This is a journal-ish post, cobbling together various floating topics under one hat.
On cooking
I've been pottering around kitchens on a regular basis since 2006. In all that time, pasta has never once been on the menu. The reason is trauma. You see, over 17 years ago when a Masterchef was someone you'd only meet in high-end hotels and the only famous Oliver I knew was the Twist fellow... let me get to the point; videos of cooking instructions did not feature in my life and recipe books were my mother's domain. Yet, I seem to have found some reason to crave Mac-n-Cheese. It must have been damned compelling because I can't for the life of me remember. In any case, macaroni was procured from the local grocers, cheese was shredded or cubed (I forget) and, watched by a highly amused & bemused mater, I tossed the macaroni into boiling water. Half an hour later, the two of us peered into the pot, at each other and quietly agreed that we had two years' supply of glue. Organic, with a faint whiff of cheddar, but glue nonetheless. It took me another hour to scour the pot clean and flush the evidence away using, I reckon, the water supply of a small city.
The incident left a deep wound in the psyche. To, er, salt it further I embarrassed the living daylights out of myself in Phnom Penh. A few days before I was to leave the city, an Italian colleague invited me to dinner at his place. In my defense, I was 25 and rather naive about world cuisine and western etiquette. For starters, I did not bring any wine. Not even the cheapest red. It did not even occur to me to do so. I still remember the scene. 4 of us seated in a first floor balcony; me, the colleague, his fiancee and a Catalan friend of theirs. My colleague had cooked what I failed to recognise as an outstanding example of spaghetti. It was simply seasoned and liberally interspersed with cherry tomatoes. Yup. The one vegetable I'm allergic to. To top it off, I cheerfully sprayed my plate with a LOT of pepper, not understanding that every shake of my wrist was akin to thrusting a dagger through my colleague's heart. I remember he wryly making a joke about Indians and spices, but well... it was a shambles.
Anyway, I'm older, pretending to be wiser and order pasta at restaurants pretty confidently. Last weekend I got the sister, a natural chef if there ever was one, to show me how she made spaghetti. Today, I picked up the extensive list of expensive ingredients and vegetables (yes, walk away), checked out a few websites and videos and cooked pasta with store-bought pesto and veggies. Well, perhaps my ex-colleague won't put out a hit order. Possibly, he will. Who cares. I tasted it and it was Bellissimo! Ciao!
On comebacks
In the Kalyug age of sports journalism, you'll find way too many articles about this week's Champions League games, so I won't add to them. I do think it has been a season of comebacks in English football. City kicked things off in Dec-Jan by clawing back a 9-point deficit to now sit a win away from the title. United pulled off an electrifying first-time-ever-type result over PSG. If they'd held onto a semblance of their 14-game EPL streak, United could have mounted a good one in the league too. They did not. Arsenal and Chelsea, after some dodgy performances throughout the season, are each a game away from an all-English Europa League final. And, we all know why the Champions League is already an all-English affair. Those astonishing performances by Liverpool and Spurs. It's almost like the whole season was scripted for TV rather than a live telecast. A real roller-coaster.
On overstays
Yesterday, I completed 2 years at my current ad agency. The less said the better.
On left-behinds
In 2009, there were four of us in Bombay. One had a girlfriend, so it was mostly three. Tonight, there's only one remaining.
Song for the moment: Nobody but me - The Human Beinz
On cooking
I've been pottering around kitchens on a regular basis since 2006. In all that time, pasta has never once been on the menu. The reason is trauma. You see, over 17 years ago when a Masterchef was someone you'd only meet in high-end hotels and the only famous Oliver I knew was the Twist fellow... let me get to the point; videos of cooking instructions did not feature in my life and recipe books were my mother's domain. Yet, I seem to have found some reason to crave Mac-n-Cheese. It must have been damned compelling because I can't for the life of me remember. In any case, macaroni was procured from the local grocers, cheese was shredded or cubed (I forget) and, watched by a highly amused & bemused mater, I tossed the macaroni into boiling water. Half an hour later, the two of us peered into the pot, at each other and quietly agreed that we had two years' supply of glue. Organic, with a faint whiff of cheddar, but glue nonetheless. It took me another hour to scour the pot clean and flush the evidence away using, I reckon, the water supply of a small city.
The incident left a deep wound in the psyche. To, er, salt it further I embarrassed the living daylights out of myself in Phnom Penh. A few days before I was to leave the city, an Italian colleague invited me to dinner at his place. In my defense, I was 25 and rather naive about world cuisine and western etiquette. For starters, I did not bring any wine. Not even the cheapest red. It did not even occur to me to do so. I still remember the scene. 4 of us seated in a first floor balcony; me, the colleague, his fiancee and a Catalan friend of theirs. My colleague had cooked what I failed to recognise as an outstanding example of spaghetti. It was simply seasoned and liberally interspersed with cherry tomatoes. Yup. The one vegetable I'm allergic to. To top it off, I cheerfully sprayed my plate with a LOT of pepper, not understanding that every shake of my wrist was akin to thrusting a dagger through my colleague's heart. I remember he wryly making a joke about Indians and spices, but well... it was a shambles.
Anyway, I'm older, pretending to be wiser and order pasta at restaurants pretty confidently. Last weekend I got the sister, a natural chef if there ever was one, to show me how she made spaghetti. Today, I picked up the extensive list of expensive ingredients and vegetables (yes, walk away), checked out a few websites and videos and cooked pasta with store-bought pesto and veggies. Well, perhaps my ex-colleague won't put out a hit order. Possibly, he will. Who cares. I tasted it and it was Bellissimo! Ciao!
On comebacks
In the Kalyug age of sports journalism, you'll find way too many articles about this week's Champions League games, so I won't add to them. I do think it has been a season of comebacks in English football. City kicked things off in Dec-Jan by clawing back a 9-point deficit to now sit a win away from the title. United pulled off an electrifying first-time-ever-type result over PSG. If they'd held onto a semblance of their 14-game EPL streak, United could have mounted a good one in the league too. They did not. Arsenal and Chelsea, after some dodgy performances throughout the season, are each a game away from an all-English Europa League final. And, we all know why the Champions League is already an all-English affair. Those astonishing performances by Liverpool and Spurs. It's almost like the whole season was scripted for TV rather than a live telecast. A real roller-coaster.
On overstays
Yesterday, I completed 2 years at my current ad agency. The less said the better.
On left-behinds
In 2009, there were four of us in Bombay. One had a girlfriend, so it was mostly three. Tonight, there's only one remaining.
Song for the moment: Nobody but me - The Human Beinz
Comments