Food in a foreign land

The scales have never been kind to me. In fact each time I gather up my courage to climb on one, it laughs at my face. I have had a love affair with food for as long as I can remember. I love to eat and it shows. Food is my comfort, my sin, my passion and yes, my fat too. Food however has taken on a whole new meaning since the time I came to Montreal. With every kind of ingredient within easy reach, nothing is out of bounds or too difficult to make. Weekends turn into gastronomic adventures and indulgences hit the roof. But it's a whole different feeling to find the foods from your country, the foods you grew up eating and the food that is so unique to our land in a far away corner of the world. It's the thrill of discovering the perfect daal or the succulent tikka that only a sweaty turbaned punjabi dhaba owner can make, or the crunchy vada of the south Indian origin in far off Montreal.
Only recently our dear friends D and A introduced us to the popular Indian place in Montreal where the owner and serveuse speak chaste punjabi, there is piped bhajan music playing on the player somewhere and pictures of various gods and goddesses adorn the wall along with the ubiquitous taj mahal, Pushap sweets.
The samosas were to die for. After spending a samosa-less, tikki-less, gulab jamun less year, I fell onto the street food wagon like a starving orphan. I guzzled the syrupy sweetmeats, ate through a few plates of Chloe bhature and watched the fair skinned Quebecois tuck into the thalis on offer there.
Stuff that was so routine and part of our everyday consumption in the motherland has taken on a whole new meaning in a distant place. There is dhahi bhallas which taste very much like the real thing, samosas that come in all shapes and with multitude of fillings, chutneys vie for space with their color taste and vibrancy and the south Indian food on offer here is 'simbly awesome'.
In the depths of the Canadian winters I craved my moms home made bhuni khichuri. I would try and replicate dishes I had taken for granted at home and never bothered to learn. I would beg my mom to email me her recipe for cabbage with peas or prawn malai curry as I longed for a taste of home. I made a separate section with a special label for the recipies my mom sent, I started following blogs on Indian cooking in earnest and tried my hand at making and baking Indian dishes and sweetmeats every chance got.
On Diwali this year, as the temperatures plunged to sub zero, I was ticked pink ( orange????) having made my very first gajar ka halwa. So excited I was at my feat that I could not wait to share it with my friends ad fellow food lovers. I began to look forward to our get togethers when I knew our friend D would cook up a batch of divinely succulent mutton curry. I would brave snowstorms to get the frozen Nanak paneer so important was my craving for mutter paneer and we would wait impatiently for the Maxi grocery store to stock up on bhel puri and haldirams bhujia.
I am lucky that my family shares my love for food. Tia loves muter paneer, mutton curry, samosas and gulab jamun with a gusto. It gives me immense satisfaction to see her enjoy a bowl of Indian goodies. My heart swells with pride when she lists her favourite foods as daal bhaat, parantha and kebab.
The taste of home is not so easily forgotten. The memories happy and sad, of celebrations and triumphs, of hard work and laziness, of hot summer days and cold winter nights, of Durga pujas and
diwalis are all linked to food in one way or the other. 
Its a heady feeling to discover a really good place that sells your childhood goodies and share it with your friends. Food is our common language. Each one of us has their own memories associated with the foods we ate in the homeland. 
The scale sits dusty at the bottom of my bed now. I can hear it mocking me, but the comforting smells of aloo methi from the kitchen and the biriyani cooking on the stove has its way of overruling it.
Outside it's a cold and grey day, and inside more food memories are being made, albeit in distant Montreal.

Gajar ka halwa on diwali

Mutter paneer

Fish fry..all dolled up

Year One

Everyone remembers their firsts, the first prize, the first love, the first kiss, first baby..., for me today it would be my first year in Montreal, Quebec. Tia and I landed here exactly a year ago on the 1st of December 2011, on a vividly sunny, bitterly cold and windy day. I was recovering from an illness, my body was travel weary and my heart was torn in two, leaving my parents and home and trying to put on a brave face for a future totally unknown.
In theory it seemed to make sense, but as I was packing to leave home and my parents, I honestly thought that I would snap in two. I was emotionally drained and yet I had to suck it up and try and brave it. I told myself in my mind that this was going to be a trial period. That I could always return if I did not like it, but I could see in my fathers eyes and my mothers embrace that they thought otherwise. They knew me better than myself.
It was a blurry experience getting off the plane, clearing immigrations and before I knew it I got a glimpse of the city from the back seat of the cab. The trees were bare, it looked so grey all around, yet there as a big bright sun in the sky. I remembered thinking that it looked so industrial unlike the explosions of color I was used to seeing in India.
Yogi was so excited to show me the home he had made for us and in his excitement forgot the passcode to the main door and we spent the next few minutes, shivering in the cold, surrounded by our luggage ( all 9 pieces) as Yogesh tried his best to remember the code and call up the concierge of the building as we stared dumbly all around us.
In due course, The code was finally entered and I stepped into a warm sun filled apartment which was to be our home from now on.
All I wanted to do was call my parents and lie down. That's what I remember of that day exactly one year ago.
 Step two was getting geared up for the winter. Shivering in my thin layers we made our way to the mall to buy snow pants, snow boots, hats, mittens, and parkas for Tia and me. I had absolutely no idea what to look for and it was a pretty stressful search for waterproof-wind-proof snow pants and jacket for Tia, waterproof-snow gloves and snow boots. Delhi winters had no way prepared me for the brutal Canadian winter. The wind chill made my eyes water and froze the insides of my nose. I could not feel my head and my temper was directly proportional to my discomfort.
Tia being a happy 4 year old then, was happy to skip around and explore her new surroundings oblivious of the discomforts and perils the winter chill.
Yogi insisted that I get a decent parka too and only then did I begin to thaw out. It turned out that all the good winter jackets and boots were sold out by the 1st of December. Canadians take their winter gear very seriously and waiting till the temperatures hit sub zero to buy the winter paraphernalia is not a great idea.
I was exhausted and jet lagged by all this shopping stress and thus concluded the next few days.
I realized how disconnected I was when I could not read a single road sign, or a single label at the shops. It felt so alien. People were warm and friendly all around, yet I felt handicapped by my lack of  French.
As days turned to weeks, weeks to months, I was welcomed by most people I met with open arms. My french failings seemed to be fading as I found my way around and got to meet and talk to people (gasp: in English ! ) Tia started daycare or GARDERIE as it is called here and I was bowled over by the sincerity and the warmth of the people and the system. Everywhere I went there was acceptance, warmth and an eagerness to accept a non francophone into their midst. I got to learn about the daycare system. I saw how much attention the kids get here and it was so easy to forget the chaos and crowds of school in Delhi. Tia started to understand French and pretty soon had a best friend. I found myself explaining to her about skin color and it color and how we are all the same regardless of how we look.
I started to address people with a hesitant 'bonjour' and took my baby steps to learning French.
The weather grew colder, the snow was magical. All around the houses seemed like in a fairy tale. Christmas came, we had a tree. Santa visited with some goodies and life began in earnest as I learnt to improvise, prioritize and give my everything to raising a happy healthy child. I was lucky enough to get work too and I attended evening French classes as the snow blizzards blew.
Yogi travelled for work in March and Tia and I were totally alone here for over a month and we managed it all. It was lonely without family and loved ones but it gave me tremendous independence and self confidence.
Among other things, I got to experience first hand, the good side of humanity. My wallet which I accidentally lost while picking up Tia was returned by a kind lady who found it outside the library.
I was overwhelmed by kindness and generosity. It was a valuable lesson on doing good to others and I have witnessed such small gestures pretty much all around me every day.
In the spring I started university to study the French language full time and I was amazed by the standard of teaching here. Punctuality, professionalism and commitment took on a whole new meaning. The teacher worked harder than the students to make the class fun and interesting. Centres of learning such as the university of Montreal are really like mini cities with state of the art technology to make life so much easier for the students and I truly fell in love with the education and teaching methods here.
I began communicating in French now and no longer felt like an alien from outer space.
In the summer my parents came to visit and it was the best time. Tia turned 5, as the city erupted in green and I explored the city and it's offerings of nature and festivals with my parents. Every weekend was packed as we played in the water, picnicked in the parks, ate fresh produce from the farmers market, went to music shows and festivals and tanned and relaxed with my loved ones all round, I had the best summer of my life. My parents liked Montreal as much as me. There was something for everyone to do here and there is never a dull moment. I made friends gradually. We party, we hang out, we share our weeks ad our food and our doors are always open to them.
Tia started kindergarten while I was away on work and Yogi and my mom were able to be there and help her get settled in the big school. She seems to be enjoying school a lot and her days are long, filled with sports, activities friends and work. I love the kindergarten activities they are doing a lot. I love the system and method of teaching and I love it that the kids are exposed to art, literature, music and books from early on. I like the sense of community and the idea of voluntary community service. It's a whole different approach to help and be part of the vast and diverse community we are all a part of.
A year on, Tia is completely Bilingual. She speaks the French language as a pro, I too can talk in French whenever needed, I can speak in French with the teachers in the school, I can read labels, understand local terms and feel like a local. I even complain of the cold like a Québecois!
A year on, I am no longer scared. It was a year of learning, letting go, exploration and discovery. I am used to breathing in the cold air, used to the convenience of the system, happy to use public transport and no longer afraid of a challenge. It was a time to focus on family and find happiness in the small things. Bonne annee to us and many many more to come. Hope we never forget the passcode to the front door again...

Glimpses of the city in summer

parc jean drapeau

Montmorency falls

Touched by an angel. Happy 5th to tia

My heart is filled to bursting point. It's a special feeling and one that cannot be explained, comprehended or even contained. The light of my life, my heart and my soul, the princess of our hearts turns 5 today. My little fledgling is a Big girl now, she is 4 feet tall and has two brand new adult teeth. She has a sunny disposition, is an extrovert of the highest order and has a temper that springs forth at the drop of a hat. She has the softest hair, and the brightest eyes. Her baby arms encircle my waist as I comb her hair each day and she says she can't wait to grow up and look like mommy. Silently in my heart I wish for time to stop at that moment forever. She smells of baby lotion, shampoo and of excitement and wonder. I love to cuddle up with her in bed just to inhale the fragrance of childhood and hold it in my senses forever. I wonder if I can ever tell her how much she means to me, or how deeply I love her. My heart sings with joy when I see her after a busy say. I can move mountains to make everyday special for her. She is independent, stubborn and headstrong too. At 5 years she has a 'I can do it myself' streak that cannot be contained. She is strongly vocal and emotional. She has a brilliant artistic streak and the uncanny ability to sense when mommy needs a hug. She is all pink and girly, yet is a tomboy who loves to play rough with her nana or dig in the dirt with her grandma. She speaks French like a local and Bengali in her baby sweet voice. She has imaginary conversations with her toys that I love to eavesdrop on. Her imagination and creativity blow me away at times. She has confidence in her ability and helps others in need whenever she can. I am astounded at the changes a mere 5 years have brought. She hugged me as we cuddled for bedtime just now. She wanted to hear the story of how she was born from mummy's tummy for the hundredth time. She loves to hear it over and over again. In turn I love telling her about how much we wanted her in our lives. It's the most special time of the day and as she hugged me she said ' thank you mommy for my birthday, I love you'.....I have not stopped crying happy tears since. Thank you my darling for choosing me as your mom. Thank you for the sunshine sparkles, the teary hugs, the growing lessons and the moments of pure unadulterated fun. Thank you for the wonder and awe with which I view the world, as we both discover new things and take paths uncharted and unfamiliar. Thank you for the confidence you have in me as your mother. Thank you my darling for coming into my life and coloring it with every hue. Happy 5th birthday my darling Tia. Happy 5th to us as a family and may the sunshine and smiles increase manifold with each passing year. Love mommy