Simply Being | Simple Being

Tag: home (page 3 of 3)

“I don’t cook.”

Paraaanthas

Paraaanthas

Shirley from Basically Vegan posted a quote on Twitter by Mark Bittman. It goes, “Anyone can cook, and most everyone should.” I couldn’t agree more, really.

It is easy to go back to the days of childhood for comparison although the truth is that that was a different period. And I grew up in a different country. But some things remain unchanged. Food, for instance. And nutrition. And health. And family, sharing, joy… all that good stuff. It may be an Indian middle-class habit (meaning, solely driven by practical reasons) to cook at home, each day and every day. Going out for dinner was reserved for special occasions like birthdays or treats (for topping the class or winning a competition… good times, huh!). There was a sense of luxury associated with eating out even though we didn’t ever go to fancy/expensive restaurants. Oh, the colloquial term for restaurants in India is ‘hotel.’ So our constant refrain, “Achcha, can we please go to hotel tonight?” simply meant, “Dad, can we please go out for dinner?” Some days, the answer would be ‘yes.’ And then Mom would begin mentioning that we had leftovers from lunch, and then there was the vegetable curry she had made yesterday that would suffice for one person, and so on. Her last card used to be, “You guys go. I will eat at home.” And that would essentially bring an end to the discussion. And G and I would accuse Mom of being the perennial spoil-sport, hmmph!

The point made is simple. Home cooking is the best kind that ever exists. No matter what you cook at home, it will taste infinitely better than the fanciest food you get from a restaurant. I never bought into this philosophy as a kid/teenager but now, as a homemaker and a regular cook, I can only say – Yes, oh yes, absolutely, without a doubt. There is simply no comparison between the dishes that come out of a restaurant kitchen and those that emerge from my humble 4-burner gas range. The simplest lentil dal from my home kitchen outshines the Penang Curry from the best Thai restaurant. There is something to be said for the hand and mind and heart that cook out of love, for the pure joy of feeding and sharing, for the simple purpose of nourishment and sustenance, for the ones we love.

As Bittman says, everyone can cook. You may not be able to whip up a flawless souffle or a complicated Biryani but you can cook. You will not starve. And you will be able to feed yourself and others the best, simple food that is inexpensive, delicious and healthy. It is wholly possible. It is a life skill, really. And I think it is time folks realized this. Like you learn to drive, like you learn to clean a home, like you learn to do all the tasks that a regular adult does… you can learn to cook.

How does Love taste?

 

Love tastes of home; of sweet steel tumblers of filter coffee; of banana chips fried in coconut oil with smoke rising off the surface; of plantain-chickpea fritters, plump and sweet. Of a simple plate of bottle gourd dal and steaming rice with a smidgen of lime pickle and lots of ghee. Of turmeric milk with ginger, drunk on cold mornings, accompanied with much tears and tantrums; of golden mangoes brought to the perfect stage of ripeness in dark cool store rooms; of piles of sweet sticky jackfruit, patiently removed from giant gnarly fruit, by experienced hands and generous amounts of oil. Of creamy pink paayasam, rich and decadent, fit for a wedding; of tangy green mangoes, eaten with a mix of red chilli powder, salt and oil.

Love is in my mother’s hands, my father’s eyes and their voices, raised with exasperation, concern, joy. Love spices and flavors everything Mummy makes, rendering it perfect and memorable. Love is what makes her cook for me and all of us, each day, every day. Love is a young father cooking simple dishes for his two daughters as their mother went to visit her mother. Daddy is no expert cook but the simplest dishes took on such outstanding flavor under his loving hands.

Love tastes like the scents of Mom and Dad and G combined into a wholesome burst of sensations, that never leaves me no matter how old I am or where I live. Love is me and everything I hold dear.

Scent of a …

Him and I

She lay on the bed and drew the grey-green comforter over.

It was slightly chilly. Tossing around trying to get the covers snug around herself, she turned onto the pillow next to hers. Drew in the familiar scent that arose from it. And again. And again until a smile suffused her entire face.

Yes, he would be there in four days.