I think I could have been Indian in a past life.
After gushing about my foodie excursions through the hole-in-the-wall restaurants of Little India, my Indian friends – both at work and outside – look astonished. “I’m surprised you liked that,” they said, because the taste for spice is not for everyone.
Gastronomical reincarnation: The idea that our palate is pre-disposed to the preference of someone we might have been, in some other part of the world, in another lifetime. It can be an unfortunate defect for those who enjoy exploring food. A bias that unknowingly prevents a person from the delight of dipping masala dosa in in various flavors of chutney.
Thanks to Frank, my new found Indian guru, favorite psychoanalyst and friend, I’ve awakened my Indian palette beyond the well-known naan and chicken briyani to the gastronomical borders separating North and South India, and the pluralistic flavors that underpin a country like India — or in this case Little India.
“I view India like the European Union. Population wise, we’re a country with states as big as countries,” says Frank.
“West Bengal is like France where you find the artsy intellectuals while Tamil Nadu, where I’m from, is industrious like Germany.”
As Frank rambled on, I tried to let his insights sink in, but all I could hear was my empty stomach grumbling at 10:30AM.
Aside from this comparison with the EU, what I liked about our discussion is how each sub-Indian cuisine reflects the personality of their region.
North Indian food is more posh, with a preference for style, presentation and butter, while South Indian food is more laid back, eat-with-my-hands-on-banana-leaves and lick-the-chutney-off-your-lips. South India is a good way to go vegetarian!