I've always wondered why street food was not as popular in the US. And then I started trying to understand health codes, land use policy, business permits, tax laws, risk management briefs, and sidewalk obstruction ordinances. I soon lost my appetite. The confusion was enough to make me give up on ever enjoying hot rice cakes while sitting on a plastic stool leaned up against a park wall or discovering the best roasted yams ever at the entrance to a post office.

Farmers' markets also face similar difficulties in getting started. While some neighbors relish the thought of fresh mesclun within walking distance, others fear backed-up traffic, loss of what little parking they already have, trash littering their yards, and rodents gathering for weekly food fests. Public parks, natural places for impromptu booths, end up having conflicts in mission and charter with profitable enterprise. Market management, like any other business or nonprofit, has its own risks and rewards and crazy ways of doing things. And finally, farmers have enough to keep them busy in their fields without having to face a long drive into the city. Not many can make a living for their families by standing around selling a few carrots here or some organic apples there, while their thin profit margins preclude hiring retail staff.

In many other countries, people figure out how to make use of every bit of space, material and time. While I understand the need for protecting the public, I'd love to see us loosen up just a little bit and support more micro-businesses, more diversity in the food market, and more openness and curiosity in place of fear and nimbyness.

A couple of months ago, my next-door neighbor decided that he didn't like the shape of my waist-high rosemary bush, the one I tended in that tiny patch of soil cut into the sidewalk in front of my building. So, without asking me, he cut it down to a stub of three inches and then poured so-called river stones over the space. A few weeks later, "someone" planted a begonia where my rosemary bush used to be. Not even a scented begonia, thank you very much. When pressed, my neighbor mentioned words like "property value" and "attractive landscaping." He's a new home-owner; I'm one of the last renters still toughing it out on my block. A sprawling, eight-year-old rosemary bush apparently does not have a place in my changing neighborhood.

Fortunately, another old neighbor realized how sad I was and planted a small, three-sprigged sprout of a baby rosemary plant next to the useless begonia. I look forward to watching it grow, and I hope that we both--my rugged herb and I--will still have a place to flourish on this shined-up street.

And about that video above: be sure to watch to the very end to see the magic happen.

Labels: asian food, farmers markets, thy tran, video

Chef Sanjay Thumma is my current favorite time suck.

It's refreshing to watch someone demonstrate mouth-watering dishes with uninhibited joy, a matter-of-fact globalism and minimal make-up. It helps that I love so many cuisines in India, but what immediately appealed to me is his stance as a teacher. It's a very different experience to learn about traditional foods from someone who assumes, from the beginning, that his audience is not comprised of outsiders. Like a student whose teacher sets high expectations, viewers and home cooks rise to the challenge.

His balance of expert advice with friendly reassurance is neither oversimplified nor condescending. He's a professional who knows his stuff, yet he doesn't gleam with that over-polished, over-packaged look of television. Each video, from 2 to 10 minutes, covers one specific dish -- just enough for a mouth-watering work break if not dinner inspiration.

Don't expect super-high production value. Two still cameras and a complete lack of location shots does not a sexy food show make. But what Thumma's demos lack in glamour, he more than makes up with passionate enthusiasm (a taste of Hydrabadi mutton biryani literally brings him to tears), humor and generosity. Both veg and non-veg recipes appear in his demos, and he discusses the food of diverse communities across India.

Thumma seamlessly blends traditional techniques and modern adaptations. His simple yet brilliant two-step rice cooking for biryani ensures perfectly cooked basmati throughout the pot. His secret ingredient for butter chicken reveals the wonderful ways that food crisscrosses the oceans. Mentioning Indian restaurant cooks in the U.S. and England, Thumma holds up a bottle of "tomato ketchup" and squirts some into his sauce to finish it with just the right texture and tangy flavor.

While cooks already familiar with basic Indian spices will have a headstart, the demonstrations are geared to beginners, whether you're mixing your first raita, simmering a batch of comforting chana masala, making your own herb-infused paneer or--for the ambitious--rolling and stretching roomali roti to serve with kebabs.

There are many, many cooks demonstrating recipes on YouTube. I'm looking forward to watching the better ones emerge as new stars of the wide, wild culinary world.

Labels: india, recipes, thy tran, video, youtube

Thank you, Catherine Tate.

Battered veg. With spicy jam. That works for me. I love anything fried.

Thai tempura, or Hoi Tot, is a style of deep fat frying similar to that of the Japanese but suited of course to the climate, palates and product availability of the Thai people. Food from Thailand.

The Japanese themselves learned to batter and fry food from Portuguese missionaries who arrived on the shores of Japan in the mid 16th century-- just enough time for the trend to take hold, via street vendors, before the country turned its back on the rest of the world for the next 250 years. Before the arrival of the Portuguese, the Japanese had apparently no knowledge of deep frying and only limited understanding of the frying process in general. But, as with so many other things, the Japanese turned an inherently foreign concept into something very much their own. Like the automobile, imperialism, or anything cute.

The word tempura is derived from the Portuguese tempero (seasoning). The character used for writing tempura is the same as is used for "heaven". On a brief side note, the Japanese word for thank you, arigato, is said to be derived from the Portuguese obrigado. Although this bit of etymology is fascinating, I find it difficult to believe that such a polite society didn't know how to say "thank you" until the Portuguese came along. I now also wonder if tempura and tempera -- the most popular type of paint from ancient Egyptian times until the 15th century when oil paints were developed-- stem from the same root, since they are both egg-based media. Of course, egg is now seldom used in the making of tempura batter and tempera paints are such a bitch to work with that painters tend to avoid them. Coincidence? I think not.

I had planned to make and photograph my own tempura, but that's a rather tricky feat taking action photos of oneself. Especially when hot oil is involved. Besides, I found someone better, or at least more experienced, but probably better, than myself. Say hello to Reiko at VideoJug.com. Hell, say hello to everyone at Videojug, though I'm not sure they can hear you.

Warning: There is no spicy jam in this video.


VideoJug: How To Make Vegetable Tempura

Labels: michael procopio, tempura, video