A joyful Saturday...

Bizarre yet true Episode 3: The bloody good luck!

The second episode of the "Bizarre yet true" got a record-breaking response from my readers, especially from the abroad. Thanks a ton. Your love is motivating me to write the third installment after a bloody long gap.

Fate, fortune, destiny, luck and many such versions exist in the dictionary. How does the bloody good luck differ from them? The credit for the title goes to Mr. Ashwin Sanghi, a very popular Indian author, often said to be the Dan Brown of India. He calls bloody good luck to be the secret push when the fuel of good luck in life is exhausted.

My interpretation of the bloody good luck is somewhat similar but I feel it to be more ambiguous and uncertain. My readers, you may know it or not, my perspective of life has been, "Always expect the unexpected." Thus, for me, the bloody good luck is the best thing happening to oneself in the toughest times.

I hope my readers haven't forgotten the tastes of my blogging. Motivation is scarce and it is tougher to invest time in something so bizarre, a food blog. I am trying to write something fresh. After all, today is Christmas. Please enjoy.

The winds were harsh on my ears. I was feeling the chills. The atmosphere was salty and I was sleepy. Where was I? I was on a ship. A real Naval ship.

The Indian Navy had organized a 12 hour detox tour for the Naval employees and their families in the ships. On the occasion of Navy Day, it was a Saturday escape that is organized once every year.

What delighted me the most was the lunch they had served. It was called Naval Biryani. Cooked by the sailors of the ship. The spicy rice with peas and the chicken meat was served separately. There was boondi raita, beetroot pickle and gulab jamun. 

The harsh winds of the sea within the national ocean borders were indeed cold and rough but that biryani was comforting. Normally, I don't prefer spicy food with heat that sustains on the back of the throat but that biryani reverberated the efforts of the sailors. It was spicy on the throat but it revitalized the heat in the joints of the body.

Biryani in the middle of the sea was special for me. A unique experience and a cherishable memory! Thank you, Mom and Indian Navy for the fabulous Saturday.

The Naval Biryani experience was the bloody good luck for me.

Shano Varuna! Jai Hind!

Thanks for reading

The Allure of Failure...

It's fine to celebrate success but it is more important to heed the lessons of failure.

~Bill Gates

Today is Vijaya Dashami (8th of Oct, 2019).

As my fingers are ricocheting against velvety keyboard, my shut windows are doing their best to insulate the happy sounds of Visarjan. At present I can hear two kinds of sounds. One, the energetic dhol exciting me to dance. While the second is my typing sound (my weird pleasure). Clear thoughts indeed require time to flow, the right setting and also the willingness. The result is this, my new anecdote. 

The question that inspires me to get up and write is....

"Why don't we celebrate failures?"

Every incident in this new form of kitchen chronicle will be a baptism of fire to a better kitchen chronicle of the future. Just bear with me, please...

Episode 1: Not a clichéd egg pun!

A BOILED OMELETTE...

"Enough with the puns!" My paradoxical brain negotiating with me. "Okay, I won't pun."

The Toque Blanche (white chef hat)  signifies the hierarchy in an orthodox French kitchen. The pleats on it indicate the number of ways that chef can cook an egg.

Some while ago, I learned a new way to cook eggs. I can add one more pleat, maybe... I will.

The internet loves eggs. Not to forget the brown egg (Is it racist to call it brown?) vs. Kylie Jenner on Instagram... (My second favorite battle after T-series vs. Pewdiepie). 

Why would I call the above beauty a failure? It's because of many reasons. Let's list the prominent ones down below.

• I was doubtful in the recipe, because there was no recipe to begin with! The recipe was behind an internet paywall and I wanted to try something uncertain. (Expecting the unexpected / How not to call oneself a miser 101)
• I messed up while removing and transferring the cooked omelette out.
• It was intimidating to strain the water from the omelette. It could have gotten squished, so... I couldn't get rid of the excess moisture.
• Another rookie mistake. I fumbled while I was about to roll/fold it after putting the cheese in it.

Here, you can visit the instigator of this thought:- https://www.chefsteps.com/activities/the-boiled-omelette

Should I be ashamed of myself of calling me a culinary enthusiast? Nah... At the very least, these setback are edible. So I can satiate my hunger with the failures. (Gluttonous for eggs, ain't I?) 

To all my non-Indian fans (I know you exist), Vijaya Dashami or Dussehra is the day when the evil is burned. It is also the tenth day after nine holy nights of celebration.

In this festive season, I ask myself (and everyone reading), why don't we celebrate failures? The answer to this is more of a self-discovery, at least to me personally. Thus I want to break the taboo by enjoying my failed experiments, sharing it with the world with no filters of shame (A bit of image editing filters for sure) in this new series of kitchen chronicles.

This Dussehra, I will kill the evil of sloth and share my lamest flops.

Happy Dussehra to all my lovely readers 😍😜

(One question to the grammar nazis. Is "Celebrating failures" an example of Oxymoron?)

Thanks for reading.......

Grapes, Raisins or Wine? - A small talk but a big experience...

A Story of A Caterpillar

There was a time, he wasn't known to many. He was very shy and a consolidated being to the strangers who lurked around him. But one thing was guaranteed to him by the Laws of Nature. It was sure, he would never stop growing. Metamorphosis was inevitable for his survival. Though he was gradually adapting and maturing, becoming a butterfly wasn't the need of the hour shortly after yesterday.

GRAPES, RAISINS OR WINE?

Being a shy-guy made him weaker, the caterpillar wrote down his bucket list. The No. 1 item in it was to reduce the gap between him and the pacing world. Why did he decide so? It struck in his mind that an introvert can also become a respected public leader. 

"Tree Talks", a biannual event where great speakers came with their ideas. The caterpillar had attended one last month. The thought of speaking in front of an international audience of ants, moths, ladybugs, beetles, crickets, spiders, bees and everyone else from the Arthropoda phylum, always reverberated in his grain-sized brain.

So he was in a mission to improve his social presence around the insect kingdom. The Queen of the wise honey bees, once, had advised him to practice 'small talks' with strangers. According to her, the Farmer Ants were the greatest hard workers.

One fine afternoon, the caterpillar was commuting from work to home in the local river stream on a banana leaf. His attention was grabbed by a salesman selling raisins, black and brown. It was a farmer ant with a handful of dried berries.

The caterpillar couldn't afford to buy, but he was determined to approach the ant and do his first ever small talk. The ant and the caterpillar together alighted from the leaf.

He followed the farmer ant for a few meters. For a duration of seven seconds a million thoughts, encouraging and discouraging, crossed through his heart and mind. The 8th second was a long one but the caterpillar decided to do it no matter what and sneaked a tap on the ant's shoulder. He called, "Excuse me, please. I have a quick question."

"Yah! Go ahead." The ant stammered in his rural accent.

"I heard you selling raisins. Which is more profitable to sell? Grapes, Raisins or Wine?" He jabbered quickly.

"No. We do not sell grapes much. They are the least valuable. Usually what happens is we do not get the desired rate for the grapes. They are perishable and before they began rotting, we are forced to sell them to the traders at low yields. Also the traders work in groups. No one dares to give the cost we deserve. The trader's union have predetermined rates. So we rarely do grapes."

"Then why raisins?" The shy caterpillar asked softly.

"Generally... with raisin farmers like us, our income occurs only during festive seasons. In Diwali, we sell a lot of raisins."

"Oh. Okay." The caterpillar nodded, "Why not wine? It must fetch you more money, right?"

"Maybe. Other farmers from our village sell their produce for wine making but we do not." The ant said in his cracking voice. He reasoned, "because, my family is very religious. Money is inferior for us than our faith."

Saying his final words and partly answering the caterpillar's question, the ant crawled ahead with his bag of raisins. Meanwhile, the novice caterpillar was bewildered. He bowed his head and responded to the ant's back, "Thanks for your time, sir."

The caterpillar didn't understand the faith part, but was satisfied as he overcame his fear. He was now a better version of himself than who he was yesterday.

INSIGHTS

Let me define the story's scenario...

A TEDx Event I attended recently

The "Tree Talks" is the Ted Talks. The Queen of the honey bees is someone I know but won't name here. The local river stream is the Mumbai Suburban Railway. The farmer ant selling raisins was a man really selling raisins yesterday in the local train.

The above conversation happened with me when I was travelling yesterday, from Matunga to Thane. So, the story of the caterpillar is based on a true incident. My dear readers, you might have started guessing who the caterpillar really is. I declare, you are partly correct and partly wrong. The caterpillar is an exaggerated version of whom I was in the past. But I know, this kind of fearful caterpillar exists in every human being who fears some or the other thing.

My readers, please do not let your fears take over. After all, every beautiful butterfly was a caterpillar once.

Tracing the Heart-Gut-Brain Canal...

Bizarre yet true Episode 2: The Gut Feeling

My previous blog was dated on May 13. Here I am, with episode two of my new series, exactly one month after the last episode. First, a quick recap. In this blog series, I take some strange topics still pertaining to food and express my thoughts, anecdotes and some web research.

Here we go. (By the way... We are celebrating Two Years of Kitchen Chronicles with Chef Abhinandan... I had rebooted in June 2017)

"Gastronomy is the science of pain."

-Anthony Bourdain

When a young one acts in ways like his or her parent used to, we say that it is in the genes. Do genetics really determine our behaviour? Commenting on this would be appropriate only after years of study in Mendeleev and his science. Philosophers as early as 2000 years ago of Greek and Roman descent like Aristotle and Seneca the younger and Modern humanitarians like His Holiness the 14^th Dalai Lama try to imply that we, humans, by nature are instinctive. Meanwhile, we are social, political and cooperative beings altogether.

Apart from history and archaeology, literature is another unprejudiced witness of our heart-gut-brain relationship. Idioms and phrases like gut-wrenching and trusting one’s guts are informally popular.

Food in Community Kitchens

Concepts of community kitchen and service such as the widely practiced Sikh Langar originated with Guru Nanak in the 1500s. Sitting together on the floor and plunging into the hot food is a unique experience. Also, practices of Maha-prasads, Bhogs and Bhandaras represent the real Indian mannerisms. Bringing people together for celebration and service under the disguise of free food touches my heart (also my hungry tummy). This is the true meaning of religion (I firmly believe with no external influence on me).

Many more instances exist where food goes hand in hand with emotions. Are Indians naive? Do we lack judgement? I would deny it even though arranged-marriages are decided whether the tea is good or not.

A Dish very dear to me heart. Why? This story is for another day

Nostalgia of food is another way to connect. My favorite olfactory memories are the bengali fish jhol, khichdi and freshly baked breads, my craving begins and ends with a bigger belly. Grandma’s and Mom’s food is another nostalgic craving for those who stay away from their families.

The Ratatouille scene. (Credits Pixar and thanks a ton, Steve Jobs)

The animated Disney’s Ratatouille showed us in the climax, the prideful food critic takes a bite of the ratatouille presented (yes, it is a traditional french stew dish and not a pun at all) before him and gets transported to a childhood memory of eating the same dish in his mother’s kitchen. That image resonates with everyone, for good reason.

Emotional eating is the extreme form of what I have been communicating till now. It is not that serious issue but eating when you are angry, stressed, dejected can result into an abnormal weight-gain.

So learn to control your guts. It may take some time but probably reward you with a longer life in the living realm.

{I have always wanted to write something like this ever since I began food blogging. I agree with all responsibility that this blog cannot contain the regular humour but it might remind you of something of greater importance to you which is… your family.}

Uncanny Thoughts give birth to this...

Last week, I was pumped up, full of exuberance. Hence, it resulted in the termination of my lethargy and a new dawn in my Food blogging passion. I am still excited. I just cannot wait to recite a newer, fresher kitchen chronicle.

Almost all the time, I am thinking. I dream for innovation, ideas that can elevate my stories; notions full of spicy thrills. Well, the previous night I found one, while I was unable to sleep as the room darkened.

Before my spirit dies, lemme exploit the opportunity and strike while the iron is hot. (Except in my case, it is a cast iron utensil)

I would call this form of kitchen chronicle: “Bizarre yet True”

A short intro first…

In this, I will be talking about some unconventional stuff that are a bit strange though always (mostly) can be found in and around one’s kitchen.

Bizarre Yet True Episode 1: Pets

Yah! Pets, you read it right. Whether you like them or not, they are basically everywhere. They are omnipresent (in a kitchen). And by pets, I mean of all varying sizes. In every kitchen, whether personal or commercial, there is at least one or two lurking in silence. If you are unaware of such pets, go dig your kitchen and you might find some. Rats, cockroaches, termites, ants and many more. (Wait! They are not pets. Pest, right? I misspell a lot)

Pets or Pests, it doesn’t matter what you call them, they are a nuisance for everyone. In big commercial kitchens and restaurants, the staff loathe them from the very bottom of their feet (Not heart). They get humiliated if a lizard swims in the soup, or a rat races beneath the customer’s chairs. Horrendous! But it becomes more terrifying when an unprecedented food safety officer visits for a ‘Quality Control’ checkup. I am getting chills…

Mr. Chamka

Meet my largest buddy who often roams around my kitchen. His name is Chamka, the one with a shine, in Bengali. He is a nice creature, very social and communicative. An extroverted cat. Loves to eat chicken meat and fish too. Mostly he is given milk and biscuits, because it’s more economical. He goes crazy when is left unattended. His hunger tantrums are worth watching. Despite being a tiger hued feline, his roars (meows) are entertaining.

The question that requires to be answered is:- How to control the pets that skulk in the place where we are supposed to maintain topmost hygiene? I would suggest, rather than scaring or killing them away, just give them whatever they are in search for (in moderation). Feed them if possible. But if situation goes from worse to worst, use rational chemicals. Treat them well.

(Clearing my throat) I am saying this because I DON’T DESIRE TO BE SUED BY ‘PETA’.

Befriend them or not, YOU DECIDE!

Thanks for reading…

A Mystery of Leftovers...

In my seventeen years of life, I have been a keen observant of mannerisms. I see a lot of people and try to interpret their motives. I wouldn’t say that I judge them, nonetheless humans (unintentionally) endeavor to portray a definite image of themselves while interacting in the society. There is an aphorism that is quite popular presently; “fake it till you make it.”

The mind can influence one’s body, similarly the body can affect the state of mind. A trivial smile can induce positive thoughts, a seven minute walk changes your mood inside-out.

The End Product

I was on a long break, cameo-ed by academics, procrastination and inactivity. “Experimenting with self” is a good way to not to call oneself lazy, isn't it? Now I’m right on track, until some other thing arises to bother my perception.

Frankly speaking, I was unable to motivate myself to cook; A Chef’s Block. (Another word to describe 'sloth' is 'block')

Anyway, I excavated some leftovers from the fridge, and ‘khat khat khat’! Made a bland sauce, boiled and fried some noodles and bam! There you go, A Chopsuey!

Crisp Noodle Cake

I have plenty of time now, I hope my readers have some too.

Anthropology of Food is an interesting dilemma. No one knows what to speak, but some random dude will connect some random dots backed by some stochastic stories and assumptions and there you have AN ORIGIN OF A DISH.

One guy who wears the above description, contemplates Chopsuey to be an abbreviation of ‘Chopped Sewage’. Seriously! I accept the fact that the dish is somewhat bland, contradicts the Chinese as it contains overcooked veggies, and can be found in almost every take-away menu. 

Regardless, I feel Chopsuey is a perfect example of a dish meta-morphed as per the social ambiance. It suits both Non-Asian and Oriental taste buds, without any disappointment.

Spare me some time to speak on my take on Chopsuey. This was my fourth time making it, it felt like I am a step closer to perfection. The main attraction of this dish would not be the sauce, because it's bland. The salient one is the crisp noodle cake, it is the cherry on top of the cake (pun intended), a new mouthfeel. It doesn't depletes the overall umami as well.

Thanks for reading...