It’s January and time for my annual Month of Pain. It starts the first work day of the year, so, yesterday. I have begun this year weighing a lot less than I did last year so I am not feeling the urgency for weight loss as I have in the past when my pants watched me menacingly in the morning waiting to bite and pinch me when I put them on. Oh, I need to lose weight, no doubt about that, but my pants and I are friendly, ish.
Yesterday for dinner I made shorba, or chorba or some damn thing that’s Persian, and yet Indian. At the urging of the Royal Indian Mounted Food Control Police, I tempered the spices, onions and pudina in the pot, removing that mess from the pot once I “got a nice smell” (these are the words of the recipe, not mine) and then I fried the peppers, and finally the chicken adding a can of fire roasted tomatoes. Practically calorie free. Bnls sknls chicken breast, onion, peppers and tomatoes.
I ate it with raita. Ultimately, though, it all tastes the same to me. It may as well have been kefte, or chili for that matter. Cumin does that to food. I couldn’t taste the pudina at all.
2 Replies to “Month of Pain, shorba”
Perhaps if your pants weren't freshly showered they wouldn't feel the need to pinch you? Just a thought…
You'd think that would make them happier.