The kids and I are glued to the idiot box savouring Master Chef (Australia, I would like to emphasize).
The husband walks in and after many attempts to attract his family's attention stations himself right in front of the television with a cup of coffee, that he had to make himself and inquires, "What are you all doing?"
The husband walks in and after many attempts to attract his family's attention stations himself right in front of the television with a cup of coffee, that he had to make himself and inquires, "What are you all doing?"
Daughter and I stare at him even as the son cranes his neck around his father's frame to continue watching. "Appa we are watching Master Chef" quips the younger child impatiently. "They are showing a story".
He turns around only to watch chicken, quails, ducks and salmon being grilled. 'What story? And why are you all watching this? ' And you, are you going to attempt any of these?' he asks me.
He turns around only to watch chicken, quails, ducks and salmon being grilled. 'What story? And why are you all watching this? ' And you, are you going to attempt any of these?' he asks me.
'Are you nuts? From when did we start having non vegetarian food' I snort. 'Then why do you watch it?', he retorts intelligently
"It is pleasing to the eye plus doesn't smell. We can never get to have those desserts can we.. so beautifully delicious. So comforting and food that simply pops out of the plate wonderfully...' I masterchefy fluently. 'And they present a story through food", I add as an afterthought.
"I can only see three over fed men.' he says, "And that dude is wearing a pink suit... A pink suit and a purple scarf... Are you people insane?" he bellows un-gastronomically and walks off and we can hear him banging his head on the door as we continue to stare at the screen.
It is all about presentation these days.
The other day I visited a friend at her place for lunch. This lady cooks beautifully from what her Instagram and Facebook posts reveal. I eagerly anticipate this luncheon invitation and skip all three meals the previous day.
I enter her house and see her frantically photographing delicious food laid out aesthetically on the table. Even as I spot deliciousness beckoning me I can't help sensing unpleasant smell drifting from somewhere. My phone beeps and I see the food on my Instagram feed even before I get to the vicinity of the table. I salivate and congratulate my friend on her latest culinary masterpiece.
She quickly hastens me to the table before my drool spoils her elegant carpet. I wistfully look at the food even as she plonks a plate laden with some pale rice accompanied by some dispirited looking vegetables. Bewildered and a little humiliated by this extremely partial treatment I attempt to touch the photographed and already much liked plate only to receive a friendly slap on the wrist.
"Hey this is the actual food. That is only for social media" she giggles uncontrollably as I spot some cardboard beneath the tastefully arranged hyderabadi biryani. 'That will make the dish appear much better you know' she says knowledgeably. I quickly gobble up the pale rice, mutter incomprehensible adulation and scoot before she brings her much acclaimed dessert.
The other day I visited a friend at her place for lunch. This lady cooks beautifully from what her Instagram and Facebook posts reveal. I eagerly anticipate this luncheon invitation and skip all three meals the previous day.
I enter her house and see her frantically photographing delicious food laid out aesthetically on the table. Even as I spot deliciousness beckoning me I can't help sensing unpleasant smell drifting from somewhere. My phone beeps and I see the food on my Instagram feed even before I get to the vicinity of the table. I salivate and congratulate my friend on her latest culinary masterpiece.
She quickly hastens me to the table before my drool spoils her elegant carpet. I wistfully look at the food even as she plonks a plate laden with some pale rice accompanied by some dispirited looking vegetables. Bewildered and a little humiliated by this extremely partial treatment I attempt to touch the photographed and already much liked plate only to receive a friendly slap on the wrist.
"Hey this is the actual food. That is only for social media" she giggles uncontrollably as I spot some cardboard beneath the tastefully arranged hyderabadi biryani. 'That will make the dish appear much better you know' she says knowledgeably. I quickly gobble up the pale rice, mutter incomprehensible adulation and scoot before she brings her much acclaimed dessert.
After this I start looking at all beautifully presented food critically. So much so that I pick and prod at swiggy delivered food until they become a mush even as the family look down disdainfully.
I still watch Master Chef though. No one is going to invite me to taste the food are they...
"I will present my own traditionally cooked story", I declare to the children and husband one day and march into the kitchen. The daughter comes with a ladle and holding it like a mike asks, 'So Amma, what are you going to cook today?'
"It is going to be a traditional platter. Vegetables cooked aromatically in buttermilk broth, lentil stew, watery lentil and tomato broth, brinjal two ways served with warm aromatic rice. And for dessert it will be rice cooked in milk and cream. All these served on fresh green plaintain leaves' I explain enigmatically.
'We understand that you are going to make avial, sambar, rasam and paal payasam and add ghee to the rice.. But what is that brinjal two ways?' asks the husband and smirks knowingly. "It is thogayal and curry", I grit my teeth.
Laugh all they want...What do they know. Today they will discover the other side of my culinary skills I say to myself and begin cutting the vegetables.
Only that my story begins with torn plaintain leaves and ends with our ordering food from Adyar Anandha Bhavan.
To my credit I do make brinjal two ways - blackend and unblackened!
1 comment:
Hahaha hems hilarious & gastronomic read.
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