On screen
What do you see?
A stuffed karela, meticulously tied with a thread (to contain the masala) by Ila in the hopes of weaving the loose threads of her marriage, ends up with a stranger who consumes not just the food but also her unsaid words. The dabbawalas in Mumbai, exalted for not faltering in any order, accidentally deliver a lunchbox in Ritesh Batra’s movie The Lunchbox, igniting an equally accidental love story. This minor glitch in an otherwise immaculate delivery system, wherein a dabba full of food gets wrongly delivered, seems almost impossible but is far from it.
Moving pictures (movies/shows) can transport you to this expanse of imagination that you are otherwise too scared to delve into – lest it’s handed over to you with a bucket full of popcorn and a recliner chair. In almost all movies, there comes a time when you, the viewer, question the possibility of a scene or imagine yourself in the protagonist's shoes, feeling the same things as the one on the screen. Films want to be relatable, and you want to be a part of them.
Characters, scenes, and narratives reflected on the big screen behind the curtains are entwined and tied to reality but are also far from real. But, of course, it’s not that simple. The conversation of food in IRL and food on the screen is more enmeshed than one would imagine.
In 2005, we again saw a joint family of Sarabhais living in separate apartments in Breach Candy - reflecting the modern, cosmopolitan way of living in the new India. Maya Sarabhai, the more sophisticated, high-society socialite-cum-activist, attended charity events – always followed by dinner and cocktails. To an 11-year-old viewer (me) from a tier-2 city, vegetable burgers with mashed potatoes, walnut cake, pineapple pudding, nachos, and quesadillas seemed like alien but aspirational foods. However, the show's charm was its juxtaposition. Maya Sarabhai, the upper middle-class mother-in-law, and Monisha Sarabhai – the unabashed, unassuming bargain queen daughter-in-law, always looking for a steal deal. If Maya was pepper coconut curry, Monisha was jali hui kadhi (which would become her face pack the next day).
Moving away from the fictitious, and into the reality TV/Social media of 2023 and 24 - what we see is often what we consume. Look at the rise of Korean food consumption after the K-dramas took over the screens of many Indians. Or, how I got reintroduced to barley after watching this video on Instagram. The Bear Omelette went viral - everyone tried to make one and put it on their respective channels for people to watch and maybe, make.
But does what we see on TV determine what we eat, or is TV reflecting the eating culture we already have? It works both ways, experts say, with television both creating and reflecting our food culture. It’s raised our expectations by bringing restaurant-level food into our homes while celebrating (and capitalizing on) the food we’re already eating.
Cecilia Nowell, The Guardian
Recently, I watched Netflix's new-ish show called Dinner Time Live with David Chang - where he makes dinner for celebrity guests live on camera. The episode I watched featured Chang, Chris Ying (Lucky Peach’s former editor) as hosts and Seth Rogan, Ike Barinholtz as guests. Oh, and an extremely expensive box of caviar was the actual hero. According to Netflix, it is “offering audiences the chance to observe a VIP cooking experience as it unfolds in real-time — and all the mishaps, problem-solving, and cocktail-fuelled conversations that go along with it.” Voyeurism sells, but I failed to understand the point of this show and what it means for people who watch it. It was entertaining, but wasteful. Is it just me? Am I overthinking? Every bit of content that I consume doesn’t have to be educational. But, as a food writer, I have to question and think because the mainstream media builds people’s perspectives around things, or almost everything. But sometimes, I go back to what Alicia Kennedy wrote in her newsletter On TV - “my brain is a sieve when the television is on, seeking only pleasure and not knowledge.”
The hypothesis that we consume what we see is actually true in ways beyond screens too. Forgive me for digressing, but more often than not we buy produce that’s we see in a mandi, a roadside thela or a big swanky supermarket (more on that soon)— I almost forgot it’s Rasbhari season, but my fruit bhaiyya displayed it in all it’s glory. Now I have 1/2 kg rasbhari to finish. Yum!
And that’s everything for this week. We’d love to hear from you! Have any food stories that you want to share with us? Please write to us at hello@dhoopmag.com. Write to us with feedback, things we can can improve and what you expect from us. Please!
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