रंग (Color)
I am not ashamed to admit that in this pivotal era of climate change, I am still a carnivore. Whereas my friends are finding new ways every day to substitute their diet with a sustainable plant-based alternative, I still eat like a caveman. As a result, I had reservations when our Board’s course facilitator Chryss Yost announced that this year’s event will cater Indian food - the vegetarian kind. I absolutely adore Indian food, but the absence of meat sent me into a spiral of despair. Alas, I told myself I was there for a greater purpose, and that keeping an open mind once in a while is not a bad idea, and I am very glad I did. Plus, what kind of person is small enough to complain about a free meal?
Right off the bat, I knew that my prejudice against vegetarian food was irrational when my tablemates expressed excitement at the announcement of dinner. I was surprised to see their delight after I told them we were serving Indian food, even with an emphasis on the absence of meat. I thought to myself, “Maybe I’m wrong”, and that perhaps I was missing something in my life by eschewing foods of the green variety. Nevertheless, as the event went on, stomachs were growling and people were getting restless. I could feel a palpable hunger in the air, not excluding my own.
Suddenly, an aroma of masala spice and turmeric powder wafted in the air, making me restrain myself lest I float towards the smell like some sort of cartoon character. Needless to say, the spread was heavenly, one fit for kings and emperors. According to my fellow board member Megh Shah, there was dal makhani, a vegetable curry consisting of black lentil, red kidney beans, butter and cream. There was also aloo gobi, a vegetable stir fry dish consisting of potatoes, cauliflower, and Indian spices. There were plentiful basmati rice, fluffy garlic naan, and spring salad, though I was less interested in this last dish. I was speechless. “Where are all the boring green stuff?” I thought to myself. The yellow from the turmeric in the aloo gobi, the orange tinge of the dal makhani, the white from the yogurt, and the brown from the basmati rice all contributed to a tapestry of color that delighted the senses, excited the palate well before any food even enters one’s mouth. Needless to say, I was introduced to a whole new world, a world full of sustainability, vegetables, and of course, color.
Reflecting back on that day, I learned the value of keeping an open mind. It was as if the Indian food was a metaphor for something much greater, a beacon that beckoned me to venture out into the world and bask in its colors. I equate my previous carnivorous tendencies to a state of stagnation and it was only through trying all the wonderful Indian dishes that I was able to move forward to see, to taste, and to feel so much more. I want to go to India now. I want to try chicken biryani, samosa, panipuri, dosa, palak paneer and anything else India sees fit to throw at me. I want to see every color, in a world saturated by red.
Right off the bat, I knew that my prejudice against vegetarian food was irrational when my tablemates expressed excitement at the announcement of dinner. I was surprised to see their delight after I told them we were serving Indian food, even with an emphasis on the absence of meat. I thought to myself, “Maybe I’m wrong”, and that perhaps I was missing something in my life by eschewing foods of the green variety. Nevertheless, as the event went on, stomachs were growling and people were getting restless. I could feel a palpable hunger in the air, not excluding my own.
Suddenly, an aroma of masala spice and turmeric powder wafted in the air, making me restrain myself lest I float towards the smell like some sort of cartoon character. Needless to say, the spread was heavenly, one fit for kings and emperors. According to my fellow board member Megh Shah, there was dal makhani, a vegetable curry consisting of black lentil, red kidney beans, butter and cream. There was also aloo gobi, a vegetable stir fry dish consisting of potatoes, cauliflower, and Indian spices. There were plentiful basmati rice, fluffy garlic naan, and spring salad, though I was less interested in this last dish. I was speechless. “Where are all the boring green stuff?” I thought to myself. The yellow from the turmeric in the aloo gobi, the orange tinge of the dal makhani, the white from the yogurt, and the brown from the basmati rice all contributed to a tapestry of color that delighted the senses, excited the palate well before any food even enters one’s mouth. Needless to say, I was introduced to a whole new world, a world full of sustainability, vegetables, and of course, color.
Reflecting back on that day, I learned the value of keeping an open mind. It was as if the Indian food was a metaphor for something much greater, a beacon that beckoned me to venture out into the world and bask in its colors. I equate my previous carnivorous tendencies to a state of stagnation and it was only through trying all the wonderful Indian dishes that I was able to move forward to see, to taste, and to feel so much more. I want to go to India now. I want to try chicken biryani, samosa, panipuri, dosa, palak paneer and anything else India sees fit to throw at me. I want to see every color, in a world saturated by red.
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