I haven't talked enough about food.
I'm not a fussy eater. I eat things even if I don't necessarily like them and like I mentioned, I'll try every food once. The only three things that really je ne supporte pas (I don't think that there is a phrase in English that reflects the disgust quite as well as in French) are:
1. Butter
2. Beetroots
3. Veal's head
The first item on the agenda is a tad controversial. I will eat butter as an ingredient, but not ON anything. The only exception is with marmite on toast and even then it has to be a scrape and thoroughly melted. I don't know what it is about butter but the flavour just makes me want to gag. Butter is just too rich and, frankly, a bit smug about it.
Beetroots smell of damp and compost heaps and taste pretty much what I would expect damp and compost heaps to taste of: earth and mould. The only compliment I will give them is that they are a beautiful colour. They are a food that I really want to like, but despite perseverance, we will never be friends.
Veal's head. A bit random? Mais non. You know when you were little and went to play at your friends' houses and their mums always asked if there was anything you didn't like? And maybe you would say baked beans or alphabetti spaghetti or tomatoes or something? Well, in France you have to be uber careful. I have been presented with both a course entirely of beetroots and one time, a ball of veal. I don't know where, anatomically, this ball came from but I sat next to a man in a restaurant in Paris eating the head so you never know.
This is all relevant to India.
The food in India is incredible.
I love a good bit of spice. We aren't talking a Fahl. That's just for people who want to look macho and have a morbid urge to spend the next day on the toilet. But as a rule, the English love a bit of curry. Started off way back in 1810 when the first curry house was opened in Britain. Since then we have invented our own. Coronation Chicken for the Coronation of Elizabeth II and, in 2009, some MP in Glasgow fought for the city to be given protection by the European Union for the origin of Chicken Tikka Masala. Robin Cooke said Chicken Tikka Masala was a "true British National dish". (thanks wikipedia) All in all, English people like curry.
But. English people don't know what true curry tastes like.
None of this curry powder nonsense.
Not only am I sensitive of nose, but I am fairly sensitive of stomach ever since my tropical disease (whatever it was). This is a real pain because I love rich and spikey food. A couple of years back when they were trying to diagnose this mystery disease, they found salmonella in me twice over the space of a few months. This led me to the decision to go against my better instincts (AND what I love most to eat) and become vegetarian whilst in India.
This was pretty easy because so many people in India are veggies. Faye is also a veggie. Or a pesky.
She became pescatarian when she was about 15. I thought she would change her mind after a month or so. She didn't. But I know she secretly misses bacon. Who wouldn't?
The range of veggie options was phenomenal.
One ingredient they are very fond of in a curry is cheese.
No. Not cheddar. That's just silly.
A lovely little cheese called Paneer - it is a curd cheese made by curdling heated milk with lemon juice and it is very clever because it doesn't melt.
Hands down my favourite food in the world is cheese. I have been known, on more than one occasion, to go into Budgen's supermarket with a fellow cheese enthusiast (nay, connoisseur) just to smell the all the cheeses in the cheese section. *
We ate a lot of street food in India. Vishy showed us a variety of new things to try. One night we had momos (little dumplings) on the side of the street, one night we had a dosa (look it up) and one night we had Rogan Josh which a particular place was famous for. I asked Vishy if I could have the vegetarian Rogan Josh. He looked at me blankly. Then laughed. And called me a silly girl.
England has ruined me. We have made up so many fake curry dishes that I didn't realise that there is in fact no such thing as a rogan josh that is not made from mutton. And by mutton, they mean goat. I bit the bullet. It was a good bullet to bite. Except I physically couldn't feel by lips or tongue it was so spikey. And I had asked for mild.
Peppered** throughout this blog there are going to be lots of references to food. This is merely an introduction to Indian cuisine, if you will.
*NB I was not always like this. In fact, when I was little, I was sat at the bottom of the garden whilst my extended family ate pasta with Parmesan because I didn't like the "smail".
**Pun very much intended.
I'm not a fussy eater. I eat things even if I don't necessarily like them and like I mentioned, I'll try every food once. The only three things that really je ne supporte pas (I don't think that there is a phrase in English that reflects the disgust quite as well as in French) are:
1. Butter
2. Beetroots
3. Veal's head
The first item on the agenda is a tad controversial. I will eat butter as an ingredient, but not ON anything. The only exception is with marmite on toast and even then it has to be a scrape and thoroughly melted. I don't know what it is about butter but the flavour just makes me want to gag. Butter is just too rich and, frankly, a bit smug about it.
Beetroots smell of damp and compost heaps and taste pretty much what I would expect damp and compost heaps to taste of: earth and mould. The only compliment I will give them is that they are a beautiful colour. They are a food that I really want to like, but despite perseverance, we will never be friends.
Veal's head. A bit random? Mais non. You know when you were little and went to play at your friends' houses and their mums always asked if there was anything you didn't like? And maybe you would say baked beans or alphabetti spaghetti or tomatoes or something? Well, in France you have to be uber careful. I have been presented with both a course entirely of beetroots and one time, a ball of veal. I don't know where, anatomically, this ball came from but I sat next to a man in a restaurant in Paris eating the head so you never know.
This is all relevant to India.
The food in India is incredible.
I love a good bit of spice. We aren't talking a Fahl. That's just for people who want to look macho and have a morbid urge to spend the next day on the toilet. But as a rule, the English love a bit of curry. Started off way back in 1810 when the first curry house was opened in Britain. Since then we have invented our own. Coronation Chicken for the Coronation of Elizabeth II and, in 2009, some MP in Glasgow fought for the city to be given protection by the European Union for the origin of Chicken Tikka Masala. Robin Cooke said Chicken Tikka Masala was a "true British National dish". (thanks wikipedia) All in all, English people like curry.
But. English people don't know what true curry tastes like.
None of this curry powder nonsense.
Not only am I sensitive of nose, but I am fairly sensitive of stomach ever since my tropical disease (whatever it was). This is a real pain because I love rich and spikey food. A couple of years back when they were trying to diagnose this mystery disease, they found salmonella in me twice over the space of a few months. This led me to the decision to go against my better instincts (AND what I love most to eat) and become vegetarian whilst in India.
This was pretty easy because so many people in India are veggies. Faye is also a veggie. Or a pesky.
She became pescatarian when she was about 15. I thought she would change her mind after a month or so. She didn't. But I know she secretly misses bacon. Who wouldn't?
The range of veggie options was phenomenal.
One ingredient they are very fond of in a curry is cheese.
No. Not cheddar. That's just silly.
A lovely little cheese called Paneer - it is a curd cheese made by curdling heated milk with lemon juice and it is very clever because it doesn't melt.
Hands down my favourite food in the world is cheese. I have been known, on more than one occasion, to go into Budgen's supermarket with a fellow cheese enthusiast (nay, connoisseur) just to smell the all the cheeses in the cheese section. *
We ate a lot of street food in India. Vishy showed us a variety of new things to try. One night we had momos (little dumplings) on the side of the street, one night we had a dosa (look it up) and one night we had Rogan Josh which a particular place was famous for. I asked Vishy if I could have the vegetarian Rogan Josh. He looked at me blankly. Then laughed. And called me a silly girl.
England has ruined me. We have made up so many fake curry dishes that I didn't realise that there is in fact no such thing as a rogan josh that is not made from mutton. And by mutton, they mean goat. I bit the bullet. It was a good bullet to bite. Except I physically couldn't feel by lips or tongue it was so spikey. And I had asked for mild.
Peppered** throughout this blog there are going to be lots of references to food. This is merely an introduction to Indian cuisine, if you will.
*NB I was not always like this. In fact, when I was little, I was sat at the bottom of the garden whilst my extended family ate pasta with Parmesan because I didn't like the "smail".
**Pun very much intended.
I remember that rogan josh moment. I'm enjoying reading about your memories and observations! Makes me wish we had travelled together for a longer period of time. No worries. I'll see you in London!
ReplyDeleteI like the spice picture a lot, and the ones with the people and their colourful garments really a lot. It looks like it was an amazing trip.
ReplyDelete