On Becoming a Food Snob
Not many people who meet me would imagine that I have more than a passing interest in food. And indeed it has been a long journey for the little girl who threw roti pieces under the table to the adult who can now appreciate the fine and varied taste of dishes such as cream-topped artichokes, Camembert-filled pasta and even the quintessential North Indian lentil dish- Dal Makhani.
I can’t quite remember the when, how and where but at some point in the last decade I started noticing the difference between ‘good cooking’ and ‘bad cooking’. Family meals were always healthy at home, but now I find myself (and most of my social circle) getting fanatical about the greens, five-fruits a day, wholegrain cereals, salted celery sticks and what-not. And all this usually after a weekend binge of fried food and fizzy-drinks ;-)
However the one thing that has spoiled me for ever is the ‘food globalisation’ . It is such an integral part of my London-life that I started taking it for granted over the last few years (but no longer do now in India!). In fact it all started in Leeds first. While tinned food, ready-meal pasta and instant noodles are any self-respecting student’s lifeline, there does come a point (usually after 6 straight weeks of processed food and messed up egg-curries) when your body starts craving green beans, peas and cauliflowers. Luckily I had like-minded flatmates in the student digs and I eventually started my 'First Lessons in Cooking' at the tender (!) age of 23. (Thanks Hashy).
And then once in London, there was no stopping me whether it be cooking or eating out as long as it was vegetarian (I grew up as one and have had no real reason to change). By that time ‘chicken tikka masala’ was already UK’s national dish and sushi parties were gaining in popularity. Before we knew it Tesco, Sainsbury, Morrisons and Marks and Spencer had all got at least half an aisle displaying ‘International spices’ and ‘International food ’. More recently these have spread to one, two or even several aisles. Different types of pasta, sauces and noodles are not even considered exotic enough for the ‘exotic food shelf’ anymore. Mind you there are still people in the UK (usually granny's generation) who consider rice to be a foreign food as I found out from a British colleague recently!
The fruit section in a typical British supermarket has melons, mangoes, pineapples, strawberries, blueberries, Sharon-fruit, kiwis and papayas all through the year. (If you’re thinking ‘GM’, ‘Carbon Footprint’, ‘Sustainable Farming’ and such-like then wait for another post!) And such is the choice in la section des fromages that those with weak decision-making abilities tend to get a bit dizzy.
Eating out in London, it appeared that only the most boring people neglect to cook a different world cuisine every two days. A typical week for me consisted of tapas at Brindisa, green curry at Thai Silk, panini at Fratellis, pierogi at the Polish restaurant in Kensington, sesame-rice at Ping Pong, pancakes at the little place in Marlybone and the occasional Indian curry at Imli on Wardour Street (the last one was usually a grumpy me giving in to popular demand of my international friend circle). The general rule is to always order salad as a side to trick oneself into feeling healthy. Also when eating out this wide variety of food has got to be healthier than just eating one type of food. I mean all those different types of toxins probably balance each other out, right (!)
And so, one may ask, can over 20 years of consistent one food-style history (I grew up in India) be wiped out in just a couple of years? The answer is Yes and No. Even in London I needed my Indian fix every 2nd day. Once, on the 10th day of my Italian break, my Indian-origin friend and I were so ‘pasta-ed out’ we zeroed in on the only decent Indian restaurant in Rome (Sitar which is not too far from the Colosseum). Never have I enjoyed an Indian meal more.
But recently I realised, I also need my ‘international meal fix’ every 3rd day. Yummy as the breakfast idlis at work are, and those rice-daal-sabzi platters at lunch, by evening I’m already thinking of some Indianised noodle dish. I’ve also had more peanut butter sandwiches in 2 months in Mumbai than I had in 20 years!
Now all of this doesn’t make me snob. And in fact there are some fantastic restaurants across all big Indian towns offering the best international fare, to say nothing about well-cooked regional fare. My favourites so far are the Mediterranean Food Lounge at Taj Kolkata, Diva for Italian food in Delhi, Out of the Blue for ‘Sizzlers’ in Mumbai and Salt Water, also in Mumbai, for Continental food + the BEST EVER Crème Brûlée.
With some embarrassment, I must accept the moment I realised I was at best protecting my 'delicate' constitution and at worst on the road to food snobbery. It all happened at a client meeting last week in Nariman Point (Mumbai's expensive financial district). Despite my excuses, they insisted on ordering lunch. The curry was an oily red mixture with unidentifiable pieces of veggies floating in it. It was accompanied by white, deep friend ‘maida’-bread and a bowl of dodgy looking natural yogurt. As we talked about budgets and rail alignments over this working lunch, the gentlemen around the table (and pretty well-heeled ones too) wiped their plates clean with relative ease. While I just sat there and dipped little pieces of bread in the red mixture, steeling myself to swallow it somehow. After many many years, I found myself wondering- will anyone notice if I discreetly drop little pieces of the bread under the table………
I can’t quite remember the when, how and where but at some point in the last decade I started noticing the difference between ‘good cooking’ and ‘bad cooking’. Family meals were always healthy at home, but now I find myself (and most of my social circle) getting fanatical about the greens, five-fruits a day, wholegrain cereals, salted celery sticks and what-not. And all this usually after a weekend binge of fried food and fizzy-drinks ;-)
However the one thing that has spoiled me for ever is the ‘food globalisation’ . It is such an integral part of my London-life that I started taking it for granted over the last few years (but no longer do now in India!). In fact it all started in Leeds first. While tinned food, ready-meal pasta and instant noodles are any self-respecting student’s lifeline, there does come a point (usually after 6 straight weeks of processed food and messed up egg-curries) when your body starts craving green beans, peas and cauliflowers. Luckily I had like-minded flatmates in the student digs and I eventually started my 'First Lessons in Cooking' at the tender (!) age of 23. (Thanks Hashy).
And then once in London, there was no stopping me whether it be cooking or eating out as long as it was vegetarian (I grew up as one and have had no real reason to change). By that time ‘chicken tikka masala’ was already UK’s national dish and sushi parties were gaining in popularity. Before we knew it Tesco, Sainsbury, Morrisons and Marks and Spencer had all got at least half an aisle displaying ‘International spices’ and ‘International food ’. More recently these have spread to one, two or even several aisles. Different types of pasta, sauces and noodles are not even considered exotic enough for the ‘exotic food shelf’ anymore. Mind you there are still people in the UK (usually granny's generation) who consider rice to be a foreign food as I found out from a British colleague recently!
The fruit section in a typical British supermarket has melons, mangoes, pineapples, strawberries, blueberries, Sharon-fruit, kiwis and papayas all through the year. (If you’re thinking ‘GM’, ‘Carbon Footprint’, ‘Sustainable Farming’ and such-like then wait for another post!) And such is the choice in la section des fromages that those with weak decision-making abilities tend to get a bit dizzy.
Eating out in London, it appeared that only the most boring people neglect to cook a different world cuisine every two days. A typical week for me consisted of tapas at Brindisa, green curry at Thai Silk, panini at Fratellis, pierogi at the Polish restaurant in Kensington, sesame-rice at Ping Pong, pancakes at the little place in Marlybone and the occasional Indian curry at Imli on Wardour Street (the last one was usually a grumpy me giving in to popular demand of my international friend circle). The general rule is to always order salad as a side to trick oneself into feeling healthy. Also when eating out this wide variety of food has got to be healthier than just eating one type of food. I mean all those different types of toxins probably balance each other out, right (!)
And so, one may ask, can over 20 years of consistent one food-style history (I grew up in India) be wiped out in just a couple of years? The answer is Yes and No. Even in London I needed my Indian fix every 2nd day. Once, on the 10th day of my Italian break, my Indian-origin friend and I were so ‘pasta-ed out’ we zeroed in on the only decent Indian restaurant in Rome (Sitar which is not too far from the Colosseum). Never have I enjoyed an Indian meal more.
But recently I realised, I also need my ‘international meal fix’ every 3rd day. Yummy as the breakfast idlis at work are, and those rice-daal-sabzi platters at lunch, by evening I’m already thinking of some Indianised noodle dish. I’ve also had more peanut butter sandwiches in 2 months in Mumbai than I had in 20 years!
Now all of this doesn’t make me snob. And in fact there are some fantastic restaurants across all big Indian towns offering the best international fare, to say nothing about well-cooked regional fare. My favourites so far are the Mediterranean Food Lounge at Taj Kolkata, Diva for Italian food in Delhi, Out of the Blue for ‘Sizzlers’ in Mumbai and Salt Water, also in Mumbai, for Continental food + the BEST EVER Crème Brûlée.
With some embarrassment, I must accept the moment I realised I was at best protecting my 'delicate' constitution and at worst on the road to food snobbery. It all happened at a client meeting last week in Nariman Point (Mumbai's expensive financial district). Despite my excuses, they insisted on ordering lunch. The curry was an oily red mixture with unidentifiable pieces of veggies floating in it. It was accompanied by white, deep friend ‘maida’-bread and a bowl of dodgy looking natural yogurt. As we talked about budgets and rail alignments over this working lunch, the gentlemen around the table (and pretty well-heeled ones too) wiped their plates clean with relative ease. While I just sat there and dipped little pieces of bread in the red mixture, steeling myself to swallow it somehow. After many many years, I found myself wondering- will anyone notice if I discreetly drop little pieces of the bread under the table………
I can perfectly understand your point. In fact since back in chile, i've already tried out all the indian and thai restaurants in santiago. Luckily, they are growing in numbers!
ReplyDeleteAt least every other week i feel the need of thai or indian cuisine. It might be like the need of drug for drug-addicts! In London though it was every 3 or 4 days!
Did i tell you that my birthday present in 2008 when i was travelling and was in singapore was to have indian food? The place was in or close to china town (if i'm not wrong) and food was awsome!
Soon Katy, I hope to be trying to those Indian restaurants out in Santiago :-))
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