Global Cuisine

Ever wonder what it would be like to marry a man who grew up in a palace? I did exactly that when I wed Ajay Singh, a fellow journalist who had grown up in Old Delhi and the Himalayas. Throughout the 1990's, I even lived for weeks at a time behind the rusted wrought-iron gates of the Singh family's one-hundred-room Indian palace.

Ajay and I met when we were both worked at Time Inc.'s newsweekly Asiaweek in Hong Kong. Although I knew very little about my fiancé or his family background, we still got engaged within three months of meeting at a company offsite event. A few months after this engagement, I discovered that not only did Ajay grow up in a rambling old 19th-century grand manor on the outskirts of Delhi, but also that we were now set to inherit the grandest wing of the house.

It may sound like a fairytale but, of course, there's always the fine print. Mokimpur - as the house is called - turned out to be not much of a fantasy palace. Believe me, it was no luxurious showcase of velvet daybeds, gilt-framed portraits of maharajas and other lofty ancestors, and sweeping palm-dotted landscapes. Instead, it was more of a sprawling moldy tear down, with hot-and-cold running mosquitoes, belligerent peacocks, and the odd royal ghost or two.

Doesn't sound very fast. Also sounds serious. Manchego y Chorizo Tapa con Membrillo Does it sound any simpler in Spanish?

Let's just call it good. This crunchy, little toast is the perfect pile of salty, meaty and sweet with a jigger of freshness by way of mint leaves. The most difficult, and okay, a bit spendy, part of this tapa, is the tracking down of the fine, Spanish ingredients – Manchego, Chorizo and Membrillo (quince paste – a spicy, sweet, firm jam that is a traditional accompaniment to cheese – oh, and if you don't know what quince is....).

A cheese boutique, a Spanish specialty shop or a Fancy Food Mega Store should carry everything needed. If you live where there are no such markets, consider some click-and-spend shopping with La Espanola.(While there, order some cantimpalitos, Spanish cocktail sausages, for your next soiree – they're awesome.)

I love ramen soup and I'm not talking about the instant kind—though I did love a bowlful now and then during college. I mean the real ramen that you can get in Japanese noodle bars. Ramen noodles, especially when they're freshly made can be amazing. They are worlds apart from the instant kind. Whenever I feel a little under the weather or I just crave a hot bowl of soup, my go-to dish for ultimate soothing power is a bowl of ramen.

Lately I've become obsessed with having ramen for lunch. My coworkers and I go out to eat ramen at least once or twice every week. We've all been bitten by the ramen bug. New York City has countless noodle bars, ranging from cheap to very pricey. But they all offer the classic broths for ramen, including salt broth, soy sauce broth, and miso broth. They even have cold ramen served with dipping sauces. My favorite is the miso broth, which also comes in a spicy version called tan-tan men. It's the soup I turn to for a good sinus clearing! This is why ramen is the perfect cold weather soup.

Here’s a true confession: Sometimes I really miss the ‘80s. Okay. Maybe I don’t miss the Crystal Carrington hair, the Donna Mills eye shadow, or the chandelier earrings that looked like they should hang over Trump’s dining table. (What are they made of? Foil?? And look! A matching necklace! I could be Queen of  QVC!)

But I did have a great time as an anchor and reporter in Dallas in the ’80′s, and do miss the group of girlfriends who joined me after the 5 o’clock news as we ate our way around the Dallas/Ft. Worth Metroplex.

Of all the places we haunted, I think our favorite was Javier’s. Very upscale for Mexican restaurants of that time, it was decidedly old school and elegant in a Mexico City kind of way. There, you wouldn’t find tacos or quesadillas …but rich moles, luscious grilled steaks stuffed with roasted chilies and cheese, and pulled pork that was cooked in a seasoned sauce for so long that it didn’t just melt in your mouth, it melted on your fork on it’s way there.

But Javier knew, whenever we walked in, that more than the meats or moles, all we really craved was a bucket (or two) of chips and big bowl (or 2) their warm tomatillo sauce. There was no day at work, no traffic so bad or no break-up so fierce, that this sweet yet spicy sauce wouldn’t cure it. It was our Magic Green Elixir.