Hannah BW

This is a real movie?

2009-01-06T22:21:00.001-06:00

Did it already get released? Or go straight to video? Oh, I guess that's DVD. Is this my future? Am I going to be a straight-to-DVD ramen chef?

Tomorrow we go to Momofuku.

Barack Obama on Corncakes

2009-01-06T21:12:00.002-06:00

I've been to this restaurant! Via IFA.

Bloch-Wehba Bakery: Orange Mint Loaves UPDATE

2008-12-25T23:24:00.001-06:00

These do NOT taste like mint!

Bloch-Wehba Bakery: Orange Mint Loaves

2008-12-25T00:04:00.004-06:00

This picture makes me realize that I don't know anything about photography. Anyway, here are my buns in the oven. They're done now but I haven't eaten them because they're for breakfast. I'm going to stay up all night waiting for Santa to get here, so I may as well make bread while I listen to mice scurry around the kitchen. If the bread is tasty maybe I'll put up the recipe in the morning.

overheard at Quacks

2008-12-18T15:54:00.002-06:00

"You know, Chicago-style pizza was invented by a Texan." --baseball hat-wearing counter staff.

Pre-Thanksgiving Roundup

2008-11-26T09:33:00.004-06:00

For Thanksgiving, I am in charge of making this cake. I have made this cake before and it is always a super mega ultra hit. Maybe this year, in order to make it more bearable, I will outsource the peeling of the toasted hazelnuts to Ben "little fingers" BW.

Oh, the nickname game! Maybe I will play that game on the other blog this weekend after I remember who my family really is.

ANYWAY I am a historian and so I know that history repeats itself etc but now that I'm eight hours from flying out and wholly incapable of preparing any kind of food for tomorrow I'm thinking I want to make this tart instead because it's new! and exciting! and caramel is always a challenge.

Another challenge is the "recreate all of the January 2008 issue of Gourmet" challenge, to take place after school ends. I need seven people to subject themselves to this. Volunteers?

here is a list

2008-11-23T14:37:00.003-06:00

of all the things we ate at the third part of my birthday:

Oops, when I tried to paste this I came up with an Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. quote about Congress. My bad.

salmon tartare
mint tzatziki
eggplant spread
grilled pita bread
the most amazing crackers I've ever had in my life
fried goat cheese balls with red onion jam and honey
bacalao fritters
moules frites
duck confit phyllo cigars
grilled calamari with gigante beans
feta and spinach flatbread with raisins and pine nuts
fattoush with pumpkin and beets
greek salad
lamb tagine with beets and couscous
almond torta
milk chocolate budino
passionfruit panna cotta

riddle me this

2008-11-21T09:43:00.002-06:00

What is with food critics who don't eat?

If I were a food critic I would be fatter than fat. I'd revel in my fatness. I would be "as fat as a house," in my grandmother's words.

Even though, like Gael Greene, I'm pretty wedded to my own "kibbles n bits" breakfast.

I just don't think it's fair to call yourself "the insatiable critic" if you measure out your salad in half-cups.

HBW philosophy: everything in moderation, except for some things.

also, DEPRESSING

2008-11-19T10:36:00.002-06:00

Nov. 19, 2008

Friends:

Due to budget constraints and the recent economic downturn, the College of Liberal Arts will not be hosting its annual holiday party in December.

We know many of you host your own holiday parties for faculty and staff members, so the annual holiday cheer is sure to remain throughout the college.

Also, the Liberal Arts family continues to support the Orange Santa program through time, money, and gifts.
For more information about volunteer opportunities, gift suggestions and where to deliver donations, please visit:

http://www.utexas.edu/events/orangesanta/

Sincerely,

Randy L. Diehl

Dean of the College of Liberal Arts

poached eggs

2008-11-19T10:04:00.002-06:00

When I was in high school I had a boyfriend who would hold me up to a running microwave and scream, "Your ovaries are frying!"

I really liked him.

ANYWAY, I love that Spencer Ackerman refers to his painstakingly poached egg as a "beautiful son of a bitch." His history of difficulty with this simple kitchen task makes me feel better about my own inability to properly poach an egg. Just last week I had to throw away a failed egg. It was tragic.

Somebody wanted a tutorial on how to hardboil an egg. It's like this: you put the eggs in the water. You bring to a boil. You turn it off/remove from the burner if you have a shitty electric stove like I do. You let sit for approx. 15-17 minutes (for large or jumbo eggs. Jumbo is such a good word. "Etymology: a huge elephant exhibited by P.T. Barnum. Date: 1883").

p.s.: here is a scotch egg

2008-11-16T23:07:00.000-06:00

But I am done with apple-picking now

2008-11-16T22:57:00.003-06:00

Today I took this survey on the economics of food consumption. I reported that my habits have changed very little since this time last year. However, I neglected to note that when buying baking apples, I now consider not only taste and texture, but also price: if something is going to get wrinkled and shriveled and mushy (yum), I do not want to pay more than $1.99/lb for it, especially if I am buying lots. Old habits die hard, I learned to cook from Mommy, we both make too much of everything.

In other news, Simon Hopkinson reports that the best apples for stewed apples are Golden Delicious. I refuse to believe that those are the best apples for anything.

want a bagel?

2008-11-12T09:37:00.002-06:00

i do.

make your bagel.

study your bagel.

be your bagel.

dinner

2008-11-05T19:59:00.002-06:00

boiled collards
on garlic-rubbed toast with an olive-oil fried egg, parmigiano,
and a green salad with tomatoes.

welcome to my food diary

here are some snacks i like to eat late at night

2008-11-02T23:34:00.004-06:00

I told you this blog would be reinvented,
Someday.

snacks

slices of provolone cheese
black oil-cured olives
grapefruit
ricotta cheese out of the container with a fork
grapes
apple
peanut butter out of the container with a spoon

dust bunnies

New York: Day -6

2008-08-13T06:13:00.000-05:00

Loyal readers, my apologies for the protracted absence. The end of my trip was a whirlwind and involved many overnight bus rides. I am so glad to be back, and so proud that I made it through the entire trip without getting seriously ill or losing anything vitally important (though I did sweat all over my passport. Why don't they make those things waterproof?). Photos are up here. There's also a list of recommended places down here, at the bottom of this post.

In Pushkar I met up with Juliana, whose presence really boosted my mood. The monsoon is kind of fun if you have someone with whom you can suffer through it. So when we ate dinner at the Rainbow, and the restaurant filled with insects after dark, it was not only gross but amusing as well. Misery loves company?

I headed onward to Udaipur by myself, choosing to bypass Bundi. Udaipur is supposedly the Venice of the East, and I've never been to Italy, so I thought I should make it there ASAP. It was lovely indeed, and my guesthouse was very cheap. Funny, what would have fazed me at the beginning (communal squat toilets) was by then par for the course. In Udaipur I saw elephants and an amazing palace. I was going to take another promising cooking class, too, about masalas and curries and types of bread. But then AirIndia actually began to be helpful and let me change my ticket! And I found myself hopping a bus back to Mumbai, stat.

To make a long story short, the last legs of this trip were epic. It rained so hard while I was on the bus from Udaipur that the water came in even when the windows were closed. It's not called the rainy season for nothing. Then I had my (18 hour) flight from Mumbai to New York. I was so tired by the time I arrived in Newark that I started weeping by the baggage carousel, because my $3 SmarteCarte with all my vintage Bollywood posters had mysteriously vanished. Then it turned out that an old couple had just taken my cart. So I self-righteously brandished my poster tube at them as they sat in their wheelchairs. And then I had to buy another SmarteCarte, because the suitcase I bought in Mumbai was so crappy that the wheels had fallen off of it.

Then I collapsed and couldn't bring myself to blog for almost a week. Sorry! But while the trip may be over, the blog is not. I just have to figure out how to change it from a food-centric India blog to a food-centric Texas blog. Should not be too difficult. Stay tuned.

Finally, I thought I would put up a list of places (to eat, stay, see) that I recommend in each city that I visited, just in case any of you are planning a trip to the subcontinent any time soon. I highly recommend that you do so, by the way, in case it hasn't been clear.

Mumbai:
To stay: YWCA International Centre
To eat: Baghdadi, Moshe's, Indigo Deli
To see: Chor Bazaar, Banganga Tank

Agra:
To eat: Joney's Place

Amritsar:
To see: the Golden Temple, duh, and the border, and the crazy theme-park temple the name of which I don't know.

McLeod Ganj:
To stay: Pema Thang Guest House
To eat: Lhamo's Croissant, Exile Brothers Café

Shimla:
To eat: Indian Coffee House
To see: Viceregal Lodge

Jodhpur:
To stay: Durag Niwas Guest House
To eat: On The Rocks
To see: Handloom House, Meherengarh Fort

Pushkar: avoid, avoid, avoid.

Udaipur:
To eat: Café Edelweiss, Savage Garden (I know, but the food really is great)
To see: City Palace

Pushkar: Day 57

2008-08-02T02:57:00.003-05:00

First things first: I have no plans to visit Ahmedabad, Surat, or Bangalore. I know the US media didn't do a particularly assiduous job of covering the bombings, but over the past 8 weeks I have come to expect less of my newspapers, so I forgive them and remain a loyal reader. Or rather I plan to resume my readership as soon as I have an internet connection faster than 1kb/s.

The past couple of weeks have been hectic. I remain smitten with McLeod Ganj, but I quickly tired of the hordes of faux-Buddhist backpackers "waiting for the Lama." Also, in a fit of Tibetan history-induced sanctimony, I refused to buy a made-in-China sandstone ring from a jewelry merchant on the street, and he (rightfully?) yelled at me. For how long could I hide from the real world in Lhamo's Croissant, the French-Amdo hybrid cafe? Or drinking tea in prayer-flag draped restaurants? So I took the overnight bus to Shimla, where I discovered my fear of monkeys and affirmed, in person, my love of the Viceregal Lodge.

The next day (the 29th) I took the "toy train" down through the mountains to Kalka. I splurged on a first class ticket and was seated with a couple on the way back from their honeymoon. They had me "click snaps" of them making out, I guess assuming that because I am American and we do that kind of thing in the States, it wouldn't bother me. It did, however, kind of gross me out. In the scheme of things I was probably happier, though, since the folks in second class raised a roller-coaster style scream whenever the train entered a tunnel. There are 102 tunnels on this route (though a plaque at the Shimla station informed me that everyone says there are 103--purely for sentimental reasons). About 3 hours into the ride, the train stopped and everyone got out on the tracks because there was a fight.

Next stop: Jodhpur. The ride from Kalka through the desert was sandy, and I was once again surrounded by middle-aged men who asked me why in God's name my parents were letting me travel alone. Ma and Pa? After a couple of days lounging about in the heat, I took an afternoon bus to Pushkar yesterday. I spent the night at an unremittingly-Pink Floyd themed and overpriced hotel. I am sorry to tell you that the food in Pushkar is really bad so far. Everything tastes like Gorgonzola cheese, but nothing is supposed to. I miss Lhamo and her croissants. I've overdosed on bananas. Also, today the streets of Pushkar flooded waist-high, so I have no desire to actually leave the hotel and see the temples and ghats and find the restaurant that Lonely Planet says serves excellent gnocchi. A day inside might be called for.

McLeod Ganj: Day 49

2008-07-24T19:59:00.002-05:00

Okay, I think I maybe forgot how to count. Let's assume that this actually is day 49, as I state (though does that make sense, if day 1 was a Monday? But now I changed the blog to actually reflect the real time, so it might have changed all the days as well. OCD alert!) and move on with it.

So, here is a recap. On Sunday I actually did see the new Batman movie, which I really liked. Then I got on the train to Agra! I was in an air-con car, which is far swankier than the sleeper class--not only does it have air conditioning, it also comes with bedding! I was befriended by my berth-mate, who was in the army. That's pretty much all I know about him. Ah, the language barrier.

23 hours later I was in Agra. Agra was pretty horrible. I saw all the requisite sites, of course, but my hotel was a dump and there's nothing to do in Agra but shop and get hassled, and since I'm carrying everything around with me for the next three weeks, I'm not really into the former. So that really left "get hassled" as the only activity besides sight-seeing. And even my auto-rickshaw driver hassled me, this time for not wanting to go to the Mughal Art Emporium. But! A big shout-out to Ankit and Aditya for hanging out with me all day on Wednesday. I met them on the bus to Fatehpur Sikri in the morning and then we were on the same train in the afternoon. Agra to Delhi was that much more bearable.

Next stop: Amritsar. Amritsar was wonderful. The city itself seemed like nothing special, and I missed Jallianwala Bagh, which is a shame. But the Golden Temple was in some ways even more impressive than the Taj. Certainly shinier. Actually, it was so bright that it was hard to look at. Somehow, I also made it to the border-closing ceremony in the afternoon. I got there via shared jeep. Twelve people, one jeep. We also stopped at this crazy temple that I don't know the name of--it had a hall of mirrors and a cave full of water that you had to walk through. Unfortunately, I felt it was inappropriate to take photos inside, so you will have to go to Amritsar and find it. At the border ceremony itself, there was a lot of goose-stepping, dancing, shouting, and loud music being played over speakers from the Border Security Force HQ, all to compete with the same coming from the other side. If I hadn't believed I was about to die of heatstroke, it might have been fun. This is probably the closest I will get to Pakistan for quite some time.

This morning I got on the 6:30 train to Pathankot, where I switched to a bus to McLeod Ganj. On the train I found yet another bunch of friendly people, who spoke only Punjabi, but the old man helped me get my backpack on the luggage rack, the old lady gave me parathas--a true godsend, considering the next time I ate was at 3 p.m.--and their grandson shook my hand. When they got off the train, the old man patted my head. I finally arrived in McLeod Ganj at 4 p.m. The town is very laid back, Tibetan food is extremely appealing (tofu! dumplings! broth!), I'm signed up for a dumpling-making class in the morning, and it's cold! I'm carrying my fleece! Tomorrow after dumplings I will go to the temple! If I didn't have a six-month visa I might never come home!

Mumbai: Day 44

2008-07-20T00:30:00.000-05:00

Last day! A mix of nervousness and excitement. 7:40 train to Agra--the Punjab Mail. And in a couple days, the 4:10 from there to Amritsar--Amritsar Express. I Google News-ed Amritsar, because someone told me there was some kind of unrest there, but nothing. Instead I came up with this short story from the Atlantic: "Amritsar." By the way, how did I ever get away with coming here before seeing The Darjeeling Limited? I'm making a pledge to watch more movies. Of late I've seen Do The Right Thing and The Departed.

This was a good week. On Thursday I went to lunch at Pizza Hut with Pratidnya. Pizza Hut is her favorite restaurant and the fact that I agreed to go really pleased her. Here, it's actually quasi-upscale, with menus and waiters and air conditioning. We shared a medium "Country Feast" pizza, which involved corn. Even though I've been here for six weeks, I keep forgetting what capsicum means, so I wind up with green peppers even though I don't like them. Before we went to Pizza Hut, we had fresh lime juice at a "juice centre'' across Azad Maidan. It was delicious.

On Friday I went out with Pratidnya again, this time to Badshah, where we had falooda. It was probably the most delicious thing I've had here. There's a big scoop of kulfi in the middle, and then it's covered with an orange milky substance (mango milk? who knows) and pistachios and noodles made of agar. It's like a cross between bubble tea and a milkshake. Then I went to the afternoon session, where all my kids gave me really sweet going away cards, and Kajal brought samosas and we had a party. I almost cried. If I could scan these cards and show them to you, I would, but you will just have to wait. Komal kissed my hand. Krishna gave me a flower. Tirupathi made it clear, somehow, that he thought the Taj Mahal was stupid and that I should not go back to America.

And yesterday was the last hurrah! I stored a suitcase at Marika's place in Chowpatty and we meandered around until dinner at Ming's Palace. It was so good to eat something that did not taste remotely Indian. I ate about ten shu-mai--the first animal protein I've had since getting here. I mean, unless you count milk. Does milk count? Anna? I stocked up on crackers and dried fruit for the train journey. I went home and went to bed. I woke up and ate breakfast. I bought a lock and chain for my backpack on the train. Now maybe I will go see Dark Knight.

Expect scant blogging over the next couple of weeks. Wish me luck and keep your fingers crossed.

Mumbai: Day 38

2008-07-14T07:15:00.000-05:00

Without further ado, I unveil to you a tentative itinerary. And it goes like this:

Mumbai-Agra (train)
Agra-Amritsar (train)
Amritsar-Dharamsala (bus)
Dharamsala-Shimla (bus)
Shimla-Jodhpur (train)
Jodhpur-Udaipur (bus)
Udaipur-Bundi (bus)
Bundi-Ajmer (bus)
Ajmer-Pushkar (bus)
Pushkar-Jaipur (bus)
Jaipur-Mumbai (train)
Mumbai-New York (teleport)

Insane? Yes, but it covers all the bases, including: the greatest monument in the world, the legacies of the British Raj and partition, Tibet in exile, and gemstones. Just kidding, I can't afford any of those. I'm not worried about my itinerary, if only because being here has made me a flexible, go with the flow kind of person. Kind of. So if I get tired or run out of time, I'll cancel a segment of the trip and not freak out about it. Just you watch.

Okay, now back to my humdrum real life. On Saturday I took the train up to Bandra with a friend and went shopping. The train was nowhere near as thrilling as I had expected it to be. Coming home was slightly more chaotic (rush hour), but still not the death trap I'd feared. Then again, I was riding in the ladies' first class car. That's a Bloch-Wehba, riding in style. The most exciting thing I found in Bandra? Mexican food. But I couldn't bring myself to order it. I had a gut feeling it wouldn't suffice--I mean, "masala quesadilla"? Puh-leeze. Channa paneer it is. Then I watched The Departed on television. From what I've heard, that's a movie I don't have to be ashamed of liking. Sunday was eggs florentine, a walk around the neighborhood, and Standard Operating Procedure. So much for not reading "work books'' while on "vacation.''

Before I forget, I've noted some new Indian-isms. Heard recently: "Nakshatra, shift back, there is a lot of place.'' Shift=move. Place=room. Also, when meaning "one at a time,'' people usually say, ''one-one.'' So, "One-one student will come to the board and write the word.'' Additionally, where Americans say "Six into forty-two is seven'' to mean division, Indians often say ''Six into seven is forty-two,'' meaning multiplication. You can imagine how complicated this makes my job.

I've been feeling marginally guilty about the amount of television I've been watching, but I've also gained a new appreciation for commercials. There's one for a matrimony website called Jeevasanthi, where the father follows his daughter around with a turban and plops it on her dates' heads to see if they're ''the one.'' Dad, if you did this, maybe I'd have a boyfriend, but probably not. I like you just the way you are. Thank you for never coming on dates with me. Also, thank you YouTube, for allowing me to share this commercial with you.

Mumbai: Day 35

2008-07-11T03:42:00.000-05:00

I just finished lunch at a new-to-me restaurant, Bagdadi, which, to my knowledge, is not at all Iraqi. It's a no-frills establishment (who am I, a Time Out Mumbai writer? Oh, the internship possibilities), by which I mean, Formica booths that you share with strangers. My strangers were three French boys eating chicken biryani and whining about the cockroach climbing on the wall. Everyone, even the waiter, looked at me funny when I ordered a nan after having almost completed my veg. biryani. I mean, nan is for mopping up juices, and I didn't have any gravy on my plate. But I couldn't resist. The nan was approx. 16 inches in diameter, just out of the oven, with giant blistery holes, like a grilled pizza crust. The best part was the list of rules like "Do not sit too long at the table" and "Do not argue with restaurant employees" on the wall, with nary a trace of irony. Cost of lunch: 37 rupees.

The past two days have been more than hectic at work. Wednesday afternoon, the co-teacher at the afternoon center called in sick, but didn't leave a lesson plan or any backup activity, so Kajal didi ran back and forth between the classes while I was in charge of our class. Lesson plan: words ending in -tch, adding and subtracting mixed numbers. Then, yesterday morning, Pratidnya didi had to run interviews at the university where she lectures, so she left me in charge of teaching the kids about syllables and the concepts of "fat" and "thin." In the afternoon we brought the kids on a bus to a private school in Fort. Sixty children, one bus, three teachers--you do the math. I almost fell over when the guy made a sharp turn.

Now I have a nasty, snotty cold, but I think a weekend of spicy food and sudafed should clear it up. It's been brought to my attention that the cereal-like smell in my room might not be the 1 kilo jar of sugarfree muesli after all, but the scent of mold. Hm. Good thing I will soon be off to higher and drier climes.

Mumbai: Day 32

2008-07-08T07:38:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the lengthy absence. It has been full of technical difficulties of all sorts. I am feeling better now, knock wood. Also, there are some photos up on Facebook (not all of them, yet). Do they look super-dark to you? They do to me. Maybe that's just this computer. Let me know, not that there's anything I can do about it right now. I even put captions so you know what you're looking at!

Saturday was by far the best day I've had since I got here. I went on this lengthy walk, and here, I made a map of it for you: link. I started around 10:30, by going up to Kalbadevi, where I saw lots of temples, and took some pictures of cows hanging around on the street. By noon I was near Mohammed Ali Rd, the epicenter of a Muslim neighborhood, listening to the call to prayer. On Mohammed Ali Rd I saw a taxi back over a crippled man sitting behind it, which was terrifying. Luckily the man was alright, but I was pretty shaken up (I bet he was, too). Then a different man, in the market area, yelled at me because he didn't want to have his picture taken, and I was like, "What? I didn't want to take your picture anyway, old man," and I left and wandered up a street that was full of tile and over to Chor Bazaar, also known as Thieves' Market. From there I walked all the way over to the bottom of Tardeo, where I stopped for two samosas, and then to Kemp's Corner, where I perused the cookbooks in Crossword Bookstore for a long while. Then I ate an ice cream cone (double scoop: mango and tender coconut) as I walked past the embassies on Nepean Sea Road in Malabar Hill, the swankiest neighborhood in South Mumbai. I was looking for Banganga Tank in Walkeshwar, but I didn't have a map, so I just followed my nose. Then a man asked me if I was trying to find Banganga Tank, so I said yes, and I followed him, and he showed me where it was. Then I said I wanted to take the bus back to Colaba. So he asked me, "Hotel timepass*?" To which I said "No, sorry." When I got home and took off my kurta I realized that I had a tiny, v-shaped sunburn where the neck opening was. Total distance: 7.03 mi (thanks, Google!).

*Here, "timepass" is a word that basically means "something you do to kill time." The other day, Pratidnya didi told the kids in the morning session, "When you come in, don't do timepass. Read the charts on the wall." There are lots of syntactical oddities in Indian English that I may or may not be adopting. I do know that my own grammar is not what it used to be. Anyway, I also knew what the man in Walkeshwar was getting at, and we were not on the same page. But Banganga Tank was very cool.

Okay, other things. I only have a week and a half left of work! What will I do without the rigmarole? Sit down. Stand up. Sit up straight. Listen to didi. Raise your hand. Raise your hand. Akash, sit down. Madhu, raise your hand next time. Akash, I said sit down. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Why do I still hear people talking? If mangoes cost fifteen rupees per kilo, and Praveen buys two kilos, should we add or multiply? What is a mixed number? Is seven odd or even? How do we spell photosynthesis? What do plants need to grow? Raise your hand. Sonali, don't hit her. Sanjivani, wake up. Gaurav, stop dancing. Where's your homework? No field trip for you, then.

Truthfully, this is all very entertaining, but completely exhausting. Kajal didi wants me to stay longer, and I considered it, but I have this one-way ticket to Agra and a bunch of things to see. In that vein, I have a question! If you had three weeks to travel in India, which would you want to see? The Taj Mahal doesn't count, because that's a given. And since I'm going to Agra anyway, I've reconciled myself to not seeing the south this time around. Anyway:

a. deserts
b. mountains
c. the closing of the border with Pakistan (bet you can guess how I feel about this one)
d. cities
e. ashrams
f. ancient caves
g. none of the above
h. all of the above

Finally, good news: I ate another veg cheese toast today, and no sign of physical distress.

Mumbai: Day 26

2008-07-03T01:25:00.000-05:00

It's a good thing that I caught up on my daily journaling for days 24-25 this morning because my brain is so fried that I might not remember anything otherwise. I blame this brain condition on a combination of the weather and the sandwich that I ate for lunch yesterday (more on this later). The good news? The team of gastroenterologists living under my bed (they say hi, Mom) tell me I don't have dysentery. Just a headache and flu-like symptoms.

On Tuesday I woke up and it was monsooning again, so I caught a cab to work. As soon as I turned the corner I saw that the door was locked, so I called Pratidnya, who told me that class was cancelled because all the trains were flooded (she lives in the suburbs). Of course, by then my cab was gone. So I hitched a ride on the bus back to Colaba and spent the morning drinking coffee, reading, and making to-do lists. Then I went to see Made of Honour with a friend, which satisfied a craving for silliness.

On Wednesday it was reported that 2 people drowned in the flooding. This city is entirely incapable of dealing with its weather. The combination of hundreds of centimeters of rain with high tide is just nightmarish. I'm no structural engineer, but maybe this is an example of how letting 16 million people live on a tiny spit of reclaimed land below sea level is a bad idea. Just wondering. The afternoon teacher, Kajal, keeps warning me that now's the time to get sick. Every day in the paper there are articles about how to avoid leptospirosis (wear closed-toe shoes--impossible) and how to keep your hair dry in the monsoon (just inane). Everyone warns against eating raw fruits and vegetables. I may well return with rickets.

Which brings me to the above-mentioned sandwich. On my way back from work yesterday morning, I stopped at the Jai Ganesh snack stand and ordered a "veg cheese toast." Veg cheese toast: two slices of white bread spread with green chili, between which are thinly-sliced onion, potato, beet, tomato, pepper, and cucumber, and a generous grating of cheese, are buttered and placed on a grill. After a few minutes the sandwich is pulled off, dabbed with more butter and chili, covered in another grating of cheese, cut into nine squares, and eaten, standing, at the Jai Ganesh counter. All this for a mere 18 rupees (<50 cents).

After my afternoon class, when Kajal told me I looked washed out, I kept thinking: please don't let it be the cheese toast. It's the best snack I've found! At dinner I was told my eyes were glassy, was sent to bed, and slept for 12 hours. This morning I called in sick. When I went out for breakfast and coffee to clear my head, I was sidetracked by two men at the Gateway of India who wanted pictures with me "for their collections." Sure, whatever. Now I have to go back to bed so that I can teach fractions this afternoon. Maybe this is called "under the monsoon"?

Monday's mystery sweet is called a kachori. Hold that thought.

Mumbai: Day 23

2008-06-30T07:17:00.000-05:00

I was all ready to write "Day 22" and everything. Tempus fliegt.

Here is a rundown of my life since Day 18. I routinely get stopped by men on the street who ask me where I'm from and whether I like India before disappearing into the omnipresent crowd. This happened last week, but instead of disappearing, my inquisitor seized the opportunity to tell me that his friend was accepted at CalTech and Michigan, and which of those are better engineering schools? And they are all engineering students, structural engineering, and did I know what kind of GRE scores were needed for structural engineering programs? And what's the average salary of a structural engineer in the United States? And is there prejudice against Indians in the United States? And is it true that there is still prejudice against women and African-Americans in the United States? Is Barack Obama going to be the first black president? What about Martin Luther King? When I left him at the Sahakari Bhandar (approx. 1 mile from where we first met), we were talking about the two-party system.

OH MY GOD THERE IS A LIZARD IN THE INTERNET CAFE

Friday is snack day in the afternoon session. Kajal-didi brought something called dhotlas (sp?) which are bright yellow sponge-cake type cubes flavored with mustard seed (I think). Weird, but good. And today she brought a mystery snack for the parents' meeting that was a deep-fried dough ball filled with some kind of "ground pulse" (her words). It was totally delicious and spicy. I ate 3. And this weekend was such a good food weekend! On Saturday I returned to the fabric market and ate at the magical unlimited-thali restaurant again. Thanks, Rajdhani, even though there was a cockroach on the table. On Saturday night I had my first Kingfisher Strong. On Sunday I had brunch at Indigo Deli, where I had excellent eggs florentine (and 110 rupee coffee).

After brunch yesterday, I got a pedicure. It was definitely the first time a man has painted my toenails. Then, on the way back, birds shat on me and my friend within a span of five minutes. Then I had an argument with a girl who wanted me to buy her a banana. There was no banana guy around (people sell bananas on the street, but not at noon on Sundays, I guess) so she asked for some chips from the telephone/xerox stand in front of the hostel. But she really wanted the tomato chips, which cost twice as much as the normal chips because they are Spanish-themed. I insisted on buying her normal chips. She was a little peeved. I felt weird about it, still do. When you are offering to buy someone food, do you have to buy them whatever they want? Even if they are seven years old? I went upstairs and watched V for Vendetta on HBO. Does this reflect badly on me? Discuss.

Monsoon: 4 HBW: eva

Mumbai: Day 18

2008-06-25T08:21:00.000-05:00

Whoa, have I really been here 18 days? That's crazy.

Last night the monsoon returned as I was on my way home from (you guessed it) the ice cream shop (one scoop of dark chocolate, one scoop of kulfi, which can only be described as sweet cream that's gone a little off; it's delicious). I got completely drenched and walked through a puddle. Unfortunately I was wearing my white choridaar, and puddles really do nothing for white pants. Today I wore black jeans. It was raining so hard this morning that I went without my a.m. walk and took a cab to work instead. Then I was bummed because Akshata arrived late and Pratidnya didi sent her back home. In the morning session we're working on parts of the body. In the afternoon session, it's photosynthesis.

I'm working my way through Siddhartha in German (eine indische Dichtung) and it's not as hard as I expected it to be. Plus today while I was browsing in the bookstore I looked up some key phrases in their German dictionary. Opfer=sacrifice. Purchases? One (1) copy of the Economist: 200 Rs. Serious journalism: Px-less. The bookstore has a cafe inside it, which is great, because it's the only place I've found here that has decent coffee. There is a Starbucks-esque chain called Barista, but it's just not cutting it; they put sweetener in their iced Americanos. No go.

I hear that people like to know about the food here, so before I have to run to dinner: the bananas here are tiny, like half of American bananas (yeah, I know there's no such thing as an American banana); my favorite dessert is warm milk with cardamom (I think) and vermicelli noodles in it, called falooda; my favorite drink is lime juice with soda water and cumin/garam masala, called, what else, masala soda.

In other news, I bought a train ticket to Agra AND made a hotel reservation, so that means I actually will see the Taj Mahal. While on my way into the train station an old man pinched my butt, so I hit him (discreetly, of course) with my umbrella.

Monsoon: 2 HBW: 4 (because yeah, I ruined some pants, but if I hadn't had that umbrella, I would not have been able to retaliate against the pervy old man!)

Mumbai: Day 16

2008-06-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

I've used a substantial chunk of my Internet cafe time here getting caught up on my food blogs, and if there's one thing I want to say, it's that you people better be taking advantage of the huge variety of pizza recipes hitting the web right now.

I would also like to note that I discovered a new form of complete protein, khichdi, which is amazing. Yesterday I walked up Marine Drive to Chowpatty Beach and went to Swati Snacks, a restaurant that serves Gujarati and Maharashtrian snack-ish food. This khichdi stuff is like a porridge of dal mixed with rice. It tasted like it had tomatoes in it, and was served with some yogurt (here called curd, which is a little unappetizing) with pickle in it. Needless to say I will be returning and attempting to figure out the secret of this khichdi, because I'm open to all sorts of variations on rice and beans.

I also had something called a "panki," which is a rice pancake steamed in banana leaves. When it arrives you have to peel it off the leaf and tear it into pieces with your right hand. Then you scoop up the mint chutney with the pieces. My panki had mint in the batter and was completely delicious. This is maybe a less practical dish to replicate at home.

Finally, a note on pickle. Pickles are served with every meal. My favorite is the hot mango pickle, which I thought was lime until someone informed me otherwise. It's covered in red chili and is salty, spicy and sour all at once. It's also not a pickle in the sense of being brined; it's more like a relish.

P.S. I eat ice cream every day. Yesterday I had a double scoop of mango ice cream with fresh mango pieces on top. Today I had a plum sorbet. Only the kitchen knows what tomorrow will bring.

Monsoon:2 HBW: at least 3, I would think

Mumbai: Day 14

2008-06-21T06:25:00.000-05:00

Here I am again, at the secret internet cafe down the stinky hallway on a side street. What a haunt. Today I went back to the mega-bazaar that is Crawford (I mean, Mahatma Phule) Market and surroundings. One of the really weird things about this market area is the presence of men who want to "guide" you around, who when you decline, insist they don't want money and then produce the government-issued pewter badges that label them "coolies." I won't pretend to understand, but once you get into the maze of little streets in back of Crawford Market, they disappear.

I went with two of the women I met at the hostel, and one of them pointed out as we entered the fabric market that if they hadn't been with me I would have been "eaten alive." This is true, if ''eaten alive" means "forced to buy umpteen beautiful silk saris, madam, silk saris very cheap, only 250 rupees," etc. I bought about a bajillion metres of cotton fabric. Then we wandered up to Kalbadevi Road, one side of which is lined with aluminum shops, the other with steel. I bought some stainless steel prep bowls. Old habits die hard.

Then we were hungry so we went to a restaurant where they serve unlimited Gujarati thalis. This merits a separate paragraph. They placed steel plates about 16" in diameter in front of us, then six or seven small bowls for dal, vegetables, etc went on the plates. (Etc. is code for ''I don't really know what we were eating.'') There were two men whose jobs it was to keep the bowls full, one man to give us pickles, one man to bring us the big pitcher of hot water to wash our hands, one man to show us desserts, and the roti man. The roti man was our favorite. He was clearly mocking us. He swung by the table approx. every two seconds to give us more bread. This all cost 160 rupees--4 dollars--and was delicious.

To me, the fact that there are 16 million people in this city is most evident when I'm in a place of business that is ludicrously overstaffed.

Then we went to the train station and I was going to try to buy a ticket to Agra but couldn't muster the energy (ticket buying here is really complicated). So we took a cab back and I lay in a stupor on my bed for a while. Then I took some of my fabric to the Smart & Hollywood High Class Ladies & Gents Tailor to get skirts made.

I'm beginning to wish that it would rain again. The paper says that if it doesn't rain soon there will be "water cuts"! Already sometimes when I try to shower in the middle of the day, nothing comes out, though that might be due to the construction on the second floor of the hostel. I don't ask. Today I saw two sparrows in the hallway. Nevertheless the lack of rain is good in that I still haven't figured out a proper rain-footwear situation, so we'll call it a draw.

Monsoon: 2 HBW: 1

Mumbai: Day 10

2008-06-17T11:01:00.000-05:00

Okay, so it's been a while since my last update, but I've been trying to find a cheaper place to use the netz. Done and done! Observation: India is very protective of its technology. If you aren't Indian, you have to produce photocopies of your passport to get a cell phone or to use this internet cafe that I'm in right now. I didn't have a photocopy on me (seriously, why would I?) but I finagled my way in despite this.

Since my last update, I have visited the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Vastu Sangrahalaya, fmrly known as the Prince of Wales Museum; read all of Atonement and Unaccustomed Earth; visited the jewelry bazaar and the fabric market; eaten 6 puris in one sitting;

[okay, the dude next to me is talking baby talk to his girlfriend over webcam and has a freakishly high-pitched voice. he just kissed the computer screen.]

had two banana milkshakes; gone to Chowpatty Beach and walked on Marine Drive; and so much more! Actually, not really that much more.

Here are some awesome name changes that I really like.

Victoria Terminus->Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus
Regal Circle->SP Mukherjee Chowk
Flora Fountain->Hutatma Chowk
Churchgate St->Veer Nariman Road
Marine Drive->Netaji Subhash Marg

Essentially, everything here has two names, and it's really difficult to tell which one to use, which makes taxi-riding confusing. Also confusing is the meterage on cabs; because the meters are out of date, the drivers use a conversion chart, except when they are trying to rip you off, which is +/- 50% of the time.

[the man on the other side of me is looking at his telugumatrimony.com profile.]

About the kids? I already have favorites, which I feel a little guilty about. In the morning session I like Akshata and Nakshatra, the tiniest, baddest girls in the class. Today Akshata refused to sing "head shoulders knees and toes" so Pratidnya-didi pulled her off the mat and made her sit in the corner and sort paper shreds by color. I felt bad for her. Every time Akshata is about to do something bad she looks at me and grins. Then she usually hits someone. Nakshatra is the class tomboy.

[webcam dude to girlfriend: "Man, you look so glorious, man."]

She seems to be trying not to be bad, but is inexorably drawn to badness.

In the afternoon session I like Mahesh and Samir. Mahesh is the class smarty-pants. He has a shaved head and knows how to spell everything, but he's a little show-offy. Samir studies in an Urdu-medium school and so he's always writing things backwards. He is the cutest. Today I dictated all the days of the week and months of the year to him and made him promise to study at home. I think he's mad at me. Yesterday one of the girl students took her bindi off and stuck it on my forehead when I was helping her with the math classwork. Quid pro quo.

It didn't rain yesterday or the day before.

Monsoon: 2 HBW: 1

Mumbai: Day 5

2008-06-12T07:21:00.000-05:00

So, let's talk about the monsoon. The monsoon happens every year. It rains every day for more than two months, but somehow it never gets cooler. Even though the monsoon happens every year, the municipal government is always taken aback when it actually arrives. They never do any of the things they're supposed to do, like clean out the street drains. Then the streets fill with water, the trains stop working, people get malaria and leptospirosis and dengue fever, and the U.S. consulate issues travel advisories telling people to be careful and not fall into open manholes. Basically, it's a watery hell.

Questions:

How do people stay clean during the monsoon? I walked to and from work today, and the backs of my pant legs are completely mud-spattered. All the Indian women I see look completely pristine. How is this possible?

Why do people continue to wear open sandals even when the entire city is covered in smelly, sewage-y puddles?

Why do Mumbaikars think that the monsoon is a good time to drink hot chocolate and eat corn on the cob?

There are more questions where these came from.

Monsoon: 2 HBW: 0

Mumbai: Day 3

2008-06-10T08:57:00.000-05:00

So today was my first day working in the Akanksha centers, and it's no use expending energy trying to verbalize how cute these children are, because I'm just not articulate enough. Instead I will just say that I'm working 5 days a week for the next 6 weeks. My morning assignment (9-11:30) is by the main train station here (I've not yet set foot on the train, I'm intimidated, but the horror stories about crossing the street were just a little off the mark, another story for another day, so maybe I'll brave the train this weekend) and the kids there are between 5 and 7. They are mostly girls, and they're starting their second year, so they really don't know much English. I feel only slightly crippled by not knowing Hindi because these kids speak Marathi anyway, and I would never have been able to pick that up in Texas. Anyway, it's an immersion program, so they're not supposed to speak Marathi in class. And they are very good about it.

This center is in some kind of shrine at the entrance of what I gather is a public housing complex (it's called "B.M.C. Colony," and B.M.C. stands for Bombay Municipal Corporation, but I haven't explored the area yet). I know it's a shrine because you have to take your shoes off outside it. Also because there's a brass figure of the Buddha and lots of paintings of the same man, adorned with garlands. And since, you know, it's raining buckets, and my fugly waterproof shoes don't go with my spiffy new salwar, I wore my converse. And then I had to leave them outside in the rain. Now I understand why people wear rubber flipflops at all times, despite the yards-long puddles. Goodbye, converse. I hate to see you go.

My afternoon assignment (3:30-5) is right around the corner from my hostel, at a boys' school, and these kids are slightly older and have slightly larger vocabularies. It's also a larger group--there are about forty of them--though equally cute. But there are also two teachers for this group, and it's split according to age and language level, so all in all I get to work with kids 5-10 from two different areas of South Mumbai and at very different levels of English and math capability. I'm super excited about spending time with so many adorable children.

Monsoon: 1 HBW: 0 Converse: -1

Mumbai: Day 1

2008-06-08T22:13:00.000-05:00

"Heavy rains lash Mumbai for second day", TOI.

I still don't have a raincoat, but I'm so glad I bought those fugly walking shoes before I left, because the puddles here are not to be believed. I got caught in a cloudburst yesterday and by the time I got back to the hostel (all of two blocks away), the paper bag containing my new clothes had disintegrated in my hands. I could have taken shelter like everyone else, but the rain felt good after having been in the woefully unairconditioned Fabindia store. Mom, Fabindia is not at all like Macy's. It is kind of like the Gap, if the Gap had only trad-ish-ional Indian clothes and home furnishings. And no air conditioning. I have no words to communicate how oppressive this heat really is in a store with no fan. Fans are the only thing that make anything bearable. I felt like I was going to die.

The monsoon got to Mumbai on Friday night, and the Sunday paper was all about the city's inadequate storm response systems (or lack thereof). Also, of course, about Bollywood. I watched a really silly Bollywood film on the endless plane ride. It was called "Welcome." I recommend it.

Monsoon: 0 HBW: 0

preparing for homesickness

2008-06-05T00:00:00.000-05:00

First there was this, then this, then I realized I was going to miss the season finale of Top Chef (I'm rooting for Stephanie, obviously). Then there was the conversation Mommy and I had in the kitchen tonight.

HBW: I saw a man running with his keys behind his neck, like this [demonstrates]. And I was like, "Dude, isn't that uncomfortable?" But he didn't answer.
Mom: Wait, did you actually say that?
HBW: No.
Mom: Well, today I asked an old man what time it was and he didn't hear me.

10 days before liftoff

2008-05-27T12:33:00.000-05:00

It's hot where I'm going.

What is the Grand Tour?

2008-05-17T21:29:00.001-05:00

http://frugaltraveler.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/05/14/what-is-the-grand-tour/