Monday, October 24, 2011

Poems of Gitanjali

There are certain things you come across in life which leave you with nothing but a stunned mind and silence. Poems of Gitanjali is one of these things.

With the onset of Diwali cleaning, my mother was busy clearing out her bookshelf this morning. Like every year, I went and plonked myself beside the huge stack of books and started going through them in the hope of discovering something new. This unassuming cover was just lying within the mess, content in its own being. I picked it up, and flipped through the pages to find verses of uncluttered poetry. Curious to know more, I started reading the Forward and the Introduction to the book.

Gitanjali was a young girl  diagnosed with terminal cancer at the age of 14. She was a simple girl, from a simple family. She fought this humiliating disease for 2 years, until finally succumbing to it a few days after her 16th birthday.

Since she spent most of her time alone in her room or the hospital, she would write poems. But surprisingly, she would hide all these poems she would write in the most improbable of places. She would scribble a few lines and hide it within her pillow cover, the sofa cushions, behind books, wherever she could reach. The reason being that she didn't want to hurt her family by letting them know of her pain, through her words.

Gitanjali wrote innocent poems about the stray dog in her building, her new birthday dress, the bird she'd share her breakfast with - they are the kind of poems which would leave you with an after taste of bittersweet melancholy.

But more than that, she wrote extensively about life as well as death.  The kind of poems she had written between the ages of 12-16 are heart wrenching, yet uplifting at the same time. This particular one absolutely stunned me.

Tear Drops


Two tiny
Tear drops
Weighing heavily
In my eyes
Afraid to shed their burden
For who knows
It might
Pierce the hearts
Of those who care
And burden them ever-more
Their wounded hearts
With shattered hopes
Who attempt in vain
To keep an iron hold


I met their eyes
With a surging tide
And marvel at their
Strength and courage
To keep vigil day and night
To watch over me
Lest
I bypass them
While..
They are blissfully unaware.


The clarity this sweet young girl conveyed through her poems, will really leave you with nothing but silence.

Even though the publication of this book took its way through various obstacles, publishing this book was necessary. As it is only through work like this that we realize that 'Nothing is without meaning. Not even death.'

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Just Go On?

Standing in the midst of this rat race of ours, the rats never seem to get enough of running around. The increasing pace with which the rats are on the move, it would make their ancestors at the Karni Mata Temple proud to the point of indifference.

The young ones always seem to be running to and fro from coaching classes, the students are perpetually on the move to increase that one mark & add that extra point on their CV's while the working class is on a voluntary session of their own personal hamster wheels. 

Sometimes I wonder, when do they all sleep?

I know they don't holiday. I see everyone, everyday. 
The average cut off for every college keeps rising everyday, getting a job after a degree seems a lost cause with impressive resumes on every alternate lap and the AC buses are perpetually crowded with professionals crawling back home. 

And boy, do they enjoy their life. Don't try to defend them, I saw them celebrating. I know what I saw.
I saw them sleeping off on their books with a pencil in hand, I saw them dozing off in lectures, and I definitely saw them catching a power nap during lunch. It all looked quite joyous.

After all this joyous celebration, they have the audacity to come up to me and complain about how they aren't happy, about how they'd rather be doing a different job, living a different life.

This isn't going to be yet another post saying - Be different. Quit your job. Paint. Yada. Yada. This is just a thought I had today.

As long as we live in a wonderful country as ours, as long as we continue succumbing to the badly built social structure, and as long as we have that rude hand wake us up at the last stop on the train, this lifestyle might never end. And that thought scares me a little. 

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Tribute to the Story that Lived

It was raining.
The moment I stepped out of the Cinema Hall, I was welcomed by dark clouds and soft breezes. And of course, the hard pelting rain. The movie I had just finished watching was the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - Part 2. There was nothing but an overwhelming sense of sadness, and nostalgia.

When the first Harry Potter movie had released in 2001, I was in Class 5. I remember watching this movie in a single hall theater in Goregaon and coming out of it wide -eyed. I had been unfortunately unaware of the Harry Potter Series up until David Heyman decided to make a movie on it. 


Needless to say, I wasted no time on getting my hands on the four books which had been published up until 2001 and finishing them in a span of 6 months. I had begged, borrowed, and almost stolen any book I found remotely related to Harry Potter. As I write this, I can see a copy of 'Quidditch through the Ages' and 'The Magical World of Harry Potter' staring back at me amongst my copies of the actual series. But soon, it had all been read.
And from then on, the wait began.

The wait for the next book to be published.
The wait for the next movie to release.

The wait, that agonizing wait, can only be understood for the ones who grew up with Harry Potter. And once the book did come out, there would be a period of a week where you'd refuse to talk to anyone who got the book before you in fear that they'd reveal some secret to you which you'd rather read in the book yourself. Once you did get the book, you'd read. You'd read till your eyes were droopy and your mum yelled at you to go and sleep as it was 1 AM and you were only 13. And then you read, as soon as your alarm bell rang at 5 AM because you just had to finish this book before you left for school. You just had to!

Then, once the movies came out, it was grander than our wildest imagination. Hogwarts was better than we'd pictured it, every character was just perfect, it made us yearn to reach out and gulp down a glass of Butterbeer. It even made us jump up, take out our wands, and fight the battle beside the Order.
Irrespective of exams, health or weather, once a movie released, you had to watch it as soon as you could. It was just wrong to think otherwise.

In the time where video games and television ruled, J.K. Rowling made kids fall in love with books again. For that, I'm truly in awe of her. For creating a world so enchanting, that people had no chance but to be drawn into it. A magical world, in every sense.

In retrospect, I'm so glad that I discovered Harry Potter at the age of 12 and not 11. Else I can't imagine the kind of hell my parents would have to put up with, when I demanded them for an explanation of why I didn't get my letter from Hogwarts.

The eternal Good vs. Evil story, that what is was. Yet it taught us so much more.
It gave us so much joy, so much happiness, and also, so much pain.

The little jokes, the inside spells, and the mischief managed shall never be forgotten.

I don't feel bad that it's all ended now, that it's all over. I do however, feel horribly bad for the ones who missed out on Harry Potter and it's magic. I feel horribly bad, for I know there shall never be another series which can captivate me the same way as this story did.

But I know, that every time I fall sick, every time I am sad and depressed, I can always plonk on the bed with a hardbound book, and relive that magic in my head all over again.


I remember the first time I entered the book store to buy my first Harry Potter book.
I almost didn't notice until I got back into the car with my book, as I looked outside while flipping pages -
It was raining.

Friday, January 14, 2011

Soul meets Chocolate

Chocolate always makes you do funny things. At the age of seven, I remember having belted the title of 'Toblerone bar finisher' under the 3 hour category. At the age of seven years and 4 months, I remember belting yet another title of ' Blue package Chips Ahoy digester' under the 'Unsupervised afternoon of watching Cartoon Network' category.

Needless to say, at the age of eight, three cavities were discovered.

In the eleven years since then, nothing has changed. Except the exponential growth in the number of cavities and root canals I harbor. But now that most of my teeth are actually just cement, I no longer have any guilt downing a bar of Bournville and then accusing my mother of not sharing any.

Today, I finally tried my hands on Molten Chocolate lava cake.

Cracked edges

The first absolute thing you need to do, is to get yourself some ramekins.

Thanks to a wonderful post by the purple foodie, I realised Home Centre has stocks of ramekins. So, running to Oberoi Mall and slight pleas to parents landed me with these beautiful Pyrex ramekins.

Anyhow, things you'll need.

100 gm of dark cooking chocolate
60 gm of butter
1 egg
50 gm of powdered sugar
2 tablespoons of flour(maida)
1 teaspoon of vanilla essence

(These measurements make enough batter for filling in two ramekins, to make two individual molten chocolate lava cakes)

First things first, raid the utensils drawer. Find two bowls which just about fit one over the other. We need a make shift double broiler to melt the chocolate as always.

Fill the lower bowl with water, place the second bowl on top and dunk in all the chocolate bits.

Rawest form, for now


Switch on the gas. Low heat. Once the water starts to boil, the steam starts melting the chocolate. Now, plonk in the butter. Sweet glorious stick o' butter.


Pre melt phase

Now imagine a world where butter is used to bribe people. What a wonderful world that would be. There would be happy people everywhere dying of clogged arteries. Ah. Joy.

Once such happy thoughts are thought of, you will notice that the chocolate and butter of melted and combined to form the most sinful chocolate-y mess. Stir into the depths of the sin.

*Drool* Chocolate mess

Such beauty in this world.

Take the bowl of the heat and let the chocolate cool for a while.

In the mean time, pre heat the oven. at 150 degrees. for about 10 minutes.

By now, its time to bring out the big guys. The big reassuring bowls, I mean. No no, please don't call out your burly elder brother. He'll do nothing except finish off the chocolate. Believe you me.

Break a egg into the bowl.

Broken egg yolk.

Yes, the yolk is meant to be broken too. If you break the egg perfectly into the bowl, that signifies you have some unsettled childhood issues. No, really.

Okay, I kid.

Dump in the sugar, and the flour. The reason we barely use flour is because this cake is supposed to be molten, and not very stiff cake like.

Sugar me this

Grab a spoon or whisk, and whip it.
Add a few glorious drops of vanilla. (You really don't need to. The recipe didn't ask for it. But I am always apprehensive of a eggy smell in the cake )


Vanilla vanilla everywhere
Whisk it yet again. Now, add the now cool melted chocolate.

Feel free to lick the bowl after. Make a occasion of it really. Light a few candles, play some Norah Jones and sit on the couch and slowly lick of all the excess chocolate.

Unless you are as impatient as me, then you can go at it in the kitchen itself with chocolate dripping all over your shirt.

Chocolate engulfs

Fold the chocolate in.
Soon, you will see that the glorious chocolate will take over all. Chocolate wins, always. Its the cardinal rule.

Chocolate wins!


Pour the batter into the ramekins. Go on, taste the batter again. You know you want to.


Pre going into the oven phase

Now, place the ramekins in the oven. Bake for 20 min, at 200 degrees.

You know when its done when the top is a bit cracked like this.

Crack!

The ramekins will be piping hot, so you need to be careful.

These are one of those times in your life which your grandfather spoke to you about. A time when you have to exercise some serious patience. Like the few minutes before you can access your CAT result, or the moments before you can dig into hot chocolate gooey mess. It's the same thing they talk of.

Once it cools down a bit, the surface will fall a bit.

Cracked edges

This is it. Go go go! Attack with the spoon!

And then you dip in your spoon, and this bit of cake and this molten mass escapes. The joy.

Molten lava


Earlier that evening, I had tried my hand at a Pasta with a Walnut sauce. Despite my high hopes on this recipe, it was just barely okay. Which got me down a bit.


Pasta with walnut sauce


But then, molten chocolate came along and filled the void in my soul. It gave me hope. Hope that one day, an intriguing pasta recipe will turn out delicious. And hope that one day, I will click my food photos in natural light.

Like always.


Gooey mess.


And then, I took yet another bite. All was right with the world :)

Saturday, January 08, 2011

Keeping it Real

Yet another year rolls in. Hopefully, I shall make this year count.


2010 was a good year in a lot of ways.
A detox year, a year to reflect, a year to learn, a year to implement and of course, a year to start all over again. Something which will stick with me for a long time to come. Not because it needs to, but because I want it to.

I spent the last day, of the first year of the second decade of the 21st century, cooking dinner for my parents. (because I am cool like that :P ) And personally, I think it was a good way to end the year. Like every year, I sat with my parents around the TV till 12, munching on delightful grub. 

Snuggling into the couch, I realized how much I prefer the quiet celebration at home. I realized how much I'll miss my parents on days like these, two years down the line (Wishful thinking on my part. But hey, fingers crossed.)
But the most amazing thing I realized that day?
KFC is such-a-ripoff!
It's is so incredibly simple to make fried chicken at home! And it was awesome and boneless, just how I like it :)

NYE_fried


Fried chicken will always be one of the greatest achievements of 2010. It's right up there with clearing my structures paper, and convincing my parents that buying the camera was always their own idea in the first place.
True Story.


NYE_dinner


Surprisingly, the biggest hit of the night was the bread. It was THE bread. It was destined to be brilliant.


NYE_fudge2

And the year ended with Vanilla Ice Cream with Nigella's Chocolate Peanut Butter Fudge topping. Ah, the sinful chocolate, with that hint of peanut butter. The smoothness of the condensed milk made it even more sinful. I beg you, to give this a try at home.

I added walnuts too. You know, to make it a bit healthy. Because, *clears throat* I do care about health and stuff.

In case you were wondering, the biggest portion is mine, yes.




Well,  moving on. Today, I tried my hands at Cinnamon Rolls.

Why you ask? It's because I was recently introduced to the Pecan Cinnabon at Cinnabon.
And I am in love.

Its not just any kind of love. Its the 'I-am-obsessed-with-you-I-need-to-see-you-every-waking-moment' stalker kind of love.I've been floating since the first bite. It was like the Floyd of food. It is deep, and it takes you on a ride. Nothing more to it.

So taking their tag line to my heart, I said to myself  'Life really does need some frosting!' and brought out the pots and pans and the yeast. Turns out, it is never a good day to bring out the yeast. Because yeast is evil.
Also, because the kitchen hated me today. It kept rejecting me, how a body rejects a donated organ at times.

Well, the yeast didn't rise the first time. I had to through the batter away. I dressed the scrapped knee, and I got up again to make a second batch. The yeast rose a bit the second time, but by then I was frustrated enough to say "Screw it, let's do this". Richard Branson ishtyle.

Needless to say, because I was trying so hard to make and manipulate the rolls, I couldn't take no pictures. It felt like an MU paper really. Its that time when you are stuck in a compulsory question, you cant let the five marks go. You have to do something, so you pull, strain, rack your brains and you try all the tricks till you get a page of scribbled gibberish for the examiner to give you a pity 2 out of the 5. It felt exactly like that.

They turned out pretty okay though.

Bare Naked Cinnamon Rolls

These are the bare naked Cinnamon rolls. A bit flaky, it needed more butter. Man, why did I skimp on the butter? Why God why?!

Untouched rolls

Then my part two attempt to make Dulce Le Leche went out the window, because I had no time for the stove and microwaved the darn thing. And needless to say, the milk exploded and flew everywhere it possibly could.

So, in true Branson spirit, I just poured the condensed milk on top and sprinkled a few walnuts on top (See? Health important very.)


Scrumptious Cinnamon Rolls


I took a bite, and it wasn't that bad.
Even cooking has its rise and falls. You don't always get the outcome you hope you do.
But, hopefully the next time I try this, I shall have more pictures and a steady recipe to follow.

Till then, I'm off to sniff my dalchini rolls.




Now Playing and bobbing head to - Tighten Up by The Black Keys.
Now Reading                              - 'It happened in India' by Kishore Biyani.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

A Shot of love

The temperature is plummeting like never before.


I've been reading numbers like 12 and 15 in the Minimum Temperature (Santacruz) column. My dad has been trying to steal my quilt every night. Unsuccessfully might I add. While my mum orders me around to make her a cup of tea every 45 minutes while she corrects her papers. And then sheepishly asks me to 'total' all the marks in her papers.

But absolutely lovely weather, this.

It's chilly, and pleasant. The day shines just enough sun to give you a false sense of warmth, till it all fades away to insensitive breezes.The warmth from a good strong cuppa, or a sturdy jacket is the only kind of warmth you can seek solace in. Not to mention a stack of books, hot chocolate and a blanket. But wasn't that always a given?



Hotchoco_books



Apparatus

Milk, dark chocolate.
If in the mood for extravagance, cream and sugar.

Procedure.

Chop up the chocolate when its nice and soft.

hotchoco_chocolate

If you steal a bit of chocolate from the pile now, the taste of the hot chocolate will be ruined forever.

No, really.

Ok, kidding. Taste all you want. But please, don't gorge. *clears throat*

Pour in a cup of milk in a vessel, and turn on the heat.
Let it be on the lowest flame.

Wait till the point where the milk is warm, seconds before the point where it is to start boiling.

hotchoco_milk



Now, dump in the chocolate. Pour in the slightest bit of water. (I dont know why, but it works. Yes)
And by slightest bit, I mean like 2 tablespoon. Really slight, you know?

And stir stir stir!

Within thirty seconds, it shall look as gorgeous as this.


hotchoco_final-ish

Now pour it out in the same coffee cup you have been making yourself coffee in since your class tenth prelims.

DSC_0220
*drool*

Now, for the extragavance.

Take out a boul, and add about 30 ml of cream. ( Else, chuck the precision, just pour out how much cream is suited for a cup of yours. And add in the (same amount - a bit) of sugar behind it.)
Take out the electric beater. And Whip it!
That was a good film btw. You've got to love Ellen Page.

Coming back. Beat it for a good 3 4 minutes. Till it becomes stiff, forms peaks and holds on its on.It'll look something like this.


hotchoco_Cream


Now a dollop of cream, and grated chocolate on the top.

Since, the aim of that night was a Red Velvet Hot Chocolate, all I had to do was add a 3 drops of red food colouring to my hot cocoa. Even though you can't notice the red very distinctly now, it's there. Just as reassuring, and just as chocolaty as a Red Velvet cupcake :)

DSC_0228

Have I ever told you about the therapeutic nature of the chopping board? You can gnaw at it all you want, and it just takes it. It leaves a few scars behind, but it works.
This chopping board is a testimony of how I got over my Sem 3 result.
Really.

Ok, fine. I am joking :P

But voila :)

SPM_A0465

(Excuse the bad quality of the picture, my camera battery stood me up before the launch of the final product.)

But yet, it was all there. Now go make your self a cup, just like Shraddha did!

You are now equipped to face the winter with the most brilliant cuppa of hot chocolate.
And the fact that you made it yourself, might just help you feel a bit more warm on the inside :)



P.S - Word of advice. Never, EVER order the hot chocolate at Gaylords. Just, don't.


Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Of history, our times and kaju feni.

I was lucky enough to catch a talk by Ramachandra Guha the day before.

Worship them or hate them, but you've got to love the IIT guys for giving us non JEE crowd the opportunity to watch such greats speak 10 feet before you, at MoodI.

The first time I had heard of him, was from one of my seniors. He wouldn't stop gushing about how brilliant 'India after Gandhi' was. Which is when I read upon his work, and was absolutely blown away.

The second time I happened to stumble upon his name with the help of this post. I remember spending an entire evening on the Ray and Keshavan website, and admiring the brilliance of his brand designer wife, Sujata Keshavan.

Coming back to yesterday.
I remembered the rush for registration before Harsha Bhogle's talk at MoodI last year. So I was worried I might not be able to get a chance to hear the man speak if things go horribly wrong.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there was no rush for registration. And when the time arrived, the FC Kohli auditorium was only 60% occupied when Ramachandra Guha strode in a casual blazer.

He took no time in absolutely charming the crowd. He opened with a few quirky statements about how his relationship with MoodI was close intertwined with kaju feni.

The man then wasted no time in speaking about his book. He spoke about Mahatma Gandhi, he spoke of Nehru. He spoke of the pre and post Independence thinkers of India, the 'makers of modern India'. This was the first time I heard a historian speak, and to be honest, I was speechless.

I was in complete awe of this mans sheer knowledge, his intellectual honesty, his fluency with the words he used. Fluency to the extent that any line picked out from today's talk could've been easily quoted and printed at the back of some book. (To pick out an instance, I particularly loved this line he spoke. About how it's come to a stage where "India is governed by people with power but no authority, along with people with authority but no power". This was in reference to Sonia Gandhi and Manmohan Singh respectively :P ) But more on that, another day.

During his interactive session, he read an excerpt of his latest book, which included a quote by B.R Ambedkar.
"In India, 'Bhakti' or what may be called the path of devotion or hero-worship plays a part in politics unequalled in magnitude by the part it plays in the politics of any other of the world. 'Bhakti' in religion may be a road to salvation of the soul. But in politics, 'Bhakti' or hero-worship is a sure road to degradation and to eventual dictatorship."
This is what this man said in his last speech to the Constituent Assembly.

Just this one quote gives us an idea about the quality of thinkers in India up until 30 years back.
With this one quote, not only did this man establish what would later be a fundamental reality in current day politics, but he also very cleverly managed to answer the question before the question was even stated.

But sadly enough, most people in this country don't even know this statement of his. Let alone, remember it. Forget understand the brilliance in the subtlety of it all.

I cant really speak for my parents generation. Neither have I lived through the Naxal movement, nor have I faced the Indira Gandhi tenure at the parliament. They might have some valid reasons, but what is our reason for not being aware? For not trying to be aware? For not caring? For not pushing the envelope a bit further?

We elect youth icons, and forget about them in 2 months.
We bad mouth the system, and then we forget to do our bit in the selfish pursuit of a career.

It's stupid to live in the hope of a person to come and transform a democratic nation really. But it's not that stupid to live in the hope of a generation who just might transform a democratic nation a bit by bit, by transforming itself at the basic level, by creating and taking that middle path.

I read Mark Lilla once write that, "In our politics, history doesn’t happen when a leader makes an argument, or even strikes a pose. It happens when he strikes a chord."

Luckily,we have people who are doing, and acting.
What we need now,are some thinkers to keep us inspired, to keep us acting, to strike a chord.

Where are the current thinkers of Modern India, you say?
They are being recruited by Facebook for an inhuman pay package.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Every Grain of Rice

It was in class eight that Zee Cafe became responsible for getting me addicted to the Gilmore Girls.

They talked so fast, and they talked so true, it was hard for me to not be in a total awe of them.

It was during one of those early school days Sundays, when I used to be glued to the sofa in my pyjamas all day, that I heard Sookie freaking about how her risotto was sent back by a customer. She then went on to make risotto for the rest of the episode. Back then, I thought "Wow. Such intricate things people eat. There is so much of sophistication to be experienced in life."

6 years later.

"Oh pish posh! Let's make risotto today!"

You can say I have started my sophistication journey earlier than I had expected, or that engineering has made me become more fearless to try out supposed 'intricate' food. But the explanation I like best is, I have a 2 month break, I want to cook and Italian food for the win. :P

So here it goes.

Apparatus required

2 tb spoon oil and butter each, 3-4 cloves of grated garlic, 1 chopped onion (maybe more if you'd prefer), about a cup of rice, 4-5 cups of chicken/vegetable stock, 3 tb spoon of cream, salt, pepper, and cheese svad anusaar!


Procedure

Heat a pan, add the oil and the butter.
Once it heats up, dump in the garlic and then the onion. And watch them sizzle, and give out one of the best aromas imaginable.


Risotto_saute


Once it all starts looking greasy and translucent, pour in that cup of rice. Coat the rice with this oil, butter, garlic and onion mess.


Risotto_rice1

Once this is done, start adding small cups of the stock into ze rice.


Risotto_stock

If you want, you can pretend the rice are people and have a loud sadistic laugh pretending to be an evil clown drowning a city full of people.
(Though it is advised that you skip this step if there are people at home. Else, you will be at the receiving end of uncomfortable questions from your mother. Er, um. No. I have never done this.)

Keep stirring the stock and the rice. Within a minute or so, you shall see that the rice has very conveniently absorbed all the stock.


Risotto_<span class=yetipaw">

Is i just me, or does this freakishly look like the Yeti's paw? Subliminal messages, you say?
*shudder*

After all the stock disappears, add another cup full. Keep repeating this, till the rice is soft and cooked. That will take about 20 odd minutes.
You'll also notice, that the rice will have grown. It's absorbing all that chicken stock no?
The little rice people will be fighting for space.


Risotto_growth


While this is happening, keep some grated cheese ready.


Risotto_cheese

If you show great self restraint, and don't steal a few bites of the cheese at this point, they say you go straight to heaven.
So of course, I am going to hell. (I mean, look.at.teh.cheese!) *drool*

Anyway, once the rice is cooked, add the cream and the cheese, and stir it around for 2 min or so.


Risotto_creaminess

Just, the creaminess and the smoothness of it all makes you want to cry a bit.


Now, don't forget to add salt and pepper in the end.
Serve it out. To feel extra Italian, sprinkle on some mixed herbs or any herbs that you have.
It's all about the taste really, who cares about precision?

And, the final touch of coriander will make it look oh so pretty.



Risotto_3



Risotto_final2



And you're done.

Now, please. Do yourself a favour, and go make yourself a plate.
Fearlessness is the only quality you truly need to in the kitchen :)

And now, please excuse me, while I scrounge on left overs.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Pepperland


Mumbai weather has been unusually kind to us city folk.

When your bare feet hit the floor in the morning, they are icy cold. The blanket has become a life support of sorts. And of course, jackets and hoodies are making their appearances after being stuffed at the back of the wardrobe for months.
I feel the 2007 winter rushing back all over again.

The only thing that can make you enjoy this winter better is that mug of coffee. And if you crave some umami, you better reach for that reassuring bowl of Onion and Cheddar cheese soup.

Apparatus required

2- 3 tablespoons of butter, 2 medium sized chopped onions, a clove of grated garlic, a bit of flour, chicken/vegetable stock, milk and cheese (Cheddar preferred).

Procedure

It's simple as hell really.
You heat up the pan. Add the butter, watch it melt furiously. Dump in the onions, and saute them. Here, you are recommended to stop for a second and just smell the brilliance of butter and onions.

Once the onions become a bit translucent, add a bit of grated garlic. Then, shake it up baby now, shake it up baby. Twist and SHOUT! Twist and shout! C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon baby now, c'mon baby. C'mon and work it on out, work it on out!

Ok, sorry. I think I lost track there somehow. *mutters**stupidbeatlesplaylist*
Coming back, add the tiniest amount of flour to this mixture. Maybe a tablespoon or so. Any flour will do. (Even if you don't, I doubt the Earth will blow up) You see that this soaks up all the butter. It's the funniest thing. Anyway, just plop in the stock at this point ( It depends on the amount of soup you'd want to make) and cover it with a lid for a good 5-7 minutes.

Once you take of the lid, the most gorgeous smell will hit you. Don't panic. Such levels of awesomeness in food, do occur.
Add salt, and pepper. Taste it.
(Don't you love the fact that you get to keep tasting the food at stages to "check the flavours"? Who cares if it brings down the final amount to half the originally intended amount!)

Stir it up. And finally, add milk. Not a lot, maybe half the amount of stalk you added. If you have an urge to be extra unhealthy, and desperately want to make you jeans feel tight at all places, add cream as well. Two minutes more on the stove, then tip it over in your bowl and you're done.


Refrain from slurping still. You need to add the final crumble of cheese (Cheddar preferred. It's not too salty, and just perfect), and another dash of pepper.

And there it is, winter bliss in a bowl.




The first slurp, will be these thick creamy taste hitting you like a truck. You can taste the sinful butter, the chicken stock, the slight sweetness of the milk, and the most amazing little tiny kick of that garlic.

It's unbelievable how thick and delicious this soup is.




And the melting piece of cheese crumbles on the top just add another dimension to it.




Good ol' toasted bread goes perfect with this. Garlic bread, even more so :)


So do yourself a favour, and make this steaming reassuring bowl of soup already.
You know you want to.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Oh, honey honey!


For me, it always starts with that inexplicable widening of the eyes and a 'I need to do this right now' message running through my head.

If I fall in love with the idea of a particular book, I will drop all and run to the bookstore to get a copy. And of course, I wont sleep until I finish it. If it is a random song I fall in love with, I shall listen to it on loop until the lyrics are embedded in my memory. If my mum asks me to clear the table on a 'Monica' day, I shall not rest until the kitchen and the fridge is spotless. Well, you get the picture.
It's with every little thing I do. It needs to happen that very instant, or I shall die a restless soul.

This is the incident of 2 days before I had to leave for Kolkata. I woke up in the morning, dragged myself out of the covers, switched on the laptop and sat with my orange juice to decide my IMDb Top250 movie of the day. It was precisely at that moment the 'ping' of my feedreader caught my attention.

A few hours later, I was dazed and wide eyed. Total credits to the food blogs of course. These images of food later overflowed into a lot of conversations I had that day too. Many people accused me of making them hungry minutes after they finished lunch. I got a bunch of angry phone calls from a couple of mothers too. It seems they had to cut short their afternoon nap, to feed their kids for the second time. I was talking of food in THAT much detail.

This one particular recipe caught my eye, and looked fairly simple to make. So I decided to take the plunge.



Spicy Honey Chicken , they call it :)


Apparatus required

A bowl, a spoon, boneless chicken, vegetable oil, grated garlic, cumin powder, coriander powder, red chili powder, salt, (and anything else you have at home, which would make sense. I tried to be cool and added something on the lines of a pinch of 'Chaat masala', and something brilliant smelling called 'Meat Masala' :P ), and honey.

Procedure
Apparently, all you need to do is mix everything in the bowl minus the honey. Check for the taste, balance it the way you'd prefer (Extra spicy, lemony, whatever) and just marinate the chicken in this mixture for 5 minutes. Place it on the grill for 20-25 minutes.
Voila!

Oh wait, and finally, just coat on a layer of honey on the chicken which looks and smells gorgeous by now. Let it be on the grill for another 5 minutes. And then truly,

VIOLA!

(Can you believe how ridiculously simple this is?! Of course I had to drop everything else and make this! )



This is how tender the chicken was. A bit crunchy on the outside, and moist on the inside.


Lets take a closer look, shall we?



Can you see the sweet honey rolling off the surface?
The balance of the sweetness of the honey and the heat of the chili powder is something which has always fascinated me.

There just happened to be some Mexican rice leftover.



The most satisfying lunch for one in a long time.




Next time, prawns! *snicker*

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Who would've thunk it?

My passport has quite a few funny instances attached to them.


Fresh new Passport

The first time my passport was made, was in the year 1993. Baba had just almost taken up a job offer which asked him and his family to move to Kuwait. In all the hurry, I had my passport made. Apparently, it had taken my parents quite a few hours to get me to hold the pencil straight, remind me of my sleeping and slanting lines for me to sign my name on the rectangle slot. (I just realized, why couldn't they have just made me ink my thumb print? Oh. Maybe they expected me to be more than a angootha chaap even at that age! *tongue in cheek*)

Well, the result? The letters of my names we're all jumbled up and at opposite ends of the rectangular slot. Thank God, baba didn't take up that offer and I didn't have to use that passport then.

I finally ended up using this passport of mine in class 7, when I made a trip to Malaysia with my family. Mind you, this passport photo Ashmita looked nothing like the then class 7 Ashmita.

Here, have a look. (This photo was secretly stolen, uploaded on facebook, liked and then ridiculed on by my absolutely lovely classmates! Hmph!)

The guy at the Immigration Counter had the time of his life chatting up this kid for ten minutes, about how the person in the photo was nothing like me, that I didn't have a coconut tree pony tail, and that I was cheating him and things. All with a smirk.

It took me a while to explain to my parents he was joking.

Passport Renewal #1
When my first passport renewal was done, I remember being rushed out of my prelim exam for a verification. My father, being one of the most law abiding citizens there ever are, was absolutely scandalized when I demanded an explanation from the police inspector as to why I was being referred to as a 'Minor'. I was 15! I knew all that an adult knew! (Or so I thought)

It took my Ma a while to explain to me the concept of being 18, and requirements of the law (Which I later deemed to announce 'Stupid' under my breath. :P )

And now comes the latest story of my passport.

Passport Renewal #2
This time I was all pumped up, as my dad had told me the last time around that I would have to handle my next renewal all by myself. I did as much as I could. My visit to the Regional Passport Office, and my wait there even contributed in adding a last minute question on my Quiz that very day.

And then, Murphys uncle came to play. I am currently sick, and unable to ingest anything(to put it in pretty terms). It just had to be today the Police had to summon me, for a verification. After a two hour wait with the dog outside the cabin, I was signaled inside the cabin with baba.

"Naam"
"Ashmita Sengupta"
"Haan. Form idhar hi hai.....Call aaya tha aapko?"
"Haan. Kal shaam ko. Par abhi tak ghar pe..."
"Kitne saal?"
"Unees saal.."
"Nahi. Iss address pe kitne saal se ho?"
"Che saal"
"Hm. Birth Certificate kahan ka hai?
"Calcutta" ( My dad intervenes)
I look at him with 'Kolkata-has-gone-out-the-window-in-front-of-the-Marathi-speaking-Policeman-what? Look.
"Hm. Or yeh?"
"Yeh mera HSC ka xerox hai"
"Mumbai mein kitna saal se ho aap?"
"Unees- Bees saal"
"Haan. Toh aap kitne saal se iss address pe hain?"
"Che saal"
"Aas paas koi rehne waala?", he asks my dad
"Haan. Prabir Das. Unka naam aur phone number yahan likha hai"
"Kyaa? Praabir kya?" God. I feel bad. No one recognizes Oriyas
"Prabir Das. Hamare Upar waale flat mein rehte hai"
"Theek hai. Aur unke saath? Verification ke liye koi gaye toh? Rahega koi?"
"Haan. Unki wife"
"Unka naam?"
"Ranjita Das"
"Ranjitaa kyaaa?"
"Daaas"
"Unki kitni umar hogi?"
Dad is stumped. 'What? I am being asked of my neighbour's wifes age?!' look on his face. Herecovers quick, makes a quick calculation under his breath.
"Haan kuch 49 .. 50 age hoga unka"
I see him scribbling down her name and age on my application
"Theek hai. Toh kitne saal se rehte ho aap idhar"
"Che saal"
"Theek hai. Do photo de do"
He efficiently staples my photo my form. Looks my dad square in the face and says,
"Aapko house verification ke liya ghar bhejoo, ki idhar hi karlenge ?"
"Idhar hi kar do aap"
"Theek hai. Toh aap 300 de dena. Unka chai paani. Aur mera bhi"
*This is where baba asks me to leave the room while I see him take out a 500 note*

On our way to the car, I clarify. Will the police actually be showing up at our place now?
Baba smiles and says " No. But it makes no difference. Ghar bhi aatein, toh 300 toh phir bhi lete. Chai paani ka. They know we know the drill. So this is just cutting to the chase."
"But any which ways, you verified that form. So if any discrepancies occur with that detail of Ranjita Das and her age, as that is the proof of them making a visit, you shall be beheaded. Not me". He adds with a playful smirk. Rascal.

Still. I was a little confused to see a law abiding citizen, a proud PSU employee to be so cool with under the table money offerings. So I asked him again.
And boy, did the bangali erupt! He spoke about how the guys in the security force are horribly underpaid, and horribly overworked. They pull double shifts without getting paid for overtime. They get paid maybe a 4k -5k to maintain law in a country like India, and not an idealistic country like Japan or Norway. To the people who say "It is their duty", he replies with "Then where are you doing your duty to the nation, boss? Just because your job isnt directly related to the public they dont realize how much you slack off. You don't get to do some fancy sales job and earn 20k a month when these overworked guys get paid 4k to 'maintain the laws in the crime infused Indian society' "

Shameless as I am, I agree, I do not know enough about ANY of this to comment or take sides for that matter. But it does make a lot of sense to me right now, even though it is still odd somewhere on the back of my head.

Just makes me realize how horribly ignorant I am about so many things around me.

Any which way, it's been 7 hours since. And I haven't been able to stop laughing everytime I look at my dad.
My police verification to attain my new Indian Passport depended on my father's knowledge of his neighbors wife's age.

Who could've thunk it?

Friday, October 08, 2010

An Ode to a Quiz.

Made a quiz for SPQC this semester.

My first quiz.

I thoroughly enjoyed the whole process of framing questions, and actually standing up and receiving answers and the blatant guesses in room no. 207, although i now absolutely loathe Microsoft Power Point.

Have a look. And criticism is completely welcome.
This is something I would love getting better at :)










Saturday, August 14, 2010

Red Velvet Cupcakes with Chocolate Frosting



Up until 4 hours back, I was even consciously aware of the presence of the red velvet cake/cup cake in the world. Like any other Saturday afternoon, I was fiddling with the laptop and came across this video about 'Re inventing the cupcake', based on this nice female with a 'cupcakery' in New York. Needless to say, the moment I laid my eyes on the gorgeous cupcake she was baking, I knew I had to try it.

Like a tune which is playing in your head on loop the entire day, the image of the cupcake was flashing before my eyes every few seconds. Scanning through the recipe, I realized I could actually pull it off before the sun sets, and before my family wakes up from their 'Saturday - post lunch - fish curry and rice' slumber.

Terribly sorry for the ones who don't stay nearby and can't come over, and bite into the awesomeness this is. The red colored cupcake is a delight to look at, the subtle taste of dark cocoa which hits you at the very first bite, is very gratifying ;and the huge blob of chocolate frosting on the top is just plain sinful.










Look how red!






*drool* chocolate.


So, yes. That. :)


P.S- I mean. Seriously. These things are a pain to carry out of the house with the roads that we have. The frosting gets absolutely ruined. So I mean, call. And come over won't you? And stop threatening me!

Yes, Samata, I mean you. :P