Staying Afloat

Do you ever feel like you're on the verge of instantaneous disappearance? Wait! Before you deny it, hear me out-

Sometimes, when you're walking down a crowded street...or maybe when you're contemplating the infinitesimal abyss of the starry night sky, do ever you catch yourself taking a deep breath with the thought that, because you're so small and insignificant in this teeming planet, you might just spontaneously disappear into thin air? That's not the only possibility- maybe a hole will form beneath your feet and you'll slip downward, only to stop when you hear the "click" of the pavement closing above your head. Will anyone notice? Or will you just end up as another streak of light across the ever-extended sky?

I don't know about you, but I get this feeling quite often. It's not depression, so to speak, but just the idea that instead of a prominent individual that's pounding the pavement, I'm a mere pin in society, descending into an oceanic abyss of other metallic pin-drops that are jostling against each other in the friction of everyday life. Sometimes it's comforting, but other times it can be slightly unnerving.

So, taking from the school of American individualism, I've discovered the key to staying afloat in the current of pins. You just need to have something spontaneous under your belt that distinguishes you from the immediate, surrounding masses. Perhaps you've got the ability to recite the first twelve lines of Canterbury Tales in old(e) English, or the talent of being able to touch your nose with your tongue... or maybe, just maybe, you know how to make a delicious chana masala. That's my new discovery, and I want to pass it onto you.

But before I go there, I want to elaborate on the inspiration for this concept. You see, I grew up with one of the most skilled individualists that has ever graced the planet (well, in my opinion). He's so good that he probably doesn't even know that he's got the aforementioned talent. My brother: yes, the closet- tabla player, hip-hop album producer, skilled family comedian, and brilliantly witty writer, was ever-so-humble about all of these hidden skills and accumulations of knowledge throughout his life. He got me to laugh until tears formed in the corners of my eyes on a regular basis for the first eighteen years of my existence. It was only after I left Michigan that I realized how difficult it was to live without such a luxury.

Anyway, back to the chana masala. Chana masala is an Indian dish that includes the ingenious combination of chickpeas, tomatoes, onions, garlic, hot peppers, and a glorious blend of Indian spices. I've cooked my way through two recipes, and tried to glean the best parts of each for this compendium, but I'll still link to both so that you have a reference point.

In all actuality, my roommate Tas is the one that can make KILLER chana masala... but this combination of recipes produces pretty decent results. I'd recommend using fresh tomatoes instead of canned- but seeing as we're not yet in the right season (or as they'd say in Spain: "¡hombre- que no es la epoca!"), canned tomatoes will work just fine!

My directions will seem a bit haphazard, but that's because the process of cooking chana masala requires more intuition and improvisation than one would expect. From the mixture of spices to the consistency of the sauce, the qualities of this dish cater to individual tastes. So cook away! Enjoy the process! I promise that if I can make it, then you can too. In fact, if you're nervous, then check out the methodology of the other two recipes before navigating the waters here.

Chana Masala

adapted from this and that.
Serve on top of a bed of rice or with a generous spoonful of yogurt.

1 tbs. olive oil (or vegetable)
1 medium yellow onion, chopped
2 medium garlic cloves, chopped finely
1 tsp. fresh grated ginger, minced
1 thai bird chili, chopped (optional, but recommended!)
1 28 oz. can chopped tomatoes (or a container of cherry tomatoes or 3 medium sized tomatoes, chopped).
1 tsp. garam masala
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. coriander
3 cardamon pods, lightly crushed
(this is where I have fun- try adding some paprika and tumeric as well, maybe 1/2 tsp. of each... totally optional though).
2 15 oz. cans of chickpeas, drained and rinsed
1 lemon, sliced into wedges
2 tbs. chopped cilantro

Heat oil and chopped onions a saucepan or pot over medium heat- add a bit of salt and stir constantly. After about five minutes, when onions are translucent, add ginger, garlic, and chili. Lower the heat a bit and cook until the onions are carmelized (when the edges are browned). Then turn the heat back up to medium and add the spices (and some more oil if needed), stirring constantly to toast them until fragrant. If the contents are really sticking to the bottom of the pot or pan, add about 1/4 cup of water to loosen them and cook until the liquid has evaporated.

Add the tomatoes and bring contents of pot to a boil... reduce heat to low and simmer, stirring the contents until they thicken. When the sauce is noticeably thicker, add the chickpeas. This is when the experimentation begins- you'll want to keep simmering the mixture and checking on it for about 45 minutes to an hour, adding water in 1/4 cup increments so as to prevent burning. Keep tasting- the water won't dilute the flavor, rather it will add to the texture of the dish.

When the sauce is thick and the chickpeas have absorbed the juices, spices, and flavor, then serve with chopped cilantro, a squeeze of lemon, and rice or yogurt.

Enjoy!