Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Delights Of British Food

British food is not very highly rated back home (perhaps elsewhere as well).  I will never know why.  My nephew (who spent a couple of years in England before going to America) always makes a face and says he much prefers his current options - and so do many others apparently.  Perhaps many people look for vegetarian options and don't find much, or don't take kindly to the boiled and bland options available.  I disagree.

Perhaps it is because much of my vacation time in England has been centred around London, which is a melting pot of cuisines.  Perhaps it is because I have had the good fortune of being invited to home cooked meals with British friends who serve wholesome and tasty food.  Looking back, I find that while in America I would eat largely the food of immigrant origin, in England I look forward to sampling British food.

In India we grew up on a hearty diet of traditional and western (Anglo Indian) fare.  In the pre-oven days, my grandmother would turn out delicious steamed puddings served hot with custard and would roast chickens in a large pressure cooker.  We could smell the fragrance of the ginger, garlic, black cardamom and bay leaves long before the chicken appeared at the table.  Roast mutton, fried fish and a variety of soups and stews periodically made an appearance, along with rajma, chicken curry, kulfi and other favourites.

My mother acquired a Baby Belling, a reliable and sturdy little oven, on a visit to England.  This tiny, accurate device works still but is not used by anyone at home any more.  In this oven, we made our hot puddings, baked potatoes and it was with this that I learnt to make my first cakes and tarts.  I would pore over the Women's Weekly recipes (and I still love to flip through this British magazine, if I find issues of the sixties and seventies, which were utterly charming) or the Reader's Digest gigantic tome of recipes arranged month wise, and decide what I wanted to try.

My family and I visited London this month and ended up eating meals that we could easily assemble in the apartment where we stayed, buying not very exotic fare from shops close by.  We were lucky to be in a 'good food zone' (I think certain areas of cities just have a higher concentration of better food options than others- not just restaurants but also shops, big and small, that make and source fresh food).

Just down the road from us stood a little Nordic bakery with unusual and delicious seafood and dill sandwiches,  pastries strewn with berries with a hint of sugar and more (the question of Brexit raises its unpleasant head, and one wonders what one will see a couple of years down the line).  Further down the road was a fruit seller who stocked fruit from England and parts of Europe.  Opposite this there was an organic food shop which had delicious soups, stews, fruit, vegetable and meat.  Waitrose - the excellently stocked store, our sustenance really - was where we bought oatcakes, smoked salmon, cheese, cold meat, olives, cider and fresh bread in copious amounts.  My little son was often content with his summer berries and a plate of bread and butter, Cornish Yarg (a cheese) and Scottish smoked salmon!

One Sunday we visited the local farmers' market just outside Paddington Street Park (a short walk away) and (bought and) sampled an excellent array of local food- potted shellfish (freshly caught), savoury British pies (which I like immensely - steak and ale, chicken and leek and my son (who wanted to have Stilton) ate a delicious meat and Stilton pie).  We also tried the handmade fresh sausages - freshly fried with onions and served in a soft roll of bread (we could only manage one between the three of us), and these were very flavourful.  Along with all this, we had fresh summer greens, eaten raw, with just a dash of dressing.  We rarely made it to desserts, but the summer fruit in all its forms (particularly delicious by itself or served in puddings and sweets with whipped cream) was the perfect way to end a large and satisfying meal.

Not for me the chicken tikka masala or balti chicken (ridiculous names in my opinion though these dishes are immensely popular).  A glass of cider, fresh bread with smoked salmon or a crisp, hot pie, a handful of watercress and dark sweet summer cherries would be my perfect summer meal.

Monday, July 24, 2017

Dreams Drift On

One relearns many things through little children.  The importance of dreams, for example.  Not the kind that come when we are asleep but the ones we actively generate.  Much of the time we are too busy to dream, too reticent to voice them.  But children have no such reservations.  My son has a distinct set of things he would like to do in an ideal world, and he says them all aloud.

Saying things aloud has a different effect from just thinking them.  They seem more concrete, like little rose coloured clouds that take shape in front of us and drift along beside us.  Our companions, not our foes, that serve not to dredge up frustrated goals but to remind us of wondrous possibilities.  If only..

One of my son's most predictable dreams is to swim in any water source he sees.  Thus it is not surprising that he now wants to swim in a lake close to our house, called Sankey Tank.  This is a dreadfully muddy and polluted place, so it is now his dream to clean it up so that people can swim there.

A long list of what he has to do follows - remove the mud and the rocks, take them to a dump, filter the water, add some chlorine and ozone to clean it up and then, finally, to put up some signs.  What kinds of signs should he put, he asks me.

"Please don't throw garbage in the tank.  Use the garbage bins," I reply.

He nods.  And then dreams on.

"I think we will have some more signs -

'Hallo and welcome and how nice to see you'

'Have a good swim'

and

'Bye bye and thank you and see you next week'"

He laughs and claps his hands, and I'm amazed that these dreams did not occur to me.  Now that we say them aloud, it seems as though it may only be a matter of time that Bangalore lakes are cleaned up and full of happy swimmers.

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