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(A note for Americans and others: in the UK, "Asian" tends to refer primarily to people whose heritage is Indian/Pakistani/Bangladeshi, etc.)
I made the mistake of buying this book when I was developing a migraine, and ended up having to hide it temporarily because otherwise the pink of the cover was going to sear my eyeballs out.
It's ... very, very pink.
It's also very good.
Cookery books and travel books may be the last haven of uncritical exoticism, promising to reveal the authentic secrets of the Mystic Orient (Darkest Africa, etc. etc.) to the white consumer.
Vicky Bhogal (born in the Midlands to Punjabi Sikh parents) flips this neatly on its head, aiming her book at young British Asian readers who may not have the time or the patience for the traditional apprenticeship in the kitchen, and secondarily at non-Asian readers who are interested in Asian food as it's cooked at home, not in Indian restaurants.
And she's enthusiastic and funny and obviously passionate about food.
In the introduction to her cardamom tea recipe, Bhogal explains:
Picture the scene if you will, see if it sounds familiar. Imagine ... you're at a relative's house and your Mum has popped to the shops with some distant twice removed Massiji (aunt) to pick up some coriander from the Indian grocers next to the gold shop -- they'll be at least four hours. You're left minding all the snotty-nosed little brat children and suddenly an elderly Auntyji turns to you, pulls your left cheek and with a toothless grin asks you to make her some Indian tea like a good little girl.
You have been spending more time listening to garage than being in the kitchen, despite your mother's desperate pleas. You have often thought that to spend a Saturday afternoon in a kitchen being taught how to make aloo gobi is a pastime only reserved for the truly socially hopeless pindhus. You have friends to meet, essays to complete, clothes to buy, hair to highlight, ring-tones to download and texting techniques to be perfected. {...}
Yet here you are, stuck in this semi-detached in Bradford on a Sunday evening confronted by a slightly cross-eyed creature in a pale green floral Indian suit and brown cardigan with tennis socks poking out from leather toe-thong sandals asking for elaichi tea, and there's nowhere to run.
It's not wholly an insider's guide; the book has a handy glossary of Punjabi words used in the text, and snippets of information on Sikh and Punjabi traditions (so the recipe for Green Masala Roast Chicken faces a page on why arranged marriages aren't what non-Asians usually think).
But it's thoroughly rooted in British Asian culture, and in food as it's actually cooked, not the pursuit of some purist essence of "authenticity"; it includes a quick recipe for baked beans with spring onion sabji, a version of fried eggy bread invented in the 70s ("the perfect treat for kids while they watched The Magic Roundabout {which, incidentally, my Mum watched on her black and white TV holding sweet wrappers in front of her eyes to make it colour - the 70s eh?}"), and a recipe for pasta with yogurt and chili learned from a friend-of-a-friend's Turkish mother.
And it's illustrated not by the usual glossy photographs of spices, but with snapshots of the author's family, local Gurudwara, and markets and pubs in Southall.
It's focused on relatively simple, easy-to-make recipes (although there are also some spectacular-sounding ones), and would be an excellent book to buy for someone heading off to university or living on their own for the first time.
I haven't had a chance to try any of the recipes yet, but I seem to have dog-eared half the pages, as well as developing a strong urge to buy a thawa and learn to make roti, which I suspect is a good sign.
I made the mistake of buying this book when I was developing a migraine, and ended up having to hide it temporarily because otherwise the pink of the cover was going to sear my eyeballs out.
It's ... very, very pink.
It's also very good.
Cookery books and travel books may be the last haven of uncritical exoticism, promising to reveal the authentic secrets of the Mystic Orient (Darkest Africa, etc. etc.) to the white consumer.
Vicky Bhogal (born in the Midlands to Punjabi Sikh parents) flips this neatly on its head, aiming her book at young British Asian readers who may not have the time or the patience for the traditional apprenticeship in the kitchen, and secondarily at non-Asian readers who are interested in Asian food as it's cooked at home, not in Indian restaurants.
And she's enthusiastic and funny and obviously passionate about food.
In the introduction to her cardamom tea recipe, Bhogal explains:
Picture the scene if you will, see if it sounds familiar. Imagine ... you're at a relative's house and your Mum has popped to the shops with some distant twice removed Massiji (aunt) to pick up some coriander from the Indian grocers next to the gold shop -- they'll be at least four hours. You're left minding all the snotty-nosed little brat children and suddenly an elderly Auntyji turns to you, pulls your left cheek and with a toothless grin asks you to make her some Indian tea like a good little girl.
You have been spending more time listening to garage than being in the kitchen, despite your mother's desperate pleas. You have often thought that to spend a Saturday afternoon in a kitchen being taught how to make aloo gobi is a pastime only reserved for the truly socially hopeless pindhus. You have friends to meet, essays to complete, clothes to buy, hair to highlight, ring-tones to download and texting techniques to be perfected. {...}
Yet here you are, stuck in this semi-detached in Bradford on a Sunday evening confronted by a slightly cross-eyed creature in a pale green floral Indian suit and brown cardigan with tennis socks poking out from leather toe-thong sandals asking for elaichi tea, and there's nowhere to run.
It's not wholly an insider's guide; the book has a handy glossary of Punjabi words used in the text, and snippets of information on Sikh and Punjabi traditions (so the recipe for Green Masala Roast Chicken faces a page on why arranged marriages aren't what non-Asians usually think).
But it's thoroughly rooted in British Asian culture, and in food as it's actually cooked, not the pursuit of some purist essence of "authenticity"; it includes a quick recipe for baked beans with spring onion sabji, a version of fried eggy bread invented in the 70s ("the perfect treat for kids while they watched The Magic Roundabout {which, incidentally, my Mum watched on her black and white TV holding sweet wrappers in front of her eyes to make it colour - the 70s eh?}"), and a recipe for pasta with yogurt and chili learned from a friend-of-a-friend's Turkish mother.
And it's illustrated not by the usual glossy photographs of spices, but with snapshots of the author's family, local Gurudwara, and markets and pubs in Southall.
It's focused on relatively simple, easy-to-make recipes (although there are also some spectacular-sounding ones), and would be an excellent book to buy for someone heading off to university or living on their own for the first time.
I haven't had a chance to try any of the recipes yet, but I seem to have dog-eared half the pages, as well as developing a strong urge to buy a thawa and learn to make roti, which I suspect is a good sign.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 04:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 05:01 pm (UTC)http://www.amazon.com/Cooking-Like-Mummyji-Vicky-Bhogal/dp/0743239822
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 05:06 pm (UTC)Wow, why so much more expensive, Amazon? Hmm. Maybe I can get it for my husband as a Christmas present and thus justify spending $23.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 05:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 05:58 pm (UTC)On the topic of travel books -- there's a fantastic anthology called Other Routes: 1500 Years of African and Asian Travel Writing, edited by Tabish Khair, Martin Leer, Justin Edwards and Hanna Ziadeh, which is a fascinating counter to the usual "White People Discover Rest Of World And Colonize/Appropriate/Patronize It" stuff which has shaped the genre.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 09:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 08:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 07:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-10-23 08:03 pm (UTC)Also, she invented a recipe for oven-baked cherry tomatoes with sugar and cardamom and saffron, and I feel there can be no bad in this concept.
no subject
Date: 2007-10-24 03:37 am (UTC)But I love you, obviously, and you really are selling me on these fantastic books.
It's all part of my plan
Date: 2007-10-24 08:35 am (UTC)Step 2. ???
Step 3. Profit!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-02 06:54 am (UTC)