Weddings can be many things, no? A nerve-wracking exercise to those planning it. A draining couple of days, weeks or even months for the bride and groom. A legit occasion to run into old friends or hope elder relatives will forget you're no longer in school and slip you some cash anyway. A chance to compare X's catering arrangements with Y's, with the lunchtime payasam or masala bonda served as part of evening snacks by the latter invariably being hailed as the pinnacle of matrimonial gastronomy. And, heck, sometimes it can even be a valuable teaching tool.
For instance, I learned that no one remotely associated with the jamboree will remember the vaadiyar missing a shloka here or a "swaaha" there. But, lord help you if the food is a tad late in getting to the hall. This minuscule transgression will receive a postmortem so detailed, it's a wonder more of these people haven't joined the medico-legal profession (graduating only from CMC Vellore, or if you're the family shame, Harvard Medical School). Of course, our family, being intrepid card-sharks, trumped the lateness by agreeing to serve Pav Bhaji as part of the Sangeet. Now, a well-made Pav Bhaji is one of the most wonderful things on Planet Earth and is a blameless party in this story. The thing about this dish is the fact that it is impossible to hit the right pav to bhaji ratio. It all comes down to how people eat it. Some treat the pav like tissue paper, enthusiastically swiping a generous portion of the gravy with every bit of bread. Others treat it with reverence akin to cleaning a Ming vase; delicately dabbing at the gravy with the pav instead.
As you may have guessed, the consistent catering lady repeated her afternoon delight, in that the evening meal arrived late. Not satisfied with that, she added extra masala to the occasion by forgetting to supply serving cutlery (an epic fuck-up when gravy is involved). We ran out of plates and pav pretty early, the raita for the pulao fell laughably short and the curd rice was strictly so-so. I spent a goodish amount of time wandering around the back streets of Bangur Nagar in semi-fancy attire hunting for plates and spoons. Being the warm-hearted, relative-supporting clan that we are, by the time I returned in triumph, some people had already left in a huff while others actually took one look at the menu and bolted for the nearest restaurant. Yup, this actually happened.
However, let the records show that the kesari was spectacular, so there.
Anyway, the lesson for me was - Don't, for all the oil in Arabia, serve Pav Bhaji at a social occasion that involves more than 8-10 people. And, hire a caterer who has a modicum of sense, punctuality and finesse FFS.
Fortunately, a different caterer had been hired to handle the actual wedding day. And, boy did the chaps at Nirmalayam Caterers do a wonderful job. The next day, it took only a bite of the breakfast pongal to mollify irate attendees, ensuring smiles and satisfied belches all around. Which was damn critical as the wedding ceremonies go on for a while and you really don't want a bunch of gloomy people hanging around complaining that the vadai was oily or the coffee not strong enough. After all, there are people to meet, greet and take pictures with, because lord knows how many years will pass before everyone is together again, and it'd be a real pity if the expressions captured were cantankerous rather than cheerful.
To be concluded.
Song for the moment: Happy days are here again - Barbra Streisand
For instance, I learned that no one remotely associated with the jamboree will remember the vaadiyar missing a shloka here or a "swaaha" there. But, lord help you if the food is a tad late in getting to the hall. This minuscule transgression will receive a postmortem so detailed, it's a wonder more of these people haven't joined the medico-legal profession (graduating only from CMC Vellore, or if you're the family shame, Harvard Medical School). Of course, our family, being intrepid card-sharks, trumped the lateness by agreeing to serve Pav Bhaji as part of the Sangeet. Now, a well-made Pav Bhaji is one of the most wonderful things on Planet Earth and is a blameless party in this story. The thing about this dish is the fact that it is impossible to hit the right pav to bhaji ratio. It all comes down to how people eat it. Some treat the pav like tissue paper, enthusiastically swiping a generous portion of the gravy with every bit of bread. Others treat it with reverence akin to cleaning a Ming vase; delicately dabbing at the gravy with the pav instead.
As you may have guessed, the consistent catering lady repeated her afternoon delight, in that the evening meal arrived late. Not satisfied with that, she added extra masala to the occasion by forgetting to supply serving cutlery (an epic fuck-up when gravy is involved). We ran out of plates and pav pretty early, the raita for the pulao fell laughably short and the curd rice was strictly so-so. I spent a goodish amount of time wandering around the back streets of Bangur Nagar in semi-fancy attire hunting for plates and spoons. Being the warm-hearted, relative-supporting clan that we are, by the time I returned in triumph, some people had already left in a huff while others actually took one look at the menu and bolted for the nearest restaurant. Yup, this actually happened.
However, let the records show that the kesari was spectacular, so there.
Anyway, the lesson for me was - Don't, for all the oil in Arabia, serve Pav Bhaji at a social occasion that involves more than 8-10 people. And, hire a caterer who has a modicum of sense, punctuality and finesse FFS.
Fortunately, a different caterer had been hired to handle the actual wedding day. And, boy did the chaps at Nirmalayam Caterers do a wonderful job. The next day, it took only a bite of the breakfast pongal to mollify irate attendees, ensuring smiles and satisfied belches all around. Which was damn critical as the wedding ceremonies go on for a while and you really don't want a bunch of gloomy people hanging around complaining that the vadai was oily or the coffee not strong enough. After all, there are people to meet, greet and take pictures with, because lord knows how many years will pass before everyone is together again, and it'd be a real pity if the expressions captured were cantankerous rather than cheerful.
To be concluded.
Song for the moment: Happy days are here again - Barbra Streisand
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