90 days left~ Food for Thought!

Guest A- “uff ki darun khelam re! darun hoyche fish fry ta..caterer er number nebo pore, amar cheler biye porer bochor”

(Uff the food was amazing! The fish fry was superb..will take the caterer’s number later,my son is getting married next year)

Guest B- “reshmi kebab ta just mukhe gole galo..ahaha..ami to akai bodhoy 8-10ta shabar kore diyechi”

(The reshmi kebab was simply melt-in-your-mouth..i myself polished off at least 8-10!)

Guest C- “oi kheyechilam arsalan er biriyani, ar ei khelam aj..just kono kotha hobena! tor kaku to shobjaygay khetei chayna re, ar aj 3 bar cheye khelo! Ashi re”

(The last good biriyani i had was from arsalan, and now this! Wow..your uncle dislikes eating outside but took 3 helpings today! Am coming today, bye!)

As the guests burp and wave their aforementioned fond farewells,the bride and groom sit, plastic smiles etched on their faces while their tummies rumble and complain loudly….

I always thought the real reason of crying when the Yagna is going on was the thoughts of your best friends wolfing down your share of chicken tandoori and fish paturis (Bengali fish preparation) while you sat, coughing in the smoke, almost scorched by the frolicking flames, panditji chanting incomprehensible mantras and knowing you would have cold dinner, meager portions on colder,semi-dried and just washed plates while still smiling happily at the camera.

This is the only scenario which scared me whenever i used to think of getting married 😀 me, a perpetually hungry, overfed, food-loving person who attended each and every wedding of her life solely led by the promise of food.

*naahh, dressing up and showing off was never my forte!* I could never get past this abominable thought of sitting, all decked up, itchy, scratchy, tired,VERY HUNGRY, jaws aching while delicious smells wafted by. waiters would cruise past, their silver trays heaped with chicken and paneer pakoras, lined by a wad of napkins and a toothpick basket – the guests would  tear upon them and while jabbering with the bride and groom, would pile up a small mountain of starters in their hands and gulp them down while the shy, polite just married couple pretended not to notice and not to scream inside.

For me, nothing could compare to this sheer torture, dished out by my own family, friends and guests 😥 i would rather sign on court papers and jump on my food thank you very much  the Boy too, wanted a court marriage *for entirely different reasons though -_-* but our fathers spoil our plans and made us jump on this big fat Indian wedding bandwagon where I chose my own wedding menu months ago 😥 knowing fully well the succulent fish fries, the buttery paturis would probably be over by the time we would be allowed to devour the morsels!

Since my school days, when marriage was the farthest thing on my mind *the closest thing usually was looking forward to the next KFC treat which was a big hullabaloo back then* I made all my close friends promise to smuggle me at least the starters on my wedding day when I would sit famished *_*

and now after all these years, among the few things which remain unchanged, these intentions are some 😀 the nitty gritties added now are the following~

1> warning my friends to bring gifts which I like– just a gift is not enough, otherwise dinner cancelled! 😡

2> wanting to tear open the gifts of every guest as soon as I am handed them, sitting on my *throne* and filtering my guests as to who would be eligible for a second paturi and who would just get kochuri and some measly potatoes to eat and leave ^_^

Needless to say, my brilliant suggestions received a lot of flak from my disgruntled mother and my fiance *whose mental age hovers quite close to my mother’s :-|* and they looked at each other and back at me, shaking their heads in despair like i was a loony bin candidate 😦 I DO NOT CAREEE…i will have my way, i will i will *_* Will I ? 😦

Coming to the last leg of food for thought, here is an update on my cooking skills *or rather, the lack of,*

I could make tea in class 2 and maggi from class 6 but astonishingly, my skills remained suppressed *my laziness played a huge role as did my ever-scared mom* but that did not stop me from sniffing out the different spices from food, knowing the different dals and their *phoron* just by their smell *of course my habit of picking out phoron from everything like flies helped in this :P*, distinguishing between chicken and, mutton through sniffing out their characteristic flavors from the similar typical curry of our house..going to the extent of teaching a friend in class 7 to prepare french toast which she made next day and BTW which i had never made in my life and exclaimed that it was delicious 😛

I taught my fiance a great many dishes too, different vegetables, noodles very recently and most of them turned out to be quite well and nope, i have never cooked them myself 😀 It’s just the *knack* I guess but I do cook sometimes just for therapy ^_^ I make corn and cheese pasta, mushroom noodles, schezwan chicken and garlic bread to name a few,

making my mama *maternal uncle* wonder what will i feed my husband?- every time he asks me what I have learnt to cook and i reply *sandwiches* with a straight face.

I will pull through, I am confident 😀 cooking and relinquishing the different flavors, the smells..its pure therapy, pure magic 🙂 I have one or two gripes however- I tend to scoot and evacuate the kitchen whenever pieces of fish are flung into the hot oil and spluttering ensues~ the Boy assured me he would fry the fish if i make the curry, fine by me!

I cannot roll out round rotis, the patent peeve 😛 and I really do not care ‘coz my tummy won’t know would it if it has been fed a round roti or an indian map shaped one? but…if difficult times crop up *a visit from elderly relatives* the hubby would roll them out *yes, duh he can make roundies :D*

     

So that’s settled then, as are we *_* keep going through my banter and wait for my next countdown to be up 🙂

Note by Posto: Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. In short , round roti made by me is a myth. Period.