Tagged: winter

Mom-in law’s Kashmiri Dum Aloo

Today I’m going to tell you about a super scrumptious potato. I was introduced to this dish fairly late which is surprising. Before I ate it I would have confidently told you that in my young life, I had probably consumed potatoes any which way they could be produced in Indian cuisine. But one spoon of this dish and I knew I’d been wrong. The first time I ate it was when I was eighteen and a bunch of us landed at my best friend’s place, desperately hungry for a snack. Unable to find his mom, he cheerfully proceeded to divide up a (major) portion of the night’s dinner among his friends. And I literally cried that all I could get as my share was two little potatoes. After that, whenever his mom cooked this dish, I was there, plate in hand, trying hard not to drool.

Fast forward light years (it seems like) forward and my best friend is now my husband, and since his mother lovingly and painstakingly wrote all her recipes in her own hand in a notebook for him, this now means that I can have this dish whenever I want. But I don’t. Because you see, the dish I am talking about is Kashmiri Dum Aloo, made in the absolute, authentic Kashmiri way. Kashmir is where my father-in-law is from. And though my mother-in-law is from the same part of India as me, she became a deft hand at cooking all his childhood food for him. This amazing lady, though a vegetarian herself, can cook absolutely perfect and succulent meat, without ever tasting the food herself. Ah moms, they are just so good with food, and they don’t even know it!

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Lamb Shepherd’s Pie

My weekend was cold in more ways than one. Not only has the weather moved back into coolness but I was also working up a blizzard of all kinds of notes and books for my exam (the result of which, in case any of you are wondering, is known only to God and a few people at the grading agency, I certainly didn’t know which way that boat sailed). While Amey shivered in khaki shorts (heavy wishful thinking on his part; it wasn’t warm in the shade) and grappled with the problem of ‘backfill on site’, I wrestled with the concrete mix required to build a dam; warmed with a nice hot cocoa. Not the most fun way to spend what seemed to be a super gorgeous weekend in the sun. But we were inside, being cold; not in the sun. Story of our lives. Why has all my young life been spent taking exams? Isn’t it ridiculous irony that you can’t enjoy youth (and I’m stretching the blasted definition of that word to the extreme in application, after all you are as young as you feel) when you are young? I mean, shucks!!

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