From my pan to my keyboard!!!

It has taken me over 6-7 months now, to get to a point to start my own food blog. Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking. Its so cool these days to be a photographer just because one owns a dslr (PS: have you noticed your friend’s dslr exploits on FB with this cool watermarked text saying – “copyrighted i-am-an-idiot’s photography”). And it is so cool to be a foodie these days just because one watches Masterchef or has traveled to another country, if not the the US of A, knowing what beef steaks or pork ribs are. Its especially true of my fellow Indian friends. Suddenly one finds all the authority in the world to talk about food. (PS: dont lie, you have done it too…dont lie)

So yes, you may call me a wanna be photographer because I have a DSLR, a wannabe foodie because I am an ardent Masterchef Australia fan & i eat anything and everything (mostly), a wannabe traveler because I started travelling a lot in the last 2 years and a wannabe writer because I now have two blogs. The other blog is called twopegshigh.blogspot.com with random posts on food, pictures, poetry, venting, music, and all that jazz. It is truly random. It has no order. It follows no rules. Its has no labels.  And a very dear person in my life told me that it has no personality. My writing has no personality especially when I write recipes. I argued by saying “but my blog is called “twopegshigh” “.

While i was being criticized for my style of writing and not putting in more effort in my food pictures, my friends started asking me to post recipes of my food experiments and my mom’s food geniuses (okay so they asked for recipes of my mom’s genius only – okay?). Truth is that I was introduced to the world of great food since the time i started teething. The women in my family are known for their outstanding culinary skills. My great grand mother was  a super star in her times. I didnt have the privilege but my mother learnt all of her skills from her and I still use her recipes. Then there is my grand mother – Oh! how I lick my plate up when she makes her brilliant rice pulao and chilly chicken and stuffed dahi vadas. And then there is my mother, who took cooking to another level. She makes pumpkin and brinjal and bitter gourd and all the vegetables that people normally hate, taste like George Clooney’s lips. Exotic. ( I was going to say Angelina Jolie, but it didnt seem appropriate 😉 )

My mother, she is not a very expressive person. And so she said to me very recently that –  “I express my love through cooking”. I got my mother after she said  that as she never made deep conversations with me or never asked me how I was doing generally. But. she would go out of the way to cook for me even if it was at 3 am in the morning or be up preparing the best breakfast spread in the world at 6am after having not slept at night because all of us would have been just having fun watching tv and playing board games, or preparing the most mind boggling dinner after a long day’s work despite being tired or hurt or just you know, jaded. Food is love, in my family. And now I understand why I love food so much. Why I talk about food all the time?. Why food makes me happy on a bad day? Why food becomes celebration on special days? I grew up with food being the most prominent expression of love.

So here I am, writing about food – my food experiments, my mother’s food recipes, my food quests outside my kitchen, food pics, food bitching, food biting, food humour, booty foods, food orgasms and the whole gamut.

Some precautions for my readers:

  • This blog is not for weak hearts. I was originally looking at calling this blog “forbutterorwursts” suggested by a very dear friend. I wont go the Nigella Lawson way but then dont look for health food here.
  • The nature of the content can be explicit hence I advice parental guidance. The name of my blog should have given that away anyway.
  • I am butterly, photographically, foodically, technically, and politically incorrect. Take it with a pinch or a spoonful of salt if it doesn’t suit your taste, as I “DONT GIVE A FORK!!!!”

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