Coffee skin

Reading Toast, Nigel Slater's memoir. Funnily enough, found some familiar anecdotes. Like his hatred of the skin that surfaces on hot coffee, or chocolate or any milky beverage.
God, I how I hated paal aadai! That's what we called it-dressed milk would be a rudimentary Tamil to English translation.

Why doesn't aadai form on my morning cuppa joe anymore?


Which brings me to the question of why people have kids. See, as you grow up, you forget more and more of your childhood and memories from childhood fade away at an increasing rate. You get nostalgic every time you attempt to recall those evanescent memories of paal aadai, band-aids, wonder bars, choppu saamaan, and thakaali vengaayam.

So, what do normal adults do? They recreate these memories, not for themselves, but for a fairly good approximation of themselves-their offspring. This way, you don't have the time for reminiscence or nostalgia. You simply recreate them.

There, my pop sociology for the day. Quite crass and unsophisticated. But these are my attempts at grappling with issues of parenthood and parenting and why people procreate.

Review: Eating India

Just started reading Chitrita Banerji's Eating India. She travels to Calcutta, Goa, Karnataka and a few other places to sample local cuisine. Love the little snippets about the origins of certain ingredients (e.g. paneer). Cringed a tad though when she equated the Indian South with the American South for its unique historical and cultural underpinnings. So here's the deal-am south Indian and us south Indians, while grudgingly acknowledging the northerners' sense of sophistication, take great pride in our intellect, intelligence and general all-round smarts. Now, one can't say the same of the American south, atleast the popular (mis)-conceptions of it that is. Americans in general consider, American southerners, well, slow.

Does she mean to imply that she/other north Indians consider us darker skinned brethren , well, slow?

Also a tad intrigued by her choice of southern cuisine. I understand she possibly couldn't sample all regional cuisine (although, I would ask, why not?), but under constraints, I would have chosen either Keralite or Tamil Nadu cuisine. I would argue that Kannad cuisine is very similar to Tamil cuisine, and also that the latter is more expansive than the former.

Heck what do I know. I'm just a south indian.


Here's some trivia that I found interesting:

1. Chillies were introduced by the Portuguese. Now though, there is such a variety of chillies grown in India that only Mexico rivals India in its varieties of chillies. Incidentally, the Indian state of Assam produces the hottest chilly known to mankind-the bhut jolokia.

2. Jilebi, that yummy gujarati breakfast/dessert has its origins in the Arabia zalabiya.

3. Paneer, its origins in the Farsi Peynir. It was introduced to the Indians by the mughals.

2 sentence review: Fried Butter, Abe Opincar

Fried Butter, A Food Memoir

-Soulful.
-Part food memoir, part general amble down memory lane.
-When I grow up,I'd like to write like Abe.
-Little vignettes, Paris here, Jerusalem there, and then some Tijuana.
-Does it make you wanna don your stained apron, sharpen your knives and saute? Not quite.But it does make you wanna cuddle up in your lazy boy with a cuppa joe and brood, not that that's a bad thing.

Mimi Sheraton's Eating my Words

Reading Mimi Sheraton memoir about her years as a travel/food writer and critic for the Times.

Why is that writers use their memoirs as opportunities for settling old scores with their nemesis?

Ruth Reichl did that in one of her memoirs, probably Garlic and Sapphires. Its been a while since I read that one, but I do recall her taking a swipe at the critic who preceded her. Apparently he vanished into oblivion after he stepped down as the Times' critic, which to Reichl was sweet revenge, as he hadn't been nice to her.

Childish? Yes. And Mimi does the same. Well, I suppose a memoir is the only way you could record such sentiments so they last well beyond posterity, but must you?

I think not. As a reader, my attention to the center piece of the book-in Mimi's case, her foodie experiences-gets distracted by these little potshots.

I find myself skimming chapters as I reach the end of the book. Her writing style is not very engaging.

The bit about the restaurants and their decor and menu design gets a tad pedantic.

More updates soon.