ALL FOR THE LOVE OF FOOD

Welcome to the first edition of Pause to Ponder with Promita.

Today’s ‘Slice of Life’ is a food story.

The most sumptuous slice of life will be served as we all look forward to relishing sensational food rom-com stories in the upcoming editions of TSS.

Flavours of Friendship…

It all started when I was a child and everything that I was inadvertently exposed to, intrigued me. I had befriended a girl my age but little did I know then that her ethnicity would play a prodigious role later, in my life and its meanderings. Joy Lin was a Chinese and her parents owned the most popular Chinese (Indian-Chinese, if I may call it) restaurant of our locality. Now when I write about her, I can unabashedly admit that it was less of Joy’s bonhomie and more of the aromas of Hong Kong, their restaurant at the end of our dead lane, which bolstered the bond that the two of us shared.

Every evening as the street lights came on, it was time for us to wrap up our stories and head back to our respective homes. Partially perched on our bicycles as one lingered, a tad more below the other’s home, a mom would call us in for a small snack before the other left. While it was not that inviting for Joy (as I could make out from the apprehension writ large upon her face!), who only loved the ‘mishtis’ (sweets) and found many Bengali snacks, odd and stodgy, I waited for my turn to be asked in.

It would not be an exaggeration to assert that I almost felt like Charlie entering Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory every time I entered Hong Kong. As Joy’s mother took us through the dimly-lit restaurant with its plebeian seating, I was drawn to the red and golden Chinese dragon motifs and other queer artifacts that spelled mystery for me. Equally engaged were my olfactory senses as I waited to sample something of what they ate at home, every time a new dish with slight variations in the texture or the taste. Mostly steamed or braised, but not one tasted bland or boring. Rather, every plate nourished the gastronome in me, who would later be made to feel guilty for making injudicious life choices.

All in the name of food, as they would say!

The Chicken Soup for the Soul!

My burgeoning affair with Hongkong’s cuisine over the years was the result, not only of my frequent visits to my friend’s home but also my dogged demands to savour them during weekends. Just a steaming bowl of translucent broth with mushy vegetables and tender strips of chicken, the Chicken Soup, was enough to brighten up my face and leaven my soul.

But the one dish that was an antidote to every ailment was their insanely popular Chilli Chicken. (Whether you believe it or not, this Hongkong specialty travels across cities and countries and tops the to-eat list of those visiting Kolkata.) With a gooey texture and a spicy tang, it caused an awakening of my somnolent taste buds and made me recuperate immediately after I had relished a wholesome plate of it. Even today, when I am low or lost, this fiery formula comes to my rescue and I am ready to tackle my troubles with an appetite for solutions!

“There is no sincerer love than the love of food.”

I think I took Bernard Shaw‘s words a little too verbatim when I let the foodie in me dictate my love choice too! As I stepped into college to study English Honours and Joy left for Australia, my tryst with Indo-Chinese fare became sporadic and solitary. Fascinated by the authors, the poets, their words and the plethora of emotions they evoked, food thoughts gave way to subtler sensations and more enticing engagements. Moreover, my allegiance to the singular cuisine (though a crafted one), slackened, and new friends brought along with them newer culinary experiences and curious eating narratives.

Food is my Love Language

‘Cutting chai’, Kolkata Street food and ‘dosas’ paired with filter coffee started dominating my dusks and discussions till one day the good-looking ‘parar chele’, who happened to be my brother’s friend, first, and my neighbour, next, walked, perhaps intentionally, into my life. Quite aware of my weakness, he would often indulge me by treating me at restaurants on the pretext of talking about my brother, who was then pursuing higher studies abroad. I remember a particular incident when the arrow of Cupid was about to do its job but the mouth of the salt shaker gaped open and ruined the meal and the moment at the same time.

Who knew then that the Fate Sisters were, nonetheless, entwining our lives where food matters would eventually metamorphose from sumptuous to simple, and stories, from compelling conversations to mundane monologues!

We have been married for the last nineteen years, is all I can say to rest my case.

Expanding the Food Horizon

My food palette has broadened over time, and now, I know that biscuits and gravy can be a comforting American breakfast while tea and biscuits, an inseparable pair for Indians, though blindly borrowed from the British in many ways. But then there can be quirky twists to the tale when you choose to dip a salty ‘parantha’ (a fried flatbread) in your sweetened morning tea and take pleasure in unhealthy preferences. Or be bombarded by the Korean ‘kimchi’ only because your terrific teen has developed a fixation with K-Pop while you detested cabbage for as long as you can remember.

I know that my love with gastronomy is growing. Apart from satiating my taste-buds (a charcuterie board is pure love), I am as much intrigued by the traditional preparation of Ema datshi in Bhutan as I am to explore avant-garde culinary terms like ‘coulis’ and ‘spatchcock’. Not sure if it is the jovial American chef, Julia Child, who is always on my mind:  

People Who Love to Eat are Always the Best People.

By Promita Banerjee Nag

An avid word enthusiast and content-churner, Promita is fuelled by novel writings, ideas and light-hearted banter. A teacher by passion, she treads the path of unequivocal learning with and through her students. Mother, music and ‘mishti’ mostly convince her. If you wish for a tête-à-tête, feel free to reach out to her at promita033@gmail.com.