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RSSThursday, July 15, 2010
I can bake my cake, and eat it too.
After a much required inspiring baking move by Mayuresh, I decided to stop worrying and take the plunge already.
I was scared, skeptical, and tired of sieving icing sugar for a better part of the 2 hours, but at the end of it, I emerged alive with a double layer chocolate cake in my hands.
The first part was bliss. Just mixing the butter, sugar, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, vanilla extract, eggs and yes, flour! Easy Peasy! Just plug in the beater and go.
And this is where the batter eating started.
After I had tucked in the batter in the oven, it was time to melt the glorious dark chocolate.
And boy, did it melt. Awesomeness re-defined.
This was the "has the chocolate mix cooled down yet" tasting session every 5 min.
The few most torturous minutes of my life where when my cake was cooling on the cooling rack, while i could smell the other one in the oven.
And if that was bad enough, the horrible, taxing job of sieving the icing sugar arrived. I'm telling you, it is the ideal punishment for an irritating kid, or well, whoever you want to punish.
Oh well, dumped all that in the melted dark chocolate with the cream and vanilla.
After putting on a very brave fight, all that milky white had to finally give into the chocolate.
So all there was left for me to do, was apply icing on my cakes, and let it set for a while.
And finally, finito :)
Did I hog on it? No, not yet. My parents and nani did instead.
Am I happy? Yes, very much. I now understand the kind of happiness my mum experiences when she realizes she's brought me up right. The amount of effort and love she put in, finally paid of and give birth to a beautiful thing.
For me, that beautiful thing is my cake. (Yes, I am aware I sound like a total retard at this point of time, but look! Cake! It is no longer a lie! )
And now, I can sleep with a smile on my face.
Why you ask?
It's because I finally know that I can bake my cake and eat it too. :)
Monday, July 05, 2010
Another story by the Ghats
It never filled him with remorse, or anger, when he saw him work all day long to earn such nominal pays. To be very honest, he didn't even like him too much.
He was a bit too much of a hypocrite in his eyes. He saw his father sing out praises about the deity's magical powers, and how she made your wish come true if you pleased her with special puja baskets; while in fact he was, but , an atheist.
At times , he felt ashamed to be living under the same roof as a liar. Somewhere down the line, it had inculcated in him this innate urge, to find a place of his own. Somewhere far away from the place where he had spent every waking moment of his entire childhood.
And then there was his mother. Since as long as he could remember, he had always walked into his hut to see his mother cooking, or cleaning their small abode, in silent suffering. He couldn't help but feel sad and disgusted at the same time. After all, she didn't have the right to suffer if she had never worked against it, did she?
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As me and my father, cautiously made our way down the mossy steps in rolled up chudidaar and jeans, and an empty bottle in each hand; he came up to us midway up the stairs.
"Can I help you with those bottles?"
"How far will you go?" , enquires my dad.
"I'll go up till the middle of the river"
My dad looks convinced, and hands him both the bottles.
"What's your name boy?", my father asks him as we three slowly make our way down.
"Lalu"
"Like Lalu Prasad Yadav eh?", my dad tries to joke.
He doesn't look amused, no crinkle of a smile even.
We continue our trudge downstairs.
I interrupt the silence, "How old are you?"
"15"
"You go to school?"
"Yes. I will be giving my 10th exams this year."
"Oh. Good good"
He barely listens to my reply as he jumps into the cold river.
I soak my feet in peacefully, and splash a few drops on my head. I look out at the magnificent river, to find him out at the middle of the river taking deep breaths and diving inside with two bottles in his hand.
By this point of time, a number of kids are surrounding me with big smiles on their faces as they continue floating in the river, asking me if I need help. I tell them I'm waiting for Lalu. They all go back to their ways.
That scrawny 15 year old returns, shivering out of the river. He was wearing nothing but a pair of shorts in the gloomy weather.
He hands me the 2 bottles.
"When did you learn to swim?"
"I knew it since I was a kid. Since I was 4 maybe."
"So since when have you been doing this then?", trying to inquire further as I hand him a ten rupee note.
"Since I learnt to swim."
And he walked away to help a few more people, without giving us a second glance.
I met Lalu by the banks of Ganga, that day.
And something about him, stuck a different chord in me.
And why wouldn't it?
After all, what do I know of hunger?
Saturday, July 03, 2010
Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts maybe?
Life has become quite hectic since I decided to slack off at my internship, instead of slacking off at home.
I barely get time to do the things I wanted to, this break. But I try to squeeze in the sweeter things in life, from time to time. Plus, I had to do full justice to the cookie cutters I had bought along with the muffin tray. So I couldn't really keep them waiting.
I think this was the first time that my entire baking process took much longer than an hour. And the procedure was a little phoren to me, but it was a bit too much fun. After I'd rolled out the dough, and it was time to cut out the shapes; I'd laid out the different star, heart, leaf shaped cutters and invited both my nani and mum to help me out. Both behaved like kids I tell you! Incredible it was :)
And then, there was the icing. It was so messy and delicious, you just have got to try it.
I still have green and red stains on my fingers; and I've got to admit, 5 hours later, I am still a *tiny* bit hopped up on icing sugar :P
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