My Ratatouille Recipe

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ratatouille recipe

It was the beginning of the “month of sickness” for us Malayalis and i decided to go vegetarian for dinner. I’ve always been intrigued by how the French can eat without our usual smothering of spices. Also, I couldn’t think of any meal without meat or at least eggs. So it was the color of Ratatouille that beckoned. I couldn’t find squash but it tasted really good anyway.

Preparation: 5 min
Cooking time: 15-20 min

Ingredients

2 onions (medium)
3 eggplants (medium)
4 tomatoes (medium)
2 zucchini
1 yellow bell pepper (large)
1 red bell pepper (large)
2-3 tsp black pepper power or fresh ground pepper (I prefer the freshly ground pepper)
2-3 tsp salt
2 Tbs Tomato Puree or Ketchup
4 Tbs Olive oil
10 Black Olives sliced

1. Dice all the vegetables to about 1/2 inch length.
2. In a deep pan, heat 2 Tbs Olive Oil.
3. At medium heat, add onions and stir till they are soft (Do not brown)
4. Add tomatoes and stir for a minute.
5. Add the puree/ketchup and stir
6. Add the eggplant, salt and pepper
7. Add half cup water, stir and simmer covered for 10 minutes till eggplant is soft
8. Add the rest of the vegetables and simmer covered for 10 minutes.
9. Add 2 Tbs olive oil and the sliced olives and mix
10. Viola!

I had this with some homemade pasta (average) and it was really good. Something about the way the textures complimented each other… Soft eggplant, crunchy zucchini and smooth bell peppers… Never knew vegetables can be this flavorful too.

Next time, i might add grilled meat or maybe some shrimp!

Puppy Love, by Jeremy David (Age 16)

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love jeremy david puppy chocolate

Love you more than chocolate,
Love you more than lemonade,
Love you more than coffee on a rainy day,
Love you more than water on the window pane,
Love you more than my spectacular pasta,
Love you more than ten minutes of laughter,
Love you more each passing day,
More than I can ever say.

Puppets of Fate

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aju, fate, grain, light, puppets, puppets of fate, sand, star, thomas

Imagine you are a grain of sand.

You were conceived when thousands of walls of water crashed against a giant rock. That makes you thousands of years old.

It took decades for you to move from one part of the beach to the other. By the time you reached the boardwalk, you had negligible mass.

The wind, water and sometimes humans move you from place to place but they are invisible. They move too fast. You become aware of some of them when patterns emerge with the group of grains surrounding you.

Imagine you are human.

It takes millions of years for the light of some stars to reach us. So, what you see in the night sky are just memories of stars.
We only know so much.

Yet we think we are alone.

Fate moves too fast to be seen. We can only see its effects in the patterns. We are its puppets, determined to witness what lies beyond our lifetimes.

We are a grain of sand.

The Kiss

Her skin, born on a field of lilac, drew me in.

She always expected me to pull her into my region of comfort, where body and breath entangled.  I always did.

She peered deep into my eyes trying to sense something. It was as if she was sifting through the contorted shapes in my mind to find any semblance of herself. Her eyes darted through both of mine as they welled up with emotion.

“What is it?” I asked, hoping in futility that she might give up her stance.

“Did you miss me?” she asked. That could only mean one thing. She suspects.

“What do you think?”

She smiled and pecked a spot below my left ear. That was her opium. Before my brain could tell my arms to hold her closer, the waltz had begun.

The kiss tells me everything. It tells me she used vanilla shampoo today, which meant she was optimistic. Her hands and lips were cold, which told me something had happened today that made her want the comfort that I gave… hint of insecurity… guilt?

I ran my fingers through her hair, slow but letting her know they were there. She responded by a pressing herself hard enough for me to taste the wine in her mouth. Blackberries, menthol, graphite… Cheval Blanc or a Rothschild. She wasn’t paid enough to buy wine like that.

Love is a strange thing.

Ascension

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ascension, car crash, family, god, grief, heaven, paralysis, spirit, stages, victim

( I have found the courage to write again and I share this powerful epiphany that hit me one perfect night.)

He was paralyzed from the waist down.

He had already lost most of his hearing and sight.

He had lost his family in a car crash.

Everything we feared would happen to us, everything our parents’ tried to protect us from, had happened to him. He was your worst nightmare personified.

At the peak of his youth, he was in denial. The drugs made sure. Slowly, the denial turned into rage. He was angry that he was helpless and his helplessness was his anger. Uniquely human.

He wished for the nightmare to end. Just as we would in his place. He wished he could turn back time to a point where he could do something. Anything better than staring at the endless corridors as a blurry world passed by. He acknowledged a higher power for the first time and prayed.

When he realized that the state he was in will remain the same till he dies, his spirit broke. He questioned his purpose. An exercise in futility.

Finally, he accepted his fate. He gave in to his condition. The world was a terrible place now. But it was his world.

Suddenly, he found himself on the roof of the hospital. His vision cleared as he floated to the brilliant night sky. He thought he was dying. He was at ease. He wished that no one would have to go through what he just had. He could feel his legs again.

He began to feel a tremendous strength flow through him. He was aware of every bit of sound and sight around him. This sudden awareness shocked him. He had to get used to it.

Something in his head was trying to explain. He strained to make sense of the message.

“My Son, only you were strong enough to survive. You questioned reality and accepted your fate just as a human would. You saw their darkest hour, their depths of despair. Now you know why you have to save humanity. You have seen it for yourself. Thus begins your ascension.”

Guilt

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guilt

I feel like I’ve swallowed pins.

But they just won’t pierce anything. Water washed down the metallic after-taste. They’re waiting to make a mess of my insides.

For days I have felt it coming. This unpleasant opera of pain. I’ve heard that smiling or grinning suppresses the gag reflex.

I should try.

Why do I feel this?  Am I that human? Or is it just a natural reaction that can be controlled or converted? I feel human. Not this much. It’s better to be a machine with all the protocols and sub-routines. It’s better to be an animal with remorseless instinct and single-mindedness.

Time is cruel.

Trivandrum Treats

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Food, fruit, meals, mussels, pizza, review, trivandrum

I’ve been in Trivandrum for a year now. Naturally, I had to find the best that this place had to offer. The following are some places that has satiated my cravings. So if you’re ever in Trivandrum, check them out. I’ll get some pix later.

In no particular order:

- Kethel Chicken(fried young chicken) @ Rahmaniya’s, Chalai: Rs. 90 to Rs 125 per serving

This is the tastiest chicken prep i have ever had. Even better than Oporto’s famous chicken. Combined with unlimited ghee rice and lemonade, you’ve got yourself a lunch. The restaurant itself is a bit cramped but when the chicken hits the taste buds, you could be eating in traffic and you wouldn’t know.

- Butter Garlic Grilled Mussels @ SeaFace, Kovalam : Rs. 140 per serving

Our refuge away from the monotony of work happens to be 12km away in Kovalam. We come here almost every week to laze on a cold one and Butter Garlic Grilled Mussels. The tastes are subtle and well balanced with the boiled vege garnish. Fries seemed alien to the plate till I tried a combo.

- Fruit Sherbet@ a fruit shop in Kannamoola : Rs: 15 per serving

It’s one of those ideas that makes you think, “Why didn’t I think of that. It’s so obvious!” This placating drink/dish is: mango juice base, apples, guava, papaya, grapes, bananas, pineapple and some bits which you’d spent some time guessing. The flavours just hit you smack in the middle of your head and there’s no turning back.

- Any Pizza @ Casabianca, Vazhudakad : Rs: 230 – Rs 265 per pizza

This Italian restaurant is as authentic as it gets. The sweet Italian lady that runs it too. The pizzas have real Mozzarella which I missed so much. The crust is delicate but filling. Better than anything the chains have to offer. It’s all about the food so I won’t say too much about the pastel cloth and quaint furniture. Not to mention the presentation.

- Idli/sambar/tricolor chutney @ Arul Jyothi, Bakery Jn. : Rs. 30 per serving i think

If you want to stir up your range of smell and taste that is Indian by instinct, try this for breakfast. My IQ jumped 8 points from the experience. Its served on a banana leaf which lends the waft.

- Aila fry @ Meen kada, near Pettah Railway Station: Rs. 30 for a meal i think

First in the fish fry dept. next to Aila fry from Kerala House, oppo Secretariat. Always take away from this tiny shop sometimes thronged by Technopark exec boys. It’s one of those things you have to try once.

- Appam/Chicken Perrattu @ NB Special, Statue Gen. Hospital road: Rs. 50 per meal would do for most people

We stumbled onto this place when we ran out of options one night. Watching Appams being made is appetizing enough but the main event is the chicken itself. Its not too dry or too wet. Its got just enough gravy to soak the semi crunchy corners of the Appam, till you grab the succulent chicken with the rest: the soft round center of the hot Appam. Yumm.

- Beef Dragon @ Park Rajdhani, Ulloor

My love for Indian Chinese food waned when I first encountered authentic Cantonese, Thai and Malaysian food but this brought me back. Just enough spice to avoid numbing the taste buds and perfect texture to go down with red wine. Merlot maybe.

- Kerala Meals @ Kerala House, Statue

When you’re living away from home, you’d yearn for a nice hot home-cooked meal. Ta-Da! Don’t forget to order the fish too.

-to be continued.. soon

Daylight

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bedtime story storm eye boy jack hill

This is a bedtime story I told my Princess one night when she couldn’t sleep.

Once upon a time there lived a boy and his father in a house nestled under a grassy hill. The boy was named Jack after the character in Lost, the only T.V. show that the father, Jacob watched.

Jack loved the hill. He would watch the sunrise and sunset and explore every rabbit hole and deer track all day. He learnt to pick the tastiest berries from the birds and how to fish from the lazy bears. Jack loved his new life on the hill.

One cold night just before dawn, a storm broke their sleep. Jack was terrified of lightning. He had lost his mom to a storm like this. It fumed and screeched as it tore open the Earth with thunder. It was like the planes back home.

Jacob rushed to Jack’s side and tried to comfort him. He tried.

He whispered, “I know you are scared. I was scared too. But you have to face the fear or it will consume you.”
“You need to understand it. Then you will see its beauty.”

Jack didn’t know what that meant. How can anything so horrible be beautiful. Was his father going mad?

The storm raged on and it seemed to get angrier. He listened carefully. The seconds between the flash and thunder were getting shorter with each passing minute. He thought of how a strike would tear away the roof and burn him alive. He shivered.

His father’s voice was back. “Go outside, my son, and face your fear.” He said this with both conviction and frailty. As if he knew why the storm was there.

Jack didn’t know if it was the numbness that comes with fear or his father’s deranged words but he slowly stepped outside. He moved involuntarily towards the top of the hill. Lightning split silver birches that caught fire easily. It was as if he was walking through a scene in his dream. His tears mixed with the cold rain as he made his way to the giant rock on the apex.

Just then, something passed over him and his face opened in bewilderment.

It was daylight.

He was standing at the very center of the storm. The eye. Jack took in each overwhelming moment as he stood at the edge of the rock. He was surrounded by a thick spiral of clouds that threatened to cave in any moment. In the distance, he could see lightning playing havoc on the trees.

He watched the storm melt away as if someone had said “Enough is enough!”

Daylight warmed his face. He realized that he wasn’t shivering anymore and his body felt light. He had witnessed the beauty in his fear.

He was no longer a boy.

I wanted to make it funny in the beginning but i got so into it that it had to go this way. and yeah she didnt sleep. so i sang her a lullaby instead .

Oreo Shake Recipe

OREO Milk Shake

Prep: 10 min

18 OREO Chocolate Sandwich Cookies, divided
1/2 cup milk
1-1/2 pt. (3 cups) vanilla ice cream, divided
1/4 cup chocolate syrup

Chop 14 of the cookies coarsely; place in blender container. Add milk, 1 pt. (2 cups) of the ice cream and chocolate syrup; cover. Blend until smooth.

Pour into 4 (8-oz.) glasses. Top each with a scoop of the remaining ice cream and a cookie. Serve immediately.

Makes 4 servings

Music and Photography: As I understand them

Music

I was 13 when I got my calling. Being me, I decided to go for one of the most difficult instruments: the violin. 3 weeks and 4 scales later, my tutor passed away. That was the end of that.

For a while, I wandered aimlessly through A.R. Rahman, Bach, Illayaraja, Backstreet Boys (shudder), Boyzone, Led Zepp, and some others that shouldn’t be mentioned in the same breath. Celine Dion and Mariah Carey lifted me. Coolio and BoneThugs&Harmony brought me peace. Sometimes, I got so consumed with banality that I went back to the masters.

Now, each piece of music are pointers to an address in my memory. The theme songs of Scrubs and Smallville remind me how by just watching comedy and cheesy teen drama, I had dealt with the most difficult times of my life. Any song of Richard Marx would bring me back to 9th grade when I was God. Now, Metallica questions my mortality.

Along the way, I discovered a pattern and used this to make my own music. My soundtrack to life.
And all I had to do was listen.

The Internet had empowered me from a pop slave to a curious dilettante. Lack of formal training added to the fun. I was seeing music, tasting it and marveling at it’s psychosomatic effect.

Chords were the first step. Not Phoebe’s Owl Talon or Bear Grab, but the minors and majors and how and why some could hang together. Like C, F and G. Am was welcome in their midst. I wouldn’t tell you which of them weren’t. Music is so subjective.

I drew charts, worked out formulas (mostly permutations) and made random sequences to make sense of this newfound interest. A friend suggested pot. I got drunk instead. It didn’t help. The morning after, i banged my head against the wall from the searing pain of the hangover. Origins of headbanging i suppose.

<this is turning out to be a big one.> End of Part One.