i explain you the delhi.

I wasn't necessarily expecting to like Delhi. Diana had warned me that it was a government town, the most smoothly run (and in that sense most boring) place I could possibly go in India. And you know, I can see that. The British influence is still strong in Delhi, but it's not just that -- Delhi's making a huge push to become a major international city. Its metro, which opened in 2002, is gorgeous, its traffic patterns more or less make sense, and we visited a mall in South Delhi that was one of the most surreal experiences of the whole trip -- had I not known for a fact that we were still in India, I would have sworn I'd been dropped into Southern California.

Having said all this, I really liked Delhi.






We wandered through markets and the Red Fort and a mosque in Old Delhi; ate delicious mutton cooked on a grill on the street; visited Gandhi Smriti (the museum in the house where Gandhi was assassinated) and Rajghat (the park where Gandhi was cremated); shopped till we dropped in Karol Bagh and got pedicures from hot men at a day spa in Greater Kailash 1. Delhi seemed full of possibility, ready for anything. I like that in a city.

deener, lizard.

When you're used to cooking for yourself, it can be hard to eat out for two weeks straight. Much as I love Indian food, I was beyond delighted to come back to my own apartment and cook myself sauteed spinach with garlic, Bratkartoffeln with shallots, and a tuna melt on a toasted sesame roll, with sriracha mayo on the side. The weather was nice enough to have my first dinner of springtime on my balcony, too, though it was slightly too cool to linger. I wasn't too concerned. There are plenty more balcony dinners to come.

bangladesh kohtai?

I just got back from spending two weeks in South Asia, visiting Lauren in Bangladesh for a week and then traveling on to India with her and Jess, another girl from Lauren's public health grad program. Most of the time I was in Bangladesh I was in Savar (about 45 minutes outside of Dhaka, the capital city), at BRAC University's campus, which is where Lauren's currently living. While I was there I was lying low, taking plenty of naps, and generally lazing about as Lauren frantically worked on a massive project. I tagged along on a trip into a nearby village for fieldwork, and also took myself on a bike ride down to the waterfront one day. I was mostly too timid to take pictures of people, except for some schoolkids; guess my career as a professional photographer will have to wait until I get bolder.








I also spent some time in Dhaka, which is one of the weirder cities I've ever been in. It looks sort of perpetually half-finished, partially abandoned, full of broken bricks and concrete, yet at the same time it's full of more people than I have ever seen in one place before. Bangladesh is arguably the most densely populated country in the world, so it makes sense that its capital would be teeming with people. It's also the most polluted city I've ever been in (which is something, after living just outside of Los Angeles for three years). I learned some basic Bangla:

Indian High Commission kohtai? / Where is the Indian High Commission?
Ekane! / Stop right here!
Kohto? / How much?
bane / left
dane / right
Jaben? / Will you go?

This, along with my approximately five euros' worth of taka and couple of salwar kameez outfits, will be immensely useful for my hypothetical return to Bangladesh. While I was there, I was plotting out possible Fulbright research projects -- rural cuisine? gay rights in Dhaka? -- but ultimately was right there with Lauren and Jess in breathing a huge sigh of relief upon arriving in India, the land of comparative sanity.

It's a fascinating place, though, Bangladesh. Sometimes it seemed weirder than any place I'd ever been (why are those women sitting on the side of the road breaking bricks with hammers? what in the world is going on with that guy carrying piles of trussed-up chickens in a basket on his head? why is this woman gesturing with her scarf and touching my sweaty forehead?) and then, a few minutes later, the things that struck me as bizarre would seem not that weird at all. It was easier, I think, to adopt a "just roll with it" attitude since I was around people who'd been living in Bangladesh for two months already -- and this ended up serving me very well all over South Asia.

the isle of sand and snow

Katherine and I took a four-day weekend and rode a train as far north in Germany as we could go: to Westerland, on the island of Sylt. The day we arrived was sunny and beautiful, so we walked on the beach in search of our hostel. We were told it was "a little outside of the city." That was okay; it was a nice day for walking.

The sun disappeared more or less permanently after that first afternoon, and it turned out we were about a month too early for the start of the (summer?!) season. Our hopes of going to the beach sauna in List and then jumping in the North Sea were dashed, since the sauna doesn't open until April and large sections of the bay were frozen over. We consoled ourselves by eating at Gosch repeatedly and taking a car ferry to Denmark.

provisions

Today, on my new ride to work, I nearly ran into a sausage truck. My initial annoyance turned to delight when I realized that the sausage truck was part of a market.




If my route to work hadn't changed when I moved last weekend, I very well may have kept on missing out on the glorious market that takes place on Schillerstraße every Friday. I did my best to make up for my past ignorance by buying out half the place: yellow tulips, three kinds of cheese, rose hip jam, turnips, clementines . . . I was out of control. It's a very good thing that the best way to get from work to home is via bicycle, and straight uphill.

white bean hummus

I'd been eyeing the white bean hummus recipe on Orangette for a while now, but hadn't been entirely assured of the existence of either white beans or tahini in Frankfurt. As it turns out, tahini can be found even in regular grocery stores, and Reformhaus Freya, which has loads of locations around Bornheim and the Innenstadt, stocks dried beans (and also dried chickpeas! I sense some hummus variations coming on soon.).

So last night, armed with all the ingredients, I made a huge, lovely bowl full of Molly's Little Family White Bean Hummus.


The recipe calls for a quarter cup of lemon juice, or more to taste; I used the juice of two lemons, which was about a quarter cup, but think I would go with three next time. I cooked my own white beans from dried instead of using a can, so none of the salt that you get in canned beans was already there. If you do the same, ignore the recommended amount of salt in the recipe and just salt to taste. I also added a whole bunch of black pepper. Definitely follow the instruction to drizzle with olive oil for serving -- that makes this hummus unholy good. I added some paprika as well.

The recipe doesn't say exactly how much it makes -- I got about three cups, a.k.a. enough to keep me well-stocked with hummus for a week, or to keep my friend Diana stocked with hummus for an hour. I can say with certainty, because I am eating it right this moment, that it is just as delicious the next morning, with a day-old petit pain, and hope it will continue to be excellent for Katherine's and my all-day train ride to Sylt on Saturday. I think it will. I have faith in this hummus.