When I got that BIG bacon, I wanted to use the big chunks in a soup. My mind immediately raced to split pea -- the bacon replacing the ham. Done and done, I thought. But after searching for the bag of yellow split peas I knew I had never used, I gave up. They were gone, and I had no idea what happened to them.

But hope was not lost. In an Indian-themed shopping spree months ago, I had bought urad dal. A sort of black lentil, it is grown in southern Asia and a particularly protein-rich food that's said to be good for diabetics. It comes a few ways -- you can get it as-is, with the black skins on (what I have), or split urad dal, which has the skins removed.

So I took this urad dal, soaked it overnight, and turned to Lisa's Kitchen for an alternate soup recipe. (Since hers calls for split, I used my mortar to crush the urad a bit, which made it a mixture of split and black.) I cheated a bit since this is a vegetarian recipe, and I threw in a few extra vegetables to use them up, but followed the rest of the recipe as it was written. The result: a very rich, easy, and delicious soup. With a number of hot components added, this is a spicy soup, but one that I found was balanced my the other ingredients floating in the broth. And the urad dal -- it give the dish a wonderful earth flavor, which comes from those black skins.

But just one side warning: Just like cherry tomatoes explode in your mouth, these tomato chunks can, with a much hotter liquid. But other than that, bon appetit!

The first year I was in grad school, my roommate was an Indian doctor. He was in the last year of his residency and was looking for an inexpensive place to live. He wound up renting my second bedroom and in the year we shared the apartment, he tried to teach me how to cook Indian food. Sadly, most of the teachings he tried to impart unto me went un-retained and these days I typically turn to the Indian restaurant that is located just steps from my building when I have a curry craving.

However, I recently acquired a cookbook that I'm hoping will remind me of Madhu's cooking lessons and ween me off my weekly orders of Chicken Tikka Masala. 600 Curries is an 800 page volume that hopes to make a variety of Indian dishes more accessible to the average Western cook. I must admit that I sometimes end up feeling a little intimidated by cookbooks with this many recipes, as I feel like I don't know where to start. This one feelings surprisingly accessible, despite the volume of recipes it contains. I think it has to do in large part with the careful and detailed instructions that are broken down to be easy to follow.

When I first picked up this book, I was concerned that it would be filled unappealing, Americanized recipes. This is because I know that curry as we know it isn't indigenous to India. However, as I worked my way through the book, I realized that the author, Raghavan Iyer, is using the word curry as an all-encompassing term that can embrace a whole spectrum of Indian and Indian-influenced foods. So it actually contains a wealth of recipes that can really spice up your weekly meals. This is one I'd recommend to cooks who want a single ethnic cookbook that will have the ability to inspire new dishes for years to come.

Originally published in 1973, An Invitation to Indian Cooking was Madhur Jaffrey's very first cookbook. She moved to New York City from India in the early 1960's and started cooking when she started craving the flavors of her childhood. Later on, when people would ask her for Indian restaurant recommendations, she'd sadly tell them that there wasn't anything that appropriately authentic in the city and then, feeling bad and wanting to share the tastes of India with them, she'd invite them over for dinner. When throwing regular dinner parties became exhausting, she began to hand out her recipes. They spread across the city (and some all the way across the country) and eventually led to this book.

My copy of this book came to me in that load of cookbooks I acquired from my friend Fran's friend about a month ago. One of the delightful things I've discovered as I've gone through these books has been the unexpected notes and page markers that fall out when I start to leaf through. This edition is no exception, the recipe for Pork Chops Cooked With Cabbage is marked with a seed pack for wildflowers.

Back in April, I featured another one of Jaffrey's books, that time it was her volume devoted to Quick & Easy Indian Cooking. That book relies more heavily on pre-made spice mixes and short cut items that are available in the supermarket. This book has none of those short cuts and so while the dishes do take considerably longer to make, the rewards that come from toasting and grinding your own spices is quite high. Recently, Serious Eats spent a month cooking from this volume and, other than an unfortunate incident that involved a greasy, gristly goat stew, enjoyed the experience.

If you are a fan of Madhur Jaffery, your collection is not complete without this book.

I've been trying to force myself out of my chicken tikka masala rut at Indian restaurants. I tried and loved the spiciness of a lamb frankie, bindhi masala (okra), and even some creamy daal (lentils).

Sev puri are small, deep-fried wheat-based crackers or bread (puri) covered with sev, a chickpea based noodle that has also been deep-fried. Sev puri are considered a type of chaat, which refer to small savory snacks that are served from street carts all over India. Puri, which are the crackers, can be topped with a number of fillings to create different kinds of chaat. Bhel puri are filled with puffed rice, pani puri has potatoes, chickpeas, and a number of chutneys on top, and dahi puri is about the same, except with a yogurt sauce.

Normally, the words "food porn," conjure images of decadent desserts, soft, sultry, totally sexy sweets oozing with chocolate and frosting, dressed in nothing more than a dollop of whipped cream, and perhaps a few berries that have toppled off onto the plate in the haste to get to the...table.

But food porn isn't just desserts; it's anything that makes my eyes widen and mouth salivate when I look at it, like a couple of pieces of thick, fluffy, puffy, soft and chewy, charred-in-all-the-right-places naan stuffed with sweet onions. I've had garlic naan many times before. Onion naan was my first time. I might, just might, not ever go back to garlic naan again.

Observant pedestrians in the environs of 74th Street and 37th Avenue in Jackson Heights, Queens, soon notice a common pattern. Abstract red splotches pepper the pavement. They tell the tale of paan chewing and the copious scarlet saliva it generates. The thousand-year-old tradition is alive and well in this bustling neighborhood of sari shops, Bengali kebab houses, greengrocers, paratha factories, and what seems like a blocklong store specializing in ornate Indian bridal jewelry.

Aphrodisiac, blood purifier, breath-freshener, digestive, stimulant ? yes the triangular betel-leaf wrapped bundle that is paan has it all, including the ability to stain your teeth red after years of habitual usage. Paan boasts a rich ceremonial history. Early Sanskrit texts mention its consumption as one of the enjoyments of royal life, which also include incenses, women, clothes, music, bed and food.

I have to admit that I am very predictable in an Indian restaurant or on the phone making a delivery order. I very rarely, if ever go outside my personal ordering repertoire of samosas as a starter, chicken tikka masala, maybe chicken korma if I'm feeling particularly crazy, saag paneer, gobi aloo, and of course, garlic naan.

However, in recent months, I have been forcing myself to try new things because the Indian table doesn't revolve around chicken tikka masala. I have now become quite enamored of dal, any number of varieties of lentils. Moong dal are lentils cooked with garlic and ginger, mild in heat, but still extremely flavorful. I'm quite sure I could make a meal of naan dipped in dal.

What are your top three Indian dishes?

Back when I roasted cauliflower with curry, I thought that Indian raita, a minty cucumber yogurt sauce, would have been a nice accompaniment.

Raita is made by wrapping 1 seeded, grated cucumber in cheesecloth and squeezing out all the moisture. In a bowl, whisk together 1c. whole milk yogurt, 1/2 tsp. cumin, a pinch of cayenne. Add the cucumber, as well as 2-3 Tbsp. finely grated carrots, and 1 Tbsp finely chopped cilantro or mint.

Raita is very similar to Greek tzatziki which is yogurt, cucumber, lemon juice, and a lot of minced garlic. I have to say that even though the raita sounds like it matches better with a roasted curried cauliflower, I'd rather have the garlicky tzatziki.

I love Indian food, but I still have a lot to learn about the nuances in the cooking from region to region, ingredients, and technqiues. The best way to learn of course, is to keep eating it!

Recently, I have been enamored of a small restaurant in Santa Monica. Chandni is a vegetarian restaurant. Now I'm not vegetarian, but that doesn't mean that I can't have an incredible meal there. There are standard dishes that you will find in the "vegetable" section of any Indian restaurant's menu like saag paneer, bengan bhartha, and gobi aloo. However, I have been forcing myself away from these standards to try things like bindhi masala (okra) and khumb (mushroom) curries. The best thing I've had at Chandni is the bhara mirch, a bell pepper that has been stuffed with spiced mashed potatoes (similar to what's inside a samosa) and simmered with a rich, creamy, spicy tomato-based sauce.

Chandni Indian Vegetarian
1909 Wilshire Boulevard
Santa Monica, CA
(310) 839-0482