tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17942640079512755322024-03-12T18:49:24.948-04:00My Life and SpiceTidbits about life, family, friends and food. Some adventurous, others mundane.my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.comBlogger214125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-51765155926380241192018-05-07T09:59:00.000-04:002019-01-03T10:18:48.221-05:00Easy Namakpare - tea time snack<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">A craving made easy, thanks to #rotimatic. Short story of my weekend experimentation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I wanted something crunchy & savory to go with my evening cuppa. Literally had to drag myself out of the chips and snacks aisle of the grocery store. But couldn’t stop wanting a munchie. Turned on the stove, put the water to boil; and then my eyes rested on my 2-month old #rotimatic.....my mind wandered to thinking if I could get it to create #namakpare to eat with my chai!</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zumygclYuB8/WvBauUAEoOI/AAAAAAAAEtI/l306VtbZsIYI4l3sWJB5zvOcLFxGQn-UQCKgBGAs/s1600/B9818B17-1E2D-41EB-B442-60BF774A785B.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Crispy vegan, Indian tea time snac" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zumygclYuB8/WvBauUAEoOI/AAAAAAAAEtI/l306VtbZsIYI4l3sWJB5zvOcLFxGQn-UQCKgBGAs/s320/B9818B17-1E2D-41EB-B442-60BF774A785B.jpeg" title="Namakpare" width="320"></a></div>
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</div></div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2018/05/easy-namakpare-tea-time-snack.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-83893028302716421602018-04-29T07:54:00.001-04:002018-05-07T10:03:17.005-04:00Matar ke chilke ki sabzi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">As you get older, you start to want to recreate the life you lived as a child. While I walk down that road, I am realizing that oftentimes, my brain zones in to some random memory, and gets fixated. No matter what emotions that memory evoked in the past, now it takes on that rosy hue that makes me want to relive it again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Somewhat recently, I read about a recipe using vegetable peels (specifically, Turai ke chilke). That key opened up doors leading into bitter gourd peel, watermelon peels and peels from pea shells that my mom frequently upcycled into a dish. I couldn’t stop myself from spinning that yarn. Dad buying peas-in-the-shell by kgs at the start of the season. Mom, dad & I sitting for hours shelling those peas, and saving the most tender shells in a pile. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Once we were done shelling, we’d come back to the shells - removing the ends, membranes & the tough fiber that ran down the spine. Tedious, hateful work - but we did it for my dad. He loved my Ma’s ‘matar ke chilke ki sabzi’. This is my rendition of memories from back the, and my mom's #recipe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Here in US, I made it using snap peas (tout mange).</span></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2018/04/matar-ke-chilke-ki-sabzi.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-47063291037376825982018-01-02T14:45:00.001-05:002018-05-07T13:50:52.214-04:00Of Buckets and Lessons- 2018 reminiscences <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Here I am, sitting on the upper deck of sun-soaked cruiser,
floating amongst the ancient ruins along the majestic Nile. As we watch yet another
sunset, I realize that we are about to close out one more year. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And step into a new one …. a full circle of
ending and beginning…. The resilience of life.</span><br>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Our year has had its moments. It’s pleasure to watch the
girls grow and come into their own. Anya had to live through a painful surgery
this summer; which, as a mother, I pray is the last hardship of her life. Baby
P, no longer the baby who fit into the crook of my arm, is still my baby
forever. Then us- A and I. We both started to see the gray in our hair and crow’s
feet around the eyes, albeit with the help of glasses. Without those damned
glasses, I bet we wouldn’t look a mite different than the winter morning we got
married on, 18 years ago!</span></div>
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</div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2018/01/of-buckets-and-lessons-2018.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-63099282441925826042017-07-19T23:33:00.000-04:002017-07-20T10:58:17.765-04:00 Sunset: is sunrise turned upside down!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Perspectives & Perceptions<br>
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A bunch of grown ups in costumes being silly. Men in frilly green tutus, flowered headbands, girls with green and pink wigs & silver tutus jumping up and down, cheering and singing nonsense. Such a cacophony. So irrelevant....so irreverent.....<br>
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Surrounded by another bunch of people. Little people. In wheelchairs. With big ugly scars. Bald heads. Pinned down by tubes, catheters and IV lines. A double stroller with twin siblings - one gurgling and bright-eyed, the other listless and whimpering. A group of adults surrounding a tiny person who looks up at me and gives me a broad grin. I turn to tell the mom how cute he is; but stop when I see her stifle a sob & a chaplain come forward to comfort her. The father's eyes tell me more than what I want to know. I spot the grandma who shared that she has to lie to her grand daughter when she steps out for lunch - because that 4yr old cannot eat anything....a crowd of self-absorbed loneliness,.....<br>
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I turn away to see a bunch of green costumed adults distribute little gift bags to their audience. Eyes light up, attempts are made to smile, speak or hug. Excitement mounts- noiseless, but palpable. Eyes mist up. <span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">Realization strikes- "slime day" to this audience is not about making the gluey fun stuff that elementary schoolers are crazy about these days. It's about the gooey green stuff that is blocking the body and snuffing out breaths of a lot of this audience.</span><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><br>
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</div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2017/07/perspectives-perceptions.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-14522164354502942192017-05-18T20:00:00.000-04:002017-05-19T14:00:39.354-04:00Curried grits- Indianizing a Southern staple!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hard to believe it’s been almost a year since I first “invented” this dish.</div>
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We were driving back from Niagara- Toronto last summer with extended family. Tired, cranky, bickering children and 7h in a closed car were enough for us adults to throw in the hatchet. Unable to find any decent places to stay a night, A resorted to calling a close friend in Connecticut. Gracious host that he was, he welcomed us with open arms despite no prior notice. We arrived late that night, and went straight to bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The next morning, I woke up to find this friend in his kitchen, reading labels off a box and frantically talking on his phone. As I walked in, he quickly bid goodbye, and grinned at me sheepishly.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“I was talking to my wife- seems like I bought the wrong stuff. She’d said she’d tell me how to make <i><span style="color: blue;">upma</span></i> for breakfast, but now you will have to eat buttered toast instead”. He stared morosely at the box in his hand.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“What’s that?, I asked. He quietly handed me a box of Quaker quick grits.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“She asked me to buy <i><span style="color: blue;">Sooji</span></i>. I went to store, and described what I wanted. The guy showed me this box, so I bought it. I am so tired of eating butter-toast”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Turned out that his wife was visiting family in India for a few weeks, when A invited himself over. And this friend forgot to mention this fact when we called. His wife didn’t want her uninvited guests to not feel welcome in her absence, so she was trying to be a long-distance hostess through her husband. And now, we had a long-distance couples’ quibble on hand!<o:p></o:p></div>
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I ended up making <i><span style="color: blue;">upma</span></i> out of grits – much to our friend's happiness, and his wife’s enormous relief when I texted her a picture of it, thanking her for her hospitality! The recipe below is a simpler adaptation. Those of you who are familiar with <i><span style="color: blue;">upma</span></i> can try your own variation. For the rest, this is my everyday <b><i><span style="color: #660000;">curried grits.</span></i></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #660000;">Curried Grits</span></h2>
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Quaker Quik Grits - 2 individual packs</div>
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Frozen peas and carrots - 1/2 cup (soaked in water to thaw)</div>
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Onion chopped - 1/2 of a small onion</div>
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Spices to taste - salt, red chilli powder and a hint of turmeric</div>
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Water - 1 cup</div>
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Oil - 1Tbsp</div>
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Cumin seeds - a small pinch</div>
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A dash of lemon and some cilantro to garnish at the end.</div>
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<li style="text-align: justify;">Heat oil in a wide pan, and splutter cumin seeds. </li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Add the onion, saute till translucent and golden.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Drain and add the frozen peas and carrots. Cover and cook for 4-5 min till they soften.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Mix in the grits. Dry roast on low flame with the vegetables for 1-2 min.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Add the spices and water. Keep stirring to avoid clumps.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Turn the heat to low, cover and cook until the water is absorbed. Stir frequently to avoid sticking to the bottom. Quik grits do not take more than 4-5 min to cook. I let them sit covered for a couple of minutes before serving.</li>
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">My two cents:</span></i></b> I had never heard of grits before, forget about eating them. When I opened the box, the powder sure looked like our <i><span style="color: blue;">sooji</span></i>, which would explain why the store lady guided our friend to it. Turns out, that <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grits" target="_blank">grits is a coarse meal made out of corn</a>. Call it corn-<i><span style="color: blue;">rava</span></i>, if you want. Takes up the flavors just like our regular <span style="color: blue; font-style: italic;">rava upma </span>and tastes great! </div>
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Highly recommend it for a quick, healthy, filling and gluten-free breakfast fix!</div>
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my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-62228169023730875642017-02-23T20:59:00.000-05:002017-02-23T21:13:19.619-05:00A taste of home: 2-ingredient Kalakand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One of the things I didn’t see made at home was sweets.
Growing up in India, it was easy to step out to a<i><span style="color: blue;"> halwai ki dukan</span></i> (sweetmeat
shop) and choose whatever caught your fancy. My mom usually made a couple of
basics like <i><span style="color: blue;">halwa</span></i> and <i><span style="color: blue;">kheer </span></i>in her kitchen to mark a holiday, but we bought the
rest. As with everything else, it’s easier to shift the responsibility of not
being able to make desserts to my life as a child in India <span style="font-family: "wingdings";">J</span>.</div>
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It was hard to live without Indian sweets after moving to
USA. Throughout my first pregnancy, I craved for<i><span style="color: blue;">
boondi-ka-laddu</span></i> and <i><span style="color: blue;">kaju-ki-katli</span></i>.…..Things weren’t the same
15yrs ago – we had one small grocery store that sold Indian staples, and the
variety of frozen food that you see today was non-existent. Even if you did
drive 1-2h to the big grocery stores, things didn’t exactly taste like they
should have. Over years, the sweet taste buds kind of dampened, and I started forgetting things that I’d liked in India. And then, as my daughters
grew older and got to eat sweets that our friends brought back from
their trips to India, my forgotten love re-ignited. We started to ask visiting friends
and family to carry boxes of Indian sweets; just so the girls could enjoy
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Very recently have I started learning how to make a few of the common sweets at home. To many of you, these would appear trivial; for me anything that the girls decide to like, is a triumph!</div>
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</div></div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2017/02/a-taste-of-home-2-ingredient-kalakand.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-62445102076617778072017-02-20T14:42:00.000-05:002017-02-23T21:00:17.983-05:00When my Soup became Dinner!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><u>Scenario one:</u></i><o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Is that lentil soup</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>No- it’s sambha</i>r ”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>What’s it made of</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>Lentils, tomato, onions, water, spices…..</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>So…it <b>IS</b> lentil soup</i>”!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i><u>Scenario two</u></i>:<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>What do you do to get everyday protein if you don’t eat
eggs or meat</i>”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>All our meals have a bean or lentil dish. That’s protein</i>”.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>What kind of lentil dish</i>?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>I cook lentils with water, saute onion, tomato spices etc,
add to lentils…</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>So you make soup</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>No….it’s a <span style="color: #cc0000;">dal</span>. To eat with rice or bread</i>”<o:p></o:p></div>
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“<i>But it <b>IS</b> a soup</i>”!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Over time, I figured it was easier to to consider my <i><span style="color: #cc0000;">dal</span></i> as “<i>lentil soup</i>”when eating lunch with
colleagues in US. But, somewhere, at the back of my mind, a soup was a
starter- served at the beginning of a meal. The mere mention of soup takes me
back to my mom’s soups- restricted to
tomato soup; carrot & tomato soup or spinach-carrot-tomato soup; all spiced
with ginger, cumin and salt. She cooked her vegetables, pureed them and then
strained them before serving. We’d all get a small bowl of it about 30min
before dinner during winter. They were all clear liquids, meant to enhance appetite.Soup as main course; or a full mean was an alien concept.</div>
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</div></div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2017/02/when-my-soup-became-dinner.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-59495780999492226872017-01-26T17:47:00.000-05:002017-02-23T21:00:32.135-05:00My Happiness Project<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It took me a while to comprehend, and a lot longer to put in
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It seems like it’s
been a lifetime that I have done anything that “<i>I</i>” liked. I cook food that the kids would eat without a
fuss and we go to restaurants that they like. Most times, I sit in front of the
TV, and watch whatever the family’s watching. More often than not, I just walk
away with my book and hide until they are done with TV. We go on vacations that
A thinks of….which isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy them. But it isn’t quite the
same as doing “<i>what I like</i>”. After all,
I am a firm believer in the saying, “<b><i>Do what you love or Love what you do</i></b>”. I
think I don’t mind taking the back seat. So I don't know what bothered me when I couldn’t think of an answer.to that simple, direct
question; </div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Early on in our marriage, I remember dragging A to a PhilHarmonic
concert. Around the same time, he took me to a Zakir Hussain concert. The experiences were ….interesting, to say the least. He yawned the whole time, and
slouched, sighed and annoyed the heck out of me. I tried going to the movies
with him – a few of those popular Bollywood ones – he laughed till he cried and
fell off his chair, clapped his hands and had an insanely entertaining time. I sat
and fidgeted and wondered why I had to endure that 3h torture when I could have
done something more productive (like reading a book!) Over time, we both gave up;
never having found a middle ground for our likes. <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2017/01/my-happiness-project.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-19115522211535438712017-01-20T16:48:00.002-05:002017-01-22T08:10:12.464-05:00Meetha kha, Meetha Bol. Til ki Patti<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“How many harvest festivals do Indians celebrate?” was the
smart-aleck Anya question this past weekend.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Reason- I had made <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">Til ki Patti</span></i></b> (<i>Sesame seed Brittle</i>) at
home; and was forcing her to try a bite under the pretext that it was a special
dessert made for Harvest celebration as marked by <i><span style="color: blue;"><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-year-and-new-round-of-celebrations.html" target="_blank">Makar Sankranti</a></span></i>. <o:p></o:p></div>
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My first reaction was annoyance. Her tone really had that
early-teen disdain for everything “<i>parent</i>”. One deep breath later, I figured
that if she asked that question; she probably remembers the other Harvest
Holidays and stories that I have told her and Baby P. This is good, in fact-
better than good. After all, isn’t the goal to make them aware of our special
traditions and celebrations?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
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<br></div>
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So I ventured into my convoluted, Wikipedia-verified version(s)
of why we celebrate<i><span style="color: blue;"> Sankranti</span></i>. Anya
rolled her eyes and went back to doing whatever she was doing, but remained close
and kept her earphones out of her ears. A big enough achievement, under the
circumstances. Baby P hung on to every word, asked tons of questions and
chattered on while I tried to google apt responses for her. Somehow, she made
me wish that I could hold on to her years a little longer….having a teenager on
hand is surely a trial!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br>
</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2017/01/meetha-kha-meetha-bol-til-ki-patti.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-24705186768972721002016-12-11T19:08:00.000-05:002016-12-11T19:08:47.551-05:00Slow cooker Applesauce<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I get these requests infrequently enough to not pay much attention. And when the whining becomes insistent, it's easier to buy a tub or two of snack-sized <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">applesauce</span></i></b> to curb cravings. And yet, it is one of the easiest things to put together, especially in a slow cooker. Today, after a week of procrastinating, I finally decided to listen to baby P's cravings for <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">applesauce</span></i></b>. Not only that, I also decided that instead of buying; I will make it for her at home. Finally, more than anything else, I decided to kick off the 6-month long inertia, and write again....</div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LHtp59qYrjE/WE3nCExL7XI/AAAAAAAAEn0/NLktri5uDDcgUfW-VutPWEe7U7bcDbsNwCLcB/s1600/IMG_3055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LHtp59qYrjE/WE3nCExL7XI/AAAAAAAAEn0/NLktri5uDDcgUfW-VutPWEe7U7bcDbsNwCLcB/s400/IMG_3055.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">Slow cooker Appl<span style="color: #990000;">esauce</span></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
6 medium-sized apples: I used Mackintosh<br />
1/3 cup of orange juice (optional)<br />
1Tbsp lemon juice<br />
1 clove<br />
A dash of cinnamon.<br />
3Tbsp brown sugar<br />
<br />
<br />
<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li>Peel, core and cut the apples into 1 inch cubes.</li>
<li>combine everything in a slow cooker. Cook on High for 4h, stirring once or twice in between.</li>
<li>Cool and blend to a smooth puree. </li>
</ol>
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;">My two cents</span></i></b>: That's it. You have a cup of a applesauce for school. Adding sugar was a last minute decision- for some reason, I felt that my apples were a bit tart. You could definitely adjust that to taste. Similarly, after cooking, the apples were soft enough to be mashed with the back of a spoon, if you don't mind a bit of chunkiness.</div>
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And the best thing- the smell of cinnamon and apples creates a lovely, warmth to come home to after being out in the cold all day</div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></span></i></b>
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my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-69194800036379682622016-04-26T17:56:00.000-04:002016-05-01T17:23:04.529-04:00Crispy Chiwda - Teatime snack<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One of those things where familiarity breeds contempt. </div>
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Crisp, sweet and savory <i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>Chiwda</b></span> </i>was a staple growing up.In the days when not much packaged products were available or used, my mom would make large amounts of this snack to munch on. Especially during the summer vacation, whether it was as I watched TV, or read, or because my dolls needed a snack on a lazy summer afternoon while mom took a nap!</div>
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In the past few years, I have started making it more frequently as well. And slowly, my daughters have begun to like it. They still aren't as crazy about the <i><b><span style="color: #cc0000;">Chiwda</span></b></i> snack as I was at their age....but then, they have so many more options to choose from. Anya likes it more than Baby P; and just like me, she sneaks up a bowl to munch on while watching TV or reading.I usually make a small portion of it every other week on a weekend...and think nothing about it at all.</div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2016/04/crispy-chiwda-teatime-snack.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-27948864690329171842015-12-31T17:32:00.000-05:002015-12-31T17:32:00.748-05:00Tidings of 2015: and a Salute to 2016<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #990000; font-size: x-small;">Tampa, Florida, Dec 30th, 2015.</span></i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;"><i><b><span style="color: #990000;">“You don’t need to be the tide to rise and fall, </span></b></i></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;">
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;">you don’t have to be a wave to touch the shore; </span></span></b></i></div>
<i><b><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><b><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;">just be a little sand-grain and feel them all” </span></span></b></i></div>
</div>
<i><b><span style="color: #990000;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px;">― </span><a class="authorOrTitle" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6552863.Munia_Khan" style="background-color: white; font-family: Lato, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 21px; text-decoration: none;">Munia Khan</a></span></b></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;">2015 was a giant tidal wave that left me breathless. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I ushered it in with promises of a new career - one that would offer me the flexibility that I needed while taking me a step closer to the path that I had always wanted to carve out for myself. The experience was still very new when I was challenged to confront the ghosts of the years past. Fears and my insecurities mocked at me, gave me no choice but to look them in the eye, surrender and embrace.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I had been looking forward to new professional path; just as fervently as I had been avoiding facing my own sorrow and despair. Grappling with both, within the first half of the year, caught me completely off-guard and exposed my deep-rooted, carefully-hidden vulnerabilities to myself again. The first change was the one I consciously made, and was excited about; the second- even though I made the decision of my own will, was enormously heart-wrenching. But with both, I learnt that accepting the change as inevitable is the most difficult concept of all. Emotions and fear of the unexpected is just a way to come to terms with; and to cope with the change - of any kind. </span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0bqoI0jDh84/VoV1mNu5dpI/AAAAAAAAEho/fhLUFvHUBfs/s1600/IMG_0745.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0bqoI0jDh84/VoV1mNu5dpI/AAAAAAAAEho/fhLUFvHUBfs/s320/IMG_0745.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">Krabi, Thailand, June 29th 2015.</span></i></b></td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The second half of the year threw more transitions my way. Not as emotionally exhausting; but equally inordinate. Looking back at 2015, I have learnt that however unforeseen or painful; life-lessons are meant to take us places we would never dare to go and transform us into people we were meant to be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">2016; will be.......2016. An invigorating step forward in the path of life that is yet to come. As the sun sets on 2015 tonight, I promise to reflect on the years gone by; and ones yet to come; to again remind myself to face my fears, surrender and go with the flow of the inevitable, to be that grain of sand that soaks it all in and emerges stronger than the biggest tsunami.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;">For you, I will wish for </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><i>Hope & Happiness</i></b><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;">; </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><i>Goals & Successes</i></b><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;">; </span><b style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><i>Love & Laughter</i></b><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;">.</span><br />
<h3 style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I wish you a</span> <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR 2016</span></i></b>.</h3>
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<a href="http://www.mylivesignature.com/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://signatures.mylivesignature.com/54489/103/BC65843D0DDB37E056728335D68C9A0C.png" style="background: transparent; border: 0 !important;" /></a><br />
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my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-87274690620753310002015-08-09T06:30:00.000-04:002015-08-09T12:14:31.368-04:00Daily Dinner (21): Weekend Indulgence - Paalak ki Poorie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Once in a while, I give in to indulgence- in the name of children, award to self for good behavior, or just because….</div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
Weekends are especially tempting. I find it harder to stick to a diet and exercise regimen when I am at home all day. Goodies beckon, and everyday lunch salads are the furthest from my mind. It is a good thing that the kids love <b style="color: #990000; font-style: italic;">poories </b>- the fried Indian bread. To break the guilt, I do keep a little green (as in salad) on the side. Plus, I try to sneak in veggies in the <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">poorie</span></i></b> itself for the kids.</div>
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Every mom I know of has her own way of making this universal kids’ favorite. But here’s how I make my <b><i><span style="color: #990000;">Paalak ki Poorie</span></i></b> for an indulgent weekend meal.</div>
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</div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/08/daily-dinner-21-weekend-indulgence.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-40641700180578031172015-07-26T21:29:00.000-04:002015-07-27T01:29:04.943-04:00Ghee - A guide to slow cooker version.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 23px;"><b><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ghee</span></i></b> is the name for anhydrous butter fat,</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #505050; line-height: 23px;"> an ingredient originating and deeply revered in India</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;">. </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: #333333;">Ayurveda, the ancient medical science of India, recognizes </span><i><span style="color: #990000;">ghee</span></i><span style="color: #333333;"> as an essential part of a balanced diet, and </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; line-height: 20px;">celebrates it as a symbol of auspiciousness, nourishment and healing.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: #333333;"> </span><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ghee</span></i><span style="color: #333333;"> is the very essence of butter; the end result of a long, slow, careful clarification process that removes all the moisture, milk solids and impurities. </span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="line-height: 23px;">The butter is melted and the simmered long enough to boil off all the water, during which time it separates into layers and the fat takes on a buttery taste. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 23px;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Ghee</span></i> is the layer of clear butter fat. The slow cooking needs to be precise, or else the fat layer burns and darkens easily.</span></span><br>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;"><br></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 23px;">One of the oldest memories I have is of my grandmother making <i><span style="color: #990000;">ghee</span></i>; and of me relishing every ingredient in the process. Naani began by starting to collect <i><span style="color: blue;">malai</span></i> (milk fat) - she would buy cow’s milk for days, and simmer boil it for hours on end in a bronze pot. After the milk cooled down, she skimmed off the thick layer of fat that formed on the top of the milk. She was always gracious enough to ladle out large spoonfuls of this <i><span style="color: blue;">malai</span></i> into our outstretched bowls. We’d layer our <i><span style="color: blue;">parathas</span></i> with sugared <i><span style="color: blue;">malai</span></i> for lunch, instead of the boring <i><span style="color: blue;">sabzi</span></i>.</span></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/07/ghee-guide-to-slow-cooker-version.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-27205398971451033512015-06-09T19:36:00.000-04:002015-06-10T12:31:22.693-04:00Warm Comforts - Savory Oats Upma <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">About a year ago, while I was still working at the University, a new student joined our group. After a long time, Having a fellow-Indian to talk to at work place meant that lunch-time conversations often meandered towards reminiscing about food in India. A month or so later, her husband went to visit his parents in Southern India, and when he returned, she came bearing some gifts for me. One of which were packets of the very popular, "<b>Maggi</b>" brand instant oats breakfast. Apparently, that product had recently been launched in India, and she really liked the convenience of it for breakfast. You essentially had to pour out the ingredients into a bowl, put in some water, zap it for a couple of minutes in the microwave and you had a warm bowl of Indian breakfast.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"<i>I never eat Maggi</i>"; I informed her, referring to the widely popular instant noodles available in India. "<i>I hate the smell of it</i>."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"<i>This one isn't the same</i>", she said. "<i>This is made of oats and tastes like <span style="color: blue;">Upma</span>. You do like <span style="color: blue;">Upma</span>, don't you</i>?" </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">That is how I ended up with 3 packs of this <i><b>Maggi Oats Upma</b></i> product. </span><br>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The packs languished in my pantry for a few months. Then one night, I found myself alone, hungry and craving something warm without having to go through the pain of cooking or cleaning after. Rummaging through, I found these packs again. <span style="text-align: left;">With no other alternative in sight, I decided to go for it. 5 minutes later, with a warm bowl in hand and a Hallmark movie on demand for company; I decided that I actually liked what I was eating. It was a tad too spicy for my taste, and still had that artificial flavor after-taste; but it was comforting and hearty.</span></span></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/06/warm-comforts-savory-oats-upma.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-35140184717516748952015-05-27T20:20:00.000-04:002015-05-29T14:56:45.481-04:00Get Grilling - without the grill!!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One of the coolest things about this new work place I'm at is the awesome cafe. Not only does it promote healthy eating, but the food is delicious too. And the very first thing I noticed was the well-stocked salad bar area. Ever since I started with a <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/03/going-green-simple-lunch-salad.html" target="_blank">salad-at-lunch</a> routine, keeping a meatless salad interesting, and satisfying, has become quite a challenge. So I took to peeking in the cafe's salad bar to glean off some ideas outside of what I do to my <b><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/03/going-green-simple-lunch-salad.html" target="_blank">salad</a>.</b></div>
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One of the very first things I noticed was a bunch of grilled vegetables. <i>Duh! Why didn't I think of it</i>.</div>
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"<i>Because you don't have a grill pan, and it's not grilling season yet</i>", pat came the reply from the devil within. <i>Of course</i>!!</div>
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Around a month ago, when the weather finally started turning spring-like, I asked A if he would get the grill cleaned and ready (<i>we have a small, outdoor gas grill that I have no idea how to use....</i>). He nodded, ....and that was the end of it.....</div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/05/get-grilling-without-grill.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-62868717452066947802015-05-10T12:07:00.002-04:002015-05-10T12:21:29.051-04:00Happy Mother’s Day - and my 200th post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm7OTZnDb5U/Td5xOyeYMRI/AAAAAAAAAqc/CfvjSh5XFQg/s1600/dear_diary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm7OTZnDb5U/Td5xOyeYMRI/AAAAAAAAAqc/CfvjSh5XFQg/s200/dear_diary.jpg" width="200"></a></div>
I recently heard on radio that salary.com has come up with logistics to calculate work hours of “<i>mom</i>” job; and according to them, a stay-at-home mom deserves a salary of 130,000$ per year. <span style="text-align: left;">Of the jobs assigned to a mom, a few include being a driver, cook, facilities manager, teacher and computer operator. </span>In case you are wondering, that figure is estimated at the rate of “<i>per child</i>”! Which to me, seems all fair. Of course A isn’t home for me to throw the hatchet at, but when he returns, he better find a way to pay me back for for the past 12+years - with interest, no less :-) What made my day even better was reading that a dad’s median salary is estimated at at just about $40K a year, assuming he does some amount of cooking, cleaning and laundry! Which of course the dad in my home does not- so he gets nothing!!!</div>
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A mom is on the mom-job 365 days a year, without a break. Yet, there’s only one day a year set aside for us to show her we care. I am hearing a lot from friends and family about how acknowledging mom on Mother’s Day is irrelevant and that we should show our appreciation every day. My take on that- <i>please don’t ruin it for us. We know how you mean the love for us all year- I will take you SHOWING it to me once a year very gladly</i>. It is the little gestures that count; big thoughts don’t always travel through unsaid jumble of trivia every day. </div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/05/happy-mothers-day-and-my-200th-post.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-63664570826052198482015-04-16T18:58:00.000-04:002015-04-22T17:55:05.622-04:00Chawal ka Paratha- Reliving Childhood.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="text-align: justify;">I have been told that kids should learn to eat everything.
And that offering them with a choice is spoiling them for life. But believe me,
if catering to foodie likes and dislikes is spoiling, then I was a thoroughly spoilt brat as a kid! And I
changed when I grew up (</span><i style="text-align: justify;">not all, but quite a bit!</i><span style="text-align: justify;">)….</span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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For many of my growing up years, I refused to eat <i><span style="color: blue;">roti</span></i>.
Eaten the traditional way, it got my hands dirty, food got under my
fingernails, and I complained about smelly food fingers after lunch at school.
I’d only eat whatever I could with a spoon. That pretty much made rice or sandwiches the only option for
school. I wasn’t ready to even consider anything else. Then one day, my mom packed
my school lunch with stuffed <i><span style="color: blue;">parathas</span></i>, filled with rice – with the reasoning that she was still giving me rice - and I got a new food
to love for life! <o:p></o:p></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/04/chawal-ka-paratha-reliving-childhood.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-8596999875000968132015-03-25T20:52:00.000-04:002015-03-25T21:46:49.041-04:00Taking Navratris West- with Sphagetti Squash<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have compiled a few of my go-to Navratri recipes from 2013 <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2013/10/10-recipes-for-navratri-repost.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a> and from 2012 <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2012/10/fasting-for-navratris.html" target="_blank"><b>here</b></a>.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">But
me being me, what do I do when the stomach’s growling with hunger, and I want
something “<i>good</i>” to eat while
fasting? Sometimes, “<i>good</i>” for me is
just another way of saying “<i>out of the mundane
routine</i>”. Off and on, I try recipes and sometimes tweak it a bit to make it
adhere to rules of my fasting. This year has been especially trying since we
couldn’t get to do Indian grocery before the fasting week began. And so I got
stuck with improvising. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">I
did have a little bit of </span><i><span style="color: #558ed5; line-height: 115%;">Sama ke chawal</span></i><span style="color: #558ed5; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">and </span><i><span style="color: #558ed5; line-height: 115%;">singhora</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> flour. Not enough to tide me through the week
though. So I have been living on whatever I can conjure up with groceries I can
buy from local stores. One day each of </span><i><span style="color: #558ed5; line-height: 115%;">aloo ki sabzi</span></i><span style="color: #558ed5; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="line-height: 115%;">and </span><i><span style="color: #558ed5; line-height: 115%;">zucchini</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> had me wanting something “<i>good”</i>. The third day to satisfy my wandering mind and growling
stomach; my dinner was a clear spinach-tomato soup and this wannabe salad with </span><i><span style="color: #c00000; line-height: 115%;">Spaghetti squash</span></i><span style="line-height: 115%;"> – a fun vegetable that looks like spaghetti after it’s been
cooked.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br>
</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/03/taking-navratris-west-with-sphagetti.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-86242337567753982902015-03-22T06:30:00.000-04:002015-03-22T09:51:50.185-04:00Going green- Simple lunch salad.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It takes very little for one to realize that they have let themselves go. What one does with that realization, is another matter. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Here is my 6-month journey against extra baggage accumulated unknowingly. My moment of realization was pictures of our summer trip to Disneyland posted by extended family on Facebook. I </span>couldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> believe what I saw of myself in those pictures. I have always had body image issues; but this photo was beyond my wildest dreams. My clothes appeared to be stretched thin. My mommy-waist had definitely grown some new, and pronounced, bulging additions. Earlier that month, at my doctor’s, the scales had tipped at 12 lbs. higher than my normal weight- but I had chosen to dismiss that. The doctor had advised me to get “<i>more active</i>”; but I had convinced myself that “<i>I had no time</i>”. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I went to Facebook and looked at that photograph every day for at least a week before making my mid-year resolution …. I started small- the goal was to lose </span>5 lbs<span style="font-family: inherit;"> before the end of the year 2014 (</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">this was sometime in August</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">). The means were ambitious- I was going to diet (</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">no big deal for me…</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">) AND Exercise (</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">way huge of a commitment…..</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">). The reason was not just vanity – agreed that I wanted to look better, but I also wanted to feel healthier. My kids are growing up, and are fairly independent. So " </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">I have no time</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">" didn't quite cut it. Why should I not be able to steal away an hour a day for myself? I told myself (</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">repeatedly, I must add</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">) that I deserve that hour, that I </span>wasn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> taking away my “</span><i style="font-family: inherit;">quality-child-time</i><span style="font-family: inherit;">” by doing this and that the world </span>wouldn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> stop if I </span>didn't<span style="font-family: inherit;"> finish all the chores on my to-do-list. </span></span></div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/03/going-green-simple-lunch-salad.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-29743743983666493742015-03-04T18:09:00.001-05:002015-03-04T19:08:29.481-05:00Gujhiya- Taditional Holi Recipe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Wishing you all a bountiful spring- <i><b><span style="color: blue;">Happy Holi</span></b></i>!!!<br>
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If <i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue;">Holi</span></i> is here, can spring be far behind? </div>
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Traditionally marking the beginning of Spring in India, <i><span style="color: blue;">Holi</span></i> used to be quite an affair in Delhi. After hours of running around with water pistols, colors and water-balloons, we would return home exhausted and ready to curl into sleep. Except that our mom had a different idea... she, for the first time since winter set in, would make us take cold water baths. All my childhood years, I remember being bathed in ice-cold water with our teeth chattering while my mom scrubbed away the colors of <i><span style="color: blue;">Holi</span></i> from inside our ears and hair. It seemed like hours before she considered us clean enough to step in anywhere inside the house. And all through the ordeal, she kept repeating that since it was spring time, we had to start bathing in cold water….</div>
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After a tiring day and her ruthless cold-water scrubbing, lunch this day was usually something good - hot and deep fried. Mostly <i><span style="color: blue;">pakoras</span></i>, the sweet saffron rice called <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2012/03/yay-uh-ohoh-well-holi-hai.html" target="_blank">Zarda</a>, and a cup of warm milk to beat the cold- followed by a short nap. Late in the afternoon, my dad's friends gathered in our house for a "<span style="color: blue;"><i>mushaira</i></span>". Not quite sure what went on there, but they laughed loud and made plenty of ruckus. All the "<i>aunties</i>" would pack their kids and their knitting, and meet up in the neighborhood park themselves for some "girl time". Before my mom left for the park, she and I would ply the <i>uncles</i> with goodies to sustain them for a few hours - pots of <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2011/05/beat-heat-with-spicy-hot-kaanji.html" target="_blank">Kanji</a> and <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2013/03/holi-greetings-and-some-chit-chat.html" target="_blank">Thandai</a>, <i><span style="color: blue;">Mathi</span></i>, <b><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i>Gujhiya</i></span></b> and <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2011/08/two-year-birthday-rakshabandhanand.html" target="_blank">besan ladoo</a> - all from my mom's kitchen. By the time we came home, the uncles usually had eaten them all!!</div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/03/gujhiya-taditional-holi-recipe.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-29263858290341353632015-03-01T11:37:00.000-05:002015-03-01T18:26:29.648-05:00Vegetable patties- Anytime Snack.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Another one of those forgotten foods from our times in India.</div>
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Patties were a staple in all Delhi University South Campus college canteens. Our post-lunch, mid afternoon <i><span style="color: blue;">chai</span></i> time would not be complete without a few orders of these delicious, mouthwatering accompaniment. Between the ten of us classmates, a few plates of patties vanished before they appeared on the table.</div>
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Living here, I didn't see them for a very long time. And with time, memories dimmed. Then, on one of my visits to a friend in New York (the one who taught me the <a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2010/11/tasty-teaser-badam-ka-halwa.html" target="_blank">badam halwa</a>), I had a chance to taste them again. My friend's neighbor had made them, and I remember being so awed at her ability to be able to recreate that magic. Another few years later, at a picnic potluck, another friend offered to bring <b><span style="color: #990000;">patties</span></b>.</div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/03/vegetable-patties-anytime-snack.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-60735646028841210652015-02-19T20:36:00.000-05:002015-02-20T07:23:13.498-05:00Gobhi ka Paratha- Cozy Comfort of a Cold Morning.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The humble cauliflower; and the mighty peas –possibly, two
of my dad’s favorite things. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Sometime in November, the <i><span style="color: blue;">sabzi-wala bhaiya</span></i> would come all
excited and call out for my dad, announcing that he had procured the first
cauliflower and peas of the season. My dad would hurry on downstairs. Then, they
would engage in at least a half-hour haggle on prices; the <i><span style="color: blue;">bhaiya</span></i>, unrelentingly
adamant that his prices were reasonable, and my dad, equally strong-willed
about making a good bargain. Finally, they always came to an agreement on
“wholesale prices”, and my dad came back laden with 5kgs of fresh peas and 5kgs
of cauliflower. The next half hour- my mom hemming and hawing about shelling
all those peas and my dad trying to calm her down by saying that he’d help-
which of course was the biggest lie ever!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then I remember those afternoons when I came home from
school to find my mom sitting on the balcony in the winter sun, elbow-deep in
shelling peas. She not only seperated the sweet pea seeds, but also skinned the
tender shells of new peas to make another one of my dad’s favorite – “<i><span style="color: blue;">matar ke
chilke ki sabzi</span></i>” (<i>more on that, later some day….</i>). Sometimes, I helped her. More often than not, the peas went
straight in my mouth!<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div></div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/02/gobhi-ka-paratha-cozy-comfort-of-cold.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-91748474739776279162015-01-08T15:11:00.000-05:002015-01-08T16:12:23.675-05:00Turning a Page; and a Year. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“Hope</span></span></i><br>
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Smiles from the threshold of the year to come, </span></span></i><i><span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">Whispering 'it will be happier'…”</span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span></span></i></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: #cc0000;">---Alfred Tennyson--</span></i><br>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm7OTZnDb5U/Td5xOyeYMRI/AAAAAAAAAqc/CfvjSh5XFQg/s1600/dear_diary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mm7OTZnDb5U/Td5xOyeYMRI/AAAAAAAAAqc/CfvjSh5XFQg/s1600/dear_diary.jpg" height="165" width="200"></a></div>
Sometimes, there are years that you can’t wait to be done with. Other times, the year flies by in a blink. Thinking back a year might make you laugh out loud, smile with love or cry your heart out. The year changes, we turn a page in the calendar and hope for things to change. In recent years, through this space, I have started taking a peek back at the year past; and re-living moments that weren’t significant enough to be etched in memory forever, but momentous enough to deserve a mention. Well over a week into the year 2015, I want to recount to you some of the tiny, unforgettable moments that made up my 2014. </div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2015/01/turning-page-and-year.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1794264007951275532.post-82693041521803758742014-12-21T18:50:00.000-05:002014-12-22T10:46:01.907-05:00Punjabi Soya Chunk Sabzi with Peas and Potatoes.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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My dad's family migrated to big city Delhi when he was 7 years old. While his parents, my grandparents, got busy adapting to fast-paced lifestyle and establishing the new business, my dad was practically adopted by this very affluent Sikh family next door. In the very Punjabi neighborhood of Filmistan, this family provided my dad with an emotional support and encouragement that helped him stay grounded in his youth after his mom passed. He grew up calling them <i>Mummyji</i> and <i>Daddyji</i>, learnt to read and speak Punjabi fluently, went to <i>Rakab Ganj Sahib</i> with them every week and even started eating eggs and chicken with their family- behind his own parents back, of course.</div>
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By the time my brother and I came along, <i><span style="color: blue;">daadaji</span></i> and <i style="color: blue;">daadiji’s </i>home was always this immaculate, white fenced <i><span style="color: blue;">kothi</span></i> in Filmistan full of huge, turbaned men and one little <i><span style="color: blue;">beeji</span></i> in elegant white. They were loud and boisterous, gave us hugs tight enough to break our bones and fed us like we had been starving forever. When we were little, the differences between this family that we knew of as our <i><span style="color: blue;">daadaji</span></i> and <i><span style="color: blue;">daadji</span></i> and the rest of our uncles and aunts were very confusing. As we grew up, the story of how this family had helped my dad by pitching in after my grandmother died and my grandfather took time healing from the loss became deeply a ingrained family lore. My dad’s love and gratitude was very obvious when he talked of them as his ‘<i>parents</i>’. </div>
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</div></div><a href="http://mylifeandspice.blogspot.com/2014/12/punjabi-soya-chunk-sabzi-with-peas-and.html#more">Read more »</a>my life and spicehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09230699457066884027noreply@blogger.com0