Shop Talk

A friend asked me for a post on shopping in Chennai.
Everyone who knows me, is laughing out loud, reading this first line,Archana! 

A. I am a lousy shopper. I can't spend more than 15 minutes in one store. Be it clothes/diamonds/furniture!! I hate trial rooms. Claustrophobic. 

B. I love shopping for groceries. Grocery shopping is therapeutic. I get thrilled tobits getting tomato paste in a tube! 

C. My wardrobe has 2 dominant colors- black and white. And some pastel shades here and there. Yeah, I believe that the most beautiful animal in this planet is the Zebra. 

D. I can't wear heels. CAN'T. And when people suggest I try, I dabaaichufy and tell them am taller than most Indian men, just barefoot. I once fell down trying to maneuver a pair of teeny tiny heeled sandals, right in the middle of an Edinburgh restaurant. When the waiters came running from every direction, I had to shift the blame on their smooth floor. They also asked me if I intended suing the restaurant and their floor J

E. I am scared of polka dots, for some reason. Sometimes, am reminded of Sungudi sarees when I see polka dots. And it brings memories of old sraardha samayal maamis from the 80’s.

F. I have outgrown shopping in Chennai 600017. Very very rarely, can I do it.And I need an antidote afterwards. 

G. I suffer a major setback in self esteem when I am ambushed by a snobbish,impeccably dressed store assistant in a swanky place. 

H. I completed my entire wedding shopping within 2-3 hours max. Remember the Tambrahm wedding requires some 7-8 sarees. I took more than minutes because mum rejected black/white for the wedding. Stupid stores don't ever stock up on black/white silk sarees either. And she rejected a lot more for other reasons. 

I. My wardrobe is utilitarian. Stocked with kurtas, tunics, pajamas and cotton trousers more than anything else.  Hari hates to drive and we end up taking the auto. Every Chennai woman knows what to wear in an auto. And what not to. And most of my kurtas have collars- I am tired of random people seeing my bare neck and asking me about my mangalsutra. The lack thereof. 

J. I travel a lot. At least, I used to. But hardly shop abroad. Unlike most other friends of mine who earn in other currency or work onsite, we still earn in Rupees and the exchange rate leaves me mortified. But more importantly travelling with Hari means I carry no check-in baggage. Yes, he hates the extra waiting time. While there are times when I have smuggled shampoo bottles in cabin baggage, I have also lost Body Shop bath gel bottles to the airport dustbins.

K. Am married to someone whose grooming/sartorial sense is worse than mine. Sample this:
Me: I am getting oversized sunglasses.

Him:You aren’t going to gain weight on your eyes/nose. So, why get plus sizes? You should get your own size, unlike with Jeans and shirts.

He’s antisocial but I can convince him to attend weddings with me with the promise of ‘kalyana saappadu’. But enough people have laughed out loud seeing him in shorts and a Tantra T shirt in wedding halls.

He is scared of getting a haircut, says someone holding sharp instruments over his head makes him nervous. And hence, to minimise the ‘danger potential’, gets his head tonsured twice a year. That’s it. Shaves once a month. When I entice him with urulaikizhangu fry and refuse to give it to him until he shaves.
I love the fact that he is not fake- he and most of his pals, never look at clothes, shoes, cars and such. He can dine with propah Brit colleagues and eat with his bare hands!

He refuses to throw out anything- I discard stuff, but then, he never realises it either! :)

L.Don’t look for haute couture in this list. I am way too middle class and I live in Chennai, I drive through seedy parts and you know how people stare at you when you wear as much as a sleevless kurta or Capri trousers. Leave the men; I have seen women look at me contemptuously when I am dressed thus.  I have had instances of students staring at me inappropriately. I have one black dress I haven’t worn in 2 years.

M. I went to a stupid college with a stupider dress code. The management made sure we looked as hideous as possible. But those were the days- getting the unstitched fabric from Nalli/Kumaran/Pantheon Road/Sundari, looking into various out-dated catalogues at the tailors’, unable to settle for a single neck design, piping in contrast colours, churidar gatherings and Patiala salwars. Waiting a month or more to get the sets tailored. Wearing it to college the very next day. Aah, such simple things could make one happy when young. Sounds very distant today- and I don’t have the patience to go to the tailor these days.

Despite all this, I love retail therapy. I have a headache, I shop, I fight with Hari, I shop. I am bored, I shop. I am happy, I shop. Can even be a carton of milk. I shop akin to Chris Gayle getting bored and hitting sixers everyother ball. And then going back to the pavilion when he's bored of that as well.

When I was in school and college, I could not afford shopping. We weren't left with much after spending for education and basic necessities. I was not fashion conscious, I had a unibrow until 21 but did not get my eyebrows done until I was out of college- I could not imagine spending mum's precious little money on something that was not a bare necessity. It irks me today, to see middle class college kids get tattoos for a 4 figure sum.  Or pay thousands to enroll in a course with no intention of actually studying. I see a lot of such kids in my classes.

Anyhow, thanks to this conditioning, I have seen various class shopping segments- from Pantheon Road, Chennai 17 to the swankier and (the affordable) international labels. 

Now, coming to my favourite haunts:

1. Fabindia:
Madras is hot. Ideally, we should all be wearing minimal clothes- short shorts and tank tops. Despite our huge Dravidian posteriors and tiered stomachs. Butthen, you'd only have to leave our room, come to the living room and you'd have to dial for an ambulance- for you'd have a mum/dad/anyone-at-all suffer a heart attack. And you'd have to rush to the wardrobe, change into a kurta and pajamas before you can open the door and let the paramedics tend to the patient.
So, shorts are out of question.
The next best thing is Fabindia. You don't feel like you are wearing anything at all. It is that comfortable. Yes, the colour runs and runs and runs, the kurta lasts 10 washes, it's the same stuff again and again- but we all keep gravitating towards the nearest Fabindia store. Alas, we have no other option.You are geared for Madras' temperatures when you wear this. And thankfully,they make 'decent-by-auntyji-standards' and weird men on the road do not give you weirder looks when you wear them. I have never found fabric that is as good as Fabindia's anywhere. If you happen to know, enlighten me please.
Apart from the fabric, I like the inbuilt pockets- convenient for keys andphones.  And most importantly, the store is almost empty, all the time, unlessyou make the mistake of going to their mall outlets. 

The mall outlets always have a firang or two. Be it Fabindia or Maroma.

2. Kalpastree:
Y U no have an online store!!
The place is beautiful- near Stella Mari's. Again, the place has no crowds, i like their prices better than Fabindia prices and I must say their fabric is almost as good. ALMOST.
It's a one stop shop for all your ethnic needs. When I first heard of theplace, I was very sure I could not afford anything there- the pincode, the uber-elite sounding name and its proximity to Stella. It screamed 'snob'. But I have always been surprised at their prices. You can also look into their tapestry,curios, jewelry and stuff- I don't have a house swanky enough to decorate with their tapestry/curios. So, I give it a miss. 

Also look into Kalpa Kshema nearby- their organic food store. I liked the mangoes I got there last year.

3. Sundari Silks:
The one store in T Nagar that has a proper valet service. And it’s a little less crowded than Nalli/Kumaran. Mum always claims it’s at least 10 per cent more expensive than Nalli/Kumaran.

When I was in college, I got quite a few readymade salwar kameez sets from there. I went to the year-end sale recently and was sad to see that it had nothing much to offer these days.

I have always liked their silk sarees though. Still do! A majority of my wedding sarees are from Sundari.

Apart from the clothes, I like the store layout. With its quaint old-house-like charm.

Today,when I look at Sarangi’s ads on The Hindu, I think ‘Sundari is the Sarangi of TNagar’. Again, I look at Sarangi and am intimidated. By the pincode, the FBpage and the ads. I bet the place has snobbish store attendants who will not look at you unless you arrive there in a chauffeur driven high end vehicle.

Talking of snob places, I once had a very bad experience at Karishma, Nungambakkam- the store did not even look all that swanky and I walked in to the store when I was working nearby some 2 years back. The store had a snob of a woman who treated me like trash and I vowed to never enter the place again.

4.Cottonworld Corp:

I love Khader Nawaz Khan. Among Madras’ roads, it’s a favourite, next only to the area around Theosophical Society, Besant Nagar.

While most of Khader Nawaz Khan’s stores do not cater to the non-celery-eating public,Cottonworld Corp is heaven. Head to this place, above Auroville’s store, for comfortable western clothes. Very unassuming- cotton trousers, blouses, tunics, tops, shirts for women who eat. When I was younger and could fit into a size S comfortably, I went  to other places. And then shifted to Cottonworld Corp, as the inches increased.

On an unrelated note, I am reminded of Sujatha’s joke-
Women should stop dancing when they reach 40- Age and waist size!

5.Marks & Spencer:

The world’s most boring store, as a student of mine once remarked. When you realise that you aren’t young anymore, you automatically head to this place.

I am there. Are you?

6.Naidu Hall:

We all got our first ‘delicates’ from Naidu Hall. Barring a very short visit a couple of years back, accompanying someone else, I haven’t been to this place for a really long time. When we were kids,we always got our frocks here. Today, it is a mess.

7.Pantheon Road:

The road looks like a paintball match is perennially in progress there. You have street vendors sitting with their bales and bales of pure cotton fabric. They sell it by the metre and if you have any bargaining skills, you should head to this busy little street tucked beyond Thillayadi Valliammai complex in Egmore. If I have to choose a cheaper alternative to Fabindia, this is it. You can pick up fabric for around 60 bucks a metre and that translates to a salwar kameez set within 400 bucks. The catch is, it is far away. And you need a tailor. You have to take the bus/auto, for there is no parking space easily available. I wish they sold fabric online!! Again, it’s been ages since I have been here. I think I last went to this lovely street, often called ‘Cheap Street’ for obvious reasons, in 2009.

8.Nalli/Kumaran/Raasi:

We all transition from these places to the pricier options. Nevertheless, we all started there. Like old timers, I still prefer the old Nalli store, opposite Panagal Park to the new Nalli 100 building. All our mums still claim that Kumaran sells at a lesser price than Nalli does. I have my doubts there! The modern bride, despite all that trousseau shopping in Sarangi and Tulsi, still goes to Nalli/Kumaran/Raasi for the muhurtha pattu pudavai. While Nalli/Kumaran are preferred by people on this side of the Mount Road, the Mylapore maami adorned in her diamonds and draped in her Mangalgiri cotton saree will never stray from Raasi.

A stolen childhood

She was all of 17 years. Her slender frame drooped under the weight of the gargantuan garland. 

She was just out of high school. 2 of the 40 odd girls who graduated high school that year, in the remote village in India, entered college. Not that the ratio was healthy among boys.

Like every other girl in every other village/town/city in India, she lived her dream.. well, in her dream. Fantasies helped her overcome reality. The ugly reality of child marriage. She imagined that she was enrolled in a college. That she was in a lab, handling beakers, computers and circuits. Gal pals, hostel rooms and late night chats. Wear Jeans, take bus rides to college. Watch movies with classmates, pass notes during a lecture, get caught.. Campus romance, the freedom to choose a boyfriend. The freedom to say no. The freedom to consider and reconsider a relationship's progress or regress. 

She didn't harbour big ambitions. No civil service/doctor/pilot aspirations. Simply because she was not exposed to that world of opportunities. Her world revolved around her family, school and the only other information source was television. Her mother could, at best, speak about the neighbour's new saree. Her father, in his drunken stupor, or in semi sobriety, swore multilingually. 

All she wanted was freedom. Freedom to sleep late, wake up at 10, eat Maggi noodles for brunch and yet not be thrown out of the household for such behaviour. Freedom to go to a new place and have a career. Earn her own money, live her own life. Use sanitary napkins advertised on TV. Tweeze her eyebrows. Cut her hair. Fiddle with a computer. Freedom to explore her desires, the way she chose. To build a home with a toilet. To earn enough to pay for a flight ticket, all on her own. 

She had little idea about the realities of marriage. She had little idea about the man who will be fathering her children, starting next year. 4 pregnancies, 2 kids, an induced abortion and a couple of miscarriages... all in 4 years of marriage. She had no idea she will be battered, anaemic and malnourished at 21. She had no idea that she will forego milk and precious calcium so that she can feed her kids. All at 21 years of age. When her more fortunate counterparts across the nation hunt for a job. She felt guilty that she felt she didn't want children. She did not want to introduce more characters in this already dreadful story of her life. Her mother shrugged and said 'this is our life, you don't have a choice'.

All she wanted was choice. 

Kalpanaswaram

Meet the Ramanathans.

Middle class Tambrahms living in a flat in KK Nagar. Ramanathan is the quintessential Tambrahm patriarch. His day starts with a tumbler and davara of filter kaapi carefully prepared by his wife. He seats himself on the balcony with the day’s Hindu, clad in a white 'baniyan'(now yellow, thanks to Madras’ pathetic water quality) and veshti. When he’s done with the paper, he proceeds for a walk with his wife and returns home with keerai and vegetables. At 8 30 AM, he leaves to the State Bank of India where he has worked for 38 years. After having served the bank in remote locations, where it proved difficult to find his kids ‘good CBSE’ schools, he is thankful he is now posted in Madras. Madras is not his native place. Of course, to call Madras your native place, you will have to be a fisherman, he says! He is from a remote village in the erstwhile Thanjavur district. But Madras offers him carnatic concerts, brothers and sisters nearby.

Srimathi Ramanathan. She is Ramanathan’s wife of 34 years. She married a ‘4-figure’ earning banker and she was sent to Calcutta right after completing her B Sc Mathematics, summa cum laude. She mistook nausea from Calcutta’s mustard oil stench for morning sickness for a fortnight. Every three years when Ramanathan was transferred from one place to another, she followed him for around 15 years, finding work in her kids’ schools as a Maths teacher. After that, she stayed back in Madras, for the kids’ education. Today, her day starts with arthritic pain, filter kaapi and a morning walk. Ask her about the perfect filter kaapi someday. She can give you the minor-est of minor details. ‘Fresh Aavin milk- boil it only once; never more than once. 2 spoons of kaapi podi (Peaberry  + Plantation A in equal proportion, with 10 percent chicory, ground and stored in an airtight steel canister),   boil water and pour it over the coffee powder over the filter. Water should be poured in a circular motion so that there is no single ridge-like depression in the coffee powder.  Put a lid on top and leave it for a while. Take a steel tumbler, add 2 teaspoons of sugar and add decoction to this sugar. Mix it until the sugar dissolves well (don’t mix it all at once along with the milk). Now add boiled milk before a layer of ‘aedu’ (cream) forms on top. And relish the kaapi before it loses heat. P.S: Dilution of milk with water is every filter kaapi’s kryptonite.’ Her day ends with a Skype call to Radhika.

Radhika Srinivas nee Ramanathan, is the Ramanathans’ seemandha puthri.  She lives in NYC with her Investment banker husband Srinivas. Radhika and Srinivas fell in love in class 9 in a PSBB classroom. Radhika is now 33 years old, is an engineer from Sri Venkateswara Engineering College. Nivas was one of those rare IIT-IIM grads who had managed to floor a girl. Not a ‘non-male’ from IIT-M but a girl from one of the city’s self finance engineering colleges. Like all standard nerds, he adores his wife beyond measure.  He has to. Nerds don’t get lucky twice in their lives– probability of that happening is almost zero. Like all Tambrahm daughters, Radhika  ‘Skypes’ with her mother everyday to bitch about her in laws!

Now, let’s finally look into our protagonist’s life. 28 year old Ananth Ramanathan. Another standard nerd.  As a child, whenever Ananth came back home with 99 percent in Maths, his mother made sure she put the fear of non performance in him. ‘Ipdi padikkaama thirunjaa, government office peon velai daan kedaikkum da’ – sometimes he can still hear that in his sleep. When he got anything less than 95 percent, he contemplated running away to a faraway land and becoming a waiter or a peon. Srimathi wanted to do CA but could never realize that dream. So Ananth found himself in the commerce section in PSBB KKN in class 11. The school, teachers and students ‘dhukkam-vijaaricchufied’ him until the quarterly examination was over- because it was norm back then that nerds like Ananth did Science and not Commerce. So that’s how Ananth became a CA, at the age of 20. At 20, partly influenced by Nivas, he wrote CAT and obviously got calls from every IIM. He chose IIM-C because of one reason. It was farthest from home. With enough veebhuthi to last the whole of Kali Yuga, Srimathi sent him to Calcutta. Mamma’s boy Ananth found everything around him interesting and unfamiliar at the same time. He went on to work for investment banks in Bombay- he dozed off in HRC and woke up at work. Like most nerds (don’t count Nivas here), he was stupid with women and his relationships (if you could call them that) NEVER worked.

After Radhika’s childbirth when Srimathi was busy being deputed to NYC, as an IAS ( the Indian Aayah Service) officer,  the Ramanathans started their daughter-in-law hunt. Of course, net savvy Radhika did the Tamil Matrimony profile and Sai Sankara profile. She was prudent enough to mention his academic credentials, his interest in music (reality-he learnt to play the violin for SIX MONTHS) and his I-banking job.

Once the profiles have been registered, Srimathi gets a call on Day 1:

Caller: ‘Hello, I am Padma Venkatesan; I happened to notice your son’s profile in SS Matri. I live in Abhiramapuram. Where do you stay? I don’t quite recognise the telephone exchange that gives out numbers starting with 2474.’

Srimathi: ‘We live a stone’s throw from PSBB KK Nagar’.

Caller: ‘Wrong pincode, sorry! My daughter wants someone from this side of Mount Road’.

Day 2:

Caller: ‘What is your son’s CGPA in his IIM-C course? Was he a rank holder in CA exams?’

Srimathi duly calls Radhika and then calls Ananth. Ananth is flummoxed!

Day 5:

Caller:  Why is your son in India?  

Day 10:

Caller: ‘Is that a 2 BHK flat you live in? Why hasn’t your son earned enough to buy a new 3 BHK flat in a more posh locality?’

Day 20:

Srimathi asks Radhika to remove the clause that says ‘Interested only in Vadama from Tanjavur’.  She adds ‘interested in all subsects’.

Day 40:

Caller:" Does Ananth hit the gym? My daughter has made it very clear that she wants a fitness enthusiast. You see, she runs 3 marathons a year. She is looking for a companion for all such activities.”

Ananth weighs 90 kg and glances at the gym windows while taxi-ing to work, solely because of the hot girls who work out there. That’s how ‘fitness-conscious’ he is.

Day 70:

Srimathi asks Radhika to remove another clause which reads ‘Looking for a slim, fair, beautiful bride’ after being asked by several moms whether he is ‘tall, fair and handsome’.

Day 110:

Finally horoscopes match, some girl is actually interested in talking to Ananth. On an auspicious day, she asks Ananth to call the girl. She silently prays to every deity she knows- ‘dear lord, I cannot go through this torture every day, please make sure Ananth likes her and vice versa’.

Ananth calls and the girl says ‘Oh, am really sorry- you see, I have no clue that amma has given you my number. I have a Muslim boyfriend amma does not approve of. She doesn’t approve of it and keeps searching for Iyer grooms. And i get these random calls every now and then. I am really, really sorry. I apologise for my mum’s fault.

Day 145:

Caller:  Is he really 5 ft 10 inches tall? My daughter is 5 ft 6 inches tall. She wants to be able to wear at least a 4-inch heel.

Srimathi: I can ask him to wear heels if need be!!

Day 180:

Horoscope match.

Caller: "Does he do Sandyavandanam? We are a very orthodox family and we are looking for a groom who knows rudhram, chamakam. He should be a pure vegetarian and not even think of onion/garlic."

Ananth likes his steak cooked medium rare. And in cod, he trusts. He reads Richard Dawkins and is an atheist.

Day 250:

Srimathi asks Radhika to remove another clause that says ‘interested in Iyers only’ and Radhika changes it to ‘Looking for Tamil Iyers or Iyengars’

Day 300:

Horoscope match. Telephone call. Srimaathi promises Thirupathi Venky a visit if this proposal materialises.

Ananth:  So what are you interested in?

Girl:  My world revolves around Don, my dear dear dear doggy.. he’s right here, oh listen to him bark. Cute, isn’’t it? Please tell me you’d love Don as much as I do.

Ananth: Well , I wouldn’t mind.

Girl:  ‘You wouldn’t mind??’ That’s not enough!!!"

So, Venky did miss Srimathi!

Day 400:

The Sundars have come in person to look at the Ramanathans, and to ‘take things forward.’

Mrs. Sundar : ‘ You still serve coffee in steel tumblers???? No china?'

A frustrated Ramanathan and a helpless Srimathi look at each other and cross off one more name from the list. It's Kaapi and not coffee, first and foremost. And what sacrilege? Kaapi in china?!!!

The Sundars have already crossed off Ananth’s name from their list.

Day 500:

Radhika, Nivas, Ramanathan and Srimathi get hold of Ananth and take turns at dishing out their combined wrath.

‘Why, why, why  are you not smart enough to find your own wife?’

‘Thuppae kedayaadhu daa onakku’

‘Ananth, you missed several buses in PSBB. After that you find no girl who will be willing to look at us in Nerdvana’ – that was veteran Nivas, in case you did not know.

'Ananthoo'.

Day 550:

Ananth’s profile reads ‘looking for a girl’. Nothing else. No other condition/criterion.

Day 600:

Thirupathi Venky gets 10k advance, Vaidyanatha swami near Myladuthurai gets 10k. Thiruvidandhai- 10k. Several visits to several temples follow.  

Ananth has lost all hope. His school friends have married fellow software engineers and work together in IT organisations dotting the OMR. They go onsite and earn more than he does, thanks to exchange rates. Radhika is worried he is losing hair. Ramanathan has lost all his hair over this. Srimathi is thankful Radhika found her own groom.  She calls Nivas and asks him to coach Ananth.

Day 630:

Ananth calls another girl.

Wish him good luck! Venky, Vaidhi and the rest are really looking forward to their dues.

Day 650:

Kalpana has decided to say yes to Ananth- she’s fond of Russian roulette, you see!

Ananth cannot imagine this being true. And that’s why he has pinched himself red all over.

Dubito, ergo pinch-ito, ergo veritas!

The woes and works of a lazy cook.

I am lazy. And I have way too many taste buds. A bad combination. Very bad because I hate to stay in the kitchen for more than 30 minutes. I would rather have curd rice with some pickle than a badly done 5 course meal. Or paruppu saadham with shredded and salted carrot. I am yet to understand the earlier generation- my mother wakes up at 4 AM every single day and cooks EVERY meal. And plain curd rice/ paruppu sadham is not an option she considers.

Apart from being monumentally lazy, I hate the kitchen I have. The house is older than me or Hari. The kitchen window opens to show me a very commercial, traffic ridden arterial road. My neighbours are as follows: a private grain/pulse godown, a Government warehouse, a saloon and an electrical shop. You get the picture. I would rather suffocate inside the kitchen than open the windows. If I am out, I can have a subway sandwich for lunch and be satisfied with it. I love anything that has colourful vegetables. The more, the merrier. I loved working in Nungambakkam for this reason- I could walk into the nearest Subway outlet and have a veggie delight sub. While I do enjoy good food, I don’t like to cook every day. Too much of an effort. But I pride myself on being able to find shortcuts/ minimise effort and yet have a very good end result when I do cook! So, I have compiled a list of such tips that’d help you tremendously if you happen to be as lazy as I am.

1. Rice is versatile:

Basmati, Ponni.. If you are a health conscious nut and you stay away from white rice, get the hell out if here NOW. I shop for groceries once a week. Again, the earlier generation that follows a monthly routine here, scoffs at me for this! So, whenever I shop, I stock up on basic vegetables. I ALWAYS buy carrots, fresh green peas, capsicum etc. All I need to do is cut these vegetables, soak the rice if you have time and cook this in a non-stick fry pan with a lot of cumin, select spices and sambar podi/garam masala. Yes, I use sambar podi for anything and everything. Blame my South Indian taste buds. You can have this with plain curd. And it is awesome for a lunch box. You can read the newspaper, do the crossword, have a bath while it cooks. Soak the rice for better results. I have done this enough and more times and I was a little concerned about the lack of protein in the dish. Especially if it’s the sole lunch dish of the day. That’s when I realised I would do better if I stocked up on soy nuggets/paneer. Sometimes, I add peanuts in this too. But that requires soaking overnight. I have also tried cooking a similar rice dish with sweet corn that comes packed in white plastic containers with cling film on top- you can find these in every Pazhamudhir Cholai/Nilayam in every part of the city. You can shred beetroot, fry it a little with some cashews, add rice and cook this with salt and chilli powder. Tastes wonderful. The husband claims he hates beetroot; I gave him this and claimed it was Delhi carrot. He asked for a second helping!

2. Paneer:

I love paneer. I grew up in a very traditional South Indian household and we never made paneer at home. But I love paneer. Whenever I dine out, I have to have a paneer dish. The best paneer I have had are at Cream Centre, Bombay Halwa House and Sigree. And when I started experimenting with paneer, once I started cooking on my own, I found that store bought paneer was a terrible, terrible idea. That’s when I started making it on my own. Through trial and error, I have found a procedure that works well for me. You can tweak it according to your needs.

It’s mandatory that you have all this ready, before you start the process: The right dairy choice: One litre of Nilgiris rich milk and 200 gm of Nilgiris fresh cream.

The right acid: One ripe lemon at room temperature. Take it out of the fridge and let it come to the room temperature. Otherwise, it’s really tough to get the juice out. Now, I have always had an availability problem with lemon. Kalla kandaa naai irukkaadhu, naai-a kandaa kal irukkaadhu. I would not have milk and lemons at the same time. That’s when I shifted to vinegar. It comes in a bottle and sits in the fridge all the time. I use around 2-3 teaspoons of vinegar. I have never used sour curd as a coagulant. So, I have nothing to share about it.

The right draining system: Have a clean cloth or two reserved for this purpose. I have two large handkerchiefs that I use only for paneer making and I wash it with dishwash liquid, lest the smell of Rin/Surf ruin my paneer. I guess a clean duppatta can serve the purpose though. Have a colander ready.

Now, empty the milk and cream into a large vessel and boil it. I don’t know if it’s necessary but I always tend to give this a mix with a ladle whenever the fresh cream starts collecting on top.  Meanwhile, have your lemon juice mixed with a glass of water. Or 3 spoons of vinegar by your side. Line the colander with the cloth. And wait patiently. When the milk is ABOUT TO RISE UPWARDS (don’t wait until it pongifies), stir in the vinegar/lemon juice. Add it while stirring the mixture well. After a few seconds, you must be able to see the white solids separate from the yellow-green whey liquid. NOW, switch off the flame. Else, the texture of your paneer will be compromised. If you feel the liquid is still white, add more lemon juice/vinegar.  Pour this over the cloth laden colander. Pinch the corners of the cloth, lift it and hold it in a running stream of cold tap water until the temperature comes down. Now, you need to drain the excess water. Tie up the cloth, suspend it from the centre of a ladle and place the ladle in a tall, narrow vessel. It will resemble a pulley and water well system. (Check this for a visual representation:

https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijg0tM0ImE1XCoXtwC5T1ell6Ej9JcCtzzWDO3dc6Dn_ESA2yju4Hoeexsf8463ml6zNi1FYBCDTiSiZhmWj0Ri-JctHiBvfBsi9IwqCHhaEP9MgPSz3Lxdwso5ZBksHFJoHcIPxqSIaX6/s1600/DSCN9882.JPG)

Let it drain for 2 hours. You can squeeze it at the end of 2 hours but the fresh cream added will make your palms greasy. Now, don’t attempt to remove the paneer ball from the cloth as of yet. Roll it into a sphere and then flatten it to form a shape somewhere between a rectangle and a circle. Place it on a perforated steel surface. And place some weight on top of it. You can use unopened atta packets or stone pepper mills. I don’t use anything heavier than 2-3 kg for fear that the paneer will lose way too much moisture. Forget about it for 2-3 hours. Carefully dismantle the setup and you will have your block of paneer. I cube it immediately and store it immersed in water, in the fridge. Stays good for a week.

Now, for the all-important paneer pointer: NEVER cook paneer cubes. When you want to sue the paneer in a dish, say a biryani/ paneer based gravy etc, switch off the flame and then FINALLY, add the paneer and give it a stir. Only the addition of coriander leaves follows this step. And then, you put a lid on top. If you are looking to cut down on fat, skip the addition of fresh cream. I gathered a lot of information from this video:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-06r0M55P4

3. Handling vegetables:

I consume a lot of vegetables. More than half my plate is covered with vegetables. I hate the humble potato cooked in most Indian forms. I don’t like Urulai kazhangu kari/fry. I hate it in mixed vegetable rice, can’t stand it in gravies. Like it in cutlets and as aalu parathas though. Like French fries if done perfectly. The perfect French fries: I have to thank the Masterchef series for introducing me to notable chefs and their techniques. I hate the lousy French fries served in many restaurants. What people claim to make at home is lousier. It drips of oil and is lifeless. I followed Heston Blumenthal’s version. His triple cooked fries are awesome and you can try it at home. You don’t need any special apparatus. In a nutshell, you first boil it in water, freeze it, take it out of the freezer, fry it once, refrigerate again and fry it once again before serving. Sounds like a laborious task but it’s not. While it boils, you set a timer and read. And then it lies in the fridge. Only actual job is the frying part. The result is definitely worth it.

Here’s the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIiQbeVHgX0

I abhor, detest onions. Hari loves onions more than anything else. I can stand it when it is cooked well and the smell is masked well. I don’t ever store chopped onions inside the fridge. I hate it when the onion stink encompasses every nook and corner of the fridge. Since I hate it so much, I like it ground or chopped very finely. To the extent of mincing it. Yes, I do cry every time I chop onions. I have tried freezing it beforehand, immersing it in water to get rid of the Sulphur oxide. And while it does reduce the impact, nothing really solves the problem. So, you need to be super quick in chopping the onions.

And Gordon Ramsay has taught me to do that: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TwGBt3V0yvc

I follow this and I chop them really fast. And to miniscule dimensions. To save time and effort, and to please my whims, unless the curry demands a slightly crunchy texture, I end up grinding the onions.

Capsicum fascinates me. I consume them a lot. Capsicum sambar, pasta, side dish for phulkas, with vegetable rice etc.

This is how I cut capsicum these days: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o28yI1XTQQU

I slice it around the seed cluster.

Broccoli is a great favourite. I seem to like this better than its cousin, cauliflower. Lighter and more colourful. Hari fell in love with a broccoli-jalapeno fry I made with our usual phulka. It was super good, I must say. Lovely combination.

Among other vegetables I love are podalanga, vaazhatthandu, vaazhai poo, chow chow, avaraikka, pooshanikka, parangikka... all of which the husband hates. So, I don’t cook them much but consume all of them regularly, when my mum cooks them.

4. Phulkas:

The only painstaking job I do in the kitchen; which is why I don’t do this very often. Would love to eat it every day though. With a nice curry or dal. While most people like the richer roti/paratha and the fancier naan, I always order phulkas along with any curry, when I dine out. And when I reach for my wheat flour at home, it’s almost always for phulkas. Raised a proper south Indian, phulka making did not come to me naturally. I learnt it after several foiled attempts. I made it once for my mum, who loves her chapati done the south indian way. And she exclaimed ‘I have hated it until now because I have sucked at making them. So, this is how soft phulkas can be’. I pack this into Hari’s lunch box and he says it stays soft until his lunch time.

Only a few steps matter in this procedure.

Kneading: When you decide to knead the flour, don’t attempt to make enough dough to last a week. Stick to how much ever you need for that meal. Larger quantities don’t yield very soft dough. To the wheat flour, add a little salt for sure. And you can choose to add whey that’s left over from paneer making endeavours. You can add a little amount of warm milk. You can add some ghee. Warm water makes kneading very easy. You can mix some ragi flour with this. You do have to knead it until the dough feels soft and pliable. It should not stick to your palm/fingers much. Rest the dough for at least 30 minutes.

Rolling it out: As thin as possible, with as little dry flour as possible. I usually make very small phulkas. The size of my palm. Note: I have large palms :)

Storing it: Once it’s off the tawa, it goes on to the flame and then straight into a closed lid casserole/ dabba.

5. Soya nuggets:

A wonderful source of protein and it blends with anything you make. And it is very easy to cook with. You can add it to simple vegetable rice or to a curry. A lot of people seem to have an issue with the smell of these nuggets though. Thanks to googling and trying out random suggestions, I figured out what works best. Cook these nuggets with 75 percent water and 25 percent milk, in a pressure cooker. Once you take it out of the cooker, wash the nuggets as much as you can, with cold water. Drain THOROUGHLY. Shred it with your bare hands, add it to the curry or rice. Done. Allow the dish some resting time though. That's when the nuggets absorb all the flavour.