From "How much happens in a day" by Neruda

b&w_plant
Originally uploaded by ramsundaram

Joy, my love, joy in all things,
in what falls and what flourishes.

Joy in today and yesterday,
the day before and tomorrow.

Joy in bread and stone,
joy in fire and rain.

In what changes, is born, grows,
consumes itself, and becomes a kiss again

A nice poem

bird_nest
Originally uploaded by ramsundaram

Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!

What if its not completely red ?

A new weekend, and back again to the Pacific Ocean. I have alwayed wondered this. Why is it that the Pacific Ocean is roiling, frothing, shouting, and thundering whereas the Arabian sea is benign ? I love running alongside both, but its as if the Ocean is letting me know, "Watch Out, you are in the presence of greatness". I love the Arabian Sea, for that was my first view of a large water mass, and Pacific Ocean fascinates and sometimes scares me.

Went to a grilling demonstration at one of the phoo-phoo-shi-shi stores in Southern CA. G, M and I rushed after our morning chores to watch a lady rub pre made marinade available in a jar, using cutlery available on sale at the store, and generally making average tasting food that a bunch of mostly 50somethings were oohing and aahing over. Forget the taste, that's subjective but chicken is supposed to be juicy and moist, which it was not. I think G was inspired to dust his grill and get going, for he makes one of the best Tandoor chicken, this side of the date line. While the chicken was being cooked, I walked around and practiced my French (the language) with a Moroccan woman, who was ambling in the mall.

When I went back to the grilling class, the lady was talking about how marinades and seasonings that are red should be stored in the fridge, for they will lose their potency otherwise. As she was saying this, one guy piped up his serious question "What if its not completely red?". Dude, really ? Do us a favor, would you? Ponder a bit before contributing to the gene pool. Seriously.

Now G, M and I have a *new* mantra when the conversation goes beyond stupid.

LA di da

It is 11:30 pm and the beginning of a new day. The comfort in familiarty. G driving, M riding shotgun and me sitting behind shotgun. The car noses out of the parking lot and merges into traffic. The neon sign screams "Girls! Girls! Girls! Nude! Nude! Nude!". Welcome to LA. Late at night the smog settles down in the city, casting a halo around the sodium vapor lamps. The city where the weather never changes. And on many days, where one can go surfing in the morning and skiing in the afternoon. Where the hot afternoons turn into nights so cold, the cold seeps into your bones. No smoking in bars, not even cigars. If you can see the sky, you can light up. Welcome, not just to LA, but also to CA. Start the car, point east, and drive 2500 miles uninterrupted. Talk about being in a fugue state! Welcome the USA. Comfort in familiarity. Where nothing has changed, and everything is new.

Wake up early and drive down Malibu canyon road. Past rabbits foraging for food, coyotes slinking back into their lairs, birds of prey soaring above the canyon, past the Hindu temple, the horse ranches, fishing holes, the road meandering enough to keep the drive interesting and then BOOM! To the South the first view of the Pacific Ocean, from a height that lets you look down on the horizon! Drive past the lawns of the university where deer graze peacefully, the sprinklers creating an arc of water, revolving languidly, holding patterns just that bit longer to create an impression. Drive straight past the light, park and start the early morning run. Pacific Ocean to the left, steel gray living, writhing , exciting, dangerous mass of water. The mountains to the left, early morning clouds kissing their peaks, an amorous rendezvous soon to be scorched away by the rising sun. But for now, the sun is behind the clouds, and there is a nip in the air. Forget the run, take in the location. The trail between the moutains and the ocean and all the creature comforts catered for in this awesome setting. The Ocean. I will be in you soon, but for now I am going to look at you from far, enjoying the challenge, the vast unknown...

Finish the run and drive down to Starbucks. Venti, Iced Tea, Sweetened, Easy on the ice. Oh, Green Tea please. Yes, with milk. Thank you. Comfort in Familiarity. Outside, in the sign, a starling has built a nest and two chicks are waiting for mommy to come and feed them. They turn raucous, as they feel mommy coming back with food. And the spectators, who have been waiting for this event throw up a quiet cheer. An ordinary day made extraordinary by an event usually not noticed. Its 8am and its the beginning of a gorgeous day!

What is she ?

NFAI, Pune. Well known for its rich archive of world cinema and the efforts it makes to restore prints. Set in a lush campus in Deccan gymkhana, NFAI screens world cinema regularly. Living a few blocks away from the campus, I usually attend most screenings. The theater is air-conditioned and clean for patrons have to remove their footwear outside. Watching world cinema is a hit and miss experience, and I have sat through quite a few sleep inducing pieces of “art”, content to be comfortable in the cool theater with an archaic projector, that has chewed many frames of film.

But no matter what the film, I always come away from NFAI with the satisfaction of having experienced a work of exquisite beauty and that is because of a picture in the lobby. It’s a woman wearing a white saree, with the pallu covering her head with some strands of hair tastefully showing. The pallu hugs her left cheek and forehead, and as it comes down the right side it flares, revealing the full right side of her face up to her ears, lending depth. The eyebrows, perfectly shaped, are arced minimally, and eyes are cast down at an angle suggesting a demure pose. The hands are visible and resting on the knees, lightly clasped. The forehead, neck and wrists are unadorned, and the saree has no border. There is no real point of focus in that picture, since the eyes and the face is tilted, but the effect created by the clasped hands, the bright white saree, her tilted facial features and the pallu covering her head creates a vision which the anonymous photographer might not have envisaged.

It’s a picture of the Hindi actress Meena Kumari, blown to 6ft by 3ft hanging on the left side as one enters the lobby. I never want to know what movie that picture came from, for that will reveal her character and I am afraid the picture will lose the charm it holds for me. Sometimes she is a tawaif waiting for her patron but the pure white saree also suggests movie could be from a period drama, wherein she might have essayed a role of widow. She could also be a mother, or “the other woman” who made a sacrifice. She could also be a lover, quietly reflecting upon her amorous escapades, clasped hands and raised eyebrows the only outward indications of the pleasures she was reliving. She could be a royal courtesan, contemplating the downfall of her enemies (real and imagined) or she could be a friend saddened by the shenanigans of her companions. She could be grieving the loss of a loved one, or her heart could be pounding upon hearing the news of arrival of her beloved.

That picture, a work of art, languishing in a quiet of corner of a film archive in India makes the Mona Lisa at the Louvre look like an art student’s first project.

Variation on the upma (proposed)

I thought about this last night, and will post the results once I actually make it . But as I my friendly neighborhood photoframe guy says 'Idea na paisa , baaki sab majoori che'

Its not a variation on the making of upma, but a way to present it. 

Prepare the upma, using your favorite recipe. While serving

Wrap a dollop in nori (dried seaweed,  used in sushi). Put some toasted white sesame seeds on top.
Top it with buttermilk foam, on which you sprinkle a pinch of the following mixture

Black salt, chili powder and toasted hing powder.

To eat, slurp the foam off the top. The foam has a visual appeal, the slurping satisfies a primal need,  and the pinch of condiments on top excite the palate sufficiently enough.

Then take a bite / eat the entire dollop wrapped in nori. The goodness and the richness of the upma, complemented by the rich taste of toasted sesame seeds should then leave one wanting more.


The question is, where do I find nori in B'bay/Pune ?

Variations on the upma

Few self respecting TamBrahms would not know how to make upma. The recipe is so simple, it screams for experimentation.

Over the years, I have created and experienced variations on the theme. Here are a few.

Roasting the Rawa

Instead of roasting it in a pan, use a large square piece of cotton and set the rawa in the center. You may choose to add some aromatics, like a bunch of rosemary into the rawa.
Bring all four corners of the cloth together, twist the loose end and tie it into a knot. Drop this next to a slow burning fire. Its important that the cloth with the rawa never touches the fire. Keep for about 3 – 4 hours, and the use the rawa for making upma.


The water to stir the rawa in.

Many years ago, my brother created this variation on a hot Saturday morning. Those days my sister-in-law would cook at least 2 different meals every day of the week. On weekends she would not cook, and we finished all the leftovers, which she kept in the fridge. Kind of a weekly culinary review. On Sunday night, we took her out to dinner and then the cycle would continue next week. One Saturday morning my brother decided to make upma for breakfast. As he was checking through the fridge for ingredients, he saw a pot full of rasam. Instead of water, he used the rasam to stir the rawa in and made culinary history.

Another time, I had to cook lunch for someone I was excited about at that time. She was also bringing a bunch of friends over and I had to show some semblance of skill. So I roasted the rawa, until it was almost brown. This ensured the upma would not become a coagulated mass, and the grains of rawa would separate themselves after cooking. I used home made beef stock to stir the rawa in. Earlier I had heated vegetable oil with lard, dropped sesame seeds into it, then added the beef stock. When the stock began to boil, I added the rawa, stirred constantly and let it cook for a couple of minutes. Once done, I transferred the upma into a large flat earthware, and set it on a sigdi (a fire hazard, but you have to be stupid sometimes) to keep warm. I had roasted green, yellow and red peppers on the sigdi earlier, on which I drizzled fresh olive oil. This was the side to the Indian couscous. I then paired the meal with a warm bottle of dry Riesling.

An Old Favorite...

Rama Naik Lunch Home, outside Matunga Station, Central Rlwy, Bombay. 

Eat a thali, or better yet opt for the unlimited meal on banana leaf. Its a typical TamBrahm meal, with 2 vegetables, one raita and pickle. One starts with eating puri, then comes the rice attack. Sambhar and rice. Rasam and rice. Dessert, optional. Buttermilk and rice. A word from the wise. While eating on a banana leaf, eat slowly. As the meal progresses, the oils from the leaf releases an aroma , without affecting the flavor of the food. The way to tell a good banana leaf is that, it should be releasing its flavors even while eating the last course, buttermilk and rice.

After finishing the repast,rinse your hands the wash basin outside. Pat dry lightly on anything without an odor. Wait for a minute for the hand to warm up, and then smell it. If heaven had an aroma, that would be it.

A recipe for the road

When one is travelling, living in friend's homes, living off a suitcase for more than a month, it becomes necessary to become creative with food. Here's a breakfast/lunch/snack/dinner recipe that has always worked for me.

What you will need:

Bread:
Half an English muffin, fresh. If you cannot find a muffin, a paratha/lavash/old focaccia/half buttermilk biscuits will do. Basically a piece of flat bread. I dont recommend white bread, since I dont like it. I like mine toasted, sometimes in the toaster other times on a hot pan with butter, if available.

Flavoring:
Again this varies depending on whose fridge I am raiding.

I am usually looking for cilantros, a pod of garlic, some peanuts, and sugar to grind into a paste.
Variations include crushing basil and garlic into a spoon of plain mayonaisse, crushing one mint leaf into a half a spoon of avakkai pickle, adding green chilli sauce and mint to peanut butter, mixing Schezwan pepper and black-salt with Dijon mustard....

Spread the flavoring lightly over the bread and let it sit. Keep aside some flavoring to be used later.

The vegetables:
Remember, you are raiding a fridge, so there is always some precooked veggies available. Its either sitting in a container steamed and ready to use, or its in a prepared dish floating in gravy. Pick the vegetables out of the gravy and set it on top of the bread. You might have to mash the vegetables a bit to get them to sit on the bread.

Set the vegetables on top of the flavored bread

The meat of it.:
One egg. Preferably farm fresh, duck eggs. Or farm fresh chicken egg. Or a plain vanilla egg.
Heat a ladle that is smaller than the piece of bread. Break the egg into the hot ladle and wait untile the white is cooked and a thin film forms over the yolk.

Drop the egg on top of the vegetables on the the flavored bread. Drizzle some flavoring over the egg.

The toppings and sides:
Aha. Some friends always have caviar sitting in the fridge, but I have not had the heart to use the caviar. Yet. Salmon roe, with its distinctive texture and saltiness works fine. A dollop of sour cream and chives gives the sandwich a sensous texture. Bunch of steamed veggies on side makes it a large full meal. A glass of tonic water, into which a spoon of khus syrup has been mixed, gives the sandwich a surreal accompanyment...

And there's only one way to eat this Sandwich. Messily.

This is my beef

Some years back I met an Indian doctor at a party in a mutual friend’s house. Having been sufficiently interesting to get her phone number, I called her couple of days later while having dinner at home. While the small talk was meandering through inanities, she asked me what I was eating. My answer, beef tacos, elicited a high pitch expression of disgust that sounded something like “YEEEEEEEUUUUUUCK!” Just the thing I wanted to hear when enjoying a meal in my own home.

Really, why do vegetarians develop this sense of revulsion that they are quick to express? It is annoying to have someone having a philosophical objection to one’s choice of food, and then expressing those objections in an uncalled for manner.

I usually ignore such verbal assaults, but having the need to write and having a platform to express ideas I will try to present a point of view that will hopefully make some vegetarians shut their mouth, especially when I am eating.

The first objection you vegetarians have is the physical nausea you feel when you see meat. This is understandable, since your body is reacting to the unfamiliar. Uncooked meat does smell, but only in large quantities usually seen in fresh meat markets. A couple of pounds of fresh meat has a faint scent that is not discernible unless you are rubbing your noses in it. The other reason for this revulsion could be the sight of meat. This argument held some water when meat markets were not as prolific and the sight of meat brought forth unfamiliar physical responses. But this is 2007! Go to any major market in the city, and you will find a meat market attached to it. The super markets stock fresh and packed meat adjacent to the frozen food, and ice creams section. Vegetarians, you should make daily treks to such markets and get used to the sight of meat. Pick a pound bag of meat and repeat, “This is food which my fellow human beings eat, and I will learn to respect it”. Do this for a month, and I guarantee you will not wrinkle your nose at my dinner table.

Then comes the mother of all arguments. Non-vegetarians are snuffing out a life. Read your science, people. Spend some time and read Tompkins & Bird's “The Secret life of Plants”. Only then let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.

Having been raised a vegetarian, I first ate meat at my 8th grade physics teacher’s house. Ever since then I have enjoyed eating meat, albeit in moderation. So vegetarians let me tell you something.

Take any vegetable of your choice and choose a basic cooking method. Steam, Grill or Char. Having cooked your vegetable, take it to the dinner table, add condiments of choice and take the first bite. What do you feel? Nothing. Its food for sustenance that passes through your system without evoking any emotion. Which is why you folks have to smother the vegetables in some tasty medium like gravy or sambhar or other masking factors.

Now let me tell you about a quarter pound of beef grilled medium rare topped with grilled onions. As I cut the first piece, the body starts responding. It releases extra saliva in anticipation of that juicy morsel entering the mouth. As I chew the meat, it releases its juices into my body and satisfies the primal need of the carnivore in me. The satiation felt after eating a piece of meat is a feeling no vegetable on earth can elicit. Don’t believe me? Turn on Discovery when a show about Africa is on. See how the grass eaters are always skittish and nervous in every surrounding. Then check the lion, sitting in the shade looking out at the plains yawning contentedly. Vegetarians, you have never felt something like that.

Ever.

With folded hands

I have a problem with God, which I hope S/He addresses quickly. Well, my problem is not with God per se, but with all those people who have chosen to build temples and then have chosen to ignore the most important ingredient there. The prasadam.

Time was when the dull monotony of a temple / religious gathering visit was alleviated by the ritual of collecting prasadam. When growing up in Mulund, I had to regularly visit the Shivankovil and the Raghavendra matham. Shivankovil had paal-pazham for prasadam everyday and on Maha Shivrathri there was thandai. Raghavendra matham did not have a de facto prasadam, but more often than not, there would be faithful handing out sweets. There also was eru-thengai, which embodied the saying “its not the kill, it’s the thrill of the chase”. Raghavendra matham also had a fragrant akshatai which one was supposed to put on one’s head, but was used as a mouth freshener after a smoking a cigarette on the sly. A visit to these temples left one well satiated.

Then there were the saarvjanik festivals. Chundals during Navratri (To all the mamis who filch on the chundal but keep kolu: A kolu without chundal is like a marriage without consummation), modak and other assorted prasadams during Ganpati. The most generous Ganpati mandal was the one outside Matunga station. During the Ganpati, a bunch of us would make regular treks from Podar college to the mandap and collect prasadam with cupped hands. The men inside would not bat an eyelid, but they did request us to say a prayer. Anything karega for that mix of nuts, white sugar and Godfatherly compassion.

But things are looking bleak. A visit to the major temples in the city and elsewhere requires one to buy a packet of sweets outside the temple, carry it though the temple and then eat it outside as prasadam. I wonder which demented idiot thought of this practice and then popularized it. I have never felt the heavenly benevolence coursing through me after eating BYOP. Then there are places that give out flowers as prasadam. Flowers that someone plucked from the plant, thereby snuffing out all chances of the flower propagating its seeds to its next generation.. And what is one supposed to do with this flower ? Cant eat it, cant keep it, will stink the next day. Unless it’s a dried lotus flower dipped in a sugar-saffron syrup sprinkled with pistachio flakes, flowers are not appropriate as prasadam.

One place that stands out in this prasadam desert is the temple in North Bombay that gives out sheera as prasadam many mornings. This is not any ordinary sheera but a godly concoction of ghee, brown raisins, cashew nuts and sooji. Every time I visit Bombay, I go for a run that culminates at this temple in Juhu. After buying a newspaper and then removing my shoes, I make a quick tour inside and collect a generous helping of the prasadam in the newspaper. Sometimes, the man giving out the prasadam wonders why I ask for more. My response, which I always suppress owing to the divinity that I am about to partake, is ‘taara baapa no soo jayech ?’