After the short stint of my US vacation in 2011, I am back to this country for good. Karma, fate or destiny... whatever does one want to call it. My shifting to US is a glaring irony in my life. I was the type of a desi who always dreamed of marrying a guy at 23 and living forever in Bangalore. But life made sure none of these happened.
Enter Harish, my spoilt brat husband. Like most of today's youth, he always dreamed of shifting to US and getting a handsome pay. Though his dream was achieved, mine was lost in transition. Hence, i decided to treat my shifting to US as a break from everything. Again, fate had other things stored for me.
As I donned the role of a "homemaker", I realised I am turning into what I always teased my mother with - The money-pinching-stuck-in-the-house-high-class-maid!!! Thankfully, US does not have vegetable vendors who come outside our houses. If that would have happened, then I am pretty sure that I would have fought with the vendors for that extra bhendi or that extra green chilly too. However, my under-achievements did not stop at this.
One day I decided to take up the ambitious project of making the bhendi subzi (Bendekai Palya in Kannada) for my dear husband and my Indian-food-deprived stomach. Little did I know that I would end up being a mad scientist in her lab, who is adding different types of chemicals, which will eventually blow up on her face. I always knew that I was a good food critic, but a chef... NEVER! I cannot differentiate between the dals used for cooking subzi to the dals used for making sambar or idly.
After I got the recipe from my mom (which involved me stressing her into giving me measurements in tablespoons and teaspoons), I started my quest to find my dals and vegetables. Thankfully Dallas has many Indian supermarkets and restaurants. So you don't have to go to an extent of shipping your monthly grocery from India. So I bought the dals which matched the description given by my mom and I was all set to kick start my culinary conquests (read: disasters).
After heating the oil, when I added the mustard seeds, it felt like someone is shooting towards me from inside the pan! Those damn mustard seeds, which are so dismissively tiny, acted like bullets aimed towards me. And when I added Onions and Green Chilies, they behaved like those teenage children who throw a tantrum when you give them some work. In the end, I somehow managed to dodge the mustard seeds' bullets and cranky onions, to complete my bhendi subzi and save our dinner.
Finally I am appreciating the all the hard work which my mother put in to conjure up a meal for us back in Bangalore and I am hoping that someday I will be a cook who can make edible dishes!
Enter Harish, my spoilt brat husband. Like most of today's youth, he always dreamed of shifting to US and getting a handsome pay. Though his dream was achieved, mine was lost in transition. Hence, i decided to treat my shifting to US as a break from everything. Again, fate had other things stored for me.
As I donned the role of a "homemaker", I realised I am turning into what I always teased my mother with - The money-pinching-stuck-in-the-house-high-class-maid!!! Thankfully, US does not have vegetable vendors who come outside our houses. If that would have happened, then I am pretty sure that I would have fought with the vendors for that extra bhendi or that extra green chilly too. However, my under-achievements did not stop at this.
One day I decided to take up the ambitious project of making the bhendi subzi (Bendekai Palya in Kannada) for my dear husband and my Indian-food-deprived stomach. Little did I know that I would end up being a mad scientist in her lab, who is adding different types of chemicals, which will eventually blow up on her face. I always knew that I was a good food critic, but a chef... NEVER! I cannot differentiate between the dals used for cooking subzi to the dals used for making sambar or idly.
After I got the recipe from my mom (which involved me stressing her into giving me measurements in tablespoons and teaspoons), I started my quest to find my dals and vegetables. Thankfully Dallas has many Indian supermarkets and restaurants. So you don't have to go to an extent of shipping your monthly grocery from India. So I bought the dals which matched the description given by my mom and I was all set to kick start my culinary conquests (read: disasters).
After heating the oil, when I added the mustard seeds, it felt like someone is shooting towards me from inside the pan! Those damn mustard seeds, which are so dismissively tiny, acted like bullets aimed towards me. And when I added Onions and Green Chilies, they behaved like those teenage children who throw a tantrum when you give them some work. In the end, I somehow managed to dodge the mustard seeds' bullets and cranky onions, to complete my bhendi subzi and save our dinner.
Finally I am appreciating the all the hard work which my mother put in to conjure up a meal for us back in Bangalore and I am hoping that someday I will be a cook who can make edible dishes!
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