1. People find many ways to express their inner world. Some write novels; others paint, perform, or debate; still others design elegant solutions to complex mathematical problems. How do you express your inner world, and how does the world around you respond?
My kitchen combines all the elements of my world into a little space from which exciting experiments, smells, sounds, and tastes emerge. It is my chemistry lab where ingredients combine, react, mix, burn, and turn into delicious meals. I try to separate my kitchen into two halves.
The first half consists of the seemingly exotic spices-mint powder, turmeric, chilli powder, crushed mustard, saffron, and asafoetida. Along with these come grated coconut, minced coriander, fresh spinach, purple eggplant, and red onions. These are my Indian ingredients, the ones that I am most familiar with. I combine them in dangerous and flavourful medleys that make my tongue tingle- spicy savouries, crunchy fritters, and tangy chutneys. They lie in chaos; they are combined in chaos, the very essence of the seven years I spent growing up in India. I know these ingredients well, I experiment extensively with them; they are the soul of my cooking.
The second half of ingredients exists in order: clear, defined, order. These ingredients are drawn from my birthplace, America. This half comprises the all purpose flour, cheese, graham crackers, baking soda, apple sauce, and eggs. These combinations are extremely precise, neat and by the book; I do not know these ingredients as well. But I enjoy their products-the cakes, cookies, and tarts. I enjoy their sweetness, predictability and organisation.
I spread my two cultures, and my experience with them, through my cooking. Every school party kicks off a cooking spree in the kitchen, with eggs, flour and chocolate rapidly being whisked and baked into delightful concoctions. The effort is worth it as I see people eat and enjoy what I have made. At home, the Indian ingredients prevail as I mix pureed tomatoes and onions with sautéed potatoes and spice-stuffed eggplants to form a delicious curry that my family eats and appreciates. The delights that arise from making a successful meal are happy moments that brighten my world. When disaster occurs in the kitchen, I cry over the mess, but eventually I cook again, all the disasters provide something to learn.
Cooking is the lab experiment of my life, the mixture of my upbringings in two separate countries. My inner world is split into two halves that forever collide and clash, no matter how much I try to keep them apart. I experience both my cultures as I cook Indian and American. I taste them both. They make up me, my kitchen, and my world.
My kitchen combines all the elements of my world into a little space from which exciting experiments, smells, sounds, and tastes emerge. It is my chemistry lab where ingredients combine, react, mix, burn, and turn into delicious meals. I try to separate my kitchen into two halves.
The first half consists of the seemingly exotic spices-mint powder, turmeric, chilli powder, crushed mustard, saffron, and asafoetida. Along with these come grated coconut, minced coriander, fresh spinach, purple eggplant, and red onions. These are my Indian ingredients, the ones that I am most familiar with. I combine them in dangerous and flavourful medleys that make my tongue tingle- spicy savouries, crunchy fritters, and tangy chutneys. They lie in chaos; they are combined in chaos, the very essence of the seven years I spent growing up in India. I know these ingredients well, I experiment extensively with them; they are the soul of my cooking.
The second half of ingredients exists in order: clear, defined, order. These ingredients are drawn from my birthplace, America. This half comprises the all purpose flour, cheese, graham crackers, baking soda, apple sauce, and eggs. These combinations are extremely precise, neat and by the book; I do not know these ingredients as well. But I enjoy their products-the cakes, cookies, and tarts. I enjoy their sweetness, predictability and organisation.
I spread my two cultures, and my experience with them, through my cooking. Every school party kicks off a cooking spree in the kitchen, with eggs, flour and chocolate rapidly being whisked and baked into delightful concoctions. The effort is worth it as I see people eat and enjoy what I have made. At home, the Indian ingredients prevail as I mix pureed tomatoes and onions with sautéed potatoes and spice-stuffed eggplants to form a delicious curry that my family eats and appreciates. The delights that arise from making a successful meal are happy moments that brighten my world. When disaster occurs in the kitchen, I cry over the mess, but eventually I cook again, all the disasters provide something to learn.
Cooking is the lab experiment of my life, the mixture of my upbringings in two separate countries. My inner world is split into two halves that forever collide and clash, no matter how much I try to keep them apart. I experience both my cultures as I cook Indian and American. I taste them both. They make up me, my kitchen, and my world.
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