Spices for supper

	Spices for supper
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I like Patak spice mixes. You glop some out of the jar on what might otherwise be an ordinary meal, and it becomes interesting. Some would say you need to have a traditional Indian recipe to cook it with, but that's codswallop. Take what I made last night.

It was Wed., my night to pick up our 2 year old from the sitters. I got there almost on time at 5:06. Justin insisted on going through the park, and as usual wanted to play on all the equipment at all three of the playgrounds along the way.

"Again, Daddy?" he asked, but he wasn't asking permission, he was asking for attention. He likes it when someone goes on the slide with him, anyone, even Daddy!

When I insisted on leaving, he message changed to "Take down again, Daddy!" And he repeated it until I went down the slide again, one more time, and then kept repeating it the rest of the way home, getting more and more frustrated and angry until I picked him up and carried him the last block.

I found the kids a snack, and cleaned last nights' supper out of the big pot so I could make supper in it.

"Daddy?" Justin had a Tarzan picture book.

"Arms!" This was important stuff. He had to tell Daddy this! And I knew I wouldn't get supper started until he was satisfied.

"Arms." I said, pointing at Jane.

"Feet!" Justin said, pointing at Jane.

"Foot." I said, pointing at Jane's left foot.

"Boobs!" He said, pointing at Jane's partly covered chest. There are certain consequences to allowing breast feeding after the child starts to talk.

"Yup, that's boobs all right," I smiled and patted him, turning away to start supper, "just like Mommy."

"Boobs!" He said and strutted off with the book.

I checked the label on the Biryani paste. Patak had redesigned the label again, with new graphics, and they'd changed the name to "Biryani Curry Paste". Marketing stuff. One of my employer's went through a phase where they changed the names of all the products three times in the same year, or was it four?

I looked at their recipe suggestion to get an idea of how much to put in my stew:
- some oil,
- one onion,
- 3/4 cup rice,
- 2 cups mixed veggies,
- 1 1/2 cups of canned chopped tomatoes

That serves 4 and they added 8 tablespoons - 120 ml, or half the bottle of spice paste! That was way too much spice for my family! The last time I served food that was near my own spice limit, I had to make fried eggs for everyone else.

I had 6 precooked chicken legs from last night, so I pulled the meat off and put that in, plus:
- about 1 pound frozen peas,
- a 19 ounce can of chick peas,
- two 12 ounce cans of corn, and
- 4 diced up potatoes.

I usually put in about half as much as their recipe called for, so I put in 2 big tablespoons of Biryani Curry Paste and checked to see if it needed more.

Fire! Wow! Hot stuff! Even a bit too hot for me! A couple sips of milk banked the fires on my tongue, but didn't put them out. They must have really changed the recipe when they added the word "curry" to the title! The last time I used it, Biryani paste wasn't really that hot.

This was too hot to serve to the family. I grabbed the rice bag, poured two cups into the stew, and added that to the stew, with 4 cups of water.

Then Justin showed up with the Tarzan book again. This time he had a picture of Tarzan.

"Arm!" he said. Looked like this was getting to be a ritual, and I had a fire-breathing supper to tame.

"Arm!" I said, brightly, pointing to Tarzan.

"Boobs!" said Justin importantly, pointing to Tarzan's bare chest.

"Huh?" I looked at Tarzan. Sure enough, he was so heavily muscled he had a bulging chest with clearly visible nipples.

I corrected him as gently as I could. "Not boobs, Justin. That's a guy. Men don't have boobs. You have to say 'muscles' when its a guy. Muscles." And I pointed at Tarzan's nipples, errr chest.

"Muscles?" Just sounded out the new word.

"Muscles. That's right. Guys have muscles, or at least some guys do. Mommies have boobs."

"Muscles!" Justin pointed at Tarzan. "Muscles." Then he took his book down to the basement to show to his big brother Robert.

I raided the fridge for more leftovers:
- three more chicken legs
- leftover potatoes
- some meat sauce originally intended for pasta

I diced them and added them while the rice cooked. It was still a bit hotter than I usually cook things, but the pot was full, so I just served it for supper.

Little Robert said it was a bit hot, but he had seconds. Justin ate some, then wouldn't eat any more until I persuaded him to try some milk. He finished most of his bowl, interspersed with lots of milk. Then he tried to feed the rest to Mom and Dad. Mom said it wasn't too hot, she liked the flavor. She only had one helping, but she rarely has seconds of anything.

Then Justin showed the Tarzan picture to Mom. "Muscles!" he said. "Not boobs! Muscles!"

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