People 2: Gourmet Glimpses

Perfection

It was a soup stall. “Pasumai Thamizh Soup Nilayam”. (Translated as “Lush (could also mean evergreen/refreshing) Tamil Soup Stall). All of four shiny stainless steel pots and a burning fire. The radio in the bus blares. The health ministry ‘s awareness broadcast. “ Insist on clean utensils and covered food”.
A man in spotless white behind the 30-inch frame . There are no customers. But he is busy. He places one pot on the fire. Opens the lid just enough to insert the ladle. Stirs. Deliberate circular movements. Removes it off the fire, with a towel whose whiteness would put a swan to shame. His hands move at rigid right angles. Robot-like.
Puts up a new pot to heat. Bends down to inspect the surroundings of his stall. Clears a little dust here and there. Pushes a scrap paper aside.

Is this perfection? Or a novel method to tide through the lean periods of trade?. Is it his first day at work? Who is he trying to impress? Am I getting impressed? Would I prefer his soup to the one at Subway? How long will he be able to do it? Wont he get bored soon?

Satisfied with the ambience, he gets back to his kitchen. A few yards away, a potential customer relieves himself of his fluid waste.

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Mastery

A dingy market corner. A rotting wooden box. Upturned. Spreading behind it is a huge figure. Squatting on the ground. Dark and hideous. Perspires in gallons. A fiery fire on the pump stove. With sweaty palms, he pulls and pushes. The dough is putty in his hands. Magic pours out his fingers into the bubbling oil. Hot jilebis. Orange spirals of sheer delight. A motley clientele waits. Mouth watering. He pushes aside his messy curls. The flesh of his dark bulging arms reverberating with the effort.

The jilebis look tempting. My mother can never make such good looking ones. Such craft. In such a setting. Perhaps the sweat and the grime adds to the appeal.
Yewww… how disgusting can I get!

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Acknowledgement:

The last one about the jilebis is second hand. Was related to me by my mother. But the closing commentary is solely mine. The reaction of course, was hers.