Being an omnivore has its advantages. Food is generally not an issue when travelling overseas. I remember a former colleague, V Balaraman, who is sadly no more. He was in the exports division of the company. Russia was part of his beat. Balaraman, or Bala as we called him, was a liberal in most aspects of life except his diet, for which he was an uncompromising vegetarian. Those were the good old Soviet days when finding a decent hotel with central heating was a challenge in Moscow. While vodka was available in plenty, finding a restaurant that served anything edible for a Tam-Brahm to swallow, even with gallons of alcohol, was as difficult as getting a can of Coke. Those were much before ready-to-heat-and-eat Indian curries packed in foil had arrived. So, Bala devised an ingenious solution. He carried with him loads of puris and pickles along with a traveller’s pocket iron. He would warm the puris using the iron as a hot plate and eat them with pickles.
Even now, I have seen Indians going abroad on group tours with suitcases full of parathas, theplas and achhar. When stopped at immigration, especially in countries like Australia and New Zealand where they are exceptionally strict on such matters, they would try to use oodles of charm and guile to cajole the officers to let them take it in. Finally, when every negotiation trick fails – sometimes even the threat of committing suicide - they reluctantly dump the packets in trash cans and walk out with a long face.
Thankfully the scene has changed. I am told now it is easier to get Indian vegetarian fare in Jungfrau than Swiss fondue. There was a time when the famous Bengali writer, the late Syed Mustafa Ali, who spent a lot of time in Germany would order Hungarian goulash and risotto whenever he craved biryani. But an Indian restaurant is the last place I would go to for a meal in a foreign country. At the same time, I cannot handle more than one Western meal in a day. So, after sandwiches, steaks or burgers at lunch, I would invariably look for something Oriental at dinner. Japanese comes close to European or American food in terms of its spice quotient though it is infinitely superior in terms of taste and sophistication. But it is expensive too. So I would start looking for Thai, Chinese, Vietnamese or Korean restaurants by the evening.
Over time, Thai and Chinese became passe and I took a liking for Vietnamese and Korean though till date I have not visited either of those two countries. Vietnamese food is far more nuanced than Korean. It has influences from China, Cambodia, Laos and France (a carryover from the days when it was a French colony). They use a lot of natural herbs and spices such as lemongrass, ginger, mint, Vietnamese mint, long coriander, cinnamon, bird's eye chilli, lime and Thai basil leaves cooked in their ethnic traditions which differ widely from the plains to the forests and hills. Vietnamese are proud of their fish sauce which is an almost compulsory ingredient for all cooking. It is far more delicate than its Thai equivalent. Being a predominantly rice producing country, they use little or no wheat. Even noodles are made of rice and the famous Vietnamese rolls are wrapped in rice paper.
Vietnamese food leans towards vegetarianism. But seafood is also popular. And when it comes to meat, poultry is preferred over pork and beef. There is a spiritual element to Vietnamese cuisine. Pho – a rice noodle soup made from beef broth and vegetables with subtle flavours – is regarded as the national food of Vietnam. It is the ultimate comfort food which Vietnamese believe has many healing properties. It is probably the most popular Vietnamese dish available at restaurants across the world. After a long day of gallivanting in San Francisco, I would often settle for a meal of pho with a side plate of quail, chicken or squid. I have not found many Vietnamese restaurants in India. The Blue Ginger had opened at The Taj Palace in Delhi but shut down. I believe another has opened in The Taj West End, Bangalore. I have heard of some new high-end places in Mumbai and Delhi but have not had the occasion to check out any of them yet. But I have eaten in some small eateries in Pondicherry that serve interesting French Indochinese food.
Korean on the other hand is less complex. It is closer to Chinese with a predominance of meats which are kept marinated till tender and grilled usually on a gas stove placed on the table. What gives it a distinct character is the combination of meats with fermented vegetables (kimchi) and green salads. The real differentiator is their chilli paste. In comparison to Korean gochujang, the Thai sriracha tastes as tame as ketchup. It is a dieter's delight because Koreans eat very little carbohydrates with meals though they do have noodles on the menu. Bulgogi is the most popular of these barbecues. Bibimbap is a mixed rice plate somewhat like the Indonesian nasi goreng. My preferred meats are beef and pork - though Kim Jong Un loves young donkeys, I am told. I tasted donkey meat at a Hunanese restaurant in Shanghai. Mao was from that province and also a lover of donkey meat. Served in terracotta dishes with fiery spices, it did not taste bad when washed down with local Chinese beer, I must admit. But I shall keep that tale for another day.
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I first had Korean barbecue at Nelson Wang’s original China Garden in Mumbai’s Kemp Corner but discovered the more authentic version at Korean
restaurants in California. Now, we have the Gung Palace in Delhi’s Green Park, Gurgaon and Noida. It can compare with the best in the world. But the real surprise find was the New Soul in Chennai’s Alwarpet. The city, I was told, has a sizable Korean expatriate population thanks to the Korean car and other companies investing in Tamil Nadu. But what I found even more fascinating was seeing young Tamilian couples gorging on Korean food in my late friend Bala’s Tam-Brahm country. Globalisation has done wonders to the world.