Cooking adventures – the disasters of my twenties


Saggy Maggi

You did read my previous post and wondered who on earth can’t make Maggi – really who? Well, yours truly. Like my salt jinx, my quantity of water is also jinxed. So one day my sister is feeling unwell and she wants Maggi – she is older by 6 years and so has been the Maggi maker in our house. There I am in the kitchen filling up the pan with water- lots of it. In goes the Maggi and you get the picture of the soggy mess I emptied into a bowl and then had my ears burnt off over the next hour. Yes, true story. And yes I make decent Maggi now!


The college canteen

G.C.G-11 a name synonymous with hot girls in Chandigarh. Boys would line up outside to pick their dates or see that girl they had been stalking. But to me, my college was the place where you got the most amazing samosas ever! I never ate them – till that first day in college when all the girls were having it and I had my first bite of heaven – hot, crisp and so prefect – quite unlike the boys waiting a the gate!

Asked my mom how these were made- she looked me dead in the eye and told me they had to be deep fried. Well, the whole malai kofta episode had put me off deep frying anything – ever. That splat left mental scars that have not healed till date. I realised this was one good thing I didn’t want to ruin by attempting to make it. My mom of course sighed with relief!


Sometimes I’m good, too!

My best-est friend ever was in the other hot chick college in town. Rach, as I’ve always called her, was from Srinagar and was living in the hostel.  She got a day pass once and we had plans to chill at home. She told me she was sick of eating sad hostel food. I decided to surprise her with lunch made by me. I know what you're thinking – but hold on. I made a simple potato curry with rice. Rach was surprised, yes- but she gave me the best compliment ever by saying that it was made just the way her mom makes it! My feet didn’t touch the kitchen floor for a week – I was high on confidence – that was until I had to make the damn bhindi again and bloody salt went haywire again and my mom didn’t appreciate the okra raita AGAIN!



My sister is severely allergic to eggs, my mom is a pure vegetarian- so eggs were made only for my dad and me and when my parents divorced the egg department was completely in my control.

Now if there are a few things that describe my preferences in food, one would definitely be eggs. Crazy I am for eggs – it is my comfort/ diet/ regular/gourmet/breakfast/lunch/dinner/too tired to cook/too tired to think/celebration food all rolled in one.

Cooking them didn’t come easy to me – my nemesis, salt was as usual screwing things up for me. By the time I figured out that eggs enhance the salt further, many a salty omelette had been digested. Since eggs were a passion, I practiced till it was perfect. And though I still can break an omelette when flipping it, who cares – it's made of eggs and that makes up for everything!


Until next time


How much more can she have missed, you think. Well, I think I’m blessed or cursed to be an epic adventure in the kitchen – so the stories will keep rolling.




If she hasn't laughed, it's a moment wasted. Constantly changing, she defies any attempt to describe her. Sarcastic, witty and a 'only water or alcohol' woman, she can find something humorous in everything.