…Aside from the fact that I am not good at it, and therefore it takes me ages, and we wind up having dinner at quarter to ten on a Sunday night, quoth she, hungrily.
It’s two things, really. Well, three, if you count the fact that I am a wuss about spices, but that’s the whole point of making my own, you see – I can get those gorgeous flavours at a heat level that I can cope with.
The trouble is that I’m a klutz. It’s pretty rare for my hands not to have cuts or burns or scald marks or places where I’ve grated myself. Often, I have several of these adornments simultaneously! Which I’ve pretty much resigned myself to, incidentally, so that’s not the problem.
The problem is that most of the Indian food that I have encountered uses at least two of fresh ginger, fresh garlic and fresh chilli. And being the aforementioned klutz that I am, it’s only a matter of time before I have rubbed ginger, garlic and chilli into my cuts, burns, and scrapes. And, very often, my eyes and nose, even though I know better. If I’m doing really well, I will then go one better and rub salt into them too.
There’s a reason people talk about rubbing salt into wounds…
(Still, at least this time I’m not making a lemon drink to go with it, thus giving myself a fine opportunity to squeeze lemon juice all over myself as well. One should always look on the bright side in these situations…)