Are we taking Christmas too far?

Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas as I'm sure everybody does. Cards are welcome from the people you know but what about the ones you don't. Like Wilson Parking in New Zealand who sent me an e-card this Christmas. Who are they. Does anyone know? I don't and I'm the guy who got the card.


It's Christmas eve - so what are you upto?
Me - just lolling about the way I usually do. Have to fix Christmas lunch which is going to be roast chicken, roast vegetables and a nice bottle of red. It was supposed to be pork sorpotel as well and vindaloo but I think those recipes are a bit beyond my capabilities. A good warrior as Tsun Zhu says knows his weaknesses better than his strengths. I even have a back up plan in case the chicken doesn't turn out right. Cold Storage. They'll be open all Christmas and will have chickens from 10 am onwards - for those who may find themselves in a predicament similar to mine.

Its a dull grey day here in Singapore 
And it's going to be like this on Christmas Day too I believe. So if you're in London or Canada no need to envy the sunshine here - there aint going to be any. And no snow either unless you're at Tanglin Mall where they have a snow machine with about 300 screaming kids making you wonder why they do.

Watched this programme about Alexander the Great last night
It was all about his conquest (or attempted) of India. Its funny how different countries interpret events differently. It is true - you see only what you want to. According to the documentary (which I think was quite fair and neutral in its analysis), Alexander gave King Porus the kind of thrashing Father Rufus used to hand out when he was principal at St Andrews in the seventies.

Three quarters of Porus' army was destroyed. Porus had, what most leaders today don't though - the ability to stand tall in defeat and still challenge and refuse to give in to his opponent.

Alexander respected him so much for this, he let him keep his lands though he had won them fair and square in what can be described as a little bit more than a arm wrestle ....the battle of Hydaspes.


Alexander had to turn back though because after Porus he had to confront a myriad different Indian Kings who had put aside their differences and mustered more than 300,000 men to face him. His army was also tired and cold (who wouldn't be if you had to march all the way from Greece to India with a helmet, metal skirt and strange footwear) and had apparently made souvlaki a condition of pressing ahead. Souvlaki couldn't be found anywhere on the continent at the time and so Alexander had to turn back  - apparently. 

Rainy day or not,Christmas still is Christmas and there's joy to be had. 
I plan to fill my cup to the brim with it. I suggest you do the same too.

Merry Christmas

Of boosa, bonfire and beer at Christmas

It seems like only yesterday that I was with the lads collecting 'boosa' (wood shavings) for the traditional bonfire that we used to light every Christmas after midnight mass in our neighbourhood.

We were fortunate to live by the side of Damian's, one of the city's largest furniture makers.

In return for enduring the hammering of a thousand nails each day, and fumes from varnishes, most of which I am pretty sure were banned in every country except India, they used to allow us to wander through their compound and pick both boosa and any other pieces of unused wood we wanted for our bonfire.

Never mind that we all suffer from migraines today thanks to the incessant pounding of hammers that we had to put up with daily, or that we all breathe with the help of a respirator. We wanted wood for our bonfire at the time - and the important thing was that we got it.

Not as  kid friendly as Ikea
The Damian compound was not the best place to be for kids. It wasn't designed for them the way let's just say McDonald's or Ikea is. Being a furniture busines, there were nails everywhere - which may have had some significance at Easter but definitely not at Christmas. We had to make sure we were well protected. So with childhood ingenuity, rather than travel barefoot, as we usually did, we made sure we wore our rubber chappals from Bata or Corona. The nails could still shoot through but the chances were a lot less and we were usually able to return relatively unscathed with enough wood for our fire.

Bonfires aren't supposed to be lit until well after midnight
Or so we thought anyway.

Our bonfire would only be lit only after everyone returned from midnight mass. You could hear mass at the Chapel at Bandstand or at St Andrews which was our main church.

The problem with St Andrews was the sermons. They were as long as the gown of a bride and usually only half as interesting. The priests there were clearly as garrulous as me - with skills in 'precis' that were just as bad. So as kids we always went to the chapel instead where  brevity was encouraged and our service finished at least 45 minutes before everybody elses.

After service is when it all began

What we would do after mass is congregate in our compound where everyone would wish each other a merry Christmas. It was the one time in the year that neighbours would set aside squabbles (and there was no shortage of them) - even if only because they felt they were duty bound by God to do so.

 Then we would make our way to the bonfire where the match would be struck.

The bonfire was actually more than one
It was usually also accompanied by coffee and sandwiches made by one of the more generous aunties of the neighbourhood (mostly my mom) that tasted simply divine at that time of the night.

The coffee used was never Nescafe but MR  which was much nicer and always seemed to taste better.


The coffee was meant to keep the chill from our bones. Though quite frankly as kids we thought the beer, rum and cigarettes we'd light up after mass did a much better job at that.

Beer and cigarettes cost money - so Christmas meant we had to be resourceful

And as kids we were. Besides saving our allowances for the big day, we would undertake a number of activities that at this point I think could best be described as 'entrepreneurial.'

We would sell old newspapers for example that were lying around the house. The going rate at the time was 5 rupees per kg (but it's probably gone up by now in case you're considering the option this Christmas - like I am!).

We would also sell old brass taps that had been replaced and were due to be thrown away. These got you quite a good deal too, often ending up back in your house refurbished depending on which plumber you got to do the job.

Finally when all options seemed exhausted you could always count on the last one - and that's quickly typing up a fake raffle form to take it around to the neighbours to make a donation in the true spirit of the season.

No matter what we did, the money always came in the end
And I think there was a reason for that - "it was Christmas."

 Have a great Christmas.

Christmas is the best time of the year - is this why?

It's coming up to Christmas, one of the best times of the year - especially if you're a kid - or vagrant. Kid is understandable, why vagrant? Well it's one if the few times in the year you get to eat - so that's got to be something to look forward to.

Christmas brings out the best side of us all - the one that's big, generous and magnanimous. The one we keep securely in check at all other times of the year. Because if we didn't, we'd be broke, poor and unable be able to celebrate on Christmas day itself - which would be a real pity.

I don't know about your Christmases but I can tell you a thing or two about mine.

The big thing about Christmas in a Catholic family in India (more specifically Bandra) is the build up - not so much the day itself.

It all starts around the first week of December when everyone starts planning madly. What will we have on the table this Christmas (as if it changes every year!) is the first question. Fact is, this Christmas, like all other Christmases what we will have on the table is chicken curry (two or three birds instead of just one depending on how many people are coming), pork sorpotel (a fiery goan or mangalorean pork dish), pork vindaloo (green or red masala can be used), tongue (pressure cooked and then cut into fine slices that melt in your mouth), green salad or fish salad (usually shaped into a fish as well - creativity is alive this time of the year!), pulao (basmati because the occasion is special), raita maybe, fughaiyas (if you're East Indian - a bread like special) and if a rich relative from overseas is visiting - roast suckling pig - complete with apple in its mouth.
 
Usually Christmas is celebrated at one relative's house. The relative that's chosen is the one who can cook the best - the day is too important to be left in the hands of a novice. For as long as I can remember, Christmas was always celebrated at my house. The reason was my mother - one of the most generous women ever - the family could count on her to put on a feast and in 24 years of liviing at home I've never seen her disappoint.

In the first week of December what also starts to be planned are the Christmas sweets. No Catholic home is complete without them - just like they aren't without an altar in the living room.

Before mum gets to the sweets though there is something more important she has to plan - the Christmas cake. This is when all the sultanas, nuts and raisins her brother carried for her all the way from the US are brought out form the back of the cupboard where they have been carfefully stored for this very special day.

A traditional Christmas cake (and God only knows why we make one given it is a Brit, not an  Indian tradition), takes about a month to make. First the batter is created and the nuts, sultanas and raisins  folded in. The cake is then baked (usually in early December if not before), given a soak in brandy and then packed away. Every week the cake is given another brandy soak and packed away again. "It's to keep it moist" insist the men I've spoken to on this subject. "Yeah right" as a famous beer advert in New Zealand says.


Once the cake was done, it was time to get down to the sweets. Those were the ones I had my eye on as a kid! The usual sweets made in our house were milk creams (my favourites), sojee toffee (a pink diamond shaped sweet that was great too), kul kuls (which I never touched - too commonplace), marzipans (another key favourite) and neowries (a sweet savoury that again brought out the fussy side in me).

The sweets were made for visitors and for eating by the family closer to Christmas. To ensure they lasted, they would have to be hidden in all sorts of places. Often the hiding places would need to be changed regularly to avoid their chances of being found. It was very Bin Ladenish - even in those times.

The fun part of the sweets was scraping the hundi's in which they were made. There were always plenty of scrapings left behind (my mum would make sure of this) and my sister and I would fight for the right to the hundi.We usually got one each - and a stomach ache after too - given the amount of sugar we had consumed by the end of the process!

Christmas cake, christmas sweets and a full Christmas menu. That's enough for one post I think. Next week I'll write about the other preparations we make for Christmas, the clothes, the tailors and the events that occur between them (and there are a great many!). So watch out for that.

Games people play - and other random thoughts for the weekend

If the world has a food shortage - it's about to come to an end. Farmville is officially the most popular game on Facebook with over 60 million users who are busy planting and harvesting everything from beetroots to pumpkins, strawberries and squash.

What makes Farmville so popular I think is its appeal to a nature that is basic in us all (and that's to farm).

At some level, we all want to tend and till the land. It would be an unmitigated disaster if some of us were allowed to no doubt but there's little damage a small indulgence at a virtual level can lead to - which indeed is what Farmville is all about.

I have a farm on Farmville and I must say I find the experience of planting and harvesting strangely satisfying. If you haven't tried it you must. You will totally enjoy yourself though I must warn you it can be slightly addictive.

The blood diet - now with a restaurant to match
Some time back I wrote about the blood diet. A few days ago, I was knowledgeably informed that there is now a restaurant in Singapore dedicated to it. I haven't tried it yet but I fully intend to.

To those I've spooked, there is nothing vampirish about the blood diet and you don't need to travel to Translyvania to enjoy it. The blood diet is simply a food movement that says there are foods that are good for you (and foods that are bad) as a result of the blood group you belong to (A+, B+ or O).

I am an A+ for example so whats good for me is grain, bread, vegetables....but not tea, meat, chicken, eggs, wine or beer. Damn!

I've tried the diet and testify to its ability to make you feel 100%.More about it you an read here - http://www.drlam.com/blood_type_diet/

The perfect chicken curry
I know it's the one made by someone else - while you're sipping a wine or beer and relaxing watching TV! But if that option is not available to you - all is still not lost.

My sister is in Singapore this weekend and she taught me how to make a perfect chicken curry.

It all starts (and this is my contribution not hers) with a perfect chicken. To me this is either Kampong or free range - I wouldn't eat anything else.

The reason Kampong or free range chickens are so good is they are allowed to scratch around in the dirt for their own food. This simple daily exercise makes them leaner and a lot more muscular than the factory farm produced birds.

Muscle is what gives meat taste and that's why these birds taste so much better and are so much healthier for you than the factory produced ones!

So, assuming you've got the right chicken - let's put the pot on the fire.

Step one - put some oil into a pan (I use olive oil but I believe any oil is good as long as you don't heat it too much or reuse the oil. Doing so releases transfats which, well...you know all about I'm sure).

To the heated oil, ad a chopped onion, some cloves, a stick of cinnamon, some star anise and gently fry until golden brown. Add a green chilli for taste, a teaspoon of jeera powder, 1/2 a teaspoon of coriander powder, cummin powder and a dash of tumeric. Also add finely sliced ginger and garlic and stir til everything is nice and golden brown.

While you're doing this, you're hopefully de-boned and taken the skin of your chicken which has generously given up its life for you. Squeeze a lemon and rub some salt onto the bird. Then, drop it into the pan and gently stir through the onions and spices you already have on the fire. As the mixture gathers intensity, add three dollops of yoghurt to it - you can also alternate this recipe with coconut milk too which will give you a slightly different taste and flavour.

Add a bit of water so the chicken won't stick, you can also add a 1/2 teaspoon of sugar for a bit of extra zest, cover and let the chicken simmer on a super slow fire for about 10 minutes.

Once done, garnish with chopped coriander or a pinch of garam masala. Enjoy - with family and friends.

So this is what Diwali is all about

I spent Diwali in Delhi and what a great experience it proved to be.

We woke up in the morning, took a bath and after wishing everyone a happy Diwali sat down to a sumptuous breakfast of Poori Aloo followed by Chai made the Punjabi way.If you don’t make your tea the Punjabi way I strongly suggest you do. It will bring a new sense of meaning and upliftment to your life - as it did to mine.

The Poori Aloo was fantastic. The Poori’s kept arriving the way immigrants do at big cities like Delhi and Mumbai. Non stop! I would have eaten at least 10 to 15 puris alone and everyone else would have done the same.

Accompanying the Poori Aloo was this wonderful red peppery tomato dish with onion seeds in it. It was the first time I had tasted a dish like this and it was sheer bliss. Every meal in Delhi, come to think of it was!

After breakfast, we chatted for a while, ate some dry fruits and mithai (as you do) and then retired for a well earned snooze. It was going to be a long evening and we had to make sure we were well rested for it.

At about 6, we ventured downstairs once again. After a final dash to distribute more sweets and to buy some Muthi – a deep friend flatbread of sorts we prepared for the evening Pooja – the predecessor to the evening’s fireworks.

I didn’t understand much of the Pooja but I realised you don’t have to to appreciate its beauty or relevance to life. As a ritual it simply refocuses us on the things that matter - family for instance.

What I like about Hinduism is that it is tolerant and unoppressive. Hinduism doesn’t ask you to sacrifice much – and the emphasis is on life in this world as well the next.

The Pooja complete we sit down to another incredible meal – of a pulao type rice with all sorts of exotic Indian spices in it plus two forms of lentil and a paneer cooked in tomatoes, onions and spices. All accompanied by that other Punjabi staple – paratha!

Diwali is a totally vegetarian affair and no alcohol is consumed in this day as a tribute to its significance. People make up for this abstinence however with parties the day before – and after! Diwali parties start at 12 midnight and then anything goes – scotch, beer, vodka the lot – the party ends at 6 am the next morning with a breakfast cooked by the host.

I decided to give the parties a skip. Tired out by the day’s festivities I stayed home and watched a movie with the wife. We chose the Godfather which was brilliant as it always is and stayed up till 2.30 am.

We then went to bed and got some sleep. With the firecrackers subsiding we were finally able to.

Singapore-Delhi-Singapore - Via Air India

I flew Air India from Singapore to Delhi. A week after I bought my ticket I read a slightly alarming news article. No it wasn’t the one about Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston potentially getting together again. It was much worse. It was about airline pilots at Air India going on strike and about 50% of all flights being canceled.

Naturally it was with a bit of trepidation that I approached my departure date. Would there even be a plane on the tarmac? Luckily there was - and I made my date with Delhi without a hitch.

The flight was interesting and started in the most promising manner possible – with only 3 people ahead of me at the check-in counter. That’s the wonderful thing about flying an airline nobody else wants to. They treat you like you’re the only customer in the world which in Air India’s case you’re not too far off from being. Or so, I felt at least!

I found the announcements to board the aircraft quite interesting. “Business class passengers and those with infants please board first” said the ground stewardess loudly over the microphone. “Other passengers”, she admonished sternly, “please stay in your seats!”

I can see why she was so stern about this. In India, public transport very rarely waits for passengers to board. The drivers are always in one flipping hurry and take off whenever they feel like. This, I think, has trained Indians to psychologically believe that all forms of transport secretly conspire against them and take great pleasure in leaving before they’ve had a chance to board. This feeling – though purely psychological and without basis - invariably rises to the surface at airports as well. So when a boarding call is made, the Indian contingent rush to the gate like Salman Khan is about to walk through it. It’s okay – every one will get a seat. This is an airline not the BEST after all.

AI on economy drive
Air India I believe is not doing very well financially. I read a report in the newspaper a few days ago where the Finance Minister of India said the airline would need a cash injection of $620 million to stay afloat. He suggested the airline go on an austerity drive.

He’ll be pleased to know it has. When you ask for a glass of orange juice on Air India today, you’ll find they’ll give you a cup with less than a third of juice in it! That’s what happened to me. I told the stewardess why bother to even pour me such a small quantity of juice. By the time she hands it to me it will have evaporated thanks to humidity. Is the cup half empty or half full? Neither. The real question is whether it’s 1/3 empty or 1/3 full. AI – being all very original once again.


Travel back in time

I thought all airlines used air bridges these days. Air India doesn’t. They take you back in time, give you a bit of nostalgia when you land in Delhi. The aircraft door opens and lo and behold you find an airline bus waiting for you on the tarmac (yes just like the old days). Passengers cram into it and are taken to the airport departure lounge. It’s not a bad experience. Except that if you aren’t one of the first 40 passengers you have to wait for the second bus which from what I could see could take a while.

All in all – no complaints
The flight was good. It took off, it landed, the food was nice (you could choose between chicken, mutton and fish) – and the staff pleasant. End of day what more can you really ask off from an airline. Except, I’m tempted to say, being a fellow with rather long legs…a bit more space between the seats?

Life is full of surprises - including the ones you give yourself while cooking

I did a bit of cooking today - tried my hand at some lentils, okra and aubergine (dal, bhindi and baigan as it’s called it in India).

I must admit I took myself completely by surprise. The dal was simply smashing – better than any restaurant I’ve been to – even the ones at Little India. How did I do it?

First I took a large onion, chopped it as finely as possible – vertically and then horizontally across. I heated a pan with olive oil in it, put in a generous heap of chopped garlic from a bottle - very generous - about two tablespoons; all of course while I had the dal in a saucepan of water – on the boil at the same time.

A tip – when you boil a lentil you get this white stuff at the top…skim it off with a spoon and throw it away – it keeps the flavour nice and clean.

After adding the garlic, I added a generous amount of chopped ginger as well, and stir fried it around on a medium flame. I understood the role that onions and garlic play in taste when I was actually cooking up an Italian pasta dish the other day which I just had to do after watching the Goodfellas with Joe Pesci and De Niro.

It was so amazing (both the movies and the pasta) it made me realise that at the heart of all great flavour is the onion, garlic and ginger! But you have to cook them right.

After adding the ginger, I added some jeera. It took me a while to figure out which packet had fennel in it and which one had jeera - ultimately I let my nose decide. And luckily it didn't let me down.

I also added a ½ teaspoon of garam masala to the pan. Garam masala is such a fragrant spice, I actually prefer its scent to anything produced by Chanel, Lagerfeld or YSL. Bad news if you’re sitting beside me but good news if you’re a guest to one of my dinners.

After the garam masal I realised I wanted some colour in my dish. So, although it wasn’t Holi yet, I added some tumeric. Tumeric is a great spice. Besides being good for you, it adds a lovely yellow colour that looks just amazing on your table.

I stir fried all of this, taking care to roast the spices and the onions. Roasting the spices and onions is key to Indian cooking; it took me years to get this (but then again it takes me years to get anything!). Once I did however, I never looked back. The roasting releases the flavour so when you add the ingredients – the meat, fish or veg it’s like Heidi Klum just met Seal The impact is truly momentous.

After the roasting, I added the dal which is now nicely soft and stir fried it all together. To garnish I add some lemon juice and some finely chopped – bruised - coriander. Why do I bruise my coriander - brute that I am? It releases the flavour.

It also reminds me of one of my favourite lines from Herrick – “a flower must be bruised in order to give off its perfume.” He was of course alluding to the fact that a woman feelings must be injured before her greatness and strength of character can truly shine through.

It‘s a line by Herrick by the way not me – so don’t look like I have issues. I don’t. But I can forgive you for believing Herrick does!

The garnish is added - the dish is ready. I have boiled some choice basmatic rice – the longest grains ever as an accompaniment (basmati btw is the only rice that is medium GI if you're into that kind of stuff). The rice comes from Pakistan not India. Sorry I'll try and ensure it's from our side of the border next time.

What I've also done is made some baigan and bhindi which I have stir fried in a masala sent to me by my mother. How red the dish is - almost like a bride who has seen her groom for the first time! The beauty of chilli's from Kashmir - no other chilli's comes even close to them.

I sit down and eat. There is an explosion of flavours in my mouth. For once the world has come together nicely - even if it's only on my palette!