That wonderful online know-it-all – Wikipedia – defines food as: “any substance consumed to provide nutritional support for the body”. Love it or hate it, food is an essential part of our lives. Speaking of which, we have all had our dislikes (especially during childhood) of certain foods that continue to linger as bad memories. However, I feel that more than the food or the dish, it’s the cooking that really makes the difference; a bad cook is capable of turning the best ingredients into an unforgettable dining disaster, while a good one can transform mundane foods into salivating specials. Unfortunately, the psychology of the mind is such that a bad experience leaves lasting scars, or in this case, tasteless tongues. Like all myths, there are some foods that have been typecast to be feared more than others; looks of resignation are worn on faces even before a morsel can enter the mouth.
Perhaps the most infamous of these is the humble and ubiquitous South Indian dish, Upma. Much maligned, it has long been a laughing stock of households. Though bashed and thrashed by mediums of speech and writing quite enough, there’s more to this dish than meets the senses. ‘Supposedly’ simple to make (my mother calls it the ‘lazy woman’s easy tiffin’), it is actually very easy to mess up. I have seldom come across well prepared upma; generally, I have observed extreme characteristics – consistency too thick or thin (worse when lumpy!), excess or very little oil, less or extra salt, the rava (semolina) roasted too much or hardly at all, etc. Concoctions arising out of kitchens in this state can hardly win over stomachs. No wonder then that upma is at the bottom of the ‘what’s-for-breakfast’ list. Nonetheless, if prepared with a little care, upma can be an enjoyable dish.
Some foods seem to cross over from the hate-list as we transition to adulthood, an example being brinjal (and broccoli in the west). Brinjal is disliked for several reasons – it is soft and mushy, looks unappetizing with its rows of seeds that resemble tiny organisms, and when mashed, looks anything but vegetarian to those whose diet is only that. Bland by nature, it needs some spicing up to increase its edible quotient. Here again, preparation and more importantly, presentation can work wonders. A dish that looks and smells good can more often than not help to scale mental barriers, and particularly in the case of children, get a spoonful into their mouths.
One of the most reviled foods is probably the bitter gourd, or karela. Its unpopularity spans people of all ages. This vegetable does not even have looks in its favour, with a toad-like warty exterior. It has got to be one of the toughest foods to like, since the bitterness stays however you cook it! In spite of my mother having gotten me to try most dishes, one with bitter gourd in it has yet to win me over (though of late I did find them a tad better). A majority of the older generation I have spoken to admit that they were not particularly fond of it when they were young, but began to appreciate (and enjoy!) it as they grew older. I suppose by then people would have experienced enough bitterness in life, leaving that of the gourd’s pale in comparison.
Will these and other such foods ever be accepted? Or are they condemned to lead a life of the stepchild? It’s indeed amazing to think that a slight amount of effort (and creativity) in the kitchen can transform these traditionally despised foods into instant hits, and bring them back into the fold (and our stomachs!).