Who wants some Pav Bhaji!?

Today was one of those days when I did every task that I had been procrastinating forever.

I cleaned up my cupboard, I cleared that nagging cobweb in that unreachable corner of the bathroom, I scrubbed my heels, I cleared my dressing table of all those unwanted creams/ nail colors/ cotton balls and unbelievably even stitched that one nasty button back on my favorite pants-which-was-unusable-since-the-button broke.

Phew! I feel productive alright.

Did I brag about the fact that I got a kitchen helper/cook. (Picture me hopping around in joy). So obviously, nowadays my mind is overjoyed at the thought of going home since I would get to do the one of the things I love, COOK! Without worrying to clean, chop, dice or mince.

So, today was the Pav Bhaji day. And I must say, Bro and Prasad were floored by it. So, I will let the lip-smacking do the talking too. :) Now, giddy up and take down the quick recipe right out of my kitchen.

Ingredients

- Fresh Pav (The numbers depend on your appetite)

- Vegetables may include;

Carrots, Potatoes, Cabbage, Cauliflower, Capsicum, Tomatoes, Onion, Green Peas...Basically anything you can lay your fingers on. Except of course, Brinjal and Ladies Finger!!

- Green chillies, Coriander and lemon slices for garnish

- Pav Bhaji Masala ( I would recommend Everest or Catch)

- Salt to taste

- Loads of butter of course.

Procedure

- Wash, peel and halve the vegetables, except for onions.

- Chop the onions, coriander leaves and green chillies finely.

- If you have a food processor, I would recommend just running the raw veggies in that for a few churns. If not, you have more chopping to do. :| Don't fret over chopping evenly, they are going to be mashed anyway.

- Once ground coarsely, just pop them all into a pressure cooker and give them a few steams.

- Meanwhile, saute the onions & green chillies in oil and when golden brown, add the Pav Bhaji masala, salt and turmeric. (P.S. Spare some onions for the garnish!)

- Once, the veggies are boiled, use a large serving spoon or masher and manually mash them into a coarse pulp. Add these to the saute'd seasoned onions.

- Bhaji is ready!

- Butter a pan and roast the Pav on that. Make sure you slice them into halves for better greasing. :)

Serving Style

- Ensure piping hot Bhaji is served for the best taste. Garnish it with a blob of butter, chopped coriander leaves, chopped onions and a slice of lemon to squeeze.

- Bring in the buttered Pav.

- Serve right from the stove to the platter.

Bon Appetite!

Begging for beds...

Its those post-lunch hours at work when you can kill someone to get a fluffy bed. Actually, not even fluffy, any bed, any horizontal surface would do. God bless those minds who came up with idea of a rest lounge at work for women. Especially women, the delicate half of the human species. Because of course, with all that they go through biologically, that a man can never undergo; they deserve it. Sadly and honestly, that's true!

Thus, winning us the brownie point of a dormitory.

But, then the million dollar question arises, do you ever get to sleep on that bunker bed in the dormitory!??

No.

Why??

Because some ladies sleep on them as though they have never encountered a bed before in their life.

Now, come on you can't be serious!

No, seriously! They sleep with their claws dug deep into the bed. They cannot be removed from their until (death do us part? Nah, that's too harsh) eternity!

Ah, that must really suck. Especially when you really need to get a shut eye, or worse, when you aren't well.

Oh tell me about it. I have stood there towering over sleeping women hoping that they will freak out when they open their eyes and would run out that door. I just got snores back in return.

God, that's outrageous!

Oh, that's nothing. Now, I get a feeling they even reserve the beds! They land on the bed in the off-sleep-hours and proceed with eating, chatting, stretching and then finally sleeping through the day. Makes me sometimes wonder if they even get their own pillows from home to make themselves 'feel at home'.

They should make some rule for the time that one person can occupy a bed for.

How!? You should see those women! They even cover their faces with the duvets to shut out any "official" disturbance from the outer world. What are we supposed to do? Yank their blankets off and pour a bucket of water , like the movies. Although that would surely be fun.

Although, I really wish if the world was the movies, one day I might just do that! LOL.

Straight from Dee's Kitchen!

I had just got home from work and I was in one of my cookie-cookie moods. Yes, the days when I find cooking therapeutic. I just love cooking. Although, I will be more human and confess that sometimes, when you're tired out of your senses, obviously cooking for yourself is a pain.

As always my mind was on a hunt for palatable quick-fix recipes. I remembered having boiled chickpea (black chana) in the morning. But, I was in no mood for a run-of-the-mill chana curry (bleeeeh!). I would give a limb for a lip smacking chaat though. Quite on the contrary, I agree. Ah, I miss mum.

Nevertheless, here is what I made!

1. Throw in the boiled chickpea, jeera, ginger-garlic paste, salt, green chillies, dhaniya powder,pinch of garam masala.

Chef's tip: Add 2 spoons of bread crumbs or rice powder for more crunchy outcome. :*

2.Heat up a non-stick pan and smear a little bit of oil on it.

3. Make small cutlets out of this chickpea dough.

4. Place them on the pan on slow heat and toss them periodically for uniform browning.

Taaa-daaaa...

Much more healthier than the usual aloo tikki and when you have it with a dash of ketchup or salsa sauce, you're guaranteed to go yummy in the tummy!

Bon Appetite!

Do away with the bitterness.. :)

My nose would twist in utter disappointment when Mom would make Karela (Bitter Gourd). Although I must agree, even back then, it would smell heavenly. But, I should be excused since children and bitterness don't really go together.

Today, I love Karela. Not the kind of love I would express by consuming it every day of my life. But, yes, I have definitely come to appreciate its taste and more so, the health conscious part of me loves its natural bitterness for its God-gifted healing powers.

Thus, today I decided to put up a simple recipe for all Karela-haters out there, just to give it a second chance. And for those who love it already, another lip smacking way to savor this

vegetable that definitely finds place in grandma's household remedies.

Here you go;

Ingredients: Bittergourd, Jeera (Cumin seeds, optional), Amchoor (Dry mango powder), Chat masala (for the tang), Vinegar/ Fresh Lemon, salt to taste.

1. Chop the bitter gourd finely. I usually skip the seeds (this is more because someone once compared them to lizard eggs and I couldn't ever get that notion out of my head).

There's no restriction to sizes, just that smaller pieces always cook faster!

2. Mix these with the Amchoor and set them off into the microwave for about 5 mins. ( Don't fret if you don't have a microwave at disposal, just skip to next step, you'll just need to give it more time on the stove).

3. Heat about 2 spoons of oil in the pan. Add Jeera and let it splutter. Toss the semi-cooked bitter-gourd into it. Add the salt, chat masala and sprinkle the vinegar / lemon juice over it. Cover it with a lid and give it a minute.

Don't forget to absorb the aroma when you remove the lid!

Relish this crunchy side-dish with your regular meal. Tell me if you still hate it.

Bon appetite!

DHIN-CHUCK- NUNCHUCK

Thrilled is an understatement of my feelings when my aerobics instructor told us today that we'd be doing Nunchucks!
Don't know what that is? Don't fret.

Nunchucks (ヌンチャク, Nunchaku^?) are a traditional Okinawan weapon consisting of two sticks connected at their ends with a short chain or rope. Still clueless what that is (that's ok, some in my class were as well).

Peek into the images running in my head!??

Oh-W.O.W. :D
Do you have any idea how much serious damage those two little pieces of sticks can do. Brutal. .

Ok, only problem is. That's Brucelee. The Brucelee.
Here, it was just me. So, you see, watching myself in the mirror wasn't as impressive as the images my brain was creating. I agree, I have earlier trained in martial arts weapon, but any weapon, has to be learnt and mastered on its own. Besides, I never got that far with the weapons ( :( ).

The routine started in an unexpectedly hilarious manner, with an absolutely butt-clenching squat posture. :\ I have no issues with squatting as long as the entire routine is not based on it. So how this goes is, Nunchucks basics involve A-Z routines that you must practice and memorize...all this in almost squat position (although I won't say we were doing perfect squats by end of the routine, it was more like posture-attending-nature's-call). So, we began with 'A'.

After five minutes of smacking the sticks on my head, arms, back and almost breaking my frontal teeth; the routine ended. I had hurt two nails, my ribs, my arm pits ( yes, you need to lock that stupid stick under your armpit and all I could do is knock myself with it).
After about five rounds of practice, I wasn't that bad! :D Maybe, someday I might improvise a lot and be female Brucelee. No pain no gain. Ain't it?

Ain't it?

The crazy confusing emotion called Love.. :)

Love, is such a strong emotion. I read a beautiful phrase in a book, "...enough to justify one's existence". Also, at the same time its the most confusing emotion in the world. It makes you mature, caring, loving yet go bananas and act like a child, at the same time.

I was just viewing this cute advertisement on television last night about Johnson & Johnson celebrating their 100 years of cuddling and hugging. Mother and child. A relation no one else can define. The pain a mother undergoes to bear her child can only be understood by her. Yet, she awaits that pain...eagerly so.

I wonder sometimes wouldn't a mother want to punish her child for that painful experience for no fault of hers. Maybe, maybe not. The child was barely aware of it as it came kicking alive into this world. But what about all those times when a child has pee-d or poo-poo-d on her mother's expensive outfit. Or, the times it called names or spat as a mere medium of leisure, while the mother sometimes embraced, sometimes enraged would just withstand it.

Isn't that what love is about, you are so much in it that you don't even realize what is good and what's bad, its just your interpretation of love.

Do children ever realize what all has gone in from bringing them up from a uni-cellular organism to this complete human being? Not just children, it can be any living being who is loved.
Your pet, your siblings, your friends, your lover, your father, your mother, your teacher...the list is endless.
We all love them, we can't live without them, but how many of us express it out loud? They all become hygiene factors of our life...things we miss only when they go missing. How many of us hug them for no reason and plant a big wet kiss as a expression of our gratitude to their presence in our lives. (Of course, that doesn't apply to your love for your teacher :) )

Lucky are those few, who appreciate and value what they have. I hope I hug them close to me until they suffocate. Because, most of us realize it when its too late.

Comfort Food Festival :)

As I gobbled a slop of Maggi down my throat, I realized, I have been sinning. Past few weeks have been so stressful at work that I have stopped being Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes and just grabbed any edible molecules in my sight.

I feel exceptionally guilty because I have always been so conscious about the food I eat on a regular basis. Before my friends fall off their chair, I confess, Yes, I do go on binges. Yes, I have eaten chana-batura for weeks in a row. Yes, I do eat like a man sometimes. But mostly, I make a sincere effort to detox, before I can re-tox .

Jokes apart, I have usually been proud of my daily staple. Until lately. I remember a recent night where after an evening snack of cheese sandwich, I have eaten a dinner of potato wedges and then pounced at a chocolate bar at one in the night. Then it felt too sweet on the palette so I topped it all with salsa sauce with crackers. I can't be blamed! It was one in the night. Staying up late always makes me hungry. Doesn't it happen to everyone?

To be honest I can't blame my work entirely for lack of muscle movement cause I always believed when there's a will, there's a way. Thus, yesterday although being pooped out post work, I was undeterred from my decision to do a workout routine at home. After an hour of searching on Google, bored yet unfazed I found something interesting. :) Belly Dancing Basic lessons.

I was overcome with so much excitement that I didn't realize until forty minutes later that I have only been doing the warm ups and it was almost 11 in the night. I was a midnight-belly-shaking-night-suit-clad-freak. Next day I had a cramp on hips. I can't even explain that cramp to anyone! Not happening.

I contemplated the whole of today about rejoining my aerobics classes but I realized I will go cuckoo if I have to do that jump-touch-toe-jump-touch-toe routine even one more time. I decided, I will do power yoga. That's it. If Kareena can do it, so can I. I looked up videos on net. I did my stretches and warm ups. Finally, by the time I got down to business I was exhausted, whiny and yawny. Next thing I knew, I was stretching in bed. Nightie Night.

ITS MINE! AND I L-O-V-E IT.

I attended Family Day celebrations hosted by my sis's office. Apart from being really well organized, the awesomely coordinated dance numbers were the icing on the cake; owing to my love for leg shaking. But of course, we had some quick bites ( and a lot of them at that ;) ). I was impressed and comfortably satisfied in the belly.

There were miniature giant wheels ( I know that's an oxymoron but that's exactly what it was!), merry-go-rounds, caricatures, shooting/bouncing/tossing games, pottery making, mehendi, tattoos, clothes, junk jewellery and lots more. I have always been fond of these carnival-sort-of-gatherings. They just transport me back to my childhood were me and sis would be these starry eyed kids glued to the food stalls. Man. Those were the days.

All in all, had a great time as you can see all my thirty-two out there!

(Sis, Me, Deepali Di)

I was walking towards my car at the parking when I saw a fairly elder man carry a tiny little dishevelled thing in his hand with utmost care. He was almost a level before tip-toeing. Curiousity took the better of me and I gave a second peep. Ah, it was his creation at the pottery stall. I think it was an attempt to make something like a pot. It definitely looked more of a flower to me. Nevertheless, what seemed to matter to him is, he CREATED IT!

In those brief few seconds that I noticed this scene, I realized something.
The Sense of Mine. A critical element in all of us. Something that "I" created will be precious to me. No matter how sad or ugly it looks to the outer world. We will have an invisible umbilical cord attached to it.

I remember the time Dad bought our first Sandwich Grill at home, I was in eight grade. I don't remember much around that incidence except for the fact that I had made these grilled sandwiches with just plain cheese filled in them. I remember feeling the Top Chef that day. Or, perhaps Mom Dad just played along (you can always count on them to do that! :) )

I remember my good friend making this painted ceramic bowl. How much she loved it. What I loved is, watching her adore her lil' scribbled color mesh.

Don't we all do that? At least when it is our first time. Just recall...when did you look at your little messy first-time-project and pat your own back in admiration.

THAT WASN'T ME!

I entered the ladies toilet (okay, let me be polished, lavatory) and let out a scream in disgust. Not only stared back a floater on my face, it looked like its owner had taken a cleopatra bath in there. (A BIG EWW!)

I was almost certain that the lady had taken a shower in there. No exaggeration. But why! Maybe to get the smell off herself. Possible. In utter repulsion I cleaned up the mess and wiped the seat clean with my pinky. Trust me, the least human contact is advisable in such conditions.

What I fail to understand is how do they manage to create this magnificient scenario! It is only a touch of an expert. The other object that crosses all limits of aversion is The Used Tissue. Be it positioned anywhere; floor, half hanging on the bin lid, near the seat proximity; its unacceptable. Now ladies, why can't we drop it where it belongs? and FYI, its none of the above listed places.

Doesnt the poor tissue paper deserve a proper disposal after it has served you to death. Literally.

An ideal treatment for such people would be a Disappearing Tissue paper.
Muahaha. <> Obviously the magic should happen after they are done with their job.
Another wicked solution could be an Itchy Tissue paper. I know its mean but can you disagree, it will help in teaching some valuable lessons!

Nowadays the corporates are cutting down on the abudance of tissue papers in the bathrooms as a cost cutting measure. Jeez, can't even poop in peace. Although this withdrawal of luxury leaves you feeling a little vulnerable it does help in avoiding people mistaking tissue rolls for shower towel substitutes. But, incorrigible human species, we always come up with alternatives. If its not the tissues, then the air blower is victimized. Got the flow(blow)? ;)

DISCLAIMER: Post written with an educational intent.

OOPS! nooot AGAIN! nooot NOW!

Today was one of those Butter-Finger-Syndrome days.

1. I dropped my toothpaste on my night suit first. (Cursed the toothpaste, it was not my fault).

2. Then dropped the sugar out of the tea cup. (Cursed gravity).

3. Dropped the nuts out of my cereal bowl. ( Ok, maybe my fault).

4. Sprinkled the talc all over the floor. (This one I would actually categorize as a basic problem of watching yourself in the mirror while getting dressed!)

5. Dropped the food at lunch on my dress. (Noticed it little too late to have accused anyone in particular. It had dried and left stains :( ).

6. If that wasn't enough already and just in case, anyone missed the obvious stains on my dress, I dropped my lemonade on the dress again.

Mission accomplished.

I know a lot of you would say, Oh come on! What's the whole fuss about. Big Deal.
But, let me clarify, as a person, being more on the artistic and very cautious side by nature; I would say mostly these things don't happen to me on a regular basis.

On the other hand, I do have people e.g. my brother who has this syndrome exactly few minutes before his office cab's arrival. When things voluntarily fly out of his hands and land in the most inaccessible corner of the room. Unfortunate are the days when he's wearing a light colored shirt. And it gets worse when he knows that I am watching. Things just continue to fall magically and dramatically until he gives up and sends one of them flying out of the room in frustration. (LOL).
I sympathize.


Last few days have been observing hyperactive phenomenon in my grey cells and I had just so much to write. But, right now, I am so tired. Especially, with all that juggling going on between my fingers!

Catch you tomorrow. I promise an amusing trail of thoughts. ;)