Sweet dreams are made of these

Two evenings ago, 4 gulab jamuns accompanied by 2 boxes of sinful barfi. entered my life. Thanks to a close friend of ours who insisted they were just a show of affection. I suspect he was just trying to save his cupboards from being stripped bare of mithai the next time we dropped in, by stuffing us with a weeks quota in advance.


But since I'm not the type to let suspicion mar the very purpose of a gulab jamun's existence, I quickly dispelled these thoughts and settled to my 'something sweet' after dinner that night.


And once again, I showcassed an eating habit that made my new husband wince. I hadn't heated the gulab jamun, but bit into its delicious core while it was stone cold. Personally, I love how the sugar syrup becomes a little crystallised and even more potent as you bite into the soft shell of the jamun. But by the pitiful glances my husband cast on those soggy mouthfulls, 'gulab jamuns' and 'cold' don't go together.

That night, I slept well and even dreamt up some killer stories involving gulab jamuns and the Indian freedom struggle. And then a short trailer about The clash of the cylindrical gulab jamuns and the perfectly rounded.

But that's another story.