Beautiful India

Many a cider fuelled discussion ensued following a mutual decision between my boyfriend and I to go travelling. I was of the opinion that we should design our journey to maximise our time eating new and exciting food, whereas Steve, being the nature loving conservationist, had his sights on big trees, big mountains and big spiders.

One place I was insistent upon was India. I hadn’t spent 5 years homing my curry cooking skills to then deny myself a  visit to the sultry, steamy country to try out the cuisine first-hand, a cuisine I had come to call my favourite! So, we concluded that a two month trip to India would be grand. But why stop there? So maybe one month in Nepal, three months in South East Asia and four months in South America as well, just for good measure. There went our deposit on a house. I won’t go into the details leading up to our departure, needless to say it was liberating quitting my job and exciting, albeit somewhat frightening, preparing for an adventure.

My first few days were spent in bustling Bombay and I must admit the overwhelming differences to the western world created a major sense of surrealism. I had initially felt out of my depth, I was staring out the taxi seeing poverty at every corner. I could smell it. All I saw was dirt, waste and buildings eaten by the humidity. I was unnerved thinking I was going to have to adapt to this environment. I did, however, see past my initial negativity and realised that my observations  were completely exaggerated by my ignorance and that the country had much to offer. I became increasingly comfortable with India, the hospitality and endearing character of the people made it quite effortless for one. On one of our very first nights we were pulled from the streets of Mumbai and into a Hindu temple by a very friendly Indian family who were visiting the city for the Ganesha festival. They gave us a full tour, explaining the symbolism and practices of worship whilst all the time feeding us with Peda, a milk and sugar based Indian sweet which had the texture of putty and was flavoured with pistachio and cardamom. This kind gesture and warm welcome made my heart swell and we were only to experience similar occasions in the following two months which added to our ever growing affection.

Food was evidently at the core of Indian culture, streets were brimming with vibrant markets, chai wallahs, samosa vendors, noisy dinners and tandoors full of charred and chewy breads. A walk around town caused sensory overload, the bursts of aromatic spices filled your nostrils, the steaming pots wet your brow, the mass of traffic resounded in your ears and the rainbow of fruit, veg, curry paste and flowers lit up your eyes. This beautiful scene celebrating food was consistent across the country and emphasised how intrinsic food was to Indian people’s life. From the feasts which appeared at festivals and weddings to the simple peasant fare of the poverty stricken, it was an invaluable source of happiness and survival combined.

Indians were clearly professionals at economising and were a nation who championed cheap and simple ingredients. Years of necessity had seen them develop  a distinct cuisine using basic foodstuff such as vegetables, grains, pulses, rice and spices. It was one of those rare places you sometimes come across that defies the  high price/high quality ratio by providing some of the most delicious dishes for a few pence. In England,  a common misconception is that cheap food is the kind you find in pre-packed microwavable boxes and that quality home cooking costs a fortune. What a better way to bust this myth than to observe Indian cuisine and take a lesson from it. It proves that, with a bit of knowledge and a bit of effort, we could all be providing low cost meals for our families.Take the humble Dal for instance, a lentil based dish that used little more than pulses, onion, garlic and spices and required very little effort to make. Add to that some hot fresh chapatis made from flour and water to mop up every last bit of curry and hey presto you have yourself a satisfied family.

Another of India’s attributes owed itself to the large number of people practising vegetarianism. The ability to transform vegetables into something wonderfully desirable was another thing they had well and truly conquered. In Kerala, as we floated through the backwaters on a houseboat, our cook served us beetroot pachadi, a mixture of beetroot, curd, ginger and mustard seed – a recipe of his mothers.  It went perfectly with the grilled fish we were enjoying and stood out as one of those memorable dishes that I would never forget. It was like nothing I had eaten before and I knew that if I managed to recreate it at home it would surely send me straight back to that afternoon sailing in the sun.

Thali was a daily part of my diet. It began with a banana leaf, placed before you and washed with water to act as your plate. Several men would then stroll around the diner with pots of curry dolloping spoonfuls onto banana leaves whenever they noticed a depleting stock. It was a potentially endless meal, if you wanted a fifth helping, no problem! Thali consisted of rice, curd, papad, pickle (usually lime), and a selection of curries normally dictated by the area of India you were situated, we received a lot of dal and mixed veg curries but I do not know the name of them unfortunately. This was all devoured using only our hands, a practice that I was initially hesitant about but by the end I was comfortable with. The locals loved our efforts and found it quite hilarious most of the time, being very fair skinned and both of us having a head of blonde hair made us stand out like beacons and we had to become oblivious to the stares when scooping a meal up with our turmeric tainted talons! One of the most memorable Thalis I ate was in Hampi at a place called The Mango Tree. Hampi was a unique place, huge volcanic boulders strewn across an arid landscape with a river running through the middle. The Mango Tree overlooked the river and was surrounded by banana plantations, it was a great place to spend a lazy afternoon and the food was glorious.

Another staple, this time found at the breakfast table, was Masala Dosa and Idli. It took me a while to get used to spicy food for breakfast and it is something I only really acclimatised to halfway into my travels. That said, these breakfast delights deserved high praise, they were adored by the community and were to Indian’s what bacon sarnies were to the British.    Both dishes were created using fermented lentils and rice batter. Masala Dosa was a savoury pancake, usually cylindrical in shape, filled with potato curry and served with sambar and coconut chutney.  Idli were spongy spaceship shaped cakes of steamed batter which turned paste-like when you squished them together with the helping of sambar, making it easy to scoop up with your hands. They were equally delicious, although, if I were to make them at home I would not eat them for breakfast, I would enjoy them after midday when my stomach was ready for the spicy punch!

I could talk for hours about my experiences of India, I feel thoroughly inspired, rewarded and humbled by my two months there. I got to meet some of the most friendly, hard-working and resilient people, who face a far tougher terrain than many people in the west. Their vibrant colourful culture contrasted so heavily against their poverty, their was a spirit that was unfailing despite the adversity that many suffered. I remember speaking to some children who lived in the slums, they were drawing Ganesha in a makeshift temple and wanted to show off their talent. The picture was brilliant but what hit me most was their sheer contentment in such surroundings. It made me compare them to Britain’s young generation. You have children who have next to nothing, who appreciate everything, who are polite and look forward to school (should they be fortunate enough to go) in stark contrast to some of the spoilt youths in our country who are growing obese, rejecting education and are materially greedy. Whilst there is no denying we are richer materially in the UK, our levels of convenience and luxury can make us ignorant and lazy. I never went travelling to ‘find myself’ or become ‘enlightened’ but I have found that my experiences have opened my eyes. I just feel terribly lucky.