The joy of sharing ...food

Cheers to Sharing...

Cheers! To sharing, and caring, today and everyday

The  satisfaction  that comes after a hearty meal   is as much because of the taste, as one’s hunger . But it is that much the more  because of the joy of sharing. Who likes to eat alone? And who doesn't like to have company that is outside of the family, when sharing a fancy meal !(For want of  proper pix to go with them, I am uploading whatever is handy!)

We grew up polishing off whatever snacks –murukku, thattai and later cake – that Mom would have hidden away, to give to us at tea time. May be even to offer to guests who may drop in.  “Even if I keep it locked in my stomach, you will find it”, she would say, with feigned anger.

At The Church&State, LA

When I was much older, and my parents moved back to Chennai after Daddy retired from the army, a very dear family-friend turned family—Radhu Aunty—had many times mentioned, “Even if there was a small bit, Maami (meaning my mother) would cut it into four, and share it with everyone.”

The specific reference would be to that piece of green petha—ash gourd which the Tamil community use in Sambar, but was not usually sold cut in Chandigarh those days—or a few green , kucchha kelas, raw bananas. She would have the driver deliver them at other South  Indian friend’s homes, without feeling embarrassed about the small bit of petha or two measely kelas she was sending. And in retrospect, nobody at the receiving end seemed to mind the quantity, but only expressed joy at getting those vegetables.

A lot can happen over sharing...doesn't have to be coffee all the time!

I learnt the lesson less from my Mom than from Radhu aunty remarking about my mother’s habit of sharing, something she still does. As good and faithful daughters, my sisters and I tell her  the quantity is too small to be passed on. But can you change  what has been a lifelong habit?

Food is all about sharing. And sharing without partiality. A woman is not quite the mother, the aunt or even a decent human being if she were to save the major portion for her husband  because he is at work  and for her children because they love a particular dish, and place a measely little quantity before the visitor.

Cutting a cake..

 It is worse to serve a lot on the son’s plate because he likes X dish, and then let others help themselves –never mind that you are the host, and the guests know you have taken them to a fine dining restaurant where the bill will be more than on the street-side.

Not doing this—being fussy or particular about  feeding your family  at all times – will not make you less of a wife or mother. And the husband and children will not be starved of food, or even this particular Mediterranean or Chinese or Thai or simply restaurant food. They will enjoy having shared it impartially with others.

In fact I have seen children getting embarrassed at this show of motherly affecton! Worse is when they talk about it among their friends, beginning with, “I could have died  the other day when my mother…”

This sharing is the more important because being served the food at the table is now only done in teleserials. The lady serving ensures everyone gets more or less equal quantity, unless someone does not like a particular dish. In real world, whether at home or in a restaurant, it is all about helping yourself.

The talk of sharing brings to mind something my  mother has mentioned more than once.  It is about the days when ladies brought the food from the kitchen, and served to large families. When children or men asked for more of a tasty dish—say deep fried arbi (sheppankazhangu in tamil, colocasia in English)—they would bring it, even if there was none left for the women who have slogged in the kitchen, over smoking oil, in the old style kitchens of yore!

“Only Mani Athimber will  ask if  there is enough for us women”, she would say. Mani Athimber was my father’s sister Sita’s husband !