Cullinery Delights

Food makes me happy…. Food is my anti-depressant, my means of celebration, my eternal support. I live to eat… I can’t ever get enough when it comes to food… I am not ashamed of admitting my addiction to food. I believe one can only enjoy food when it has pleased all your senses. Well its actually common sense… You can never resist food that looks delicious, with an aroma that turns you on, which melts in your mouth and tastes like the best thing you have ever had….

My craving for food changes with my mood… Coffee and pakora on a rainy day, mashed potatoes and roasted chicken to boost up my morals, creamy chocolate cakes to celebrate, or simple daal chawal for comfort.

Incidentally, I also enjoy cooking. I learnt to cook completely by the use of common sense and memory. Growing up, I had watched my mother cook everyday. And when I myself started cooking, I found myself doing what she does. Of course, I am not as good as her… Not yet… But like my husband often remarks, I am unbelievably confident about my cooking. You will always hear me saying, oh I make great pulav, or chicken, or mutton, or garlic bread and pasta … So you can imagine the unpleasant surprise I had to bear not once but repeatedly when I goofed up again and again while trying to cook for my in-laws. Yes, it also creates performance anxiety for me.

I guess comparing cooking to performing arts is quite cliché… But that’s how I have always found the exercise of cooking to be… A piece of art brought together painstakingly… It requires tremendous patience, an eye for details, and the courage to walk off the beaten path… What can be more inspiring than creating art which is also edible?

When it comes to cooking, I enjoy the entire process immensely. I have often used it to relax at the end of an exceptional tiring day, or as a source of utmost pleasure in an unbelievably dull time … I find it fascinating as I witness completely unrelated things being concocted into a tasty meal in a matter of a few minutes or hours…. The sight of chicken curry shimmering on the stove, the smell of ghee in peas pulav, the feel of fish fillets as I marinate them for frying… The entire process, right from gathering the ingredients, preparing them, watching over the pot while they blend, fretting over the concoction till the time it is served, is ritualistic for me. And once served, the aroma of spices, the sheer sight of colours starts creating havoc in my brain…. And its time to let loose… And finally, when I have served it, watching my blissful audience lick their fingers gives me that high… yes, nothing pleases me more than to serve or to be served with some mouth watering cuisine on a platter…

Gibberish

I started my day with this hopelessly happy feeling... I was feeling very warm inside... Happy... content.... and generally in a mood I would like to find myself in everyday.... I hardly noticed the horrible traffic and sung my way to work....

Work, however, has become awfully boring these days.... I have been having a rather hard time to concentrate for more than a few moments... leave alone being productive.... Have not demonstrated an iota of productivity over the last couple of weeks I guess.... Ridiculous I say :( Infact it is so annoying that I want to flush it out of my system... This boredom is killing me... And I have stopped asking myself the question whether this is what I want to do in life... Well I dont...ofcourse... And its a pity that the ppl are sooo nice here.... This had been the best work environment that I have experienced so far....

But I am ready to get the hell out of here... I am ready to go to the next 'new' place and start the 'new' life.... And that is how I have proved yet again i have severe attention deficiency syndrome... Will this ever leave me... Kinda hard to not be yourself, right?

Things bore me so easily that these days I am scared of starting anything new... I think I need a proper break from mundane things... I mean jobs.... I wont get paid at the end of the month... And that is a concern... But I really want to do something else... Like really really different.... I told my husband I want to write a book... He thought I was joking :( I told my mom I want to just stay home and be the model 'home-maker'... She laughed... So if anyone has any idea abt some fun stuff that they want to do, pls share with me... God's blessing shall be showered on you........

Memoires of an almost perfect honeymoon: Chapter One

Lost and found: Kuala Lumpur

No matter how much I love travelling, I always get a panic attack whenever I am travelling somewhere. I always catch myself checking the umpteenth time whether I have booked the right tickets, whether I have the necessary paperwork, whether I have switched off the geyser and the gas, whether I have locked all the doors, whether I am carrying all the necessary items and enough clothes… The list continues.

Ofcourse, all this planning never ensures a 100% success rate. Infact, I often find that I plan and plan and plan, but never plan enough time to actually execute all of it. Result: chaos and more panic.
This time too, I was quite nervous about every small thing that I could think of. But apart from forgetting to switch off the lights at home, I don’t think there were much goof-ups that happened. We reached the airport on time, only to find out that our airlines counter hasn’t even opened. We got good seats, changed our money, declared the valuables at customs and got onto the flight. A rather friendly crew greeted us and ensured that our journey was comfortable. I, however, being the fidgety self, hated the length of the journey… It was just five hours, but it seemed a lifetime before we finally landed at Kuala Lumpur.

It was perhaps the biggest airport I have ever seen. While my husband was happily soaking in the excitement and funfair at the airport, I started getting panicky again, this time about finding our way to the baggage claim and immigration. As a result, I never managed to enjoy the airo-train ride to the other terminus, or the festive decorations that adorned the airport.

Immigration turned out to be a smooth affair, and we moved on for baggage claim. We had already heard about taking KLIA express into the city, so I hurriedly bought the tickets… By then the conveyer belt had started spewing the bags…. And much to my disappointment, one of our bags was missing. We waited and waited and waited for the bag to come, and finally my surprisingly calm husband went ahead to speak to the airport crew. We were directed to the Lost and Found Department, where some very cordial officials came to our aid. The place was very comfortable, and people came in and went out with their luggage. I waited for a miracle, where someone would bring out the bag and say hey, we were just kidding… Here you go…

Ofcourse, miracles don’t happen… They took down our details, the bag’s description, and gave us a receipt. They also informed us that most likely another passenger would have taken our bag by mistake. They would try to track the person, ask him to return the bag, and deliver the same to us at our hotel.

My heart broke… This was supposed to be my perfect honeymoon… And look what happened!!!! My husband, ofcourse, continued to remain absolutely calm. The bag had his clothes… And he kept joking that this is his opportunity to redo his wardrobe…

On our way to the hotel in that awesome train, I continued to remain glum, while he tried to show me the brighter side of the situation… If you ask me, the brighter side is that I married him… had there been someone as emotional as me, we would have both been crying our way into the city…

Upon reaching the hotel, we narrated the saga to the receptionist, trying to explain to him that the airport authorities would be delivering our bag. And he says, “One of our guests brought in a wrong bag from the airport. Let me call them and check. May be its yours” You can imagine how my excitement rose as soon as he spoke… We both started at the elevator till the time it opened and two men walked out, pulling behind… Behold… OUR FREAKING BAG!!!!

I don’t remember dancing, but I do remember the stupid grin on my face… I completely forgot to scream at the man for being stupid enough to take our bag which had our name on the tag… I was so excited that I almost pushed my hubby to go to the airport with them and bring the bag back… (The rule is that if you take someone else’s bag, you need to return it to take back your own). My sane husband obviously realized what a bad idea that was, given the fact that it was late in the night and the airport was so far away… However, he did manage to send the bag-lifters back to the airport….

The very next day, the airport authorities delivered our bag at the hotel… It was a public holiday, but I believe that’s how responsible they are… Quodos to the airport authorities in Malaysia…..