Confusing Cuisine

In manufacturing, things are routine. There is always a plan in place and everyone goes about their job in a mechanical fashion. Sometimes this provokes responses from first time visitors, trainees; the most popular ones being ‘How do they know what to do?’ ‘Who is guiding them?’ The fact is that they are all trained to stick to a pattern of work that they have become used to. I was one of them so naturally, this little behavioral pattern tends to rub-off on me. I resist vehemently by pursuing activities that are dissimilar and more creative – play guitar, read thriller-fiction, or write.

I have become a creature of habit as far as food habits are concerned. There are times when the monotony gets to me and I shoot out to Bangalore or a good restaurant nearby to satisfy the need for change, and a nice big black forest pastry of course. But this happens about eight odd times in a month, so the other twenty-two odd days, yours truly is on semi-routine.

On the 4th of January, just 2 days ago, when I walked in to lunch, I noted the change in the seating arrangements. This was easy to discard so I moved to the service counter. I expected chapatis as the serving staff took the lid off a casserole but something didn’t seem right as I caught a whiff of dosas. As I was about to allow even this disastrous change with a passive ‘so be it’ and whatever, a second assault on the senses struck. The next vessel emitted the fragrant aroma of jeera pulav. The gravy items were next and I expected a dal tadka/fry, but they had something of a korma displayed that looked like finely ground coconuts (Blecchh!). Sambar and chutney followed and I was able to sense some coherence, then a large bowl of beet-root was revealed and I tried to fathom what I was to eat with what. I convinced my juices to settle for the jeera pulav with sambar combo and it was satisfactory. The canteen announced a special post-lunch dessert which, the way things were going, I expected to be some sort of pickle.

It is hard to describe what it was but let me see if I can help my readers (that’s you, yes) picture it right. It was the night before’s poori soaked in sweetened milk that for some reason was colored orange. This was served in a bowl with a spoon. I gathered one of two things were possible – either the dish was prepared wrongly or I was supplied with the wrong tool, for the rummy thing was tough as leather and tasted neither like leather nor dessert. It was a disaster.

The lunch menu now looked thus – Dosa, Jeera Pulav, Sambar, Chutney, Korma, Beet-root, Moistened Leather, and salad. I couldn’t classify this one. At best attempt it is North via South Indian-continental-semi-neanderthal. Care to help?