The cook in me...

I am not a great cook, infact; I am rarely an ordinary cook. I have more bad days than good ones. I started cooking only to fill a stomach -to go on with the day and its many exciting things. Food was not exciting for me. I liked good food. But most food was good for me. And hence life was good. Even as a child, I was not greatly bothered about what was for lunch – what was the ‘dabba’. Food plays an important role not only to satiate our stomachs but also in our early social development. What is for the next day’s dabba is every parent’s dread. Something that’s tasty, not sticky, nutritional, fast to cook and good to eat – the criterion is just too much to accomplish on a daily basis. There are then three types of dabbas brought – one which is always nutritional or traditional. Like a typical south Indian would not think twice about bringing curd rice and vegetables for lunch – but for a north Indian that would be a complete no-no. Something more ‘masaledar’ is a must. The second type of dabba will have its emphasis on the ‘looks’. Corriander leaves neatly sprinkled on the top and a slice of lemon by the side. Tissue paper and a side ‘dessert’ dish is a must. This dabba was everyone’s envy. Who does not want their dabba to look good? I remember a classmate who used to bring sandwiches to class. There were four loaves of white bread, the edges trimmed off, a slice of cheese and two pieces of neatly cut tomato in between and a drop of ketchup on the top. All this neatly wrapped in a fresh wrap. Neat, yummy, non – sticky, it fulfilled the entire criterion in the presentation front but fell short on one factor – minimizing hunger. Then the third type was the mixed category. Good days – good dabba – bad days – bad dabba – great days – special treat for the entire group – horrible days – you would not want to go there. Most of us fell into this group. The dabba the day after the result came out usually gave away the parents opinion of the result got! The dabba also played a huge role on those days when unexpectedly and unfortunately the teacher decides to ‘bond’ with her class and share her lunch with them. Maybe, it was her best days and she really wanted to show off her dabba – but for the class – each one of us secretly prayed that today mamma should have packed something really really nice. And in this regard, I noticed that a well made aloo paratha always won in front of a well made idli or dosa. So for a south Indian - making the dabba presentable, delectable and shareable (quantity wise) was a able task in itself. And hence the fact that food was not so important to me – was good. But not all good things in life stay forever and it was the same here. Tragedy struck. I now started dreaming food. Pav bhajis and Chinese. Italian and Desserts. I would get up in the middle of the night – hungry. But I was not just hungry for food. I was hungry for a specific food. I knew the exact taste and feel of the food in my tongue. The cheese melting down the hot food, the dessert spilling from the sides of the bowl, the sizzling of a hot sizzler and the spiciness of the chilli in the jumbo vada pav, the extra sweet in a dripping hot jilebi, the tanginess of the pani in the panipuri – I knew it all. Oh! food. I did not like anything that I cooked. It was the same before. I did not care for my food to taste like the Chefs of Masterchef Australila. If it had the salt, spice and tanginess required – it was good. If it was delectable – it was among my great days. But now – I was craving for all that I dreamt. I know not how this started – I first thought it was pregnancy blues – the ‘want’ for a specific food and all - but the dreams and craving never went way after delivery. That is why I say – life turned upside down. I dedicate this blog to those places that have haunted my dreams – restaurants which have created food so special that it has turned me – a complete non-foodie for all these years into a complete foodie. And not just a foodie – but one who wants to make the food I dream of. Till I get there – wish me luck.:) Try the ginger masala chai at Shimla, the fresh oven bread in Pondicherry (plain bread melts in your mouth but bread with cheese is something else here! – it disappears!!!), the pizza in Johannesburg, the perfect omelet at Fresco and bread and baked beans at Benmore Gardens, my mom’s vettai koyumbu (tamarind and only tamarind sambar) and Mysore Pak, Pavbhaji at Canon food stall, Mumbai, Sugarcane juice below the Kingcircle station bridge, Mumbai, Strawberry icecream with double cream at Bachelors, Mumbai, Masala puri at nandidurg road, Bangalore, fresh handpicked strawberries from the farm at Brisbane, sizzlers at Kobe’s Mumbai and Caesar’s, Bangalore, dal bhatthi churma my friend Sonu's mom makes, the sambar Karthik makes (that’s husband – though the sambar has been made only twice to show-off to kids) and finally the homemade digestive kadduka podi’ my dad makes specially for me to digest all that I indulge in. It is made of ‘kadaka’ - bitter tasting fruit whose powder is used for digestion, mixed with cumin powder, a pinch of salt and sugar and a dash of lemon. You will first taste the bitter of the fruit followed by the sweet of the sugar and finally the tanginess of the lemon. It hits you like no tequila might ever do. You have to gulp it down and jump around a few times. There is no other way to have this. But I love having this coz – like all the yummy delicious food that melts in your mouth, this mix has so much love that it melts your heart!!! Dad – I think I will need more of this concoction.