A One Time Chef It is hard to stop laughing when we remember pieces of our college life. I just woke up laughing this morning, recollecting one incident when I was deemed the best chef.
The thing is, Martin Luther in Halle those days did not have that many deshi students.
The student body organized a food-fest and there were students from so many countries participating,
but nobody from Nepal, not even from India.
And my colleagues said, you have to show your skills.
For me, there is nothing funny than to imagine myself as a chef.
Cooking is not like flying a jet.
Making a good dish requires ten times the passion.
There is no auto-pilot as it comes to seasoning or mixing flavors and creating a new flavor.
Any way, I agreed theoretically.
For I felt it embarrassing that one quarter of the world was not participating in the event.
But that evening, I had to ask Mother Sarasvati to help me out on this.
Again, nobody worshipped Sarasvati as sincerely as the Japanese.
They call her Sarasavati, the Goddess of Culinary Practices,
and she is found oftentimes in traditional Japanese homes next to the kitchen. I got my call.
Next day, I was ready for the battle. My dish was ready. Everybody loved the dish.
The fact of the matter is, I had some Lijjat Papad.
I fried them and chopped some tomatoes and onions and made Papad Salad.
Everybody gave me full mark and more. And I indeed won the competition.
Vande Mataram!