Potato Parcels
Me and Hubby Dear are what some might call munchers. You know, the kinds that could live on finger foods alone. Yes, now that I think back a little, we most certainly are one of those kinds.
The first time we went out, ever, we unsuccesfully tried to share a plate of french fries. I say we tried, because truly, I was was the one trying my best to get my fork into the plate while Hubby Dear conviniently walked at a much faster pace covering it with his arms. (Walking, since unlike the tradional way of going out to dinner for a first date, we chose to spend a day at the CNE.) Yes, the guy does like his fries, sometimes, I believe, even more than his pretty little wife. We spent the rest of the day bouncing between samosas, popcorn and fiery wings.
When we’re not having friends over, our Friday nights usually turn out the same each week - a bunch of movies enjoyed over a platter of assorted mini treats. As much as our choice of movies may differ, the only variable constant to our evening would be the finger food. Constant, because they mostly always find themselves to be potato-based. And variable, because they almost never taste the same.
I love experimenting with different flavours, and what better way to try a new flavour than to toss it over a bowl of plain boiled and mashed potatoes. From chat masala to chipotle-lime, the list of flavourings is endless, and the combinations one can come up with is overwhelming. We made this a couple of weeks ago. We, because while I fried, Hubby Dear ate, much to the dismay of his burning tongue. The things men do for food, or should I say, potatoes!
POTATO PARCELS
Prep time: 30 min | Cooking time: 20 min | Makes: 24 bite-size parcels
2 large potatoes, peeled, boiled, and mashed
12 large spring rolls wrappers, cut in half to make 24 strips
1 tbsp cumin seeds
1/2 tsp red chilli powder
1/4 tsp garam masala
salt, to taste
light cooking oil, for frying
water, as needed
MIX mashed potatoes with salt and spices, and set aside to cool.
PUT about a teaspoon of the potato filling on a cut-in-half spring-roll wrapper. Fold it up to form a tiny parcel. Seal the edges with water. Set aside on a platter covered with a damp cloth to keep them from drying out. Repeat for remaining strips.
HEAT oil in a non-stick frying pan and shallow-fry parcels a few at a time so as not to crowd the pan. Remove parcels when they turn crisp and golden on both sides. Drain excess oil by placing parcels on paper towels. Serve warm with ketchup or chutney of choice.












If you, like me, cannot go a day without turning on the Food Network, then you must’ve surely gotten a glimpse of the fabulously homely show, French Food at Home with 
I woke up this morning with a deep longing for some good comfort food. So after a quick breakfast of coffee and toast (yes, I know, how boring!), I decided to head out and see what I could find of fresh produce. As I strolled down the aisles of fresh fruits and greens, ideas kept popping into my head. One look at the abundance of fresh mushrooms reminded me of a sinfully delicious chicken and mushroom stew I had recently. It was warm and comforting, a treat for a lonely week night. The short flashback was all I needed to add it to my basket. Once the mushrooms were in, my hands just moved to pick up the rest of the ingredients. The pot was already simmering in my head, and by the time I got home, I could already taste it.
One of the most common questions I am often asked is, “What do I cook for myself when I’m home alone?”With my husband away on regular business trips that takes him across the ocean, it’s not surprising to note that I spend a good chunk of the year eating my meals in solitude. What does surprise most my friends, however, is how well I eat during those times. Sometimes, even better that when I’m entertaining a large group of people. The main reason behind this being that when I’m on my own, I tend to experiment and play around more. I can afford to spend that extra hour in the kitchen examining the curves of a gingerroot, or taking in the aroma of lemon grass, and even, horror to most, make my own fresh blend of spices. I know that I have only myself to please, and without another pair of longing eyes peering at me to set dinner on the table, it makes the ordeal quite bearable.
Every once in a while I like to take a vacation. Correction: I need a vacation. But a busy schedule make it an almost impossible desire. Instead, I take time to “zone out.” I take these mini-holidays on any particular day and when I think I most deserve it. I leave everything behind and pretend I’m on an adventure. Anything to spice up my routine lifestyle.I wear my favourite pair of comfortable pants, put on my comfy walking shoes, and armed with a camera and a few bare necessities, I set out on an exploration.
Growing up, I seldom remember a weekend where we had the house to ourselves. While few weekends were spent hosting visiting family and friends from far off places, most of our Saturday nights was spent amidst mighty morsels of succulent bites of food. My parents, like most true-blood Indians, love to shower people with their hospitality and feed them till they’re almost ready to burst. We Indians are known for our need to treat our guests with the utmost care and generosity, and one common way we all seem to achieve in doing so is through our food. Food holds a very special place in any Indian household. No festivity is complete without a table laden with colourful dishes end to end, enough to please a king.It’s no wonder that out of all the rooms in a home, many Indians take the most pride in showing you their kitchens. Truly, we love food, and our life surrounds it. Our conversations, no matter how they begin always seem to divert to the food related with the topic in question. A simple wedding announcement would automatically lead to the designing of the menu. Even meeting up with a long lost friend would be done over lunch or dinner, over food they could reminisce about.
For someone who writes and manages a food blog felicitously named, Hooked on Heat, it comes as a surprise to many when I confess that until very recently, say a couple of years ago, I belonged to the clan of folks who shied away from all things spicy. Ironically, it always petrified my Mom how her first-born could ever be averesed to eating spicy food. Being one who can’t swallow a meal that lacks in the redness that can only be born out of the addition of hand-ground chillies, not once did she smile while separating my portion of the daily meal before spicing it up for the rest of the family.
Growing up, I remember spending most of my vacation time in the summers pouring over mouth-wateringly tempting photographs of intricately designed cakes, cookies and other baked goodies. My mom had (or must I say, still does) this tendency to pick up wonderfully photographed cookbooks cramped with an even more delicious assortment of recipes. It’s no wonder where I’ve caught the bug from.

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