I met him over a bowl of idlis dipped in sambhar with a dollop of tomato chutney. The tenderness of the circular idlis and the tangy taste and tinge of the chutney made him ask, “Did you prepare this delicacy?” “Yes!” I said, clad in a high-neck sweater and a wine blazer, sitting across the centre table. I was keenly noticing the simpers or the frown he may convey in response to the idlis prepared by a young woman apprehensive about the man she is about to get married to. Is it solely about food or the testing time of her cooking skills? Wondering if he even knows what goes into making an idli to imagining mixing batter for idlis for the rest of her life! Gosh! Her imagination was growing wild but what else grew was his admiration for her. To make matters worse, he informs that he cannot make rotis. No one asked. But his negative sentence was followed by an assertion, “Except for rotis, I can cook pretty much everything, from summer drinks to savoury chicken, from gulgule to fish pakodas.” Period.
Food is a source of delight for many of us. It is not just about survival but acknowledging the art we create in our kitchens every single day. From the day we first met, the day when I was high on anxiety and hesitation, to the day I chose to pour my heart in the garb of these letters, words, syllables and much more, there has been a surge of good food, better memories and the best experiences. Glad you noticed all three degrees of “good” because the magic I witness in my kitchen is served in many shapes and sizes and it is manifested in fancy names as well. You may spot Govind gatte, mutton biryani, chicken jahanpanah, just to name a few. The very nomenclature steals the limelight and from disclosing the name to serving the dish piping hot in a platter, I am oblivious to what transpires in between..
We, also known as Sudhir and Alpana, have a daughter fondly called Timtim. While I gyrate to my daughter’s jingles and read out her story books, he whips up sorcery in those woks and pans to which everyone in the family is an alien. It is his secret, he says, every time I interrogate about what goes into the sumptuous food we eat. Now, the only reason why we visit high-end restaurants in Gurugram is the fancy lights in ornate spaces and two wandering souls decked up in flattering outfits. Food connects the dots and reveals a reverie of flavours we might have not known beforehand. It is that binding force keeping intact a unit comprising people with different likes and dislikes.
{{/usCountry}}We, also known as Sudhir and Alpana, have a daughter fondly called Timtim. While I gyrate to my daughter’s jingles and read out her story books, he whips up sorcery in those woks and pans to which everyone in the family is an alien. It is his secret, he says, every time I interrogate about what goes into the sumptuous food we eat. Now, the only reason why we visit high-end restaurants in Gurugram is the fancy lights in ornate spaces and two wandering souls decked up in flattering outfits. Food connects the dots and reveals a reverie of flavours we might have not known beforehand. It is that binding force keeping intact a unit comprising people with different likes and dislikes.
{{/usCountry}}Food is a language of love and care. Food acts as a transgressor for many because it is pati ke haath ka khana (food cooked by a husband) in our case. Besides, it promotes gender equity in the simplest way one can fathom. Sweet, savoury, spicy, or bland, it is in tandem with the mood board of the day leaving no room for complaints, grievances or reasons to whine about the trials and tribulations of life in general. In other words, it serves as fitting reply to all the jeers and whimpers the outside world inflicts upon us. After all, it gives you the taste of home. Rather, it is the taste of home, rejuvenating, radiating and rapturous. Hence, in being sambhar to my idlis, pickle to my khichdi and fresh dhaniya (coriander leaves) to my dal fry, my husband sums up the meaning of a taste of home when it comes to identifying with the self which is getting fashioned through those hues, aromas and flavours every day. This reminds me of preparing to feast upon whole wheat naan he will cook tomorrow.
So, here’s your cue to pull up your socks and give it a try, don’t worry if it turns out to be too salty or way too sweet. The cakes I cook turn gooey most of the times. Only think of the attempt you made to add to the taste of your home, your abode wrapped in tinges and nuances you put together. If the world seems like a Pandora’s box to you, place the lid and brew some delectable delight, because how else are we going to spread little joys if not through some edible jubilations?
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(The writer is an assistant professor in English at Government College, Jatauli Haily Mandi, Gurugram. )