Food, Glorious Food
I talk to my mother almost everyday, and on every one of those calls, she will ask me what I am eating/have eaten/plan to eat for lunch/dinner, depending on the time of day when we talk. I may go adventurous for dinner and choose from rotis, pasta, noodles, soups, salads or any number of eating out options but lunch follows a regular and monotonous pattern : rice (tomato/coconut rice if I am in the mood), a dal or sambar, a vegetable and curd. Despite this, my mother will want to know what the menu for the day was.
(source: http://getaway2india.wordpress.com)
We are Indians, you see. Food is how we show love and affection. Food as in: talking about food, asking the other person if (s)he has eaten, pressing the person to eat until they burst, packing up leftovers for people to take and of course, complaining that they eat too little. Never mind if the mound of rice on that banana leaf is as high as a mini Kanchenjunga.
Food is the glue that brings us together. I am yet to go a party in India where the hosts are not left with copious amounts of leftovers. Food that would have satisfied a marauding army must be available, regardless of the size of the crowd.
Food is memory, and memories that are unique to every family; delicious memories that leave the mouth watering and the heart tingling, years after one has left home. World travellers and gourmets will still remember that one taste which can never be found elsewhere. For me, it is my mother’s vegetable pulao, topped with pieces of fried bread. Not only have I never eaten this style elsewhere, I am convinced that even if someone else tried it out, it would never be the same. My mother claims to have no secret ingredients, but I cannot bring myself to believe it. Mostly, I refuse to cook pulao, unable to bear eating something that is not the same as the original.
Food is custom. Curd rice follows rasam saadam which in turn follows sambar saadam. There is a comfort in this dull routine that will soon be wholly unfamiliar to an entire generation of children reared on cosmopolitan eating.
Food is celebration made ritual. Kozhakattai for Vinayaka Chaturthi, Seedai and rava laddu for Janmashtami, Sundal for Navaratri. Kaju katli and Jalebi may taste as good but they cannot give me quite the same thing as the adirasam my grandmother used to make for Deepavali.
In my younger years, along with my sisters, I enjoyed making fun of what I saw as older women’s obsession with food. Now, as my grandmother grows old and frail and can no longer make adirasam, I feel the loss of something more than just food. New age gurus like Michael Pollan tell us what we in India have perhaps always known : that food is much more than just the sum of its parts.
I see myself becoming more like my mother than I thought I would, and am no longer embarrassed at talking about food, or the making of it. So, don’t be surprised when I ask you, are you cooking/eating something special for New Year’s? And if so, what is it?
A very Happy New Year to all of you, and see you in 2010.
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