When I was a kid, I remember being absolutely fascinated with cooking and the whole thing about concocting something over a fire...but, now, I wouldn't exactly say I'm facinated...funny how quickly one can lose interest when that something which was once fascinating is now expected of you on a daily basis!!!
I've always thought that I can manage pretty well when it comes to cooking, a fact which my family believed in to a greater extent than even me!! But, taking into account certain recent anecdotes, I'd say, my father in particular must have begun having his doubts!!
When we were kids, mom used to go on trips to India occasionally, and at these times, dad used to take care of the cooking department. One such occasion recently came up, when mom left on an extended visit to India. This time though, seeing that I'm much older and capable (??) of taking over "the putting-food-on-the-table (in the literal sense)" aspect, she left with much confidence.
We had a special occasion coming up, for which my dad asked me to prepare this particular bread, unleavened, perfectly round and crisp. Crispy enough to be able to break it and hear the crack. Those were the specifications! Over the years, mom used to prepare it. So, this time, I felt absolutely honoured to actually contribute to this time-honoured tradition of ours and with great aplomb, set to the task. It was basically chappati mixture but without salt and not much oil.
Well, guess what!!! The results were very pleasing and my father was elated with the perfectly round, white and crispy bread. He, infact, made sure everyone knew that it was I who had prepared it (on hindsight, what he didn't realise was that, that was the only way I knew how to prepare it!!). And as you can imagine...I was absolutely pleased with myself and was grinning from ear to ear!! My father even went out on a limb to say that even my mom hadn't prepared it so well in all these years!!
The next day, I made some curry and thought, "hey, there's some dough left from yesterday's preparation, so why not use that to make some chappatis!!" and I thought that all I had to do was add a little more oil and everything would be fine...
...ahem...well, apply Murphy's law here, things didn't turn out exactly as planned...let's fast forward a bit here. The chappatis were bad...they were too rubbery, hard and dry...my father, the sweet person that he is, never complained even once. He managed to painstakingly (I learned later as I tried the chappatis myself, coz' you see, in a very traditional way, I insisted my dad eat first and then I would have my dinner after he's done) and slowly go through his 4 chappatis (Oh God!!) all the while smiling and ever so sweet.
I was so happy to see him enjoying his dinner that I offered to make more chappatis for him to take to work the next day, to which he politely refused mumbling something about not wanting to trouble me or something which I missed in my state of blissful oblivion!!
Anyways, the next day, my excellent cooking and it's effect boomeranged back at me!! I decided to take the very same chappatis to work for lunch and had to painstakingly toil through crispy, hard chappatis, at the end of which I had developed sores in my mouth (no exaggeration) from the over-crispy chappatis!! And to top it all off, had the cheek to invite my colleagues to share my lunch, so had to bear along with their teasing as well!!
If there is any truth to the saying "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach", my prospects of finding a guy seem pretty bleak!! :(
