It’s fascinating how grief and sadness and loss can affect different people in such varying ways, I’ve realized. Generally my default coping method is to not deal with those feelings up front, but instead to let them fester right under the surface for as long as I possibly can before they re-emerge days, months, sometimes even years later, bigger and more confusing than they ever were. Spoiler alert – it hasn’t worked for me so far! I don’t mean to make this post a downer or get too psycho-analytical, but the tragic earthquake that occurred last week in Nepal caught me off guard in a funny way, days after it had happened, opening up old wounds that had never quite healed properly and creating new, more complicated ones.
I lived in Nepal seven years ago for just over six months, and made a real life for myself there, with an apartment, and neighbors, and routines and a relationship that lasted for years after that, and then ended. When news of the earthquake first broke, I, like everyone else watching, was horrified by the destruction, and continued to be as the death toll mounted and it became clear how many people had gone from having little to having nothing, and how many incredible ancient sites had been completely wiped out. I donated to Prabal Gurung’s Crowdrise (and encourage you to do the same here). I perused my old photos from my time in Kathmandu, with a sort of detached air. But about a week later, an old friend who’d been volunteering in Nepal at the same time I was reached out to me to re-connect and tell me how much she was struggling to deal with what had happened, and that connection just opened up a firehose of emotions that are frankly still coming. Suddenly watching videos of the way Kathmandu used to look were making me well up at my desk. I found myself Google-mapping my old Kathmandu neighborhood of Lainchour, remembering the way the monkeys would run along the walls of the British embassy grounds, remembering how the pizza at Road House tasted, remembering the hundreds of temples I would pass everyday on my way to wherever, growing out of trees, dotted between shops selling felted bags and pashminas.
It breaks my heart to think that Kathmandu is never going to be the way I remember it, like I knew a place in a moment of time and someone else is not going to be able to have that experience now. Because as dirty and crazy and confusing a city as it was – after a day out walking I would be covered in a thick layer of dust, and I never did figure out how to take the bus on my own – it was a place filled with a magic that I haven’t felt anywhere else in the world. Most people had close to nothing, but the hospitality and joy that were part of the culture could be felt in every small interaction you had with someone. It was a city that was at once geared almost entirely towards entertaining a certain type of traveler (think Australians with dreadlocks and harem pants) and outfitting treks to Everest base camp or Annapurna, and also an incredibly sacred place filled with temples large and small, with centuries-old Buddhas and Hindu gods everywhere you looked. Somehow this all managed to co-exist in the most unique, inspiring way, and in a way that eventually felt like home to me.
This weekend it felt right to make Nepalese food for dinner, as my own strange way of dealing with all of this, a small tribute of sorts. I ate Nepalese food every day in Nepal and I loved to buy vegetables from the toothless old lady at the bottom of the hill and cook them up with masala and cilantro and turmeric. The black-eyed pea curry I’m sharing with you below is one I’d consider typical of Nepalese cuisine – it’s hearty, it’s bright and spicy (cayenne, chilis, turmeric, coriander, cumin, fenugreek, the usual suspects) and it’s humble. And it’s meant to be eaten with your hands, surrounded by people you love.
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups dried black-eyed peas
- 2 tablespoons vegetable oil
- 1 teaspoon fenugreek seeds
- 1 large onion, finely chopped (about 1 1/2 cups)
- 1 1/2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
- 2 to 3 medium cloves garlic, minced
- 1/2 teaspoon ground turmeric
- Large pinch of asafetida
- 2 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into 1-inch cubes (about 2 cups)
- 1 teaspoon ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon ground coriander
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
- 2 large tomatoes, chopped (about 3 cups)
- 3 to 4 scallions (white and pale green parts), finely chopped
- 2 to 3 fresh mild green chilies, halved lengthwise (I used 2 serranos, quartered)
- 1/2 cup finely chopped cilantro
Instructions
- First, sort and wash the black-eyed peas. Spread them out on a plate and pick through, discarding any foreign matter. Wash the beans by placing in a large bowl and cover with cold water. Remove anything that floats. Rinse and drain the water several times until it runs clear. Place the peas in a large bowl, cover with cold water and soak for up to 6 hours at room temperature (the dried beans I buy at Fairway always soak for much less time than recipes call for so check your beans along the way).
- Drain the peas and place them in a large saucepan with 5 1/2 cups of water. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, until the peas are tender, 45 minutes to 1 hour (again, my Fairway beans take much less time - they were ready in about 25 minutes). Drain any excess liquid.
- Heat the oil in a heavy saucepan over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot, but not smoking, add the fenugreek seeds and fry until browned and fragrant, about 5 seconds. Add the onion, ginger, garlic, turmeric and asafetida and cook, stirring until the onion softens, about 5 minutes. Mix in the peas, potatoes, cumin, coriander, salt and cayenne pepper and continue cooking, stirring as needed, for 5 minutes. Stir in 1 1/2 cups of water and bring the mixture to a boil. Cook uncovered for 5 minutes, then reduce the heat to medium-low, cover and cook until the potatoes are tender, about 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, green onions and chilies, and cook, stirring for 5 minutes. Transfer to a serving dish, top with the cilantro and serve.
Notes
From Taste of Nepal
May 7, 2015 at 12:41 am
You tell a beautiful story; I admire the clarity with which you can express these complex feelings. <3
May 7, 2015 at 2:09 am
Thank you for sharing your thoughts with us about a place that will never be the same, but will always be with you.