How to Cook in a Festive Household
Especially when your MIL is looking over your shoulder...
Last week as we celebrated Diwali, my husband, Mother-in-Law (MIL) and I were planning what we would do on the festival day. We decided to invite my sister-in-law and her family for lunch and began putting together the menu. Mutton curry was a no-brainer (it’s my MIL’s super specialty), some chapatis, a kachumbar-style salad, and maybe some type of rice. My husband and I felt like we were missing something. The menu was not coming together.
I tend to stay away from doing anything at such gatherings, even if small. I am not a very confident cook, especially when cooking to entertain a slightly larger number of guests. I can only cook for around four to six people with some ease. I am also hesitant to cook for my Delhi family because I think they don’t appreciate the delicate spices and flavours of Manglorean cuisine- my native cuisine. They prefer dousing the vegetable or meat with spices and frying it until the sun goes down. I mean, the resultant product is simultaneously unrecognizable and delicious- I am not complaining, just observing. The effect though is that, when you can taste the just tempered sambar onions in your moru then the comment you get is that pyaaz bhune nahi? Maybe I get too touchy about what I prepare and my cuisine (of which moru is not a part), but I do definitely get super touchy if people turn their nose up because “mackerel smells a lot”. I mean, what the fish. I also get super triggered (yes, not exaggerating) when people don’t know how to eat fish the right way. When they squeeze and pinch the whole length of the fish to check for bones and then eat the fish paste pinched between their fingers- abominable. Or when they use the serving spoon in the serving dish to fish out the fish and break it? Or also when they just give up on the fish because they simply cannot understand what the structure of the fish is. Fish eating is a skill acquired after years, but what gets to me is the, how do I put it, disrespect.
But this time, I decided to put something on the table. I love my MIL and I wanted to contribute to her party. I wanted to simply play a part. When I told her that I will be making a dish, she was delighted. I knew from then on, I had to be sure footed and not leave any room for doubt, inconsistency or even take some risky short-cuts. I decided to make fish moilee because I have made it multiple times before and it turns out great. With that dish, I am confident which is half the battle won. I wouldn’t be uneasy with self-doubt which would assure my MIL that her help was not required.
We bought some tilapia steaks from an online store, which were two sacrileges in one- fish steak (where’s the bone?!) and online (not from a fish monger?!) But this was also a conscious decision because I wanted to be sure of the freshness of the fish and not be apologetic if the fish would be sort of stale.
I went into the kitchen at the time when my MIL was done cooking the mutton curry. It was my winning move. My love language in the kitchen is get out of my way especially if you are an expert cook! After which I just took hold of the recipe like a driver who takes hold of the vehicle. I mean, I didn’t let go of the spatula with which I was cooking and didn’t budge from the front of the stove when my MIL, returned and wanted to take my space and stir my curry. I felt like sh*t for sending the message that I didn’t trust her.
My MIL has rescued me from very many kitchen disasters before, taught me her specialty dishes like mutton curry, mutton pulao and even mutton kofta. She believes in my ability to cook some super complex dishes and has also appreciated my novice attempts. And I couldn’t trust her?
It was a mental battle I was having with not her per se. I was struggling to honour the only person in the house who knew what the dish was and had a vision for it. Light yellow velvety coconut curry with speckles of green, pink and red from the curry leaves, onions and tomato.
At the end of the short ordeal- my fish and I stood firm. The curry looked great and my MIL knew that the dish was done. She left me alone in the kitchen where I adjusted the salt and killed the flame. I made some rice with salt in the rice cooker. I was ready to serve the dish along with the other dishes made by my husband and MIL. The fish was perfect and we ran out of rice. My MIL mentioned multiple times how lovely the meen moilee was.
Later on, I wondered if my MIL really took offense that I didn’t let her stir the fish or fry the onions until brown. When my SIL asked, what the recipe was, she said, “it is not so much the recipe, but the care and attention to make such a delicate dish. You cannot let the fish break”. She had noticed my confident body language.
I think when you cook (or speak, sing, debate, write, dance, exercise) in the presence of experts or anyone with power what is crucial is that you do not cede space. Your space. And in that space, it is only you and your dish (or speech, song, argument, thought, step, move). And nobody is allowed there- not your MIL nor your manufactured self-doubt. And you can be a bit assertive, even if it is not native to you.
Loveeeeeeeeeeeeed it!!!