Coconut-Almond Banana Bread

Early mornings are always a hazardous affair at my household. Both me and Hubby Dear love to hold on strongly to our last few minutes of sleep. The alarm goes off and the snooze button is banged on a few times in a row, until it’s the absolute final second. Weekends however, are a whole other story altogether. We wake up not with the shrill tone of the ringing bed-side clock, but with brightness breaking  into the room through the drapes. No one fights to be the last to remain in bed. We each take our time in dragging our sleepy bodies out if it. What we do fight over though, is the weekend paper. You know, the ones so thick with all those different sections that would take you almost all day, had you the slightest will to read it all. To be precise, the comics section is what gets our undivided, unforgiving attention.

Growing up in a family where my Dad didn’t know how to start his day without his cup of tea and the morning national headline news; a Mom who didn’t care too much about politics but try as she might, found it hard to resist a good gossip in the entertainment section; and siblings who couldn’t care less about what was happening around them except for things that involved them personally; I was all too happy to have the likes of Garfield and Peanuts discarded my way! Aah, good times.

As I grew up and moved away from home, my weekend morning ritual continued. No matter how much of a frugal college student I was, I always saved up enough to get the Sunday paper to devour over with my morning cup. But now, with Hubby Dear and his swift hand, I can only but enjoy my coffee while I wait for him to get done before I am able to get hold of my morning laughs. And if there’s banana bread to keep me company while I eye him scornfully, then even better. Aah, good times!

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Dahi Bhindi (Okra in Yoghurt)

Growing up in a household where vegetables were always given high preference over it’s non-vegetarian counterparts, I wasn’t too happy. Like any rebellious 12 year old, I despised anything green and considered “healthy” in my Mom’s dictionary. As a spunky 17 year old starting fresh at college and living in a hostel miles away from the caring tender fingers that caressed Mom’s cooking, I had grudgingly succumbed myself to the meals catered at the campus. To my added disappointment, not only did the food lack in flavour and eye appeal, it also somehow failed in providing me with the limited array of greens that I actually thought were edible, to say the least.

Somehow, between the humdrum of a busy schedule and an even busier college life, one could easily manage chugging down meals without a moments notice. That is, until one gets the same dish - mind you, same tasteless flavour and all, for five consecutive meals. Yes, five! And that was where I decided to draw the line and gift myself with a pan or two, and some basic starters to a home cooked meal. The dreaded dish if you wish to know, was okra.

It’s not hard to believe that I graduated through cooking for myself for the next few years without so much as a slight glance at the okra. Never was there a shopping spree through the fresh produce section where I stopped and smelt the darned vegetable. And never had it, for as long as I can remember, ever taken a place in my cart. That is, of course, until I met the then would-be Hubby Dear. Like a sudden twist of fate in any classic crime story (the crime here was of course committed against the okra, damn you okra!), on one of our first food conversations, Hubby Dear had candidly confessed to having a secret love affair with the dreaded pod.

Now what was a poor little girl like me supposed to do! I’d heard endless tales of how a man’s heart could easily be won through the deeds done for his stomach. Seeing that I had promised to cook him his favourite meal didn’t make my case any easier. So there I was trudging through the fresh produce section, not only smelling, but also picking my first pound of okra, and giving it a place in my cart. And like anyone gifted with an unwanted pet that’s impossible to give away, you accept your kismet and just get used to it. And hopefully eventually, but surely, you’ll learn to love it.

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Chilli Paneer

Christmas came and went, but not without filling us up to the brim with good food and great company. The cookie jars have been emptied, and the Christmas tree stands in all it’s glory waiting to be taken down by some lazy people (read: Hubby Dear!) who’d rather postpone the daunting task till the next Christmas.

While we’ve gorged on feasts of rich sinful food the past couple of days, it’s now time to loosen down a little before the biggest feast of the season - the New Year’s Dinner that I plan and carry out with much elegance. The menu has been tried and tested, the serving dishes have been laid out and friends and loved ones have been duly warned to come with ready and growing appetites.

The year end always brings me to a point where I can’t help but take a stroll down memory lane and acquaint myself once more with all the good, and some not-so-good memories that passed me by. This blog has been a wonderful outlet for me in times of joy and contemplation. My food speaks of my various moods and my write-ups brought me closer to my inner thoughts.

When I woke up this morning, I knew I just had to put in a final post for 2006, and it just had to be done today. Why? Well, because I’m a complusive hostess, and throwing a party means that I’m preparing for it well in advance. Hubby Dear can vouch for that! So, anyways, as I was saying, I wanted to write in a last post for this year, and what better than to follow it up with a recipe so dear and near to my palate. Being a sucker for spicy food, this dish brings together the best of the East and West. It’s a perfect blend of spice and all that’s nice, and quick run-to option on cold deary days when the heart wants some warmth!

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… my christmas Baking marathon!

Now, I’ve never been a big fan of baking, nor have I ever attempted to turn my kitchen into a cookie workshop during Christmas time. But this time it’s going to be different. When Hubby Dear suggested that we (or rather, I!) bake cookies fresh at home this year, instead of taking a trip down the lane to our favourite Italian bakery, I was intrigued. The thought did cross my mind, several times. But the succeeding thought of being covered in flour and my oven going up in flames always scared me just a little bit. But then again, one look at his puppy face, and I couldn’t help but become compelled to at least give it one try.

With my school finally over, I am currently enjoying the benefits of being at home. That is ofcourse, before I get into the grind of looking for a full-time job - but let’s not think about that right now and try and enjoy the moment, shall we! So, with a new found energy I decided this was goin gto be the day that would either make or break a tradition in my home. I was about to enter the realm where the aroma of freshly baked goods could be smelled in the air during the Holiday season. Mind you, if this by some grace of God turned out to be a success, I knew it would be stuck as a tradition in our home, where I would be expected to bake every Christmas!

As I sat down with a cookie bible I picked up about the same time last year, deciding on which one of the classic favourites I wanted to play with, my mind began to circle around some not-so-traditonal ideas. Another couple of minutes later, I was convinced on what I wanted. One problem was, I had no idea how to go about it. Neither had I ever eaten such a cookie, not had I heard of one. But wonder of wonders, that didn’t stop me. And boy am I glad! Needless to say, the smell of something baking in the oven was only one of it’s perks!

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With the hustle-bustle of the holiday season all around you, one can’t help but feel the joy. There is, definitely, something good in the air. And of course, all the sugar being consumed does play a good part in keeping spirits high! While I haven’t even begun to wonder what my holiday baking would comprise of, I have started to however, work my way through to richly comforting meals. Yes, the cold winds do make me find comfort in my foods most times.

I remember a time not so long ago, when all I would eat on cold wintry nights were bowlfuls of hot chicken-noodle soup. Now, times have changed, and with it, so have my moods evolved. I do still enjoy the occasional soup, but I find myself on most days craving something else. These cravings almost always vary depending on what I envision myself eating that night.

When I went to my kitchen today to make a quick fix for dinner, little had I known what would come out of it. A look into the fridge told me that I was missing anaything and evrything that could create something festive. But as always, the culinary instincts refused to back down. A bag of cute red baby potatoes called out to me, and I found my myself picking out flavours to go with it. Had I known that these cute little guys could make me swing a few minutes later, I would’ve atleast played some holiday music!

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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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Our weekend was a blast. Me and hubby spent a good part of the day cleaning the house, and a better part of the afternoon in the kitchen together, making our favourite treats. There’s nothing better than spending a cold wintry afternoon in the warmth of your kitchen bumping into each other trying to food more into the pan and less on the floor.

After a successful feat a few weeks ago, Hubby Dear once again decided that we would cook a festive meal together. I held back and we compromised to make ONE dish together, while I would dish out the rest on my own. The reason was quite simple. I can be quite a control freak when it comes to cooking and my kitchen is my space. You’d have to fight me tooth and nail to convince me otherwise.

As I set the menu for the lavish dinner I had planned for later that day, I gave Hubby the liberty to choose what he wished to help with. After refusing about half of his requests, I gave in with one of the entre’s, only because it happened to be one of his all-time favourites.

It took a lot of patience, mainly from me, and tons of cajoling, obviously from him, and a while later, we had a result we would proudly display. Needless to say, Hubby Dear spent the rest of the evening informing guests how he had a huge hand in preparing the dish every time it was complimented. And tons of compliments it certainly got!

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