My mother cooked really well. And she managed to do that with her job, two kids and a house. Dada worked till late and left early. She got up at 5.15 am to cook up a storm of chapattis, a sabji and a wholesome breakfast of pavachi bhaji, sabudana khichdi, dosa, toast , upma , poha and dosa / idli , sometimes multigrain puris with coconut chutney from Monday to Saturday in that order every week, without once getting exhausted. Sunday breakfasts hence were not something special as she cooked specials throughout the week. Sunday was more bread affair as earlier written. Or mostly batate pohe ( a staple in most maharastrian homes)
Winters was however a different story. When green peas were abundant and lesser than their usual high rates, aai would bring green peas by kilos. They then found their way in poha, upma, lip smacking curries and the piece de resistance matar pattice.
A hectic affair and with two growing children and a husband with voracious appetite, matar pattice was reserved for once in a while weekend affairs. I used to get up to the smell of the pattice sizzling, it's smell emanating and spreading in whole home. We would hurry our selves to teeth brushing and would rush to have hot piping bites of pattices with slice bread and ketchup ( I never liked it). The yellowish potato cover hid spicy green peas, the cover dark grown and crisp by fine semolina coating. I always reserved these for last, gulping the melt in mouth potato and green peas first. I never seemed to have enough. Definitely when I had matar pattice, that Sunday was definitely extra special.
Winters was however a different story. When green peas were abundant and lesser than their usual high rates, aai would bring green peas by kilos. They then found their way in poha, upma, lip smacking curries and the piece de resistance matar pattice.
A hectic affair and with two growing children and a husband with voracious appetite, matar pattice was reserved for once in a while weekend affairs. I used to get up to the smell of the pattice sizzling, it's smell emanating and spreading in whole home. We would hurry our selves to teeth brushing and would rush to have hot piping bites of pattices with slice bread and ketchup ( I never liked it). The yellowish potato cover hid spicy green peas, the cover dark grown and crisp by fine semolina coating. I always reserved these for last, gulping the melt in mouth potato and green peas first. I never seemed to have enough. Definitely when I had matar pattice, that Sunday was definitely extra special.
