When Men Cook

In the average Indian middle-class household, guys are usually quite content to take the backseat in the kitchen, but some days, if the girls are especially lucky, they decide to cook.
Like today, when my husband decided he wants to cook the chicken. My mother-in-law, hovering near the kitchen, has that nervous look on her face that says something will go wrong any second now, just a matter of time before it does.

The kitchen is a flurry of activity, and every single well-meaning piece of advice is struck away with the force of a thousand suns.

Me: "Here, shall I cut the onions?"
Husband (starts attacking the onions with great force): NO!!!

Me: "Listen, did you remember to add the spices?"
Husband (gives me a withering look): "Yes."

He says yes, but his look says, "Of course I did you dumbass, I'm a better cook than you are!"

The chicken is cooked in ten minutes flat, give or take a couple of minutes. Normally, with the tender ministrations of a female hand it would've taken about three quarters of an hour. My mother in law assured me the chicken was tasty (me being a vegetarian blah blah). Luckily for me and my mom in law, my husband, while not a great cook, is definitely a good one. Others are not quite so lucky. Take my brother for example.

A few years ago, when the rest of the family was out of town, my brother decided to call his friends over for an evening snack. He had planned on making vegetable soup and astonishing the hell out of them with his cooking capabilities. How he thought people would applaud for emptying ready made soup sachets into a bowl of boiling water is a mystery we'll never solve.

So, he puts the water to boil and goes into the hall to regale his friends with some PJs, when ka-booom! There was a resounding exploding noise from, you guessed it right amigo, the kitchen. Everyone rushed to see if aliens had just somehow crash landed inside the kitchen but were instead faced with the gory sight of my mother's favorite glass casserole splattered across the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that my brother put some water into a glass bowl and set its ass upon the stove to burn. His friends were rewarded with the unwelcome task of cleaning the kitchen out before my folks came back. To this day, my mother has no idea where her favorite casserole dish went. She blames our maid. My brother blames her too, and all women for good measure. For failing to tell him what would happen if he set a glass bowl on fire. Go figure.

Raw Onion

[caption id="attachment_350" align="alignright" width="126" caption="What could beat a raw onion?!"]
[/caption]

There are so many facets to the Onion.

It stinks. But people love it. It has so many layers, and it is, therefore, multi-dimensional. Just a bite of it brings an entirely new flavor to whatever you're eating. AND, it's after-taste lingers on, overpowering everything else, including everyone's senses in the room.

Onions make us cry. Those tears are not shed in vain - we can always come out of the kitchen and give our spouses a scare by not revealing the reason for our tear-stained face. If an apple a day keeps the doctor away, an onion a day keeps everyone away (Source: No idea who said it, but I know WHY they did ;-)).

So, erm, after a lot of consideration, I hit upon this name for my blog. Well, I didn't exactly hit upon it myself, my friends Hrish and Andy contributed. Andy, by the way, is responsible for the excellent tagline.

Bring the feedback onnnn!

My Sunday Luncheon at Barbecue Nation

Sunday morning. I woke up at around 11AM to the incessant ringing of my fone, and cursed. I absolutely hate waking up, period. I perked up somewhat when my cousin said we would be going out for lunch, and I could bring a couple of buddies if I liked. I was adamant that we would go to Barbecue Nation, cos I just love the barbecues they have to offer, and the drinks are on the house, too, hehe. Sunday being Friendship Day, we were unable to get a reservation and had to wait outside for more than an hour, which dampened our spirits somewhat. There is nothing worse than waiting with a hungry tummy, more so when you have already tasted the nose-tickling, tummy-rumbling, aromatic delicacies that are just within your reach, like sour grapes.

We were finally escorted to our table at around 3PM. Barbecue Nation is special in the fact that each table boasts of its own tiny barbecue, and you can have your meat just as you like it. Fresh veggies, marinated and coated liberally with spices, arrived. BBQ Nation have a lunch buffet, and these barbecues are merely starters. Red, green, and yellow capsicum, tiny potatoes baked in their skins, baby mushrooms, broccoli, and fresh paneer make up for the veggie palate; the non-veggies had a field day with chicken kebabs, fish, and prawns. The service is excellent, with the waiters keeping an eye on your plate at all times, replenishing it as soon as it gets empty.

Unfortunately for us, the place was filled to overcrowding, and we had to wait for a long time before the waiter topped up our barbeques; the buffet closes at 3:45, and we spent precious time just waiting for the kebabs and stuff. At around 3:30 our waiter came over to us with an apologetic expression and informed us, very politely, that we had around 15 min to finish our meal. We scrambled towards the buffet; predictably, I ran for the desserts counter. BBQ Nation serves excellent desserts, and the baby gulab jamuns are a real treat for taste buds. I served liberal helpings of pineapple souffle onto my plate, along with a couple of chocolate truffles, a few baby jamuns, and a couple of icecream dollops thrown in for good measure. By the time the waiter arrived again, I had finished my jamuns and was tucking into the souffle; we looked at the clock; it was nearing 4PM. We motioned him for the bill.

We had to look at the bill twice to believe it. Unlike other days, when its 250 bucks a head, the buffet was priced at 450 bucks per head, and we being 5, it totaled to somewhere around 2300 bucks, luxury taxes included. We had ordered drinks(welcome drinks are on the house at Barbeque Nation), but we were given a bill for those, too. It seems they don't offer welcome drinks on Sundays, and, they added a further 500 bucks to the bill. We paid without batting an eyelid(after all, it is deemed uncool if we exclaim over the bill) and went out, licking our wounds in silence. To sum it up very nicely, we paid 2800 bucks for a plate of roasted potatoes and capsicum, a few gulab jamuns, and some time in plush surroundings. Will you go there again, you might ask me. Ofcourse I will! But not on Sundays! No, sirree!!!