Baking & Musing...

* Reading Breakfast, Lunch & Tea~ Rose Carrarini.
* Dreaming of Baking Date Scones.
* Have to take a decision between Bonne Maman's Rasberry preserve or Fabindia's Chunky Orange Marmalade before the Jam bottle is emptied in a few hours.
* Brought back my mother's old Foley measuring spoons. She knew I'll 'want' it one day.
* A duster cloth so beautiful, I might never use it.
* The husband, the daughter, our neighbours enjoyed the Chololate Chip Cookies.
* I used powdered Jaggery instead of Brown sugar. I always do.
* A kitchen is a great place to hang out.
* Have to buy some Fresh Mangoes. Loads of them...

Ode to Tomatoes

Ode to Tomatoes
The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
at
omato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera,
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the
union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved
hemispheres,
pepper
adds its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth,
recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.
~ Pablo Neruda

To stop train, pull chain.

* "Amma, If I pull the chain, the train will stop?" asked Mallika.
* History sure repeats itself, I remember asking my mother the same question when I was little.

* The shape of the red painted metal hasn't changed much over the years and surely the experience of travelling by train hasn't changed either.
* The familiar sound of 'Chaiya- Chai', Garama-Garam Chai'.
* Coolies with their red kurtas haggling with passengers for that extra 10 rupee note.

* Aromas of onion vadas, cutlets, masala dosas, coffee & tea mingling with the cool breeze of the air-contitioned coaches.

* The peeling paints, the typography, the condensation on the windows, the setting sun.

* Screaming babies, lullabying grannies, working-hard-on-the-laptop-techies, walkman or was it ipod listening teenagers and Mallika asking me for the 101th time, "When are we going to reach?" is such an awesome experience;-)

Like they say it's the journey not the destination that matters:-)