My Experiments with Chicken

Am a great cook. Especially when the menu is a seven course meal. I prepare a signature seven course meal, and they comprise of the following

1. Home decorated Lays for the appetizer

2. Maggi Soup

3. Cucumber Salad

4. Maggi sorbet (whatever that is)

5. Maggi with Onions

6. Maggi with tomatoes

7. Home Decorated Baskin Robins ice cream

However I recently discovered that this meal did not live up to expectations of others (that's everyone else but me) and what with all this Master chef this, and master chef that, I had to prove that there were other things that I could cook. 

My Mum and Dad are Awesome cooks. I mean really really awesome. Friends who have come home swear by it, and apparently I don't seem to have picked up anything from my genes.

But I was out to prove them wrong. And here, I present, My experiments with Chicken. 

***

Chicken Kum-gas-pe  

This should be also called the Chicken Tandoori, but my narration will tell you why the name was adapted to the story. I'll cut the background story and skip right to the interesting part. After goading over the careful marination of the chicken, I had it all ready to be cooked on the slow fire, exactly how the instructions read on the pack. 

I beautifully placed the well cut pieces of tender spiced chicken in straight lines on the pan, that was gently greased with butter. I ensured that it was perfect fit, and pulled out the phone for some snaps. I savored the moment.

Then I pulled out the match, and struck it with that hint of aggression that resulted in a peppy spark. As I turned the gas knob, ever so gingerly, to ensure that perfect flame for that perfect frying, I heard the click, and waited for the hiss of gas, bursting out of its enslaved cylinder to burn bright blue.

Click. No hiss

Click. No hiss

Clickety Clickety Click. Nothing.Zilch

I was feeling nauseated. I fumbled around the kitchen for the instructions. There was supposed to be a damn flame under the damn pan after the click. In my mind, chickens were ganging up, laughing, taunting.

Where the hell are the instructions to check the cooking gas!!!  I should have picked up the phone and called my lawyer to sue Everest Masalas. But then it was a Sunday and my lawyer would have probably on leave. 

And then, the roof parted, the blue sky opened, it was when Fate spoke to me.

FATE : "Madan!!!, Its time for you to show those delicious scrumptious pieces of chicken, who's the boss. If you have to pull out all those management text books in your shelves to make a bonfire and cook that chicken, you will. If it takes robbing a few bricks to make a barbecue, you will. Hell, if it takes you to stare at that damn pan and heat it with telepathy, YOU WILL DO IT. This is your calling, this is your DESTINY"

And then I had my Transformers moment

Me : And I am Madanus Prime,leader of the Bachelor-o-bots and I send this message to all you chickens. "Your Fried meat!!!"

Me and my trusted roomy made frantic calls to all the gas agency's in the country. It was a Sunday. And no one was answering. We then tried sweet talking a the cooking gas guy near our house in to lending us a mini gas cylinder. But he dint have one. It was then that we decided, that if there ever was someone who would work on a Sunday, and get us what we wanted, it was the country's most enterprising citizen, the Marwari Business man. 

And we knew that in any market street in the country, there would be a marwari sales man, a marwari cosmetic/bangle shop and a marwari utensil dealer. 

And we did find the Marwari Dealer. Selling utensils. And the stuff that we needed. Needless to say, we got we were looking for.

Later in the evening, over a delicious plate of fried Chicken Tandoor, a thought crossed my mind. This was no ordinary chicken, this was a masterpiece, cooked over a stove that had no gas supply.

And thats when Chicken Kum-gas-pe (Hindi Translation - On less Gass) was born. My First non Maggi dish. sniff. sniff.

I shall leave with proof :) --->

Coming Soon, Chicken Binacooka

MaDdY :)