Golden 'Sweet' Potato!

This one I tried once and [pat my back] it was sooooo yummm, I cannot tell you. Though I remember I thought of the Gujaratis - how can they have sweet dal for lunch.... here I did one. With honey based sauce to pour over the boiled potatoes, it was the nicest and 'sweetest' lunch I ever had/made. I had saved some boiled potatoes and the sauce and made the same fried golden potatoes the next day as well.



But for the pictures, I would have totally forgotten that I had made a dish like this! Thank you camera, thank you Eric Case!!

Backlog....

I will do postings of two different dishes I had made God knows when - perhaps when my writing was in its bloom. This way will get back to my 'memories' which I equal to Wordsworth's 'Daffodils'. Like him, lying on the sofa I often recall 'good memories' which gives me joy! So first the dishes....

I was going through some files and I found the pictures of my 'unposted' cooking. So here we go -
I had made gobi manchurian inspired by Kala. As it was the first time, I grated only half the cabbage. But the dish turned out so well, I had wished I had made a good number of servings.

Chinese Manchurian

Yummy!

Hope to be regular on this site....

Another favourite poem...

"Daffodils" (1804)

I WANDER'D lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,

They stretch'd in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed -- and gazed -- but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).