“THE CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA.”

Interning as wine maker and wine taster in Nasik has revealed a new shade; or rather defect, to my varied skills.
Cooking is definitely a no-can-do with me. The fact itself is not new, nor startling…. But the process of testing this hypothesis was disastrous!!!!

The first night in Nasik, boiled eggs and buttered toast was all I could think of making with the given kitchen resources and energy levels I had at that point if time.

I never knew eggs could be so tricky!!!! I could boil an egg only after the first 4 trials. I swear to god that I had nothing to do with it. The first one broke in the saucepan itself, as it was so violently throwing itself around in the boiling water, and the shell cracked against one such turbulent contact with the steel walls of the saucepan. The second was probably cracked right from the beginning.
The third had an epileptic fit… it frothed and foamed and died a premature death in shallow waters. The fourth was well…… I can’t describe it… it was just another disaster…..
The fifth one…. Left me feeling only slightly smarter than Edison. I beat him be 996 trials.

My next culinary project was a little too ambitious. I boldly overlooked the teething problems….. And whipped up pasta!!!!
No, the intention was to make an omelet. With tomatoes and onions and coriander, cheese etc. I realized, only after all the chopping and dicing was done… that there weren’t any eggs. (aha…. I now recalled where they went…).I couldn’t let all the dicing ( and the effort) go waste. Thus, an unearthed packet of pasta was successfully boiled, in salt water and all (courtesy long distance instructions from the beloved mater). Diluted ketchup made from tomato sauce, with defrosted and micro waved frozen French fries made a good, thick base. (I knew that a base was needed).
After little oiling and much stirring, the pasta was prepared with a slight hint of butter and a garnishing of chopped coriander an tomato ketchup…..and the continental khichdi was piled on a plate……and soon into the dustbin…..because though it looked GREAT…it was far too salty…( or something.)

Good attempt ids say though…. It looked alright and had all the right ingredients.

Though Maggi has been an integral part of my diet for the past 5 years that I’ve been in a hostel, I have never tried to cook it myself.
However, over prolonged series of ( observation based) tests, I can infer that the various techniques employed by various ppl to make the basic fare, it doesn’t really make much of a diff. whether you boil the noodles first and then add the masala… or cook the masala and then add the .
UNTIL I ACTUALLY TRIED IT MYSELF !!!!…. The noodles boiled brilliantly, but when I added the masala, it evaporated, or vanished, or sublimed….leaving no trace for taste.
Not to be defeated, it didn’t take long to open another pack for the masala, and the uncooked noodles are still in my fridge.

Apart from these very revealing experiences, I have refrained from cooking.

Instead, what I have come up with is these rather artful ensembles of lime flavored toast, cereal in cold coffee( leftover coffee retrieved from the Hollow Hole( My name for the fridge which is always empty).I can no longer remember what chaat masala is actually used for , for I use it in everything from soup to dahi. That smith and Jones bhelpuri chutney is a damn good substitute for ketchup( cheaper too) but does NOT go with butter/ jam on toast.

Dahi with chaat masala and this bhelpuri chutney is so AWESUUUUM, that I am now sick of it.

And thus ladies and gentleman, allow me to make for you a bottle of the country’s finest champagne, or a red wine, or a white or a rose…. But I CANNOT boil an egg.

"GOD MADE ONLY WATER, BUT MAN MADE WINE."

There are no good wines; there are no bad wines either.
If you befriend a wine, and are able to be its better half, you are a blessed soul indeed.
Or so I have discovered.
Making wine is and art. Because wine is such an individualistic person.
You may have a happy cheerful wine, a dark grave wine, an elegant smooth one, a naughty spicy wine, a fruity playful wine. A Wine that may be earthy, or wine that could be summer greens, a wine that has been bred in the country side, a wine that has been fashionably sculpted.
You have a wine that is criminally off, or one that is distastefully ill bred, or one that over a lifetime of harshness, has become alarmingly acrid.
You may find a oaky forester, or wet wood. You may find a runny, bitter wine.

I have never parented anything but animals and books, but parenting wine beats anything. And loving parenting is exactly what a wine needs.
Consider the grape as the gene. “ Blood is thicker that water”….well the wine too. The variety, the origin, if it has been a cross or a pure bred…. The gene determines the entire make up and the fundamental character.
The treatment henceforth, is tricky. Just as much schooling, society and back ground and social factors influence a dog, or child…. a wine similarly given shape. It is like raising a child. You have to be sensitive to its delicate mood, give it freedom and time to find and develop its character, to age, monitor it so that it doesn’t get into “bad “company. It deserves the most elite schooling with the correct inoculate. The most select treatments and co curricular.
One can only monitor, and watch. Patiently.
Like a book, a wine can be a product of the imagination, or technically engineered. It could be a perfect text book example….. Correct, but boringly lacking the liveliness. It could be a deep mystery, or a biographical saga spanning a few generations… from the Italian slopes and the sunny Californian.
The book can be a bestseller, or not. It could be shallow.
Wine, like poetry…. May have rhythm and romance, or the lucidity of Walt Whitman.
It may be exotic like Saki, colorful like O’Henry.
Or like me… may blissfully ignore all rules of prose or poetry. Impulsive, passionate and in cheerful denial. (My writing not me).

Later, when the wine is grown, it will develop wings. Blend with company, but select its own type. It will sweeten, mature, earn a reputation for the wine that it has come to be… and like every individual person, there can never be two same wines…. Even if they are from the same family, genes, or even background.
You can’t fight the gene. You can’t modify its social backdrop. You can’t change its compatibility with another wine in the blend.
The wine will grow wings…. But will always stay with the wine maker.

A wind, an endless expanse of sky, unhurried time. ….appreciated by every wine and every dog
The above five elements are all that is need to keep a man satisfied; and at peace.