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eqlabs · 10 months

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All food testing services in and around Kolkata. NABL accredited and well equipped lab for food microbial testing, nutritional labeling and shelf life testing.

#Food testing labs in Kolkata #Food testing in Kolkata #Food quality testing in Kolkata #Food Auditing labs in Kolkata #NABL accredited labs in Kolkata #Nutritional labeling in Kolkata #Food nutrition testing in Kolkata #Shelf life analysis in Kolkata #Shelf life testing labs in Kolkata #Food testing Service in Kolkata #FSSAI approved labs in Kolkata #Food testing laboratories in Kolkata #food testing laboratory in Kolkata #Sensory evaluation in Kolkata #Sensory evaluation labs in Kolkata #Food Safety labs in Kolkata #Shelf life testing in Kolkata

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sultan8879 · 1 year

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All food testing services in and around Kolkata. NABL accredited and well equipped lab for food microbial testing, nutritional labeling and shelf life testing.

#Food quality testing in Kolkata #Food Auditing labs in Kolkata #NABL accredited labs in Kolkata #Nutritional labeling in Kolkata #Food nutrition testing in Kolkata #Shelf life analysis in Kolkata #Shelf life testing labs in Kolkata #Food testing Service in Kolkata #FSSAI approved labs in Kolkata #Food testing laboratories in Kolkata #food testing laboratory in Kolkata #Sensory evaluation in Kolkata #Sensory evaluation labs in Kolkata #Food Safety labs in Kolkata #Shelf life testing in Kolkata

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pranshueq · 17 days

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All Food Testing Services in Kolkata, West Bengal

Description:- All food testing services in and around Kolkata. NABL accredited and well equipped lab for food microbial testing, nutritional labeling and shelf life testing.

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easyecho · 4 months

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All Food Testing Services in Kolkata, West Bengal

All food testing services in and around Kolkata. NABL accredited and well equipped lab for food microbial testing, nutritional labeling and shelf life testing.

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baka69317 · 10 months

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All food testing services in and around Kolkata. NABL-accredited and well-equipped lab for food microbial testing, nutritional labeling, and shelf life testing.

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hiteshrajpal · 10 months

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All Food Testing Services in Kolkata, West Bengal

All food testing services in and around Kolkata. NABL accredited and well equipped lab for food microbial testing, nutritional labeling and shelf life testing.

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foodresearchlab · 3 years

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What are the building blocks of food development?

1. Do your products deliver within specific nutrition, health, shelf life or cost parameters?

2. Is the product satisfying consumer needs and wants?

3. Are you struggling to ideate or identify the product & viability?

4. Is your food business idea or concept not up to the market standard?

We have solutions for these.

What-We-Do:

· Food Research Lab brings together the latest advances in food processing equipment, expert food scientists, chefs, nutritionists and partners from across the globe to help food, beverage & nutraceutical companies and entrepreneurs get their products to market quickly and effectively

· The Food Research Lab is one of the leading experts in food, beverage & nutraceutical product development. Our team consists of expert food product consultants and food technologists based in Kolkata.

· We have provided food consultation and new product development services to several Food and beverage companies in Delhi and other cities across India and assisted them in scaling their market worldwide. We help in obtaining food certifications and ensure that legal guidelines are followed.

· Food Research Lab makes your dream concept a commercial product, integrating our strong knowledge of ingredients and processing techniques to help you make the right decisions.

What are the states we offer across India: https://bit.ly/3zHILZj

Need to know what the services we offer are:

New product development

Nutritional testing

Recipe and menu development

CONTACT US:

Website: https://www.foodresearchlab.com/

Contact no: UK- +44- 161 818 4656, INDIA- +91 9566299022

Email: [email protected]

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djtikkamasala · 7 years

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Washington DC is also a city on river. The town I grew up in, Princeton, is a colonial town that’s a stopping point between New York and Philadelphia. I imagine that if you had to go from New York to DC in a horse drawn carriage, you would take a day to get to Princeton, and then a day to get to Philadelphia, and then DC the following morning. A 2-3 day journey.

Henrietta Hudson, the dyke bar I work for, took two bus-loads of lesbians from New York to DC for the Women’s March. It was a 5 hour journey each way, and every seat on two long buses was taken, by women willing to travel 10 hours in one day to add their bodies to the mass of hundreds of thousands and to return home safe and in good company.

The first time I visited DC, was in my early 20’s. My girlfriend and I were doing a weekend adventure in the nations capital, during cherry blossom season. We stayed at a youth hostel, in bunks, and took a day to see the Smithsonian, the Art museums, and senators jogging in tiny shorts in the main plaza of the city.

The second time visiting DC, at age 29, I’d been summoned by the White House to DJ their annual Diwali party. I took a train with my uncle, little brother, production collaborator, and my partner at the time. The ceremony opened with Vice President Joe Biden participating in a purification ceremony with a group of priests, surrounded by the Sikh, Hindu, and Jain community cultural contributors and political representatives. I was there to DJ the afterparty for a room full of important people who love classic Bollywood, one of my favorite specialties.

The third time, at 35, I’d arrived in the capital to move in resistance to the inauguration of Donald Trump to the highest office in America. 2016’s presidential election traumatized the nation as we watched every single marginalized community in this country get slandered, offended, threatened, and trod on by this ugly man’s ugly campaign. The whole ordeal left the majority of this country feeling sick to their core, and helpless, and in DC I was surrounded by them, none of us alone in our rage.

I was born in Kolkata, India. My family moved here in 1984. My dad left first when I was 2, then at age 3 my mother and I got on a plane from tropical heat and landed in 3 feet of snow at JFK international airport in Queens. I ran away 3 times on the flight, kicking and screaming about missing my grandmother, who had been raising me while my mom was working, and in grad school.

When we landed, the first thing that happened to her was that the woolen winter coat she had brought along got stolen from her in the airport. This woman from a foreign land, with a feral child, and a strange and violent new reality ahead of her, she must have been terrified of this country from the very beginning.

It made perfect sense for her to choose to work a government job in finance, to be on the stable side of power in America. She re-educated herself here to do that work, but in India she had been a high school english teacher, and as a result my handwriting looks like I went to a Catholic School in Kolkata.

Books were considered to be sacred and holy objects in the Hindu Brahmin house i was raised in. My father became an expert in shelf building in the course of my growing up - they had an ever expanding collection. He obsessively picked them up from garage sales, which were an American miracle to him.

He also re-educated himself on arrival. In India he had been an entrepreneur, having tried to run a coal factory, a chicken farm, and also training to be a pilot. He had gotten into many motorcycle accidents before my birth. The last and final was when he and my pregnant mother were riding through Kolkata and the bike tipped and fell. Everyone was ok, but his motorcycling days were over after that, and after moving to the states he would re-educate himself to be an electrical engineer.

Their insistence on me having a great education, and our family having more potential is what motivated them to make great sacrifices to transition to America. So when I came out to them as a teenager it forced a direct confrontation between where we were all coming from and where we were all heading.

Being gay was not a valid identity in the culture they arrived from. When my mother really absorbed my identity, after walking in on my first kiss with a gay woman, Reagan era propaganda made her fear I would get AIDS and life a short and lonely life. We struggled for months to repair the rift, but I couldn’t compartmentalize my life enough to shield myself from her disappointment, and then I went off to college.

My 2nd year into college, after having grown up an only child, my Mom informed me that she was pregnant, at 47, and after not having spoken to me through my early college years. She wanted my opinion about whether she should keep the child. I asked her about the risks, there were many, and let her know I supported her decision either way. I also reminded her that when I was 5 I lied for a year to my friends about having a little brother, because I really wanted one as a kid. She decided to go forward with it. The distance between us temporarily shrank in the course of her pregnancy, and my brother was born a month after September 11th, 2001. George Bush was president. My whole family was terrified. That was the last year we saw a lot of each other.

When the Obama Administration took the stage, everything changed. After the political climate that followed 9-11, having a black president with a foreign sounding name was a welcome relief, even just on a symbolic level I know we all felt safer. When they asked me to DJ there, I invited my little brother to “perform” with me, and my Mom had to swallow her pride and agree to it. It was an extraordinary compromise, for extraordinary circumstances.

My little brother is a teenager now, he’s always been sensitive, articulate and thoughtful. His instagram feed showed me a photo he took of his friends protesting Trump during their school recess. He wrote a tender message to them there, expressing gratitude for their standing up and speaking out about things that matter to him, personally.

When the gay nightclub in Orlando had a mass shooting, he posted a photograph of his hand with all the hashtags #Pulse #Pride #Orlando scrawled across of the back of his hand in black ink.

When marriage equality happened, he changed his facebook profile to the rainbow overlay, in support of the movement.

Our immigrant family story is strange and beautiful and also painful sometimes. For real though. This country is built of immigrant stories and the resilience that it requires to sacrifice and rebuild in the face of constant change.

The changes that are coming are going to test all of us, but many of us are used to being tested this way as a matter of survival. Adaptation is the norm in American culture, and that is a fact. I plan to stand up for the freedoms that my family made sacrifices for, and it’s overwhelming and inspirational to see how many are also standing up at this moment in time and choosing resilience over fear.

vimeo

#2017 #January #Arjun #Lisa #Parents #DC #New York

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dykebarchronicles · 7 years

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Washington DC is also a city on river. The town I grew up in, Princeton, is a colonial town that’s a stopping point between New York and Philadelphia. I imagine that if you had to go from New York to DC in a horse drawn carriage, you would take a day to get to Princeton, and then a day to get to Philadelphia, and then DC the following morning. A 2-3 day journey.

Henrietta Hudson, the dyke bar I work for, took two bus-loads of lesbians from New York to DC for the Women’s March. It was a 5 hour journey each way, and every seat on two long buses was taken, by women willing to travel 10 hours in one day to add their bodies to the mass of hundreds of thousands and to return home safe and in good company.

The first time I visited DC, was in my early 20’s. My girlfriend and I were doing a weekend adventure in the nations capital, during cherry blossom season. We stayed at a youth hostel, in bunks, and took a day to see the Smithsonian, the Art museums, and senators jogging in tiny shorts in the main plaza of the city.

The second time visiting DC, at age 29, I’d been summoned by the White House to DJ their annual Diwali party. I took a train with my uncle, little brother, production collaborator, and my partner at the time. The ceremony opened with Vice President Joe Biden participating in a purification ceremony with a group of priests, surrounded by the Sikh, Hindu, and Jain community cultural contributors and political representatives. I was there to DJ the afterparty for a room full of important people who love classic Bollywood, one of my favorite specialties.

The third time, at 35, I’d arrived in the capital to move in resistance to the inauguration of Donald Trump to the highest office in America. 2016’s presidential election traumatized the nation as we watched every single marginalized community in this country get slandered, offended, threatened, and trod on by this ugly man’s ugly campaign. The whole ordeal left the majority of this country feeling sick to their core, and helpless, and in DC I was surrounded by them, none of us alone in our rage.

I was born in Kolkata, India. My family moved here in 1984. My dad left first when I was 2, then at age 3 my mother and I got on a plane from tropical heat and landed in 3 feet of snow at JFK international airport in Queens. I ran away 3 times on the flight, kicking and screaming about missing my grandmother, who had been raising me while my mom was working, and in grad school.

When we landed, the first thing that happened to her was that the woolen winter coat she had brought along got stolen from her in the airport. This woman from a foreign land, with a feral child, and a strange and violent new reality ahead of her, she must have been terrified of this country from the very beginning.

It made perfect sense for her to choose to work a government job in finance, to be on the stable side of power in America. She re-educated herself here to do that work, but in India she had been a high school english teacher, and as a result my handwriting looks like I went to a Catholic School in Kolkata.

Books were considered to be sacred and holy objects in the Hindu Brahmin house i was raised in. My father became an expert in shelf building in the course of my growing up - they had an ever expanding collection. He obsessively picked them up from garage sales, which were an American miracle to him.

He also re-educated himself on arrival. In India he had been an entrepreneur, having tried to run a coal factory, a chicken farm, and also training to be a pilot. He had gotten into many motorcycle accidents before my birth. The last and final was when he and my pregnant mother were riding through Kolkata and the bike tipped and fell. Everyone was ok, but his motorcycling days were over after that, and after moving to the states he would re-educate himself to be an electrical engineer.