I am not a foodie. It is important that we get that out of the way first. My meals aim to fulfil both my sustenance and gluttonous needs, but I do not seek out food experiences and I have limited talent in deconstructing flavours and how they are conjured.
However, the pandemic (the one we don’t talk about) went a long way in changing my relationship with food. Binge watching hindi-dubbed Masterchef Australia seasons with my mom, learning to cook for the first time, planning out elaborate weekend treats for our family of three made me see how cooking is freedom even when it is an act of service.
A new perspective unlocked, and the kitchen which has symbolised patriarchal tyranny in always being told ‘ladki ho toh khana banana toh seekhna hoga’, became a playground. I started cooking and discovered it to be a suspension of self I savoured.
My mind automatically transitioned to anticipating the needs of my parents who would be eating it. I cared more about their preferences than my own picky idiosyncrasies, and when my tweaks hit the mark it made me very happy. And after years of chafing at my mom for making everyone eat hot dosas while she ate last - I became the very same person insisting on eating in the end and saving all the cold and less nicely cooked bits for myself.
Rika, the protagonist of Butter (the Japanese bestseller by Asako Yuzuki) is like me. She is a busy journalist who barely has time to sleep, forget cooking. But she is trying to land an exclusive scoop interview with a female serial killer Kajii who happens to be a gourmet cook. So she feigns an interest in food and as her meetings with Kajii unspool, she discovers an appetite for new tastes and textures and cooking not just for herself but those she loves.
The descriptions were so evocative, a vegetarian like me was raring to taste caviar and turkey. I felt the book could have been better edited, it felt a tad too long but this was a highlight-of-the-year read for me.
It may appear to be a murder mystery, but the book beautifully deconstructs how food is community and a love language. And cooking need not define gender roles. Feeding people is a benediction and our busy, modern lives are much enriched when we make something from our own hands for those around us.
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