I cooked for the first time last night. Well, I can't take all the credit - actually not much of it - since Yams did most of the work. But I inspired her, and called mother for the recipe - and that is sufficient! Of course, I grated the tomatoes, the garlic and the ginger and occasionally gave the fluttering hag some words which she chewed upon - to no real consequence of course, but it did at times pacify her. And this is a big deal!
So, with grated tomatoes and all that, and large chunks of cauliflower we were ready to cook nepali food in a south indian household. On a large frying pan, we cooked for two people. Perhaps, it was because of the pan or my alienation from my nepali roots and eating habits, or perhaps the overwhelming south indianness of things, the phoolgobhi ko sabji took hours to cook! In the span of that hour, mails were received, sent, read and reread and lines, words and sentences exploded in the room - these explosions were far more luminous (and disturbing) than the ones flaring up in the skies to celebrate (again) india's victory... the same story that cannot be summarised because you have to watch the match for 8 - 10 hours and because magazines call it a holiday so that all the employees are kept happy - some sort of diabolical compensation!
several cups of water softened the hard cauliflower - (note: this is a metaphor). and we ate - rice, dal and phoolgobhi ko sabji with our hands, as Yams is of the opinion that it is a sensuous experience. And sensuously, we were full like bitches.
The rest of the night was spent in fluttering, between verbosity and silence, hope and despair - same thing! - holding life by the collar and displaying it on facebook - so that the night would pass.
and it did!
So, with grated tomatoes and all that, and large chunks of cauliflower we were ready to cook nepali food in a south indian household. On a large frying pan, we cooked for two people. Perhaps, it was because of the pan or my alienation from my nepali roots and eating habits, or perhaps the overwhelming south indianness of things, the phoolgobhi ko sabji took hours to cook! In the span of that hour, mails were received, sent, read and reread and lines, words and sentences exploded in the room - these explosions were far more luminous (and disturbing) than the ones flaring up in the skies to celebrate (again) india's victory... the same story that cannot be summarised because you have to watch the match for 8 - 10 hours and because magazines call it a holiday so that all the employees are kept happy - some sort of diabolical compensation!
several cups of water softened the hard cauliflower - (note: this is a metaphor). and we ate - rice, dal and phoolgobhi ko sabji with our hands, as Yams is of the opinion that it is a sensuous experience. And sensuously, we were full like bitches.
The rest of the night was spent in fluttering, between verbosity and silence, hope and despair - same thing! - holding life by the collar and displaying it on facebook - so that the night would pass.
and it did!
Being a South Indian myself, I think next time you should really eat on a banana leaf and at the end of the meal, eat a ripe mango and squeeze the pulp out with your hands. There's nothing like the taste of a juicy chunks of mango dripping from your fingers.
ReplyDeletetry it.
:)
with my hands? to make it sensuous?
ReplyDeleteStop making a parody of sensuality..sachu
ReplyDeletenot making - just discovering it and scrutinising it. sorry if i deconstruct to understand - i know it's not the best way but what to do - can't curb nature.
ReplyDeleteOkay as unlikely as it may sound, I did not mean it in the sensual sense. Just meant that the feeling of eating mangoes straight with your hands has an authenticity that cannot be experienced with cutlery. But hey you're free to interpret it in any way you like ! :)
ReplyDelete