Cleansing the blog
This post is only so that the first post in my blog is not the pervert joke "howler or growler"....
Howler or Growler?
Q: What kind of bees produce milk?
A: Boo-bees.
Courtsey : Joke on the back cover of Salty Dog crisps
A: Boo-bees.
Courtsey : Joke on the back cover of Salty Dog crisps
Olio, Aglio and Pepperoncino
"Its pepper-on-chi-no", said the waiter. If its CHino like in Gucci, then where is the 2nd C I wondered. Aglio and Olio sounded as alien as things could sound and the ever familiar pepper also was pronounced with a twist, as Mr. Italian pointed out. OA&P is how I ended my day in Florence yesterday, a delicioso sphaghetti. Some pasta finally after all the thin crust Margharitas in venice.
For a consummate vegetarian foodie that I am, the chesse in the Italian dishes had started to get to me. Pizza with toppings of cheese, pasta with grated Parmesan, risotto with melted cheese.. What would not taste good with cheese I wondered. With my non-existant knowledge of meat dishes and my chessy knowledge of the vegetarian dishes, my trip down to Italiano did not excite any gastronomic desires. The Margharitas - the only affordable, vegetarian dish - in Venice did nothing to salvage the image of veggie Italiano dishes in my mind.
What made the OA&P taste so good, I know not. Whether it was the cheap Italian wines and Limoncello acting or whether it indeed was the cooks culinary skills. At this point my adventures with the wines deserve a special mention, a series that would make a true wine connoiseur cringe at its mention. A round of Chianti Rosso, followed by a round of some white Chianti with an accompaniment of potato chips(for lack of anything better). Ah well, I anyways do not understand wines. Gimme a Bud or Stella anyday, but this trip was all about trying new things. The wines were quickly followed by a round of Limoncello(chello..). This I got the pronunciation right and the guy behind the counter gave me an approving nod. Limoncello was unlike nything I ever tasted before - a lemon yellow, lemoney flavored drink. It came in a small shot glass looking very innocent, but did taste like a vodka mixed with lime. I read the "French Revolutions" as I sipped on. Halfway through the Limoncello my stomach started it own revolution, the grumblings could probably be heard over the music. A cursory glance at the menu and the only interesting dish was OA&P.
Enter OA&P. A lovely, lovely pasta. And as simple as it gets. The O stood for Olive oil, the A stood for garlic and the P for the pepper. And that is all the dish had. The flavor of roasted garlic and pepper in the warm olive oil with slightly undercooked sphaghetti was simply out of this world. The overflowing Olio in the dish.. Yummm... Would have licked the olio off my plate, if only I were at home. But then of course if I could whip up a meaty dish like that, I would not be going around to restaurants and making a fool of myself with all the wrong pronunciations.
At the risk of sounding like a tourist, I declare that OA&P was the best pasta I ever had. Three days down my Italian trip, having tasted only the Margharitas and not-so-different-from-ice gelatos, I realize I it is time to loosen my purse string and to get more experimental with food (and drinks of course). And off I head to try some new dish today. Here I come Firenze.
For a consummate vegetarian foodie that I am, the chesse in the Italian dishes had started to get to me. Pizza with toppings of cheese, pasta with grated Parmesan, risotto with melted cheese.. What would not taste good with cheese I wondered. With my non-existant knowledge of meat dishes and my chessy knowledge of the vegetarian dishes, my trip down to Italiano did not excite any gastronomic desires. The Margharitas - the only affordable, vegetarian dish - in Venice did nothing to salvage the image of veggie Italiano dishes in my mind.
What made the OA&P taste so good, I know not. Whether it was the cheap Italian wines and Limoncello acting or whether it indeed was the cooks culinary skills. At this point my adventures with the wines deserve a special mention, a series that would make a true wine connoiseur cringe at its mention. A round of Chianti Rosso, followed by a round of some white Chianti with an accompaniment of potato chips(for lack of anything better). Ah well, I anyways do not understand wines. Gimme a Bud or Stella anyday, but this trip was all about trying new things. The wines were quickly followed by a round of Limoncello(chello..). This I got the pronunciation right and the guy behind the counter gave me an approving nod. Limoncello was unlike nything I ever tasted before - a lemon yellow, lemoney flavored drink. It came in a small shot glass looking very innocent, but did taste like a vodka mixed with lime. I read the "French Revolutions" as I sipped on. Halfway through the Limoncello my stomach started it own revolution, the grumblings could probably be heard over the music. A cursory glance at the menu and the only interesting dish was OA&P.
Enter OA&P. A lovely, lovely pasta. And as simple as it gets. The O stood for Olive oil, the A stood for garlic and the P for the pepper. And that is all the dish had. The flavor of roasted garlic and pepper in the warm olive oil with slightly undercooked sphaghetti was simply out of this world. The overflowing Olio in the dish.. Yummm... Would have licked the olio off my plate, if only I were at home. But then of course if I could whip up a meaty dish like that, I would not be going around to restaurants and making a fool of myself with all the wrong pronunciations.
At the risk of sounding like a tourist, I declare that OA&P was the best pasta I ever had. Three days down my Italian trip, having tasted only the Margharitas and not-so-different-from-ice gelatos, I realize I it is time to loosen my purse string and to get more experimental with food (and drinks of course). And off I head to try some new dish today. Here I come Firenze.
A bloody affair
In a Kill-Bill world it would have been jets of blood spurting out. In my world it was just some blood gushing out happily from my foot. The water in the tub not really able to dilute the thick warm blood that just came out of my body. But the blood is not what I noticed or felt first. It was the thud, as my head banged against the hard ceramic of the bath tub. For a couple of seconds there I thought it was a harmless fall with just a bump on my head as a reminder. Only a couple of seconds later did I feel a painful sensation in my foot and saw the bloody blood.
It was one of those days when even if you fractured your skull, you had to report to work. There was a big meeting scheduled and there was no way I could pull out. Off I pulled myself out of the tub and washed my bloodied feet and rushed down to see if I could somehow stop the blood. As I searched frantically for a stopper, the blood oozed out like there was gonna be no tomorrow. The pitiful little plaster I had was no match for the ~1 inch cut in my foot. None of the medically approved items in my first-aid kit could stop the blood. It was time to get Indian. I rushed to the kitchen, pinched off some turmeric and sprinkled it liberally on the cut; not unlike how I usually sprinkle for my Cabbage Poriyal. And voila, after a few seconds the flow decreased!! But just the turmeric was not the solution, I still needed a plaster if I had to get to work. Enter uncle.
It would not have required a Sherlock Holmes to figure out that there was an injured animal from the trail of blood I left from the bathroom to my room. I can imagine that it was not the most pleasant of things for uncle to wake up and see. Uncle, however, came into my room and saw me fiddling around with the bloody foot. He immediately rushed up and got his first aid box which had just the plaster that I used to have wet dreams about. A good 2’’X3’’ plaster which would totally and completely cover up my wound. With no time to clean the turmeric off the wound, I quickly wrapped the plaster on the wound and tied it around with a cloth bandage to ensure it did not slip off. Quickly dressed(wore my socks and shoes with utmost care) and set off to work. Limping.
As luck be it, the meeting room was on the 4th floor. I climbed all the way up limping only to hear that the meeting room was overbooked and we had to go down to the canteen for the meeting. Just as we settled down there was a suggestion to try and find a proper meeting room. *&$%&*. The only meeting room we managed to get was the one across the street in Talbot house. Everybody set off in a hurry, I fell back limping at my own sweet pace. After the meeting, all through the day at workI kept imagining that blood was still oozing out . I kept my usual visits to the loo at a bare minimum and timed it such that I limped across when none of my managers/friends were around. But then it was meant to be my lucky day and the loo in my floor was ‘Not Working’(as the notice on the door indicated), so I had to limp down a floor to take a leak.
As the day ended I knew that I could not put up with so much theatrics at work – the limp, the blood, the meetings – and decided to take it easy and WFH today. Dunno why everytime I read WFH it looks like WTF.
While the world was sleeping...
…I was lying wide awake. Not the least bit sleepy. Tired I certainly was, it had been 3 days since I had a good night’s sleep. Must have slept for 12 hours in the past 3 days. My body complained and my legs ached(a weird sign of my bodily-rebellion). At work I am constantly yawning and can hardly concentrate. I come to work puffy-eyed and with dark circles and have to put up with Ageesh asking me if I took bath at all or just walked straight from my bed to work.
And while the world is sleeping what do I do? Not much really, I toss and turn around for a good 30 minutes till I realize that it is gonna be one of those nights when I will stay up all through. All kinds of thoughts start creeping in, most of them which disturb me more than calm me down and these go on for quite some time. I mentally spew venom at the people I hate. I imagine the conversations I would have if I meet them now. And when am all worked up, I try to calm myself down and try the famous ‘count sheep’ to fall asleep. Never really managed to get beyond 30 by when the next thought creeps in. There are of course nice thoughts as well, I do drift into the ‘Mungerilal ke haseen sapne’ mode during which my entire future gets planned.
My various attempts to fall asleep have been utterly unsuccessful up until now. Listening to soothing music has been an utter failure. Too lazy to go and change tracks in my laptop I end up listening to the same song nearly 10 times. And just before I can go crazy I go and turn off the stupid songs, the thought of anymore songs is also too repulsive. The musical approach to falling asleep lasts for a good 1 hour yielding no results whatsoever. Reading a book to fall asleep somehow did not work over the last few days. All I have at home are a few guidebooks and reading them at 12 in the night neither excites me nor does it bore me enough to fall asleep. How I miss Manoj’s book(just can’t recollect the name, just remember an Indiana Jones kind of protagonist), reading 2 pages of which would instantly put me to sleep. The worst and the least effective sleep-inducers was chamomile tea. The tea was definitely a relaxant, I felt my body pain disappear but even the faint traces of sleepiness disappeared. I was wide, wide, wide awake after the stupid tea. A second glass of tea soon followed after an hour, just to re-test the product, producing the same results. Changing my orientation from Portrait to Landscape also does not help, a 180 degrees turn does not help, dousing a liberal dose of 'Thengina Enne' on my head does not help. Nothing ever fuckin helps.
And amidst all the depressing thoughts and mind-numbingly boring music my stomach starts to grumble. Day 1 of my insomniac week I was ill prepared. I had no milk, no bread, no desserts, no cookies. All I had was some cold rice and I had curd-rice at 3 AM. But over the days I have smartened up and my fridge is loaded with cookies and cereal and desserts to keep me going through the night. There was round of weetabix in milk at 12Am and a round of Rice Vanilla Pudding at 3AM yesterday. Tonight is gonna be a Tiramisu night, the dessert is the only thing I am looking forward to tonight L. And then there is the pressure on my bladder every 30 mins. Where does all the water come from?
This attack of insomnia is apparently because I quit smoking cold turkey. I have all of sudden become a nocturnal creature, albeit without the hip-n-happening night-life. Makes me wonder if it would not be easier to simply go out and smoke and put myself out of this misery.
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