Eating Their Words: Enid Blyton’s Cakes to Jhumpa Lahiri’s Mangsho

Joanne Harris’s ‘Chocolat,’ served up desserts like soft, cream-filled confections, hot cocoa, and chocolate bonbons

There’s something curiously delightful about evocative descriptions of food that leave an impact on the adult palate, like nothing else.

(Photo Courtesy: Amazon; iStock)

There was a little book I’d picked off a library shelf in Chicago a few years ago that had me hooked from the word go.

I’d just savoured Ruth Reichl’s delectably crafted memoir, Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table, and polished off Judi Hendricks’s hearty and wholesome Bread Alone, and needed something snappy to satiate my hunger for tasteful food fiction.

The book was Pastries: A Novel of Desserts and Discoveries, by Bharti Kirchner, and it captivated me, making my senses rise with the yeasty breads in it, and fold in gently with the buttery hiss of just-so crumbly tart shells.

It captivated me, making my senses rise with the yeasty breads in it, and fold in gently with the buttery hiss of just-so crumbly tart shells.(Photo Courtesy: Amazon Books)

Of course, during the growing up years, there were the usual suspects that validated backyard picnics with hurriedly glued butter sandwiches with liberal kisses of sugar to celebrate the spontaneity and wit of the Famous Five, and called for a little basket of treats to be carried out to the garden, under a hand-knit lavender cape, in honour of Masha, who escaped from the Bear.

Hurriedly glued butter sandwiches with liberal kisses of sugar celebrated the spontaneity and wit of the Famous Five.(Photo Courtesy: amazonaws.com)

But I’ve realised that there’s something curiously delightful about evocative descriptions of food that leave an impact on the adult palate, like nothing else.

An Array of Food Imageries

Even with umpteen food channels blaring at us to-die-for camera angles of sumptuous delights cooked up by well-manicured hands, some of us still seem to be stuck on the power of the written word. To us, visual stimulation is all too well and it does work its charm – but words have a way of teasing the hunger pangs and stirring the hidden connoisseur spirit in us that little else can match up to.

Right from Ernest Hemingway, back in the day, to the more recent Amulya Malladi, there’s a whole range of delicious gems – of both the literary and culinary kind – that gets us by the, well, tongue.

In Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, the salty, succulent aftertaste of the oysters washed down by the crispness of the wine, was as crucial to the narrative as the other non-human, key character – Paris in the 20s.

In Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, the salty, succulent aftertaste of the oysters washed down by the crispness of the wine, was crucial to the narrative.(Photo Courtesy: Amazon/iStock)

Then, there was Nicole Mones’s The Last Chinese Chef, which described the soothing power of herbs and spices in Chinese cuisine, elevating the simple, everyday chicken dish to an enviable level.

Jhumpa Lahiri celebrated one of Bengali cuisine’s most beloved dishes – mangshor chop – suitably Americanised, too, as mincemeat croquettes, in The Namesake. Minced lamb meat, covered in mashed potatoes, coated with eggwash and breadcrumbs, fried to a crackling crispness, stood out in the storyline.

Even though cooking the croquettes was one of Ashima’s strengths in America, it infused in her a desire for a simpler life in India, where she wouldn’t have to ever make them anymore. She would just have to want to eat them, and they’d be brought to her by a kindly servant, from the local restaurant.

The aromas of warm Middle Eastern spices came alive – allowing us to virtually taste the flakiness of the rosewater baklava and the heartiness of the lentil soup, their strong aromas wafting across the street from Babylon Café – in Marsha Mehran’s Pomegranate Soup.

Joanne Harris’s Chocolat, served up a smorgasbord of desserts.(Photo Courtesy: Amazon/iStock)

Joanne Harris’s Chocolat, served up a smorgasbord of desserts – like soft, cream-filled confections, liqueur-infused hot cocoa, and velvety chocolate bonbons. The treats were symbolic of Vianne, the chocolatier’s morality and strong personality that rubbed the priest, Pere, the wrong way – full of intense flavour, depth and leaving behind a lingering bittersweet aftertaste.

There are so many others that have been dug into and devoured late into days and nights – and a special mention goes to Amulya Malladi’s The Mango Season, which was as piquant and zesty as the recipe of the Andhra-style mango pickle featured in it. It turned out to be a wonderful melting pot of spicy twists and tangy turns.

And to commemorate this delightfully spicy and sour novella, here’s a Mango Pickle recipe from my kitchen, which has borrowed hints and spices from different cultural lineages. It’s a keeper, because it can be quickly put together, and lasts months:

Quick Fix Mango Pickle

For the pickle –

• 2 raw mangoes (Totapuri works best), washed, dried and cut into thin strips or cubes

• 2 inch piece of mango ginger or regular ginger, grated

• Salt, according to taste

• ½ teaspoon roasted fenugreek powder

• 2 teaspoons red chilli powder

• ½ teaspoon mustard powder

• A pinch of powdered cloves

• ½ teaspoon jaggery powder

Mix all of the above in a dry bowl. Set aside.

This Mango Pickle recipe from my kitchen has borrowed hints and spices from different cultural lineages.(Photo: iStock)

For the seasoning –

• 1 tablespoon Gingelly/ Til oil

• 1 teaspoon mustard seeds

• ¼ teaspoon turmeric

• A pinch of hing/ asafoetida

Heat the oil in a seasoning pan, add mustard seeds. Once they crackle, add the turmeric and hing, turn off the heat. Pour the sizzling oil on top of the prepared pickle. Store in a clean, dry airtight jar once completely cool.