Thursday, August 04, 2011

Soup for the Soul

It is such bliss to have feet planted firmly in one place. Especially after scraping them all over endlessly precarious landscapes. My feet are wiser for the wear and I sleepier for the relatives who all insisted on waking me up at ungodly hours of the morning, which is why I am not even really sure if I'm back. But at least, I am temporarily in the place I currently call home.

I have been to India and back. Two months, six cities. Countless people. Many stories. It was all rather wonderful, albeit tiring.

So many of my friends live across countries like I do. We mourn our simpler past, even as we disavow any ability to be simple. We adapt to different tongues, even as we repent our lack of singularity. We leap across oceans and bemoan jetlag. Ours is now a common crisis. Of a particular class. I used to once lap up the literary products of exile. Rushdie, and Kundera, and Milosz. It must be prescience I'm thinking.

My nostalgia and angst are strongest I have realized when I don't have a kitchen and a desk to come back to at the end of the day. Yes, I'm very bourgeois like that. So now that I have some peace and quiet and a dining table and a bright yellow kitchen, I will make soup for the soul.

As a child, the only soup I would deign to lay down my comic book for was tomato. Thick dollops of creamy tomato soup like that served at Grand Central, Chembur. gives it 3 stars, but what do they know? My weekend treat used to be soup at Grand Central, after which I would refuse to eat the six other items I had insisted on ordering. Luckily, my father's robust and undiscerning propensity towards food tided us over the twin possibilities of bad karma and the consequent returning to earth as a cockroach.

I have now discovered other vegetables. Today's fare is zucchini. Helps that it also sounds exotic. Try saying it. Zucchini. See? So much better than squash. Reminds me of squashing mosquitoes.

I adapted the recipe from Nupur's blog . I replaced mushroom stock with vegetable bouillon. Why? End of vacation, empty refrigerator, laziness, sweltering weather, long walk to the grocery store. Enough said?

That which began as a pot of mush like so...

was soon transformed into this...

A salad of cucumbers, olives, tomatoes, and feta rounded us off to a stupendously satisfying night.

Hello lovely people. We've been away. But welcome back.