It happened thanks to a cup of tea no, a glass of tea, the regular Indian chai,just like that of the other morning.With all the sepia effect going due to the weather, I was glass-eyed while making tea for iWoz. And the result? He looked as if he was strangled after a sip. I occasionally make such tea. I am completely unaware as to what goes wrong with them, but they turn out to be the most bitter concoction in the history of tea making.
Hard to believe? Here is what I hear from people after I serve them with the tea that iWoz calls ‘teaspresso’ –
‘What in the holy hell was that?!’
‘This can keep sleepy folks wide awake for the rest of their lives!’
And the best is yet to come-‘This can drill holes in your urinary tract!’
After that, I myself am surprised that I still make tea. But making tea was what made me start cooking. The first time I ventured into the kitchen, I pondered over what to make and after great thought decided on tea. Actually the great thought was just seeing my mom preparing tea umpteen times for dad who is a regular tea drinker.
And how hard it can get?Water,milk,tea powder and sugar.How can one go wrong with that?But I did go wrong.So terribly wrong that my dad spat the tea back to into the cup .’This tastes like acid.Who made this?’ he demanded.I was crushed and that got me thinking.I am a kitchen novice.I din’t know how tea powder was any different from sawdust or for that matter how to hold a ladle let alone cooking.And the feedback i got from dad was not very convincing.Images of iWoz suffering after marriage because of my bad culinary skills filled my mind.iWoz shedding tears over burnt toast and banging his head on the table over sloppy soups and I knew I had to do something.You see,back in those days i fancied being a domestic goddess, whipping wonderful dishes one after another from the kitchen,keeping the house clean and smelling fresh,welcoming my man back home after he comes home all sweaty and hungry after fighting dragons and giants.Now we cannot let our hero cry over kitchen mishaps,can we?So I rummaged my old chest of drawers and found an old diary of grade 6 in which I had written things like ‘dear dairy,today morning I got up and brushed my teeth.but I was not satisfied,so I brushed one more time and that left me satisfied’.*cringe*
See that? The most interesting thing happening to me even when I was young was me brushing my teeth, so half of the diary was left unwritten. I must have figured out that there is no point in recording my excitement over the same thing everyday. Armed with my diary to record my disasters, I decided to plunge into the world of cooking.
After several burnt curries, dropped soups, pungent roasts, rubbery puddings, rock-hard cakes, the kitchen was filled with dust of flour flying all around. And amid showers of raisins, cardamom, cashew nuts and coconuts(Coconuts?! Ok, let’s leave them out)I walked out, in slow motion yielding a blow torch and a lettuce hat. Yes world! UR, the chef was born.
Some tea, anyone?