Halva, halawa, halaweh, ħelwa, halvah, halava, helava, helva, halwa: spell it anyhow you like, it simply refers to dense, sweet confections, across the Middle East, Central Asia, South Asia, the Balkans, and the Jewish world. Few days back, I made Carrot halwa (गाजर हलवा) and it turned out to be great. See for yourself:

Recipe

There are probably a million recipes out there but this one makes the gaajar halwa closest to how it tastes when my mother makes it (we need a benchmark, right?).

Ingredients (4 servings)
4 cups shredded Carrots (गाजर)
1 cup (250 ml) Milk (दुध)
1/2 cup (125ml) Water (पाणी)
1/2 cup sugar (brown sugar tastes better) (साखर)
2 table spoons Butter or ghee (तुप)
1 tea spoon Cardamom seeds/powder (विलायची)
Mixed nuts: Almonds, raisins, cashews, pistachio, wanluts (बदाम, बेदाणे/मनुका, काजू, पिस्ता, अक्रोड)

Procedure:
1. Wash and grate the carrots. I prefer to keep the peels (hence the nutrients) on.
2. Drop the butter In a deep pan and let it melt.
3. Add shredded carrots and saute on low flame (about 10-15 minutes) until the carrots change colour to light brown. It’s easy to burn the carrots, so stir well and be watchful. Add water to compensate for the moisture.
4. Now add sugar evenly while you stir. It will quickly melt. If you are using cardamom seeds, add them now.
5. Add milk and keep stirring until all the milk has been absorbed and the mixture thickens (about 15 minutes). If you are using cardamom powder, add it now.
7. Remove from flame, let it cool and garnish with nuts.
Enjoy it with some hot chai and let me know how it went.

Gajar halwa: Carrot pudding, decorated with almonds, raisins, cranberries, cashews and walnuts.

¶ Blogged by Priyank Thatte

In a multicultural metropolitan city like Toronto, it is normal to hear a bunch of random languages being spoken when you are in a public space such as bus, subway, university or some restaurant. I hope I don’t sound racist, but most often I subconsciously associate certain languages with people who look a certain way. For example, if I see a brown guy, I assume he is Indian (or Paki, Nepali, Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan) and I certainly don’t expect him to speak say, Norwegian. This post is about situations I encountered, during my past three years of living in Toronto, when such assumptions were defied.

• The first time I heard a non-Indian person speak Hindi in Toronto was when I was waiting tables (back in 2007) and a fellow waiter, who had long blond hair, blue eyes and strong East-European features (later I learnt that he was Czech) started chatting to me in Hindi. I thought that was unusual, but then I was in Toronto for less than a month, what did I know. I told him I was from Mumbai, and he said in Marathi, “मुंबई छान अाहे” “Mumbai is nice”, ehhh.
• Few months back I went to my bank (Bank of Montreal) and a young East-Asian lady, with a distinctly Chinese name was (wo)manning the service booth. I greeted her and subconsciously prepared my ears to hear some Chinese-accented English, but I was shocked when she said: “आप भारत से हो?” “Are you from India?” (formal). For few seconds, I stood there staring at her, dumbfounded. She said that she loved shocking people like that using the language she picked up as a child living in India.
• Then this one time I was in a west-Indian Roti shop, waiting for my order when two old east-Asian ladies walked in. ‘Two Chinese grandmas in a Jamaican restaurant… that’s kinda strange!’, I thought. I was almost expecting to hear some accented English, but instead I heard strange conversations: “Gimme wen glassa wata pleez”, “De nex time me will buy”, “How yuh eet so much!”, “Tek yu time man” and so on. Later a Jamaican friend told me that there are several people of Chinese ancestry that lived on the island. Pheww, who knew!

I’ve had reverse experiences too!

• The other day I was in the grocery store listening to my Russian lessons on iPod and repeating the lines, “Hi, if you have some time, would you like to have a drink with me?” “Yes why not, I like Vodka”, when a babushka (old woman) bumped into me and asked, “Ты в порядке?” “You okay?” I blushed realizing what happened.
• When I came back from Russia last year, at Toronto airport a Russian man asked me, “Ezkyooz me, izz the boos come ere?” Somehow, automatically I replied to him in Russian, giving him directions to the bus stop. I could see in his eyes the joy of hearing your mother tongue when you are in a foreign country, something that I’ve experienced few times.
• I posted an advertisement on craigslist looking for a study buddy to practise Russian with. Guess who showed up? A Chinese-Korean man who told me that he was learning Russian because he wanted to preach the “correct” (i.e. Catholic) Christian religion in Russia (which has Orthodox Christianity). I left immediately.

Making such generalizations and assumptions can often land you in funny situations.

• The other day a big fat guy was sitting in the subway, with one vacant seat next to him. Since I like personal space, I preferred to stand rather than take that seat. A couple entered the coach in haste and the lady immediately ran to snatch that empty seat (Hint: That’s how you can tell if someone is new to Toronto – they rush!). Something happened and the next thing I know, the fat guy started grumbling loudly in Spanish at the couple. There were some angry exchange of words between them in Spanish. Apparently the couple was making fun of the fat guy’s fatness in Spanish, assuming that the fat guy didn’t understand them. Oops!
• Also in the subway, I was once riding with my ex-boss who speaks Italian for some reason. Two college girls sitting opposite to us were giggling and talking something that seemed like girl-talk. My boss told me later that the girls were talking, in Italian, about boys and their recent sexual experience with all sleazy details. No wonder my boss didn’t talk to me the entire time we were in the subway, (I think she was learning new tricks from the girls)!

So you see, Toronto is full of language surprises and these are just few random stories I remember. There was a time a white guy speaking fluent Hindi puzzled me, but now I kinda take that for granted, I’ve seen atleast three such creatures this year.

That’s why I love Toronto so much.

¶ Blogged by Priyank Thatte

Does the music you are listening to affect your walking style? Do you walk better with some people than others?

I walk a lot and often with an ipod plugged into my earphones. I’ve noticed that my walking style (pace, stride, etc.) are greatly influenced by the music track I am listening to. I have also been noticing that I walk better with some people than others, as if the rhythm of our movements was strengthening or hampering interpersonal chemistry. I was especially sensitive about this when I was dating. It added to the something does/doesn’t feel right feeling about the other person. If I am walking with someone, I try to match my walking characteristics to that of the other person, almost as a reflex, sometimes taking fast, smaller steps, and sometimes taking large, slower steps. But there is always a time when walking with someone is not smooth.

Personally, I have analyzed the origins of this behavior and it probably has something to do with the sense of rhythm programmed into me. Being a musician, counting the beats and perfectly maintaining gaps during improvisation is a skill that’s necessary, not just a good-to-have thing, especially in the mathematical progressions of Indian classical music, – as I’m told. After few years of practise, the task of measuring the beats and playing on-beat or off-beat becomes a task that’s relegated to one’s reflexes and my active brain is now focused exclusively on coming up with something to play next. So when I am walking with someone, or listening to music, I have this obsession of aligning my walking rhythm to the external rhythm that’s “given” to me. And if that doesn’t work, I get frustrated.

For example, last night I was listening to “With or Without You” (U2) while walking to the grocery store. I listen to that kind of music (i.e. western) on my regularly-irregular morning runs, and it works perfectly well because for every beat on U2′s drums, I have 2 steps of mine (1:2 ratio). Last night however, I was trying to match my walking to the music but those 3-something minutes were very uncomfortable because the beats were too slow no matter how large strides I took.

Then there are people who walk in a disorganized manner. Slow, fast, slow again, big steps, small steps…. what the hell! Obviously, we will never have a second date (unless they are terribly cute).

Maybe rhythmic walking could be used as a therapy: Just like watching a goldfish helps heart patients, walking in the rhythm of certain music might help people since it combines discipline and exercise. Coupled with synchronised breathing, I feel that rhythmic walking is a great way to make a trip to the grocery store really productive.

¶ Blogged by Priyank Thatte