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| Nothing like chow for an evening snack |
Every writer, accomplished or not, has their own style of storytelling. For me it’s a mix of nostalgia, and what in our ad pre-testing days we would refer to as ‘slice of life’ narratives.
What the great Ruskin Bond had once referred to as the voice of a diary-ist.
This came of use to me in the year of the pandemic. A period spent in custody. Of an unseen enemy.
Which is why you see me talk about my mother’s cooking from my childhood days so often.
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| Tales I tell my cats |
Which is why I used the remaining chicken from what was boiled the day before and kept in the fridge, the one from which I made sandwiches the next morning, to make chicken Hakka noodles later in the evening. A favourite treat of mine from my mother’s kitchen right since my childhood.
Apart from pulled boiled chicken thighs and a bit of the stock, the noodles had boiled onion bulbs, shredded fried eggs, soya and chilli sauce, green chillies with vinegar. As the noodles made by my mother has.
The sauces were saved from our recent order from Ling’s Pavilion. My mother never wastes a sauce sachet that comes home. Why should I be any different?
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| Lessons from my mother’s kitchen are embedded in these noodles |
‘50 per cent advance before start of work and 50 per cent within 30 days of completion’ are my terms when I share a quote to a brand or an agency The way it was in the market research agencies I worked in.
I was told that she has made tiramisu tarts for us when I went down to give her share of the noodles
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| Tiramisu tart by Gia Badama |
