I Am a Cheesemaker!
After reviewing Maharani, I developed a mean craving for some Palak Paneer so I decided to make some this weekend. This Indian food blog is awesome so I thought I'd try out this recipe. I only worried that I wouldn't be able to find paneer (an unaged, mild Indian cheese) and according to the people I polled, this was a valid concern. It seems paneer is a very difficult cheese to find if you live on the East Side of Madison. By this point I was so determined to make this dish that I looked into the possibility of making the frickin' cheese myself. So that's exactly what I did. I made cheese! I am officially a cheesemaker and would like to be referred to as such from now on. It is my new title: Cheesemaker Jessie. This is one of those things that sounds so much more impressive than it actually is. Paneer is incredibly easy to make and you can still call yourself a cheesemaker. It's like calling yourself a minister after registering for free online ordination with the Universal Life Church. For the paneer, all you need is whole milk, lime or lemon juice, salt (optional), and cheesecloth. Here's the recipe from the same blog. Basically you just boil milk, add lime juice to make it curdle, and then separate the curds from the whey through the cheesecloth. Then you let it hang or press it to remove every last drop of whey.
On the left you can see the ball of paneer (and its mirror twin) hanging over the sink. It's about the size of a tennis ball and I used a half-gallon of milk. I saved the whey to use in a chicken curry that we're having tonight. (It's an experiment; I have no idea if it'll be any good or what else to do with it.) Most of the palak (spinach) curry ingredients are pictured on the right. That's pureed sauteed spinach and jalapenos, blanched peeled tomato pulp, and powdered cashews. It turned out to be the best palak paneer I've ever had. This is one of those dishes that manages to transcend its aesthetic shortcomings:
It's not a particularly beautiful dish, but it's damn tasty piled up on a bed of rice. See the little blocks of cheese?
2007-04-30 11:18:45 UTC
Monkey Morality
I just started reading Frans de Waal's Good Natured: The Origins of Right and Wrong in Humans and Other Animals. It's bringing out the chimp in me. So far, it's pretty interesting. It's an argument against the sociobiological notion that morality is a human construct that we have to vigilantly and consciously pursue lest we all turn into rapists and murderers. It's an argument against the idea that we are selfish beasts underneath a fragile, artificial layer of civilization. De Waal blames the popularization and subsequent distortion of Richard Dawkins' "selfish gene" theory for this commonly held belief. He suggests that the general public grasped onto the phrase "selfish gene" and mistakenly took it to mean that genes act selfishly in the same way that humans do. This led people to conclude that humans are always acting out of selfishness, no matter how generous they may seem. They're only being nice to you now to ensure you'll do something nice for them in the future, is how the reasoning goes.
De Waal aims to refute this idea by offering evidence from the animal kingdom that morality is actually a product of natural selection. It's innate. And not just in humans. Here's his thesis: "Humans and other animals have been endowed with a capacity for genuine love, sympathy and care, a fact that can and will one day be fully reconciled with the idea that genetic self-promotion drives the evolutionary process." So as you can see, he holds that both theories can be true simultaneously. De Waal is a primatologist (and a sociobiologist) so he's filled the book with super simian stories. He's got great chimp anecdotes (and his book Bonobo: The Forgotten Ape was fascinating). Just so you don't get the wrong idea, he's not implying that we live in some sort of fantasy world where animals resemble sweet-natured cartoon characters, though his inclusion of many heart-warming monkey tales might suggest otherwise. He rightfully chides that we have become quick to accuse writers of anthropomorphism when they are using positive words to depict animal interaction (like friendship, comfort, reconciliation) but that no such charge is made when the observers use negative words in their descriptions (war, rape, murder). If chimps can be considered capable of murder, shouldn't they also be considered capable of friendship? He makes a good point. The purpose of De Waal's stories is to demonstrate that our closest animal relatives are capable of empathy and that this is the root of human morality. Here's a NY Times article about Frans de Waal's most recent book on the same subject. I'm just totally jealous of this guy. I wish someone would pay me to observe apes.
2007-04-27 13:26:39 UTC
Jeeves and Wooster
Noah and I have been watching loads of Jeeves and Wooster lately. To borrow the lingo of the show, I'm positively dippy for it. For those not in the know, Jeeves and Wooster is a BBC series that aired in the early 1990s. It's based on PG Wodehouse's stories about a high-spirited, empty-headed aristocrat named Wooster and his refined, inifnitely knowledgeable manservant Jeeves. Their adventures take place in post-WWI Britain. Each episode involves Wooster and his equally daft friends, all members of a gentlemen's group aptly termed the Drones Club, getting into absurdly sticky situations. The ever-capable Jeeves always manages to solve their ridiculous problems with his elaborate plans which are typically rooted in psychological manipulation. They meet in the first episode:
[A very hungover Bertie Wooster opens his front door, to find a smartly dressed man standing there] Jeeves: I was sent by the agency, sir. I was given to understand that you require a valet. [Bertie swallows the hangover cure concocted by his visitor, and quickly recovers] Bertie: I say! [He looks at his glass in wonder, then goes to examine himself in the mirror] Bertie: I say! You're engaged! Jeeves: Thank you, Sir. My name is Jeeves. Bertie: I say, Jeeves, what an extraordinary talent! Jeeves: Thank you, sir. Bertie: Eh, could one enquire what...? Jeeves: I'm sorry, sir. Bertie: No, no, of course not. Jeeves: I'm not at liberty to divulge the ingredients, sir. Bertie: No, no, no, of course not. Secrets of the guild and all that. Jeeves: Precisely, sir.
Quote from IMDB
The humor, as in so many other comedies, relies on the contrast between the two characters, coupled with the irony of the refined butler taking care of nearly retarded aristocrat. I've read that PG Wodehouse was quite conservative. I don't dispute it. How the hell should I know? I've yet to read any of his books, many of which are available for free at Project Gutenberg. (Now I know how I'll spend the next few days at work.) Conservative or not, he sure knows how to skewer the ruling class. He's so skilled at satire that while he's roasting the Drones they remain totally lovable, albeit in a pathetic sort of way. Most of this love is reserved for Wooster. Though he seems to require constant saving, the predicaments Wooster finds himself in always stem from his bumbling attempts to help his fellow Drones. Even the stauchest class warrior will find it hard to hate such a selfless, loyal friend. Plus, he knows how to turn a phrase. The dialogue is fantastic: Wooster's creative, hyper use of the language contrasts nicely with Jeeves' more minimalist approach. (Meaning oozes from a simple "Indeed, Sir.") And the opening music has to be one of the best themes ever. It's been in my head for a week and it doesn't even bother me.
2007-04-26 20:49:43 UTC
Downtown Madison Finally Has Indian Food Again
I've been to Maharani twice now and am so happy that there's finally some good Indian food downtown again. I loved Curry n' Hurry and was very sad when it moved to Fitchburg (before the wrecking ball took down University Square). Noah and I ate there a lot. Curry n' Hurry offered greasy, cheap, and fantastic Indian food on styrofoam plates. It was kind of like an independently-owned fast food restaurant with local art on the walls and a Bollywood soundtrack (though sometimes it was Eminem blasting through the speakers). God, I loved that place. It was really nice to go out for great food without having to change out of my jeans and threadbare Poison t-shirt (from their so-called "World Tour" that doesn't list any shows outside the United States). Well, Maharani is much fancier what with the bow-tied waiters and linen napkins, but it's got an excellent $7.95 buffet. It's located on the corner of Broom and West Wash which has been a death location in recent years, housing several short-lived and unremarkable businesses. Happily, Maharani has been showing signs of success though, with a consistently crowded dining room. New restaurants in Madison almost always draw the crowds, but I think Maharani's auspicious beginning owes less to the novelty and more to the quality.
The buffet is the biggest Indian buffet I've ever seen. I never knew there were so many kinds of chutney. It was like a chutney wonderland. I was also surprised to find dishes that I had never seen available at a buffet before, namely masala dosa and a wonderful lamb curry. The dosa was still crunchy, meaning it was quite fresh. The lamb curry was a real treat because lamb is such an expensive meat that I very rarely have it. They also did a fine job with the usual dishes: mutter paneer (though I would have preferred palak paneer), chicken tikka, tandoori chicken, pakora, etc. I don't go to Indian buffets very often as I like to keep my adventures in gluttony to a minimum. The idea behind buffets seems to be a vain attempt to fill the holes in people's lives with food and I generally find that kind of depressing. (Call me crazy.) However, every once in a while, for some reason, it seems like an excellent idea to eat Indian food to the point of discomfort. You know, because that's the only way you get your money's worth. And if you have got a hole in your soul, I imagine there are much worse things you could cram into it.
2007-04-25 13:09:29 UTC
Delicious Racial Flavors
From the same photo essay about racist spokescharacters in advertising history:
This was Kool-Aid's competition back in the 1960s. The packaging makes me really thirsty for a Chinese person. I had no idea they tasted like cherries! Or that Injuns tasted like oranges. I wonder what the other races taste like. Do we all taste like fruits? Just imagine the delicious combinations of flavors that result from miscegenation!
2007-04-24 15:14:41 UTC