Food. Talking about it makes me want to find all my favourite food hosts, chefs and writer’s words about food and quote them. Food is visceral. The basest of desires and necessities. When I started wondering about how I wanted to write about food and restaurants, I realized that a lot of it came from memories. The memory this food invoked, or the memory it helped create. So, I am largely undecided about my approach but I know it’s about the extension of life quality that food epitomizes.
It might on days be about the curd rice that takes me back to my 8-year-old self, out of school, still in my uniform, dancing on a cliff by a beach in Mangalore or about the blueberry cheesecake I discovered with a friend in the concrete jungle called Mumbai, at a time where I still hadn’t found comfort or likeness to it. In all these moments, food has rescued, forged bonds, and helped.
I’m still in two minds to rave about my favourite hide outs in the places I’ve been and lived – some things you always want to keep to yourself, if only to protect its essence from diluting. I’m sure we all feel that way about certain things, people, and spaces. But I realise the deep injustice of not letting them have their moment, and further do my bit in helping them thrive, even if selfishly, the thought is that they make enough so that the restaurants stay open and not with a “temporarily closed” sign slapped over it, much like every take-out place I ever gave a hoot about in Andheri West.
So, while I wrestle all that out in my mind, I’ll go ahead and share the joy of good food.
“For a moment, or a second, the pinched expressions of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we’ve all had to become disappears, when we’re confronted with something as simple as a plate of food.”
– Anthony Bourdain
Come on, we all knew at least one of the masters would have their say before I ended my thoughts.