Fashionista Ahoy!

I have decided to be a fashion ignoramus no more. Too many years have passed, wondering why the big fuss about clothes. Now, I understand. Devil makes Prada now makes a little more sense to me – I am nowhere near that psychotic level of fashion fixation. But, I do get that clothes are fun, can reflect your mood, can elevate your spirits and make you happy and can make a statement when you feel the need to make one.

The thing is I was perplexed where to start? Let’s be honest, fashion magazines like Vogue show case clothes, bags and accessories which are meant for filthy skinny rich women (yes, purposely put the filthy before skinny!), a category I do not fall into. Luckily for us new age lovelies, we can turn to our internet sisterhood to come to our rescue.

Yes, there are some amazing women out there, who have created their own fashion blogs for regular women. For instance, this blog I chanced upon, http://haveacuteday.blogspot.com. This internet sister has taken the pains to capture various looks (with her wardrobe consisting of clothes which a regular woman owns) by mixing and matching articles of clothing, with her own unique style. I particularly like her tips on how to customize outfits, for eg putting a lace trimming at the bottom of a particularly short dress, quirky accessories to pretty up a severe dress, layering (usually for winters), funky shoes and leggings. Her blog also takes you to blogs of our other women who clearly love clothes.

For us locals looking for cool funky summer wear, check out this site - http://swastanimasta.wordpress.com . The creator of this blog is a young do-gooder who has discovered the hidden treasures of Colaba causeway, Hill Road in Bandra and Fashion Street. I never really paid attention to these places, since it looked too “off the road”. After going through her blog, I have decided to dump my snobbery and have realized that the biblical saying “seek and you shall find” is indeed true.

I have found tons of cool clothes in these places – mulmul shirts in shocking pink, smock style peasant tops, summer hats, zara basic *rip off* tops, hippy dresses *homewear, maybe*, funky footwear, beads of all shapes, dimensions and colors. Well, you get my drift! I don’t care if they don’t last beyond the summer, another reason to head to the streets.

I’m trying to break free from the tried and tested, read signature boring clothes. So if you see a girl wearing black lip stick, a shocking pink shirt and a hat, that girl is probably me!

Cooking Lessons

My cousin asked me to write some more food based blogs and this one is dedicated to her. She has seen a lot of my experiments, the good, the bad and the downright ugly. Many lessons have been learnt through my years of blundering. As a tribute to my blundering years, I humbly submit a few of my own cooking tips.

- Lesson one – there is no place for fear in the kitchen. The beauty of cooking is that each person’s style of cooking is unique – embrace this fact. Ape nobody – not mother, not mother in law or even Jamie Oliver (who I love)!

- Experiment! I know from experience that a lot of people are scared to deviate even a tsp away from a recipe. Once you are comfortable with basic tenets of cooking, go all out I say. I once invented my own cake, by adding a few new ingredients to an existing recipe. My best friend still fondly remembers and asks me to bake what we both christened “the Indian cake” since this cake had pistachio powder and elaichi, which you rarely find in cakes.

- Tip - Maintain a cookbook with recipes you have tried and tested. Often one tries a recipe from a magazine and its not preserved.

- Read up on cooking methods for different foods. For eg, Veggies should always be crisp. It is sacrilege to overcook em. I try to stir fry at a high temperature – all veggies have different cooking time so keep that in mind. I apply the same principle to sea food. Overcooking = Horror! Meats, marinating is key – each meat has its own cooking story, call me for details!

- Baking is an exact science. While I do experiment, I never vary the quantities while baking. Few quick tips - eggs should always be room temperature before they enter the cake batter, don’t use old baking powder / flour, also pre heat oven before baking, don’t sit the cake batter for more than 5 mins after adding the baking powder.

- Baking powder and baking soda are different. If the recipe asks for baking soda, it CANNOT be substituted with baking powder, else your cake will fall flat.

- While baking, always powder sugar or use fine granulated sugar. You don’t want to see granules in your cake.

- Invest in good cake tins, knives and utensils. They re worth it.

- Always have a recipe for a quickie main dish / dessert. My cousin sent me this 5 min choc cake recipe (cake in a mug) – here you go.

5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE

> 4 tablespoons flour
> 4 tablespoons sugar
> 2 tablespoons cocoa
> 1 egg
> 3 tablespoons milk
> 3 tablespoons oil
> 3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional)
> A small splash of vanilla extract
> 1 large coffee mug

Method

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well. Add the egg and mix thoroughly. Pour in the milk and oil and mix well. Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla extract, and mix again. Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes at 1000 watts. The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don't be alarmed! Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.

- Leftovers have potential. My family once went on an idli overdrive and I had 20 idlis which were a day old. You can lightly fry em and add a few sauces / Chinese veggies and lo and behold – Idli Chilly! Leftover chapattis can be converted into frankies, bread into bread pudding.

- What if a recipe goes wrong? I have had times when the mess has been irretrievable – no choice but to dump it. However, sometimes with a little imagination, the results can be quite unexpected I was once making rasmalai, when I clearly got the recipe wrong and all my little dumplings disintegrated in the thickened milk. There I was with 2 litres of thickened lumpy mixture and full on panic. So here’s what I did. I ran the entire mass into the blender, thickened it some more on the fire and added a little kesar / pista. Wish you could ve seen my family that night, contentedly wolfing down kesar kulfi for dinner. Pity, I didn’t have a cure for my lemon tarts!

- Whipping egg whites – make sure no fat (ie butter / oil) come in contact with it or else it will not peak. While melting chocolate, use a double boiler and if even a drop of water falls into the chocolate, kiss the mass good bye.

- Often you need just a pinch of ground elaichi (cardomon) / nutmeg etc. Of course, you think you can’t use the mixer. But you can, grind it with sugar and you can use it in any of your desserts!

- While making any fruit based cakes, I urge you to use the rind of an orange, it elevates the cake to a new height! While grating the rind, make sure you only skim at the surface – else it will be bitter.

- Never make chocolate leave / petals in the summer. Body heat of your fingers is enough to melt it!

- Don’t be a martyr and kill yourself in the kitchen doing things the long way round. I confess that I am happy to use any short cut available – ready made caramel, lasagna sheets, pizza sauces, condensed milk for kheer.

- Take a little pain with the presentation of a dish. The 5 minutes you don’t invest making your dish look good, basically takes a large chunk of the hours of effort in making the dish.

- Never be shy to try international recipes using local ingredients. For instance, I have made risotto with Indian rice (well, I did go through at least 15 varieties until I was satisfied) and have used paneer instead of ricotta cheese to make cannelloni. Fusion cooking can be fun, let the purists frown.

This is all I can remember for now. Feel free to leave your comments. And I will be sure to add more as and when I do remember!

Spa-cial

All those who know me well, would know that I’m a complete massage junkie. If there is one thing which can make me giddy with happiness all at once, it is a massage!

Like most of us, my tryst with massages started with the good ol “bai”. They may not be trained in the acupressure points but the local massage sure packs a solid punch. My mother has often wished my bai did the housework as well as her famed massage, alas!

I then graduated to the Kerala ayurvedic massage, which is even more intense. Herb infused coconut oil (definitely not aromatic) and women who mean business. Copious amounts of oil are used, which I personally hate, and I often protest. Apparently, without the oil, the skin would turn black and blue with all the kneading and pounding. End result is lovely, skin glows (it could just be the oil) and I have that zen like feeling that ayurveda has healed me!

A couple of years ago, on a trip to the Netherlands, one of my hosts was training to be a Reflexologist – ie a form of acupressure for the feet where supposedly all our nerve endings are. She volunteered to give me a foot massage. I jumped at the opportunity! That first reflexology massage was the defining moment of my passion for spas. I realised that I was a massage junkie for life.

Back home in Mumbai, where would I get my next fix? Not too far, it turned out. Mumbai has turned into a spa-ridise of sorts with each spa competing in massage, one more exotic than the other. Hot stone, accupressure, accupunture, chocolate, Cleopatra (ie milk and honey), swedish.... I found just what I needed - quite simple really. Imagine this.. a darkened room with muted lighting... temperature at a cool 20 degrees …a stone statue of Buddha in the centre...a plush leather reclining sofa with a foot rest.. a soft blanket.… sounds from a tropical jungle playing in the background. And then the masseuse, silently works his / her magic on your feet and at the end of the 60 minutes, it feels like you have emerged from a trance. It is magical.

I now have a new de stress mantra. During times of extreme stress, I try to head to my spa therapist. If that isn’t possible, I do something kooky. I close my eyes and imagine I am in my spa – and my stress just melts away………..

PS: Get a massage today!

Simple Diary

I have discovered a new love which is now incorporated in my daily routine. I am now the proud owner of a diary called Keel’s Simple Diary.

As Mr Keel (artist n hottie) introduces his diary, you don’t have to be regular with it / nor have to rack your brains on what entry to fill in. It has simple questions to be answered (some of which are multiple choice and some just inane) - most of which are thought provoking!

I have included below a link to the Simple diary. It may not appeal to all, but even if one of you love it as much as I do, its worth writing about.

http://www.simplediary.com

For some reason, this site is categorized by my IT team as “Porn” – it most certainly is not!

It is available on www.flipkart.com

Recipes

I have decided to share the recipes I have tried out (which are simple and quick) so that you can try too. This is from the archives of The Domestic Goddess herself, Nigella Lawson. Its a date and walnut cake, so moist and so rich, that all the guests at my father's birthday, who are usually Weight watchers, had seconds and thirds.. Go ahead, indulge and be FABULOUS!

INGREDIENTS

250g dates (wight without pits)
150g walnuts
150g plain flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
100g soft butter
3 eggs
150g sugar

Prepare the dates and the walnuts. Remove the stones from the dates and cut into pieces, break up the walnuts into smaller chunks. Blend with the flour and the baking powder and let rest. Put the softened butter and sugar together into another bowl and mix with a wooden spoon until soft. Separate the eggs. Add the egg yolks one at a time and beat until you have a light and creamy mixture. Mix the fruit and flour mix into the creamy mass. Whisk the egg whites until stiff, then add half of them to the mixture, add the other half using a light hand.
Bake at 160C for 1 1/2 hours on the middle shelf.

Note: I used 1 tsp of baking pd and used self raising flour. Also, use good quality dates, the Omani ones are zee best:)

Curly Top

One of the first things you’d notice about me, besides my awe inspiring good looks (this is a feel good blog and exaggeration in the name of art is permitted!) would be my curly hair. Doesn’t curly hair conjure up this image of a cute cherubic person – let me dispel all such notions, I most certainly am not!

As a child, I’m guessing I was real cute with my curly hair all in semi ringlets. My mother, smart woman that she is, realized the potential agony of maintaining curly hair. I had a “boy cut” through school. I hated it. College I was told, I could do whatever I wanted. Come 16, I was going to have long curls I promised myself.

Enter College. Plant slightly longer curly hair on a teenager who has no clue what hair products to use to combat Mumbai humidity and it’s a sure shot recipe for disaster! How disastrous, well how about being called Satya Sai Baba and After Shock by road side Romeos. My fragile 16 old confidence was shattered!

Decided to have the curls chopped off and revert to the horrible “boy cut” again. Only, the humiliation was not over. The lady cutting my hair treated it with such disdain that post that experience I thought fleetingly “Bald may indeed be beautiful for me”.

Still, the dream for long soft flowing curls burned bright in my heart. After a few years, I summoned the courage again and decided to go for it. This time armed with the necessary ammunition – Curls rock shampoo, honey and oat meal conditioner, hair serum, and anti frizz hair products. So far so good. The hair was looking bright and shiny and all seemed well in my world.

Then 8 months passed and looking at the mirror, I thought “shouldn’t my soft bouncy luscious curls be cascading below my shoulders now?” However, they seemed to be mocking back at me, tightly curled just below my ears.

Frustrated, I went back to the experts. Note – any salon worth its salt has an “Expert – For Curls Only” who’s job profile demands that he/ she doubles up as a shrink. Seeing my depressed face, green tea was called for and my therapy began. It appears that growing curly hair is really an art. I had to channelize positive thoughts to the roots of my hair and short of chanting, the process was going to take years. Also while it grew, it would grow quite wild, anti frizz can only do that much you know, she kindly explained. Alternatives were presented before me – the last resort “Rebonding”.

I have nothing against straight hair, truth be told, all through my growing years I always wanted poker straight hair. But, now at my ripe old age of almost 30, my curls are an indispensable part of my personality – it has to stay.

So here I am, waiting and chanting and cajoling, so that my stubborn locks will flourish one day. I counsel children with curly hair, "you will learn to love it one day" I say, "Be strong", I urge them. As for me, I’ve made peace with the fact that I will forever be a humble slave to my curls……………

Foot in the Mouth!

So I just had one of those horrible incidents when I have uttered something completely inappropriate, and got a thorough lashing for it. There are varying degrees of inappropriateness and in my life; I am ashamed to admit I have scaled some great heights in saying inappropriate things. Why does it happen? As I walk down the path of self improvement, I thought this was a good place to start.

The trouble with talking too fast is you may say something you haven't thought of yet. ~Ann Landers

The first category of shooting one’s mouth off is when you say the first thing that comes to your head, without thinking. From the look of the other person’s face, you quickly know that you ve screwed up! You then think back and wonder (and wish fervently), is there a sieve, a CPU in your brain which processes your careless thoughts before they reach your lips. Well, it’s too late since it’s already been done. Step 2, how do you make it alright?
Sometimes you just wait it out, post apology. If it’s not too major, you are usually forgiven, not before you have felt like the worst kind of gnat wanting to crawl into a hole and die while chanting “I am an ass”. If its major, you wait for some more!

I am annoyed by individuals who are embarrassed by pauses in a conversation. To me, every conversational pause refreshes. ~George Sanders

I am guilty of this falling into this category as well. There are times when one is stuck in a car (for illustration purposes) and there is a long pause which in your mind feels like a whole day has passed, instead of just a few minutes. Previously, I would take it upon myself to keep the conversation going and would end up babbling and often embarrassing myself. Phew, no more, if there is a pause, I sit silently like a monk and pretend to be interested in the passing scenery (so what if they re slums). It is infinitely better than being an ass.

Never argue with a fool, onlookers may not be able to tell the difference. ~Author unknown, attributed to Mark Twain

Sometimes you want to strike out at someone knowingly, because they always make jibes at you. Post strike out feeling – In one word “Nothing”. You just end up feeling petty and mean. I know I do it and I keep telling myself how unbecoming it really is. Will I change, I certainly hope so!

Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret. ~Ambrose Bierce

This is the most dangerous kind. It is when you know exactly what you are saying, but you are blinded with emotion – emotion usually being rage. All the gunk, resentment and fury, usually latent, are released and venom is spewed on the person. This venom could be spewed in a verbal outburst or as I have seen in me and a lot of my women friends, in written form – the dreaded email. The sad thing is that once your rage dies down, all you are left is feeling, a) sorry for losing control and being mean; b) inadvertently giving up power to the other person.
The words are out there and there is the selfish feeling of wanting to seek closure to that issue. Problem is you will want to seek a face to face closure, and that’s not happening! It’s not an easy pickle to get yourself out off.

If you have reached a stage where you want to see the back of this person, it’s simpler, since you will block out and eventually forget. Post meltdown, if you want to continue to be friends, it will take time and willingness on both parties part to forgive and forget. No easy answers to this one, unfortunately once the deed has been done.

I have devised a method to avoid this category altogether. During my moments of intense rage, I lash out in a password protected word document as a form of release. It’s very effective, I will vouch for it and so will a few of my friends who I have passed this tip on to.

As I write this, it becomes clear to me. Words have to be measured and sized up before they are spoken. When in doubt on whether to say or hold back, ancient wisdom prevails – “Silence is indeed golden”.

SOUL FOOD

If I were to list down a single hobby / activity I wish I still made time for, a hands down winner would be “Cooking”.

My love for cooking started early. First culinary experiment – Age 10 – Recipe – lemon Tart – Net result – Disaster. My brother still talks about the tarts like I made them yesterday, that’s how long they ve lived in la familia’s memory. I wasn’t deterred and tried my next experiment at Age 11 from a horrible horrible magazine called women’s Era. It was called Milk Cake, pink in Color and I still remember it since I had to miss school for 2 days, with all the retching from the ghastly cake.

Luckily for me, a wonderful thing happened when I was 12 years old - Satellite TV! International cookery shows with detailed step by step instructions became a reality. It was like I discovered the keys to a whole new culinary world. My new mantra became, if Yan could cook, so could I!

My parents had to bear the brunt of my passion for cooking. They had 12 years of prior experience with my initial bouts of enthusiasm which then died away quickly enough (case in point – 6 months of bharatnatyam, 2 years of piano, various summer schools learning arts / crafts left half way). So at Age 12, I promised them I had reformed and begged them to get me a professional electric oven (wish granted), ice cream maker at age 14(wish denied) and permission to use the cooking range independently at age 12 (wish granted at age 14). By the tenth standard, I could ‘confidently’ bake cakes, make easter eggs and Christmas sweets {mother’s prayers were answered}. I even seriously contemplated becoming a chef.

Post college, with my brother leaving home and no one to cook for, I stopped. I realized whenever I baked, which had come down to once a year, I had a case of beginner’s nerves. What I did so confidently at age 15-18, I was nervous about at age 25. Any skill has to be nurtured and I seemed to have let it rust. Was I no longer a natural? It was a depressing thought.

Then last year I watched the movie Julie and Julia. To cut a long story short, a young woman re discovers the joy of cooking, by undertaking a project to cook 500 odd recipes in 365 days. As I watched the movie, it all came back. Why I loved cooking as a child and why I always will – it’s the amalgam of the aromas, the textures of ingredients as they come together, the skill involved – vigorous kneading sometimes, delicate folding of ingredients at other times, learning to do things right from experience, adding new ingredients to a recipe to make it your very own, reading recipe books and imagining how a dish will turn out in your head, without actually making it... That month, I picked up my apron, baking tins, oven mitts and restarted – Peanut butter cookies and chocolate cake. Ah, it seemed like I still had it in me and like magic, it took me back to a different time….

I now dream of going to a culinary school and getting a diploma. It isn’t that I ever want to turn pro, it’s only for the joy and satisfaction of getting an education in culinary art. That is because I really do believe, if done well, cooking is truly an Art!

Pastis!

Sometimes it just takes one glance, a single word and you fall in love. It sort of happened that way with me too.

I was having one of those boring days. I was going through the motions and simply nothing felt fun. I hate it when my mind is comatose and nothing has set off any sparks. And then it happened, I was reading a book on Provence (I always say “Provonce” in my best fake French accent in my head) and the word “Pastis” revealed itself to me. My mind registered it, my lips uttered it tentatively at first and then louder. There was nothing more to be said, no doubt in my mind, I was in love……..

Through the next few days, whenever I felt bored, sad, or bored again, I would utter the word “Pastis”. It was like my mind was registering a delightful and decadent pleasure. “Pastis”, the word itself felt delicious – it’s a Provencal liqueur of sorts, which of course had nothing to do with the effect it had on my senses.

Some of my friends couldn’t understand how I would utter the word and suddenly feel happeee with a big smile on my face. It felt like a charm granted by a fairy, imagine being able to change your mood by uttering a single word – “Pastis, Pastis, Pastis”. Note to self – word to be preserved and to be used only in dire emergencies.

Now dear Reader, this is the point where you will either read ahead or will decide to abandon this blog of a kook. But really, all of us have a mantra to make us instantly happy and if you don’t, get off your high horse and find yourself one, a favorite word, favorite song, favorite verse the list is endless.

I thought maybe it was just me, but the other day, I was sitting in a restaurant with a friend when she uttered the word “Pudding”. We both gushed at the same time and looked at each other – we understood……

Why does it happen? Is it the sound, the association with it? I don’t know and I really don’t want to over analyze it and take away the mystique. Maybe it’s really quite simple, some words are just sexy!!! Go out and find yours………