Time sure flies, and life moves along so fast that we seldom realise how the days go by. It certainly feels like ages since I wrote, perhaps because it has indeed been a long time. Armed with culinary inspiration from my recent travels to Greece and Turkey, and renewed determination to cook more and write even more, I had started out a week that could have been productive. But all my resolve petered out eventually, with life getting in the way, and I took almost a month to get to a point where I could slow down time and once again do the things I love. My newest experiment was a bean salad, that looked simple enough to master in no time, but took a while to put together. So here I am, trying to get back on track, with this as the first step.
It began on a Saturday morning. I was determined to get back to cooking healthy after my binge sessions, and knew that I had to start early to be able to get into the routine. The inspiration came from long held dreams of making this particular salad, a variation of a recipe I saw on Pick Up Limes, a site I go through regularly for such work with good food. Though I was not sure what to do to get the bean cooking, I was confident enough to try. Since I had the full day ahead, I did not feel rushed, and knew deep within that I was going to enjoy making this one.
The tomatoes, cucumbers and onions were chopped on auto-pilot mode. My recent obsession with red bell pepper also found its way into the bowl. I was excited to use my wooden salad bowl, which I usually save for such inspired moments in life. I tossed all of it into the bowl, feeling quite at ease, the months of practice with the knife finally paying off to make me feel comfortable with what I was doing. I took my time to wash and peel, to dice and sing. I picked a handful of walnuts and pumpkin seeds, and derived pleasure from chopping them roughly, but systematically, watching them powder away on the side of the knife. I enjoyed moving them to the side to make space for more chopping, all the while feeling the peace sink in more. I let the corn defrost to room temperature on its own, for as long as it took. I realised the beauty of time, how, if not rushed, it had the power to sweep you off your feet with the solitude and comfort it offers.
Once all of this was done, I worked up the courage to start dealing with the bean. I washed, drained, and soaked the lot, as I was asked to do by all the advise out there on the world wide web. Once the beans started to shrivel and my insides questioned the move, I decided to take them out and boil them straight in a pan of water. Though I won't go into the gory details, lets just say that it took a long time to get done. Endless efforts of scooping one out to taste, and dropping it right back in, resulted in only the same motion continuing for more than I could care to take. On hindsight, I believe I should have soaked them the night before. Innocent mistakes of a burgeoning novice, or perhaps just a lack of patience to research and practice. Eventually, long after I was done with the other ingredients and the dressing, I was at my nerves ends and wanted to just be done with it. The funny part of it all though, is the sense of calm with which my mind processed the entire tirade. I was not left frustrated or disappointed as I usually would have felt. There was instead a slight sense of adventure inside, and the ability to view the comedy of errors from a distance enough to realise the humour in the situation. There was also a sense of purpose that kept me trying, even though I had given up on the outside. Basking in this new and improved version of myself, I moved on to completing the salad.
I looked forward to making the dressing for the salad, which would again be a new experiment. A cashew lime drizzle, which sounded extremely easy to whip together, since the only ingredients were contained in its very name! They cynic in me did raise her head once or twice to doubt the simplicity of something that seemed to be quite great, but was wise enough to not push it. I put in the cashews with some warm (not hot, since lessons were learnt from previous food processor cover blasts) water. I squeezed in a little more than the prescribed amount of lime, and gave it all a good mix. It was satisfying to watch it dissolve into paste, smooth though coarse in its own way, a beautiful colour of light tan, and wonderful on the tongue. I added in some salt and gave it one last whirr before taking it out to store in the fridge with pride. I even went to the extent of labelling the container since there would be leftovers for future use, though I knew that it wasn't going to last very long.
By then, I knew that time wouldn't help the bean any more, so I drained out the water, ready to mix all of it together. I was excited about the dressing, more than anything else, given how wonderful it tasted, unable to believe that the simplest of procedures led to this amazing dip. I was positive that the salad would taste beautiful with this in it. Once the red beans cooled down enough to be added in, I happily did this with a smile, waiting to drizzle on the topping. I began with a little for presentation and a hint of the flavour, but given how great it tasted, I emptied almost all of it, making it more of a base ingredient. And it did taste great! The bite in the salad, the crunch of the leaves, and that sweet sense of the dressing all over the palate. The bean, I must admit was not a pleasure in the mouth, but I convinced myself that it was cooked well enough. No regrets there, despite the errors. Mostly because I was glad to be back in the game again. I knew that the process of getting in would be slow, that a break always leads to a lag in motivation; but here I was yet again giving it a shot, accepting the process and ready to focus on consistency and not instant results. I was willing to give myself the time to get back to writing regularly, and that by itself was self improvement and love. Older mistakes and newer lessons later, I strive to keep moving.
