" Which dal is used for dal curry?"

        The title is self explanatory. Well, it is one of the questions which I ask my roommates whenever I attempt to cook dal curry. One of the many questions I asked when I entered into the new realm of cooking which I would say is the most basic of all survival techniques. That is one thing that all the Indian students like me in US could relate to.

          I came here with zero experience in cooking except for "exquisite" dishes like omlette, sandwiches and tea. It is not that my mom did not try to teach me cooking, I was busy with the stuff to do before coming here and well, I was too lazy to learn cooking. But I don't think it mattered because when I actually started to cook, it is not that difficult as I imagined it would be and it was more fun than I expected it to be.

          You start with sautéing onions, put some spices, and then put whatever you want into it- rice, vegetable, meat- whatever. That is cooking in my layman's terms. As long as I am not starting any restaurant or something, this is all that I need. I mean I can make "something" and which I think is all that a student cares for. Intuition is our recipe, hands are our measuring cups..... well, as long as we get what we want, anything is fine..

          One bad thing about student life in US is that there is no budget places to eat out other than if you go for the fatty junk food. My student life in undergraduate days depended heavily on the good and budget restaurants near my college hostel, where we could just go, hang around and have a nice meal. I am missing that here. You want to go, have a chai and dosa (or whatever the equivalent they have here other than hamburgers), in a good eat out, without burning a hole in your pocket, tough luck.

          But then, that's how I felt about eating out here, people will have differing opinions. So, as for now, I am comfortable cooking. Well, I do have the starting trouble, I mean, getting up and starting to cook, but once I decide on what to cook and start cooking, I am fine and I am enjoying it. Which brings us to the question, " Which dal is used for dal curry ?". Well, err.....

One Black Coffee

      The one black coffee mentioned in the title is the first thing I bought in the US. So what is there to write about it ? Well, that is something that will confuse anyone who is not familiar with the ways in the US, like me when I was waiting for my connecting flight at the JFK airport in New York. I feel that it is much easier to buy something from a supermarket or to order something in a restaurant in India. It is because we don't have much choices in things and it, if you ask me, makes life much simpler. Well, atleast for a newcomer like me who is not well-versed in the american style of life.

        So here I was, "fresh out of the boat", waiting in the lounge of the Delta airlines when I wanted a coffee. I was having a bad headache after the long journey and I thought that a coffee would do me good. I went to this flashy (and expensive) coffee shop in the lounge. Now, I am one of those guys who has seldom been to Cafe Coffee Day or Barista in India. It is because I did not have any of those in Kothamangalam, Kerala (where I did my engineering), which was kind of good because I could hang out with friends and have a good time at a decent place, without burning a hole in my pocket. So considering that, when I went and ordered a coffee, I expected the sweet and hot coffee made with milk. So, naturally I was confused (and irritated) when they gave the most bitter black coffee possible after paying an equivalent of 100 rupees. But to be fair to the coffee shop, there was creamer and sugar for one to take and mix with coffee, but we will never get the sweetness and thickness of our ordinary Indian coffee.

          Now, that is what I was talking about when I said about the confusing stuff that a newcomer to the US will face. So, apparently, I should have ordered a Latte or Cappucino if I wanted something that is comparable to the good old coffee which we get in India. It is not that I did not see latte, cappucino, mocha, white mocha and all the other kinds of coffee in the menu board, my brother who is studying in Bangalore would have understood what those meant, but I did not. One, as I said, I have seldom been to a Cafe Coffee day and two, atleast the names should be in a language that I could understand. Like mocha (pronounced "moka" not "mochcha" ) is actually coffee with chocolate on it. 

            Same if you go to a restaurant. If you just look at the menu and think that you have decided upon an item, wait. The waiter would want to know how it should be cooked, what sauce you need, how much cheese etc etc on an order which you know nothing about. I mean, coming from dosas, chappathis and biriyanis, when you are asked about how well cooked your steak must be, what can you say ? (by the way, well cooked steak is supposedly the lowest grade of steak...). Or go to a supermarket. You want milk. You have to choose between 2% milk, 4% milk, whole milk, skimmed  milk, vitamin c milk and a lot other varieties. In India, when you order masala dosa, you get masala dosa. When you order tea, you get tea. It is simple, direct. You don't care and so don't have to worry about what masala they put in masala dosa.

                But then, I don't really care about the type of milk and how well cooked the steak must be, but for a new comer, these are confusing stuff. As for me, I am lucky enough to have my relatives here, so I am learning stuff pretty well. Once I get used to these, I think I will start appreciating the number of choices which you have here, not just in restaurants and supermarkets, but in everything. Well, new country, new experiences, it is fun for me and even ordering one black coffee can fill a blog page if you look at it in the right manner.....

When I landed in the US

         I had mentioned in my first blog post that life as it is funnier than you think. That is how I feel when I think of the day when I landed in the US. I had this long flight of 15 hours or so direct from Mumbai to New York, out of which for almost 10 hours I had the sunrise. I mean as I was going from east to west, the sun was kind of following the airplane. So it was dawn for me for like 10 hours when I looked out through the window.

          So, I landed at the JFK airport in New York around 9 in the morning. It was raining in New York on that day, which was kind of disappointing because it was cloudy all the way when the plane was nearing New York. I had heard that we could see the statue of liberty when you are nearing New York. But I doubt if I would have been able to see it properly even if it was a clear day because we were required to strap down to the seat putting the seat belt a good one hour before landing.  They said that it was some safety measure after the 9/11. 

  

          So I got down the plane, stretching and all that after a long flight and walked in the direction where everyone was walking and finally got to a big hall - the immigration check at the port of entry to the US. There was a long queue for the immigration check and I was standing there, listening to almost all the languages of the world, checking, re-checking, re-re-checking whether I have all the documents, which I know for sure is in a folder in my bag. 

            I had seen a lot of american movies, american T.V shows, so I was confident and it did not cross my mind that I would be having difficulty in understanding their accent in the real life until I reached the immigration counter. "Werrugonaskul"..? the immigration officer asked. "What..?" " Where are you gonaskul...?". O.K I understood the first part of the sentence, but what the hell is the next part of the sentence...? But of course I couldn't tell him that, so I asked again politely, "Excuse me..?". Now he was clear; too much clear for comfort like he was talking to a kindergarten kid...."Wheeereee are youuuuu going to schooooooool...?". "Oh.. I have already finished college..." I knew I have said something stupid immediately after I said it. Because over here, school actually means college. Like how football means over here something that you play by throwing the ball around with hand. Anyway the immigration officer gave up on me and stamped my passport, which was all that I needed.

              I picked up all the baggage, used the american dollar for the first time for getting the trolley for taking the baggage ($5 for that) and used the trolley for walking like 20 metres. (If I had known that the baggage check in for the next flight was so near, I would not have taken the trolley. But then you will never know. That is how capitalism works...) So I checked in the baggage, got into some kind of inter- terminal train service and got down at a completely deserted place where my terminal is supposed to be. Now I confess I was kind of lost because I am standing in some kind of station alone with no visible means of exit. One end is the elevator which takes you straight to the street, out of the airport and on other end is a restricted area. Now, I did not want to try my luck with the restricted area, so I went out of the airport hoping to find someone who would guide me, which I did not find.

              After shuffling around for like 10 minutes (I don't know how many security cameras would have been noticing me as a suspicious person during that time..), I finally found out that you have to actually get OUT of the airport, cross the street and get in again at the other end. I mean, I never expected that I have to go out of the airport to get to the next terminal and there were no helpful signs anywhere. Well, I finally got to the right terminal and took the flight to Detroit after a wait of 5 hours. Well, that is how I landed in the US. It might not be an interesting read for me now, but I am sure I will have a few laughs when I read it after some years. That is what I am writing this blog for anyway.... To preserve memories.......