Quaranteasing the Tummy

Image by Dan Wirdefalk from Pixabay 

[Okay, so this one is on food.  Not only food, but the sudden profusion of posts about food on social media.  I'm oscillating between salivating for the goodies and resentment for those posting.  This piece takes a look at the variety of foodie things happening on my Net space during lock down.  If you have had similar experiences (or the opposite) please feel free to leave a comment, share on your media or weep with yearning along with me.]

There's a meme doing the rounds which goes something like this: 

Heartbreak turns people into poets, rain turns them into photographers, but quarantine makes everyone a chef.

I've been wondering why my social media feeds have suddenly started showing pictures of exotic dishes, recipes for quick eats and D-I-Y videos of people cooking! So, here goes a brief roundup of my online experience which I rename "Quaranteasing".

Our Daily Bread

"Buns in oven!" she innocently posted on instagram. Before I could hit the 'Congratulations!' sticker, I took another look. There they were, six of them, not yet brown and in the bake. One could almost smell the freshness. Similar baking pictures appear on a regular basis - I have drooled over croissants, dribbled over mozarella oozing out of cheese rolls, slobbered over hot biscuits and slavered over cakes emerging from ovens across the world. (Okay, I did use a thesaurus to extend the vocabulary of salivating - the physical manifestation of all of the above).

"Give us this day our daily bread" has never had more meaning than when I see exultant nouveau-chefs inform us that the bakeries are inaccessible so they made bread! And here was I thinking that 'making bread' in my profession was not so easy -- it's nothing compared to really baking bread.

I've seen a little Facebook girl of 12 taking us through the long and painful process of baking bread ("See you tomorrow" while waiting for the dough to rise in 14 hours). And then the mouth-watering crusts coming out of the oven, the bread knife slicing through, the agony of watching the first slice being gently masticated by the chosen few. White bread, brown bread, garlic bread, bread with nuts, bread with raisins, buns in the oven. All guaranteed to raise my hackles while settling down with a dalia porridge or last night's rotis.

That's What Friends Are For

My friend and her family of four managed to make it out to their country house a day before lock down. They are there since then and the barbecues, experimental food, home made pizzas, and vegetables from the garden make it all the more impossible to forgive (though she has promised a local rerun 'when this is all over'). Another friend in Singapore bought a new hotpot and sends pictures of her kids enjoying every day's meals and only some are hotpot creations. Another young lady has been an intrepid traveller all her life, posting pictures from remote corners of the globe. She is also 'one mean cook' (pardon my Texan) and now creates these masterpieces in the home kitchen which travel to my Facebook feed, but not my stomach. A cousin faithfully records her exploits in the kitchen and the excitement on the faces of her family as she whips up their daily meals with a prayer.

And these are friends.

Acquaintances Far and Near

The acquaintances are no better - friends who forward pictures and recipes. I'm on the mailing list of a chef from an hotel in Salt Lake. He is sharing recipes - step by agonizing step, making it all sound so easy. If nothing else, it will help brand recall when I get out and need to eat. There are succulent pieces of chicken floating around the virtual masala, pan fried vegetables, laccha parathas ... I digress in a daydream.

A sudden rush to the roots has prompted my Canadian ex-Calcuttans to post videos of daal puries and nehari, and my now-Australian former schoolmates to send pictures of their attempts at Nizam's Kati Rolls. All of these are now on the no-go list here, so it's good to know that somewhere in the world they are made at home.

The list goes on, including contradictions in terms such as Vegetarian Hamburgers and Cabbage Momos and something called "non-fried dosas" whatever that may be. For some of these I am fortunate to be only viewing, not tasting.

Interest Groups, Interesting Experiences

Some of the groups I am on do not help with long-drawn arguments on whether Biryani should have potatoes or not, or whether Calcutta Biryani is better than Hyderabad, all temptingly accompanied by pictures of the stuff. One of my friends from the US said his dad, in Calcutta, had a craving for biryani and sent his live-in help to buy some. The guy popped over to Ripon Street, found a restaurant fully open, ordered and bought the biryani. When he was leaving a policeman demanded, fairly gruffly, why the shop was open. The owner asked the cop to sit and ordered a mutton biryani with chicken chaap to be served. Meal over, objection overruled, business as usual. Some people have all the luck.

Deliver Us From Evil

Well, there's always delivery. A plethora of ads inform me that everything in the delivery ecosystem is sanitized and there is no fear of contagion. I'm not too sure, but another ad tells me that a famous momo chain is now delivering essential goods. Hopefully momos are essential? Other pre-packed food is available readymade and delivered to home, but only in Bangalore and Delhi.

What I am really wondering as a take-home from all the above, is where do these people get this unlimited supply of exotic raw material? We can't even bake biscuits ... no yeast (though there are people who show you how to make yeast from orange peels -- oranges?).

Meat on Wheels is our only hope - pops in every week and we buy pre-packed stuff to cook. Cooking these elaborate meals on screens requires someone to eat them and these days eating in injurious to your health. You don't want all that food going to waist, do you?

Amen.

[PostScript: A big shout out to all you lovely people mentioned here - Zareen, Jhumur, Daisy, Paro, Keith Shopman, Les Gabriel, Akbar, Caro, Debashish Dasgupta, Annie Bose. Thanks for making my virtual life so interesting, getting my tongue to hang out, and the invitations to sample after the pandemic. With love.]