A famous person once said, “A recipe has no soul. You as the cook must bring soul to the recipe.” I am sure this person must have been a great cook because I cannot cook anything even to save my life. Being a writer, my words might have soul. Unfortunately, those do not get transferred into pans and pots. People often wonder what will I feed my husband and his family, to which I say that I will marry a chef (I know that is quite a lame response).
Ignoring the comments of my ‘loved’ ones about my culinary skills, my father loves my oval shaped semi cooked rotis. He enjoys the ‘delicious’ watery dal and the spicy ‘aloo mutter’ sabzi.’ That day too was no different. Papa was coming home after a long work-trip and I had not been able to buy something for him. I had made a card for him in my scrawly handwriting along with my crayons.
The fifteen year old me’s excitement was beyond measure. Ma was visiting the relatives. I had decided to take charge of the kitchen and cook a scrumptious meal for my father. In those times, the internet was something novel. Nobody knew about food apps just the way nobody is aware about life on mars. My aunt had dictated the recipe to me over the phone. I went to the market and got all the necessary ingredients before this ‘culinary experiment’ began.
The menu for the day was Puri Bhaji, Pulao along with curd. (I know I was too ambitious for my age). Papa was going to reach home at 9:00 pm. I began with my adventure at 7:30 in the evening. Being a novice, I had no idea how much an onion could make me cry besides homework and science. I started mincing the onion. I was certain that the rivers that poured from my eyes were deeper than the rivers of India.
To ease my cooking shenanigans, I decided to play some music. While Jennifer Lopez could not stop waiting for tonight, I could not stop dancing along to the beat. And then, catastrophe struck! Instead of salt, I put a humble serving of sugar in the bhaji. Panic spread all over me. To counter balance the sugar, I added some salt. I was missing Ma’s expertise in the kitchen. I cursed myself and stamped my foot in anger. Must say that I was jumping around better than a spring.
Luckily, my oval-shaped puris did not burn and there was something in the menu that tasted the way it should. Forget about proper shapes. That is the ‘moh-maaya’ of the culinary world.
Next up was Pulao. I thought how hard it can be. Just rice and some vegetables mixed together. Well, that impression was about to change. I glanced at the clock and it was already 8:15. My knife started moving faster than Schumacher’s car. In my hurry, ‘amchoor’ powder became the new ‘garam’ masala. Oblivious to my error, I chopped up some vegetables into clunky pieces. I had prepared something that at least looked like Pulao.
It was just a little past 9:00 and the doorbell rang. I ran to open the door and there stood Papa with his entire luggage and the biggest smile ever. I gave him the tightest hug. I had already set the table and after freshening up, it was decision time. He tore the puri and dipped into the bhaji. For a micro second, his expression changed but he continued with a smile. He loved the crunch of my pulao. Papa told me that maybe I may have missed the recipe ingredients, but love, one of the most important ingredients was rich in my food.
That evening with papa was perfect, even if the food was not. But had TinyOwl been around during those times, I think nothing would be lacking. Thank to this app, you will not have to put yourself through the misadventures of the culinary world. You will not have to jump around with a broken toe after adding the wrong ingredient. You can choose a restaurant as per your cuisine choice and also enjoy quick delivery of your meal. A tasty meal and some heartfelt conversations make a perfect evening.