I needed to start afresh. And I have.

I’m blogging over at The Subjectivist since August 2011.

Its time to say goodbye.

P.S.: – I will be updating the archives of the new blog to include old posts from this one so you can always visit the old recipes and stories. Make sure to update your subscription/feed to the new site.

I’m reporting dank, drizzly and cold from London. It is hard to believe that its still August.

The last two weeks has been interesting. Following the meltdown of my darling laptop which automatically led to heartbreak, I hauled my backside again, to one of my grandmother’s house in Merthyr Tydfill, Wales (insert mocking snort here).

This time the trip was peppered with a visit to Swansea, a refreshing mint and watermelon juice, the drool-worthy chocolate brownie from the Welsh Christ Cathedral’s cafeteria (they are the stuff legends are made of). It was also a fortnight of mutton curries, bacon and eggs for breakfast, strawberry granitas with cola, ice-cream cones along the sea side in Swansea and driving along the meandering roads through Brecon Beacons. The trees aligned on the mountain reminded me of illustrations in old Dutch children’s books.

“No more coffee,”  I tell myself. I put down the plastic cup of watery airline coffee and look around. The elderly man next to me snores softly with a newspaper in his hands. I want to sleep as well but my nausea is keeping me awake. I try not to think about the journey ahead of me. Twenty-four more long hours of flying, waiting and riding. Hopefully, I’ll be able to catch a few winks on the longer flight to Heathrow.

I am also looking forward to going to Wales. Let’s leave alone the fact that I’m going to be putting up at one of my grandmothers’ homes, while I look for a new apartment in London. In retrospect, it was utterly foolish of me to give up my old apartment. Also, I have a lesson for you: Do not trust 22 year old students who promise to let out their apartments to you as a transition space. Apparently, the above-mentioned women can be fickle-minded and might just prefer their best-friends over you, leaving you momentarily homeless.

If I survive the next 24 hours I will write to you again.

Hopefully, with a recipe.

Love,

Amman

You know how I’ve been waiting for a dear friend’s wedding? Well, it happened!!

An Indian wedding, most of you will know, lasts for at least three days and is stuffed to the bursting point with colour, food and traditions. Arundhati’s wedding was a pure to the core Bengali wedding, complete with a traditional Benarasi bridal trousseau, Bengali traditions and of course…food!

But hold your thought right there. I’m not going to rave about the tenderest and smokiest grilled tiger prawns we had as appetizers, or the buttery-lemony fish entree, and I’m not even going to mention the ingenious dessert of frozen whole mangoes stuffed with kulfi. Because this about the wedding, the gorgeous bride and her happy-go-lucky groom. A whirlwind of a wedding that left a dreamy haze behind.

The last weekend was spent running and fussing around the bride, packing her belongings in suitcases, making sure she’s eating well, smiling at the guests, sorting out the gifts – the keepers and give-aways, keeping the groom entertained and well-fed. And its cumbersome to do it with a camera hanging round your neck. I was actually quite happy to give up the camera for a change and dive into all the daily rituals of a wedding. So I leave you with a shot of all the magnificence that surrounds a Bengali bride on her wedding day.

To Arundhati and her Anando, I wish you a lifetime of wedded bliss!

I had a sleepy-roll-around-on-the-bed evening yesterday. Read Mark Kurlansky’s Choice Cuts and went shopping for a pair of stone-studded ear-rings. And watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. Somehow, felt happy and depressed at the same time in the end, while coming out of the theater. That was it. The end of a whole era of patronuses, parseltongue, polyjuice potions and expelliarmuses.

Since the last time I was here talking about Chinese food, I have been taking a stretch of a vacation in Kolkata to appease myself and the folks. Not to mention the upcoming wedding of a dear friend.

I have eaten at a new discovery called Spaghetti Kitchen for a lovely dose of sophisticated Italian fare.

I have worked on three whole paintings for family friends. I have had friends and relatives make me the most awesome biriyani, a silky smooth shahi paneer, a spicy dal makhni, a tart lemon cake and a sausage bake since.

I have had the cheapest and strongest port wine of my life during the course of an ongoing girls-only slumber party.

I have cooked up two new versions of chicken curry, one with a heady taste of fennel.

I have had my photograph taken at random for a very noble cause, the experience of which I will discuss pretty soon.

I have cuddled my nephew till he was gasping for breath…although he did a good job of hiding it behind his continuous smile.

I have had my Holga rolls developed…and the results are better than I expected! Most of them from Central London and a few odd bits around my house.

I have had a tryst with monsoon and ever since I have been under house arrest as the rain bangs its heart out against my windows. The arrest was also spurred on by a bout of flu.

I am (secretly) starting to miss London. Its a good thing I love monsoon though. And an even better thing that it comes with a side of khichdi, aloo-postor jhuri, ilish maachh bhaja and aamer chutney.

I have also, successfully finished off a whole jar of Nutella in one sitting. No kidding.

Its July 15th, a fortnight before I head back to London, and at 9 o’clock in the morning, I’m sitting with a bowl of chili-honey poached pears wishing it would stop raining long enough for me to go out and catch the last Harry-Potter-end-of-an-era movie.

Chili-honey poached pears

Ingredients
(per person)

2 peaches

1 red chili

3 tbsp honey (can be substituted with golden syrup)

2 cups water

3/4 cup white sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract

How-to

Cut the peaches in halves. Leave the skins on and pits in. It becomes easier to remove then after the peaches have been poached. Mix the water with sugar an honey and put to boil. Slice the chili in half and throw it in the boiling mixture along with the vanilla extract. Drop in the peaches cut side down into the boiling mixture. Each side needs about 3 minutes. After 6 minutes, remove the peaches and boil the mixture till it thickens into a thin-ish syrup. Remove from heat and cool. The syrup thickens on cooling. Remove the skins and pits of the peaches and arrange on a serving plate. Chill in the refrigerator for an hour or so. Pour the cooled syrup on the peaches and serve with vanilla ice-cream, if preferred.