Foodaholic
Anonymous
Nadia
Kabir Barb
Mummy,
come down quickly!" screeched my son. This could
only mean that one of the children had hurt themselves
or they had somehow blown up the TV or destroyed all the
data on the computer. Rushing downstairs imagining all
kinds of horrific things, I was greeted by the sight of
all three of my offspring sitting in front of the TV watching
intently. "It's The Naked Chef", they said in
unison without even turning to look at me. Before all
of you think I have lost all sense of propriety and decorum
and am an irresponsible parent, let me explain. Jamie
Oliver alias the Naked Chef is a celebrity chef who gets
such a colourful name not because he cooks in his birth
suit but because he strips all his recipes down to their
basics and makes the whole cooking experience less stressful
and definitely less labour intensive. As I tried to tell
my son off for giving me such a fright, I was asked very
politely to speak softly as they couldn't hear what ingredients
had just been mentioned!
At
that moment I realised that I, Nadia Kabir Barb was an
addict a food programme addict! Not only was I a "foodie",
but the voyeuristic pleasure I got from watching all kinds
of cookery programmes had unbeknownst to me, been transmitted
to my children. It occurred to me that while channel surfing
I would end up somehow watching the "UK Food"
channel literally salivating at the gastronomic delights
being prepared on screen thinking that I would at some
point try and re create them at home (not that I ever
get around to doing it). I had missed all the tell tale
signs but now it was all clear to me. How many children
prefer to watch the food channel instead of the hundreds
of cartoon networks available? How many children prefer
to do food experiments instead of play with their toys?
Mine did. My eldest daughter aged ten was fast becoming
an amateur chef. Question such as, "can I bake a
lemon drizzle cake for dessert?" or "shall we
make chicken satay for dinner?" were rather frequently
asked. The other day I was going to make roast chicken
and my daughter's request was to help. How many parents
would decline such an offer? However it dawned on me that
"help" soon translated into "taking over"
(not that I'm complaining). I gave the instructions and
she carried them out to the letter. In fact I watched
in awe as she rubbed all the ingredients into the chicken
saying, "look I'm massaging the murgi". Not
a bit of squeamishness at touching raw meat. If I recall
I couldn't even cook when I went to university let alone
when I was ten! I had to throw myself at the mercy of
my brother who taught me the basics i.e. how to cook rice,
daal and korma.
Now
they say that once you have acknowledged you have a problem,
you are a step closer to getting better. I had identified
my addiction and was trying to get to the root of the
cause. The more I analysed the more I realised that actually
I was not alone in my obsession. So many people seem to
have a passion for food, some love to create and some
love to consume. In fact even those who don't fall into
either of those categories seem to love talking about
food. I remember having a guest who stayed with us for
a few days and was on a diet. Every time we offered her
something she would decline saying that she was on a strict
diet and then promptly reminiscence about how she had
had the best Thai food at such and such restaurant and
how Mrs. X made the best rezala in Dhaka. No
matter how much we tried to divert her mind, the main
topic of conversation always revolved around "food".
As far as I am concerned, dieting and I just don't get
along. Try and tell me that I am not allowed to eat something
in particular and I am bound to develop an unbelievable
craving for exactly that. For example if it is chocolates,
I can almost hear the chocolates in the cupboard calling
out to me saying, "eat me, eat me". And I of
course oblige.
Being
a Bangladeshi, it is also in my nature to obsess about
food. We all know that no matter when you visit someone,
it is customary to offer (and then force feed) guests
tea, mishti, samosas etc. If you decline you are almost
certain to offend or insult your host. It still makes
me chuckle when I recall a time when my husband (who is
not Bangladeshi) had offered to pick up a package for
a relative from their in-laws house. He left first thing
in the morning to avoid traffic hoping to be back within
the hour. However, I got a phone call soon after from
my husband telling me in an agonised whisper that they
had gone onto the kitchen and he could "hear the
sound of frying"! "You'll have to make a run
for it or eat your way out of this situation" was
my rather unhelpful remark.
My
very short journey of self discovery has taught me that
actually being passionate about food or even cookery programmes
is not such a bad thing after all. In fact I believe The
Naked Chef is on TV again in about two minutes…