I have skimmed, glanced and sifted through several writeups by Vir Sanghvi on food. Reason being my fondness for food and the dynamics that go into making it tasty. Oft I’ve benefited by the way of knowing the source, quality and methodology of cooking. What leaves me cold is the narration of his experiences associated with the process. The list of endless luxury hotels whose hospitality he has availed globally, the famous and rich who have played host to him, the acclaimed chefs who have tickled his taste buds and the celebrities whose company he has enjoyed is inexhaustible.
To a person like me, who is an ordinary mortal, his encounters and experiences are totally distant. They are the stuff dreams are made of, absolutely beyond reach and purview. I hardly am able to relate to his culinary extravaganzas. The locales are usually exotic, the dishes usually non-existent in my vocabulary, the ingredients must be growing somewhere in his exalted world unknown to us.
What he succeeds in doing is driving home the point that his reach and appetite, both are limitless. His contacts like his taste are not for the likes of me. I’m suitably impressed with his knowledge of every aspect of food, yet am left with a residual irritation. It stems from the fact that the focus of the narration is as much food as flaunting his contacts and knowledge.
The kinds of food he talks about are not likely to be tasted by the vast majority like me who visit a 5 star hotel about once in a year ,that too on some occasion. We usually wait to be invited for obvious reasons. I’m sure the likes of me would be looked upon as bourgeoise by you and be frowned upon.
I would be scared to pronounce most of the dishes in your presence, let alone have the temerity of ordering them lest considered a wannabe. To me , you sound like a tease, who reveals a bit of this richie- rich world, yet ensures that one can’t actually be a part of it. Your write ups belong to this world which exists only on TV for us.
My staple diet when I step out to eat is Choley Bhatura and all such savoury items. Left to you, you would make ‘it’ also sound like some exotic dish which could probably be traced to Changez Khan. It will rob us of our pleasure. We will end up rolling it on our tongues like your extra virgin olive oil and trying to decipher its flavours and trace where the chanas were probably grown and who sowed them. Today, I wept at all the inferior olive oil I had consumed and vowed to read articles suitable to my socio economic group.
Dear Vir Sanghviji, I would call it food snobbery, clearly meant to alienate mere mortals like me who can’t rub shoulders with people in your league, who have the advantage of being editors and hence are the natural choice of those who want their food and joints to be written about. I would definitely endorse the heading ‘rude food’ as it rudely reminds us of who you are.
Meera