Deep Adhya, PhD

“My father committed suicide because the morning newspapers depressed him.” – Boris Yellnikoff (Whatever Works, 2009) I usually don’t blog about these important things written in morning newspapers, focussing instead on the banal and trivial. It helps me to avoid having to think about our impending doom, and no one wants another fluff piece on political confectionary anyway. But sadly, the world has come/is coming to another crossroads. Human beings have started to realise that in our need to see everything and do everything, we are trying to evolve too fast. The conflict between the variedness of liberals and puritanism of conservatives has become so stark that the liberals are now viewed as an entirely new species by the conservatives. The conservatives have stopped trying to educate them in their beliefs and values and have gone on an outright war against them. The human race is in labour. The old are hurt and baffled as the new tries to break out of its grasp. The ...

How did we end up here? We are farmed rainbow trout ( Oncorhynchus mykiss ), born to be baked in the oven. We are from the salmon family, an oily fish with pink flesh. Our ancestors were first identified in the Kamchatka peninsula in Siberia. The name ‘mykiss’ has nothing to do with my kiss. I don’t have a kiss and even if I had one, it wouldn’t be fatal. We live in fresh water and are extremely adaptable, therefore widely farmed around the world. We are probably the most common species of trout around, spawning wilfully and leading other species to extinction. But our natural habitat is still the Pacific Ocean, and our wild cousins only swim into freshwater to breed. But the real magic of our existence lies on the dinner plate. We have a tender flesh and a mild, nutty flavour. Our wild cousins taste better because of their varied diet and plentiful exercise, but we are high in vitamin B and our flavours are appealing enough for anyone to salivate when cooked with our...

The food in Los Angeles feels like the desert it is located in. The small neighbourhoods interspersed between long highways is hardly a place that is worth remembering. The food is hardly worth remembering either. There are restaurants and cafes, but they all seem to be suffering from the same condition: drought. Everywhere I go, the food is tasty, but they have skimped on one essential ingredient, water. In Los Angeles, it is wiser to use oil than water. A Korean and a Vietnamese fast food joint sell sautéed meat with rice, both very dry, and needing soda to digest. Irony. A 24 hour grocery shop has a buffet counter with chicken legs swimming in oil, and beef ribs floating in its own fat. Cafes sell sandwiches, others sell pizzas, and even more sell the same meat and rice combo, using different spice mixes claiming to originate from different parts of the world. But all need to be consumed with fluids. The irony I hope, is clear. Vietnamese food joint - Shop House K...

I am not a great cook. I don’t have the patience. I use my alchemy skills that help me get by in the lab, to help me feed myself each day without having to decide between speed and taste. So I set myself a challenge when I bought a £2 turkey leg from ASDA. It weighed 700g, was a foot long and looked like it came straight out of The Flintstones. I was elated but a bit worried about how to go about it, when I turned to father Google and mother YouTube for help. They both sang the same tune. Brine it for 24 hours. I was not going to do it. It would mean having to wait for it patiently while it sat in the fridge for no reason for one whole day. But I needed an alternative to make it work without having to go through the messy brining process. Why turkey leg then, since there is the much easier chicken option, which also makes excellent roast and grill? A month ago, I visited Dorset to celebrate a traditional Christmas with my landlord Bart and Helen. Although, I have had ...

The rains had stopped, the clouds had parted. I was walking on that wintry day, feeling good about the cold. The grass had turned green, the frost melting into morning dew. As I walked down Sidney Street, I noticed a musician, on an accordion playing a soulful tune. I contemplated the skill necessary to play the accordion. Like a piano, it is played with two hands, but more challenging as the two hand not only play different tunes but play keys of different types, also each hand playing in a different style. The accordion is a unique instrument. It sounds like more than one instrument. A guitar has one set of strings which can be manipulated using two hands. The violin is similar. The piano is also one set of strings which can be manipulated using two hands with keys that all obey the same rules. The accordion on the other hand has two sets of keys that look and work very differently from each other, and to produce the desired effect, one must play both sets, by learning their indivi...