Food is memories.

Delightful !! is how I can best describe the movie “The Hundred Foot Journey” , which I managed to catch at Citygate, Hong Kong.

And the title of my post: Food is memories, is one of the lines heard in the movie.  I was immediately struck by it and said wow !! that is so true and so internalizing.

However, I am certainly not going to spoil the joy, for those intending to watch the movie. Go ahead ! quite certain you will enjoy it. And for those to whom it may seem like a “pass” I would encourage you to watch it, especially, if you are one who savors different culinary tastes and enjoys one’s food and especially one who enjoys making memories.

(Picture courtesy : collider.com)

Food is memories.  Definitely.

And I am sure that most of us can immediately recall the foods we have eaten at the special or significant moments of our lives.

Talking about myself, I can recall, childhood summer holidays in Bandra, Mumbai, and it brings me back to our version of “pot luck parties”, wherein, all of us, children from our lane, would bring a bowl of curry from our home and a bowl of rice.  It absolutely did not matter what the curry of the day was….chicken, fish, prawn, the possibilities were endless and we would just empty out all our individual bowls into one main bowl, and enjoy the “pot luck” curry, sitting in the shade of a tree, licking our fingers and sharing our stories. It is the tastiest curry I have ever, had in my life. Food is memories.

During my schooling years, we were a group of five girls who walked back and from school,  and every day, we would rush to the fruit seller’s cart to buy bimbli (Averrhoa bilimbi ), and “boras”, each one buying a packet, so that we could share our yummy treats, laughing and excitedly chatting, along the way, about the day’s events at school, and munching on our treats, and the twenty minute walk each way to school was a breeze. The camaraderie we shared continues to be a treasure, and till date, when we chat, we can reminisce about those days and remember every vivid detail of the foods we shared.  

(Picture of “bimbli” courtesy : Wikipedia)

Food is memories.  The memory of the five of us studying together in our friend’s garden when we had to prepare for our state exams.  Each one mentoring the other during collective study and our friend’s mother, would actually “hand-feed” us (so that we did not waste our time), some amazing fish curry and rice.  The joys of studying together and encouraging each other.  We, the five of us, have a treasure trove of memories to draw smiles from.

Our birthday parties, and the “treats”, with the yummy chilly beef, chicken lollipops, egg fried rice and American chopsuey, where we collected all our pocket money, so that we could treat each other at Jim-me’s Kitchen.

Food is memories.  The yummy, everlasting aroma of the freshly toasted, cheese, vegetable sandwiches, at Jai Sandwich Stall, Linking Road, which we used to all rush to, after a tough Accounting or Economics examination and place our orders, making sure that there was extra tomato ketchup on the side to “dunk” our sandwich into, the stress of how we fared in our exams not able to match the sublime journey of the sandwich as it made our way to our tummies.

The college treks in the high, misty, cool, mountains in Lohargad, where we would be soaking to our skin, but we would hold a hot, cuppa “cutting” chai, tight between both our palms, enjoying the warmth it brought to our bodies.  The local food that we ate in the village homes, some “bhakri” and dal, with some spicy as ever, mango pickle.  Drool !!

The first date for R and me, sitting at Cafe Coffee Day, at Bandstand and ordering a ice slush and a chicken wrap, and me looking at the face of the man, I was hoping to marry !

The wedding day, when we fed each other a slice of rich, fruit, well preserved cake as we savored our first moments of being husband and wife.  Food is surely, memories.

The warm and maternal memory which unfailingly brings a smile of feeding A and R-junior, their first spoon of traditional “kanji water” – the residual water that stays in the pot, after you have cooked your rice – the traditional way and enjoying the sight of the little baby slurping away to glory.  Food is memories.

Back home in Mumbai, when the local trains were on strike one day, the wholesome, community feel of opening whatever food containers we had, reaching out to each other, as we were jam-packed like ‘sardines in a tin’ in an outstation train, the memory of relishing the myriad of flavors and tastes and the safety of belonging.  Food is, surely, memories.

The first time, I ever tasted “siu-mai” and “fish balls”, a local HK street food, at Mong Kok, and insisted that the vendor, put all the chilly sauce she could, so that I could feel the “spice” to so remind me of the street side Chinese stalls back home.  It allowed me to feel home.  Food is memories.

The mango juice with jelly at the “Gong Cha” stall at the Tung Chung MTR, the “Mochi” ice-cream, the mango sago desserts, treats I have been first introduced to in Hong Kong, has helped me create a positive memory for myself.  Something to draw from.

The memory of my mum enjoying a meal at a complete ,”hole in the wall”, authentic Thai restaurant in Yat Tung and expressing that it was one of the best meals she had. Food indeed, helped to create this memory.

Food. Memories. 

A meal at the dining table, a salad shared with a friend, a one-some on your own-some, helps to fashion the memory.

Hope you will be able to recall the various foods and food occasions, which brings back your strongest memories.

And since I am retrospecting and drooling, I wish you Bon Appetit !

🙂

Charmaine