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Scene 1: 8 am Saturday Morning
There are days when it is best not to get out of bed, because it’s for sure that things are going to go wrong if you do. And things can’t go wrong as long as you stay in bed.
If you do get out of bed, one thing you must not do, is to plan a party. If you still go on and plan a party, a disaster is likely to result, as I found out.
I knew it was a bad day when the milk boiled over and messed up the stove which I had just cleaned (I clean it regularly every Saturday) and the floor which I had just cleaned (the maid regularly falls sick on Saturdays, Sundays, and various other days of the week) and me! But a party had been planned and a guest list had been prepared, and contacted and invited. So for a party I began cooking.
First the cake, I thought and set about spilling some flour on the floor and some in the container. Half an hour later, a delicious-looking chocolate cake was in the oven. An hour after that, a burnt, stinking mess was sizzling next to the stink. Oven settings have to be changed according to need, I realised too late.
Oh, well, we’ll buy ice cream. Meanwhile I tackled a kilo of tomatoes. Boiled them for fresh tomato soup. No synthetic powder from a packet at my dinner party. Then strained them the hard way – manually through a fine nylon sieve. No mixie-ed instant tomato puree for me. Then I transported the liquor carefully to a distant destination to keep it till it was time to serve. On the way I dropped it. I then had a nice orange finish on my recently cleaned and polished kitchen floor, and no soup. Oh, well, soft drinks will do.
What next? Three cups of rice went into the pressure cooker. Twenty minutes later, the safely valve blew. The pressure cooker was never intended for a party of ten. Great! Now the chicken and the rajma would be cooked in large, covered saucepans. Although, come to think of it, the dhaba around the corner provides pretty edible dishes of chicken too. And rajma. He even has soft drinks. And then there’s that fabulous bakery that’s opened recently, just a few steps down the road…
Scene 2: That evening…
“Oh, you cook so well, everything’s always perfect! How do you do it?”
Answer: a modest smile.
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