The Rebelle blog

In a writing workshop conducted in IIT-B on Saturday, we were asked to write about our favourite food memory. What I couldn't conjure then, I shall write here today. My earliest pie memory is from reciting nursery rhymes from childhood. A porcelain bowl with dripping dark chocolate over sugar glazed green apples later baked with a caramelised crust, hot from the oven had my mouth watering many years ago when I saw it in a movie on Pies titled Waitress . Years later, I tried recreating it in my home with a not-so-same effect other than enjoying the bitter chocolate in my mouth. Each new pie recipe inspired me to go through Crawford Market on Friday evenings looking through fresh fruit stalls. The mounds and colourful assortments of juicy, ripe peaches and apples sent a surge of happiness through me. I started imagining baking pies in my head like Jenna did. Unlike her, I did not have names for my pie but I did imagine colours and fruits of all kinds in mine. Vanilla and Pineapple ...

I am embarking on a new journey this year. One that takes me through herbs, spices, lots of vegetables and images that satiate my thirst for something I have never attempted wholeheartedly or given any consideration previously. I am going to try my hand at Cooking. I hope I stick to this idea. Never been a big fan of food or kitchen antics despite seeing this passion in my mother and younger sister. Both of them go balsamic(intended with a pun) at the thought of creating new recipes. I have forever been the person who dives her nose deep into books especially when the ladies are on a cooking expedition. Lately though, I feel my senses are stimulating themselves to smells and fragrances drifting from above our kitchen. My Dad recently gifted my Mom a big, heavy set Julia Child-ish book of Indian Recipes. True to her passionate self, we have been eating wonderfully creative dinners and Sunday lunches for the past few weeks. I knew some of my mother's passion must have rubbed off on...