I am an unapologetic foodie. Though I can no longer wolf down a 7 course meal and follow it up with 7 Mysore Paks and then ask what’s for dinner, there are days where I can still resuscitate my teenage self and come close. Of course I have preferences. I have a weakness for South Indian food and I'm subconsciously always afraid that all Italian food will be bland and tasteless, even though I have been proved wrong time and again. At the end of every extravagant buffet, I dutifully round it up with a serving of curd rice. For the most part, I ate food. I sat back and waited for it to arrive. Be it at home or elsewhere. The arms and legs of my culinary skills extended to making a really delectable plate of omelette (with onion and green chilli) and Top Ramen Smoodles (with capsicum and carrot), and a drinkable cup of filter coffee (there was never any instant coffee powder in the house to fall back upon). Bred on my grandmother's impeccable and irreplaceable culinary mag