rencontrer un mec serieux Ma Poonen, was an excellent cook. Mealtimes, announced by a gong, would find us sitting down to gourmet food, in dainty helpings, that merged with the designs on the delicate ceramic plates. Fine dining with food exquisitely cooked and served artistically, did not impress us teenagers. We were hungry all the time.
here Sunday was special, as Ma Poonen and the Kiddies Korner Kitchen took a break and we were sent off to the Women’s Hostel for Sunday Lunch and Dinner. If we closed our eyes, during grace at Sunday lunch, there was a strong possibility, that the chicken leg or breast served up on the plate in front of us, could fly into someone else’s plate and disappear for ever.
go here Goolu would stand in front of the leg of chicken and I would stand in front of the breast of the chicken. We would sing the grace, with our eyes open, shamelessly watching our chicken pieces, with an unwavering gaze . When the latecomers filed in and urged us to move along, so that they could shuffle in, we pretended we were stone deaf and totally engrossed in thanking the Almighty. We never took our eyes off the plate in front of us.
je suis a la recherche de ma fille Sunday dinner, was a Head & Neck Chicken curry, garnished with giblets and the Bishop’s nose. This delicious curry, was cooked a la country style, with leftovers and served out of stainless steel buckets, held up by curved handles that clanged down noisily at rest. Buckets, that looked suspiciously like the ones in the Labour Room and Operation Theatres. We did not stop to notice the similarity, nor did we care how it was served.
enter Those days any bit of the bird would do.