The end of a chapter, and... new beginnings

As I settle back into my old apartment, old job and old life after a year abroad, I find myself seeking stability and routine. When there is too much change, too suddenly, it is emotionally and physically tiring. Yet as I scramble to get things in order, something feels different than before. I guess I'm a little different. And I want things to be different... very different.

Unfortunately, this blog has been caught in the cross-fire of the chaos, and its outcome does not look so good. After 3 1/2 years of blogging about DIY food, this will be my final posting on Pots and Jars. It's kind of a sad moment for me. I have truly appreciated you, reader, taking the time to share your opinions, give your feedback, and just being a part of this important slice of my life. Every time one of you posted a comment, it made me feel pretty darn special, and gave me the push I needed to keep on writing. I hope you found it informative, interesting, or heck, even inspiring.

I really hate saying goodbyes. So much that I'll sneak-out of a party, just to avoid the awkward goodbye part. Thankfully, this time I won't have to, because I'm launching a new blog, The Craft Bandit, within the next day or two. This site will be focused on DIY everything, including food and gardening. So it'll have some of the same content of P&J, but expanded to include non-edible artsy stuff too.

Change can be a good thing. Hope to see you there.

xo,
Minda

Rice and Bananas, Tea and Coffee

We're only a few days away from arriving in Toronto and settling back into the old apartment. Just in time for garden planning and seed buying... one of the many ways home is tempting us to come back. Of course, I will dearly miss our year of adventure, and apologize in advance if months from now, I still seem worlds-away distant or lost in thought. To be honest, the thing I love mostmostmost about travelling is not marvelling at historic temples, hiking in dense jungles or wandering through grand museums. For me, its doing those basic, everyday things we all normally do without much thought, because when you're in a new place, these tasks are suddenly so different that you immediately feel like you yourself are new, reborn as a child of sorts. Interactions with people, getting from place to place, using currency; it feels familiar, and yet totally fresh and kind of amusing. Food is another thing of wonderment - new produce, dishes, smells and table etiquette. Even the familiar staple foods from back home... seeing them in their raw, living, plant form at their tropical source is a delightful and curious thing. Here I would like to share a few of these moments, of those foods that even a strict Toronto locavore may find hard to resist.

Rice. A staple food to billions of people, and the perfect food when you want to eat a million of something. Owing to my Asian heritage, I've known this little pearl of a grain f

or as long as I can remember; it has been the colourless background to a zillion

meals in my lifetime. When I was sick, rice gave me an easily digestable soup (in the form of congee). When I was dieting, rice gave me a low-calorie, gluten-free snack (in the form of rice cakes and crackers). Rice has always been there for me, like a true pal. Yet only until recently have I touched a living rice plant. Now, rice has given me an unforgettable picture of south Asia: the vivid green colour of endless rice paddies.

Bananas. Everyone's favourite peelable raw fruit actually comes in a ton of varieties. Banana trees grow farmed or wild in the tropics, and fruits develop from the large, singular "flower" which droops from the tree stem and hangs in mid-air. The young flower on its own is edible, say, in a Thai or Lao style salad or soup. But when left to mature on the tree, the flower's outer "petals" wither and fall off, each layer revealing a neat row of curved fruits which grow meaty and green.

Tea and coffee. Two of the world's most popular drinks, source from two of the world's most unremarkable-looking plants. Why or how did someone figure that drying, fermenting and roasting their plant parts would yield such a highly-addictive, flavourful brew is beyond comprehension. I can tell you first-hand that a freshly plucked tea leaf is tough, fibrous and lacks any distinct or pleasant taste. Similarily, the white flesh of a coffee berry smells just like nothing. Unlike any of the aforementioned crops, coffee seems to be the only one that the locals themselves don't consume regularly. Another by-product of our strange global food economy.

See you back at home!

Eating, Hand To Mouth

Most of you reading this have been taught at a young age not to touch your food with your hands, a practice that is constantly reinforced by social norms. We've probably even tried to detach a pizza slice using a napkin, or pour peanuts from bowl to hand, to avoid touching other people's food. Perhaps we fear the disapproval of our germ-conscious peers, or maybe we seek to set an example in hopes of reducing our own microbe intake. After all, touching food is unsanitary, barbaric, and impolite... right?

But in countries such as Malaysia and Indonesia, eating with your hands is not uncommon; in India and Nepal it is the norm. A few simple practices ensures hygiene, such as visiting the nearby sink or water bucket before and after your meal, and always using your right hand to eat instead of your dirty-job left hand.

My first hand-eating experience was a banana leaf thali - several indian curries spooned onto a banana leaf, served with rice. Using your hand, you mix the curries and the rice, working it into a good consistency to scoop with your fingers and pop into your mouth with your thumb. It felt incredibly awkward, messy, and kind of gross. My fingers were uncoordinated, and I ended up with food all over my palm and chin.

A few weeks later, I found myself sharing food with a friendly couple from Malaysia, who clearly found great pleasure in eating. I noticed their utensils went untouched, as they happily hand-scooped the food into their mouths. They explained how they loved eating with their hands, because you could really "feel" the food through the sense of touch.

This simple explanation gave me the permission I was looking for to start enjoying the feel of my own food, and slowly the guilt and embarrassment from years of utensil-culture shrank away. I discovered the joy of tearing into a fresh, warm chapatti (flat bread), the smooshy feeling of rice and curry between the fingers, and the softness and weight of paneer (cheese) or spiced potato in your hand. Eating with your hands is not only convenient and immediate, but also satisfying and gratifying on an unfamiliar level. Give it a few tries yourself... you might find you like it.