Food is a sentimental issue. Non-vegetarians love their meat and fish lovers their fish as much as veggies try to categorize eggs and milk as not non-veg. Indians ‘learn’ a lot from Maneka Gandhi on what is appropriate and what is not including paneer and butter.
I work in a place where food is available in plenty and abundance. My eyes wander and wonder in sheer amazement at break-outs and what the mind cannot think of. You seek and you have it. Breakfast is a grand spread, lunch is grander. Dinner is very homely and respectable.
With the average age of inmates here less than 25 and a few close to over the hill and close to corporate menopause,we have a diverse eating crowd. Fortunate souls get their tiffin boxes. ‘I’m feeling lucky’ kinds enjoy food at office. We all want to believe that we work at/in and for the best place in the world. Definitely, standards can’t be compromised and one should only maintain/improve them per the needs to ensure smiling faces. We also want to believe that we are daughters/sons of kings and queens (no harm in believing that too, for our parents will confirm that we are indeed royal blood in a royal place from royal backgrounds!)
It then becomes a divine right to complain/whine/fret and be all the bratty self that you can be to the regular feature of leaving food in all states eaten/half-eaten/not eaten at the dish-conveyor belts. Unless, there is a serious grievous spiteful reason, no cook (which includes your mother J ) will cook badly enough. Even happy homes have food disasters. The best lovable cook in the world also burns food, adds more salt/spices and ruins recipes. It is a typical syndrome called confusion amidst plenty.
We are strictly harsh to and critical of people who cook for us, an activity if left to us will be of great interest given the amount of time and short-cut methods we apply. We can’t have it both/all ways. You ask for healthy food and also, tasteful and then complain, it is bland and not spicy. Laughter. You eat like there’s no tomorrow and want that calories be measured to keep in check the growing abdominal tyres. More laughter. Some of you have ‘not-well’ tongues, thanks to sickness, smoking and a plain compulsive habit of not liking anything generally. Sorry, this species can’t appreciate food at all. You can’t appreciate/differentiate (for lack of/overload of knowledge or sheer confusion) cuisines and want tadka/spice in your continental and Chinese, sin it is! If we could be a lil’ considerate and not treat people who cook for us as dishwashers. When we have options, have the discretion to exercise them. Volunteer to cook/ suggest recipes. Suggestion is the best weapon of victorious persuasion.
A majority of the crowd who judge is the same breed who on weekends thrives on fast food, parties, Maggi and junk. There is a respectable lot who love to cook, who are forced to cook and who cook for others. Even burnt rice is attacked with confused love, affection and attention with jokes of ‘it will rain on your wedding day!’