One Fleeting Moment

~I am usually not very sympathetic to the cause of hapless parents with cranky kids on the best of days. So when a 6 year old decides to drown out the chief speaker at an event while his mommy wrings her hands(instead of stepping out with him), I have to admit to having a few murderous thoughts zip through my head.
~An antiquated ceremony with anachronistic clothes (Gentlemen of Verona anyone) can also be quite moving, specially when it marks the culmination of years of hard work. And landing up in an inebriated state at such an event is not comical...just plain sad.
~I find all national anthems very uplifting. I am yet to discover what it is about these songs that transcend national, geographical and a million other boundaries to create a soul stirring moment.

Its the 20th of December and I scraped off frost from my car windows for the first time this winter. The car thermometer read 30 F for the first time. Yikes! Something is terribly wrong with this picture. But now that the cold days have finally arrived (or so we hope) here's my Mom's chicken stew recipe to warm the very cockles of your frozen being. Since its a stew, you need not be a whiz with the knife set....just a few hacks with your trusty knife should get you through. I love my meaty dishes with loads of vegetables and try to sneak in as many vegetables as I can possibly lay my hands on. Green papaya, green beans, peas, root vegetables of all kinds (except beets)...into the stew pot they go. Talking about stew pots, let me be honest, yours truly is too lazy to stand around stirring a stew pot and usually cooks this concoction in a pressure cooker. However feel free to slow cook it like a propah stew if you are so inclined.

Clean, peel and quarter four potatoes, two onions and three tomatoes(no peeling needed for these). Also peel and cut three carrots and one parsnip into large chunks. Bone-in chicken pieces works best for this recipe so start of with marinating two lbs. of chicken pieces with two tablespoons of fresh* ginger garlic paste and salt for an hour. Heat three-four tablespoons of butter (no substitutions) in a pressure cooker, add bay leaves(2), whole peppercorns(1 tbsp), cloves(6), cinnamon (1.5 inch piece) and cardamoms (3). Fry till aromatic and then add the onion chunks. After they have turned translucent add the chicken and brown. Add the potatoes, carrots, parsnips, salt and two cups of water next. Put on the lid and cook for two whistles**, turn off the heat and let pressure release slowly. Remove lid after 10 minutes, add a cup of frozen cut beans and frozen peas each, if you need more vegetables. Simmer for another 5 minutes to let the frozen vegetables cook through, adjust seasoning. Sprinkle some crushed black pepper, chopped cilantro and enjoy with rice.

* can't be bothered with fresh ginger garlic paste, just crush an one inch knob of ginger with three cloves of garlic and add to the seasoned butter along with the onions.

** Sing some of the old Prestige Pressure Cooker jingles and then suddenly realise how sexist the whole"jo bibi se kare pyaar wo prestige se kaise kare inkaar" stuff was.

Labels: Food

On Friday night over interesting discussions about genetics and many varied topics with our dinner guest, we tried this fabulous combination - chocolate icecream with Framboise. It was a Bonny Doon Framboise which our guest tells us is much better than the European versions -more fruit, less sweet. I had not tried any Framboise before so I will take his word for it. But this I can tell, the raspberry liquor elevated the whole digging into ordinary chocolate ice cream experience into an ooh-la-la-dessert one. The next time you have folks coming over for dinner, just scoop out some basic chocolate icecream (any generic brand will do) into icecream bowls and splash on Framboise generously for a table side, no fuss dessert.

Now, I know why most reviewers go back to a restaurant at least three times before writing it off. The food is just one of the many metrics by which professionals judge a fine dining experience. Then there is the ambience and the service, all of which cannot be judged the first time around. For non professionals like us, I would like to suggest another metric - the group at your table. The folks you are dining with can totally ruin a good dinner at a great restaurant. We usually restrict our urge to try out various cuisines and explore new restaurants when in the company of people who are not so open to ...for the want of a better word...diversity. Case in point: going to a non Indian restaurant with picky* Indian vegetarians has always posed problems for us and now we usually prefer taking the boring road to korma-ville instead. At the least every one will get something that they like and much happiness will emanate from the table.

Our first visit to Jaleo further reinforced this notion. The group included quite a few picky vegetarians and the original plan was to eat at Delhi Dhaba (Indian food from hell). Being a weekday, most people arrived late. So late in fact that Delhi Dhaba was closed, as were most other places. Jaleo was open but they were only serving tapas and everyone seemed okay with the initial idea of trying Spanish cuisine. But once we were comfortably seated a sudden change of heart happened. The vegetarians eyed the unfamiliar vegetables like mushrooms and asparagus with suspicion. It did not help that eggs were a no-no for some, as was garlic and even olives. I don't remember what those poor guys ate (probably just bread) but I do remember that all of us were miserable afterwards. We could not enjoy our meal and ever since had viewed Jaleo with a fair degree of skepticism.

Yesterday after ages we drummed up the courage to walk in and Boy! Were we pleased? We were promptly seated; close by a cover band was belting out Gypsy King numbers and they were good. Our waiter left us with the menus for a long time...not a bad thing, if you plan to order from the extensive tapas menu. He did come back to take our drink orders and set down the bread basket and olive bowl (yum-yum). We decided to get three tapas each and limited ourselves to hot (Calientes) and seasonal (Temporada) tapas, given the brisk walk we had just taken in the nippy 30 F night outside. I ordered the monkfish with eggplant puree and black olive oil, the Moorish stew of chickpeas and spinach and the traditional béchamel chicken and Spanish ham fritters. The monkfish was not overcooked and the baba ghanoush like eggplant puree added just a hint of flavor (not more!) to the exceptionally fresh fish. The generous portion of the Moorish stew was the stuff of wintry dreams....I am still craving it. On the other hand, the chicken and ham fritters were like a Spanish version of chicken cordon bleu. Good, but the five little nuggets were more like finger food which is always better shared. The Boy on the other hand ordered the grilled lamb chops with rosemary sauce (a favourite from our previous visit), the Spanish omelet with potato and onions and a rice dish with mushrooms and Murcia cheese. The rice dish was a life saver because like every full blooded Bengali male the Boy cannot live without his daily dose of rice, even if it is enveloped in all kinds of goat cheesy goodness. The omelet was substantial but nothing to write home about.

I had a glass of the Hildalgo -La Gitana Manzanilla sherry with my food. It was exceptionally dry. I liked the Boy's Lustau – Amontillado del Puerto with its caramel-ly after taste better. After all this, we still had space for some dessert so we shared a chocolate and hazelnut mousse torte. The chocolate mousse was slightly sweetened and layered between rounds of home made bread (according to the waiter) and sprinkled with candied hazelnuts. The bread layer could greatly benefit from a royal dunk in some liquor (Frangelica maybe!)...it felt a little too dry in between mouthfuls of fluffy mousse. The price tab for two with tips etc. came to 70 dollars. Not cheap by any figment of imagination but it was also an impromptu celebration of sorts*wink, wink*

* picky being the operative word

to the Dervish, for reminding me once more why we spent endless evenings dissecting Heathcliff in a manner only precocious teenagers are capable of. Heathcliff’s passion was never meant to be analyzed, broken down, violated and packaged into 500 word essays; least of all by class loads of pimply seventeen year olds hell bent on cracking IIT-JEE.

As the stories flow along with endless cups of coffee, a lazy brunch morphs into a late lunch of pizza, dumplings and whatever else the refrigerator regurgitates. The banter flows, wedding plans are discussed, old friends remembered. And soon the dying sun hurries us along…what a damp squib? We are all grown up now with all manner of grown up things to do...papers have to be graded, game nights have to be attended and then there are those scheduled monthly hair cuts.

A long time ago, weekend mornings meant waking up at 11 AM, showering, walking over to the main gate for the newspaper (Was TOI ever that?) and waiting in line for the mess doors to open. The Sunday french fries with Contadina and the matar paneer were really worth the wait. And then there was the sweet, sweet satisfaction of a nap under the rajai in winter (with socks on), preferably with a friend, after a thorough discussion of all the gossip in the TOI Sunday edition with wingies. Summer afternoons never lent themselves to such delicious lethargy...ever.
I later found out that the napping-with-a-friend part was something the guys balked at; ditto for sharing clothes, jewellery and intimate details of a date. Thank God women did not have such hang ups or else we would not survive our drafty rooms with no concept of central heating (in sub zero winters) or the lousy dates or the shocking I-have-nothing-to-wear discovery before a date.

Labels: Nostalgia