yah.... I can post pictures of American/Mexican/Italian dishes...
As you said, bay area is great location for food.. Along with American/Mexican/Italian dishes, we do get all kinds of Asian Dishes ( Indian, Chinese, Thai, Vietnam , Japanese, middle east ), Greek & African dishes..
But somehow, Indian food in bay area is no match with food in India...
in usa its tough to find good Indian restaurants,if one dish is good at one place then nothing is good in that area. some of my favorites places are biryani factory in artesia if you ever arein boston area try this Sichuan Gourmet now a days there is a new franchise called godavari spreading in many states here
In USA, it is not that easy to bring skilled staff or chefs from India trained in Indian Food on visas. Many times I have observed people from other professions like IT or Gas Station jump on opening Indian Restaurants with some Family members and by training illegal Mexicans to cook Indian Food. Explosive growth of Indian population has also increased the number of Indian Restaurants but quality is a real suspect. It will take some years but one day Indian Food industry will get established in America like how we have in Malaysia or in Dubai. I can cook good Indian at home so I avoid eating Indian Food outside India and focus on Local delicacies only.
I used to like eating at those Mexican Taco-Trucks near Construction sites and they were run by Mexican ladies. Real Authentic Mexican Food. American Diners are nice. New York Style Pizza Slice is my favorite.
Mexican Taco Truck will have Menu like this. It will improve your Spanish Language skills too.
Quite a lot of discussion here about Indian and American food and the availability of good Indian food in the USA...natural because many Indians, among them many IFN members, live in the USA....In this context, I am reminded of a short story "Mrs. Sen's" in Jhumpa Lahiri's award-winning book, Interpreter of Maladies...the story narrates the life of an Indian woman, Mrs. Sen who agrees to be the babysitter of a eleven year old American boy,Eliot...although the boy is initially a bit baffled at the new atmosphere at the Indian household (attire like opulent sarees and wearing flip-flops, culinary styles like the fondness of Indians for fishes of all sorts), he gradually warms to her and considers her more as a mother-figure than his own mother...this stay with the Sens is cut short however when Mrs. Sen ( who is unfortunately not a good driver) meets with an accident while driving and both she and Eliot escape with minor injuries...Eliot has to do without a babysitter...it is a brilliant read about the first generation of Indian immigrants to America and the particular dilemma they face in adjusting to the customs of their new country and the traditions of their own homeland...I guess many of the members have read the story but for anyone who is interested, here is the link for the full story: http://djrabb72.weebly.com/uploads/2/2/6/9/22696388/mrssensgcopy.pdf Since this a thread about food and eating, I will just quote some excerpts which brilliantly underline the difference between the Indian and the American psyche when it comes to food and cooking: 1) The American boy watches an Indian woman wielding a bonti (Blade used in Bengali households to chop vegetables and cut fish): He especially enjoyed watching Mrs. Sen as she chopped things, seated on
newspapers on the living room floor. Instead of a knife she used a blade that curved like
the prow of a Viking ship, sailing to battle in distant seas. The blade was hinged at one
end to a narrow wooden base. The steel, more black than silver, lacked a uniform
polish, and had a serrated crest, she told Eliot, for grating. Each afternoon Mrs. Sen
lifted the blade and locked it into place, so that it met the base at an angle. Facing the
sharp edge without ever touching it, she took whole vegetables between her hands and
hacked them apart: cauliflower, cabbage, butternut squash. She split things in half, then
quarters, speedily producing florets, cubes, slices, and shreds. She could peel a potato
in seconds. At times she sat cross-legged, at times with legs splayed, surrounded by an
array of colanders and shallow bowls of water in which she immersed her chopped
ingredients. 2) Mrs. Sen's fondness for fish and her frustration at not being able to find the fishes of her choice, not even in the supermarket: The other thing that made Mrs. Sen happy was fish from the seaside. It was always a
whole fish she desired, not shellfish, or the fillets Eliot’s mother had broiled one night a
few months ago when she’d invited a man from her office to dinner—a man who’d spent
the night in his mother’s bedroom, but whom Eliot never saw again. One evening when
Eliot’s mother came to pick him up, Mrs. Sen served her a tuna croquette, explaining
that it was really supposed to be made with a fish called bhetki. “It is very frustrating,”
Mrs. Sen apologized, with an emphasis on the second syllable of the word. “To live so
close to the ocean and not to have so much fish.” In the summer, she said, she liked to
go to a market by the beach. She added that while the fish there tasted nothing like the
fish in India, at least it was fresh. Now that it was getting colder, the boats were no
longer going out regularly, and sometimes there was no whole fish available for weeks
at a time.
“Try the supermarket,” his mother suggested.
Mrs. Sen shook her head. “In the supermarket I can feed a cat thirty-two dinners from
one of thirty-two tins, but I can never find a single fish I like, never a single.” Mrs. Sen
said she had grown up eating fish twice a day. She added that in Calcutta people ate
fish first thing in the morning, last thing before bed, as a snack after school if they were
lucky. They ate the tail, the eggs, even the head. It was available in any market, at any
hour, from dawn until midnight. “All you have to do is leave the house and walk a bit,
and there you are.” 3) Mrs. Sen wants the seller to give her the whole fish, with heads on, which the seller is unable to comprehend and the Indian way of checking and cooking the fish: Eliot accompanied her into the dank little shop, whose walls were festooned with nets
and starfish and buoys. A group of tourists with cameras around their necks huddled by
the counter, some sampling stuffed clams, others pointing to a large chart illustrating
fifty different varieties of North Atlantic fish. Mrs. Sen took a ticket from the machine at
the counter and waited in line. Eliot stood by the lobsters, which stirred one on top of
another in their murky tank, their claws bound by yellow rubber bands. He watched as
Mrs. Sen laughed and chatted, when it was her turn in line, with a man with a bright red
face and yellow teeth, dressed in a black rubber apron. In either hand he held a
mackerel by the tail.
“You are sure what you sell me is very fresh?”
“Any fresher and they’d answer that question themselves.”
The dial shivered toward its verdict on the scale.
“You want this cleaned, Mrs. Sen?”
She nodded. “Leave the heads on, please.”
“You got cats at home?”
“No cats. Only a husband.” Later, in the apartment, she pulled the blade out of the cupboard, spread newspapers
across the carpet, and inspected her treasures. One by one she drew them from the
paper wrapping, wrinkled and tinged with blood. She stroked the tails, prodded the
bellies, pried apart the gutted flesh. With a pair of scissors she clipped the fins. She
tucked a finger under the gills, a red so bright they made her vermilion seem pale. She
grasped the body, lined with inky streaks, at either end, and notched it at intervals
against the blade.
“Why do you do that?” Eliot asked.
“To see how many pieces. If I cut properly, from this fish I will get three meals.” She
sawed off the head and set it on a pie plate.
Karachi Halwa is very famous in Rajasthan, Mumbai, Delhi. It was popularised by Sindhi Refugees who came to India after Partition in 1947. Some people also call it Bombay Halwa. In Mumbai, look for Chandu Halwai shop to taste this awesome sweet. Best place will be GhasitaRam Halwai shop at Grant Road area in Mumbai.
Comments
yah.... I can post pictures of American/Mexican/Italian dishes...
As you said, bay area is great location for food.. Along with American/Mexican/Italian dishes, we do get all kinds of Asian Dishes ( Indian, Chinese, Thai, Vietnam , Japanese, middle east ), Greek & African dishes..
But somehow, Indian food in bay area is no match with food in India...
some of my favorites places are biryani factory in artesia
if you ever arein boston area try this Sichuan Gourmet
now a days there is a new franchise called godavari spreading in many states here
I used to like eating at those Mexican Taco-Trucks near Construction sites and they were run by Mexican ladies. Real Authentic Mexican Food. American Diners are nice. New York Style Pizza Slice is my favorite.
Mexican Taco Truck will have Menu like this. It will improve your Spanish Language skills too.
1) The American boy watches an Indian woman wielding a bonti (Blade used in Bengali households to chop vegetables and cut fish):
He especially enjoyed watching Mrs. Sen as she chopped things, seated on newspapers on the living room floor. Instead of a knife she used a blade that curved like the prow of a Viking ship, sailing to battle in distant seas. The blade was hinged at one end to a narrow wooden base. The steel, more black than silver, lacked a uniform polish, and had a serrated crest, she told Eliot, for grating. Each afternoon Mrs. Sen lifted the blade and locked it into place, so that it met the base at an angle. Facing the sharp edge without ever touching it, she took whole vegetables between her hands and hacked them apart: cauliflower, cabbage, butternut squash. She split things in half, then quarters, speedily producing florets, cubes, slices, and shreds. She could peel a potato in seconds. At times she sat cross-legged, at times with legs splayed, surrounded by an array of colanders and shallow bowls of water in which she immersed her chopped ingredients.
2) Mrs. Sen's fondness for fish and her frustration at not being able to find the fishes of her choice, not even in the supermarket:
The other thing that made Mrs. Sen happy was fish from the seaside. It was always a whole fish she desired, not shellfish, or the fillets Eliot’s mother had broiled one night a few months ago when she’d invited a man from her office to dinner—a man who’d spent the night in his mother’s bedroom, but whom Eliot never saw again. One evening when Eliot’s mother came to pick him up, Mrs. Sen served her a tuna croquette, explaining that it was really supposed to be made with a fish called bhetki. “It is very frustrating,” Mrs. Sen apologized, with an emphasis on the second syllable of the word. “To live so close to the ocean and not to have so much fish.” In the summer, she said, she liked to go to a market by the beach. She added that while the fish there tasted nothing like the fish in India, at least it was fresh. Now that it was getting colder, the boats were no longer going out regularly, and sometimes there was no whole fish available for weeks at a time. “Try the supermarket,” his mother suggested. Mrs. Sen shook her head. “In the supermarket I can feed a cat thirty-two dinners from one of thirty-two tins, but I can never find a single fish I like, never a single.” Mrs. Sen said she had grown up eating fish twice a day. She added that in Calcutta people ate fish first thing in the morning, last thing before bed, as a snack after school if they were lucky. They ate the tail, the eggs, even the head. It was available in any market, at any hour, from dawn until midnight. “All you have to do is leave the house and walk a bit, and there you are.”
3) Mrs. Sen wants the seller to give her the whole fish, with heads on, which the seller is unable to comprehend and the Indian way of checking and cooking the fish:
Eliot accompanied her into the dank little shop, whose walls were festooned with nets and starfish and buoys. A group of tourists with cameras around their necks huddled by the counter, some sampling stuffed clams, others pointing to a large chart illustrating fifty different varieties of North Atlantic fish. Mrs. Sen took a ticket from the machine at the counter and waited in line. Eliot stood by the lobsters, which stirred one on top of another in their murky tank, their claws bound by yellow rubber bands. He watched as Mrs. Sen laughed and chatted, when it was her turn in line, with a man with a bright red face and yellow teeth, dressed in a black rubber apron. In either hand he held a mackerel by the tail. “You are sure what you sell me is very fresh?” “Any fresher and they’d answer that question themselves.” The dial shivered toward its verdict on the scale. “You want this cleaned, Mrs. Sen?” She nodded. “Leave the heads on, please.” “You got cats at home?” “No cats. Only a husband.”
Karachi Halwa is very famous in Rajasthan, Mumbai, Delhi. It was popularised by Sindhi Refugees who came to India after Partition in 1947. Some people also call it Bombay Halwa. In Mumbai, look for Chandu Halwai shop to taste this awesome sweet. Best place will be GhasitaRam Halwai shop at Grant Road area in Mumbai.
@goalkeeper story was right