The Origin of Your Taste Buds - Your Parents and Their Kitchen

I have loved fish for as long as I can remember. From my granny's kitchen to that of my parents, there have been varieties of fish that I have gorged on and continue to do so. With rice, fish, some chutney and curd, there wasn't anything left in the world for me to love. Such is my bond with fish.

Of course, most restaurants and eateries have not garnered much appreciation for their quality of fish. My friend and partner in "food raid" always avoids fish while dining out while my eyes stay glued to that pabda maach on the menu or that salmon I am yet to taste. However, if you eat fish, you have to trust the one city it is the staple food of - Kolkata. There is nothing as good as authentic Bengali fish with mustard and elaborate garnishing. The jhol is more intoxicating than all the tequila in the world put together. So, even if you are not high on fish or hate Bengalis, you need to give a chance to Bangali bhaat-maach; I doubt you will ever find fish as delicious as the ones made in Kolkata.

My mother tries mix & match with food as well. Often times, we find bhujiya of lunch in the vegetable curry of dinner. There was a time she put crumbs of bread in a curry. And when there is fish or chicken leftover, she adds more water and creates her own kind of jhol for that maach. I don't like my food to be tampered with. But, no matter how much I protest, she goes ahead with her idea and I put it down my throat. My mother is a lover of fish and so is my father.

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Holi is an auspicious occasion for us Biharis since we have dahi-bada and malpua to eat for days together. My childhood is replete with Holi breakfasts which we consumed with colour-stained hands, and bodies. Big, round bada soaked in thick dahi sprinkled with black salt, pepper and red chilli powder. Pure delight! It had to be made at home or else my dad would earn the ire of his mother. She was a lover of malpua and would eat half of it in no time. I loved that since dahi-bada and malpua made by most food stalls pose a lot of hygiene risk and can lead to food poisoning. I don't play Holi anymore. But, I eagerly await my dahi-bada and malpua.

My father's fried basmati rice is another love for me. He'd make an entire gamut which would last days together. Once when dad and mom were out of town, I asked him to make that fried rice for me to feast on for a few days. He obliged. It was healthy, though fried. My dad has turned into a health freak though he still loves his milk and sweets. The rice contained little oil, beet, carrot, capsicum, cabbage, tomatoes, onions, but no potatoes. It's my favourite out of all things he cooks.

The food from your parents' kitchen is healthier, tastier and becomes a part of your persona whether you know it or not. It's only when they are not around anymore that one realizes how they not just shaped our future, but also our taste buds which, in turn, shaped our future, in more ways than we can possibly think of.