala chai tea, onion bhaji, and a coriander chutney. The main course followed: chicken curry, aloo gobi masala (almost exactly the same as my cracklin cauilflower Whole Foods London ripoff),rice, naan and mango lassi.

Yes, I actually ate rice with naan and potatoes–the whole time thinking: can I have some white carbs with my white carbs?

And I tried to turn a blind eye when she pulled out a bag of sugar to add to the lassi.

But. I love food. And cooking. And learning about different cultures’ foods.

And this food was amazing (yes I realize that pretty much anything deep fried is amazing).

 Frying up the samosas and bhaji, which was chickpea flour-breaded onions, peppers and potatoes.

 

I loved how the teacher taught us that using your hands is ok, that the best foods take time, and that an Indian kitchen is a warm kitchen.

The chai tea, which was so simple, and so good. I can’t wait to make some at home!

 

After class, I took the teacher home on the subway with my commuter pass. We chatted about food, cooking, her culture, and what hair color she should use (I tried desperately to steer her away from boxed color, but she insisted that she can find quality at-home color, then asked how much I charge to do hair).

I loved it. Me and this little Indian lady with her roll bag full of spices, just hanging out, talking shop (and of course I showed her my finger, which I felt legitimized my chef CV “oh, just an old mandolin slicer injury, you know how it goes”).

What an awesome spirit sunday adventure!

Now I’m trying to figure out how to get the smell out of my hair and clothes by tomorrow.