Rope-A-Dope

So, while we're all distracted and hyper-ventilating over the Dominic Cummings non-story and the semantics of it, while we chuckle over Specsavers and Highway Code memes, the Extension to Brexit Bill has already had a reading in parliament; another is due soon.

Quietly in the background, the Remain camp in cahoots with EU mandarins are doing their damnedest to prolong our exit from the European Union. Ergo, we continue paying billions into the coffers of the European Project in the hope that Brexit could be scuppered altogether. 

We'd thought deep-sixing the golden-starred ring into Mount Doom on that fateful 23rd day of June a scant 4 years ago was the end, we simply fooled ourselves into a false sense of victory, forgetting that many horcruxes remain insidiously woven into the very DNA of those who would decide our fates and control our destinies.

These are YOUR elected leaders, and they're selling you out. Nay, they have sold you out. This is rope-a-dope, if you look hard enough. This is a political class looking after itself. These are the pigs at the table. This is a new aristocracy and landed gentry in the making. Look out for new and emerging houses waving kumbaya-esque sigils oozing out of the putrid mulch that is every section of British polity. The game of thrones is passe, this is the game of drones.

Follow the money, count the pieces of silver, for fallen, the shroud of the Dark Side has. The Farce is strong with them.

Those who have been reading my unlessoned and unschooled ramblings over the past decade will remember the EU Bingo game I came up with.

Well, it is time to pull out those Tombola cards again.

I was right.

Are You Special?

I'm just thinking out loud, so don't give me grief over this...

If you really don’t want to go back to work because you are terrified of coronavirus, don’t go back. You have every right not to. If you've been gaming the system all the while, it doesn't really make a jot of difference anyway, so no skin off your teeth there - no amout of other people's money will ever be enough. If you worked the grey market, well, I'm so terribly sorry for you - Karma can be quite the bitch.

Some of us old-school types feel a bit uncomfortable about not earning our keep. This is not misplaced machismo or toxic masculinity or whatever new-fangled monicker you metrosexuals are tossing about these days, it really isn't. It's about fulfillment instead of the 'just add water and stir pot-noodle self-gratification' ethos so many live by these days.

Thing is, all this time that you have been at home, other people have been working to keep the basic functions of society going.

Supermarket workers have been taking a risk for a salary much lower than yours, probably even lower than state benefits pay out, little shopkeepers have been putting in 18-hour days to stay stocked up, the police have been taking a risk keeping the peace  in the face of hostility they often encounter as usual, nurses and carers have been at the forefront, right in the trenches, actually looking the virus in the eye insulating the rest of us from what could be.

Similarly, firemen, bus drivers, lorry drivers, the people who keep water flowing from your taps and electricity flowing through the grid, engineers who work so your internet, your mobile phones and the nation's networks keep up, hell even the people who make sure your drains and sewers are free from all the results of your attempts at lockdown cooking, all have quietly been muddling along with nary a whimper. So don't think, even for a moment, that you or anyone in any sector of work are special. You aren't. None of us are.

UK Plc must get back to work. We cannot wait until there is no risk at all, risk begins the second you step out your front door, virus or no virus. After all, the national debt we are plunging into is not fictional. Debt will always have to be paid back. If you don't, someone, somewhere will have to work hard and pay it for you. People who worry about this are not wicked and evil. They think about this because it is real and it is true. Many of them don't have very long to live, so it's their children and grandchildren that will be doing the paying. That's who they're worrying for.

Right now, we are paying people not to work, and taxing people who are taking a risk and working. 

There's a flaw in there somewhere, don't you think?

Episode IX: The Demise of Skywalker

I just saw Episode IX.

Disney, being Disney, completely ruined it, spilling over 40 years of history down an exhaust vent.

Why weren't Darth Plagueis the Wise, Anakin, Luke, AND Rey the same person fighting Palpatine across four generations? It would have made more sense and linked (I, II, III) with (IV, V, VI) and (VII, VIII, IX) with a much better, far more fluid continuity. 

Also, Dameron was good, but did he HAVE to be a Solo tribute act? Another trick missed.

Lucas owes himself a major rethink. He certainly owes me a major remake. While I've privately uttered the choicest expletives under my Covid19 mask, which if broadcast would amount to a series of R2-D2esque bleeps, I've also sent George a strongly-worded letter C-3PO would be proud of.

Oh! If any of this has just whizzed way past your midi-chlorian-devoid head like the 2020-BX12, don't bother asking. I'd have to fill you in on a saga that began in 1977, with far more heart-rending complexities than you could possibly imagine. They don't make attention spans like they used to. 

Or epics, as it turns out.

Aash

Aash, the way I like to make mine

I tend to post a lot of pictures of the food I cook and often get asked to share my recipes. Most recipes are simple enough to write out in a couple of paragraphs, but this particular one, one of my all time favourites, is rather complicated. I hope I've been able to do it the justice it deserves.

It's called Aash, and to say it is very popular among Afghans, especially Afghan-Sikhs is a gross understatement. The making and serving of Aash in any Afghan home is a big deal, akin to a celebration of sorts and very often, a family social event.

I have tried to do some research into its origins and found that Aash and its variants are common and very popular in former Soviet Bloc countries like Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan that share a border with Afghanistan. Not surprisingly, I also found that is a traditional meal in many remote areas of western China, where I suspect it has originated from, travelling along the Silk Route into Afghanistan many centuries ago. The dumplings and noodles should have been a dead giveaway. As for why it's called Aash, I have no clue.

The making Aash is a labour of love and typically involves several people in its preparation, usually taking an entire day. Its ingredients are fairly simple and rudimentary, and therefore it is highly customisable to suit everyone's taste.

If anyone spots any errors or if I have missed out some vital information, please let me know in the comments below and I will fix it.

Anyway, the introduction done, let's crack on with the recipe. This is for about 6-8 servings.

Things you will need:
To make this, you're going to need medium flour, 2 large leeks, an entire bunch of spring onions, plenty of green chillies, fresh coriander (cilantro), garlic, onions, limes (or lemons), powdered mint, olive oil, natural set yogurt, salt and red chilli powder.

Some optional extras: cooked chicken mince, fresh pomegranate seeds, boiled red kidney beans (tinned ones will do just fine, just make sure you drain out the liquid they're in), white vinegar and any kind of tangy, sweet, or spicy sauce or chutney you prefer.


The Preparation:

Leeks, Spring Onions, Green Chillies, Coriander Leaves

First, the filling: Very finely chop up and mix the leeks, spring onions, 6-10 green chillies (you can use red chillies if you want, or a mixture of both) and a cupful of coriander (cilantro).

Add a couple of tablespoons of salt to the chopped mixture, kneading with your hands. Allow it to rest a bit; in about 10 minutes the salt will render the moisture out of the leeks and spring onions. Give it a cold water rinse in a colander and squeeze the mixture using a muslin cloth or your hands until all the juice has drained from it leaving behind a fairly dry mix. This will also drain out the excess salt.

Add red chilli powder to the mixture and set it aside for later.

Next, the dumplings: Knead a fairly dry and hard dough and set it aside to rest for about 20-30 minutes.

Using a pasta maker or a rolling pin, roll out the dough to about 1 mm thickness. See video above. Pasta makers are cheap to buy and very easy to maintain. Click here to see an example.

Homemade medium flour noodles

Cut out noodles using the pasta maker, spreading them out immediately over a surface lightly sprinkled with flour to prevent them from sticking. Noodles are purely optional - you can skip them altogether if you want. Try to keep the length of the noodles to less than 4 or 5 inches - Aash is not eaten with a fork.

We call these 'Tukkar'

Cut out little discs (about 3-4 cm in diameter) using a lid or a cookie cutter. Take care not to make too many at once or they will dry out and you will not be able to seal them shut when filling them.

We call these little discs 'Tukkar'

Pronunciation:
Took - Err


Form the little discs (tukkar) into tortellini-like dumplings, filling them with the leeks mixture. See video above. These are called 'Chashbiray' (singular: Chashbira).

Pronunciation:
Chash (as in Crush) - Bee - Ray
Singular: Chash - Bee - Ra

Chashbiray

Sprinkle some flour over a surface and spread the chashbiray and the noodles out to dry in a single layer, for about 7-8 hours. Turn them over after a few hours to make sure they're drying from all sides. Do not dry them in direct sunlight or near heating fixtures or the filling will start giving out moisture ruining your work. You can use a fan to help with the drying.

The Chashbira Battalions

The Garnishing

Once dry, they are ready to cook right away or be frozen to use another day. Make sure you do not cram them into the freezer or you'll end up with a coagulated lump of frozen dough. Use plastic boxes to keep the chashbiray separate and protect them from getting crushed. Remember, they still contain plenty of moisture.











Then, the toppings: Very finely chop an onion, you can use any type of onion you like, white, red, brown or pink. I prefer pink onions (sometimes called Bombay Onions), some green (or red) chillies, seeds and all, and some fresh garlic.

Cut up some limes or lemons, or you could use lime or lemon juice instead. Some people use vinegar.

Whisk some natural set yogurt to make it runny. If the yogurt is not sour or acidic enough, you can add a pinch of citric acid for an extra kick.

Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a little frying pan, turn the heat off, add a couple of teaspoons of dried mint powder while the oil is still hot and mix. Do not add the mint while the oil is heating or you will burn it.

Finally, the actual cooking: Add the chashbiray along with the noodles to boiling water, for about 10 minutes or so, longer if you're boiling from frozen (Note: If you are cooking from frozen, do NOT thaw them first or they'll collapse into a mush.)

When they take on a bit of a rubbery sheen, you're done!

Bowl of Aash

Putting it all together: Serve in a bowl, pouring in as much or as little of the soup you want. I prefer mine with very little water, like in the picture at the top.

Add a couple of tablespoons of the yogurt, a tablespoon of the mint-laced olive oil, add some of the chopped onions, chillies, and garlic. Add salt and red chilli powder to taste, squeeze in some lime (or lemon) or lime juice to taste. You can use vinegar if you like.

You can further embellish it by sprinkling over some boiled red kidney beans, loose chicken mince, pomegranate seeds, coriander & chilli chutney, chilli sauce, tamarind sauce, a few drops of Tabasco, hell, even Nandos, or pretty much anything that tickles your fancy.

Other variants:

There are other variants of this dish and one my favourites is called Aashak. Aashak is prepared in exactly the same way, but is traditionally served in shallow bowls or trays with very little of the soup. The chashbiras for Aashak are shaped like half moons using the same size of discs shown above. The filling in both Aash and Aashak can be replaced with cooked lamb or chicken mince instead of the leeks/spring onion mixture.

Another variant is a called Mantoo. These are steamed dumplings, very much like the Chinese Dim Sum, with an Afghani twist. Perhaps something to write about on another day.

Yet another variant (some would call the Pound-shop version) of Aash is called Macaroni (yeah, some some very lazy naming process involved there). Macaroni is a quick and easy Aash alternative which does away with the use of chashbiray altogether. Instead, these are replaced by normal shop-bought pasta (whatever shape you fancy), prepared and garnished in exactly the same way. This, from start to finish takes about 20 minutes, and is merely serves to quell Aash cravings. 

And before you ask, Aash cravings ARE a thing, ask any Afghan.