The Unsung Heroes

Today my thoughts veer towards the unsung heroes who trained my senses to a variety of food.

Those people who cultivated my taste buds with each plate of food. Or to say, elevate my senses each time I discovered something new.  No. I’m not talking about my gratitude to my mother. That forever I will be indebted to. Instead today I want to talk about my baby sitter (Yes, I will not elevate to a more sophisticated word to please the world), my tuition teacher, the office boy from my father’s workplace, the unceasing  friend who took me to eat fish everywhere until my love for fish grew by leaps and bounds. I owe my sense of understanding of the food world to them.

In this world of over analyzing food, the techniques, the temperature, the pretty plating and more we have forgotten a simple rule. Food that delights our sense is what we veer close to. Is it so critical to consider the precise temperature the steak is cooked? Did we as kids even have these things in our consideration set? I think we have got a bit dishonest with ourselves and the world in the process. We should simply enjoy food that touches our soul. That is a non-negotiable. Nothing else matters.  After all it is a sense of feeling – the heart tugging feeling. 

In all frankness even as a child I could distinguish between the two.  That’s because I followed a simple principle. Else why then would I always want to have my babysitter’s kadhi chawal over my mums? Or for that matter my granny’s simple kheema papeta pattice. Nostalgia.  Or my fui’s parsi ravo. It all came from my discerning choice in food even as a 5 year old.

Fui's Ravo

Why would I eagerly wait for Rao to ring the doorbell way before the party started? For he would mesmerize me by the way he enjoyed cooking. There was something that kept him going. I had seen him do simple things with such passion. Like chopping onions while I cried or rub the meat. He would involve me at each step.  Smell each ingredient before adding it to arouse my curiosity in food. Or the slow cooking on kakra-no-chulo (kerosene stove) with constant adjustments to cook it to perfection. Even today I look to the kind of familiarity of those days, where the aroma that filled my home. 

So the next time you eat and you will of course judge as always. Do so with the judgment of a child. You might be pleased. 

Do you have any such unsung heroes?