My latest trip back home as most are aware already was unusual. The doctors in Bangalore were literally "practicing" their proficiency in medical science on yours truly, striving hard to successfully diagnose typhoid for a sure case of jaundice.
I rushed home. Recovered and returned with a heavy heart after almost three weeks of stay at home. On my return my only concern was my food. I was advised to consume only home cooked food for the two months. In the kitchen I am as lost as a Yankee on a cricket field. In short I am challenged on this front as well.
The first day at the kitchen. I planned to cook rice, dal and potatoes. I had received some guidance from Mom while at home, based on which I loaded all the food articles in the cooker and placed it on the burner.
I do not know why now-a-days they make match sticks that are half as small as the routine ones. By the time you light the match, turn on the supply to the burner and take the match close to the burner to ignite it, the match has exhausted its length and your fingers are burning. In case you are quick enough and get the match to the burner in time, you have to get the blaced tiny match so close to the burner that the ignited burner flame burns your fingers.
Finally, I somehow managed to ignite the burner with a candle.
I placed the loaded cooker on the burner. I was beginning to get so proud of myself. I waited patiently for the pressure whistle to blow. Fifteen minutes passed and there was no sign of it. I noticed that steam escaped at a scary pace from a small hole on the lid of the cooker which I now know is called the valve. I began imagining the cooker taking off the ground propelled by the steam. I seemed scary. I turned the burner off before anything like what I had imagined actually happened. I waited for the cooker to cool. When I checked the contents, all the enthusiasm disappeared. All the steam has escaped through a damaged valve, all the water had evaporated and the rice had burnt.
I gave up all my plans of cooking a meal that day, prepared a Maggi soup and ate it with bread.
That was my first day at the kitchen. Life had started looking un-livable. I literally didn’t know from where my next meal was to come from.
I rushed home. Recovered and returned with a heavy heart after almost three weeks of stay at home. On my return my only concern was my food. I was advised to consume only home cooked food for the two months. In the kitchen I am as lost as a Yankee on a cricket field. In short I am challenged on this front as well.
The first day at the kitchen. I planned to cook rice, dal and potatoes. I had received some guidance from Mom while at home, based on which I loaded all the food articles in the cooker and placed it on the burner.
I do not know why now-a-days they make match sticks that are half as small as the routine ones. By the time you light the match, turn on the supply to the burner and take the match close to the burner to ignite it, the match has exhausted its length and your fingers are burning. In case you are quick enough and get the match to the burner in time, you have to get the blaced tiny match so close to the burner that the ignited burner flame burns your fingers.
Finally, I somehow managed to ignite the burner with a candle.
I placed the loaded cooker on the burner. I was beginning to get so proud of myself. I waited patiently for the pressure whistle to blow. Fifteen minutes passed and there was no sign of it. I noticed that steam escaped at a scary pace from a small hole on the lid of the cooker which I now know is called the valve. I began imagining the cooker taking off the ground propelled by the steam. I seemed scary. I turned the burner off before anything like what I had imagined actually happened. I waited for the cooker to cool. When I checked the contents, all the enthusiasm disappeared. All the steam has escaped through a damaged valve, all the water had evaporated and the rice had burnt.
I gave up all my plans of cooking a meal that day, prepared a Maggi soup and ate it with bread.
That was my first day at the kitchen. Life had started looking un-livable. I literally didn’t know from where my next meal was to come from.
The next day was much better. I got the cooker valve replaced and went through the same routine again. The cooker whistle blew. I cannot describe the feeling as anything except blissful. I managed to cook dal and rice. Felt really good. Surprisingly, it was edible. My room mate had the typical “May GOD bless you” expression on his face as he saw me consuming the food I had cooked. It probably did seem a big risk to him. For me, I had no choice.
Then there were days when I forgot to add salt to the food and discovered it only after taking the first bite. I do not know why I do not check the taste of the food while cooking it.
I was determined to consume fruits. I bought some sweet lime and tried to cut it. Struggled. After quite a bit of struggle I got the hang of how should I go about cutting the fruit. I kept cutting one slice. Went on and on. Was enjoying the improvement in my skills until the time I felt a burning sensation in my finger. I realized that I was through cutting the fruit and was now slicing my finger. A cut finger with citrus juice on it. What a nightmare!
These were the major incidents that stand out.
They were periodically punctuated with small incidences. While trying to remove the vessel of cooked pulses from the cooker, the vessel slips out of the clamp and a major chunk of the food falls into the cooker. There is not enough time to cook some pulses again.
You get up early, cook a vegetable and pack it with a loaf of bread for lunch. What happens if you forget to carry the loaf? Ask me. You have to eat the vegetables all by themselves. Its worse when others around get an impression that you are following some strict diet regime.
This entire episode has been at times hilarious, at times painful to say the least but the outcome has been satisfying which has made it worth the struggle.
