Getting future ready

What are you most excited about for the future?

Mum was a vegetarian and we grew up on a healthy diet of vegetarian food. Dad introduced us to eating non-vegetarian by taking us to restaurants that prepared them. During those days, chicken tikka with toothpicks sticking out of them was all the rage. I remember gorging on them. We used to polish off 2 or 3 plates in one sitting and then used to go back home and finish the food Mum had prepared for us. I used to love eating chicken and used to hate the portion sizes in a few of the restaurants I have visited. I used to hound my siblings to prepare chicken for me. For me, it was all about the eating, I never thought about the costs of the ingredients and chicken was more expensive than any of the vegetables Mum had prepared for us.

The first time I tried preparing chicken was when I decided to surprise my spouse as a newlywed in our new home. I prepared a stuffed chicken breast. I got everything down perfectly, except the time it takes to cook chicken breast. I had created the ambiance. I dressed up for the evening. I even turned down the lights and for a brief moment thought about looking for a way to procure a bottle of wine. But, gave up the thought because that seemed a little too over the top. I plated our meal and served it on the table. One bite. And I was in tears. I. Had. Overcooked. The. Chicken. I’ve never felt worse than I did that day. The meal was a hard, rubbery, mess! We threw it out and ordered in. I had learned my lesson. Start slow. Start small.

The next time I tried cooking chicken I tried preparing it using an Indian recipe. I perused the aisles in my local supermarket and back in the day there used to be one some distance away from home. So I made the effort to get there, and then look for a spice box that had a detailed recipe. I then picked up the rest of the ingredients listed on the box as required to make this dish. I read and reread the recipe until I knew it almost by rote. When I got home, I got the clock out so I could also time the cooking time as mentioned in the recipe. I sliced onions, diced potatoes, ground ginger, and garlic into a fine paste, cubed the tomatoes, and chopped the coriander real fine. I washed the chicken and left it to drain. Then I placed the dish on the stovetop to start assembling the ingredients in the dish. First, the oil, then some ghee, then the spices, the paste, and the sliced onion, waited until it turned golden brown, then added the tomatoes, waited until it cooked, and then added the potatoes and sautéed it in this paste until it turned tender and golden. Then I added the chicken and sautéed it until it turned golden, then added a cup of water, a ½ cup of yogurt, covered it, and cooked it for precisely 5 minutes. Stirred it once, added the chopped coriander, and turned it off. This time I did not bother with the ambiance or the lights or even try pulling out a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I just served the chicken along with the rotis I had prepared earlier. It was the time for the dreaded first bite. And I was in tears. It. Was. Stupendous. I was overwhelmed. It was amazing. The chicken was succulent and delicious. I had hit the jackpot. The bowl was almost licked clean, it was that yummy!

I repeated this recipe again and again until I knew it in my sleep. I could prepare this dish without having to read the cover to follow the steps. It’s never failed me. This recipe gave me hope. Hope for the future, that maybe I could now prepare my chicken curry the way I liked it, with a lot of protein and fewer veggies and extras. After that first disaster, it took me a few years to rustle up the enthusiasm to make chicken again. Or to put anything to cook in the oven again. But I tried. And I had a lot of disasters. Nothing as drastic as rubber-chicken. But every step made me realize that culinary skills are like most other skills, you get better as you keep working on them. I persisted. And worked. Very hard. I baked my first cake a few years later. A delicious chocolate cake. I’ve had my fair share of moist and undercooked middles, burnt crusts, burnt cakes, rock -hard brownies. Oh! Those rock-hard brownies were the most hilarious disaster ever, it was edible when it was warm, but as it cooled it hardened more and more until it was as hard as a rock. So hard, that apart from licking it, you could do nothing with it. My maid told me she chucked it in the bin on the street, and even the stray dogs, avoided it. I’ve also tried my hand at icing and fondants. Over the years, I have realized what my strengths are and focus on improving those skills. For instance, I can bake a delicious carrot cake or an amazing chocolate cake and a decent vanilla cake. But while I love eating icing, I don’t have the patience to stand in a freezing room to finish icing a cake. I have worked hard today, to ensure that in future, in my future, I am prepared to make anything I feel like eating. They weren’t kidding when they said, ‘The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’.