Since I live outside my home country India for several months, I am frequently asked if I miss ‘Indian food’. The question overwhelms me and my mind fires back at these interrogators with ‘What do you mean by Indian food?’.
wonder if the question is: ‘Do I miss home food? Also, what do they imply Indian food is to me—Bengali as I am of Bengali stock? North Indian because I’ve lived in Delhi for two decades? Or South Indian—which also is a cuisine I’ve enjoyed from childhood? Or, do they mean healthful Ayurvedic, given my delight as a grown-up in learning about eating traditions that are balanced?
offerings from my land are close to my heart. I want to honour myself by answering this question with my own distilled truth.
I have three masala dabbas (spice containers)—the ones with five or six small bowls that fit perfectly inside, against one another and are topped with a cover and the last lid. The best part is the spoon that comes with each dabba. It’s almost like an item in a doll’s house.
biggest dabba gets my essential powdered spices; the next is filled with smaller seeds such as coriander, mustard, cumin, paanch phoron, etc., and the one that sits right on top has whole spices—the glamorous stuff like the greenest cardamoms from Alleppey; black pepper from the warehouses of Kochi, fiery dry red chillies by a Mumbai-based friend who was disappointed by the blandness of the ones from North India.
Apart from these three containers, there are small jars with extra spices—the biebers (peppers) of Turkey, sumac, za’atar, oregano from California, volcanic salts from Iceland, etc.
On most days, I cook in what could be loosely described as Mediterranean style. The true wealth of this region is reflected in the high quality of produce. However, my spice dabbas are opened every day, and used for marinades, rubs, tempering, raita, and Indian-inspired dressing on salads. The house is known for the aroma that wafts through it.
Do I miss Indian food? Holistically no. I believe that the essence of our cuisine is encapsulated in the magical world of spices—these are fragrant, flavourful, medicinal superstars that are taken from the mystical plant world. How fortunate we are to have, in our legacy, these tiny elements that changed the face of world trade and economies across the world.
A few months ago, I gifted my Dutch brother-in-law, Mark, a spice dabba. His wife—my sister Diya—opposed the idea, ‘He has one, didi’. But I thought Mark is a good cook, and good cooks deserve spice dabbas. Apparently, he was delighted, and told Diya, he had wanted another. I might consider giving him his third!
Anupamaa Dayal
This fashion designer is about happy clothes and happy homes for happy women