Tuesday 22 January 2013

The Tomato Paradox of Culture

The truth is, everything about culture can be explained by the tomato.

Figure 1: The answer to all things
To prove this let me ask you to jot down 3 common recipes cooked day-to-day in your home. Let me pick out 2 examples, one from the North, and the other from the South. These are both the first google results that popped up on searching for these dishes:
Butter Chicken
Ingredients:
1 kg boneless chicken skin removed
Juice of 1 lime
Salt to taste
1 tsp red chilli powder (adjust to suit your taste)
6 cloves
8-10 peppercorns
1" stick of cinnamon
2 bay leaves
8-10 almonds
Seeds from 3-4 pods of cardamom
1 cup fresh yoghurt (must not be sour)
3 tbsps vegetable/canola/sunflower cooking oil
2 onions chopped
2 tsps garlic paste
1 tsp ginger paste
2 tsps coriander powder
1 tsp cumin powder
1/4 tsp turmeric powder
400g/ 14 oz of chopped tomatoes, ground into a smooth paste in a food processor
1/2 litre chicken stock
2 tbsps kasuri methi (dried fenugreek leaves)
3 tbsps unmelted, soft butter
Salt to taste
Coriander leaves to garnish

Sambhar
Ingredients:
1 cup toovar (arhar) dal
1 tomato, chopped
1 onion, chopped
2 brinjals (baingan / eggplant), cubed
1 drumsticks (saijan ki phalli / saragavo), cut into 4 pieces
1 potato, cubed
1 tbsp tamarind (imli) pulp
salt to taste

For the sambhar masala
6 to 8 whole dry kashmiri red chillies
1 tbsp coriander (dhania) seeds
1 tsp toovar (arhar) dal
1 tbsp chana dal (split Bengal gram)
1 tbsp urad dal (split black lentils)
1 tsp turmeric powder (haldi)
1/2 tsp asafoetida (hing)
1 tsp oil

For the tempering
1 tsp mustard seeds ( rai / sarson)
6 curry leaves (kadi patta)
1/4 tsp asafoetida (hing)
2 tbsp oil

It is likely your recipes would have ended up with a tomato somewhere as well. Tomatoes seem to form the base of half the North Indian dishes, and is commonly found in sambhar, rasam, chutneys and set-dosas in the South. It’s an integral part of our mother’s recipes – that bastion of tradition and culture.

And yet, as the young chef in my novel points out to his stubborn grandfather (yes, shameless plug) – tomatoes originated in the Americas. Here’s the Wikipedia version of our philosophical fruit’s journey: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tomato#History

So how did our mothers turn American? When did this westernizing influence corrupt our cuisine? How come the RSS didn’t tell us? Most importantly, if ancient (and medieval) Indians didn’t have tomatoes...what did they put in their curries?

Boring stuff, it turns out.

But more interestingly, the tomato incident highlights a fact of culture that its guardians seem to forget – it is a river, not a bedrock. Even the most traditional thing was new once upon a time, probably taken from another people, transmuted, transmitted, twisted and tailored in an unending process.

In fact, much of the confusion comes from the context we view the word in. What is Indian culture? It’s classical dances and music? It’s traditional clothes? It’s cuisine? The body of its literature?

If we say it is all these things, then we confine the word to the part of culture that is the past. In this context, four hundred years ago, tomato wouldn’t be a part of Indian culture.

And yet, we cannot ignore that a major part of culture lies in our inheritances, the habits of our past and our families, passed down. It reaches so deep in our souls that it moulds the very way we think – how we view personal space, how we view different relationships, how our hands move when we talk, how we behave with those who have power over us, and those in our power. I have lived in many countries, and in countries that have people from all over, and the majority of them (including me) find it next to impossible to even form a genuine connection with a person from another culture. Such is the empire in our hearts, and the influence of the past.

In fact, if I don’t get Indian food (with tomatoes) for more than two weeks, I can’t stand it.

And that is the Tomato Paradox of Culture: 
I cannot live without tomato flavoured curry – since I grew up with it as part of my culture and that has molded me. Yet, the presence of that tomato proves that culture changes, and we mold culture.

I think, overall, it’s far easier conceptually to just separate out the word. Let the word culture consist of 2 parts: Active Culture and Passive Culture.

Passive Culture is the habit of our past that is passed down by our family in our childhood. This includes aesthetic habits, dietary habits, body language habits, world view habits, lifestyle habits. It’s our social psychology.

Active Culture is the body of similar decisions a large portion of society takes in response to similar stimuli and rationale. Like the decision of cutting vegetables and doing other parts of housework working ladies take in the long hours spend in the Mumbai Local. Like the decision so many households take to make their children memorize for exams, and go into engineering. Like the collective lust we feel for increasingly vigorous item numbers. It’s the economics of our daily lives.

At all points Active Culture erodes Passive Culture. The insidious tickling of collective lust legitimizes a slow simmer of sexual revolution, upturning existing cultural mores. The presence of air-conditioned, clean retail spaces slowly wear away our cultural relish of haggling with unorganized retailers. The presence of a tasty, cheap new ingredient (like Maggi, and many centuries ago the tomato), changes the proportion of our food where its included, slowly changing our cultural cuisine.

But Active Culture also becomes new Passive Culture bit by bit as generations turn – our mothers gave us Maggi, so we give it to our children. Our frequenting of malls leads to our children becoming more fashion conscious. Our increasing comfort with seeing mainstream stars go sexual changes the way our children grow up thinking about sexuality.

And in the transformation of Active Culture into Passive Culture, in that natural alchemy, lies a pot of gold – a transformation of the consumer and society where the old becomes meaningless, and the new becomes rich.

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