So here I am, rather indifferent to food, surrounded by a family of epicureans. I eat to live; my family lives to eat. My daughter’s overseas travels include local cooking lessons and wine tasting, when my sister travels, she will book a Michelin star restaurant, months ahead, for the experience of exotic food, my brother does not cook with onions or eat fish as his nose is too sensitive, my son must eat Pizza every week, my son-in law can only eat highly spiced food.
I, on the other hand, will eat anything that I can digest, if there is some dessert afterwards.
When we were growing up, my mother strongly disapproved of any one overweight. For the most part, we ate vegetarian food, lightly spiced and gently cooked. She could coax humble vegetables to retain their natural colour and flavour, with the merest hint of spices, and still taste delicious.
No snacks were allowed in between mealtimes. Even then, my sister and I, had our unique preferences. My sister was a hearty eater, but I would only eat the main course when I was bribed with the promise of dessert afterwards.
When we went off to boarding school, this changed. We now, perforce, ate non vegetarian food, indifferently cooked, often over spiced, to compensate for the lack of culinary finesse. We ate to live. And thus began our unique journey in relation to food.
Many decades later, both of us can only eat small portions of food. However, my sister’s love for food has propelled her to polish her cooking skills to a Michelin star status — I call it her ‘vicarious pleasure’! I am quite indifferent to food; my children joke that I can’t be trusted to identify burnt or spoiled food!
I have a different relationship with sugar: I can eat a bar or two of chocolate in one sitting. Recently I came across a scientific journal which recorded that a separate pouch in the stomach accommodates sweets; this, I thought, accounts for the fact that even after being completely full after a meal, I can go for a generous dessert. I must say that this information validated my habit of gobbling sugary delights.
When I got married and lived with my in-laws for a time, ‘adjusting’ took on a whole new meaning. Exotically spiced, Iranian inspired, non- vegetarian dishes were served and devoured by the family; the vegetables were murdered and mostly consisted of potatoes. While the others swooned over the ‘murg mussalam’, the kebabs and ‘Yakhini palow’, I swallowed watered dal and burnt potatoes. Somehow, I survived!
My children are hard-core non-vegetarians, though, thankfully, I have managed to incorporate a fair number of vegetables onto their plates. Both of them, and the extended family, are gourmet cooks and fussy eaters.
I am wonderstruck at the ability of my family to sniff out shortcomings in a served meal, such as, “the turmeric is still raw”, or “the onions are not browned enough.”
How can a person identify, with finesse, the exact ingredient and the moment a dish went awry? How can a person throw together, random ingredients from the pantry and put together a mouthwatering dish, fit for a queen?
Since my culinary skills are non-existent, coupled with my indifference to food, it would be fair to assume that I would be enviably thin. Not so. I am a constant weight watcher, with my proclivity to sweets.
Currently, I have, through dint of will power, given up carbs and have therefore managed to lose a fair amount of weight. This is an enormous sacrifice. Giving up sugar for me is tantamount to a cocaine addict going into rehab. Significantly, sugar and cocaine light up the same pleasure centers of the brain.
I am persisting, nevertheless! I have taken to savouring the tiniest spoonful of dessert, rather like a professional wine taster. Years ago, I read this art in a book, titled, ‘Why Frenchwomen Never Get Fat’. It seems that French women eat everything, but in tiny quantities, eking out the enjoyment out of every fat-fuelled or sugar rich bomb. This strategy does work, though will power needs to kick in after the tiny bite, as one watches the rest of the table devour the dessert, aptly named, ‘Chocolate by Death’ or ‘Molten Lava Cake’.
The pandemic has encouraged me to finally learn to cook. The early lockdown discouraged part time cooks or even delivery boys. I am pleased that I can cook a fair number of dishes: lasagne, curries and vegetables.
At last, I can, somewhat, participate in the family’s culinary discussions. I can even cook the occasional feast of family recipes on birthdays and festivals. From the challenge of the pandemic, my cooking muscle has been born.
My envy and admiration for those who can wield a nifty ladle and churn out gourmet wonders is undiminished; I will never be one of them. I can, though, tell when the onions are burnt!
Rashmi Nandkeolyar is the Principal and Director of Delhi Private School Dubai. She has authored several books for children.
