Paneer Chilli Garlic Kebab

I don't tend to write about my father whom we affectionately call Pappa a lot around here. Apart from the fact that we grew up in a household where women solely managed and ran the kitchen, my father and I coherently had opposite views and values when it came to food. He, being a man of  small appetite, consciously calculating what and how much he eats, reluctant to try new flavours,  in general incurious about food. Whereas I, from the time I remember love food and was a good eater even as a toddler (which apparently my wee one didn't inherit). The first thing my Ammi told me when I got married and moved away was 'I miss cooking for you'.  

To be fair, some things do excite him. Fresh caught fish which he would scale and clean himself. Freshly caught wild rabbit that he would slaughter, skin and cut. Free range hen from his friend's farm and mangoes that he would pluck himself from my maternal grandma's farm trees. Considering our lives in Kuwait didn't allow wild rabbit or any of those things often, he was left with only his usual dal roti request for meals. Occasionally he would request mutton curry simply stewed with spices, tomatoes and onions for 3-4 hours. That was his guilty pleasure, red meat in moderation he often told us.

Of the many things he doesn't like (creamy curries, noodles, pastas and sandwiches) Indo-Chinese is high up there. And that, if you are Indian family can be catastrophic. Indo-Chinese, much like American-Chinese is a bastardised version of Chinese food, where the only common is use of soy sauce and high heat stir fry method.  Sweet, salty, garlicky, laced in oil and umami flavours of soy, Indians can get teary eyes talking about their love for hakka noodles, crispy chili dripping chicken, velvety brownish grey sauces coated manchurians 'curries', dramatically red hued szechwan 'chutney', fried rice, the list is endless. Each state has a slightly different version and has taken different influences from the Chinese. But my favourite is the use of curry leaves and mustard seeds down south in the Kerala-Chinese cuisine. But that's for another day - I have a family recipe from my mother in law which is to die for. 

Corn Halwa (Indian pudding) with Raspberry Coulis

In some days we are heading into Eid ul Fitr -  a celebratory day for Muslims marking the end of Ramadan - the holy month of fasting. Growing up Eid was the day of new clothes, new jewellery, new shoes and everything a little girl would wish for. Delicious, gluttonious food flew left and right and at the end of it all you would sure feel like you can't eat for rest of the year. Our heavily embroidered Indian outfits where neatly folded and packed to open for the next coming Eid given they were impossible to wear on any other day. But Eid wasn't Eid until we were handed our Eidi - the gifts given to kids by relatives and friends. We sat enthusiastically in the hallway in anticipation of who would visit us, what gifts they would bring and who would end up collecting the most money (the most common form of Eidi).

Rose and Rooh Afza Ice Cream

 

The blue paint is chipping off some of the benches, while others are glossily newly painted over the old paint in attempt to hide the distress the wood has seen in last 15 years. The walls are covered entirely by advertisements, the same ones I saw as a child. Adverts of ice creams and drinks they no longer serve or even manufactured still proudly hanging in all its glory despite the wear and tear. A particular poster with a girl next door model, in her gypsy top and rugged jeans advertising cola heightens the 90's appeal of this tiny cafe in my hometown in Rajasthan, India. 

While sitting there waiting for our orders, it was as if time has stood still, I was still the adamant 10 year old, insisting with Papa on getting one more ice cream and the owner would hand me another kulfi without Papa's consent. 'Le lene do - saal main ek baar hi toh aati hai India'  - Let her have it, she only comes to India once a year, he would tell Papa.