When my brother and I were little, my mother decided we were using too much ‘bad language’ — we were calling each other ‘stupid’ and ‘moron’ — and to curb our tongues, she instituted a fine. We were to drop 25 paise into a gulak for adjectives like that, 50 paise for using sh!#. These colorful gulaks in Mazjid Moth, Dilli, reminded me of that failed behavioural modification experiment 😀
Were this gulak thing instituted in our house again, all of us would be contributing quite a bit — parents included! Hmm, maybe we could use the spoils to get some good PG-13 DVD’s … 😉
Tiny kiosks selling “American Corns” have become both cottage industry and franchise opp nearly everywhere in metropolitan India. I see them in every market and every mall and movie theatre.
The other day, near a stall that sell the steamed “corns” (in masala – yum, Chinese – too salty, Italian – too much oregano, and American – absolutely bland flavors) I found the discarded packaging of the frozen kernels.
It gives me the absolute heebie-jeebies every time I see it written down as corns (plural).
I always, always get a mental visual that grosses me out. In fact, a simple google search will show you exactly what I mean.
Ick, ick, ick, ick.
No one at home likes this stuff, but I am turning into a shakarkandhi chaat fiend. I could live on this stuff. Well, all winter long, when it’s available, anyway…
It’s basically a sweet potato that’s been slow cooked over a coal fire and then peeled, diced, and shaken in a few spicy masalas and lemon juice. So yum! And hey, it’s cheap, easily available, low in calories and has a low glycemic index. Who could ask for a better snack? 😉
Last month, Ma and I traveled by train to Amritsar — my first train ride since last January, when V and I went to Agra (and I left a trail of vomit all over the city and station.) I did get a headache on the way back, but was still charmed by the fact that while the colors have changed, we still get served tea in thermoses on the Shatabdi. And a ‘tea kit’ with sugar, dairy creamer, a tiny stirrer and lots of sugar.
Save your breath. You don’t have to say the whole word anymore — just go with pomengrade 😉 It tastes so good with ‘save” puri :wink;
…when you can have five little samples?
Ok, so this is going to be a shameless shill. Hold on to your coffee. And your mouse. After 7 months of battling the baristas in Barista and Cafe Coffee Day for soy milk and/or decaf coffee, I feel like I’ve finally found Nirvana. No, silly, I mean like heaven!
First, some stories:
1) I’m in Bangalore. They have a vegan shake on the menu, ergo, –> they have soy milk on the premises. I ask them to make me a mocha with soy milk. No can do. It’s impossible.
2) In Bombay, I ask for a half decaf-half calf coffee. The man looks at me like I’m speaking Swahili. He can’t do that. I tell him to freaking brew me a cup of caffeinated coffee and a cup of decaf. Charge me for two. Throw out half of each. Pour remainders in a cup. Barista remains unconvinced.
3) Back in Delhi, I ask for a decaf frappÃ©. It’s not on the menu. The frappÃ© is on the menu, decaf coffee is on the menu but they cannot combine the two.Good thing I didn’t ask for something “exotic”, like a decaf, double espresso soy milk cappuccino …he’d have swooned!
Enter UK chain Costa Coffee. Manna from heaven at this juncture. They substitute soy milk in ANY beverage. And decaf coffee too. And you don’t even have to beg. I’ve even ordered and (this is key) received a half decaf-half caf soy milk mocha. With a smile! 😀 This time, I nearly swooned. Costa Coffee, welcome to India. I heart you!
So, while I do miss Trader Joe’s and biking along the Charles in Boston, the one thing I’ve found a good substitute for is the library. I actually patronize (that sounds awful) Eloor
which is beautifully stocked and really a pleasure to visit. The other day, though, I was surprised to find that the hole-in-the-wall library I frequented as a kid, daily (except on Mondays when they were closed, so I was allowed two books on Sundays,) had re-opened. As a 7-year-old I would ride to the library sitting side-saddle on the back rack of our Man Friday’s bike. By the time I was 11, I was deemed old enough to manage the 8-minute walk on my own. Displaying my OCD tendencies even then, I serially ploughed through all the Enid Blytons, Carolyne Keene’s, Franklin W. Dixons, Alfred Hitchcocks, Robert Arthurs‘s Three Investigator books (Jupitor Jones is responsible, I’m sure, for my obsession with business cards) graduating on to Sidney Sheldon and Lawrence Anderson. What was my mother thinking?? Nah, I’m glad she gave me free reign. Yes, I was precocious, but, hey, I knew stuff!! 😀 Oh and the 3L’s are: Live, Laugh, Learn. Cute, no?
but alas, not the kind of sake I would like it to be… this is Cake Palace’s version of a shake.
Hmm, that makes me think of the Cuban-Chinese cocktails at Peking Tom’s in Boston. A lot of folks didn’t like the idea of a Sake-rita (using sake instead of tequila) but I quite enjoyed it… and the cumquat mojito…
Anyway, someone should tell them that milk sake sounds completely tongue-curdling, but a milkshake is an animal of an entirely different color, no?
We stopped one night after work to get a snack because I was starving. One of the group remembered there was a ‘geeley channe wala’ close to where we were, so we hunted him down and bought some boiled chickpeas tossed in chopped onions, cilantro, green chillies, salt, and lemon juice. It was tongue-tinglingly, lip-smackingly delicious. And I loved the fact that he had a muslin cloth shielding his wares and the old fashioned oil lamp…