Tales from the kitchen

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Our Bengali cook is on leave for 15 days for Durga Puja. It is impossible to find a substitute for such a short period of time so we have decided to cook simple meals. I woke up half an hour earlier to make my omelette and moong chilla in the morning. The plan for the evening was that I would cook dalia khichdi for myself and KC would cook daal fry. He would order chapattis from takeaway.

This is what happened:

KC : “How do you boil daal? In a cooker?”

 

We threaten to chop off each other’s treasured body parts in the kitchen but better sense prevails.

 

I have found the world record holder for the slowest onion peeler.

 

KC : What is mustard?

Me : Tiny, black coloured balls

 

KC tries to put the blade in the processor on top instead of bottom.

Umm… I think I should check his degrees. He doesn’t sound like an EC engineer or someone who works in consumer durables.

 

KC : I will pluck the kadi pattas from the plant after 15 minutes, maybe it will grow a little bigger by then

The plant has very tiny leaves right now

 

KC wants me to choose which glass to fill the water for the daal in. After all, whether the glass is made of steel or glass makes a big difference in the quantity.

 

He also blows up the house when turning on the gas.

 

He cannot open the lid of the food processor even though his company has gifted it.

Did I mention he works in consumer durables?

 

We fight over the lone green chilli- who deserves it more- the daal or dalia khichdi? I make the sacrifice.

 

Me to KC while he is looking for green chillies in the fridge : Eww… what are those tiny penis type things in your hand?

They were tinde. Now I know why I can’t eat them.

 

But we had piping hot tasty daal.

All’s well that ends well?

I dread our next cooking session.

 


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