Month: July 2015

“Let’s cut back on household expenses a little,” both of us decide seriously and take a solemn vow to keep accounts properly this month at least!

We have tried earlier, fired by the reformatory zeal every time a couple we meet tells us about how they document their expenses, writing down every pie they spend, including the fifty pips donated to a beggar outside the temple! Wow, we go, we must do this and off  we traipse on a shopping expedition to buy a neatly lined little notebook, black pens for writing expenses, a red pen for totals at the bottom of every page, a green pen to make the job of double entry book-keeping (yes, that’s how ambitious we used to get!!) look prettier, a ruler and a pencil (after serious discussions on whether a blue pencil or a black pencil would be easier to maintain accounts with!)

So much effort is bound to meet with success, right? And we know exactly where we are wrt to money coming in and money going out?!! The book, ruler, pencils don’t seem to make much difference at the end of the month – yes, I know I paid ten bucks to the flower seller but what on earth happened to the thousand bucks that was right there???! This was the 1980s and a thousand bucks was a goodly proportion of my monthly salary so to have it unaccountably missing was well… sigh… tension-making… to say the very least! We break our heads over it for two days, the tension broken only by an occasional TV programme till realisation dawns… we didn’t possess a TV last month right? Didn’t we buy it this month and isn’t that where the thousand bucks went?

Eureka!! And we forgot to enter the darn thing in our beautiful account book… where is the thing by the way??! Hunt ensues, book is found… book is opened and we go into raptures as we flip the pages over – our little one-year old Picasso-in-the-making has drawn the cutest pictures – look at that… and that… and that! It would be sacrilege to deface the book with any more accounting entries. The drawings are carefully framed and we decide to buy another book and this time, we promise to keep accounts beautifully…! And in the meantime, we go out for a celebratory dinner…

The years roll on, we manage to scrape by without doing any accounts… till we decide to build a house… buy a flat, rather… this is pricey-real-estate Madras! And then the whole bogey of keeping accounts surfaces!

We are very sincere and twenty straight days of keeping accounts takes its toll on a couple to whom the whole idea is anathema! We do totals, we scratch and re-write, we total up again and scratch our heads in puzzlement… but we do it!   (Note to self : To two normally intelligent human beings both in the corporate world, why is household account keeping so fraught with difficulty?? Pls find out!) And then we sit down to do a BUDGETARY REVIEW. (Please note capitalised seriousness!)

Sample of our budgetary review:

Me: Omg, did you see the amount we’ve spent on powder (talcum) this month? What do you do with the darn thing? Eat it?! (It  is only hubby who uses talcum powder by the way, slathering it on with the gay abandon of a bricklayer slathering on cement!) Ever dealt with powdery footsteps on the bathroom floor??!

He counters with Madras being so hot etc. etc. and we leave it at that till the doctor tells him that his asthma is getting worse. The powder question is revived. I tell him that not only will we save money usefully to pay off EMIs, but he will gain health! Not to mention saving the environment!

He is convinced – almost. And promises to take steps to reduce talcum consumption. Off he goes to the local grocery and comes back with four tins of powder (they had a deal that was too good to pass up!) and a baby pink powder puff – for himself – to make the task of powdering more efficient, he says!

I swear even the baby chuckled!

Thirty years on and we have sensibly decided that there are two kinds of people in the world – those who can and those who can’t keep household accounts – and we belong to the latter family! RIP account books, red, blue and green pens and rulers! We now live in blissful ignorance of all accounting matters… life is beautiful – and very fragrant with talcum! Smells almost as good as this…

 CARAMELISED ONION AND HERB BREAD

• Whole wheat flour/atta – 2 cups
• Plain flour/maida – 2 cups
• Yeast – 1 sachet
• Onion – sliced – 1 cup
• Mixed dried herbs (marjoram, oregano, thyme, basil, parsley or any combination of these) – 3 tsp
• Salt – 3/4 tsp
• Vegetable oil or butter – 2 tbsp
• Milk powder – 2 tsp
• Warm water – 1.25 cups (approximately)
• 1 cup boiling water
• Sugar – 2 tsp
• Milk – 2 tbsp – for brushing.

Heat the oil/butter in a saucepan. Add onions and cook on a low flame, stirring occasionally, till caramelised – about 5-7 minutes. Cool.

Prove the yeast and knead a soft, springy dough adding all the ingredients including onions.

Cover and set in a warm place to rise. When doubled ( about 1 hour), knock back.

Shape into a loaf and place in a  greased loaf tin. Cover and let it rise again till doubled in size – about 15 minutes. Brush with milk.

Place the cup of boiling water in a preheated oven – 200 C.

Place the loaf tin with the dough in the oven.

Bake at 200 C for about 35-40 minutes till golden brown on top and the bottom feels hollow when tapped.

Serve warm with garlic butter and cheese.

Who cares about budgets and accounts? Pooh!

The other place we were taken to year after year, with great expectations, which were never disappointed – was the annual medical exhibition at Osmania Medical College. Mom being a doctor, I guess this was an occupational hazard of being her children!

But we, ghoulish creatures that we were, were nothing loth – no one had to force us to come. We got dressed and traipsed off quite happily, eager for the treat in store. My oldest brother Anand, could be a little squeamish on occasion, having to be reminded of the rooms full of specimens smelling gloriously of the formalin in which they were preserved and then the eats to follow (oh yes, we did!) before he could be persuaded sometimes! We, the younger two, had no such problems – our curiosity was rampantly morbid and we obviously had no higher sensibilities!

One particular room, the perinatal pathology room, was the highlight of our visit every year. This room was lined with large glass jars filled with a clear fluid – with human foetuses preserved in them – in various stages of development and deformity! And that was how I learnt to spell ‘hydrocephaly’ before I learnt to spell ‘squirrel‘!

For some strange reason, these things in the jars were not human in any sense to us – they were the 70’s equivalent of watching Animal Planet or Discovery channels and therefore excited neither horror nor disgust!

“Oooh, look at his one with the weird head! Doesn’t it look like a lizard?!!” could only be topped with someone else’s discovery and exclamation over something else which looked like… nothing on earth! Our field of knowledge being necessarily limited to the books we had read, we sometimes fell short of things to compare these things with!

There were also other rooms filled with mosquitoes in various stages of development, worms of various kinds which could lodge inside your body (okay, this one grossed us out a bit – particularly the tapeworms!), rooms filled with various organs afflicted by various diseases – we drank in the gamut of cirrhosed livers, brain tumours, kidney stones, cancerous stomachs and other bits and pieces with avidity!

Strangely, these exhibitions were never degraded by the kind of “cultural” programmes that one sees today in various educational institutions – the lewd songs and dances that pass for “entertainment” didn’t exist – we were quite happy to see science in all its glory and be entertained by its avatars!

After all these high treats, an even higher treat awaited – in the form of a visit to one of the cafes around the college, where we gorged ourselves on vadas and masal dosas or even – shiver-y pleasure – to a big hotel – like “Annapoorna” or somewhere else where we got to sample things usually not made at home like butter naans and vegetable koftas!

The smell of formalin only served to whet our appetites!

One of those dishes which we loved and my mother learnt to reproduce at home was this simply scrumptious, rather unusual…

ARBI MUGHLAI (Taro/chaamagadda/chepankizhangu/colocasia gravy)

• Arbi (medium size) – 250 gms
• Besan (gram flour) – 2 tblsp
• Oil  – 3 tblsp
• Omam/carom/ajwain seeds- 1/2 tsp
• Jeera/cumin seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Onion (chopped)- one large
• Green chilli minced – one
• Red chilli powder – 1.5 tsp
• Chopped coriander – 1 tblsp
• Salt
• Juice of 1/2 lime
• Garam masala – 1/4 tsp

GRAVY

• Tomatoes – chunked – 250 gms
• 10 cashewnuts
• Tomato puree – 2 tbsp
• Ginger – grated – 1/2 tsp
• Garlic chopped – 3-4 flakes
• Green chilli – one -chopped
• Red chilli powder – 1/2 tsp
• Cloves – 2
• Green cardamom- one
• Salt to taste
• Butter – 2 tblsp
• Sugar or jaggery – 1 tsp
• Kasooti methi – 1 tblsp

Pressure cook the whole arbi with three cups of water for one whistle.

Lower heat and cook for 3 minutes. Switch off and cool.

Peel and slice into 1/2 cm thick discs.

FOR GRAVY

Cook together tomatoes, one cup of water, ginger and garlic paste, cashewnuts, green chilli, red chilli powder, cloves and cardamom.

Bring to a boil, reduce the flame and cook, covered till it is reduced to a thick sauce.

Remove from fire. Cool.

Blend in a mixer to a smooth puree.

In a fresh pan, caramelise the sugar in butter.

Add the puree.

Add salt to taste.

Simmer on low flame for 1-2 minutes.

Add kasooti methi and remove from fire.

FOR ARBI

Mix salt, red chili powder and besan and coat the arbi pieces.

Shallow fry till golden and crisp.

In the same oil, add ajwain and jeera.

Add chopped onions, grated ginger and green chilli and sauté for three minutes.

Add 1/2 tsp salt and arbi pieces.

Fry for a minute.

Add the prepared gravy and fry until the arbi is coated with the gravy.

Adjust seasoning.

Sprinkle lemon juice, garam masala and the remaining coriander.

Stir and serve immediately.

Don’t let those hydrocephalic foetuses put you off your feed!

“We’re going to the Exhibition tomorrow!”

Always spelt with a capital E in our minds, the annual Industrial Exhibition or “Numaysh” as it was better known, was a high point of our lives. It opened on the 1st of January with a few stalls being inaugurated by some big bug (it mattered not a jot to us whether it was the Chief Minister or a film star – we were not yet of an age to be starstruck!) and then over the next week, all the stalls would be open for business and some business it was!

Stalls from all over India, selling or showcasing everything under the sun (everything that we knew at least!) from my dad’s electricity board stall- which we visited with due solemnity every year, staring curiously at models of hydroelectric power projects and statistics that Dad explained to us patiently – I still remember the year he was simply bursting with pride because AP had become a power -surplus state for the first time – the only state in India to do so!

Being deeply patriotic, the parents would drag us to all the government departmental stalls – including the Jails Department stall – what???! No, it didn’t showcase a jail – it was just a stall to sell products made by prisoners – including the roughest of bedsheets – patriotically bought by parents, which we slept in till we grew up! I remember a trip to an aunt’s house in Madras one summer – I couldn’t get to sleep because the sheets were too soft! Give me jail sheets any day!

These visits were intended by the parents to give birth to some patriotism in our heathen souls (!) but what we really looked forward to was the mirchi  bajji stalls and my brother Arvind to the AP Fisheries Department stall. Why fisheries? Because they had a fish cutlet stand! Going by the number of fish cutlets he put away every visit, his middle name should have been Jeeves! Anand and me, the veggies, would wait patiently till he finished and then head for the mirchi bajji stall – where Arvind could match us bajji for bajji in consumption – even after two dozen fish cutlets!

Considering that I never ate any mirchis (thick green chilies) from the bajji, preferring to nibble the bajji part only and pass the mirchis on to whichever hapless adult accompanied us, I don’t know why we just didn’t buy some other, not so hot bajji! But that would have been sacrilege!

This was followed more often than not by a ride on the Giant Wheel (notice how many things are capitalised in the lives of kids?!), where the mirchi bajjis were expelled more often than not!

The trip to the month-long Exhibition was made at least twice and more often if parents could be wheedled into taking us. At school, if you were one of those lucky few whose parents could take you many times, you were definitely cock of the walk and queened it over the rest – poor sods who got taken only once… or god forbid, not at all!

Surprisingly, the charm of the numaysh didn’t pall as we grew older and many trips were made bunking college and bargaining for Lucknowi chikan kurtas and Kashmiri jackets with the handsome, young shopkeepers, always ready to flirt with a gaggle of giggly college girls!

Sigh, think I’ll make a trip this January…

And in the meantime, all that talk of bajjis and cutlets notwithstanding, here’s my very simple and simply yummy dinner…

METHI WITH CHANA DAL

• Fresh methi/fenugreek leaves /menthikoora – chopped – 1 cup
• Chana dal/bengal gram dal – 1 cup – soaked for two hours in 3 cups water
• Onion sliced -1 large
• Garlic pods – 5-6 – crushed
• Green chilies – 2 – slit
• Ginger – 1/2 ” piece – minced
• Tomatoes – 2 large – chopped
• Tomato puree – 1 tbsp
• Turmeric – 1/4 tsp
• Chili powder – 1/2 tsp
• Coconut sliced NOT grated – 1 tbsp – 1 cm long, thin slivers
• Sugar or jaggery – 1 tsp
• Salt
• Oil – 1 tbsp
• Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Jeera/cumin seeds – 1/2 tsp

Pressure cook the chana dal with turmeric for two whistles. Lower the heat and cook for a further 6-7 minutes. Switch off and cool.

Heat oil in a pan. Add mustard seeds and when they pop, add jeera and curry leaves.

Add green chilies and saute.

Add onion, garlic, ginger and saute till onions change colour.

Add fenugreek leaves and saute till wilted.

Add tomatoes and tomato puree and cook till mushy.

Add the dal, jaggery, coconut slivers and salt  and 1 cup water and cover and cook till tender – about ten minutes. Add water if necessary – this dal is a thick, ‘sitting’ consistency!

Serve with rice or rotis or bread.

“Bye. Take care.”

“Be very careful who you talk to.”

“Remember I’ve packed all your snacks in this dabba and dinner in the big tiffin carrier. Share out the snacks fairly!”

“The money that’s in your little purse (spoken sotto voce) and stitched up securely on the inside of your salwar is ONLY for emergencies and not to be taken out!”

“DO NOT get off the train at any station except to fill water in the ‘canteen’!” 

These and many more exhortations are being repeated by my uncle and aunt as they send their two older kids and sundry assorted cousins off to Hyderabad to our grandfather’s house for the summer.

It’s time for the train to steam out of the station and they get up. The littlest two of the bunch, the two-year old twins, have also been brought along to say goodbye. But these two have a mind of their own – or rather two! They absolutely refuse to get down! They don’t whine, they don’t cry, they don’t throw a tantrum, they are perfectly amenable – to everything except unglueing themselves from their seats! They have made up their minds and their minds stay made up!  Why should only Akka and Anna (older sister and brother) and all the other cousins be the only ones to have all the fun? We want to have fun too!

Finally, the parents are left with no choice and jump off the train as it steams out of the station – leaving the twins in the care of the ten-year old oldest cousin there! Phew – imagine that happening today – most parents would have a stroke, at the very least! But this was 1976 and a more innocent world…

The eldest Sunita, is ‘in charge’ of the crew – some half a dozen of them altogether! Her first “executive” decision is to stow away the large tiffin carrier packed with dinner – out of sight and not to be seen again till it is unloaded the next morning – at the Hyderabad station! They’re fasting, you think, for the journey? Haha! The second decision is to quickly finish all the murukkus and yummy snacks! The third is to carefully remove the money – the emergency money, that is – from its secret hiding place stitched up in the pyjamas of Sunita and proceed to spend it with gay abandon – on every itinerant vendor who floats past – selling chips, samosas, curry puffs, vadas (after all, these are all kids with Nemali-vada genes!), fizzy drinks – the fizzier the better, of course! In fact, the only vendor who goes away disappointed from this bountiful bunch is the idli seller – who has nothing of interest to offer them – idlis???!! If the many tummies are not upset by the next morning, I assure you it was not for lack of trying!

And the next morning, at the station, we receive a bunch of kids (expected) – their numbers augmented by two little cherubic faces, looking none the worse for the wear and quite happy to be exclaimed over and made much of! We go home. Many baths are drawn. But… the twins have no luggage – not a stitch except what they are wearing!

My grandmother and I quickly run up two pavadais (the long skirts that Indian girls wear) as they are bathing and stitch stuff through the day – to last them for a couple of days till their stuff arrives with another friend who is traveling from Vizag!

The twins are thrilled – this is all high adventure – as they gleefully tell us how they decided on a plan of action before going to the station – that they would refuse to get off the train (munde anukunnaamu!)…

That summer… and that story – passes into family lore!

And from that part of Andhra (Vizag and Kakinada) also comes this yummy and unusual dish… recipe courtesy my friend Shreesha’s mother.

TELAGAPINDI KOORA

Telagapindi is the residue left over from sesame seeds after the oil has been extracted – highly nutritious and recommended for pregnant and lactating mothers or generally anyone who likes good food!

• Telagapindi – 3 tbsp
• Milk – 1 cup
• Water – 1 cup
• Onions – chopped – 1 large
• Garlic cloves – 5 minced
• Green chilies – 3 – 4 – slit
• Curry leaves- 2 sprigs
• Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Urad dal – 1/2 tsp
• Jeera/cumin seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Asafoetida – 1 pinch
• Peppercorns – crushed – 1/4 tsp
• 1 cup peeled, chunked gourd – bottle gourd/snake gourd/ashgourd or white pumpkin
• Methi leaves – 2-3 tbsp – optional
• Salt

Mix the telagapindi with water and milk and set aside.

Heat the oil and add mustard seeds. When they pop, add urad and jeera.

Add curry leaves and chilies. Saute for a few seconds and add onions, methi and garlic. When they turn translucent, add the gourd pieces and a tbsp of water. Cover and cook on a low flame along with salt and pepper till pieces are tender. Cool a bit.

Add the telagapindi mixture and cook on very low heat till it thickens.

Switch off and serve with rice or rotis.

You won’t want to spend all your emergency money on food, I promise!

“Nenappadinunchi pilusthunnaanu, neeku vinipinchaleda? (I’ve been calling you for ever so long, can’t you hear me or what?!!).” Arms akimbo and indignation writ large on her face, asks the lady… all of two years old – of her great uncle!

Arch, my older one, is not used to being ignored, as she thinks she is being – now! My uncle and aunt are visiting us. They are very good with little kids (and older kids too, for that matter!) and she approves of them thoroughly. They listen to her stories interestedly, do not insist on petting her or picking her up – she hates that!

She loves company – at a distance of at least six feet! Will sit and chat with visitors, tell them stories, make conversation… all provided no one attempts to pick her up and cuddle her! That privilege is reserved for parents and grandparents only!

On another occasion, a friend of mine accompanies me to school to pick her up and tries her best to wheedle a kiss out of Arch. Arch is having none of it! My friend, who’s very fond of babies, tries again – “Please, Archu, I’m your mother’s best friend.” “Then you go give her a kiss,” is the completely logical response!

Every time I read some “child expert” commenting on how children’s personalities are “yet to be formed”, “are semi-formed” and so on, I am amazed – I have yet to see a kid who does not have a very definite “personality”!

There are those kids who love cuddles – from anyone – and then there is my two-year old!

My younger one, K, was born with a personality – bigger than her nine-pound self!

The same uncle and aunt are staying with us some years later and my uncle, planning a trip soon, tells Kanch (about two at the time), “I’m going to take your mother with me to Bombay.” She eyes him suspiciously – is he capable of carrying out his threat? Naah, doesn’t look like it. But let’s make absolutely sure.

Takes her two fingers out of her mouth (where they have a permanent abode!), and tells him in no uncertain terms, “You take your Mummy!”

Most two-year olds I’ve met have a lot more personality than a lot of adults I know! Speaking of which, you might like to know that there is a whole science out there relating how our personalities shape how we eat – it’s called food-ology – I’m serious! Here’s the link.

Which food personality are you?

If you’re like me and like a hearty breakfast (and maybe a hearty lunch and a hearty dinner too!), here’s the perfect dish…

BROKEN WHEAT KHICHDI WITH SPROUTS

• Broken wheat – 1 cup
• Whole green gram soaked for two hours or moong sprouts- 1/2 cup
• Peanuts – 1/2 cup
• Chopped onions – 1/2 cup
• Chopped tomatoes – 1/2 cup
• Mixed vegetables – peas, chopped carrots, capsicum (bell peppers), beans – 1 cup
• Green chilies – sliced – 2 or 3
• Ginger – grated – 1″ piece
• Mustard seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Jeera/cumin seeds – 1/2 tsp
• Curry leaves – 1 sprig
• Asafoetida – 1 generous pinch
• Garam masala – 1/4 tsp (optional)
• Salt
• Juice of 1 lime
• Chopped mint and coriander to garnish – 2 tbsp
• Oil – 1 tbsp

Heat oil and roast peanuts in it till crisp. Add mustard seeds, jeera and asafoetida. When the seeds crackle, add the curry leaves and green chilies. Fry for a few seconds and add onions and ginger. Fry till golden.

Add tomatoes and saute.

Add the rest of the vegetables, green gram and whole wheat.

Add salt, garam masala, 3 cups water and pressure cook for two whistles. Reduce heat and cook for 5-6 minutes more.

Switch off, let the pressure reduce and open. Garnish with mint and coriander.

Squeeze over lime and serve immediately.

Full o’ personality!