My day sucked, big time. Had I begun writing this blog a couple of hours earlier, my response would have been slightly different and somewhat positive.
I’m in the middle of processing two cooking mishaps that ruined my day. It’s a lot to take in, especially given my usual success in cooking. It took me back to first day of solo living and my first foray into cooking. I had started with the one thing that is considered foolproof and promising – potatoes. I was using Induction for the first time and had no clue how that damn thing worked. Controlling temperatures wasn’t my strongest suit, and I ended up burning the potatoes to an inedible crisp. I felt utterly defeated by an ingredient that was supposed to be basic. Cue the dramatic tears and a serious panic ‘cause who the hell on earth fails at cooking potatoes? It wasn’t just that. How was I going to do this cooking thing every single day? ALONE. All by myself. It was overwhelming, to say the least. It was like my brave “living solo” bubble burst, and reality hit me like a ton of bricks.
Today’s cooking disaster felt like a blast from the past, which felt oddly funny as I’ve come a long way since then. My fried potatoes are an ace now, and I’ve mastered a variety of other dishes too. I love cooking and consider it my way of finding calm in the chaos. But today, oh today, was a different story. I decided to try my hand at making rava dosa and besan chilla – things I’d never attempted before. Let’s just say, I didn’t quite nail the consistency, and my new cast iron dosa tawa wasn’t exactly playing nice. My kitchen ended up looking as if a tornado has paid a visit, and all I could do in the end was laugh at myself. Talk about a humbling experience. I needed that, I guess.
Admitting defeat, I surrendered to the comforting embrace of a dal makhni rice bowl, thanks to Swiggy. I sit here, fingers dancing across the keyboard, with McEwan’s “On Chesil Beach” waiting to be my pick-me-up before I slither into my blanket. How was your day, though?