I like to make my husband happy.
Really, he’s happiest if he’s well fed.
And I like to keep him happy
Because if he’s happy he doesn’t get as annoyed with some of the less loveable things I do. Like when I make him watch iCarly.
Or when I mange to turn myself into a burrito with the blankets at night, leaving him freezing.
Or when I’m PMSing like whoa and start sobbing at him because we’re out of coffee creamer.
Or (and this is the meanest thing I do) I make him do things on the weekend. When there is FOOTBALL on.
I’m clearly a horrible horrible wife.
So I do my best to make up for it. Last week, when we had Indian he LOVED it. And I only made enough for dinner, not leftovers for his lunch.
Like I said, horrible wife.
So this week I made it again. And took pictures to show you guys
See! It says authentic right on it. Costco sells brown basmati. Basmati is my favorite rice ever. After I had it at an Indian friend’s house in high school I may have demanded my parents buy me a whole bag of it. No shame. For a long time I could only find white in the fun bags. I got possibly too excited the first time I found this.
Authentic. (I got this at Barbur World Foods-any random ethnic grocery is an awesome place to buy spices. I think it was under 4 bucks for this giant thing of curry)
Cinnamon (yeah that bottle is deformed. I still keep refilling it), garlic, the curry powder, red pepper, and cumin.
Plus a tomato and some purred roasted hot peppers (my parents gave me an absurd amount of peppers, so I roasted them, then put a few in the magic bullet with some water to use for this meal. So friggin good)
Which I made with purred peppers, tomato, curry powder, cumin, garlic, and a touch of cinnamon.
Trader Joe’s makes some good sauces, let’s not lie.
Because heavy cream is fantastic.
And there were leftovers!
Which is good, because I have lots of things I want to happen this weekend. Things that aren’t beer and football.
Do you ever make Indian food at home?
What are your weekend plans? We’re going to a beer fest tonight. Which means I deserve to go shopping for new jeans I think.
*if you’re wine tasting and they try to give you white wine before you taste red and you say “it doesn’t matter, I’m not fancy” they judge and mutter things about “killing your pallet”. Guess how I know.