About a month back we made a trip to Solvang[Santa Barbara], a vacation in the true sense. All we did was relax, eat, window shop in the beautiful danish style village downtown, sight seeing and partying all night after getting the kids to sleep.

We were all of 4 families, with 2 kids each and one adult who is here on a business trip. This one temporarily-bachelor adult is the twin brother of another person V. This conversation is the after effect of the trip. About a week after the trip.

I ask her, D, sometimes you call me Mummy, sometimes Mommy, sometimes Mumma. Could you pick one, please. Any one that you like?
Mumma, mumma replies D and this unintended conversation starts.

D: Maybe I can call you Aunty. [Says with a wicked grin]
Me: That’s not funny D. I am your Mumma. I am Aunty for other kids, not you. Okay?
D: But R’s mommy is N Aunty, A’s Mommy is R Aunty. Right mumma?
Me: Yeah…
D: So you are R Aunty. [Laughs again]
Me: Yes, I am R Aunty. But for other kids. For you, I am mommy. Girl, you know that!
[Using this opportunity to see if she can relate the kids and their parents. With this set of friends, we almost always meet as a set. D has seen them all together, somehow she knows who is who' mommy but is confused about the dad's ]
D: R’s mommy is X and R’s papa is Y.
Me: Who is A’s mommy and papa.
D: X.. hmm.. I don’t know. Maybe Y..
And so on…
It was this twin brother families turn. So I ask, Who is P’s mommy and papa?
[Says mommy correctly and struggles with papa. Gets it after a starting hint.
And then suddenly she gets a bit excited.. ]

D: Mumma, you know what? There are 2 V uncles. One V uncle has glasses and his hair is funny funny like this.
[Funky hair with gel and all that... People returning to India seem to get younger by the day. Desh ki Mitti, I tell you!!]
Me: Oh, V is a twin brother of V. Twins are born at the same time, come out of their mummy’s tummy at the same time and most of the time they look same same.
D: [Pause]. Mumma, P has 2 papa’s. One with a glass and one without a glass. I want 2 papa’s too, Mumma.
Me: [Laughing...] Sweety, I think its time to nap now. We’ll talk when you wake up, okay.
D: Mumma, please mumma. I wan’t 2 papa’s. I like to have 2 papa’s. I will be so happy, like 100, if I have 2 papa’s.
[ Yes, our measuring scale is 1 to 100. Not 1 to 10. ]
Me: Na, beta. Your papa loves you very much. Like 100.. We are a happy family with one Mommy and one papa. Lets sleep now.

Someone explain this girl!!!!! I am just glad she did not remember a thing when she woke up, which is so unlike her.
I wonder if she is too young to understand the concept of twins. Should pick up books on this topic in the next library visit.

Warning: Might not be suited for kids!

PS: Lifted from a friends site

Snow soft is a definitive over statement, but soft enough for Dlittle to gulp half of it in matter of minutes. Yes, you guessed that right! I am talking about idli’s. Reading too many posts on food, from avacado parathas to pesto dosa… All I can think of is food…


Few weeks back we were at yadaayadaa’s place for dinner. Her mom and dad are here and the menu for the night was idli, chutney, vegetable medley, roti, baingan bharta and one more dish I forget. Idli stole the show, at least for me.. They were so soft and yum that me and her mom spent good 10 minutes talking about it. Aunty gave tips on the batter, precise to the point – soak rice 5 minutes after you put urad in the grinder. Put urad in fridge for 30 minutes before grinding. I followed some of the steps[blame it on the kids] and the idli’s turned out really soft. [Put urad in the fridge for 30 minutes before grinding. Rice to urad ratio 5:1 + 1 cup of puffed rice. Grind urad for atleast 40 minutes].


I have come to the conclusion that I have a tongue tailored for South Indian food! In hindsight, I feel I should have had the LH sign a pre nup agreement on eating South Indian food atleast twice a week. Sigh!! I am sure he feels the same way. On having missed the opportunity to get in writing, that I will not feed his kids curd rice, esp. with SALT! How could a human not like curd with salt, is beyond me Ok, this time I won’t promise a post on this, though it is worthy of a whole separate post.


My phone conversations with yadaayadaa are mostly like this :
YY: Hows life? All is well?
Me: Yup. All good. How are things at your end?
YY: Good. Busy at work. Any plans tonight?
Me: Not really. Just usual day to day things. Busy..
YY: seri, veetukku vaa[come home]. 7:00ish.
Me: hmm.. Let me confirm with the LH. He might… [Get cut off..]
YY: Idli, sambhar, rice, rasam, chutney.
Me: okay. See you at 6:30. If LH can’t make it, I’ll come with the kids.


The thing is that I did not grow up eating S. Indian food all along. Growing up days, our staple food was daal, roti, one or two sabzi’s, salad, rice. Sunday’s were special though. Mornings we would have idli with sambhar, coconut chutney and onion chutney. Afternoon’s chicken biriyani and veg biriyani. [My mom does not eat meat, I would go back and forth, until one fine day I did stop completely]. Sunday nights would be masala dosa, onion dosa with left over sambhar and chutney from breakfast. I am all teary while writing this, its brings in memories from more than a decade ago. I miss my whole family sitting in the table and eating together. Memory’s still fresh on how we would fight for the next dosa. Poor mom, she would be the one burning in the stove. We kids would refuse to take turns and we would all demand dosa at the same time. Now, we are grown up, married, kids of our own, scattered and busy. The best we manage is the conference calls with speakers on, all of us talking at the same time. Even this we don’t get to do that often as our timings across the globe don’t suit. Anyways!! I feel so much better when I compare to those days with no internet to broadcast videos instantly, sophisticated phones with 3-way calling, and relying on snail mails to even see pictures of loved ones.
okay, I digressed. I did not grow up eating S.Indian food, but I think this craving started during college days with south style mess. And after marriage, the more I am away from it, the stronger the craving gets.


And for the records, we had a bay area bloggers meet at utbt’s place. Yaadayaada, Boo, Utbt, Sundar and Self. I know, I know, you all know by now. Still, here is my loyal contribution to keep the J quotient up. Subset of the items in the potluck: Pita bread, falafel style cutlets, home made guacamole, salsa, nachos, mediterranean style baked potatoes with oregano, pesto pasta, spinach quesadilla, vada, idli, sambhar, pineapple rasam, pineapple cake.
The best sambhar I have tasted lately, made by YadaaYaada/Boo’s mom. Beats Saravana Bhavan even without the addition of one quart ghee! Pineapple rasam by Boo. Was really good, but dear, I am sorry to say it took a back seat when compared to your mom’s sambhar. It reminded me of my mom’s rasam. Somehow I never feel the same with any other rasam. Why doesn’t the chai, rasam and many other dishes made exactly the same way, following instruction to the micro level, still does not turn out as good as our mother’s? For no logical reason! Someone in the group said – The main ingredient in mom’s cooking is Love. Ours, is stained with frustration and anger
To keep the cycle going, someday it will turn around and my daughter will feel the same way about her mom’s cooking, just the way I feel about mine She has to !!