The Spice Route

We Indians sure love our Authentic Cuisine.

Wow - talk about oxymorons; this one's big. So much so, that most of our staple veggies are not even of Indian origin. A large portion of our food, especially in the North is the legacy of our middle eastern visitors. Despite our pride in clinging to tradition, native cuisines have continued to evolve consistently. If anything, Indian cuisine is a smörgåsbord of numerous influences, a thousand spices, a gazillion tastes.

There's the obvious mix and match. Bengali sweets, Delhi style. Parotta in the deep south. Atta Noodles. But we are happy to blend and serve the foreign delights with equal fervor. Try the street-side Chow garnished with coriander. Mexican with babycorn and garam masala. We serve Pies but with the obligtory dousing of kaaram (spice). In the recent years, even Pizzas come topped with Paneer Tikkas.

Sometimes the fusion can be lingual too. I remember an upmarket restaurant which served an excellent fare, but wondered why a particular entree, though delicious, was not moving much. With a name like Baked Princess, guys, how could you even ask? That too in a predominantly vegetarian Chennai. Re-christened Boston Bake, the demand for it blossomed.

There was a time, perched on a culinary high ground, I used to be amused, indulgent even. All this mix and match of cuisines - not my style. I was going to cook true, as I had learnt, come what may.

Well, we live and we learn.

I've given in, finally - all for a good cause. Because some of us live to eat.

Gone are all notions of authenticity. In our own Punjabi Andhra household, the lines of distinction have long since blurred. So many cross-overs that my food doesn't taste much like what was originally taught to me.

And not just desi food. I make Pasta with a cumin seasoning and green chillies. Smoothies with a hint of badam-elaichi powder. Salad, even Ceaser, comes wth mint and lime. In the US, I happily eat dosas, crisp and tasty, made by amigos. If I can make Tacos, why not...

So for all the fancy Manhattan restaurants that market Fusion Cuisine - guys, people have been perfecting it from before this country was born.

Talking of fusion, I'm reminded of a story a friend told me. Living in a Nigerian hotel, a bunch of Indian families, unhappy with the hotel food, asked if they could prepare their own. The local chef conceded a corner of the kitchen and peace was made with the palate. Or so they thought. Much to the group's bewilderment, their self-cooked food still had an odd, unfamiliar taste.

Finally the chef revealed all. Determined to treat his guests right, he was adding to their dishes his own personal touch - a liberal garnish of fish powder.