A chai poha with friends

6 up one missing
zzg and raining
out they headed to a wet tea tapri
six spoons and one plate of steaming hot poha awaited
six cups of 1/2 chais and guffaws and talks
the end was soon and time to leave
the rains already showed signs of returning

Sunday breakfast revisited

On last Sunday bleary eyed I headed to empty kitchen. My better (?) half was not awake. I wanted some tea but not yet in the mood. Eyes half open I went and stood for some time in the kitchen window. Seeing the Sunday unfolding in front of me in the kitchens of the homes in the buildings in my area. Whistles of cooker, sizzle of tadka, vessel washing, blare of TV giving some Sunday programme. These and such thoughts took me back to memory lane of Sunday breakfasts at my maiden home.
Aai is a great cook. I guess every person will say his or her mom is. But I am always critical about cooking so seeing someone like aai in the kitchen is a lovely treat. A systematic and strict person she and my sister (a messy cook) can never stay in same kitchen, esp. with aai’s “sovle ovle”. She is not a fanatic in this, but yes, she manages a bit of fasting and absolutely doesnot tolerate onion garlic hands on supplies like salt and chilly. Here am I again away from the topic.
I remember I used to wake up same way, bleary eyed, happy that school was not there and that Sunday has just started. I used to enter straight in the kitchen even at that time. Kitchen makes me feel at homeJ. Aai used be preparing some breakfast item. There were many that she used to prepare like idli and dosa (even on weekdays) but it was this item that she prepared leisurely on weekends and frankly I have not tasted anyone done better. And those were “matar” patties. Wafery thin, soft and fluffy potato cup made by hand the cooked fresh matar/peas in spices carefully filled and the patty deftly closed by fingers wetting in water, after dusting sparingly on fine “rava” or semolina, the patties were shallow fried in oil till they gained a chocolate brown crispy hue. The cover needed to be carefully made else it would spill its contents on the griddle in middle of frying (this patty always tasted gorgeous). There was always enough for our never ending appetite. I used to pry open the crispy cover and eat contents first, the covers always came last with bits of chilly garlic sauce if any (I hated and still hate the ubiquitous tomato sauce). Bread was never allowed to sandwich these tasty lovelies it was always patty fork/spoon and us…after having a mug of warming light tea we used to head to the television for a cartoon show. The taste however still lingers on.

Kadak pav and cheese maska

Dada or my dad rarely ventured out of home on Sunday morning. For him Sunday was sleep and TV and lovely succulent fish and more snooze. But once in a while when aai would not have made something substantial he would venture out and head to the local bakery. And his bounty basket was always rather overfull. There would be fafda (gujrati thin gram flour based deep fried crackers) batata vada (somehow I didn’t like it as it used to be full of coriander seeds), individual cubes of amul butter , cheese and kadak and brun pav. Both these pavs freshly baked would still be fresh and soft warm from the oven. The kadak pav would be ideal with its hard crust which would give innumerable small crumbs when one used knife. Light and soft from inside at the same time. While brun pav would be used for lunch, kadak pavs would be feasted at the breakfast time. The pavs would be sliced in between and liberally slathered with amul butter and slivers of amul cheesecub. Then it would be feasted in gusto along with cups of hot “chaha”. The crunch of the kadak pav still lingers and a wish comes hope…I wish there would have been rewind