Saucy!

I'm a saucy person.

Indeed I am.

Seriously – I love my sauces.

I'm the kind of person, who, when asked at a restaurant, "what sauces would you like?" says "everything!" quite shamelessly. It's not only because I'm greedy (though that does, I concede, have rather a large part to play in all of this), but because I don't know which sauce will go best with the food on my plate until I try it all. See? 

(I think I might have just given you unfettered access into the warped mind of a greedy foodie......weird huh?)

I also "collect" sauces. 

There's a large tray in my kitchen – you know the flat object that most normal people use to carry teapots and things from one place to another? Well, mine doesn’t move. Mine has made itself a nice, cosy little home in the nook right next to my hob, and it sits there, adorned with a rather stunning assortment of sauces. There's vinegars and mustards and pickles and chutneys and sauces of all shapes and sizes. And really, these have been "collected," lovingly and patiently over the years from here and there. Many have made it to the "repeat category" which means of course that I need replenishment when a bottle gets over. Which, in turn, means that I absolutely have to go back and find that one stall amidst the maze of stalls, on that one street, amidst the maze of streets in York City Centre (or wherever) where I first got my hands on the original. And believe me, I do it too, like a crazed woman on a mission.

Sometimes it’s not possible to go back to these places just to buy a bottle of sauce. I mean, if it were all up to me, everything would be possible. But sometimes, Sid just says no. Like that one time when we bought a bottle of coriander-groundnut paste in the Congo? I really wanted to go back for more, but Sid would have none of it. Sigh.

Which is when, I use all my charm and charisma to get friends and family to bring me sauces from various far-flung corners of the world. 

And when that fails, I lose all self-respect and just beg.

So frankly speaking, if you ever want to give me a gift I will truly appreciate, it really must be a sauce. I mean, feel free to give me anything, I won’t say no – but if is connected, even in the most tenuous manner, to the sauce-family, you’ve scored yourself some major brownie points cause that stuff just makes my heart sing a little song. 

For instance, lookie here: My parents are in the States right now, attending my little sister's graduation. I’m gutted I can't go, but I can’t because the Home Office has my passport (CTM, Mate etc.) But anyway, they keep asking what they should get me (my parents that is, not the lovely folk at the Home Office), and I keep saying – nothing, absolutely nothing, because my London-sized flat is bursting at the seams. BUT...I say, you HAVE to bring me Bo Ky. In fact, you’re not allowed to cross my threshold, have a sip of water or a nibble of stale bread or get so much as a glimpse of your only grandson if you turn up without the Bo Ky.

Blackmail always works wonders.

Right, so now of course you need to know what Bo Ky is. See, they know what Bo Ky is, having had over 34 years of practice in understanding my funny little ways, but for you all who don't - let me tell you what you are missing!

The New Bo KY restaurant on Bayard Street in New York is a little neon-drenched cubbyhole that was introduced to me by my ‘damn-should've-been-born Chinese/Vietnamese/Korean/Taiwanese’ friends, Horace and Jyo. So, ever since I’ve known Horace and Jyo (which is a long, long time) they’ve always been a bit obsessed by Asia and all things Asian – I’m talking food, travel, furniture, art, artefacts, Mandarin Chinese, The Buddha, feng shui...

But this love for all things Eastern, combined with the fact that they’ve always had impeccable taste, means that when they introduced me to the New Bo Ky, I was more than a little excited. (Oh by the way, they now live, quite unsurprisingly, in Hong Kong…)

And goodness, this is the essence of why life without friends must be one long painful little crick in the neck. No wonder all the friendless people one reads about are always so miserable. Because friends do all these brilliant little things for each other. And one of the most brilliant things any friend has ever done for me, has been to introduce me to the New Bo Ky. So thank you Horace and Jyo, with all my Heart and S(e)oul….

Oh and in case you’re curious, I haven’t the faintest why the good people who own the establishment chose to prefix the place with a “New.” Because I have roamed the streets of Chinatown like a lost Kangaroo, and if there ever was an Old Bo Ky, I haven't found it

In all probability, they are both really the same place. Just under new management. Which must have, I’m certain, done some very good things in its new capacity. Such as replacing the old formica tables with new ones. And covering up some stains on the wall with pictures of very realistic looking dragons. And changing the name of the place to New Bo Ky.  I don’t know, I’m guessing.

Anyhoo, old or new, it could not get more local than this – the clientele is almost exclusively Chinese and the menu is almost exclusively noodle soup. But before you say “oh how dull” and walk away – let me tell you that it offers over 30 different kinds of noodle soup. Yup, you heard me. There’s thin noodles and thick noodles and flat noodles. There’s egg noodles and rice noodles and soba and udon and cellophane noodles (which I think are made from mung beans, but I could be way off). The soups have tofu if you’re vegetarian and duck or chicken or pork or beef or every conceivable kind of exotic seafood, if you’re not. And there’s tons of vegetables in everything – Chinese greens and mushrooms and bamboo shoots and bean sprouts – so it’s all really hearty and healthy and nourishing.

The MO at the New Bo Ky is such: you order your soup and no one writes it down. They just remember it (even if there’s 25 of you) and bring it to you in five seconds flat. Please don’t ask how, because I have no idea. With your soup comes one soupspoon. And that’s all. (The new management pride themselves on minimalism.) Placed on each (formica) table there is a napkin clip (with napkins) and a communal two-pot condiment holder – one of which contains vinegar and the other of which contains something, which to the uninitiated, looks like hot sauce. And you’re meant to just plonk some into your soup and slurp away.

And so I do.

And become – officially – hooked.

I mean, don’t be fooled people, because this ain’t no ordinary hot sauce! This stuff is the bomb. It’s not really spicy you see. It’s just intensely flavourful – it tastes of sesame and burnt garlic and star anise and cinnamon and it kills me, it’s so good. I’m telling you, it’s the undisputed number one, the supreme leader and commander of all things saucy. It’s King Kong from Hong Kong

The beauty of it is that you can use it for way more than just Chinese food. One tiny quarter teaspoonful will transform a pork pie into crusty-heaven. Add a bit to steamed broccoli or beans and watch what happens. I use it to flavour my hummus, spice up my spaghetti, and add ‘groovy’ to my turkey sandwich. I eat it with plain white rice. I dip my pitta in it and I even – and do it before you judge me please – spoon some over Doritos and bake them in the oven. You’ll be hard pressed to taste anything more fabulous. I tell you, its culinary genius.

The first time I ate at the New Bo Ky, I went through two whole jars of the stuff. When I asked for more, they brought me my bill.

Hmph.

Then I realized you can buy the stuff. They sell them for about $4 a pop in neat little airtight jars. So I started buying them. Somewhat on a regular basis. There was only one small, teeny-tiny problem, though. And this is very important to the flow of my story, so please pay attention: this stuff is so damn good that they know it too. And - believe it or not - they won't sell one person more than two jars. I'm totally serious.

It took me a while to understand this. For starters, the language barrier in this place is absolutely impenetrable, but after much sign language and wild gesticulation I indicated that in addition to the two jars that had been so graciously handed over to me, I wanted three more (which would make a total of five jars). First they just stood there and stared at me, making no move whatsoever to reach over for the extra three, in question. I pointed again, smiling pleasantly. Unfortunately, this was followed by a lot of vigourous head shaking and finger waggling and a string of Chinese phrases, which I reckon were not exactly complimentary.

By now, a small crowd had gathered. I don’t know precisely what was causing them so much amusement, but there were lots of Chinese people, laughing and pointing at me and clapping their hands with glee.

This only meant one thing. This meant that the time to preserve any remaining dignity and flee the scene had passed.

I had crossed the Rubicon.

Now it was a question of Pride.

So after lots of equally vigourous head shaking (on my part) and some choice Hindi phrases of my own, all the while still smiling pleasantly, they finally gave me my desired five jars. But not before I was very clearly made to understand that this was a rare exception and that I was a very special person indeed. Because - wait for this - they didn’t want my money.

Now, let me tell you – even after understanding this, I still couldn’t understand it. This was an utterly new and inexplicable phenomenon. Because of all the attributes I would credit to the people of this great and ancient civilization, refusing money would not be one of them. And yet, this is exactly what was happening. They were refusing my money. Could this be possible?

Was there a problem with the money, I wondered for a brief and panicked moment, staring at the greenbacks in my hand. Was it all fake? Have I just been taken by the ATM on Mott Street?

But no - the money was genuine. 

It was just that the stuff they were selling was worth more than money.  Evidently they thought so, anyway. And so they needed to limit the supply. Two jars per person and that’s that. Non-negotiable. This was the saucy equivalent of gold dust. And they weren’t trading.

So now you understand why, when my parents come, I need the Bo Ky (I think you know, by this point, that I am referring to the sauce, not the establishment, yes?) I really, really need it. I’ve been without it too long. In fact, I have a little calendar in my kitchen and I’m counting down the days until the Bo Ky turns up (the arrival of the parents, by the way, is an inevitable incidental.) Honestly, I can barely contain myself.  And if I sound like a druggie needing a fix, that’s about an accurate assessment.

By the way, in case you’re wondering, it is sadly, the only place where you get that exact thing. I’ve searched high and low and sampled half a dozen sauces from half a dozen establishments, all very ethnic and authentic. And they’re good and all. But they’re not that.

So, I’ll be damned if I settle for four measly jars of the stuff (two from each parent) especially if they are lugging it all the way across the Atlantic.

Not a chance in hell.

I want a dozen.

This is logical. See, it’s one for each month of the year. And, a year, I think is a reasonable period of time before some other unknowing chappie comes my way from New York City, and I get to use my charm and charisma…and well, you know the rest.

Anyway, back to the here and now, I’m sure you can appreciate the gravity of the situation I’m in. I have deep and detailed discussions with my parents. We plot and scheme. And then my dad – my hero! – finds a very acceptable work around.

It’s hardly surprising, really. Because you see, if anyone can compete with the Chinese in resourcefulness, it’s the Indians. Tandoori Chicken and Egg Fried Rice are going to take over the world, you just wait and watch.

So: it will be a covert mission of the most dangerous kind.

This is how they will do it…

First he will go in and indulge in much hand shaking and “ni hao” greeting. He’s very good at this, my dad.  He will try to be highly conspicuous and create a big hoo-ha and make friends and put them all in a jolly good mood. He will buy his quota’d two jars and leave.

Two jars under my belt.

Then she will go in, while he lurks in the shadows. She will endeavour to remain discrete. Which means, no unnecessary displays of enthusiasm or gusto. She will buy her quota’d two jars and leave, more or less unnoticed.

Four jars under my belt.

Then they will go away, two blocks down, to this most astounding place (also introduced to me by Horace and Jyo!!) called Jing Fong , which looks like a wedding hall, but serves dim sum instead. And have themselves a hearty meal of dumplings (my treat).

And then they will go back. This time, she will try and merge with the crowd (if you stare closely enough, she does have some small resemblance about the eyes) and he will go in. But he will be disguised this time. He will be wearing dark glasses and a baseball hat that says “NY Rangers.” And he will walk with a swagger and behave very coolly and nonchalantly. And he will buy another two…

Six jars under my belt.

And then 10 days later, this will repeat this all over again.

Twelve jars under my belt.

Here's a noodle soup in honour of Bo Ky. It's not even close to as good as theirs, but what the hey!

I’m doing plain tofu and vegetables, but feel free to add in any meats you like. Or just email me and I’ll inbox you a recipe :)

Here's what you need:

-1.2 litre water

- 2-inch piece fresh ginger root, peeled

- 2 cloves garlic, peeled and smashed

- 1 star anise

- 2 cloves

- 2 tbsp light soy sauce

- ½ tspn dark soy sauce (teaspoon please!)

- 1 tspn sugar

- 2 tbsp Shaohsing rice wine or dry sherry

- 2 tbsp sesame oil

- 250g dried udon (flat wheat-flour) noodles

- 350g baby bok choy, washed and chopped

- 450g fresh beancurd, cut into 3/4in cubes

- 1 carrot, peeled and sliced

Here’s how you do it:

Dry roast the spices – cinnamon, cloves and star anise – in a pot until aromatic.

Meanwhile, place noodles in a large bowl and cover with hot water. Let stand for 20-30 minutes until soft. Drain. (If soaking does not soften the noodles enough, blanch them in a pot of boiling water for a few seconds.)

Separately, add water, garlic, ginger, sugar, soy sauces, and rice wine to a large stock pot. Bring to a boil. Add in the dry roasted spices. Reduce to a simmer and simmer, covered, for about 30 minutes. Strain to remove solids. Add the tofu and simmer for another 2 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. The tofu will swell, imbibing the flavour of the soup. Add in the other vegetables at the very end, so they are just blanched.

Remove soup from heat and stir in sesame oil. Ladle broth and vegetables over the noodles and serve immediately.

I’ll let you know if my stealth mission is successful.

I’m rather confident it will be – I am, after all, the progeny of a rather ingenious pair of peeps.

But please wish me luck anyway – when you take a break from slurping your noodles, that is.

Reader Comments: May 2011 - May 2012

Selected email excerpts: 

Jillian Hughes: I read your blog - AND I LOVE IT!!! You are amazing. I had no idea you were such a beautiful writer. Reading your blog is like reading poetry. I actually read food/lifestyle blogs in my spare time and am only too happy to add yours to my list of favourites. (actually I just put my spoon up, I am making beef bourguignon)

Suchitra Sripada: amrita keep blogging ...awesome job

Priya Chohan: Hi, Hope your well and so is Sid and ranbir. Wanted to tell you I am loving your blogs, your writing is really good. I especially love butterfly kisses, really beautiful. I hope I have a moment like that with shai. I am gonna try out your butter chicken, Chet does love butter chicken but I've never really attempted a recipe. I'll let you know how I get on. Please Keep writing I look forward to reading them. Priya x

Devika Kumar: Hi Ami, Everyone has been raving about your food blog, and I've got to read it!

Tara Ollapally Thomas: Hey Ammu -- read some of the lovely posts on your blog. You write beautifully and what I love the most is the joy that you have found in motherhood.

Anaheeta Dhawan: I love reading your blog! I am sure that many people have already complimented you on your writing, but it is fantastic! Keep up the posts and know that they are making many people smile (many more than you realize)...xx (with affection, though I know, air kisses rank close to the bottom of the list led by your baby's butterfly kisses)

Shaela Rahman: you should write professionally.... given your talent it's a matter of time...and invite me to dinner when I'm on your side of the pond so that I can get a taste of some of these divine-sounding dishes

Aniket Hirebet: Read through a lot of your blog today. It was a welcome diversion as I've been really burning the midnight oil lately - The blog is turning out great. You writing style is improving as the weeks go by. It also reminded me, of course, of just how similar our childhoods were.

Ebony Morczinek: "Guess what I'm sipping right now. Chai! It is de-lish! Thank you. Now I don't have to pay 6EUR every time I want one. I really think Trinis are honorary Indians for real, because I was born to drink this! Now teach me how to make cheese naan and I'll be set for life. My Auntie Sita is definitely looking down at me from heaven and smiling. "

Shayaan Aga: "hey, just realised you have a blog. really good reads. actually like the "chai" one particularly.

Maeesha Reena Shamdasani: I'm ur nigerian reader! Been meaning to msg u and tell u how fabulous ur blog is! I thoroughly enjoy reading it. Many a late night with yash I keep myself awake reading ur blog. Just need to try some of ur recipes now!! :)

Aarti Sanan: Your blog is awesome. Kudos for juggling mommyhood and writing.

Rupa Tak: "hey, i sent an email to your hotmail account but i love your blog...it is perfect! you are full of surprises"

Anita Nitin Menda: you simply write beautifully and i enjoy reading your blogs!! looking forward to many many more!!


Treeny Ahmed: Your last 2 posts have made me laugh out loud. Hard. Let me know if you ever need a fan review. You seriously found your calling. I'm so glad I discovered your blog early in the game!


Amrita, 

Thanks for sharing your blog. You have an incredible way of capturing moments through your writing, which is witty, funny, joyful and captivating. Keep it up and fingers crossed that it turns into a book or column! Because you should! 

Marlene 

Blog Comments

A little late but Happy Happy Birthday. Absolutely enjoy following your blog. Already pimped it a couple of times on Twitter ;-) Would love to see pictures of what you made or while you're making :-) :-) By Henna Achhpal on Birthday Cake on 04/04/12

:) ... that makes cake making so easy and quick ... love the sounds of it. I'm gonna nick this recipe for my mom's birthday next month...Cheers :) By LightReVision on Birthday Cake on 29/03/12

.. Love it!! Happy Birthday again! And kisses to the lil' munchkin. By Anuja on Birthday Cake on 28/03/12

Yet another beautiful piece Amrita.. can't decide what sound yummier- the cherry crumble or Ranbir's twirls and tumbles. Loved reading it. Canny Bhua. By Divya bhatia on A Spring in My Step on 28/02/12

Oh my goddddddddd!!!! Adorable!!!! Awesum mm mm...u r just superb Amrita... Great going....loads n loads of luv.... By Kaveri on Chicken Soup...for the Body and Soul on 02/12/11

Great Job! Comes straight from the heart- you can totally tell! By AP on Happy Birthday Ranbir! on 07/10/11

That is what I call a magical post to commemorate a magical day! Kudos. By Ebony on Happy Birthday Ranbir! on 01/10/11

Awww! Thanks, girl! Love this so much, it will be worth the big mess in the kitchen. Now off to find some yeast. You know we use baking powder in Trindad...please don't take away my honorary Indian status! By Ebony on Cheese Naan for Ebony on 15/09/11

Hi, Just wanted to tell you that I really like your blog. You have a great writing style - a way of making everything come alive....your experiences,the colours and taste of the food you write about..And all this without posting pics...amazing work! By Purva on Umami from the land of Michelangelo on 01/08/11

I love Italy, have been there several times. Nice blog, perfect with an Italian flavor!!! Will try the sauce,sounds delicious. Do you have a recipe for the famous Puttanesca sauce that you have tried and tested? Yum By Anonymous on Umami from the land of Michelangelo on 29/07/11

I've only been to Calcutta once!... but I love it. Best Indian Chinese food I've ever had (in some market)... driving on Howrah bridge in an open Gypsy in the wee hours of the morning (and shouting I'm the queen of the world - no drinks were involved!) and setting my sights on the Victoria Memorial (?)... pale, gray and a shadow of its former self - but such a beautiful sight nevertheless. Calcutta does grow on you... and it will always be "calcutta" for me too... just like "Bangalore". Lovely post Ami... thanks for sharing - Faz By Anonymous on Calcutta Egg Rolls on 17/06/11

Amrita! I really enjoyed reading this post! Loved your descriptions of London, the food, your night out..everything. You are a gifted writer! And sounds like one amazing dinner! xoxo By pooja (sydney) on The Closet Gourmand on 13/06/11

Great post Ami! I am loving this blog xxx By Jill Hughes on The Closet Gourmand on 05/06/11

Ami, thanks for capturing last night. The blog is mouthwateringly tasty and I am hallucinating about the fajitas last night. I'll certainly give this recipe a go, but I'm not sure I'll have that special lime juice massage down. Keep them coming... By GG on The Closet Gourmand on 05/06/11

Ammu - what a lovely post. The last paragraph is adorable. As always very well written and sounds yummy. It is Rohan's favorite dish as well and of course - his dad can eat it any time too. :-) Call you soon. Love, T By Anuja on Sidharth's Butter Chicken on 02/06/11

You totaly captured this Amrita!! In fact.....tomorrow i'm actually gonna make what shall forever be called 'Uday Park Chicken'!!! By Surabhi on Uday Park Chicken on 10/05/11

Great read and I can particularly relate to the onion samosas as they were sold in Hyderabad as well. I don't like samosas at all but onion ones I loved them as they were small and less complicated :):) Will surely try making these. Thanks for sharing :):) By Anusree on To the Girls of Sophia High School on 09/05/11

Ami, Thanks for sharing these with us. Nora and I were reading through a few of the posts and we both think they are great - I like the idea of weaving food or a dish into the fabric of a story, a memory or evoking a certain emotion. Well done and keep them coming. By Gaurav on The Closet Gourmand on 05/06/11

Yeah really like the style in which you write the blog, its funny. Like the butter chicken one and the one about Didima. Should ask people to spread the word about it. By Pritam on The Closet Gourmand on 05/06/11

Happy birthday Amrita ...that's such a lovely and well written blog post...good luck for the ahead By Shruti Mahajan on Birthday Cake on 27/03/12

I always read your posts, as I know they're bound to be highly intelligent and entertaining! By Shaela Rahman on Stop Raining On My Parade on 2/5/12

Beautiful writing Amrita! By Ash Sethi on The Girls @ Grangers on 5/5/12

Facebook Comments

Yummyami: Butterfly Kisses - June 14, 2011

Urvashi Mahajan Jones, Nick Ndiritu and 7 others like this..

Diana Batiwala: awww...how touching :) ur writing it so beautifully made me feel like a part of the whole experience n it truly was a beautiful one!J

Venessa Taylor: amy darling, i dont know if i'll ever prepare the butterfly kisses, but i'll never think of any one but u wen i eat them. Ur eloquence is beautiful and heart melting.... Hugs to u and Ranbir!

Deepali Bagati: well said! their will be plenty more "firsts" but this will always be uber special! am still waiting for pics

Shruti Mahajan: adorable !! Avika has picked up the flying kiss technique so when i say give ma a kissy. . She blows one to me. Cannot get enough!!!

Surabhi Khanna: what a lovely post Amrita!!! Given my past experiences with 'Randy'....i'm glad he's getting the right training!!!

Anuja Kochar Singh: Very very cute. Precious moments to cherish for the rest of your life.

Meenakshi Sharma: totally love it! as always beautifully written :-) very happy for your butterfly kiss! lots of luv n hugs to Ranbir!

Aimee Carevich Hariramani : Crying now. This is absolutely BEAUTIFUL. You are so right - these times make it all worth it. So happy to hear you are savoring them. :) Much love.


Yummyami: To the Girls of Sophia High School – May 6, 2011

Diana Batiwala, Laekha De Mornay Davies and 3 others like this..

Venessa Taylor: Amby no words, just sooooo much emotion! HugS!!

Suchitra Sripada: Great job thanks for bringing back fond memories!

Trupti Rathi: I just looked down to see if I was wearing my favourite brown wrap around with yellow edge. You took me back there after all these years. Thank you.

Karen D'Souza Carvalho: Awwww! Had tears in my eyes reading this and remembering those days....what wonderful times....thanx for this piece....it's fantastic!

Shruti Mahajan: Thank you Amrita. Love your blog posts :-)

Anupama Mahajan: Oh god what a blast from the past that was!!! Thanks for that!! and the 10th std sports day we broke the coming last record and placed third!

Niveditha Bhoopalam: Wow!!!! brings to mind so many sweet memories. Thanks for putting this together :)

Rohini Morley: thanks Amrita that was so awesome.. its funny what all you forget in life.

Shweta Narang: Adorable! Thanks for bringing back the memories :) Fabulously well written! Happy mom's day too :)

Susan Joseph: loved this piece and love your blog! Thank you so much for the memories and the recipe!

Suchitra Sripada: Amrita great job brings back fond memories actually teared up a bit at work:) ..... Just remember our strategies to beat the josephites at wtgw!

Pavithra Vijayarajan: It's beautiful Amrita. I read it thrice over :) need to try out the recipe soon!


Yummyami: A Spring in My Step – Feb 27, 2012

Priya Chohan, Ebony Morczinek and Pavithra Vijayarajan like this.

Shruti Mahajan: Brilliant !!! Still remember holding avika's hand and helping her take those baby steps and then just like that... She took off...I would say enjoy this cause when he starts to run..its whole new ball game... Lol


Yummyami: Cheese Naan for Ebony – Sept 15, 2011

Sowmya Venkat: Love reading your blogs Amrita!

Ebony Morczinek: You know I was reading your description of me and was like....who is she talking about? That chick sounds fly! Lol! Thanks for the recipe. You are such a good writer. Please keep doing it.

Treeny Ahmed: My last day of work is tomorrow and I'll save this to read / enjoy during my few free days (hopefully) before this baby gets here :)

Elizabeth Alvesteffer Measell: I am so going to make this now!

Ebony Morczinek: Everyone needs to check out my friend Ami's blog. She's a talented writer and can COOK! I asked for a recipe for cheese naan and she actually posted one! No begging, cajoling or payments under the table. The biggest surprise for me is that she put yeast in the naan...and not baking powder. I'm about to make this!

Guelmana Rochelin and 3 others like this.

Marco Klumpers: So sweet. The recipe sounds good, got to find some yeast Top.

Ebony Morczinek: I made the naan on Saturday evening, along with curry chicken, aloo and channa. It was sinful! The whole apartment smelled like baking bread, melting cheese and spices. And they were so light and fluffy! Yum!


Yummyami: Winging it, Ammi Style! – Oct 10, 2011

Diana Batiwala, Sowmya Venkat and Charles Williams like this.

Shruti Poddar Goenka: u really know how to write :)

Shruti Mahajan: good one.. the baked beans cracked me up..i always have them around..just in case ;)

Surabhi Khanna: Fab Post Amrita........but i HATED those damn baked bean toasts!!! Napa would be eating them and making silly jokes about the word in german for fathers and grand fathers!!

Jillian Hughes: Amazing!

Diana Batiwala: Awesome! Thanks Amrita..def needed these quick eats lesson.Now I shall be better prepared :))

Venessa Taylor: ‎Diana Guess it's tym i dropped in soonsies (now that ur better prepared!) ;) & Amrita: thx mucho for preparing D(hehehehe), and and and i love ur writing style, i almost feel like i am watching it on television... so imaginable and alive!

Venessa Taylor: Amby i am totally game, may hap teach you one of my own recipes and therefore end up getting an esteemed mention in your blog!! (Kidding, totally, seriously!! :P) D wat say?? let's have a blast from the past, together and live up to the last sentence in this blog??? ;)


Yummyami: Happy Birthday Ranbir! – October 2, 2011

Priya Chohan, Diana Batiwala, Laekha De Mornay Davies and 9 others like this.

Ebony Morczinek: Happy birthday Ranbir! You managed to give me goose-bumps.

Elizabeth Alvesteffer Measell: Beautiful! Happy Birthday Ranbir, and Amrita!

Meenakshi Sharma: Such a precious post, loved it! A very happy b'day to ranbir! Lots of luv n hugs!:-)

Jillian Hughes: You are such a beautiful writer. It is a complete joy to read your words! Happy birthday Ranbir!

Kaveri Bhatia: Omg...this is beautifulll...each word each feeling so precious...happy bday ranbir..ami...sid...lots of luv from all of us...

Shayaan Aga: Happy Birthday Ranbir!

Shruti Poddar Goenka: Wishing Ranbir a very happy and blissful birthday and many wonderful returns of the same. First birthdays are really emotional and it's so obvious from your post. Amazingly written, as always.

Suchitra Sripada: Happy birthday to your little one !

Diana Batiwala: happy birthday to your little one Amrita :)

Priya Chohan: Happy birthday to ranbir n to you mummy. Your words brought to tears to my eyes and so well put. Thank you for sharing. X

Urvashi Mahajan Jones: Such a beautiful post! Happy birthday Ranbir! Your mommy loves you soooo much!!!!

Anuja Kochar Singh: Amu - that was lovely and so very precious. Happy Birthday to your baby boy.

Venessa Taylor: at the risk of sounding repetitive, heart warming (did u steal my emotions??) piece... only i recall being less patient and more of a creaming banshee for Liam.. by the time Tia arrived, i had mellowed down, i think ;)



Yummyami: Birthday Cake – March 27, 2012

Pooja Mallya, Anusree Banerjee, Priya Chohan and 5 others like this.

Jillian Hughes: Done! Loved the birthday cake post today. Happy birthday!!!!

Pooja Mudbhary Natarajan: Happy birthday gorgeous girl! Glad to hear you had a lovely day! That chocolate cake sounds divine, must try it! Xoxo

Shruti Mahajan: "Happy birthday Amrita ...that's such a lovely and well written blog post...good luck for the ahead."

Pooja Mallya: Happy Birthday Amrita! Have a great one! I'll be looking out for the Yummyami blog posts ...love the way you write and have tried out some of your yummyamis too :)


Yummyami: The World’s Worst Dinner Party – April 27, 2012

Nick Ndiritu, David Fasunloye and 8 others like this.

Shruti Mahajan: masterpiece!!! I needed a good laugh and this totally did it for me...thanku for sharing ur misery in such a delightful manner... :)

Dominic J Wertheimer: Absolutely superb. It would be unkind of me to comment on people that i have not met but it would be nice if perhaps they did less entertaining in the future for the sake of their guests.

Shayaan Aga: Such fun! (for us reading that is:) so, was 6 months preggers with Maleha, and the lady at Kingfisher counter asked me as we were checking in "are you in your happy place?" to which I replied, "no, an airport is not such a happy place for me" mind you it took her asking me 3 times before I knew what the hell she was asking. Seemed pretty obvious to me that I was 6 months pregnant.

Ash Sethi: that was exceptionally eloquent and yet delightfully acerbic :-)

Surabhi Khanna: Perfect....and oh so wicked!!!

Raghav Mathur: Deliciously wicked!

Aarti Sanan: LOVED you dinner from hell piece! I wish I was a fly on that wall... or probably not! I just had the lunch from hell recently but it was only one person! Are you EVER come to NYC?


Yummyami: The E-mail I Just Can't Stop Reading...May 3, 2012

Jalps Patel, Amrita Dhar, Neha Chandra Singhal and 11 others like this.

Pooja Ahuja Nagpal Awesome !! I must say u write brilliantly and ur blog is a very enjoyable read :)

Anuja Kochar Singh Wow!!! That's great girl!! And well-deserved!

Swaroop Yalla U have a great writing style...keep it going...

Sonya Chittiappa Reuther I remember reading a post about b'day cakes a while ago...v. enjoyable! big love...xoxo

Vegetable Quiche

I haven’t cooked in a bit. We’ve been having some big nights out, you see, thanks to Su and Gareth. Su, by the way, is my sister-in-law and Gareth, is my brother-in-law. That’s confusing, I get that. But they’re married, not siblings, so figure it out please.

Anyway, thanks to them, the child was shipped off to Cambridge for the weekend, thereby allowing us to have, said big nights out.

And it’s funny, even as I write their names…Su and Gareth…the thought bubble emerging from my head is one with an image of two cherubic angels smiling benevolently, holding hands and watching over my child…

In other words – thanks for taking him. Phew.

Back in the relatively less-green pastures of London, we have been indulging in much booze and barbeque (more about that later…) But this, as you can well imagine, has not been conducive to cooking. In fact, this has not been conducive to much more than sleeping, waking to drink coffee and sleeping again. And realising, at some point during this circular schedule, that Martinis are not my friend.

And so, I haven’t cooked in a bit.

You will, of course, forgive me. I haven’t had such a wild and wonderful night in 18 months.

Anyway, I’m over it. The child has been returned, most cruelly, to its rightful owners and it’s back to school runs and mushed-up apples. Oh Joy.

I’m making quiche this evening. I’m not going to touch the stuff by the way. It is ONLY for you. Because I am all sweetness and grace and kindness personified.

It’s also for the husband. Because the husband as you know is allergic to vegetables of any kind. Such a terrible problem. And so, every once in a while, I need to create an alternate reality.

Here’s what you need:

For the Pastry:

- 150g wholemeal flour

- 75g cool butter, diced

                       

For the Filling:

- 100g mushrooms

- ½ onion


- 250g fresh spinach leaves

- 6 chopped or sliced sun dried tomatoes

- 1 teaspoon basil

- 3 eggs

- 200 ml creme fraiche

- 200 ml whole milk

- 100 g grated Parmesan

- salt and freshly ground black pepper

- Pinch nutmeg

Here’s how you do it:

Peel and slice the onion and sauté it gently in a little olive oil.  Wash and slice the mushrooms. When the onions begin to soften add the mushrooms and the spinach and cook for 10 minutes.

Now, for the pastry. Sift the flour into a large mixing bowl, and rub in the butter using your fingertips, until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Sprinkle with about 2 tbsp of cold water and mix with your hands into a firm but pliable dough. Wrap the pastry in cling film and chill for 20 minutes.

Roll out the pastry on a floured work surface and use it to line a greased 25cm/10in tart tin. Chill in the fridge for 30 minutes. Preheat the oven to 190°C.

Meanwhile, whisk together the eggs, milk, crème fraiche, and salt and pepper to season. Stir in the cheese and sprinkle a dash of nutmeg for flavour.

Spread the cooked vegetables, the sun dried tomatoes and the basil over the pastry, and pour the egg custard over the top.

Bake for 30 minutes or until the filling is lightly set and perfectly golden.

Oh – and in case you’re the suspicious type and wondering why I’m not eating any of this if it’s so good – let me tell you it’s not because I’m on some kind of stupid diet. Instead, its because when I was 7 years old, my mother brought home a 10” Quiche Lorraine from some cooking class at Madras Club. You know those Friday afternoon cooking classes that existed in our mothers’ generation (presupposing you are my generation of course) which you did with a bunch of other enthusiastic ladies? The ones where the chef is up on a stage and he or she cooks and you watch and follow and make your own version along with eighteen other versions made by the other enthusiastic ladies  and then you get to take it all home for your kids?

Yes?

Well, I ate the entire flipping thing. Solo. And then lay rolling on the floor of our dining room, for 8 hours holding my stomach and screaming that I’m going to die from a quiche overdose. Or words to that effect.

Anyhow, the bottom line is that I’m scarred for life. Never since has the stuff touched my lips and I’m not about to begin now.

But that’s no reason for you not to enjoy yourselves.  Just don’t – I beg you – eat the whole thing in one sitting. Because I promise you it will haunt you. Forever. Like a Pastry Possessed…

The Girls @ Grangers

I am meeting my friend Marjan for dinner. I haven’t seen her in long – too long really – and for all the usual silly reasons. We have tons to catch-up on – she’s launching her own hedge fund (something she’s always wanted to do), I’m promoting Indian art and food writing (something I’ve always wanted to do), she has a new boyfriend, a new address, I have a child…

We spend three hours catching up.

And then she drops it. Breezily, like “oh…did you know that the tomato is a fruit?” she says, “oh…did you know Marlene and Olga live in London now?”

What?? I say, almost spitting out my bread.

Because I don’t believe in fate frankly, but this stuff’s surreal – Marlene, Olga, Marjan and I can’t possibly all have landed up in the same city. It’s too freaky.

You see, the four of us worked together at ‘The Bank’ on 48^th and Broadway, in the heart of mid-town New York, next to the Naked Cowboy and the half-price theatre ticket line. By together, I mean same division, same team, same building, same floor, in the same row of cubicles even, one behind the other and so close apart that I could read every word on Marlene’s computer screen (I didn’t, I didn’t. Just saying I could, if I wanted to)…

I wrote Research on Paper & Timber and they wrote Research on Metals & Mining and together we were Basic Materials and oh, what good times we had!

And then we went our separate ways and lost touch.

Boo!

By happy accident, Marjan and I found ourselves in London within a year of each other (we both had whirlwind romances, fell for the charming ways of English men, and yes – we both, rather poetically, moved continents for love). And so we’ve been in touch, but I haven’t seen Marlene and Olga in ten years.

So this little matter of all four of us being in London? It may not be fate, but it’s a random coincidence. A colossal one.

Because we all go back twelve odd years. And I think when you go back double-digits - with anyone - that means something.

I can hardly get over it.

We have to have a reunion, Marjan says as we say goodbye that evening. Let’s do Book Club together, the four of us!

I enthusiastically second the idea and say I cannot wait and will she please send around an email to poll for book choices and dates.

That was three months ago.

And now, we have finally, finally, finally found a date that everyone can make. Which would make us all seem very important. But which, in fact, we’re not.  We decide to meet at Olga’s house in Notting Hill for a drink and then walk down to Granger and Co. for dinner

When I come down to pick up my bag and coat, Sid looks admiringly at me. “You like nice, Amster…” he says...  

And as he sees my eyebrows rise (involuntarily) at the note of high-surprise in his voice, he continues…

“…like always!”

Nice save.

“Where you off to?”

“Meeting the girls at Bill Granger’s place,” I say, “So excited!”

“Who’s Bill Granger?”

I roll my eyes (it’s all involuntary, I swear) – “You don’t know Bill Granger?”

“Do you know who Mohamed El-Erian is?”

“Yup, the Harvard Fund, PIMCO guy”

Sid’s trying to think of what to say. And I’m trying hard not to laugh.
"How do you know that?" he finally manages.
"I know everything" I say. "Laterzzz!"

Marlene’s already at Olga’s when I get there. It is SO LOVELY to see them both again. I know they are my friends, but they honestly haven’t aged a day and look amazing. Olga introduces me to her husband Marcello, a rather charming and wonderfully nonchalant Brazilian chap, and her uber-cute daughter Gabriella, who’s only a couple of months older than Ranbir, and tri-lingual. I moan about how my child’s regressed from a fairly robust English vocab. to calling every object (animate or inanimate) - mama.  Which would sadly make him, alingual.

Marjan arrives, late, (as usual) by which time we’re sitting outside on the terrace, down 4000 calories worth of buttered popcorn and two (three?) glasses of Prosecco – crisp, and cool and dancing with green apples – while we exchange life stories and play catch-up.

We get to the restaurant around 8 a clock and we are seated immediately by a pleasant enough, but rather confused looking server. This is quite an unexpected surprise (being seated promptly, I mean) because I’d heard horror stories of “the interminable queueueueueueue….”

I take an instant liking to the interiors. With high wood panelled ceilings and large windows, it is bright and light and cheerful – and from what I hear,  quite reflective of the man himself. There’s a bar on one side, the kitchen at the far end and a green glass vase with big green leaves, that sits on a ledge, reflects onto a mirror, and makes the place feel relaxed and rather (I just had a to find way fit this word in) – Antipodean.

We sit down and order a bottle of wine, post haste; we get the Sauvignon Blanc, and it is lovely and fruity – melon and whitecurrant in a glass.

Now, I’ve simply got to mention at this critical juncture, that Granger must have 20/20 vision because the font on his menu is tiny.  And I don’t entirely get why, because the food options are, if anything, on the limited side. He does however, have quite an a expansive drinks selection on the back and maybe the only way he could fit it all in was with a font size 2, but we are all holding up our respective menus to an inch in front of our faces and squinting at it like a bag of nails.

Anyhow, once we manage to read the gist of it, Marjan demands to know why she can’t have, from the “Dish of The Day” section – the "thursday grilled chicken with kohlrabi & fennel salad."

We all suggest obligingly that perhaps it is because today is a Tuesday.

Oh, she says in the manner of someone feeling very gutted.

The pleasant but (still) confused looking server comes on by to see if we’re ready to order. We’re not. Far from, in fact. Because we are in the midst of an animated debate on what kind of creature we think a “spatchcock” is.  Olga, who dines here frequently with husband Marcelo, laughs. They’ve had this discussion before, it seems. 

“The first time we came,” she says, “Marcelo, after much menu-squinting, declared: I tink it ees a fish. No, I am sure it ees a fish”

“It is?” I ask, surprised

“No, no, it’s a bird,” she says.

“Well, yes…” I say, “I thought so – it is, after all, a spatchCOCK!”

The guy on the table next to us, who is quite evidently on a date with his girlfriend/wife/romantic interest (they’re holding hands under the table, how cute) looks reproachfully at me.

“Did I say “cock” too loud?” I ask mortified. “I only meant “cock” like rooster, you know...

Marlene and Olga are in splits. Marjan just looks confused.

“I think I’ll have the fish," she says finally

“But, it's not a fish,” we say

“No, no – I don't want a spatchcock, bird or fish or whatever it is. I want fish. Regular, normal fish”

“Ahh” we say in understanding.

Suddenly I have a great deal of sympathy for poor old Jessica Simpson who thought tuna was a chicken that lived in the sea…

 

Olga picks the "crisp salmon salad with coconut caramel dressing"  - she’s guilty about the buttered popcorn. (Well, strictly speaking, I am too, but when’s guilt ever trumped gluttony?) Marlene and I go for the “whole fish with herb salad and sambal.”

Marlene specifically asks if the fish can be filleted.

“Well, no”, the server says with the utmost patience, “it’s a whole fish.”

“Yes, yes, I get that” she says, “but can you do it for me?”

Clearly, she’s somehow managed to further confuse our already confused server. Because he just smiles and stands there with a look that says, “Lady, what are you banging on about”

There’s a few moments of the proverbial awkward silence.

We are waiting with bated breath to see how this settles. All this, over a fish.

Finally, Marlene agrees on a compromise. She will eat it if the head and tail are cut off. Thankfully this is suitably communicated, the kitchen is given instructions, and everyone’s happy.

I ask for the whole fish too, but with nothing cut off. You see, I quite like seeing the fish on my plate, intact. Well, it can’t really be intact if its dead, I get that. But you know what I mean.

When it arrives (it’s sea bass and it's unamputated), the outside is crisp (but not as crisp as I’d like). The inside is beautiful – firm, delicate meat, cooked just right. It’s relatively easy to eat (as whole fish go), with a centre bone and a few more here and there. But that stuff doesn’t bother me. I’ve been known to spend hours in front of my fish, lobster, scampi and all other similarly tedious dishes, using my fingers shamelessly, and eating like an apeman’s wife. Methinks its my fish-eating Bengali genes.

Anyhow, my fish is accompanied by a “herb salad” – a bed of parsley, coriander, radish, red onion, capers, and lemon wedges. There’s no real taste to it, but perhaps the whole point of this dish is subtlety. So, it’s appropriately light, obscure and complimentary. Oh, but where is the sambal? Sambal - the rich and fragrant Javanese chilli sauce - was a rather crucial factor in my DMP when I picked the dish (I love the spicy, la) but, sadly, there is no sambal. And I search for it, I swear - I look and I look, and I leave no parsley unturned…

So, overall, it’s a good dish. Not spectacular, but good enough.

More interesting, is Marjan’s fish curry. Now, I’ve heard rather mixed things about Bill Granger’s fish curry – from “perfect” on one end of the spectrum to “unloved” on the other (ouch), but I think it’s very, very tasty.

It’s a bit reminiscent of Keralan fish curry – tangy, aromatic and fragrant with lime and coconut, it arrives topped with coriander and fried garlic. The fish is fresh and firm, the curry is the right texture and the right mix of sour and spice and all things nice. I love it.

Oh and I know this, by the way, because Marjan offers it around very generously. I am scared to take her up on it because one bite generally means I want it all, but I do and, sigh, I do (have a bite and want it all, respectively). You see, I’ve been told off rather sternly in the past for treating any food that happens to be on the table as communal property. So I’m making a very conscious effort to be good about this: Thou shall not covet thy neighbour’s fish etc.

So instead, I reign in my gluttonous tendencies and focus quietly on my own food.

We are hands down the loudest table in the restaurant. Poor date-guy from table next door gives us another look so we decide to sober it down a bit.

We discuss the book – it is Jeanette Winterson’s “Why be happy…” 

Our reactions are a mixed bag. Everybody agrees she’s something of a genius. Some like it more than others, but it’s certainly made us all think. I think the book is brilliant and evocative and that her prose is incredible. I hate the subject matter. I admire that she’s fearless and tenacious and that she’s a survivor. I just find her journey makes me deeply, deeply sad. And I don’t like anything that makes me deeply, deeply sad.

But that’s her life, Marjan says. It’s reality.

I agree, and I respect the reality of her life. It’s just that for me personally, books and movies have become a luxury since Ranbir was born. They – much like my own writing – have become a form of escapism. And when I escape, I like to escape to a happy place. Just personal choice.

We talk about Manchester in the 60’s – it sounds grim, dismal, hopeless. We wonder how much her personal struggle stems from a larger, contextual struggle. As the only officially British person in the group, I feel a bit defensive, but I don’t know how to defend. Winterson paints a bleak, bleak picture. Maybe this could happen anywhere in the world, we argue, if the circumstances were similar…

We don’t really come to any sort of definitive conclusion. Someone suggests dessert. I think about Jeanette Winterson subsisting on a jam sandwich all day and I feel guilty. And thankful for what I have.

We move on to happier things. Olga and I circulate pictures of our children. There is much ooing and aahing. I’m told Ranbir looks like me and that he is handsome. I put two and two together and the result, I admit, leaves me feeling quite pleased.

For dessert, we get the pistachio, vanilla and olive oil cake and the pavlova, to share. I’m really not a dessert person (I’d like to think I have more than enough sweet in me already), but I am a trooper, and I will try anything. The pavlova, which is basically a large meringue topped with berries and cream, is okay, but gives me a sugar rush I can’t handle. I drink more wine.

The PVOO cake on the other hand is probably the best dish we’ve had all night. It’s light and moist and not too sweet and the pistachio-vanilla combo works rather perfectly. It’s more like a tea-cake than dessert, but who cares, it tastes good.

We talk about new restaurants. I ask about Anna Mae’s and Pitt Cue Co. and more generally about the street food “movement” that seems to have taken London by storm. Why, we wonder, are we all lining up till we die, for American fare? We’re all former New Yorkers – it’s good stuff, we get it, but we aren’t sure why there’s so much hype.

Speaking of American fare, I tell them I’ve heard tons about Meat Liquor, but haven’t yet been - queuing with child for patty with bread is a rather difficult proposition for me to pull off successfully at the moment.

“I didn’t really rate Meat Liquor,” Marjan says, “but some of the people I went with really liked it… I don’t know, it didn’t feel like a 'proper' burger – it was this tiny piece of meat and lots of bread and ketchup. I like my burgers big and messy.”  She pauses. Then - “I like British Burgers” she concludes definitively. 


“British Burgers?” Now that little juxtaposition is as loud a ringing endorsement of British cooking as I’ve ever heard! 


We’re getting a bit boisterous again and it’s only when I stand up to go to the ladies room and the room seems all funny and hazy to me that I realise how drunk I am. Shame on you (I tell myself) - you’re a mother! 

“I need to stop drinking,” I announce loudly.

So we get some mint tea and talk some more. I don’t want the night to end, I’m having such a great time reconnecting with my friends. It’s amazing how much the four of us have in common. The parallel paths life’s taken us down. Much has changed in our personal lives since we last met, but we’re all in a better place I think – happier, calmer, more self-assured.  We stay till the lights come on. Which in the restaurant trade is a nice way of saying “do you think you could all please bugger off now..”

So, reluctantly we leave, and we make promises to see each other again soon. 

And I’m sure we will.

So this is for you Marjan and Marlene and Olga:

To the many laughs we’ve had together. And to many more.

Oh and please – I’d respectfully like to tell AA Gill of the Sunday Times that not every table with girls, at Granger (or anywhere else for that matter) is “doing Sex and The City Impressions.” Go ahead – stereotype us if it makes you happy. But “Sex and The City?” – how terribly old-fashioned. 

The E-mail I Just Can't Stop Reading...

Absolutely gobsmacked that Tim Hayward of Guardian, FT (and much, much more) fame sent me an email that starts with:

"This is great stuff. I love your writing style… really immediate, chatty and it really pulls you in."

What?
Really?
I pulled you in?

I re-read it 3 times.
And then I read it again. Just to be sure.

And then I printed it out for fear of my gmail being hacked, my computer crashing or google going out of business (in increasing order of improbability...or decreasing order of probability, whichever you prefer, it's all the same to me...)

I also, by the way, keep in large stacks of print, all the emails that Sid sends me (No, not the ones asking me to empty the dishwasher...) just so I always have them in a real life touchy-feely kind of way.

It's strangely reassuring you know. Because technology scares me. So says the girl with the blog. Ha!

So, anyway, I printed it out and I read it again.
It is praise indeedy from such a fine wordsmith as Tim Hayward.

I am thrilled, gobsmacked and absolutely overflowing with happiness!

So, really, this is for all my wonderful friends who read me from (according to blog stats): the UK, US, India, Pakistan, Singapore, Germany, Malaysia, Switzerland (?), Russia (??), the Ukraine (???), France, Nigeria (we recently solved that mystery!), Australia (Hi Jill & Ken), UAE (????), Thailand...

Please keep reading me!!

...because just knowing that somebody's reading my ranting and putting up all those kind comments (which I think I'm going to get my lazy self together and collate one of these days) really keeps me going!

Thanks people - how lovely you all are!
And thanks, Tim Hayward :)

Now I'm going to run around the house in circles till I exhaust myself and pass out, because the adrenalin is pumping a bit too much at the mo...

Laterzzzzz! xx