Meher Mirza’s book Sea, Salt & Spice: A History of Mumbai Through Food is spread across four parts, of which the second is The Edible Empire: Bombay Under the British Raj. Here, tucked between descriptions of the consolidation of Bombay, the food of the nabobs, the changing tastes of Bombay’s residents—and more—is an advertisement, reproduced from The Bombay Chronicle of 29 November, 1922. It announces the ‘grand opening’ of the Madras Brahmins Hindu Restaurant, next to the Parsi Agiari in Fort. “Sweetmeats in pure ghee” are offered, as are “Coffee, Tea, Cocoa and other fine Cold Drinks… Ice Cream a speciality.” At the bottom of this modest-sized notice is a footnote: “and also we sell the world-Renowned Sovereign Ringworm ointment in our Restaurant.”
It’s a quirky advertisement. There is an element of variety—a hint of the cosmopolitan nature of Mumbai—in that along with the ghee-soaked mithai, there is also ice cream. There is, upfront, the name of the restaurant, which reinforces the spectre of casteism, hanging over the entire concept of eating out in India back then.
In those few square inches of an old ad are several of the more pertinent points Mirza makes through the course of this book: religion and caste as influences on food, Mumbai as a melting-pot of cultures, the influence of colonialism, the fusion of Indian and Western.
That is not all there is to Sea, Salt & Spice, though these are among the more prominent and oft-encountered aspects of Mumbai’s foodways in the book. Through the course of it, Mirza shows how Mumbai came to be, how it grew, how it evolved—and how food played a vital role in this evolution, irrespective of the phase the city (or proto-city, as the case may be) was in.
Mirza begins the first part of the book, The Wonder That Was Bimbasthan, exploring the pre-colonial period pertaining to the area that went on to become Mumbai: the ancient tribes, clans and ruling dynasties, the food they produced and consumed, the trade links that connected them to lands overseas.
This leads to the second part, Souls & Spices, which traces the consolidation and development of Bombay under the Portuguese, who “came to look for Christians and spices”. There are interesting nuggets of information here, from what the Portuguese ate in the estado, to how their influence changed the food of the people they converted, and—a vital part of food history not just here but across India—the effect of the Columbian Exchange.
These two chapters are short compared to the two chapters that follow: The Edible Empire (which is about Mumbai under the British Raj) and Main Character Energy, which traces developments in food and cuisine in the post-Independence era. Since these cover not only eventful periods in the city’s history, but also periods which are well-documented, there is plenty of food for thought in this latter part of the book.
Food for thought, really, is how Sea, Salt & Spice may be described in toto: through Mirza’s detailed and entertaining descriptions of all that Mumbai has produced, consumed and traded in the way of food and drink over the past centuries, one realises, again and again, how food interacts with other spheres of life. How religion and race govern who is allowed to eat what and where (the ‘Brahmin hotels’ are a case in point, as is the fact that elite British clubs wouldn’t admit Indians). How migrations change food habits. How commerce affects our diets. How hunger, food shortages, disease, even the media, has an impact on what we eat.
Mirza’s writing is light and readable, yet never frivolous. This is solid work, based on equally solid research: the writer has obviously dived deep into her subject. There are footnotes aplenty, and a QR code at the beginning of the book allows readers to access additional notes. As the icing on the cake, the book is embellished with dozens of interesting vignettes and sidebars. Reproduced, in colour, are old paintings and drawings, photographs, advertisements, excerpts from newspaper articles, recipes, and more, each contributing towards making the book that much more enjoyable.
Through her writing, Mirza covers, too, the gamut of all that food implies. Its production (the fate of the Koli fishermen as the city evolved, or the establishment of Aarey Milk Colony, for instance) and its sale (the iconic Irani cafés; the city’s historic hotels; khanawalis; Indian Chinese food). There are insights into shortages of food, into health fads, into the lives of dabbawallahs. Into just about any way in which Mumbai has interacted with food in its long and interesting past.
In her introductory note to the book, Mirza writes: “… food is geography, anthropology, economics, politics and history—it will always hold up a mirror to the society of its time”. A truth that is reinforced time and again through this invaluable book, which entertains as thoroughly as it informs.