There are many firsts from the time you pick up this book. It is the first cookery book in purple I have ever seen. It is the first that could be mistaken for chick-lit, or an upcoming sequel to Mira Nair’s Mistress of Spices. It also is perhaps the first cook book that relies more on sketches (both verbal and pictorial) than on photoshop-enhanced imagery. I guess what I am trying to say is, it all comes together and, really works.
I don’t claim any skills with recipes that could remotely be used to draw parallels with coffee-cup deciphering, but the best bit about the book was that it wasn’t just a compilation of recipes. It was a narrative that established the parameters and prerequisites for the author to have written this book.
‘Written’ is the key word here for, as I said earlier, it doesn’t read like a restaurant menu with ingredients and cooking methodology; it is a first-person account of someone who picked up her virgin karchi-kadhai as she took on the kitchen and Indian cuisines. As a result the language is simple but not ambiguous. Also, Indian cooking, seen how it is more holistic than methodical, is translated well into precise timings and quantities. The reader, especially if a non-Indian, will stand to gain something about Hindu philosophy too if he reads deep enough into how the process of cooking isn’t calculated and measured but more based on preferences and personal thresholds.
The spices are explained well and what they do when cooked, and most importantly, how to tell when they are cooked (page 22). The glossary explains Indian cooking terms well as also some others that foreigners may be curious to know. The Indian-ness of the author combined with the sensibilities of living in London help as the author takes nothing for granted and breaks down everything to simple steps and explanations. This is useful even here in India as many people claim to know how to cook with the only grounds being that they are Indian. This book then could be useful for them to realise just how wrong they have been all along.
Another interesting bit of dope was on page 187, a small chart explaining the myriad uses and usefulness of various Indian spices. I never knew chillies were anti-inflammatory!
I even agree with the wine advice she offers about pairing with Indian dishes: look out for words like ‘fruity’ and ‘easy to drink’ on the label.
All in all, the book is not bafflingly technical. The chapters are laid out like a work of autobiography, personal and anecdotal yet with tidbits of learning and tricks sprinkled for good measure. A professional chef may not find this of much amusement but then, I don’t think it’s intended for them.
To sum up, there are three basic things going for it: it is practical and not verbose, it is functional and not highfalutin, and lastly, it is funny and engrossing.
Sommelier Magandeep Singh is the author of Wine Wisdom