Naan Quotes

I wanted to tell them that, in Kabul, we snapped a tree branch and used it as a credit card. Hassan and I would take the wooden stick to the bread maker. He'd carve notches on our stick with his knife, one notch for each loaf of naan he'd pull for us from the tandoor's roaring flames. At the end of the month, my father paid him for the number of notches on the stick. That was it. No questions. No ID.

Holly, there's a raccoon on the back deck." "Really? What's it doing?" "Eating tika masala and naan.

I miss you too. I miss you like breathing. Have I already said that? I do, though. I miss you like naan pizza and builder’s tea. Like you’re the home I never knew I had.

There is only one sin, only one, and that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife's right of a husband, you rob his children of a father. When you lie you steal someone's right to truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no more wretched act than stealing. A man who takes what is not his to take, be it life or a loaf of naan, I spit on such a man. And if I ever cross paths with him, God help him.

Dare we call this "Naan fiction"? Cheers.

One of the many online arguments I've had about the importance if language, how language can hurt, has been about tea. Chai tea means tea tea. The number of times you see this on a menu makes you wonder why people can't be bothered to do their research. Like naan bread too. Bread bread.

Tak ada tindakan yang lebih buruk daripada mencuri. Orang yang mengambil sesuatu yang bukan haknya, baik itu kehidupan orang lain ataupun sepotong naan.

Naan (the Persian word for "bread") at the table is not only a constant companion but a revered guest. Wheat is considered sacred, a symbol of life and the beginnings of civilization. Not a single crumb is ever to be wasted and should always be repurposed.

Now, no matter what the mullah teaches, there is only one sin, only one. And that is theft. Every other sin is a variation of theft. When you kill a man, you steal a life, you steal his wife's right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone's right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing. A man who takes what's not his to take, be it a life or a loaf of naan - I spit on such a man. If there’s a God out there, then I would hope he has more important things to attend to than my drinking scotch or eating pork.

Actually, Jeremy Clovenhoof decided, stopping outside the door of flat 1a, if there was one advantage to being the devil, it was the horns. From opening beer bottles to ruining perfectly decent hats to using them to store doughnuts, bagels and naan breads when your hands were otherwise busy, horns were the business.

The following day, the scent Garrance has created is soon dispersed through the restaurant via an electric diffuser---the aromas of citrus, coconut, and ginger hitting me in waves. Ravenous, I set to making a roasted red pepper and garlic hummus, incorporating the urfa biber to see if it really makes a difference. I dip my finger into the dark purplish-brown flakes to taste, and I'm blown away by the earthiness of the flavors. I smack my lips, tasting undertones of raisins, chocolate, and maybe a little coffee. Even though I've made a crudité platter with some pan-seared padron peppers sprinkled with sea salt and homemade garlic-infused naan, I can't help shoving spoonfuls of the hummus into my eager mouth.

In 2001, my co-workers at PayPal and I would often get lunch on Castro Street in Mountain View. We had our pick of restaurants, starting with obvious categories like Indian, sushi, and burgers. There were more options once we settled on a type: North Indian or South Indian, cheaper or fancier, and so on. In contrast to the competitive local restaurant market, PayPal was at that time the only email-based payments company in the world. We employed fewer people than the restaurants on Castro Street did, but our business was much more valuable than all of those restaurants combined. Starting a new South Indian restaurant is a really hard way to make money. If you lose sight of competitive reality and focus on trivial differentiating factors—maybe you think your naan is superior because of your great-grandmother’s recipe—your business is unlikely to survive.

Crisp Cumin Chicken Served with Tangy Orange and Avocado Salsa   Serves: 4 Total Cooking Time: 20 min   Ingredients for the salsa: 1 large orange, preferably seedless 1 ripe avocado, preferably firm 1 plum tomato 2 tbsp chopped cilantro   Ingredients for the chicken: Olive oil 11/4 lb (625 g) chicken 1/2 tsp (2 ml) ground cumin Salt and cayenne or black pepper to taste   Method: 1. Salsa: Peel the orange and remove its white pith.  Get rid of the membrane such that only the soft juicy part of the orange is there. Slice the avocado in half and scoop out the soft buttery flesh from the peel. Chop a tomato and remove its seeds. 2. Now mix in the orange, avocado flesh, and tomato in a medium size bowl. To this add the coarsely chopped cilantro. Toss well. Lightly drizzle with oil. Sprinkle a pinch of salt for taste. 3. Cut the chicken into 4 serving-sized pieces. Thinly coat both sides of chicken cutlets with cumin, salt, and pepper. 4. Heat oil in a frying pan and slide in the chicken pieces. Cook until the pieces are lightly golden. Flip the pieces and cook for 3-5 min per side. When the chicken pieces are nicely cooked, remove from heat. Top the chicken pieces with salsa. Best served with naans.   Nutrition information: 34 g protein,11 g fat, 9 g carbohydrates, 4 g fiber, 32 mg calcium, 84 mg sodium, 270 calories.   Back to Table of Contents The Forever Famous Classic Schnitzel   Serves: 6 Total Cooking Time: 35 min   Ingredients: 1/4 teaspoon garlic salt 1/2 cup all-purpose flour 1/4 teaspoon celery salt 1/4 teaspoon paprika 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/8 teaspoon pepper 1 slightly beaten egg 1/2 cup milk 2 to 3 tablespoons cooking oil 6  4-ounce pork sirloin cutlets about 1/2-inch in thickness

you think your naan is superior because of your great-grandmother’s recipe—your business is unlikely to survive.

Starting a new South Indian restaurant is a really hard way to make money. If you lose sight of competitive reality and focus on trivial differentiating factors—maybe you think your naan is superior because of your great-grandmother’s recipe—your business is unlikely to survive.

கடவுள் இருக்கா இல்லையாங்கற கேள்விக்கு என்னோட ஒரே பதில் நீ இருக்கேல்ல... அப்ப கடவுளும் இருக்கார். நாற்காலியைப் படைச்சது தச்சன், கட்டடத்தைப் படைச்சது கொத்தன்னா மனுஷனைப் படைக்க ஒருத்தன்

குளிச்ச கையோட இதை உடனே செய்தா ரொம்ப நல்லதுன்னு தான் நதிக்கரைகள்ள கோவில்கள் முளைச்சுது

பயப்பட்றதும் ஒரு தோஷம்டா குழந்தை. தோஷம் இருக்கலாமா?

Turning to the canvas bag, she pulled out a foil package. The smoky, buttery smell of naan made the different types of hunger coursing inside him mix together. "Does your mom actually make naan at home?" She opened the packet and held it in front of his nose, and he picked one up and shoved it in his mouth and almost died on the spot from the chewy, yeasty deliciousness. "Mummy's made it since before homemade naan was a trend. My parents have always had an old-fashioned tandoor oven in the house. Because Dr. Kohli needs his naan and kababs." The brightness sparkling in her eyes dimmed.

The director said wonderful things about you, that you're very talented," I say, and then smell the cardamom Garrance had given me, and I'm instantly put into a trance from green, earthy, and perfumed aromas. It's like all my troubles are gone. I'm in India, envisioning dances and beautiful saris and delicious naan bread baked on hot coals. Charles taps me on the shoulder. "Kate, where did you go?" I wobble. "I think I was in Mumbai for a second. Maybe Chennai? I don't know. I've never been to India. I've just seen pictures in magazines." He places his hands on my shoulders. "Spices transport you?" "Yes," I say, still a little bit out of it. "Hers do." He grips my shoulders, pulls me in closer. I smell his vanilla scent, and my knees turn to butter. "And I now know why my mother likes you. It makes perfect sense. She was right." "About what?" I ask, breathing him. "Working together and letting go of the bad energy. I know we can do this." His eyes spark with a passionate fire, and he smiles, his dimple puckering. I might melt like fondue. "Let's create a meal for her---the best one she's ever had." He leans against the stove, his sexy, smoldering hazel eyes meeting mine. My neck goes hot. I race over to the prep station and pick up the bag of cardamom, breathe it in---earthy, sweet, smoky, and nutty. Big mistake. Because I'm now licking his muscled chest in one of my deranged fantasies, which is so wrong. I throw the bag down, and the grains scatter on the countertop. Charles saunters over and places a hand on my shoulder. "Kate, everything okay?" "Cool, cool, cool," I say. I shrug off his touch, dip around his shoulder, noticing how V-shaped he is. "I was thinking we add this into the peanut sauce for the satay." "Good idea," he says. "Grind it. Nice and fine." Stop. Stop talking with your lilting English accent. Stop smiling. I'm staring at his hands, his lips, his eyelashes. My mind, my thoughts, and my body are about to explode. "Kate, can you pass me the chilis? My mother likes things spicy." "So do I," I say, reaching for it. Our hands touch as I hand him the spice. I shiver. "Me too," he says with a teasing growl. "And I know you added more pepper into my dish the other day. Good thing I can handle the heat." I can't. It's getting way too hot in here.

Tell me about Pryce,” said Tuesday. “He was a weirdo. A true-blue, first-class, dyed-in-the-wool weirdo.” Archie dipped a piece of naan into the malai kofta sauce. “New money, vulgar money. Barely tolerated. And I really don’t think he gave a fuck. Oh—” His eyes darted to Dorry. Dorry snorted. “Dude,” she said, “you kiss your mutha with that fucken thing?” “This is your influence?” he said to Tuesday. “Look what you’re doing to the youth.” “I believe the children are our future,” said Tuesday.

Today, Chefs, I have prepared for you a coconut-curry chicken, served on a naan waffle. And while the flavor profile is a little more on the exotic side, I think even exotic food should be comfort food. To that end, you'll see that you also have a side of warmed sweet and slightly spicy plum chutney. I'll ask you to pour that over the dish, as you would maple syrup over the traditional Southern version of chicken and waffles.

Closer to home, the Netherlands’ colonial history was evident on the country’s dining tables and restaurant menus, with Indonesian cuisine offering a rare bright spot among otherwise dire food options. It was common for family celebrations or corporate events to involve a rijsttafel (‘rice table’), a lavish banquet consisting of dozens of gelatinous Indonesian dishes displayed on a vast table. Just as no British town could be complete without an Indian curry house, most Dutch towns had at least one restaurant offering peanut soup, chicken satay and spicy noodles. Nasi goreng (fried rice) and bami goreng (fried noodles) were as well known to Dutch diners as chicken masala and naan bread were to the British. After centuries of trade with Indonesia, the Dutch had developed an abiding obsession with coffee, with an expensive coffee machine an essential feature of even the scruffiest student house. Surinamese food, which I’d never even heard of before moving to the Netherlands, was also popular. The Dutch had left their mark on the world, and the world had returned the favour.

நினைவு என்பது மனம். எதை எல்லாம் மனம் நினைக்கிறது? மூன்று விஷயங்களை! 1. காண்பது, கேட்பது, ருசிப்பது, முகர்வது, ஸ்பரிசிப்பது முதலியன (புலன் உணர்ச்சிகள்). 2. வலி, இன்பம், கோபம், பயம், பொறாமை,வெறுப்பு முதலியன (மன உணர்வுகள்). 3. சிந்தனை- நடந்தது, நடப்பது, நடக்கவிருப்பது பற்றிய நினைவுகள் (நினைவுகள்). இம்மூன்று (புலன் - உணர்வு - நினைவு) விஷயங்களையும் மனம் உற்பத்தி செய்து கொண்டேயிருக்கிறது. இதை மனமே ‘நான்’ என்று தன்னை வேறுபடுத்திக் கொண்டு அறிந்தபடியும் உள்ளது!

அஞ்சலி.. கார்த்திக்கும் அவளும் சென்னைக்குப் போனார்கள்

A banquet of tandoori chicken, lamb and paneer curry, bowls of buttered saffron rice and plates of garlic naan.

2½ cups all-purpose flour ¾ tsp baking powder 2 sticks butter 1½ tbsp sugar 1 tsp salt ¾ tsp cumin seeds ½ tsp cumin powder (optional) 2 to 2½ tbsp plain whole milk yogurt Sift the flour and baking powder. Cream the butter and sugar. Mix in the salt, cumin seeds, and cumin powder (if you like the flavor of cumin, adding the powder is recommended). Add the sifted flour to the creamed mixture. Knead into a dough, adding the yogurt as you do so. Roll the dough ⅛-inch thick. Cut into round shapes with cookie cutter. Place on a greased cookie tray and bake in a preheated oven at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for about 20 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave on a rack to cool. Enjoy the naan khatais with a cup of hot Indian chai.

Anyone who has dabbled in Indian cuisine as a foodie may have wondered, “Is butter chicken actually a curry?” after coming across the irresistible butter chicken. You might be surprised by the response! One of India’s most beloved cuisines, butter chicken (or murgh makhani) originated in the city of Delhi. Tender chicken breasts are cooked in a rich and velvety tomato sauce with a variety of aromatic spices. When served with rice or naan bread, it becomes a substantial and satisfying dinner.

The scant menu had done the food a disservice. As the dishes arrived, ferried from the kitchen by a team of waiters, she surveyed the food. She swallowed at the sight. It was a lot. There were katoris filled with daal, as thick and silky as rice pudding but yellowed with turmeric, finished with cream; a dark, oily, goat curry, chunks of meat blackened by a tandoor; neatly cubed paneer swathed in spinach; prawns, pink and black and glistening, scattered with coriander, sitting spikily in their dish; grilled chicken thighs, reddened with spice, scattered with chilli. Among the plates were little bowls of rice and folded naan, roti, and feather-layered paratha.

எந்த உருவம் நினைக்கிறீரோ அந்த உருவத்தில் இறைவன் அருள்கிறான். எந்தப் பெயர் கொண்டு அழைக்கிறீரோ அந்தப் பெயரை அவன் கொள்கிறான் என்பது வைணவம். பெயர்களுக்குள் வேறுபாடு இல்லை; உருவங்களில் வேறுபாடு இல்லை; மனித மனங்களில் தான் எல்லா வேறுபாடுகளும் உள்ளன. அதைக் களைந்தால் போதும்;

வர்ண, ஜாதி வேறுபாடுகள் நமது சிந்தனையிலும் சித்தாந்தத்திலும் இல்லை.

ஆரோக்கியமான சிந்தனைகள் ஆக்கபூர்வமான செயல்களுக்கு வித்தாகின்றன. ஆக, அத்தனைக்கும் அடிப்படை அஸ்திவாரம் மனம். இது சீராக வளர, சுய அலசலும் சுய விமர்சனமும் வெகுவாக உதவும். தினமும் இரவு படுக்கப் போகும் முன், இன்று என்னென்ன பேசினேன், செய்தேன் என்ற சுயஅலசல் செய்துகொள்வதன் மூலம், என் குறை நிறைகளை நானே உணர்ந்து கொள்கிறேன். பின், குறைகளைக் குறைக்கவும், நிறைகளைக் கூட்டவும், விடாமல் முயற்சிப்பது மனமுதிர்ச்சிக்கும் செழிப்பான வளர்ச்சிக்கும் வழி செய்கிறது..." சென்னைக்கு

கல்வி அறிவு நிறைய இருந்தும் அனுஷ்டானம் இல்லாத பிராமணனை விட, கல்வி அறிவு இல்லாத ஒரு பாமரனே சிறந்தவன் என்று விதுரநீதி கூறுகிறது.

Chicken and vegetable pakoras, chickpea fritters with delicate spices. Aloo samosas filled with spicy potatoes, peas, and cilantro, with a fiery green sauce. Goat curry. Tandoori chicken. Mutton biryani. White lentil dal with onions and spices, potatoes and eggplant fried with onions and tomatoes, and four kinds of bread, naan, tandoor roti, chapati, and paratha.

paayum oli nee enakku paarkkum vizhi naan unakku thoayum madhu nee enakku thumpi adi naan unakku vaayuraikka varugudhillai vaazhi nindRan maenmai ellaam thooya sudar vaan oLiyae sooRai amudhae kaNNammaa veeNai adi nee enakku maevum viral naan unakku pooNum vadam nee enakku pudhu vairam naan unakku kaaNum idam thoarum nindRan kaNNin ozhi visudhadi maanudaiya paerarasi vaazhvu nilaiyae kaNNammaa vaana mazhai nee enakku vaNNa mayil naan unakku paanam adi nee enakku paaNdam adi naan unakku nYaana ozhi veesudhadi nanggai nindRan Joadhi mugam oonamaRu nallazhagae ooru suvaiyae kaNNammaa veNNilavu nee enakku maevu kadal naan unakku paNNu suthi nee enakku paattinimai naan unakku eNNi eNNi paarthidiloar ennamillai nin suvaikkae kaNNin maNi poandRavaLae katti amudhae kaNNammaa veesu kamazh nee enakku, viriyumalar naan unakku paesuboruL nee enakku, paeNumozhi naan unakku naesamuLLa vaanchudarae ninnazhagai yaedhuraippaen? aasai madhuvae kaniyae aLLu suvaiyae kaNNammaa kaadhal adi nee enakku kaandhdham adi naan unakku vaedham adi nee enakku vithai adi naan unakku poadha mutRa poadhinilae ponggi varum theenjjuvaiyae naadhavadivaanavaLae nal uyirae kaNNammaa nallavuyir nee enakku, naadiyadi naan unakku selvamadi nee enakku, saemanidhi naan unakku ellaiyatRa paerazhagae enggum niRai poRsudarae mullainigar punnagaiyaay moadhuminpamae kaNNammaa thaaraiyadi nee enakku,thaNmadhiyam naan unakku veeramadi nee enakku,vetRiyadi naan unakku thaaraNiyil vaanulagil saarndhdhirukkum inpamellaam oaruruvamaay chamaindhdhaay uLLamudhamae kaNNammaa !

Actor Nani feels at home in Chennai, especially after the blockbuster Naan Ee. The

His main ingredient is sea bream... At least the head of one!" Aah, now I see. He's making Fish-Head Curry! FISH-HEAD CURRY Originating in Singapore and Malaysia... ... it uses the whole head of a white-meat fish so that even delicately flavorful parts, like the eyes and cheeks, can be enjoyed! "Next, he's put some baking powder into a bowl... ... along with baking soda... yogurt... It's naan! He's making naan bread!" "So he intends to serve his curry with naan instead of rice? That's fairly... ordinary." "I'd expected something a little more unique from Professor Shiomi's prized apprentice." "Isn't it a display of confidence on his part? Not relying on some wacky, unusual dish to generate surprise?" "No... That naan. If he's doing what I think he's doing...!" "Shhh. That's right, Jun. This... ... is just the beginning of my dish! " "Hayama has left the naan to rise... returning to his curry! He's adding a pinch of lemongrass for fragrance, and-" "Whoa! It's a dash of freshness to the otherwise mild and soft coconut milk..." "Just the refreshing scent is enough to make my mouth water!

ரயிலில் பயணம் செய்பவர்கள், தாம் கொண்டுவந்த எல்லாப் பை மூட்டைகளையும், பாரங்களையும் தலையில் ஏன் சுமக்கவேண்டும். தன்னையும் சேர்த்துப் பாரத்தையும் ரயிலே சுமக்கிறது என்பதை அறிவதுபோல் ஈசன் அனைத்தையும் நடத்துபவர் என்று அவர் மீது பாரங்களைச் சுமத்துவதல்லவா நியாயம்! வீணாகச் சுமைகளைத் தலையில் (கவலை) சுமப்பது எதற்கு?

Nadanthu pogum malar chediyaai nee... Unnai kdanthu pogum vannathu poochiyaai naan... Unnidam kadhal ennum thean kudikka vanthean.. Beer kudikka vaithaaiyea... Ippadikku kadhal tholviyil naan...

When it’s my turn, I fill my plate with rice, shami kabob, lentils, and butter chicken, skipping the cauliflower and salad, and pile the naan high before carefully carrying it downstairs to the basement. Rabiya, Yusuf, and the other kids are already camped in front of the TV with their food. Mustafa joins a few minutes later, plopping down on our beat-up leather sofa next to Yusuf. “There’s nothing good on,” Yusuf announces after flipping through all the channels. “Isn’t there a basketball game?” Mustafa asks. “Nooo!” Rabiya whines. “I want SpongeBob,” a little boy named Jamal says, chewing on a piece of naan. “How about we tell scary stories?” Yusuf suggests. “No way,” Rabiya refuses. “Last time I had nightmares for days.” I agree. Yusuf tells the scariest stories ever. The worst one was about severed hands of bodies that were dug up from graves. The hands came to life and would tickle people to death. I still think about that whenever we pass a graveyard.

One of the many online arguments I've had about the importance of language, how language can hurt, has been about tea. Chai tea means tea tea. The number of times you see this on a menu makes you wonder why people can't be bothered to do their research. Like naan bread too. Bread bread.

சாதியமைப்பு என்பது நெகிழ்வுத்தன்மையற்ற, எந்தவகையான மாற்றங்களையும் அனுமதிக்காத கட்டமைப்பு என்று பலரும் நம்பியிருந்த வேளையில், அதனுள் வரையறுக்கப்பட்ட, அதாவது பிராமணரல்லாத சாதித் தொகுதியினுள், படி நிலை நகர்வுகள் சாத்தியம் என்பதை அறிவுறுத்திய ஸ்ரீனிவாஸ், தாழ்ந்த சாதிகள் பிராமணர்களைத் தான் போலி செய்ய வேண்டும் என்ற அவசியமில்லை, அவை தமக்கு மேலிருக்கக்கூடிய எந்தவொரு சாதியையும் கூட பிரதி செய்து, சாதியடுக்கில் தங்களது நிலையை உயர்த்திக்கொள்ளும் ஆவலை வெளிப்படுத்த முடியும் என்ற யோசனையில், ‘பிராமணமயமாதல்’ என்ற பெயரை இன்னும் பொதுமைப்படுத்தி, அத்தகைய போலச் செய்யும் நிகழ்விற்கு ‘சமஸ்கிருதவயமாதல்’ என்று பெயரிட்டு அழைத்தார்.

போலச்செய்தலின் மிகச்சிறந்த எடுத்துக்காட்டுகளாக, தெருக்கூத்தின் கட்டியக்காரனையும், ராஜா ராணி ஆட்டத்தின் பபூனையும், தோற்பாவைக்கூத்தின் உச்சிக்குடுமி - உளுவத்தலையன் கதாபாத்திரங்களையும் குறிப்பிடவேண்டும். அதிகாரம் ததும்பும் கதாபாத்திரங்களை, யதார்த்தத்தில் கேட்க முடியாத அத்தனைக் கேள்விகளையும் நகைச்சுவை என்ற பெயரில், புனைவு தருகிற சௌகரியத்தில் கேட்டு விடுகிற இக்கதாபாத்திரங்கள், தற்காலிகத் தலைகீழாக்கங்களை உருவாக்கி விட்டு, மறுகணமே தங்களையும் தங்களது கேள்விகளையும் ‘கோமாளித்தனங்களாக’ மாற்றிக் கொள்வதை ‘போலச்செய்தலின்’ அடிப்படை குணங்கள் என்று சொல்ல முடியும். இவ்வாறு உருவாக்கப்படுகிற கண நேர தலைகீழாக்கத்தின் மற்றுமொரு பரவச வடிவம் சர்க்கஸ் கோமாளிகள் - ஏறக்குறைய எல்லா வித்தைகளையும் அறிந்திருக்கிற இக்கோமாளிகள் பார் விளையாடும் வீரர்களைப் போலச்செய்து, அற்புதமாய் விளையாடி, பின்பு தலைகுப்புற கீழேவிழுந்து சிரிக்க வைக்கும் காட்சி, போலச்செய்தலின் உட்சபட்சம்.

It helped that I was working with a pretty awesome recipe. Baba had this way of drawing out the tender in his meat, marinating and using delicate pinches of spice that he dusted gently over the hills and valleys of slices and rolled balls and rural-hewed chunks destined for gyros or meat trays or to be garnished with salad within a deliciously sloppy naan sandwich.

Harvest Bread Bread is the quintessential harvest food. Its civilizing influence trails beer. It is almost a cultural universal. Europeans have bread loaves, Mexicans and some Central and South American countries have tortillas, the southern United States has corn bread, India and Pakistan have naan—the varieties, shapes, and forms bread comes in is infinite, as is the artistry in creating it. Ingredients: ¾ cup warm water 1 package active dry yeast 1 teaspoon salt 1½ tablespoons sugar 1 tablespoon vegetable shortening ½ cup milk 3 heaping cups all-purpose flour 1 stick softened butter Preheat oven to 375°F. In a large bowl, add the warm water. Slowly stir in the dry yeast. Continue to stir until the yeast dissolves. Add salt, sugar, shortening, and milk to the bowl. Stir well. Mix in the first 2 cups of flour. If needed, begin adding more flour, one tablespoon at a time, until the dough chases the spoon around the bowl. You do not need to use up all the flour called for in this recipe, or you may need more flour than is called for. The amounts vary depending on many factors, including weather, which is why most bread recipes only give an approximate amount of flour needed. Turn the dough out onto a floured board and knead it, adding small spoonfuls of flour as needed, until the dough is soft and smooth, not sticky to the touch. Use the softened butter to butter a bowl and a bread pan. Put the dough in the buttered bowl, and turn the dough over to grease all sides evenly. Cover and let rise in a warm spot for 1 hour. Punch down dough. Turn out onto floured board and knead again. Form dough into a loaf and set it in the buttered bread pan. Cover and let rise for about 30 minutes. Before baking, score the dough by cutting three slashes across the top with a sharp knife. Then, put it in oven and bake for about 45 minutes or until golden brown. Turn the bread out of the pan, and let it cool on a rack or a clean dishtowel.

Lily heard feet padding along the landing outside her room and then her mother pushed open the door without knocking, carrying a breakfast tray: bread and jam, a glass of pomegranate juice, and a pot of tea. Yesterday, Lily couldn't drink the milk. It was warm, tasted too much like cow, and the egg yolks were bright orange, so she just ate the naan. She had never before eaten flatbread like this- baked on hot stones, dimpled and crusty, it tasted sour and earthy and so delicious, she could eat an entire slab.

He desperately wanted to hear Lily say merci again, but Naneh Goli folded a piece of naan around a boiled egg, placed it in his knapsack, and pushed him out the door with a long list of instructions he didn't hear. All he could think was, I fell in love at eight fifteen on the morning of June 9. Later that afternoon he scurried around the kitchen, underfoot until Naneh Goli sent him to the storeroom for jam. The cellar, illuminated by a bulb on a string, was like a pharmacy, with shelves of rosewater, orange blossom water, quince syrup, lime syrup, vinegars, and jars of pickled vegetables, all painstakingly labeled in Agha (Mr.) Zod's shaky script. Karim paused to read the labels but found nothing to ease the knocking in his chest, so he took the last jar of fig preserves for Lily. His Lily jan (dear), Lily rose, Lily shirin (sweet), Lily morning, Lily moon, Lily merci.

I neither know to read Tamil nor write Tamil, I am not a Tamizhan, I am Son of God

To me, the quintessential Japanese chain is MOS Burger. My friend Rob Ketcherside, who lived in Nakano for years before returning to Seattle, is also a fan. "Visitors to Japan always make a big deal about McDonald's teriyaki burgers," said Rob, "but those are a shallow response to what MOS Burger offers." Indeed. MOS Burger serves something resembling a regular hamburger, but it is far beside the point. On one visit MOS, for example, Iris ordered a Yakiniku Rice Burger, with slices of Korean-style grilled beef between two toasted rice patties acting as a bun. My burger had a regular bun, but the patty was a crispy tonkatsu fillet topped with its usual tomatoey brown sauce. After I finished it, I was still hungry, so I ordered my own rice burger, a vegetarian one filled with kinpira gobō, shredded burdock root simmered with soy sauce, mirin, and chiles. Beat that, McDonald's. Next to the cash register at MOS, I noticed an ad for a new special menu item, only for a limited time: naan tacos. Yes, that would be Indian-style flatbread wrapped around Mexican-style fillings, presumably with a Japanese spin inside and out. I suspected the limited time offer has elapsed by now.

I didn't father two wonderful healthy daughters in order to miss my show because I'm getting more naan from the kitchen, Laura.' 'Stop pretending to be sexist, Dad. No one's falling for it. We know you're just lazy.

தலித் சொல்லாடல், எவ்வளவுக்கு அன்னியோன்யமானதோ அவ்வளவுக்கு வெறுக்கக்கூடியதும். அந்த வகையில், தலித் அரசியலுக்கும் உடலுறவிற்கும் பெரிய வித்தியாசமில்லை; இரண்டிலும் ஞாபகங்கள் தான் கிளர்ச்சியைத் தருகின்றன; அதே போல, ‘போராட்டம்’ முடிந்ததும் தனித்தனியே அவரவர் அவரவர் ‘உள்ளே’ சுருங்கிக் கொள்ள வேண்டியதுதான் - இரண்டுமே தனிமையையும் வெறுமையையும் தான் பெருக்குகின்றன!