Simplifying life is a complicated process

Lately, I've found myself slowing down, and cooking has been consuming more of my time and energy than I'd like. The daily grind of food preparation was taking its toll, leaving little time for myself. Most of my friends have hired cooks to help them out, but I had always believed in cooking my own food. It was a point of pride for me, really. Finally, I decided to take the plunge, hoping to reclaim some precious "me" time and ensure my family still enjoyed some"new" meals. I then hired a cook who was working in the neighborhood. The cook, let me call her "L", started working for us about a few weeks ago. In a week I realised that L is very quick. It didn't take long before I noticed her extraordinary efficiency. I was surprised by her ability to prepare four different dishes in an hour, which would normally take me twice as long. I couldn't help but admire her skills. Her laser-like focus was particularly striking. When I cook, I would get sidetracked by a variety of duties - jotting down grocery lists, doing laundry, strolling in the garden collecting herbs and find something fascinating to be photographed, then racing back to check on cooking, scribbling down random thoughts, or answering the door - she was the picture of concentration. L would arrive, work her culinary magic with astonishing speed and accuracy, then leave without a fuss. It was like seeing a well tuned machine in motion. While L's efficiency is inspiring, there are also disaster days. Let me recount one such culinary misadventure - the infamous Upma Saga. It happened on an ordinary Wednesday morning. Our usual dosa batter supply had run out, so I asked L to prepare some MTR's readymade vermicelli upma for Amma, our sole breakfast eater at home. It is a simple enough dish, right? After her morning rituals and prayers, my hunger piqued amma, wandered into the kitchen and lifted the lid of our banali (that's Kannada for wok). What she saw prompted an immediate call: "Subha, come and look at this!" I hurried over. The sight that greeted me was more suited to a geology exhibit than a breakfast dish. In the banali lay clumps of white and yellow vermicelli, raw and undercooked, clinging together with mustards and urad dal like crystals on a rock face. The curry leaves popped up like cactus on a dry desert. Amma's culinary expertise came to our rescue. She set about salvaging the breakfast by shaping the vermicelli lumps into balls, and steam cooking them. She managed to transform the dish from inedible to palatable in half an hour. Phew! There is also a story of potato masala which is for another day. But what prompted this writing was today morning's adventure. I asked L to make vegetable rice using basmati grains. As usual she was done in a jiffy, and showed me the cooked rice in the cooker. It looked picture-perfect until amma tasted it later. It was crunchier than al dente pasta. She had also cooked some fire-breathing saagu that had me chugging water like I was lost in the Sahara. So there I was, still in the kitchen, fixing undercooked rice and taming spice levels. My plan for more free time? Well, it is turning into a different kind of juggling act. While having a cook has somewhat eased my morning rush, ensuring edible meals has become a task in itself. It's ironic how attempts to simplify our lives often lead to new complications, isn't it?