IST - Individual Suitable Time

This is the Independence Day post. It's on time, just take a look at the title. Blog titles are very important. They promise something else and then wander off to wherever the .....

As I was saying.

This year the shades of saffron and hues of green didn't hold much stock for me. Until dinner that is. At this point I decide that this is going to be a food review complete with pictures. I also decide that I need better flow of thoughts.



Now the purpose of having a picture smack there isn't just to fan the "them's" ego by saying that a picture speaks more than a 1000 words. (reference: They say that.. blah blah blah). The secret to selecting a good sizzler is to carefully see what everyone else is choosing and following suit. Herd mentality is a good thing except if you're a goat that has had the honour of being the main dish.

Caught 'N' Bowled at the Salt Lake City Center boasts of great continental food with a cricketing ambiance. They live up to it. The 15th Aug menu had its share of greens and oranges with a liberal white sauce. What you're looking at passed out on the 16th. But on the 15th it was a lamb steak sizzler. Add to that the carbohydrate addition of macaroni pasta cooked in a tangy tomato puree, American style French fries, a very Indian looking potato kebab and the salad to taste.

Incidentally, the salad rests on a bed of fresh lettuce. Remove the bed and feast your eyes on the crack in the sizzler plate. This is where they pour the alcohol and set fire to it. Hmmm... spirits in the crack that set it on fire.

Feeling particularly foodial, hence the second pic. At a different angle of course. The hand you see is my sister's spearing the cauliflower. She doesn't have a blog. And for those on orkut who want to strike up a frandship about "Hey, you're [my name]'s sister! How is [my name] doing?" - ask me yourself. That was the compulsory comic twist which didn't really fit in, but anyway.

Keeping your eyes closed while eating is generally a good way of unlocking hidden flavours. The texture of the meat. The spicy tanginess of the sauce. There may be those herbs and spices which are missed out while engaging in intellectually stimulating conversation. The aftertaste the potato leaves when eaten with the dip. Then there's the aroma. A very important part of the taste is the way it smells. So inhale, chew carefully and keep your eyes closed.

The above statements do not apply if you're out with voracious eaters with a sense of humour. You'll end up smelling everything other than your food. And when you open your eyes you'll see the plate. Just the plate.

Final word: The secret to enjoying a great sizzler is to not get your tongue burnt on the first bite.

The reel deal

I've never really gotten the deal about Japanese Animation. Other than the fact that it looks really sleek and the characters swagger in styles enough to throw Olympic swimmers into depression, what's so great about it?

Maybe, everything.

Sure they talk funny. The leading characters (and unleaded characters too) are fueled by a lot of energy. The kind that powers verbal diarrhea perhaps because their lips keep moving long after the actual speech has ended. That might be due to bad dubbing, but it's kinda trancelike to watch those itty bitty probosces keep fluttering. And then expand to the size of hippopotamus mouths while eating. Background score: Crunch, mmgah, chomp, deelish, gnaw, crunch. I already said crunch. The animators sure know how to make them sound good. The only time I heard someone actually eat like that was in a Bong marriage when competing over fish fries was still fashionable. The burp was still in vogue then. After that, health became fashionable and the quintessential Bong bourgeoise was sadly left behind...

Back to anime.

Most ingredients of a typical anime are liberally splashed with action, skin show, some more action, a storyline that involves either a treasure, dragon, parallel world, godlike power, cyborgs and fan service. Speaking of action, those blokes westwards could really take a few hints. Matrix style moves, flying kicks, crustaceans wielding nanchuckers with a taste for pizza leaves a funny taste in the mouth. More salt please. So there you have these long haired japs who look typically stereotyped in their ripped jeans, out of proportion physiques (I swear, if those characters were life size, they'd be over 8 feet tall with gorilla arms and no chest hair. We call them metrosexuals - just without the height). And they swing their arms as fluidly as cigarette smoke, make some grunting sounds that might or not be inspired by Jenna Jameson and then crack the skull of the not so attractive anime opponent.

Basically, it's fun. It's fun to imagine blasts of ultra heat from your eyes. Oyya, speaking of eyes - they're always lazily drooping until the sexy villain decides to beat the living daylights out of the poor wrong protagonist. This sounds very Bollywoodish, but villains here are never sexy. Maybe long haired and dyed beards at the most. Animes look cool with any colour of hair. It's mostly metallic yellow and purple, but the odd shade of red, green and blue are also there. Black hair sticks out like a misshapen mustache on a southie hero. Think pokemon.

Ultimately, it's about entertainment. It might just be about money as well, but we're prudish and don't cloud our thoughts about such materialistic things. (Also skin show). So if you'll excuse me, my Fatal Fury - the movie has finished streaming and I'm off to watch the ghost of lover the martial artiste coax him into wishing his new lady love good night.

The alternative to being dead would be being employed.

That, perhaps, might be the reason why I spent friendship day at work with two equally luckless colleagues instead of gorging on bony chicken and melted rice. Just for the record, lunch consisted of a single cheese sandwich accompanied by mango juice. Not the tetra pack or bottled variety mind you. This version was literally squeezed, packed and oozed out the edge.

We were in Salt Lake at a printing press making sure the heaviest of our award winning anal reports were being done. Did I say anal? I meant annual.

The ride to the place was in an auto. It's weird the way everyone in the auto will hang on to the metallic rods that have an affinity towards the softer parts of the cranium. One jerk on the road and daytime stars materialize. One jerk in driver's seat and.. you get the picture. The passengers take a perverse pleasure in putting their hands, legs, arms, extra appendages wherever it seems to fit. Maybe everyone has acrobatic tendencies. It is said that we have abilities we aren't aware of...

But this post is getting longer. The press isn't set to function on a Sunday. I'm not too sure about the remaining six days either. However, they do have malt biscuits for every occasion. And on to City Center (touted as India's most favoured mall on some obscure billboards in India), for an attempted lunch.

Sunday afternoons at a favoured mall favours a lot of unfavourable crowds. The most entertaining of which can be found in Kookie Jar wondering aloud whether the nut corner cookie will contain nuts. By the same logic, there might be death hiding in the death by chocolate. Actual chocolate might not be there - don't ask. Don't wonder. Don't eat. We did eat a nut corner and shawarma. Two actually - the girls don't eat much. Washed that down with 25 bucks worth of crushed ice and grape juice marketed as international quality slush.

Footnote: my colleagues are all female. My boss is a male. Repeat previous statement.

From City Center to the Salt Lake Barista. There are lots of Baristas in Salt Lake. Barista is a coffee joint. If you didn't know this, then you probably don't know that they've come up with thirstbusters. These are incredibly expensive items that taste incredibly expansive. We'd come for, presumably, coffee which took 1 man to make and 4 men to put the cover on the paper cup. It was take away.

Speaking of take away... the thirstbusters have a very interesting menu card. My colleague filched it. And all in the name of design and print. No wonder I write anal reports.