Reading the many blogs made me want to document what I eat everyday to just keep a visual diary of sorts but two measly pictures later I realised what a commitment it is to constantly carry a camera around, click pictures, download them, work on them and put them up! Phew. When will enjoy the food then?
Also, a prejudice, but does Indian food photograph well. Roti sabzi makes for very dull pictures. 
Most people who know me offline too know how much I hate traffic. Traffic in Mumbai is one of the most talked about things after the rains, especially in this rainy, wet season. So traffic. Then other woes like auto rickshaws or auto rickshaws in Andheri east. But no, I won’t digress.
But there remains a special evening and a special auto ride back home, when I shared a rick with a fellow stranded and just as frustrated commuter. She was a really young girl who worked at a five-star hotel close to my office. Now I know she was really young because she insisted I was closer to her mother in age. Hmmph. It was a miracle I didn’t push her out or leave her stranded on the pavement.
As much as these comment alternatively made me laugh and made me want to strangle her, her occupation with her occupation puzzled me the most. As young people are wont, she kept blubbering out details of her life, largely unasked. I guess kindness in Andheri east can do that to you. She was a trainee in the kitchen at the hotel. The one thing that the hotel industry did do for her is kill all the tasty dishes for her.
“Chocolate mousse has uncooked egg whites,” she exclaimed in horror. “Did you know?” Yes I nodded. “Mayonnaise?! It has raw egg too.” I nodded there too. She looked sad and bereft, feeling the keen weight of her taste memory being destroyed. I never forgot her or her expressions.
I, of course never gave up eating either for the raw egg factor. But today when I saw this Mark Bittman recipe, the first person I remembered was her.
I had started this blog to chronicle many different things. My discovery of new foods and new cooking techniques. My ability to make healthy food tasty and so on. Somewhere along the way, like in my personal life, this blog also stumbled and came to a standstill. I am going to try to remedy that because I am not yet ready to give up on my food dream.
Off late, I have been reading many blogs about health where some have documented their weight loss processes, some have documented all that was done to change and recover from body image issues and others talk about eating well and still not depriving yourself. Not only are their posts usually exciting and insightful (and to me, sometimes, slightly voyeuristic) but also posts I look forward to. They often list their meals and that can be quite revelatory.
So I am going to try to give it a shot. Any tips on making roti-sabzi look attractive in pictures?
Among the earliest food blogs I loved and stuck to was the Gluten Free Girl and after a while it didn’t matter that I did not visit her blog for the food or the pictures or anything food related but just to read someone discover their relationship with food that is good for them. Today I read some posts of hers and in those posts she talks about her relationship with food.
It is an important aspect for anyone who constantly battles self-image issues and links eating with guilt and weight. Relationship with food plays such an important role that even without any specific health conditions like hers or even mine, just learning to enjoy food is a rare experience which merits self-discovery. It is something very few people are encouraged as children, rarely in Indian households, and after a point, food becomes all a chore with a little of what everyone wants.
It has taken me considerable courage to try vegetables I could have sworn I would never eat and not only eat them, but learn to enjoy them. Relish them. Debate their flavours. I hope to be able to pass on that curious spirit to my sister but it continues to be a work in progress. But today I don’t shy away from any food (perhaps only meat but it causes me little grief) because I know I will find a way to enjoy that food.
Reading her post today and her basic pointers of acceptance of your condition, and in a certain way of your body, is paramount. Unless you accept, you will not learn to revel in the choices you make. You will also not seek out the best possible options. You will not want to make food fun and creative and it will be a limited diet for you, which you will only notice for not allowing you to eat certain food items.
Someone recently asked me how to make nice salads. I didn’t really have a ready-made answer for her but told her start with the things you like and work backwards to make salads. You probably see it but I didn’t then and yes, it is a practice that can be applied to every aspect of life. Pick what you like and everything else becomes simpler for you.
Salads have slowly grown into my life, taking on a position that now cannot be dislodged. I initially began eating salads because I had to eat salads. Roughage and nutrition and many other great things that no other food can actually act as a substitute for.
But then, as the years passed, I realised how much I had come to love salads. Enough to establish the need for texture. Enough to make some really cool original salads. Enough to realise how much mayonnaise and thousand island dressing are foul for salads. Enough to realise mayonnaise is so cool and way more tastier when made at home. Enough to throw in fruits and grains too.
Often I see people dousing salads with tart dressings, till every leaf, every shard and every bit is coated. My tongue curls up seeing that. I would hear ‘extra mayo’ and would have to stop myself from lecturing people about using mayonnaise in a dish, which like ketchup, kills all taste. And I would wonder what makes a salad so tasty yet so light yet so novel every time on my tongue. Today I realised why. A little element of everything add just the right amount of sweetness, sourness, salt and bitterness to every bite, making a perfect bite every single time. Which is not an experience I can repeat with most food dishes.
This is movie which introduced me to the perfect bite.
The salad in question which led to this epiphany: The KGC Chef’s salad at the Kala Ghoda Cafe.
is the answer for sweet porridge that you must have turned your nose up, if your tastes are anything like mine.
Since am adding rock hard breads to my ever increasing list, thought I should seek advice. Here is some good yeast advice.
Tahini is that wonderful sesame paste used hummus and baba ghanouj. But then that you already know.
You also know it also adds a wonderfully nutty twist to salad dressing and complement anything from salad greens to onions to … potato slices that are lightly fried up in oil, with a sprinkling of salt and lemon.
Did you also know it can double up in a PBJ sandwich except you would have to use tahini instead of peanut butter and granulated sugar instead of jam? It makes for a stunningly simple snack, especially on toasted home made bread.
And so quickly were the sandwiches polished off that I have no visual proof on how stunning the sandwiches were. Unless I quickly make up another batch of tahini.
In the last few months I had made a resolve. To do what I love to do the most. Cook. Experiment. Revel in the success of my cooking experiments and experience and scatter around my nuggets of wisdom.
Little did I know my head had something else planned. You can take your arrogance and shove it, it tried to tell me. But me, did I learn? Not a wee bit.
Almost three months of despairing defeat of one dud cake after another, one runny sauce after another, one bad commingling flavours after another has me running scared now.
All those cake pans, spatulas, measuring spoons and cups make me quake. My hand trembles when I casually throw in salt on a salad. What if’s constantly crowd my mind. And I continue making disaster after another.Cakes that I have been baking since I was 15 years old are proving to be my down fall. A simple dal is becoming a monumental task. Even sticking to recipes isn’t helping.
I do not know how to go into the kitchen and rescue my cooking mojo and it is a scary thought. But I shall brave on (I say looking at a strangely half cooked, sunk yet toothpicked clean cake from today afternoon)
