Changing Tastes

Passion fruits in my backyard (a few months ago)

When I had a chance to dine out, my usual choice was Chinese cuisine in my youth. A little fried rice with some chilly chicken, and possibly a bit of noodles too as a starter. I was particularly fond of Chinese style soups but marriage put an end to that like, less because marriage put me in the soup than because Maggie had a particular aversion towards soups of all sorts. She didn’t quite agree that a first-rate soup was far superior to a second-rate book.

Eventually I grew out of the Chinese kitchen probably by Maggie’s influence and cultivated a love for the Shillong version of biryani which tasted more like the Chinese fried rice with a piece or two of chicken buried in it than any biryani I ever tasted before or after. The transition was smooth because Shillong’s biryani was more Chinese than Indian.

Delhi, later, introduced me to all sorts of North Indian delicacies: Punjabi and Mughalai, particularly. However, our bellies shrank as we grew older and the largesse of the North Indian palate exerted a pressure which they couldn’t stomach.

Then we discovered the delights of KFC which remained our favourite until we left Delhi though our visits to the MNC outlets were quite rare. The truth is I had fallen in love with the vegetarianism of the school where I worked. Sawan provided excellent food to the students and staff and the variety of vegetarian dishes it offered was as unforgettable as their taste.

I prefer vegetarian dishes now though Kerala has abandoned its wonderful variety in that category. The Malayali has developed an unhealthy fondness for what is generally (and rather ludicrously) known in India as ‘non-vegetarian’ food. I’m left longing for Sawan’s ingenious combinations of potato with everything from spinach to capsicum.

My cat will frown at me, however, if I give him any vegetarian dish. He just sniffs at it and walks away after giving me a contemptuous look. So I have become a regular customer of the local fish stall. “Lucky cat,” people tell me. These people don’t know that I share some transcendental bond with the cat: his supercilious contempt for a whole lot of things engendered by our stubborn attachments to very clear likes and dislikes.