It has been a weepy Sunday so far. You know how we feel about Sundays out here. Especially one that comes with a side of soft rain pitter-pattering against the bay windows. The kind that fails to pull you out of bed in time to taste mother-made French toasts (that are rarities in this household) and hence you end up losing all the egg-y goodness to your brother, who then proceeds to strut around the house boasting of a belly full of fried bread.
But the day gets better; you help your mother make more toast doused in eggs and fried in oil (not butter, oil). You also call up your Delhi-dwelling cousin and pester her for her honey-garlic chicken recipe. She made it a couple of weeks back when visiting Kolkata and we made a feast of it along with fried rice and cheap frosty beer followed by that walnut cake (you know, the one that comes with a tangy tamarind sauce…). There was a lot of beer, a lot of cake and a lot of badly taken phone photos. And so far it has been the best dinner I’ve had this summer.
The prospect of spending a wet Sunday marinating boneless chicken bits in garlic, ginger and onions, coating them in cornflour and frying them, and then smothering them with honey, just gets my Chinese on. The chicken bits are marinating as we speak. Meanwhile, I’ve been marinating myself in the following:
– Alice Medrich’s House Truffles. Look at the cocoa dusting on those, will ya?
– This poule-au-pot from Mimi Thorisson. Her food is beautiful.
– Can’t stop listening to Happy.
– There’s something called a Nutella Dorayaki in this world. The world is great.
– Lisa Eldridge’s channel is addictive. Even if you, like me, can walk down the road without makeup looking uncannily like a homeless person. And she’s so pretty.
Raw chicken calls. Happy Sunday you guys!