the devil in the details…

…meets a lazy perfectionist.

This lively plate is packed with tandoori chicken smothered in a serrano mint sauce, sambhar-spiced veggies, jasmine rice, and a red lentil curry called Masoor Dal. And don’t forget the mango chutney and buttered naan. Yeah, we really, really adore Indian food. By “we” I mean my family of four, my parents, my sister and her family, and also Husband’s immediate family. So The Royal We loves it. From this food-love came my dogged determination to learn how to cook reasonably adequate Indian meals at home. Okay, thrift was also a factor. Even though we have access to restaurants nearly as good as anything on NYC’s 6th Street, I don’t remember Lamb Korma topping $20. So I like to prepare my own Indian dinners at least once a month – plus it’s the siren call that always brings my grown boys back to mama’s table.

It’s fair to say that Indian, like Italian, is one of my go-to cuisines for everything from complicated special occasion feasts to quick weeknight comfort food. Admittedly, I’m a novice Indian cook, so I try to pay very close attention to details like methods, ingredients, history, and cultural significance. I’ve made some real winners and some shocking duds but always reveled in the process. Over the last couple of years I’ve posted about my Diwali week, shared Daddy’s Indian-inspired Lime Pickle Sweet Potatoes, and offered a quick weeknight Chicken Karahi. Don’t even get me started on chutneys.

Wait, what IS on my Diwali menu…

There are endless lessons to be learned from the recipes of regional Indian cuisines. Last week I screwed up something in every single recipe on that plate and had to improvise my way back to the written rules. I’m not sure if this is laziness, painkillers, or something more sinister, but it’s been truly irksome for a part-time perfectionist. While I do love to riff when I cook, curries in particular demand slightly higher attention to detail. Sometimes my riffing is not an inspired creative tweak but actually me correcting a detail I missed.

This means I’ve learned some fairly hard lessons in the kitchen: recipes matter, ingredients matter, the order of battle matters. For example, a curry might begin with ghee and end with a dusting of finishing spices, but in between, aromatic seeds and powders are curated with intention and devotion. Indian recipes can be very intimidating; just the list of ingredients alone sends many home chefs straight to a jar of Patak’s tikka masala sauce. (Enter a trip to an International farmers market or grocery.) I’m pretty good about gathering the right ingredients or supplies, but my recent track record with details has been checkered, not only with cooking but also with my home improvement projects.

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Rarely do I have an encounter with Krazy Glue during which I do not fuse at least two of my fingers together. This is not hyperbole; it is the well-documented stuff of family legend. And while it has nothing to do with Indian food, like many of my new culinary habits, it is one of those predictables that I’ve learned to live with. My practice of automatically splattering tomato sauce on a white blouse and the glue problem are givens. They are simply going to happen.

The strangest thing about my mishaps is that historically I’ve been such an over-thinker, over-planner, over-achiever, and over-doer that none of them should have ever happened to begin with. Lately it’s gotten worse: I might get every step of a recipe correct but fail to preheat the oven. I will meticulously measure twice and cut once, only to nail my own sleeve to the wall. And while I usually remember to unplug the lamp I’m rewiring, it’s not always a given. These days you would think I’m either a total klutz or the village idiot but no, it’s just the devil in the details.

A couple of things worth noting: first, I am not clumsy, but pretty well-coordinated and freakishly quick to react. By that I mean I catch things. Rarely does a falling object hit the ground in my house, even knives and hot irons – I have the scars to prove it. Also, I can snatch a house fly mid-air with my bare hand, always a charming crowd-pleaser. But those are reflexes rather than critical steps in a planned process. That brings me to my second point: I am notorious for noticing discrepancies and errors. An ever-so-slightly tilted painting on the wall drives me crazy and I simply cannot tolerate the misuse of the word “less” for “fewer.” So that lone chickpea in my bag of red lentils was not even a challenge – I was gonna notice! Given my two practical strengths, dexterity and observation, why all the unforced errors?

I’m convinced that TikTok/Instagram/Facebook reels have retrained our brains to function in 120-second increments; it’s like we are living with acquired ADHD. For that and other reasons (namely billionaire tech bros) I’ve severely limited my social media consumption. Instead, I obviously started writing again and even picked up a book or two. Fortunately, I’ve also started paying very close attention to recipes.

Saddled with this extrinsic attention deficit, I try to face my routine lapses with grace and acceptance rather than rage and disbelief, although some days it’s 50/50. I’m even learning to anticipate that tinge of familiarity that follows one of my missteps – it keeps me mortal. I hope that’s evidence that I’m growing into a more enlightened being, an idea that will most certainly come up in a future post. However, despite all the mental gymnastics, I can only hold space for so much minutia and so many details. But I will always hold space for Indian food.

more scenes from my kitchen since last summer

In light of all my recurring fumbles I keep thinking about the old adage that insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Is it still insane if you know it’s going to happen? Webster’s suggests a far less critical take on insanity by defining it in terms of extreme folly and utter foolishness. Mix in a bustling mind outlining a grocery list for Korean Fire Chicken, pondering the poetry of Rumi and Hafiz, weighing the advantages of avocado oil over grape seed, and mentally redesigning the laundry room, and that folly becomes much more understandable, maybe even forgivable.

So fine…occasionally I might add a tablespoon of salt instead of a teaspoon or I drill a 1/8” hole for a 3/32” screw. I can work around those details. In fact, I might not even hear the booming, predictable admonition of “I told you so” or “not again, Betsy.” I believe I’m content to exist this particular reality of folly and foolishness, the devil and his silly little details be damned.

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Masoor Dal

Red lentil curry is a North Indian dish that is ridiculously delicious and very high in protein and fiber. Masoor Dal has two components: the dal made of red lentils, and tadka, the tempering of spices that flavor the dish. Careful attention to details like ghee instead of oil and good quality spices will make you a tadka superstar. This version has some shortcuts like curry powder instead of turmeric, coriander, cumin, etc., canned tomatoes, and ginger garlic paste for convenience and speed. But if you have time, fresh is always preferable and an easy substitution. Red lentils cook quickly so the entire meal comes together in about 30 minutes.

Ingredients

• 1 cup red lentils, well-rinsed
• 2½ cups water
• 3 Tbs ghee
• 2 bay leaves (or 4 dried curry leaves if you have them)
• 2” cinnamon stick
• ½ tsp of cumin seeds
• 1 small Serrano pepper, finely diced
• 1 medium onion, diced
• 2 Tbs ginger-garlic paste (or 1 Tbs fresh, grated ginger and 3 cloves garlic, minced)
• 28 oz. can whole tomatoes (or 2-3 large fresh plus ½ water)
• ½-1 tsp kosher salt (to taste)
• ½ tsp Kashmiri chili powder
• 1 Tbs curry powder
• 1 tsp garam masala
• 2 tsp dried fenugreek leaves
• ⅓ cup heavy cream or full-fat yogurt, if you must
• ¼ cup chopped cilantro

Method

1. In a medium saucepan, bring lentils and water to a boil and then reduce heat to medium. Simmer heartily for 10 minutes until the lentils are tender. Drain when done and set aside.
2. Meanwhile, to make the tadka, melt ghee in a medium pan – I use a 10” enameled, squatty Dutch Oven with about 3” sides.
3. Adjust heat to medium and add bay/curry leaves, cinnamon stick, cumin seeds, Serrano pepper, and onions. Sauté for 7-8 minutes, lowering the heat if you sense any burning.
4. Stir in 2 Tbs ginger garlic paste and cook for 2 minutes.
5. Sprinkle in curry powder, garam masala, and Kashmiri chili powder.
6. Crush the whole tomatoes by hand and add to the tadka along with half the juice from the can. Stir and simmer covered for 2-3 minutes. Add more juice if you sense any sticking to bottom of your pan.
7. Gently stir in your lentils and add water in ½ cup increments to create a flowing but substantial curry. Simmer for another 2 minutes.
8. Add the fenugreek leaves and stir in the heavy cream. Adjust any seasonings and spices to your preference. Sometimes a little more chili powder or a grind or two of pepper is needed. Allow to simmer for a final 2 minutes.
9. I like to garnish with cilantro and serve with rice or naan.

Serves 4 as a main course, or 6+ if you have other entrées.

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