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?

A day in hindi daily soap

My friend was taking a day off because of my BIL. That friend was Netflix. I watch not only comedies and romantic movies (most of the times plain yuk) but also forensic files (one of the favorites on the free channel in US. HLN), quite a few documentaries and a few south Korean and Chinese soaps. One that made me fall in love with is "romance is a bonus book". Leaving aside the romance part, I loved the way the lead who is a stay at home mom who becomes a divorced in search of a job her type and ends up faking her resume with lesser qualifications only to get a job. it consisted of 16 one hour episodes and not a moment of boredom. The villain in the story being her own fate and inability. the environment is usual office (its a publishing house) and peppered with a few individual lives and romances. You end up liking the whole soap as a package . No OTT romance between two main leads who have incidentally been best friends since school years, she being good six years elder to him. Infact an office colleague who loves him, never turns into a vamp once she gets to know the lead pair romance but turns a complete relatable character when she says she cant hate either of them since they both are so good. Even the so called villain (a director of the publishing company where the leads work) is logical and shows her softer sides when she mouths a congrats to the heroine when she returns to work. Definitely a third watch for me.


On the contrary I tried to follow a hindi soap on sony tv through a reinstalled sling tv. Its called "Patiala babes" where a girl becomes a motivator and mentor to her submissive divorcee mother. The mother eventually becomes more independent or in the process of becoming one. But predictably there are complete black characters in form of her ex husband and a con who cheated her numerous times before. Predictably her (bankrupt) husband and the con come together to ruin her catering business etc. I smacked her forehead. saying a resigned "hey raam". Needless to say, I chose Netflix again, the Roku remote safe away from pilla's hands , to be used for its originally intended purpose by my better (?) half's next world cup cricket match.