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Let's preserve India's tradition of culinary plurality



At a pre-Christmas gathering of cousins in Kolkata, conversation turned to mutton curry and the legacy of a deceased aunt who literally married her Bengali heritage and Jaipur upbringing to her East Bengal zamindari in-laws’ traditions to create a singular style. Her son, now in his early 50s, is now the sole repository of her recipes and has been making ‘her’ mutton curry and other dishes to much acclaim for years. However, his only child, a daughter, is vegetarian…

Summer holidays throughout childhood were always spent at the Kolkata home of another aunt, my mother’s closest friend and soul sister. What used to be a constant source of curiosity for me back then was the near-identical flavours of their cooking, till I found out that both honed their culinary skills under my maternal grandmother’s supervision, thus becoming exponents of her signature style. Both later added elements of their in-laws’ culinary canon too.

This guru-shishya rasoi/rannaghar parampara has carried on down countless generations throughout India, creating a million variants of even the simplest dishes, each reflective of the particular sensibilities of their exponents, very similar to individual gurus and ustads of gharanas in classical music or dance. Like homestyle mushuri dal with fenugreek seed tempering (methi phoron, in Bangla) linked my mother and her best friend to my Didima/nani.

There was enormous diversity in Indian kitchens up to the turn of the 21st century, as people not only practiced the individual styles learnt from elders but also expanded to include recipes of the families they married into (or were employed by, in the case of professional cooks) as well as the new flavours of regions they moved to and cultures they encountered. That led to children also growing up with distinctive palates, attuned to these unique culinary heritages.

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Barring the biggest cities, there was little by way of public eateries apart from streetside dhabas and ‘military hotels’ in India till the middle of the 20th century; the best food was always cooked and served at home. Also, no single recipe prevailed over all others for any dishes as most regarded their family versions as the most ‘authentic’ and flavourful. Restaurants were rarely contenders in this very private contest for palates; they were at best an alternative.

Not all these were Indian recipes, but family favourites all the same. My own heritage extends from my mother-in-law’s alur dom to the spaghetti Bolognese that my mother learnt during a 1960s US posting and often made after returning to India though only one pasta brand was available. But the generation of Indians now their 20s and 30s may be the last to inherit cooking legacies, passed down from parents who learnt from their forebears and evolved their own.On the face of it, as more and more Indians marry across regions and continents, there should be a further culinary efflorescence but that may not be the case. Too many people have little time left for cooking (and washing up) after work and parenting. A hired part-time cook who makes generic food is the easiest option for everyday meals. And for home entertaining or a change of flavours, there are restaurants and so many order-in options that people need never cook.Family culinary traditions will clearly be the casualty of this ‘easy alternatives’ factor and convenience. Children in the coming generations may never have memories of particular dishes cooked differently in their homes but hark back to takeaway or restaurant favourites instead. Anyway, for many north Indians Ma ki Dal is already a slow-cooked Punjabi whole urad dal restaurant staple rather than an expression of the thrift, culinary skills and love of a matriarch.

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Most Indians are not even aware of this inexorable disappearance of diversity from our palates as we are dazzled by the ever-widening array of professionally curated food options available now outside the family circle. But ultimately those are homogenising agents, subsuming millions of unique culinary expressions into a few commercially successful variants. Much will depend on how many young Indians realise this and hold on to their food memories and heritage.

My late aunt’s distinctive mutton curry will probably not pass down directly any further than her son, but some years ago her daughter-in-law had the foresight to compile her amazing and unique recipes and publish a cookbook that many of us now have. No one says eating out or ordering in should be shunned, but unless more people take individual steps to preserve quintessential family food legacies, India’s culinary plurality may not survive beyond this century.



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