A Taste Of Calcutta

I have a really super job. Really! I get to meet people and work on deifferent challenges every day. Of late, the work has been so very challenging, I haven't had any time to blog. But it's all been simmering there in the back of my head. Sometimes, I get really lucky and have super sweet Producers like Vikram Kalra who sends me to Goa with a wave of his magic wand, and I get to eat at some of the hippest, most happening food places in the country. But that deserves a whole new blog post.

I finally winged my way to Calcutta, courtesy Nirvana Films. Two whole weeks spent casting the Indian Railways TVC ( the chhukchhuk gadi winding it's way through the streets) in a city I have always wanted to visit, and even been nostalgic about after a very intense year working for some super intense Bong film directors, was Niravana indeed!

I didnt manage to eat all I wanted, or when or where. And contrary to expectation, the streets were not awash with ilish machch! But I did manage a few of the things on my wish list, helpfully composed by many friends and bong-o-philes.

I made the pilgrimage to Flury's. And went back there as often as I could. I could very easily imagine spending a day there, watching the world go by on busy Park Street, while I penned notes for my magnum opus. While Flury's is ever so charming and quaint, (though not quite as spectacular in taste as Kookie Jar : to die for), I fell in love with it's quiet pace, unhurried service, art deco interior, history and tradition. I still can't get over waiting in a queue at 10am for breakfast and seeing the place packed with Bengalis of all ages tucking into iced cafe Sprungli and other Flury's confections at that hour!

I loved my simple, unassuming Pain au chocolat and strong Cappuccino. The Swiss pastry tradition is strong and excellent here. I loved my simple Cheese Sandwich. I felt I was in an Enid Blyton tea room, so perfect and melting were the two soft slices of white bread with lashing of butter and cheese. Coffee pots, white china, scones, tiered pastry trays, tea pots and tall windows with long curtains.... I stepped back in Time every time I went there.

I eagerly picked out little packets of goodies, as gifts and as sustenance through long working hours. Doll sized sachets of Orange Marzipan, little coconut sable cookies, petit fours, chocolate nibbles, medalllions reminiscent of La Patisserie's Florentines, truffles, more cookies, and some rather good chocolates.

I missed my family, and hope to spend an afternoon sipping tea at Flury's with them someday.

I have tried and racked my brians, but the closest we have to Flury's is Theobroma. Will someone please open a good, old - fashioned tea room??

Nostalgia and Food for thought

Today is one of those days: there's a promise of Rain outside the window. The Wind blows and seems to be in a hurry to blot out the persistent Sun that streaks through the gathering clouds, shining on laundry I have bravely left out to dry. I fix one beady eye at the Heavens, and am ready to dash out and rescue the linens when the deluge beigns in it's slow, sneaky pitter-patter. For now, Moaning Myrtle moans and wails through the windows.

I like.

I love.

Rain and me go together.

Guess it comes from years and years in Lonavla where it  poured incessantly from June to Spetember. The rains were not a fine drizzle, more of a roar, really. We just learned to live with the wet: wet clothes, rubber chappals, wet dogs, coals fires, no electricity, mist, cold and waterfalls. We would walk in the rain, sloshing through puddles, cycling through ponds, marvelling at the green carpets and pretty wildflowers that would spring up and dot the countryside.

We would venture into Monsoon Lake to fish, or spend hours playing indoor Table Tennis at the Fariyas Hotel or the old Vrindavan clubhouse. Or we would play videogames. Before PSP and XBox, we had Atari. We would get finger cramps from playing the brilliant Maze Craze. And there was always Badminton at the Railway Institute.

Monsoon Lake was a reservoir of the Tata Electric Co. It would be so depleted and dry in May that there would be melas and cricket matches on the dry lake bed. Come the Rain, and it would steadily fill up and even overflow occasionally.
Every day we would walk to the Lake. In later years, this became the local Promenade. But mostly, we were alone. We would picnic everyday or just walk the Dam in the mist. I would often stand on the broad wall, peering down into the murky depths of the lake, and romanticize about  Johanna Lindsey heroines.  I would instantly be there, standing on the edge of an imagined Scottish loch, the wind whipping my tresses and howling in my ears as I serched the depths for my future: so green and lush was my little world. 
We would avoid the Bushir Dam area on weekends when we locals went into lockdown. Every Friday-Saturday-Sunday, Lonavla and Khandala would be invaded by thousands of crazy Bombayites and other tourists in their ganjis and chaddis. They would sit with their bottles of booze or hot bhuttas on the steps of the overflowing dam. Eve teasers were regularly beaten up, cops crawled the area, people slid down rocky waterfalls. We would stock up with bread and eggs and milk and not venture out till Monday. Almost all the time, we had to endure weekend visitors, the farthest of acquaintances, the most distant, vague connections. People would drop in to say hello. Hello? We didn't even know many of them!

As I grew up, the Rains were not so much about trudging to the Convent school through puddles, in our raincoats, but about holidays. When we shifted school to DC in Khandala, the rains would disrupt life  badly. School was perched on the edge of the ghat, by the highway. Massive traffic jams that stretched for miles due to some mishap on the ghats would leave us stranded on the very edge. No vehicles could get through. We usually walked the 5km home to Lonavla. Those were fun mornings. If the local bus that ferried most of the teachers from Lonavla was stuck in  a jam, we had the mornings off!

The Rains aren't so romantic anymore. Now it's about floods in Bombay and the Expressway has meant that a whole generation of DC School kids wont have absent teachers on a rainy day.

Here's a recipe for Mummy's Southern Fried Chicken, the very same that saw us through many wet picnics by the Lake and drives up to Ambavane ( now more fashionably known as Aamby Valley) Best had with lashings of ketchup and pau smothered in butter. Best accompanied by garam coffee or chilled ThumsUp. Bhutta to accompany, freshly roasted in the rai. Beer always works with this one!

Mom's Southern Fried Chicken

Wash big pieces of chicken well, pat absolutely dry. Make sure you buy the most tender, soft chicken you can.

Make big incisions with a knife and rub salt into the meat. Poach in boiling water until nearly done. Do not over boil or it will become rubbery! When fully cooled, apply ginger-garlic paste, pepper and some salt, all over the meat. Marinate thus for several hours. 

In a deep kadhai, heat the oil.

Gently beat an egg with 1 tbsp water. Roll chicken pieces in it, shake off excess. Roll in breadcrumbs till well-coated.

Deep fry in really hot oil, one big piece at a time. Test doneness with  a fork ( juices should run clear).

Tiffin

Time lag! I thought this went up yesterday but it didnt, so here goes!

School reopens tomorrow. The next five years will be all about 0530 AM wake up calls. It means having a good, healthy breakfast ready for the Munchkin at that unearthly hour. And packing her Brunch and her Lunch to go.

I'm already exhausted and school hasn't even begun yet!

I have dutifully sat and made a list of the most do-able and healthy items I can think of. In the end, I know it will boil down to regular doses of palak Parathas and dahi. And when panic hits, there's the convenient school lunch.

I am very sceptical about the school caterer. I am terrified Alekhya's evolved palate will be forced to endure indifferent and greasy portions of rajma and chhole ( school staples), gobi Manchurian floating in cornflour and insipid dal-roti. I shall venture in the Lunch Hall determinedly this year and taste everything.

Her previous school has very simple, freshly made, wholesome, vegetarian lunch. Made by the resident Malyali Protestants, the menu was posted on the wall for the month. It never varied but was different each day and had plenty of specials for the kids, including Chinese and pizzas, apart from a wholesome veg thaali. There was dahi and bananas and hand-cranked Ice cream if you finished everything on your plate. A wonderful gentleman would hover over the children and make sure no one cheated or starved. The girls learned to line up and be served, to eat and clear up behind them, and they would leave their plates at the sink. Ah! the benefits of convent schools!

Which brings me to Jamie Oliver and his quest to change how kids in Britain eat. What are we doing about how our kids eat in school here? I cringe when I hear of parents packing, I kid you not,            " chicken 65 " and "palak paneer" for school lunch. This is the other extreme of the sandwich lunch. And then we send the kids to the gym! More and more international schools just hire the services of an industrial caterer. How good are these large industrial caterers anyway?Adults can make a choice about what they eat and how much. Kids end up having no choice with what they re served. The option is to pick at it or starve.

I remember when my brother was studying in Campion School, Mumbai. The mothers had a committee and each did rotation kitchen duty to make and serve fresh hot food. A lot of schools still do so, ever since security risks have spelled the demise of the dabbawalla. These are schools that have an active PTA. Which I find absent here in Pune.

I am determined to serve Alekhya a healthy lunch. As long as its home-made.

Tomorrow's menu is fruit and dahi for brunch ( Thank God for Danone), salad and chicken wraps for lunch.

If all else fails, there 's always palak parathas ( grate some cheese and add some pepper for extra zing).

Amaar Sonaar Bangla!

Maa just turned 65 years old a week ago.

 We took her out for lunch at O Calcutta and she adored all the maachch, the banana flower sabzi ( mochar ghonto), the poshto, the luchis. We all groaned through their set lunch and ran home to sleep off the excess. Ther 499 deal was insane! How can they expect people to eat SO much???

I recently read a little jewel of a book,'The Hour of the Goddess" by Chitrita Banerjee ( she recently wrote "Eating India" which I never managed to finish). The book was a wonderful discovery of the delightful and unknown territory of amar sonar Bangla! Finally some insights on this particular influence in my life.

A little history: my school history teacher Manashi Chowdhary was a very proud Bengali lady, with huge bindi and perfect sari. Then there was little Malavika Banerjee at Sophia College who fed me the yummiest Shorshe Mutton I still dream about 20 years later.

I had a harrum-scarrum, absolutely mad room-mate in Max Meuller Bhavan who spoke the funniest hindi ( I thought OPORNA was adorable, woe betide if we used the Hindi version of Aparna!!). She met her fiance on the train from Calcutta to Bombay and shared her tiffin with him.

Then I worked for the flamboyant and high profile Srila Chatterji in Bombay, and saw first-and how bengalis are near-obsessed with food. Had some of the best meals at work ever thanks to Srila and developed a near-gluttonous respect for food (but then in advertising, everyone is obsessed with food, the catering and the Craft service!).

I proceeded to work for 2 brilliant, mad Bong geniuses ( White Light) in an office sprinkled with pure and psuedo bongs. Namita and Subir rattled off in bangla at meetings, and if you didnt catch on, you were toast. No surprise here that the food on set was always but always catered to by Ujjal Ghosh (of Prithvi Cafe) so machcher jhol it was four times a week.

While I have followed news articles about the quest for Ilish machch and the horror that is it's sorry state, I have never fully pursued nor discovered the true bong food connection. Do I have any bong friends who will disclose the mysteries? (nudge, nudge Ujaala)

Until then, O Calcutta and Radhika hotel near E Square will have to do.

 Oh, BTW, the Vanilla Danone tastes so much like mishti doi!!

Does anybody have a really good recipe for the dry muton curry, the chingri malai and the aloo poshto??

THE GODDESS

I have noticed that my blog has already deviated from the 'cooking' part and seems rather obsessed with the 'eating'!  But that is a passion with us all: Robin, Alekhya and myself are spoiled for life where food is concerned. We have been brought up with tasty home-made food, brimming with variety and style: East Indian, South Indian, Gujarati, Continental and a mish-mash of these that became the signature of our homes. Kauk-swe, prawn gassi, dal-dhokli, pishpash, steak, cherries jubilee ( yes, my mother loved to make this!), jackfruit seeds boiled, mango curry.........just some of the things we grew up on! When we got married last year, the main focus was on the caterer, the food and the menu (all a huge hit, as everyone complimented us).

So, back to this blog, I want to bring it up here that in my quest to be a Domestic Goddess, I shall have to don more avataars than that of Chef de cuisine.The Gods had it right. Even way back then, Goddesses had to multitask. All of them have multiple arms and multiple roles! That`s basically what all we women are... Goddesses. Just have to find out Inner Goddess juggle a few more karmic balls in the air, no? So I must be more than the Wife, the Mother, the Friend. And fittingly, this blog shall now consider the other aspects of being a Domestic Goddess and these include pets, garden, marketing, travel, friends, entertaining, family, home.....

Hmmmm....am I applying for Martha Stewart here? I still prefer Nigella, even post her surgery.

Cheeru`s Malaka Spice

A few weeks ago, Cheeru, another Chef friend, invited Robin and me to a tasting of her new summer menu. We went eagerly, as her restaurant is one of our favourites and I know she is passionate about her cooking.

Malaka Spice is a successful restaurant here in Pune. From humble beginnings 14 years ago it is now a huge, thriving foodie paradise. I am loth to admit, I love my favourites on the menu so much, I have never deviated from them too drastically. Cheeru was horrified when she found out, and insisted we come for the tasting. Since then I have ventured into more exciting spice territory :)

Hoshi, the very talented artist Hoshnar Kaikobad, was painting live for the evening. Hoshi is a dear, dear friend and we love his art! Although we were late, we luckily didn`t miss too much of the feast.

The Tasting was held outdoors on an impressively sultry night. To counter the heat, we were served a never ending stream of new cocktails, unusual and refreshing in their combinations. I quite disappointed the Maitre'd by asking for them sans the booze. Robin relished the fresh kiwi daiquiris, replete with fresh kiwi puree.  I fell in love with the Malaka ice Golas. I havent had a gola since school!!!! WOW!! From the three flavours on the menu, I got hooked onto the 'Coco Ice' and had 2, slurping away on my favourite coconutty Malibu white rum with ruby grenadine on shaved golas. A thick shard of tender coconut in the little chai glass made it somehow more special. I instantly went back in time to Monsoon Lake in Lonavla, where I grew up, and where we had neon -orange, rajasthani- magenta and desert -yellow syrups poured over in duets by "bhaiyya". Slurrrrp! Definitely a winner, this one.

A selection of salads followed, predominantly citrusy and fruity and gobsmackingly different with the addition of freshly grated tender kairi, hints of jaggery, lime juice and red chillies. Like Malakkan bhel, only lighter and more refreshing. Tickled my tasteuds, I can tell you!

Cool, hot, fresh, tangy: summery altogether. A refreshing blend of fruit and spice. Something I would choose in this heat and skip the Main Course in favour of.

Cheeru later confessed that most of the menu had been inspired by her recently deceased father-in-law who loved fresh fruit and vegetables. He was very ill and she used all her skills to tempt his palate, coaxing him to eat what he would enjoy. The love shows,  and we are the lucky beneficiaries of her endeavour.

The desserts were innovative and familiar, both. "Same, same but different" which is the Thai motto seemed to rule here.The Red Vanilla was inspiring: yummy vanilla ice cream, drizzled with a honey and red chilly sauce, a mixture of hot and cold, sweet and spicy. The colour dazzled and I`m sure this will be quite a hit for Valentine`s day in the future.

 I loved the Malakachang, Cheeru`s inspired version of my most favourite Singaporean desset, the Ais Kachang. While I missed the ingredients of the exotic Cendol, I am happy to have this instead: a glass of shaved ice, replete with slivers of water chestnuts and subja, dotted with ruby red pomegranate, all swirling in jaggery- sweetened, salty coconut milk. Truly slurpworthy! I have tried my own version at home as dessert and it is a nice, simple one to make.

Subsequent visits for a D`Cruz family Sunday lunch and Shahine`s birthday dinner were not disappointing. While the new `Èlectric Salad`remains my favourite, my Malibu Ice was too pheeka and the shard of tender coconut sadly missing.  Shahine's addiction to the Nasi Goreng has been  viral. Colourful, flavourful, crunchy and oozing comfort, the Nasi Goreng rocks. I have discovered it is a perfect working lunch. I am happy to receive my order at the Studio. It arrives quickly and comes with little wooden chopsticks and I can eat a delicious lunch, my treat for an over-harried work day!

In addition to firm old favourites like the Thai Green Curry Chicken, Thai Basil Chicken ( Thai-ophile Vikash Nowlakha swears by), Spicy Sour Singapore Noodles, Prawn Balls, Fish in Banana Leaves, Sonja Chandrachud`s favourite Thai Chilly Rice with extra red and yellow bell peppers ( slurrrrp), Duck Top Hats ( Robin & Alekhya eat a few plates of this every time), Chicken Satay, Jhala Roti and the Slow Cooked Mutton, we are now fans of the Grilled Red Snapper, the Salt and Pepper Prawns, the Firecracker Prawns, the Pumpkin Chips and the Chicken with green apple and prawns.

Stop reading about it, you need to head there fast and get your fix!! ;)

Food of the Gods.... of Alekhya and Theobroma

My Inner Goddess is still on holiday and I'm getting by without C through sheer luck!! Meaning, plenty of eating out and super simple dal-roti courtesy Amma. Which is also fine, since we have been travelling and working, leaving little time for culinary fine-tuning. The upside is zero stress, a few jhatpat concoctions and no stale khana. :)

Alekhya is now a cook-in-training. In addition to the best french omlettes, she has been baking.

In honour of Chris' birthday, Alekhya made him what he asked for:
Banana Bread with Peanut butter and chocolate chips. It was a hit, and interesting to know we could just add stuff to a cake. I have always sworn that baking is SO precise that you cannot fool around with it.

Alekhya definitely seems to be a Pattisiere-in-waiting! She has the uncanny ability to follow a recipe and turn out the perfect cake. All on her own. I only pull out the ingredients. It is a joy to see her measure and mix and discover the alchemy that baking has always been.These holidays she perfected her Brownie recipe, made a marvellous Pineapple Upside Down cake (with Allie), banana bread and a yummy Dense Chocolate Loaf ( hurrah! now we can make it at home and don't need to crave it from Theobroma!).

When she was 5 years old, Alekhya very seriously told me that she wanted to have her own bakery when she grew up. Going by the truly divine Theobroma, I think that's a worthy goal!

Speaking of Theobroma, these last few trips to Bombay have been rather....heavenly. Have mostly been centred in Bandra on the day trips and Theobroma's new avatar there has been a must-stop-and-hog destination. The first time, we gratefully packed a bunch of goodies to eat on the drive home through rush hour. Two entire days later, I dug the New York Cheese Cake out of the fridge. And bit into heaven: meringue and some gooey jam atop the cheesecake (baked not chilled) and the resulting combination was so insanely perfect, that I wanted to cry with pleasure... I did. Kainaz Messman ( an old classmate Tina's baby sister) is really good. I ve been a pattisserie addict all my life and have long harboured the desire to learn at the Cordon Bleu, and I'm tellin you, this woman knows her cookies, her cakes and her desserts.

The entire family is addicted to her "Almond Chocolate Crunch". These sinful squares of salty almond bits, atop a layer of toffee-caramel and another of chocolate are reminescent of Florentines like La Patisserie at the Taj would make when I was little and Mama walked me down Apollo Bunder for a weekly treat. I always liked the sticky Florentines and have never tasted them so good outside of Eurpoe. Mostly, I think I was thrilled they were round and didnt have cream! I learned to appreciate a good Florentine years later when I discovered that no one really makes them. So these Almond Crunch squares are very Florentine-esque in their layering and bite. Steeply priced, but worth each bite.

Another trip, we had an ok dinner at Thai Ban in Bandra ( the Beef Mussaman Curry was worthy), before unanimously heading to Theo`s for dessert. We were disappointed with the slack service and the confusion between placing the order at the counter and paying for it at the Cashier`s. In the confusion, we lost out on the last slice of Fresh Mango Cheeseckae, and were on the verge of a food fight with the lady who managed to snag it. We decided to share a variety of sticky, gooey chocolate desserts ( the one in the glass was dry and totally missable), and we packed a few mentionables, although they messed up the order and didnt pack as many as I asked for!

The multigrain Ciabatta was reeeeeally good and I am in despair of finding such good bread here in Poona. The two brownies were good, as expected. The shortbread borwnie is not so much brownie as, well, a slice of shortbread smothered in chocolate. The Marzipan danish is luscious and I will not allow myself a nibble. Ditto the Pain au chocolat. For me, the Baguette, the Croissant, the Pain au chocolat or aux raisins and the Brioche are the true tests of a Patisserie. And Theobroma`s is as close to the Paris Boulangeries as any.

Sigh..... writing about all these breakfast goodies makes my mouth water and I log off now, to turn forlornly to my bowl of oatmeal.

Sunday Lunch

Day 7, AC: Today I cooked.

First, I gave Ale Kitchen Duty for Breakfast. She fed the men omlettes.

Actually, I have to cook.... Sunday lunch, plus chef cousin's birthday chez nous. Now this cousin, he's a real, live Chef, from a real famous culinary school. Yep, the CIA no less. So I just HAVE to roll up my sleeves and cook for the man who maks some of the best meals I have ever eaten (at his restaurant in Goa, Sublime).

I decide to follow Blogspotter Genesia Alves' (Love in the kitchen,laughter at the table)recipe for 'Scarborough Chicken'. It seems so simple and so summery!


Will it impress Chris?

I take a deep breath and get to work.

GENESIA'S SCARBOROUGH CHICKEN

First I wash 4 chicken breasts. I have left them whole with the bone and the skin.

Then I use my lovely stone mortar and pestle, a gift from Super Goddess Lola Khambatta, to crush some cloves of garlic, and sprigs of good organic Green Tokri flat leaf parsley, some thyme, rosemary, sage, oregano. I bruise them gently and inhale their fresh scent. I lovingly add salt and the juice of 3 limboos, borrowed from Shabari, the Lovely Neighbour. I leave them to marinade in the fridge for over an hour, while I make the Potato Salad ( summer means heaps of Kartoffel Salad, recipe below).

Here Chris points out that the chicken breasts are rather plump. They will never cook in a frying pan.He explains how I could otherwise butterfly them so they pan fry faster. He comes to show me how to debone them, but spying my impressive griddle pan, he expertly suggests that I use it with some remaining bacon fat to just sear the breasts, 2 at a time, and seal the juices in. I should then pop them all into a hot oven for 30 minutes. Sounds easy!

I do just that, even remembering to deglaze the pan and thereby basting the chicken in all the herby bits, the bacon fat and chicken juices. It smells divine and 30 minutes in the oven later, voila!

The chicken is tender, juicy and moist. It's flavour is delicate and is well paired with the Potato Salad and another of lettuce with tomato and avocado. I sip a large glass of ice with water, squirted lime and mint leaves. Aaaah!

Bet you Carmeline can't beat this!

RECIPE FOR MY POTATO SALAD:

Boil baby potatoes ( well scrubbed with their skins on) till tender but not over cooked.
Finely chop an onion, some parsley, celery.
DIce one cripst Granny Smith Apple.
Whip the mayonnaise ( I confess I havent mastered making mayo yet, so I used Karen's Mayonnaise) and add some salt and pepper. Add a good dollop of Dijon mustard to taste, beating them well together.
Fry some bacon crisp and cut into bits with kitchen scissors.

Assemble the potatoes, apple, onion, greens and season. Squirt some freshly squeezed lime. Toss well. Pour the mayo over and let it coat the salad lightly. Dont drown the salad in the mayo. Top with the bacon bits.
Enjoy!

I've discovered one thing: it's not Hestia I need to become, but Nigella. THE Domestic Goddess. The one and only Domestic Goddess who has career, husband, family and fame all in the palm of her hand ( the other has a whisk or a spatula or a knife...)

Finding my inner Hestia

Day 8, AC:

I recently read about Hestia, Greek Goddess of the Hearth. She's the one who keeps the home fires burning, and draws us to her warmth. In my attempt to become a Domestic goddess ( I need a name!!! What shall my avataar be??? Suggestions, anyone??), I shall endeavour to emulate Hestia. Although I'm not at all sure Hestia uses a rolling pin, or in my case, a wooden spoon.

This whole "become a Domestic Goddess" journey began one hot summer evening, eight nights ago. It began with the thunderbolt from Zeus himself! By the Gods, this was one storm I did not expect and for a day I tossed frantically in the murky depths of my despair.

Carmeline Braganza had coolly walked out on me. In a very indian standoff between maid and mistress, Maid sashayed out, nose in the air ( major cash debt notwithstanding) and Mistress won the standoff. Pyrrhic though it was, I convinced myself it was but a minor inconvenience.

Who am I kidding?? Carmen's gone??? I woke up lathered in sweat despite the the freezing air conditioning, at 4 am. I hyperventilated. And rationalised. And fell asleep... to a nightmare where I was alone in the kitchen, pots boiling and frothing over....and I was all alone.

I eventually woke up and faced reality totally anaesthised. Change: it was time for Change. Change, good Change, necessary Change, unwanted Change, unnecessary Change ( in the middle of the holidays!!!!).

Did I forget to mention that we threw Man Friday out the same afternoon as well?

Ahh... it was definitely time for Big Change.

Amma looked at me nervously. She comes and stays nights, sends Ale to school, gives us dinner, breakfast and clears the kitchen so I may work, party, socialise unhindered. Amma, I like. She reminds me of a stubborn ox who will pull the plough with grit and get the darn field ploughed and never mind if it's hot or cold or wet or dry. She squares her shoulders and gets to work. Which is exactly what she did that morning.

Day 1, AC ( Afer Carmen): Amma made chapattis, dal and a nice, crisp kuccha-pucca gobi. I relished the peace in the house and the silence in the kitchen. I had to clear up after lunch, but that was easy.

Day 2, AC: Amma saved me the morning and rustled up some simple fare. My Kaka took us for beer and sea food dinner. I was hoping for home-made thaali but he chose to dine out. Doolaly the micro brewery was boring. The food at Signature was not remotely south indian, despite the appams and neer dosas. Promised Kaki I would make her gassi and appams ( I can,err...I could).

We rescued a stray puppy from the street after dinner.That makes for five canines in the house. Better get her adopted before Ale gets back from Camp. She's cute. Really.

Day 3, AC: Lunch courtesy Amma. Hmmm... need to get cooking. Dinner was at the Lovely Neighbour's, for her birthday. Didnt have to cook. Yay!!

Day 4,AC: Amma treated us to more dal roti sabji. We ate humbly and gratefully. The Husband gave me some pointed looks as I refused to look him in the eye while he heated limp sabji in the micro.

Day 5, AC: Even more humble chapatti and bhendi. I spent the day at the Doctor's (Oh, Im diabetic)after picking Ale up from camp. The Husband no longer looks pointedly at me but glares.Ale wrinkled her nose and gamely ate lunch and was probably back at camp with this menu. We eat dinner at the theatre, watching "Iron Man 2". Nachos, samosas and watery Pepsi.

Day 6, AC: The Husband met Carmeline. Outside the gate! She came to repay the sabziwaali's loan ( he was mighty tempted to ask her when she planned to repay ours). SHe pointedly told Lata-sabziwaali that SHE had quit working for US. Humph! I wouldn't take her back if she begged...