Fresh out of college and just 1 year into work, I got a call from an unknown manager from an unknown team looking for people with a niche skill. I got a special training for this so called product and hence I got selected with few interactions in the client interview. In a week's time, I have to join the team in Munich....what?? I couldn't believe my ears...I have to travel...Though I had traveled before as far as India, I had never really been outside...and that too to my most dreamt destination Europe!! I was so wallowed up in excitement that I forgot about work, forgot about the new team, new manager. All I had in mind was Europe...Europe...!!As a rookie traveler, I started packing my things...I made a checklist...I planned everything. Well yeah, I am a planning freak. I bought all the winter clothes (got to know from colleagues that it was freezing cold in there),ready to eats, a small pressure cooker (from my mom's checklist...now u know where I got this planning thing),spices, sufficient clothes...and all set to go. But my mom always had a "But-Can-She?" kind of expression right from the beginning till I waved her goodbye...But I couldn't make it out....since my brain had "out of memory error" since I had 99.99% of it filled with European dreams !
Reaching Munich, I met the kind-hearted (I will later explain why) Mrs. Christine and her little daughter Anna. I had to share Mrs. Christine’s apartment since I could not find any PG accommodation.Small and cozy room, a snow filled balcony and an artistic kitchen(Christine loves artifacts and there were a lot decorating the kitchen).I felt comfortable...comfortable enough to stay in a distant land and thank god she spoke English!( there was no need to use my "Learn German in 30 days" book and end up looking stupid all the time).Mrs. Christine made no rules in the rental agreement but she made an oral agreement of kitchen usage…"You can't use the kitchen till 7:30 a.m."…Well….’No big deal’, this is what I had in back of my mind since the office timing is at 9:00 a.m.
That was the first day morning to work. Having freshened up I waited patiently for my turn to make breakfast. I had to pack my box for the lunch too. A menu was spontaneously running in my mind. Bread and omelet for breakfast and rice and daal for lunch. After Christine finished up with her cooking, I stepped into her artistic kitchen. Since I was not hungry enough, I thought I could first start with making lunch. Like an amateur cook, I carefully listened to Christine’s instructions on kitchen usage. I took my pressure cooker and with utmost care measured the rice and water level. I remembered how my mom tried to explain me the measurements like a pro and I just bobbed my head not knowing that it is the basis for cooking. A mathematical calculation was running in my mind....cup of rice: cup of water...after some addition, subtraction and confusion I placed the cooker on the electric stove. I felt like I accomplished the most herculean task. As I turned around, I was awestruck. Amidst all the cooing and yelling by little Anna, Christine stood there staring at me. She came right towards me and asked “Do you know what you are doing?” I sheepishly nodded my head. For a moment, Christine seemed to me like Gordon Ramsay....and...I felt like the most stressful masterchef contestant. Seeing my anxiety symptoms, she left the place thinking 'Let's wait and see what this kid is up to? ‘I sighed and quickly glanced at my buddy who is gonna save my day. He has already started venting and I had to place the pressure regulator on the steam vent. My mom's instruction no.2 was 'Wait for three whistles and then switch off the stove’. I was quite happy that everything seems to be in place...What a perfect day! My wait for the whistle began. As I waited, my thoughts travelled back down the memory lane...For those of you who doesn't know about my background and experience with cooking, I had never been to kitchen till that day! During my school and college days, my mom never asked me to help her in the kitchen...because she thinks I already had a tiresome day in my college and studying (ah...She had never seen me catching a few winks with my face buried in the book)....Even when she insists me, it was not that difficult to cajole her with the cliché “I am busy studying “.It always worked. I have read only one page in the whole cooking chapter .i.e., making tea! I know what you are thinking....but wait. I was then inspired by the movie Ratatouille and Chef Auguste Gusteau's catch phrase “Anyone can cook.”
Suddenly, I heard Anna’s remark pointing to the cooker. I couldn't understand anything. Maybe she is questioning Christine about this new entry in their kitchen. I could see Christine giving me another “something-fishy” look and I understood she had exact apprehension of what I am trying to achieve. Dodging that awkward moment, I went back to see why there is no whistle till now. I waited but in vain. Anna seeing me probing into the cooker, went closely to catch a glimpse of it. Suddenly it whistled and Anna got a fright of her life! She ran screaming like a banshee (with a higher decibel than the whistle) and went into hiding under the dining table. I tried to convince her that it is not as dangerous as it sounds. But that poor girl doesn't seem to understand English. She sneaked away and went into hiding again just like a soldier trying to camouflage himself in a warfare before the attack. Before she recovered from the shock, there were 2 consecutive whistles. The tranquil apartment reverberated to the whistles. Now, a much serious Christine came towards me and said 'You know, people here will never gonna like such sound in the apartment' ....I thought 'What? This guy has been whistling at Indian women in their kitchen since ages. The place where I come from, people believe this little miracle can cook anything from chickpeas to meat in a jiffy with its signature "n whistles"(where n is anywhere between 3 to how many ever)' Pushing away all my thoughts behind, I kept my cool though I felt like a pressure cooker with all the stress, anxiety steaming up on the inside. I waited for the settling time (Not mine!) of the pressure cooker...with a jittery feeling whether all this efforts is worth the outcome. Can I see the fluffy white rice? In the quest of revealing my ‘Moment of truth', I nervously opened the cooker and started to get the burnt smell....What am I? How come all my senses went on a temporary shutdown? Why didn't I get this burnt smell before! I had a mini heart attack seeing the burnt rice, 100% burnt...no point of recovery...I waited almost an hour for this perfect dish? Wait! It just struck my mind!! My mom told 3 whistles but she never mentioned how long I need to wait for it....I felt like calling my mom "Mom, see what have you done to me...I am going to starve today.” But then, I remembered the way she looked at me all the time till I left....that "But-can-she-?" kind of look...”But can she cook?" May be that's what was running in her mind the whole time I was getting ready.
My stomach started growling. I looked like a mess. “Do you want some apple pie for the lunch?” that was from Christine. Well, how can someone deny a home-made apple pie when they actually ended up with burnt rice for lunch? Or should I take my new recipe to office and introduce it as 'Vietnamese burned rice’. Forget it! I couldn't take my eyes off from Christine's fresh apple pie. Before I could say 'Thanks Christine! You are my guardian angel’, she added one more rule to the oral agreement 'No more whistling thing in the kitchen'..."But Mrs. Christine, this is what my mom taught me" Christine reassured that she will teach me how to cook rice without a pressure cooker the next day. I agreed.
After that incident, I locked up my pressure cooker and Gusteau's catch phrase in my room and went into a learning phase of cooking. Like my mom, Christine is a cooking fanatic. She taught me the basics of cooking and the first one being SAFETY !It will sound a bit melodramatic if I say that I had to travel hundreds of miles to the other end of the Indian ocean and learn cooking despite my mom’s repeated attempts of failure in teaching me how to cook. That I call as destiny! I lovvvvvvved Christine’s recipes: Chicken schnitzels, apple pie, walnut cake, carrot soup and even the way she made omelet looked like a Picasso’s painting…..Gradually, with lots of ups and downs, twist and turns, I learned to cook (without burning anything).At least I learnt how to handle the knife and appliances, cut vegetables and how to mind a kitchen. Christine’s love lured me into cooking. She even tried an Indian recipe to cheer me up! Her philosophy of cooking was “cook food and serve love”. Having spent the rest of the days with a family who served me enough love, I left Munich taking all the cooking memories with me.
Then the phase of my life took a mandatory turn where I need to cook for someone I love. My husband never complained about my cooking and he would help me in the kitchen. Sometimes, we cook together and find it as a fun way to unwind at a busy day. He loves cooking and always say “Cooking helps you to relax and de-stress. Cooking is not a chore, it is an art…so enjoy doing it” And I would say (when I am really exhausted)...”Well, I agree! But do it every day and then you know” But he really stick to his words and act by that. I had seen him cooking and yes he does it like an art….but a messy artist. He won’t allow me to the kitchen when he cooks. Since, I am the clean-as-you-go type when it comes to cooking, I would rather stand there with a worried look that I had to clean up the kitchen from the scratch. But, he never look back and come up with great dishes. Sometimes, he even keeps his laptop alongside while cooking (piled up among the utensils over the kitchen counter) and cook simultaneously with his favorite chef in YouTube.My mom and brother are ardent fans of his biryani. Gradually, I felt cooking is the best thing you can give for someone you love. I started cooking his most favorite dishes.Initially stumbled, but with practice I gradually picked up.With a dash of spices and condiments, I added my heart and soul into the recipes.With the slice and dice of it, I discovered love and cooking are inseparable.I progressed through the pages in the cooking chapter.I can't say "it runs in the family" but still my dad being a picky eater, he always adds his special touch to what he cooks...he is not a great cook but still when he is on his own, he come up with "health-conscious" recipes.My brother love to experiment with what he cooks and serves to my unsuspecting family and it always worked...I adore his cooking and every time I end up asking him "do you play with your food?".With the little history of my mom at the start of the post, I can't wait to say that my Mother-in-law has a fan club for her exotic cooking skills..she moves in the kitchen with ease and makes perfect recipes out of thin air !Drawing culinary inspiration was easy but pleasing them with cooking was really a tougher task but I aced it in no time!I felt love every time when someone complimented my recipes...or when someone turns nostalgic with the flavours...or when someone makes that special request for a dish.
I am yet to explore the pages in the cooking chapter...but I still stick onto the Gusteau's philosophy " Any one can cook"...but adding a little dash of spice to it..."Anyone can cook for love!"
Reaching Munich, I met the kind-hearted (I will later explain why) Mrs. Christine and her little daughter Anna. I had to share Mrs. Christine’s apartment since I could not find any PG accommodation.Small and cozy room, a snow filled balcony and an artistic kitchen(Christine loves artifacts and there were a lot decorating the kitchen).I felt comfortable...comfortable enough to stay in a distant land and thank god she spoke English!( there was no need to use my "Learn German in 30 days" book and end up looking stupid all the time).Mrs. Christine made no rules in the rental agreement but she made an oral agreement of kitchen usage…"You can't use the kitchen till 7:30 a.m."…Well….’No big deal’, this is what I had in back of my mind since the office timing is at 9:00 a.m.
Courtesy : FreeDigitalPhotos.net
That was the first day morning to work. Having freshened up I waited patiently for my turn to make breakfast. I had to pack my box for the lunch too. A menu was spontaneously running in my mind. Bread and omelet for breakfast and rice and daal for lunch. After Christine finished up with her cooking, I stepped into her artistic kitchen. Since I was not hungry enough, I thought I could first start with making lunch. Like an amateur cook, I carefully listened to Christine’s instructions on kitchen usage. I took my pressure cooker and with utmost care measured the rice and water level. I remembered how my mom tried to explain me the measurements like a pro and I just bobbed my head not knowing that it is the basis for cooking. A mathematical calculation was running in my mind....cup of rice: cup of water...after some addition, subtraction and confusion I placed the cooker on the electric stove. I felt like I accomplished the most herculean task. As I turned around, I was awestruck. Amidst all the cooing and yelling by little Anna, Christine stood there staring at me. She came right towards me and asked “Do you know what you are doing?” I sheepishly nodded my head. For a moment, Christine seemed to me like Gordon Ramsay....and...I felt like the most stressful masterchef contestant. Seeing my anxiety symptoms, she left the place thinking 'Let's wait and see what this kid is up to? ‘I sighed and quickly glanced at my buddy who is gonna save my day. He has already started venting and I had to place the pressure regulator on the steam vent. My mom's instruction no.2 was 'Wait for three whistles and then switch off the stove’. I was quite happy that everything seems to be in place...What a perfect day! My wait for the whistle began. As I waited, my thoughts travelled back down the memory lane...For those of you who doesn't know about my background and experience with cooking, I had never been to kitchen till that day! During my school and college days, my mom never asked me to help her in the kitchen...because she thinks I already had a tiresome day in my college and studying (ah...She had never seen me catching a few winks with my face buried in the book)....Even when she insists me, it was not that difficult to cajole her with the cliché “I am busy studying “.It always worked. I have read only one page in the whole cooking chapter .i.e., making tea! I know what you are thinking....but wait. I was then inspired by the movie Ratatouille and Chef Auguste Gusteau's catch phrase “Anyone can cook.”
Suddenly, I heard Anna’s remark pointing to the cooker. I couldn't understand anything. Maybe she is questioning Christine about this new entry in their kitchen. I could see Christine giving me another “something-fishy” look and I understood she had exact apprehension of what I am trying to achieve. Dodging that awkward moment, I went back to see why there is no whistle till now. I waited but in vain. Anna seeing me probing into the cooker, went closely to catch a glimpse of it. Suddenly it whistled and Anna got a fright of her life! She ran screaming like a banshee (with a higher decibel than the whistle) and went into hiding under the dining table. I tried to convince her that it is not as dangerous as it sounds. But that poor girl doesn't seem to understand English. She sneaked away and went into hiding again just like a soldier trying to camouflage himself in a warfare before the attack. Before she recovered from the shock, there were 2 consecutive whistles. The tranquil apartment reverberated to the whistles. Now, a much serious Christine came towards me and said 'You know, people here will never gonna like such sound in the apartment' ....I thought 'What? This guy has been whistling at Indian women in their kitchen since ages. The place where I come from, people believe this little miracle can cook anything from chickpeas to meat in a jiffy with its signature "n whistles"(where n is anywhere between 3 to how many ever)' Pushing away all my thoughts behind, I kept my cool though I felt like a pressure cooker with all the stress, anxiety steaming up on the inside. I waited for the settling time (Not mine!) of the pressure cooker...with a jittery feeling whether all this efforts is worth the outcome. Can I see the fluffy white rice? In the quest of revealing my ‘Moment of truth', I nervously opened the cooker and started to get the burnt smell....What am I? How come all my senses went on a temporary shutdown? Why didn't I get this burnt smell before! I had a mini heart attack seeing the burnt rice, 100% burnt...no point of recovery...I waited almost an hour for this perfect dish? Wait! It just struck my mind!! My mom told 3 whistles but she never mentioned how long I need to wait for it....I felt like calling my mom "Mom, see what have you done to me...I am going to starve today.” But then, I remembered the way she looked at me all the time till I left....that "But-can-she-?" kind of look...”But can she cook?" May be that's what was running in her mind the whole time I was getting ready.
My stomach started growling. I looked like a mess. “Do you want some apple pie for the lunch?” that was from Christine. Well, how can someone deny a home-made apple pie when they actually ended up with burnt rice for lunch? Or should I take my new recipe to office and introduce it as 'Vietnamese burned rice’. Forget it! I couldn't take my eyes off from Christine's fresh apple pie. Before I could say 'Thanks Christine! You are my guardian angel’, she added one more rule to the oral agreement 'No more whistling thing in the kitchen'..."But Mrs. Christine, this is what my mom taught me" Christine reassured that she will teach me how to cook rice without a pressure cooker the next day. I agreed.
After that incident, I locked up my pressure cooker and Gusteau's catch phrase in my room and went into a learning phase of cooking. Like my mom, Christine is a cooking fanatic. She taught me the basics of cooking and the first one being SAFETY !It will sound a bit melodramatic if I say that I had to travel hundreds of miles to the other end of the Indian ocean and learn cooking despite my mom’s repeated attempts of failure in teaching me how to cook. That I call as destiny! I lovvvvvvved Christine’s recipes: Chicken schnitzels, apple pie, walnut cake, carrot soup and even the way she made omelet looked like a Picasso’s painting…..Gradually, with lots of ups and downs, twist and turns, I learned to cook (without burning anything).At least I learnt how to handle the knife and appliances, cut vegetables and how to mind a kitchen. Christine’s love lured me into cooking. She even tried an Indian recipe to cheer me up! Her philosophy of cooking was “cook food and serve love”. Having spent the rest of the days with a family who served me enough love, I left Munich taking all the cooking memories with me.
Then the phase of my life took a mandatory turn where I need to cook for someone I love. My husband never complained about my cooking and he would help me in the kitchen. Sometimes, we cook together and find it as a fun way to unwind at a busy day. He loves cooking and always say “Cooking helps you to relax and de-stress. Cooking is not a chore, it is an art…so enjoy doing it” And I would say (when I am really exhausted)...”Well, I agree! But do it every day and then you know” But he really stick to his words and act by that. I had seen him cooking and yes he does it like an art….but a messy artist. He won’t allow me to the kitchen when he cooks. Since, I am the clean-as-you-go type when it comes to cooking, I would rather stand there with a worried look that I had to clean up the kitchen from the scratch. But, he never look back and come up with great dishes. Sometimes, he even keeps his laptop alongside while cooking (piled up among the utensils over the kitchen counter) and cook simultaneously with his favorite chef in YouTube.My mom and brother are ardent fans of his biryani. Gradually, I felt cooking is the best thing you can give for someone you love. I started cooking his most favorite dishes.Initially stumbled, but with practice I gradually picked up.With a dash of spices and condiments, I added my heart and soul into the recipes.With the slice and dice of it, I discovered love and cooking are inseparable.I progressed through the pages in the cooking chapter.I can't say "it runs in the family" but still my dad being a picky eater, he always adds his special touch to what he cooks...he is not a great cook but still when he is on his own, he come up with "health-conscious" recipes.My brother love to experiment with what he cooks and serves to my unsuspecting family and it always worked...I adore his cooking and every time I end up asking him "do you play with your food?".With the little history of my mom at the start of the post, I can't wait to say that my Mother-in-law has a fan club for her exotic cooking skills..she moves in the kitchen with ease and makes perfect recipes out of thin air !Drawing culinary inspiration was easy but pleasing them with cooking was really a tougher task but I aced it in no time!I felt love every time when someone complimented my recipes...or when someone turns nostalgic with the flavours...or when someone makes that special request for a dish.
I am yet to explore the pages in the cooking chapter...but I still stick onto the Gusteau's philosophy " Any one can cook"...but adding a little dash of spice to it..."Anyone can cook for love!"
