How deep is your love
An essay unearthed from the archives, circa 2017, on control and cooking
I’m reviving an old essay this week (as I’m travelling) for paid subscribers, which I wrote in 2017 for an online zine on how I started cooking and ultimately became obsessed with it. Reading through has made me realise that I’ve grown so much not just as a person but also as a writer. So I’ve made a few edits and added many footnotes1. What hasn’t changed is a deep love for food and cooking.
In 2015, I drove to Pondicherry with my best friend. Just like every Chennaiite who goes to Pondicherry, we too planned to return loaded with the much cheaper and freely available2 alcohol although we officially went there in search of stories for the feature supplement.
Returning back, my car was filled with food — sourdough and sesame bread, at least five varieties of cheese, pesto, handmade pasta, lemon biscuits, oil, vanilla extract, chocolates, coffee. Not a drop of alcohol however. In the coming weeks, I made a grilled gorgonzola dish with burnt homemade tomato paste, chocolate French toast, warm pear and gorgonzola salad with sesame bread and pistachios toasted in butter-balsamic-honey and coriander pesto, pan-fried veggies and paneer sandwich.