An Indian Food Blog
Maple Masala Paal
The trees towered above them. The canopy stood high above and dwarfed Poet and Flower. Flower was carefully carrying a a very full bucket of sap when plop, she tripped over her feet and fell into a sweet, sticky mountain of maple sap.
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How to Beat the Heat - Rose Lassi
Poet and Flower sat slumped on the bench. It was hot, very hot. After a rainy spring, the weekend turned out to be warm and sunny. It sounded like the perfect day to spend outdoors, running around and burning off all that little kid energy. But nobody was prepared for the heat.
Tired of Waiting - Adrak Chai
I'm waiting. I spend a good part of my life waiting for things. I wait at the grocery store in line. At school, in the car line to pick up the kids. I will get there with several minutes to spare, only to find a long and tortuous line of moms who spend even more time waiting than I do. But when is it ok to say I'm tired of waiting?
The Allure of the Claw - Shrimp with Green Bananas
"The claw is our master." It is one of my favorite lines from the movie Toy Story. Those cute little aliens are looking up at the claw while in the giant toy machine. They don't realize the menace in this giant claw. The claw machine is one of my favorites at the arcade. It has the same powerful draw for me as for the little aliens. Maybe we all look up to the sky for different reasons.
I Want to Go to Claire's - Seviyan ki Burfi
Flower was not enthusiastic about the tattoo parlor. Why would a little kid want to go to a tattoo parlor anyway? Flower had approached us suddenly, saying she wanted her ears pierced.
We Are All Artists - Kachumber Salad
What makes someone an artist? One thing is for certain, I have never thought of myself as an artist. Or at least until now. For the longest time, I was a daughter or sister. And then a physician, which has been a big part of my identity. But recently, that has changed. Which makes me thing about we view ourselves and a question about identity.
Learning Through Others - Better Weeknight Kheema
We learn through our children. A friend said it recently. I hadn't heard that phrase in years, but I knew I had heard it somewhere. It took some time and reaching way back in my book of memories, and it came to me. It was something my mother said too. I've never really thought about it until now. And perhaps it is true in many ways.
What is Hygge? - Kaali Mirchi ka Chaar (Tomato Pepper Rasam)
Hygge. Or hoo-gah. It's the Danish word for a sense of cozy contentment. Or, more simply, it means the joy of the little things and being together. G first mentioned this last winter, when we were shuttered in our house, just us, distancing from friends and doing too many things over zoom.
There Are No Easy Answers - Ande ka Dosa (Egg Dosa)
It has taken me years to become a good listener. There is an art to everything. The art of photography, the art of medicine, and the art of listening. They are all important, each in their own way.
A Little Bit of Speed - Spicy Hush Puppies
The hill sprawled out in front of us. Poet and Flower couldn't wait. We spent the weekend snow tubing. It was their first snowy adventure. We haven't had any snow this season, a dusting here and there, but no more.
In Search of Texas Wild - Meda Vada
We were clearly outnumbered. Our simple trip to the zoo had turned into a little bit of a marathon. We spent the holidays celebrating with family, three families to be exact, and six little cousins with an abundance of enthusiasm and energy. Poet and Flower had talked about their upcoming trip for months and were so excited to play and enjoy time with their cousins.
Scrooge No More - Hyderabadi Halwa Puris
I've never been a fan of Christmas. I sound like a scrooge when I say that. Growing up, we did not celebrate Christmas. We did not have a Christmas tree, or lights, or gifts. I would go to school in the New Year feeling empty-handed. All the little kids, talking about how they had made out like bandits with gifts and toys from family and friends. I always felt left out of the cold, both literally and figuratively.
Grieving is not Taboo - Hyderabadi Bagara Baingan
Growing up, grieving always felt like a taboo. I remember my mother standing by the kitchen sink. I must have been eleven or twelve. She was washing dishes and crying. I asked her what was wrong, and she said that my grandfather had passed away. She looked out the window sadly and then went on washing the dishes.
Hi! I’m Sameena
Welcome! I'm Sameena. I'm a physician by day, mom on call round-the-clock and avid cook. Poet and Flower is an Indian food blog celebrating my passion for food and family. I learned to cook in my mother's kitchen. My kids, Poet and Flower, are both the inspiration for the blog and the main distraction which keeps me from it.
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