tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6888282.post9127801360526968572..comments2024-03-07T00:03:12.584-07:00Comments on John's Corner of the World: Breadmaking in Northern Iraq and southeastern TurkeyJohn Holzmannhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849211055450293089noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6888282.post-36795175744827142722007-05-15T19:26:00.000-06:002007-05-15T19:26:00.000-06:00When we lived in Malaysia we'd go to a food place ...When we lived in Malaysia we'd go to a food place where you could buy roti:<BR/><BR/>We'd watch the cook stretch a little ball of dough until it was so thin you could read a newspaper through it. Then he'd slap it on the hot griddle. Then he'd use his bare hand to dip into the big bowl of raw eggs and grab out a yolk or two and dump it on the bread. He'd wipe the eggy hand onto a towel tied around his waist and grab the ubiquitous mangy stray cat off the counter with that same hand and toss the animal onto the floor. Then he'd reach into into a bowl of chopped veggies (again, same bare hand) and dump those on top of the egg. Next he'd Then he'd use his long fingernails to fold the dough into a square packet and then flip it over to cook the other side. When it was cooked, he'd pick it up with his fingers and plop it on a plate.<BR/><BR/>We asked once why he didn't at least use different hands for the food than for the cat. The answer (shocked at the suggestion): touch a cat with the left hand? But it's only for dirty work!Jenneyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10013776661922139219noreply@blogger.com