OH I LOVE MY COFFEE

                               

Said Honore de Balzac, in his book ‘The Pleasures and Pains of Coffee’. The Amharic and Afan Oromo name for coffee is bunna

Coffee, the name is enough to pep up a true coffee drinker. The most popular beverage among all age groups, it can jump start your day or stimulate tired nerves into action. Coffee drinkers are in a class of their own. They swear by the beverage each enjoying the ‘cuppa’ in their own individualistic taste and style. It can be served in a variety of ways and concoctions.

The word ‘coffee’ comes from the Italian word ‘caffè’ which has descended from the Turkish ‘kahveh’ and the Arabic ‘qahwa’. The early or mid1600s saw the initial use of the word but its earliest forms date way back to the later 1500s.

The trend of drinking coffee started in the 9th century. Discovered in the highlands of Ethiopia, it made its way to Egypt, Yemen, Persia, Turkey, and northern Africa. Gradually coffee spread to Europe and America, from this part of the world.

Coffee belongs to a flowering plant of the family Rubiaceaethe coffee plant is an evergreen shrub, with dark green and shiny leaves. Its clusters of fragrant, white flowers bloom simultaneously. The fruit berry is oval, and green when raw, but ripens to yellow, then crimson, becoming nearly black on drying. Each berry usually contains two seeds, but the 5 to 10 percent of the berries, which have only one seed, gives us the pea berries Coffee. Coffee, the universal beverage, is prepared from roasting these coffee seeds, commonly called coffee beans.

Coffee making is a tedious process. How many of us have actually tried to find out what goes on behind the scenes to create the aromatic beverage?

Coffee berries are first hand picked and then the flesh of the berry is removed. The seeds are then fermented to remove the slimy layer of mucilage present on them. When the fermentation is over, the beans are washed with large quantities of fresh water to remove any residues. This generates massive amounts of highly polluted coffee wastewater. Finally the seeds are dried, sorted, and labeled as green coffee beans.

The next step is the roasting of the coffee beans. The final taste of the beverage is a result of the roasting process as the coffee bean is changed both physically and chemically during this. The bean becomes less dense as its weight decreases due to loss of moisture, its volume increases. The density of the bean also influences the strength of the coffee and the requirements for packaging. Caramelization occurs during roasting, as intense heat breaks down the bean starches and converts them to simple sugars. The bean undergoes a colour change, becoming brown. During the process, aromatic oils, acids, and caffeine weaken and other oils start to develop, changing the flavor of the bean. One of these oils is caffeol, which is mainly responsible for coffee's aroma and flavor.

Now the coffee beans must be ground and brewed in order to create a beverage. Coffee can be ground at home. Coffee beans may be ground in several ways using a burr mill, an electric grinder or a mortar and pestle

Coffee may be brewed by boiling, steeping or pressurizing; drip brewed, percolated, or French-pressed/cafetière. The earliest method of brewing coffee was by boiling the powdered beans in water. This produces a strong coffee with a layer of foam on the surface. Turkish coffee is made like this.

Once brewed, coffee may be presented in a variety of ways. Coffee can be served with sugar, milk or cream, or both. If served without any additives it is known as black coffee.

  

Coffee concoctions:

Black coffee: A drip brew, percolated or French press style coffee served straight, with no milk.

Cappuccino: Equal parts of espresso, steamed milk, and frothed milk, served with cinnamon or flaked chocolate sprinkled on top.

Dry Cappuccino: A regular cappuccino, with a smaller amount of foam, and no steamed milk at all.

Americano: A single shot of espresso with about 7 ounces of hot water added to the mix.

Cafe au Lait: It is made with brewed coffee instead of espresso. The ratio of milk to coffee is 1:1, giving it a less intense taste.

Caffe Latte: Essentially, a single shot of espresso in steamed milk. The ratio of milk to coffee should be about 3:1.

Cafe Macchiato: A shot of espresso with steamed milk in the ratio of approximately 4:1.

Espresso Con Panna:  Standard espresso with a shot of whipped cream on top.

Flavored coffee: Coffee can be laced with other syrups, flavorings, and/or spices to give it an exclusive taste. Chocolate is the most common additive, which is either sprinkled on top or added in syrup form. Some other favourites include cinnamon, nutmeg, and Italian syrups.

Frappe:  It is prepared by mixing 1-2 teaspoons of instant coffee with sugar, water and ice. The brew is placed in a long glass with ice. Milk is optional.

Hammerhead: A real caffeine fix, this drink consists of a shot of espresso in a regular-sized coffee cup, which is then filled with drip coffee. It is also known as a ‘Shot in the Dark’.

Iced coffee: A regular coffee served with ice, and sometimes milk and sugar.

Indian (Madras) filter coffee: A common brew of south India, it is made from rough ground, dark-roasted coffee Arabica or Peaberry beans. It is drip-brewed for several hours in a traditional metal coffee filter before being served. The ratio of coffee to milk is usually 3:1.

Instant coffee (or soluble coffee): The beans are freeze-dried and turned into soluble powder or coffee granules. Basically, instant coffee is for those that prefer speed and convenience over quality, though some people develop a preference for instant coffee.

Irish coffee: A coffee spiked with Irish whiskey, with cream on top. An alcoholic beverage that is best kept clear of the kids. A warm-up for chilly nights.

Kopi Tubruk: An Indonesian-style coffee that is very similar to Turkish and Greek styles. It is very thick. The coarse coffee grounds are actually boiled together with a solid piece of sugar.

Lungo: One for the aficionados, this is an extra long pull that allows somewhere around twice as much water as normal to pass through the coffee grounds usually used for a single shot of espresso. In technical terms, it is a 2-3 ounce shot.

KULFIWALA OF MHOW

The army has its own fair share of stories and people who have over the years become nothing less than legends in their own right. The Kulfiwala of Mhow is one such name, which has enthralled many generations of the Indian Army with his mouth-watering, home made kulfi! I first heard of him from my parents a long time ago and ever since whenever we are in the esteemed portals of this educational town, I have availed every opportunity of enjoying his kulfi.

As a ‘JC’ wife I took full advantage of this exotic gourmet and many a mediocre meal was relegated to top spot when it was followed by this delicious frozen dessert. But the full impact of the ‘Kulfiman’ syndrome hit me when my young daughters started awaiting him every afternoon, while we accompanied hubby dearest for his ‘SC’ course. That is when I decided to talk to him about this magical spell with which he binds every fauji family. Since the 1960’s when his father Pt. Kanhaiya Lal Sharma, known as Panditji, started this delicious tradition, the legend has grown to encompass officers of all walks, who are advised by friends and well-wishers to try out the daily dose of thandi kulfi, while they are at Mhow. Today his sons and grandsons are carrying on the family business. Gouri Shankar Sharma, a postgraduate in commerce, left his career to help out his father and carry on the kulfi tradition. He remembers accompanying his father occasionally on the evening rounds of Kulfi-selling when he was still a small boy in "half pants", and has met officers who remember him since then!

Back then, the family had moved to Mhow from Pithampura and were quite hard up for money. Selling kachhoris, moong dal halwa and kulfi in the market, along with fresh milk from their small in-house dairy was their only means of survival. As luck would have it, one of the officers suggested that they should sell the kulfi (which was even then quite amazing) in the army area to increase their sale. He helped get them a pass and the legendary ‘kulfiman’ began his rounds. Initially he started the trade on his cycle, visiting only the Infantry School every evening around five. Gradually as his wares became popular his elder son joined him, one managing the clientele in Malcolm Lines and the other handling the crowd in Karbala. Later they would proceed to MCTE. The famous Lambretta was bought in 1982 and since has driven a member of the Sharma clan on his daily routine come rain, sleet or heat! By and by the people of Mhow got attuned to the sound of the kulfiwala’s scooter and his soft call.

Now the father, Panditji is no more and the elder brother has also retired to regulate the business from the comforts of his home. Out of the other four brothers, the responsibility of the kulfi selling is now shouldered by Gouri Shankar and one brother with a nephew lending a helping hand, while the other two are managing a stone crusher in Pithampura. The family is financially stable now, attributing their success to the kulfi business. Their joint family comprises thirty one members and the younger generation has all studied well, with two engineer graduates and more aspiring for various interesting fields like IT and Chartered Accountancy. Pattering out ‘knowledge-fully’ the names and durations of all courses being conducted here, he began reminiscing about the regard showered on his father by all the officers and the lifelong friendships made; how many a youngster returned as a senior officer but still maintained the same cordial relationship, irrespective of his present status.

The kulfiwalas have changed their timings to cater to the changed schedules but the returns do not balance well. "We will carry on till we can for we are doing to earn love and goodwill. But the younger generation might not think so…" remarks Gouri Shankar. ‘How true thou speaketh’, for many a times an officer might be checked at the sentry posts of these revered institutes but the kulfiwala travels free without restrictions, eagerly awaited every afternoon. How I hope by some lucky graces he may continue to vend his tasty wares for a long time to come and every time we return he is back with the delicious kulfi in leaf pattals, at my doorstep!

POLICING EXPERIENCE

This special Provost issue reminded me of my father-in-law, Col PK Sayal’s stint as CO CMP just before he retired and I promptly called him up to share a few anecdotes of his tenure. It was the fag end of his highly successful and interesting career and after a challenging spell at Ambala as the Adm Comdt, he was posted as the Commanding Officer of a Provost unit. As a Gunner he had seen the ‘white belts’ from a distance but now he was going to be a part of their team. Many questions and queries emerged in his mind as he proceeded for his new assignment. But with adequate experience of man and material management skills learnt throughout his career, he was ready to face this new challenge. He slowly gelled into his new task with the dexterity of a seasoned soldier. He remembers some interesting cases of that tenure, which established the unit’s credence as an organisation par excellence.

One was the sudden disappearance of three young girls in the age group of 12 to 14 years. The CMP was called in amidst an atmosphere of tension and wild speculation. Thoughts flew at scary tangents since young girls were involved. As the CO he asked his men to find out detailed facts regarding the girls’ movement that day and gather information about their friend circle. When nothing concrete came to light then they tried another angle; he asked his team to find out about trains leaving Pathankot station just after school hours, heading towards Delhi or Amritsar. When they discovered that there were indeed one or two trains leaving the city at that time, the CMP men went to the station and inquired if any one at the ticket counter could give them further information. Luckily one of the clerks at the ticket counter remembered that four tickets had been bought the same day, at the time when the school got over, for an Amritsar bound train. Having a brainwave Papa promptly called up his counterpart at Amritsar and asked him to look for the girls at the langar in the Golden Temple. Rightly so the girls were found there and sent home the same evening under supervision.

There had been an underlying fear that some sleazy, unsocial elements might be responsible for their behaviour but nothing so dramatic had occurred. The girls had simply wandered off on their own to proclaim their independence and taste a bit of adventure! The safe return of the girls and the prompt and successful solving of this case won great applaud for the entire unit. Parents and school staff were extremely thankful and appreciated the team’s quick thinking and timely action.The next incident tested the sleuthing abilities of the CMP. It was brought to the notice of the unit that unauthorised sale of stores was taking place in the station. Papa asked his staff to mingle around inconspicuously and gather data regarding the involved parties, means of sale and their place of rendezvous. After analysing the data they figured out a possible system of operation. A team of men hid on trees near the rendezvous point and started keeping vigil. Their efforts were rewarded when the culprits were caught red handed.

On another occasion the team dressed in civil clothes, posed as civilians and caught a group of faujis selling CSD items in a village. These episodes sent a strong signal to all persons dealing in illegal transactions and all such trade came to an end in the area. People were made aware that the ‘white belts’ meant business. Whether it was a case dealing with the civil authorities, a case of indiscipline, traffic management or security in general, the unit made its presence felt everywhere, earning positive responses from one and all. Good liaising with the civil police helped them many a times. Once due to the assistance of the civil authorities they managed the mass movement of men and equipment during a massive exercise, conducting the entire move in a disciplined and organised manner so that not a single untoward incident occurred.

All these memories had Papa also remembering the friends he made during this tenure, who he is still in touch with. A lovely last posting and a very fulfilling tenure is how he sums it up!

KUM KUM: THE DESIGNER

Nestling in the by lanes of Shahpurjat, is a cosy nook; a design studio of the unpretentious but elegant, ethnic designer Mridula Sharma. Popularly known by her nick name Kumkum, she has established herself as a designer of repute among the circle of select buyers in India and abroad.

Braving the fog and excessive chill of Delhi winters, she is diligently at work when I arrive for a little tête-à-tête at her studio.

The outfits are a beauty! Lovely hues of bright fuchsias, peacock blues, demure greens, vivacious violets, pinks and purples; all embellished with breathtaking embroidery and detailing in crystal and metallic sequins and such like… It took tremendous effort to still my heart, which was delighting at the stacks of lovely dresses and concentrate on the job on hand!

Reminiscing about her days as a navy wife, she softly unravelled the stories which pushed her to achieve such distinction among the designing fraternity!

Kumkum passed her textile designing nearly thirty three years back, from the South Extention Polytechnic in South Delhi, “when there was no NIFT on the horizon”; and then selected the path of matrimonial bliss rather than a career. Her husband, Commodore G. Sharma (Retd.) or Gyanu as he was popularly known as, was a pilot in the Indian Navy. As a navy wife she was soon caught up in the “drill of socials, children and transfers, which every forces wife goes through.”

A chance meeting with Mrs KK Nayyar, the then CNC’s wife, who noticed her hand painted dress and told her that she was far too talented to waste her abilities on mundane things, got her thinking seriously about channelling her designing aptitude. The navy ladies encouraged her and thus begun her modest foray into the competitive portals of Indian dress designing.  

She started hand painting suits, dupattas and sarees for her close friends in the navy circle and did a course in fashion designing when her husband was posted in Mumbai. She also assisted some well known designers and Bollywood personalities. Her foray into independent designing began with a single outfit (because of the restrictions of a force’s salary); which sold in Gliterrati, Mumbai. She would “design on paper, work out the colour combination, choose the fabric and use job workers available in the market.”  Soon she gained popularity and unimagined success and the rest as they say is history!

  

Her designs were showcased on a centrespread in Femina, in 1990. Participation in a women’s exhibition in the World Trade Centre, in 1994 and 1995 catapulted her label ‘Kumkum’ to greater heights. She put up various exhibitions and shows for a while, but health and family commitments forced her to discontinue her label.

She now designs for Indian ethnic, high end boutiques, here in India and abroad. She specialises in formal and bridal wear and believes that the buyer’s trust, respect and goodwill that she has earned in the industry is apt reward for her hard work. Her designs are original and she goes into meticulous details of embroidery and embellishments, paying careful attention to the colours, shades, texture and materials used. Every outfit is a dream which has been lovingly crafted by Kumkum and her workers.

The bonhomie existing among her team is reflected in the yards of embellished silks, crepes, velvets, georgettes and other textiles adorning her studio. Her commitment to quality and originality has established her in good faith with many reputed buyer’s who respect and encourage her to carry on. She has a loyal clientele abroad and has earned their friendship and respect.

It is her husband’s unstinted support and her children’s love which has seen her through the tough times and helped her emerge a stronger person, each time. She is hopeful that her daughter, a mother of two and a talented fashion designer will be able to revive her label again someday. Kumkum confessed that she not only needs to increase her presence in the designing market but also wants to develop an attitude which befits a fashion designer; but I felt that her warm, down-to-earth and caring style is what suits her best and that is what has made her a star!

By Poonam Talwar Sayal

WAS HE THE ENEMY:SOUL CURRY PUBLICATION

BATTERED and broken,it was lying on its belly,amidst a horde of cheering kids.Soulless,lifeless,missing its front and rear,a picture of shameful defeat.Lonely and bereft on enemy soil!
I felt a thrill of pride when I saw this great memento of war.The broken body of a Pak fighter plane,which adorned the grounds of our army complex! I continued my walk,with pride whooshing around my heart.
I always think while I walk and today,the war memorabilia entered my sub-conscious.I started musing about the battered remains of the plane.
It zoomed into my mental vision,majestic and splendid,proud as it sailed the skies of its home territory,performing enviable feats,swishing away on cool pockets of air,with a young,dashing pilot at the controls.Its performance honed and readied for ultimate perfection by a bevy of diligent ground staff,the plane and pilot were now ready for war.Answering the call of duty,it took off with lan,with wishes for its safe return.
There were sorties into enemy land,successful missions causing much damage.I wished it dead,that which was causing miserable anguish in my land.Then an AD missile caught its tailthe beginning of an end! I felt better.
The deterioration was rapid and the fire spread fast.The dashing hero of the cockpit now struggled to gain control of his airborne beauty as it tumbled towards its abysmal fate.Frantic messages of help and hopeful prayers to God were of no avail.The plane lay prone,hugging the bloodied earth,amidst enemy corpses,in final doom.I felt a pain deep within.Why After all,he was the enemy.But can one ever rejoice in anothers misery
The ghost of the broken plane hadnt left me still.It let me see its final flight to doom and then showed me another apparition.A tear-stained,ethereal face,hazy and unfocused,rose in front of my eyes.The glory I was feeling in the defeat of an enemy was gone;instead a cold hand stilled the beating of my heart.I stopped and turned back for I could walk no more.
It was her sorrow that enveloped the plane.I had felt her presence,felt her youth and her pain of loss.
Questions hounded me.What had actually been the fate of that pilot Had he bailed out in time Had he been captured by our army Or had he met his sad demise,hurtling to the ground,performing his duty He must have thought of her then and remembered her.Her tear-filled eyes were full of anguish;a longing,awaiting her mate! Did he ever return to her I think not,because the pain,the lonely emptiness that I felt for her was so real.I hurried back.
Back home,I asked my husband about the pilot the minute he returned.The operation was a success and the victory grand,he said.Neither he nor any records revealed the fate of the pilot.It did not matter, he said.He looked at me,for tears were rolling down my face.
The plane is no more a victory memento but the death bed of a hero.Does it really matter that he was the enemy Did it make him less human,his sacrifice less heroic or reduce the pain of his loved ones