What Does Cooking mean to me ?

What does cooking mean to me?

Cooking meant staring at my mother bringing forth mouth watering samosas and delicious biryanis in the kitchen from apparently inedible ingredients. I wondered if I could ever become a magician like her. Ma didn’t like having me hanging around the kitchen. She would shoo me out saying, ‘You will always have to cook all your life once you are grown up.’ Occasionally I would manage to sneak out a samosa before the whole batch was ready. Or she would let me taste a bit of the fried vegetables going into the biryani. But she was deeply offended if I swallowed her naryial laddoos meant for the puja. The offerings to gods were sacrosanct one couldn’t play around with that.

As one started living in hostel and had to face the occasional strike by the mess workers one was forced into cooking a simple meal of boiled rice with vegetables thrown in had with a dollop of butter. This proved to be quite a success amongst hungry friends and my Bengali bhaat was a staple during those days. Another easy and nutritious meal was bread and scrambled eggs with some potatoes added to make it filling.

Now that I look back I can understand my mother’s fear that all daughters have to fall in to the drudgery of cooking. She wanted me to escape such a conventional life and wished I would excel in academics, be career oriented and not tied to the kitchen.

Surprisingly, life has allowed me to look upon cooking as a pleasure since the truth must be told my husband’s job provides me the luxury of trained cooks. So I have spent a greater part of my life following recipes from different women’s magazines. I also love watching cookery programmes on TV. I am fascinated by the sparklingly clean utensils and brand new gadgets on the show. Although, the women who accompany the cooks on the show and go, ‘oooh-so-delicious’ grate my nerves.

I have turned out delicious cakes, soufflés and kulfis to the delight of my sons. They have adored my concoctions of chicken and mutton curries from various regions of India. I have diligently kept cuttings of interesting recipes published in the Hindi newspapers. Now my file is bursting in the seams with them. Some have turned yellow and smell of various curry powders over the years. In an attempt to preserve it for the future I got them scanned and downloaded into a CD.

Every season has a particular favourite fruit or vegetable. Some are not so popular and some downright rejected. I have tried to tempt them to accept or at least try them out. The favourites are easy to work on. One can have gobi-ka-parantha, aloo gobi sukhi, or in a curry form. The curry could be seasoned with achar-ka-masala or with Bengali spices.

But how does one make lauki delicious or sarson-ka-saag palatable to the young ones?

So often enough the rotis are stuffed with various vegetables; and pilaus are made with methi and palak.

I often experiment with sweets since dear husband has a weakness for it. Once while offering a traditional Bengali pathishapta, he declared it as pura of his village days only exception being that I should not stuff it with mawa. So now my cooks are ready with the pura sweetened with artificial sweeteners at the end of each meal.

As we grow older the search is on for foods that are steamed or stir-fried and eventually of course life comes a full circle as one must learn to live with as little food as possible. To realize that all this is a chimera ‘maya’ and one must control one’s senses and not indulge them; in our quest for salvation.

Memsaheb's Khanakhazana and Mirchmasala: Rajma and Paneer Mutter

Memsaheb's Khanakhazana and Mirchmasala: Rajma and Paneer Mutter: "Rajma and Paneer-matar with the Love Teddy settled in between. He looks a little surprised at finding himself amidst this feast. He is Sujat..."

Rajma and Paneer Mutter

Rajma and Paneer-matar with the Love Teddy settled in between. He looks a little surprised at finding himself amidst this feast. He is Sujata’s present to D1. Now that D1 has gone off to London he adorns D2’s room. Often my Yoga club members (aged 3 and 5) find flinging him around a better form of relaxation.

Please do not miss my boiled Rajma which I consume with relish before dipping into the regular one. Often when Dinaer’s around the leftover Rajma is used as a pizza topping with cheese and a sprinkling of oregano in breakfast the next morning.

Paneer matar is done with hing –jeera and the usual tomato puree gravy.

Barmer and Ker,Sangri ka achar

Well I have been blessed with such a fleet of excellent cooks through all the remote postings in Rajasthan that my food memories are intricately linked up with them. So they are more about my experiments and learning from them than really being a 'Memsaheb'. Of looking eagerly into the recipes of Dainik Bhaskar and RajasthanPatrika on wednesdays. The day they had a special supplement on women.Of keeping all recipe edition of Eve's weekly and Femina's. Even Health magazines.

Barmer the desert district bordering Pakistan! How exciting! Many thought I would turn up my nose and sulk; coming from Delhi leaving behind a cushy university job for a life of uncertainities. Married to a cop and you are young and adventurous it opens up limitless possibilities...

Bhanwarlal met us with a stern unsmiling visage as he looked over our meagre luggage. It would barely fit into one of the rooms of this huge sprawling bungalow. He was used to all kinds of officers and knew how to mold and train them for life!

He was the main cook and the major-domo of the SP's houshold a post he held for years. His dahi-vadas's were silken soft and famous in all the parties held for all visiting dignitaries that included the army and airforce officers as well. He told me the urad dal batter should be of such consistency that when applied under the eyebrows it should shimmer translucently!

He made perfect cakes and knew all about vanilla essences despite the fact that he was illiterate. Looking at him peering into the baking powder bottle and tapping out the exact quantity one could never have guessed it.

He would also regale me with the tales of the 'memsahebs' who had taught him and many who he would teach!

There was one such memsaheb who even insisted on weighing the three mandatory eggs before using it for her cake.

I would watch with open mouthed wonder when he made soft melt in the mouth 'teetar'for our friends. He wouldn't let me do too much just peer and listen to his tales. I think he realized I was too much of the bookish type to ever getting around to cooking! He spoilt us all particularly my son who was a toddler with his lovely khichdi swimming in ghee. The kheer made lovingly on slow fire liberally sprinkled with kishmish and kaju, just specially for him. No wonder my baby was like a roly-poly toy despite being so active.

I learnt how the 'ker' a very bitter berry found in the desert is cured by soaking them in 'çhhaach' (watery curd) till it becomes sour and then dried in the sun and mixed with spices and mustard oil for the famous pickle. So when I protested that I should be allowed to do it myself, otherwise how will I learn? We will do it for you always was the prompt answer.

We will not be in Barmer forever!

So what, just send us the message, we will make it and send it across.