You have to begin by developing a craving for the food item, this step is very important as it draws out every last drop of determination you may have in your body.
Intense craving= intense resilience.
Disclaimer: This article is for amateur cooks only, ones who do not know the difference between wheat and maida. Ones who cannot chop an onion without crying like their dog died. Ones who do not know where the spices are kept and constantly need their mothers' help to work the mixer. Others, please sit back with your homemade glass of pina colada and enjoy.
Step 1: The agony.
This is by far the easiest step of all. Move to a city that doesn’t sell momos at five for thirty, from a city that did, and wait out your first month in suffering. Let the craving take over. Realize that Uber Eats and Swiggy cannot offer you anything but false hopes, and going out to get them in the summer is too much work.
Feel the agony, until you make the decision to do it yourself. It’s momos or nothing, son.
Step 2: The preparation.
Momos look like simple dishes, just a coating of maida and some stuffing inside, sounds easy enough, right? Wrong. Making momos is like preparing for JEE. Like some genius on quora said, if you don’t start in kindergarten, you’re done for. So the first step lies in preparing yourself both mentally and physically. Hit the gym, lift some weights, that maida won’t dough itself. Take some meditation classes to develop patience and serenity. You'll need it.
Step 3: The Internet.
When it comes to cooking, YouTube is your best friend. Dive right in and watch around twenty videos of how to make momos and confuse yourself. Then pick the one you liked the most and watch it at least five times until you can mouth the words as the video plays. Once you have conquered this step, you are knee deep in the process. There’s no going back now.
Step 4: Convince your mother.
The kitchen is her sacred place, her temple, her everything. You step in and mess up, you’re dead. This may, by far, be the hardest step in the whole program, but do not fear for you are prepared. Call your mother close, make her some chai and start with a speech about how you are now a grown up who is developing skills. Add in a dash of emotion, how will I eat when I live alone, ma?, sprinkle some confidence, I’ve faced entrance exams, cooking is nothing. Then finally, if she is still hesitant, recite the entire YouTube video you’d previously memorized and voila. Guaranteed victory.
Step 5: The Ingredients.
Now that everyone is convinced, head to the store. Buy everything you need and come back and begin by laying out all your ingredients in fancy bowls like in the videos. Then get your ass kicked by your mother, and go back to just picking things out of their containers when needed. Realize you forgot something important, but it’s too late to go to the store now, so pack up and wait for day two.
Step 6: The making.
Wake up early, run out to grab the missing ingredient, then come back with renewed energy. You’re going to make these momos. Begin in the afternoon when everyone’s sleeping, make sure the door to your parents’ room is closed shut. Spend two hours making the stuffing because you’re trying to be quiet and make no sound. Break a few plates along the way, cut your finger wide open and try not to cry. Accidentally squeeze some lemon onto the wound, then give up on trying not to cry. Go take a sip of whiskey from your dad’s cabinet and shake it off. Success the stepping stone to failure, after all...
Realize you are now drunk, so suspend all activities until the daze wears off.
Somehow get the dough done and feel a brilliant sense of achievement. Pat yourself on the back, accept your imaginary award and begin your speech by thanking your family and friends. Next step is one of the hardest. Try making the pleated design for your momos, fail terribly, then realize it doesn’t matter and just smush them together. Keep some glucose at hand, and your phone nearby in case you need to call the ambulance.
By the time you finish admiring the beauty of the one momo you made, you’re most likely going to be half-dead. That’s when you call for backup. Wake your mother, get her to come assist you and nitpick every last thing she’s doing as revenge for all these years of nagging she has done. Have it backfire on you and listen mutely as she rants about what a mess you’ve made and how the momos probably won’t taste good.
Feel the anxiety as the first one is placed into the steamer.
Step 7: The Results.
Too late to back out now anyway, so just go for the kill and place them all in. Worry that the stuffing won’t be cooked and overcook the already sad excuse for momos. Take them out, burn your fingers while doing so, and serve them hot with a side of blood sweat and tears.
Tuck in and try not to balk. Tell anyone who asks that it tastes good, because you are your own biggest supporter. Mentally make a list of how you can improve it next time, but in the back of your mind, realize that no, there’s never going to be a next time. Ever.
Resort to stalking Swiggy and UberEats, put this behind you. You may experience some PTSD, but take another sip of whiskey and shake it off.
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Sorry, wrong website.