Apuppa

My apuppa(grandfather) passed away this afternoon in Bombay. We all knew he was on his last legs but it was a thought I did not want to accept. He had a nasty fall and his frail body could not keep up with his active mind and recover. I know he suffered in hospital this last month, for a man who has never spent more than a few days of his life in hospital being on a ventilator with numerous tubes stuck to his arm must have been scary and difficult to cope with. He was mobile and active till his fall a month ago albeit a little frail. Finally this afternoon he stopped fighting and let go. He died peacefully at the same hospital where I was born.

I wept this morning when my parents passed on this news to me. I wept with relief that he was not suffering and he had gone to a better place peacefully. I wept because I will be in Bombay next Sunday and I wont get a bear hug from my short frail apuppa. I wept because I had lost my biggest supporter, in his eyes I was a superstar. I wept because my mother had to watch him suffer for a month and I was not there to help. I wept for two children who have lost a father and four grandchildren who have lost an apuppa. I wept for my grandmother who will be lost without him even though this may all take a little while to register. Old age can be cruel when you have an active mind but your body gives up. I don't think any of us can complain about his life, he led a good life, he achieved so much in his life to make us all proud and be an inspiration and at 89 years of age his life was long and fruitful.

I wept because I wanted to see him for one last time. I know he is looking out for all of us from a better place. In true apuppa style he has asked for his ashes to be spread at the Gateway of India in Bombay a city he loved.

Oh bébé

Once upon a time there was a little girl called capucine and so the story goes....



Once upon a time... from Capucha on Vimeo.

Isn't she just precious!

via Neatorama

A day to remember

Its been a roller coaster week. I had a lovely short vacation with "the parents" visiting. It was a lovely much needed break for all of us, I enjoyed all the perks of having mum at home, including warm hot meals of my choice ( lots and lots of seafood). The weather was at its worst, wet and windy which didn't stop me from dragging them all over town.

We started their visit with a farewell plus Diwali party at home. This was my first time cooking for 13 people, yes 13! That's a milestone in my books as I can barely manage cooking for S and me, I usually go into a panic when the numbers increase. To cut a long story short we managed, S and mum were at hand to do most of the hard work. 13 people + baby arrived, ate and left alive and happy.

The downside during this trip was my grandad had a fall, which cut short the parents trip here. He is currently awaiting surgery in Bombay, he's a trooper and I know he will get better.
This week the overwhelming excitement surrounding the elections in America has reached its crescendo with Obama winning the election. Finally we will have an educated intelligent individual whose lineage is a reflection of the melting pot called America . Finally we get rid of the village idiot who has been leading that country to ruin. Finally we see an African American with the name Barack Hussein Obama lead America, create history. Whether he succeeds or not he has most definitely given a generation of children hope and the ability to dream big.

November 5'Th is a day to remember for me Obama will now give his country and the world some hope and a better tomorrow.

This day is also special because my S crosses another year. We cracked open the bubbly and enjoyed a quite evening just the way S likes it with family. S, I hope this birthday brings you much joy and hope. Here's to you on a day to remember for many reasons.

Happy Diwali

Electric proms

The BBC electric proms start today and runs on till Sunday. I registered to buy tickets but it was not to be ( yes you need to register in order to buy tickets!) .

I am now doing the next best thing sitting up and catching these melodies on BBC2 as it takes place live at the Roundhouse. I am looking forward to listening to Adele, Jamie Cullen, Beth Rowley, Oasis, African Express, Razorlight, Nitin Sawhney and many many more artist perform in one big musical melting pot spread over 4 days.

I shall now retire to my telly as Burt Bacharach creates magic on the piano. I leave you with a bit of Adele to make you feel my love.

Staying alive

I now have research to back this up, Saturday night fever helps you stay alive.

"Link

Oct. 15 (Bloomberg) -- A dose of ``Saturday Night Fever'' might help mend a broken heart.

The Bee Gees' disco anthem ``Stayin' Alive'' from 1977 has 103 beats a minute, close to the number of chest compressions needed for cardiopulmonary resuscitation to work, according to a study at the University of Illinois College of Medicine at Peoria. Students who listened to the tune while practicing CPR on a dummy learned to give the right number of pumps, an abstract of the research in the Annals of Emergency Medicine said.

The rhythm stayed in their heads. Five weeks later, the participants delivered compressions at 113 beats a minute, still an acceptable range. Ten doctors and five medical students took part in the experiment.

``This was a small study, but the results are encouraging enough that a further study, using a larger and more diverse population, is warranted,'' said David Matlock, one of the researchers, in a statement distributed by the American College of Emergency Physicians. The results will be presented at a meeting of the Dallas-based group later this month, in Chicago.

Merkato Cravings

I first discovered Merkato thanks to a foodie couple M&M. They asked us to meet them at Kings cross 2 years ago for an Ethiopian meal, which was how our love affair with this little mama & papa joint began.

Merkato is amharic for market, it lies on Caledonian road nestled between a kebab takeaway and a bookie shop. We entered and were surprised to find most of the 6-7 tables at this joint full. The smell of spices and incense wafting through the room filled my nostrils and I knew at that moment we were going to enjoy this meal.

My best memories of Merkato apart from the food is the service, we are always served by this beautiful tall elegant Ethiopian lady with cheekbones to die for. She is warm, attentive and makes the meal a better experience. I don't know if she recognises us but we are always treated like regulars, special. I am guessing she uses this charm on all her patrons.

We start our meal with ayib- spiced cottage cheese with spinach. Ethiopian food is eaten out of a single plate lined with injera bread. Its communal eating at its best, you use your fingers much like Indian food. This sour dough bread which reminds me of a well fermented kal dosa is about 20 inches in diameter and lines a large plate. This bread is dipped in delicious stews called w0ts- my favourtie is the tibs wot ( beef ) and doro wot ( chicken) . They do very nice vegetarian wats and a spicy rich slow cooked split pea dal called shiro. The secret of the wots lies in the sauce which has a distinctive flavour of berbere a potent combination of various spices.All this is usually washed down with Bati Bira. Both S and I love spicy food, our Indian palate has been singed for decades with spices, Ethiopian cuisine was made for us.



We have dragged every friend, visiting relative, neighbour, colleagues from work, willing to experiment to this little joint. We have spent many Friday nights there with friends enjoying the warm service and the delicious food. We all get Merkato cravings, once you have had a taste of soul food you keep going back for more.

Maggi

Yes it's true, I have to share my S with Maggi. He has an undying affection for Maggi and me. We have crossed continents and he still yearns for her. The carb rich masala laden slurpy slippery thing that she is. Recently he has not had easy access to her. This has caused withdrawal symptoms. He has made many trips to the local Indian store, pacing the aisles trying to spot her but someone seems to get to her before him.

Two weeks ago we made a trip to Saravana Bhavan in the east end for a dosa hit. I should have realised then, that this long trek to the other end was not to see friends and their new born bundle of joy or for dosa. It had more ulterior motives. S had come to find his masala hit. There she was squashed into two cardboard boxes in one corner of Shakti stores. Masala Maggi! I pretended not to know him while he stuffed her into his basket his hands quivering with joy. He happily stuffed his plastic bag with maggi not noticing the look of surprise and sympathy on the cashiers face. The cashier then glared at me, wondering why the poor man did not have a wife who could cook him a decent meal, little did he know.

All is well with his world now as my my nemesis lies stuffed in our kitchen cabinets.

Equestrian Dentist.

Anything quirky regarding dentistry will be posted on this blog. I was home blogging the previous post, watching the Olympic highlights and I caught the galloping dentist.

Hinrich Romeike a German dentist won gold in the individual show jumping event. Read more here

Why I blog

I have always loved drawing and writing. I have never been any good at it, but I love doing it. Both activities relax me, allow me to use my creative juices and are just plain fun.

I started writing short poems at a very young age in a notebook that I had covered lovingly with green cellophane paper. My aim was to get the last words to rhyme, they never made any sense but they sure did rhyme. Then my dad gave me one of his company diaries, it was a small pocket diary with gold embossed on the cover. The pages were crisp and I made it my secret diary, writing to an an unknown friend discussing my fears, my crushes, my days at school, my anger at parents not allowing me to do something. I sat every night and religiously scribbled through it, little did I realise how therapeutic it was. I loved being able to write freely without being judged.Then life took over, I had homework, school activities, friends, books to read and the diary was kept aside in one corner forgotten.

Sketching is another love of mine, again I do not possess an extraordinary talent but I find the whole process of concentrating for hours while I sketch and create something so relaxing. I first got introduced to art in school and I sucked. I remember constant C's on my report cards thanks to my sweaty palms which would constantly smudge my water colours. Then I had an art teacher who asked us to use any medium we wanted and I used my ball point because it doesn't smudge, the rest is history. I sketched my way through Junior college and Dental school, making hours of boring lectures pass quickly. Most of my old notebooks have something drawn along the last few pages. I never shared my sketches, friends saw bits of it as they sat next to me during these long lectures. I sketched for me, not to be judged. Some where along the way the sketching and writing stopped, work took over. I never seemed to find the time to sit and draw/write.

I got introduced to blogging, thanks to S. He has his list of favourite blogs on his sharp reader, most of them related to economics. Over the years he has forced me to read the odd interesting article, trust me their aren't too many of them in economics. This got me to read about things that interested me, food blogs, life blogs, political blogs, health care blogs, book blogs, bitchy blogs. Reading these blogs has been entertaining, funny, thought provoking and irritating at times. Some of these blogging folks have actually carved out a career for themselves thanks to their talent.

Now I got into blogging a year ago as an experiment.My biggest hesitation about writing online was criticism and judgement passed by random folks. I blog about everything I think I can share and want to share. I don't blog to be judged or to change the world, I have no misgivings about my writing skills. I don't write to get onto peoples blog rolls. I blog because it relaxes me, it makes me think. I blog because I have so much to say and S is not always willing to listen to it all, an anonymous audience with no say works for me. I blog because I love it and that for me is reason enough.

For me my blog is reminiscent of my gold embossed black pocket diary, I write to share, to release, to create my own little world where I have a conversation with my known/unknown friends out there (cousins + family mostly). Hopefully I will persevere and not let this lie in a corner as life and work takes over.

Signpost Humour

We were at southbank this weekend heading towards southwark tube station after a leisurely meal at Youngs. We passed a building site and this sure did make me chuckle.

Weekend Barbecue

I had a lovely weekend, thanks to glorious weather and fabulous company. A potent combination, I say! We have chums who will shortly be shifting from their beautiful river-facing apartment to another swanky non-river-facing apartment in the same building. Not that we needed an excuse to pile on there, but we decided the present place needed a solid farewell.

We reached after a long traffic-riddled drive but the smell of well marinated kalmi kebab, paneer, Thai chilli sausages and paprika sprinkled halloumi cheese revitalised these weary bones thanks to A's well honed culinary skills. The increase in temperature was perfect for some lovely mojitos. Now, K has developed a well-nuanced routine to deliver these delicious cocktails. The most important portion being the "tribal crushed ice " dance. I think it's typical of us dentists to improvise, when you don't have a blender to crush you innovate. S took a real liking to this method and I foresee large cracks on our kitchen tiles shortly. I think a pictorial display would be of better help.

Ice cubes + towel + Crazy K = Crushed Ice

Mint+ Lime+ Crushed Ice+ Bacardi+ Soda

Mojitos

(Kalmi Kebab+ Chilli sausage+ Halloumi)/A = Yum

We headed back on Sunday afternoon listening to Radio 4 . The thing about old friends is that you pick up where you left off. You don't judge, you did that years ago and you accept each others' shortcomings. Making friends now at this age seems so much more complicated and difficult, or maybe it is just me. I dont have the patience or the acceptance I had many years ago. Or maybe they just have a lot to live up to.

Pet Peeves

Patience is truly a virtue, especially in my profession and I have a long way to go. Most people hate going to the dentist, and many sit down in my chair look me straight in the eye and go " I hate the dentist". Well in case you haven't noticed I happen to be one! I just think its rude. You can be scared of me, but hate is such a strong word.

Now don't get me wrong I understand dental treatment can be scary and painful, especially if you have neglected your teeth for years and decided to visit me when a tooth starts aching. I empathise, I try to be as patient as humanly possible by myself, but I fail sometimes as I am only human. Something most patients never understand like you we too are mere mortals.

Some of the many excuses I get for rotten teeth/ neglected oral hygiene that really bother me.

1. " My mum had rotten teeth its in the family"

Its a myth, decay is not infectious like influenza, you do not catch it from someone you develop it because of poor dietary habits or poor oral hygiene in 95% of the cases. Don't blame mum or extended family for your rotten teeth!

2. " My teeth just started crumbling after the kids were born they took all my calcium"

Its a myth, yes research in its very very nascent stage is looking into reduced Vitamin D levels in young mums affecting their teeth. But your teeth are not rotting because of that, they are neglected and they are now crumbling like any neglected abused item would.

3. " I don't like the feeling of flossing I won't do it"

Well I wish I could say that, I don't like cleaning your neglected smoke stained mouth I wont do it! We all have to do things we don't like because their benefits far outweigh the actual dislike/discomfort. Its only a piece of thread !

4. " I think my 4- year old sons teeth are stained does he need them polished/whitened"

Key point here, he is FOUR.

5. Don't come in for your check up with yesterdays dinner stuck between your teeth, its rude! You don't go shopping and try on clothes after a one hour sweaty session at the gym, or do you?

6. No it is not ok to use your mobile phone to answer calls when you are sitting in my chair and taking up 15 minutes of my precious time.

I could go on forever but these are a few of my pet peeves. We all have to suffer idiots, thankfully they make up a very small percentage of my day.

My long day was made a little better by my youngest patient of the day a 6- month old little girl. Mums health visitor noticed her bottom baby teeth coming through and advised her to take baby to the dentist. She was perfect, she chewed on my gloves and gurgled and smiled. I don't think she hates me, she wasn't vocal about it. Mum took a picture of me checking her teeth, and I will soon be added to her scrapbook under baby's first day at the dentist. This was my first scrapbook entry and it made me realise why I love my profession.

LEGO

This afternoon over lunch I was browsing through the British Dental Journal and came across a very amusing letter written by a dentist. The picture says it all.

The poor tyke got a piece of Lego stuck over his incisor.The piece was so soundly stuck it ultimately had to be cut off. You can read the entire letter here.
I can only imagine a little boy doing this! I am amazed that the dentist had the presence of mind to take a picture of the offending item.

Prabhudeva on acid.

I saw this internet meme on the andrew sullivan blog thanks to S. I will let the clip do the rest of the talking, enjoy.

Tennis Diaries Part Deux

Today was a scorcher, the temperature hit 28 degrees in London. Not the kind of day you want to spend indoors. This was perfect tennis weather and S and I headed off to Wimbledon. They still use the old Route Master to ferry spectators from Wimbledon station to the courts and it was a nostalgic bus ride, reminding me of my days on the Mumbai bus services (BEST).

We reached the grounds and headed to court no 1 to watch our first match. We saw the lithe Williams sister Venus hesitate and then decimate Tamarine Tanasugarn. We were then pleasantly surprised by the Chinese wildcard Zheng Jie who beat Nicole Vaidisova in an evenly fought three set match. She is the first Chinese player to reach a grand slam singles semi-final and the first woman to go so far at Wimbledon on a wildcard.

We had our fill of tennis and then sauntered around to find something to eat (I have a never ending pit inside of me). Most people had come prepared with large picnic baskets filled with wonderful looking/smelling food items. We walked all through the grounds, Henman Hill, now rechristened Murray Mound/Mount, was full of folks soaking in the sun, tennis and strawberries and cream. Wimbledon is tennis at its best and well worth a visit if you live here.

Taste of London

Yesterday evening S and I headed of for a Taste of London at Regent's park. This annual exhibition of food houses stalls from some of the top London restaurants, cooking classes by master chefs, local produce, live music and good wine and champagne. Some of the restaurants on show were Cinnamon Club, Tamarind, Benares, Kai Mayfair, Toms Kitchen, Le Gavroche, L'Atelier du Joel Robuchon, China Tang and Café Anglais. I had a fabulous time, tasted some great and not so great food. Loved the wasabi prawns- Kai Mayfair, chicken tikka - Benares, lamb chops and grilled shrimp- Toms kitchen, bengali mince meat cutlets with beetroot- Cinnamon club, Shrimp with curry leaves and soft naan bread- Cinnamon club, Soft chocolate cake with mascarpone - Le Gavroche. The food at the Tamarind stall was a let down. Bought a few goodies, books and some fresh cheese- Black peppercorn, garlic and chives and Sweet chilli from the Isle of Man stall. The icing on the cake was meeting Atul Kochhar at the Benares stall, it just about rounded up a near perfect day.

Nintendo DS- Cooking for Dummies

Ray's Jazz cafe- Foyles

This Saturday after our culturally enriched afternoon at the British library we were both a tad peckish and needed our daily caffeine hit. S needed to find a book on multivariate blah blah and I wanted a good restorative dentistry book so we headed of to Foyles at Charing cross. I love book stores, I am not a voracious reader, I don't have the time for it but I do enjoy a good read when time permits. I love the musty smell of paper and the silence you step into in a book store. We parted ways, S went to explore his multivariate blah blah section and I got comfortable in the basement in a small dental section.

As hunger set in again, we headed towards the in house coffe shop. S had heard nice things about the cafe at Foyles . Now most book stores have nondescript Starbucks/Costas with elevator music playing and are generally speaking quite generic in nature. I was not expecting a tiny room squashed to the brim with every possible jazz Cd with a small corner that could barely seat 20 people housing the cafe. Ray's Jazz cafe at Foyles was a revelation, you enter a little jazz box with soul and coffee wafting through the room. Seating consists of small log boxes cozily placed to maximise the space. There was a small queue for seating unsurprisingly and we managed to find a spot by the window sill which served as our table. We sat listening to ella, drinking coffee, indulging in a decadent chocolate truffle and carrot cake while watching the world go buy along Charing Cross road.

NHS rant

As I work in the nhs, you will be reading a lot of this. Sigh read and despair.... This comes from the nhs blog doctor.

Happy Anniversary

For my S.

I met my permanent roommate 7 years ago. We met for the first time at Mondy's my favourite hole in the wall joint in Bombay. He was tall lanky, had horrendous floaters and a general swagger about him. We sat from 6 in the evening till closing time, sipping draught and listening to Floyd on the jukebox. Once they kicked us out we drove through the streets of Bombay endlessly not wishing to part. I had never met this man before and there I was talking non stop about life, love, my hopes and fears.

Since that day our relationship has grown many folds, he has now become my permanent roommate. Over 6 years we have changed continents and taken gambles with our lives and careers loving every minute of it. He taught me to be patient, to look beyond my four walls, to dream and achieve, to cook ( i think i got conned into that), to love the Beatles, to give football a chance, to place an apostrophe correctly ( they don't give punctuation weightage in dental school).

We both have changed, he is not lanky anymore thanks to his wholesome cooking( and too much takeaway), he has lost the floaters( honest it wasn't me), but the swagger remains. I don't know what gets two people together, fate, karma, parents, friends, small hole in the wall cafes? Whatever our reasons I thank them all, because I found my best friend at Mondy's that evening.

Ramayana at the British Library

As the weekend rolled in, S wanted to see the Ramayana exhibition at the British Library. Now this sort of thing is not usually my cup of tea, I like museums in small doses and I tolerate exhibitions when there is something visually pleasing. The clincher for me was this was an exhibition of Rajasthani miniature painting depicting the Ramayana. Also having lived in London for nearly 4 years, I finally had a good excuse to visit the mother of all libraries.
Some facts about the BL which tickled the grey cells.
-they have 150 million items in their collection
-If you read 5 items a day it would take you 80,000 years to see the entire collection.


The Ramayana is one of the most famous epic stories from Hindu mythology that has been repeated over centuries. It is a classic old mythological fable about a super hero, his love, his dysfunctional family, his struggle, his war, his strange sidekicks, and his victory.

The British library has acquired the Ramayana manuscripts commissioned by Rana Jagat Singh of Mewar (1628-52). These manuscripts were acquired by the British Museum in 1884 and from there made their way to the British Library. The entire story has been illustrated in three different styles of Mewar painting. These beautifully crafted miniature paintings are bursting with colour and emotion, each page has a myriad number of characters packed in. The precision and detail with which each character was painted was a pleasure to watch. All the paintings were accompanied by little synopsis explaining each portion of the story.

Apart from the paintings, the exhibition also has evidence of this epic's influence on other regions of South east asia. I saw the Ramayana epic depicted in puppet form, on a 300 year old tapestry made in Sri Lanka, carved into stone walls of the temples of Angkor Wat, performed by ballet artisans in Java. It was amusing to see how strangely the characters were depicted in different regions, the Indonesian puppets seemed to favour long noses with a hunched posture and long limbs. Not the ideal superhero build but then who am I to judge.


In the foyer of the library they had a little video display of the Ramayana series that did the rounds on national telly in India during the late 80's. I remember those Sunday morning sessions when life came to a standstill in every Indian household as we watched the fine art of overacting with cheesy special effects. They even had a little DVD pack of the entire series at the BL shop, S was having none of it.

This rich old fable has now been brought into the 21'st century in a very stylish Virgin comic called Ramayan Reborn. As the years pass I see this story keeping up with times and lasting another 2000 years.

Tennis diaries

Tennis season in London has begun. We were lucky this year as we got centre court tickets for the Artois championship at the Queen's Club. This annual all male tennis championship takes place as the precursor to Wimbledon.

So this Wednesday the two of us took the day off and headed off for a fun day of live tennis washed down with some pimms and beer.

The Queen's club is much smaller than Wimbledon but very charming. The old Club house built in 1886 reminded me of Bombay Gymkhana and is probably similar to many of the old clubhouses built during the Raj days in India. Like the Bombay Gymkhana, membership is by introduction only making it very exclusive.



We started the day with Roddick, who woke up after dropping the first set and then sailed through the remaining two. The next game was the lovable Spaniard, Rafael Nadal. He came, he conquered and he left. He owned the court for his straight two set win. In a way it was disappointing not to watch someone give him a run for his money. He has the most gorgeous biceps and unfortunately seemed to have a perpetual wedgie that needed constant adjustment during the match. S was not pleased I noticed, but apparently I was not the only one.
What amazed me apart from the exceptional quality of tennis was the ball girls at work. These little girls in bright red skirts and white bikers scurried about the court collecting and throwing tennis balls at a frenetic pace. There seemed to be a method to all this madness, I just couldn't figure it out. We ended our tennis session watching Djokovic and Nalbandian at work, both of whom were equally amazing players.


Apart from the tennis, it was the people I enjoyed watching. Women were dressed in beautiful jimmy choos and summer dresses, men in smart blazers and straw hats.This was a social event where competitive tennis also happened to be on display. There seemed to be a large number of private school types, toffs, corporate types, and a few brown souls like us. I heard a lot of jeeves and wooster lingo bandied about, it felt unreal. The Queen's club felt like a little upper class oasis where time stood still. As the day ended, everyone dispersed for a spot of tea and Victoria sponge. All in all it was a jolly good day of tennis old chap!

Turning 30

Yes dahlings, it has finally happened. I crossed over into nether nether land. I turned 30. When you are 10 you can't wait to be 16. You want no deadlines on your nights out, you want to grow taller, grow breasts, wear a bra, wear short skirts. You can't wait to have your arms waxed, get a boyfriend, get rid of the glasses and be popular.

Then you're racing towards 20 because you want to get older, you need your independence, you curse the day you discovered waxing, you decide you can never be thin enough, you have your heart broken and mended, you want a driving licence, you want to earn some moolah, experiment, travel, get more boyfriends, discover alcohol, get drunk and find your place in this world.

Now that I am 30 I enter a new chapter in my life wiser (and wider) knowing I enjoyed the last 20 years. I had a great birthday, thanks to S, with a lot of bubbly at a French pub , a dash of jazz, a little bit of love, and a lovely picnic feast from Fortnum and Mason at Green Park.

Here's to turning 30.

Sunday Lunch

As a child, I remember my mum preparing puris on special occasions. It was usually made when we had guests over. I loved using katoris to cut out small circles from the atta dough. She would keep reams of newspaper on the side and we would be given the task of lining them up in a nice row ready to be deep fried, fresh just before our guests arrived.

I have been craving this dish for quite a while and I had a bag of atta (powdered whole wheat) languishing in one of the cupboards for a while. S missed the rasta aloo bhaji which was a staple part of his diet during his days in Delhi.

So on Sunday we did a bit of googling and recipe hunting and settled on a relatively easy recipe which resulted in this.
Utensils required- A rolling pin, a wooden flat chopping board , medium- small circular pastry cutter/Katoris and a nice strong man to knead the dough ;)
2oog (1 1/2 cups) atta (chapati flour)
1/2 teaspoon salt
170ml (2/3 cup) of tepid water.

Sieve the salt and atta into a mixing bowl, make a well in the centre, add the water and mix into a pliable dough for 5 mins. Oil your fingers and use a well floured surface because this is sticky business. Place a little oil in the mixing bowl around the dough and leave aside for 30 mins



Roll out small lemon sized balls, place on a well floured flat surface (wooden board) and roll out into a flat pastry about 1mm in thickness, then use your katori/ pastry cutter to cut out circles about 4 cm in diameter. You should get about 30 such circles. Now for the sinful bit, fill a karhai/ heavy based saucepan one third full with oil and heat. To test the oil temperature place a small piece of atta in the oil, it should rise to the surface in a few seconds. Deep fry your puris in batches until they are crispy, puffed and golden brown. Drain on paper towels .




Aloo bhaji: Potato Curry
4 medium Potatoes Peeled
1 tsp of Cumin Powder
1 tsp Coriander ( dhaniya) Powder
2 tsp of Garam Masala
1 tsp Red Chilli Powder
1/2 tsp of Mustard seeds
1/4 tsp Asafoetida powder
1/2 tsp Turmeric Powder
1 tsp of Ginger Garlic paste
1 tomato ( 200mg tinned tomatoes)
One fist full of coriander leaves
2 tbsp of Oil
Salt as per taste

Heat the oil over medium heat. Add the mustard and cumin seeds and let them sputter. Add the asafoetida, turmeric, coriander and cumin powder and fry for 1 min. Next add the ginger garlic paste and saute for 2 mins.
Add the tomatoes in and fry on medium heat until the oil separates ensuring they are nicely fried, alternatively add the tinned tomatoes. Add the potatoes and ensure they are well coated with the masala mixture and fry for 1 min. Place 1/2 a cup of water into this mixture, salt and cook potatoes till you get a nice curry consistency.
Enjoy with hot crispy puris

Rambling in the rain

Bank holiday came and went. S decided we needed to take up the quintessentially British activity of rambling. We decided to explore the Jurassic coastline in Dorset. Rambling, otherwise known as walking, has its roots set as far back as the 19th century when people migrated to the countryside for rest and recreation. Over the years various associations were set up for the protection of ancient footpaths and open spaces, many of which ran through privately owned land. Predictably, this led to arguments between the landowners and the ramblers.

The most recent spat occurred when the singer Madonna challenged the rights of ramblers to walk across her multi million pound country estate.

The morning was not too sunny, ideal weather for a 5- mile walk, or so I thought. We packed all our essentials, cling film wrapped chutney sandwiches, mackintoshes etc now all we needed was a spell of good weather. The drive was gorgeous, the English countryside in summer is truly picturesque. Bluebells and yellow carpets of rapeseed farms.

The journey to the coastline took us about 2 hours, and by the time we reached, the weather had forsaken us. I was more than happy to drive about, browse through the local shops and head back but S was not having any of that. So we gobbled down cold chutney sandwiches, then got our macks and headed off.

The walk we chose was rated as moderately difficult. I think the constant drizzling rain made it a little more treacherous thanks to slushy hillsides. We trudged along fields heading towards the coastline, greeted along the way by several grazing cows, sheep and fellow ramblers in no particular order.

When we finally reached the sea, the view was spectacular. This coastline has been designated a world heritage site. It is 185 million years old and is made up of a series of limestone cliffs of various sizes shaped over millions of years by erosion. At the end of the walk I was wet, I had the wrong shoes on, they were caked in cow dung and I could feel muscles I never knew existed.
What made it worthwhile was this backdrop.


I think I've been bitten by the rambling bug ;)

Priceless!

I came across this thanks to S on you tube. If you belong to my generation from India you grew up on these fillers on DD. ek titli anek titliya...enjoy!

Wahaca !

Oaxaca( pronounced as wa-' haka) is a city in Mexico, famous amongst many things for its varying variety of street food. It is also called the 'Land of Seven Moles'. Now London has a little bit of Oaxaca in covent garden and I had a taste of it last friday. S wanted to go try this place out for sometime and last friday after a relatively light day of work I headed of to the city for a taster.

Wahaca is a bustling mexican restaraunt serving a variety of mexican street food. As you may have guessed the name has been spelt phonetically to allow ease in pronounciation. The atmosphere on friday is great, it's bustling with people and the staff were stretched but seemed to be coping well. I felt like I had just entered an open plan kitchen in a contemporary mexican street market. The only problem is the waiting period, we had to wait an hour for a table and they don't take reservations.
While waiting for our table i saw these brightly coloured packets that looked like matchboxes. I opened it expecting to find a matchstick, instead I found little cardboard sticks with jalepeno seeds on it! What an absolutley brilliant marketing idea. Imagine the local curry house giving you a cumin or mustard stick along with your takeaway. I haven't grown my pepper seeds yet, but I am looking forward to sprouting my new bunch of chilli plants shortly.




Apart from the free chilli plants the food was pretty decent and economically priced. S tried a bunch of their small street food platters of which the frijoles made of smoky black beans, crumbled cheese, spicy slaw and fresh salsa was my favourite. The rest were quite bland. I tried the Bass a la mojo - Sustainable sea bass with a corn and jalapeno salsa. Served with coriander rice, charred baby gem leaves and a red chilli. It was fresh and perfectly seasoned for my spice loving palate. Everything is accompanied with a red and green salsa sauce, which can be used to spice up the dishes a bit more. We ended the meal with 2 rounds of flavoured tequila , Hibiscus and Tamarind, which you are meant to savour and not slam. They both tasted like fenny to me, and I did'nt really appreciate the savouring bit , but if tequila is your tipple they have a wide range to choose from.






An interesting bit of info about Wahaca is the chef and owner is 2005 Masterchef winner Thomasina Miers. Wahaca is simple tasty mexican food , the ambience is entertaining and fun. The food needs a bit more tweaking and is a tad bland in some instances. I would go back for a fun evening with mates and a few more wahaca chilli sticks.

Release me

We started this joint blog a few weeks ago, and then hit writers block. A little early for it given the amount of content we have put up. So after some gentle coaxing from Shanks, I decided to get my digits active.

While settling on a topic to start on my first blog I was browsing through Itunes. Yes, I buy my music online! This got me thinking on the many musical influences in my life. I love music, amongst many other things. I treat music like food, experiment and you always pick a few gems. Today's pick is Alison Krauss an American blues-grass country singer and fiddle player. Wiki has an interesting read on her for all those interested.

Music was something we were brought up with at home. My mum is a big Kishore Kumar and carpenters fan, she introduced me to the melodic tunes of Karen and Richard Carpenter. My dad was at the other end of the spectrum, he is a big Doors fan. I remember spending weekday evenings lounging about listening to roadhouse blues while dad nursed his evening tipple. I woke up many mornings to the rich voice of M S Subbulakshmi singing Venkateswara Suprabhatam. I never really appreciated her voice, i put it down to age and the fact that she was my wake up call at 6 every morning. Either way music has always been an integral part of my life.

Music is food for the soul, poetry and harmony in a few rare instances

I am the wilderness locked in a cage
I am a growing force you kept in place
I am a tree reaching for the sun
Please don't hold me down
Please don't hold me down

I am a rolling wave without the motion
A glass of water longing for the ocean
I am an asphalt flower breaking free but you keep stopping me
Release me
Release me

Time pass

Welcome to our blog. Some food, some music, some sport and some politics. Most of all, some idle time pass.