Poached Egg On Ham & Toast

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun! A not so long time ago, in a galaxy not so far away (this one in fact), a skinny brown boy moved to Antrim, Northern Ireland. The boy had lived abroad briefly before that, so he wasn't exactly running blind into western culture, but his social skills definitely needed honing. Chief among them was his getting tongue-tied when speaking to members of the (literally) fairer sex. He had some other rough edges, sure, but this was the one that needed fixing first.

One weekend, the boy's roommates persuaded him to leave the safety and familiarity of his bedroom, throw on some cool clothes, and accompany them into the city for a night on the town. Having little say in the matter, the boy complied, and soon found himself in a club in Belfast, sitting awkwardly at a table in the corner nursing a cider as his friends went to socialise. Across the seating area, where our boy was counting the seconds that ticked by, was a gaggle of girls on a hen do (or a bachelorette party if you prefer). There were about 8 of them, each lovelier than the last, each sipping their cocktails through straws shaped like man junk, laughing at jokes, one of them holding aloft an inflatable meat and 2 veg. The bride-to-be had on a little dress and a sash that said, 'Bride-to-be', not unlike the ones contestants at a beauty pageant sport, and seemed to be running through a list of sorts while the others cheered her on. The boy was curious (and the girls were very attractive) so he couldn't help but stare at the going-ons. That was when the girl wielding the general and 2 colonels noticed him, pointed to the list in the bride-to-be's hand and whispered something in her ear. The bride-to-be looked at the boy, stood up, and followed by 7 pairs of eyes, walked over to where our hero was now beginning to sweat. Smiling, she sat next to him, so close that he could see the little flecks of glitter in her make-up, breathing in her perfume, all this time trying to will his hands to stop being clammy and appear nonchalant. The bride-to-be leaned in closer, bringing her glossy lips to his ear so he could hear her over the blaring music, and said, 'Can I borrow your sock? I promise I'll bring it back to you in a bit.' The boy blinked stupidly and thought, 'I must have misheard her over all this music. Surely she didn't just ask for my sock? Could it be something that sounds like..?', and said aloud, 'Huh?'. She laughed, leaned in again and repeated her request for his sock, once again promising  to return it shortly. Confused, but captivated by how beautiful the girl was, the boy unhesitatingly undid his shoe, peeled off his sock, and handed it to her. Fortunately, the boy's mother had inculcated into him the importance of wearing clean socks, so there was no risk of the sock being smelly. Waving the offered sock high, the girl walked back to her table to a sea of giggles as our hero struggled to keep a straight face and sipped his cider, to avoid looking directly at the girls all still looking at him. The bride-to-be was greeted with loud cheers, and our one sock wearing hero went back to drinking his cider. About 30 minutes later, the bride-to-be walked once again to his table, and returned his sock, explaining that she needed it as part of a list of dares that her girlfriends had put together. Thanking him, she kissed our intrepid hero on the cheek, and asked the wang handler to take a picture of them. As she walked back to her table, our now slightly tipsy hero thought, 'Sock scmock, I'd have given her a kidney if she'd asked!'. 

While this incident didn't cure the boy of his talking to pretty girls phobia, sources reveal that it did go a long way towards helping him adjust to life in the west.

As far as this recipe is concerned, what could be a better ingredient to cook from a story with a hen do, than an egg?

For my Poached Egg On Ham & Toast, you will need the following:

 

Eggs	whatever number you want
Bread	as many slices as the number of eggs
Ham/Salami	as many slices as the number of eggs
Butter	to taste
Salt	to taste
Pepper	to taste

Prep:

1. Fill a deep saucepan with water. (Little over half.)
2. Crack an egg into a little bowl. (One egg per bowl.)
3. Fry up your ham/salami. (Your call.)

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung the saucepan on.
3. Crank the heat up.
4. Wait until the bubbles start to rise. (Don't wait until it is bubbling furiously. You don't want it to boil.)
5. Drop the heat and take the saucepan off it until the bubbles settle.
6. Put the saucepan back on until it is gently simmering. (Like Hermione's cauldron in Potions class.)
7. Using a spoon, stir to create a whirlpool in the saucepan.
8. Slide the egg into the eye of the whirlpool and watch it spin gently as the stray tendrils of the egg white slowly, almost lovingly wrap themselves around the yolk.
9. Cook for about 3 minutes. (You can use your spoon to fish it out and touch it to see if it's done.)
10. Fish out the egg.
11. Pop it on a piece of buttered toast topped with ham or salami.
12. Sprinkle on salt and pepper.
13. Make a little incision to let the beautiful golden yolk run out.
14. Serve.
15. Stuff face.
16. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

Tip: Don't leave the egg in too long or the yolk will harden. And always wear clean socks.

And remember, overeating is a myth. A full tummy is a happy tummy!

Methi Matar Malai

Hello, boys and girls!

Welcome to cooking with Varun! Most families have a big group of friends that consist of other families (you know, the people you refer to as family friends?). My family is no different, and nearly as far back as I can remember, we've had the nicest, warmest, most fun family friends. From the big uncle who can (and does) dance circles around anybody, to one that puts out the best spread, the aunties who treat you like one of their own, and of course, the kids (although we're all grown-up now), we've got all types. Over the years, we've had countless get-togethers, been on picnics, danced at weddings, had Diwali parties, barbeques, the whole gamut!

Many (many) years ago, when I was still in school, all the family friends had gone out to one of the local clubs for dinner. There were 5 or 6 families, all the kids, and as is often the case, some kids were more annoying than others. I wouldn't say I was a saint, I could be a complete jerk at times, and (sadly?) this is one of those times. One of the attendees was one of my sister's best friends, Ms. Once Annoying, a girl who really set my teeth on edge. I don't know what it was about her but for some reason she really got under my skin. I mean, she's a perfectly lovely person now, but back then I just didn't like her. So there we were, sitting at a huge table by the poolside, the table groaning under the weight of all the food and drink that had been ordered. The adults at one end of the table talking about whatever it was adults in the '90s spoke of, us kids at the other end being kids. I finished eating a little before the others and not wanting to wait for the others to finish before the waiter got the finger bowls (basically a bowl of hot water with a wedge of lemon to wash your fingers in after a meal), I went to the loo and used the sink there to wash my hands. I returned to my seat, and one by one, as people finished eating, the waiters brought in the finger bowls. Having already washed my hands, I didn't really need it, but the warm water felt good on my fingers so I dipped my hands in for a bit. I think it was about then that evil me decided to play a prank on Ms. Once Annoying. When she wasn't looking, I nudged the others, poured the water in my bowl into a glass, squeezed the lemon in, and offered it to her as nimbu paani (lemon squash), under the pretext that I had ordered it but no longer wanted it, and that it would go to waste. She took the offered glass, took a sip, and immediately spit it out as the rest of us dissolved into peals of laughter. 

I'm not proud of it, but like I said, kids can be jerks, and this time, I was the mean one. Incidentally, Ms. Once Annoying's mum is vegetarian and would generally order malai koftas or methi matar malai, and that is how I first tried this dish.

For my Methi Matar Malai, you will need the following:

Methi (fenugreek leaves)	couple of large handfuls
Matar (green peas)	1 cup
Onion	1
Ginger	1" piece
Green chillies	2-3
Cashews	8-10
Elaichi (cardamom)	1
Cloves	2
Cinnamon	tiny piece
Jeera (cumin seeds)	2 tsp
Garam masala	1/2 tsp
Milk	2 big splashes
Cream	2 big squirts from the pack
Salt	to taste
Oil/ghee/butter

Prep:

1. Chop the onion.
2. Chop the ginger.
3. Cut up the chillies.
4. Grab a deep pan.
5. Ping your peas in.
6. Top with water.
7. Pinch of salt.
8. Bung it on the gas.
9. Boil until the peas are cooked.
10. Turn off the gas.
11. Drain and keep aside.
12. Roughly chop the methi.

Method:

1. Turn on the gas.
2. Bung a pan on.
3. Splash in some oil (or ghee, or butter).
4. Pop in the elaichi.
5. Toss in the cloves.
6. Throw in the cinnamon.
7. Pop in the onions.
8. Throw in the chillies.
9. Slide in the ginger.
10. Cook until the onions become translucent.
11. Turn the gas off. 
12. Wait for the contents to cool.
13. Empty the contents into a blender.
14. Bounce in the cashews.
15. Blitz.
16. Turn on the gas.
17. Bung the pan back on.
18. Splash in some more oil.
19. Pinch in the jeera. 
20. Wait for it to pop.
21. Spoon in the paste.
22. Cook until it no longer smells raw and goes only slightly darker in colour.
23. Roll in the peas.
24. Shake in the methi.
25. Mix.
26. Sprinkle on the garam masala.
27. Add salt to taste.
28. Mix.
29. Wait until the methi wilts.
30. Drop the heat to a touch above low.
31. Splash in the milk.
32. Cook for a couple of minutes.
33. Stir in the cream.
34. Cook for another couple of minutes.
35. Turn off the gas.
36. Cook together for a another couple of minutes.
37. Turn the gas off.
38. Serve with hot rotis.
39. Stuff face.
40. Bask in the glory of your successfully executed dish.

Tip: I added haldi to mine, it didn't really change the flavour. Just gave it a tinge of yellow. You needn't bother. 

And remember, overeating is a myth. A fully tummy is a happy tummy!