Sausage and Peppers Rotini

I don’t know how it happened. How me, of all people, took interest in cooking. Here and there, I’ve thought of posting recipes, although I find that food pictures don’t come out particularly good for me. I thought I’d give it a try regardless, although I will find pictures online of individual ingredients, and if I can manage to get a good picture of the final income, then that shall too be posted.

I generally get my ideas for meals by browsing actual recipes, and tweaking a bit. I usually choose what I browse for based, frankly, on what I have on the fridge. Last week, M, for some absurd reason, came home with 10 bell peppers (mixed red, yellow, and orange). While gorgeous, I am unsure as to why he decided to take that admiration further and bring home the entire lot, but he tends to do that. We ate some raw with dip, I used about 5 and made roasted peppers (simply brushed with oil, roasted till charred, then peeled off skin and sliced thin), despite that, I had some that needed to be used. Also, we had some chorizo sausage in the freezer, and while making room for new concoctions, I was forced to finally defrost it. And thus was born, my sausage and peppers rotini.

I am a major preparer, I don’t chop vegetables while I’m cooking my meat, or any sort of multi-task. Inefficient? Perhaps… but my mind gets scrambled when I’m doing too many things at once in terms of cooking (oddly enough, for other things, I’m fine), so slow and steady is how I go. I began by preparing my vegetables. I cut 2 bell peppers (mine were red and yellow, but the picture is pretty) and a medium sized white onion into thin slices. I also roughly chopped 2 medium size tomatoes.



I set everything aside, and unlinked and removed the one pound chorizo from the paper (6 links)… an unpleasant job for someone who’s not a huge fan of getting her hands messy (in terms of grease, etc.) but M wasn’t home… so I did it :) .



I took out my handy, dandy wok (honestly, I use my wok for everything… from pasta, to Indian food, to stirfry, and tacos… love!). I cooked the sausage for about 7 minutes and drained the excess oils. Afterwards, I added in the onions and bell peppers and cooked until al dente-ish. At this point, I felt a very distinct smell of pizza- what with the onions, peppers, and sausage and whatnot. Should have probably been less amused than I was.

I then added a teaspoon of fennel (I tried to look up why, but couldn’t find anything—but it seems fennel is always a good compliment to sausage… strange), and a dash of chili flakes, and on a last minute whim threw in about a cup of frozen spinach. I covered and let the spinach thaw out for about a minute, stirred, and added in the tomatoes, about a cup of jarred tomato sauce, and 2 ounces of tomato paste. I stirred and let the whole thing simmer for maybe 3 minutes. At this point the pasta was looking very hearty and yummy… but was still missing something. I wanted to add cream cheese, but only had about a 2 teaspoons full, so I added that and about 3 ounces of sour cream, reduced the heat and just stirred it in. Voila, the sauce is done!


(I told you my pictures come out terrible! It looks much tastier in real life... maybe I should try taking them with my SLR instead)

It’s tonight’s dinner, so the pasta hasn’t been made yet, but that’s simply box directions. The sauce is quite good, creamy and plentiful. Fingers crossed that M is as pleased as I am!

That was quite fun… I may do this again!

Trip to Toronto-- Friends & Family

This past week, M and I went back to Toronto for a visit. I knew it was going to be a stressful trip. I equated it to going back to India, having to see everyone and their mother, and anticipated a great deal of stress. I prepared myself, knowing that when I last saw my family, I did get a bit annoyed with them by the end (2.5 weeks is a LONG time- haha), I knew it was likely to feel the same with M's family, and after many discussions with friends here in Panama in similar situations, I knew not to expect our friends to drop everything and see us as they too have moved on with their lives. I thought I was pretty well prepared- had a good balance of optimistic and pessimistic feelings, and felt that all in all, I knew what to expect.

Alas, I was wrong. The time spent with our families was the highlight of the trip. We had a great time, lots of catching up, but not so much that you felt like you were seeing each other after a long time. Just enough, so you were up to date, but yet still felt like you never left. Just normal and fun. When I think about what I miss about Toronto, I say the people. And by the people, I mean those normal, no effort, fun times. With the families, I got exactly that. My favorite day was our last full day there. My family and M's family, along with my closest friend in Toronto went an visited a good friend of my family's home, along with another good friend (my family and the other 2 families are very very close... M's family gets along with them as well). It was just a good time with lots of talking, laughing, eating, and just plane enjoying each other's company. It wasn't, by any means, centered around us, it just felt like old times.

I was, unfortunately, disappointed in my so-called 'friends' though. I can't generalize this to everyone of course, I saw some dear friends who I know will remain friends, but a few did manage to make me think twice about who I call a friend. Some didn't even bother to get in contact with us, even after numerous attempts of us trying to reach out. Some, it seems, just couldn't be bothered with breaking their normal routine to make time for us. It's not that we were being difficult, flaunting a busy schedule, or anything. We made time where we could find time. Hell, we met people in the grocery store, at their house (in a different city altogether), at restaurants for just a single drink, at soccer games, and anywhere we could manage to find time to catch up. In addition to that, we organized the Friday night as a big get together so we can see everyone altogether. Although we did see a handful of people we hung out with quite often prior to moving, the majority just couldn't seem to care less. Actually, the few people we actually spent quality time with were people we didn't see all too often, but managed to get closer to after moving. This includes the 3 visitors we had last November, some colleagues, and friends we met on vacation 5 years ago (who drove 2 hours to come see us from their hometown). It really opened my eyes as to who my true friends are.

Canadians vs. Americans

This is an argument I’ve subjected myself to more often than I would have liked to. I lived in both countries for equal amounts of time (10 years each), but call America my home. This has been a point of downright hateful behavior from many Canadians (which, ironically, is part of the reason I prefer America).

My least favorite brands are Pepsi and Mac. Why? Because of the advertising tactics they use. Rather than getting their consumers to focus solely on their benefits, they add in their greatest (and frankly more successful competitor) simply to put them down. This is the opposite of the type of strategy that would gain my loyalty. I find it quite pathetic.

Canadians take a stance which is nearly identical. They, it seems, have a chip on their shoulder. They are not proud to BE Canadian, but are proud NOT to be American. Americans, on the other hand, have a great sense of pride just being from their country. That’s my idea of patriotism. Canadians, on the other hand, will bring themselves up by putting America down.

The amount of times I’ve heard “I effin hate Americans” is appalling. That is blatant racism. I have heard so much slander and so much negativity towards Americans from Canadians who know nothing better. I have lived in both countries. You may say “American’s are racist”, but frankly, I’ve received far more racism from Canadians for both being South Asian and for being American. You may say “American’s are rude/unkind/etc.”, but during the many many difficult times in my family’s life while living in America, we had a ton of support from beautiful friends and acquaintances helping us along the way… meanwhile, in Canada, when my mom faced a moment of difficulty, her good Canadian friend said she is “no longer able to be a part of [my mom’s] life, as she did not want to deal with extra burdens”. “American’s are ignorant”?? Frankly, I’ve heard far more ignorant things coming out of the mouths of Canadians when talking about Americans than I have ever heard an American say.

Again, this is simply my observation. I am married to a Canadian, and he is not at all like this… so I, of all people, realize I am generalizing. Please take no offense, this is just how I feel about the whole situation.

I will talk more about this… particularly my thoughts on “melting pot” vs. “mixed bag” perspectives.

Religion

I am a very proud atheist. Truly, it was never something I needed to think about. The man in the sky thing just never sat well with me after the age in which is was obvious Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy were myths. In my head, it is no different.

I have no doubt that Jesus Christ, the Prophet Mohammed, Buddha, etc. etc. etc. did exist. I am sure they were spiritual men who once lived on this earth. And were very good at giving people hope, faith, something to believe in. And thus people looked up to them. And so is the onset of religion.

My entire family are skeptics. This is not to say they don't perform religious activities (Hindu by birth) and do the 'proper' things at the specific times of year. But yet, they question lots of beliefs. Still celebrate other holidays. Eat meat. Drink. etc. etc. And then there's members, such as my maternal grandfather and my mother's brother who are not Hindu or Atheist. Rather they have converted to Scientology. They are both highly revered in their respective professions, both in the medical field. But they read a bit on L. Rob Hubbard, and believed. I've also read the books. To be honest, he's easier to swallow than some of the religious things I've heard. Oh, and did I mention, my grandmother (also a doctor) wrote and published a book DISPROVING the existance of God. It was very convincing I tell you. Once it's published in English, I will post a link here.

Don't get me wrong, I am not talking ignorantly. I was in a heavily Republican, heavily Christian school for 7 years. Seven years. This experience alone taught me the dark side of religion. The guilt, the fear. The fear, my god the fear. Why, why why choose to be a part of something that makes you live in fear.

This is something my husband and I have spoken extensively about. M grew up in a very very conservative and religious family. But the religion was very fear driven. He admits it himself. Religion is obviously a big topic for a husband and wife, especially when it comes to children. I have absolutely no problem with my children learning religion, as long as it's fact based, and aspects of guilt and fear are not brought into it. My husband learned religion based on fear. This lead to many insecurities and sometimes irrational fears in his childhood and teens, and even some still carrying over to today. He has loudly expressed he does not want his children to deal with this stress. Which are my thoughts exactly. He has agreed that us, and only us, will talk with our children about religion. About all religions. At Christmas time, they will learn the significance of Christmas, before that of Hanukah. Ash Wednesday and Passover will be explained, as well as Diwali and Holi. But that is it, explained. The children will be left to make their own decision on religion, and we will support them either way. We will ensure they are well educated on different ways of life (including not adopting any religion) and will be there for them through whichever walk they choose.

Depression

After some heart to heart discussions (over multiple drinks) with a good friend, she confessed to me that she has been on anti-depressants. Here, they are available without a prescription. I've always dabbled with the thought of approaching a doctor for some 'chemical' help with some of my emotions, but never seriously. Knowing someone up close and personal, who has confessed and raved about it has made this thoughts more concrete.

I looked into some information about them. This led me to a series of questionnaires. Apparently, I am clinically depressed. The problem I had with these tests is that, as far as I've gathered in my world view, I think 80% of people would be classified as clinically depressed. I mean... do you ever feel sad or irritable? lost interest in any activities you once enjoyed? feeling of guilt (this may be the fault of my family's tactic of using guilt trips for EVERYTHING)?... do you experience indecisiveness? I mean... if this isn't normal, then yes, there is certainly something wrong with me, and there has been for many many years. But somehow I feel these are normal feelings.

That being said, I know I have (and likely still do) suffered with depression, but haven't sought the proper help. I did see a therapist for a bit. But, never have I ever gone as far as medication.

I was telling another friend of mine in an email about a post secret I saw a few weeks ago. I've searched the web, and regret not saving it-- but I can't find it anywhere. The jist of it was a 30 year old who started taking anti-depressants... and her only regret was not starting earlier. It struck a chord with me.

Racism

Racism has always been a big topic for me. It was something I was faced with for a very long time. Although I was born in my country of origin, I never lived there. I have always been an "outsider" in my country of residency.

I faced it a lot. I have never truly felt like I fit in. In Western countries, I have and will always be a visible minority. Being called a Paki or terrorist with a number of unflattering adjectives attached to it is not fun. Not at all. And it isn't nice. At the same time, even with my own 'kind' I am outcasted. I have been called 'white-washed'... once, at the age of 12, I was asked "why do you sound so white... look in the mirror- you're not white". What do I say to that? Why do I sound the way I do? I don't know...

The nice thing about being in Panama is that I am no longer a visible minority. Many don't seem to understand the relief I have with this. No I didn't neccesarily walk in places in Canada/ US and have everyone turn around a stare... but sometime it was painfully obvious that I was the different one. Here in Panama I may not know the culture or the language, but on the surface, I look like I belong. It's an amazing feeling.

On the outside...

Do you think you could successfully and completely detach yourself from your family?

My family (immediate and extended) is wonderful, they love me a lot, and I feel the same about them. But at the same time, memories of them, conversations with them, and most things associated with them is also a source of misery for me. I don't fit in with my family. They are all very a la brady bunch now, with the suburban lifestyles, 2 children, a house, and PTA meetings. Very different from how I grew up. Somehow I lost my place in the mix.

When I am with my family, I can understand how people get divorces. I love them immensely and think about them all the time. But I just no longer want to be around them. I want to start fresh. Build my own life and my own family (eventually) with M.

It hurts me when I hear about all my cousins getting together, hanging out, talking about prom or dates or parties etc. But I know longer live in NJ/NY. The relationship was lost the day I moved. I made the effort with one cousin, and through him I get to hear about the rest. But that just adds more to my feeling out of place. Like a spy, peaking in and absorbing as much as I can.