Monday, April 27, 2020

The Psychedelia of Homecooked Food - Lockdown Diary 2020

Posto with kacha longka, vegetable chop with bharer cha, malpua with vanilla icecream, narkol nadu, aloo parotha with dhoney ar curry patar chutney, lebu ar mix veg achar -love has many names. It is the deep relationship one shares with one's plate - when each morsel is more than just basic nourishment, it is the outpouring of emotive juices that is affectionately called saliva. That is food for me. But hey, not just any food. It's homegrown food that is lavished with my own hands and has a kiss of the taste I relish so much. Someone once told me poetry is food, it isn't just written, recited or sung - it is felt.

Why do we relish good food? Is it the ancient instinct to lap up anything that is savoury or sweet or is it a creative juice in the brains that echoes "satiated" once you have a mouthful of your favourite something? Or is it a cultural thing? Which is -- the age old dichotomy between my food is better than your's or it is tastier and requires more effort to cook? Or perhaps it is just nothing. Once inside the mouth and out of sight, it is out of mind? Can it be out of mind so quickly, since the creative juices are doing their intense dance inside your system as we talk. The hing (asafoetida) may be kicking the walls of our liver, while the curry leaves are gliding through our duct or the sugar from last night's malpua making music both in our brains and bowels. I am convinced, the food music is nothing short of love or the act of making it. It isn't a delusional piece of something that I gulp in during certain times of the day. It is my religion, my culture, my being. Food becomes me once it  enters me and assumes the shape of my being. It works my muscles, it oils my bones, it grinds through the tumultuous intestines, it rolls over the floor of my liver laughing at my idiosyncrasy. It still is as I talk.

So what with the cultural aspects of food - what to you is donuts (the familiar sugar rush) is for me a freshly fried plate of firmly cooked malpua basking in a pot of sugar syrup laced with elaichi, dalchini and laung. What for you is dum pukt biriyani for me is a plate of chanar pulao steaming with the goodness of the spice mix (that's a home secret) leading to that elusive burrp after food. Your shahi tukda is my rosogolla (assuming its spongy disposition after swimming in a kadal of sweet sugar something). Your bharta is loosely translated into my shukto. Food is opium, it makes you toxic or toxicity makes you once you consume it (whichever way you please).  It is already laboring through our systems to get the best out of the "ingredients" it is made of.

So, what best to consume for your system - food that you have cooked yourself, can see, feel, touch, experience the quality of? Food that carries your emotions into your system and creates a memory that leaves you satiated and happier? Or food you get made or delivered?

 Oh well, you may agree to disagree. Whatever you decide. Food would still need tender loving care to assume a happier form that creates soulful music than a sad bird song (since it finds itself stuck in your gut).

Try it, to cook that is. Your own food is your alter ego speaking in a happy or a sad voice. You chose! Once you do so, try to ask that question to your gut, am I "satiated" or "sedated"? I am sure, you will find your answer.

2 comments:

Jerlin Anto said...

Drooling over those home made food... well narrated and wow that desi food porn 🤩

Crystal Revelations said...

Thanks jerlin anto