It was a chilly Saturday evening. It was slightly snowing outside. Some of my Indian friends were supposed to come over for dinner to the apartment that was to be my home for 20 days of my stay there.
It reminded me of cold Delhi winter evening, which of course is not as cold as snowing but minus the room heater as effective as this, it's equally uncomfortable.
I missed the hot Indian meal that we cherish in Delhi winters. My friends would love it if I cooked something Indian. Also, I didn't feel like eating another salad or pizza that had been my food for last 10 days.
I am not a great cook plus non-availability of spices. The spices in super market were to expensive for one time cooking.
I was in heavy dilemma, I paced between room and kitchen wondering if I could get something creative. I opened different bags to see what was there. Suddenly a slow smile set in.
There it was, the gourmet collection by kitchen of India packed by my mother.
I have never been a big fan of ready to eat food. However, ever since the collection was launched my mother had a couple if dishes in her kitchen for unexpected guests or a quick treat. Before leaving my mom packed a few in my bag. Adamant about being local, I had insisted on local food (but getting vegetarian food in Scandinavia is tough) and therefore, forgot about the packages.
One by one I took out the packages. I had enough food for a hearty meal for four of us. There was my mother's favourite "Dal Bukhara"and my favourite Delhi food "Paneer Darbari". My mom was nice enough to pack a packet of veg biryani too.
All I needed now was some bhatura or pooris. Excited, yet a bit apprehensive I made a dough out of a small flour packet I had got to make chapatis and fried some pooris.
My friends were there. So I quickly laid the table and emptied the packets in the bowl. As soon as the food went into the microwave, the aroma started to set in. One by one, I quickly heated all the three dishes and presented them on the table.
By the time they could get the food in their plates, my friends were already drooling. Even I was highly impressed. The dal just smelled like Bukhara's dal.
Next fifteen minutes were purely bliss. We all ate without any noise (we are usually a chattering lot) and I was already a star.
Then I served my trump card. My favourite moong dal halwa in chilly winters. Of course I have no clue about how to make it. ( even that was part of my mother's love and kitchen of India brilliance)
Cleaning up the plate and then eventually after almost licking up the halwa bowl all of us were a happy lot.
Today, even three months later I remember the taste of that gourmet party. Thanks to my mother's foresight and the gourmet collection I am the Masterchef amongst my friends.
(The narration above is inspired by a friend's experience during her visit to Denmark)
Hmm..Looks like you guys had a nice homemade party...
ReplyDeleteNot me, my friend did...i just narrated her story in first person.
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