Food is the language I speak. To myself and to the world. To everyone I love. It's the only language I can speak, in fact.
The passion for cooking does not reside in my heart. It runs with my blood, supplying life force to all my components.
How can I explain what cooking means to me? The magic that manifests in my kitchen when aromas flirt with one another, dancing away into a state of coexistence. The climax that concludes the entire drama of flavors, hues and tastes. As a child I'd always wonder where I'd find my salvation - in my cooking or in the smiles of those served.
Yes, I have inherited a large part of the passion. My ancestors have run the most famous restaurant in my hill city. I never needed to join a culinary school; I graduated at my own home at a young age. But I thank god, my parents never let me easy on education. I wonder what I would be today had I not spent my formative adult years in Delhi. What would have I become had I not chosen to do my final thesis on food safety? I would have known so much less about the poison lingering in our food produce and manufactured products. I wouldn't have spent sleepless nights trying to patch up the divinity of food with the toxicity of food. I wouldn't have met Mrs Das whose NGO showed me the way as I travelled across the country strengthening my understanding of the problem and my conviction for finding a solution.
That I spent the following years meeting people as passionate as myself was something just meant to be. That I did not end up as a chef at my beloved family restaurant has to be a fortunate accident. As it all granted my lust for food so much more nobility. I could pursue one of the best courses in agriculture management. And I could gather unprecedented exposure working with one of the largest food trading firms in the world.
Within the next few years, I had developed a deep longing to free food from the blot it had acquired on its purity. It had to become beautiful again. I wanted to clear its conscience. And I knew it was an endless task.
My efforts on reviving organic farming methods in my hills and on using harmless technology for food storage would have been futile had I not received the support and love of my community. I was the child of a restaurant that, in the words of my people, was "a pride of the holy hills". Had I been a nobody to them, would my requests be considered? I am not so sure.
My love for food, as you can sense, will never die. But so hasn't my desire for change. A few hills have been conquered, yet the worlds beyond them await a rescue.
There is something about the magic that manifests in my kitchen when aromas flirt with one another, dancing away into a state of coexistence. And climax that concludes the entire drama of flavors, hues and tastes.
I have finally found my salvation - in reviving the divinity of food.
The passion for cooking does not reside in my heart. It runs with my blood, supplying life force to all my components.
How can I explain what cooking means to me? The magic that manifests in my kitchen when aromas flirt with one another, dancing away into a state of coexistence. The climax that concludes the entire drama of flavors, hues and tastes. As a child I'd always wonder where I'd find my salvation - in my cooking or in the smiles of those served.
Yes, I have inherited a large part of the passion. My ancestors have run the most famous restaurant in my hill city. I never needed to join a culinary school; I graduated at my own home at a young age. But I thank god, my parents never let me easy on education. I wonder what I would be today had I not spent my formative adult years in Delhi. What would have I become had I not chosen to do my final thesis on food safety? I would have known so much less about the poison lingering in our food produce and manufactured products. I wouldn't have spent sleepless nights trying to patch up the divinity of food with the toxicity of food. I wouldn't have met Mrs Das whose NGO showed me the way as I travelled across the country strengthening my understanding of the problem and my conviction for finding a solution.
That I spent the following years meeting people as passionate as myself was something just meant to be. That I did not end up as a chef at my beloved family restaurant has to be a fortunate accident. As it all granted my lust for food so much more nobility. I could pursue one of the best courses in agriculture management. And I could gather unprecedented exposure working with one of the largest food trading firms in the world.
Within the next few years, I had developed a deep longing to free food from the blot it had acquired on its purity. It had to become beautiful again. I wanted to clear its conscience. And I knew it was an endless task.
My efforts on reviving organic farming methods in my hills and on using harmless technology for food storage would have been futile had I not received the support and love of my community. I was the child of a restaurant that, in the words of my people, was "a pride of the holy hills". Had I been a nobody to them, would my requests be considered? I am not so sure.
My love for food, as you can sense, will never die. But so hasn't my desire for change. A few hills have been conquered, yet the worlds beyond them await a rescue.
There is something about the magic that manifests in my kitchen when aromas flirt with one another, dancing away into a state of coexistence. And climax that concludes the entire drama of flavors, hues and tastes.
I have finally found my salvation - in reviving the divinity of food.
