Monday, 29 September 2014

Pass me the salt, Mama!

My elder son Kavin(there I've revealed his name) has high chances of becoming a chef. Or a food critic. Or both.

My family and I have always encouraged him to soak in the sights and sounds of the kitchen since he was a baby. He would crawl into the kitchen to the aroma of frying and demand to be picked up and shown the wok. He would also, as a baby, watch any cookery show on TV with a look of steely resolve. Why, one of his first words was, "pizza!"

 My mother attributes it to the hours I spent watching Masterchef Australia through my pregnancy. Whether or not that has played with his culinary gene is unknown.

 So well, as Kavin grew, so did his interest with food and the kitchen. He took to spicy Indian cuisine like a fish to water. As an eight month old, he accidentally ate Rasam rice(a spicy, tomato and lentil broth mixed with rice)from my plate much to my dismay.He loved it so much, that he gave me a look which seemed to say, 'what have you been depriving me of, evil woman!?' Kavin refused to eat his bland baby food ever since. Rasam is still one of his favourites.
By the time he was eighteen months old, Kavin's chapati rolling skills were better than mine.(Oh, the shame!)
I'm proud to say that his palate wasn't limited to Indian cuisine. He loves his fried rice, pasta and nachos. On our travels, Kavin attacked the local delicacies of London and Sri Lanka with equal gusto. It wasn't long before he declared himself the official sous chef of the kitchen.(Stirring, mixing and garnishing were his departments)

 I know what you're thinking. "Oh, you're so lucky- my kid lives only on air and ONE cookie!" or "Wow!Good for you, my child is sooo fussy!!" Hold on. Did I mention that my kid is a food critic? I did, didn't I?
Yes, he eats his veggies. But, they have to be cooked and seasoned to perfection. If they're a tad off balance, he scrunches his face in disgust. The puff pastry from an expensive bakery will be wolfed down in minutes, that from a slightly cheaper bakery, will be refused. 

Kavin is also that know-it-all sous chef (he's become more like the head chef) who tells me that my cake batter is all wrong. And then I have to rectify it till his Highness approves. He also has weird suggestions. "Can we add garlic to the cake, Mama? Can we try at least?"

Sigh! I have to improvise my cookery skills to satisfy this culinary monster. Some day, he'll be in his chef whites and pose in front of his Michelin Star restaurant and say, "my mom is the reason for my success." And I'll wipe off that tear behind my glasses. Hahahha!!

The other day husband and I decided to gift him a toy kitchen set. "Could you show us a sturdy kitchen set for our son, please?" we asked the shopkeeper. "A kitchen set for a BOY??"the shopkeeper frowned. "Yeah, why not?" retorted husbie. An uncertain guffaw.

Haven't we progressed? Do we Indian parents still limit our kids to gender specific toys? Is the sight of the Invincible Indian Male (cough!cough!) in the kitchen still a hard to digest sight in our mindsets? I hope not. Because the kids of today are going places. Let's let them.

By the way, I watched House, M.D. when pregnant with No. 2. Hmmmm....

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