For the want of a toaster…

My horoscope for the last few months might have read “The period will be marked by bursts of frenetic activity, with socializing and spending time with family and loved ones. Travel, for social and professional reasons is indicated, in which you shall explore exciting places and meet new people. Those with an interest in art shall enjoy literary indulgences. You shall celebrate your birthday in an unexpected manner.”


Birthday Dessert - Apple Pie and Cream

Birthday Dessert – Apple Pie and Cream

Numerous, and mostly good, things happened over the last two months, on my frenetic-activities-enforced blogging break. I travelled to Ireland and met lifelike replicas of Oscar Wilde (on our common birthday, no less) and Pierce Brosnan. Then there was a quick vacation to Pondicherry where many bottles of jam and one packet of flower seeds were purchased. A couple of work trips took place, which took me from the Bay of Bengal to the Arabian Sea; festivals were celebrated, much fuss made over birthdays, family came a-visiting, huge meals were cooked and/or eaten, and about a trillion liters of beer were consumed.

Then my toaster died.

Honestly, this post started off as a tribute to Ireland’s food and drinks scene. Cue: the rather upbeat tone of the preceding paragraphs. But, this Tuesday morning, my world came to a juddering halt when while I was popping the bread into it, my toaster gave a couple of bleak sparks, and well, popped it.

Bad times never seemed so bad.

To add salt to injury, my dear friends would not stop ribbing about my relationship with my toaster. You see, I don’t see the point of sliced bread, or indeed the world, without a toaster. What good are eggs, however fluffy, without toast? What good is butter, rich and golden, without toast? What good is breakfast without toast? Oh my God! What is the point of waking up if not for breakfast, if not for toast, if not for the toaster?! The battle was not lost for the want of a nail, indeed, the world was lost for the want of a toaster!

My so-called friends, though, punned galore about my toaster being toast, getting fried, and of course, burning out.

It hurt.

Enter my brother in law (all my blogs feature sisters and sisters in law, time for some diversity, I say). This dear BIL writes software code by day and plays in a metal band at night. To add to his very marriageable charms, he makes the best udon and pizza (from scratch) that I have ever eaten. He is also a really cool DIY person and can fix everything from decrepit furniture to a broken fridge. His most sterling quality, though, is his deep empathy for my toaster-less existence. When I moaned that only an ode can adequately express my toaster feelings, this is what he sent me.

An ode to a broken and lifeless toaster
(Well… more like a metal song)

Why do we live in a world where we suffer?
All I wanted to do was melt down some butter.
On a slice of fresh bread, made warm inside.
Woke up one day, and found that you’d died.


Oh, the pain.
I’ll never know
True love again.


One day you may find
It comes to an end.
The good things in life
The reason to strive
For toasted, fresh bread.


I stand here this morning
My stomach gives warning
Of something very wrong on this Earth.
God who’s all knowing
Never gave warning
Or sent me so much as a sign
Of this curse.


Not again.
I’m left all alone.
No one but you
Can fill this void inside.


One day you may find
It comes to an end.
The good things in life
The reason to strive
For toasted, fresh bread.


The pangs of hunger
You’re torn asunder
That’s it. You’ve had your last, good fry.
He’s had his vengeance
And now you’re all spent
And now I say goodbye.


I’ll live on….
Must go on…

)Insert wicked guitar solo here)

Is he not the best ever? 

The BIL has a really sweet tooth, as evinced by his dessert desires after every meal. He was in India this last month, to celebrate Diwali with the family. I had a long list of desserts planned for him and his wife, but got around to making only hot chocolate pudding, literally hours before their flight back. I scaled down David Lebovitz’s hot chocolate pudding recipe and dished this up in 40 minutes, start to finish. Quickly break 55 gm of good chocolate into a bowl, and add 30 gm of butter. Heat gently over a low flame till melted. Whisk together (for 5 minutes) a large egg, 2 tbsp sugar and a pinch of salt, till the mix forms soft peaks. Bit by bit, gently fold together the eggs and chocolate. I divided the mix into 3 ramekins/oven proof ceramic dishes and baked for 15 minutes in a 190c oven.

Hot Chocolate Pudding

Hot Chocolate Pudding

To make the pudding less cake-like and more gooey, dial up the butter to about 40 gm.

That’s it, bye for now. You go make this pudding, I gotta run buy a new toaster.

Airports, Adventures and Apple Cake

Those who know me in real life, or rather are Facebook friends with me (which is really not the same, but in this case suffices) will know about my passion for airport adventures. Think of the Frodos and Rincewinds of the world, the reluctant albeit great heroes, battling the minions of Sauron and strange magical creature hell bent on violent dismemberment. Now imagine me, the reluctant traveler. Only instead of Mordor, it is the airport. At any given time of the work week, and many weekends, I am either undertaking the dangerous journey to an airport, or away from one, or I can be found at one waiting for yet another delayed flight, or am on the plane staring listlessly at the flight menu and thinking of the distant pleasures of the shire and home.

Apple Cream Cheese Cake

Apple Cream Cheese Cake

When I say airport adventures, do not imagine the run of the mill delayed flights, bawling babies and lost baggage. I am talking heavy duty stuff here – changing three trains and catching a tuk tuk in pouring rain to catch a flight once late in the night, or being caught in subterranean flooding at 4 AM while trying to make an international-domestic transfer, and medical emergencies galore – this woman who fainted ON me once, or the international flight which refused to take off because the passenger next to me seemed to have died – flirty co-passengers, schizo co-passengers (I once politely told a memorable flirty-schizo to not disturb me as I wanted to nap and he proceeded to hunt down every air host and hostess aboard to personally and proactively deliver the message to them as well). I have had other passengers take my belongings off the security belt, check-in people give me the wrong boarding pass, and of course, I have tried checking into the wrong airline and once long time back, boarded the wrong flight.

You get the picture right? I have airport karma.

Today, as I drove to the airport yet again, thankfully to not board a flight but, to pick up my dad and mum in law who returned after a long trip away, a list started forming in the brain. A list of lessons learnt or my own version of Murphy-inflight-laws. So here are a few which appeared fully formed from deep subconscious. Please feel free to add any based on your experience:

  • The chances of decent food options are inversely proportional to the wait time at the airport
  • You pick one item from the flight menu, and it is the only item you want, and it will be the one item that she runs out of just before she gets to you
  • The more desolate the airport arrival, and more strange the city, and the later it is at night, the less likely that the cab you booked will show up
  • The length of the flight is directly tied to the number of colic-y babies around your seat
  • The length of the flight is inversely proportional to the quality of the inflight entertainment
  • The less chatty you are feeling, the more the co-passenger will want to talk/be a nervous flyer/be a person you want to avoid
  • The lesser the time you have at hand, the longer it will take to get to the airport, the worse the traffic will be and all the lights will be red
  • The more tired you are, the longer the journey you are returning from, the more delayed the flight will be
  • The chances of the flight being delayed are directly proportional to the importance of the meeting you need to attend
  • The greater the distance to the airport, the greater the pressure on your bladder

Coming to the point of this blog, I carried a cake all the way to the airport and then onwards for family lunch. It was my mum in law’s birthday when she was away (remember cashew nuts from last year!) and we celebrated it today.
The apple cream cheese cake was essentially a mass of crumbly brown buttery deliciousness. I do recommend you bake it – but with three health warnings:

  • You shall put you a couple of pounds with every single bite
  • You shall need several glasses of water to chase down all that sugar and fat
  • The batter of caramelized butter, vanilla and cream cheese is out of the world heavenly. You shall be tempted to bathe in it.
Would you like some tea with it?

Would you like some tea with it?

The husband (with great foresight) insisted I bake the night before, so as not to be rushed for today’s pick up. So we left bang on time only to have the flight come in much before its scheduled arrival.

I will never win this battle.

The start to soup, salad, and starters

My mid-afternoon epiphany: You know you have been badly bitten by the cooking bug when you go to a lending library and end up issuing recipe books. I spent a pleasant afternoon at the neighborhood library today browsing through their shelf of cookbooks. I could pick one to issue and I did want yet another Nora Roberts on my remaining card.

Aside: I have come to know Nora Roberts rather late in life, but do not fear, am speeding through her books like an F1 driver. Any day now, they will award a doctorate to me.

The hasty makings of the bruschetta

The hasty makings of the bruschetta

After some agonized dithering, I chose a book on soups, salads and starters. It was the borscht recipe that sealed the deal. I cannot resist beetroot. Note to self: have to experiment with beetroot. Oh dear, this blog post is full of distractions. The fact that I am watching a teleshopping show while I write it must be the sole reason.

Aside 2: Watching teleshopping is fascinating and hugely entertaining. The anchors who have been trained to speak as if they are reporting live from the site of a volcano eruption, or mimic the high pitched reporting gregariousness last heard at Kate and William’s wedding. The touching before and after stories in which everything from abdomen fat to toilet stains and kitchen grout simply melts away to result in a glowing and successful ever after!!! It is a lesson in marketing – identifying those exact situations in which you are compelled to teleshop – do you have guests over, or are travelling, or are pregnant, or are a college student who nobody likes, or have you completely lost your self-confidence? ?!! All immediate needs can be met by one magic one phone call!!! And guess the best bit!! Notice the wonderful offers?!! You shall actually save money while spending it!!!

The hasty bruschetta fresh from the oven

The hasty bruschetta fresh from the oven

Now the reason I picked the soup and salad book is because those are my latest obsessions. Armed with balsamic vinegar, my immersion blender, and thyme, am determined to learn how to freeze vegetable stock and rock the lettuce and ricotta world forever. You see, my mid-evening epiphany, yesterday which was more startling than today’s literary one, was that I have turned the corner. The time was when a bored week day evening meant dropping in at a friend’s, going out for a drink, or cramming popcorn hypnotically while watching a movie. Instead, I pootled around the internet, home and kitchen and pureed cauliflower. To make this hearty creamy curried cauliflower soup with some hastily thrown together bruschetta. Lip smacking deliciousness. I spent a fair bit of time fussing over the soup but the poor bread was left till the last minute. Did someone mention teleshopping?!!!

Creamy curried cauliflower soup (dinner for two hungry adults) From the Kitchn
Heat 1 tbsp of oil in a large pan. Slice and saute an onion (with a bit of salt) till translucent. Mince and add two cloves of garlic, and cook for a couple of minutes more. Meanwhile cut into florets half a head of cauliflower. Add to the pan, along with a teaspoon each of cumin and coriander powder. Put in some turmeric and add a little over two cups of water. Note: please use stock instead. I do believe it will work much better. Add more salt to taste and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook for a further 15-20 minutes. Puree the soup using an immersion blender (or your food processor) and mix in half a cup of coconut milk. At this point, taste and add more seasoning to taste. I found it fairly bland and so livened it up with more cumin, pepper and salt. To serve, sprinkle some roasted cashews, parsley (I had only dried herbs on hand) and a dash of pepper and cayenne.

Creamy Curried Cauliflower Soup

Creamy Curried Cauliflower Soup

Hasty bruschetta (for when you are low on ingredients and time) Adapted from allrecipes
Cut four slices of whole wheat bread into half. Brush some olive oil onto them and toast in the oven for a few minutes. In a bowl, mix in some balsamic vinegar, olive oil, minced garlic and chopped basil (preferably fresh) and some salt. Chop one tomato, one small onion, half a capsicum, and steam some sliced baby corn. Add to the dressing and let it rest a while. Dollop on the toast and sprinkle some grated cheese. Grill for five to ten minutes.


Cake sprinkles and birthday mirth

I write this blog post amidst the greenery of a university campus, one which is my husband’s alma mater and where my sister works. Visiting her on a mini vacation and being overwhelmed with the desire to be a student again. There is something undoubtedly alluring about the peace induced by the leafy avenues; time somehow floats gentler, carrying with it echoes of aspirations and laughter of several generations of students. The library holds the same awe as a church or any quiet place of worship and while one can quibble that “solid and ageless” can mean “stodgy and rigid”, I prefer the former.

Now contrast this sense of quiet and venerability with where I was last Sunday – the birthday party of a six year old – several cities and a world apart. The prep was marginally more hectic than the actual party as the SIL and I put it together literally overnight. While I am famed to letting things come down to the wire, cooking a couple of dishes for ten people, baking a cake and multiple batches of cookies (the rolling and cutting out of which required a zillion trips to the fridge), finding enough tins and bowls to carry all the food to the party venue, changing my mind twice about which luggage to carry, and catching a flight straight out of the party was a bit much even for me. All’s well, though, if it ends in cake sprinkles and the sunny smiles of a six year old.

Pineapple Upside Down Cake

Pineapple Upside Down Cake

The cake was to David Lebovitz upside down cake recipe. Note to self, must try with these other fruits – think pear or peaches. Note 2 to self. Buy a large cake pan or else prepare to wash of hardened caramelized sugar from all those spring form crevices, the baking tray etc. No amount of aluminum foil keeps the sugar in.

The cookies were rather last minute and out of Deb Perelman’s The Smitten Kitchen cookbook, shall share the recipe with you next week. They were called chocolate sugar cookies if I recall correctly, am calling them chocolate heart cookies.

With chocolate heart cookies

With chocolate heart cookies

The cake was a hit as was the birthday party. Ah, that reminds me, I watched a 100 foot journey yesterday. A decent enough movie, and while it is a bit of cliché, food does create memories. We created some great memories last Sunday using cake sprinkles and Nutella. Here is wishing my niece a very happy birthday and many more visits from her fairy godmother.

My husband kept saying “scary godmother”. Well then.

Remembering Tomorrow and Putting up Tibetan Prayer Flags

‘The rule is, jam to-morrow and jam yesterday — but never jam to-day.’
‘It MUST come sometimes to “jam to-day,”‘ Alice objected.
‘No, it can’t,’ said the Queen. ‘It’s jam every OTHER day: to-day isn’t any OTHER day, you know.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ said Alice. ‘It’s dreadfully confusing!’
‘That’s the effect of living backwards,’ the Queen said kindly: ‘it always makes one a little giddy at first —’
‘Living backwards!’ Alice repeated in great astonishment. ‘I never heard of such a thing!’
‘— but there’s one great advantage in it, that one’s memory works both ways.’
‘I’m sure MINE only works one way,’ Alice remarked. ‘I can’t remember things before they happen.’
‘It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,’ the Queen remarked.

Stay with me and this quote from Alice in Wonderland for a moment. Get your memory to work backwards. Remember how I have a steak, paneer and apple pie aficionado friend? Remember how he came for lunch one day and I made an apple ricotta cake for him? And how one thing led to another and resulted in this blog. Fast forward a few months. This friend gifts a set of prayer flags to me.

Tibetan Prayer Flags

Tibetan Prayer Flags

Now remember tomorrow…

No, wait, hit the pause button. Like Alice, I find it horrendously confusing when time shuffles around in strange ways and the day after comes before the day before. What I do get, however, is Jung’s concept of synchronicity. For me, Jung is a rock star psychiatrist (second only to my personal shrink, Terry Pratchett). To simplify the jargon, synchronicity is a ‘meaningful coincidence’, in yet other words, the universe is sending you a message by making two apparently co-incidental but meaningfully connected events happen.

I like to believe that it was synchronous that I came across the prayer flags again on a particularly difficult day this last week. It was a sunny and windy morning, when I strung them up. And now we have much needed messages of peace, compassion, strength and wisdom blowing in the wind.

Now coming to tomorrow, yet again.

It is my ‘helpful’ niece’s birthday. She turns six and believes that ‘pink and bling’ is the only complete fashion statement. Through some deep discussions, we have established that carrot is her favorite vegetable and pineapple her favorite fruit, and she must have both in her cake. She has agreed to this with the single condition that the cake must have every color imaginable to mankind on it. A tall, albeit colorful, order. To keep my littlest customer happy, better get down to it soon. While I am at it, wonder if I should throw in some jam and, in keeping with the Queen’s rules, make it jam tomorrow.

On coming home

I have a big confession to make. Promise not to judge me. For all my dreams and love for traveling, I get homesick a week into the nicest vacation. I could be on top of some hill gazing onto a field of loveliness and be filled with wistfulness for my couch and the view of the television. The feel of the bathroom slippers, the pleasures of warming a glass of milk, the glad nodding of the garden flowers, the tinkle of the wind chimes, a few of the things I miss dreadfully when I am away.

A glimpse of our garden

A glimpse of our garden

The best bit about going away, though, is the coming back. I can write poems to describe the joy I felt last evening landing back in town after a work week away. Or rather, I would have written poems if knew how. Suffice to say, it’s a warm vanilla dessert feeling.

To celebrate the homecoming, I put together one of my favorite comfort food, a banana smoothie, this morning. You can pretty much blitz any ingredients you have on hand to go with the bananas – cacao powder, caster sugar, some chocolate chips – whatever gets you going. Today, I used 2 baby bananas, about 300 ml cold full-milk, a few dates and almonds. Blitz for a minute. You can use the hand held blender or the blender attachment of the mixer. Add ice cubes while blitzing for a much colder and creamier finish.

Banana Smoothie

Banana Smoothie

Adieu for now, I need to go hug the couch, gaze at the garden and pick a book to read.

In which we make Mocha Bundt Cake and some good memories

I was reading the other day (I forget where) the differences in making a ‘living’ and making a ‘life’. It resonated with me and hence stayed, and set me wondering about what makes a ‘life’. Central to a life well lived would be the little actions and gestures which impact the people around us for better. Making them laugh a little, feel a little special and letting them know that they are loved. Taking the thought further, a good life will be peppered with golden moments that leave behind their glow in the form of cozy memories. Such days may or may not be the big ones – birthdays, weddings – they easily can be the ones that are serendipitous. A lunch with a good friend, a walk hand in hand with someone special while the sun sets on a quiet day or a bottle of wine with a great salad enjoyed under warm sunshine. I had a couple of such great times with the sister in law recently. The fact that she has been recently very ill (and is still recovering) makes time together all the more precious and somehow, more appreciated.

We met one Sunday and baked together after a long time, this Mocha Bundt Cake. Or rather, she baked while I helped. Or rather, she tried to bake while I kept her little one out of her hair. I had promised to take my niece for a swim, who assumed that sticking her head into the mixing bowl at every opportune moment was the easiest way to expedite the cake and advance the swimming lesson. Anyone who has tried baking with an energetic six year old who insists on ‘helping’, knows that while it is infinitely more fun, it takes that much longer and requires more cleaning up. So we sped through the cake the best we could and stuffed it into the oven and went for a swim. Coming back to a slice of this – sticky and cool with its coffee liqueur icing – was perfect. We iced only three quarters of it to make the remaining child friendly. Swimming is hungry work, you know.

Chocolate Mocha Bundt Cake

Chocolate Mocha Bundt Cake

The other golden moment was helping the SIL prep for a birthday party. Remember, how last year this time, I folded those kusudama flowers for an origami themed party? This time around, the theme was jungle animals and we had a pleasant Saturday morning cutting some adorable elephants out. (We also did this strange cut out of a confused cross between a duck and a chick, complete with feathers for wings. Since I don’t want to scar you with mutated animals, those are not pictured here.) Of course, the niece ‘helped’ – she was in charge of gluing all the ears onto the elephants and she kept urging us to keep the assembly line going. Slave driver, I say.

Brithday elephantsComing back to the cake – the icing does get too thin with the quantities of coffee liqueur mentioned, so go light on it and mix some bits of it at a time till you get the desired consistency. The cake itself was a bit dry (perhaps we over-baked it, what with the intervening swimming lesson) and the coffee could have shouted louder. Brew a strong decoction, I suggest.

Be it elephant cut outs, other mutant beings, or a cake which is neither coffee nor chocolate, go get the craft scissors or the baking pans out. There is a life to be made, and memories waiting to be created.

Aside: I wonder what kind of noise a mutant-duck-chick would make? Chuak or Queep?

Dreams of the Last Homely House in Kerala

Oh dear! This is a post with yet another list. A pretty straightforward one at that. What I love about Kerala, or why I believe Kerala will be where I retire to my own organic garden (microbrewery attached), a gigantic flat screen and a little place called the Last Homely House which shall be open to all friends who want to share laughter and break bread together, or anybody who needs a quiet place to listen to the stream and watch the monsoons drench the hibiscus flowers.

Arabian Sea at Bekal

Arabian Sea at Bekal

The list

  • The green, oh the green. Any season, any time of the year, the green drapes itself over every surface and sends little tendrils of peace into the heart
  • The green is because the water is – the heavenly sheets of rain which turns mud roads into flowing rivers of silt, the backwaters where time flows to a different music, the sudden waterfalls, the vast lakes and of course, the Arabian Sea being the perfect backdrop for all those palm trees. Kerala is where I first saw the ocean as a ten year old (who had just learnt to swim). I still have the tan from that day!
  • Perfect for reading. Those who like reading, know how the right ambience, the quiet surroundings, though not critical to the pleasure of reading, just completely dial it up. Here’s something from the Lake of Dreams, which was my company by the river which flowed behind our cottage in Vythri “Rows and rows of books lined the shelves and I let my eyes linger on the sturdy spines, thinking how human books were, so full of ideas and images, worlds imagined, worlds perceived; full of fingerprints and sudden laughter and the sighs of readers, too.”
  • Where else can you go from a long lazy swim into a world class spa and pamper yourself silly with a sensual Ayurvedic treatment. Ten minutes into the shirodhara or better still, snehadhara – I promise – you will discover the peace attained after hours of meditation
  • The food, my god, the food! Iddiyapam, appams, kerala parathas, the kadala (chickpeas) curry, fried plantains, the avial, the thorans, the… some of my best food memories are from the numerous Kerala vacations – the parathas made by the lone caretaker of the lopsided guesthouse perched atop the most gorgeous valley, the freshly cooked lunch on the houseboat in the Vembanad lake while the monsoons provided background music, or the kadala curry which the hotel-owner-main-chef insisted on personally dishing up for us for breakfast. Am telling you, if you could choose one state to eat food from for the rest of your life – Kerala won’t be a bad choice
Dialing up the Reading Pleasure (Bekal, 2014)

Dialing up the Reading Pleasure (Bekal, 2014)

So yes, it was a perfect weekend at Bekal a couple of weeks back, where the back waters meet the ocean, the hibiscus reach out to the palm trees and where god chooses to bestow his touch on earth.

Tragedy of Errors or How Not to Make Snickery Squares at Home

My favourite cousin and his family are in town, people. I love them but for the fact that they don’t eat eggs. A choice which I heartily endorse except when it comes to baking for them. Not only do they love dessert, but my SIL was my go to person in my younger “I don’t know how to boil water” days. Barely out of college, pretending at my first job, I was perpetually hungry and mostly broke. I had keys to their place and a standing invite to every home cooked meal, a licence which I shamelessly made the most of. When I started dating SG, they were the first family I introduced him to. They heartily approved, rather they insisted that I married him. You can see them beaming in our wedding pictures and we went onto live literally a few doors away from them. Many meals (I wisely kept the keys) and many years later, we moved cities, leaving a great relationship behind, albeit with some wonderful memories. So then tell me, if such people roll into town, is it not cause to bring out the baking pans and whip up some dessert?


Homemade Snickers

Snickery Squares

Yes. But I should have done it the night before. I was due into work on Saturday afternoon and the morning was the only window we had to meet and greet. So I get up nice and early, and…

    • Realize over the morning cuppa that I don’t have the cream to make the cinnamon roll biscuits I was planning to make. Panic. The tea turns cold
    • Scramble for another eggless recipe that does not involve fruits, cream, yeast, and too much time or patience – all being in short supply
    • Find this recipe courtesy Smitten Kitchen and heave a sigh of relief
    • Decide to substitute the shortbread recipe with this eggless one and believe if I have done it before (I have some photos for proof), I possibly cannot go wrong. Error #1

      Cashewnut Butterscotch Bars

      Cashewnut Butterscotch Bars

    • Proceed to make the dulce de leche using the oven. The only thing I got right in the entire disaster. Oh wait, I made only 1 cup, 2/3 of what I should have. Error #2
    • Make the dough for the shortbread. Figure that if I have to scale down from 9 by 13 to 7 by 7, halving everything should do the trick. Error #3 was not paying enough attention when they taught volume and area math back in school. Thus, end up with an oddly thick shortbread base
    • Bake the pastry for 30 minutes. Error #4. Scale down the recipe but not reduce baking time. End up with a hard biscuit base, but blithely not realize and continue. Like a train wreck
    • Get on with the nuts. Replace peanuts with cashews. Actually get the complicated sugar process bang on. But Error #5. Inadvertently get the pinky into hot sugar. CURSE.
    • Proceed to go from bad to worse
    • Not having silpat, choose butter paper to lay out the candied cashews. Error #6. Paper adheres to the sugar and refuses to come off. SWEAR
    • Not wanting to poison favourite family with bits of paper, patiently remove bits of paper with careful application of water. Meanwhile, the clock is ticking and I am already late. Call up and inform SIL. Sob a little
    • The husband is ready to leave, but does not have the heart to be angry looking at my piteous condition. I now have bits of candy, some cashew, and lots of flour decorating my person and adding character to my hair. (Little known fact: Hot sugar is stronger than superglue.) By now, I also have a wide eyed look and am periodically waving the burnt pinky at the clock in order to slow it down. 
    • Gloop on the ducle de leche and scatter broken bits of cashew onto the short bread base
    • Start on the chocolate layer. Error #7. Use ¾ the chocolate dictated, as I am low on chocolate and very low on patience. Error #8 Ask the husband to break up the chocolate bar while I get the butter on. He eats a lot of the chocolate
    • Frantically pour the chocolate layer and grind up the remaining candied cashew for a sprinkle. Refrigerate. Call again and inform that we will be later than the late previously estimated. Run for a shower
    • Error #9 Husband leaves to start the car, while I cut the bars. Ahem. Hack the bars. Stand on them and thump them! Throw them against the wall! Okay, I do only the first. But cry quietly as they refuse to cut. Realize all the errors I have made while the husband starts to glower
    • Depart and keep crying. Collapse into SIL’s arms on arriving and plead her to bin the bars

To be honest, they don’t taste that bad. I can only imagine how great these will be if I got the proportions and the shortbread right. Once I get over the trauma and feel less sticky, I shall make these again. Give or take a year.

Mirthful cackles and the best ever brownies

You know how you need different types of friends? That someone with whom you can share tequila shots with (if the tequila is handy, well enough, if not they will figure out a way in the dead of the night, at 3:30 AM, to get their hands on some. And they will remember the lime). Goes without saying, you need a 3:30 AM friend for reasons more serious than an absence of tequila. Then there is someone who you can giggle hysterically with, regardless of your age and whatever the situation. And someone who you can call after reading a good book because they probably insisted you read it in the first place. Of course, you need someone you can trade recipes with or ring when you have a bit of kitchen disaster on your hands. What about the one person who you can depend on will kick your butt very hard when you screw up? Not to forget, that kid who people thought (when you were growing up) that you were related to – because you always bunked at their place or vice a versa.

Now tell me that this list did not make you smile and think of specific people. Of laughter, giggles, memories, scarred knees, hearts mended over tubs of drink or of ice cream, and dappled sunlight (my husband, SG, insisted that I use dappled sunlight in my next blog post – so there).

I am grateful to the powers that be to be blessed with several friends who answer to the above descriptions. Some whom I know since the diaper days, and some with whom friendships were forged over school desks or college playgrounds. It gets harder as you grow up, but there are people you meet at work or bump into at a party or in my case, neighbors, who can go on to become peeps you treasure for life. But this blog post is not about all those people. It is about one person. That one person who is all of the above and more.

My powers of writing cannot even begin to describe the quality of her cackling laughter. You will recall Anthony Lane on Scarlett Johansson “Then came the laugh: dry and dirty, as if this were a drama class and her task was to play a Martini.” Now take every drink you have in the cabinet/bar and pour it into a big drum, shake in a lot of apples and cayenne pepper and.. let’s just say there isn’t a cocktail in the world that will come close as a description. In a memorable school prank involving blonde wigs and that mad raucous laugh, we were one decibel away from detention. I know for a fact, that a studio insisted on doing a track solely of her cackle.

She now does theater full time, teaches drama to children, and through her comic timing has both the big and the little people in splits. Her latest is her own production company, Habijabi, and their play, ‘Eat!’ (involving an apple core, a banana peel and the rat patrol.) If you are in Mumbai, check her out at NCPA on June 21st. Else contact her for a show at a school in your city.

She called me last week as she was going to be in my town, and politely inquired after any hypothetical leftovers from any baking binge which she could gorge on. I had to bake after that, right? So it was dulce de leche brownies from David L.

Dulce de Leche Brownies with Honey Nut Ice cream

Dulce de Leche Brownies with Honey Nut Ice cream

This was the third time I made dulce de leche. The first time was using a pressure cooker – while the results were fine, I did damage the cooker and the tin had to be cooled down overnight. The second time was in the microwave and yes, despite watching it like a hawk, it boiled over. This time I tried the oven as David suggests and this method is a keeper.

Dulce de Leche
Makes 1 cup
Pour 1 can (400 gm approx., I think mine was a little lesser) into a glass baking dish and cover with foil. Place in a larger tray and pour water (the recipe says hot water, I forgot that bit, but no apparent harm done) around it and bake in a preheated 220 c oven for about an hour. Check occasionally and top the water. Cool and whisk  to smoothness.

Dulce de Leche Brownies
Chop 170 gm chocolate. Melt 115 gm (8 tbsp of butter) in a saucepan and add the chopped chocolate to it. Stir till the chocolate melts. Remove from heat. Whisk in ¼ cup (25 gm) cocoa powder. Add 3 large eggs (I used 4 smalls) one at a time. Gently stir in 1 cup (200 gm) sugar, 1 tsp vanilla, and 1 cup (140 gm) AP flour. I also added about a cup (100 gm) of roasted walnuts. The last is optional.

Since I used a large stainless steel bowl with a copper bottom for melting the butter and chocolate, it doubled up as a mixing bowl. That and the kitchen scales, meant very little washing, always a bonus.

Coming back to the brownies, prepare an 8 inch square pan by lining it with foil. Ensure there is enough to come up the sides by which you can lift the brownies out. Grease the foil.

Pour half the batter in and dollop 1/3 of the dulce de leche in. With a fork gently swirl the mix. Follow with the remaining batter and repeat with the dulce de leche and the swirling. Bake for 40 minutes. I think mine were slightly overdone so check at the 35 minute mark. The brownies should feel just firm.

Pictured here are the brownies with store bought honey-nut ice-cream.

Seriously, make the brownies as soon as possible, with or without the dulce de leche. And don’t be surprised if you find yourself gorging on them at the kitchen counter with crumbs raining all over. Listen carefully – you will hear echoes of someone cackling with glee at your obvious enjoyment.