Who in their right mind agrees to cook for twenty complete strangers(not all but some,and all friends of sibling) in a kitchen that's as new to one as any place on the moon and to be cooking in a house renowned for its excellent food and the cooking skills of the woman of the house.Well I just did.Recklessness takes over or is it an inflated sense of self....call it what you will but the die was cast and the deed committed.The only sensible think I did was to volunteer the deed on the last day of my stay there knowing fully well that by the time the food was digested and hopefully no one got killed...i would have reached the safety of the plains.The worst that could possibly happen would be that the twenty people would think much more of the siblings cooking and my reputation could be in shreds(considering i don't go so often it would all be forgotten by my next trip).Or they may choose to stay clear of the house the next time I was around.All in all after weighing the pros and cons it didn't seen like too bad an idea.My sister convinced me that they were all nice people and good friends so with that comforting thought(they can forgive and forget even if they were poisoned but lived to tell the tale.What are good friends for anyway)I set about delegating work to the maids to cut and chop all the ingredients while i took afternoon tea in the company of some pretty curious monkeys
The menu was simple biriyani and salad but for starters we had to substitute butter for ghee and zucchini for cucumber,but cooking is all about variety its about being innovative and learning to substitute without compromising flavour.The problem really is having to work in a kitchen one is not familiar with so a lot of time goes just looking for things(solution being that one should arrange all in order before starting but that's not me).
Two hours later having browned the onions to a lovely shade of rust,the aroma wafted out of the house and into the clear mountain air and I had a feeling that perhaps all would be fine.Just as the last of the ingredients had cooked and the fires had been turned down the guests arrived(the hill people are very pucca on time)
In the hills unlike the plains when people are invited for dinner,it means exactly that,so there are no starters or the silly drinks that go around,everyone arrives and sits at table and dinner is on its way.
The food served and I waited with bated breadth to see the reaction.Slowly they returned for second helpings with appreciative sounds and a few compliments (they are very well mannered people so one cant really take everything at face value).The expressions on their faces said one of two things.Here were a bunch of people so hungry and starved that they would eat anything or I am such a good chef and this is the real McCoy.
Second helpings later one child(young enough to still be innocent) actually asked her mother to get the recipe from me for as she declared....this was simply superb.Out of the mouth of babes they say.....so i hung up my apron a very satisfied cook at a dish well turned out and some very appreciative people who promised to come back for the visit the next time i was around....not bad for starters.
tea gardens
Saturday, May 17, 2008
paths less travelled
Its called the queen of the hill stations and was the summer retreat of the erstwhile British when they ruled the Madras presidency.Ooty the once quaint hill town had now become a bustling hill station promoted aggressively by the government which results it it turning into a crowded little town with loads of cars and buses( which ought to be in the plains)converging on its narrow roads and polluting an otherwise idyllic environment.The summer season is packed with flower shows,rose shows,dog shows and anything else that is willing to go on display.
To the unfortunate tourist visiting this place it could mean a trip on crowed trains only to arrive at a hill station that's packed to the gills with people of similar fates and to wind up in equally crowded hotels and to shop for souvenirs and home made chocolates (once a speciality of the place ...now a mass industry).Of course one can walk the botanical gardens after paying a tidy sum as entrance fee and enter the place only to be assaulted again by a sea of humanity.
For the more fortunate ones like us with family and friends the Queen of the hill stations can still pass off for a princess.....we see the less crowded,more beautiful Ooty that's hidden from the public eye.To begin with to live inside the botanical gardens is a huge plus...to be able to enter the gardens with the hoards and part ways immediately into a quiet and wonderful wonderland of tall trees and singing birds in another plus and when the urge to see the flowers takes over we simply have to take a path less travelled and enter the gardens through a back entrance that's private and not crowded.
Our daily walks took us into town or to visit tea estates in places like glenmorgan where civilization and crowds are far too distant to worry about,so we lunch under the shade of large trees and sip our after lunch cups of green tea and listen to the birds sing and enjoy our conversations while the dogs wander around and bask in the afternoon sun.The only excitement is when a herd of cows decide to taste the grass of a well kept lawn and wander into our lunch discussion which then has to be stoped to shoo them away.
On less hectic days we laze in the afternoon sun on the terrace of the house lounging on the warm cement and looking up to blue skies and tall trees waiting for our afternoon cakes and tea to arrive.
Our trips to Lovedale takes us to holiday homes with gardens that are a riot of colour and blooming in every shade of the rainbow.Afternoon tea sipped while looking out on the wast expanse of tea gardens and playing with an adorable cocker spaniel are experiences that no tourism department can ever offer.
We meet hill people who are kind and welcoming which is so refreshing after all the city life.They always come with offerings of fruits or vegetables or just little things from home gardens.The pleasure of eating fresh fruits that have been handpicked and seasonal is enough to make anyone feel fresh and healthy.
To those of us fortunate enough to take the road less travelled.....this is an experience to wait for.
To the unfortunate tourist visiting this place it could mean a trip on crowed trains only to arrive at a hill station that's packed to the gills with people of similar fates and to wind up in equally crowded hotels and to shop for souvenirs and home made chocolates (once a speciality of the place ...now a mass industry).Of course one can walk the botanical gardens after paying a tidy sum as entrance fee and enter the place only to be assaulted again by a sea of humanity.
For the more fortunate ones like us with family and friends the Queen of the hill stations can still pass off for a princess.....we see the less crowded,more beautiful Ooty that's hidden from the public eye.To begin with to live inside the botanical gardens is a huge plus...to be able to enter the gardens with the hoards and part ways immediately into a quiet and wonderful wonderland of tall trees and singing birds in another plus and when the urge to see the flowers takes over we simply have to take a path less travelled and enter the gardens through a back entrance that's private and not crowded.
Our daily walks took us into town or to visit tea estates in places like glenmorgan where civilization and crowds are far too distant to worry about,so we lunch under the shade of large trees and sip our after lunch cups of green tea and listen to the birds sing and enjoy our conversations while the dogs wander around and bask in the afternoon sun.The only excitement is when a herd of cows decide to taste the grass of a well kept lawn and wander into our lunch discussion which then has to be stoped to shoo them away.
On less hectic days we laze in the afternoon sun on the terrace of the house lounging on the warm cement and looking up to blue skies and tall trees waiting for our afternoon cakes and tea to arrive.
Our trips to Lovedale takes us to holiday homes with gardens that are a riot of colour and blooming in every shade of the rainbow.Afternoon tea sipped while looking out on the wast expanse of tea gardens and playing with an adorable cocker spaniel are experiences that no tourism department can ever offer.
We meet hill people who are kind and welcoming which is so refreshing after all the city life.They always come with offerings of fruits or vegetables or just little things from home gardens.The pleasure of eating fresh fruits that have been handpicked and seasonal is enough to make anyone feel fresh and healthy.
To those of us fortunate enough to take the road less travelled.....this is an experience to wait for.
Our reckless holiday
Taking a 76 year old mother (who by the way has not steped out of her house in the last 30 years)on holiday is a reckless thing to do,especially if the mother is mine.For starters she hates meeting people,secondly once she has settled down in a place(very difficult for her as there are loads of likes and dislikes) then she does not want to be disturbed (she had made herself at home in my place after two difficult months).Well knowing all this well I still took her on holiday to Ooty no less.From the blinding heat of Chennai to the high altitudes of Ooty is a pretty wide spectrum,so I concluded that I am an unacknowledged suicidal personality or reckless or just plain stupid to not see the enormity of what I had undertaken.Oh well guess I will never learn or learn the hard way all the time.
Of course i took the precaution of taking my nephew and his wife along.The boy fulfills the mother's need to have a man around(very important in her scheme of things and in mine too as the boy in question is calm,collected and has a way with the mother...which i don't).The girl has her uses,she is practical,has access to some of the best doctors and is helpful in many ways (detached from the situation....being married into the family also gives her an objective view of things)
The Central railway station was our first hurdle.Having managed to pack her bags,hail a taxi etc we arrive at the station to be greeted by a well meaning porter who offers the mother a wheel chair(senior citizens can avail this facility at a price).The mothers pride was most hurt(in her scheme of things wheel chairs are meant for the disabled) and she quelled him with a look that sent him scuttling all the way to the far end.And so our journey starts and we arrive pretty decently at the Coimbatore station where I take everyone for a good morning cup of tea at the residency hotel(tea in most hotels is a pathetic affair and when the staff are hardly awake its even worse)After some not so nice comments from the mother on the quality of the tea and the largeness of the bill,we wind our way up the hills one very happy family,until just under an hour when the first of the hairpin bends begin.From then on motion sickness takes over and the rest of the drive is spent in the mother being sick and cursing the day she dared to venture out of the house.We arrived finally at our destination to be met by another sibling and a doctor on hand.Unfortunately the doctor looked like on of the many boys in the boarding school(we were staying at a staff house in an international school) and didn't inspire much confidence,but considering that the queen of hill stations is sadly devoid of a decent hospital (any hospital actually never mind decent or not)we didn't have a choice.Of course looks aside the doc proved to be pretty good so by the afternoon,the wheel chair that was scorned at the station was proving to be a god send for the steep climb up to the house.The next day as luck would have it,the sunny days of Ooty disappeared behind a black cloud and it poured like there was no tomorrow.All said we were scrambling to get a return ticket for the mother who if she had a way (she did mention envying the birds that could fly where ever they wanted to)would have left Ooty that very day to embrace the heat of Chennai....but the railways being what they are and with yours truly having every intention of having a holiday she had to stay put for a week.I am convinced that taking a mother like mine on holiday can turn a saint into a criminal in a blink of an eye....
Of course i took the precaution of taking my nephew and his wife along.The boy fulfills the mother's need to have a man around(very important in her scheme of things and in mine too as the boy in question is calm,collected and has a way with the mother...which i don't).The girl has her uses,she is practical,has access to some of the best doctors and is helpful in many ways (detached from the situation....being married into the family also gives her an objective view of things)
The Central railway station was our first hurdle.Having managed to pack her bags,hail a taxi etc we arrive at the station to be greeted by a well meaning porter who offers the mother a wheel chair(senior citizens can avail this facility at a price).The mothers pride was most hurt(in her scheme of things wheel chairs are meant for the disabled) and she quelled him with a look that sent him scuttling all the way to the far end.And so our journey starts and we arrive pretty decently at the Coimbatore station where I take everyone for a good morning cup of tea at the residency hotel(tea in most hotels is a pathetic affair and when the staff are hardly awake its even worse)After some not so nice comments from the mother on the quality of the tea and the largeness of the bill,we wind our way up the hills one very happy family,until just under an hour when the first of the hairpin bends begin.From then on motion sickness takes over and the rest of the drive is spent in the mother being sick and cursing the day she dared to venture out of the house.We arrived finally at our destination to be met by another sibling and a doctor on hand.Unfortunately the doctor looked like on of the many boys in the boarding school(we were staying at a staff house in an international school) and didn't inspire much confidence,but considering that the queen of hill stations is sadly devoid of a decent hospital (any hospital actually never mind decent or not)we didn't have a choice.Of course looks aside the doc proved to be pretty good so by the afternoon,the wheel chair that was scorned at the station was proving to be a god send for the steep climb up to the house.The next day as luck would have it,the sunny days of Ooty disappeared behind a black cloud and it poured like there was no tomorrow.All said we were scrambling to get a return ticket for the mother who if she had a way (she did mention envying the birds that could fly where ever they wanted to)would have left Ooty that very day to embrace the heat of Chennai....but the railways being what they are and with yours truly having every intention of having a holiday she had to stay put for a week.I am convinced that taking a mother like mine on holiday can turn a saint into a criminal in a blink of an eye....
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