Rocky Horror vs. Sound Of Music

     Page One Hundred Ninety-Six.
     For the last few months, I've had an Indian medical student roommate who's here, in Cleveland, doing a couple rotations at University Hospitals, one of our fine, local hospitals. He's leaving tomorrow and is hoping to come back in 2016 for his medical residency.  His stay has been pleasant. He's made friends and experienced some American/Cleveland culture. I've taken him to a few plays downtown at Playhouse Square; we've gone to a few museums in University Circle; I've taken him on numerous architectural tours and we've gone out to eat at a few places. All in all, I've tried to get him out and about as much as I could during one of Cleveland's most brutal winters in recent memory and I think I've been reasonably successful.

     I've also watched movies with him. I have a decent collection of DVD's and regardless of anyone's  cinematic taste, they'd eventually find something they like on my shelves. Just last night we watched Rocky Horror Picture Show. Afterwards he asked if that was pretty typical of American musicals. Ummmm, uh...

     I do know a little bit about Bollywood and Indian culture's taste in movies, but not too much. We had a long conversation about American musicals versus Indian ones and how Rocky Horror isn't typical of anything. So then I popped in The Sound Of Music. Half way through, he declared, "I like this movie better than Rocky Horror". Gee...

A Hindu Beef-Eater

     Page One hundred Eighty-Six.
     My Indian roommate has changed his tune. I've mentioned before that he will eat beef. Well, it turns out that he's only eaten beef once before in his life. That was a hamburger in London's Heathrow airport on his way to America last December. While eating that burger, Raja couldn't figure out what all the fuss was about. It was dry, dull and dead. He made up his mind right then and there that beef was a Western mystery which would confuse him for the rest of his life.
     When he told me this story, I said, "well, no wonder? It was an airport burger." I proceeded to explain airport food in general and specifically: quality (or lack of), freshness (or lack of) juiciness (or lack of) and flavor (or lack of). He sort of gave me the benefit of the doubt, but not entirely.
     Last weekend, for the Superbowl, I made boatloads of food, including BBQ Beef. I told him that BBQ Beef is a rather typical Superbowl food and great quantities of it would be consumed that evening. Raja admitted that it did look good in the pot; and after the first bite he was hooked. He enjoyed it very much. I think he's interested in trying a steak now.
     I hate to be someone who corrupts somebody away from their religious dietary restrictions, but he clearly wasn't very religious in the first place and he told me so. So it's not entirely my fault.
     Incidentally, one of the best burgers I've ever had in my life was at JFK in New York City. It was the summer of 1989 and I was returning home from summer school in Israel. I'd been there for 8 weeks and their beef sucked the big one. At least the beef that I had was gruesome. It was just awful. I don't know if things have changed, but at the time, Israel's beef had a justifiably terrible reputation. You want some wonderful fresh veggies? Israel's your place. Just don't order the beef. And on top of that, you simply cannot get a cheeseburger in Israel for religious dietary restrictions. (No dairy product may be consumed with any animal flesh according to the Torah.) So I was seriously craving a really greasy, gooey cheeseburger by the time I left that country which has other strengths, just not beef.
     During my lay-over in JFK I disembarked from the plane, walked over to the nearest burger stand and placed my order. I watched them make it. My mouth was moistening like a leaky Hoover Dam. I  sat down and inhaled that thing. It was glorious. It was much greater proof of God than any Torah study class I'd attended in my ancestor's homeland, of which there were many. (After arriving in Jerusalem, as an after thought, I enrolled in Torah study classes at Aish Ha'Torah, a very famous yeshivah or seminary with world-wide satellite campuses.) That burger was glorious.
    

On Feeding An Indian Roommate

     Page One Hundred Eighty-One.

Nainital, India

Nainital, India. Evening.

     I currently have an Indian roommate. He's finishing up medical school back home and he's here, in Cleveland, doing a medical rotation as part of his education. Raja's only here for a few months, but is hoping to come back and start his residency in 2015 at University Hospitals of Cleveland, the hospital he's doing his short rotation at right now. I've been driving him around and showing him the sites, museums and so forth (in spite of our Cleveland winter, God help me). 

     He's enjoying his time here very much but does complain that American food is difficult to get used to. He thinks it's, well, for lack of a better word, "flat". His home region, Kashmir, is known for their flavorful dishes in the first place and apparently his mother really pushes her spice usage over the edge. So, of course, when you've been eating that style for 23 years, hamburger and french fries can seem a bit bland. (He will eat beef.) His uncle, who's a doctor in Las Vegas loves American food. But Uncle has also been here for a couple of decades and has gradually acclimated to our flavors. Raja realizes that and is looking forward to acclimating too. He's being a trooper though. While I was perfecting my homemade pizza dough and pizza sauce for the pizza party/bridal shower last week, I did lots of taste tests. Raja was gleefully happy to aid with that dubious chore. I also make myself lots of rice & bean dishes to which I add Tabasco sauce and other extra stuff. One day I splashed some Tabasco into a spoon and gave it to him. He was impressed by its fire.

    I've made Indian cuisine a few times over the years, but am not at all fluent in it. So, I'm not yet comfortable offering to make him "food like Momma used to make". I have been blessed by being an extremely quick study in the kitchen, though. So perhaps I should offer one of these days. I think Indian food is all about the sauce. If that sauce is correct, you just pour it over lamb or chicken and white rice and call it supper. Unless, of course, you're dealing with a vegetarian. Then simply pour your sauce over lentils and rice. Either way, just stabilize that sauce and you're home free.  

     Raja is staying until early March. But, he's recommending me to a med school buddy back in India who's also coming to Cleveland for a rotation. That buddy is arriving just as Raja's leaving. So the buddy wants to move into my place for the month he'll be here. That's fine with me. I can't stand looking for roommates.   

     I can just see my place turning into an annex of the Cleveland India Community Center (which is 1/2 mile away). But if this does happen, I really should become a gracious host and learn their cuisine preparation. It would make all these ridiculously young medical students feel warm and cozy on the inside.