Everyday Personal Anecdotes. Is sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander?

I guess only Indians with their quaint eating habits will identify with this post. Nevertheless, here goes…

Cuisines vary dramatically from nation to nation. A vast diverse country such as India will see cuisines change virtually every few hundred kilometres.

I had mentioned here that I was fortunate to spend about a year in Japan. A great country; a beautiful blend of the traditional and the modern. The citizens are punctual, hard working and courteous. I loved each moment of my stay there, barring an occasional hiccup wrt food. And I say that because I discovered that contrary to the proverb, sauce for the goose is definitely not sauce for the unfortunate gander (umm, me).

On my reaching Japan, my solicitous hosts asked me whether I was a vegetarian or a non vegetarian. “Non vegetarian” I declared with confidence. The next question stumped me a bit  – “what kind of non vegetarian are you?” Looking at my foxed look they explained, “We’ve had Indians here earlier and Indian non vegetarians are, let’s say, complicated people. Some eat only eggs, some eat meat but not on particular days of the week. Some eat nothing on some days and some eat everything, but not in some particular periods of the year, some eat fish but not meat, others fresh water fish but not salt water fish”. That cleared the fog in my head. We Indians ARE complicated. No meat for some on Tuesdays, or Yekadashi, or Navratri or the like. And then there are the maukatarians (those who become non vegetarians on a whim).  On the whole however, we have very few everythingtarians.

I should have thought my answer through, but you know me – always eager to please. So I responded nonchalantly that I eat everything on all days. I learnt later that less of nonchalance and more of prudence would have made my world a better place.  

The first welcome party. Me being a foreigner and all, the concerned hosts kept my plate full of items, most of which I didn’t recognize, but all very palatable. Apparently there was Sushi, Sashimi, Octopus, Natto (fermented soya beans), Sea Urchins and the like. One of the dishes however, included a slab of indeterminate meat which looked like, and to my untrained palate tasted like, spongy chunks of soya. It was okay, neither good nor bad. But then curiosity being my middle name, I unwittingly asked my host, “What is this?” My host, replied helpfully, “Buffalo tongue.” Now, I am a perfect guest and hence I did manage a look of wondrous amazement, but a certain churning in my stomach caused my chomping to stop mid chomp. I discretely stuck to bread and finger chips for the rest of the evening.

On a study trip to Okinawa, I was enjoying liberal helpings of an excellent sake (Japanese wine) along with my hosts. My mood, as is usual when some alcohol had gone down the esophagus, was high, and I was the very epitome of a party animal. But just when I was about to break into an impromptu jig, my keen eye spied the waiters topping up my drink from a huge transparent vat, which seemed to have something solid at the bottom. Remember my middle name? So I walked closer to the vat and guess what that thing was? A snake – with its mouth wide open forlornly. Apparently, this sake is called Habu sake. Yes, you guessed right! I froze; just as one who shoves a rotten egg into his mouth expecting it to be a Belgian chocolate, would. I unfroze only when an antidote in the form of a ‘patiala’ (double large peg) of scotch was administered to my innards. But even that wasn’t enough for me to reignite the passion for an impromptu jig.

On yet another occasion, I was relishing a somewhat stringy chewy dish with yet another glass of excellent Sake at yet another party (the Japanese, lovely people, love parties). And while I should have known better by now and let sleeping dogs lie, my middle name, confounded thing, rose again. In response to a discrete enquiry, I was informed that the dish was ‘pig ears.’ That ended my party (well not the party, but my party mood) for good.

Now I have nothing against Japanese cuisine. It is in fact one of the best cuisines in the world and in case you’ve ever been to Japan you will also know that food is presented in the most aesthetic manner. Their diet is detoxifying; and with lots of greens which any Indian grandmom will tell you is good for your bones. What my trip to Japan taught me however, was that while I think of myself as an adventurous eater ready for anything, I am sadly, not. My digestive system I have found, is attuned to just chicken and fish as protein sources. (Enquiries amongst my acquaintances revealed that most Indians are so).

The Navy had also sent me to Russia for about six months and while Borscht, Solyanka, Ukha, Blini or even the world-famous Caviar have many sterling qualities and hence, innumerable admirers, I am not one of them. I therefore, have since quietly changed my middle name to ‘conservative’.

I do love Chinese cuisine of course, but only the quaintly titled, ‘Indian Chinees’. Maybe because it is neither Indian (and hence adds an element of the exotic Orient) nor Chinese (and thus retains our flavours).  And why do I say that it is not Chinese? Well ever eaten a Chinese dish in China with liberal quantities of dhania (coriander) as garnish, fresh onion/lemon/green chilly ‘salaad’ as a side dish and paneer (cottage cheese) as the main ingredients? The menu that our street ‘Chinees’ stalls offer is also a giveaway – ‘Singaporean’ chicken, ‘Thai’ noodles, ‘Burmese’ biryani, ‘American’ chop suey, ‘Vietnamese’ fried rice, Paneer Chilly, Paneer Manchurian, Paneer Hakka, Paneer Schezwan, etc.   

When it comes to fermented liquids however, I am like Ernest Shackleton. I am not insinuating that the intrepid explorer was always tipsy, but merely pointing out that he had all the qualities that I admire most – a spirit of adventure and an eagerness to explore newer horizons and poles. Sake, Sochu, Vodka, Absinthe, Advocaat, Fisk, Toddy, – I pick up the glass confidently and they all glide smoothly down the gullet. So much so that I often think of changing my middle name again. Rakesh Master-of-the-Fermented-Liquids-Except-Habu-Sake Dahiya sounds good?