Cheese toast from the memory

The thanksgiving long weekend excitement is slowly fading when thursday faded to bloom to a freezing but sunny Friday. I was not enthusiastic to leave a warm oven of a home in cold storage of outside for the daily walk, I woke up in anticipation of a warm brewed tea with pt. Bheemsen Joshi for company. I love these small pockets of time for just my self. Seeing a day slowly blooming with office closed, no hustle to run. While taking milk for tea, I noticed an uneaten pumpernickel bagel to feast on. I have absolutely fallen in love with the heavy, chocolaty rye bread originating from Germany. While I am not too fond of bagel, that is all I get before shoprite collects the remains to sell for marked down price of the day. Yes we go that late, as I have always seen a semi empty inhouse bakery wire trays and always empty pumpernickel roll tray. If I am lucky I find two pumpernickel bagels, and some times when I am not so lucky, only the white bread which I actually hate. So its mostly cracked wheat rolls for the men at home and beautiful pumpernickel for me.


I usually eat it after fasting Tuesday. and pumpernickel with melted cheese (if I wait for that long) is out of the world. Since bagel is fatter, it long gets toasted before cheese melting on a tava (which is my favourite tool), so I take out George foreman at such times. Today however I was cleaning and mopping the floor, to rid especially after thanksgiving packaging.


I usually start my tea before I start this stuff, so that meanwhile cleaning is done, and breakfast prep starts (today for poha), I can sit with a warm, just right tea with panditji for "maje maher pandhari" and suresh wadkar for "uthi uthi ba". Before a smiling sleep warm pilla comes searching for his lost from bed aai. I prefer finishing my playlist and tea before he does however.
 God, this digressing crossing its limit, got converted into good amount of sentences. Any ways, after I started tea, took out sharp cheddar from the fridge. (I stopped cheese product called singles or such sic cheese simulations for real macoys some time now). Thinly slicing a few pieces which I then rolled in zaatar, I arranged them on sliced pumpernickel and kept it ready pressed in grill (without plugging on though). I finished my usual chores and started chopping onions, frying peanuts and soaking and spicing pohe for poha. I now plugged the machine and the toasting started. I became busy with poha prep. glancing at tea slowly changing its appearance from mild to robust. Once it changed, I drained it and kept the steaming mug near the tulsi taking refuge from outside frozen air of new jersey. In the background Sudhir Phadke was singing "ek vaar pankhavaruni". I amost absently looked at the bagel, which some time back showed cheese cube just like that without a hint of melt.  I opened to see the cheese forming a tasty transperant wreath on the pumpernickel, while some falling on grill base. A surprise smile later, I made bagel into bite size pieces to avoid my tooth cap coming off with each chewy bite. The cheese had disappeared but together with zaatar was making its presence known . A lovely fragrant cheddary perfume that took me to one such memory where aai used to prepare a cheese toast once a week for breakfast, with weak milky tea. I hated amul cheese then as it was too sharp for my taste, but guess now I would like it. The anytime bread gave a lovely , crispy toast, a Britannia/wibs bread totally forgettable. I sometimes finished tea and ran with the toast to my office bus, which I always managed to catch. These and such memories made me loose the sense that made me disappointed when last of  "Schwarz brot" got lost in mouth. In the background pandit ji was on "eka janardhani charan…".

Poems from the memory.

I cant memorize to save my soul. Period. I have tried and failed miserably. Neither telephone numbers which I would write in the diary before cellphone age, birthdays which I noted on aaibai's kalanirnay before cellphone reminders. But I remember songs, sometimes with whole lyrics, and silly things like some background instrument music but I cant memorize. So when I remember a school poem, memorized for prose and poetry exam which were oral/ memory exams, more than anyone else I am surprised. So when I put in google and searched, and got a kick by getting a positive reply, I had to note it on my diary of incidents called blogspot.


The first poetry is poetless and was rightly credited as anonymous.


The poetry is as follows:


If you should meet a crocodile
                                                  -Anonymous

If you should meet a crocodile

Don’t take a stick and poke him

Ignore (my memory got crazy and said igore...now what the hell is igore) the welcome in his smile

Be careful not to strike him

For as he sleeps upon the nile (night...how the hec can one sleep upon the night)

He thinner gets and thinner

And whenever you meet a crocodile

He’s ready for his dinner

The next one was title less and I remembered only a few parts which were luckily in order and somehow much better that igore instead of ignore. I put it in google who gave the result I wanted.
So here is the second poem.

Okee Pokee -Alexander Abraham

Okee-Pokee-Crack-me-Crown,
King of the Island of Gulp-em-Down
Was thought the finest young fellow in town
When he dressed in his best for the party.
Okaa-Pokaa-Ching-Ma-Ring
Eighteenth wife of the mighty king
Loved her lord above everything
And dressed him up for the party.

Satins and silks the Queen did lack,
But she'd some red paint that looked well on black,
So she painted her lord and master's back
Before he went out to the party.

Crowns and stars, and ships with sails,
And flying dragons with curly tails--
"That's a dress," said the Queen, "that never fails
To charm all folks at a party."

So, painted up till he looked his best,
With pipe in mouth and feather in crest,
Okee-Pokee marched out without a coat or vest,
But yet in full dress, to the party.



(the one in bold is the part I remembered).


Incidently, the first poem was memorized in 3rd or 4th standard from balbharti book and the second poem from 7th standard maybe.


Coming to think of it, I remember a common rhyme as well. Which is full of nonsense that I laugh often because that nonsense is what I remember but when in reality lyrics are different.


ABCDEFG come on Leena play with me
HIJKLMNOP its Leena's birthday, she is new (?)
OPQRSTU Leena's dress is new and blue
VWXYZ learn this poem and go to bed.


I am surely not going to bed with these memories taking me back to school, the day dreaming and simple life then.

Two crime series BtoB one a bit annoying another much much better

I like Netflix. its much better that hindi soaps with all angles and story not moving. Even in them, I have come to love south Korean series. Unlike Chinese series which seem to be at loss as what to show, I find Korean series varied. though there are absolute duds, luckily what I choose turns out better. but ofcourse "dikhave pe mat jao". These series have weirdest and typcal covers but insides are totally different.


I started with romance is a bonus book which I dodged for a long time and which later I saw reruns for atleast three times (along with the lead pair, every one seems to have too good natural acting and a cuteness). Then I saw Korean odessey (lee seung-gi is absolutely cute with quite nice acting skills), then I saw a zombie movie , train to busan (ma dong seok is nice in this film...his golu polu look aside) which I really found innovative and effective, a combination of horror and drama. Then came this is my love which is OK, leaving its annoyingly cloying cover. OK, now I use my other strategy (besides striking off typical romantic movies and series...I was a cynic, I am a cynic and will be one). If something catches my eye, I normally check it on google and then start it. its better to snooze or read that spend my precious hour or two in nonsense , searching and ffwdg. After I few days, I found something I could like. Detective series called father brown. Nope, its not Korean but british and though the lead is a good actor, it didn't catch my attention that much but this series brought me two more curiosities. Signal and Tunnel. Coming to think of it, the B2B titles have typicality attached. Both south Korean, both detective series and the second replaced first when it got over . Ofcourse in middle I saw a mediocre time travel Chinese series called back to 1985. more ffwdg and glad that it got over, I moved to these two series which I had added in my list. Signal was connection between two detectives  in two different eras by a walkie-talkie. The second one was time travel of a detective into the future to catch a serial killer. First one had catchy first few episodes and some bizzareness in the end, the second one having slow start and a complete end. needless to say, I liked second one better.


I have moved to new series now, lets hope it catches my flitting brain's attention.

The sweet jackie chan revisited

I love jackfruit. Period. I neither get embarrassed by it, nor wonder at my choice. Being from the coastal side of India, my love for rice may have waned and my love for fish never really existed but my love for nature's other bounty just increased , not to be an obsession but a preference. I am passionate about mangoes, my first love being alphonso but others are loved as well. I absolutely love cashewnuts, salted, unsalted, on their own or in an usal. I have also been laughed at for this love, especially that for jackfruit. The raw one is eaten with love, but ripe one just gets a raw deal from some. I used to get hurt by comments on my love for ripe jackfruit. Now I just shrug off.


My mother prepares a lot of stuff by raw ones as well. There is a coconut chutney based mash, with a tadka of mustard seeds and curry leaves that is enjoyed with dal and rice or a warm chapatti, there is a coconut curry but the ripe one is used along with pine apple and sometimes mango juice as "ansa fansa" (ananas is pineapple and fanas is jackfruit) with a base of coconut and raw mustard. Its a real deal for me. Most of my family members know that when I keep a particular dish aside when I am having lunch, its not because I don't want to eat it, but its because I want to relish it on its own in the end, at leisure. One is this, another one is Sasam, a typical GSB dish, with small ripe mangos, with coconut mustard base, or aai's takachi kadhi with bhajji. Before my mouth drools in memory, I will come to the Jackie chan.

So yesterday we went to Patel brothers. a friend at the park where I take Siddhaant swore by it. Though the groceries and prices seemed same as those where we normally buy, the real McCoy was Jackie. Incidentally we forgot to take a packet of essentials (read poha, the main ingredient of typical Maharashtrian instant lunch, dinner or breakfast), on the way, I saw him. I went near the counter, where there was a mild but distinct perfume (for those who love it) or stink (those who hate it), where it was cut into multiple 1/2 pound portions in cling film. I took one package and took a whiff. There are two reasons for it. I had taken a jackfruit once at Hmart and it was as synthetic as most Chinese vegetables are. Synthetic and disappointing. with just a hint of sweetness in a beautiful ripe yellow fruit. I remembered the piece then didn't smell that strong. But this one did. Almost hopeful I took one and rushed before my better (?) half finished his billing.
 Later we went to a place where better (?) half found disappointing samosas and Mathura pedhas (pedhas looked good but tasted pasty, so I cant blame him, I didn't like them either).

When we came home, as I was stashing the green grocery, I got hold of the cling film wrapped Jackie. I took a deep breath and opened it. Ignoring another comment from my better (?) half, I digged my fingers to dislocate the outer half fruit. I put it in my mouth. I was instantly gratified and satisfied. This was no Hmart. This was definitely indian. The bite took me back to Goa, where we spent our childhood summers at Shri Shantadurga devasthan. The Jackfruit trees, strong and huge, laden with jackfruits from literally base to the top. Of jackfruit leather, of jackfruit as Prasad, of jackfruit as vegetable or just a delight on its own. Of applying coconut oil and opening a ripe jackfruit, cleaning it of its ripe contents, of its seeds used in a "pale bhaji". Needless to say, I polished off that piece. It brought me a sense of fullness that no other so called indian snacks could.


Needless to say, the seeds are saved to be added in the "shevga bhaji" or stir fried drumstick leaves. I hope to plan another visit, only to get hold of ripe jackfruit very soon.

Some childhood foraging delights: mulberries, desi amla and indian honeysuckle

I know I maybe sounding already old but that's the way I feel now. with boredom inspite of having innumerable tv channels and internet at disposal.


We were foragers as kids. Especially when we didn't have anything gainful to do. We used to get excited to sit on the big wooden swing at one of the houses near us since the day the lady of the house used to grant us permission used to be rare.


When bored with the hide and seek, dabba spice etc, the small group of gals and smaller guys (bigger ones would be playing cricket) would be out for foraging. My sister and her friend one of the bigger girls would be responsible for us all. We would collect honeysuckle flowers to suck honey at the base of them (only to get fired at by the owners if they found out)

or collect and eat desi amla (indian gooseberry) which were mouth puckering tangy, the ripe ones a sweeter delight and still my favourites. Their seeds were edible too and so were their tangy leaves (coming to think of it, we were definitely goats then). Since we used stones to bring them down, a missed stone would mean another slew of harsh words, for which were were rarely in place.

There was also another delight, the one that I recently found here in US. Mulberries. This plant died an early death, not in our hands but that of the owner, who didn't want any more assaults on his windows by stone pelting kids.

The Fruits had three colors, out of which green found no use for us as it was grassy in taste. But the red ones were lovely tangy and black ones absolute sweet. Much to the shock of the parents we ate them unwashed. My sister always gave me red ones. That cute nasty gal. The one who incidentally got me hooked to dark chocolate, palm jaggery and red chilly sprinkled banana wafers.

Recently I found a mulberry tree in the process of full bloom or shall I say full fruit on my daily walk path. Out of nostalgia, I plucked a few of the reds and blacks. The sweet taste seemed so much watered down, just as the tang. It really did set me wondering, was that sweet taste really a memory of something so long ago, something glorified or did it really exist?