Adventures in Indian Food continued from page 8
Two different caterers provide the food in the building where I work, and my team members often move from one floor to the next trying to locate the better meal. Often the decision is made based on the sweet: burfi (made of sweetened milk solids) wins out over bananas every time.
The manner of eating differs from Western style, and differs as well depending on where you are in India. Here in Karnataka, it's customary to tear off pieces of roti and use them to pick up some of the vegetable/meat/paneer mixtures. Other things are eaten with a spoon. Forks and knives are rarely used. I found using a spoon instead of a fork awkward at first, but a desirable alternative to picking up food with roti--the equivalent of eating with your hands, which we are carefully taught not to do in the United States. Little did I know, there was worse coming.
One day early in my Indian adventure, the team lead for the project I was documenting decided to take his team and me out to eat at an Andhra restaurant. ("Andhra" refers to Andhra Pradesh, the state north of Karnataka.) Andhra food is known for its spiciness.
In the restaurant, each place was set with a banana leaf. Some of the team members carefully poured water on their banana leaves and washed them. I was baffled, until our waiter put the food we ordered on the banana leaf. It shortly became clear we were going to eat this with our hands. Someone said, "You're Western, Lorre. Use a spoon."
That was equivalent to challenging me to a dual. If they could do it, I could do it. Who's the anthropologist here, anyway? The team members carefully explained how to take the various parts of the meal and mix them together. I dipped my hand in the raita. They laughed. "No, you use a spoon for that. Then you mix it with your hand." I awkwardly performed the motion and finally picked up and ate some of my biryani while they watched. My discomfort made me excruciatingly aware of how deeply some cultural customs are ingrained.I didn't eat much at that meal, partly because of the awkwardness I felt. The second time I went out to an Andhra restaurant, someone asked me, "Are you comfortable eating that way?" and I responded, "No, but if I don't do it I never will be." I'm still wondering if I ever will be.
(Note: This is the latest in an ongoing series of dispatches from one
of the Pecan Press' premier international correspondents)
