More empty spaces

Since I am still working on delivering on my promises to self to write more in this blog, I decided to go ahead and open another space that I could neglect. I opened a blog space to update stuff about food, garden and other random things I do in my life.
So please visit
http://bhooklagihai.blogspot.com/

If Only

There are times when the days just seem to overlap. There is not much to distinguish them from one other. A routine sets in and I mindlessly follow the preset agenda like a machine. It is a slow march where I am falling in line, only that there is no audience and nobody to appreciate the synchronization of my movements. I am referring of course to the work week.

I like my job well enough, the job suits me and I suit the job. But I wonder sometimes how life would be if I had picked a different calling. A more unsuitable choice. On a Saturday as I sit and cogitate about this, a bunch of options present themselves

- A kamaulika in desi serials. I would love to be the evil woman. I do not want to be the glamorous vamp. The role of the actress who needs to spend a couple of hours putting on her makeup and a couple of hours taking it off does not attract me. I want to be the equivalent of the dastardly Prem Chopra on television. The pretty, glamorous women in their backless cholies do not hold any appeal to me. I see myself more in the shoes of the shriveled up woman delivering some downright Machiavellian dialogues. I want to mock the holier than thou good girl and rub my palms with evil glee. The reason I pick television is a) their standards are much lower - I might actually have a chance b) they last forever I could spent a good couple of years doing my dark laugh, pushing old ladies down the stairs, making entries as the music rises to a crescendo ( to indicate said entry by bad person character , newbie). On a not completely unrelated note I think if I got to play someone that bad I might actually be a better person in real life. And if that does not prove to be the case then I will at least be the person having some laughs.

-Another job would be a writer of erotic novels. I cannot elaborate on the why of this (it should be obvious) due to the family nature of this blog. By which I mean of course that my family sometimes drops by.

-At number three and only because this job might require some actual work is the job of a cook. Am I seduced by the food network, do I want to make millions yelling at young aspirants when they cook the fish too fast like a British cook who is ruling all ratings? No, even in my day dreams I am fully aware of the improbability of such dramatic success. Also believing in karma and reincarnation I would be terrified and spend most of my time enumerating the species of insect that I would most likely be reborn as. Or do I want to make the most perfect cake (Martha Stewart style), so pretty that it inspires awe and guilt as you dig into it? Nope, I am too much of a no fuss person for that. I would like to be the no nonsense "one dish specialist". Spend my time making that one dish sublime. Perfect it. That one dish that you just need to have, that one dish that has captured your imagination when the hunger pangs set in and now makes all other options seem like a sorry substitute. As a person of the other side of the counter at the moment, it seems to me that the "one dish specialist" is an artist that has few equals. As I dig into that perfect Vada Pav, or flawless plate of fries, or that Spanish Rice without an equal, I feel a respect for the person whose creation leaves me so happy and sated. To crave it, seek it out and then satisfy that craving seems not unlike love making to me. And I would love to be the person responsible for so much uhhhh satisfaction...

Well that is my list for now. But the weekend has just begun so there will probably be a few more by the time I tire of this train of thought

Travel light or Travel Right

Last weekend husband and I embarked on what has come to be an essential tradition of any Indian family that has chosen the United States of America for a home - temporary or otherwise. This tradition started when the first IIT graduate turned down a lucrative offer at Tata steel or DRDO and moved across the Atlantic to try his/her luck here. He chose the United States despite living mostly of bread and large quantities of salad. After a few years of "settling down" - he can now make a quick sambar and rasam using broccoli, radishes, zucchini or anything that caught his eye at the grocery store. He now decides to have his parents over to be introduced to his adopted country. In an effort to give his parents a good time and perhaps justify his decision to stay here, he begins a personal tour of this nation. If like me he lived in New Jersey he spent the first couple of weeks showing off NYC. Times Square was not always the LCD lit nook that it is now but I am sure there were visits to Empire State and the lady liberty. But the tradition that I refer to is the trip to see the Niagara Falls. I have seldom come across an individual of Indian origin who did not make a trip to the Niagara.

Husband and I are no new comers to long road trips. Husband likes to drive and I like to see places. Together we have enjoyed many such trips. A road trip is one of the most relaxed forms of vacation. There is no early check-in to get a good seat/upgrade, no queues, no baggage check, baggage weight limits, and security checks along with a need to pack solids and liquids separately. No decisions regarding wardrobe for next few days need be made courtesy the aforementioned no baggage limit. The seat in your car is always available and you can take along the neck pillow that according to tag does not meet many safety standards and is in fact inflammable. So the routine is get up in the morning. Grab a bunch of clothes, four pairs of footwear (just to have the option), our sunglasses, rush back into the house after screeching out of the parking lot to grab sunscreen, phone charger or something that we actually need but have forgotten and then set off. Ideal weekend activity. A low maintenance, low stress plan that makes for a perfect weekend getaway.

The traditional Niagara trip with visiting parents on the other hand is a different ball game altogether. When mil first mentioned packing food for the trip I envisioned a few idlis to tide us over and some few snack packs. A few business minded folk have also made note of the Niagara tradition and now make "notes" (couldn't resist that one :) ) in their Indian restaurants selling overpriced Indian food at stalls and restaurants near the falls. The menu though not a kept a secret was never fully disclosed and I only began to understand the scope of the preparations when a saw a huge pot of tamarind paste simmering on the gas. When I enquired about it my MIL beamed at me happily and informed me that it was for the weekend. That evening I brought up the subject of the menu with some trepidation when the in laws, husband and I were seated at the table drinking filter kaapi. The group that had been silent and only given making the occasional hmmmmmm sounds of appreciation as they sipped the fresh kaapi made from fresh decoction suddenly got noisy and argumentative about what, how much, for which meal, what will last, how to roast potatoes without oil, will coconut keep, how many idlis can one dubba of Balaji idli mix produce and so on. As a "compromise" the menu was set at

- tamarind rice

- alu capsicum sabji

- chapathis 21 no ( this number and no other was found satisfactory by my husband)

- idlis soaked in molaga podi for breakfast

At this point it was decided that we must also pool with the other family travelling with us to so husband made a call to ensure that the other family would bring along curd rice and kurma to complement our menu. After my initial disbelief I just settled down to pass a few derisive remarks under my breath. I also spent considerable time needling my husband for the next few days (Hey, he knew what he was getting into when he married me!!).

The trip started at an early 7 am. The first dubba that was opened filled the car with the smell of molaga podi and soft, oily, spicy idlis were distributed. I felt the beginning of a few pangs of guilt as I enjoyed my not run of the mill breakfast. The trip continued and we visited a vineyard on the way. After some wine tasting, we reassured my in laws that there was only trace amounts of alcohol in the wine poured in our glasses while harbouring a growing buzz. We then pulled into an overlook point to eat our lunch. What would normally be a parking lot of taco bell was now a lovely green view point where the remaining food was opened. All of us crowded around the boot and tried to exhibit some decorum and resisted the urge to elbow each other while getting at the food. But the wine that we had had on a now empty stomach combined with a near perfect dish of tamarind rice made restraint close to impossible. The chapathis, the sabji and the curd rice with grapes also deserve notable mention. After having eaten until we could not eat anymore we drove to Niagara for the darshan. As evening rolled around more goodies in the form of homemade murukku, thattai were also passed to us. As much as I enjoyed bolting down the hot fast food while travelling light it was clear that this style of travelling definitely had its advantages.

When I finished off the tamarind rice which had gotten better with each passing meal for breakfast the next day, completely ignoring the hotel breakfast buffet I was not ashamed to admit that I had been wrong. Age old wisdom had won another round. My eyes had been opened. This was the definitely the way to travel, in style - to travel right.

Recipe-

Alu Bun - this was a favourite among us. They were a Bangalore Iyengar Bakery speciality and when I came across this recipe I could not resist making them. The buns came out beautifully though it is a bit of work. Also the website that I found this recipe at deserves notable mention - very good recipes, lovely pictures. Great blog altogether.

The Mystery of the Lying Weighing Scale

If you read my blog at all you would have noticed the shameless, self congratulatory way in which I mention my return to running. Yes, I can weave it into just about any blog/ conversation and if there have been blogs/ conversations in which I did not mention this, it was a result of extreme self restraint along with some lip biting and swallowing words that are stuck in my throat.

So back to my running ( Yes, yes, I realize I am doing it again) -my evening run has become less painful and I reached my goal of running 5 miles without wanting to crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep. Last week I managed to run 13 miles. I am not a marathon runner by any standards and so I am quite proud of this.

The scale in my bathroom however is having the last laugh. As I limp onto the scale every morning still sore from the previous night's run the weighing scale edges its way to a scarier and scarier number. The digital scale I bought for accuracy seems to take a full minute longer to flash my weight in which period you would think just the excessive sweating would result in a more merciful number.

After a past month and a half of running I have gained and lost the same 4 pounds around 5 times. The running just seems to have resulted in shorter time period of my normally more dragged out yo-yo dieting cycles.

So I got onto the scale this Monday morning to face the music yet again. And when in low budget, bloody slasher style the number flashed just as the horror music in my head was reaching its crescendo, my heart sank. In an attempt to understand how this happened I tried going over last day’s intake.

- Got up at 5 to run the 5K Asha run.

- Cup of tea and out the door by 7. So far so good

- Eat an egg and cheese at Starbucks. (You try finding a restroom in New York City without getting a bite to eat, hmph)

- Ran 5K

- Happy with self, crammed the stale bagel and cream cheese into mouth. (Just being polite and pretending that I was as hungry as the 16 year olds who made it to the finish line in half the time)

- Continue to congratulate self on the drive back and decide on a lunch of dosa and sambhar. Healthy, light, delicious...

- Pick an Indian restaurant which we frequent for the fabulous all you can eat buffet (cough.... total accident)

- Decide to eat the buffet instead and spend the meal eating everything on my plate while keeping a close watch on my husband's plate. Getting seconds and thirds to eat all delicacies that I had missed but had spotted on husband's plate.

- Stagger out of restaurant and decide to not eat anything for the rest of the day.

- Spent relatively busy afternoon attending a concert with husband. Not thinking about food... So far so good.

- Evening: Decide to watch James Bond movie - Quantum of Solace

- Decide to watch James Bond with Martinis.

- Decide that home made hummus in large quantities would be ideal with martinis.

- End up full of martinis, hummus, pita bread, veggies and craving something sweet...

At which point I stopped counting the calories. I had already reached a number that should have been enough for a 17 year old Olympic runner for a day and a half.

OK so it is no mystery why I am not losing all the weight. But at least it is not a mystery anymore. Yes I had no idea ... that is the story I am sticking with...

Doting Spouses

After a few culinary indulgences, husband and I decided to buckle down and get healthy. Hubby's ma and pa are going to be in town in a month and my husband wants to get in shape so that he can indulge in his mother's cooking without guilt (I married a planner). We worked on coming up with some guidelines that will help us eat healthier. These guidelines were as usual readily augmented by advice doled out by a friend who supplies the list while stuffing her face with pizza and starting the day with ribbon pakoda (yeah you know who are - C). Oh and remaining thin (aaarggh).

So here goes. -

- Use only olive oil. (Zero cholestrol)

- Buy vegetables/fruits based on colour. Weekly intake of every colour is apparently important. Here is the very helpful link C sent me.

- Do not overheat oil cos that will produce Trans Fat.

- Plan meals ahead so that you know what you going to eat at - say snack time on Friday at 4pm (phew that's work)

- Reduce dairy according to one

- Reduce carbohydrates according to another

- Include soluble fiber that is different apparently from the fibre that is - you guessed it insoluble (wtf). Excellent for reducing cholesterol.

And so on and so forth.

Since following all of these rules would result in a plate of colourful vegetables in cold olive oil with oats (soluble fiber) a less extreme meal plan was sought.

So we settled on relatively healthy food with a mix of fresh vegetables. Husband packed lunch and lugged it with him to office and assured me that he loves eating his dubba khanna while his coworkers amble off to get a piping hot lunch from the many, many options that New York City offers.

Three long days of measuring, poring and chewing high fiber meals went by. For dinner last night I was all set to bring on the cheese and grease. But I did not want to be the one to ruin the streak that we were having and when husband came home last night, I suggested a couple of meals options with mushrooms and greens. Husband put on his thinking face and seemed to be weighing the dinner options with gravity.

I stepped into the restroom to wash my face and freshen up before a healthy, nutritious meal :(.

Husband (on other side of door) - tho aaj bahaar jaathe hain kya? We need to buy milk

Me (being nice since husband had been up at 4 in the morning running errands for his not always demanding wife) - I will go get it, you relax.

Husband - vaise we are both tired..

Me - haan and you have been up forever...

Husband - we need a break....

Me (finally catching on and seeing the light) - haan we do... tired, yeah, I am also tired. I have a nagging headache from all that work. This bug became an emergency today (laying it on thick so he can't back out now).

Husband - thooooo... hmmmm... taco bell se take out karthe hain kya....

Me (doing victory dance, but quietly so that he sweats a little bit on the other side of the door) -hmmmm teeeekh hai... chalthe hain.

5 minutes later...

Me (dressed set to go) - vaise margarita mix bhi hai... taco bell ke saath... a drink for u, u are tired...

Husband - haan haan. It might also help with your headache (he catches on quick)...

Recipe - Alu methi... (made in olive oil by us of course)

Envy of the House

It has been a very uneventful week or so. Rain has continued to plague New Jersey. I am up from 2 to 3.5 miles in my running and am blaming the rains for my slow progress. And since I have completely convinced myself that the rains are the "only" reason I am being lazy I feel no guilt in wolfing down all my meals.

The running had given me an excuse to order what I really want in place of a relatively "healthy" meal. Not that I ever ordered salads. I did resort to eating salads with "dressing" on the side before my wedding but when the food arrived it was so depressing that I had to make up for it at the next meal with some comfort food. It is my view that "dressing" is a human activity and not something to eat with raw vegetables. But sometimes I am careful enough to order idli, or low fat latte.

This weekend however I went to the local Indian joint and ordered up mirchi pakoda, dahi poori and the piece de resistance - chole bature. Bature is the equivalent of a sizzler in Indian restaurant. The food arrived and I suddenly found myself the centre of attention. While the folks whose food had arrived were only staring at my food with the corner of their eyes - darting furtive, sideways glances while they tried to go back to enjoying their food, the folks who were waiting for their food abandoned all pretences and stared openly at my food. I was feeling a strange irrational sensation of pride. I was the envy of all present company.

I have been on the other side so many times. Convinced myself that uttapam with sambhar was what I really wanted (it is a tasty dish with high protein content). When the food arrived I even enjoyed it until I saw a plate of chole bature, hot, fresh from the oil, the eye catching batura threatening to fall off the edge of the plate deposited at a table near me.

And here I was :). An American gentleman at the table on my right had clearly asked his Indian friend about my glorious meal choice because I could hear the man enunciating "BaToooRaa" again and again. It was one of the most glorious meals ever.

I have to keep up my running, not for my health but so that I can enjoy these glorious moments. Today I intend to have a beer and endless fries for dinner :).

Rainy Days and Khana Khazana

My prayers about winter being back have gone unanswered.  Since the almighty in his wisdom did not want to inflict all the other people who populate the earth with major, life changing climatic changes just to appease the couch potatoes, it is still spring in New Jersey. However, to soften the blow he/she sent us rains. 

The rain may not deter the determined runner but I recognize a blessing when I see one. This rainy weekend I sat back and enjoyed the fruits of my husband's culinary skills. We also wandered off at night to feed our faces at a local Indian restaurant. 

When out to eat I am one of those people who takes forever to order. In fact, I am not even a big fan of conversation before I know what I want to order. Getting the order right in a restaurant requires considerable skill and it is not a decision I like to make in a hurry. A number of things need to be taken into consideration.  

The obvious -

1. How hungry you are? Planning ahead helps. I and husband starve ourselves silly and even make of our once in a blue moon visits to the gym anytime any of our friends make the mistake of inviting us over for a meal.

2. What you can expect to eat at the next meal? Planning your meals requires due consideration, foresight and practice. Only a novice would wolf down a to go meal when an invite to a far more satisfying dinner awaits

3. The specialties of the restaurant.  Every place has its limitations. For example, the burger in the local Mexican place, included there for the unadventurous patron is generally a rather unpleasant adventure.

The not so obvious

4. Can you eat of the plate of your dinner companion without incurring dinner companion’s wrath?

5. Can you expect your dinner companion to order the other entree that you wanted?

6. Can you convince your dinner companion to order the other entree with "helpful comments" or arguing and whining?

7. Will your dinner companion eat off your plate?

8. Will you be able to dissuade dinner companion from eating from your plate with glares, sarcasm, covering your plate with your hands?

When I go out with my husband the answer to 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 is yes, yes, yes, yes and a no. Eating out on any day with husband is a complete sport. So this weekend I made hay when the sun did not shine and spent the weekend perfecting this sport that I have played for a long time.

Recipe -

The recipe this week features a man whose enthusiasm for food matches my own. My husband used this recipe forwarded by our good friend C and made the most startlingly good, restaurant quality rava dosas. You can find this recipe which is in the form of a instructional video here. The man has a number of recipes on his website and most of them look great.

Shopping continued

Me : I bought 8 bags of bakery biscuits in India. They were only 250 rupees. Isn't that great?

D : 250 rupees for biscuits hmmm.. (non committal)

Me (Thinking- Oh D does not get it. I must explain more). They were Golden Bakery biscuits. They had the choicest ingredients. They melt in you mouth.

D : hmm how many biscuits were there in each packet?

Me (Thinking - Oh my god she knows the biscuits and yet she wants more details) : They were around 25- 30 biscuits in each packet.

D : Hmmmm thats one rupee per biscuit. Is that really good value?

Me getting desperate, unable to do required math in head : They had little flowers on them. And some had almonds and pista.

D seeing that I am panicking, Giving me an oppurtunity for a graceful exit : Hmm maybe I am not familiar with the quality of these biscuits. (Is now unable to resist a smile and some eye rolling)

Me : And chocolate and did I mention flowers on the biscuits. Only 250 rupees.

D : It is just a stamp type thing you know. The flowers are really easy to make.
Me dropping subject despondently.


Later that weekend
D : Oh this was a total bargain. In normal stores you get this salwar kameez for 2500 rupess but at this special outlet you can buy the same for 1500 rupees.

Me (regular shopper at the streets of Sarojini Nagar where I could buy half a wardrobe for 2500 rupees, recognizing oppurtunity for payback) : Really (with big smile)

D ( she is a quick girl) : It is a nice mall you know not some pavement store.

Me ( Thinking - Damn how does she know? Mental Note to self must dress better at next get together. But still,I have got her) : OK (bigger smile)

D : The stitches will last forever. Very good quality.

Me : Reaaaaally?

D sulking now : You can't expect me to dress in clothes that are not fashionable any more.

Me Pause for effect : Yes , Yes I think I understand
(thinking - You can't expect me to eat biscuits from any bakery. This was Golden Bakery, do you hear? Hmph)

Spent weekend at chat stores and eating out. No recipes to post.

Shopping - A Complete Sport

I have become an unenthusiastic shopper. Do not rush to any conclusions - I still recite the chants of consumerism that plague this country ( and quite honestly the world ),march to the drum beats of department store, sway to the song of the supermarkets ... well you get the picture. But the act of shopping in itself has just lost its charm for me.

Shopping some years ago in India was a total package. The first step was to assemble a bunch of your friends/ relatives all of whom had their designated competencies. There was the "Bargainer" - this person can muster a disbelieving sneer at even the rock bottom prices quoted by men with shops set up in the scorching sun under an umbrella on the pavement. This talent would have been insufficient without the ability to counter any offer with 30% of the quoted price, with complete confidence and lock and maintain eye contact with said (skinny, probably starving, father of 6, caregiver of elderly parents) shopkeeper.

Then there was the "Fashion Expert" - this was the person who could stick her hand into a pile of export surplus, button missing, fashion disasters and pick up the one great piece, the one thing that will probably make the outfit that you bought with your mother in the branded store in Khan Market seem dowdy. This person could take one look at you and immediately divine the clothes that suit you, colours that bring out your eyes/hair/skin, and make suggestions about when the item of clothing can be worn.

Such a shopping trip would not have been successful without perseverance and patience. That brings me to the "One with the Stamina". Long after your sunscreen has worn off, your feet have given up, and your Bisleri is exhausted she perseveres. It is all about the hunt for this woman and she is no quitter. With her on your side you would try that 5th dress in the 8th store until you find the one that is just right.

Though not directly contributing the success of a shopping trip there is also the "Street Food Junkie" - she would ably guide you past the many mediocre chat shops to the one that makes the perfect tangy, melt in your mouth Suji Golgappa and also the "Very pleasant/ extremely pretty girl that all shopkeepers have discounts for".

Shopping then was a complete sport. These lovely women helped elevate shopping in India to a sport/ talent/ ability on par with learning an instrument (a harmonica perhaps, probably not a violin). Shopping rightly held its place in the activities section in the Orkut profile page along with hiking, reading and learning new languages. It required skill, endurance, training and as with any sport innate talent always helped. Long hours, lots of walking, people watching, navigating huge crowds all a part of this dying sport. At the end of such a day there was a sense of accomplishment and contentment that was a mix of an hour at the gym, a successful meeting where you beat the odds with your dazzling arguments, and a dark chocolate brownie with ice cream.

The scented, polished, branded version in America that is also fast becoming the dominant option in most large Indian cities offers the best in shopping but have laid the skills I developed all those years to waste. Now I just shop online and stare at travel shows with longing.

Recipe I tried and liked.

Pasta with Lentils and Carrot Recipe

My Constant Friend

I should have started with this one. There has been only one constant and unwavering interest in my life. I am a flake with serious lack of commitment to any one pursuit but this is different. It has stood by my me in bad times (perhaps too much) and has been there to make my good times better and has always received my "fullest" attention. The most loyal of my friends and loves - Food. 

This blog is because considering how important food is in my life, a tribute of sorts is long overdue. It has played such a major a part in everything in my life. It was over a plate of food that I noticed how much I like my then friend, now husband. A lot of acquaintances have turned friends because they knew about the best chat shop, best dosa in town, where they serve the perfect cup of kaapi. When I know examine my list of friends I am hard pressed to come up with someone who cannot wax eloquent about food. 

My love for food like all long relationships has changed and evolved with me.. Growing up in the heart of paratha land I had no appreciation for south Indian food. All sambhars tasted the same, rasam was to be avoided completely and unless it was my mothers divine alu sabji made with sambhar podi I had no time for any of the karis. I envied all my classmates with the parathas and puris and chole and burjis. And the karmic cycle is now being completed with me trying to reproduce my mothers wonderful dishes and making long distance calls for recipes. How could I have been so ignorant? Most restaurants here serve up a half way decent nan and paneer (mughlai food from india is like pizza from italy, our export to the world outside to be made your own) but few try and succeed in capturing the subtleties of the south indian fare. The simple, pristine white, soft, delicious idli, the kootus, the chutneys, the thuvaiyals all with their own flavour, subtle, one of a kind and even (god forbid) healthy. 

When I first landed here I stayed away from all restaurants to avoid any and all traces of meat and meat like ingredients in my food. After the initial months of enthusiastic cooking and carrying dabbas to work I weakened and because visiting the distant Indian restaurant was not always an option I decided to visit one of the nearby restaurants. I was assured that Mexican food was very vegetarian friendly and so off I went. It did not go well. Refried beans came off like a poor cousin of the rajma, the Spanish rice would have tasted so much better if it had been more like paruppa sadam and the tortillas were done wrong because why would anybody make them like this when somewhere in the world people knew how to make phulkas and chapathis? Needless to say I have changed my mind since then. New Jersey has a shocking lack of good Mexican restaurants and I feel their absence dearly. 

Since my arrival here I have been compelled to give new cuisines a shot while also having the opportunity to miss so many fine options from back home. Italian, chinese, malay, thai, sushis all have a place in my heart. My one regret (this one always gets a rise out of my very vegetarian husband :) ) is that I do not eat meat and will never fully experience a world of cuisine that is beyond those shut doors ( damn my upbringing).