When somethings change beyond recognition..

Its been so long since I last logged into WordPress that the new interface took me totally by surprise. (how long has it been like this for??) Since I last posted, the being married novelty has also kinda passed. No one inviting us over anymore for food. In fact, we had one of RC’s newly married friends and her husband over for dinner. Our dinner, was of course, nothing like any of the lunches we went to.

So, after all that “newly married” pampering, I suddenly found myself sitting at home, alone, for the most part, with nothing to do. I was in a new city where I knew almost no one. Well, almost no one who was jobless and who wanted to hang out with me. I read like I used to when I was back in college. Almost constantly through the day. But I was fast running out of new things to do everyday. So I started cooking. I diligently cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner every single day. I made something new, tried out something RC or I liked (its never and). I’m happy to report that I’ve thoroughly used every single cookbook I bought then. I’ve actually grown to quite like cooking. Yes, I still say that with a shudder. It completely amazes me.

I lived in Hyderabad for 3 years. We didn’t even have a stove for 2 and half years. We had an electric kettle to boil water, for cup noodles, of course. But that was it. Kitchen had a fridge, a few plates and cups, bottles (ahem) and a puja shelf. My mom tried very very hard to get me to make at least curd rice for dinner and failed miserably. After all that, I made Rajma chawal for her when she came to Bombay (what a fun weekend!), and she fell off the chair! Understandably so. Actually, my mother is still in shock.

RC, of course, has been the perfect husband and made all the oohs and aahs and has not complained at all. He deserves a pat on his back.

So does marriage make a culinary enthusiast out of a woman? Nah, unemployment does and very effectively so.

The newly wed meals

So it still hasn’t completely sunk in that I’m married. Except maybe when I wash vessels cos its my least favorite thing to do. But marriage does change a lot of things, some of them startling changes. Say, for example, all the maamis and mamas who’ve hardly said a word to me in my so many years of my existence suddenly talk to me like an equal. Well, not really an equal but at least I see them wanting to develop some sort of kinship. You know, swap recipes for paruppusili and aracha vitta sambhar types. I don’t know what the polite way to decline invitation to the maamis’ club is. But when you just smile like a pretty doll and not say too much, they just take that to be coyness of the new bride and let you be. After all, how long can they carry on one sided conversations about where to buy the best puli and paruppu in Bombay and where to go to find the quintessential Tam crowd in the maida maavu city.

I digress. So there seem to be a lot of set rules and rituals that people generally follow to make the new couple feel welcome. Actually, its just for the daughter-in-law cos the boy is anyway treated like a king without kingdom (that actually depends on the dowry he gets and is subjective) wherever he goes. But, the one ritual that I couldn’t make too much sense of was the fact that everyone suddenly invited us to their house for lunch. We tambrahms never invite people over for dinner. Lunch is the first choice, if unavailable, evening tiffin is also acceptable but we never do dinner. I wonder why that is. Lots of people invited us over for lunch. Mostly RC’s people. The nice people that we are, we went to almost all their houses.

When you prepare a Tam lunch for someone who comes over, it invariably is Sambhar, Rasam, Curry, Kootu, Applam and Thayir. You know, like Saravana Bhavan meals types. Some of the over enthu ones also made pachidi and sweets. The problem started here. I don’t like Sambhar or Kootu. I only looked forward to the applam and sweets. In the meanwhile, word had gotten around that RC loved Pushnika kootu and vengaya sambhar (Pumpkin coconutty gravy and Onion sambhar). Since the boy is anyway the king, kootu and sambhar “followed my behind” with such a vengance, I still can’t bear to look at either of it even though we haven’t been fed that in over a month. I must be the only tambrahm on the face of earth that doesn’t like sambhar. I’m tired of explaining myself. Rasam I can have, just not sambhar. But then, people naturally assume that they must be my favorites too cos my husband loves them. So there was this constant pressure on me to make the yummy noises and ask each of them for the recipe of their version of the two dishes.

We South Indians are best known for our hospitality. Its the best. Honestly. But while serving guests food, the hospitality just goes berserk. We can never understand when someone says they’re full or insist that they’ve had enough. We always insist harder that they have some more. Its always a one-up game. Unless they notice some sign of distress on your face or hear uncomfortable sounds from your stomach, they will always insist that you eat more. The best way to avoid landing up with insane amount of food on your plate is to completely cover it up with both hands and almost shield it with your chest. One must be very careful to not give the host even the slightest space to wriggle their way through.

When you’ve eaten so much that you can’t move even an inch, let alone bend down to wear your own shoe, they will offer you a pillow to sleep off the carb coma or the unda mayakkam. After the nap, when you think you just might be able to stand up again, talks of “why don’t you stay back for tiffin” will scare the hell outta you. I never thought the day will come when I will groan at the thought of eating a meal.

In spite of all this, its a good feeling to be the center of everyone’s attention. Its the “Live it up while it lasts” logic, I guess!

All for a good meal.. Part 2

This a continuation of my earlier post by the same title.

My last few days in Dublin. Have explored a few more restaurants in the last few days. This time, not all of them are Indian. But starting with the best Indian restaurant in Dublin, Taste of India. This place was suggested to me by a colleague who lived in India for about 3 months. He apparently loves Samosas and chai, especially the ones you get on the roadside in Pune

Taste of India is not a very fancy place. The decor and ambiance is pleasant but not swanky. This place has the most elaborate vegetarian menu I’ve seen in Dublin. We started with Aaloo chat. I have to mention now that, most of time when you ask for Aaloo chat, what you get is Aaloo is a tasteless gravy with chat masala and onions. Since when did aaloo chat become a gravy?!?! Don’t even get me started. But the Aaloo chat here was perfect. It was authentic and tasty. I even tasted some amchur in it, which is certainly a first. Like all other place applam was starters here as well. But the mint chutney that you get with it it by far the best one. Also, another major highlight of this place is that it’s again the only place that serve chapatthis and Rajma. From what I hear, the chicken gravy was amazing as well. The food was brilliant. Everything was perfect. The service was great as well. The Indian gentleman who runs the place will always stop by your table to say Namaste!

Another highly recommended Indian place was Chandini. We went there on a Saturday evening and were told that we needed reservations. So, we got takeaway from there another day. The food is probably not the most authentic I’ve tasted. The Aaloo chat was hopeless. We got the gravy version here as well. We then had some Aaloo gobi and some Cheese Naan. The cheese Naan was really good. I hear that the Chicken Briyani was really great as well. But what followed the takeaway meal was probably the best part of the evening. My friend, Ceceil, baked a chocolate cake for us! With French chocolate. My day was made when she gave me bowl in which she melted the chocolate to lick. Aaaaaaaa…. Orgasmic!

When I got tired of eating desi food everyday, Anu, my friend who lives in Dublin suggested this place to me, Acapulco. We all went there for dinner one night. It was a welcome break. I loved it. I went back there with another American friend who loves Mexiacan. She loved the place as well. The decor is certainly bright and chirpy though it can get kinda hot and stuffy if the place is crowded. If you’re looking for intimate dining, this is certainly not the place. It’s more the kind of place you would rather go to with a whole bunch of friends and have a good gossip session. Coming to their food, the stuffed Jalapeno starter is just brilliant. After a starter and Fajita, you should certainly save room for some Baileys cheesecake! They also have some good wine on their menu. I must warn you though that the service is on the slower side and you might have to ask for water at least 3 times before you get it

After some pub hopping, we stopped at Cafe Bar Deli for a slightly late night dinner. With a vast continental menu, my best bet was Italian ‘cos predictably, that was the only stuff with a few vegetarian options. My friend had some khus khus salad, and I tried a mushroom pizza. On the whole, it was a decent option for a good meal. The ambiance is cozy and laid back. Service is certainly quick and good value for money.

This post will continue. I have more restaurants to write about

PS: The reason the Indian restaurants’ food is talked about more elaborately here, is ‘cos I care about how they serve Indian food more than how they serve continental or Italian.

All for a good meal..

When I decided to travel to Europe, I mentally prepared myself to live pretty much on bread and pasta. Being a vegetarian, I knew my options would be extremely limited. Like everyone else who travels abroad, I carried pickles, podi, ready mixes, etc, etc..

For anyone who’s travelled around reasonably, it is a known fact that Indians are simply everywhere. In fact, my first taste of Paris was being stalked by 8-10 Indian boys (Tamil to be precise) singing Tamil songs and whistling. (which is certainly a story for another time). It almost felt like I was back in Madras being stalked by boys from New College in Gemini bus stop. .

The logical conclusion being, if there are so many Indians everywhere, finding Indian food should not be so tough either. It actually isn’t. Then what am I complaining about? The problem with the Indian food that you find in Europe is that it is completely toned down to the European palette. The restaurants also have a weird sense of what “Indian” ethnic interiors.

During my first week in Dublin, me and 2 other fellow Indians decided to give Desi Khana a try. By popular suggestion, by the Irish of course, we decided to go this place called Jaipur. This is a total uptown Indian place. There were swankily dressed locals and there we were in flip-flops and Jeans. Then we were told that there were no tables available and that you had to book at least one day in advance. One of the fellow Indians decided to play the “Uncle-ji, main bhi Rajasthan se hoon.” card. Result, we had a table 45 frustrating minutes later. Most of the waiters here can’t even pronounce the names of dishes properly and just copy down as you point on the menu. Grrrr… The first weird thing I noticed was that Papad here is a starter. :-O We decided to keep it simple and have some Paneer pasandha, dhall, rice and naan. The food arrived 20 minutes later. By then, I was too famished to even be angry. When I put the food into my mouth, it didn’t taste like dhall or paneer pasandha. The dhall had no salt or trace of spice. The paneer pasandha was sweet, no exaggerations. With great difficutly we managed to finish the food. There, I learnt my first lesson. In any Indian restaurant, when you order, you should ask for it to be really spicy. Only then, you’ll get something normal. In fact, the operating word is “Desi spicy.”

Our next target was another place called Indian Ocean. The food was just about passable. The interiors of this restaurant were weird to say the least. As you enter, there’s a Jaadu with a sparkling band and ribbons on display, that’s supposed to be “ethnic decoration.” What nonsense is that now! In my house, the Jaadu is always kept in a place that can never be seen. I don’t think anyone ever uses it as a piece of decoration. Not just that, there are huge blowups of group orgy sculptures. It didn’t even look classy.

Then we found our haunt, Sagar. It is by far the best Indian restaurant I’ve been to in Dublin. The “desi spicy” thing works here and we actually get good food. But the sad part is that, when you talk about Indian restaurants, they are all North Indian ones. If you want Idlis or Dosas, there’s no South Indian place. There just one place, Madina, which is a Pakistani restaurant that serves Dosas. The irony is that most of the Indians in Dublin are either Malayalis or Telugus. Strange!

By far, the best Indian food I’ve had in Europe is at Madras Cafe, Paris. This place is run by a Tamilian family from Pondicherry. All the waiters and cooks are Tamilians but speak really good French (not that I’m a good judge of that). I actually had “full meals” there. Including Sambar, Rasam, curry, kootu and applam. I stuffed my face so much that I had difficulty walking back after that.

The conclusion being, we need the Indian restaurants to be more authentic. And someone, please consider opening a Dosa Diner chain in Europe. May be, that’s a business plan for me to think about some day

Today, we decided to try out a Pakistani restaurant, Madina in Dublin for dinner. When you talk about Indian restaurants in Dublin, they are all predominantly North Indian ones. I was pleasantly surprised to find Dosas on the menu.

And I was ecstatic when I found Golgappa on the menu as well But, we were all skeptical. So, we decided to try the Golgappa if the Dosa was passable. The Dosa was in fact, more than passable. Though the sambar was not upto the mark, the coconut chutney and the crisp tasty Dosas more than made up for it.

I wasn’t really expecting great Pani Puri, but this was actually quite close to being good. When I was leaving Hyderabad, I was cribbing to my roommate about how I won’t be able to eat any Golgappa for the next 3 months. For someone who loves Golgappa and can have them for breakfast, lunch and dinner, every single day of the year, being away from them for 3 months was heartbreaking.

Dosa, Golgappa and Bollywood music at the same time, PRICELESS… I’m lovin’ it