Highly refined oil derived from a food (21USC321)

I tapped TJ for my next food-making adventure. When I asked him what food he had been craving, he said chicken wings. Of course, this didn't really fit my desire to make recipes from other countries, so I tried to think of foreign fried appetizers. To me, fried food equals fast food. But apparently, the pace of cooking is an American contribution. Whereas the chicken wings involved marinating them overnight, then throwing them in some oil, the treats I selected -- egg/spring rolls and samosas -- bought me more than three hours in the kitchen. Within 10 minutes of cooking, I had already charred the garlic and ginger, which was foreshadowing of how burnt out I felt after this fryfest.

First, I had to tackle the fillings. While I got the potatoes boiling for the samosas, I worked on the egg/spring-roll fixin's. I roasted the garlic (from a jar) and ginger (fresh, actually), then added the scallions, carrots, and red peppers. Do they look julienned? No? Do I look Julia Child? I thought not. While that mixture was stir-frying, I readied the soy sauce-sugar-chicken broth mix and the Napa cabbage. Yes, that's a lot of extra cabbage, but I didn't mismeasure this time; I just couldn't get a smaller head (I think I will try this baked cabbage roll recipe with the leftovers). In the end, everything combined for the egg/spring-roll entrails.

 

With those fillings cooling, I moved on to the samosa stuffing. The onion, garlic, ginger, and habanero sweated while the potatoes finished boiling. When I added the spices, particularly garam masala and turmeric, the mixture took on that classic Indian-food golden color. A while later, after the potatoes were cooled, I added them, the canned vegetables, the lemon juice, and the coriander. As you can tell from the photo, I need to invest in a masher. 

Luckily, I remembered at the last minute that I needed a rolling pin because I had decided to to make the samosa dough from scratch. I did not go as far to purchase a "pastry blender"; I mean, I wouldn't even cough up $30 for a deep fryer. Instead, I resorted to a trick my mom taught me, flaking in the butter with a fork by using a motion similar to smooshing avocados for fresh guacamole. I wish I had remembered something else she had taught me: Find a place to sit before you start kneading dough for five minutes.

With all the elements ready, it was time to start the assembly line of appetizers. The reason I am referring to the recipe as egg/spring rolls is because I opted to pick up spring-roll wrappers instead of trekking to an Asian market for wonton wrappers (I did have to go into the States to find the former, too, though). In case you're wondering, the basic difference is the shape -- round instead of diamond -- and ingredients -- no egg instead of egg -- thus the use of wonton wrappers for "egg" rolls. The preparation was similar in that I had to get the wrappers wet to make them pliable, then I just folded my rolls more like burritos than origami.

The assembly of the samosas was much slower and messier. The dough is quite elastic, so it was hard to roll it into the 5-inch circles as the recipe demanded. But after stuffing one that was too thick -- and consequently throwing it in the trash because it fell in on the filling -- I realized I needed to get the dough thinner. The other challenge was getting the stuffing all the way into the point of the triangle. In the end, I had a lot of the potato mixture leftover because I wasn't getting them as full as probably could've. But then again, after two hours, my dexterity was diminishing quickly.

TJ arrived home just as I was ready to fry. I was very happy for his help, because with my attention fading along with my coordination, I was afraid I would fall victim to another incident of flying frying, which happened when I cooked the chicken wings the previous week: Both TJ and I got sprayed with hot oil when air bubbles in the skin burst. My face tingled for a while, but the only permanent damage was grease spots on our T-shirts. This time, however, all the samosas stayed intact (which contributes to my suspicion that they could have been fuller), and although some of the egg/spring rolls split, they didn't spew lard across the kitchen.

I skipped the optional dipping sauce and chutney, even though I had planned to at least whip up some type of sweet-and-sour condiment. But following an afternoon in the kitchen, I was just ready to eat. TJ had to settle for simple soy sauce and sriracha accompaniments, which he artfully added to his plate. The other item on the plate is a heap of fried-rice risotto, my own secret recipe (even to myself, because it was pretty much an accident made from leftover ingredients).

Despite my lingering lower-back pain, I am glad that I bore the burden to learn respect for these recipes. I promise to recall this reverence every time I start to feel bad for dropping $4 on a samosa at the Little Italy farmer's market or giving in to high-priced and high-sodium frozen egg rolls.