Delhi and Kolkata – oh my. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea in the world to string India’s largest cities one after the other onto our itinerary reel. Looking back on the cracks the cities made in my sense of the world, I’d say it definitely wasn’t a good idea.
Apres notre passionnant voyage au Rajasthan et avant de découvrir un joyau méconnu de l’Inde, on fait escale en métropole, puisque le train nous dépose à Delhi, d’ou on s’envolera pour Calcutta, point de départ vers les Iles Andaman et Nicobar.
While Damien drifted in and out of a fever in Kolkata, I generally just flapped about on a treasure hunt for paracetemol, cold drinks and something he could eat. I hit the jackpot when I stumbled across this chime of Normandy, a Teurgoule in Indian guise. Here is a recipe I really like from the beautiful blog, The Tiffin Box.
Ingredients
170 g basmati rice
710 ml whole milk
237 ml cream
56 g sugar
1 pod cardamom (I’m abit wary of cardamom so for me less is more. The original recipe asks for 2 pods), seeds removed and crushed lightly
A generous pinch of saffron
A handful of unsalted pistachios, shelled and chopped roughly
Method:
1. Put the rice in a food processor or blender, and whirl until coarsely powdered.
2. Place the powdered rice in a heavy pot, then add the milk and crushed cardamom seeds.
3. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for about 10 – 12 minutes, stirring ocasionally, until the rice is tender and cooked. For some texture, slightly undercook the rice.
4. Add the cream and the sugar, and stir. Add the saffron. Bring the heat back up to medium, and cook until the pudding is thick and creamy.
5. This dessert can be served warm or cold. If serving cold, pour into small bowls and chill in the fridge until set.
6. Serve with a sprinkling of chopped pistachios on top.
Rajasthan is a state that captured my heart entirely. Every moment we spent there was special, magical: bejewelled Jaipur, blue Jodhpur, the perfect otherworldly sandcastle of Jaisalmer, the dunes of the Thar Desert, bright and complex turbans, luxuriant twisting moustaches, sculptors, goat herders and warriors, grace and pride, curled shoes and silken swathes, the eyes of elephants bright with intelligence, the elegant grandeur of times past, being waved into family photos, an extravagant surprise for a milestone birthday, three smiling dressers for one special sari, an overwhelming thali, the keening music of Rajasthani singing, the controlling of uncontrollable whirling, a candlelit pathway of rose and marigold petals, complete happiness, lolloping through the desert on a camel named Bablou, rippled dunes and tribal communities, campfires and laughter, pure colours, ladies returning from a village well delicately balancing their water jugs, a velvet night sky and unknown noises, the brush of sand across my face, the curious rocking gait of my camel and the morning time discovery of aching thighs, the sound of camel bells, a desert tiger cub, the serenity of the desert and an unwilling return to the city, incredible hospitality, clouds of colours, absolute joy and unspeakably precious memories
The Opposite of Someday 