A decline in the art of eating

S. Pathiravitana

As modern civilisation advances it leaves behind some of the good things in life - like the art of eating, for instance. We are in too much of a hurry either in trying to get rich or become somebody that we forget to enjoy our food. Some years ago I bought a cookbook, which was called The Spice of Happiness and I soon discovered that there was more food for thought in it than even in the interesting food for the belly.

The joint authors, Eileen Candappa and Harry Haas, the latter a Dutchman, introduced to us as the Flying Dutchman because he functions like a link between Asia and the West, describes us in very flattering terms like this: "The versatility of the Lankans is one of the striking features of their culture and character. At home and abroad, they easily feel at home with you and you with them. Yet, they have distinctives that make them out anywhere."

Referring to his ancestors who came here attracted by the spices he says that the spices '...did not entice them to introduce themselves to the Lankan cuisine.' With the result that even today they do not add the spices when the food is being cooked, but bring to the table those nifty little bottles of pepper, cinnamon etc from which anyone so interested can sprinkle over his food.

He has a tone of regret that the Western kitchens (so full of gadgetry of doubtful value) are decorated with these little bottles of spice but are truly ignorant of the ways to handle their contents.

One intention of this book, therefore, is to get to the hearts of Western housewives through their stomachs, as it were, with a variety of Lankan recipes with some modified to suit their tastes.

What I like about this book is that it sings the praises of some of our kitchen utensils, most of which, sadly, no longer exist in Colombo homes like the clay pots, the miris gala and the wan gediya. You cannot get the true flavour of mustard, for instance, unless you grind it on the miris gala, For none of these little modern electrical grinders we have can truly crush and grind a tiny mustard seed. As a result that wattakka curry no longer has that 'bite' and aroma done in one of our native kitchens.

Also, the kitchen smells arising out of the spices we use are really useful, he says, to stimulate our appetites. But in the West, modern technology has done everything possible to remove such smells from the kitchen in the hope of keeping it clean and aseptic and not as appetising as our kitchen smells often are. .

Another thing I picked up from this book was that there was a time when the West was not so meat centred as it is today. When I read of the potato famine in my history book at school, the million or more who perished during the years 1845 and 1850 were the Irish poor who were reduced to eating potatoes and perished because the blight that struck their potato crops simply deprived them of their staple food.

The fact is, according to our Flying Dutchman, potato was then the staple diet 'in the largely prosperous countries of Northern Europe and North America' and meat, as among us, took only a small place on the plate. I am inclined to believe this because even today the Kartofeln which is another word for our arathapal, a name, incidentally, which we got from the Dutch, still figures largely in the German diet and possibly in the Dutch too.

There were mounds of potatoes on the tables at that time, he says. But what happened to that healthy diet full of vegetable protein? 'Since the Second World War, after the outbreak of common prosperity in the West, food habits have drastically changed in favour of meat' he observes rather ruefully and goes on to say meat has become the staple diet today. 'Once the meat is eaten, the meal is over. The knife is an essential utensil at table. Barbecue and fondue are the most popular party fashion.'

He laments that the Western people are losing the culture of the cuisine. Now, food is just gobbled down. The young have no time for enjoying their food since it comes straight from the automatic machine and the only spice used is tomato ketchup, which only hides the lack of skills in cooking.

All in all there is a general collapse in food culture in some Western countries just as there is a collapse in their morals, politics and in the styles of living over there. No wonder such a connoisseur both of poetry and food like T.S.Eliot has remarked, 'one symptom of the decline of culture in Britain is indifference to the art of cooking food.' Indeed, a profound observation!

In contrast, we still seem to have, at least in the culture of our food, a little of the good things of life left. For instance, the Flying Dutchman has noted, in between his flights, a spiritual dimension to food in both Asia and the West. But there is a difference.

Let him explain: 'Nothing is so natural, nothing so close to man, as the food he takes himself and shares with others. In the West also, a meal belongs to a celebration, but those who are invited are limited in numbers and restricted in choice. Seldom is the boundary, within which one lives, passed at similar occasions.

'Technically and organisationally, it seems more and more difficult to share food with many. If it is done at all, the scenes one observes at buffets or in queues evoke little of the idea of the practice of sharing. A good custom seems lost for ever...' Thanks, one should say, to the blessings of modern civilisation! In contrast, what a difference there is in Lanka in the spirit of giving food. 'Dana,' he observes, 'means gift in general.. The gift of food is such a general custom in Sri Lanka, that, when we speak of dana alone, the sharing of food is meant.'

It is so general in fact that we have come to take it for granted. So much so, once in school a teacher had asked his pupils to write an essay. One student wrote on a dana ceremony spelling the word as 'd-a-n-e' unhappily for him sounding as in Dane from Denmark. Didn't the teacher raise quite a laugh about how the people gathered to eat a 'Dane' when all the time this boy had spelt it 'd-a-n-e' exactly as he pronounces it in Sinhala! There was more to it than humour in that laugh, it struck me later on, because that teacher had a particular habit of taking cracks at the 'spendthrift' habits of the Sinhalese.

This 'spendthrift' habit, I must say, is common to all those who have made Sri Lanka their home. If you happen to live in a mixed community you are bound to receive from your neighbours, watalappan at Ramazan time, sweets and spiced murukku at any Hindu festival time and Kavun and Kiribath at Avurudu time. And at harvest time even passers by are invited to partake of the ambula served to all and sundry.

As our Flying Dutchman has observed, 'Before a well or road is cut, when a girl gets her ears pierced, when a house warming takes place, when an infant gets its first rice,"dana" is given.' While touching on the spiritual dimension of food it is well to recall what the Buddha has said about food and eating. His advice was always to be moderate in eating in order to nourish the body.

It is not the body alone that has to be nourished, according to the Buddha, but also the mind. And what do you feed the mind with, No, not with Sanatogen or with any arishta. In the case of the mind you have to avoid feeding it with emotions like anger, hatred, greed and fear. Instead keep feeding it with compassion or karuna. And that should be extended, however distasteful it may seem, to both Prabhakaran and his antagonist Karuna himself too.

But since we are focusing most of the time today on food for the body, it is wise to end this piece with some words of wisdom from the Buddha directed to monks which may, however, also benefit laymen, too.

Be moderate in eating wet or dry

And this thy hunger's need will satisfy

Who eats with care whose belly is not great

Will be a holy hermit soon or late

Four or five mouthfuls - then a drink is right

Enough for any earnest eremite

A careful moderate eater has small pain

Slowly grows old, lives twice as long again