Snippets from then and some bits of now

Remember when I was 13? Of course you don’t, but that was when I was busy negotiating the pros and cons of tapered high-waisted jeans vis-a-vis straight ones. When I really just wanted to cut my hair short, and not have it long and in a ponytail like everyone else. When most other girls were beginning to help with stuff in the kitchen and the like, and all I wanted to do was cycle, play cricket and hang out at the local basketball club. Some of my friends even baked cakes and the whole concept was so alien to me (we didn’t own an oven until I was almost 18), I was flabbergasted. I mean, cakes at home? That was possible?

It was around the time that I was trying to figure out the totally inordinate emphasis being laid on this Indian school phenomenon called Extra Curriculars. I couldn’t understand why doing well at school without much effort was not enough, and that I had to select a frikkin’ elective to fill up the only two hours in the school week, that were free. Couldn’t I just go back to playing kabaddi and gossiping with the boys, instead? More importantly, why were things like cricket, long-jump, football and the like not up for grabs? Why did it have to be something as deeply pussy-centric as Home Science, and *cough* Aerobics?

That I didn’t want to be seen jumping around aimlessly on the field, with an embarrassment of an aerobics teacher calling numbers out loud, was a given. So I was a bit peeved to realise that my only other real option was Home Science. I remember our first session, a clear and positive debacle. When we had to learn the intricate art of making pongal. Seriously, what were they thinking? I remember staring down at the gloopy mess before me, when most others had managed to pull theirs off in varying degrees of accuracy — at least they had bowls full of something that vaguely resembled pongal — I had a solid mass that looked like it was fast on its way to turning into industrial strength adhesive. I remember deciding then and there, that all this home business, okay science, if we must call it that, was not for me. And I spent the next many years of my life staying as far away as possible from it.

Over ten years later, when I got married, I remember having a faint worry (that I never chose to talk about openly) about how I’d manage the domestic expectations that come with living in a joint family. I couldn’t even boil a pot of water straight, forget making rotis and dal. But I stuck to my guns. This domestic home business is not my scene. It never has been, it never will be, I confidently told myself.

Yesterday, the husband and I made pizza at home. From scratch. And as I was kneading the amorphous mess that was my pizza dough, lovingly and patiently, it suddenly struck me. 13 year old me would never have imagined that the disdain and contempt that she had so carefully nurtured over the years would ever be so easily replaced by such a deep affection for all things kitchen-related.

But that was then, and I blame it all on hormones. Stupid, unreasonable 13 year old hormones. That’s my story, and I’m sticking with it. Because today, I love and want every minute of every day to be spent in the kitchen. Of course this long-winded story was just the basis to tell you what I’ve cooked up last week.

I began last week in the with customary pre-Diwali panic mode, when I swiftly switched from being indifferent about it to suddenly wanting to do it all. The lights, the decor, the diyas, the phuljhadis and of course the something sweet too. So I made these kesar-badam biscuits, because I thought it had a nice desi feel, and gave me the chance to veer away form the barfis and kheers.

My love-affair with home-food continues, and I have been cooking two fresh meals a day, almost everyday. Bringing back memories from my mothers kitchen. And sometimes my grandmothers too, giving it a slight twist and making something new, like I did with this version of aloo methi.

Food-bloggerville has been bursting at the seams with the colours, flavours and activities of autumn — a season us Indians have no understanding of. Not to be left out, however, I baked an apple-cinnamon-rum galette — and open pie of sorts, and it has opened up an exciting, new avenue for many more experiments to come.

Of course, to balance all this meticulously planned cooking I have going, there is invariably the irrational, baseless, illogical craving to just bake something fun. So I made these eggless, butterless chocolate-coffee-peanut muffins!

Sometimes, I laugh at myself, when I think of how the tables have turned. If 13 year old me were to come back and see me now, she’d just be so ashamed. But then I think of how the very real concerns I had as that 13 year old could have just been put to rest if I had a chance to look into the future. Into this part of my life, to be precise. I would tell my 13 year old self that it will pay off, some day, so take a deep breath and just make that pongal as best as you can.

23 thoughts on “Snippets from then and some bits of now

  1. Pingback: Year after year, time after time | hAAthi

  2. Also, in my case, I loved home sc….and got full marks.The adult I’ve grown up to be is not at all homely :/ errr…for lack of a better word. I can’t understand decor for the life of me, love lights though :D


  3. Came from MM’s. like your writing. I am not a cook but I enjoy eating. I wont be making any of your recipes but will take the liberty to salivate freely:-)
    Also checked your hubby’s photo blog-loved what I saw.


  4. I sincerely hope what you say comes true in my case…though it seems highly unlikely that I’ll ever make anything palatable in the future and I cant blame it on 18 year-old hormones either!
    Got here from nil’s blog and loving it…Keep posting!


  5. Midnight Rain

    Hi from a long time lurker – think your blog is lovely.
    Your post reminded me of an episode from the show ‘Northern Exposure’ where the 13 year old self turns up and expresses disdain at how the adult person has turned out. Its funny, nostalgic and wise at the same time. I have to say I spurned Home science for Economics in my day! Wish I had the drive to cook from scratch everyday like you. Sigh.


  6. well then there might be hope for me yet. but i think i like to watch and eat more than cook. who eats all the stuff you bake? can’t all be for the hubby can it? Are you opening a business?


    1. hahah theres always hope.. like i say, if i can cook and end up loving it, anything possible.
      the husband calls dibs on a lot of stuff, but most of it gets shared. i have lots of guinnea pigs here :P


  7. Even though I (not-so-surprisingly) loved Home Sc class, I know what you mean. And I’m definitely glad you took your own sweet time to find love for all things “home” and making it the kind of sanctuary we all crave!


  8. R

    I love this post. My first assignment in Home Science class was to make my bed! I had always made my bed at home, but in the HSc class, it involved folding the sheet into neat triangles and tucking it under the mattress, clean and without creases. I remember cursing Jane Mary, the HSc teacher. Today, I am the girl that irons out the creases out of every bed and diwan cover and cannot sleep if the sheet on the bed looks a little wonky. Lovely writing! :)


    1. Ok I am that person. I cannot sit/sleep/be in a bed that is not creaseless. The husband thinks Im crazy, because hes the kind who can crash anywhere and get up and leave without making the bed.
      But seriously, home science was such a sham no? Painted such a horribly wrong picture of “home” for me. If only I was allowed to do things in my own time, and not coloured by the intentions of those devilish pongal-making horribly frustrated teachers we had, maybe I’d have discovered my domestic side with far mroe ease and acceptance, much earlier in life!


      1. R

        Ya re! I hated that subject. I mean, seriously, it seemed like one of those finishing schools you read of, in Brit literature. Much later, while watching Masterchef, there was this bunch of ladies that made Lamingtons and the contestants had to recreate them (some thing to do with the Australia Illustrated Women’s weekly, I think). For some reason, all those oldies with their silly observations, made me think of them as silly Home Science-y women!
        I get this itch if I see people wake up and leave their blankets, unfolded/ in a heap. Like an OCD itch that makes me go and fold it for them. For this reason, I always disliked hotels – those quilts are too huge to be put back nicely and it always bothers me.


        1. Ok I think we have officially crossed all boundaries of similarity. Everything henceforth is going to be classified as downright ridiculous.
          When I go to hotels, the first thing I do is undo the blanket thats tucked on all 3 sides. So that at least I can have it creaseless when I get out. I drape the blanket properly, because tucking it back is so unweildy! and again, VC thinks im bonkers.


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