Culinary nostalgia
SHONALI MUTHALALY
ENTERTAINING FROM AN ETHNIC INDIAN KITCHEN: Komali Nunna; The Variety Book Depot, A.V.G. Bhawan, M 3, Connaught Circus, P.O. Box 505, New Delhi-110001. Rs. 2200.
What’s “ethnic Indian” anyway? Bright orange silk wall hangings liberally smothered with gold sequins? Brass cows replete with chunky jewellery? Elephant statuettes weighed down with kundan? Following that thinking, it’s only natural that the “ethnic Indian” kitchen is the kind of place where you find Moghul dum biriyani made from scratch incorporating 30 ingredients and much marinating, soaking and grinding. Also raan featuring a whole leg of lamb, ghee, slivered almonds and pomegranate syrup. And kheer involving two hours worth of stirring milk.
Memoir of sorts
Komali Nunna’s book is colourful, interesting and enthusiastic. But it’s also clearly a book written by a non resident Indian (NRI) who is almost completely out of touch with the modern Indian kitchen. Born in Andhra Pradesh to a farming family, Nunna’s story is designed for the kind of Western audience that is fascinated by glass bangles, bindis and glittery lehengas. As a result the book’s a sort of culinary Bollywood, replete with ghee-laden nostalgia and ostentatious “traditional” colour. She says she was one of 10 children, brought up by a mother who would listen to the radio, take down recipes and make them for the family.
The book doubles up as a memoir of sorts, which is a rather charming approach. One can almost see her in the 1980s, walking into New York for the first time in a sari and sandals. She also talks of flat rooftops “lined with bright saris to air dry papadams and vadams.” At a time when so many people are writing five-minutes-in-a-microwave cookbooks, it’s fascinating to read about someone who believes in giving dinner parties the old fashioned way. With fussy flocks of swan éclairs filled with saffron cream. Or medjool dates bursting with a painstakingly-made mixture of almonds, pistachios, cream and pink petal dust, among other things. Or mango crisps with ice cream and saffron cashew brittle. All obstinately laborious and unapologetically time consuming.
Gazebo lifestyle
Nunna seems to be the kind of hostess who would slide comfortably into a Georgette Heyer book, at ease with glimmering ballrooms, fancy top hats and sweeping Victorian gowns. Untiringly enthused about entertaining, she constructs elaborate backdrops for her food. It helps that she has a gorgeous house and kitchen, judging by the photographs. Even the garden’s picture-perfect, equipped with a tandoor, outdoor stove and — gasp — gazebos. Gazebos?
Clearly, this is a book for the gazebo lifestyle. She has advice on making centrepieces, picking linen and using place cards for the elegant hostess. She also suggests things like “party favours”. “I build up the inventory in summer by using the fruits from my backyard. Another favourite of mine is homemade garam masala powder or a masala spice blend. Neatly packed in a 4 ounce jar tied with raffia along with a note attached for instructions for use.” A good idea actually. And the book has plenty of these too.
Practical
Broken into organised, practical sections, it tells you how to plan and coordinate everything from a “snack and chaat party” to a “moghul banquet”. The list of themes includes dosa parties, dinners by the fire and elegant outdoor candle lit meals. The tilt towards the U.S. is evident in not just the fact that the meals include a Thanksgiving dinner, and the recipes a Brine roasted turkey in pomegranate glaze.
There’s also the fact that she refers to samosas as “triangular savoury pastry served with cilantro” and dahi vada as “urad dal croquettes in yoghurt sauce.” Both descriptions that will inevitably get any Indian giggling. The fact that recipes include items like ricotta burfi and cranberry sauce also make the book rather difficult to identify with for an Indian reader.
This book is not really targeted at a specific market. That is in fact its weakness, because it ends up being a potpourri of everything. On the flip side, that means it’s also an interesting resource for complex desi recipes, quaint NRI cooking (which really is a significant genre by itself) and elaborate entertaining. Yes, there’s a lot of heavy ornate brass and garish marigolds making it more “Monsoon Wedding” than Madhur Jaffrey. But nostalgia’s fun. And between all the Persian rugs and Arabian jars, she does include some simple crowd-pleasers like chicken 65, or spicy fried peanuts.
You can use this book to plan an embassy dinner or a retro Indian party. Or you can just flip through the pages and dream up scenarios starring flocks of swan éclairs landing on a lake of shimmering zardozi.
Printer friendly
page
Send this article to Friends by
E-Mail
Book Review
