“But you know I’m allergic to paneer” (that was a new one). “I gag when I smell lauki”. “I can’t bear the thought of the little goat kids… their mother must be waiting for them. You get the meat cut from small, young ones, no?” “No LGBT please: lauki, ghiya, baingan, tinda”. The list of nays is longer than the yays. I cannot cope with daily menu-making, where the food has to be nutritious, light, balanced in taste and flavour, and, as everyone now knows thanks to the shady cloud of Doctor Google and Sunday supplements, a rainbow of colours. And low cal. And low carb. And low fat. And zero hormones, antibiotics and preservatives. Suddenly, nitrates are the stuff of dinner table conversation.
The whole concept is hounding me because my daughter is coming for a holiday and I want to factor in her likes and bugaboos.
O fickle egginess!
It all started with the pater familias’ allergy to eggs. I always knew it was entirely psychosomatic; he had a stomach ache only if he knew, or suspected, that there was egg in the food, though if it was something he liked, even an eggy tart like the Portuguese Pastel de Nata, the sweetness obliterated the egginess for him. And he could eat cake. Once, the four of us were travelling, staying at a B&B, and we bought the makings of dinner from the local Coop. When we started eating, the freshly heated tortellini started giving off vapours of such intense egginess that the rest of us pushed our plates away. But He ate, said we were imagining things, and suffered not a jot.
Anyhow, I wasn’t permitted to eat a fried egg near him just in case the sight of a runny yolk set off a reaction. His kathi rolls were eggless (what’s the point ?), we couldn’t bake a bread pudding (“how many eggs per portion? Is it more than in a cake?”), crumb-fried fish had to be dipped in milk rather than egg, and fritter batter was made only for three. For years I didn’t have egg fried rice when just the two of us were eating out. Now this has changed, praise be! Omelettes are enjoyed, as long as they’re thin, like chapattis, almost crêpes. But no visible yolks and no uncooked egg.
There are specific likes and dislikes in every family; one can’t take chillies and the other won’t eat mutton after she had the life-changing experience of playing with some frolicking kids in a field near Hampi. I can’t eat mutton in most places other than home because sometimes there’s a particular smell which I suspect comes from lamb rather than goat. In any case, few butchers cut it well.
My liking for vegetables is growing, largely because the alternative isn’t giving the enjoyment it used to. Ever since we started reading about the hormones and antibiotics fed to factory-produced chickens, we located some responsible producers who deliver it home. Their cuts are mediocre and now, after a few months, there’s an unbearable gamey smell. So that’s the end of chicken in our lives. Pork is iffy, though I’ve started buying some of the better-known branded bacon, and hopefully my faith isn’t misplaced. Mutton — goat — in India is truly lean meat and free range, so that and fish are the way to go.
Unloved compromises
I’ve been racking my brain for menu ideas, things that are healthy and that everyone really, really likes. With personal taboos and the high pitch of health and ecological responsibility, I could only come up with meals they tolerate, usually dal and green veg. Here, if the parents want to eat radish greens, we have to have some bland, anodyne cauliflower or French beans for the kids.
But entire meals they all really, really, love? One might love steamed peas or arhar tempered with heeng, and the other a mutton biryani or crisply coated mutton chops. One a fish curry with thin yellow gravy and the other chana kulchas. One wants tuna salad with hard-boiled eggs and avocado, one wants it without the egg and the other without the avocado. But I don’t know how to put a meal on the table that they all love.
I’ve had to come to the conclusion that if we can do a healthy balanced dal-sabzi lunch that everyone kind of likes, then, once a day, if the main dish is “unhealthy”, we can just supplement it with vast quantities of raw salad or steamed vegetables. Hopefully, it will pacify the tree-huggers. The kids don’t eat soup, unless it has bacon in it. Pater won’t eat a cold soup. So the lunch plan is sorted, probably two veggies and a dal, dahi and salad (though, woe is me, One Person has stopped eating dahi and salad), and dinner will be pasta or club sandwiches or fish or mince in some form, with greens on the side.
SUNDAY RECIPE
Club Sandwiches
Makes 6 double-decker triangles
Serves 3 adults or one-
and-a-half teenagers
Ingredients
200g processed Cheddar cheese
3 large red tomatoes
12 rashers streaky bacon,
brought to room temperature
2 tbsp vegetable oil
3 eggs
Salt
Pepper, a few grindings
9 slices bread
6 tsp mayonnaise
Some homes like to add a layer of grilled chicken or cucumber to the sandwich, so those are more options. Relishes and pickles can be sliced and added to a layer of sandwich.
Method
Making these sandwiches is more a matter of swift assembly; there’s not much cooking technique.
1. Grate the cheese and keep aside. Slice the tomatoes into rings and keep aside for as long as a couple of hours.15 minutes before you’re ready to eat, heat a shallow skillet, stretch the bacon rashers and spread out in a single layer in it. Cook over medium heat until the rashers start curling; this should take about two minutes. The fat from the bacon will get rendered. Flip over and cook for another couple of minutes. Keep the bacon on low heat if you like it crisp, and remove if you don’t. Lift out and drain on paper towel.
2. In another large, flat-bottomed frying pan, heat oil. Beat eggs with salt, pepper and a teaspoon of water and pour into hot frying pan to make a thin omelette. Flip over when the underside is golden, and keep on heat till the second side is also golden brown. Move to chopping board and, with a knife, cut into three pieces. Immediately start toasting bread, three slices at a time.
3. When it is crisp and light brown, spread three slices of toast with mayonnaise on one side each. Place one toast on a chopping board, mayo side up. Place one heaped tablespoon on the toast, spreading it evenly till the edges. Place tomato rings on cheese, pressing the cheese flattish. Place another toast over it and spread more mayonnaise on the dry top side. Spread a layer of omelette on the toast, folding it if necessary. On the omelette place four rashers of bacon. Top with the remaining toast, mayo side down. Cut into two triangles, holding down firmly to prevent fillings from getting squeezed out. Serve and eat hot and soon. Crisp potato wafers and mustard on the side.
Repeat with remaining bread and fillings, three slices at a time.
From the once-forbidden joy of eggs to the ingratitude of guests, the writer reflects on every association with food. vasundharachauhan9@gmail.com
