I dashed off a new description of myself for the blog. Interesting, how the most revealing things are those that are intended to be breezy.
My stuff really does mean a lot to me. Perhaps that makes me insensitive to people. And perhaps that's collateral damage when there's such a rapid turnover of persons and places. My things remind me of the places I've been and the people I knew.
Ironic, that. People take on a new dimension, a special-ness if you will, after I leave them. (not going there. whole new post. don't think I want to deal with that level of insight just yet!)
A couple of days ago, an unlatched door swung wildly and hit a terracotta pot. A large, hip high urn that looks like Ali Baba or his pals might pop out at any given moment. It shattered. Like an explosion. And I cried like I lost a friend.
I love that urn. I didn’t even realise how much until that moment. I had never acknowledged it as my own – the man had it from before I moved in. But it survived all the packers and container trucks. All the plants and lamps we arranged around and atop it. All the convivial party-ers that staggered perilously close. And the crawling toddler nudging curiously. It’s been a part of the scenery of our life together. A part of our identity, in the way that how you decorate your home says a lot about who you are.
The voice of reason in my head (my mom’s, I must admit) said, “Get over it. It’s just a thing, a material object. Get another one if it means that much," and “thank god no one got hurt.”
True. But honestly - man off the street getting thwacked by the door vs the pot, I’d save the pot any day. And like I said, this insensitivity: collateral damage.
Sep 27, 2005
Sep 24, 2005
friends forever?
navigating though your inbox, you find yourself at the address book. and, caught up in the moment, you dash off exploratory messages to ghosts of friends past. people who have been your best friends at different points in your life, only to drift away with promises to keep in touch.
months, years have gone by in a whirl of day-to-day, and you find that while the relationship remains, the people have perhaps moved on. and so on infrequent visits back home, the 'let's meet up' plan becomes an anxious waiting game. will you move beyond the 'remember whens'?
and so i wait. clicking the 'check mail' button for a voice from the past.
months, years have gone by in a whirl of day-to-day, and you find that while the relationship remains, the people have perhaps moved on. and so on infrequent visits back home, the 'let's meet up' plan becomes an anxious waiting game. will you move beyond the 'remember whens'?
and so i wait. clicking the 'check mail' button for a voice from the past.
Sep 21, 2005
Patiss and Cutliss
I saw this recipe on one of my favourite food blogs. It's by Clotilde, a Parisienne, who not only like experimenting with ingredients, she takes the most fabulous pictures of the final creation.
"Galettes de Riz" she calls them; doesn't everything sound special in French? They're patties made out of left over rice and pretty much anything else you might want to bung in.
I love recipes like this because this is the way I cook too: scope out the ingredients I have at hand, get a vague idea of the kind of thing I want to do with them, and then search for a recipe that matches the one in my head.
Soon, little rice cakes, soon.
Humour. Me.
I'm a Frasier fan.
I like the wit, the word play, the sharp writing. I like the nerdy kids who grew up to a posh life, but secretly knew they were nerdy still. (I relate to the no-social-life-but-the-family-ness of it all, but that's my secret)
So imagine my surprise when, after some desultory net-quiz-taking, I'm left with the discovery that I'm more of an American Pie sort. (The fact that I stayed up till 2:40am watching part III of said flick guffawing into my pillow, shall also remain secret.)
See my quiz results. Notice: my OPPOSITE- the Wit. Aaaargh.
the Idiot Savant
(28% dark, 50% spontaneous, 47% vulgar)
your humor style:
VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT
You like things silly, immediate, and, above all, outrageous. Ixne on the subtle word play, more testicles on fire, please. People like you are the most likely to RECEIVE internet forwards--and also the most likely to save them in a special folder entitled 'HOLY SHIT'.
Because it's so easily appreciated, and often wacky and physical, your sense of humor never ceases to amuse your friends. Most realize that there's a sly intelligence and a knowing wink to your tastes. Your sense of humor could be called 'anti-pretentious'--but paradoxically enough, that indicates you're smarter than most.
there are some tv shows that you think are so good, they'll pretty much never go off air. so much so, you don't feel too badly if you miss an ep, sure to catch the rerun. then, with little to no warning, it's gone.
titus was one of those. it was hilarious and not just a little scary. it had style. the narrator sequences shot in black and white like a noire-ish interrogation room. and some seriously disturbed (and disturbing) characters.
these days with almost all sitcoms (and dramas) featuring 'dysfunctional' families, it's harder to describe why Titus is still special. but, for me, the point is that the show isn't just a showcase of 'see how wierd we are! top that jerry springer!'
you see the strength of relationships, you grudgingly acknowledge intentions, however misguided, and you see a telling link of past events and future outcomes.
and none of this is taken at all seriously. you still rule, Titus!
You know technology and journalism have really moved over to dark side when powerful telephoto lenses at the Security Council meeting are used to catch “I think I need a bathroom break” note exchanges between Prez Bush and Ms Rice. Secret deals, backroom bargains, none of that makes it to headline news. But this…
That’s not to say I didn’t fall off my chair lol-ing.
I like the wit, the word play, the sharp writing. I like the nerdy kids who grew up to a posh life, but secretly knew they were nerdy still. (I relate to the no-social-life-but-the-family-ness of it all, but that's my secret)
So imagine my surprise when, after some desultory net-quiz-taking, I'm left with the discovery that I'm more of an American Pie sort. (The fact that I stayed up till 2:40am watching part III of said flick guffawing into my pillow, shall also remain secret.)
See my quiz results. Notice: my OPPOSITE- the Wit. Aaaargh.
VULGAR | SPONTANEOUS | LIGHT
You like things silly, immediate, and, above all, outrageous. Ixne on the subtle word play, more testicles on fire, please. People like you are the most likely to RECEIVE internet forwards--and also the most likely to save them in a special folder entitled 'HOLY SHIT'.
Because it's so easily appreciated, and often wacky and physical, your sense of humor never ceases to amuse your friends. Most realize that there's a sly intelligence and a knowing wink to your tastes. Your sense of humor could be called 'anti-pretentious'--but paradoxically enough, that indicates you're smarter than most.
Sep 19, 2005
Stew'd
Here’s the recipe for Sunday’s stew. Happy cooking d!
You’ll need:
potatoes- peeled and diced
carrots- peeled and diced
peas- shelled!
fresh button mushrooms- quartered.
onions- peeled and chopped into largish chunks
garlic- peeled and chopped, again large chunks if you like the texture, or smaller if it’s only for flavour.
·a stick of cinnamon
·a few cloves, say 5
·a couple of large black cardamom, elaichi
·a bayleaf
·dried red chillies, broken in half. I used six. Go for less if spicy is not your thing. Or else empty out the seeds and use only the red part.
·a tsp of vinegar
·a tbs of oil
·a tsp of salt
Take a large pot. Put in everything except the peas and mushrooms. Pour in some water, enough to cover all stuff and a dollop more. This will be the stock. Medium heat after it starts to boil.
Peer at it and stir every once in a while. Fish out a potato piece and check if it’s done. If you can cut through it with a spoon, turn the heat off. Toss in the peas and mushrooms, stir a bit and cover the pot. Now leave it alone for a while, there’s other stuff to do.
You’ll need another pan. The sauce will be made here and the whole stew comes together. So make sure it’s large enough for all the veggies and extra room to stir. Got it? Ok. Then get a large whisk, or a wooden spoon and strong arms.
Pour in some oil. About two tbs, i think. As it warms up, toss in a heaped tablespoon of atta. Yes, not maida. atta.
Use the whisk or spoon to stir it into the oil. As you stir, it should look biscuit brown, thick paste like; the oil bubbling around the edges as the brown darkens. Put in a bit more oil or atta to adjust consistency if you need. Now pour in half a cup of milk, stirring really briskly now keep the sauce smooth.
Now, it’s time for the veggie pot. Lift off the lid and let the steam open your pores a bit, careful not to inhale - the red chilli fumes really get the back of the throat.
Now ladle some of the broth into the sauce pan. Then stir and stir, as the sauce thickens smoothly without any lumps. Ladle and stir till the consistency is thinner than a white sauce for a bake. Say a pourable thickness. And turn off the heat. Taste. Add as much salt as you’d like.
Now, use a slotted spoon to scoop out the veggies and toss into the sauce. It would probably be nice to weed out the whole spices at this point and discard. But not essential to the plot. The eaters should be soo happy just to savour the end result, they can meekly put the stuff on the side of their own plates.
So all the veggies are in the sauce; most likely, not all the stock. Strain it out and save it for another meal. It’ll make a great base for a noodle soup. (My plan is to make a risotto.)
Check for salt content after the veggies are mixed in. It balances out the chilli.
That’s it. Dish up and eat. And tell me if you can taste the creamy cheesy-ness of it all.
You’ll need:
potatoes- peeled and diced
carrots- peeled and diced
peas- shelled!
fresh button mushrooms- quartered.
onions- peeled and chopped into largish chunks
garlic- peeled and chopped, again large chunks if you like the texture, or smaller if it’s only for flavour.
·a stick of cinnamon
·a few cloves, say 5
·a couple of large black cardamom, elaichi
·a bayleaf
·dried red chillies, broken in half. I used six. Go for less if spicy is not your thing. Or else empty out the seeds and use only the red part.
·a tsp of vinegar
·a tbs of oil
·a tsp of salt
Take a large pot. Put in everything except the peas and mushrooms. Pour in some water, enough to cover all stuff and a dollop more. This will be the stock. Medium heat after it starts to boil.
Peer at it and stir every once in a while. Fish out a potato piece and check if it’s done. If you can cut through it with a spoon, turn the heat off. Toss in the peas and mushrooms, stir a bit and cover the pot. Now leave it alone for a while, there’s other stuff to do.
You’ll need another pan. The sauce will be made here and the whole stew comes together. So make sure it’s large enough for all the veggies and extra room to stir. Got it? Ok. Then get a large whisk, or a wooden spoon and strong arms.
Pour in some oil. About two tbs, i think. As it warms up, toss in a heaped tablespoon of atta. Yes, not maida. atta.
Use the whisk or spoon to stir it into the oil. As you stir, it should look biscuit brown, thick paste like; the oil bubbling around the edges as the brown darkens. Put in a bit more oil or atta to adjust consistency if you need. Now pour in half a cup of milk, stirring really briskly now keep the sauce smooth.
Now, it’s time for the veggie pot. Lift off the lid and let the steam open your pores a bit, careful not to inhale - the red chilli fumes really get the back of the throat.
Now ladle some of the broth into the sauce pan. Then stir and stir, as the sauce thickens smoothly without any lumps. Ladle and stir till the consistency is thinner than a white sauce for a bake. Say a pourable thickness. And turn off the heat. Taste. Add as much salt as you’d like.
Now, use a slotted spoon to scoop out the veggies and toss into the sauce. It would probably be nice to weed out the whole spices at this point and discard. But not essential to the plot. The eaters should be soo happy just to savour the end result, they can meekly put the stuff on the side of their own plates.
So all the veggies are in the sauce; most likely, not all the stock. Strain it out and save it for another meal. It’ll make a great base for a noodle soup. (My plan is to make a risotto.)
Check for salt content after the veggies are mixed in. It balances out the chilli.
That’s it. Dish up and eat. And tell me if you can taste the creamy cheesy-ness of it all.
birthdays and bolognese
woke up feeling hungover after SUCH a long time.
stayed up with friends till 3am after SUCH a long time.
pulled off a non-stress, happy party after SUCH a long time.
cleaned the house and spruced it up to "entertaining" standards after... say it with me now... SUCH a long time.
And, i cooked. for more than two people. with no back up plan in case everything turned out wrong. actually, didn't even think about it that much. and so, it turned out just fine.
drum roll please:
creamy-cheesy corn to go with crackers.
farfalle pasta tossed in oregano and olive oil.
a bolognese sauce - the tomato and paprika blended with the garlic, not letting any one flavour dominate; and a rich texture that was still runny enough to coat the pasta and hold the meat to it.
a mixed veggie stew - mushroom, carrot, peas and potatoes in a white sauce made with vegetable stock and milk. for the stock, the veggies were cooked with onion and garlic chunks, cloves, cinnamon, bay leaves, vinegar and dry red chillies. which leaves the stew creamy and smooth, but with a zinging aftertaste.
and bread to go with the stew.
everyone, of course, mixed it all up - bread with the meat sauce, pasta with the stew/corn-cheese sauce. whatever. not much left over. so the cook smiles. while bouncing off the ceiling gleefully.
10 people: big, medium sized and little. and one young lad (ours) who automatically assumed he belonged with the medium sized 12 yr olds. and joined them at the dinner table, managing his pasta and cutlery as if he'd been doing it for years. not minutes.
point of the whole affair being the man's birthday.
stayed up with friends till 3am after SUCH a long time.
pulled off a non-stress, happy party after SUCH a long time.
cleaned the house and spruced it up to "entertaining" standards after... say it with me now... SUCH a long time.
And, i cooked. for more than two people. with no back up plan in case everything turned out wrong. actually, didn't even think about it that much. and so, it turned out just fine.
drum roll please:
creamy-cheesy corn to go with crackers.
farfalle pasta tossed in oregano and olive oil.
a bolognese sauce - the tomato and paprika blended with the garlic, not letting any one flavour dominate; and a rich texture that was still runny enough to coat the pasta and hold the meat to it.
a mixed veggie stew - mushroom, carrot, peas and potatoes in a white sauce made with vegetable stock and milk. for the stock, the veggies were cooked with onion and garlic chunks, cloves, cinnamon, bay leaves, vinegar and dry red chillies. which leaves the stew creamy and smooth, but with a zinging aftertaste.
and bread to go with the stew.
everyone, of course, mixed it all up - bread with the meat sauce, pasta with the stew/corn-cheese sauce. whatever. not much left over. so the cook smiles. while bouncing off the ceiling gleefully.
10 people: big, medium sized and little. and one young lad (ours) who automatically assumed he belonged with the medium sized 12 yr olds. and joined them at the dinner table, managing his pasta and cutlery as if he'd been doing it for years. not minutes.
point of the whole affair being the man's birthday.
Sep 16, 2005
ghost of TV shows past
there are some tv shows that you think are so good, they'll pretty much never go off air. so much so, you don't feel too badly if you miss an ep, sure to catch the rerun. then, with little to no warning, it's gone.
titus was one of those. it was hilarious and not just a little scary. it had style. the narrator sequences shot in black and white like a noire-ish interrogation room. and some seriously disturbed (and disturbing) characters.
these days with almost all sitcoms (and dramas) featuring 'dysfunctional' families, it's harder to describe why Titus is still special. but, for me, the point is that the show isn't just a showcase of 'see how wierd we are! top that jerry springer!'
you see the strength of relationships, you grudgingly acknowledge intentions, however misguided, and you see a telling link of past events and future outcomes.
and none of this is taken at all seriously. you still rule, Titus!
Sep 15, 2005
rainy days
From Bombay Ice by Leslie Forbes
People appeared out of every doorway and stood in the streets with their arms spread wide. I saw a woman close her eyes and turn her face upward as if in prayer. If she opened her mouth, she might have drowned. As it was, the rain pouring down smeared her lipstick and made the kohl under her eyes run. Her features were washing away, leaving a smooth slate on which to paint a new face. No one could mistake this rain for any other. It was not rain at all. It was as if the world had turned upside down and the oceans were pouring onto the land in one last great tidal wave. As if the sky had fallen and liquid had become solid.
And later…
The rain gradually let up enough so that individual drops were visible again. When those stopped, the noise faded to a soft, dripping silence. A sealskin silence. I remembered this from my past. The violence of the monsoon rain seldom lasts more than an hour or two. A serenely clear sky supervenes. There is a feeling of anticipation. I watch as a huge rent appears above us, tearing a swirling yellowish cavity in the sculptured edges of the massed clouds.
People appeared out of every doorway and stood in the streets with their arms spread wide. I saw a woman close her eyes and turn her face upward as if in prayer. If she opened her mouth, she might have drowned. As it was, the rain pouring down smeared her lipstick and made the kohl under her eyes run. Her features were washing away, leaving a smooth slate on which to paint a new face. No one could mistake this rain for any other. It was not rain at all. It was as if the world had turned upside down and the oceans were pouring onto the land in one last great tidal wave. As if the sky had fallen and liquid had become solid.
And later…
The rain gradually let up enough so that individual drops were visible again. When those stopped, the noise faded to a soft, dripping silence. A sealskin silence. I remembered this from my past. The violence of the monsoon rain seldom lasts more than an hour or two. A serenely clear sky supervenes. There is a feeling of anticipation. I watch as a huge rent appears above us, tearing a swirling yellowish cavity in the sculptured edges of the massed clouds.
Anthem
Mister Gallagher I love you. Free spirit. Wild child. Creativity oozing out the ears.
And then he writes my song. He is me. I am he?
Oasis
And then he writes my song. He is me. I am he?
But I don't mindthe importance of being idle
As long as there's a bed beneath the stars that shine
I'll be fine
If you give me a minute
A man's got a limit
I can't get a life if my heart's not in it
I lost my faith in the summertime
Cos it don't stop raining
The sky all day is as black as night
But I'm not complaining
I begged my doctor for one more line
He said son, what's family?
It ain't no place to be killin' time
I guess I'm just lazy
Oasis
meet the missus
Here’s the thing. I hate being introduced as the wife of _. As mrs. It’s important to me to meet people on my own terms, and not as part of some family package deal.
For this reason, I also hate tagging along for semi-work related parties/dinners. For now that whole point is moot, as we can’t exactly leave the kiddie home alone. But the truth is I wouldn’t want to go anyway.
My idealistic stand came around and bit me in the ass last night when the venue of one such gathering was an Italian restaurant I’ve wanted to go to since we moved here. A swanky, page three kind of place with so much style it bypasses the whole uppity, nouveaux nightclub thing.
And the unkindest cut? I wasn’t even invited.
For this reason, I also hate tagging along for semi-work related parties/dinners. For now that whole point is moot, as we can’t exactly leave the kiddie home alone. But the truth is I wouldn’t want to go anyway.
My idealistic stand came around and bit me in the ass last night when the venue of one such gathering was an Italian restaurant I’ve wanted to go to since we moved here. A swanky, page three kind of place with so much style it bypasses the whole uppity, nouveaux nightclub thing.
And the unkindest cut? I wasn’t even invited.
psst, pass it along
You know technology and journalism have really moved over to dark side when powerful telephoto lenses at the Security Council meeting are used to catch “I think I need a bathroom break” note exchanges between Prez Bush and Ms Rice. Secret deals, backroom bargains, none of that makes it to headline news. But this…
That’s not to say I didn’t fall off my chair lol-ing.
Sep 14, 2005
new blog on the block
The man has begun a blog of his own. Posting away, happy as a clam. Perhaps daily even. I feel like the onida devil. A touch of blog-envy perhaps…?
stop with the editing
So much for good intentions. The whole idea was to not second guess or torture myself over these posts.
What started out as a resolve to not write day to day rubbish for lack of anything better to say, transmogrified (when I wasn’t looking, of course) into a paralysed feeling of “well, then what is worthy?”
Quick answer: nothing, really. Not if one is waiting for an idea of novella level of significance anyway. Which is when the realisation sank in.
If I had that many GREAT ideas daily, I would be a novella-writer. Not a blogrunner.
What started out as a resolve to not write day to day rubbish for lack of anything better to say, transmogrified (when I wasn’t looking, of course) into a paralysed feeling of “well, then what is worthy?”
Quick answer: nothing, really. Not if one is waiting for an idea of novella level of significance anyway. Which is when the realisation sank in.
If I had that many GREAT ideas daily, I would be a novella-writer. Not a blogrunner.
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