Day 5: Dish

“Ask not what you can do for your country. Ask what’s for lunch.”
-Oscar Welles

Are you guilty of scrolling through endless food and cooking videos and wanting to burn, pine and perish for each dish?
Are of guilty of craving dishes especially inaccessible during the quarantine period?
If yes, then congratulations! your love for food is divine even when not necessarily right.

There is no motivation greater than that of a feast it magically draws us to weddings, festivals, parties and the impromptu visits to guests. It’s an inspiration even for those who survive primarily on the food for soul may it be Renoir with his ‘Lucheon of the Boating’, Vinci’s with ‘The Last Supper’ or Rockwell with ‘Freedom from Want’.

If you are one of those who have either mastered the art of cooking, are patiently toiling with it, or are going through a period of obsessive cooking frenzy you are my heros!

Dishes can be invented, discovered and devoured. They can lure you by their
beauty and intoxicate you by their smell, and no, I’m not describing withcraft.

Whether you like them bitter, sweet, dry, spicy, savoury, crunchy or greasy we will all agree in solidarity that to think, love, feel and sleep well you need to eat well. Dishes have hidden powers,they create cultures and customs around them, they linger in the mind and walk you through memories. It all starts with wanting home made food and descends into a terrible homesickness and eventually, a call to your mom. Believe me, they do trigger a chain of events and  emotions, dishes can make  you travel through places, time and sentiments.

Cherish those secret family recipes being passed on as heirlooms and accept my admiration if you have accomplished the rarely succesful diets by resisting the strongest temptation.

To end this with a myth, the Greek God Pantheon who was not a stranger to lavish gifts was introduced to ambrosia by a flight of doves and ever since, it’s been a staple of Olympus.

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.’
-Oscar Wilde