It's all getting a bit personal.

I grew up in a family that was very private - my parents didn't like talking to people outside the family about personal matters. To be honest they didn't really like talking to each other much never mind to us so we didn't have much knowledge about them. I never wondered if this was normal - it was for us - and didn't really notice it was odd. However, I've realised as time has passed that this is a very un-indian way of being. Sharing too much and asking personal questions seems to be a cultural trait that just missed my family entirely.

I used to go to a salon in Southall where as soon as anyone walked in the woman would say, "You need to lose weight," or, "You want a facial for your bad skin ?" It was like a really bad comedy sketch. However, it's actually not that unusual as my family in India will often do the same sort of thing and think nothing of it. It was when we visited India when I was 11 that I noticed that social distance just isn't a thing. People openly stare and ask questions like, "why aren't you married ?" (erm... I'm only 11) or "is everyone in your family fat ?" (yes, Auntie we are). It is very disconcerting indeed. What I wasn't prepared for was for that to continue over here. 

Of course living in and around London my whole life - apart from a few years in the Midlands at Uni - I often meet other people of indian heritage. The thing is I'm not wearing a sign that says, 'not equipped to handle indian inquisitiveness,' so they just pile in. It's not their fault, they just don't know.  I'm always amazed that some people will say things that are personal and ask questions that are inappropriate as a matter of course and just to be conversational.

Only the other day I was out with my boy and a woman with 4 kids started telling me about her infertility issues and followed me around adding detail to the story. I hadn't asked, but in response to her questioning my having an only child I'd said it wasn't all that easy and it opened the floodgates.  She concluded by asking me not to tell her family what she'd said - I've never met her family and wouldn't know them if I did. 

Then last week we were out at the shopping centre where there is a ride on fire engine and my son was playing on it with another boy. As the kids were playing the other child's mum started off asking if he's my only child, how old he is and why I don't have more. I was a bit taken aback, but politely said that he was an only child at the moment - I'd learnt from the last time. She asked what my husband does for a job, if I work, where I live and much much more. I felt a bit as though I was being checked out, it was quite disconcerting. 

The exchange I really feel uncomfortable with is the typical "where are you from ?" I hate this from anyone. I've known people for years and never asked where they're from as I consider it rude. I assumed my lovely pal Soraya was at least a bit indian and found out in recent years that she has roots in South Africa and Guyana - I had no idea ! It was only when we walked together for hours training for the Moonwalk earlier this year that I finally found out and after years of friendship that I felt I could even ask.

My lovely friend who I thought was called something exotic like Essjai (I'd only ever heard it not seen it written down) and whose dark hair and olive skin suggested some ethnic heritage turned out to be called Sarah-Jane and have some Irish parentage. I knew her for about ten years before I learned the latter.

You see I don't pry. If someone wants to tell me their life story I'll happily listen, but I don't enquire unless we are already friends. I think it must appear rude when someone asks me how old my son is, what his name is and other stuff and I reply politely, but don't ask the same questions in return. It just isn't in my nature to do it, but I think it must look like I'm not interested. To be honest if we just met I'm not really interested unless it's likely we're going to meet again. 

I'm hideously embarrassed when I'm confronted by people in the street, at the gym, in the shops who have no such qualms about nosying into my life. It makes me feel a bit out of touch as I'm using social media and sharing my life, but when it comes to doing it in person I want to just hide.

Here's a hint, if you meet me and want to ask a personal question, just tweet it to me, ok ?

Paneer & vegetable curry recipe.

Growing up with Indian parents we often ate vegetarian meals at home and meat wasn't a necessity at the meal table. In fact I barely noticed that meat was only eaten occasionally and cheaper ingredients like seasonal vegetables and pulses made meals go further in our home. In those days we always used to complain that we wanted to eat 'English food' instead of the Punjabi cooking my Mum painstakingly prepared from scratch. Now I appreciate how lucky we were to have such delicious food and a Mum who wanted us to learn how to cook it. We never order Indian takeaway as we find them far too fatty and I prefer to choose what goes into my meal.

In advance of National Vegetarian Week (19th-25th May) I'm sharing a recipe that is really simple to prepare and is really tasty.

spices, paneer and veggies

Ingredients:

Paneer - I bought this in Sainsburys ready cut into cubes
Mixed vegetables (I used frozen for ease)
Frylight oil spray
2 small Onions - chopped
2-3 cloves Garlic - chopped finely
a thumb sized piece of Ginger - chopped finely
Tomatoes 4-6 fresh or 1 tin chopped
Spices including; turmeric, chilli powder, garam masala and salt 
Fresh coriander

naan, rice and samosas

To serve: 

Naan bread
Samosas
Ready made rice









Paneer is an indian cheese that cooks a bit like Halloumi, but without the squeak. I found it in a large Sainsburys store near me, but my Mum used to make it at home. She's not a shirker my mother. You don't have to cook it first for this recipe, but I prefer to so that it doesn't break up when added to the vegetables. I cooked it in a non-stick pan using Frylight oil and kept turning it to make sure all the sides were brown. This keeps the inside soft and the outside a bit crunchier depending how long you cook it for. Set aside the paneer once cooked.

paneer cooked in Frylight

The tomato base is made by frying some onions then adding chopped garlic and ginger - if the garlic is fried too soon it burns and tastes bitter - then add the tomatoes and spices. You can experiment with the spices to suit your taste. but generally I find a few tsps of salt - too little and your curry will be too sweet - a couple of turmeric and some garam masala work well, you can adjust by tasting. I don't use exact measures because it is made to suit my taste and I don't like it too hot so I don't use chilli, but you can add that too. Turn the heat down to simmer until the onions have melted away and the tomatoes have all become liquid. Stir a few times to check it's not sticking to the pan.

paneer and mixed vegetable 

Once the tomato mix is ready add the paneer and frozen or fresh vegetables and stir through. Pop a lid on and simmer until the vegetables are cooked through. A low simmer for 15-20 mins occasionally stirring so it doesn't stick works well. When you're ready to eat it, stir in some fresh coriander and scatter some leaves on top for decoration. I served this with hot fluffy naan bread and a veggie samosa on the side.

The curry is vegetarian and gluten-free. If you prefer gluten-free side dishes there are lovely cornbread rotis or chickpea flour pakoras you can try instead of samosas, rice or naan bread.

Meat free and ever so delicious 

Storage: You can freeze this curry, so I make lots and freeze half for another meal. Defrost thoroughly before reheating or the paneer tends to fall apart. It keeps in the fridge for up to a week - if you can keep your hands off it that is !

Give it a go, it's really simple to prepare and ever so tasty.

Enjoy :)

This post is my entry to the Betta Living Vegetarian Recipe competition #Bettarecipe

Pinch Punch first day of the month (and no returns !!)

I know it's past midday, so strictly speaking I can't do the whole pinch punch thing, but I'm going to anyway. Who made that rule by the way ? Does anyone know ? Is it universal ? Anyway, that's not what this post is about. Like a lot of people I cannot believe it's November already. Not just because this means it's Hubbie's birthday next week and my sister's birthday later this month, but because it means we're almost done with this year. I still haven't got the hang of writing 2013 yet and before we know it's going to be over. Maybe that is a good thing as I might do better with 2014 than I did this one. Last year was signified by the Olympics and Paralympics, but this one didn't have anything quite so grand going on so it seems to have just gone past without any particular fanfare.

In addition to family birthdays this month we also have Diwali which is a big thing in my family and I'm excited that my boy is old enough to enjoy it this year. We're taking him to visit my Mum on Sunday and he'll be fed to within an inch of his life and he'll get showered with presents. My own memories of Diwali (in common with most indian celebrations) are all about the food, but here's my beginners guide to the festival of lights:

1. There will be food. Lots of food. Most of it sweet, or fried, or both. If you're going to visit indian people don't eat beforehand. Seriously, you may need a stomach pump if you try to be a hero. Hubbie learned this on his first visit to my parents and has never made the mistake again. He prepares by fasting for around a day and a half before a visit to the in-laws now.

2. Presents. You get them and give them and hence it's known by some people as the indian equivalent of Christmas - it's not, but I won't go into that here. It is, however, a chance to buy and wear shiny new clothes and for the indian lads in Southall an opportunity to drive slowly up and down the Broadway calling out to all the girls in their finery. It is primitive I know, but hilarious when the feisty girls put them down in their inimitable fashion.

3. Cleaning. Now if you know me at all you'll know that I am partial to a bit of cleaning so this is almost my favourite part. The idea is that you clean the house from top to bottom in preparation for a new start. I'm doing it tomorrow - I'm really looking forward to it. Don't call me, I won't reply, this is my therapy. I feel you judging me - I just don't care.

4. Lights. On the actual night we put a nightlight in every room in the house and some outside the doors to welcome the light in and keep the darkness out. It's a lovely tradition, apart from the one year that the nightlight burnt through the toilet cistern in my parents' house and I woke my sisters up as I'd smelled burning - we didn't have a smoke alarm - it was all a bit dramatic really.

5.  Fireworks. When we were kids we always had two bites of the cherry with fireworks as we'd have some on bonfire night and even more on Diwali. My Mum would always buy twice as many and we'd choose the best ones to save for Diwali night. You know the catherine wheel and rockets and stuff. Sparklers and bangers were just the opening act. My Dad went all primal with the fire side of things and it was truly terrifying watching him ignore all the safety rules, but he remains intact so his dangerman approach did no harm in the long run I guess.

If you're celebrating Diwali I hope you have a wonderful time. I'll be telling my boy all about it and hoping he's as excited as we used to be about it all. I know he's going to love the food, the lights and the presents.

In that - at least - he's proper indian :o)

A breakdown in the time / space continuum

I know that things are going wrong. I know this because in the last few days I've lost track of time and been late to get my son to a toddler birthday party which we knew about for months. In case you don't understand why this is important I should give you some background.

I grew up in a family that was always late for everything. My Dad seemed to think he was able to travel at light speed because if we had to be somewhere at 12 o'clock he'd leave at 5 to 12 regardless of how far it was from our house. In an indian family it's considered odd to be on time for anything so it was fine if we were visiting other indian people, but if it was anyone else we'd feel quite embarrassed as we'd get everywhere really late. As a result of this family history I was notoriously late all the time as I had no concept of being on time for anything. I would leave it too late to get somewhere then the sole would fall off my shoe so I'd have to go home and I'd be even later - yes this really did happen.

When I met my first husband I found out how annoying the tardiness really was. He would arrange to visit his mother and tell her we'd be there at 1pm (and not tell me he'd said that to her) then we'd leave our home at 1pm and he wouldn't even call her to say we'd be late. I'd have to call her and apologise for some made up delay that had occured and she'd be furious with us and rude to me on the phone. I resolved to try harder to keep better time and since then have been a stickler for timekeeping.

Hubbie comes from a family where his Dad would be sitting in the car on the drive waiting for everyone else to make sure they were always early for everything. When we invite our families over we tell the in-laws to come over at 1pm knowing they will arrive early and tell mine it's at 12 because they're always late. Except that one time when my family actually were on time and I was still in my dressing gown as I wasn't expecting them.

Anyway all of this is a long way round saying that I'm such a slave to good timekeeping that if I am late it throws me completely and I cannot cope. If it happens more than once I actually start to lose the plot. If it's someone else who has made me late I am apoplectic.

A few weeks ago I had an important meeting at the BBC which my boss had said he might go to. We got an email to say the time of the meeting had been changed and I was ready to leave with plenty of time to arrive there. Then the boss said he was going to join me. And he wanted to walk there. I asked if he knew the way on foot and he assured me he did. With 5 minutes to the start of the meeting we were still at least 20 minutes away and I suggested that we might have to get on the tube instead of continuing to walk. It turns out that the boss was too cheap to pay for a tube ticket which is why he'd suggested walking so we arrived late, flustered, overheated and sweaty. I was also furious.

Then today we were all invited to Brighton for a 'works outing' and were supposed to meet at the station at 11.30. I changed my morning plans to make sure I'd arrive on time only for all my colleagues to turn up after 12. I wandered round the shops on a gorgeous sunny day until they arrived and then we all had a long walk along the beach and then on to the boss's house for lunch. We eventually got there in time for me to  pop to the loo and turn back to walk to the station to come home as I had to pick up my boy from nursery. It was all a bit of a waste of time really.

I've become very aware of how important all the minutes of my day are since I became a Mum. I have always packed a lot into my time so making space for my son's schedule means it's a tightly run ship. When I have pirates board that ship and make me walk the plank I am not amused at all. I'm taking back the wheel and chucking these time-bandits off my ship from now on.

I'm not a timelord and I can't actually move myself around in a TARDIS so until I can bend time to suit all the places I need to be I just need to breathe deeply and smile at them. Does anyone know where I can get a sonic screwdriver ?

Does the boy eat chicken ? or My Big Fat Punjabi Family

I'm sure there are some films you watch repeatedly, either because they have meaning for you or they star someone you love watching or they just make you laugh. My Big Fat Greek Wedding was on the other day and it's a film that I missed on cinema release that I never really appreciated at first. It's grown on me since and it's only now I realise this is because I see it as an instructional film for anyone considering a cross-cultural relationship / marriage. In fact it could almost be about my own family the similarities are so startling.

There's the character of the father who is convinced everything is Greek (or in my Dad's case indian) and his constant sobbing refrain "why is she doing this to me ?" The enormous family that are noisy, in your face and inappropriate. I have aunties who used to say "it's good to have a long nose, it suits you," genuinely believing I needed to hear that. This appears to be an inbuilt need to 'advise' on appearance which is also evident in the scene where on the morning of her wedding Tula is surrounded by noisy female cousins and aunties bleaching and plucking facial hair while fussing around the sudden appearance of a spot.

I was spared the one cliche from the film that is also a truism of cross-cultural marriages, the poor new lad being tricked into saying inappropriate words to his new family. As I'm the one sibling who is fluent in punjabi it was unlikely Hubbie would learn any swear words from me. Now he is learning from our son who uses some incredibly cute crossover language that is 'Pinglish' or an amalgamation of punjabi and english.

Of course I've mentioned before how there are always mountains of food when we visit my parents or other family and my husband's first visit to my Mum's home for lunch was a lesson in why indian women outlive their husbands. Mum hovered over Hubbie ensuring his plate was always full (while simultaneously cooking chappatis) so he learned to always go to their house on an empty stomach in the future. The first time my Dad met Hubbie he asked (in Punjabi) "does the boy eat chicken ?" (I don't so it was a fair question) and when it was established that he did I think he passed. 

My favourite similarity from the film is when Tula's father presents the bride and groom with a wedding gift of a house. These grand gestures are very indian and I still cringe when I recall being a guest at a wedding where the father of the bride presented his terribly embarrassed daughter and son in law with a comedically big cheque like they'd just won the pools or something.

I admire the bravery of the men who've married into my family. Some didn't make it, but the ones who did have hallowed status. Hubbie is no. 1 son in law - especially since he is also Daddy to their first grandchild. When we visit Mum always makes his favourite chicken. These days she spends less time watching his plate as my son gets lavished with all the attention, but Hubbie still leaves feeling stuffed.

The one line in the movie that sums it up for me is when Tula's auntie looks at Ian and says proudly, 'he looks Greek.' When we stayed in India with my beloved late grandmother she was so taken with Hubbie she said, 'of course he's Punjabi.'

It was the most I could have asked for and made me so proud.