The New Cook

I have a cook.

She is an indulgence I have hired due to my dad visiting, and me struggling to see how he was going to survive in my haphazard lifestyle of cobbled together tiffins and eating out every night. He is 87, frail, unsteady on his feet and like most elderly people a creature of habit. I decided what I needed more than a maid was someone who could come in whilst I am at work, and make dad his breakfast, and later some lunch and in between those two meal times make a couple of dishes for the evening to leave in the fridge for me to reheat for dad and I for dinner.

That was my plan and quite honestly I wasn't optimistic. I've told you about the Maid Mania I've been suffering. But somewhere in my karma, or maybe my dad's Bharti was written as an answer to prayers.

Bharti is 33 and a kitchen goddess. She comes in at 8:00 in the morning and in her 4 hours with me she makes dad his chai, and his breakfast, and then chops, crushes, slices, marinades, soaks, blends, boils, pressurises, stews and does all sorts of wizardry to deliver the most amazingly delicious food I have eaten. And she walks out of the door promptly at 12:00 leaving the kitchen spotless and a fridge full of pots. It has become Bharti's fridge and I squeeze my bits and pieces in wherever I can find space.

In the last 7 days since Bharti arrived I have eaten the most exquisite home-made:

Chole, (chickpea curry),

Cauliflower sabzi (dry vegetable dish)

Dhal with bottle gourd,

Lady fingers with potatoes,

Rajma ( red kidney bean curry),

Chicken biryani,

Cabbage sabzi

And Masala Dosas.

I can see you calculating the number of dishes and the number of days and all I can say is that Dad and I are eating like Maharaje and I have the most delicious tiffins!

But a good cook seems to need a lot of stuff. At our first meeting Bharti took a look around my kitchen, stocked beautifully I thought with all essential items and said that on the first day perhaps she could do a stock take and make me a list of additional items she needs? Sure Bharti, I said, please make your list.

I got home that evening to 3 pages of items to be bought, some of which I had no idea what they were, and still don't, and others that required Sherlock Holmes style detective work to decipher. For example, I only worked out what "Siniman" might be when I read it aloud whilst on the phone to my husband!

The list spanned spices, vegetables, pulses, other ingredients, pots and pans and containers and the underlying tenet of Bharti's cuisine is the right tool for the specific dish. A dosa griddle is not the same griddle for making paratha. Tupperware is inexcusable and stainless steel bowls with lids in varying sizes are essential.

My kitchen is now unrecognisable. And I suspect so too will be my waistline. Although Bharti is all about portion control. In the first few days before Dad arrived and during her trial period she was only cooking for me and she didn't skimp on flavours and spices but she would only make enough of anything for one person. And I think she bases her quantities on small Maharashtrans, not on large Punjabis. So the jury is out as to which way the dial will turn on the weigh scales.

Just as a footnote, I spent hours on the first evening ordering all of Bharti's list across a number of different online supermarkets and by the time she arrived at 8:00 the next morning I had procured 90% of her list and it was in the kitchen waiting for her. I stood there looking so pleased with myself and flourished my arms all over the shopping in a universal ta-da sort of way and she just looked at the items, picked up a couple and said " I don't need that" or "that's the wrong size", or "I need one with a lid". It was a deflating moment in this Tiggers life but I think Bharti's taciturnity is a really small price to pay for Chole on demand.

Next stress is how I can justify keeping Bharti on after dad has gone? All ideas welcome.