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I was in love…. in love with BBC Food, desperate to enroll in Le Cordon Bleu Institute of Culinary Arts. I dreamed of it and I got it. But what I expected is still a dream. I applied for London Campus, but somehow, my green passport and a girl going alone to London (that was a major reason because desi girls might tie the knot with any BBCD) was not accepted by *wilaayatis*. Anyway, so I applied for the Malaysian Campus and I got in, worked hard, injured, cut and burnt myself a hundred times and voila, *I became a chef*.
The moment, my heads placed the chef’s hat on my head during graduation, I really felt like some beauty pageant being crowned. *oh my God, I am , I am, I am …. a CHEF now* weep weep !!
Came back to homeland like any patriot, *Pakistan Zindabad*. I got hired by a 5 Star Restaurant (which doesn’t deserve a 5 star because hygiene standards are ZERO). When you go to a 5 Star and you act all posh (ooh la la fine diiiiiningggg, they must have been cleaning these spoons with gold, that chicken must have been dipped in clean, crystal clean oil). I resigned !! Number one: I was too much full of knowledge for them. Two: Hygiene !! Three: Staff !! (No I don’t like to see uncles chewing paan and gutkaas and spitting them, first thing in the morning) I started my own work. My own food business. I have to deal with clients cancelling orders right on the day of delivery because *haaaye, itna mehenga??* to the lamest of excuses like I begged them to order.
Then, I landed in a live show on a food channel. (Honestly, I contact them because I was desperate to be known as a chef) I was not a socialite, so I had no likes on my Facebook page and very few clients. I went in the show, did my best, but apparently I didn’t make aaloo gosht and *peeeza*, my fabulous menu was only liked by those who wanted a *tabdeeli*. I was told by the team of the show, “don’t use chef with your name” and I asked myself, *then who am I?* Regretfully aunties in Saris and do darjan chooriyaan have bagged the title of a chef. *sigh*. Oh well, after this reference, I am definitely not getting a show in the channel but that’s fine.
I was later approached by a guy from another channel. READ, *APPROACHED*. Later I was bombarded with questions, *are you pretty, are you less fat or more fat??*. And I asked myself once again, *who am I?? A chef or a Botox inspired swollen lips model? Wasn’t he the one who approached me? What has my looks and weight got to do with my cooking? After grilling the perv, I went back to dealing with my food business. And I am doing okay. With the help of my sister and Facebook advertisement, I did get likes on my food page from *pwetty pwincess* *papa ki pari* *pyaara lahori bwoy* *aanchal aanchal* and the likes …. and I am doing pretty well in that department.
Life’s not good for a chef certified by a firangi. It all goes good if I would make Hyderabadi Lasagna and ataalian pizza achaari.
I made Salted Caramel Glazed Banana Bread , was asked, *hain?? Salted Caramel?? Namkeen cake hai ye?*
You do the math !!