Yes, yes, I know. Taking one look at me, placing me anywhere near a kitchen would seem too much of a scandal but to be honest, cooking is actually one of my passions which has long since been lying dormant, surfacing only once in a while to shock, rock and stoke the world. Even The Darling starred at me open mouthed initially when he first heard of my kitchen adventures, but now he's rather addicted to the dishes that come out from there I'm afraid.
Cooking is an art in itself. To know as if by instinct what tastes come together on the palate, to put together several different ingredients, put it through the complicated process of chopping, baking, roasting, boiling and see what comes out as a result is an immensely satisfying exercise. I suppose to take that first bite off your own dish and to feel all the flavors, how all the juices and tastes come together on the palate is actually like an artist stepping back from the canvas to enjoy his work. Seeing your loved ones enjoying the meal you prepared for them is even more gratifying. It gives the same feeling like somebody understanding your art piece and is so enthralled by it that he ended up eating it all!
I suppose I get my passion for food from my mother. I remember watching fascinated as she measured out flour and sugar for cakes, pastries and patties and knead them with her hands, beat egg whites until they are light and fluffy, watching a cake rise to the occasion till its golden brown. We've always had Tamil domestic aids when I was little and I remember waking up from my afternoon nap to the the smell of roasting spices, frying of wadei, dosai and idly that float out of the kitchen quarters during those lazy, drawling hours. The spices have always fascinated me. Cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, chilly, coriander, cumin, saffron, etc always struck me as delightfully exotic. I loved cooking with those things, to see what effect they would have on raw material ready to be cooked. It truly is a delight to watch an element transforming in to something else in your own hands. I suppose a sculptor feels the same way, feeling a lump of clay taking shape, form and feature at the fluttering of his fingertips.
The first dish I cooked was a dhal rice, in one of these little clay pots that my mother used to bring me from the church's fiest and I was barely 5 years old back then. Getting the raw material was difficult as the oh-so-frugal Mother Dearest and the kitchen aids were afraid that I will waste the precious stuff, but once I managed to get them, I created something so delightful that this particular dhal rice is still in demand in the household. Of course I had help with the spices and all or else I would have scarred the dish for life but for my age, that was a remarkable achievement. I remember Mother Dearest boasting about my culinary achievement for many years afterwards to her eager eared friends whose daughters haven't seen the likeness of a kitchen in a while.
I had grown up with the aroma of cooking, baking, stewing resonating through the house which perhaps ignited my passion for cuisine. Baking brings me joy, cooking relaxes me. You cannot deny that the fact that the smell of home baked cookies that wafts out through the house makes one feel so warm and cosy and make you want to sink in an arm chair and lazily doze off. Frying smells on the other hand, gives out that festive feeling that makes you want to jump about with joy. It makes you feel so alive. Which is why I resort to cooking whenever I feel too stressed out or sad. Kitchen is indeed my happy place at such times. Now, now, don't you go all chauvinistic, smirk and say that a woman's place is in the kitchen now. You do know that it is also where all the knives are, right? :)
There are several ways of cooking, but I've always personally prefered it when the ingredients all come together in this wild, vulgar romance that explodes in your mouth, makes you giddy headed and leave you salivating for more of that rustic, turbulent pleasure. The ingredients have to make love to each other. And you are just the director of this whole drama that goes on within the bowl and you have GOT to know the correct ingredients that will not only look good together, but also handle each other gently yet passionately, compliment each other and will bring out the best in each other in the process. You have to make them merge together, make them wrestle each other, pound each other, toss and turn in to perfection and just ooze out spasm after spasm of sinfully vibrant flavor together in and orgasmic explosion that will leave your head spinning (Did I just make that sound like directing a porn movie?) On a more lighter note, they can also be brought together like musical notes, softly complimenting each other so that the end product would be a delightful orchestra, finishing off with that grand flourish, an elegant bow and a standing ovation.
I like experimenting with ingredients. The prospect of putting together very unlikely elements and making them work somehow is unbelievably exciting for me. And I'm pretty happy to say that everything that I've tried so far, even the most seemingly outrageous combinations that I've dared to try, have served me well up to this point in life ( Did I tell you about the banana and papaya crumble that just recently became a hit? And the choco-cheese samosas? Yeah, I'm crazy like that ) Tried and tested recipes bore me. Unless when its better to be on the safe side when I'm in a hurry to feed a dinner party or two that is. Besides, I'm a touch and feel sort of a girl, like all other things in my life, I cook with my instinct. I never measure out my ingredients and for the life of me, I have never used a measuring scale to sort through a recipe. I just go by my gut and I'm never afraid to get my hands dirty. Food feels more personal that way, its closer to the heart. Although I'd advise first timers not to do it, because its highly likely that you'd end up turning out a stone tablet (that you can use for your own tombstone afterwards) when originally you intended to make a sponge cake for your birthday. Precision bores me. I like inventions, I love the feeling that the perfection or not-so-perfection of the product gives in the end. Whatever happened, you created it, its your baby. The feeling that you get by holding your creation on your palm, looking upon it like the God Almighty himself after he has created the earth: Priceless.
If there is one thing I hate about cooking, that's cleaning up. The sinking feeling in your stomach you get when you see the pile of dishes to be washed in the sink, I'd rather throw them all out instead of washing and placing them in the appropriate cupboards. If somebody washes up after me, I'd be more than happy to cut, chop and mix my way in the kitchen all day every day. At one point in my life, I seriously considered becoming a chef. But at different points in my life I've also wanted to join the circus, become a burlesque dancer, train to be a spy, become a serial killer, play violin for an orchestra among many other things too. So I suppose I should just forget my cheffy dream for now. It is still a choice after all :)
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