Issue #22 - The ties of food and culture

Note from Editor

Hi everyone,

I hope everyone is doing well! I missed writing the editor’s note last week - did you miss me? (Haha, I’m a Leo, sorry). I’ve been so caught up with everything from the changing Daylight Savings time to the horrors in Palestine (please call your reps if you’re in the US for a ceasefire) to just the perils that come with being a person, that I gave myself a week off from writing the note. I hope you take this as a reminder that it’s ok to take a break / advocate for your needs.

Today, we have an essay from Rupsha that talks about her heritage and the food of Kolkata. I loved reading this essay because as someone from Bangladesh I can tend to (perhaps problematically) associate Bengali food with just Bangladeshi food. However, as Rupsha tells us, West Bengal carries so much rich culinary history and tradition. I hope you enjoy this piece—and learn a lot as I did—and take care of yourself and your loved ones.

Until next week!

Padya

S. Rupsha Mitra

S Rupsha Mitra is a poet and writer from India. Her works have been published in London Reader, Mekong Review, North Dakota Quarterly and Ekstasis by Christianity Today.

Foodaholic Trail – About food, culture and being a Bengali

Right from my childhood, I seem to have ingrained and sensualized George Bernard Shaw’s saying with all my heart and mind. The famous food quote goes, “ There’s no other sincere love than the love of food.”

My love for food is something that I perhaps partly inherit and have partly acquired through conditioning from my family – my father being the absolute worshipper of Wajid Ali Shah for the thrilling discovery of Aloo Biryani, my grandmother and – my mother known for their exceptional garnishing and angelic cooking, my friends ( my family) obsessing over gastronomical sciences. Being surrounded by such axis mundi-s in various arenas revolving around the world of food, I have been only able to learn the art of the most dedicated taster of food.

My obsession for food is also deeply rooted in the sumptuous smeared history of Kolkata street food and the food narratives that I often heard as a child from my grandparents as bedtime stories.

Kolkata, my city is renowned for its rich tradition of sweets. The Rasgulla being the empress in the kingdom of mishtis (as sweets are often called in Bengali), along with it, there is the unending almost befuddling sweetscape in the topography of Kolkata’s kaleidoscopic culture that leaves one confused with the beauteously confounding mishti names. Fried sweets like gulab jamuns and shor bhaja are accompanied with the sondesh with fillings of jaggery and the monohora – literally meaning stealer of hearts, in every sweet shop. Savouries are abundant as well, beginning with the ethnic, lip smacking street food – the perfect alignment of fuchka stalls with that of chats and restaurants lavishly serving multicultural dishes as kebabs, kochuri and momos.

 Of all the cuisines that I have tried, I must say Biryani is the best ever thing I have ever tasted. It is a dish that originated in the royal kitchens of the Mughals, still prevailing in pride in the pinnacle of South Asian Delicacies. This rice cuisine made with softly broiled spices and meat, lures the taste buds for more . The Biriyani Making sessions at my house are spillages of wonder, awe, fear mixed with an untainted frisson and frolic of tantalizing taste of the royal dish. The initiative of making this wondrous cuisine is first taken by my Father, my sister and me.

We arrange for the cooking pot and gather all the spices to embark on the great task. Even though it is quite scary for cooking novices as us to take up the absolute challenge of cooking Biriyani, but the outcome turns out to be always fruitful.

A nice way of entwining food with our daily lives is definitely reflected in the many food rituals that we celebrate in our house that brings the whole community together in an amazing spree of celebration. The Ranna Pujo held in honour of the deities unfurls the devotion towards food. A night before the Pujo ,the entire family collects in the kitchen brewing in the flavours of authentic masalas, fresh veggies and chaal, dal . Everyone is assigned a different chore, we sit together in a circle making the night memorable, teeming with foodie integrity, fun, devotion and cooking.

The Nadu making before Lakshmi Puja as well as in marriage ceremonies also vividly portrays the idea of togetherness and bonding along with food. Naadu is a sweet dish made from a blended dough of jaggery, often symbolic of the festive streaks of joy, and made together by groups of people to hasten the process and uplift the spirits of people.

What I am particularly fond of in the largesse of the food universe is the new age food culture that has galvanised Indian food in whole new and amusing ways. I am in love with the fusion foods that we come across . The combination of sizzlers with kebabs or the whole idea of inventing the chelo kebab are ways of embracing the cosmopolitan culture allowing the global cuisines come together in one platter.

However still the heart sings this old song from a pure bengali essence which unravels the pristine taste of chingri macch ( prawn) , muitha and potoler Dorma. The names even though complicating, but the flavour of their tastes in the meaty pink of tongue really sums up the elixir of every Bengali’s life.

Through the spice mist of memory, the masala soaked delight, and the pure pickled sweet sour tinge of history, heritage and love, I simply want to continue my journey as a devoted Foodaholic with unadulterated bhakti, always – navigating the spaces of savouring the bliss and quintessential essence of life.