Seasoning this mundane, humdrum existence with food, travel, and the written word.

Looking at the widely circulating memes, I’ve concluded that quarantine seems to have two likely outcomes for most relationships. It either makes it or breaks it, haha. As for us, we just like to think of it as a massively extended weekend - where every night is a date night that calls for sweet moscatos, hearty ports, and tingly spiced wines. Our daily routines have stayed the same for most part - I still cook (albeit more elaborate dishes now), he still grooms our pup reli giously, we still go on our long walks, we still binge watch Netflix/Prime, we still barbecue, and we’re still trying to garden (haha). Although we do miss our cleaning lady extremely, we’ve learned to share those menial jobs as well. We’ve, even, managed to add a few alternative careers to our repertoire. But as the clock strikes 6pm, we aimlessly begin digging through our fridge/freezer to find that hidden treasure to accompany our wine choice for the night. Tonight, it was one of our quick favorites - S

“Three bunches of parsley?! Three huge bunches!” I cry out in disbelief from the mudroom. My tone seems to have no effect on my husband who casually strolls his way in my general direction. “Guess the shopper isn’t a culinary master like you,” comes his reply. We both burst out laughing over his weak attempt at wisecracking. Although I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with all this parsley, we were grateful to our shopper for replenishing our essentials. This was the first  time we had scheduled a grocery delivery instead of shopping ourselves. Also, the order was for three bunches of cilantro (haha). As I vigorously washed my parsley stockpile, I knew there was only one thing I wanted to make with this beast. And it would also give me the opportunity to use the fresh oregano from our herb garden. A beloved Argentinian condiment. And one of our favorites. CHIMICHURRI. No visit to a South American restaurant would be complete without us walking out with containers of this cheri

Physical distancing is like dieting. You keep craving the forbidden constantly - to the point where you’re daydreaming about people in your life turning into your favorite foods. And sometimes, you don’t even remember if you actually ever liked it or are yearning for it only because you can’t lay your hands (mouth) on it.  😂  Oh, the dilemma! But you know what else that entails? Cheating! Treating! Haha. And yes, guilty as charged. We’ve all managed to find loopholes to physica l distancing. Drive-by birthdays. Zoom wine nights. Houseparty girl hangouts. And our favorite, 6-8ft apart in backyards/lawns. So, that brings me to the inspiration behind this dish. This past weekend, we physically distanced at one of our favorite cousins place. A fellow foodie family. A family after our own hearts. Someone who’s as passionate about cooking and trading recipes as I am. An aunt who is my spirit animal. She handed me a jar of spicy, pungent homemade chili oil using gochugaru (Korea

PEPPA-CHICKEN... PEPPA-CHICKEN... PEPPA-CHICKEN! I could hear the husband rooting stadium-style from the living room. I chuckled as the roasted whole masala aroma perfumed the entire house. And as usual, our ever impoverished pup wouldn’t leave my side hoping I’d drop a morsel or two.  😂  This was his favorite go-to dish while in med school, again in grad school and fellowship. Incidentally, this is also one of the very first dishes he learned to make and was extremely proud of. Since I’m always trying out new flavor combinations, I seldom repeat dishes (our favorites being a few exceptions). Today was his day, as he put it. For a non-foodie, he sure does love food. My food. Haha! **RECIPE:  PEPPER CHICKEN **

I nervously kept glancing at my husband splayed out on the couch next to me post-lunch, “oh no, the delivery has been delayed. And it’s past midday already.” He, ever so casually, gives me a sly smile and replies, “Why don’t you call them?” I sigh.  The eagerly awaited drama behind that conversation is as follows. I couldn’t get any of the national or local florists to deliver flowers to mum on Mother’s Day; they all gave me much later delivery dates. So, I did what any smart and sensible daughter (self-dabba inserted, haha) would do and setup an Instacart drop-off from our local grocery store with some of her favorite items which, obviously, included flowers as well. “Yay! The shopper found everything and is delivering the order,” I exclaimed in joy. I dial mum in hurried anticipation. “Where are you, ma? Did you just receive a delivery?” “Yes, I think so, I placed an order for groceries. How did you know?” comes her surprised reply. She adds “..but dada is confused. S

Like parenthesis, there’s only two times at our home now. Coffee o’clock (Work) Wine o’time. During pre-covid era, that was mostly designated to Friday date nights and the weekends. At the risk of losing its appeal, we were determined to break the monotony by having some “Custardinis” instead. After the biryani-like-pulao, or pulao-like-biryani (the jury’s still out on that one, haha)**; I was overjoyed to have something we both agreed upon. 😆 **refer to my previous post Biryani Tales: Part 1 for context.