Where I wake up and smell the coffee, a south indian filter kaapi filled with so much love that it makes me want to cry

No really.

It makes me want to cry. Filter kaapi. Oh you slightly sweet, bitter devil concoction.

I just discovered all these books that I had forgotten about and it was gorgeous cause all I did was wipe the dust off ’em and read a few pages and smile. And wonder how these words  seem to crawl deep into your eyes and then into your mind and pull out all these memories and all that shit.


What else what else. I had a DBC the other day. Extra scoop of vanilla and no nuts.

Oh my good dear Lord man. It just tastes so good and the warm fudge tries to melt the ice cream but the ice cream gives a good fight so what you get on your spoon is this yummy semi-solid chunky fudgy gorgeous thing.

I go out in the real world so infrequently that whenever I do actually manage to step out, I am all staring at the buildings as if I have never seen them before and I wonder what kind of conversations the buildings have with each other and if the windows are like eyes and the door like the mouth and then the roof is like the hair.

I mean you could do that with some of the older buildings but nowadays its getting a tad difficult cause you have all these lambu lambu shiny buildings and they are sort of beginning to look real similar and generic and mean.


If you watch too many hip hop videos, your mind begins to do strange things to you. Videos nowadays are like softcore pornos except with better (well depending on your taste) music.  It might be cool to steal a pornos OST and replace elevator music to it. Watch if people’s faces make that strange expression which is made when you hear/see something which is familiar but you can’t quite place it.

And then their reactions when they realise where they had heard it and then have to pretend they don’t know what the fuck is going on at all.

I like civilisation because it allows you to wear so many masks. I don’t think brutes had that option really.

Waiter: “Would you like some caviar with that foie graaaaaa”

Brute: “Me want food”

Civilised: “Oh yes thank you. Could you please have it cut into four pieces and served on a toasted bread with some deconstructed cinnamon infused pannacotta on the side please”.

Ok that did not make sense but what I am trying to get at is that these new cookery shows are just driving me insane. “Oh now we are going to freeze these goose eye balls for precisely 49 years and then have them finely diced”.

And, “yes the chilean sunflower roots give this wonderful citrusy aroma to the dish. Or you could just use a freshly squeezed nimbu”

Fukin hell.

I mean sure I love food and I enjoy it and all that but lets not get so bloody anal (oops, bad imagery right there) about it. Food is food boss. If it tastes good, it tastes good. Sure you can have those orgasmic moments where you close your eyes and just smile cause the ghee roast just tastes so good but enough about the plating and all that shit already.

What happened to simple cooking and simple eating? What happened to that medium rare steak dazzled with pepper sauce with some mash on the side? What happened to garam garam kadi and khichdi which you have to slurp cause its so hot but once you do, it runs into your belly and warms you up like nobody’s business. What about oily oily telebhajas served in yesterday’s newspaper? And of baked bread (flavoured with nothing special) which you have to cut open with a big knife and then slice it into unequal parts?

Man, what happened to tomato chaat served on tomato slices with this sexy spicy green chutney and crunchy kudmuda?

I don’t know, I just don’t buy this whole masterchef thing at all. I mean I respect ya and your food looks lovely but lets not get so bloody disectoidinal about it.

“Remember, if the fish scales are not pointing up after you have seared it, the dish is a failure”

Perfection ruins so many things.

Why is there such a strong desire to be perfect? Fuck that shit.

I like my fries to have some slightly extra crisp pieces and I like some steaks to be charred and smoky. And I like women who have some flesh on them and who can’t walk too well in high heels and I like fans which creak when they spin around and I like discovering things which are not perfect. Which have this oddness, this reality.

But then what do I know.


This entry was posted in Addi veno, chumma, complete and utter bullshit and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Where I wake up and smell the coffee, a south indian filter kaapi filled with so much love that it makes me want to cry

  1. Jazz says:

    I so agree. Many times I strive to get that perfect look for a dish forgetting it is the taste that matters most. Khichdi and Kadhi.. Yumm. I’m a foodie.

  2. Lost & Found says:

    I saw that episode too! Poor Wade had to go. My first reaction on seeing the dish was, “Who the hell eats scales? And what the eff is going on with that black thingie that looks like sabudana papad?” I thought squid ink was supposed to be gross. I didn’t know you could dunk stuff like potatoes in it and call it ‘michelin star’ restaurant food. Bleagh!

  3. Chopper 1 says:

    This blog sucks. Seriously. Not one post makes any sense. But then, I guess it isnt written for me, so no biggie.

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