Day 2 - B for Box be gone!

 Chole or Chickpeas are an integral part of the Indian pantry. Growing up, my mom made a dry and delicate version of chick peas, tampered in mustard seeds and garnished with freshly grated coconut. This is the quintessential South Indian fare for the uninitiated. As uninitiated as I was, it took me a good two decades to stumble upon the gravyed and vamped up version native to the north of the subcontinent that was supposed to be paired like a match made in heaven with fluffy deep fried baturas. Talk about comfort food. It took me a few more years to get really gutsy with the gastronomic and do something as out of the box as I am infamous for being. So on the fateful Friday evening, when the creative side of me was pining for an adventure, I blazed up my cast iron pot and started prepping for some pindi chole, north Indian style until the wicked idea to use wine in the concoction graced my grey matter.

Now, this experiment was to be consumed and probably was to be judged like an item performed on the stage of "America's got talent" . If it were a scribble on my writing pad that could be shoved under the carpet or a flopped oil on canvas experiment using the palette knife that could be tossed on the top of the armoire, it would have been a little easier..but Life isn't easy, or fair or a judgement free zone for that matter. And I'd never been discouraged by judgments anyway (grin). "If push comes to shove, I'd order a pizza and dump this in trash" I convinced myself but I wanted to take a calculated risk. I tamed down the cloves and the cinnamon that might clash with the delicate flavor of the small lot pinot noir wine that was carefully uncorked and ready to flow into my LeCreuset. 

As a mix of finely chopped onions and tomato puree simmered in olive oil, I threw caution to air and drizzled the wine in. It seemed to blend right in, giving an appetizing bordeaux tone to the monotonous mix. I was doing a happy groove and mixing it away treating it like my magnum opus of culinary creations. As it simmered away in the mixture of chickpeas and gravy, it gathered a rich texture as it sported a luscious color. I was half tempted to hide it and order pizza when it occurred to me that I need to taste it before I toss it. 

I am happy to inform that the experiment was a grand success. A success that didn't leave much of an evidence in the serve-ware. The first born questioned me like a police interrogation if I were to reconsider feeding alcohol to her. "The alcohol evaporates the minute it touches the pan" I reassured her and she, upon due diligence, agreed with me and took a bite. My out of the boxness was once again embraced by my lovely family and friends that graced at the dinner table to be my guinea pigs :))

Thus I gather the courage to branch out in using wine in a south indian baby eggplant dish. I'd keep it on record once it is made and endorsed.

In the mean while, I also sketch versions of Matthew - Bessie's litte buddy. And then suddenly a little voice in my head goes "Hey, why can't Matt be a giraffe instead of a lion?" Truth be told, I am very fixated on the idea of that mane I tell you - It would look like one of those Anne Giddes photographs with a sunflower framing a little baby's face. But with a ridiculous head like mine, anything is possible, Matt could become a hyena for all I know.

For now, Matt is a lion. And I am digging version hashtag 2 - I really love the look of a sunflower as head gear! 

And, I still cannot believe I am as unhinged. Creating a comic strip, and that too by calling Bill Watterson as an inspiration? Do you get this brazen eccentricity? But on second thought - even my Mom doesn't get me sometimes :)