I come from a home filled with ample but contradiction of emotions, priorities and worldviews. With such an overdose of opinions, it has been difficult to find activities that bond and unite us in harmony. Fortunately there was one and that was food! Food was the unifying glue and the only unique substance that lulled my household with an agreeable aura of peace. For the duration of us cooking or shopping for it or preparing or thinking of do so, we managed to take our focus off each other’s failures. So now, when I think of sharing a bit of myself with my readers: foundation of food and influence of the chefs in my life are an essential mention.
Part 1: From the Grandparents
We were a joint family of aunts, cousins, grandmother and occasionally parents’ presence to complete the frame. My grand ma (father’s side) was a feisty lady, courageous and super cool. ‘Speedy Dida’, was what I called her. In her times, she drove a Fiat 1100 Elegant Italian model of 1957 and was the only lady driver to participate in the republic rally of Kolkata to race, not win but cheered endlessly by drivers of Austin, Morris and other vintage vehicles. Like your’s and my hobby could be music, art and on those lines, my grandmother’s passion was the Ouija board (board to communicate with spirits). One such encounter did not end well and Speedy Dida was permanently on a wheel chair till her last days. She had to give up on driving and witchy witching; enough time on her hands birthed a gourmand that more than satisfied her family of gutbuckets. I saw her carefully and lovingly molding prawn cutlets with single minded devotion on many afternoons. I helped her with the easier errands like spreading the perfectly molded cutlets on newspaper, cleaning and devouring the left over raw crumbs and then carrying this ‘prawny’ art work from her stand to the deep frying pan. These scrummy yummy cutlets were something to look forward to during my slow summer breaks. Thus my first friendship with food and its maker! I got to know all about her participation in the rallies without my grandfather’s knowledge. We spoke about many of the spirits the kitty group encountered, how the piano in her ancestral home played itself – on the day of lunar eclipse, and how notorious a child my dad was !
My grand dad (mother’s side) had spent a few years in Germany for his higher engineering degree. A humble man and very attached to his roots apprehensively adjusted to the variety of culinary culture of Germany. On his return, he divorced the Currywurst and Rouladen. Along with his advanced degree in engineering he brought home his expertise in baking a BLACK FOREST CAKE and making a potato salad. The use of Capslock was to express my delight and surprise in eating a version of the cake at home in 1989 and that too baked by my Dadu in a modest oven (engineered by him). And then he also engineered a toaster ‘n’ grill for my parents’ anniversary which toasted and grilled anything perfectly but patience was one of the key heating elements there. Somehow for him it was his tool over his food.
I have always heard my grand mom (mother’s side), whom I never met was the parfait Chef de cuisine. I have heard stories from my extended family and mother, how she could transform the most ordinary supplies into an extraordinary extravaganza. Like this one specific dish my mother mentioned I think trillion times – her version of bottle gourd tasted like Quiche Lorraine. I think I like her style the most – less is more!
Part 2 – Dad and His Dish
This topic has stirred a lot of memories and lost conversations. A gastronome memoir like this does deserve more than a few lines about my dad and my chef of tall orders. There was no one in my circle from family to friends and uninvited guests that did not know and appreciate my dad’s passion and flair for cooking. There was an outlier though and that was my fiancé then, who pointed out, this kind of food is a death trap – rich and against the standards of WHO if there were any! Okey… but besides that slightly different opinion we all adored his want to indulge us with hours spend in the kitchen.
Planning stage of the food project was the discussion about what we wanted to eat, which finally did not matter because he made exactly what he fancied; Next stage of planning was pouring himself over recipes for hours and more. We had a library which amongst others is filled with cook books, age old recipes and books on food culture of places. I am the proud librarian of this library now! The execution stage was- shopping for exotic ingredients from across Kolkata and then finally prepping ‘the dish’ or many at a time. Of course the project was not concluded without plating of the dish/es which was a fanfare on its own. With a little help and lot of irrelevant artistic inputs from me in this final stage, we managed to impress our dinner guests.
Many weekends, dad and I drove to unheard and unglamorous parts of Kolkata – Hogg market (the wet market at the back side of new market in the 90s was not cool to hang out at all), Posta bazaar and Gariahat Market. I liked it very much there. Every frame bore organic colours of the fresh vegetables and fruits. The ‘fishy wishy’ places with deafening cacophony of vendors and frequent well fed and fat cats – were somehow our favorite. Few odd corners were filled with indigenous yak cheese, coloured jars of dry fruits and lingering aroma of attar which was very common in local markets then. All these scenes and sounds accompanied by my dad’s constant commentary are cherished memories!
Those experiences today attract me to local produce and places where they are found. In my share of travelling, I might have missed out on a museum or night club and definitely the malls but never the local and busy market places. It is where I discover the heart of a place. The culture and tradition of a new place start with the food they eat amongst other things and a best place to gain a sense of it is always the local markets.
Getting back to the real thing here which is my dad and his dish –So those long hours of supporting his passion has now become mine. I actually got to know my father, his earlier days, escapades and aspirations. I know now, there is a food for every mood. I learned, if you want to know somebody well, meet the person over what he loves to do best. And I also learned, please own your mess else you burn bridges fairly soon regardless of your good deeds. At the end of each of his kitchen expeditions, Dad made a grand announcement – ‘I am done’ and from there on, it was up to others to get down to some serious work.
Part 3 –Now and Later : Food Makes it Better
Over the years my husband and I have consistently failed at our joint endeavors of cultivating taste in each other’s music, movies, books, friends, often family, sports and none excluded. Our exhaustive efforts are sincere and we learned to take pride in all our differences. One of the oddities amongst all the above is, we agree kitchen is a great place where we can survive without damaging controversies. Our love for food and indigenous produce have lead us to the road less travelled in terms of travel and quality of leisure time. Even career choices – my husband is a brewer and that was a career switch that not only went in a different direction from previous but it will be fair to say that it has been a high voltage change. It has not always been pretty or the change be comfortable but enough to make memories for a lifetime.
My tweenager son is a keen baker and pancake maker. But hey! Even pancakes can have drama, and the kid knows how! The pancakes and waffles that come out of his hands are crisp with humor and hanger even! Sometimes in the kitchen with him I am taken back to my dad lording it over and me trying to keep up. The difference here is I am heavily bossed by this 4feet 4 incher and I have to pretend he’s the next Julia Child. In his case, more like Gordon Ramsey is what I foresee. He possesses opinions and feelings over even pancakes and waffles. Toss it or not!
In paucity of time, I am unable to mention few of my friends and aunts who are cook par excellence. But cannot avoid mentioning that having one of them as my house guest once meant a kitchen take over by Ipsita Banerjee and how we look forward to such a situation once again! So, my doors are open and we welcome dinner guests (with just a little bit of notice). My library is out there for you to borrow recipes, old and done or something new to try. Jump in my car, forget about your chores and we ride to the local markets. Let’s gather at my place, light up the fire, and talk till late. Cooking and bonding is an old time tale.
I have to resist spending myself in the kitchen and writing about it-duty calls. I dress you now and maybe someday cook for you too.
From Our Personal Album
Thank you for the mention Urna. Cooking is something I enjoy very much, because I love tory new recipes and stuff. Every holiday I scour the shelves for new spices, local produce and new cheese, but the you already know that about me! Sometime ago, 2015, in fact I did an AtoZ blog on food! Some comments, some memories, some recipes, check it out if you wish, maybe something will inspire you too!!!!!! The link of the first post follows, you can take it from there!!!! http://asliverofmoonbeam.blogspot.com/2015/04/a-for-asparagus-avocado-and-arugula.html
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There is definately a great deal to learn about this topic.
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