Category: Lauren Thinks She Can Cook

Do you ever have one of these days where life feels like a pointless exercise in the never-ending struggle to find meaning? Well I was having one of those weeks. I usually jump out of bed with purpose when my alarm goes off, but at the height of my depressive spell, I’d spend a good 10 minutes staring at my ceiling, willing myself to get up. I know that life, however meaningless it sometimes gets, would be infinitely worse if I ditched work and stay burrowed under my blankets. But there has to be a more compelling reason to make it out of bed other than the fear of disappointing your coworkers and not wanting deadlines to pile up.

I don’t know why I sometimes I feel this way, and I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to understand why. All I know it keeps visiting me, the feeling that each day is another stage to play out the empty charade that is my existence, and I keep charade-ing on in the hopes that one day, I will wake up feeling like running towards life and love and meaning with arms wide open.

Existentially despairing

One Friday afternoon, I RSVP’ed to a college buddy’s birthday party in an attempt to get out of my head. The thought of reconnecting with old friends usually excites me, but as 5 pm drew nearer I started feeling FOMO towards sleep. Actually, the parts of me that were still awake wondered if I should bother when I felt too tired for social niceties. Plus what if I meet someone new? Ugh. The last thing I want is to fixate on some guy who shows me the least bit of attention.

I decided to go anyway, but not without heading home for a quick nap. As my tummy rumbled in EDSA traffic, I thought about how I hadn’t touched the groceries I bought on Monday. Then for the first time all week, I felt genuinely excited, because I remembered buying ingredients for chicken tikka masala, and I had enough time to make some before getting my party on.

Let me tell you all about chicken tikka masala. It’s my favorite thing to eat in THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Chunks of soft chicken breast marinated in a tangy mix of Indian spices, then made to simmer in a creamy yogurt-tomato sauce. Oh my God. It is the best thing ever. If you ever find yourself in an Indian restaurant, order a bowl of CTM plus some garlic naan to mop the leftover sauce up.  Your life is instantly better. You’re welcome.

Chicken tikka masala came into my life at the height of my first real heartbreak. In my early twenties, I flew to San Francisco to see my long-distance boyfriend, only to learn that he wasn’t very interested in being my boyfriend anymore. Too heartbroken to make the most out of my trip, I spent a few days moping around the hostel, stepping out only to buy coffee and cigarettes. Eventually, I befriended the receptionist, a new transplant from the east coast who listened sympathetically to my how-could-he’s and why-is-this-happening-to-me’s.

We ended up exploring the city together during his days off, and once wandered into Indian restaurant after an afternoon of aimless walking.

“Order anything,” I said. “I don’t know what to get.”

He brought back a fragrant bowl of chicken tikka masala with garlic naan, and I observed as he tore off a piece of the flatbread and dipped it into the sauce. I followed suit, and from that first bite my palate was forever changed. Choirs of angels sang in my head as my taste buds tried to make sense out of the strange new flavors coating my tongue and the insides of my mouth. I’m no good at describing what food tastes like, but I can tell you that the sauce’s comforting warmth somehow made its way to my soul, which felt a little less sad and wounded with each bite. I smiled at my new friend across the table and he smiled back, and that made me feel better too.

 Photo credit: seriouseats.com

Because of this, chicken tikka masala is more than just the best-tasting dish I have ever had in my life. It’s the gastronomical equivalent of a hug from a good friend. It’s a delicious reminder that no matter how bad things get, everything will be just fine in the end.

Once I made it home, I threw myself into prepping my dinner. Soon, I had my stew simmering on the stove and filling the apartment with all sorts of spicy aromas. And as I sat waiting for the sauce to thicken, I felt content for the first time in weeks. There I was, marking the passage of time with cigarettes, enjoying the Spotify-curated jazz music in the background, and waiting for my self-prepared dinner to reach its desired consistency and flavor. What more could I ask for?

Needless to say, I missed out on my friend’s awesome birthday party, but I don’t regret staying in one bit. More than learning to cook chicken tikka masala, that evening taught me how to do this “taking care of myself” thing my friends keep telling me about. I used to think that this meant yoga or massages, and I rejected the concept because I don’t really do these things.

But as I licked the bowl clean of masala sauce, I realized that “taking care of yourself” means doing little acts of kindness to yourself without being self-destructive. It’s learning to work around your flaws instead of hating yourself for it. It’s accepting the fact things don’t always work out, but that it’s not always your fault that life is shit and people suck sometimes. And as long as you can make your favorite dish in the whole wide world to cheer yourself up, everything will be all right, and life might not be as meaningless as you make it out to be.

BONUS: Lauren’s Lazy Chicken Tikka Masala Recipe

To make your own chicken tikka masala, all you need are four things:

1) chicken, chopped into bite-sized pieces
2) an onion, coarsely chopped
3) plain yogurt
4) a tikka masala spice packet (what, did you think I actually made this from scratch?)

Step 1: read the instructions on the spice packet, backwards and forwards, until you’re sure there is no way you can fuck up the dish

Step 2: marinate the chicken with whatever’s in the spice packet for 15-20 minutes

Step 3: stir-fry chopped onion until soft

Step 4: add the marinated meat, stir-fry for a bit. Add the recommended amount of water indicated in the spice packet, and 3 tablespoons of yogurt.

Step 5: the sauce will appear watery and gross. Let it simmer until the sauce reaches your desired consistency. This takes me about 20-30 minutes.

Step 6: serve straight from the stove while it’s piping hot. Consider investing in a tiny metal bowl, because chicken tikka masala cools down very quickly.

Do you ever have one of these days where life feels like a pointless exercise in the never-ending struggle to find meaning? Well I was having one of those weeks. I usually jump out of bed with purpose when my alarm goes off, but at the height of my depressive spell, I’d spend a good 10 minutes staring at my ceiling, willing myself to get up. I know that life, however meaningless it sometimes gets, would be infinitely worse if I ditched work and stay burrowed under my blankets. But there has to be a more compelling reason to make it out of bed other than the fear of disappointing your coworkers and not wanting deadlines to pile up.

I don’t know why I sometimes I feel this way, and I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to understand why. All I know it keeps visiting me, the feeling that each day is another stage to play out the empty charade that is my existence, and I keep charade-ing on in the hopes that one day, I will wake up feeling like running towards life and love and meaning with arms wide open.

Existentially despairing

One Friday afternoon, I RSVP’ed to a college buddy’s birthday party in an attempt to get out of my head. The thought of reconnecting with old friends usually excites me, but as 5 pm drew nearer I started feeling FOMO towards sleep. Actually, the parts of me that were still awake wondered if I should bother when I felt too tired for social niceties. Plus what if I meet someone new? Ugh. The last thing I want is to fixate on some guy who shows me the least bit of attention.

I decided to go anyway, but not without heading home for a quick nap. As my tummy rumbled in EDSA traffic, I thought about how I hadn’t touched the groceries I bought on Monday. Then for the first time all week, I felt genuinely excited, because I remembered buying ingredients for chicken tikka masala, and I had enough time to make some before getting my party on.

Let me tell you all about chicken tikka masala. It’s my favorite thing to eat in THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD. Chunks of soft chicken breast marinated in a tangy mix of Indian spices, then made to simmer in a creamy yogurt-tomato sauce. Oh my God. It is the best thing ever. If you ever find yourself in an Indian restaurant, order a bowl of CTM plus some garlic naan to mop the leftover sauce up.  Your life is instantly better. You’re welcome.

Chicken tikka masala came into my life at the height of my first real heartbreak. In my early twenties, I flew to San Francisco to see my long-distance boyfriend, only to learn that he wasn’t very interested in being my boyfriend anymore. Too heartbroken to make the most out of my trip, I spent a few days moping around the hostel, stepping out only to buy coffee and cigarettes. Eventually, I befriended the receptionist, a new transplant from the east coast who listened sympathetically to my how-could-he’s and why-is-this-happening-to-me’s.

We ended up exploring the city together during his days off, and once wandered into Indian restaurant after an afternoon of aimless walking.

“Order anything,” I said. “I don’t know what to get.”

He brought back a fragrant bowl of chicken tikka masala with garlic naan, and I observed as he tore off a piece of the flatbread and dipped it into the sauce. I followed suit, and from that first bite my palate was forever changed. Choirs of angels sang in my head as my taste buds tried to make sense out of the strange new flavors coating my tongue and the insides of my mouth. I’m no good at describing what food tastes like, but I can tell you that the sauce’s comforting warmth somehow made its way to my soul, which felt a little less sad and wounded with each bite. I smiled at my new friend across the table and he smiled back, and that made me feel better too.

 Photo credit: seriouseats.com

Because of this, chicken tikka masala is more than just the best-tasting dish I have ever had in my life. It’s the gastronomical equivalent of a hug from a good friend. It’s a delicious reminder that no matter how bad things get, everything will be just fine in the end.

Once I made it home, I threw myself into prepping my dinner. Soon, I had my stew simmering on the stove and filling the apartment with all sorts of spicy aromas. And as I sat waiting for the sauce to thicken, I felt content for the first time in weeks. There I was, marking the passage of time with cigarettes, enjoying the Spotify-curated jazz music in the background, and waiting for my self-prepared dinner to reach its desired consistency and flavor. What more could I ask for?

Needless to say, I missed out on my friend’s awesome birthday party, but I don’t regret staying in one bit. More than learning to cook chicken tikka masala, that evening taught me how to do this “taking care of myself” thing my friends keep telling me about. I used to think that this meant yoga or massages, and I rejected the concept because I don’t really do these things.

But as I licked the bowl clean of masala sauce, I realized that “taking care of yourself” means doing little acts of kindness to yourself without being self-destructive. It’s learning to work around your flaws instead of hating yourself for it. It’s accepting the fact things don’t always work out, but that it’s not always your fault that life is shit and people suck sometimes. And as long as you can make your favorite dish in the whole wide world to cheer yourself up, everything will be all right, and life might not be as meaningless as you make it out to be.

BONUS: Lauren’s Lazy Chicken Tikka Masala Recipe

To make your own chicken tikka masala, all you need are four things:

1) chicken, chopped into bite-sized pieces
2) an onion, coarsely chopped
3) plain yogurt
4) a tikka masala spice packet (what, did you think I actually made this from scratch?)

Step 1: read the instructions on the spice packet, backwards and forwards, until you’re sure there is no way you can fuck up the dish

Step 2: marinate the chicken with whatever’s in the spice packet for 15-20 minutes

Step 3: stir-fry chopped onion until soft

Step 4: add the marinated meat, stir-fry for a bit. Add the recommended amount of water indicated in the spice packet, and 3 tablespoons of yogurt.

Step 5: the sauce will appear watery and gross. Let it simmer until the sauce reaches your desired consistency. This takes me about 20-30 minutes.

Step 6: serve straight from the stove while it’s piping hot. Consider investing in a tiny metal bowl, because chicken tikka masala cools down very quickly.

My mom’s new pink Kitchenaid mixer combined with my relentless Pinterest pinning has unleashed a kitchen ho I didn’t know was hiding in me. I’ve always been more comfortable handling an oven than a stove, because there just seems to be no point in learning how to cook when you can bake cookies. In 2008, I lost all interest in baking after Ondoy destroyed the hardy mixer that belonged to the family for 20 years. Delighted I am about the pastries I can produce, I just can’t be bothered to beat eggs or cream butter using a hand-held mixer.

I resisted the Kitchenaid’s arrival at first, in the same way I resisted the iPhone, Kindle, and signing up for an Instagram account. There’s  something about new technology that makes me wary and suspicious; I’m forever afraid that something will literally explode in my face with the wrong push of a button. But I soon discovered that using a Kitchenaid is as simple as locking in the bowl and beater, then switching it on. Unlike our old mixer, you didn’t even have to scrape the sides of the bowl to make sure the beater whips it all. It pretty much readies your dough while you multitask in the background. Absolutely no explosions happen.

After being away from the kitchen for some time, I feel like I have to re-learn everything I know, one major ingredient at a time. Currently, I’ve been experimenting with baking shit using chocolate chips. Here’s what I can make so far:

Chewy chocolate chip cookies

Biting into a crunchy chocolate chip cookie brings almost as much disappointment as biting into an oatmeal-raisin cookie that you mistook for a chocolate chip cookie. I like my cookies moist, soft, and gooey, and it’s a waste of calories to eat any that don’t have this texture. The secret to the perfect chewy chocolate chip cookie is to leave out the Crisco, because this is what creates the crunch. Also, make sure to use real butter (salted). While this doesn’t create any difference texture-wise, it does provide a sinful buttery backdrop for the chocolate

Chocolate chip cookie dough

There’s a certain childlike satisfaction to dipping into raw cookie dough. I daresay a spoonful of cookie dough is often more enjoyable than the end product. When I was younger, my mom tried to discourage me from consuming the batter by pointing out the raw eggs in the mixture. Obviously that never worked. Thanks to Pinterest though, I discovered a recipe that lets you indulge in good old fashioned chocolate chip dough, minus the threat of salmonella. The trick is to leave out the eggs. Best enjoyed with a spoon, deadly on a bowl of ice cream.

Chocolate chip pie

My crappy food styling does not do justice to my obra maestra thus far – the chocolate chip pie. This is NOT an enormous chocolate chip cookie, but an actual pie by its own right, with a nutty graham cracker crust filled with a soft, gooey mixture of semi-sweet chocolate chunks. The reason it looks a soggy mess in the photo was because I cut it fresh from the oven instead of waiting for it to set, but trust me when I say it looks better than it looks. My boyfriend asked me to marry him when he took his first bite.

And all the girls love my pie.