A quick note from the road

Dear Poppet,

I have missed you. It has been ages, I know. I miss being in the kitchen. I miss lazily and greedily savoring cookbooks and food blogs. I miss baking on Sunday. Most of all I have missed regaling you with my adventures on the road.

I have loved every minute of this journey that started in the highlands of Scotland, to the busy streets of London, to the curries from Malaysia and soon the familiar desert tunes from Dubai.

The people, the cultures and most importantly darling, the food has made me weak in the knees. I have tired to catalogue every sight, smell and sound in my memory.

My little suitcase is plump with new shoes, bottles of aged whisky, a tea-set, flowy dresses for tiki nights, a Scottish book of cakes, preserved and spiced strawberries and guavas, aromatic beverage mixes from the orient and a new shade of lipstick. I may end up sitting on the luggage to zip it down but such is the price for wanderlust.

I have a hundred pictures and a thousand words to share with you.

Much love,
Your Singleton.

How to beat MMB (Monday Morning Blues)

(Disclaimer: If you are a morning person and welcome daybreak with a 30mm smile and a tune to your whistle, I apologize in advance for the ranting below)

I am not a morning person. And because I'm not a morning person, a few non-sensible routines will have to be completed to ease me into a more chipper state of being when 7am comes around.

In the mornings, I like to lightly run my fingers through my wardrobe before I pick an outfit to wear, inhale the aroma of fruits that I pack for a mid-morning noshing, make a mental note of the shoes that I've yet to take out into the world and gaze at the pink and orange sky while I ponder upon Psalm 19 on my way to work.

The sequence of these activities help me start most days right, except for Monday.

Monday - Ugh! Enough said, right? It has always been my least favorite day of the week.

However, today I was able to beat the Monday morning blues from the most unexpected source.

The antidote to my weariness? A chocolate cherry tart (courtesy of passionateaboutbaking.com)

Let me explain.

When Sunday evening came around I was slipping into my  usual bout of dread for the week ahead. I seem to have more of these now than I did before. Like a looming cloud I can't quite shake off every time the weekend comes to a close.

I puttered around the kitchen and opened the fridge to survey its contents when a bunch of cherries caught my gaze. To me cherries were always the more jubilant ones of  the fruit kingdom. But at that moment I wasn't able to peel my eyes away because (and this will sound crazy in a minute) it seemed like those cherries were returning my stare with (again this will sound crazy) what can only be inferred as a dare. I know what you're thinking - Fruit that dares? This singleton is off her rocker. Believe me, even as I type these words the insanity of my confession is leaping back at me.

 Ludicrous as I continue to sound, in that moment my mid-day snack had transformed into a band of 'cocky and challenging' ruffians daring me to get out of my slump and do something. Something besides the moping around in the jammies because tomorrow is a Monday.  I rose to the challenge.

I blitzed through recent recipes that I'd bookmarked until I found "it". A very indulgent cherry tart that I would in a mere two hours into the future be savoring triumphantly. I bet those cheeky cherries didn't see that coming.

The dread was gone. One bite of this exquisite tartlette and  I had vanquished the blues. As pathetic as it sounds, slicing those cherries, steeping them in tangerine balsamic vinegar and then slathering them atop my miniature tarts felt very cathartic. I had conquered the "cherry bully".

When Monday came-a-knocking, I was still basking in my glory. A morning grump was I, no longer.

Bring it on Tuesday; I'm ready for you too.

P.S. I still like cherries. This is an exquisite dessert and I would make them again minus the combative spirit.  Chop to it, chickadee. Give it a try. Don't wait till " the fruit starts talking".

Mosaics and Memories

Monsoon wedding

On the ninth day of the seventh month there was to be a monsoon wedding. This being the first in our family just made it all the more endearing to us.  Every detail surrounding this event had to be perfect. So the three women in our family (plus bride) decided to collectively plan this beautiful wedding for our precious child.

One little detail that I must mention - the wedding planners are located in three different countries with four different time zones and orchestrating a ceremony from 40,000 miles away.

You can see our conundrum.

But we are “missionful women”(an inside joke) and so we would embark on the voyage to Wedding Planning. Our journey would begin in January until we see the shores of India in July. In the meantime numerous emails, excel spreadsheets, lists, phone calls, nervous breakdowns, flowcharts, hugs, invitation cards, “I heart you” notes , a dozen menu changes, magazine saree cut-outs and irritable family members would pass by our ship; but we vowed to stay on course.  Onward we would go, until we reach the banks of Kerala in the horizon, the setting, for our beautiful monsoon wedding.

January and February were spent scurrying to find a suitable church and a reception hall. The cities of Trivandrum and Thiruvalla were finalists contending  for the ultimate honor of being  city to host the wedding celebrations of Gigi and  G-man (Groom-man). After two months of serious deliberations a decision was made - Trivandrum won!

And then we met March...

The parents of the bride hit the wedding preparation with such fervor and numerous weekend trips to India as if March madness had descended on us. Thus the  caterer, the decorator, the choir and music, the wedding invitations and the videographer were finalized.

By the time we’d arrived at April and May, decisions to make got harder. Why wouldn’t it? After all it involved four women trying to decide on a color scheme for the bridesmaids dresses, the flowers and our very own wedding sarees. We scoured sareeworld.com, bollywood magazines, style blogs, photographs of friends who were recently married and even hindi movies for inspiration. My sweet mother sent us email forwards with pictures of  sarees that bollywood actresses had worn to award ceremonies, movies, weddings and their very own baby showers (someone had the bright idea of sharing the pictures of Aishwarya Rai’s sister-in-law’s baby shower) in the last six months. This was the information highway and we were transmitting latest fashion trends at the speed of light.

I considered myself a recent  graduate with a  degree in Indian fashion and a minor concentration in Sarees and the art of draping. And in spite of it all, our search for the perfect saree was as elusive as ever. Cookie and I were still in hot pursuit of “the one”.

On June 30 the five of us were united and months of ‘email hugs’ turned into sporadic hugging sessions thereafter until we bid each other farewell.

Exactly five days before the wedding Cookie and I made a discovery. The elusive sarees we’d been searching for all along finally crossed our paths in the space-time continuum.  We were besotted and ecstatic all at once. We’d finally found, henceforth, what would forever be known as ‘the sarees we’d draped that monsoon day when our baby sister entered wedded bliss’.

A couple of days before the wedding, we'd enrobed our banisters with tulle and flowers for when Gigi would make an entrance in all her wedded glory. Friends and family flocked home to congratulate and wish the bride-to-be.

On the eve of the wedding, the pressure was mounting and the list of things to do just kept expanding. At that precise moment, Cookie, Gigi and I decided to leave the madness and retire to La-La Land.

La-La Land came into existence on July 8 and would belong to the three of us alone and here we would remain young single girls forever. In this land we would have the ability to fly (as deemed by Princess Gigi) because walking is a chore that young girls should not have to worry about.

 We could be on swings or climbing trees all day long and there would be orchards of dark chocolate with hazelnuts. The elves of La-La land would serve the most scrumptious varieties of magic ice-cream that never makes you fat.  A moment on your lips but never on your hips. The streams by the orchards would render the sweetest songs and occasionally belt-out hip-hop if the mood arises (Again Princess Gigi likes her hip-hop every now and then). We would giggle and hide in La-La land from the grown-ups on earth.

Alas we had to return to greeting guests and running errands. But La-La Land would remain for us to retire to whenever we need to run away from nosy aunts who always probe the question  "Why you have no man?".

And then one Saturday morning, two lovely people were joined together, to love and to hold forevermore. My Gigi was the prettiest bride ever (yes, I'm jaded and rightfully so). Two sisters looked on as one of their own went from a young lady to a wife.

Now we have a brother and my parents have a son. Let me tell you that it's a joy to add another place mat at the dinner table. Welcome to the family, G-man!

Adventures in eating - Chicago Edition

When we were little, Gigi, Cookie and I started our sentences with “When we hit our twenties we’ll be independent and get our own apartments”, “When we have our own jobs and make oodles of money, we’ll spend it all on guilt-free shoe shopping”, “When we become young ladies we’ll get a stylish hair-cut and not the eighties bob” and finally, “When we all have jobs, we’ll go on a fabulous vacation and it’ll be just the three of us”.

  

The twenties came around and we’d still not embarked on that trip, just the three of us. Somehow as we got older it never seemed to materialize. We’d moved away, each living in a different country sometimes. Either one of us was in school, or one of us was going home to spend our Christmas break or we didn’t have the money. Most of the time, it was the money. You see, all three of us weren’t at the “have our own jobs, apartments, and making lots of cash” stage of our lives yet.

One day, we found out that one of us was going to be hitched soon. This made us frantically go down the list of things we were yet to do and there it was – ‘Take a fabulous vacation together. Just the three of us”.

And so impulse took over and we decided on Chicago in April.

Ofcourse the first thing on our to-do list was to settle on the outfits, the shoes, clothes, the accessories. In case you were wondering - Yes! we have our priorities straight.

Gigi and I could barely contain ourselves as we took the flight out to see Cookie in Chi city. This trip meant so many things to us because, One, it was part of our to-do list; Two, Gigi would be married soon so it would be her last trip as a single woman; Three, We were also going to meet an old friend and have a mini re-union. Four and most importantly, this trip entailed an adventure-filled food fest for the foodie in us.

S.T, our dear married friend would join us on our little adventure as her husband generously agreed to watch the children for two days and loan her to us for a fun night on the town.

Cookie being the resident Chicagoan mapped out a very detailed itinerary. We had Thursday night to ourselves. Come Friday we’d hit the popular tourist spots, museums, the planetarium etc., meet with S.T and the four of us would finish the night with reservations at dessert extraordinaire, TRU. Per the vacation schedule for Saturday, we’d putter around the Magnificent mile until noon and then we we’d be off to literally eat our way through Chicago with a walking food tour of the Gold Coast, Old Town and Lincoln neighborhoods. At 6pm on Saturday evening, we’d set sail for our dinner cruise along the waterfront with a view of the Chicago skyline. Sunday would be spent catching up on whatever we didn’t get to do and at noon we’d bid each other farewell and fly back to wherever we call home at the moment.

That was the plan.

However, yours truly is not a morning person or someone with the discipline to follow an itinerary, so I unintentionally caused the group to veer off schedule a bit.

So although we didn’t get to meander down the magnificent mile and hit all the boutique stores, we got to do everything else that Cookie had painstakingly planned for the four of us.

My TRU calling...

One beautiful Friday evening, four decked up girls made their way to dessert Mecca in Chicago - Tru!

From the minute we stepped through the inconspicuous glass doors we knew that we were in for a magical carpet ride, what we didn't know was how book or blog-worthy the ending would be. Unlike the other patrons, we were strictly there to sweeten our palette. Hence the obvious choice : a three-course tasting of the DESSERT collection.

 

While the memory of each course lingers in my taste buds, I will attempt to describe the best  dessert plate I have ever eaten (Honestly, everything else pales in comparison after that evening.)

We started with an amuse-bouche: Cucumber with a sweet-tangy texture to whet our appetite in preparation for the adventure ahead.

First course: Honey-crisp apple beignet with vanilla bean ice cream and honey madelines

Second course: Dark chocolate bar with edible flowers and cocoa nibs rolled in chicory 

accompanied with coffee ice cream in a bed of chicory

Third course: Passion fruit mousse with a layer of coconut, lime and chocolate terrain 

served with a lime and mint ice cream 

Our final course was a dessert tray :

Moist rum cake,

sabayon with a hint of lemon

in edible dark chocolate cups,

tangy lemon grass macaron,

dark chocolate mint truffle,

raspberry marshmallow and

chewy passion fruit candy.

Four complimentary candy squares completed our night in dessert heaven - Milk chocolate bar encasing liquid vanilla cream. The objective was to have a mini explosion of flavors in your mouth. Sort of like fireworks at the end of an enchanting night 

We were enamored, mesmerized, bewitched..This was the kind of love story I would live to tell my grandchildren. The best night ever!

I should also mention that the service was impeccable.Even the waitstaff moved in perfect harmony, swaying rhythmically like ballet dancers as they replaced our plates and silver-ware.

After all, who can beat having individual ottomans for your purses.  

I will carry the memory of that evening for many years to come and regale how I was enticed yet again, the morning-after by the honey soaked mini-cake with apricot filling

that made its way into our purses as we departed.

If you're reading this, and are an avid dessert lover you know what you have to do right? Go on, friend. Make a memory!  

NEAR NORTH FOOD TOUR...Aka Foodies will walk three hours for gastronomic satisfaction

Here are a few more reasons why I would be inclined to walk three hours for palatable appeasement:

The guide was so darn cute and as a bonus, he knew the best places to eat.

Ashkenaz Deli : where they had the best pastrami sandwich I had ever had the pleasure of making an acqauintance with.

Tea Gschwendner: more like Tea Haven for this beverage’s aficionados
The Spice House: an absolute must-visit. Think aromatic cloves and cardamom, wooded floors and glass jars with earthy tones. A veritable kingdom of spices from around the world.

Old Town Oil: who knew there were thirty varieties of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I have never been so happy dunking bread in an emollient of blood orange olive oil and tangerine balsamic vinegar.

The Fudge Pot: You can guess why I loved this place. I feel right at home here.
Delightful Pastries: We had two darling miniature Polish pastries from this place. Neither of which I can pronounce or names I can recall. But they were delightful and my first introduction to pastry, Poland’s way.
Bacino’s Pizzeria: We were practically dragging our feet to this last tasting. It entailed a deep dish pizza. A very large, slice of deep dish pizza. A slice I could only eat two bites of, it was so large.

Two hundred photograhs, endless hugs and silly laughters later, Sunday came around. Gigi, Cookie and I found ourselves wishing we'd had more time. We'd finally done it! The fabulous vacation with the three of us and our friend. Not wanting it to end, we made another list of places to visit and adventures to be had right after we'd collected our boarding passes for the journey home.

Perhaps this is a prequel to future trips. Perhaps.

Howdy, partner! Welcome to the Rodeo

It's that time of the year again. That time in early March when hundreds of trail riders travel from across the country  through downtown Houston to be part of the annual Rodeo. Cowboys, wagons and horses against the backdrop of some of the tallest glass buildings and trendiest stores as they make their way into town. Amongst the many reasons to go to the rodeo - which include the rodeo ofcourse, the carnival, the livestock show, pony rides and an assortment of entertainers, here's one of my favorite reasons - you guessed it; Deep fried candy and funnel cakes, darling!


Is it worth a thousand calories, three additional love handles, hours of gut-wrenching push-ups in the gym? Absolutely yes, sista! Now before you judge me and my lack of will power, let me present some visual aids to tip the scales in my favor (pun intended!)..after all a picture is worth a thousand words, right?


Deep fried chocolate brownies & powdered sugar - Devilishly good

If deep fried candy were a man I'd have been married already.

I feel compelled to confess that shortly after the delectable brownie, we were sinking our teeth into a deep fried cheescake...Life's good!

Okay I don't want to portray myself as a complete glutton, so before I bid thee well here are some non-food pictures of the rodeo (However, you will forgive me if the picture of another thing we ate happens to make it's way into the tableau below, won't you?).

 Goodbye dear funnel cake and deep fried brownies. I'll miss you until I see you again....

Farewell Yester Year, Welcome New Year

Last night, Terry, Cookie and I were at  the Kemah boardwalk to play audience for the arrival and welcome of the 12th hour. We had 10 mintues before the countdown and as I looked out into the the horizon where the night sky and Galveston Bay met, two friends were bidding each other well - Yester Year and New Year. Yester year was resplendent in her gold garment and her cloak had snippets of all the events that had occurred that year. I saw a picture of myself at the terminal waiting to catch a plane to Florida. I looked hopeful and excited. There were several pictures of people I did not recognize - some welcoming newborns, some mourning the loss of a loved one, an orchard tree beaming with pink lady apples, some mountaineers trekking in East India and a plane leaving the tarmac.


New Year looked rather fetching in his silver and blue tuxedo. His suit had pictures too but they were faint, fuzzy shapes almost like pictures in a dark room that hadn't completely developed. I suspected the pictures would become clearer with the passage of time. Yester Year revealed that she was happy that she had reached the end of her journey with the people on earth and hoped that she had a presented a good year to most of them. New Year appeared excited with a hint of nervousness. "I hope I can present a great year too", he said. "You'll do just fine" Yester Year nodded assuringly.


The countdown began and at the stroke of the 5th second to 12, Yester Year embraced her friend and waved goodbye as she slowly slipped into the horizon. New Year did a last minute adjustment to his bow tie to look his very best when the people of earth would welcome his arrival in 3..2..1 seconds.