Recipe Deconstruction and Flight Safety

Recipes “Am I hungry or bored?” was the thought that kept nagging at me as I sat wedged between a portly Uzbek man and Dave. I am not a small woman, and Dave is not a trim man. It was an uncomfortable situation, with very little room for improvement. Luckily, the flight from Nukus to Tashkent is only one and a half hours. It does not even warrant a snack. One is lucky to get something to drink, even though the choice is only soft drinks. Having just undergone a very intimate patting down by the check-in security, to the degree one normally expects no earlier than a second date, I felt that I deserved something stronger. But this was Uzbek Air. The strongest drink one could hope for would be dark black tea with some extra sugar. 

The only fun thing about flights on Uzbek Air is the safety features video. The guide to the plane’s safety procedures is a stewardess that appears in a puff of fairy dust like a genie from a bottle to demonstrate each safety feature. The video designers drew on Uzbek history in a very imaginative way. In one scene, the stewardess-aka-genie proceeds to scold one of the soldiers, who are all decked out in middle-ages Asian military regalia. The soldiers are all lined up for the inspection by the chief Khan who, himself, is resplendent in his garb of yore, when a soldier’s mobile phone rings. The video proceeds in this fun manner, with the stewardess appearing on the castle’s turrets which are guarded by one of the Khan’s soldiers. He believes he is alone when he pulls a cigarette out from underneath his full armor. The appearance of the genie frightens him a bit, but not enough. Despite having been warned, after she disappears, he tries an e-cigarette. But she returns in a flash of her fairy dust, causing him to run away in fright. It might be the most creative safety video I’ve seen. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fRXu70OKNXw) 

Soon after the video wrapped up, the flesh and blood stewardess approached asking what we would like to drink. On the short flight like that there’s no time to waste. Sipping my water, having another hour to dream away and with my stomach rumbling, I started thinking more fondly about airplane food. 

So as not to offend or exclude anybody, we can usually count on an airline meal to be pretty bland. That may hold true in North America, but not in Asia. Once, flying with Sri Lankan Air, I was presented at mealtime with a tray holding three piles. One was the ubiquitous rice, the other a bit smaller pile was yellowish and appeared to be legumes. The third pile was red, and its origins remained mysterious. The moment my taste buds connected with the red unidentified texture, my brain pleasure centre went into overdrive while my taste buds screamed for more. The combination of hot curry with the sweetness of the mystery vegetable was utterly unexpected and unforgettable. Savoring my second bite had me convinced that I had stumbled on one of those rare combinations of spices and textures that simply must join my collection of favorite recipes. I tried to get the recipe from one of the crew, who were all Sri Lankan. The woman I asked looked motherly, despite her work uniform … the type of woman who can probably feed a family of twenty with ease and grace. I thought she might carry the mystery recipe in her head. But she looked at me, shaking her head and saying “Well, this is a new one for me.” I was not sure whether she was referring to the recipe itself or my request for it, and I was unable to find out because she walked away quickly. Some people just won’t co-operate. I got help from Indira, an Indian lady to my left wearing enough gold on her to justify a bodyguard. When she heard my question and saw the stewardess retreating, she stepped in. “It’s beets. Cooked in curry and coconut milk,” she explained. What a delightful combination. It would have never occurred to me to use beets in curry. 

I used to actively dislike beets. Not that I would hate them. That is too strong a word reserved for serious emotions, such as the feeling I experience when losing a game of Monopoly to a novice. I simply didn’t have any place in my heart and stomach for them. My mom liked them marinated so that was the only way I knew them, and I suppose my child’s palate was not ready for them at that time. That all changed a few years ago. I was visiting Dadu, and her son-in-law Nelson, who is a culinary magician in his own right, prepared a fish dish topped with roasted beets. That dish changed my attitude towards beets. 

After Indira stressed how important it was to use a good quality curry paste, we got down to some serious chatting. It’s funny how, sometimes on airplanes, the dearth of fresh air invites intimate details one would normally never share with strangers. Knowing they will never see you again, people tend to open up about their personal lives in a way that you normally might expect from acquaintances turning into friends only after several years of politely exchanging news about the weather. When Indira found out that I had studied at the University of Toronto she got very emotional, and told me that her son also studied in Canada and became a dentist. When Indira’s husband died, she counted on her son to help her maintain her lifestyle, since she had financed his degree. She was disappointed by his reaction and blamed young Canadian women. “He was such a good boy. I should have never let him go there.” As she was relating her sad story, I eyed her unopened salad with lust and wondered how weird it would be to ask her if I could have it. After all, any waste is just plain wrong. And knowing all these details about her personal life sort of made us friends, didn’t it? I keep Indira’s recipe under the name ‘Mind Blowing Beets from Sri Lanka.’ 

There are countless ways to acquire a new recipe. My favorite one is getting something from a friend. Preferably something that we enjoyed together, since one should not underestimate the psychological power of associating the meal with people and the good time we shared. But there are other ways, Internet included, that can serve as a potential source for a recipe and, occasionally, I have used this venue. Especially when it’s a recipe that I used to have, used to enjoy and then lost. The Internet just serves to refresh my memory. And then there are occasions where you taste some great dish in a restaurant and there’s no way to get the recipe. The only option remaining is to reconstruct (deconstruct?), imitate. Last year, on our trip to the historic town of Khiva, I ordered a bean salad. Being in a foreign country we love places where the management go the full nine yards and provide pictures of their dishes. Because the restaurant was in the Old Town, catering to tourists, they had such a menu, although the picture quality was far from perfect. It had probably started with vibrant colours and enticing images, but time and being pawed by many hungry tourists had diminished its effect. The picture displayed what appeared to be red kidney beans, and the waitress assured me that the bean salad was very tasty and many people ordered it. So, I settled for that and a savory pastry. Savory pastries in Uzbekistan come in many shapes and tastes. It is easy to trace the line of these tasty snacks back to India or Iran. On their historic journey they just lost an ‘o.’ They are called ‘samosas’ in India, but ‘samsas’ in Uzbekistan. The ubiquitous one is of course the meat and onion variety. But my favorite one is stuffed with seasoned squash. Well, when the dish arrived, the expected beans turned out to be beets. Luckily, at that time, I was already a converted beets lover. Being in Asia, where reverse engineering has been honed into an art form, some of it has apparently rubbed off on me. I was able to deconstruct my beet salad, and I have saved it under the name ‘Khiva Beets.’ 

My recipes are filed under the names of people or places associated with them. Nothing as mundane as filing a recipe as simply ‘Lasagna’ would work for me. Dave, of course, despairs about my filing system. “What system?” he would say (Ed: Not true! I have recipes in my own database under names such as ‘Anne’s Roasted Veggies’ and ‘Madith’s Lentil Stew!). But I like it. Each recipe is in a plastic sheath placed in a binder in no particular order. Many years back, I organized it loosely into two categories that would be probably far too broad for most people: Soups and Baking. The rest of my recipes are almost random, but have such descriptive names as ‘Amazing Lasagna from Jackie.’ 

My hunger-induced musings were interrupted by harsh Uzbek, followed by melodic Russian. English came last. “Please remain in your seats and fasten your seat belts. We are starting our descent into Tashkent.” I looked at Dave, who woke up from his nap at the sound of the captain’s voice. “Dave, do you remember that nice café we discovered last time in Tashkent? How about we head straight there?”