Choices

I'm not a people person. I am generally friendly and at most times, there is a higher chance that you would find me with a group of people than by myself. But I like being around people that I know and I''m uncomfortable and almost awkward around strangers. And hence every time I get invited to events and parties where I don't really know a lot of people, I turn it down. Even when the person inviting me is a good friend. I don't like to be lost in a sea of people, starting from scratch and trying to make new friends. That seems like a lot of effort to me and not always worth it. There have been times when I soon figure out that I might actually enjoy it but it's probably too late to get out of the excuse that I just made to avoid going.

Recently, R and I have made this arrangement where we each take an evening of "me-time', during the week. So, every Wednesday evening, I focus on doing things that I enjoy; a drink with friends, shopping, watching a movie or whatever catches my fancy for the day. But after a few weeks, I was at a loss of things to do during 'me-time'. I had run out of most things and I went back home a couple of weeks too (!) And soon, it looked like I would soon lose my 'Me-Wednesday' evenings if I didn't push to make it last. And luckily, I got invited to have a drink with some friends after work and I happily agreed to go. Until, someone mentioned that there will be others (people I didn't know) going too. Suddenly, I was uncomfortable with the idea and started looking for excuses. But since it was too late to do anything, I just bit the bullet and went ahead anyway.

And I had fun. There was some interesting conversations with some good people. I won't say I made new friends but I might smile or nod at them if I see them again. But, it turned out that they were a bunch of foodies who loved Indian food. What came out of that conversation were plans for some experiments with Fusion-food for the following weekend. Although, it has been done before, my friends who were there that night and I decided to try to make some 'Naan-Pizza'. From scratch, no less!

Butter chicken- naan pizza.

Palak paneer-naan pizza

Pardon the bad pictures but this was the best I could do before they disappeared. They were   really great.

The whole experience was a riot, though. I had so much fun, making and of course eating the stuff later that I decided I must do newer things more often. We will definitely try more fusion food in the weeks to come and now bouncing ideas for the next one is a regular thing during our lunch sessions. Although, that Wednesday was just a starter for the whole thing, it was still fun! And I for one, will think twice before turning down invitations again.

The best cook in the family

I'm going to use one of the BlogHer prompts and blog about the best cook in the family.

This topic really appealed to me because the answer is a no brainer for me. The best cook in the family for years to come would be my 'Mave', my aunt. She is my mother's sister and 'mave' is what we call her.

My earliest memories of mave's house was when we visited Mysore during our summer vacations. Her kitchen was like a magical land for me from which amazing aromas and dishes were produced. Her kitchen was neatly and systematically arranged and there was an order for everything. I remember that she had rows and rows of cylindrical steel and aluminium boxes. Whenever we attacked her with whines of hunger, she would open one of them and dish out some home-made snacks. I used to imagine that all the boxes had special things to eat and I would fantasize about opening one after the other and devouring all the goodies.

The sweets she made were probably the only sweets I have loved since childhood. Even as a grown up, we always looked forward to visiting mave. Going to mave's house meant some amazing meals and she would always welcome us home with great food (our favourite dishes, no less) on the table. I will never forget the puri chole (chickpeas) and shevai for breakfast, which were ready before we woke up and the amazing prawn fried rice and chicken dishes she made for dinner. Or the home made pickles, papads, snacks and cakes. You name it and she made it.

Relishing all the yummy food that she cooked was awesome but watching her in action in the kitchen was really a treat. I remember hanging around her while she cooked. She would shoo me away but I would stick on and watch her cook until the heavenly aromas made it impossible to stay there and stay away from the food. I think she was one of the reasons I got interested in cooking. My mother is a good cook but she is no where as good as mave. Mave was always experimenting with new dishes and was constantly learning with all the cookery shows on TV and from the people around her.

Mave is no more today but her legacy lives on. I guess after her some of us in the family take after her in being decent cooks. My cousin R (her daughter) is a great cook and I am a half-decent cook, even if  say so myself. I will always regret not spending enough time with you in the kitchen and learning from you, mave. I miss you in more ways than I ever thought I would.

Vegetable cheese muffins

Ever since Pickles started solids, my adventures with cooking and baking have increased manifold. In my effort to make sure he gets all his nutrients, I try to bake healthy snacks for him myself. Usually, Saturdays are my bake-a-snack days. So, hopefully you'll see more experiments in the weeks to come Of course, I still have some successful experiments and some that have gone horribly wrong. But if Pickles likes them, I consider them pretty decent. And if he loves them but he cant have enough because R and I finished them off, then it is a super hit! 

This recipe falls in between the two categories. Pickles likes them but we can manage to keep our hands off. I try and use different vegetables every week and it works each time. I've used zucchini, mushrooms, baby corn, corn kernels, tomatoes and spinach in different combinations. 

Pardon the unflattering picture. I was too tired to get better pictures. 

This is what I used

Whole wheat flour - 1 cup

Self raising flour- 1 cup

Shredded/ grated veggies - 2 cups ( I used red bell peppers, carrots, peas and green onions)

Some spices: I used basil (as much or as little as you like)

Eggs- 2 nos

Grated cheddar cheese- 2 cups

Milk- 1.5 cups

Salt- to taste 

Here's how I made them.

1) Pre-heat the oven to 180 C.

2) Mix the sifted flours and all the veggies together in a bowl.

3) Add in the salt, spices and cheese.

4) Beat the eggs and mix in the milk in a separate bowl.

5) Add the liquid ingredients into the flour mixture slowly and fold them nicely together.

6) Grease some silicone muffin tins and pour the batter until two-thirds full.

7) Bake for 25 minutes or until a dipped toothpick comes out clean.

8) Cool on a cooling rack.

9) Now you can try them on your toddler.

Let me know how it goes. 

I is for Idli

We had idlis for breakfast today. I know those of you who know me, will be very very surprised. I used to be, until very recently a person who did not like idlis at all.

(For those of you who have never heard of them, idlis are a form of steamed savoury cakes, made with black lentils and rice. They are a very traditional south Indian breakfast, believed to be healthy)

From a young age, Idlis were just some of those things that I did not like. Home-made, restaurant-bought and made in any way/form, they were a no-no, except maybe the spicy rava idlis that Ma used to make. But yeah, white idlis and I were always miles apart. Whenever Ma made idlis for breakfast, I used to just devour copious amounts of the sambar she made with maybe one idli or two if I was caught. And the darshini idlis happened only when either one of us or Ma was sick. Since I was always assigned the duty of buying the idlis, I used to always make sure I had alternatives.

When I moved to Singapore, I remember having Sambar idlis at Komala's once and I just loved them. Maybe because it had a lot of ghee added, maybe because it was little idlis dunked in a lot of sambar or maybe it just reminded me of home. Still, I never liked the plain white idlis per se. But I became a lot tolerant to them. I guess that's what growing up does to you. You do love or hate anything with the passion that you did when you were younger.

When I married R, my mother-in-law bought me a set of idli moulds. Now, although I could tolerate them, they were never ever made in my kitchen. Although R doesn't mind eating them once in a while, he is not exactly a big fan. Another thing that discouraged me is the amount of washing involved after making idlis. I hated that my kitchen sink used to get full after them. So, the idli-moulds just sat in a corner of my kitchen, unused, for a very long time. They would get used only when either set of parents visited.

When I went to India this time with Pickles, Ma had made idlis. She decided that Pickles had to try some or he would be idli-deprived for the rest of his life. But to her conviction and my surprise, he really loved them. Then she made them another day, he liked them again. So, Ma made sure she had written and sent the recipe with me, just in case I feel like making them sometime. As usual, she was right! With my vision of making Pickles a good eater, I try and cook as many new things for him as I can. And one day I just made idlis for breakfast on a whim. Just the eagerness on Pickles' face was good enough encouragement for me to make them again. And again. And again. So, idlis are now a staple breakfast for us once a week. I don't even mind eating them so much now.

Motherhood has brought about a lot of changes in me. This is just one minuscule thing. Maybe I will tell Pickles this story when he grows up. I'm not sure how I'd take it though, if he begins to hate them the way I did when I was a kid. Will I be more tolerant and understanding? Or will I just make sure he eats them, whether he likes it or not? I'm not entirely sure. Only time will tell.

C is for Culinary skills

My earliest relationship with the kitchen was one of hate. When I was a kid, a yell from the kitchen meant an errand or a chore and I would turn and run in the other direction. My mom eventually figured it out that I hated it and would never ask me to do anything food-related, other than eating it. I was excused from the chopping and the cleaning and my sisters filled in nicely. Instead, I would get all the shopping lists. I still have memories of shopping for vegetables and groceries and coming back with a big bag hanging on the handlebar of my bicycle.

Eventually, I discovered my love of good food, eating it that is. And I remember asking a friend’s mom for the recipe of a tomato chutney that I had absolutely loved at their home. And I came back armed with the recipe. My mom wanted nothing to do with it. She said, if you want to eat it, you’ll have to cook it yourself. With too much pride at stake, I marched into the kitchen portraying a confidence that I didn’t really have (my earlier experiences in the kitchen had been limited to just boiling some water and cooking maggi for a quick snack). But I still managed to follow the instructions for the recipe. I know you’re expecting to hear about the disaster next, but it didn’t happen. The chutney actually turned out pretty well.  And it felt really good to eat something that I had made on my own, not to mention the generous compliments I got at dinner from my family. Now I know that it is really a fool-proof recipe for chutney, but then it really boosted my morale and thus began my journey of culinary adventures.

After that, I started cooking random dishes for dinner and sometimes, when I felt like it,  even a full course meal. I have to mention that my sisters loved it that I was cooking. It just meant that they would get to eat something unusual. So they were all supportive and actually would even help by chopping the vegetables and cleaning  up afterward. I would, of course, get all the credit if the dish turned out well. I remember the one thing that I cooked many a times was butter chicken. Today I can make awesome butter chicken evenif I say so myself. But it is only because my guniea pigs/sisters lapped up every single morsel of the million attempts I made before I perfected the recipe.

And then, I moved  to Singapore. Now I had to cook if I wanted to have a home-cooked meal. And what’s worse was that I had no help whatsoever. I had to start from scratch and actually even clean up after myself. But it was also an exciting time because it meant I could buy stuff for my very own kitchen. I started small. I remember I had one little wok in the beginning and if I was cooking two dishes, I had to cook one, transfer it to a serving bowl/plate and then cook the next one. Slowly, I started investing in my kitchen. But even with fewer utensils I had, my cooking has fed quite a few mouths. Friends used to drop by for a meal and happily agreed to be guinea pigs for any new experiment.

Singapore also exposed me to a variety of cuisines. Until then, my idea to world cuisine had been limited to  Indian-Chinese food and well, pizza! In Singapore, started my journey of experimenting with all kinds of new food and newer ingredients. I started getting addicted to a lot of cooking shows and trying out newer recipes. It was also around this time that I met a bunch of other foodies, Shub, Sayesha and Pizzadude. We’d catch up for a meal or two every week and try different restaurants, not to mention different cuisines. Although we miss Shub now (she  moved far away, breaking all our collective hearts), we still have our brunch/lunch/dinner meetings, wailing babies and jumping toddlers and all. Our potluck meals are great too. We also have cookathons (I just coined that!). We’re all super enthusiastic and I don’t know what is more fun, cooking together or eating the food later!

And did I mention, I love frequenting the kitchen-tools section in supermarkets. Thanks to the frequent visits and some weak moments of excessive splurging, I now have a decent set of kitchen tools, which are among my most precious belongings. And yes, more importantly, I am a decent cook now and I can put together a great full course meal. People I meet after many years are surprised when I invite them for a meal. But I guess, its not that difficult to figure. To cook good food, you must love to eat good food, which I most definintely do. And ultimately, cooking is all about getting the proportions right. I guess that is almost second nature to me because of all toiling for so many years in the lab.

I guess it all comes down to that one little incident that started me off on this amazing journey. I never thought I’d say this but thanks Ma, for saying no.