If you know me or, for the unfortunate, have lived with me before I moved to Boston, then you know I don’t like to cook. I will even so far admit that I cannot cook just to get out of cooking. My repertoire of recipes were instant noodles, omelets and rice (with a rice cooker).
I was lucky enough that I always had someone to cook for me. Most times it was my parent’s maid or the restaurants cooks or my roommates (thank you loh jo!!!! 
. Even when I moved in with Aldi after we got married, I kept to my tradition. No, Aldi did not mind because he is just that great.
Although on occasion he did point out that our scores were “uneven”. So I cooked more omelets for him. In my defense, I made the extra effort of drawing a smiley face out of ketchup. If I may say so, my omelets are professionally done and artistically painted!!
However, when I moved to Boston, I was faced with a dilemma: it was expensive to eat out all the time and it was (and still is) Ramadhan. Somehow, eating salads at 4am just doesn’t sit right with the concept of fasting. It’s just morally wrong.
So I cook. And I cook real Indonesian food: Dendeng, Ayam Tauco, Soto Lamongan, etc. (I know what you are thinking, I had the same thoughts but don’t worry, everyone lived!!!)
It’s not that hard really, if you stick to the recipes. Even when you don’t, Indonesian food are so flavorful that a good delicious meal will come out of it irregardless. (That or Aldi is just too afraid to speak up about the truth. But I prefer the former.)
However, Indonesian food requires Indonesian spices. Since I do not have the luxury of buying pre-made spices so easily found back home, I have to resort to basic ingredients. Even that has its own problems. Apparently, Boston is not so big in Indonesian spices as we do not even have any Indonesian restaurant (what?!!!! yes….. sad isn’t it? they are so missing out!!).
That’s why… when I went to New York last weekend and found this great spice shop called Kalustyan at 123 Lexington Avenue, I went berserk. My mind was disoriented, my eyes were frantically reading every single label, my ears were muted to any sounds but my beating heart and I ran from aisle to aisle knocking over people.
I found: corriander seeds, cumins, nutmegs, indian bay leaves, curry leaves, kaffir lime leaves, cloves, tamarind paste, cardamoms, star anise and the list goes on. For some of these spices, they have not only 1 brand but multiple brands from multiple sources. (What is the difference between cloves from Indonesia and Srilanka??). And they come in a variety of forms…. fresh, dried and/or grounded.
Aldi, clearly knowing that this was going to be a very long trip, repeatedly mentioned the time every few minutes. Bad idea. It only resulted in the increase of adrenaline in my blood which I (unfairly, I know) blame for what happens next:
I proceeded to grab every single item of even a remote interest (am I going to cook Masala Dosai soon???). The total damage of my frantic shopping spree? $68.
My reaction? I broke down outside the store, mumbling and pleading to no one but myself…. “why why why??? why did I pay $68?? 68!! 68??? Aldi, why didn’t you stop me???!!!!”. Followed by repeated mutterings of “$68? $68! $68? $68!”.
Going through the numbers was emotionally taxing. Do you know how much is $68 in Indonesian Rupiah? It’s 680,000 rupiah. That’s a lot of zeroes for something that you can find literally in every tiny wet market where you don’t have to pay the overhead for the fancy marketing or trolleys. It’s about ten times too much of what you should pay.
Back home these things will never, not in a million years, cost me $68. Unless if the packaging are made of gold with diamond linings. And if I could afford that, why would I be cooking anyways???? I would most definitely have hired a cook.
So the drama continued for about 20 minutes during the walk from the store, to the subway, back to the store, and again to the subway. I was literally walking around in circles with Aldi in tow. Every now and then we’d stop and argued about $68 in Indonesian. Bystanders would have thought we were arguing about the end of the world.
“Should I give some back?”
“But I need them”
“Do I really need them”
“It is very expensive!”
“How much will I use them in six month?”
“I cant measure that!!”
“But then again maybe its worth it”
“It’s just spices!!”
“But you can’t find them anywhere”
“I should by a smaller package”
“But it’s just one dollar difference!”
“What about getting frozen ones?”
“They don’t taste as delicious!”
Oh my god, drama, drama, drama.
At the end, I gave some back, no, Aldi gave them back. In truth, we walked back to the store and were waiting in line when I had another change of mind and exited the store. At which point, Aldi, my husband, my rock, and clearly the saner one, stopped me a few meters outside the store, pried the extra spices of my hand and went back inside to refund them. The whole time I was waiting outside in a new calm zen feeling of having something evil exorcised for good.
The revised total cost? $40. It reduced my mental breakdown to just the right amount for a month of therapy and to get me through dinner, sanity intact.
In fact, it kept me going for a while. Until I came back to Boston and found that I had bought not one but two of the spice I had from before. So now I have grounded cumin in a cheap Chinatown package, grounded cumin in a fancy small bottle and fresh cumin seeds in a bigger bottle. I would have chopped off my hand had I not needed the knife for cooking.
(Anyone in the USA want some powdered cumin for free? I will even consider free shipping).
