Me and Hubby Dear are what some might call munchers. You know, the kinds that could live on finger foods alone. Yes, now that I think back a little, we most certainly are one of those kinds.

The first time we went out, ever, we unsuccesfully tried to share a plate of french fries. I say we tried, because truly, I was was the one trying my best to get my fork into the plate while Hubby Dear conviniently walked at a much faster pace covering it with his arms. (Walking, since unlike the tradional way of going out to dinner for a first date, we chose to spend a day at the CNE.) Yes, the guy does like his fries, sometimes, I believe, even more than his pretty little wife. We spent the rest of the day bouncing between samosas, popcorn and fiery wings.

When we’re not having friends over, our Friday nights usually turn out the same each week - a bunch of movies enjoyed over a platter of assorted mini treats. As much as our choice of movies may differ, the only variable constant to our evening would be the finger food. Constant, because they mostly always find themselves to be potato-based. And variable, because they almost never taste the same.

I love experimenting with different flavours, and what better way to try a new flavour than to toss it over a bowl of plain boiled and mashed potatoes. From chat masala to chipotle-lime, the list of flavourings is endless, and the combinations one can come up with is overwhelming. We made this a couple of weeks ago. We, because while I fried, Hubby Dear ate, much to the dismay of his burning tongue. The things men do for food, or should I say, potatoes!

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Every once in a while I like to take a vacation. Correction: I need a vacation. But a busy schedule make it an almost impossible desire. Instead, I take time to “zone out.” I take these mini-holidays on any particular day and when I think I most deserve it. I leave everything behind and pretend I’m on an adventure. Anything to spice up my routine lifestyle.I wear my favourite pair of comfortable pants, put on my comfy walking shoes, and armed with a camera and a few bare necessities, I set out on an exploration.

The streets by my home are lined with vintage stores filled with pretty little things. There’s a cafe on the corner of the street that serves the best chocolate éclair I’ve ever had. As I walk down that road, filled with the hustle and bustle of people walking their dogs and moms dragging their kids from the ice-cream shop, it gives me a sense of vacationing. You know, the feeling you get when you experience a place for the first time. It’s curious how enriching it can be just to take in all the sights and sounds and see things from a new perspective. It helps me. It helps me forget deadlines, and to-do lists. It helps to open up my mind to new avenues of thinking. Some I never even knew were embedded somewhere in my head.

I walk the extra mile to a nearby lake. I turn towards my favourite bench overlooking the horizon and I enjoy my éclair. My camera captures things that I see along the way and want to keep imprinted on my mind. These also become inspiration for the rest of the week; sometimes even the month! What is most exhilarating, is the feeling of being free. It gives me a chance to see things around me in a new light.

With food, I often feel the same way too. Sometimes, you just want something different. It doesn’t have to be exotic or even back-breakingly elegant. Just different enough to take your palate on a holiday. I try and keep atleast one day of the week where I try out something different. I create or recreate a recipe from my fancy. Sometimes, it’s the ingredients that are new to me, and most times, the flavours that follow along. This dish is one such feat. With an open mind to create vegetable dishes that I would enjoy and always come back to, I decided to play around with a bunch of fresh Bok Choy I picked up a few days ago. It resulted in what has now become one of my favourite comfort dishes. Yes, it really is that good that I promise you won’t even know that NO oil was use in its creation.

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When it comes to entertaining, I prefer to have my invitations sent out well in advance. While that buys me much time to plan a menu and work out the finer details of the evening, it also gives me enough of time to prepare for those expected to attend. And by that I don’t certainly mean that I spend a good chunk of the coming days rehearsing a jig for them. No, nothing like that, I prefer my guests to entertain themselves without having me burst into a spell of break dance. What I do mean, however, is that it gives me ample time to clear up the house.Since I’m someone who could easily let the pile of dirty laundry grow till we literally (literally, like Hubby Dear waking me up a few mornings ago at the shock of not having any clean shirts left to wear to work. Thank goodness for a semi-casual work environment where a golf t-shirt is seen as no reason to question!) run out of clean clothes, or let the vacuum cleaner sit snugly in the corner gathering dust, or let the endless magazines I subscribe to grow into an unbelieveable pile, much like the leaning tower of Piza, er I mean, paper.

Yea, so I guess you’re kinda getting where I’m hinting at. I hate to admit it, but as much as I would prefer otherwise, I hate to have last minute guests. Even worse are those who think it’s so much fun to drop me a surprise visit. I always wonder if they’re the ones surprised by how much clutter one can accumulate with just a weeks subricption of magazines and newspapers. But don’t get horrified. It’s not as bad are you imagine it. I DO NOT live amidst bits of paper scattered throughout the house (I swear Mom, I clean, there are really not that many papers lying around!), neither do I have to wade my way through the different rooms by tripping over things.

For the most part, my floors are carpetted and clear. The main problem lies in, or rather on, my table-tops. With all my writing assigments, I find myself constantly rummaging through books and magazines for both, research and inspiration. My coffee table, and part of my dining table are filled with my current favourites and articles that I want to keep close at hand. Then comes the endless cookbooks I love to collect, which get shoved from one room to another as I read them, due to lack of book shelf space. (Yes, I’ve actually added a book shelf to my birthday list for Hubby Dear. What? Don’t tell me you don’t have a list!) And finally, my notebooks. I can’t even begin to count to the number of notebooks, pads and pieces of paper I’ve scribbled on since I started this blog. It’s rare, if ever, I finish one notebook before I start a new one. The reason for me having so many of them is that part way through, I always seem to misplace one, start a new one, misplace that, start another one, only to find the first one in some remote corner of my study! So yea, it’s not that I dislike having people over, it’s just that I prefer to have the time to clean up a bit so as not to drive them away!

Anyways, coming back to why I started all this rambing in the first place. The first time I had Hubby Dear over at my place for dinner, I had to admit it, but he was one of those, “I’m in the neighbourhood and I think it’ll be awesome if I drop by for some dinner cooked by you!“. We had just started seeing each other a few months ago. He was in town on some work, and thought that instead of meeting up somewhere, it would be great if I could cook him up a meal. Now, mind you, this was a time where I didn’t feel much at home in the kitchen. I was used to cooking, yes, but had never cooked for anyone. Other than my Dad and best friends, and truth be told, I didn’t really care what they thought of my newly acquired talent. But Hubby Dear, now this was BIG! This guy actually wanted me to cook for him, and that meant he had no idea what he was getting into.

Due to the last minute bombshell that fell on me, I had no choice but to say yes, and curse myself later. There was no time to shop, whatever I was going to make had to come from what I already had in my kitchen. Being a student, with almost empty pockets at the time, didn’t allow me to have an overstocked pantry. All I found, that I actually thought I could use, was a can of chickpeas. Perfect! Chickpeas is one of the simplest and quickest things to cook. And seasoned with the perfect spice blend, they were undoubtedly delicious as well. With limited time left before he rang the door bell, I started to get to work. As I quickly chopped and stirred, much calm and collected than I was a few minutes ago, I went into my spice rack to pick out my most trusted ally, the Chana Masala powder. And lo and behold, like all tests of fate that take place around the same time, I was out of it! Today, that would not be any cause for panic, but a few years ago when I had not yet experienced much of my culinary capabilities, I was in for a disaster. But he was on his way, and I no choice but to improvise.

Three years later, we’ve just celebrated our second wedding anniversary a week ago. So you could say the dinner didn’t turn too bad. And wonder of wonders, he still loves my Chana Masala!

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With December finally having dawned on us, one can’t help but reflect the year soon to pass us by. I automatically begin with the setting and tackling of my annual resolutions. The most daunting for me ofcourse, is knowing that skipped out on a few of the resolutions I made with gusto at the stroke of midnight eleven months ago.

I frown ever so mildly at the slightly chubbier version of me since a year ago. Needless to say, managing and catering a food blog to ever-indulgent foodies did not play a good part in keeping word to “weight” issue. I twitch my nose and curl my lips at the thought of the next weeks finding me drowned in flour over my over-ambitious Christmas baking plan. The list is being made as we speak, a perfect blend of the sweet, savoury, melt-in-your-mouths, and of course, chocolate choices of the best cookies ever to grace the human palate.

For those who are familiar with my culinary skills, can vouch for my lack of interest to baking. I celebrated my last Christmas with a huge bill of delicous confectionaries, much to Hubby Dear’s dismay. This year, to begin the glorious month with a new resolution, I decided to finally tackle the baking fairy. This I’m guessing, will be no small feat, we’ll just have to wait and see.

Getting back to the topic of concern, I decided to tackle it as best as I could on short notice. With the weather Gods warning us of a cold wintry week ahead, I decided to bring in a little comfort to my very lazy Sunday evening. And I tried my absolute best to make this as healthy as per my earlier resolution demanded. I promise.

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My Mom is a Malaysian. My Dad, an Indian. Theirs is ofcourse, a love marriage. My Dad, being a simple man when it comes to meals, refused to forsake his Dal-Roti routine when he married my Mom. She on the other hand, could never accept that cooking a traditional Indian meal was out of her reach. So she toiled, and she toiled, and today she makes the best curries and the meanest biryanis than any born-Indian I know.

When they first got married, as my Mom once very fondly narrated this story to me, she was unaccustomed to the roti. Not knowing the perfect recipe himself, all she could get out of my Dad was that the dough was made from whole wheat and water, and rolled out into thin, soft and fluffy mouthfuls of delight. She tried her various combinations of water and flour for many days to come, until one fine day Dad had a smile on his face after the very first bite, and announced it PERFECT! Since then, she has rolled bagfuls of flour into the most delicate rotis and parathas.

One thing I learnt for Mom, was that making rotis is an art in it’s truest form. I agree. Who ever has tried to roll them into the perfect circle with only the aide of a rolling pin, will know exactly what I mean. I started out with no-so-soft-irregular-shaped ones myself. But as they say, practice makes perfect. Though mine are still not as round as the moon, they do taste good.

The other day when I decided to make one of Hubby Dear’s finest favourites, I had a slight inclination to tamper with things a little. Who ever said never to play with tradition, certainly never tasted my version of it!

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We don’t bicker much, Hubby Dear and I, when it comes to food, except of course when the topic of concern is Dal. Dal, or lentils, is a common staple in Indian cuisine. Be it the North, South, West or East, this is one item you can find on the menu. True, it comes in its variations, but it’s a staple nonetheless. And there’s certainly no denying that on a cold rainy day like today, it is the ultimate comfort food.

Hubby Dear and me love our dals, and most importantly, we have our favourites. He loves his Yellow Arhar/Toor dal, and I’m passionate about my Red Masoor. To give tem their due importance, I alternate between the two each week. One may think it might be hard to keep track of whose turn is up next, but since I’m the sole incharge when it comes to all things culinary, I demand the benefit of doubt.

There have been numerous days when Hubby Dear thinks, no, he actually believes, that I’ve been partial to my own needs infront of his wishes. Well, maybe i have. But then again, when you rule the kitchen, there’s not much that can be done about it! So, to avoid matters taking a toll for the worst, I turn to the only intermidiary I know. The Chana dal. Or more explicitly, the Split Pea. This lentil is one that we both happliy agree on. It may take it’s own sweet time to soften down, but the end result never fails to bring a smile to our faces that had been just recently wiped off due to the “episode”.

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The day I heard McDonald’s came to India, I wanted to instantly take a trip downtown. Not because I can’t live without the dreaded Mc Mac, but because I knew what happens to international food chains in India. They automatically take on the Desi avatar on landing! One look at the menu on the wall, and I knew why the place was filled not with just college-going-trying-to-ape-the-west-as-best-as-possible youngsters, but also the timid looking grandma prying open her sandwich.

Hubby Dear and me have made a Friday-night ritual of sorts that we try to follow as close as possible. It has to do with a lot of lounging on the couch in front of the big screen TV, gorging on the best of junk food. Before you go on to tell me how bad (read: comforting!!) a weekly intake of junk food can be for me, let me clarify.

Our menus certainly include the usual burgers, pizza and wings, as well as the much adored quesadillas, tacos, shawarma, and spanokopitas, to name a few. The only difference though, is that nothing is as it sounds. Our pizzas are loaded with the trendiest of toppings ranging from panner tikka, grilled veggies and the occasional tandoori chicken slices. Our quesadillas and tacos lack in cheesiness, but gear up in heat. And our burgers, well, let’s just say it would make that saree-clad grannie and her denim-donned teenage grandson, very happy campers!

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With Diwali just around the corner, it’s no surprise that my little kitchen has been bursting with activity. Though I shy away from entertaining on a large scale on this occasion, I still look forward to the crowding of family and friends around my dinner table. I guess the old saying does hold true in my case that nothing pleases a cook more, than to see the happy faces of those enjoying the food.

Diwali in my home, has always been centered around food. In fact, any occasion I can think of, revolves around us hovering over the stove while Mom dishes out treat after treat. Now that I have my own household to care for, the tradition still continues. Hubby Dear has already declared an open house to his tummy. Friends and family have invited themselves over and requests have been made and duly considered. And I’ve done my part as well, by promising each of them their favourites on the table.

As I while away my time in the kitchen churning up one request to another, I can’t help but take a time out to snuggle in a treat for myself. After all, festivals are for indulging, and who am I to defy tradition. So before I head back to cooking up a storm for this weekend, how about joining me for a cup of coffee and some tasty bites?

Here’s wishing all my readers a Very Happy and Prosperous Diwali!

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Good food is nice. Delicious exotic food is even better. But when you’ve overfed yourself with a variety of scrumptiously rich delicacies, the mind begins to move to a more subtle and simple option. The past few weeks saw us gorging on the best of Indian festive delicacies, and what with Diwali Just around the corner, this trend is sure to continue for the next few days as well. But last night, as we came home after a long day of running errands, just in time for a quick hearty meal, our palates began to repulse at the slightest thought of anything even remotely extravagant.

In most North Indian households, the availability of the three basics - onions, tomatoes and potatoes, along with the most basic of spices cannot be missed. Truly, just with these three, one can can create a pretty hearty meal to feed the whole family. And the choices are never limited. By altering and changing the flavourings and spices, a variety of dishes can be concocted from these basics.

So it’s no surprise that when I look for simplicity, I undoubtedly turn to the basics.

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We cramped the whole of summer into the past long weekend. After a cancellation of our camping plans, due to the bad weather that poured on us, we decided to make the most of whatever enthusiasm was left. We took to the city and visited the sights, slept in and went out for a lavish brunch, walked by the lake, read a book in a cafe and took pleasant afternoon naps. And as Tuesday sprung, trying hard to get back into the weekly groove, it suddenly dawned on me that the weekend marked the end of summer.

As a child, the first day of school always marked a drastic end to a wonderfully joyous summer. Suddenly, our trips to the park were cut short because of pending homework that was to be done. Barbeque parties came to an abrupt end since most parents had to shuffle their kids between weekend extra-curricular activities. And the first of all, we had to get yo bed early on Sunday nights and wake up at the break of dawn on Monday mornings.

But as the sun slowly hide behind heavy clouds and the rains became more frequent, I always looked forward to something even better. Rainy day food. Comfort food. Food I can come home to from the cold, wet outdoors, that would instantly bring out the warmth in me and perk me up. Tpday, lounging on my favourite chair with a great book and bowl of warm melt-in-your-mouth goodness, I look out the window and bid a sad farewell to summer. Only to follow it with a warm welcome to my most favourite season of all. The Fall.

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