I taught my cook how to cook. My cook actually is my assistant/servant/cook/dhobi/
secretary/bartender. He doesnt get complicated with his cooking.
I kind of eat whatever is served. In that aspect (in that aspect only) I am my
mom's favourite son. Because I never complained about food in my whole life. Its
not that I dont have taste buds, but I can tolerate anything.
Ok, coming back to my cook. Couple of days back, I asked him to cook Kheema fry.
He did. He left. Later, I was in a mood for couple of vodkas that night. So, I had.
Then I remembered Kheema. I served myself a plateful of Kheema as 'stuff' for my
last shot. Kheema didnt taste right. It rather tasted like tea.
"Blewblewblewblw". I shook my head. "This vodka isnt doing the right thing to
my taste buds".
The more kheema I ate, the more it tasted like tea. I restrained my instinct to
spit out that tea like kheema. I finished the plate. But something wasnt right.
The next day morning, first thing, I smelled the left out kheema. It smelled like
Enter the dragon. My cook.
"Cook, cook, do you know how to cook Kheema? You should have asked me"
"Sir. Yes Sir. I didnt know how to cook. But I have my sources"
He proudly handed me the recipe he tore from a telugu magazine.
Kheema 1/2 Kg.
Salt 1 Tea Spoonful.
Mirchi Powder 1 Tea Spoonful.
Masala 1/2 Tea Spoonful.
Mix the stuff and let it be for an hour.
Take a deep fry pan. Put oil, onions, garlic paste.
Deep fry the onions. Empty kheema paste into the pan.