I Am NOT A Complete Falafel Failure. But Not To Worry Because I Make Up For It In So Many Other Ways

When I was a young bride, okay, stop laughing now.  Okay, I’ll try that again.  So, when I was a NEW bride (it is, apparently important to differentiate between young and new since I was over 30 when I got married) I brought with me an air of confidence and felt secure in the knowledge that I could feed people and keep them alive with my cooking.  Maybe only barely, but alive nonetheless.  I mean, I kept myself alive, didn’t I?  And my kid?  Well, he was alive too and not malnourished.  So, obviously I could cook.  And that was, um, how to put this delicately, oh, I know:  So. Totally. Fucking. Wrong.  I was terrified to really cook but all of a sudden I had a husband, who, unlike my son, was unlikely to be satisfied with half a block of cheese and a box of crackers for dinner, washed down with some raw fruit and a litre of milk (hey – be nice, all the food groups were accounted for).  And Mr. KB was not scared of cooking.  And he liked to cook.  And he was good at it.  And, well, holy hell, I wanted to be good at it too.  (In case you’re new to this planet, food=love.  Remember that, there will be a quiz later).

It turned out that I was an insecure cook and the constant feeling of impending doom and disaster clung to me whenever I tried to cook, bake or create something new (babies not included).  As time passed and Mr. KB reassured me regularly that he liked my cooking, my confidence and daring in the kitchen grew.  My many, many attempts (and failures) to make certain foods is another post, for another time.  But I will share it eventually.  I even have some pictures as proof of the weirdness I concocted in those earlier years. And, to Mr. KB’s credit, he was never negative or mean about my flops.  And I love him even more for that.

Now, you may think, because we live in Keswick that we are uncultured peons who think that exotic dining is ordering Quizznos instead of Mr. Sub.  But you would be wrong.  Keswick is the York Region hub of multicultural cuisine.  There is not one, but (almost) two sushi joints (all you can eat, opening soon on the Queensway!).  There is an elegant looking sit down Thai place, a couple of requisite Chinese food restaurants, and the Riveredge Restaurant serves Souvalki.  See?  cultured and exotic.  But, one thing that we do not have is Middle Eastern cuisine.  There is not a Schwarma or Falafel in sight.  Nowhere.  But Mr. KB loves him some exotic food.  And I love him.  So, I looked imminent failure square in the face (and cried a little) then marched forward into unknown desert foodlands.  And last night, I made falafel.  And it wasn’t the worst ever.  And Mr. KB liked it.  Hee hee hee.  Take that failure – take that one square in the nuts and feck off for the night.  There’s no room for you here!  I am victorious.  Or am I? I’m going with mostly on this one.

Mr. KB is excellent to prepare food for.  He is different from me in as many ways as he is the same as me.  And that is part of what makes us work.  He gives honest  feedback.  The falafel was a little dry, but nice and spicy.  Next time, along with the yogurt/mayo sauce, hummus would go really well with them and help ward off the dry factor.  He tells me what he likes, what changes may be good and what just doesn’t work.  And that helpful to hear, I appreciate it and wish more people were able to be similarly honest and helpful yet not hurtful or harsh.  Got that?  They are all ‘h’ words but combined any other way and it’s badness.

Back to my multicultural, exotic kitchen (which I should take a moment at this juncture to admit that I am the person you are least likely to find at a sushi bar, dim sum or Ethiopian restaurant) but I don’t let that stop me from trying to recreate foods which that I do not eat, for the sake of my loved ones *grin*  The Falafel recipe was easy to follow and believe it or not, I cooked them in the crockpot ( love, love, love the slow cooker!).  If I get ambitious I’ll post the recipe, but I’m not there yet.  They ended up looking like this:

And, since just about every flat bread and tortilla I can find in this world has wheat in it, I made these too:

And together with the lettuce and yogurt/mayo sauce, I think it’s fair to call dinner “a hit!”

And before you get all “ya, but what did all your kids eat?  Hmmmm?” I can tell you that my kids are every bit the multicultural and exotic diners that their father is.  They ate this:

and for dessert they ate these:

So, all in all a fairly productive cooking day, with everyone’s appetites sated (except the kids – they wanted more cookies.  My kids LOVE their vegetables.  Don’t be hatin’ on them, they’re just children).  Oh, and what did I have?  Well, to complete our international cuisine night, I had the North American classic, PB&J.  So much of the world was represented by our kitchen last night.  I shiver.

And, I have just been happy to have this opportunity, once again, to share with and educate all of you non-Keswickians on just how culturally sophisticated we are up here in K-Rock.  It’s not all monster trucks and kissin’ cousins.  Spread the word, ya’ll.