No. Living in the US is not as easy as it
seems to be. While I try my best to feel at home here, random culture shocks are
thrown at me, making me wiser or sometimes leaving me dumbstruck. Here in my
blog I collect them as breadcrumbs lest I forget my way.
If you haven’t read my earlier post on this,
go ahead and take a look at it: here.
This one, however, is more about my culinary
tastes. I am a compulsive foodie. I love to eat. I am also a big believer of
the saying in Sanskrit, Ghranena Ardha Bhojanam - the aroma is half the taste.
But I am very lazy. In fact I am so lazy that
I believe if you spill water on the floor, it will eventually dry so why bother
yourself with the mop! I would rather stay on my couch and read a book or eat
than take the laborious task of cooking on my own shoulder.
But then the other day in office, while
crossing the pantry on my way to the rest room, I smelled something heavenly. I peeked through the door and there she was, glowing
like Devi Annapurna herself, and sitting with 2-3 small boxes laid before her. She
tore small pieces of dosa, dipped them into the golden sambar and chewed them
with her eyes closed.
I was so mesmerized that I stood there, completely
forgetting about my need to use the rest room. I’d never realized before that I
loved Dosa, and Sambar so much. I looked so hard that I am sure the poor lady had
had to suffer a bad case of indigestion that night.
Anyway, that night I decided to cook Dosa
and Sambar myself. I considered this as a big feat because inspiration didn’t visit
me willingly. I was under those rare attacks of enthusiasm throughout the
entire process of shopping for the Dosa batter (making the batter at home? I
am not sure if anything can ever inspire me that much), making the pan ready,
boiling the dal for the Sambar and all. But then something strange happened.
I was just pouring the mustard seeds, chilli
peppers and curry leaves into the hot oil when I heard a strange sound outside
my door: “tssst tssst”. I switched off the heat and listened carefully. The
spluttering of the spices stopped. But so had the sound. I turned on the gas. A
few minutes later, the same sound started coming through my door again. This time
for longer duration, “tsssssssssts”, a short pause and then again, “tsssssssssssssssssts”.
Unsure of what to do, I braced myself and peeped through the eye hole. There they
were, two goras, their mouths tightly covered in cloths, spraying two bottles
frantically in front of my door.
Call me stupid, but I didn’t understand, at
first, what it was about. My very first thought was -were these two some kind
of goons, trying to break into my apartment? Maybe the spray was some kind of
chemical that dissolved wood! I waited with my breath held. But then after 2-3
seconds of extreme anxiety attack, I found out that they were merely spraying room
fresheners! Apparently the smell of the spices sautéing was too strong for them.
Meanwhile I had already forgotten about the
sizzling pan and the shimmering wok. So what greeted me next was the burning
smell of the spices and a coughing fit outside my door.
I stopped for a moment. Then I said, “Pfft”, and
poured fresh oil into a clean wok.
Love
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Riot of Random