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HALWA- A DELICACY FOR DOGS

In my previous blog, I talked about my cooking disaster of baigan ki sabzi. The next incidence in the series happened when I was newly married, and used to stay with my in-laws at Shimla. The cooking was done by my mother-in-law with the help of servant. Being a responsible Gr A Govt Officer, I was exempted from cooking, as I was left with very little time, after office hours, which I spent in roaming around in Mall Road at Shimla, accompanying my husband. Before marriage, I had learnt enough cooking to cook a decent full course meal, but had never dared to cook anything in the presence of my mother-in-law for the fear of spoiling it. I soon got a chance to cook when both my in-laws were out of station, and on a Sunday, the servant proceeded on leave. Apart from cooking a conventional dinner, I decided to surprise my husband and two brothers-in-law with my excellent culinary skills. I decided to make “Atte Ka Halwa”, as I had successfully cooked it once or twice before marriage under the guidance of my mother. I could not realize what a major role this guidance used to play in my amateur cooking, as it meant that every small step ranging from selection of right sized pan to switch off the gas after cooking, had the approval of my mother, who, being a veteran of cooking could judge the quantities with her eyes better than any measuring cup. This time, I was alone in the kitchen, but was confident enough and ventured into “mission halwa”.  Now, may be the pot was too small for the quantity of the flour( or the flour too much to be stirred in the pot), or the flour remained under roasted before I put the water in it, what went wrong that day is a mystery yet to be solved. The main point is, the outcome of my half an hour labor was shattering. The dish in the pan could no longer be called halwa, as it reminded me of lei, a term used in my childhood time for a homemade paste made up of flour and water, which was a substitute for gum given by mothers to the kids to do unproductive art and craft works. My fighter instinct still declined to accept the defeat, and I decided to make it eatable somehow. So, I took lot of dry fruits, roasted them in ghee and mixed them to the halwa. I tasted it again, praying to god for some miracle, but the halwa was still as tasteless as before. Now, I felt really disappointed. I wanted to show my culinary skills, but if I would have served the dish, it could have spoilt the recognition earned so far by coking tasty lunch. So, I concluded that there is no harm in serving the food without sweet dish, as nobody knew about this failed venture. By that time, the two pet dogs of the house had come to the kitchen, sniffing the fragrance of ghee. I gave a small portion of halwa to each of them, which they accepted gratefully and rest I kept in a pot in the refrigerator to be given to them for the next day.
The next day the servant came back from leave and while I was having breakfast, he came apprehensively to me and stood by. I looked at him and he asked, “Madam! What is to be done to that dish?” “Which dish?” I asked as I had almost forgotten the previous day’s incidence. Most politely and sincerely, he replied,“ the one you cooked for the dogs yesterday.”  Now, I could not control my laughter, and while I laughed uncontrollably, through his conversation, I got to know that my younger brother-in-law was watching my cooking venture quietly the previous day. When enquired by the servant about the unrecognizable dish, he told him that the dish was cooked by Bhabhiji for the dogs. I could understand the perplexity of the servant as he was surprised at the munificence of the new “Officer Bahu”, for putting a large quantity of dry fruits in a dish made for dogs, but was hesitant to question her. After knowing that the dish was originally meant for the family members, but was served to dogs because of being uneatable, he appeared to be quiet relaxed.  Though I was disappointed with the cooking disaster of the previous day, this changed my mood. Though now, I have mastered the art of cooking many dishes, the memories of the halwa which proved to be delicacy for dogs, still bring a smile to my face.

Baigan ki sabzi

“How was the pizza, beta?” I asked my daughter, to which she threw a counter question, licking her finger,” as delicious as ever mamma! Can it ever happen that you cook something and it is not great?”  Her statement brought a grin on my face, as I was driven down in my memory lane to remember what I call “My cooking disasters”. The most memorable incidence dates back to the time when I had joined Engineering College and as my father was posted at other city, I used to stay at my uncle’s home accompanied by my brother, who was two years senior to me in the same college. Though I used to help my chachiji  in cooking and other household chores, like any other studious girl, I was not very expert at cooking which was proved when my chachiji went to her parental village nearby and could not return on the same day.  As eating in restaurants was not common those days and home delivery was not even heard of, this left the responsibility of cooking dinner for the family on myself with the assistance of my cousin sister Mona, who was younger and of course more naïve than me.  All together we were four, including my cousin brother elder to me. We decided to cook a basic meal of chapatis and baigan ki sabzi, as our brothers could not dare to ask anything more from us.  While Mona was kneading the dough for chapatis, I attempted to cook Baigan ki sabzi. After placing the vegetable on high flame, I took a stroll out of the kitchen, to get rid off the heat of the kitchen. Soon, the smell of burning brinjal filled the whole house and I came running to the kitchen, only to find out that by that time, Mona had put a glass of water in the vegetable to save it from burning. While we cooked reasonably round and thin chapatis, I took a glance at my attempt on vegetable. The outcome was some soft pieces of brinjal floating in yellow colored water, which in no way could be called ” baigan ki sabzi”. Exhausted with the efforts of one hour of continuous cooking, we decided to serve our brothers whatever was cooked. Like any other traditional Indian household, our brothers sat to eat while we sisters were making chapattis. Putting the first bite in mouth, both of them screamed, “What kind of vegetable is this?”  I said,” How bad of you, we have prepared this meal with so much love and affection, and you are criticizing it. Moreover, you should be thankful to us that you have got something to eat, despite chachiji not being there.” At that very point of time, as a God sent opportunity an unexpected guest in the form of a distant relative called Mamaji dropped in and we were quick enough to serve the food for him also in a plate. Now, mamaji was quiet a gentleman and though he politely declined second serve, he did justice to whatever was served in first course. Our brothers could also not raise their voice in the presence of Mamaji and finished their dinner quietly.

After this the two of us i.e. Mona, and myself sat for the dinner, criticizing our brothers for their callous attitude and unsympathetic comments, which we received after the departure of mamaji. The first bite in our mouth had an amazingly similar effect on both of us. With great difficulty, we both swallowed the first bite and looked at each other surreptitiously. “Really difficult to swallow”, I said to which there was no question of her disagreeing.  We finished the chapatis with pickle, leaving the rest of the vegetable untouched. Though we felt sympathetic for our brothers, there was no question for us admitting our fault to them. So after finishing our food, to conceal all the evidence of our cooking disaster, we took the leftover vegetable outside backyard, where a stray dog was waiting for his daily dose of leftover dinner. We threw the vegetable, the dog sniffed it, tasted it and to our surprise, making a sound mixed of coughing and vomiting ran away, probably swearing never to come again. The behavior of dog confirmed that our brothers were far better than him. We forgave them in our hearts and promised to each other that we will never disclose this secret to anyone. Many years have passed since then and after finishing my studies, I got a job and subsequently got married.  With the guidance from my mother and sisters, recipe books and a lot of experiments, I have earned enough experience to cook fairly good food that earn me lot of accolades from my husband, in-laws, kids and guests. But the memories of that baigan ki sabzi still bring smile at my face, whenever I get an appreciation from anyone.