Tag: coffee

Breaking Inertia, a Cookie at a Time

On my first trip to Pondicherry, I had gone with my over-protective parents and my over-supportive brother. And so, we had to stick to the basics; we didn’t experiment with new cuisine, we didn’t have ice cream, we didn’t stay out after eight, and we never skipped breakfast.

This time, however, I went with a friend. It was easier to try various foods with her than it had been with my parents. She was much more adventurous than I, daring to drink orange juice just fifteen minutes after a cappuccino. And though I preferred to savour the lingering effects of my cortado than to wolf it down with sugary juice, I didn’t say no to trying new cookies. Vegan, they were, and chocolatey.

breaking-inertia-vegan-chocolate-cookies

Perhaps that doesn’t read as dramatic as it sounded in my head, but that’s because, for me, veganism is an expensive affair. It’s something I’ve always wanted to try. But where I live, being vegan costs you at least double of what being non-vegan costs. It’s a treat I couldn’t treat myself to too often. I can afford it once a while but making it a lifestyle — just for the sake of an adventure — isn’t wise.

In Pondicherry, however, we found a bakery that sold vegan chocolate cookies. My eyes bulged at the name tag while my heart soared at the price tag. It wasn’t too pricey. I bought a pack, because no matter how it tasted, I knew I’d appreciate it.

I don’t like sugary stuff, but I’m always game for chocolate cookies. And making the perfect dough and baking the perfect delight is an art I’m trying to understand. So when I saw the vegan cookies, I grew curious, not just for the taste, but also for the ingredients. Since vegan diets shunned cow milk, I wondered if they had used coconut or almond instead. And I wondered which butter they would’ve used. And the sugar — did they use brown, white, fine, caster — perhaps stevia, or agave?

With questions buzzing in my head, I picked up a single cookie and held it in both my hands. It was much smaller than a standard cookie. And yet, the cracks on the surface intrigued me. It seemed dry, and cookies are either chewy or crumbly. I wondered which category vegan cookies fell into. Holding the cookie in my fingers I tried to break a piece of it. It didn’t budge. It didn’t crumble. Chewy then, I decided and gave it a little more pressure. A small brown piece broke off of the cookie.

I looked at the other piece and saw that the inside was also pretty dry. It had no Instagram-worthy chocolate sauce oozing from within, and neither did I see chunks of chocolate chips broken in half. It was plain, and it looked dry.

I put the piece I had prised away, into my mouth. My first thought: it had no overwhelming sugar. It wasn’t mushy, it wasn’t hard. It wasn’t too dry either. As I bit into it, I could chew the buttery flour while the cocoa flavour seeped down my tongue. It felt rich like a brownie, and the crumbly-chewy texture lingered long after the piece had gone down my throat. And then I realised that they hadn’t used any sugar or artificial sweeteners. They had, instead, used honey.

Huh, I thought to myself. Honey. It made sense. Honey makes everything it touches a little chewy and sticky. Perhaps it had made the cookie how it was.

I grew curiouser and curiouser. Perhaps another bite of the cookie would clear it up. And it did. It was honey, I concluded.

Unless, it was something else similar to honey, something I couldn’t recognise. Another one wouldn’t hurt anyone, I thought and grabbed a second cookie. And then a third. And a fourth. And before I knew it, I was down to the last cookie, and I still had doubts. But I knew one thing for certain: I loved the various flavours that vegan cookies blew up in my mouth.

It was worth another trip to Pondicherry.

Coffee and a Story

coffe-and-story

If we were having coffee right now, I’d tell you a story.
A story of my life about someone I met.
I met someone years ago, and she was like me.
Like me in the sense that she loved her coffee.
Her coffee was always black, and her heart otherwise.
Otherwise, we had nothing much common between us.
Between us, though, we throve in our friendship.
Our friendship lasted longer than any coffee
Any coffee could get us talking about any and everything.
And everything would fade away when we began a conversation.
A conversation, that would transcend borders of territory and time.
And time, though, in time, caught up with our friendship too.
Friendship, too, I realised, would grow cold if left alone.
Left alone coffee would wither, and so did our relationship.
Our relationship that started from a coffee, ended the same way.
Same way we went, but we no longer looked at the same horizons.

The Big Problem

She sat on the couch of the cozy coffee shop, staring at the paper in her hand. It had been years since something so small had bothered her so much. She hadn’t eaten anything in two hours, the longest she had been without even a jet-black coffee.

The owner of the restaurant had grown accustomed to people basking in his vacuumed furniture and freshened air without returning the favour. Every time someone left without ordering, he’d have a silent fit that only the employees had the misfortune to witness.

People came and went but she remained, still and looking at the piece of paper. The black and white of it made her eyes sore.

Another ten minutes later, a waiter approached her in baby steps. He had already been singed an hour ago. He had to get the woman to order something or the boss would be furious. He paused a little closer to her than he did the last time and noticed what she clutched in her hand.

Trying to keep his face impassive, he began to clear his throat. She threw him a look mingled with fury and perplexity.

The crossword puzzle had outwitted her.

Let’s Have Coffee

If we were having coffee…

I’d tell you I’m in Thekkady

That I’m basking in the lawn

While trying to stifle a yawn

— –

If we were having coffee…

I’d tell you I’ll write about it

Make some posts, take snaps

Even about me taking naps

— –

If we were having coffee…

I’d tell you how great it is

To sip steamy chai, to gaze

and make a hoopla for a thepla

— –

If we were having coffee…

I’d tell you I’m in Thekkady

That I see it’s god’s own country.

Or that I had scheduled this post.

The Le Café

I’m quite skeptical when it comes to government institutions, but even I was amazed when I visited the city of Pondicherry.

It’s an infamous French Colony, yes. But it doesn’t end with that. The great thing about the city is Le Cafe, a government-run coffee shop. As for the best part — it’s open 24 hours a day.  le cafe
I would have liked nothing more than to sit on one of the stone benches, stare at the raging sea and cross off the stuff on the menu one thing at a time. But my father woudn’t hear of it, and I had to retreat to our hotel.

Nevertheless, I heard the waves calling and sensed the caffeine luring me. I woke up at six the next morning and went out to the cafe — boy, what a sight.

Le Cafe stood like a rectangular block of mud cake, with another smaller block perched atop. The vintage-looking menu board, and its flowing handwriting, the accolades the cafe had received over the years, and age-old photos framed in clear wood all seemed to testify to one thing: this cafe is the best one out there that an Indian government manages.

It was just after the monsoon, so the weather was cool enough without being chilly, and warm without the heat. And there was plenty of flowers that accommodated the previous night’s dew, reflecting the early morning sun, while looking to the skies for some of the daily bread.

flowering pondy
The first time I had walked into the cafe had been the pervious night. It was half-way through to the full moon day and the entire sky seemed illuminated by the half-moon that only elevated the beach view. But I had missed the little ponds homing fish the size of half my finger and flowers almost as tall as my knee. Those I noticed the following morning.

stone bench
And then there were the stones themselves. I’ve never seen anything so solid, and so inviting at the same time. After the cold night of sea breeze, the benches jarred my teeth as I took my seat.

And all the while I walked around, pointing my camera in random directions, the waiters didn’t bother me at all. I went to one of them and wondered aloud of I could take photographs. He smiled wider than anyone else I had seen there and gestured his approval with wide open arms.

No matter what anyone says, for me, Le Cafe will always be the most important tourist attraction in Pondicherry. Because everything’s better with a good dose of caffeine.