Let me start with a few notes about how I cook. I am not a manageable cook. What that means, is that what I cook can not always be reproduced nor is there any predictable order in there. Mom on the other hand is a fantastic cook and very manageable. She knows exactly where to find each and every ingredient (because she leaves them there after use). But one thing we both have in common (and she was glad last night that I inherited her genes!): we talk to our food. Now this is not mere ramble, I assure you. You need to understand how each ingredient blends and their history. Some veggies don't get along with each other. Some of them are friendly with nearly everyone (like tomatoes). Some have a nasty past and you'd do well to lend them a sympathetic ear. Understand them, talk to them. That is the key to every well flavoured relationship. :-)
Secondly, I hate reading out of a recipe book. The whole idea jars in my head. Its like someone else betting on my tastes. Its like trusting your body to a person who has never seen you before (even though they call him a doctor). Urgggh! Read as much as you want but when you cook, trust your gut (well, you'd better as it is at the receiving end) or you'll end up like the bookworm on his wedding night, busy flipping through Vatsyana's tome.
(Yes, Oh! Yesssss!
Honey, woah honey. Wait a minute!
*flip*
Okee, now move slightly to the right and throw your ankle behind your neck. No, the left one!)
Never get carried away on the spice regime. Be tender and understand what they want (you aren't dousing yourself in red paprika, are you?). Sometimes it's just a dash of salt and pepper and sometimes it's rock-n-roll.
Lastly, although I am a strict vegetarian, these also apply to a non-vegetarian meal. You really need to listen to the chicken breast and realise what it's dying wish was: stuffed and cooked in soy sauce or baked with peppers and red wine sprinkled on it. That's the problem with non-vegetarian food; you are always dealing with something that once upon a time moved and had a mind of its own. Well, deal with it.
So, last night found me running the entire concert through my head before I cracked my knuckles and dived in. This is what I recall of it....
Cooking pasta is simple and hence, very easily done wrong. You need to boil the water and add salt to it (I am told that in the good ol' days, Italians used sea water. People near the Marina beach can do so at their own peril.). When the water rolls, slide in the pasta. Don't ask me how much water for how much pasta. Listen to them. I go by my senses which at one point will tell me "Enough". The rolling will slow down now. After about 5 minutes you can slide in long strips of red and yellow capsicum (no they are not the same as painted green capsicum. Listen to them) and let the entire thing cook. I used penne. For more information about various kinds of pasta, check this out: http://www.ilovepasta.org/shapes.html
While the pasta is getting cooked, start work on the sauce. The sauce is the life breath of pasta. Do it right and be nice to the pasta, and you have a wonderful meal and a bonus smile on your face while you go to bed. I had played around with a lot of red sauces so I wanted to try white.
Have a cup of grated cheese ready. In India you could choose between cheddar or parmesan depending on availability. Cheese spread won't work. If you love cheese, go here: http://www.cheese.com/default.asp
In a wok, heat a slim slab of butter (preferably non-salted) and while its melting, pour in some olive oil (Eh!? Did you say gingely oil? May the sky fall on your head!) to prevent the butter from browning. A thick, yellow unctuous colloid will be formed soon and when its happy and bubbling, slide in the finely chopped onions (you always slide in ingredients into hot liquids). Saute the onions and when they are just right (golden brown, like the sunlight which kisses a baby's bottom) sprinkle some oregano and rosemary (herbs). How much? Listen to them. Rosemary talks to you through your nose. When its just right, you'll know. In case you have a cold or a blocked nose, don't cook. Have a bowl of hot soup and crash for the day. Don't make cooking a routine.
So where were we? Aaah! Lovely rosemary. Keep stirring till all the ingredients are well mixed. Now did I add the cornflour before the herbs or after? Hmmm. Not sure. I don't think it matters. Add a little cornflour to the simmering (oh! all of this is done on a low flame) spices and stir in order to avoid lumps forming. Now a dash of fresh basil (or even dried ones) will make a happy family on the stove.
Garlic is avoided in our homes (being the orthodox Vaishnava kinds) but I swear by the bulbs. Anyway, Lord Vishnu was behind the origin of garlic (another post on that some day). But seriously, I cannot live without adding garlic to pasta. Its essential and mom shrugged her shoulders last night. Peel the garlic and slice the top. Place it on a flat hard surface and cover it with the flat side of a butcher's knife (or wooden spatula). Smack it hard but with love. Crushed garlic is the best. In case you cannot find it or consider the entire operation banal, ginger-garlic paste is a fine option. Honestly, I hope you have tried the mixture before in order to understand the proportion of ginger in there. If you are opening the pack straight in here, god save you.
So slide in the crushed garlic or paste (it might coagulate, so keep stirring) and cook for a couple of minutes. Take it off the flame but keep stirring it.
Now comes zee cream. Pour in the fresh cream and keep stirring the sauce. Ensure that the sauce is of a uniform consistency. Use a perforated spoon if you like but just ensure the consistency. Once it is smooth and flowing like a silt river at its mouth, put it back on the flame (yes, low flame). Keep some fresh cream aside and maybe dilute it a bit. We might need it. While stirring, add red paprika. Sprinkle would be the right word when introducing herbs. Anyway, keep stirring. Please don't be lax now. If you got this far, it might be worth the extra effort.
By now, the pasta should be cooked. Pour off the hot water and pour in some cold water on the pasta and capsicum strips. Keep them aside and let them stand. Nothing more to do here.
While stirring the sauce, sprinkle the shredded cheese on the sauce. Add little cheese and then stir in order to avoid lumps forming. Once you feel that the added cheese has blended well, add some more. I was happy with 3/4th cup of cheese and I stopped. Keep stirring. If the sauce is too thick now, you might want to add the diluted creaming that was set aside. Keep stirring, baby! That's the way to go.
Drain the pasta and toss it well in a large vessel. Pour in the sauce on top and mix well with a wooden spatula. How does one know when the pasta is al dente? You can inspect with a spoon. It should not be overcooked nor undercooked. Some people prefer cooking it just short and then cooking it again with the sauce. I don't think it feels right. Its like a marriage. Both come together fairly complete and the other completes them. But, you know by now how to listen to your pasta, so follow whatever it says.
After mixing it very well, cover the vessel and let it stand for some time. This ensure that the pasta retains the aroma and the cheese cools to create the right texture between pieces of penne. Why I choose penne for this is a simple reason. When mixing the sauce, some of it enters the cavity of the penne and rewards a good cook with the occasional surprise of a stuffed penne. Mmmmmm. Don't try this with thin and fragile pasta.
Bruschettas work well as starters and we had them last night (the tomatoes you see are fresh uncooked ones which were in excess after using them for the bruschettas. So I sprinkled them over the pasta to add colour. You needn't do the same). Mom rolled them one by one into her mouth and then announced her verdict.
"Hmmm. Perfect! Nothing in excess. Nothing lacking!"
Phew!
Accompaniment to pasta can take the form of soft western instrumental (preferably wind instruments). Please do not have anything distracting while you eat pasta (yes, even Baywatch is a no-no). I think Mohd. Rafi ballads might also suit the texture of pasta, but surely not Maharajapuram Santhanam (he doesn't seem to blend with anything save curd rice). But as they always say... Listen to them. :-)
As the name goes, Navratri is all about what happens at night. The house would be well lit with lamps and the smell of sundal (a mostly-dry dish made of legumes) would fill the air. Ladies from all over the neighbourhood would come over and bring their daughters along (this is also why I liked the Navratris ;-). The girls would walk in in their fresh pattu pavadais (set of silk blouse and skirt) and look so devastatingly beautiful. Did you by any chance catch the advt. on the hoarding about the reversible pavadai? Wow! That kid looks so beautiful. I personally think pavadais were invented to make fathers and in general guys develop jelly knees! Anyway, so these lovely ladies and their mothers would walk in, admire the GP and all the arrangement and either sing or recommend that their daughters sing (which worked fine with me) some carnatic piece. This went on for 9 nights and everyday there was a different sundal at our place. I am not particularly a fan of sundal unless there is some element of spice in there. No, I am not talking about the girls.
The story had 2 things very appealing to me: it was about the travails of a writer in self-doubt(though not much was discussed about that) and it was set in (ummmmaaaaa) Italy! One thing disappointing was that there was very little of Ms. Forlani (isn't she pretty? And her eyes always seem to laugh whether her lovely lips give her away or not). Whatever there was, was of her in very short shirts and mostly bouncing away on her horses. I liked the lightly paced story and the very convincing portrayal rendered by Harvey Keitel (as the ex-writer Weldon Parish). Joshua is very cute and with that unshaven face, does appear quite sexy (if I may say so). The end was straight out of a fairy tale and goes as predictable as most movie endings go nowadays (am I becoming cynical?). I enjoyed the sunny settings and the very Italian way of living life (I still to find sufficient argument against my opinion that the best of life is packed in the boot shaped land). There are some light moments (like Joshua being thrown into the lake) but it was the dialogue towards the end that I liked (not all of them!). At one point, Weldon Parish says: "You don't choose an art, art chooses you." I liked it because I belong to the old school of thought. :-) I also liked the quite elegant way in which a father doesn't get possessive of his daughter and enjoys her move towards a man (as if that is the one of the most important things for which a daughter is raised).
Discovery Travel and Living is the best of channels I have ever watched. Nearly each and every show is spectacular, but there was one that caught my eye recently. I hate these American Idol, Indian Icon, Popstar of the Year kinda shows. It is outrightly annoying and such a sham. But this show on D-T&L called The Runway, is very interesting. For one it is about fashion designing and two, the judges are knowledgeable and clear in their decisions (unlike some judges on some shows who stick to being nasty and stupid and think that that is cool). They explain their judging criteria and methodology and I find that very impressive. Since I enjoy designing, I was able to follow the activities of the contestants and was able to reach a judgment on my own before the judges announced theirs. Our judgments matched and that made it appealing to my sensibilities. Its all about theme, stitch, cut, pattern and design. In short, its about work and not people's attitudes and how they respond when they fail and all that bullcrap. Very enjoyable show.
Cookery shows excite me like no woman does (sorry about that, ladies). The sheer colour, settings and the aroma (what? you can't smell it? :-O ) send me on a high. The shows on D-T&L take the cake but other shows (Zee and Star) are interesting too. I like the sets in which Kylie Kwong cooks. It is so correct for the dish that she prepares and you know she is passionate about the food that she cooks. Unfortunately a lot of it is non-veg, but is sufficient to roll me on my own adventures in the kitchen. One thing that these shows seem to tell me: Never cook by following instructions; let your heart flow. Works well with me! :-)
Have you felt the loveliness of a child's breath on your neck? Have you? You might then share the smile and joyous tears that the nebulous white shed in the sheer bliss of holding the Divine pair. Young thunderclouds flexed their bellies and stitched together frivolous tufts with the needle of the bolt in order to prevent the Pair from falling. The older scanty clouds smiled benevolently at the knowledge that falling and floating were but Divine will. Larks and hawks darted between the fingers of the Devil and the hawk fed on the slower bird on the palm of God. The Devil smiled and the hawk flew away with the remains. The blood mixed only with the rains of the younger clouds. The older clouds knew that none would remain through the distance of space and time to the rock hard earth and let the blood flow through.
She dragged her worn self across the ground and pushed the pile of washed clothes out of the basket near the door. There, under the clothes, lay a bright pumpkin. She clutched it to her breast. She dragged herself on her elbows and raised the pumpkin to his pocket. When she was just about to stuff it in, God blew the hair away from her face. Astonished at the amorous act of this beggar, she let the pumpkin slip. It fell into his pocket and tore it apart under its weight. Out spilled all the grain and vegetables that she had poured in generosity.
for her expression remained unchanged to the "I don't think this will work out" statement that I let lose. G's father was saddened and patted me on my back (I wonder why. Was I coughing?). Mom was diplomatic and pacified everyone like in one of her serials.
As we clomp over twigs straining to crackle under our weight but muffled by the dampness of an unwelcome winter, I wonder how it would be to live forever like this? Blind, deaf, tasteless, mute and being guided through the unknown by a hand that creates and relishes in the joy of beauty? Wouldn't it be remarkable? This absolute faith in the unseen Force which can be felt and realised by none other than "I"? I nearly trip over my foot wedged between slippery stones and I feel myself held upright by the vice like hands holding my head. He is panting, and I hear the song of excitement rumble through his nostrils and pulse its way through the mittens and against my eyelids. In all this human rush, I hear the squeals again.
eyes to spot the flask with a red fluid in it. I shudder down the length of my spine and find the echo of that shudder rise up my alimentary canal in a distasteful manner.
It has been ages since I saw an ice cream cart up close. Now is the age of softy vending machines, and Corner Houses and 36 flavours of nutty ice-creams. Who would eat out of an anonymous cart? Well, it wasn't really anonymous. It had "Dolly" painted across its side and I think that little figure on the corner was from Amul Ice Cream's advt. The painting was done by hand. The entire cart was in light shades of blue (to hint at the cold innards) and had "Dolly" and the accompanying figure on one side. There were paintings of stick-ice creams along the frills of the cart and I could clearly imagine this man bargaining with the artist to paint an extra orange coloured stick-ice cream in the centre as it would make the cart more attractive!