khaoya daoya

I returned to my flat last night after a week of far too many hours spent in front of a computer screen and with my nose buried in textbooks. My hands were antsy, and my feet shuffled me directly into the kitchen where I was suddenly overcome with the single desire to cook my first curry meal in our two-burner kitchenette. I think that was the final step I needed to really feel at home here. I had cooked a stir-fry and some Thai omelettes this week, but I needed to know whether the years of cooking under my mother (and many of you have tasted her masterpieces) had prepared me for this moment of returning to Bangladesh on my own. This time she wasn't a phone call away. Also, I find myself constantly craving Bengali spices (rather than any other cuisine), since those are what I smell most of the day here. Fortunately, my lovely flatmate Fatema (a talented cook) already had the kitchen stocked with necessities: turmeric, cumin, chile powder, coriander, and garam masala. I took an inventory, then ran down our 9 floors and across the street to Khulshi mart to grab some yogurt, chicken, and fresh produce. Then back to the kitchen...
It's the one room in the house without a fan or much ventilation at all. So I was a rather grungy chef. And the counter space you see above is about the only usable surface in the kitchen. But we make do just fine, and I was happy with the final product.
Suzanne and Fatema (above) and I are eating like queens - I'm sure I'll be posting some of Fatema's meals too. We're feeling very fortunate to know that we'll be able to alternate cooking nights, so that cooking can continue to be a "therapeutic" activity, rather than a burdensome duty.