Another Letter Is On The Way

Dear Nicholas,

Come December and every damn person on earth is mailing you for things they want. But trust me (just this once) this mail is not about “All I want for Christmas”. Yes, you can sport a big smile and let out off that “ho-ho-ho-ho” laugh of yours. Even Archangel Gabby has laughed in front of me.

Christmas is a season of good spirit, good cheer, good wine, good food and in general it is about everything good and nice. It means I can polish off a bottle of good wine without thinking about saving for tomorrow or about the bill that came with it or for that matter someone judging my alcoholic tendencies, after all it’s Christmas. It is the merriest time of the year, the weather nice and cool and celebrations are all around us.

Let us not forget it is also the time of caring- Of sharing love and joy with our loved ones. It is the time for sharing. It is a time when the privileged share their love, food and wealth with the less privileged.

I wonder how you manage this. Getting gifts for all? Do you fall short of gifts? Are there gifts that you are unable procure? You know the ones you cannot get even on Amazon. What do you do then? Do you buy consolatory gifts?

This year I thought I’ll share some things I have for which I have no use but some less privileged soul might have a better use. There are not many, just a couple of them. Oh, you can thank me later. Here’s the list:

• Not everyone in this world is healthy like us. I mean like you and me to be more precise. I’m sure you have felt the same when you have those models on FTV.What is it without some belly fat I tell you -Ho Ho. And I hear some people are trying really hard to put on some weight. I have around 5-8 kilos on me which you can give to those skinny unhealthy girls on FTV.I can live without it.Really.God knows they need some flesh on them. Off course, some dresses would look quite loose on me but then I won’t complain.  Its Christmas time and one should not be selfish.

• I am sure some poor kid in a poor country must have asked you this, ”Oh Santa, please bring a TV so that I can watch Tom and Jerry every Sunday or at least make sure Dada gets some extra money from his boss so that he can buy us one. And I promise I will never never be a bad boy. I will share my chocolates with Lil Sarah.”

I have one at home. I never watch it. My husband watches it too much (like his life and the energy of the universe depended on it). Please take it for that little boy.

• I have a lot more stuff with me that I would love to share but then who needs bad memories. Instead do you mind giving a little extra love to those innocent little children who have no family? God has bestowed me with loads of love and I don’t mind sharing it with others.

You have couple of days more to think about them. Just in case you are running out of ideas or gift you are free to use the items I have offered. Santa; Merry Christmas to you too! Let me get back to work. Unlike you, rest of us have to work around the year to earn a vacation during Christmas. You get back to wrapping those gifts.

XOXO

Blue Lotus

P.S: I know you have featured me in Naughty Souls list. Yeah, I figured that out myself or well, may be I have my sources Nicky. Listen, I’ve had wicked thoughts and words and some times actions as well. Some people deserved all that and more. Humphhh.

P.P.S: Since you won’t be gifting me anything I gifted myself a Kindle Touch. No Grinch can steal my Christmas from me. She was christened “Swan”.

Dear Readers,

Joyeux Noel!*

Lots of Love

Blue Lotus

(*) - That's "Merry Christmas" in french.I had to show off! :-D

When life taught me a lesson or two

A few things life taught me last month

• There has never been a good work and a bad break.
• If you think today is and will be the worst workday of your entire life, honey, tomorrow is just around the corner.

• I used to like the idea of limits as in "Stretching your limits at work”. Well, mine tore last week.
• Staring at your French teacher doesn’t essentially make you a French maestro but then it might make up for a bad workday if your teacher is cute like mine.*
• When you think “What can go wrong now?” and then give yourself the luxury of a smile,” He” shows you “How things can go wrong now.”Tada! (Each time shit happens I know  God was bored of his life and decided to have some fun at my cost.)
• It's a sin to shop and you pay the real price only when you shift homes.
• My clothes have lost weight and have shrunk to a size 0.Off course I don't fit in them as I did not shrink like them traitors. I know it people. Something is seriously wrong.
• Feign illness when you need a break from work. Nobody asks for medical certificates when a woman says she is having her bloody periods.
• When you are absolutely tied up with loads of work you can take the liberty of snorting at anybody.Even your boss.

Now you know why I went missing. I had a horrible work “month” and in between this I shifted to a new place.I missed blogging and the blog world.You will find me leaving comments on posts even you have forgotten.Please bear with this erratic creature

P: S: Last time I counted I was working on nine projects. I stopped counting.

* Oh Yeah, I’ve been waiting to talk about him. He is super cute and has this incredibly beautiful pair of blue-grey eyes.I am pretty sure he is not gay.Fingers crossed.

Cook Away The Stress!

I am stressed. I feel a big boulder in my chest. My breathing is getting uneven. I can feel pain piercing into my cheeks and temples. Classic symptoms of sinusitis inflammation at display, Lady pay attention to us, they seem to claim. God! I want to scream. I want to go home. I want to take rest. Most of all I worry about that tiny drop of tear threatening to roll down my cheeks. I cannot dismiss it as just-one-drop. That one stupid drop will unleash an avalanche. I have no time for that. Those bloody traitor tears of mine have embarrassed me quite a number of times, giving my emotions away when it would’ve mattered to have exhibited a composed front.

Today I won’t let them bury me in shame. I rest my head on the seat and order my muscles to relax. I close my eyes and feel my spine against the seat. It feels good. I will myself to think about something relaxing. Something like swimming on a full moon night, only that I don’t know swimming. I think about cooking. I’ll make Upma.Not the way Amma makes, but the way her daughter makes.

I imagine myself peeling an onion, cutting it into two neat halves and soaking it in water. Soaking in water takes the burning edge out any fiery onion. It is a minor victory over a silly onion that would’ve made you cry. Ha! Revel mortal revel.

I sieve a cup of Rawa, white and coarse like desert sand. I heat the pan with a little desi-ghee.The ghee is frozen. It will take a little time till it turns in to the golden yellow liquid I love.

Meanwhile I slice the onion evenly into thin pieces. The chilies’, cut into small wheels of fire and crushed ginger bide their time.

In the now golden yellow liquid ghee I fry the Rawa.Mixing slowly and steadily. The practiced constant movements of my wrists make sure that the Rawa is fried evenly. When it turns a light brown I switch off the burner and tell it cool.

I take the Wok and heat Ghee in it. I shake out the bottle of mustard and the tiny black beads fall into my hand like soldiers up for a war. I pop them in the Ghee and watch them splutter. Tripp Troop Thudd .

It is time for onions. I fry the onions till they are soft. I lower the heat to add the chilies’ and crushed ginger. Oh yes the curry leaves; Fresh and clean with the smell of all things beautiful. I drink in the smell of curry leaves.

It’s time for water and salt. I measure two cups of water. I slowly pour the water into the hot wok careful not to burn my hands. I’m not careful, now it is a habit; a habit born out of handling hot woks and cold water innumerable times with unfavorable outcomes. I add salt.” How many teaspoons of salt do I add?” I think out aloud. I decide on two. I taste the water to make sure the taste of salt stands out.

As I wait for the water to bubble and boil I measure out a handful of raisins and cashews. I take out my priced possession, a baby wok. The wok I bought from Mysore market for Rs 20.A handy little thing when it comes to frying garnishes. I heat a teaspoon of ghee and wait for it to melt. I put the cashews and raisins in the hot ghee. Stir them twice, switch off the burner and stir in the heat of the wok. It is the golden rule that begets you golden brown fried cashews and raisins. I add a few curry leaves to the now cooling ghee

The water is boiling; bubbling with ghee and onions. I add the fried Rawa into the water in a circular motion as though I am making Jalebi or Murukku. Perfect concentric circles of Rawa drown in the boiling water. I mix them constantly to avoid the odd lumps of uncooked rawa.The water is soaked by rawa.The anger with which the Rawa is funny. It angrily spurts itself here and there and then quietly resigns to its fate. The spurting fades and Upma thickens.

I mix the Upma once again. I garnish it with fried raisins, cashews and curry leaves.

I sigh; a sigh of contentment. The stress is gone. Well almost. I feel relaxed until the cab driver tells me,” Here we are, at your office. Client visit in the morning eh?”

I smile and drag myself to the dreary office. May be in the lift I’ll imagine making Moru curry.

Actors in the order of their appearance:

Upma: a popular Indian breakfast dish originating in South India.

Ghee: Clarified butter used in Indian cooking

Rawa: Semolina

Jalebi: A sweet popular in Persia and countries of the Indian Subcontinent.

Murukku: A savory snack popular in India

Moru: Butter milk

P: S: The ghee is a girl’s calorie night mare. Well then, I was only imagining.

An Evening Ride

Being grumpy is something I don’t like. But then I inevitably turn grumpy on Tuesday evenings. My eyebrows are creased perpetually through out the evening. I’ll snap at you for no reason and I’m “avoidable”, totally (These days I’ve even noticed my boss schedules meetings every Tuesday afternoon outside office so as not to cross my paths).So if you happen to see someone looking like me on the road and if it is a Tuesday evening you might want to cross over to other side of the road. Why do I hate Tuesday evenings so much? It’s because the next day is Wednesday, the longest day of the week* and weekend looks a far cry.

   Anyways on this particular Tuesday, the grumpy me took off from office very late, and this fact added another 22 ounces of grumpiness into me. Thanks to my inability to generate my signature magnetic smile, I didn’t get a seat in the MRT** and much to my annoyance I had to stand on my point heels, (Don’t even remind me of the man*** who discovered point heels and declared it as a mandatory accessory for power dressing) my soles aching and later on becoming numb, for the entire 32 minutes train ride. The conditions didn’t improve as I limped to the bus station and I missed the bus home by mere seconds, again, all credits to my heels. After a good deal of waiting I got my bus and plunked in to the front seat. I gave myself the luxury of a quarter of a smile. I still must’ve looked the embodiment of grumpiness and nobody sat next to me. That was when a young lady, oblivious of the “disturbing” atmosphere decided to share the seat with me.

By the end of the day at work, I look like a vagabond, my hair sticking out in all four cardinal directions, kajal smudged and clothes crumpled.Somedays I gawk at my reflection in the restroom mirror and wonder whether I slog in the software industry or the coal mining industry. Honestly I don’t know how some women manage to look fresh and pretty after a day’s work, I like to believe that they probably don’t work at all. (I like earning brownie points for making downright nasty comments. It makes up for a bad work day as well.)

On the contrast, the pretty lady looked fresh like the morning dew on a rose. Her black dress was prim and proper, hair tucked behind her ear and a smile played over her glossy lips. I could smell the whiff of a pleasant perfume.Inspite of the crinkled eyebrows, the woman in me had an urge to ask her the brand of the perfume. If you think I was getting envious about her, you are almost right. All I wanted to do was ask her how she manages this. But then our dear lady was very busy on the phone. Even when I was looking (or pretending to look,if you think so)out the window, my ears picked up the sweet nothings she was murmuring into her phone.

“Hey baby, missing me?”

(Yeah right! Here we go.)

“Now, now, be a good boy, I’m almost there.”

(If you are almost there, why don’t you put down the phone and save yourself the bill?)

“Give me a kiss, baby. A nice loud one.”

(I almost fainted here.)

“Here is a big one. MUAH.”

(Followed by giggles)

If you are going to reach home in 10 minutes, why do you have to make a phone call and say “I missed you baby?” There is no end to which people turn mushy.

The conversation lasted three bus stops.

I got up from my seat to get off the bus so did the mush queen.Aha! I waited for her to get down. I wanted to see the “Mush King”. So I unhurriedly tapped out of the bus.

I gave myself the liberty of sporting an attitude befitting a critic viewing Milan fashion week 2011 autumn/winter (winters make the critics grumpier)

And at last like the show stopper of a fashion show, Mush King surfaced. Trust me, I swooned, well almost. Mush Queen was showering him with kisses,”Oh my sweetheart”. I had never seen anything so perfect. The button eyes and soft brown hair; the complacent expression – everything about him was adorable. The happiness of meeting the woman he loves most in world had turned him rubescent. A tiny flame of jealousy burned through me.

He gurgled from his pram and gibbered,” a oo eewww shoo yaa ee,Mama”.He clapped his hand and said again,” Mama Mama”. The nanny and the mother laughed. I smiled in the background oblivious to the trio.

The bus stop was empty but for us. I walked to the coldness of my apartment leaving the mother and son glowing in the warmth of their love. I learned a lesson that day,” Don’t be judgmental on Tuesday evening. The foreshadow of Wednesdays tend to impair your judgment skills”

* Go read this post.Scroll to the end (if you are in a hurry) for the explanation of "why one should hate a Wednesday?"

** MRT: Mass Rapid Transfer train facility in Singapore

***I don’t believe any woman could’ve designed that instrument of self torture. It could’ve been invented only by a man.

The Avial’s of my life

You must be wondering, why this post? Refer 1.

Why Avial? Refer 2

Is she planning to write recipes on this blog? I’ll give the answer right now, a big emphatic NO. The truth is that I’m a little high on my skills in kitchen because I pickled three lemons yesterday (Don’t do that, that thing you are doing sounds like a sneer mixed with a giggle). Honestly I refer to internet for recipes. No, I don’t call Amma to humiliate myself.

Now people before I start my rambling there is a warning. A big one. This post contains immoderate use of coconuts and keralites.[It's a long post amply spiced]

Avial-One:

We all know how much keralites like me love coconut in their food. No recipe comes without a “kutty-thenga”.Now the king of all dishes is “Avial”, the recipe of which I’ll be sharing with you shortly. Avial is very special because apart from tomato and potato every vegetable finds its place in this dish. You can put any vegetable you want.Ain’t that cool. And it is incredibly easy to make and extremely delicious.

The history of Avial dates back to Mahabharata according to Wiki.

“It is supposed to have been invented by Bhima during their exile. According to the legend, when Ballav (Bhima's name during this time) assumed his duties as the cook in the kitchen of Virata, did not know how to cook. One of the first things he did was to chop up many different vegetables, boil them together and top the dish with grated coconut”

Another version is as follows according to Aithiyamala (A garland of historical tales) by Kottarathil Sankunni:

The maharaja of Travancore used to perform Murajapam every year, a vedic seminar, in which a large number of vedic scholars participated. One year it so happened that there was no vegetables left for the last day of Murajapam.Only few pieces of various vegetables left over from the previous days were available. The cook cut all the left over’s into long thin pieces and prepared "Avial." The king liked the dish so much and presented him with a gold bracelet and ordered that this dish be served every year from then on.

I prefer to believe Amma’s version. According to her, Avial was invented by chefs or cooks who did not like wasting ingredients.” Unlike people of today,” with an exaggerated stress she adds,” people then thought wasting of food as a sin and crime. If you ask me it still is *.So when kings hosted luncheons loads of ingredients would be wasted. One intelligent cook added all this with coconut and made Avial.”

Come on, which dish has got so much fan following in Literature: D.

Presenting the amazing Avial

Don’t ask me silly questions on preparation time. All I know is its very fast and very popular in my household (You know,the one I run).

Ingredients:

Vegetables (pick any or all) – 1cup cut into long pieces

• Long Beans
• Carrots
• Yam
• Plantain
• Drumstick

For gravy: Mix all ingredients and grind into a coarse mix.

• Grated Coconut -1/4 cup
• Cumin seeds – 1 tablespoon
• Green chilly - 4-5 no’s
• Shallots –(2-3] optional

Others/Garnishing

• Curd (Real sour one if possible] – 2 table spoon.
• Turmeric powder  -1/2 tsp
• Curry leaves – a few
• Salt to taste
• Coconut Oil – ½-1 table spoon

Cooking:

·         Put all vegetables in water. Add enough water to immerse the vegetables. Add turmeric and salt and cook till the vegetables are half cooked. (We have to add coconut and cook it again in a while. If we make the veggies soft now after we add coconut it will be a vegetable pulp)

·         Grind the coconut, cumin seeds, green chilly and shallots into a coarse mix. (There is no benchmark for coarseness; you can make it into a smooth paste as well. Avial is incredibly flexible)

·         Now mix the vegetables and ground coconut and cook for few minutes.

·         When it boils, add the curd and switch off the gas. Mix well.

·         Garnish with curry leaves and coconut oil.

·         Close the dish with a lid for the aroma to seep into Avial.

·         After 15 minutes open the lid, take a deep breath and let the aroma waft around the kitchen for a while. :D.

You can replace curd by raw mango slices or tamarind water.

Avial-Two: The band Avial.Do we have bands named Muringakay Sambhar or Paneer butter masala? No. But we have Avial.Yummy as the dish; the band features very talented musicians.

I am not an authority on music or someone who can be a judge of rock music. I like music, I listen to songs and that gives me a right to say that I like Avial’s songs. I enjoy their instrumental music though I am allergic to rock music in general. Their lyrics are not of the genre,” I hate you, like I love you.” (NOM to the song. I love it too) but picked up from the folk songs that tell the story of a common man.

In a recent Malayalam movie, Salt-n-pepper (a light hearted comedy, recommended for all), Avial performed a song titled “aanakallan”.Google it up, I like the song and have heard it umpteen numbers of time.

 Avial-Three : Oh I forgot to mention as Avial is a mish mash of many vegetables, the usage also means a disarray.Sigh.

When I say,” My kitchen is in Avial form”, please bring a broom and cloth to clean up the mess for me. 

If I say,” My brain is in Avial form”, make sure you are at least 15 feet away from me. Mentally derailed people are not held responsible for their behaviors. No, it is not same as “pickled”.”Avialed” as I call it is cooler.

1. Because I was feeling highly philanthropic towards my fellow bloggers and felt it was time to share good things over the blog. Sharing over the blogs are normally experiences, I decided to share my favorite recipe and music band. (I am game for anything that doesn’t include sharing my box of chocolates and TV remote.)

2. Because I love Avial to pieces and I don’t know the recipe for KootuKalan.Happy?

3. She is Anna Hazare in her campaign against wastage of anything. Some call it a middle class attitude. I think she is being prudent. I may never be like her but I do appreciate her.