Culinary Mitzvah

This is an account of a rollercoaster ride which I took earlier in the day which I just had to share with everyone! It all started out like any regular day. By regular, I mean as days have been for me for the last fifty days or so. For those who dont know, the day goes like this: Wake up late, eat , pass time somehow , eat again and sleep. Some of the days I am lucky enough to have a bit of partying or something interesting to do, but you get the general picture right?? So, where was I?? Hmm, yes. I was sitting in Daddy's sofa and staring out of the window when mom suddenly suggested for the umpteenth time in these vacations, but for the first time today that I should make myself useful. By a miracle of God, it entered my ears and quite unconsciously I agreed. It was then that it began....

The first incident I am about to describe, and the smaller of the two I must say, was about me making tea. In quite a strange way I am proud of the tea I make (as it is one of the few things I can make with my eyes almost closed).I did the usual stuff, boiled the water, put the tea leaves in it and added milk. I was quite sure I did everything right!! In fact.. It looked great!!! Until I poured it into the cups and realised that the tea was at least seven shades darker than it should have been. I remembered adding milk. I definitely did. Then I remembered that I had let it boil a little too long. As I took the tea to serve to my innocent victims (Mom and brother, not to forget the one cup I made for myself *gulp*) I walked with pride in my step (to save face) and said "Mom, here's a strong cup of tea for you." Mom had no idea how strong. Luckily my brother did not know who the mastermind behind the tea was, and assumed it was my mom. He took one sip. Stopped. Looked at it. Looked at mom. And said,

"Varenya made this didn't she???"
End of story 1.

THE BATTLE FOUGHT TO REGAIN LOST HONOUR

I am a proud little (I see eyebrows going up) thing. I decided that I had to get back the image that I rightly deserve. Hence began my second endeavour. It is a bit of an inside joke with us that I don’t know how to cook the “everyday” food but I am pretty good at making exotic pasta(Courtesy Nita Mehta’s Pizza and Pasta recipe book). I embarked upon the second assignment which was to make Gnocci (pronounced Nyoh-kee) in cream sauce.

Today was the first attempt. And the first step involved grating boiled potatoes through the finest holes of a grater. It started well enough. The potatoes gave no problem at all, until halfway through each potato ( I had to grate two) they suddenly decided to become pasty and ooze through my fingers. I definitely had a fun (smell the sarcasm) time pushing the ooze through the fine holes of the grater. Eventually I finished the task and finished digging out the mashed potato ooze from under my fingernails (which now extend 6mm beyond my fingers).
Then I read on and followed instructions perfectly and shaped the mashed potato paste with a host of other ingredients which I shall not reveal right now. You will have to be my guest some day to know.

At the end of a fifteen minute long effort, my hair was in tangles, there was maida everywhere from my hair to my nose. Of course my hands need not be described. They looked merely like I had some kind of a white rash consistently all over them. BUT!!! At the end of those SAME fifteen minutes I also had twenty five shell shaped gnocci blobs!( You have no idea how much my heart bled to use the word blob just now, but I had to give you the right picture).

Then the sauce. I followed instructions down to the last detail. Only two steps left to go. #1 Add cream. #2 Boil one last time and add the gnocci blobs. I could smell the buttery goodness of the golden brown sautéed onions in the white sauce and the aroma of Italianised coriander leaves. Then I looked at the watch. It was 5:50 pm. I had to be in my dance class by 6:30.Lots of time , I thought. And then looked at the carton of cream I held in my hand. I was just about to open it when the date of manufacture caught my eye. April, 2005.Instructions on the same carton read, “Best within 120 days of the date of manufacture”. My heart skipped a beat. All my effort down the drain?!? I said to myself, “This is not the time to give up!!”. I put on my sneakers n ran down to the kirana nearby and asked for some cream. He said, “Uska tho aaj kal supply hi bandh ho gaya na!!”

The store owner must have seen the million contortions on my face and said, “Petrol bunk ke paas try karo, mil sakta”.Thanking myself for having worn sneakers, I sprint down to the petrol bunk store only to be met with looks of sheer ignorance at the mention of cream. 6:03. I called mom for help and mom asked me to take an auto and try at a store about half a kilometer away.The next 10 minutes were spent in agony. I tried auto after auto, but none would come for such a short distance.I kept on trying. 6:12 . I was angry and upset with all the auto drivers in India. I decided to walk down there.(Should have done it before).I reached the place in record time considering the traffic on the main road which took me ages to cross. Finally I laid my hands on some fresh cream.Got an auto and came home(6:20).

I added the precious cream and boiled it one last time. Added the gnocci and set it in the glass dish that I had selected for the purpose.I quickly popped one into my mouth. It tasted like heaven. But I also burnt my tongue so badly that it stung till 6:35.

I ran off for dance class. And for the curious, Yes, I did make it in time. When I came home, I was told that everyone who tasted it liked it a lot and finally I was glad that they had forgotten all about the tea that I had served them earlier in the day. Mission Accomplished.So, as I sign off with a tummy full of Italian delights, I apologise to all those who wished they could have eaten it too. You can be my guest anytime, but don’t forget the tea I made earlier today.