Having grown up on brunch-tiffin-dinner routine , I craved for a change when I moved out on my own. Quickly lapping up scrumptious breakfasts, 5 course lunches and 7 course dinners, I was living the life of a chef’s diner.
Salads and accompaniments ,forked- knifed, slithered down my palette with ease. Every known oatmeal and muesli fought for larder space with the berries ,dry fruits and more. The US returned brother s introduction of preserves, ragus and such saw a few inches more being added. Every restaurant was tried out, every nook and corner of the cities I lived in was scanned for food-joints.
It was not until last month that the forgotten tastes from growing up years nudged my memory. The magical age of approaching 40s does spins one off into a nostalgic mode . So it was on that Sunday morning as I sat in a quiet corner of my balcony sipping coffee that it all came flooding back.
The simple hot brunches served on Sunday not so long ago. At the stroke of 10:00 am, we all sat down around a bunch of four utensils of steaming food.The smell of sesame oil lathered down with soap nut powder scrub wafted about the house.
The clank of lids being opened unveiled beneath them in almost royal like splendour a mixture of coconut sprinkled veggies- cooked al-dente. A crispy roast of colocasia to be apportioned equally amongst us four , spicy shallot sambhar, think cumin-pepper rasam bubbling with a foamy yellow top garnished with specks of green coriander.Accompaniments sometimes varied between a cool cucumber curd raita to a crunchy roasted applam .The king of the meal – hot fluffy rice arrived on our plates to be generously slathered with melted clarified butter which was always served and never taken.
I don’t what about the meal memory brought tears to my eyes now- the warm food or the warmth of an entire family sitting around a meal, the spicy condiments or the relaxed simple sunday routine. We never chatted much , but the vessels swept clean and a day to unwind under the same roof are definitely memories no mall visits can match upto.
The appearance of grey is no doubt a reminder of the passing years, but taking frequent trips on a nostalgic memory lane are definitely signs of hitting the middle ages. Such memories though are ones that I would love to bring back to the present. May be as a present to the ones currently under my roof !
To more hearty meals , to food that defines our very soul ! To those small big moments which liven up every boring routine. To a glorious Sunday lunch this weekend.