Untitled

Why is that sometimes

peace is found only

at the edge of a cliff

overlooking a vast panorama

with green hills in the distance

and boundless blue sky beyond?

Why is it that sometimes

the body yearns to be in

five different places at the same time?

Patagonia, Morocco, the Amazon,

Santorini and the Stonehenge.

Is it restlessness?

Is it wanderlust?

Or is it just the call of the pagan temple?

Why is it that, sometimes, you worry

so much that it could cleave your soul

though you know there is no such need?

Why is there no calm in prayer

even in the holiest of holy temples

but comes when you touch ancient rock?

Why is there no refuge in writing,

that which was once the only escape?

Why does the heart not find what it seeks?

And why is it still so hard to let go?

Why does it always feel

like you’re living on the wrong side

of the thin line that divides

reality and imagination?

Why do you keep searching

when you know there are no answers?

Yes, I (used to) write stuff like this.

Cross-cultural gastronomy

Peter Mayle’s A Year In Provence introduced me to food writing. The stop-and-start-and-redo rhythm of a newspaper office meant I could spend the short gaps between endless periods of frenetic and frantic work reading about travel and food from all over the world. I painted this fanciful picture in my head, of one day being a successful travel journalist who got to see the world – and maybe even eat my way around it.

Sometimes, a well-written article, full of interesting information about amazing food is enough for me to make a beeline for the kitchen, usually to forage for something in the refrigerator and nuke it in the microwave. I am no great chef and so have absolutely no expectations from myself; despite coming from a family of Indian Cordon Bleu-type chefs, I know it will be a while – and a mountain of effort and skill – before I manage anything close. I’ll stick to my writing.

Which is why I have to write this. This year has probably been the most gastronomically fascinating of my life, despite living in a country that seems to have adopted food from its former colony as its national staple – curry and chicken tikka masala. The former colony in turn is of the opinion that British food is bland. They use no spices, you see. My opinion? It’s not bland, not really. Different maybe. But not bland.

But I digress. The thing is, you don’t have to be a Michelin-starred chef to recognise good food. And for me, one of the best things about studying cross-cultural communication – after my friends, of course – is that good food is usually in abundance. As my Austrian friend Alina put it, we CCC students have an affinity for food. After all, no cultural experience is complete without it. And what could be more cross-cultural than dinners with cuisines from different parts of the world?

Our first cross-cultural dinner, soon after term started, was just an excuse for an ice-breaker. We needed no ice to be broken; by the time we planned it, I’d already become good friends with people I know now will be the closest friends I’ll have ever had. Not only did I get a taste of their home-cooked food, I realised – to my joy and slight alarm – that they’re all great cooks!

There was the traditional German rouladen (bacon wrapped in veal), kartoffelgratin (potato bake) and kartoffelpuffer (potato patties), Italian melanzane alla parmigiana (aubergines with tomato and mozzarella), French crêpes, Japanese sushi, Austrian kartoffelkaese (potato cheese spread), cauliflower bhaaji and Maharashtrian bakarwadi (a kind of dry spring roll) – my contribution, haggis (Scottish), cottage pie, and a variety of British cheeses including Stilton and Gloucester.

And there was wasabi, which, since I’d never eaten it before, gave me quite a surprise. Only the years of eating the family recipe of healthily spicy chicken/mutton curry saved me from becoming a red-faced, perspiring, running-nosed first time taster. That stuff sure is potent!

Desserts included banana cake, brownies, tiramisu (Italian again) and Austrian mozartkugeln – the famous Mozart chocolates. We also had different kinds of beers and local ales, one of which tasted like smoked bacon! It wasn’t one meal, more like several meals together – the kinds that leave you greedy for more, making you search for place for just one more bite even though your stomach is vehemently protesting. It’s like making a journey to several countries at the same time!

While eating so many different kinds of food at one time allows you to experiment with hitherto un-thought of combinations, sticking to one kind of cuisine is enjoyable too. It lets you explore more than one dish and you realise that there’s quite a bit behind why things are cooked a certain way or eaten with a particular something else.

Since we’re living in England, one must-eat was, of course, the full and proper English breakfast. Paul, who’s from England, cooked for us bacon, sausage, black pudding, fried eggs, baked beans, boiled tomato and fried mushrooms. We began at 11 am on a Sunday and kept eating till about 4 pm!

We had to have an Indian night, of course, and I must say I add that “of course” with pride. My friends wanted authentic home-made Indian food, and I wanted to cook for them. It involved meticulous instructions and recipe-dictation over Skype by my mum and involved confusion and heated arguments over proportions. Her “pinch of salt” or “dash of masala” does not equal mine. I rued the day that I introduced her to Skype.

After much cooking, a lot of help from Susi that I couldn’t have done without and me almost burning Susi’s stove, the rotis (Indian bread, like naan), daal (lentil soup), chicken curry and cauliflower bhaaji (cooked vegetable) were ready. The most amusing (for me) and the most adventurous (for the others) part was trying to eat everything by hand instead of using knife and fork. What I'd always taken for granted, they saw as a skill, something that needed as much dexterity as using chopsticks! We also had rasgullas (Indian sweet dish), which Paul very aptly compared to eating sweet bathsponge!

Another time, Isadora, who’s from Italy, treated us to ragù – authentic Bolognese. Apparently what we’d been eating so far wasn’t just a pale imitation, it was just plain wrong.

Even more fun than just eating the food is helping to prepare it. We helped make Chinese dumplings and Vietnamese spring rolls (besides other stuff whose names I’ve forgotten!) on Lunar New Year at Yan’s house. We ate a good portion of what we’d made even before we sat down for proper dinner. But I learnt how intricate traditional methods of preparation are, and not just in my own country. It reminded me of the amount of cooking Ayi (what I call my mum), ajji (grandma), maoshi, mami, my many kakus and atyas (all different kinds of aunts) do for our traditional festivals, especially the one where we have some 36 different dishes for one meal.

A short two-day trip to Edinburgh with Susi was when I had my first taste of Mexican food at a delightful little crowded restaurant - something straight out of a picture in my head. Unfortunately, I was too busy enjoying it all too much to note down the names of what I’d eaten.

Of course, no gathering of university students is complete without a barbeque or two. Since this isn’t possible for most of the year, we quickly took advantage of the rain-less days in the short British summer. On the day that Paul invited us to his place for the barbeque, the whole of Jesmond seemed to be enveloped in the aroma of smoky outdoor cooking.

The latest cuisine on my platter is Austrian, courtesy Alina, who carted a suitcasefull of it from home. There was essigwurst (sausage salad), Brettljausn, which is a selection of different sausages and cheeses on wooden chopping board, liptauer (spicy Viennese cheese spread), kaspressknödlsuppe (soup with cheese dumplings), Linzer torte (Linzer cake), punschkrapferl (punch cake), Mozartkugeln, Schwarzbrot (Austrian bread) and a variety of Austrian chocolates. We also had Mozart liqueur – three different kinds: dark chocolate, white chocolate and something very much like Baileys.

And that concludes, for now, my foray into cuisines of the world. Hopefully, I’ll add more to this article, or write more like this one. Bon appétit!