Alternate Vision

I learned the importance of breaking in new hiking boots in the comfort of your living room and not on top of a mountain, that selective abortion is the cause of the low male to female sex ratio of children born in India, and that energy by itself is not consciousness, rather a signature of consciousness that is manifest through the power (shakti) of consciousness, without which the experience of pure consciousness without an object, considered to be the perfect experience, does not exist. hmm...

I'm eating some pretty delish masala noodles that I bought at, just imagine, the local Summit food store here in the Santa Cruz mountains. It's not much different than your average cutely packaged ethnic food that says 'ready to eat' on it, the concept of which has gained huge popularity in the West. For those that haven't witnessed, I'm talking 'ready to eat' samosas next to Thai green curry next to sushi next to pão de queijo. My experience with such instant meals has been limited mostly because I've always found them to be lacking in taste and freshness. But this noodles is a clear exception. It brought back memories of eating homemade masala noodles, either Maggi or Indomie, while watching Papa Ajasco on TV. For my fellow Indian brethren who are wondering how I could dare put Maggi and ANY other noodle on the same pedestal, I'll have you warned. Indomie will easily give Maggi and other sundry ramen noodles a serious run for the money. Consider yourself warned.

Inspired by the taste of this clearly exceptional 'ready to eat' masala noodles bought at, just imagine, a food store in the Californian mountains, I figured it's worth giving it a culinary shot in my kitchen. And so while trying to find a half-decent recipe on the net, I stumbled upon this masterpiece of a blogpost on noodles in Indian cuisine, an interesting read by any standard. Without steeling the author's thunder I will leave you with a quote from the blog, which is originally an excerpt from Madhur Jaffrey's Flavors of India.

If they [pilgrims] are passing the village of Vartal, where little babes swing from cloth hammocks, they may pick up some flat, whole wheat noodles drying in coils on outdoor cots. Anthropologists today believe that noodles probably originated not in China or Italy but wherever there was wheat. This, they feel, points mainly to the Tigris-Euphrates Valley in the Middle East and to the Indus Valley now mostly in Pakistan but extending into Northern Gujarat as well.

As towns dating back to the 2nd millenium BC have been discovered here (with evidence of both wheat & sugar cane), it is likely that the wheat noodles in Vartal are completely indigenous, going back perhaps 4000 years. [author's note: article about 4,000 year old noodles found in China]

The village preparation is very simple. Wheat dough is rolled out very thin and cut into 3 mm (1/8") thick strips. These are wrapped into small coils and dried in the sun. At the harvest festival of Holi, the coils are thrown into boiling water, drained and then eaten with melted ghee and sugar. The use of noodles is widespread in Gujarat.

We went out for beers and tacos after our weekly league game yesterday and for the first time I got to know the players for who they are not what position they play. There's Danny the high school PE instructor who runs the engine room in midfield, Harrison the carpenter who can give any pro right back a run for his money, Joaco the half Mexican-half White forward who works in tech, Gino the ultimate fighter (seriously) whom no full back should ever mess with, Lee the Vietnamese student who is our secret weapon (read can play any position), a goalie and captain who are doing their best to stay out of jail and are completely invincible on the pitch, Mondo our full back who represented the U.S. National team in the 84 Olympics, played professional for many years in Mexico and was forced into retirement after three knee surgeries, and I could keep going but will leave the rest to imagination. Suffice it to say Sunday league games just got a lot more interesting to me.

I find it extremely challenging to keep a fast, steady samba de roda or samba reggae beat when drumming for Marcia's samba dance class, partly because the rhythms are complex, but mostly because the dancers make the job difficult by being the perfect distraction. There isn't much more to it really. They spend the first half of class doing a variety of stretches and movements that make yoga look easy. Once they've built up a healthy sweat, the real dancing begins as we (drum ensemble) kick it up a notch. One usually comes out of these sessions drenched in sweat, sore, spiritually and mentally cleansed, and energized. It's one of my favorite ways to forget the mundane. You can tell the Brazilians from the Americans not just by their looks but also by how they move their bodies. And then there's the half Indian-half something else...yet to figure that one out..who has her own style which is equally sexy. Accompanying K and T for free is great practice for me; so I show up religiously every Thursday and walk away a tad bit more confident about playing the timbau or leading with the repenique. T came over after class for some chocolate and wine and we looked at pics from their Burning Man trip. Definitely something on my 'must do before I die' list. The music scene in this State is worth raving about over and over. In Pittsburgh, I was deprived. Here, I'm having to be selective and prioritize. No complaints though.