Memoirs of a foodie

A story after a long, long time…

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Memories of food comprise an important part of ‘our’ memories. I hated sweet potato – till she showed me how good it tastes when smoked. And then I remember how smoked sweet potato had become a regular feature of our Sunday afternoons.

She had the weirdest of tastes – she always had to go for the odd flavor of icecream or pizza or cake that no one seemed to want to try. And, in doing so, she opened up a whole new world of taste for me – the world of orange chocolates. Who would have thought orange and chocolate could make such a wonderful combination? At least, I hadn’t.

It was strange, the way she wanted to eat at the most unlikely of places – and didn’t I love to watch the way she crinkled up her eyes and smiled oh-so-sweetly as she found just the right kind of biryani at a roadside stall, or when the flavors of her kind of panipuri hit her. She taught me that, too, how to love street food – me, who never as much as looked at roadside eateries.

I wonder how she fell in love with a total non-foodie like me, being the food lover that she was. Maybe she took it as a challenge – introducing me to new flavors and permutations and combinations, and teaching me to love it all, in her way. That’s why I am here today – in this broken-down shack of a place, that she discovered one evening, when, she said ‘her taste buds were bored stiff’. Only she could come up with such expressions.

I still miss her, a lot – and that’s why I am trying out some dubious-looking sabzi and rotis. And I must say, it is good. She would have loved it. And she would have had a field day on learning that I am trying out new restaurants and recipes – without anyone biting my behind. Maybe that’s what drove her away – the fact that I always needed her to bite my behind to try out new stuff.

I will never know, of course. Just like she will never know this new foodie me. That’s enough, I think. I should probably tuck into my bowl of sabzi and order a dal fry to go with it, and drown the memories of her in it – at least till tomorrow – the memories that refuse to go away, stubbornly, like excess salt in potato curry.

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15 Comments

Filed under My stories

15 responses to “Memoirs of a foodie

  1. Tasty post (sorry couldn’t resist!). I don’t recognize all of the exotic fare here but I would probably enjoy some new tastes.

    Am I a “foodie”? I’m not sure, but I eating, photographing, reading and writing about food.

    I thought about gathering together all my food related posts on a page, until I realized that I have too many. And the other day I heard an interview with a food writer (I think she was Indian) talking about saffron; that night, I made saffron chicken, trying to use just the right amount of this spice.

  2. Oops! That should be I enjoy eating. . .

  3. Veens

    Ah, lovely post…

  4. Do not want to attempt describing this and fail..could connect so much to it, so touched..beautiful..can’t say anything more..

    Sathej

  5. Anu

    Yummy words and finger licking feeling I get!! nice writing priya..as always!

  6. Bravo PI Bravo.. Take a bow.. I could almost smell that Biryani and hear the panipuris crunching…

    Sooper post this!

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