Oh sue me.
It had to happen. That image of a thick, doughy pizza base dressed with a slightly sweet tomato sauce and then drizzled with some mozzarella and thin slices of mr.oink oink. Such images randomly fly in and out of my head, especially when I am hungry and even more especially when I have decided to take care of my diet and be careful and try and reduce the paunch and the moobs and all that.
Moobs. Brilliant term. Really.
Last night, four gluttonous fools stared in silent awe at a large box filled with 12 donuts. Yup, there was a cream filled one, one sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar, another sugar glazed and stuffed with blueberry compote and there was one with double chocolate and one with this dark, minty chocolate and another one with just sugar and they were all so super gorgeous sitting in that large box.
So the four gluttonous goons continued to ogle at the 12 beauties, each silently wondering which one they should try first. Each took a bite and placed it back on the box. And that is the way it went. In about seven to eight minutes of dedicated silence, the dozen beauties were demolished with german precision and korean “oooo-ing and aww-ing”. Superb, peaceful and superly yummylicious.
I cannot imagine a better way of having desert than going to the shop, pointing at the counter vaguely and saying “one of each please”.
In case you are interested, the place was Mad About Donuts up at the Select Mall in Saket (405 bucks for 12 assorted donuts)
While you are there, you can also gape at how “well dressed” every one seems to be (think stilletos with a gucci on the arm) and how these teenage kids have way too much money than is fair. I don’t really have a problem with them getting money, its just that I wish I could have gone to a cocoberry when I was 12 years old and not have someone else pay for it.
Anyway, I was going to write about my sister since she is pretty cool. She has seen a football match in Chile (or was it Agentina?), studied Islamic architecture, travelled through Columbia, has designed art murals in the shit part of Philly, worked with an architect, topped her class, mastered Manipuri, appeared on tv more than once, has 6,709 friends on FB (ok perhaps i exaggerate) and arranges the most well-executed candle lit dinners I have ever seen (think colour coordinated everything and a gazillion lists).
But I think she may read this and I dont want her bloody ego to grow one size bigger. Plus she gets on my nerves all the time. Plus she was such a do-goody in school that people refused to believe that I was her frikkin brother! wtf.
Of late, I find myself fascinated with water. Like in a very Mughal architecture kind of way. Was thinking that my mansion/palace will also have tiny avenues for water and these tiny pools with stone floors and there will always be the sound of flowing water in the background.
Perhaps that is what I miss the most about the sea. The way it is always there you know, the waves never give up, cross their arms and refuse to talk to you.
I don’t know which is worse, when you alienate the people you love because you are too scared to be hurt or when you believe that you can survive the word on your own.
Hmm….. sentimentality does not become Kro.
Was reading Mr. Oscar Wilde’s essays the other day. The man was immersed in literature if you know what I mean. Actual debates about who the sonnets of Shakespeare were dedicated to and lazy arguments about the decline of pure art.
The mind meanders many a mile before it reaches where it must,
And it is this journey that makes a man.
All taken from this man’s blog.